Alien Transistor HHV Records 27 Items

Well-versed in vintage vernaculars, Oakland-based producer/musician Mike Walti is about to return with his sophomore offering under the Organi moniker – as new album “Babylonia” follows 2020’s “Parlez-vous Français?,” a landmark in vibe acquisition ever since.

Wyldwood Studios is a portal. It’s a secret gateway to analog spheres. Cross the threshold and you’ll feel the difference: you can pick any ol’ time, any place, any tongue or vibe, in fact. Hit the dancefloor in 1967, feel that plushy loveseat in the early 70s. It’s a welcoming place where better, saner vibes are still within reach. Fueled, at least in part, by those long-classic 12”s on the walls – just imagine the sepia-tinted countenance of Melody Nelson alongside actual Birkin sans wig, right next to Shadow’s immortal crate diggers, forever blurred –, and channeled through ancient time travel devices such as the MCI 416b only to arrive on classic 2-inch tape (mm1000 aka Ol’ Bessy), it’s a haven for all things organic, for all things imbued with that warm élan. Built and run by Oakland’s own Mike Walti, countless artists from many different genres have felt that flair, creating sonic spheres and moving back and forth along the malleable axis that is space-time. Capturing magic.

Emerging from this unique portal back in 2020, Walti’s aka Organi’s first studio album was a stunning answer to its titular question – “Parlez-vous Français?” It was a soothing, somewhat psychedelic trip so magnétique and alluring that it immediately brought back those bits of Franglais you never knew you remembered. Whereas the debut LP indeed felt like a spontané voyage to the French Riviera ca. 1968, its follow-up “Babylonia” is so much more than linguistic confusion and ancient Akkadian Rhythms. Using that hidden portal near Alameda’s finest port to access all kinds of remote regions and sonic spheres, it’s super tight and feels, well, decent, even though, just like the ol’ Babylon, it’s full of surprising tongues and dreams, schemes and melodies.

“Where do we go from here?,” someone asks in opening “Organii-“ – all majestically cinematic boom bap, buoyant bass, sick strings. A fittingly massive opener that feels like cracking open a cold one after long weeks at work (that ecstatic “ahhhh”), it perfectly sets the tone for another half hour of pure time traveling, globe-spanning bliss. Whereas that certain prédilection pour all things French makes “La Rockette” so tempting and tantalizing (think MalMalNonBien), the sophomore album’s Berlin-based guest singer Nana Lacrima soon takes us elsewhere: title track “Babylonia” spins ever so softly, like a magic lantern, with images of dreamier Stones Throw funksters or Savath y Savalas looming over the steady flow of an arrangement that washes you clean like an ancient, unpolluted River Euphrates or Brazil’s actual Amazon. A sexy Portuguese-flavored anthem, occasional guest singer Alix Koliha also enters the scene to add yet another layer of French chic to this Brazilian landscape. Next, we’re back at the Riviera, but the “Italiano” version of it, splendido sunsets and bell towers in the distance, the ragazze laughing and shaking it up, perhaps even some Portofino Gin so you can really feel that “me ne batto il belin,” as your fingers align form some half-serious “ma che vuoi?”

Tim Maia-penned “Padre Cicero” (1970) deals with the stunning transformation of the titular hero – “De reverendo a lutador,” and what a soaring, sensual hook –, and Organi’s take on Elephant Memory’s “Old Man Willow” (now an “Old Man Waltz”) perfectly underlines what Walti’s Wyldwood endeavor is all about: Easy-Going Experimental Dream Pop, fueled by Gainsbourg, Broadcast, Stereolab, etc.

Later on, even though something seems to be tres complique in “Remembering Anna,” it all sounds carefree like a spontaneous Friday afternoon with a bottle of fine wine. Right before the outro, key album guest Yea-Ming Chen (of Yea-Ming & The Rumors) returns to the mic, adding her dark and dusky trademark timbre to melancholy anthem “Pictures Of Your Face”. Reminiscent of Nico and Trish (rip & rip), it’s a track that’s both dark and strangely propelling, hypnotic and hip-shaking.

A third generation Bay Area native, Mike Walti aka Organi has been running Wyldwood Studios in Oakland CA for some 15+ years (recording artists like Tommy Guerrero, Spelling, Why?, Latyrx, Del, Dan The Automator, and Big Freedia, to name but a few). A multi-instrumentalist who’s obviously in love with the 60s/70s, he loves to work with analog equipment (“We just love us some analog!” “Just listen to those relays purr…”). Recorded and mixed by Mike Walti at Wyldwood, “Babylonia” will be released on vinyl/digital by Alien Transistor.

Fuchs is a band that never was. It vanished as quickly as it appeared in the picture, much like the animal that can be seen on this album and after whom it was named. In 2005, Kante singer and guitarist Peter Thiessen travelled to Weilheim to visit Markus and Micha Acher in their studio, where they were joined, among others, by Notwist-affiliated musicians like Cico Beck, Robert Klinger, Carl Oesterhelt and Stefan Schreiber. Spirits were high, but schedules were full: after a week of improvised sessions, everyone went their own way. The recordings gathered dust until Markus Acher found them again in 2021 while cleaning out his studio. After carefully re-evaluating the rough mixes, the musicians decided to finally release them. The resulting album comprises six tracks that musically draw on jazz, aesthetically lean on dub techniques and ideologically pick up on krautrock: there’s no solos to be heard on this record, just a few equally skilled and open-minded musicians listening to each other carefully, providing each other with space in which to unfold. »Fuchs« is a document of egos dissolving in a collective spirit. Thiessen and the Acher brothers met in the 1990s and bonded not only over their shared background in hardcore music and the DIY ethos in which it was rooted, but also over their love for jazz. »If you look at those two things combined, you will eventually become convinced that you don’t have to be formally trained to make music that at least resembles jazz«, says Thiessen today. He invited Micha Acher to join his band Kante on flügelhorn in 2004 for a tour that saw the expanded group play unusual encores after the official concert was over. »Micha had taught us some dixie pieces, so night after night we would play a freestyle dixieland ska set in front of the remaining audience!« Naturally, the Acher brothers didn’t have to ask twice when they invited him for a visit in Weilheim to further explore their mutual interests in a studio setting. »I got on my way immediately and took two or three loose ideas, a tape echo and a guitar on whose headplate you could create fantastic sounds with me«, says Thiessen. Between immersing themselves in books by the photographer Leonore Mau, cooking together and drinking the occasional fruit schnapps, the trio went into the studio. Says Thiessen, »Micha brought his flügelhorn and some wonderful ideas with him, Markus an Indian harmonium and a plan, Carl Oesterhelt came with a glockenspiel and a Chinese zither and a bunch of amazing jazz musicians joined in, too.« He considers the resulting recording sessions to be a kind of attempt at musically translating their conversations during those days. They discussed different approaches to jazz, whether sampling and musical miscitations can unlock ecstatic potentials and the possible parallels between syncretistic religions and pop music. »There’s traces of glossolalia, it's like a blurry séance«, adds Thiessen in regard to the sessions. It is especially this spirit that managed to live on even though the recordings themselves were abandoned. »What we all liked most when listening back to the recordings is probably their marginal and fragmentary character, the empty spaces—the moments in which the virtuoso solo never comes, in which the centre remains empty.« The six pieces on »Fuchs« are chock-full of exactly these moments. When at one instant, the players seem to disperse and improvise freely, they always meet again on common ground a short time later, continuing on their way together. There are no conventions or even previous agreements that guide them, just a shared will to explore a vast range of curious sounds and unusual rhythms together as a truly unified constellation of very different musicians. Fuchs is a band that never was. Its ideas still reverberate vividly even 17 years later.

