Seaside saudade


Fast, fast, run before the summer ends and we can’t post any more neo-balearic (or para-balearic) music!

Today we continue in the same mood as last Monday: languorous, lazy and happy, with a sun-kissed soul and a kirlian aura of perfect honey, perhaps with a drop of magenta sadness that some family and friends can’t be here with us, and that some of them, we will never see again.

A state of stasis is suitable to contemplate their and our mortality, the ultimate transition. In a moment like this, basking under the nuclear conflagration of the sun, we embrace the invasion of melancholy and temper it with a consoling thought, like the protagonist at the end of the Third  Policeman: our discrete identities and bodies are a fiction that hides constant exchange and death, renewal too. Under this fierce sun, in this melting heat, we surrender to our inner hippie.

So let us begin with Diego Herrera, better known as Suzanne Kraft, who produced last year’s wonderful Talk from Home.

The vibe is similar to Gaussian Curve’s Clouds (which we posted last week): clop-clopping beats, humanistic synthesisers and butterfly guitars like Ry Cooder after dining the best fish ever, in a terrace above the Mediterranean sunset. The result is one of easy nonchalance, a machine that makes immersive dioramas through which you can flash back to the most placid, jewel-like glittering moment of your best (physical, psychic) holiday.

Suzanne Kraft – Flatiron

Get Talk from Home from Melody As Truth.


Hiroshi Yoshimura is one of the 1980s Japanese artists we discovered during our algorithmic ambient exploration a few weeks ago. We have struggled to find out much about him personally: he was an environmental musician and a visual poet, he taught industrial and sound design, he sadly died of cancer in 2003.

He also made stunning ambient music where every instant is like the step of a turing machine computing programs of beauty and truth.

Today we celebrate Yoshimura and his Pier and Loft, a nautically themed 1983 C-64 we stumbled upon in Holy Warbles YouTube channel.

Tokyo Bay Area is one of the most amazing things we have heard this year: a piano melody that drones in Badalamenti-esque wonder, if you translated (bizarre-Japanese advert style) Twin Peaks to a 1980s Tokyo marina, this would be the tune enveloping each of Agent Cooper’s moves.

Hiroshi Yoshimura – Tokyo Bay Area

The Sea in My Palm closes Pier and Loft, as well as today’s post, in an uncharacteristic (for Yoshimura) upbeat mode, like a Trans-European express for container ship lanes in Porco Rosso’s pastel sea, it sails past us with muffled electroid beats and wistful, aquatic melodies, its destination some amazing space between Drexciya and Sven Libaek that we didn’t know existed.  

Hiroshi Yoshimura – The Sea In My Palm

Small levels of info about Pier and Loft in Discogs.

The Great Queue

Featuring : Bamboo


There seems to be an inversely proportional relationship between our accelerated demand for content and the rate at which individual content producing units (aka musicians) are actually putting out…content.  While the Talking Heads could drop LP after LP in the late 70s we’re now conditioned to expect years between releases. 

Quite possibly, the sheer diffusion of culture over the internets has meant that the queue to grab a slice of the consumer conscious has grown long and weary.  A great winding thing of bodies and instruments snaking towards the hills.  Hey, there’s Drake trying to usurp Coldplay’s next ‘launch window’, oh and over there, Taylor Swift’s playing some boyfriend meta-game to keep herself amused in the interminable line.

So it feels strangely uncanny to welcome Bamboo back to these pages so soon.  After stunning us by airdropping a last minute ‘album of the year’ in 2015, Bamboo are (relatively) quickly back with more.

Bamboo – Always Running

If Grace Jones, on a (purely hypothetical) trip to Japan in the early 80s, where she had been hired to do a Young Marble Giant covers set, had drafted in the Yellow Magic Orchestra as a back up band…it might sound something like Always Running.  And if some enterprising youth had thought to record it to tape, that tape would have barely been able to contain the vast ebbs and flows of five minutes and 45 seconds that Always Running occupies.  For the delicacy of the first minute is barely recognised in the euphoria of the penultimate and in between huge crashing waves of synths constantly destroy and renew.

MASSIVE, as they say.

