Dais Vinyl, CD & Tape 114 Items

Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone. Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes. The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all."

First compiled as a double CD in 2002, Moon's Milk (in Four Phases) is a suite of four EPs that Coil released seasonally via their in-house Eskaton imprint across 1998. The line-up for these sessions were John Balance, Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, Drew McDowall, and William Breeze. Recorded primarily at their home studio in Chiswick, London on the eve of a permanent relocation to the small seaside town of Weston-Super-Mare, the collection has long loomed as a pivotal and pinnacle work in the group's discography, but has never been officially reissued, or repressed on vinyl. Time has only ripened its tapestry of regal strangeness. Arranged sequentially in tribute to the equinoxes and solstices, Moon's Milk captures Coil at a revelatory crossroads, leaning deeper into improvisation, spontaneity, and sound design. "Moon's Milk or Under an Unquiet Skull" initiates the proceedings on Spring Equinox, a two-part netherworld organ séance woven from vocal drones, cathedral keys, seasick strings, and opiated undertow. From there, Summer Solstice skews lighter but no less incantational, with Balance embracing his voice-as-instrument across lucid dream torch songs ("Bee Stings"), purgatorial spoken word ("Glowworms/Waveforms"), sultry chamber pieces ("Summer Substructures"), and falsetto ravings ("A Warning From The Sun (For Fritz)"). Autumn Equinox exudes more of a pensive and twilit mood, from the Rose McDowall-sung folk ballad "Rosa Decidua" ("I hear your voice sing near to me / I've put away the poisoned chalice (for now) / And lie down amongst the flowerbeds") to hall-of-lords hallucination "The Auto-Asphyxiating Hierophant" to the liminal string-plucked classic "Amethyst Deceivers," featuring excellent alien guitar by Breeze layered with Balance's oft-quoted couplet: "Pay your respects to the vultures / For they are your future." The album's final chapter, Winter Solstice, is its most swooning, remote, and ceremonial. Opener "A White Rainbow" stirs strings, layered choral vocals, and shivering rhythm into an imploding burial hymn. "North" oscillates bleakly, a ghost in the machine murmuring opaque prophecy ("This black dog has no owner / This black dog has no odour"), while "Magnetic North" is its inverse, a guided meditation of gently flickering software and surreal chakra poetics ("Red rose filling the skull / Yellow cube in the lower pelvis / Silver moon crescent below the navel"). The suite fades to grey with a traditional English carol ("Christmas Is Now Drawing Near"), rendered like an executioner's song by Rose McDowall's doomed, beautiful voice. The Dais box set includes the entirety of the rare Moon's Milk Bonus Disc Cd-r / 2019 Threshold Archives Copal CD, which includes three collaborations with Thighpaulsandra. This material is as rich and intoxicating as the previous four phases, ranging from electro-acoustic singing bowl rituals ("Copal") to dissonant electronic recitations of visionary Angus MacLise poetry ("The Coppice Meat") to ominous classical melancholia ("Bankside"). Once again, Coil confirm the vastness of their confounding, infinite alchemy, explored and refined across decades of experimentation - both sonic and bodily. From postindustrial to post-everything, theirs is an art untethered, in the wilds of its own design.

High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interestin an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has beenan inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary TimeMachines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes tothe dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melodyevoking an ancient, solemn mood.His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates andtransforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving anelectro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternatelydisembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn atCircular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces captureMcDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - thatwhich refuses to be spoken."McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamicorchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola,violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing betweenshrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, thealbum moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasycrescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking andinversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simplesyrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers withshort echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece:the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electricalstorm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker anddenser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choralvoices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation tohelp usher in a break, and a new beginning."The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through withspiraling radiance. "In Wou...

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.

