‘Ghost musick… operating in the margins and intersections of folklore, experimental electronics, dreams and nightmares… Think of it as a rampant yearning, a manic laughter, but mostly as a feeling of some somnambulistic thirst for adventure and journeys into the unknown, a feeling that is grounded deep inside the heart of the continent.’

‘Shines a light on a little-heard, spooked German underground, working below the radar on mostly small-run releases. Lower Franconia’s Baldruin lays the mystery on thick, his fevered tracks here using flutes, electric organs and shaken children’s toys to create an opaque ambience. Close neighbours Brannten Schnüre voyage into similarly uncharted territory, providing laceworks of fragile folk melodies and sloshes of breathy drone offset by detached vocals. Like Brothers Grimm armed with analogue synths, Freundliche Kreisel supply the title track’s sinister fairy tale, while the oblique textures of Kirschstein’s mystically-themed efforts betray roots in Amon Düül’s hallucinogenic psychedelia and Novy Svet’s neo surrealism. A very dark delight’ (Mojo).

‘The first in a new series from Jazzman featuring the lowest of the lowball schlock n’ roll 45s never known to exist! No box untouched, no crate unrummaged, no pile unpilfered! Just the greasiest and grimiest, the most shocking and sordid 45s… like The Zombie Walk, Night Sweats, The Chiller, The Prowler, and Screaming Vampire! By combos like The Sadists, The Monstrosities, The Nightmares, The Gravestone Four… Putrid pieces of raucous rot n’ roll.’

Brilliant, dazed and skewiff electro-pop from Fact magazine’s label of the year. The Autre Ne Veut is pretty great, too.

Blaine is amongst the most recorded studio drummers in history, contributing to more than 35,000 sessions and 6,000 singles, including 150 US top 10 hits, with 40 number ones, as well as numerous film and television soundtracks. He was a regular drummer for Phil Spector: that’s his unforgettable drumming on The Ronettes’ Be My Baby.
This is bonkers exotica, replete with drums, gong, xylophone, organ, bongos, congas and timpani (not to mention Emil Richards on vibes), chocka with breaks.

‘Very lovely indeed,’ it says in Uncut. ‘For half an hour, fragile pop melodies are drenched in an enveloping haze of guitar fuzz, Liz Harris’ vocals shaped by a heavy reverb aura.’
‘Harris’ low moan is an exquisite performance, her fingers reaching around your heart to exert powerful emotional pressure,’ attests The Wire.

Rough, trippy, live recordings made two years after The Truth. Raw mid-70s psych.

The 1982 NYC-post-punk classic, bundling together Can, DAF, PIL and Joy Division.
The sole album released by Factory US.

The A is a fully-orchestrated version of two Alvarius B. tracks (one from the Sun City Girls’ 330,003 Crossdressers From Beyond the Rig Veda LP); the B is a Morrocan folk cover sung in Arabic by Aya Hemeda.

‘A wobbly loop of found sound. Almost inaudible speech from an unidentified documentary. Lapping waves of folk guitar created at the edges of the player’s ability. A haunted melodica. Mumbled vocals that reinvent the singer’s uncertainties as a deliciously glum pose. Layer these up in the recording software of your choice. Labour in a back bedroom overlooking the railway line to summon ghosts.
‘Spirits arrive from West Yorkshire, from Glasgow and Dunedin, from the suburban Midwest. Rising from squats and university accommodation past, from damp rooms filled with old paperbacks, stale hash smoke and abandoned mugs of tea.
‘Even as you listen to this collection of home recordings, made over the last few years by South London duo Jemima, these ghosts crowd around. Born in the Seventies to chase the tape experiments and gentle strumming of the Sixties they crane their necks and edge closer to the laptop. When something this perfect comes along, even the most tranquillised must stir their stumps.
‘It’s lonely music created around a wine bottle with a candle in it, made too late to appear via Xpressway or Cordelia. Don’t imagine though, that it has no home in the now. These spectres remain close because they know they are still wanted. We need them as much as they need us.
‘This spell-binding LP is a window onto a half-lit world on a deeper plane of consciousness.’