Dais Pop 14 Items

Manchester UK's Space Afrika make music of what they term "overlapping moments" - oblique mosaics of dialogue, rhythm, texture, and shadow, half-heard through a bus window on a rainy night. Honest Labour, the group's first full-length since 2020's landmark hybtwibt? (have you been through what i've been through?) mixtape, expands the project's palette with classical strings, shimmering guitar, and visionary vocal cameos, leaning further into their enigmatic fusion of ambient unrest and cosmic downtempo. It's a sound both fogged and fragmented, at the axis of song craft and sound design, born from and for the yearning solitudes of life under lockdown. The album title is tiered, alluding to a legendary patriarch from co-founder Joshua Inyang's Nigerian family tree (who was lovingly called "Honest Labour" for his loyalty and resilience) as well as the nature of self-designated work, such as Space Afrika's music - a "labor of love" in its truest sense. With fellow co-founder Joshua Reid recently relocated to Berlin, the pair began sharing files last fall, piecing together poetic vignettes of looping haze and found sound, inspired by the notion of "records that leave an impression, and help the listener deal with their life." As the isolation of Covid compounded with the worsening winter, the songs skewed increasingly introspective and emotive, reflecting a mood of dissipating futures and the infinite nocturnal unknown. The artists cite two core motivations for Honest Labour: to transcend the sum of their influences, and "to show what we're capable of." Both ambitions are entirely realized. The collection's 19 tracks flow with a synergy and sophistication as rare as they are radical, untethered to the dusty dub-techno templates of Space Afrika's early years. These are interstitial anthems, expressionistic and open-ended, delirious but deliberate, attuned to the drift and dreamstate of the present moment: "Ultimately this is an homage to U.K. energy, and an album about love and loss."

Opaque Pink VinylEmerging quietly from the California bay area through their limited edition demos and intimate performances over the last two years, Them Are Us Too have gained a cult following within independent music circles as a young, new take on the revered "4AD sound" of dreamy goth-pop anthems. With a nod to 80's shoegaze sensibilities, Them Are Us Too creates songs about tragedy and loves-lost that draws devoted listeners to their nostalgic and innocent sound. Kennedy Ashlyn's vocals have been repeatedly compared to Kate Bush, Harriet Wheeler, and Elizabeth Fraser, with a pitch-perfect octave range carrying songs gracefully between optimistic joy down to undisturbed melancholia - all within one moment of verse. Guitarist Cash Askew paints a layered and complex backdrop using signature reverberation and washes of stringed ambient tones, akin to Robin Guthrie, Ronny Moorings and Kevin Shields.Perfectly executed songwriting with effortless simplicity and vernal drive, Them Are Us Too's debut album, Remain, rivals the comparative magic behind the early 4AD catalog and zeitgeist of early Creation Records. Massive, seraphic sound and heartbreaking nostalgia crafted into 8 songs of uncompromising and immaculately orchestrated beauty.

Technology was meant to be humanity's tool to combat famine, disease, confusion, and to facilitate life, culture, and innovation. Instead, we're mired in a digital labyrinth that few care to navigate or even solve. Perhaps it's not a ruse and the matrices coded by keyboard maestros are a path to liberation, but without querying the constructs we cannot ruminate on their affectations on humanity. VR SEX are audio/visual provocateurs who transpose the identifiers of death rock, synth punk, post-punk, ambient, and ethereal soundscapes into an audit on technology and its imprint on our collective psyche. Their debut EP, recorded solely by visionary mercenary Noel Skum (Andrew Clinco of Drab Majesty/Marriages) and initially released as a limited edition cassette in April 2019. Through PSRS or Procreation Simulation Reproduction Stimulation, humans can act on their hedonistic desires and not face the responsibilities and consequences that come with being an ill-prepared guardian. The future of our offspring will exist in virtual realms and population growth in turn will be stabilized. VR SEX is the cure to most societal ills. Rather than being emblematic of influences, each song by VR SEX infuses a dire tension that cuts shimmer with fetid frequencies, never establishing an aural hierarchy or urgency. Instead, we're led into punchy capsules of "dour pop"; the balance of saccharine and sour so emblematic of the VR SEX hive mind. DAIS Records releases VR SEX's "Horseplay" EP on October 25, 2019 in new limited edition 12" vinyl formats. Horseplay offers an extension of VR SEX in decay. Noel Skum helms all instruments for this home-recorded release, which was mixed to tape by engineer Mike Kriebel.

