Hailing from Lisbon, Portugal, the trio of Maquina combine krautrock, electro, industrial, and shoegaze on their first full-length album, Prata. Trust me, it all works quite well.
Opener “Body Control” unleashes groovy fuzz bass to get your hips moving and then bonks you on the head with hard-edged synths, guitars, and howls. “Denial” has a spooky edge to it (and is a song about turmoil, after all), and there’s still time to put it on your Halloween playlist, so why not?
The beat and pulse of “Subversive” are infectious and will probably cause you to stomp the gas pedal if you listen to it while driving. “Kontakte” (“Contact”) has this weird, almost unsettling bounce to it that might be the throbbing of a UFO engine as it approaches you on a dark night…only to reveal a goth dance club inside it run by sexy aliens.
The opening bass of “Desterro” (“Exile”) brings to mind some of the same energy label mates A Place to Bury Strangers often unleash. Ending with “Concentrate,” Prata comes to a close with chugging drums and growling, simmering danger. It’s like a snake slithering across the room at you…and the snake is an android…and it’s programmed to lead you onto a monorail in the Lisbon of 2099.
There isn’t a bad track on this album, and it makes you want to catch them live. I’m sure it’s a wild experience…just like Prata.
Classical Indian music mixed with synth-wave? I’m there all day.
Shawn Mativesky, otherwise known as Temporal Waves, has released his debut self-titled album and it’s a wild mix of those two genres. I don’t know how he does it, but he blends tabla so well with analog synths and drum machines that you’re often not sure where one ends and the other begins.
He also gives any of the tracks on the album ample time to breathe. The opener, “I Remember,” is over six minutes long. It’s a beautiful track that puts you in a different headspace. The whole album does, really. It puts you into a trance one moment, and then sends you rushing to the dance floor the next.
There are four subtle “Interludes” on the album, each one setting the table for the next track, such as “Interlude I – Skyline” being a hazy lead-in to near-creepy “Sprawl Twilight.” “Interlude II – Scorched” is a perfect opening for the next track, “Eclipse of an Urban Dystopia,” just from the titles alone, but the dark, John Carpenter-like tones of both are a good pair.
You could put “Interlude III – Tomorrow Machine” on a horror / sci-fi film soundtrack and “Cortical Network Oscillations” could be the sound of an alien transmission. The build-up of “Cyclotron” is a cool opening to what sounds like a forgotten 1970s TV show theme. “Water Temple” drifts along for the first half and then drops deep synth-bass on you in the second. “Luminous Objects” might be the loveliest song on the album. It seems to make you float.
Mativesky’s hands and fingers are moving so fast on this tabla on “Data Cassette Sunrise” that you’re often taken out of whatever you’re doing while listening to it to think, “Holy cow…Does he have three hands?” I love how he adds apparent vintage video game sounds on “Awakening.” They blend in perfect with the raga-like hypnotic effects of his playing.
“Warmth of the Winter Sun” is loaded with heavy bass, bright synths, and wicked beats that are positively uplifting before the wind-down of “Postlude” to send us away with new energy.
Today, Colombian artist Ela Minus announces her new album, DIA, out January 17, 2025 via Domino, and presents its new single/video “BROKEN.” Following her charged 2020 debut, acts of rebellion, Ela’s second album is a rarified feat in electronic music, where cutting-edge production and space-shuddering sonics meet a burgeoning singer-songwriter’s real sense of self-reflection and private reckoning. Where acts of rebellion, a “breathtaking techno-pop debut” (Remezcla), felt intentionally small, as if pounding inside the club with late-night reverie, DIA is both introspective and expansive, the wide sweep of its songs revealing more of Ela as person and producer than ever before.
After three years of toting snippets of songs around her native Colombia, her briefly adopted Mexico, and her series of rented apartments and hotel rooms across North America and Europe, Ela thought DIA was finally complete. And then, she thought back to acts of rebellion and recognized her lyrics hadn’t been honest enough. They’d exposed her surface and not herself. This time, she wanted to go deeper.