In view of the immense Black Lives Matter mobilisation in reaction to the murder of George Floyd and the comparatively meagre societal reaction to the attack in Hanau, the question arises: How come our society does not show the same empathy and solidarity towards its own fellow citizens with Kurdish, Turkish, Bulgarian, Bosnian, Afghan migrant backgrounds or members of the Roma and Sinti?How limited is our postcolonial discourse if we are unable to address the racist exploitation of those who repair our cars, deliver our parcels or harvest our asparagus?It's all a sham. Shake it off like a biometric photograph. Shake off that false consciousness. The Black Diaspora is a transatlantic lie invented by music curators and journalists. Embrace this nuanced return to structures and superstructures, to articulations and historical constellations as analytical tools.Allow me to dampen your expectations. This is not the sound of decolonisation. This is no compilation of BLM protest songs. This is no celebration of Black emancipatory struggles. You will not be able to play this at your hip post-pandemic house party. This will not go down well with your woke friends. This is music for the square in the room. For that reluctant BAME/Person of Color repelled by your fetishisation of the African-American experience.This is music for gated communities. This is Fehler Kuti singing of class relations, not of identities and positionalities. This is Fehler Kuti resisting.Listen to these songs of infrastructure and appraisal of the welfare state. Join me in mourning the broken promises of prosperity for all. Send that "Ausländer" of your mind to heaven. Colonialism fucked you up. Platform Capitalism is keeping you in chains. Are we to unionise all human and non-human workers at Amazon? Will modernity always have that "forever nigger"? What about those dispossessed field hands harvesting your asparagus?All is lost. The system is rigged. Because all histories, gestures and identities have been absorbed into this...

Remember how badly we wanted to join them and be part of those sea-faring adventures: Jack London’s The Sea-Wolf, classic TV shows based on his novel The Road, on Radu Toduran’s novels... back then, a couple decades ago, the titles of these shows alone were enough to trigger some strong gusts in our hearts, salty squalls perfect for imaginary downwind journeys we dreamed of with billowing sails. We wanted to cruise alongside albatrosses, seagulls, and fellow sailors. Floating high above a three-masted vessel, we watched our own adventures unfold far below, an imagined movie scene complete with a whole crew that worked the rigging, and all the rest. Cutting waves. Amidst the storm and stress of sounds hitting our eardrums far out in the ocean. Combined with the sounds of rotors, of tropics crossed, of marimbas and cabin wood pounded, of strange music spotted in the distance. And even though it was merely for an hour or two that we were rescued by that seal-hunting ship “Ghost,” as Jack London had it, plus, even worse, often found ourselves surrounded by villains: it was a great escape, for we’d successfully set sails – to new and exciting places. Both around their own Weilheim shores and elsewhere, brothers Markus and Micha Acher have launched various musical vessels, bands and free-floating constellations over the past three decades – and yet: amid all these other speedboats and unlikely sonic barges, The Notwist has always remained the mother ship. This new album documents the latest live incarnation of this very band, which also features Andi Haberl, Max Punktezahl, Karl Ivar Refseth, and Cico Beck. Recorded on December 16, 2015 on the second of three consecutive, sold-out nights at UT Connewitz in Leipzig, Germany, "Superheroes, Ghost-Villains & Stuff" indeed feels like a first-hand live experience caught on triple vinyl. That’s why it’s the definitive album of The Notwist’s career. Although there is one song that points to the early, “louder years” of The Notwist – “One Dark Love Poem” off the album Nook –, the rest of the night’s set sees the band perform all the major hits off Neon Golden, The Devil, You + Me, and Close To The Glass. However, these are different, organically enhanced versions, new interpretations and combinations that feel much more alive; thanks to Olaf Opal’s incredible mix, they sometimes even outshine the original studio recordings. Listening to "Superheroes, Ghost-Villains & Stuff" feels like watching these songs evolve and change, moving from one frame to the next, much like a baroque triptych. What starts out like ‘wimmelbook’ imagery, the music soon folds and unfolds like a Moebius strip: Sans bottom or top, sans inside or outside, the inside becomes the outside and vice versa. It’s all about sonic interconnection, about music as entanglement, music as reconciliation. The rather majestic, cinematic (indie) pop and experimental, kraut- infused jazz, the spirit of the enlightenment and baroque playfulness, the traces of modernism and minimal music, dub leanings, hip-hop lessons, and even hints of house music: here is where they all come together, reconciled in a sound that’s both melancholy and romantic. And ultimately, the spirit of these songs is set free – and the band has released itself, is free at last. As for the album title, it’s lifted from the song “Kong,” and encapsulates Markus Acher’s motto. Throughout the track, the water theme first appears as a dangerous threat: a force that’s strong enough to wash away an entire house; and yet the fluid state keeps transforming and eventually releases that sense of threat into something rather hopeful, a new musical beginning, a melodic departure that ultimately leads to euphoria and a renewed spirit of adventure. These are the strong gusts mentioned above, it’s the spirit of discovery, the urge to set sail together. The crew’s back at it, working the instruments, the rigging, with sails a- billow, launching the next voyage of discovery, assuming the East in the West and vice versa. And thus the adventure saga continues. Pico Be (Das Weiße Pferd)