Swedish synth-pop phenomenon Kite's second 7 inch since signing with Dais in 2023 finds the duo of Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg swinging for new heights of romantic desolation and baroque grandeur. They describe the A Side, "Losing," as a "six-minute empty call for emotional response." Stately piano and anguished voice reverberate in a vaulted hall, before gradually building into a widescreen anthem of synths, drums, and soaring vocals decrying the steady deadening of life and love: "It's deadly quiet in your old heart / Are you there? / I see dark skies on the rise / And daylight shows no remorse / And I realize it is my life / But It's losing all meaning." Swedish dark music icons Anna von Hausswolff and Henric de la Cour join the chorus as the song cascades towards an ominous horizon. The B Side, "Glassy Eyes," showcases Kite's mastery of somber, sweeping balladry. Hushed church organ elevates and anchors Stenemo's devastated confessional, swaying between resilience and defeat. The band describes the song as a reckoning with "the privileged and existential anxiety of drifting through life dispassionately," contrasted with "the yearning to connect profoundly with others and a desire for experiences that stir the soul before facing one's final moments." Like a hymn, the emotion thickens as it deepens, approaching both darkness and divinity: "Deep as I go, nothing to find / Oh catatonia, I won't cry / Nothing can grow, everything dies / Behind my glassy eyes."

SoiSong is the stunning but short-lived partnership of Coil co-founder Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson and veteran Russian electronic experimentalist Ivan Pavlov. Though friends since 1997, the project birthed roughly a decade later in Bangkok, where Christopherson relocated following the death of his Coil collaborator John Balance in 2004. Named after the Thai word for `two' along with a notorious red-light district street nearby, the duo dialed into a cryptic language of lurching synthetics, Eastern minimalism, and interdimensional glitch, oscillating between elegance and mayhem. qXn948s collects some of their earliest recordings, and remains as transgressive and transcendent a listen now as it was upon its release a decade and a half ago. Pavlov characterizes SoiSong as less a musical group than a "utopian, semi-alien platform for collaboration, devoid of pronounced personality or centralized authority_ more like a message from elsewhere that anyone is welcome to participate in and spread." Every facet of the project was disruptive and oblique: self-released CDs packaged in elaborate origami that had to be destroyed to be accessed; a website with password protected sections, where different passwords were provided for different events, objects or releases; performance merchandise of headphones and a Walkman melted shut so the music can only be heard as long as the set of batteries last. Theirs was a muse as unprecedented as it was uncompromising, equal parts pranks and profundity. qXn948s began with samples and software composed intuitively in tandem before a large monitor, then progressively processed and scrambled into bewildering arrangements of digital frequencies, alternately spartan and claustrophobic, uneasy and uncanny. Vignettes of small melody emerge and are obliterated; gamelan-esque tones spiral above cybernetic pulse programming and funereal didgeridoo; skeletal piano meanders in the distance while flickering circuitry pummels patterns of white noise. Pavlov describes his and Christopherson's chemistry as "unspoken and sincere, and very efficient." That music this aggressively disorienting and complex congealed in a smoothly organic fashion is testament to the rare vision of its creators.

