Our Monthly Playlist selection of choice music and Choice Releases list from the last month.
We decided at the start of the year to change things a little with a reminder of not only our favourite tracks from the last month but also a list of choice albums too. This list includes both those releases we managed to feature and review on the site and those we just didn’t get the room for – time restraints and the sheer volume of submissions each month mean there are always those records that miss out on receiving a full review, and so we have added a number of these to both our playlist and releases list.
Keep an eye out next month for our end of the year lists; a compilation of all the choice releases from 2025.
November’s Choice Albums (in alphabetical order):
Babau ‘The Sludge of the Land’
(Artetetra) Review
Bad Trips ‘Nothing But Trouble’
Review
The Cindys ‘S-T’
(Breakfast Records/Ruination Records) Review
The Flower Press ‘Slowdance’
Review
Imperial Motors ‘Charlie Don’t Surf’
Review
Neon Kittens ‘21 Minutes of Adventure’
(Metal Postcard Records) Review
The Noisy ‘The Secret Ingredient Is Even More Meat’
(Audio Antihero) Review
Plants Heal ‘Forest Dwellers’
(Quindi) Review
Shoko Nagai ‘Forbidden Flowers’
(Infrequent Seams) Review
SML ‘How You Been’
(International Anthem) Review
Super Grupa Bez Fałszywej Skromności ‘The Book Of Job’
(Huveshta Rituals) Review
Suntou Susso ‘Jaliya Silokang: The Path Of A Griot’
Review
The Playlist:
The Digest for November 2025: New Music/The Social Playlist
November 19, 2025
THE MONTHLY DIGEST INCLUDES A CLUTCH OF ACCUMULATED NEW MUSIC REVIEWS AND THE SOCIAL INTER-GENERATIONAL/ECLECTIC AND ANNIVERSARY ALBUMS CELEBRATING PLAYLIST
Photo Credit: Babau by Marco Valli
_/THE NEW___
Babau ‘The Sludge of the Land’
(Artetetra) 14th November 2025
A phantasmagorical shifting of tectonic plates and fever dream of a Henri Rousseau conjured equatorial lost world. And I could leave it at just that, but I’m sure both you as the reader and curious mind, and the duo behind this strange fourth worlds peregrination and inhabitation, would want a bit more to go on.
From the Artertra label founding sonic partnership of Italians Matteo Pennesi and Lugi Monteanni and their long-term Babau project an album that moves an imagined continent of influences towards new sonic, hallucinatory and kooky climes. The first “full length” work since 2023’s Flatland Explorations Vol.2, The Sludge of the Land funnels library music, the avant garde, the discombobulated, wonky electronica, the cartoonish, 32-bit console music, vague uses of ethnography and the atavistic, the visions of Jon Hassell, the breakdown shunts and floppy disc music of Esperanto era Sakamoto, the morphing AI electronic lunacy of Cumsleg Borenail, the fun kookiness and springy worlds of Carmen Jaci and Trans Zimmer & The DJs, new age trance, and at times, the more sublime drifts of Wu Cloud and Iasos into an odd repurposed wilderness. A track like ‘I tried to find myself but eventually found another, and now it’s the two of us somehow’ for example, merges Carl Stone with the mirage guitar bends and hangs of Daniel Vickers, the thinly dried blows of Ariel Kalma.
With titles that are so long as to read like haikus or little stories in their own right, there’s much in the way of descriptive prompts – although some seem like they might reflect the overuse these days of feeding blindly words, detritus and meta from the Internet into ChatGPT or some such device. Much of it describes a hodgepodge of ritual, mythologies, culture and the surreal. And musically and sonically reads like a mixed topography of palm trees, exotic islands, deserts, misty mountains and wet vegetation.
As part of a residency at Casa degli Artisti, Milan, in 2022, Babau turned their creative space into a recording studio and performing venue thanks to audio engineer and musician Francesco Piro, who produced the album. That apparatus includes instruments and effects that make sounds like reversed shaves, tangled and gangly wires, springs, chimes, the mistily fluted, and whistled alongside the recognisable sounds of a lingering foggy sax, of sauntered and hand tub drumming rhythms and both the inner workings of and the serial kooky notation of the piano.
This is an environment that squeezes the Mosquito coast up against Java, Malaysia, Polynesia and the near fantastical to produce something familiar but disjointed and surreal.
The Flower Press ‘Slowdance’
6th November 2025
Continuing to pursue a solo course, but now under the new appellation of the delicate craft imbued The Flower Press, Matt Donovan, in his own meditative and wistful way, turns the sudden loss of his sister into a subtly beautiful and reflective work of art on his fourth album.
The process of grief that prompted not only a change in musical direction (not so much that the musical signatures of past albums are entirely lost) but a much-needed therapeutic outlet, a project in which to find meaning from such a tragic event. The softly evocative Slowdance album offers consolation and testament to a life lived; the memories – referenced in a style with the track titles -, near abstract and visceral, are quantified and saved in sound and musical form to reflect upon with a great fondness and love. For Matt doesn’t just pay his respects, but also sends out moving testimony and vibrations as a way of keeping contact, of saying all the things he might have never had the chance to before, whilst healing himself.
Regular readers of the site may know Matt as the former motorising and propulsive drum beat behind Eat Lights Become Lights, and for his collaborative partnership with Nigel Bryant in the psych-Krautrock-post-punk-folk-industrial duo The Untied Knot. Away from the latter, Matt has released a trio of solo albums: Underwater Swimming (’21), Habit Formation (’22) and Sleep Until The Storm Ends (’23). This latest album of mainly instrumental pieces, takes some of the old influences but, with warmth and a wisped gauze of ether, is moving towards the orbits of Ariel Kalma, Daniel Lanois, The Durutti Column, the flange guitar-like ambient works of Harold Budd, Eno, Susumu Yokota and Mark Hollis post Talk Talk. But then there’s always a certain quirkiness and flash of post-punk and no wave dance music trebly bass playing to be found. And of course, the acoustic folksy and troubadour influences that sound particularly pastoral or in-situ: conjuring up some held dear or nostalgic escape, a glade perhaps or the sensation and touch of falling snowflakes and the building of a snowman. Some of those moments reminded me of the Wayside & Woodlands label whilst others of Arthur Russell.
The measuring of time, the chimes and triangle rings; the thin stick hitting tablas and the desert melting mirage guitar evocations of Daniel Vickers; the harmonium like moods and the Fripp-esque articulated memory of a slow dance watched from dreams; and both the stillness and the wavy, reverberated movements all articulate notions of remembrance and invested introspection. But also perhaps, manifestations of better times ahead, of durability in the face of such a heavy personal loss: the loss of a sibling hitting all that much harder.
A most wonderful album that eventually soars towards a starry celestial plane, Slowdance hovers and drifts above terra firma on a quest to evaluate and represent a life lived and the memories that pour forth from such fateful challenges. With a new title, Matt pushes into ever new and emotionally resonating territories.
Erell Latimer ‘Stay Still’
(Kythibong) 18th November 2025
The translation of visceral and abstract speech, dialogue, narration, poetry, testament, inquiry through musique concrète and tape manipulation, the new experiment from the sociolinguist composer and writer Erell Latimer is an immersive performance of reaction, interaction and interruption.
I’m not sure of the apparatus used, but other than the various machines used for effects, distortion, and what sounds like the manipulated in real time, folded, counter-folded and warped tape reels, both the long form pieces that make up this work rely upon Latimer’s voice and readings. Described in the accompanying notes as partly “concrete fiction”, fragments of Latimer’s text pieces and writings are set to a both alien and distorted, machine-like and discombobulated sounds and oscillations. Mostly in French, with passages of often disturbed or obstructed poetic philosophy and forbode from some English male speaker, the texts fluctuate between the hushed, the near in-hiding and held hostage to the clearly proclaimed and read. The cadence, both interrupted and defined signifies pain, anguish, the critical, stress, panic and theory.
The various resonated and reverberated voices and talks move from background quietness to foreground rustled distortion, and often form interlayered semantic rhythms and new utterances. Often though, Latimer’s voice is stripped down to an assortment of breathing techniques: often sounding like the aftermath of a panic attack, with Latimer trying to get her breath back or get it under control: exhales as important as anything else in this experiment and expression of “alienation, confinement, suffering, resignation, abandonment and death”.