Hometown to Come« is the second full-length album by by Korean singer-songwriter Minhwi Lee. The eight tracks were written over a period of seven years after Lee's first album and loosely form a single story, contemplating how people who have lost their hometown can return. »What I had imagined from the title, was something forever delayed yet constantly approaching; however, upon repeated listens, it takes on a different meaning—a promise of hospitality being realized every day. Even if our places to meet disappear, ›the song we sing today‹ will remain.«

Known as a long-time member of The Notwist and various other bands/projects (Alien Ensemble, AMEO, jersey, Ditty etc.), Berlin-based drummer/composer Andi Haberl has also worked with My Brightest Diamond, Till Brönner, Owen Pallet, and Kurt Rosenwinkel, to name a few. "I Can See Our House From Here" is his first solo offering.it"s about finding a personal frequency, an overlapping of sounds and samples, an open space that mirrors and extends whatever frequencies felt right at different points in time.

Enid Valu usually works a as a photographer and video artist has been working with various bands. For once she now ditches the cam and steps up to the mic instead – appearing as featured vocalist on two of the four covers Hochzeitskapelle recorded for this 10inch, among them Pavement’s »We Dance« and »Stockholm Syndrome« by Yo La Tengo. As for the two songs it’s all-instrumental business as usual. Low’s classic »Silver Ride,« & Wir Sind Helden’s »Elefant« getting the harmingly handmade/oddball ›Rumpeljazz‹ treatment.

What Are People For? make the perfect kind of dystopic dance music for our times. Born from a collaboration between artist Anna McCarthy and musician/producer Manuela Rzytki, the band could be the illicit lovechild of Tom Tom Club and Throbbing Gristle, displaying the ideal balance of hip shaking vibes and dark provocative content.

On their collaborative debut, McCarthy and Rzytki share songwriting duties. The album was produced by Rzytki herself. They are joined by Paulina Nolte on backing vocals and Tom Wu on drums, while Keith Tenniswood mastered the record.

The whole project stems from a publication and exhibition by McCarthy laying the foundations for the content and lyrics of the album, which is humorous, poetic and political. As a lyricist, McCarthy uses her storytelling ability to explore anxieties and desires, digging into free surreal word associations reminiscent of Su Tissues’ tongue in cheek experiments with Suburban Lawns, but also explosive and gripping like a Kae Tempest rap. Rzytki’s precise sonic palette and talent at penning structured bangers perfectly complement McCarthy’s playful and subversive language manipulations. Rzytki's beats are rooted in old school Hiphop loop principles and an authentic love for the analog. Her use of an array of synthesizers and other "real" instruments adds to Wapf's depth, soul and sincerity.

The album opens with a joyful anthem, full of energy and melodic hooks. The audience is confronted with the quintessential titular question What Are People For? and told that they are just a mere disposable commodity. Throughout the album, lyrical themes revolve around underground aspects of society, violence, political ideologies, sexuality and mysticism. The content is deep but the album is as danceable as it is biting.

73, with its drum machine hysteria and hypnotic synth basses is a a text collage written on the 73 bus through London, consisting of situations and conversation snippets encountered along the way. Drones indulges in the narrator’s paranoia as they feel they are being watched by cigarette machines, whilst the haunting choir is half spoken, half sung, ending on the orgasmic chanting of the word “mummy”. Nursery Rhyme brings more soothing incantations. There is definitely an affinity for fairytales, albeit adult ones and especially the anarchistic ones such as The Moomins, who were a consistent influence on the band. The artwork for the record, created by McCarthy, is a beautiful children's book-style painting of the group in a forest, seemingly about to engage in a magical encounter to which we are invited.

Wapf? have absorbed and digested a variety of influences. Trip hop, Punk and Techno are rubbing shoulders on Party Time. 1977 was coined “Summer of Hate” in the UK and unsurprisingly in Wapf?’s Summer of War, ethereal singing alternates with a powerful marching Garage/Grime chorus reminiscent of street protests and UK culture.

Mz. Lazy starts like an invitation to meditation and references Gertrude Stein’s book Ida in which she develops the idea that publicity is a new religion and people are now famous for being famous. Repressed anger explodes into violence and freedom at the end of the song as our heroine eventually grabs an axe to destroy her oppressors. Fantasize, on its part, is raw, sexual and liberating while the closing track Bring Back the Dirt is a welcome hymn into a world that is becoming more and more sanitised.

While exploring deep subject matters throughout their album, Wapf? manage to remain satirical, exciting and funny. Each and everyone of their songs have a cathartic quality.

The visual identity of the band is intrinsic to their appeal. Live, they are eccentric, wild and unapologetic, wearing see-through costumes, bright miniskirts and intricate headpieces while delivering their songs with sharp intensity. Their performances radiate queer sexiness and transcend B52's thrift store aesthetics, creating a space for collective dreaming.

Wapf? is a rare combination of contemporary punk energy, irresistible groove, absurdist dry humour and astounding depth of field. They have the mighty power to create a party with their music and soon you will find yourself lifting your arms as if controlled by an external force, to chant: Wapf? Wapf? Wapf?

– Marie Merlet (Malphino, Little Trouble Girls, London)

Growing up in the Californian sprawl and the vast suburbs of Phoenix, Arizona, Caleb Dailey largely dismissed the country and western music that surrounded him. Instead, he was drawn to independent rock, experimental zones, and other genre-defying forms, which led him to create skewed rock music with Bear State and establish the “minimal art label” Moone Records with his brother Micah Dailey in 2013. But in the early half of the 2010s, Dailey began to hear things differently. Drawn into the left-of-center works of artists like Gram Parsons and Blaze Foley, a more idiosyncratic take on country, folk, and roots music began to swirl in his imagination.

