‘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.

2 CDs and a DVD from Trevor Jackson’s label: post-rock meets electro-punk, meets electronica, meets who knows. Killer cuts from Fridge, Four Tet, Sonovac, Playgroup, Gramme, Mu and the rest.

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

The exciting Cairo-based project of Alvarius B (Alan Bishop from Sun City Girls and Sublime Frequencies), with Cherif El Masri, Aya Hemeda and Sam Shalabi. Fully-fledged, dark, Middle-Eastern-flavoured psych-folk.

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.

An anti-war garage-punk onslaught from 1966, doing Bo Diddley proud.
Backed here by The Leaves (plus drummer Don Conka from Love), BJ knocked around with everyone from the Rolling Stones to Frank Zappa.
Anyway… they brought it to Jerome.

‘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.’