First vinyl reissue, available on LP for the first time in 20 years - Completely remastered audio and restored artwork - Side D lunar vinyl etching art // After leaving London in 1999 for the sleepy seaside retiree town of Weston-super-Mare, Coil co-founders John Balance and Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson set up shop in a palatial eight-bedroom estate to pursue the outer reaches of the group's heightening cabalistic chemistry. Among the staggering string of late-era masterpieces they produced is lunar opus Musick To Play In The Dark, widely hailed as an artistic zenith upon its release. The sessions that birthed it were in fact so fruitful that a second LP took shape during the creation of the first one. Aided by the recent addition of Welsh multi-instrumentalist engineer Thighpaulsandra, Coil mined further into the recesses of surrealist eldritch electronica Balance termed "moon music" - post-industrial spellcasting at the axis of narcotic and nocturnal energies. Musick To Play In The Darký spans a full witching hour of bad acid sound design, synthesizer voyaging, opiated balladry, Luciferian glitch, and subliminal hymnals, alternately ominous, oracular, and absurd. Scottish gothic icon Rose McDowall guests on vocals for two tracks but otherwise the album is a hermetic affair, tapping into the group's limitless insular synergy. Opener "Something" is stark and incantational, a spoken word experiment for windswept voids. "Tiny Golden Books" unspools an aerial whirlpool of cosmic synth, both whispery and widescreen. "Ether" is an exercise in funeral procession piano and intoxicated wordplay ("It's either ether or the other"), while "Where Are You?" and "Batwings - A Liminal Hymn" lurk like liturgical murmurings heard on one's death bed, framed in granular FX and flickering candlelight. As a whole the collection skews more muted and remote than its predecessor, as if having grown accustomed to the nether regions of these darkening seances. But music box hallucination "Paranoid Inlay" captures the group's oblique comedic side, always glimmering beneath: over a warped, wobbly beat Balance intones an opaque narrative of serenity, Saint Peter, and suicidal vegetables, accompanied by spiraling harpsichord and stuttering squelches of electronics. "It seems concussion suits you," he repeats twice, like a macabre pickup line, before dictating a dear diary entry about risks and failures, finally concluding with as close to a self-portrait as Coil ever came: "On a clear day I can see forever / that the underworld is my oyster."

The turn of the millennium ushered in an apex visionary phase for English esoteric duo Coil. Relocating from the city to the coastal quiet of Westonsuper-Mare freed them to follow even more fringe obsessions, fully untethered from peer influence. During a single six-month stretch in 2000 they released the devious underworld sequel to Music To Play In The Dark, arcane drone summit Queens Of The Circulating Library, and a malevolent hour-long synthesizer exorcism prophetically titled Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. This latter work remains one of the group's most miasmic and mind-expanding creations, on par with Time Machines - a sustained divination of shuddering, psychoactive noise, rippling with the motion sickness of an all-seeing eye. Thighpaulsandra characterizes the album as "an exercise in brutality," born from a thorny patch of his Serge modular unit that Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson found entrancing. Processing this sliver of electronics into a ravaged labyrinth was a trial and error process, aided by Christopherson's visual sense of sound, stretching and manipulating it for maximum spatial disorientating. Frequencies nauseously crawl across the stereo field, burrowing into the ear like a sinister brainwashing experiment. An outlier / centerpiece is the 13-minute alien tribalist sea shanty, "I Am The Green Child," guided by John Balance's sung-spoken free verse concerning vengeance, oblivion, and insanity, culminating in the memorable refrain, "We're swimming in a sea of occidental vomit." But the rest of the record seethes in unhinged instrumental chaos, divided into 18 micro-movements of a composition called "Tunnel Of Goats." Intended to scramble the functionality of a CD player's shuffle mode, the piece throbs, thrashes, and flatlines in compressed frenzies of twisted synthesis, at the threshold of some bottomless purgatory, forbidding and unknown.

The New York City duo of Jasmine Golestaneh and Eddie Cooper aka Tempers specialize in a sleek strain of low-lit poetic synth-pop, the latest statement of which feels like the peak fruition of their elusive alchemy. With New Meaning, Tempers present an album about navigating the unknown, coping mechanisms and exploring the nature of choice. Its ten songs reflect on the creation of meaning as an access to freedom and purpose in times of transition and loss. Speculating on the transformative potential that exists alongside the grief of living in a world that is in an ongoing state of crisis. This is distinctly nocturnal music, elegantly introspective and quietly intense, born of "living in a society that is still a dream of itself." Tracks like "Unfamiliar," "Here Nor There," and "Song Behind A Wall" distill the Tempers template to icy pop perfection, drum machinery framed in shivering reverb, Golestaneh's voice both ethereal and towering, simultaneously within and above. On other cuts, Golestaneh and Cooper's production skews more evocatively greyscale, from new wave shadowplay ("Carried Away") to depressive disco ("In And Out Of Hand") to an elegy of hopeful resignation ("Secrets And Lies"). Cooper speaks of production ideas regarding "human architecture," breathing life into the precision of electronics, and of melodic intervals "on the exact edge between major and minor, severe and sweet." New Meaning is a document of forking paths and fleeting transcendence, the liberation of instability and impermanence, of embracing "a constant state of becoming." Ten anthems for a derailed age, fugitive and sympathetic, nightwalking through an "anguished city" towards a nameless future, poised for rebirth: transcendent state, as if having finally glimpsed beyond the pale: "When I have / when I have no name / my joy is blinding."