Wandering into the form’s cowboy chords and lonesome scenes, Dailey found himself wondering what his own country album might sound like. The result is his debut solo album, a collection of covers called Warm Evenings, Pale Mornings; Beside You Then. Produced by John Dieterich of Deerhoof, Keiko Beers, and Dailey himself, it’s a melancholy charmer, rooted in traditional ideas but free roaming in its scope. Laced with synths, pedal steel, acoustic guitars, and commanded by Dailey’s full and woozy voice, it owes as much to the busted waltzes of Lambchop and the homespun lo-fi folk of Little Wings (whose Kyle Field appears on the album via a spoken intermission) as it does to the songwriters and performers who provide its source material, which include Parsons, Foley, Elvis Presley associate Chips Moman, steel guitarist Buddy Emmons, and others.

“The subversive nature of country music isn’t as much at the surface as some other genres,” Dailey says. “But the deeper down the ‘country hole’ I went, the more I wanted to be part of it. It is truly a strange world.”

The hands of Dailey and his collaborators, which includes a wide roster of DIY experimentalists like James Fella of art punks Soft Shoulder, Jay Hufman (Gene Tripp), Lonna Kelley of Giant Sand, Japanese DIY hero’s Koji Shibuya and Tori Kudo, Nicholas Krgovich, Markus Acher of The Notwist, and more, that strangeness is accentuated. Dailey doesn't aspire to retro Nashville fetishism or sanctioned notions of “realness” so much as a genuine outsider authenticity. Take his version of Gordon Lightfoot’s “If You Could Read My Mind” for example: a highlight of the record, it pairs familiar genre signifiers like pedal steel and guitar strums with warbled synths. Then there’s his read of “Dreaming My Dreams,” originally made famous by Waylon Jennings (who also did time in the Arizona desert), which morphs from a mournful ballad into a wash of far-off sonic noise.

The attention here is on the songcraft itself, with Dailey inhabiting these songs and turning them inside out to reveal unexpected tenderness and playfulness.

Recorded at home with an acoustic guitar and 4-track, Dailey began open correspondences with his collaborators, who fleshed out ideas and added touches, often working with skeletal frames before Dieterich and Dailey shaped it into a cohesive whole. “John is the reason this album exists,” Dailey says. “He sculpted all these parts together in such an otherworldly way. He is truly a magician.” Deeply allergic to insincerity, Dailey avoids any trace of irony. He’s created a cohesive gem out of disparate parts, uniting Americana songcraft with experimental disassemblage. From this bric-à-brac, he’s made something touching and beautifully strange.

A quick, spontaneIü voyage to the French Riviera ca. 1968, good times long before things went south, Organi's "Parlez-vous FrancIais?" is a woozy, tripping, soothing sojourn: DIY dream pop, hazy psychedelia, blurred-but-steady beats dripping down the golden boulevard, complete with mystical chants, a dash of half-remembered Franglais that goes down like some vintage eau-de-vie. There's a fine massage waiting behind those venetian blinds. Pay half an hour, you'll be relaxed and revived after 22 minutes. TreIÇs irreIüsistible when streamed, Organi's haunting, hard-boiled French lesson is even better with that classique vinyl crackle in the mix.Following the cinematic title skit with its bass loop appendix, Oakland-based producer and multi-instrumentalist Mike Walti (and his songwriting partner Maryam) aka Organi invites singer Jessica Bailiff along for the majestic entreIüe, an interpretation of Philamore Lincoln's 1970 tune "The North Wind Blew South" (doesn't it always?), adding anticon. heavyweights Jel and Odd Nosdam on synths and bass for aIÇ la mode enhancements and additional bric-aIÇ- brac.Whereas the theme tune "Organi" comes with big drums, big organ, seductive overtones, pure hypnosis, "Whispers" is the soundtrack to some kind of psychedelic campfire tableau vivant: all brumeux, hazy, with spare guitar, Gauloises or Gitanes dangling, a glass of Bordeaux waiting on the dusty old amp, and featuring guest vocalists Yea-Ming Chen & Susy Borhan. It gets even more Parisienne after that: a French woman just knows how to look classic, even when all she's got is some attitude, a ramshackle tambourine, a craving for old Sukia weirdness and those budget-couture "4 Dolla Jeans"...Clearly in love with analog equipment, Organi turn The Vaselines' "Slushy" into a slow- moving, bottomless lullaby - "... you'll never miss what you never had" -, and the femme fatale minimalism of "Stay The Night" is too magneIütique and alluring: A fuckin' sexy chanson, treIÇs leIüger and yet such a hard-knockin' head-nod...

Deliberately breaking all the rules Mr. Hornby once famously outlined regarding the creation of homemade (tape) compilations, Saroos’ members indeed had the term “mixtape” on their minds while working on their latest full-length – albeit in the hip-hop sense: a sonic snack box, interconnected shots from the hip, something that just came together and immediately felt right.
Whereas hip-hop folks nowadays often use the vacuous term “project” in order to steer clear of the ontological debate caused by the almost synonymous use of album/mixtape, Florian Zimmer, Christoph Brandner, and Max Punktezahl, otherwise busy with The Notwist, Driftmachine & Lali Puna, stick to the classics: their new 16-track project “OLU” (Off Label Use) is, officially, still an album. But it’s wild and vibrant like a mixtape, interwoven like its cover: a seamless burst of ideas, impulsively combined to form a split-screen snapshot of recent moments and momentums.
Re-appropriating the term “Off Label Use” – which actually means: using prescription drugs in ways that aren’t mentioned on the instruction leaflet – in their own “off-label” way, Saroos never sounded more loose-limbed and elastic. Whereas the trio’s earlier releases were rather conceptual and homogenous, “OLU” indeed has a more loose, spur-of-the-moment feel, a spontaneous force at its core. Checking the weighty sci-fi inspirations at the door, they use that Bomb Shelter-type of freedom to reinvent themselves at every turn, chasing sounds that happened to emerge in the group’s triangular energy field.

I remember the first time I read W.E.B. DuBois eclectic masterpiece The Souls of Black Folk. The way in which this Weberian scholar flowed from personal account to prose to sociological analysis to music and even political intervention has had a lasting impact on my own work as a cultural anthropologist. It made me understand that as scholars we must use different means in order to give expression to the totality of the lived experience: There is only so much in an academic text.

The experience of alienation has always been at the heart of my scholarly and artistic practice. I have used academic writing, lecturing, theatre performance and electronic improvisation to understand and represent it as a theoretical concept, postcolonial condition and lived experience. I believe, some issues need to be told like a story, some analyzed in most abstract terms and others need to be sung like a gospel. The medium changes the message.