There’s plenty of interesting, thrown, or points and nodes where both vocals and sounds interact to form hallucinations or more supernatural and haunting passages. Sometimes these interactions culminate in simulated tumults of hurricane winds, and others, into something far more musical; nearer the end of the first piece, ‘Ils seront silencieux après’ (“they will be silent after”), there’s a sort of lovely piece of music that’s part Gainsbourg, part Krautrock, part classical soundtrack.
From what sounds like paper or tape fluttering in the draft of a ventilation unit or extractor to bulb-like notes rings and chimes and the sounds of the environment, the voices and speech find space across a constantly explored soundscape of effects and obfuscation. At times it reminded me of Michèle Bokanowski, Matija Schellander, Lucie Vítková and that musique concrete progenitor Pierre Schaeffer; in short, an experimental work of language and semantics that deserves greater attention.
Plants Heal ‘Forest Dwellers’
(Quindi) 28th November 2025
The prolific and always into something drummer and trick noise maker Dave De Rose is back with his keyboardist/percussionist foil Dan Nicholls and visual anthropologist collaborator Louise Boer (otherwise known as Lou Zon) for another round of the electroacoustic project, Plants Heal.
De Rose popped up on the site as part of the Rave At Your Fictional Borders union of Jon Scott of (of GoGo Penguin note), Marius Mathiszik (Jan Matiz, I Work In Communications) and Henning Rohschürmann a while back, but his CV is packed with notable creative enterprises and collaborations, including membership of Electric Jalaba, a stint with the acclaimed Ethio-jazz luminary Mulatu Astake and instigation of the Athens-London traversing Agile Experiments project. The initial seeds for the Forest Dwellers project were planted both through the latter and through Nicholls and Lou’s London-based Free Movements events; both acting as intersections for all three contributors to cross paths, and to explore the central tenant of merging instrumental music with live electronics and DJ sets. If we’re talking about spheres of influence and CVs, Nicholls of course has just as prolific and busy schedule as a keyboardist, reeds player, composer, producer, and visual artis, whilst Lou’s documentary and experimental filmmaking and visual skills have led to a teaching role at Goldsmiths.
Lou’s work revolves around ecology, community, plant medicine, feminism, movement and experiments with analogue techniques. And this seems a good base from which De Rose and Nicholls have spontaneously reacted or conjured up improvised-like sounds and rhythms rich with organic meta and matter. During performances Lou improvises with analogue footage from her library run through video mixers and synthesisers, focused on medicinal plants such as yarrow, hawthorn, nettle and thistle. All those plants feature in processed form on the cover of the record, which was designed in collaboration with Lou’s brother Arthur Boer. Meanwhile, Lou recorded additional footage in Athens during the recording sessions to feed into the continued cycle of the project’s live evolution.
The trio’s second album together (their previous self-titled debut was released back in 2021) is a biomorphic eco system of new age trance music, techno, dub, light jazz, breaks, amorphous ethno-beats, acid and both plant-based and more alien atmospherics. Tech and nature combine to create a kind of Fourth World version of electronic dance music. But that’s really only part of the story, as the living and breathing creepers, vines and branches of the forest canopy and floor integrate with pulsations, shuttered, tubular, hollowed pole paddled and shaved or slowly released electronics to produce a camouflage reverberating effect of movement, growth and expansion.
There’s a revolution of a kind in the same air, with whispery like effected and morphed voices emerging from the fauna, and a revision of the old tribal gathering nature-tech and freedom rave-ups of the late 80s and early 90s. I’m hearing vague signs of Richard H. Kirk, FSOL, Jeff Mills, Lukid, Warp Records, Conrad Schnitzler, Mike Dred and Jon Hassell. Still, there’s more to unpick from the very much percussive and drum led rhythmic evolutions on this album; echoes of various more atavistic and exotic musical influences; timings and patterns enhanced by ethnography study and absorption. From terra firma to the stars, this organic flora form of electroacoustic dance music proves pliable, liquid but full of substance and the tactile, the earth and air.
Super Grupa Bez Fałszywej Skromności ‘The Book Of Job’
(Huveshta Rituals) 28th November 2025
From true obscurity and the dusty shelves of dormant archiving, The Book of Job emerges from its forty-year sleep – recorded as it was back in an omnipresent Soviet controlled Poland of 1985 – into a climate that scarily resonates. Whilst the sickle and hammer have disappeared from the flag, and Communist totalitarian rule has been replaced by a new form of oppressive authoritarianism in Putin’s leader-cult Russia, aggression persists and the threat of invasion, or at least escalation against those former countries that fell behind the Iron Curtain after WWII, looms large. No longer an abstract threat, Russia’s expansionist ambitions look to lock horns with Nato and the West, with a near apocalyptic destructive war in neighbouring Ukraine pushing at the borders of Poland. If nerves can no longer hold, if there is no end to the hostilities, no ground given on either side of this brutalist invasion, and if Ukraine is lost, then Poland becomes the new frontier between Europe and dictatorial Russia: a Russia hellbent it seems on regaining its lost influence and control of Eastern Europe.
There will be generations now totally separated from Poland’s past as an occupied state, subjected to draconian control by the USSR. But the timely arrival of this cult recording will once more remind its people and the world at large, of events in the 1980s; a decade when despite violent suppression, the population rose up to eventually overthrow its Soviet authorities at the end of that decade. When the various notable luminaries of the Polish underground and jazz scenes, and the counterculture’s actors and voices behind the collective ensemble of Super Grupa Bez Fałszywej Skromności first performed this multilingual and faith spanning work at the 1981 Jazz Jamboree festival, the omens weren’t quite so grave. Only weeks later the situation had changed dramatically, with Genral Jaruzelski’s ordained Martial Law rules cracking down ruthlessly on the population. In light of civil peaceful protest and the strike action and heroism of Lech Wałęsa’s famous Solidarity movement, the authorities more or less implemented a military coup of extreme measures: As the accompanying album’s scene-setting essay informs us, “Art was replaced by parades of heavy artillery”. By the time this same group recorded an album, four years later, the very act of making music would be considered a symbol of defiance: unless of course it was used to glorify the Soviet regime. “Paradoxically” the Catholic Church of Poland became a sanctuary. This may explain, in part, why the Hebrew’s Old Testament (reused in the Christian Bible and also “echoed” in the An-Nisa chapter of Islam’s Qur’an) chronicle of Job was used as totem for endurance in the face of such suffering. Because much as Job suffered tribulations and trails at the hands of God, beguiled and tempted by Satan to turn away from his piety, many of the Polish people found solace, resistance and hope despite the relentless attacks on their freedoms.
An allegory of the human condition, The Book of Job, for those who never attended their Sunday Schooling lessons, nor attended a faith-based school, tells the tale of the protagonist and his testing by God through litany and prose: that’s three cycles of debates between Job and his friends, Job’s lamentations, a poem to Wisdom, Elihu’s (a critic of Job and his friends, who may have been a descendent of the Abraham lineage) speeches, and God’s two speeches from a whirlwind. In short, Job is a wealthy God-fearing man with a comfortable life and large family, living in the Land of Uz (which has been situated in various locations of the atavistic Levant and beyond by various sources; anywhere from the old Aram, now modern Syria, to the Edomites kingdom, which now stretches across modern Jordon and Israel). God discusses his piety with Satan (though this is often written down as “adversary”, but we know who they mean), who rebukes God, stating that Job would turn away from God if he was to lose everything within his possessions: which was a lot. God decides to test that theory or challenge by allowing Satan to inflict pain on Job. The test increase, the suffering gets much, much worse, and Job ends up losing his wealth, children and health. Through it all he maintains his faith and piety, but not without much discussion and challenge. By the epilogue, Job’s fortunes and family are thankfully returned to him: Satan I take it, scuttling off to curse and sulk in the shadows.