First vinyl reissue, available on LP for the first time in 20 years - Completely remastered audio and restored artwork - Side D lunar vinyl etching art // After leaving London in 1999 for the sleepy seaside retiree town of Weston-super-Mare, Coil co-founders John Balance and Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson set up shop in a palatial eight-bedroom estate to pursue the outer reaches of the group's heightening cabalistic chemistry. Among the staggering string of late-era masterpieces they produced is lunar opus Musick To Play In The Dark, widely hailed as an artistic zenith upon its release. The sessions that birthed it were in fact so fruitful that a second LP took shape during the creation of the first one. Aided by the recent addition of Welsh multi-instrumentalist engineer Thighpaulsandra, Coil mined further into the recesses of surrealist eldritch electronica Balance termed "moon music" - post-industrial spellcasting at the axis of narcotic and nocturnal energies. Musick To Play In The Darký spans a full witching hour of bad acid sound design, synthesizer voyaging, opiated balladry, Luciferian glitch, and subliminal hymnals, alternately ominous, oracular, and absurd. Scottish gothic icon Rose McDowall guests on vocals for two tracks but otherwise the album is a hermetic affair, tapping into the group's limitless insular synergy. Opener "Something" is stark and incantational, a spoken word experiment for windswept voids. "Tiny Golden Books" unspools an aerial whirlpool of cosmic synth, both whispery and widescreen. "Ether" is an exercise in funeral procession piano and intoxicated wordplay ("It's either ether or the other"), while "Where Are You?" and "Batwings - A Liminal Hymn" lurk like liturgical murmurings heard on one's death bed, framed in granular FX and flickering candlelight. As a whole the collection skews more muted and remote than its predecessor, as if having grown accustomed to the nether regions of these darkening seances. But music box hallucination "Paranoid Inlay" captures the group's oblique comedic side, always glimmering beneath: over a warped, wobbly beat Balance intones an opaque narrative of serenity, Saint Peter, and suicidal vegetables, accompanied by spiraling harpsichord and stuttering squelches of electronics. "It seems concussion suits you," he repeats twice, like a macabre pickup line, before dictating a dear diary entry about risks and failures, finally concluding with as close to a self-portrait as Coil ever came: "On a clear day I can see forever / that the underworld is my oyster."

Drab Majesty's First Ever Release Was The 2012 Self-Released Cassette Tape "Unarian Dances". Originally Limited To 100 Copies, Tracks From This Tape Would Eventually Make Their Way Onto The Completely Careless Cd Collection As Bonus Cuts. Now, Along With The "Unknown To The I" 12" Also Released On March 26, These Songs Are Finally Made Available On Vinyl In 45 Rpm 12" Format, Bringing All Early Drab Majesty Material From The Careless Era (2012-2015) To Vinyl. Mastered By Josh Bonati With Beautiful New Packaging By Nathaniel Young. Drab Majesty Is The Project Of Deb Demure, The Androgynous Alter-Ego Of L.A.-Based Musician Andrew Clinco And Partner Mona D. With Its Combination Of Reverb-Drenched Guitars, Synth Bass Lines, Commanding Vocals, And Rhythmic Drum Machine Beats, This Project Is A Stark Departure From Clinco's Previous Stintsas Drummer In Marriages And Black Mare. Dubbed "Tragic Wave" And "Mid-Fi" By Demure, Drab Majesty Eloquently Blends Classic 80s New Wave And Hints Of Early 4ad With A Futuristic Originality. A Talented Multi-Instrumentalist, Demure Composes All Of The Elements Of Drab Majesty. However, Rather Than Taking Personal Credit For The Music, Demure Insists That The Inspiration For The Songs Is Received From An Other-Worldly Source And That Deb Is Merely A Vessel Through Which Outside Ideas Flow Inward. But Drab Majesty Is More Than Just A Musical Project _ It's A Methodical Experiment In The Identity Of Creativity. The Character Deb Demure Is An Enigma That Eludesall Expectations Of Gender And Ego. When Demure's Imposing 6' 4" Figure Assumes The Stage, Deb's Playful, Harlequin-Esque Appearance, Tempered By An Ominous Body Language, And Clashing With The Dreamy, Ethereal Melodies Comes Across As A Web Of Contrasts. The Result Is A Perfect Balance Between Seeminglyconflicting Messages, Between The High And The Low, The Drab And The Divine.

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.