She began by changing the setting—an outpost in California’s Mojave Desert, a month-long hotel and small studio stay in Los Angeles, forays back to New York, a Puget Sound-side vista near Seattle, Mexico City, and finally London, all places where time seemed to move at different speeds, not only inspiring the music to move with wide dynamic swings but also prompting her to consider what she had to play and say about her life so far. Late one night while working from a rented cabin in the mountains of Mexico, she stumbled upon a chord progression that she knew would launch the record. This is a long, luxuriant tone that rises above static snippets and squelchy sequences at the start of DIA opener “ABRIR MONTE.” Ela comments, “‘ABRIR MONTE’ is a phrase commonly used where I’m from, referring to the act of opening paths through dense foliage. I’ve always loved the poetry of it. That is what making this record felt like, opening new paths inward and outward, continuing to delve further through unexplored territory.
Just as it does on record, today’s new single, “BROKEN,” soon unspooled from that same tone. With luminous synthesizers and intersecting layers of restless detail, it eventually opens into a four-on-the-floor insistence belying an anthem about admitting to suffering and then enduring it. Ela comments, “I started writing this thinking I was perfectly fine and finished writing knowing I was not.” “BROKEN” follows the previously released single, “COMBAT,” DIA’s immersive and gorgeous closer about not giving up, of building it back, which is just what Ela set out to do when writing DIA.
DIA is a record about becoming, from a process that entailed self-discovery at a deliberate pace to songs that seem to collectively ask where we go from here, long after we’ve been broken but long before we intend to be broken forever. Throughout the 10 songs, mixed by Marta Salogni and mastered by Heba Kadry, the same team behind acts of rebellion, Ela seems to saddle a line between worlds of pop accessibility and experimental aplomb, her incandescent and catchy choruses always surrounded by meticulous and imaginative sonics. Opening the mountain, DIA marks the next phase of Ela Minus’ career and life without declaring where any of it may or must go.
In support of her album, Ela will be joining Caribou on their 2025 EU/UK Tour, and will support Floating Points at the annual ADE Amsterdam Dance Event at the iconic Melkweg venue. This follows recent performances at Four Tet’s All Dayer, Field Day, Sónar, MUTEK, and Brooklyn’s Knockdown Center. This fall, Synth Historyis also launching an ongoing and in depth docu-series on Ela’s story and music. Preview the first episode here. Ela recently launched www.forthebirds.xyz, a platform where fans can write to Ela, and she writes back, covering personal and technical topics or whatever approach grabs her interest.
Not to get all “Gen X is cool” on you, but do you remember when cereal boxes used to include phonograph records in or on the box? Seriously, this was a thing. You could get a flexi-disc record in a box of Count Chocula that featured cereal mascots at the disco or even score a Jackson 5 record from a box of Alpha-Bits.
I don’t know if Oliver Ackermann (vocals, guitar, synths), John Fedowitz (bass, vocals, synths), and Sandra Fedowitz (drums, vocals, synths) were listening to a flexi-disc copy of Bobby Sherman songs found in a box of Honey-Comb when they got the idea for their latest album, Synthesizer, but it reminded me of these flexi-discs because the packaging is a musical instrument.
Yes, you can buy a vinyl copy of the record with a cover that includes dials, wires, and other bits of gear that can be used (with soldering tools and other simple devices) to turn the album cover in to a synthesizer. No joke.
When I heard they’d done this, I first thought, “That is the coolest idea I’ve heard all year,” and then thought, “Yeah, this is perfect for them.”
It’s perfect because APTBS are always pushing the envelope and finding new ways to immerse you in sound. Beyond the wild feat of having an album cover that doubles as a musical instrument, Synthesizer is also a really good record that blasts you into an altered state.
Opening track “Disgust,” for example, blares at you right out of the gate, and Ackermann has said that it’s a half-joke “to turn people off from listening to the record.” Only the daring will venture on after the opening salvo. Only the daring will be rewarded with this track about the pleasure and pitfalls of lust, let alone the rest of the album. The guitars on “Don’t Be Sorry” are like stabs in a giallo film.
The synth bass of “Fear of Transformation” will get the industrial fans to pay attention as Ackermann sings about overcoming fear as it sometimes overwhelms us through the simplest things. Mrs. Fedowitz’s live drums mix well with electronic thumps, creating a near-panic – which is what the trio wanted us to feel all along. The haunting “Join the Crowd” is like a slow slide into a shadowy world that always seems to be on the edge of your vision as Ackermann wonders when people stopped caring about each other (“And is it me? Am I the only one here who even cares? Now I know why. You never had a choice or care.”).