After a quarter century of nearly nonstop activity, dystopian Detroit synth-punk institution Adult. have perfected a strain of stylistic cohesion in the album format, "but for this we wanted something that's falling apart." Becoming Undone, the 9th official full-length by cofounders Nicola Kuperus and Adam Lee Miller, explicitly succeeds in this aim, simultaneously rejecting and reflecting the planetary discord that inspired it. Begun in the latter half of 2020 against a backdrop of unprecedented flux and seismic isolation, the duo kickstarted their muse by sourcing fresh additions to the rig: a vocal loop pedal for Kuperus and Roland percussion pads for Miller. Reconnecting with legacy influences like the politicized industrial percussion of Test Department and the queasy miscreant synthetics of TG's 20 Jazz Funk Greats sparked a series of fruitfully frenetic sessions, centered on themes of impermanence and dissonance. Miller's rationale is blunt: "We weren't interested in melody or harmony since we didn't see the world having that." From the tense technoid blitz of "Undoing / Undone" to the twitchy EBM of "Fools (We Are_)" and "I Am Nothing," the sides bristle with strident acidic revolt and black leather sequential circuits, unhinged and unforgiving. Elsewhere, slower tempos of purgatorial unraveling ("Normative Sludge," "She's Nice Looking") showcase a breadth of vocal FX, Kuperus sounding alternately indignant and possessed, decrying the crimes, fears, and failings of a deluded world. Throughout, the band's chemistry crackles with revulsion and strobe-lit dissent, equal parts exorcism and denunciation. "Humans have always been pretty terrible," Kuperus explains. "But every year the compromises of culture just accelerate." Becoming Undone is also freighted with a more personal pain, as Kuperus' father passed away during the height of the pandemic, just before the album took root. As his hospice caretakers, she and Miller faced the banality of finality, surrounded by objects drained of meaning, "the joy of having a body, but also the drudgery of having one." The record's bewitching closing track, "Teeth Out Pt. II" - which happens to be the first Adult. song in the group's history without drums - speaks to this sense of doomed corporeal mass and the looming, lightless unknown that binds us all. A seasick haze swells and subsides in slow, low waves, flickering with ring modulation, above which Kuperus sings in a dazed, brooding, transcendent state, as if having finally glimpsed beyond the pale: "Some day / some day I will be silent and free / of this relentless gravity."

West coast new romantic icon Riki returns with her 2nd simulacrum of pitch-perfect synth-pop, aptly titled for the precious substance it is: Gold. Inspired by notions of symbolic power, letting go, and transmutable realms of the heart, the album further refines her rare gift for making swooning melancholia as anthemic as it atmospheric. Working with Telefon Tel Aviv co-founder Josh Eustis at his Pasadena studio, the sessions unfolded fluidly and fruitfully, focusing on "quieter moments" and refining the record's palette and voice. Occasional interruption from a nearby flock of wild parrots infused a mood of California dreaming, purple sunsets dissolving into deepening neon night. Like all the most elusive pop, Riki's songcraft is simultaneously direct and oblique, dynamic and detached, shifting from sparkling chorus to elliptical outro according to its own poetic logic. She characterizes her lyrical muse as "very much what's going on in my life, things I wanted to say but didn't have the platform." This subcurrent of dream fulfillment animates the melodies with a specificity and immediacy that transcends her pantheon of 80's influences: from Saâda Bonaire and Strawberry Switchblade to Bryan Ferry, Bananarama, and beyond. Gold skews less dance floor than her instant classic 2020 debut but taken as a collection it's equally stirring, stylish, and exquisitely produced. Evocatively layered arrangements of drum machinery, sequencer, fretless bass, grey sky guitar, saxophone, and FX, anchored by Riki's singular voice, alternately widescreen and wounded, yearning beyond time for ecstasies both fleeting and forever: "Thought I knew you, but you've gone far away / it's not in your nature to stay / but the thought that I need you, grows stronger every day / the colors begin / to change."

It's testament to how fertile England's mid-80's musical landscape was that the splintering of short-lived post-punk pioneers The Southern Death Cult seeded so many memorable but divergent groups - from widescreen rock legends The Cult to romantic pop duo Into A Circle to "the Asian Public Enemy," Fun-Da-Mental. But the band's most potent subsequent cross-pollination was undoubtedly Getting The Fear, formed by The Southern Death Cult rhythm section of Barry Jepson, David 'Buzz' Burrows, and Aki Haq Nawaz Qureshi, joined by Temple Ov Psychic Youth associate Paul `Bee' Hampshire on vocals. Galvanized by Margaret Thatcher's "iron fist" austerity policies and the cultural liberation of punk, the group blazed to creative fruition, quickly landing a lucrative deal with RCA. But immediately after recording their 1984 debut single, Last Salute, a shake-up at the label left them stranded and without support. Rather than stall in music industry purgatory they chose to dissolve, escaping their restrictive contract. Bee's lyrics on "Last Salute" are fitting final words: "If this must end let it pass me by / I'll remain your friend, only flowers die." But this is of course only part of the story. Death Is Bigger: 1984-1985 rectifies history's error, collecting the group's entire vault of demos and unreleased songs alongside liner notes and a photo gallery capturing Getting The Fear in all their high libertine glory. The compilation's 10 tracks are alternately brooding, spiky, and sneering, fixated on dreams, sex, and Charles Manson (the sleeve of Last Salute famously features a detail from Manson's embroidered waistcoat, unbeknownst to label execs). Razor wire guitars slice across tense rhythms, veering between minimal and melodic, occasionally flowering into psychedelic poetry, revealing Bee's deep affinity with Psychic TV. Taken as a whole, the album showcases the breadth of forking paths facing UK post-punk in 1984: pop eating itself, new wave while still new, transgression as alternative not affectation. Getting The Fear's music feels eclectic and unfettered, following whim, lust, and impulse, glinting with darkness against the fires of youth: "The earth is still beneath my feet, I start to sink to lose myself / Friends and lovers stand around unconcerned, their eyes in flames."

