A bass-bin trembler from the surefire doyen of nu disco-house.

A walloping one dozen tonics of close-cropped, spasming, blissed-out boogie abstraction, for dancin and prancin. Zinging pick-me-up blends of forensic, gleeful, sleight-of-hand skills and disco connoisseurship, school of Ron Hardy.
It’s a must.

Swingeing Millsian techno from the geezer formerly known as ∑. Nothing extraneous. Lethal.

Lest we forget.
Torsten Profrock’s occult homage to UK garage is one of the gems in the HJ label catalogue. It’s one of our own handful of favourites.
Two-step waylaid in the scuffed, churning, sub-heavy terrain running from his Chain Reaction days to Monolake; mysteriously entangled with the distressed tracks of old Ugandan 78s.

We love this film. Warmly recommended.

Ace dubwise techno.

Fifty-six fearless forays deep into the consecrated crates.
ALC does what he does best, with Roc Marciano rocking the pulpit; Budgie wheels back to the UK scene, dazzlingly rallying Knucks, Novelist, JayaHadADream, Joe James, Ragz Originale, Natanya, Qendresa, and full crew.
The CDs are resplendently dressed like a Bible, with foil debossing, the full monty. Lovely stuff.

The sublime 2001 swansong of James Stinson, of Drexciya. ‘By turns luminous and melancholic, low-key and sensuous, wry and soulful’ (Pitchfork).

Sam Kidel from Young Echo opens proceedings with a beautifully rolling, pastoral re-arrangement of the melodies of South East Of The Mountain, keeping a watchful eye on the original, dread b-line. Then some chilled ragga from O$VMV$M, versioning Skeletal. Finally Helm takes the helm, with a startling re-animation of Bloom, brilliantly tipping the registers of Music For Airports on their side.