“Bad Idea” has Mr. Fedowitz (whose “bad idea” for something to work on that day in the studio became the sone) considering a reconnection, even though it might cause him to end up flat on his face in the street. Ackermann’s guitar sounds like an angry beetle skittering around in a tin can at one point and like a miter saw in others, while Mr. Fedowitz’s bass line grumbles like a paranoid android.
Romance is a not-so-hidden theme on Synthesizer, and it’s great to hear Ackermann and the Fedowitzs embracing it. “You Got Me” is upbeat and reminds me of some early Cure tracks in that it mixes gothic tones so well with lyrics like “In a world where the universe is crashing down and there’s no hope, I feel ok. You question life, but there’s one thing you’ll never have to ask me. You got me.”
“It’s Too Much” is a fascinating mixed of warped sounds and more lyrics about being overcome with good emotions you haven’t felt in a long while (“I go out, but didn’t know you’d be there, and all this time I thought I was fine, but now I’m high.”). Mr. Fedowitz gives Peter Hook a run for his money on “Plastic Furniture.” I mean, come on, his bass riff on this is insane.
“Have You Ever Been in Love?” is a wild one, with Mrs. Fedowitz crushing her drum kit and adding spooky yet lovely backing vocals and cries throughout it – helping Ackermann express his anguish over a breakup (“Knife in heart. I want to die, seeing you pass me by.”). The closing track, “Comfort Never Comes,” might end up being a new synth-psych classic as it builds with gorgeous notes, Wall of Voodoo-like guitar chords, A Flock of Seagulls-like synth flourishes, and hypnotic rhythms. Ackermann acknowledges his faults in a relationship that’s beyond repair and that he wishes he could amend things (“You and I are in pieces. You could lift me like a stone…You and I are in pieces. I could lift you like a rose.”).
I can’t recommend this album enough to you. I’m sure it’s an absolute sonic wall coming at you on vinyl, but I encourage you to give it a deep headphone / earbud listen. Like any synthesizer played well, it changes the feel of everything around you and within you.
What is it to be alive in this day and age? Heck, in any day and age? How many different masks do we wear? How do we juggle all of it without going nuts? Brijean (Brijean Murphy – vocals and percussion, Doug Stuart – all sorts of things and production) wonder about this stuff on their new album, Macro, and their answer seems to be “Embrace the ride.”
I mean, the only lyrics on the brief opener “Get Lost” are “Let’s go.” After that, they encourage us to go to “Euphoric Avenue” as Murphy sings about seeing familiar, yet unknown faces on the train and how she spies “comedies in the most mundane.” Logan Hone‘s guest flute on it turns the track into a delightful trip. “Bang Bang Boom” is a call to playful action. “So, this is it. It’s all or nothing. So, pony up and ride it out…It’s in the micro moments. It’s in a macro way.” I’m not sure which I like best on this track: Murphy’s conga beats or Stuart’s bass groove.
“After Life” is a lovely romantic song about how a lover can take your breath away and make you “feel magnetic.” Stuart’s soaring synths and guest star Ryan Richter‘s lap steel guitar blend to create a powerful warmth. “Breathe” encourages all of us to get off the internet (Please wait until after you’ve read this review.) and do simple free things that recharge us, such as “taking walks and dancing where I please” and sitting in the park. Its bubbly beat will inspire you to do all of that.
“Counting Sheep” has Murphy missing her lover, but still seeing them in her dreams (“It’s only in my dreams when I’m with you.”) and sometimes that’s good enough (“They’re visions, I know. Synthetic, I’m told, but feels good to me.”). The bumping synth bass and beats on it are great for sexy dancing in your kitchen.
We can all relate to “Workin’ on It” – a song about trying to get fit, get better sleep, get paid, get laid, and everything else (“Modern times have a hold on me. Let’s be honest, I’m workin’ on it. Watch me juggle my priorities.”). It has this fun, almost aerobic workout beat to it that will encourages you to get out of your chair and either workout or get to work…because on “Scenic Route,” Murphy is “Late for work again.” and looking for anyway to get out of it and enjoy the day instead of being stuck in traffic yet again (“Turning signals, traffic jams. Is this really who I am?”). Sometimes turning off the usual route to the scenic one is the best course of action. The panning effect that Stuart drops on this is outstanding, by the way.