Transparent Clear. Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

Coke Bottle Clear VinylFounded in Cologne, Germany in 1985, Pink Turns Blue's blend of atmospheric pop informed by European post-punk contemporaries and buzzing punk dissonance ofHüsker Dü (the band is named after the Zen Arcade song) immediately tapped into a new canon of sound that was foundational to the emergence of darkwave. Tom Elbern (vocals, guitars)formerly of Seltsame Zustände and Mic Jogwer (vocals, bass) were joined by Marcus Giltjes (drums), and Ruebi Walter (keyboards) and caught on through diligently pounding the club circuit and circulating their early, self-financed recordings. Despite the commitment to their craft and initial grassroots success, securing label support proved difficult as they refused to sing in German and their sober tone lacked the shimmer of pop and optimism that executives felt formulaic to success. Still, the band persisted with the duo of Elbern and Jogwer sharing vocal duties and song credits, each informing the other's compositions until Elbern halved the song production and left the band in 1987. Continuing to perform and record as a three piece, the band eventually found roots with FunFactory!, an independent label based in Münster whose manager Axel Seitz shared the band's appreciation of the Velvet Underground and Andy Warhol's Factory vision, urging them to forego releasing singles and focus on a full-length. Released in 1987 and now remastered by Josh Bonati for vinyl release through Dais,If Two Worlds Kissis a seminal offering to the canon of dark wave's DNA - a liquid lesson in melody, mood, and pacing - each track continuously adding to the journey like a unique push pin on a map of melancholy. Defined by their dynamic song-writing, their debut added a new urgency and depth to guitar-driven gothic rock by allowing fast songs such as the lead single "Walking on Both Sides" to possess the same sullen punch and melancholy as slower anthems like "When the Hammer Comes Down", which derives its power on the downbeat. More rhythmic variety is added t...

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo- psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl - shaped 12 -string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untet hered, silhouetted against an open horizon. "Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic fingerpicking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect baggy, soaring, grey skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure - esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place." "Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15 minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

Drab Majesty's third album, Modern Mirror, is a journey of self-reflection, nostalgia, love, beauty, and heartbreak told across eight addictive and emotional synth pop anthems - a seemingly classic tale delivered unblinkingly through the frame of the modern world. Elements of classic tragedy weigh heavily in the reflection of Modern Mirror in songs like "The Other Side", possessing a fundamental sound that is energetic, luminous and hopeful. Fusing the sonic aesthetics of predecessors like New Order and The Cure within the cautious instruction of Greek mythology and modern science fiction, Drab Majesty has birthed a hybrid of dreamy malaise, captured for a future moment. The first single, "Ellipsis", romantically plays up the distorted concept of courting through modern technology in a world that has yet to adapt, while on "Long Division", Deb's resounding guitar cascades around the chorus shared with No Joy frontwoman Jasamine White-Gluz, wistfully warning us against our vanity and self-obsession. Even when hope for everlasting love peeks through in "Oxytocin", a sparkling and stoic track sung by Mona D., we are firmly reminded our fleeting existence. Produced by Josh Eustis (Telefon Tel Aviv) with appearances by Jasamine White-Gluz (No Joy) and Justin Meldal-Johnson (NIN, Beck, M83, Air).

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interestin an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has beenan inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary TimeMachines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes tothe dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melodyevoking an ancient, solemn mood.His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates andtransforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving anelectro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternatelydisembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn atCircular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces captureMcDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - thatwhich refuses to be spoken."McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamicorchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola,violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing betweenshrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, thealbum moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasycrescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking andinversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simplesyrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers withshort echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece:the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electricalstorm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker anddenser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choralvoices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation tohelp usher in a break, and a new beginning."The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through withspiraling radiance. "In Wou...

The latest by Arizona desert brotherhood Alex and Andrew Jarson aka Body Of Light further hones their smoldering strain of tempestuous synth-pop into a transformative suite of anthems, reveries, and reckonings: Bitter Reflection. Written in the wake of 2019's neo-EBM classic, Time To Kill, they sifted inspiration from hidden moments within their own arcana - childhood tapes, home movies, abandoned demos - asking themselves the question: "How can we make this grow?" Sampled snippets of voice, noise, synth, and field recordings flicker in the periphery of these 11 tracks, murmuring like nostalgias half-forgotten, or displaced memories. It's music pulled between twin flames of truth and desire, romanticization and reality, catharsis and control, born of a bond sealed by years, dreams, and blood. Working with Telefon Tel Aviv co-founder Josh Eustis in Los Angeles, the brothers incorporated an expanded array of live instrumentation - piano, bass, saxophone, acoustic guitar - in addition to vintage Akai samplers, Moogs, and archaic hardware, giving the album an eclectic, unpredictable palette. Opener "Get It Right" showcases their impressive refinement: sleekly cold drum machinery builds to a swooning chorus of synths and piano, then suddenly slips into a dream sequence bridge of strummed guitar and echo-shrouded vocals, before surging back to the main melody. Throughout, the songs shift gears and moods in evocative ways, as if bending to fleeting thoughts or lengthening shadows. Simmering synth lament "Strike The Match" captures the Jarsons' unique technique of co-crafted lyrics, accruing meaning as the world turns; though written long before, the track ended up being recorded the day Russia invaded Ukraine ("I fall asleep to the candlelight / things will be different but not tonight / it wouldn't be like you to strike the match / over and over, I can't understand"). A trio of intriguing instrumentals deepen the album's scope, echoing the duo's early experimental era as part of the influential Ascetic House collective. "Fortia," "Hyena," and "Deepcolorlights" drift in a prismatic gauze of whispered synths and oblique minutia, in the spirit of Boards of Canada at their most hushed and haunted. Elsewhere the record spins through a gallery of the band's ongoing fascinations: Depeche Modeesque declarations of dread and excess ("This Conversation"), brooding dance floor epiphanies ("Out Of Season"), smooth Thomas Dolby city skyline melancholias ("Never Ever"), lovesick looking glass ballads laced with Art Of Noise orchestral stabs ("On This Day"). A new age demands new waves, and Body Of Light belongs at the forefront of a resurgent generation fusing modern methods with the sounds of futures past. Singer Alex Jarson sees their muse clearly, at the axis of anguished transition, temporal collapse, and, just possibly, the brink of hope: "Time is dysphoric. The dream breaks down. Everyone's beginning to panic, but in the end something will come from it."