In this sense, I guess, I’m a singing cultural anthropologist.

For some time now I have been engaged in the use of dystopian themes and sounds to paint a sonic picture of structural racism and whiteness of our present. But recently I have grown weary of this Ballardian idea of Future Now and the resulting phantasmagorian aesthetics myself and others have been invested in. The widespread availability of Digital Audio Workstations, sequencers, loopers and delay pedals has lead us into a futuristic cul de sac best described by Mark Fisher as the very absence of future.

Likewise, I am most skeptical of the “naturalist” countermovement, the return of folk. Especially in Germany, I am convinced there is no such thing as an innocent or progressive folk musical expression as it is always connected to the idea of the homeland (“Heimat”) which in turn produces the colony. It seems to me, the current zeitgeist is stuck between a “museum of a dystopian future” and a “museum of an idealized past”, but I wanted to sing about the present.

So, I involuntarily returned to pop music in its two-folded meaning of something popular and addressing not an essentialist notion of “Volk” or its woke cousin “communities”, but society as a whole.

I entered the studio just with a few lo-fi sounding melodies and rhythms from my circuit bent CASIO synthesizer. I had no clue what the finished product would sound like. But as soon as Markus started drumming, in a way strangely reminding me of CAN’s Ethnographic Forgery Series, my uptight sounds were suddenly embedded within a warmer global sound spectrum. The alien at home and abroad and the strange overlapped: We were seeing one and the same sound differently but were gently held together by Tobias’ producing.

Making music is about building coalitions. It’s about suggesting an articulation of styles, sounds and people, that hasn’t materialized, yet, but may help us in the current crisis: I wanted Amon Düül II to send their drug induced archangel thunderbird to rescue the refugees, that had tried to escape the police by climbing up a tree in Munich in 2016. I wanted Sun Ra to taunt far-right protesters in Chemnitz in 2018. And I wanted to mourn the loss of a former kebab shop cum discotheque that served as proof that there is such a thing as a minoritarian universalism.

SCHLAND IS THE PLACE FOR ME is a pop album featuring songs of alienation, not only as a tragic experience, but as a pop-cultural promise. Maybe Bill Callahan sung it best, “I am Star Wars today, I am no longer English grey”. I want those who suffer from alienation to stand in alliance with those who seek alienation, and vice-versa. A coalition, that tolerates the possibility that we are moved by the same groove for contrary reasons.

Fehler Kuti
Munich, Autumn 2019

Earlier this year, Micha Acher and his band The Notwist returned with their latest full-length “Close To The Glass” and received rave reviews around the globe. Yet, it’s not the only album he’s going to release this year, since Acher’s about to introduce his latest musical entity – the Alien Ensemble. It’s an all-acoustic line-up, devoid of electronic enhancements. And even though all members have a background in jazz, this is no classic “jazz music” either – there’s simply no need to show off technical skills… Since you’ll hear anything from Minimal Music to Krautrock influences, from delicate brass sections to the sound of New Orleans, it’s pretty much impossible to pigeonhole Alien Ensemble’s sound or slap a genre term on it.

Alien Transistor and Tokyo-based label Afterhours release a vinyl-version of tenniscoats' masterpiece "music exists", which consists of 4 LPs in total.

"Music exists" Disc 2 functions as a complement and extension of Disc 1. Even more incredibly beautiful melodies, more subtle and psychedelic orchestration (spanish guitar, casio-keyboards, trombone, drumcomputer), and more heartfelt singing and playing.

Before Disc 3 will reunite the couple with their old friends and collegues, the swedish musicians from Tape, they concentrate once more on their very own language of making music, and give us another collection of essential tenniscoats-songs.

Tenniscoats have devoted followers allover the world, but their releases were always hard to find outside of Japan. Except for their album "Tokinouta", which saw a very limited run on vinyl, and the seminal "Two Sunsets", their collaboration with the Pastels (and a small handfull of 7"s), there were never any vinyl-releases, and also the CDs were hard to get for any-one, who doesn't speak or read japanese.

So, this is the chance to dive deep into the beautiful, unique world of the tenniscoats and their opus magnum "music exists".

"It may even be their greatest ever music, essential plus" Monorail Music, Glasgow

"Whatever's ailing you, Tokyo's Tenniscoats have got something for that" Boomkat, Manchester

Readers of encyclopedic tomes are obviously familiar with exploding animals – there are numerous reports of torn-apart toads (even in Hamburg, Germany!), actual ants exploding altruistically – but humans that decide to jointly detonate, and with no harm done, that’s rare: Kobe’s own o'summer vacation are unique (and volatile) like that, and they’re back to light the fuse for the second time, presenting 13 more musical quarter sticks that have already blown up venues in Europe and Japan.

“Keep it lean, keep it mean,” they say, and that’s what this band loves to take to the extreme: breakneck concision and collective combustion meet freeform noise punk hazards on o'summer vacation's second (not quite) full-length – as the Kobe-based three-piece’s “Electronic Eye” is set to arrive on October 11, 2024. Following a bunch of trips to Berlin, Munich etc., the Japanese fire starters have found a new home with Alien Transistor, and it’s the perfect launch pad for their latest set of guitarless pyrotechnics. Going right for max q (maximum dynamic pressure), “Electronic Eye” is (unlike those Starships) actually supposed to explode right after lift-off ;)

Even though there have been some line-up changes since the group recorded its sophomore album, the energy caught by producer Shinji Masuko (dmbq, Boredoms) is still unmatched: a very physical and hard-knocking barrage of mosh-inducing madness that leaves you speechless + inevitably twitching towards the pit. Mastering was done by Masaki Oshima aka Watchman (Melt-Banana).

Opening with sizzling hi-hats and heavy ripples of breathless bass, singer Ami presents a non-sequitur kind of lullaby over the math rock-style interlocutions of “宿痾 (Shuku - A)” – which at 6+ minutes makes up more than a quarter of the album. A shapeshifting frenzy of voice (Ami), unbridled, pedal-powered bassline insanity (Mikkki, formerly Mikiiiii), and hot-blooded drums (Manu, meanwhile replaced by Karry), the album features mosh-inducing blows (previously released “Luna,” “Anti Christ 大体 Super Star”), 30-sec mini noise punk anthems (“竦(shou)”, “Days Go By Fast”), and continues to surf at breakneck pace up and down scales (“@ The”), which often feels like catharsis served with a hammer (“Ultra”). Whereas some tracks are bigger more song-y than others (“Song#2,” that full-throttle “Poodle”), “Vs I” is on time like Tierra Whack (exactly 60 seconds of pick-grinding action), and “Rage” indeed feels like Zack is about to join the party – only to see Ami wipe the floor with pure onomatopoetic fire. Finally, “Aloooooone” and “Humming” (that opening lilt!) are sure going to be live favorites, shifting up and down via hardcore speeds and various break-downs.