It's testament to how fertile England's mid-80's musical landscape was that the splintering of short-lived post-punk pioneers The Southern Death Cult seeded so many memorable but divergent groups - from widescreen rock legends The Cult to romantic pop duo Into A Circle to "the Asian Public Enemy," Fun-Da-Mental. But the band's most potent subsequent cross-pollination was undoubtedly Getting The Fear, formed by The Southern Death Cult rhythm section of Barry Jepson, David 'Buzz' Burrows, and Aki Haq Nawaz Qureshi, joined by Temple Ov Psychic Youth associate Paul `Bee' Hampshire on vocals. Galvanized by Margaret Thatcher's "iron fist" austerity policies and the cultural liberation of punk, the group blazed to creative fruition, quickly landing a lucrative deal with RCA. But immediately after recording their 1984 debut single, Last Salute, a shake-up at the label left them stranded and without support. Rather than stall in music industry purgatory they chose to dissolve, escaping their restrictive contract. Bee's lyrics on "Last Salute" are fitting final words: "If this must end let it pass me by / I'll remain your friend, only flowers die." But this is of course only part of the story. Death Is Bigger: 1984-1985 rectifies history's error, collecting the group's entire vault of demos and unreleased songs alongside liner notes and a photo gallery capturing Getting The Fear in all their high libertine glory. The compilation's 10 tracks are alternately brooding, spiky, and sneering, fixated on dreams, sex, and Charles Manson (the sleeve of Last Salute famously features a detail from Manson's embroidered waistcoat, unbeknownst to label execs). Razor wire guitars slice across tense rhythms, veering between minimal and melodic, occasionally flowering into psychedelic poetry, revealing Bee's deep affinity with Psychic TV. Taken as a whole, the album showcases the breadth of forking paths facing UK post-punk in 1984: pop eating itself, new wave while still new, transgression as alternative not affectation. Getting The Fear's music feels eclectic and unfettered, following whim, lust, and impulse, glinting with darkness against the fires of youth: "The earth is still beneath my feet, I start to sink to lose myself / Friends and lovers stand around unconcerned, their eyes in flames."

ADULT. make a triumphant return after their 2018 album "This Behavior", dubbed "_one of the best records of their career_" by Ryan Lathan of Pop Matters. This chilling continuation takes the form of "Perception is/as/of Deception", an anxiety fueled cyclone of pandemonium that only ADULT. would know how to harness. While "This Behavior" was recorded in the isolated snowcovered woods of northern Michigan, "Perception is/as/of Deception" was given life in a temporary space the duo created by painting their windowless basement entirely black, with the sole intention to deprive their senses, question their perceptions, and witness the resulting ramifications. With over 23 years and a sprawling discography left in their wake, Adam Lee Miller and Nicola Kuperus have spent their entire career as ADULT. obscuring any defined genre or style. With a history as uncanny as ADULT., the pieces that making up "Perception is/as/of Deception" might be perceived as their most punk-infused and introspective work to date. The elements of frustration and apprehension that have consistently woven throughout their material are at full mast, although augmented by a strident and more "head-on" approach. Tracks like "Have I Started at the End" successfully maintain the duo's classic EBM signatures and synthesized aggression, cradled by a suspicious mantra that questions_.what's the point? "Why Always Why" offers a disorienting mutation of the heralded sounds of classic dance music, like a remix that escaped prison and is on the run. The dystopian anthem, "Total Total Damage", comes in full force with an frantic energy which jolts any bystanders to attention, with only the defiant chants of Kuperus' vocals outlining the ever-degenerating state of societal affairs. The dramatically glam synth parts scattered throughout the album, while at times ominous in nature, seem to also act as a merciful reminder that through the journey of "Perception is/as/of Deception", one can still enjoy the chaos. With the rampant sense of emptiness on the minds of many these days, there continues to be few attempts at scoring these common, unfortunate human qualities with pure sincerity. Thankfully, ADULT. has a long-standing reputation for creating the soundtrack for our insecurities, and "Perception is/as/of Deception" further solidifies their apprehensive position.