The latest by Arizona desert brotherhood Alex and Andrew Jarson aka Body Of Light further hones their smoldering strain of tempestuous synth-pop into a transformative suite of anthems, reveries, and reckonings: Bitter Reflection. Written in the wake of 2019's neo-EBM classic, Time To Kill, they sifted inspiration from hidden moments within their own arcana - childhood tapes, home movies, abandoned demos - asking themselves the question: "How can we make this grow?" Sampled snippets of voice, noise, synth, and field recordings flicker in the periphery of these 11 tracks, murmuring like nostalgias half-forgotten, or displaced memories. It's music pulled between twin flames of truth and desire, romanticization and reality, catharsis and control, born of a bond sealed by years, dreams, and blood. Working with Telefon Tel Aviv co-founder Josh Eustis in Los Angeles, the brothers incorporated an expanded array of live instrumentation - piano, bass, saxophone, acoustic guitar - in addition to vintage Akai samplers, Moogs, and archaic hardware, giving the album an eclectic, unpredictable palette. Opener "Get It Right" showcases their impressive refinement: sleekly cold drum machinery builds to a swooning chorus of synths and piano, then suddenly slips into a dream sequence bridge of strummed guitar and echo-shrouded vocals, before surging back to the main melody. Throughout, the songs shift gears and moods in evocative ways, as if bending to fleeting thoughts or lengthening shadows. Simmering synth lament "Strike The Match" captures the Jarsons' unique technique of co-crafted lyrics, accruing meaning as the world turns; though written long before, the track ended up being recorded the day Russia invaded Ukraine ("I fall asleep to the candlelight / things will be different but not tonight / it wouldn't be like you to strike the match / over and over, I can't understand"). A trio of intriguing instrumentals deepen the album's scope, echoing the duo's early experimental era as part of the influential Ascetic House collective. "Fortia," "Hyena," and "Deepcolorlights" drift in a prismatic gauze of whispered synths and oblique minutia, in the spirit of Boards of Canada at their most hushed and haunted. Elsewhere the record spins through a gallery of the band's ongoing fascinations: Depeche Modeesque declarations of dread and excess ("This Conversation"), brooding dance floor epiphanies ("Out Of Season"), smooth Thomas Dolby city skyline melancholias ("Never Ever"), lovesick looking glass ballads laced with Art Of Noise orchestral stabs ("On This Day"). A new age demands new waves, and Body Of Light belongs at the forefront of a resurgent generation fusing modern methods with the sounds of futures past. Singer Alex Jarson sees their muse clearly, at the axis of anguished transition, temporal collapse, and, just possibly, the brink of hope: "Time is dysphoric. The dream breaks down. Everyone's beginning to panic, but in the end something will come from it."

In 1980, Genesis P-Orridgeand Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson of(then-)Throbbing Gristle travelled to New York City to meet up at thefortified apartment, known as The Bunker, of famed beat writer andcultural pioneerWilliam S. Burroughsand his executor JamesGrauerholz. Genesisand Sleazy started the daunting task of compilingthe experimental sound works of Burroughs, which, up until that point,had never been widely heard.During those visits, Burroughs would play back his tape recorderexperiments featuring his spoken word "cut-ups", collaged fieldrecordings from his travels and his flirtations with EVP recordingtechniques, pioneered by Latvian intellectual Konstantins Raudive. Overthe following year, P-Orridge, Christopherson and Grauerholz spentcountless hours compilingvarious edits, each collection showcasingBurroughs sensitive ear and experimental prowess for audio anomalywithin technical limitations. In early 1981, Burroughs had relocated toLawrence, KS to escape the violence and manias of New York City life.There, P-Orridge and Christopherson put the finishing touches on therecord that would be known asNothing Here Now but the Recordings.Released in Spring 1981, the album would end up as the final release onIndustrial Records, brought about by the dissolution of Throbbing Gristle.It was quietly out of print until 1998, when John Giorno and the GiornoPoetry Systems included the album on a retrospective CD box set, whichcompiled the majority of Burroughs's seminal recordings. In 2015, DaisRecords worked closely with the Estate of William S. Burroughs to finallyre-release, for the first time in 36 years, a proper vinyl reissue of WilliamS. BurroughsNothing Here Now but the Recordingsto celebrate thecentennial anniversary of William S. Burroughs. For the2023 edition, Daishas remastered the audio with renowned engineer Josh Bonati, andrestored the original artwork with a new dedication to Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Peter Christopherson.