Always Running is taken from Bamboo’s new album, The Dragon Flies Away, on Crumb Cabin.  Limited to 50 tapes you can pre-order it here.  It’s out of Sept 12th.  Bamboo’s previous album — you know, the one I gushed about up the top there — that’s getting a CD release via UTR on the 23rd and it’ll come with a live album ‘Live at Cafe OTO’.  So that’s three album releases in a month. #content

Terminus Beach


Each time we perform a web search, we draw a network to navigate, looking for patterns and trends. A couple of weeks ago we went on a YouTube wild goose hunt whose starting point was Midori Takada and 1980s Japanese ambient. This seed grew into a tree with branches of synthpop, progressive minimalism and our focus today, the neo-balearic revival (we’ll talk about those other things in future weeks).

Neo-balearic revival. Is this a thing?

It’s hard to know in these days of total spatio-temporal convergence, when all possible trends exist contemporaneously. We declare it so, making it exist, and even give you an explanation for it: the neo-balearic revival is a rebellion against the tyranny of the digital media which pervade our lives, including times of holiday under the sun which are transformed into yet another opportunity to create content, share, perform in front of an audience. The neo-balearic revival reclaims the beach as a space for repose and contemplation of the sea whence our ancestors came, as it spins in its neverending drone.

It is also a rebellion against the neo-Victorian obsession with progress, using time productively, and personal self-improvement. To the contrary, says the neo-balearic revival, the best way you can spend your time is blissfully unaware of its passage, purring under the Mediterranean sun, watching the arms of the clock melt into a pool of beautiful colours, transformations in the gradient of a perfect sky. This strategy makes time infinite, and you rich, and therefore free.

When time stretches into infinity, anything can happen, so here you have the neo-balearic revival, celebrate its arrival before the Summer is totally gone from our shores.

We begin with Joan Bibiloni, a man arrived from Balearic ground zero: Mallorca. After spending his youth in folk and prog bands, Bibiloni started a label called Blau, to release his own work, and the work of other musicians in the region. This year, many of these songs have been compiled in ‘El Sur’, a release by Dutch crate-digging label Music From Memory.

The whole thing is a complete delight. Listening to it for the first time on a September morning will make you wish that you had had it at hand on the best day of this Summer. Relax, there will always be other opportunities. Our favourite song is ‘Una Vida Llarga y Tranquila’ (A long and calm life), which in its spiral progression from jaunty guitar and flutes to transcendental lounge, serene meditation and a coda which returns to the beginning, perfectly summarises the mellow, good-natured challenge to progress we have described: the end as the beginning of a journey full of beauty, no conscience of opportunity costs, no regrets.

Joan Bibiloni – Una Vida Llarga I Tranquila I

Obtain El Sur from Music from Memory. Read an interview with him here.


Somehow, Gaussian Curve passed us by last year, when they released their excellent Clouds album in, yet again, Music from Memory (No matter, as we already said, the Internet destroys space and time, and the neo-balearic revival resuscitates it making it transcendent, infinite.)

Gaussian Curve are a trio formed by an Italian ambient veteran, Gigi Masin (who also had his music compiled by Music From Memory a couple of years ago, we’ll tell you about it some other day), Jonny Nash (who you might remember from Sombrero Galaxy) and Marko Sterk.

Today we are having a day where everything fits, and the same is true for their name: the Gaussian (or normal) curve represents a distribution of probabilities where large and small events happen rarely, most of the activity is around the average. The avatars of progress might condemn the normal curve as an embrace of mediocrity, but today we push back, and defend it as a representation of tranquility, equanimity and equality. All of these feelings pervade Clouds, whose jams are effortlessly cool, suave, somewhat nostalgic.

They make us think of Peaking Lights teaming-up with Jan Hammer in a soundtrack for an alternative version of Miami Vice where no-one ever dies, or the top tunes in a stash of forgotten 1980s cassettes in the utopian cyber-constructed island where Neuromancer tries to trap Case towards the end of that novel.

Gaussian Curve – Impossible Island

Get Clouds from Music from Memory. Nice interview here.

Saturday mixtape : The Beach II

Featuring : Podcast


Screaming was a mistake. The creature homed in on the sound and entered through my open mouth forcing my jaw open and pushing deeper into my throat as i began to uncontrollably gag.