Quite hotheaded and terminating things on a high note, o'summer vacation point out that the quick-fire lyrics of their “songs have no meaning. It’s called onomatopoeia in English. Ami, our vocalist, does not like to communicate her thoughts through her music.” Although she considers her contribution “a part of the instrumentation,” they still have strong messages and concerns (unrest, discontent, willingness to shake, wake up, enliven anyone near the audible bomb crater): “That doesn’t mean we don’t have a point of view, but we choose to express ourselves through sound rather than words. Generally, but not exclusively, we are anti-racism, anti-war, gender-free, angry at the companies we work for and their bosses, etc., which are very common sentiments held by so-called rock bands.”

It’s only three ingredients, just like sonic gunpowder: bass, drums, voice – but they tend to explode a few bars into each new track. In a perfect world, there’d be giant colorful clouds of dust gracing the sky over each venue they descend upon.

Following multiple band projects, including the parallel powerhouse acts Spinnen and the ecstatic Turkish-Armenian-Friendship TAF, multi-instrumentalist Soft Violet, now releases her solo debut album: Sterner Stuff. And that it is: Guttural with a pounding heart laid out on sexy stainless-steel surface, defiantly glinting. Playful experimentation reigns free, fusing drum-machine and analogue synths with bass and vocals, to create a hybrid glittering creature that shines sublime.

Saam Schlamminger, born 1966 in Istanbul. Until the age of 12 years, he lived in Iran, since then main residence is Munich. A couple of visits at different musicians and teachers in Uzbekistan, Pakistan, Iran, New York and Paris for studying eastern rhythmics. Specialized in the instruments Persic Zarb and Daf, which he alienates electricly. Worldwide performances with artists of different styles, e.g. Susan Deyhim and the Notwist. Consultant and director of several documentaries abroad (Iran, Benin, Kurdistan, France, central Asia).

There’s a big clue to the pacific wisdom of The Orchestra in the Sky in the artist name – Hochzeitskapelle + Japanese Friends. For this is, indeed, music based in, and resonating with, friendship, camaraderie, collaboration, and creative exchange. Across two albums – one documenting recordings from Tokyo, the other an expansive double album of sessions from Kobe – Hochzeitskapelle gather around them some of the finest voices in Japanese independent and underground pop music, like Tenniscoats, Eddie Marcon, Yuko Ikema, and Kama Aina, and explore an open field of music, full of creative encounters. You may already know Hochzeitskapelle as the German instrumental quintet formed by members of The Notwist, Alien Ensemble, and friends from the jazz scene. Across three albums, one a collaboration with Kama Aina (2018’s Wayfaring Suite), they’ve developed a way of playing together that’s intimate and playful, rich and human; it’s a music that’s deliberately rough around the edges, and that nestles cosily into the everyday. Their relationship with Japanese indie has developed over the years, doubtless encouraged by Saya´s „Minna Miteru“, compilations series of Japanese indie pop for Morr Music. A peripatetic gang, Hochzeitskapelle also recently backed Japanese singer-songwriter Makoto Kawamoto on her new album, Hikari. In many ways, The Orchestra in the Sky feels like the culmination of a set of ongoing cross-cultural exchanges: the Minna Miteru compilations; tours of Japan by Hochzeitskapelle and The Notwist; and indeed, Markus Acher’s Spirit Fest group with Saya and Ueno of Tenniscoats. The latter are present throughout much of The Orchestra in the Sky, and Saya’s voice is particularly winning on songs like “Tsuki no oto”, where the two outfits are joined by brass ensemble Zayaendo. There are several lovely turns from singer-songwriter Yuko Ikema, and Eddie Marcon appear twice; their songs are still beautiful, spectral acid folk, but with Hochzeitskapelle filling the details with lush, sad brass and strings. But it’s also the potentially lesser-known names that shine through The Orchestra in the Sky, like the frail folk of Gratin Carnival; the delightful, gentle pop songs by sekifu and Zayaendo member, Kanako Numata; a trio of beautiful, stumble-drunk melodies played in swaying consort with popo. That group, along with the presence of Zayaendo, Fuigo, and Mitamurakandadan?, make strong connections with the Japanese underground’s love of brass bands, partly informed by the tradition of chindon’ya, marching bands that walk the streets of Japanese cities. They also all appeared on the recent Alien Parade Japan compilation of such groups, assembled by Acher and Saya. All things converge, then, on The Orchestra in the Sky, a smart, spirited collection of heavenly pop songs, intimate folk melodies, lungfuls of joyous brass, deep weeping strings, and swooning sighs. The last words go to Acher himself: “Many things we did in the last years come together here and it feels like something special was captured.” We hope you like what you hear.

There’s a big clue to the pacific wisdom of The Orchestra in the Sky in the artist name – Hochzeitskapelle + Japanese Friends. For this is, indeed, music based in, and resonating with, friendship, camaraderie, collaboration, and creative exchange. Across two albums – one documenting recordings from Tokyo, the other an expansive double album of sessions from Kobe – Hochzeitskapelle gather around them some of the finest voices in Japanese independent and underground pop music, like Tenniscoats, Eddie Marcon, Yuko Ikema, and Kama Aina, and explore an open field of music, full of creative encounters.

You may already know Hochzeitskapelle as the German instrumental quintet formed by members of The Notwist, Alien Ensemble, and friends from the jazz scene. Across three albums, one a collaboration with Kama Aina (2018’s Wayfaring Suite), they’ve developed a way of playing together that’s intimate and playful, rich and human; it’s a music that’s deliberately rough around the edges, and that nestles cosily into the everyday. Their relationship with Japanese indie has developed over the years, doubtless encouraged by Saya´s „Minna Miteru“, compilations series of Japanese indie pop for Morr Music. A peripatetic gang, Hochzeitskapelle also recently backed Japanese singer-songwriter Makoto Kawamoto on her new album, Hikari.