In 1980, Genesis P-Orridgeand Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson of(then-)Throbbing Gristle travelled to New York City to meet up at thefortified apartment, known as The Bunker, of famed beat writer andcultural pioneerWilliam S. Burroughsand his executor JamesGrauerholz. Genesisand Sleazy started the daunting task of compilingthe experimental sound works of Burroughs, which, up until that point,had never been widely heard.During those visits, Burroughs would play back his tape recorderexperiments featuring his spoken word "cut-ups", collaged fieldrecordings from his travels and his flirtations with EVP recordingtechniques, pioneered by Latvian intellectual Konstantins Raudive. Overthe following year, P-Orridge, Christopherson and Grauerholz spentcountless hours compilingvarious edits, each collection showcasingBurroughs sensitive ear and experimental prowess for audio anomalywithin technical limitations. In early 1981, Burroughs had relocated toLawrence, KS to escape the violence and manias of New York City life.There, P-Orridge and Christopherson put the finishing touches on therecord that would be known asNothing Here Now but the Recordings.Released in Spring 1981, the album would end up as the final release onIndustrial Records, brought about by the dissolution of Throbbing Gristle.It was quietly out of print until 1998, when John Giorno and the GiornoPoetry Systems included the album on a retrospective CD box set, whichcompiled the majority of Burroughs's seminal recordings. In 2015, DaisRecords worked closely with the Estate of William S. Burroughs to finallyre-release, for the first time in 36 years, a proper vinyl reissue of WilliamS. BurroughsNothing Here Now but the Recordingsto celebrate thecentennial anniversary of William S. Burroughs. For the2023 edition, Daishas remastered the audio with renowned engineer Josh Bonati, andrestored the original artwork with a new dedication to Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Peter Christopherson.

Inspired by the original Industrial Records release of William S. Burroughs's Nothing Here Now but the Recordings Belgian record label Sub Rosa worked with Burroughs to release another album: Break Through In Grey Room. Originally compiled in 1986 by producer Bill Rich, the album features Burroughs's experimental recordings from 1961 to 1976, featuring field recordings by Burroughs of the Master Musicians of Jajouka, experimental collaborations with mathematician Ian Sommerville and painter/cut-up originator Brion Gysin. Break Through In Grey Room documents William S. Burroughs during his time in Europe and England, working with Ian Sommerville on recording with the 'cut -up' technique. Sommerville's technical background enabled him to contribute to the early development of sound - and - light shows in London, leading to work with gear provided by Paul McCartney in an apartment owned by Ringo Starr. Experimental in nature, the record is as much an exhibition of studio and composition technique as it is a document of underground culture at that time. For the 2023 reissue, Dais Records has collaborated with the Estate of William S. Burroughs on reissuing the album on vinyl and compact disc, fully remastered by mastering engineer Josh Bonati.

Inspired by the original Industrial Records release of William S. Burroughs's Nothing Here Now but the Recordings Belgian record label Sub Rosa worked with Burroughs to release another album: Break Through In Grey Room. Originally compiled in 1986 by producer Bill Rich, the album features Burroughs's experimental recordings from 1961 to 1976, featuring field recordings by Burroughs of the Master Musicians of Jajouka, experimental collaborations with mathematician Ian Sommerville and painter/cut-up originator Brion Gysin. Break Through In Grey Room documents William S. Burroughs during his time in Europe and England, working with Ian Sommerville on recording with the 'cut -up' technique. Sommerville's technical background enabled him to contribute to the early development of sound - and - light shows in London, leading to work with gear provided by Paul McCartney in an apartment owned by Ringo Starr. Experimental in nature, the record is as much an exhibition of studio and composition technique as it is a document of underground culture at that time. For the 2023 reissue, Dais Records has collaborated with the Estate of William S. Burroughs on reissuing the album on vinyl and compact disc, fully remastered by mastering engineer Josh Bonati.

Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone. Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes.

The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all."

The past few years have found Sean McBride, the artist behind Martial Canterel, in a state of flux, ebbing back and forth between material displacement and musical aestheticism. His expert pedigree in electronic sound and arrangement bridges the gap created by an undecidability between life at home and abroad His new album, Lost At Sea, is an attempt for the artist to locate this elusive common ground.The album's introductory track, Giving Up, has all of the hallmarks that Martial Canterel has utilized in the past_melodic chorus, upbeat rhythm and classic sequential dynamism. Where the song diverges is in its core theme of nature: nature's return to a period of restoration after the failures and recklessness of humankind.The slower pace of songs like Scampia and Puszta yearn for McBride's complex love affair with far flung destinations. Re-evaluating the political strife and social unrest in these historical locations, McBride delves deeper into political and geological reference points creating symbolic representations using mechanized percussion, white noise and various sine waves.The conceptual nature of Lost at Sea reaches even deeper depths within the waveforms of Astralize, a track based upon academic Donna Haraway's pre-civilized theories of human neglect after the `azstralization'.

