Tracklisting
A1 Kenji Hina - Bring It Down
A2 Kenji Hina - VC SHIT
B1 Kenji Hina - The City Rulez
B2 Kenji Hina - Drilling

Sales Note
Repress of Alaricos solo EP under his alias Kenji Hina

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Tracklisting
A1 Seigg - Furious Loop
A2 DJ Swisherman - Tell Em
B1 Zisko - Amnesia
B2 Vromo - Burn Up
B3 Dj Swisherman - Best Shot

Sales Note
- 2025 repress -

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Tracklisting
A1 Seigg - Intore
A2 BENZA - Rite Of Passage
A3 Tino Trøster - Can You Hear Me
B1 Vilchezz - Sakramento
B2 West Code - Ranchando en Brujas

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Tracklisting
A1 Lucass P & JKS - Put This CD On
A2 Pavel K. Novalis - Purple Reflexe
B1 Mayeul - Transitional Gateways
B2 Incident Prism - Bassmurda
C1 Pavel K. Novalis & Incident Prism - Canis Majoris
C2 Lucass P - Faitfhul to the Doctrine
D1 AIROD - Need For Speed
D2 JKS - Mash Up the Dance

Sales Note
5 years anniversary release - Red marbled repress.

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Tracklisting
A1 Isaiah - To the Left, To the Right
A2 Isaiah - Body Rocks the Rhythm
A3 Isaiah - Alien tribe
B1 Isaiah - Otaleg
B2 Isaiah - Soft Body
B3 Isaiah - End of the Cycle

Sales Note
After a first appearance on the label in 2023, Amsterdam-based Isaiah is back on Molekul with a solo EP featuring 6 tools tailored for the club.

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A1 Blame The Mono feat. HerrClem - Gazellehorden
A2 Blame The Mono - Switch the Pilot
B1 Blame The Mono - Funk Herald
B2 Blame The Mono - Bad Disco

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Tracklisting
A1 BAUGRUPPE90 - Torx
A2 Kenji Hina - Machete
B1 Chlär - Neck Carver
B2 Cult - Rock The Mic
C1 DJ SUN - Everybody Dance
C2 Sol Caballero - Au Noise
D1 Beau Didier - Take 1
D2 Lucass P - Murder Czn
D3 Dylan Fogarty - Purification

Sales Note
- 2024 repress -

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There isn’t many who would disagree with the underlying sentiment that electronic music makes us feel something extraordinary. Much in the same way, the possibilities for creative discourse and cosmic interactivity are accessible to anyone with an open mind. It’s in this place where these possibilities materialise, and it’s in this space where SYNCROPHONE 39 operates within.
You see, you won’t find cleverly constructed adjectives or nonsensical descriptors for the music presented here. It doesn’t need them. The music speaks for itself, much in the same way the artists do. Stojche has been carving out timeless techno for two decades now, working tirelessly without fanfare to enrich a scene that sits close to his heart. Whether that be through releases on his own imprint TANGIBLE ASSETS or the ever expanding a.r.t.less, his trademark sound signature is synonymous with the soul of Detroit. You may be hard pressed to find anyone else who’s been as consistent with this sound over the years as he has. On the other hand, Gerard Hanson aka Convextion has been doing exactly that without fault his entire career. So the combination of these two artists on this release makes perfect sense.
Syncro39 is a celebration of core values in music. Of devotion to a singular obsession crafted over the course of decades devoid of trends or cheap influences, social or otherwise. It’s that unwillingness to compromise and to put everything on the line in the pursuit of the dreaming process that makes this a special release.
One thing is for certain. Those who are inspired by Stojche’s signature original and the timeless journey of Convextion’s remix,
will carry themselves through the smoke and haze into the sunlight as it takes some time for the rush to subside. That’s probably an apt abstract for this release thus far. For the most part though, the narrative for Stojche has only just begun.


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Bicoastal disco aficionado, Super Elevation label/shop owner, and all-around legend of the scene, Tom Noble brings forth a sprawling project 15 years in the making with his House of Spirits full length LP on Razor-N-Tape.

Slow-cooked over more than a decade, the eight tracks that stretch across this double 12 inch pack are the realization of Tom’s unique vision of modern dancefloor soul, with lush live instrumentation and deviously catchy hooks. Boasting a near encyclopedic knowledge of decades of club music, Tom draws on influences like Patrick Adams & the Mizell Brothers to build a sound that’s both reverent to the past, but feels extremely fresh and immediately timeless.

The lead off singles ‘Times Are Changing’ and ‘Please Take Me There’ and respective remixes by Harvey Sutherland, Makez and Sizmo have already garnered huge support, and ‘Holding On’ the beloved original House Of Spirits single from 2020 appears with a shiny new mix. The album opens with ‘Love Trip,’ an uptempo invitation to the sonic world to follow, and moves through various moods, like the Brit-funk vibe of ‘Time Is Running Out,’ the mid-tempo groover ‘I Get Lifted’ and the downtempo R&B smoothness of ‘Diamond Eyes’ featuring dreamcastmoe on vocals.

The cheeky dollar bin artwork rounds out this package perfectly, and with the tracks mixed to perfection and cut tough for the floor, this is an essential record that will surely find a permanent home in the bag.

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Solitary Dancer compose their first new works in five years for adidas & Yohji Yamamoto's pioneering Y-3 label. Originally featured as the score for Y-3's Spring/Summer 2025 runway presentation at Salle Pleyel in Paris, Y-3001 ushers in a series of artist commissions aimed at defining a new era of sound for the historic brand's return to runway format.