ADULT. make a triumphant return after their 2018 album "This Behavior", dubbed "_one of the best records of their career_" by Ryan Lathan of Pop Matters. This chilling continuation takes the form of "Perception is/as/of Deception", an anxiety fueled cyclone of pandemonium that only ADULT. would know how to harness. While "This Behavior" was recorded in the isolated snowcovered woods of northern Michigan, "Perception is/as/of Deception" was given life in a temporary space the duo created by painting their windowless basement entirely black, with the sole intention to deprive their senses, question their perceptions, and witness the resulting ramifications. With over 23 years and a sprawling discography left in their wake, Adam Lee Miller and Nicola Kuperus have spent their entire career as ADULT. obscuring any defined genre or style. With a history as uncanny as ADULT., the pieces that making up "Perception is/as/of Deception" might be perceived as their most punk-infused and introspective work to date. The elements of frustration and apprehension that have consistently woven throughout their material are at full mast, although augmented by a strident and more "head-on" approach. Tracks like "Have I Started at the End" successfully maintain the duo's classic EBM signatures and synthesized aggression, cradled by a suspicious mantra that questions_.what's the point? "Why Always Why" offers a disorienting mutation of the heralded sounds of classic dance music, like a remix that escaped prison and is on the run. The dystopian anthem, "Total Total Damage", comes in full force with an frantic energy which jolts any bystanders to attention, with only the defiant chants of Kuperus' vocals outlining the ever-degenerating state of societal affairs. The dramatically glam synth parts scattered throughout the album, while at times ominous in nature, seem to also act as a merciful reminder that through the journey of "Perception is/as/of Deception", one can still enjoy the chaos. With the rampant sense of emptiness on the minds of many these days, there continues to be few attempts at scoring these common, unfortunate human qualities with pure sincerity. Thankfully, ADULT. has a long-standing reputation for creating the soundtrack for our insecurities, and "Perception is/as/of Deception" further solidifies their apprehensive position.

Over the course of the last two decades, Detroit-based duo ADULT. (Nicola Kuperus and Adam Lee Miller) have released six albums and nineteen EPs and singles across some of our favorite labels: Mute, Ghostly International, Thrill Jockey, Clone Records, Third Man Records, and their own label, the revered Ersatz Audio.

Swedish synth-pop phenomenon Kite's second 7 inch since signing with Dais in 2023 finds the duo of Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg swinging for new heights of romantic desolation and baroque grandeur. They describe the A Side, "Losing," as a "six-minute empty call for emotional response." Stately piano and anguished voice reverberate in a vaulted hall, before gradually building into a widescreen anthem of synths, drums, and soaring vocals decrying the steady deadening of life and love: "It's deadly quiet in your old heart / Are you there? / I see dark skies on the rise / And daylight shows no remorse / And I realize it is my life / But It's losing all meaning." Swedish dark music icons Anna von Hausswolff and Henric de la Cour join the chorus as the song cascades towards an ominous horizon. The B Side, "Glassy Eyes," showcases Kite's mastery of somber, sweeping balladry. Hushed church organ elevates and anchors Stenemo's devastated confessional, swaying between resilience and defeat. The band describes the song as a reckoning with "the privileged and existential anxiety of drifting through life dispassionately," contrasted with "the yearning to connect profoundly with others and a desire for experiences that stir the soul before facing one's final moments." Like a hymn, the emotion thickens as it deepens, approaching both darkness and divinity: "Deep as I go, nothing to find / Oh catatonia, I won't cry / Nothing can grow, everything dies / Behind my glassy eyes."