Recorded in a makeshift “high-fidelity” studio at the STU Theatre in Krakow in the Spring of 1985, The Book of Job album draws with serious depth and political allegory upon the text. Covering everything from stage theatre to the filmic, the avant-garde and of course jazz – most of the lineup in this singular gathered super group hail from Poland’s incredible and influential jazz scene -, but so much else, the Holy Land is transported across porous borders to Eastern Europe to take in the Jewish diaspora, acolytes of Indian and Far Eastern scriptures and the then contemporary 80s sounds of the underground.
The “revered” pool of players, luminaries that took part include the multi-instrumentalist Milo Kurtis, a Pole of Greek origin, born into a family of refugees escaping the civil war in Greece, noted for his roles in Grupa w Skład, Ya-Sou, the cult rock band Maanam and jazz-fusion super group Ossian (also said to have worked with Don Cherry, who gifted Milo his ocarina), on percussion, Jew’s harp and trombita; the Polish flutist of world renown, composer and arranger Krzysztof Zgraja, who made his debut in the jazz-rock band Alter Ego, but also played with Czesław Gładkowski and Jacek Bednarek, on not only his main instrument of choice but the lighter made and smaller range Fortepiano; the Polish avant-garde and free jazz player Andrzej Przybielski, who’s notable credits include stints with the Gdansk Trio, Sesia 72, the Big Band Free Cooperation and Acoustic Action, on trumpet; drummer, composer and cultural animator Janusz Trzciński, known for his extensive work in the theatre, a writer of plays and one of the main instigators behind this project, on drums; the highly rated Zbigniew Wegehaupt, who played with just about every Polish jazz icon going and in both Wojciech Gogolewski’s Quartet and Extra Ball, on both electric bass and double-bass; and the Polish composer, multi-instrumentalist, vocalist and teacher Mieczysław Litwiński, who studied with such groundbreaking luminaries as Stockhausen and co-founded far too many groups and projects to list here, but notably the Independent Studio of Electroacoustic Music and Light For Poland, on sitar.
Added to that role call was an ensemble of either commanding, English Repertory-like or ominous voices and vocalists from stage, screen, including Ignacy Machowski, Adam Baruch, Zdzisław Wardejn, Jerzy Radziwiłowicz, Juliusz Berger and Andrzej Mitan. It must be pointed that only Mitan receives the credit of vocalist; the Polish poet, performer, founder of the Alma Art record label, chants a poetically evocative forgiving gospel of obedience and implored yearning whilst on the album track ‘When A Man Dies’. Echoed as much from a cavern or cave on the desolate plains of the Uz as in the synagogue, the repeated mantra of “Man. World. Pain. Silence” is stoically announced over and over to sombre and yet beautiful tones. The rest of that cast find themselves either narrating or interlayered with a whisper, chattering chorus of atmospheric dialogue. It reminded me, in part, of Aphrodite’s Child own Biblical opus 666.
Hallowed yet dark and almost Chthonian in places – a touch of Byzantine too – the album sets an otherworldly, afflatus but esoteric scene with the opening resonated waves of airy, fluted and blowy vibrations, moving like cycled or tubular wind from the subterrain, on the introductory entitled opener. Something mystical dances in the wind, as echoes of Alice Coltrane and Prince Lasha stir up spiritual jazz mirages and something quite ghostly seems to be lurking in the vibrations. The story unfolds, the mood suitably enacted. ‘Satan’s Concept’ follows this with percussive shimmer and shivers and a supernatural voice of forbode. Evocations of both Don Cherry and 80s Miles Davis like trumpet both trill and sound almost swaddled on another visceral and porous geographical musical landscape: the vibrated bowl sounds of Tibet for example. But the whole feel changes on the first of three litanies, with what could be called a post-punk bass and signs of krautrock and jazz-fusion: think an impressive union of Einstürzende Neubauten, My Life In The Bush of Ghosts Eno and Byrne, Desert Players Ornette Coleman, Jon Hassell and Ramuntcho Matta relocated to the land of the lost tribes. ‘Accusation’ has a promising Blue Note jazzy double bass introduction, a little bluesy and bendy. It’s accompanied by some rattled hand drums; the only instruments that express and lay down the atmospheric flexed, stretched, harmonic pinged backing to the biblical echoed English voice that narrates and questions God.
The post-punk-jazz mood is back for the second litany. A sort of no wave funk noodle of Dunkelziffer and Miles, a long low horn from the Steppes, and dialogue of wisped and more esoteric voices spoken in multiple dialects, there’s a supernatural quality to the atavistic summoning of scripture, and the age-old battles between good and evil. Almost skulked, there’s vocal coos and spectre like demons and angels in the shadows of this dramatic Krautrock-esque holy visitation. ‘Hope’ brings back in the Eastern influences, the sound of Buddhist India with the signature reverberations and brassy rings of the sitar: Shiva on the Vistula. With its psychedelic ragga mediations, the sitar acts in unison with the twanged boing sound of the Jew’s harp, the only accompaniment to the Hebrew narration.
The third and last of the litanies is quasi-80s funking jazz, with elements of Hassell’s Fourth World experiments. The flute whistles and flutters willowed fashion on a moving jazzy-fusion-funky-no-wave bass, as overlayed voices create a more convivial dialogue. There’s a smog horn too that creates a misty vapour effect. But the rhythm is like some kind of Israeli or Eastern European dance.
The album finishes on a strongly reverberated Hebrew voiced narration, a sacred holy conversation. Near the end of ‘Final’ a dreamier ray of light like flute emerges, slowly and softly drifting skywards. The sound of relief. A burden lifted.
You can easily find the parallels, the battles with faith in the face of such brutality, of oppression, and in this case, Soviet authoritarianism: The role of religion and believing playing a crucial part in resistance. As a near cryptic or hidden means of showing such defiance, The Book of Job and its lessons carried that message of artistic and political/social hope. This album, even without any of its important cultural and political context, is an artefact that deserves saving and savouring: a real intriguing, atmospheric and near theatrical experience worthy of attention and acclaim. Not just a slice of history but an experimental work of art.
___/The Monolith Cocktail Social Playlist Vol. 103___
For the 103rd time (and most probably the last as I change the format for next year), the Social Playlist is an accumulation of music I love and want to share, with tracks from my various DJ sets and residencies over the years and both selected cuts from those artists and luminaries we’ve lost on the way and from those albums celebrating anniversaries each month.
It was a few months back that I celebrated the 100th edition of this series, which originally began over 12 years ago. The sole purpose being to select an eclectic and generational spanning playlist come radio show, devoid of podcast-esque indulgences and inane chatter. In later years, I’ve added a selection of timely anniversary celebrating albums to that track list, and paid homage to some of those artists lost on the way.
The final social of 2025 merges together anniversary celebrating albums from both November and December. This selection includes 50th trumpeted milestones for Eno’s Another Green World, Patti Smith’s Horses, Kraftwerk’s Radio-activity, Burning Spear’s Marcus Garvey and Parliament’s Mothership Connection. There are even older throwbacks, 60th salutations, to The Who’s My Generation (I’ve gone for The Users version of ‘It’s Not True’ for something a bit different) and The Beatles’ Rubber Soul (I’ve gone for two covers, Davy Graham’s take on ‘I’m Looking Through You’, and Anne Murray’s version of ‘You Won’t See Me’). Added to that impressive list are 40th nods to The Jesus and Mary Chain’s Psychocandy, and LL Cool J’s Radio; and finally, whilst we’re in the hip-hop icon camp, I had to drop a track from the Genuis/GZA’s Liquid Swords, which is 30 this month.
The rest of the list includes songs from across the last five decades, with entries from Excepter, Vitriol, The Mattoid, Cowboys International, Milford Graves triumvirate free jazz experiment with Arthur Doyle and Hugh Glover under the Children of the Forest banner, Pekka Airaksinen, Sir Robert Orange Peel, Byzantium, Thony Shorby Nwenyi, Fat Spirit and more…
Tracks:
The Users ‘It’s Not True’
Anne Murray ‘You Won’t See Me’
Cowboys International ‘Part Of Steel’
Brian Eno ‘I’ll Come Running’
Excepter ‘Maids’
The Mattoid ‘Suicide’
Patti Smith ‘Redondo Beach’
The Jesus and Mary Chain ‘Taste The Floor’
Fat Spirit ‘Planet Earth III’
Catherine Ribeiro ‘Iona melodie’
The Springfields ‘Are We Gonna Be Alright?’
