Kompakt Vinyl, CD & Tape 111 Items

Coma prove again their knack for unconventional, but catchy hooks. The release includes Robag Wruhme and Pional mixes.

With tracks like "Derdiedas" or "Two birds", there's certainly no need to worry for future prime times.

Kompakt ally Rex the dog presents his latest offering "Sicko", a brand new 12" packed with two rabble-rousers.

1st Kompakt outing under Sascha's proper name in a decade combines the straightforward and the uncanny.

LEGENDE is both the continuation and alteration of Matias' well-established aesthetic canon, drawing from all stages in his production career und ultimately synthesizing various sonic strains into a wholly new listening experience.

Robag Wruhme Returns To Kompakt After His Much Lauded "Thora Vukk" Album On Pampa. With "Donnerkuppel" He Resets The Focus Firmly On The Dancefloor. With Its Dramatically Beautiful Ethereal Hookline The Title Track Is A Perfect Follow Up To Robag's Previous Outings On Kompakt Extra. One For Those Magical Morning Hours... "Wemmel" Is Another Fine Example Of His Stunning Craftmanship. It's Floating Freely Between Advanced Deephouse And 2-Step, Dubstep, Techstep And Whatever Step You Want. "Polch Dutto" Boils Things Down Nicely Towards The End With Some Lush Soundtrack-Like Ambience.

With Lucifer, Kompakt presents an album of rare beauty from two masters of modern music. A family affair, it’s a collaboration between the Italian father-and-son duo of Luciano Michelini and Lorenzo Dada, whose combined histories bring to Lucifer a depth of experience alongside clarity of vision and a finely tuned, neatly developed combined compositional voice. A lovely, beguiling suite of music that combines the electronic and the acoustic, the urban and the pastoral, its gorgeous night-eye vision and tender melancholy sits neatly within the Kompakt universe, while offering the curious listener some rich new perspectives.

There is already plenty to know both artists by. Lorenzo Dada creates across multiple fields – a techno producer and DJ who has already worked with the likes of Jay Haze, Fete, Leo Benassi, and Der, he’s released a small clutch of stylish, smartly designed EPs, and a solo album, Second Life (2018). His complementary background in classical music and composition informs his ensemble project, Tears Of Blue (who appear on Lucifer), where Dada paints with neo-classical tones for a quartet of violin, viola, cello and grand piano, supplemented by electronics for live performance.

Luciano Michelini’s history is yet richer. He may be best known, to many, for his piece “Frolic”, the theme to Larry David’s Curb Your Enthusiasm series; it was also sampled by Snoop Dogg for 2022’s “Crip Ya Enthusiasm”. But there’s much more to Michelini’s story. A successful soundtrack composer, Michelini both studied and taught at the Conservatoro di Santa Cecilia, and worked for RCA from the sixties to the eighties; his soundtracks from this period are gorgeous examples of the form, particularly his work for Il Decamerone Nero (1972), L’Isola Degli Uomini Pesce (1979), and the devastatingly gorgeous Dimensione Donna (1977).

In the eighties, Michelini and his wife Anna Gutling founded the Electronic Music Division studio and academy in Rome, which is where the majority of Lucifer was recorded. Dada reflects on the experience: “We never worked together before, so it was all new for both of us,” with Michelini adding, “I truly love this experience with my son. He’s a talented pianist and composer. I am not very familiar with electronic music nowadays, but we did it fluently.” There’s certainly a familial energy at play through Lucifer, and you can hear how Dada and Michelini, through exploration and experiment, find a shared language, balancing Dada’s tendency toward minimalism, and Michelini’s composerly voice.

Lucifer flows as a suite that interweaves electronic music with acoustic instruments: the lonely sigh of saxophone; Michelini’s lush, verdant piano; the weeping strings of Tears Of Blue (recorded at the studio of Michelini’s friend, the late Maestro, Ennio Morricone). These multiple voices are located within the electronic sighs and swarms from Dada’s kit; there are moments of propulsion, and passages of lambent drift, where the album revels in its tonal sweetness. If it flows so effortlessly, that’s because Lucifer was designed that way, as a suite or a sonata of sorts.

And the title? Dada reflects, “Lucifer was an angel who decided not to be one anymore. The miracle of life is that we can decide what we want to be, even if we are born as angels or vice versa.” This feels somehow apposite: there’s certainly something of the transformative, and the transportive, in Lucifer, a unique family collaboration of rare poetry and sensitivity, where two generations meet in the modern crucible that is the electronic music studio.

Dear gourmets of audio-aesthetic rapture, dear sound poets, please welcome - Pop Ambient 2024. Twenty-four. Twenty-four can be divided by two, four, six, eight, twelve and itself. If something can be divided by itself, it is not really divisible. Truthfulness knows no formulas. Beauty knows no formulas. Beauty saves the world for no reason whatsoever. “Beauty is a promise that beyond mediocrity there is something where calmness reigns. Beauty calms the nerves. Beauty is not a good intention but a fact. Beauty is provocation, rigor, responsibility. And beauty has its price”.

In addition to the official version of Pop Ambient 2024, there will be an art/music edition limited to 10 pieces, consisting of an exclusive mini bonus album (vinyl dubplate) from Blank Gloss, in combination with 10 individual fine art print artworks by Veronika Unland. The edition will be available via kompakt.fm/art exclusively on November 24th, 2023.

Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome, Pop Ambient 2024

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a [musical] career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a [musical] career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

Kompakt unveils the third volume of Jörg Burger’s Velvet Desert Music compilation series, dedicated to music that hits the sweet spot between the cinematic, the (pop) ambient, and the psychedelic. With Velvet Desert Music Vol. 3, Burger and his friends wander afar, taking trips away from, or adjacent to, the dancefloor that’s acted so long as the crucible for the Kompakt aesthetic. Like its predecessors, it’s a gorgeous, lambent collection of late-night mood music.

Because it’s such a broad church, Velvet Desert Music admits all kinds of new experiences, as well, with Burger looking for music that "leads out of the desert into the velvet universe". Indeed, of all the volumes in the series, this third instalment feels closest to an album made by a true collective. The roster has changed, with new contributors Flug 8 and Seb Martel, both with his trio Las Ondas Marteles and with Chocolate Genius and Zsela as La Finca, joining regulars The Novotones, Mount Obsidian, The Golden Bug, Paulor and Sascha Funke.

Burger himself reappears, too, alongside Fritz Ackermann (of The Novotones), Max Würden and Thore Pfeiffer, in The Velvet Circle. Their contributions are pure lush life electronica: “Our Tribe” hitches a ride with a low-slung groove, flickering psychedelic reels of acoustic guitar traipsing across moody bass and taffeta layers of drone; their opening remix of Flug 8’s “Puerto Rico” gently introduces the album with softly tangling electronic tones, while guitars, drenched in reverb, pirouette in the background. A Mount Obsidian remix of “Sacrosanct” by Burger’s The Black Frame -project is a swirling treat for the ears.

La Finca’s electronics and voice miniature, “What Clouds Say”, is a masterclass in poetic restraint; Martel’s “Dark Mambo”, remixed by Burger, is one of the collection’s big surprises, for it indeed does what the title says, a drifting, surrealist take on the mambo form, full of pensive chords, rich with unrequited longing, a breathy saxophone whispering under the song’s sly rhythmic carriage.

Elsewhere, The Novotones chime in with a slyly propulsive, Krautrock-esque charmer, “Liberty Bell”, and the guitar-led tone-drift of “Valley of Oblivion”; Paulor’s “The Last Coke in the Desert” is a chiming, lilting dreamscape; Mount Obsidian are joined by vocalist Charlotte Jestaedt for two modern takes on early-hours art song, “Marole” and “Fade”; Sascha Funke’s “Mathias Rust” is a lavish dancefloor dream, vocal samples drifting through the song as it slowly envelops the listener in its opulent radiance.

This is just a taste of the rich pleasures of Velvet Desert Music Vol. 3, a triumph of a compilation that takes the psychedelic visions of its predecessors and looks for the desert within, a dusty kiss, a road-movie hallucination flickering on the listener’s eyelids, a cinematic projection from deep inside the mind.

Okay, you’re listening to the 23rd edition of Kompakt’s annual compilation series Total… hold on… 23??? It’s impossible to look at this number without thinking of William S. Burrough’s Captain Clark anecdote, the Illuminatus trilogy and the Justified Ancients of Mu Mu. But don’t you worry, we’re not giving in to eikositriophobia. We’re enlightened folks, after all.

The lively dance begins solemnly with KOLLMORGEN’s deep-subtle minimal gem “Muddy”. Making her debut is the wonderful Argia with the somewhat misleading title ‘No Concept’ – the Madrid native indeed has a very precise plan. Also, our number one hit guarantor, Jürgen Paape, is represented here with his brand-new super hit ‘Alone In Italy’. His colleague Michael Mayer is also in top disco spirits with ‘Talmi’. One of the secret weapons of the current season comes from Stephan Barnem & Futuristant. ‘Don’t Cry’ is a passionate New Wave belter for eternity. Jörg Burger proclaims a new, trippy genre: Cinematic Dance, before C.A.R. & Patrice Bäumel slowly raise the energy level in the ‘Four Down’ Club Mix. John Tejada then cruises calmly at the desired cruising altitude while the cabin crew serves refreshments. ‘Duration’ by BARNT/Mayer pays tribute to an artist formerly known as Prince with grand rave romanticism, and about REX THE DOG’s summer smash hit ‘Change This Pain For Ecstasy’, there’s really nothing more to say. The Thuringian force of nature Robag Wruhme must not be missing here, of course. ‘Fire’ once again shows him in top form, with one of the dirtiest basslines in techno history. Joining us from London is Hardt Antoine, who spells u n d e r s t a t e m e n t with ‘All We See’. And finally, Reinhard Voigt feat Eduard Weber bring it all together – live from the grand Comedy Barn of folk music. Cheers!

We’re still harvesting the fruits of those past days in seclusion, the cabin fever induced creative outbursts, ideas that would probably have never surfaced without these enforced trips to our inner minds. Lockdown transcendence.

“Don’t Cry” by Italo-Brazilian DJ producer Stephan Barnem and Futuristant is another impressive testament of those days. Secluded in Stephan’s studio in Northern Italy, the duo subconsciously conjured the spirits of one of their mutual favorite bands, Depeche Mode and created a fierce, boombappy Neo New Wave smasher contrived to send rays of hope into the darkest corners of this mad world. We had to add a gratuitous beatless version to the EP that amplifies the cinematic depth and healing potency of this song.

If “Don’t Cry” echoes the dark brooding euphoria of Depeche Mode’s “Music For The Masses” era, the flipside cut “Elysium” harks back to the synthwave happy days of their debut “Speak & Spell”. It’s a wonderfully careless track that’s bringing a dearly needed breeze of fresh air to today’s discerning dancefloors.

Boys don’t cry for me Argentina. Save your tears for another day.