After all, as Murphy sings on “Roller Coaster,” “Life’s just a rental.” Why take it so seriously? “Ride the waves, the highs, the lows,” she sings / encourages. “Laura” ends the album with fun tropical disco beats to keep your energy moving as you step out the door.
“It’s upbeat and sensual,” said my girlfriend after hearing Macro (and Brijean) for the first time. That’s a perfect way to sum it up, and how Brijean suggest we experience life.
Blake Fleming, former drummer for The Mars Volta, Dazzling Killmen, and others describes himself as “too punk for jazz and too jazz for punk.” As a result, he started making whatever music he wanted, and putting out The Beat Fantastic. The notes I got on the press release for Fleming’s album said it was “a mesmerizing journey of percussion-driven psych noir.” That’s spot-on because there were many times while listening to this album that I thought it could score a film or the next time I run a Blade Runner role-playing game session.
“First Transmission” comes in with static and feedback, leaving you to wonder what kind of record this is at first. Is it just ambient noise? Industrial anger? Something you’d hear in a haunted factory attraction this time of year? Then “Desert Frame One” appears almost like magic and starts hypnotizing you with weird synths and cauldron beats that might be stirred by “The Girl with the Electric Pants” – who brings punk funk with her.
“Devolution Revolution Evolution” sounds like dwarves beating on anvils with magic hammers to craft a drum kit fit for a wizard. “Desert Frame Two” is a nice set-up for “Get Up” – a wild action sequence of a track that has Fleming crushing his kit. “Time Slip” slips into “Drum Killah,” which layers so many types of percussion that I kept losing count of them.
“Dense Jaki” slows things down a bit and adds a slight Middle Eastern rhythm to the mix. “PaleoCyberKineticism (for the MC5)” might melt your mind with its Throbbing Gristle-level throbbing synth bass, so be careful with it. The hand percussion on “Delancey Stomp” is sharp as a hundred knives, and the closer, “The Shadow Cast” sounds like a lost track from your favorite 1980s horror film.
I love good instrumental rock records, and this one is a great find.
Jay Watson, otherwise known as GUM, had a lot of ideas bouncing around his head while playing with Pond and Tame Impala. He had songs that didn’t fit with either band, or even other bands in which he wasn’t jamming or touring or producing. He wanted to do something with them, but wasn’t sure how to bring them to the world.
Enter his pal Ambrose Kenny-Smith of King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard and The Murlocs, whom Watson had known since both men were teenagers. Kenny-Smith’s bluesy vocal style was just what Watson wanted, and Kenny-Smith was looking for something to work on during winter downtime between festivals and gigs.
The album, Ill Times, turned out to be a cathartic experience for both of them. Watson was finally able to get these songs out of his head, and Kenny-Smith was able to sing about the deaths of his father and a close friend. Watson brought his funky production, Kenny-Smith brought his harmonica, and they ended up making one of the best albums of the year.
The lush, brilliant psych-synths of “Dud” uplift Kenny-Smith’s lyrics about experiencing, living with, and accepting grief over the loss of his father (“Father, I bid you adieu. The man out of time. I’ll see you soon.”). The song was even written with his father and fellow musician, Broderick Smith, but the senior Smith never got to hear it since he died before the track was finished. Still, the song (and the others dealing with loss) is uplifting.
The booming, downright funky-sick title track is about getting out of dark places in your head after suffering a big loss (“What’s it gonna take to shake ya and leave it behind?”). The shiny synths of “Minor Setback” inspire you to shake off the dust and move forward after you realize you don’t have to spend energy on negativity. “Fool for You” is a song about embracing love.
The groovy bass line of “Resilience” is almost slippery, and lyrics like “You know you’re one in a million. It’d be a shame to diminish your brilliance.” continue the positive energy permeating the album. “Powertrippin'” is a fun takedown of toxic masculinity.
