Torai at the helm of his third Lunar Orbiter Program's mission.

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Launched in 2016, Lunar Orbiter Program continues to prove the ability of his pilot Torai who is just back from his second moon landing.

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Taking the helm for this mission is Gamayun, a top-tier pilot specializing in precision orbital maneuvers. Gamayun's expertise in navigating complex gravitational anomalies is critical for the "Data Sciencer" mission's success, ensuring the orbiter maintains the perfect trajectory for long-range sensor deployment.

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Ffriend is ready to take part of Lunar Orbiter Program with his first launch: ARCTIC CONNECTION

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Torai at the helm of his third Lunar Orbiter Program's mission.

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New LOP from 051 Destroyer
Heavy hitting electro, reminiscent of Weatheralls and Keith Tenniswood's Two Lone Swordsmen project

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Launched in 2016, Lunar Orbiter Program continues to prove the ability of his pilot Torai who is just back from his second moon landing.

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Repress!

Lunar Orbiter Program is pleased to announce the first solo mission for Turk Turkelton. Mastered at Reel Mastering, London

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Repress!

Berlin scene figurehead Gilles Aiken, AKA Edward, coming through with a massive Kalahari debut (and it’s safe to say he understood the assignment).

Booting off on a massive remix tip as the veteran producer reinterprets Mike Parker & Aric Rist’s Trybet project, but trust him to allow for a moment of dancefloor introspection. It’s prime early morning gear in a rousing juxtaposition of beatific string harmony and tough-as-nails deepness. Triumphant ‘window shutters open in the club at 5 AM’-type shit.

The other two are quintessential Edward: impressionistic, widescreen odysseys across lysergic terrain, but groove-forward where it counts. A pair of head-spinning explorations intended for the dancefloor, flush with shadowy flex, insectoid detail and tripped-out flourishes while keeping it funked-out in the tradition of Detroit.

The ‘Deep Sea Villain EP’ plumbs the depths of smudged abstraction, and as we’ve come to expect from Edward, it’s big on hallucinatory detail. It all oozes the multi-layered surrealism that typifies his best work. Proper transcendent biz.

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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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TP X is a sub label of Time Passages.

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A classic amongst seasoned record collectors, “Blow Out” has not only been heard on some our most esteemed mixes by favorite diggers world-wide, but also would have been the soundtrack to beautiful sunset sets in Ibiza's most “Balearic” dancefloors during the second half of the 80's. A poppy melody that catches the attention of even the less sober party enthusiast, mixed in with Dubby digi/stepper elements and playful yet somewhat sleepy vocals topped by Dire Straits style guitar smoothness. Highly appropriate for lower latitudes.
Goes well with cocktails, not to be played bellow 23 degrees Celsius – cruise along.

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Irlam's infamous upstarts DJ Absolutely Shit are at it again with four more tracks to rattle yer spines and rupture yer spleens.
Utilizing the classic approach of sourcing a sick sample, adding a rugged breakbeat, then tweaking out the buzz for maximum enjoyment, the pair deliver an explosive EP of global hypercoloured mayhem that burns hotter than an oz of 'Ells Angels sputnik.

'Bridge To Your Heart' grabs Sade by the hand, shoves two purple doves down her throat and queue-jumps to the front of Bowlers for an endorphin-rushing hardcore workout full of modern beat engineering and sample manipulation.

Switching approach, 'Bolivia' shuns the dreamy feminism for an altogether more masculine affair - roping in the Wu for an argy-bargy, elbows-out speaker shaker full of hi-definition laser stabs and destructive, land mine subs.

Hitting the accelerator, 'Rocking You Eternally' traverses the jungle boarders in a blacked out Nova, Ab Shit's flair and panache at drum programming and contemporary production chops beautifully on show throughout this big system roller with a carp-hunting vocal hook.

'Gong' closes off proceedings, merging moods inna more seductive flavour. E-soaked pianos and a gentle throb coaxing us to that end-of-night climax that'll have us humming the piano line all the way down the M65 home.

No jokes cru, this is some of the best tackle to emerge outta the DJ Absolutely Shit studio to date. One of two, vinyl-only EPs and ahead of their debut album that follows on C90 tape.

Boing boing boing, boing boing boing, boing boing!!



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The fatigue kicked in a while ago and De Nooit Moede's journey came to an end..
but maybe we all have room for a little more 'life after death' in our lives?

De Nooit Moede - RIP is the final episode of this beautiful soap-opera of a band in the form of a
4 track EP. It features songs written between 2021 and 2022 that some of the most
loyal fans might recognise.

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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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Repress!

The latest by Chicago trio Purelink unspools an alchemical suite of fractal ambient, dusted dub tech, and interstitial electronica, born from a spirit of unity and flux: “All hands on the mixer, forever finding the sound.” Since forming in 2020, Tommy Paslaski (aka Concave Reflection), Ben Paulson (aka Kindtree), and Akeem Asani (aka Millia) have convened regularly in a shared studio to workshop, swap samples, and hone their collective muse via “the endless possibilities of a laptop,” seeking “something different than we would make on our own.”

Distilled from extended compositions prepared and performed across 2022 in Chicago, Kansas City, New York, and Los Angeles, Signs captures their chemistry at its most liquid and immaterial, mapped in mutating systems of glitch, glass, rhythm, and space. It’s music alternately subdued and subterranean, elevated and remote, attuned to the flickering sentience of outer spheres.

Cover art by Ezra Miller.

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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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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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