Davy Graham ‘I’m Looking Through You’
This Heel ‘Bad World Above’
LL Cool J ‘That’s A Lie’
Parliament ‘Mothership Connection’
GZA ‘Hell’s Wind Staff/Killah Hills 10304’
Pekka Airaksinen ‘Ratnasikhin’
Vitriol ‘Restart’
Sir Robert Orange Peel ‘Brutalists’
Kraftwerk ‘Antenna’
Et At It ‘Beets’
Burning Spear ‘Marcus Garvey’
Thony Shorby Nwenyi People in the World’
Milford Graves, Arthur Doyle and Hugh Glover ‘March 11, 1976 II’
Byzantium ‘What A Coincidence’
Dry Ice ‘Mary Is Alone, Pt. I’
EABS ‘Niekochana’
Jack Slade ‘Lipstick’
Eberhard Schoener ‘Only The Wind’.
Brian ‘Bordello’ Shea’s Reviews Roundup – Instant Reactions. All entries in alphabetical order.
Mute Swan Photo credit: Pat Hickman
Bad Trips ‘Nothing But Trouble’
Album 17th November 2025
I enjoyed this album: it’s experimental, it’s noisy, it’s peaceful, and at times it reminds me of Jimi Hendrix jamming with The Surfaris in a wind tunnel, and at other times of “I Hear A New World” by Joe Meek, but if being performed by Skip Spence. It really is a wonderful creation of sound art. Those out there who are old enough to remember the kids tv show The Clangers can imagine this would be playing at their local hop or discotheque. Nothing But Trouble is indeed a fine and rewarding listen.
Oliver Birch ‘Betty’
Single
OOOh Betty the Donkey has done a Whoopsie on the carpet…well, there is always one… Yes, sadly this has nothing to do with Betty the long-suffering wife of Frank Spencer in Some Mothers Do Ave Em or maybe it does. Maybe Oliver Birch has an alter to the paragon of 70s sitcoms other halves and Betty is the chosen one, and he has written this Oar like homage to her. Yes, it does remind me of Skip Spence or maybe even a Jeff Buckley demo, which is no bad thing.
Robert Callender ‘Rainbow – The Anniversary Concert’
Album (Think Like A Key) 14th November 2025
After over 55 years since the release of Rainbow, the cult classic psych ragga-rock album from 1968, Robert Callender decided to perform the album live for the first time. And here we have that performance, captured in all its wonderful mystical glory, released by Think Like A Key records.
This live performance has a quite lovely warmness and intimate magical quality that draws the listener into the song cycle, and has one lose themselves in the same way you can lose yourself in Van Morrisons Astral Weeks or The Beach Boys Pet Sounds as Rainbows shares the same uniqueness and one off-ness of those two classics. Rainbow is a beautiful blend of ragga, psych, rock, pop and jazz, and this live recording is one of pure oneness and love.
The Cindys ‘S-T’
Album (Breakfast Records/Ruination Records) 7th November 2025
The Cindys debut album is an album recommended to all those who have a soft spot for late 80’s/90’s alternative guitar bands. As I was listening, the Teenage Fanclub, Pavement, House Of love and even the Frank and Walters all came flooding back. The Cindys are a very good band who may one day be a great band who knows. I am of such an age when I have heard all this so many times before, but The Cindys do it all very well and have quite a lovely quirk in their lyricism which I heartily approve. Believe me, without putting a curse on the poor blighters, they could well be ones to watch.
Mute Swan ‘Hypnosis Tapes’
Single (Hit The North Records / Wooden Tooth Records)
I like this. It has a rather nifty nagging guitar line and rather lovely melody line. Dare I say Mute Swan could be ones to watch as they had me hunting out my Ultra Vivid Scene albums and had me stroking my memories from my mad year of 1991. Everyone has a lost weekend of high art and hedonistic tomfoolery and if the Mute Swans had been around in that musically great year, they, I am sure, would have helped soundtrack it.
My Violence ‘Isabella Rossellini’
Single (Starfish Records)
If you release a single named Isabella Rossellini it has to be dark, sultry and beautiful. And this fine pop song has indeed all those boxes ticked; a suave, blissful floating artful drift of pure pop melancholy.
Neon Kittens ‘21 Minutes of Adventure’
Album (Metal Postcard Records) Released 21st October 2025
The latest Neon Kittens album is upon us and anyone who loves the other litter of releases should add this post-punk gem to their collection. And anyone who has so far not heard their previous releases, 21 Minuets Of Adventure is a fine introduction. The lead off track “No Free Hugs” is a Tubeway Army like forage into the cold clinical extremities of post-punk sexual shenanigans and a nod and a wink and the house on the hill is truly yours. For The Neon Kittens carry a dark sinister humour in the lyrics that equally match the joyful dry dripping sarcasm of Andy Goss and his fretwork mastery, and both the music and lyrics intertwine beautifully to soundtrack living in these confusing and troubled times. The Neon Kittens is the aural equivalent of sitting opposite a beautiful girl on the train and wondering what she is thinking about as she licks her fingers after finishing her sherbet.
The Noisy ‘The Secret Ingredient Is Even More Meat’
Album (Audio Antihero) Released 24th October 2025
The Secret Ingredient Is Even More Meat is a fine indie alt-pop album; an album filled with candy floss dreams of fame sex and a melancholy nostalgic lust of fallen whispers.
The stony ground has never felt so waver thin, soft. It has never tasted so sweet cherry lipped. The Noisy have taken 60s girl group want, lust and ambition and wrapped it in a 21st century blanket of glitz and glamour, and managed to keep the old fashion ideals that sex does happen but will only take the one foot off the floor when the curtains have been drawn.
In an ideal world the singles taken from the album would be being played all over the radio. “Grenadine” is one of the finest pop singles of 2025 and the album is filled with fine pop songs like this, which makes it a fine and essential pop album, and in this day age a fine and essential pop album can make a difference to your life and mental well-being.
Occult Character ‘Her Guts My Graveyard’
Single (Metal Postcard Records) Released 29th October 2025
Another song you won’t be hearing on the radio or reading about in your favourite blog, unless your favourite blog is the Monolith Cocktail, which if it is the case I would like to compliment you on your good taste, also if you do indeed read the Monolith Cocktail you will in fact have read about Occult Character and know he is a man who makes weird and wonderful alt pop music combing hip-hop and folk and pop and weird sci fi soundtracks – a little like Beck I suppose, that is if Beck at birth had been breast fed hallucinatory drugs.
The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart ‘Kurt Cobain’s Cardigan’
Single (Slumberland Records)
What a great title for a song, but it was a great cardigan it must be said. The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart have immediately put themselves under pressure: Does the song do justice to the cardigan? I am happy to report it does, and it is a fine indie pop romp of joyful proportions. And I am sure Kurt would heartedly agree if he was still with us.
Shitnoise ‘Charades’
Album (Cruel Nature Records) 17th November 2025
“It’s all rock n roll” as the old saying goes, and that is a perfect phrase to describe this wonderful mish mash of post punk, grunge, metal, thrash and yes probably many other genres and probably some they don’t yet have a name for – my daughter described something as pastel goth the other day: what the bloody hell is pastel goth? So maybe this has a bit of pastel goth in it who knows. It is certainly unhinged and deranged in the best possible way, and we all need a bit of music that slips from the lips to the hips and adds some sanity into our lives, and if not, you are dead from the waist down and from the shoulders up, so basically you are a torso.
A world of sonic/musical discoveries reviewed by Dominic Valvona. All entries in alphabetical order.
Le Grand Couturier ‘S-T’
(Un Je-ne-sais-quoi) 7th November 2025
The hula limbo swinging hoop of French-Polynesia is both languidly and more wildly reimagined, transported and pulled in various directions by the Le Grand Couturier trio of Rachel Langlais (keyboards and vocals), Jean-François Riffaud (composition, steel guitar and sharing vocals) and Clément Vercelletto (drums, synths).