By the time i could close my mouth i knew the being the gatherers referred to as ‘Her’ was deep inside me, and her secretions began to take effect.

I could feel many of her offspring nestling in the sweat on the back of my neck. I yearned to prove my love, taking each in turn into my willing mouth as deeply as i could.

‘Her’ effects moistened my mouth and as each of her offspring approached i willingly enjoyed ritualistically opening my mouth and sucking every one of them as deeply inside my throat as i could.

Once my lust was sated, exhausted, i fell into unconsciousness with no knowledge of what fate had become of Hannah.

When i awoke she was next to me.

Placing her hand upon me enlarged tummy and looking deeply into my eyes she kissed me. The kiss was as cold and lifeless as her eyes.

20JFG mixtape – The Beach (II)

‘We must go find Her’ – she said, and he realised the Hannah he knew was lost forever.

Once the sun began to set we went down to the beach.

Idiot Signal Noise

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On Thursday, we went to see Factory Floor playing at the ICA and it was great. They sounded like the drum breakdown in LFO’s Freak – one of our favouritest musical moments ever – stretched into infinity, smashing your face forever. They sounded like Hi NRG music for brutalistic architecture perverts. We loved it so much we almost melted.

Although Factory Floor are clearly unique, their music is nevertheless connected to many other obsessions of ours by the universal thread of a monomaniac focus on converging with the perfect rhythm, and a morbid fascination with the effects of ridiculous noises in the human brain.

In that sense, they are brethren to Yuriko Keino and Junko Ozawa, the creators of the soundtrack for arcade shooter Super Xevious. This is not music, this is a project where the mutant hamster equivalent of Aphex Twin is hired to to do a Manchurian candidate vs. aliens number on your head. Just watch this video.

And listen to this in repeat:

Super Xevious (1984) – 37,640 High Score – Barry Bloso

YMO ex-member Haruomi Hosono produced some synthy remixes of the soundtrack that sound like Yello doing children’s TV music. They are less likely to make you go insane, but they are still pretty good.

Haruomi Hosono – Super Xevious

More info in discogs.


Featuring : Black Spuma


In the age of Mr Brexit, we need International Feel now, more than ever.  We need the light that they curate for our ears.  Those sweet, sweet sounds that feel like sun and silk and the touch of cooling wet sand.  So, for our communal listening therapy today, they’ve pulled in something from the night.

Black Spuma return to the label with the deepest of deep house.  House so deep you finally understand why the Old Ones will never die.   House that includes an ethereal synth breakdown that we can only hope leads to Skrillex levels of drop-hysteria in the sun kissed nightclubs of our minds.  Except that beat doesn’t return with speaker destroying petulance, but rather slides back between the sheets like an illicit lover in a cheesy soft-core 80s thriller that you kinda’ adore anyway.

Black Spuma – Metallo Nero

Metallo Nero is taken from Black Spuma’s Onda which is out today on International Feel and which you can get from Juno (among others).

The Demonic Fjords

Featuring : Blanck Mass + Gazelle Twin


Gazella Twin has a new remix album out with all sorts of good people taking their turn remixing tracks from 2014’s Unflesh.  Including spirit parents of this blog, Carter Tutti.

Today, we’ll be focussing entirely on Blanck Mass’s squelchy, dark acid/afro-beat/techno reconfiguration of Still Life.  And when you hear it you’ll know why…

Gazelle Twin – Still Life (Blanck Mass remix)

Blanck Mass goes hard, like you’d go hard racing across a radiation bleached desert toward the only source of fuel.  Like you’d go hard armed with a spiked baseball bat against an inter-dimensional demogorgon.  Like you’d go hard if you wanted to recreate in acid, the explosive moments of MIA’s discography if they were all set at night in heavy black and white.

Because what we have here are planet killing drums behind Gazelle Twin’s treated vocal, a vocal ripped straight from a dead eyed police statement after her coven’s unleashed the apocalypse.   Lazers fly high in the sky over the reanimated corpse of Acid House, bought to life to serve in the demonic hordes of pitch black Techno that now run the streets.

Get Fleshed Out from Gazelle Twin’s Bandcamp right here.