Tracklist:  
Carmen Villain w/ Johanna Scheie Orellana – untitled

Carmen Villain – Subtle Bodies edit

Carmen Villain - Subtle Bodies (Huerco S. version)

Biosphere – Moistened and Dried

Space Afrika – Uwëm/Creātiōn

Bendik Giske – Cruising (Laurel Halo Remix)

Jeanne Lee – Yeh Come t’be

X or Size – Urn Stare

Huerco S. – Anagramme Of My Love

Alice Coltrane – Vrindavana Sanchara

Carmen Villain (Actress Remix) – (forthcoming)

Forest Drive West – Block Nine

 ---

Flute overdubs – Johann Scheie Orellana

Vocal overdubs – Carmen + Johanna + ++

CV NTS guest show 24/02/22

From the album "New Environments & Rhythm Studies" - out on June 27th .
andrewpekler.bandcamp.com/album/new-en…ythm-studies

Fabulation For K

Time is Away is the London-based duo of Elaine Tierney and Jack Rollo, renowned for their exquisite sound curation that touches on a deep variety of styles.

"turn on arabic radio oscura" is an edit we've been playing for a while, blending the works of Muslimgauze and SSIEGE to create a new contextualisation of both worlds.

We've produced a limited edition of 60 transparent dubplate vinyl records, each with handmade flower design covers.

All profits will be donated to the Delia Arts Foundation, which is dedicated to supporting children and musicians in Gaza and other conflict areas around the world.

Free Palestine!

Time Is Away - turn on arabic radio oscura (Muslimgauze & SSIEGE)

Intertoto - Isostar

Basho

'In the absence of desire, everything disappears, and by merging with the world, we attain serenity'

composed & mastered by Dima Kibosh

aureole of meditation (extended)

Tender / Wading

Tender of Land (Patrick's Version)

Listen / Buy

https://erfrecordings.bandcamp.com/album/burn-perf000

Burn is the second YS album and written as a direct follow-up album to Brutal Flowers. If their first album was an exercise in the incremental, a construction of poise and patience, Burn, should be taken way the fuck at it’s word: it quite literally finds catharsis in twisted reverse. Birthed out the malignant kick found in deconstruction and chaos. Evil twin, psychotic younger sibling, call it what the hell you like. It might take you a moment to get the lay of the land in this darkly mutated world. Like a bug eye’d native first confronted with a zippo, the hit is radical and instant: a new way for the world to go up in smoke.

Splice the Seattle slacker scene with the spliffhead soundsystem culture of the '90s Bristol trip-hop scene, then cross-breed that with the DIY optimism and glee in creation found in the cut-and-paste worlds of skate, graffiti and hiphop, now run that through the skitzo basement mind of John.T. Gast and you’re close to the kind of scorched earth and spiked suburbia that birthed Burn.

Dunno quite what YS have been ingesting of late, but this massively twisted LP touches on a host of gloriously fucked totemic underground sources while not sounding much like any of them. It has the ballsy swagger and hard flipping of the script as Massive Attack’s seminal Blue Lines. Indeed, the eponymous album tracks sound similar - the opener ‘Burn’ is like a hard-nosed, jammed-out redux of ‘Blue Lines’. Getting into a kind of slow-spinning overdubbed maximal euphoria ending with mumbled downer vocals, struggling to conceal their tongues in their cheeks, there’s an air of paranoia and proto-conspiracy theory. It’ll leave you scratching your head, feeling like you’ve stepped into a New World Order governed by a cacophony of dropouts, dope fiends, and apocalyptic stoners. A cracked-out world somewhere between Richard Linklater’s movie Slacker (1990) and Marc Singer’s Dark Days (2001).

The rest of the album parts like a tongue on a wine glass: Smith and Mighty, Bandulu, ambient Luke Slater records, Wah Wah Wino, Nurse with Wound, Land of the Loops, Placid Angels, Adrian Sherwood, Urban Tribe and DJ Shadow can all be heard in momentary splatters - but Burn like other works by YS, is its own ritual beast. ‘Moth’, a track that has been circulating the underground DJ circuit for many moons, is a raw, chopped, and screwed slice of stoner erotica that reeks of obsession and unrequited desire. Elsewhere, on tracks like ‘Switch’, ‘Trying’, and ‘Drift’, the throughline from Brutal Flowers can be heard. Underneath the driving heavy gravity, the trademark emotional intimacies of YS linger: eternal recurrence, ghosts of static and shortwave, worn memories of the playful and painful sort. The brief moments when flashes of orchestral ambience emerge from beneath the swagger are so pure, personal, and unguarded that, for a moment, they leave you completely alone. In the album’s closer ‘End’, you can hear the fleeting promise and DIY possibilities of an analogue world and embers of ash that flutter in its wake: where it seemed, for a brief moment, that collective of DJs, engineers, rappers, graffiti artists and skate crews were emerging from the streets, giving the middle fingers to the system, before just as quickly disappearing back to the doldrums of obscurity. ‘End’ is a bittersweet ode to early soundsystem culture, MCs and pirate radio - an out of step time where for a moment the underdogs and weirdos seemed to be kicking on the door of something bigger.

A veritable teenage doof suite dosed with desire, claustrophobia, and deviance. Burn is a good old howl at the moon: lonely, raw, and out for blood; basement style exegesis at its best. A thump to the gut, a stud through your blood. A dubbed-to-death classic straight out of the annals of nowhere. A perfect postcard from oblivion. A bleak, bold, and personally ferocious vision of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

PREMIERE | YS - Moth [PERF000]

It's Okay, You're Okay

Silence expands like light unfolding in slow motion, carrying with it the pulse of every unspoken thought. Time dissolves into waves of perception, each reflecting the rhythm of existence itself. Between stillness and sound lies the hidden equation of being: where energy remains, memory breathes, and consciousness reflects its own radiance. In that luminous stillness, infinity becomes a unique, infinite instant.

Fabulation For K

Andrew Pekler