Newly formed for the explorative Un Je-ne-sais-quoi label, with two of that group already familiar names to Monolith Cocktail readers – I reviewed Rachel’s solo avant-garde, textural and tactile prepared piano suites album Dothe for the same label back in 2021, and Clément’s nightjar imbued experimental L’ engoulevant album for the label at the start of this year -, this ensemble of widely diverse experiences draws upon a rich soundscape of tradition and the psychedelic to weave a sort of part-beckoning and part-chaotic Hawaiian homage. Cross-referencing a multitude of sources, some form their own projects, the trio’s debut album is an altogether more mirage and hallucinatory vision of Island life, drawn into a modern world of electrical-charged, felt-like rippled interreferences and coarser transmissions. Whilst sauntering and swaying to a familiar Hawaiian rhythm and melody and the sound of the steel guitar, there’s a constant funnelling and layering of what sounds at times like scraps from CAN’s ‘Unfinished’ and ‘E.F.S.’ series, The Beatles Magical Mystery Tour funfair organ and psych trippy reversals, and musique concrete.
If you loved Pete Fowler’s Monsterism Island curated compilations then you will easily pick out traces of Les Baxter, White Noise, The United States of America (especially Rachels’s ether emergent distant voice on ‘Maneki Neko’, a reference to the lucky “beckoning cat” figurine), The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band and Martin Denny. But maybe surprised to hear the delightful South Seas motions and lilt of Makoto Kubota & The Sunset Gang and the wavey bendy sounds of bluegrass and country: reimagined by Moebius & Plank, Charlie Megira and Bailey’s Nervous Kats. But what’s this approaching from the sea, paddling through the waves on an outrigger canoe of old, but Dick Dale and The Bel-Airs thumbing a lift in the company of Sonido Galle Negro.
A sanctuary come portal to other worlds, this tropical magical hideaway proves fertile ground for musical and sonic manipulation, repurpose. Hawaiian phrases – ‘I Ku’u Wa Li’i Li’i’ or “my childhood days” for example – and typography, the vibe of the place, its blues and more fragrant wilts, marooned lethargy is not so much guarded or restored as woven into something beguiling, strange, serenading, sometimes distorted and often swimmingly lunar. There’s undoubtedly some layer of post-colonial revisionism, of ownership and the anthesis of European lens ethnography, but the trio’s debut album is just a very lovely, magical thing of Polynesia fantasy. It will be interesting to hear more.
Imperial Motors ‘Charlie Don’t Surf’
Released 21st October 2025
States/countries that claim to have adopted the Marxist doctrine have, historically, usually enforced it with a totalitarian fist, forcing its artists to propagate the authoritarian propaganda of its own choosing. We can forgive the exuberance and contemporary rage of the young, possibly knowing that they will have less, pay more, and lose many of their freedoms in the process: making them a doomed generation depending on your pessimism scale. Marxism has its utopian promises: a fairness of distribution, power to the proletarian and all that – and I’m sure Marx, to paraphrase, said that the worker can never be happy working for someone else: though self-employment is no picnic. But like every idea, in reality fails to grasp our innate individualism, our differences. But as I already opened with, artists in such climates have usually been just as threatened, locked up and sent to Siberia for daring to stray from the one-party line.
Anyway, I’m only banging on about this because the latest agit-post-punk-disco-indie band to emerge from the Brooklyn scene, Imperial Motors, have mentioned it in their email to me. Or at least, as an influence (and damn fine one to have) they cite the Gang Of Four’s version of sonic Marxist rhetoric and fire. Whilst also, it must be stated, they use the term satirical, they wish to employ their political polemics and protestations via music, rather than throw real Molotov’s from the barricades. And yet, despite the rightful outrage, disillusion and riled injustices of our present times the quartet’s debut EP is actually very melodic, tuneful, disarming in parts and full of DFA Records and post-punk disco synth lines and beats: think early LCD Sound System and the anarchic energy and maximalist approach of such contemporary groups as Crack Cloud and Squid matched by Martin Dupont, the Pop Group and Boots For Dancing. And that’s only half the story.
But let’s introduce the band first. We have Liam O’Toole on vocals and guitar, Josh Cukier on drums and also vocals, Ben Biber on synth/keys, and again, sharing vocals, and Andrew Graces on guitar. This core has expanded for the proposes of the EP’s second half pairing of tracks, ‘Sonya’ and ‘Infinite Money Glitch’, bringing in the climatic ariel bending intensity of violists Ryan Anderson and Jarrod Ajhar and violinist Lila Lifton on the latter, and the accompanying vocals of Hely Morales on the former.
Referencing, so it says in the email, a level from Call of Duty but obviously a cultural throwback to Sandinista era The Clash via its original immortal line in Apocalypse Now – spoken by Robert Duvall’s character, Lieutenant Colonel William “Bill” Kilgore -, Charlie Can’t Surf is twisted by the toxins in the waters. Each track is a battle between holding it together and falling apart in a world torn asunder, starting with the brilliant opener ‘Bartender’, which pits our protagonist bar fly spiralling into a pit of doubt and reactionary disillusion by the transactional culture that leave us all numbed, isolated and without any sincerity. Lurching like a derailed David Byrne or even Scary Monsters period Bowie, and even an Eno, between eyeing up the unrequited bartender and spinning into bar stool bursts of preachy frustration; a statement on the poisoned waters and our inability to fish without contamination and erosion of our closeness to nature. It sounds like a slice of Scottish 80s post-punk via XTC and has a great chorus that stays with you.
‘Freeloader’ sees a slight change in direction; still riled-up, and almost unhinged in places, but now evoking signs of ‘Helicopter’ era Bloc Party and The Futureheads. The band attempt to find the tangible, connective in a world of synthetic vacuous exchanges; turning on neighbours like a passionately agitated Talking Heads in suburbia. The EP’s most surprising turn is ‘Sonya’, a damaged love song, about to be squashed by the collapse of the Artic shelf. Their most synth-pop-orientated track is disarming with its subject: climate change apocalypse. The lovelorn glaciologists at the centre of this sorry doomed love explosion of euphoric crescendo art-pop contemplate a sort of Romeo & Juliet suicide in the shadow of ecological destruction.
No one could put it better in trying to explain the finale, ‘Infinite Money Glitch’ than the band themselves: I would have missed most of this contextualised layering. The “uncanny valley is inverted: it’s not machines imitating humans, but humans running on cold, mechanical instinct. Screeching guitar, off-kilter drums, and an asymmetrical bass groove lay the black midi-like foundation as various speakers retell colonial anecdotes through glib, filtered vocals as if automated by their own apathy. “Mortgage rates [are] saved on the mass graves,” sings a real estate agent. “Seafront plots if you can spot some, never mind the bones, the flotsam.” The various narrators then become united by the refrain “help us make a difference / help us make them different, combining into one single voice, one single organism — the US colonial project of subjugation, domination, and profit. In the name of corporate growth, annihilation is just collateral.” You all got that? Good. It’s a very nice closer actually, heavenly gilded with drama and showing signs of all the influences I’ve already mentioned plus Faith No More, PONS and Black Medi. Capitalism is a bitch. Apathy the curse. And yet there is a certain fantastical element, and the sense of something rising up out of the gloom.
An impressive EP that offers much hope and anticipation for the album; a burgeoning band with much potential, caught between dancing and riling at the system.
Shoko Nagai ‘Forbidden Flowers’
(Infrequent Seams) 14th November 2025
Revealing a both playful and more stirring emotional tumult of memories, chapters from the multi-instrumentalist and experimental musician Shoko Nagai’s life encapsulate a musical conjuncture of the wild, the avant-garde and more plaintively classical on a most extraordinary album.
At the head of a new quartet, and in a “semi-autobiographical” mode, Nagai draws upon a lifetime it seems of eclectic influences and experiences; at any one time, and often in the same composition, combining Japanese salon music, free form jazz, klezmer and Eastern European classical tragedy with spine-tingling and haunted tension soundtracks and the manic.
