When Prolapse released their last album, Ghosts of Dead Airplanes, the internet was assumed to be a passing fad and Napster was still months away from being invented.
The world the Leicester Polytechnic graduates left behind in 1999 was one where John Peel’s Festive 50 and the Evening Session were king, with exposure coming from ads placed in the inkies leading readers to seek out a group that named themselves after a rectal collapse.
Twenty-six years later comes I Wonder When They’re Going to Destroy Your Face, a pleasing anachronism landing on a very different planet. Even though the band had reformed for some dates a decade ago, it’s a return that feels as unexpected as a reappearance from the ghost…
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International is 
Music holds many forms, and for 
This cutting-edge experimental/ambient work was created after a long hiatus by electronic musician Roedelius, renowned as a pioneer of German experimental music, environmental music, and Krautrock, and Onnen Bock, known not only as an audio engineer for the Berlin Philharmonic but also for his work with Roedelius in the unit Qluster, and composer, arranger, flutist, keyboardist Yuko Matsuzaki, the creator of the extremely rare Japanese ’80s New Age / ambient album “Raden no Hako”!
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Time moves forward inexorably for us all, even for Triptides, a band determined to live in the sunny warmth of California’s past. As their musical obsessions shifted from the mid- to late ’60s over the course of their first several albums, the band have advanced into the laid-back, balmy climate of the early to mid-’70s on 2025’s Shapeshifter. The cheery buzz of synthesizers carries the weight on many of the record’s 11 tracks, and while numbers like “Connection,” “Your Darkness,” and “More Than a Friend” build up enough momentum to rock, the significant majority of this music is amiably easygoing, summoning a proto-yacht rock vibe. Shapeshifter also captures less of the back-and-forth feel of a band playing live than one might hope for, which is not a surprise…
In a dark gallery, looking into a bright room with snow-covered floors and a square hole cut from its center — this is how a viewer experiences A Cold Hole, an installation by artist Taryn Simon. But it’s not a static encounter: Watching from the gallery, you’ll routinely see someone enter the bright room, climb into the hole, and plunge into icy water beneath it. Simon sought to probe questions about public praise and personal desire. But when singer-songwriter Dana Foote saw the piece at an art museum in Western Massachusetts, the dark pit struck her as a powerful metaphor for a period of depression or stagnancy — a “psychological winter,” she’s called it.
Projects that fuse electronic and traditional music risk doing neither genre justice if they don’t get the basics – songwriting and production – correct. Electro Baghdad reaps the rewards of its two creators’ sustained, patient collaboration and attention to detail.
When people say something is “Lynchian,” they usually mean that it’s uncanny or almost imperceptibly off. Or they mean something pure and lovely and innocent, presented in a frame that makes you sense the unseen insects crawling over one another, just below the surface. As you have no doubt noticed, a lot of art and a discomfiting percentage of current events meet this description. It’s a useful term, which is why it’s overused. Yet it rarely evokes the odd sentimentality at the heart of David Lynch’s films. Think of how the sinister drones of “Laura Palmer’s Theme,” from Twin Peaks, are suddenly overwhelmed by a brightly sad piano sequence meant to reflect the real pain hidden within surreal events. Should you need a reminder, Chicago post-punk…
With Polygon Reflections, 
In a Digital Audio Workstation world producers have more tools at their disposal than ever before, with a seemingly endless supply of plug-ins to help create anything the mind imagines. It can lead to analysis paralysis, as anyone who’s tested out a series of possible kickdrums can attest, but electronic music still sounds most vital when the rhythms are fiery and the arrangement pops.
It’s only been a year since guitarist 
Newly remastered and reissued as part of Lo Recordings’ campaign to excavate all 
“And no, we don’t need help carrying our guitars / We’ve been carrying our burdens for years,” opens world-weary Bonnie & the Mere Mortals lead vocalist Bonnie Ramone on the song ‘Bechdel Test’, an immediate standout from the band’s second full-length album Take Me to the Moon. For the uninitiated, the Bechdel test is a way to measure the representation of women in fictional media, and this is done by three main criteria: firstly, the piece of media must have at least two women in it. Secondly, those women have to talk to one another. Thirdly and finally, the women must be discussing something other than a man. While this seems simple enough, it’s shocking how many pieces of even revered popular culture do not pass, although ‘Bechdel Test’, somewhat…
Now that hardcore is as big as it’s ever been, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the genre would have become swamped with Turnstile copyists and watered-down takes of the music’s intense core tenants. However, the ‘big’ acts in the genre are not only maintaining (and sometimes upping) the savage ante, they’re also continuously finding new ways to express their own personalities within the confines of the genre’s familiar beatdowns and mosh calls. See the likes of the brutal Jesus Piece, the experimental Show Me the Body, or the thrash-channeling Mindforce. It’s a varied, eclectic scene, one that’s getting richer and richer without sacrificing any of its exhilarating (and sometimes enjoyably silly) savagery.
Raw and ferocity are words that have always described