In many ways, The Orchestra in the Sky feels like the culmination of a set of ongoing cross-cultural exchanges: the Minna Miteru compilations; tours of Japan by Hochzeitskapelle and The Notwist; and indeed, Markus Acher’s Spirit Fest group with Saya and Ueno of Tenniscoats. The latter are present throughout much of The Orchestra in the Sky, and Saya’s voice is particularly winning on songs like “Tsuki no oto”, where the two outfits are joined by brass ensemble Zayaendo. There are several lovely turns from singer-songwriter Yuko Ikema, and Eddie Marcon appear twice; their songs are still beautiful, spectral acid folk, but with Hochzeitskapelle filling the details with lush, sad brass and strings.

But it’s also the potentially lesser-known names that shine through The Orchestra in the Sky, like the frail folk of Gratin Carnival; the delightful, gentle pop songs by sekifu and Zayaendo member, Kanako Numata; a trio of beautiful, stumble-drunk melodies played in swaying consort with popo. That group, along with the presence of Zayaendo, Fuigo, and Mitamurakandadan?, make strong connections with the Japanese underground’s love of brass bands, partly informed by the tradition of chindon’ya, marching bands that walk the streets of Japanese cities. They also all appeared on the recent Alien Parade Japan compilation of such groups, assembled by Acher and Saya.

All things converge, then, on The Orchestra in the Sky, a smart, spirited collection of heavenly pop songs, intimate folk melodies, lungfuls of joyous brass, deep weeping strings, and swooning sighs. The last words go to Acher himself: “Many things we did in the last years come together here and it feels like something special was captured.” We hope you like what you hear.

There’s a big clue to the pacific wisdom of The Orchestra in the Sky in the artist name – Hochzeitskapelle + Japanese Friends. For this is, indeed, music based in, and resonating with, friendship, camaraderie, collaboration, and creative exchange. Across two albums – one documenting recordings from Tokyo, the other an expansive double album of sessions from Kobe – Hochzeitskapelle gather around them some of the finest voices in Japanese independent and underground pop music, like Tenniscoats, Eddie Marcon, Yuko Ikema, and Kama Aina, and explore an open field of music, full of creative encounters. You may already know Hochzeitskapelle as the German instrumental quintet formed by members of The Notwist, Alien Ensemble, and friends from the jazz scene. Across three albums, one a collaboration with Kama Aina (2018’s Wayfaring Suite), they’ve developed a way of playing together that’s intimate and playful, rich and human; it’s a music that’s deliberately rough around the edges, and that nestles cosily into the everyday. Their relationship with Japanese indie has developed over the years, doubtless encouraged by Saya´s „Minna Miteru“, compilations series of Japanese indie pop for Morr Music. A peripatetic gang, Hochzeitskapelle also recently backed Japanese singer-songwriter Makoto Kawamoto on her new album, Hikari. In many ways, The Orchestra in the Sky feels like the culmination of a set of ongoing cross-cultural exchanges: the Minna Miteru compilations; tours of Japan by Hochzeitskapelle and The Notwist; and indeed, Markus Acher’s Spirit Fest group with Saya and Ueno of Tenniscoats. The latter are present throughout much of The Orchestra in the Sky, and Saya’s voice is particularly winning on songs like “Tsuki no oto”, where the two outfits are joined by brass ensemble Zayaendo. There are several lovely turns from singer-songwriter Yuko Ikema, and Eddie Marcon appear twice; their songs are still beautiful, spectral acid folk, but with Hochzeitskapelle filling the details with lush, sad brass and strings. But it’s also the potentially lesser-known names that shine through The Orchestra in the Sky, like the frail folk of Gratin Carnival; the delightful, gentle pop songs by sekifu and Zayaendo member, Kanako Numata; a trio of beautiful, stumble-drunk melodies played in swaying consort with popo. That group, along with the presence of Zayaendo, Fuigo, and Mitamurakandadan?, make strong connections with the Japanese underground’s love of brass bands, partly informed by the tradition of chindon’ya, marching bands that walk the streets of Japanese cities. They also all appeared on the recent Alien Parade Japan compilation of such groups, assembled by Acher and Saya. All things converge, then, on The Orchestra in the Sky, a smart, spirited collection of heavenly pop songs, intimate folk melodies, lungfuls of joyous brass, deep weeping strings, and swooning sighs. The last words go to Acher himself: “Many things we did in the last years come together here and it feels like something special was captured.” We hope you like what you hear.

In 2015, Cico Beck ( Joasihno, Aloa Input, the Notwist ) and Markus Acher ( the Notwist, Tied & Tickled Trio, Rayon ) started the project "You + Your D.Metal Friend" as a collective for improvisations and ideas apart from their other bands.

They will experiment with different settings and instrumentations and will collaborate with other artists for the music and the cover-artwork.

For "Sonnier", their first recordings, Cico and Markus started with percussion instruments from around the globe, analogue synthesizers and all kinds of acoustic and electronic devices to layer music that sounds like the memory of Gamelan, Italian library-records and minimal electronic experimentation... music, they listened to a lot before recording.

"Sonnier" will be available on vinyl (incl. download-code), limited to 300 for the world, and will not be repressed. Packaged in heavy-cardboard-LP-covers from second-hand records, they collected from their local record-stores with a screen-printed and numbered artwork glued on it. Designed by Richard Greenan from kit-records, London, and printed by Senor Burns (Red Can). Each cover is unique and hand numbered.

Alien Transistor announces a reissue of Such December, the fourth album by Japanese indie folk-pop artist, Gratin Carnival. Listeners might already know Gratin Carnival from their appearance on the Alien Parade Japan compilation of indie pop groups working with brass and woodwind. Gratin Carnival's "Just Watching" was one of the many highlights of that compilation, and its gentle bossa-folk glide reappears on Such December. Originally released in 2020, Such December captures beautifully the happy-sad charm of Gratin Carnival. The project of Koreyuki Mitsunaga, Gratin Carnival started in 2011; Mitsunaga had been home recording for some time and decided on the name as an umbrella for his music-making. Mitsunaga's main instruments are guitar, which he uses to great effect throughout, his gorgeous acoustic playing reminiscent of players like Ueno Takashi of Tenniscoats or João Gilberto, and alto saxophone and clarinet. Those three instruments make up the core of Gratin Carnival's sound, along with Mitsunaga's charmingly doleful singing. Recording at his parents' home, with a four-track cassette recorder and a MacBook, Mitsunaga created Such December during 2020, though the songs on it stretch back to 2016. As with plenty of musicians from the Japanese underground, Mitsunaga is involved in other music, too -- he's been working with The Otoasobi Project, which performs music in collaboration with individuals with learning disabilities, and their families; and he's also involved in improvised music. With Such December, though, you get to hear Mitsunaga's music at its most personal and individual, ten songs of still, gorgeously poised indie folk-pop, where the swooning clang of six strings meets the breathy bliss of woodwind and brass.