“Old Transistor Radio” was the first track the pair created (through back and forth direct messages, no less), and it’s a fun one full of bumping bass and bluesy harmonica riffs. The simple “Keep it simple.” lyrics of “Emu Rock” almost become a mantra. “Marionette” is a clever look at people who choose to live in negativity instead of embracing happiness that is often right in front of them (“If he had it his way, he’d be alone in a cottage, rather than swimming in the Caribbean.” / “Marionette, analyzing in a rocking chair. Marionette, reconciling with his frail conscience.”). The closing song, “The Gloater,” is another takedown of people whose overinflated egos will eventually bring them misery.
Watson and Kenny-Smith haven’t confirmed if Ill Times will be a one-off project or not, but it’s a bright gem in a pile of the literal and metaphorical coal dust all over the world if it is.
Keep your mind open.
[I might experience ill times if you don’t subscribe.]
Today Merope announce details of their forthcoming new album ‘Vėjula’, which is set for release on November 5th via STROOM, and have shared new track “Namopi” featuring Laraaji and Shahzad Imsaily.
There’s a sense of spontaneity and playfulness hanging in the air around Merope’s fifth album that’s palpable from the very beginning. The duo of Lithuanian singer and kanklės player Indrė Jurgelevičiūtė and guitarist/producer Bert Cools, Merope are kissed by the winds of change on ‘Vėjula’, a self-styled musical rebirth that confidently fosters their ongoing narrative. It’s their most experimental and open-minded full-length to date, spreading its arms to embrace collaborations with like-minded artists Shahzad Ismaily, Laraaji and Bill Frisell. And while ‘Vėjula’still roots itself in Lithuanian folk forms, it sprouts out spiritedly from that point into unfamiliar landscapes, muddling ancient themes with contemporary philosophies, concepts and technologies.
Following previously shared tracks “Aglala” and “Koumu Lil”, today they share “Namopi” – a collaboration with legendary American multi-instrumentalist Laraaji and the band’s old friend Shahzad Ismaily, a versatile Pakistani-American player, composer and producer who’s spent the last couple of decades traveling the world and working with artists such as Arooj Aftab, Laurie Anderson, Marc Ribot and Sam Amidon.
Together, Ismaily, Laraaji and Merope find harmony in their fusion of not-so-distant worlds. Ismaily plays moog, bass, drums and adds backing vocals that drape around Laraaji’s unmistakable zither chimes and transcendent synth bleeps, while Jurgelevičiūtė and Cools provide the track’s adhesive, conducting a modest ensemble that breathes with warmth.
Speaking on the track, Merope comment “Searching for a common ground, a place we can call home, music is a place like that.Besides playing with our dearest friend Shahzad Ismaily, we were very happy to meet Laraaji. Namopi was a beautiful first meeting.”
Merope emerged over a decade ago in 2012, hitting their stride in 2018 when they released the nocturnal ‘Naktės’.Since then, they’ve developed a considerable reputation for their whimsical fusion of folk and ambient music; their last album, ‘Salos’, released on Belgium’s STROOM imprint and recorded with Vilnius-based chamber choir Juana Muzika and conductor Vaclovas Augustinas, received universal acclaim, described by Boomkat as “effortlessly enchanting” and supported by none other than Björk.
‘Vėjula’ moves their music forward by examining its beating heart, weaving delicate instrumental sequences and ethereal vocals into a rich tapestry of subtle synth work, evocative field recordings and enigmatic processes. Dazzlingly modest, the album strips down Merope to their essence, rediscovering the joy in creation and collaboration.
‘Vėjula’ is an album that reaches into the unknown without losing its tight grip on the past. Merope are in a new creative phase of their career, and they’ve never sounded quite so universal, or so vital.