But before we go any further, a little information is needed: some background if you like. For those unaware of Nagai’s reputation and prowess, the keys specialist – I say keys, as on this record, she plays an assortment of such instruments, from the piano to the Farfisa and Fender Rhodes, but is credited for electronics and the most unusual of sound devices, the Nintendo DS – made her way from Japan to the USA, where she studied at the prestigious hot house of Berklee. Career wise, Nagai has rightfully received a number of nominations and awards, and worked with such luminaries as Pauline Oliveros, John Zorn, Butch Morris, Satoshi Takeishi, and Yiddish singers. Joining her on this latest album under the newly assembled quartet are the Brooklyn-based drummer and percussionist Kate Gentile, active on the NYC jazz scene since 2011; the Grammy Award-winning recording artist and composer, and on this album violinist, Pauline Kim Harris; and trumpet/flugelhorn player and composer Pamela Fleming. All three have extensive, admirable CVS, and plenty of experience in their chosen fields. And bring an almost infinite scope of musical and sonic possibilities to the album.
If led is the right word, this ensemble matches and stretches the ideas, sentimental prompts and both bluesy and more poetic fluid language of Nagai’s playing and compositional set-ups. I haven’t any info on how this record was made, so no idea how planned or improvised it is, but it sounds like the perfect balance of both; there’s room for exploration, room for passages and break outs of energy, tension and release, and yet there is something always tangible, a melody, a direction and compositional device to make a return. For every more instantaneous Art Ensemble of Chicago burst or more manic, quick-stepped Bad Plus moment there’s a moment of reflective musical haiku. And for every leap into the jazz-fusion of the Weather Report, or the more fluid quickened piano works of Ryo Fukui and Cecil Taylor, there’s echoes of Cosmic Coltrane, Annie Gosfield and Alex Roth’s Cut the Sky project.
The action is constantly on the move between splashing waves and near cartoon retro gaming music, between deep classical poignancy and the more sinister and troubling. For example, ‘Whispering to the Bubbling Wall’ could be Phillip Glass in troubling, near haunted and ghoulish circumstances, whilst ‘Hello Universe’ sounds like a burbled synth and twinkled keyed and cartoon skidding and skirting of Ethio-jazz and Shigeo Sekito. But then you get pieces that are more like the music of Toru Takemitu, the Jewish diaspora in Eastern Europe, the Don Cherry Quintet and La Monte Young.
Every instrument is put through its paces, stretched but also played with near grace at times, or melodically holding an emotion and reference to a particular piece of Nagai’s story and expressions. And whilst a switchboard of calculations, quirky effects and near shrills and heralded trumpets blast or staccato across kooky flighty spells of quickness, the electrifyingly hectic and whistled, there’s a real weight to each poetically entitled episode in this story. Forbidden Flowers is simultaneously a whirlwind, contemplation, observation and incredible creative outpour of musicianship; the sources and influences proving surprising and dynamically playful in equal measures.
Silver Nun ‘Tabula Rasa’
(The Crystal Cabinet) Release 31st October 2025
Driven up into a ringing and resonating performance of the mystically ritualistic and expressively rallying, the international Silver Nun duo of Lucy Valentine and Simo Laihonen proves that both distance and time are no barriers to a congruous union of creative disciplines. Demarcated to a point, though running near seamlessly into each other, Tabula Rasa is one long complete work set in motion by Valentine and recorded during the Pandemic: born into a very different world to now. On that day, in the venerable, or not, setting of a “deconsecrated” church – shorn of its original afflatus purpose for secular inclusion or as an idiosyncratic venue -, the County Durham silversmith, film maker, label founder (this album is being released through Valentine’s own The Crystal Cabinet imprint, an electroacoustic label that focuses, I believe, on cassettes) and multi-instrumentalist strummed, blazed and whipped up a resounding invocation and rallying concentration on the guitar. This was in 2021. At a later date in 2023, drumming and percussionist foil, Laihonen added his own rhythms, cymbal splashes and crashes and hoof-like gallops. It sounds however like the collaborative partners were both in the same space together, not two years apart, with one in the North of England the other in Finland.
Going much deeper, this nebulous offering and invocation evokes the melodic circled spins and dervish religious music of Iran, of atavistic Persia, the Levant and amorphous echoes of various Gothic folk styles, of doom music and the Biblical. It’s akin at times to dropping Death In June or Ash Ra Tempel in the Middle East of the Sufi. And then again, the stamps and danced steps in places reminded me of Islamic Spain. But then the temenos set ‘Underneath the Hypaethral Sky’ segment sent me into an incense smoked trance-like recall of the Hellenistic. And the guitar at times reminded me of Steve Gunn, and at others, like the music of Wovenhand, the mood describing a more esoteric vision of the old American West.
There’s a lot going on reference wise to be sure: even the title of the album is borrowed from the Latin, “the idea of individuals being born empty of any built-in mental content, so that all knowledge comes from later perceptions or sensory experiences”: or to put it simply, “a clean slate”. And yet “rasa” is also used in Indian culture and religion, describing the aesthetic flavour of any literary, visual or musical work that evokes an indescribable feeling in the reader or listener. Channelled into one reverberating and beating, fluctuating momentum of rattled rhythmic strings, metallic and burnished elements, the spun and more elan, and frame drummed and more kit rolling bounds, both the daemonic and the spiritual collide to create an atmosphere that’s simultaneously refined yet strong. In years to come, generations will study this period of creativity very closely; the most bleak, restrictive and frightening period in most people’s living memory was a catalyst for a pouring of anxieties, stresses but deliverance too. The Silver Nun vehicle, its title reflecting Valentine’s silversmith craftsmanship and how it applies to and informs her musical processes, is ritualistic, a purging almost or letting go; the changes ringing out, sounding out into a suitably atmospheric environment. And yet travelling far, reaching across time and geography to take in near Byzantine and atavistic old evocations. A sound collaboration that proves distance is no barrier to a unifying experience like no other.
SML ‘How You Been’
(International Anthem) 7th November 2025
The inter-connections and overlaps are strong on this one, with the enviable might and scope of influences stretching across a multitude of scenes, styles, decades and geography.
Based in L.A. but from a multi-national and even international cast, the often abbreviated Small Medium Large includes the Aussie-born artist, bassist and composer Anne Butterss (last year’s solo headed, but featuring many SML band mates, Mighty Vertebrate album was included in our choice list of 2024), “synthesist” Jeremiah Chiu (another favourite from 2024, Chiu’s team up with the violist Marta Sofia Horner and luminary of new age trance Ariel Kalma, The Closest Thing To Silence, another highlight of 2024), saxophonist Josh Johnson (back in March Johnson collaborated with fellow SML member Gregory Uhlmann and Sam Wilkes for the Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes triumvirate), drummer Booker Stardrum (this is the first time that the all-round percussionist and drummer, educator and composer, who’s worked with Weyes Blood and Lee Ranaldo, has appeared on this site I believe) and the guitarist Uhlmann. In some ways this combo could be called the International Anthem house band, or the label’s super group of a sort, as near enough each member has released of featured on an album or two on that Chicago institution – celebrating a modest birthday anniversary recently, the label has managed in a quick time to establish itself as one of the most critically favoured experimental imprints; a hub for all things jazz and beyond, and just the other month, the chosen platform for Tortoise’s first album in years – a group who’s imprint can be heard and felt on this SML album.
For the ensemble’s second album together, and following a similar process, methodology to their debut, the rhetorical How You Been features an “extensive post-production of recordings from a handful of shows” pulled together to make a whole – you can hear the audience’s appreciation at one point. Flexing and honing their improvisations and more locked-in work outs, they’ve managed to surprise and take a few quirky, kooky and often funky turns to create a kinetic fusion of post-rock, post-jazz, no wave, agit-dance music body movements, fourth world musics, environmental ambience and vague ethnographic percussion. On one hand its Ariel Kalma and Tortoise meet with Jan Jelinek and Kirk Barley, and on the other, like Kraftwerk deciding to move to downtown NYC in the early 80s. But then again, I’m hearing Eno & Byrne, Golden Teacher, Heroes Side Two Bowie, Kriedler and Carl Stone too. For between the longer future-post-punk-funk and jazz-fusion (if rewired by the Chicago hothouse of stars) numbers there’s shorter passages of the tubular, fluttered, new age and liquid: a lot of water passing through, from deep dives to the ocean bed to water side tranquillity gazing.