Borrowed Tongue is the debut solo album by Korean singer-songwriter Minhwi Lee. It’s a mysterious, strangely compelling thing, an album of rare poetry, and remarkably self-assured. Originally released in November 2016, the album made waves, winning best folk album of 2016 at the 14th Korean Music Awards. Its eight songs, written and predominantly arranged by Lee, don’t reveal their secrets easily, or at first blush; rather, they take their time slowly to unfurl in her listeners’ worlds. There are hints of other music here, from time to time: the intimacy of Stina Nordenstam, perhaps; the gauzy haze of Hope Sandoval, on the blissed-out pop of “Broken Mirror”; there are touches of acid-folk, and ECM jazz, and a slyly filmic approach to songwriting and arrangement that makes every song fit perfectly into the album’s arc.

Lee arrived at her solo music through a complex, circuitous route. After studying musicology in Seoul, she learned her trade, film scoring, in New York and Paris. She also studied classical music, blowing off steam in a wild punk duo, Mukimukimanmansu, who released one album, 2012, on Korean indie label Beatball. Subsequently, Lee has been refining her music, focusing both on her solo songs, and on writing for television series and films; she’s written scores for films by such directors as Sangmoon Lee, Jeongwon Kam, and Wanmin Lee. She also plays in the jazz outfit Cubed, and recently joined doom metal group Gawthrop on bass.

Since its release in 2016, Borrowed Tongue has slowly bewitched listeners with its idiosyncratic arrangements and evocative songwriting. It’s an album that hints at plenty, but refuses to make grand statements, something Lee seems intent to pursue: in correspondence, she’s very clear that she wants these songs to enact a kind of transmutation, to be adopted into the listeners’ lives and exist within their own imaginings. She does, however, offer a few hints to what propels these mercurial songs, explaining, “this album is about a person who again opens their mouth, which was once shut. The album deals with what it means to speak: things that are known but not said, things that should be said but are not, things that cannot be said but nonetheless are.”

This may well explain the curious mood of Borrowed Tongue, the multiple ‘voices’ that inhabit the album; Lee’s singing voice is pliable and mutable, approaching each song as its own diorama and ensuring the song is sung with just the right tone. The arrangements Lee conjures for her songs are all in service to narrative and melody; they appear to her alongside the composition, which is surely why everything here fits together so beautifully. From there, Lee approaches her songs carefully, in deference to their ‘need to be sung’ a certain way. There isn’t a moment wasted: everything on Borrowed Tongue is as it needs to be, whether a melancholy folk song taking to the air, or a psychedelic reverie dreamed into being. It’s a beautiful, poised and confident debut.

How about you forget for a moment all the things you thought you knew about Saroos, okay? First of all, let’s forget about all the other projects these guys are part of. Why? Because thinking of The Notwist, Driftmachine, Lali Puna, Tvii Son, to name “only” half a dozen things, might be misleading in this case. What’s more, please make sure to forget the fact that they’re mostly filed under “instrumental,” “post-rock dub,” or “kraut-flavored indie-tronica,” you know, all that. And most importantly, let’s forget that they’re a closed, three-minded system: a fixed and fully committed entity of three. No more! Known to reinvent themselves in less drastic ways, Christoph Brandner, Max Punktezahl and Florian Zimmer, have opened the floodgates to Collaboration – making things open, porous, different, new, in many ways, on their quietly explosive latest album “Turtle Roll”. Announced by 2021 singles “Tin & Glass” feat. Ronald Lippok and aptly titled “Frequency Change” feat. Leila Gharib aka Sequoyah Tiger, the sixth full-length sees the Berlin threesome add another handful of vocal guests along the way – thus turning into shape-shifting full bands and/or temp quartets, perfectly at home in about as many genres as there are tracks on the LP. Kicked off by the motoric B-funk (Berlin represent) of the Lippok-assisted “Tin & Glass,” complete with retro-futuristic effects, spoken declarations, and non-terrestrial vibes, it might not be Daft Punk playing at their house, but a byobv (vibe) house party of musical minds isn’t too far off, actually! Once again as much a mixtape as an album, the mood, vibe, and color changes with every new collaborative tune: From ethereally soothing and dreamy (“The Mind Knows” feat. Solent from Canada) to clap-driven and wildly hypnotic (that pounding “Mutazione,” featuring vocals and rhymes courtesy of Eva Geist from Italy) and almost radio-ready (“current, bass-heavy alternative indie hits only!”), when that stadium-sized oomph of “Frequency Change” feat. Sequoyah Tiger arrives around halfway in. Elsewhere, Japanese guest Kiki Hitomi (WaqWaq Kingdom) adds exotic ecstasy to the hypothermic beatscapes of “The Sign,” while Ukrainian vocalist Lucy Zoria pushes poetic layers over “Southern Blue”’s wonky foundation that hardens and finds more direction with each round the beat clock takes – until it’s impossible to escape that undertow. “My baby makes it better,” sings Caleb Dailey on the faithful and still-loving “Being with You,” a sepia, softly churning look back by the US songsmith, a sweetly shimmering ode to a relationship. Speaking of foursomes, there’s four instrumental tracks scattered throughout the new LP – ranging from a painting in crystal clear colors of night (“Organ of Recall”) to the highly dramatic sonic tapestry of “Thicket” (actually feat. vocals as well). Before the perfect goodbye of slow-moving album closer “Here Before,” “Passed Out” sounds like Odd Nosdam finding his feet after blacking out on a German carnival. Titled after a surf maneuver that allows you to break through the crests on the way out, Saroos have skipped the obvious waves with “Turtle Roll” – creating their own kind of sonic “Hang Ten” by adding 7 new voices to the mix.