‘Vėjula’ track list: 1 Koumu Lil – stream 2 Namopi feat. Laraaji and Shahzad Ismaily stream 3 Lopšinė feat. Bill Frisell 4 Vija 5 Spindulė 6 Aglala – stream 7 O Underhill feat. Shahzad Ismaily 8 Rana
Merope live dates: 08/11 – Le Guess Who? – Utrecht, NL 20/11 – Viernulvier (Ruiskamer) – Gent (double bill with Alex Zhang Hungtai) 23/11 – Explore The North – Leeuwarden, NL 28/11 – BRAND! – Mechelen, BE 29/11 – Het Bos – Antwerpen 01/12 – Bozar – Brussel
Today, the Nashville-based guitarist/composer William Tyler releases his new single “Flight Final” via Psychic Hotline, his first piece of new music since last year’s lauded collaboration with Four Tet’s Kieran Hebden. Written after Tyler left Los Angeles for Nashville in the confused hurry of early 2020, where he left behind most of his recording rig, Tyler rendered new musical sketches with an iPhone and an old tape machine he found while cleaning out his late grandfather’s Mississippi office. He leaned into this admixture of distortions new and old, welding guitar and electronics to connect past echoes to the present.
Tyler’s new single “Flight Final” explores these liminal spaces, with time and tone bending until the whole world blurs. Samples and sequences first spell out a counting game, pulses and numbers phasing into a Steve Reich fantasia for one. But sighing steel guitar and wistful country licks confuse the chronology even more, pulling the seconds apart until they seem to stretch toward forever, an endless horizon of confusion and wonder. This is a soundtrack to realizing that moving forward never entirely means escaping what is behind you. “Final Flight” is also a tease; expect more music from Tyler, exploring these same deep veins, in 2025.
Fuzzzel, the world’s first artist-driven white noise app, has launched today with six exclusive soundscapes from a formidable lineup of independent music visionaries.
The initial release of Fuzzzel boasts exclusive pieces from Academy Award-nominated composer Owen Pallett, ambient music icon Eluvium, industrial hip-hop theorists clipping., genre-hopping harp journeywoman Mary Lattimore, mind-bending experimental pianist Kelly Moran and legendary wildlife recordist Chris Watson. Their longform explorations of static, drones, fuzz, wind and spectrum-filling oblivion make Fuzzzel not only a utilitarian sound-making device but a one-of-a-kind creative platform.
Fuzzzel was created by software developer and veteran music journalist Christopher R. Weingarten (New York Times, Rolling Stone), rerouting the demand for white noise into the hands of professionals, sound artists and creatives. Every piece on Fuzzzel is a lengthy, exclusive ambient journey created with the pulse of a human being and the ear of a gifted musician. Each piece — together totaling more than two hours of new music — loops indefinitely alongside a unique video provided by each artist.
Although white noise, brown noise and pink noise are traditionally marketed as tools for self care, Fuzzzel offers no preference or aesthetic suggestions on how you appreciate these works. All of them are equally appropriate for background noise, sleep aid, meditation, concentration, home atmosphere, deep listening, party accompaniment or your everyday music rotation.
“One of my core beliefs about experimental music is that there’s no ‘correct’ way to listen to it,” says Weingarten. “I’ve intentionally left Fuzzzel abstract. Play these pieces quietly or loudly. Use them for daydreaming or for focusing. Use them as ambient noise or as your favorite jams. These are open spaces for the user’s own wants and needs.”
The musicians on Fuzzzel comprise some of today’s most forward-thinking and acclaimed artists, all blurring lines between independent rock, modern classical composition and avant-garde sound art. Over the course of more than two hours of original sound, their drones run the gamut from the delicate to the thunderous. Mary Lattimore creates a fragile soundworld from harp, Moog and copper handbells, while Eluvium summons wave upon wave of churning analog seastorms. Owen Pallett’s piece recalls the wind-battered plains of a Cormac McCarthy novel, while Kelly Moran’s Prophet synthesizer culls the cosmic woosh of classic kosmische. Clipping.’s piece is constructed of the “outer space” backgrounds of their Hugo-award-nominated 2016 sci-fi concept album Splendor & Misery — each ambience represents a different room inside the interstellar vessel where the album’s story takes place. Chris Watson, whose field recordings can be heard on David Attenborough’s beloved Life series of BBC documentaries, provides a blustery audio snapshot of the Spanish peninsula of Cap de Creus, where you can surround yourself in wind gales and birdsong.
“When I started approaching these artists, many of them would tell me that they had already concocted bespoke white noise solutions for their own lives,” says Weingarten. “I’m psyched to bring these personal pieces to the world, and allow people to connect with them in their own ways.”
Keep your mind open.
[Float over to the subscription box while you’re here.]