Titles merely set out amorphous prompts, steps and references, as a “Moving Walkway” is musically represented more by a Greg Foat-esque walking milky way traverse. And “Blood Board SHROOM” shapes up to be an atmospheric passage of crystallised light forming. But generally, you never know exactly where the SML group are going to take you. Essentially though, this is an outfit with groove and rhythm and confidence in extending an already loose jazz core into new fields and orbits. If no one has put this proposal forward already, they’d be great touring partners with Tortoise.
Snorkel ‘Past Still Present Tense’
(Slowfoot & Archaeon) 14th November 2025
Tortoise with a groove and rhythm as manipulated and effected by Lee Scratch Perry. The Mosquitos meets Populäre Mechanik at the workshop of Walter Smetak. Just as couple of reference point combinations I’m throwing out there to describe this evolving and revolving South London based ensemble’s sound and scope of influences. And yet, it barely scratches the surface, as the fixed – at that moment of time when recording this loose collection come both retrospective and future teasing survey – lineup modulate, discombobulate, stutter, flex, warp, transform, oscillate and reverberate ideas as eclectic as gamelan, industrial funk, krautrock/kosmische, post-rock, jazz, d ‘n’ b, no wave, post-punk, cult library music, the fourth world “musics” of Hassell, Byrne and Eno, and of course dub.
But let’s pull back a moment before ploughing into this generous double-album spread – the group’s third studio album proper I believe, following on from 2007’s Glass Darkly and 2012’s Stop Machine -, and share a little information about this incarnation of Snorkel. Original instigator, drummer-percussionist, performer with This Is Not This Heat, Daniel Sullivan and the Lifetones, and producer for such acts as Gong, Charles Hayward and Vibration Black Fringe, Frank Byng is joined by Ben Cowen (another connection to Vibration Black Fringe, Cowen was also formerly a member of 7-Hurtz and has collaborated with Morcheeba) on keys and synths, Tom Marriott (a member of Pest) on trombone and effects, Roberto Sassi (formerly of the Vole Trio and Cardosanto, and a current member of Heckle Chamber and Charles Hayward’s Abstract Concrete project) on guitar, Ralph Cumbers (releases music under the Bass Clef moniker) on modular synth and samplers, trombone and bass, Charles Stuart (currently the music director for Grace Jones’ live band, but also the driving force behind The Fish Police; Stuart also goes under the “clandestine” cloak of 129 when producing and gets a separate credit under both on this album) on various electronic apparatus, percussion, melodica, vocals, keys and guitar, and, popping up on two tracks on the D-Side of this double-album, Nick Doyne-Ditmas (credits include Pinski Zoo, Monkey Puzzle Trio and Crackle) on bass duties. You’ll probably not going to get the chance to listen to this particular septet configuration again, so enjoy the moments captured, improvisation style, during the time it took to lay all nineteen tracks down in the studio environment. I imagine that whatever happens next, the set-up will again have changed: another varied lineup of connected players from the scene, orbiting around the mainstays.
Past Still Present Tense mixes not only time but combines elements of sci-fi, global rhythms, the near clandestine, Giallo spooks and something more alien into an often-post-punk-funk of the kooky, mystical, esoteric, futuristic and galactic. The foundation, the base, or I should say, the main influence that permeates throughout is dub (more On-U Sound, Lee Scratch Perry and World of Echo); transmogrified and liquified to vibrate and resonate off an electrical wave of zapped electronica and jilted, skewered, wavy metallic dance music. And yet somehow, they’ve managed to run it through the same processors, the same gait metric as Dunkelziffer, Conrad Schnitzler, Der Plan and Klaus Kruger to give it a Germanic bent.
Hand drums, various ethnic percussion and instruments (the Ghanian Gyil is mentioned in the accompanying press notes) are interwoven and merged with electronica, the yells and hysterics and riles of post-punk (the vocals pitched somewhere between the Pop Group, Cabaret Voltaire and Damo Suzuki) and the subversive. There are traces of everything from tubular concrete musique to the ambient, from Bill Laswell to Jeff Parker, Krononaut and Holy Fuck; from Roni Size to Finis Africae, Moebius, The Missing Brazilians, Gary Numan and Irmin Schmidt. The organic and machine in a loose rhythm cross multiple borders to create both a post-no wave dance and more mysterious, sometimes creeping and dystopian sci-fi (the nod to Iain Banks ‘The Wasp Factory’ couldn’t escape anyone’s notice). There’s much to discover and absorb with each play that I can imagine this collection will keep listeners very busy – a lifetime of work in some band’s cases.
Suntou Susso ‘Jaliya Silokang: The Path Of A Griot’
7th November 2025
“Some people are born into a family of kings
Some people are born into a family of farmers
Some people are born into a family of scholars
God has created me to be a Griot.”
Right from the outset the Gambian Griot, multi-instrumentalist, singer, composer and filmmaker (you could claim a true polymath) Suntou Susso sets out his afflatus legacy with the chorus on this album’s title track and opener ‘Jaliya’. Born into a service, the divine anointed position of “cultural guardian”, of “storyteller”, of “praise singer” (all terms used to describe the ancient role that stretches back over 700 years), Suntou like his father before him continues in the grand tradition, yet always looks to pastures new, working with and pushing those roots forward.
Roughly explained as a musician or entertainer from Western Africa whose performances include tribal histories and geologies, the Griot’s instrument of choice is the 21 or 22-string (Suntou favours the later), a long-necked lute crafted out of half a gourd and covered with cow skin. Suntou is just one such brethren from the extended family to play this harp-like sounding instrument; his half-brother is none other than the equally celebrated Seckou Keita (no stranger to this blog over the years), and his father, the legendary Mamudou Susso. Just in the last year or so, Suntou toured the great Griot songbook with his father: an intergenerational experiment you could say. That musical heritage continues through his sister, the applauded vocalist Binto Suso. Binto makes an appearance on the serious kora spilling and, starting off with, near solemn attentive piano backed track ‘Jula Jekereh’; a reimagining of an ancient Griot song, the protagonist of which was a well-known wealthy flamboyant trader called Jekereh Bayo who decided to celebrate the age-old traditional Muslim festival of Tobaski ten days later than usual, co-opting the regions kings and all the right movers with his riches. Close to her brothers lead vocal, Binto carries a beautiful echo of Miriam Makeba – the kora actually reminds me of Suntou’s half-brother Seckou. As the song progresses this voice starts to soar and cover the heights, beautifully sung, like all the songs, in the ancestral Mandinka mother tongue – a community and dialect found predominantly in the Senegambia region, but also in Southern Mali and Eastern Guinea, the Mandinka are said to be descended from the atavistic Mali Empire.
Binto appears alongside a number of special guest stars and an extended company of musicians (twenty in all). For this is nothing if not an ambitious record, recorded both in the UK and Senegal with an expanded ensemble of gifted players; from strings to brass, drums, guitars and of course a host of backing vocalists. Perhaps one of the most iconic names to have contributed to the album is that of the Malian guitar legend Vieux Farka Touré, son of the rightly venerated late icon Ali Farka Touré. He brings a more tamed version of his sustained fuzz desert rock style and Bamako club movers’ shoe-shuffle to ‘Joulou Fula’, a song that entwines both sets of guitar and kora strings together in an electrified bluesy union across the sand dune contours of the land. Another “super” star, the Ghanian performer, vocalist, percussionist, arranger, bandleader and art director Kweku Sackey, otherwise known professionally as K.O.G., makes an appearance and leaves an impression on the Afro-rock fusion ‘Lannaya’. In celebration, the values of trust, integrity, love and mutual respect are given a funky ride, as Kweku both toasts and vocalises with a positive energy: if there was a camera in on the session, I’m sure he’d be very animated and dancing about in the vocal booth.