Since his recording debut as Choir Boy in 2016, Adam Klopp has crafted nostalgic anthems, tapping the sound of swirling 1980s synth noir and captivating, cinematic songs sweeping with pensive sorrow and glowing hope. As a former member of the Mormon faith, Klopp spent his youth both in the pews of his place of worship, but also churning through DIY punk venues, before leaving the sect in the thick of a mission in Tahiti. The duality of faith and fiction are central to the lush explorations on his debut album Passive With Desire. Recorded at Studio Studio Dada, the album's tracks permuted as bedroom sketches, awash with camp, the sting of loss, and allusions to halcyon days of nocturnal, electronic driven pop. Retaining elements of Klopp's original demos, Passive With Desire was recorded with a full band and polished with trumpet, strings, as well as archival samples calling back to Klopp's hazy youth.Engineered by Klopp, Bret Meisenbach, and Stephen Cope, Passive With Desire is the entry point to Choir Boy's world of emotive wit, novella kissed lyricism, and bouncy, synth-forward takes on traditional song writing bound by the universal themes of loss, desire, evolution, and exploration.

Since his recording debut as Choir Boy in 2016, Adam Klopp has crafted nostalgic anthems, tapping the sound of swirling 1980s synth noir and captivating, cinematic songs sweeping with pensive sorrow and glowing hope. As a former member of the Mormon faith, Klopp spent his youth both in the pews of his place of worship, but also churning through DIY punk venues, before leaving the sect in the thick of a mission in Tahiti. The duality of faith and fiction are central to the lush explorations on his debut album Passive With Desire. Recorded at Studio Studio Dada, the album's tracks permuted as bedroom sketches, awash with camp, the sting of loss, and allusions to halcyon days of nocturnal, electronic driven pop. Retaining elements of Klopp's original demos, Passive With Desire was recorded with a full band and polished with trumpet, strings, as well as archival samples calling back to Klopp's hazy youth.Engineered by Klopp, Bret Meisenbach, and Stephen Cope, Passive With Desire is the entry point to Choir Boy's world of emotive wit, novella kissed lyricism, and bouncy, synth-forward takes on traditional song writing bound by the universal themes of loss, desire, evolution, and exploration.

Salt Lake City's indie pop favorites Choir Boy return after four years with the release of their new cosmic album, Gathering Swans. An emotionally powerful record, full of poignant heartbreak and gently steeped in pop nostalgia, Choir Boy push their distinctive sound further, while tenderly romancing the unsuspected.Since the release of their well-received 2016 debut Passive With Desire, of which Slug Magazine's Erin Moore declares to be "...packed with songs that are infectious by way of their sound, as well as their emotion...", and their 2018 single "Sunday Light", the band evolved from singer Adam Klopp's project accompanied by a rotating cast of players into a solidified, permanent lineup featuring long-time collaborator and bassist Chaz Costello, saxophonist and keyboardist Jeff Kleinman, and guitarist Michael Paulsen. Following a series of tours with such notable acts as Cold Cave, Snail Mail, and Ceremony, Choir Boy began writing their new album. Proving to be a worthy successor, Gathering Swans builds upon Choir Boy's infectiousness with unique pop sensibilities and impeccable polish.The first single, Complainer, demonstrates Klopp's angelic voice effortlessly floating within the heart-wrenchingly somber melodies, that in a tender state, will surely render tears. Lyrically, the song poses a form of wounded optimism, declaring "Oh my life, what a pitiful thing to hear... But it's not that bad... I'm just a complainer". Tracks such as Toxic Eye undoubtedly present the touching "choral-pop" sound that has come to be a hallmark of Choir Boy. Repetitious, layered vocal hooks that fade into the background, allowing the absence between breaths to be filled with the serene melody that embodies the foundation of Choir Boy's appeal, demonstrating that the ethereal moments between the bright choruses and memorable hooks are as equally crucial and unforgettable as the lyrical content itself. A slightly more solemn ballad, Eat The Frog, skillfully adapts Choir Boy's taste for nostalgia and translates such desi...