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Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

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Tracklisting
A1 Neonicle - Dirty Sanches
A2 Neonicle feat. Julia Marks - Kagome
B1 Neonicle - Train
B2 Neonicle feat. Dyroplane - New Culture

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Vick Lavender returns to Cataleya with a fantastic four tracker named The Messenger EP. It follows his earlier winners on the label - No One's Going To Love You and Chicago Blue Line. The Messenger is a varied EP that features Deep, Jazzy and Soulful tones from the Sophisticado Recordings boss. Expect varied musical styles and instrumentation. The title track kicks the EP off with stylish synths, a cool sax and vocal flourishes. Abstract Union has guitar flexing and a huge organ bottom end, whilst El Negro Bossa is a free flowing jazz effort with a playful feel. Tomass finishes the EP in a deep and stargazing style courtesy of magical keys and grooving synths. The Messenger EP is another quality delivery from Cataleya.

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Produced and engineered by Jah Wobble at home in his bedroom (hence the title), the album was originally released in spring 1983, showing a different side in the bass player evolution. His proper 2nd album after a major label stint with Virgin - for his debut - and the stratospheric collaborations with Holger Czukay & The Edge. A mystical hybrid of dub fusion, ethereal wave and global beat, still ahead of his time.

Tracklist:

Side A

1 City (Jah Wobble)
2 Fading (Jah Wobble)
3 Long Long Way (Wobble/Animal)
4 Sense Of History (Wobble/Animal)
5 Hill In Korea (Jah Wobble)
6 Journey To Death (Jah Wobble)

Side B

1 Invaders Of The Heart (Jah Wobble)
2 Sunshine (Wobble/Animal)
3 Concentration Camp (Wobble/Animal)
4 Desert Song (Jah Wobble)
5 Heart Of The Jungle (Jah Wobble)

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Nothing is the third album from DARKSIDE: nine transmissions of negative space, telepathic seance, and spectral improvisation. On their first two reinventions, Nicolás Jaar and Dave Harrington entered the studio with a clutch of scattered ideas to mold into what became the revered Psychic(2013) and Spiral (2021). But Nothing reflects a search for form borne out of spontaneous elliptical jams, acoustic riffing, and digital levitations. And in a fundamental shift from their first dozen years as a band, the duo recruited their longtime friend and collaborator, the drummer and instrument designer Tlacael Esparza, to become a full-time member. The outcome is magnetic and hieroglyphic. This album slips through the cracks of convention with serpentine guitars, extraterrestrial static, and cavernous drums. No band but DARKSIDE could have made Nothing, and in no moment but now.

Official Music Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKiS9DPARDg

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Volume 2 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Tracklisting Vol.2:
A1 Montego Bay – Everything (Paradise Mix)
A2 Atelier – Got To Live Together (Club Mix)
A3 Golem – Music Sensation
B1 The True Underground Sound Of Rome – Gladiators
B2 Eagle Paradise – I Believe
C1 D.J. Le Roy feat. Bocachica – Yo Te Quiero
C2 Carol Bailey - Understand Me Free Your Mind (Dream Piano Remix)
C3 M.C.J. feat. Sima – Sexitivity (Deep Mix)
D1 Kwanza Posse feat. Funk Master Sweat – Wicked Funk (Afro Ambient Mix)
D2 Progetto Tribale – The Bird Of Paradise / MBG – The Quiet

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Repress!

In February 2021, Jan Jelinek's seminal album "Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records" turned 20. The anniversary repress, a double LP with two bonus tracks (B-sides from the Tendency EP, 2000), is a little late to the party.

What the press said about Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records:

“Don’t be misled by the title, though for there isn’t a finger-snapping rhythm c bebop lead anywhere on the album. Instead, Jelinek chooses to explore the visual effect moiré - two shifting patterns creating an implied third dimension - in the audio realm.” (Alternative Press)

“The title acts as explanation for the studio technique that provided the basis for this album, snippets of other people’s arrangements deconstructed through a sampler into loops and then splashed onto an audio canvas.” (ATM)

“Jelinek’s sound evolved out of his dislike for (and inability to play) keyboards.” (RPM)

“Jelinek has abstracted his sources beyond recognition, looping his millisecond samples into flickering patterns of sonic moiré laid atop a dub Techno framework. (...) Jelinek might as well have sampled a horn player’s hissing intake of breath – it would have been ‘jazz’ enough for his purposes.“ (The Wire)

“It’s a perfect inversion of conventional music, a sonic negative. Everything that would typically be foreground is moved back or pushed off the screen altogether, and the flecks of sonic debris that would normally be covered by other sounds are left to carry the melody and rhythm.” (Pitchfork)

“All you need to know is that these onomatopoeic non-specific songs (...) are warm, paradisical creations”. (NME)

“Listen carefully and you’ll hear textures slowly unfolding and mutating. Presuming you’ve not fallen asleep of course.” (iDJ)

“At times, it’s all a bit dripping tap Japanese water torture; so sedentary it drowns in its own motionlessness” (DJ)

“Loop Finding Jazz Records' is a genuine modern classic whose re-release is anything but a cynical mortgage repayment exercise. Consider this a second chance, then pretend you had it all along.” (Boomkat)

PS:

“I’ve been fortunate enough to see Jan Jelinek live once, at Tonic NYC (...). Wearing a black and white striped shirt, he looked like a nihilistic Charlie Brown.” (beachsloth)

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