With a production of both fluidity and softened punches, elliptical and staccato rhythms merging effortlessly with the smooth, Jaliya Silokang: The Path Of A Griot’s amorphously crosses porous borders culturally and musically. With both golden and rustic threads, the spindled and cascading, and a kora sound that is simultaneously harp-like and woven as if making a tapestry, it’s a most pleasant, beautiful, soul-searching, yearned, reflective and gracefully transportive listening experience. And with the addition of strings and serenaded and more drifty saxophones, there’s both subtle evocations of the classical and jazz genres to enrich the overall sound.
All of this fits together very nicely, extending the musical family geographically, and embracing modern sounds and the old in another successful intergenerational project that looks back whilst facing current strife and the topics of immigration. But at the heart of this album is a joy and need to embrace heritage, and to celebrate the Griot: a role that bookends the album, firstly at the very beginning with a song about the family’s traditional roots, and at the end with a ruminating panoramic display of rolling and expressive kora playing that articulates the eternal Griot traveller’s journey from destination to destination, storytelling and musically sharing the stories and bonds of that calling. This is a most ambitious and sprawling album that uses its many threads brilliantly and evocatively and will do much to cement Suntou Susso’s reputation as a burgeoning star and virtuoso of the Griot form and the kora.
Tana Delle Pigri ‘Wunderkammer’
Released 3rd October 2025
Five EPs into a newish project from the very excellent K. Board & The Skreens’ Jacopo and friends Guido and Pioppo, and the Monolith Cocktail is introduced to a languid amorphous sound world of post-punk-jazz, post-punk-funk, krautrock, psychedelia, post-hardcore and vague Ethnic destinations. A play on words that only really works in Italian, Tana Delle Pigri or “Den of the Lazy” repurposes Den of Tigers, is an illusion/hallucination of almost organic and relaxed influences, cast adrift, dangled or hovered, almost as if improvised or in a live setting.
From the mirage like shadows cast across arid plains on the opener to spells in which the atmosphere of finger cymbals and percussion evoke the Middle East and the Far East and the Byzantine, or when the woody breathed and chuffed lazy flute points towards fourth world sketches of the Amazon or Egypt, there’s both a balance of prods and flexed wanders across familiar turned unfamiliar terrains. All the while that trebly bass provokes echoes of post-punk mixed with Fugazi, but also CAN, Dunkelziffer and Embryo. But the vibes change on nearly every track, moving between the Killing Joke and The Untied Knot, Isotope 217, Mosquitoes, The Cosmic Range (for sure on the lovely finale ‘Musica Maestro’) and Slint. There’s even an organ serenade of Ethio-jazz at one point, and a sort of Red Hot Chilli Peppers if warped by Introvoid bit on ‘Felpa Grigia’ (“grey sweatshirt”). Touches on every instrument seem near indolent at times, relaxed, as they manifest pictures, scenes and landscapes both earthly and on the astral planes. But overall, there’s some intriguing and brilliant ideas taking shape from such indolent qualities. A fascinating project from the Italians.
Yalla Miku ‘2’
(Bongo Joe Records) 7th November 2025
Cornering the market in musical Cyril’s it seems, the Swiss-based loose collective of Yalla Miku features both the Cyril Cyril partnership of Bongo Joe label honcho Cyril Yeterian and drummer/percussionist Cyril Bondi, plus a revolving lineup of congruous foils plucked from the canton’s diverse assembly of globally imbued and post-punk groups and projects. The mainstay in this case, and co-founding instigator and Ethiopian and Eretria pentatonic scale Krar lute player come vocalist, Samuel Ades Tesfagergsh brings the roots and connections of his homeland to an already busy and seamlessly blended fecund of sounds and influences. A refugee starting life anew in Switzerland, Tesfagergsh came to the attention of Yeterian through the Bongo Joe shop and hub; the record store and label founder’s own upbringing and roots traverse the Middle East, with the PR notes referencing Lebanon, Syria and pre-Türkiye, Anatolia.
This combination, the spheres of influence and backgrounds makes for some surprising and edgy fusions.
Marking a shift in personal after the departures of Simon Aubert, Annouar Baouna, Vincent Bertholet and Ali Bouchaki, the simply entitled new album, 2, features Boxing Noise’s Emma Souharce on machines, synths and vocals and Louis Knobil, who goes under the Knobil signature, on electric bass and vocals. Apart from slimming down to a quintet, the main changes have been vocally, with now every member of the group providing singing, narrating or talking duties. But the merger of the Swiss post-punk underground and the international sounds of the Middle East, North Africa, but Arabian world at large, remains the focus; it’s to what degree that signature is loosened and widened.
Thematic wise, this album is imbued with references to Tesfagergsh’s former Eritrean home, his culture too. His village of Embeyto is immortalised via the vibes of an East African PiL lurking in a dubby reverberated soundscape of metallic hand drums and creaky opening doors, and a ghostly taste of The Specials. Common throughout the album’s ten tracks, between the authentic trills, hollers, cries of the Arab world, the post-punk jutted, elliptical and spikiness of The Pop Group and the Dead Kennedys (see ‘Post-Aventures’), the resonated dub exotics, otherworldliness and wavey bass lines of The Mosquitos and Jah Wobble, and the Anatolian and Egyptian dance pop disco of Altin Gun, there’s a sound that mimics the organ of both Ethio-jazz and fun house spooks garage music: a ghost train merger of Hailu Mergia, ? And the Mysterians and Baba Zulu. Seemingly more pliable, more crypt frights and hauntology than general dark arts and paranormal, the veils of the esoteric add a layer or mist of mystery and creeping disquiet to the themes being aired: the use of religion as a tool to wield power, the geopolitical and status of disposed, and traditions of marriage. Embeyto could be just a lovely nostalgic admiration of home, but its location within the Tigray region can’t help but draw attention to the recent, and much forgotten, conflict there.
To be honest, it’s far beyond my own knowledge and scope of specialism, the conflict fought in the Tigray region (the most northern state within the borders of Ethiopia) is convoluted and has a long history stretching back generations. But to be brief, this two-year conflict pitted forces allied to the Ethiopian federal government and Eritrea against the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). The TPLF had previously been a dominant force politically in Ethiopia before conflict with its neighbours, unrest within the country, and disputes over leadership spilled out into horrific violence. But during this particular and most recent chapter, between the 3 November 2020 and 3 November 2022, it is estimated that two million people were displaced from the region, and 600,000 killed. Tigray was itself left in ruins; its capital turned over to the federal government. Reports began to emerge in the aftermath of ethnic cleansing and war crimes. And the situation is no more stable now, a few years along, with conflict once more looming within Eritrea. If you were interested in Tigray musical culture, and liked the sound of the Krar, then you should check out Ian Brennan’s recent raw and uncloyed production project, Tigray Tears ‘The World Stood By’. There’s even a reference, title wise, on the hoof galloping, gangly post-punk North African dance ‘Alemuya’ to the song and album by the Eritrean singer Dehab Faytinga. Mixed in with the Tigrayan/Eritrean thread are references to the Arabian world, its language and even religion; the diverse region’s music effortlessly fused with a myriad of influences from across the diaspora, from Europe and beyond. One minute its quite chic Swiss French, the next authentically North African. It’s Bloc Party, Stereolab, Dunkelziffer, the Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp and Snapped Ankles meets Bongo Joe’s own Maghreb K7 Club survey and Cyril Cyril in an electrified new wave punk and no wave confederation. I can’t think of a better album with which to encapsulate the Bongo Joe sound, which celebrates its tenth anniversary this year. A highly recommended album.
If you’ve enjoyed this selection, the writing, or been led down a rabbit hole into new musical terrains of aural pleasure, and if you can, then you can now show your appreciation by keeping the Monolith Cocktail afloat by donating via Ko-Fi.
For the last 15 years both me and the MC team have featured and supported music, musicians and labels we love across genres from around the world: ones that we think you’ll want to know about. No content on the site is paid for or sponsored, and we only feature artists we have genuine respect for /love or interest in. If you enjoy our reviews (and we often write long, thoughtful ones), found a new artist you admire or if we have featured you or artists you represent and would like to say thanks or show support, than you can now buy us a coffee or donate via https://ko-fi.com/monolithcocktail
Monolith Cocktail Blog 