Salt Lake City's indie pop favorites Choir Boy return after four years with the release of their new cosmic album, Gathering Swans. An emotionally powerful record, full of poignant heartbreak and gently steeped in pop nostalgia, Choir Boy push their distinctive sound further, while tenderly romancing the unsuspected.Since the release of their well-received 2016 debut Passive With Desire, of which Slug Magazine's Erin Moore declares to be "...packed with songs that are infectious by way of their sound, as well as their emotion...", and their 2018 single "Sunday Light", the band evolved from singer Adam Klopp's project accompanied by a rotating cast of players into a solidified, permanent lineup featuring long-time collaborator and bassist Chaz Costello, saxophonist and keyboardist Jeff Kleinman, and guitarist Michael Paulsen. Following a series of tours with such notable acts as Cold Cave, Snail Mail, and Ceremony, Choir Boy began writing their new album. Proving to be a worthy successor, Gathering Swans builds upon Choir Boy's infectiousness with unique pop sensibilities and impeccable polish.The first single, Complainer, demonstrates Klopp's angelic voice effortlessly floating within the heart-wrenchingly somber melodies, that in a tender state, will surely render tears. Lyrically, the song poses a form of wounded optimism, declaring "Oh my life, what a pitiful thing to hear... But it's not that bad... I'm just a complainer". Tracks such as Toxic Eye undoubtedly present the touching "choral-pop" sound that has come to be a hallmark of Choir Boy. Repetitious, layered vocal hooks that fade into the background, allowing the absence between breaths to be filled with the serene melody that embodies the foundation of Choir Boy's appeal, demonstrating that the ethereal moments between the bright choruses and memorable hooks are as equally crucial and unforgettable as the lyrical content itself. A slightly more solemn ballad, Eat The Frog, skillfully adapts Choir Boy's taste for nostalgia and translates such desi...

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 co-founders 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...

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...

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.

The turn of the millennium ushered in an apex visionary phase for English esoteric duo Coil. Relocating from the city to the coastal quiet of Westonsuper-Mare freed them to follow even more fringe obsessions, fully untethered from peer influence. During a single six-month stretch in 2000 they released the devious underworld sequel to Music To Play In The Dark, arcane drone summit Queens Of The Circulating Library, and a malevolent hour-long synthesizer exorcism prophetically titled Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. This latter work remains one of the group's most miasmic and mind-expanding creations, on par with Time Machines - a sustained divination of shuddering, psychoactive noise, rippling with the motion sickness of an all-seeing eye. Thighpaulsandra characterizes the album as "an exercise in brutality," born from a thorny patch of his Serge modular unit that Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson found entrancing. Processing this sliver of electronics into a ravaged labyrinth was a trial and error process, aided by Christopherson's visual sense of sound, stretching and manipulating it for maximum spatial disorientating. Frequencies nauseously crawl across the stereo field, burrowing into the ear like a sinister brainwashing experiment. An outlier / centerpiece is the 13-minute alien tribalist sea shanty, "I Am The Green Child," guided by John Balance's sung-spoken free verse concerning vengeance, oblivion, and insanity, culminating in the memorable refrain, "We're swimming in a sea of occidental vomit." But the rest of the record seethes in unhinged instrumental chaos, divided into 18 micro-movements of a composition called "Tunnel Of Goats." Intended to scramble the functionality of a CD player's shuffle mode, the piece throbs, thrashes, and flatlines in compressed frenzies of twisted synthesis, at the threshold of some bottomless purgatory, forbidding and unknown.

The turn of the millennium ushered in an apex visionary phase for English esoteric duo Coil. Relocating from the city to the coastal quiet of Westonsuper-Mare freed them to follow even more fringe obsessions, fully untethered from peer influence. During a single six-month stretch in 2000 they released the devious underworld sequel to Music To Play In The Dark, arcane drone summit Queens Of The Circulating Library, and a malevolent hour-long synthesizer exorcism prophetically titled Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. This latter work remains one of the group's most miasmic and mind-expanding creations, on par with Time Machines - a sustained divination of shuddering, psychoactive noise, rippling with the motion sickness of an all-seeing eye. Thighpaulsandra characterizes the album as "an exercise in brutality," born from a thorny patch of his Serge modular unit that Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson found entrancing. Processing this sliver of electronics into a ravaged labyrinth was a trial and error process, aided by Christopherson's visual sense of sound, stretching and manipulating it for maximum spatial disorientating. Frequencies nauseously crawl across the stereo field, burrowing into the ear like a sinister brainwashing experiment. An outlier / centerpiece is the 13-minute alien tribalist sea shanty, "I Am The Green Child," guided by John Balance's sung-spoken free verse concerning vengeance, oblivion, and insanity, culminating in the memorable refrain, "We're swimming in a sea of occidental vomit." But the rest of the record seethes in unhinged instrumental chaos, divided into 18 micro-movements of a composition called "Tunnel Of Goats." Intended to scramble the functionality of a CD player's shuffle mode, the piece throbs, thrashes, and flatlines in compressed frenzies of twisted synthesis, at the threshold of some bottomless purgatory, forbidding and unknown.