Ajukaja Sunda School IV 7″ (Porridge Bullet)
Got so into the Porridge Bullet label over the last few years that I recently went to an author event solely because, like the label, the author was Estonian. I asked him if he was aware of Porridge Bullet, hoping for some new nugget of info, to which he responded with gentle confusion. Rather than learn from this incident – maybe not every random person out there is obsessed with the niche electronic labels of their home country? – I’ve decided that the writer in question needs to do a better job representing Estonia, and that I was perfectly in the right to bring it up immediately after saying hello. Ajukaja has been working with the label since day one (2012) and his latest contribution to the Sunda School series is blissfully baked. Both songs were made on a Yamaha organ at an “island sanctuary on Hiiumaa” and if you’re prone to fits of jealousy, I advise against Googling the island. “Sunda School 3” is elevator music for an elevator that takes you to paradise, festooned with the Mediterranean breeze of Domenique Dumont and the cutesy charm of Katamari Damacy. “Sunda School 4” dims the house lights, as it is now the evening and everyone at the private resort has changed into their finest outfits, feeling confident and breezy following the afternoon’s open bar. Ajukaja offers an alternate vision of chill-wave here, one where jazz-funk melodies dance like candle flames, free from the clumsy baggage of blurry reverb or overt nostalgic winks.

Arson Burning Future 7″ (General Speech)
Like the multitudes of letter-swapping hardcore brethren, they could’ve went with Arzon, or Arsyn, but NYC crusters Arson are keeping things spellcheck-safe on their vinyl debut. The four-piece found a comfortable home with the General Speech label, whose Japanese-leaning hardcore-punk tastes align nicely with Arson’s blatantly non-commercial music. In that regard, Arson do come across as a bit of a Japanese noise-core tribute act (presumably on purpose), following the footsteps of Gloom (whose “Disgust” they go so far as to cover here), Abraham Cross, Zyanose and Exit-Hippies’ more straightforward material. The hand-lettering and Anime-inspired band illustration drive this point home, though thankfully Arson doesn’t resort to the worst form of Japanese hardcore worship: fake ESL song titles (though there is no insert to confidently verify the same for their lyrics – I’m giving ’em the benefit of the doubt). On one hand, blatantly lifting and replicating other punks’ original ideas is wack, but on the other hand, if you’re going to copy something, it might as well be some of the most blistering and unhinged hardcore-punk that has ever existed. By that metric, Arson undeniably rip, from the guitar’s scalding treble overload to the vocals, which sound like attack-dogs barking and snarling through a helicopter’s in-flight intercom system.

Shinichi Atobe SynthScale 12″ (Plastic & Sounds)
Shinichi Atobe has a fun backstory: for years following his 2001 debut EP, people had assumed he must’ve been an alias of someone else, as he had only delivered that sole fantastic twelve-inch on the revered Chain Reaction label before quietly disappearing into the techno ether. The Demdike Stare guys made contact some thirteen years later, only to discover that he never stopped making tunes, merely for his own private satisfaction. With a trove of unreleased material and a steady stream of new tracks, Atobe has been back on the scene with a consistent, workmanlike output ever since. SynthScale is his newest EP, released on his new Plastic & Sounds label, and if you ever felt intimidated by the breadth of Atobe’s output, I urge you to shed your worries and step right in: the water’s warm! Atobe works within the well-established confines of dub-techno, but he treats the genre as a playground, not a holding cell. “SynthScale” is clinical and invigorating, like the best and deepest remix of Kraftwerk’s “The Robots” buried on some Euro-only promotional mix CD. “Disappear” twinkles and bleeps like a wine bar on the moon, though “Between Thoughts” is my favorite of the EP, its separate parts sequenced together elegantly, a punchy little up-and-down arpeggio energized under the shimmering pads; ten minutes of pulsating bliss. The entire EP is top-notch, another exquisite missive from this fascinating producer who best communicates through music. (Peep his Tone Glow interview to see what I mean – it was like pulling teeth!)

Bruce The Hand 12″ (Poorly Knit)
Bristol’s Bruce is an electronic outsider among outsiders, having cut his teeth with the exemplary Hessle Audio scene before wandering off to wherever it is he is now. He dropped three different DIY-assembled EPs on his new Poorly Knit label in 2025, and The Hand is the most recent; like the first two, it’s unpredictable and great. “Golden Water Queen” brings his singing voice back to the forefront, but with a freewheeling, improvising-in-the-shower feel, his processed vocals pirouetting over some murky electronics, like Reckonwrong if he possessed a darker side. “The Hand” is tentative, beatless and nervous, as if Andy Stott suddenly developed a case of stage fright in the middle of a performance. Bruce brings lots of different energies to his most recent productions, and this is a new one. He saved his rhythms for “DHam’s Jam”, eight minutes of minimal tech-house chop with plenty of off-the-cuff interference. The track behaves like it’s bobbing and weaving past pedestrians on a crowded street in hopes of catching the bus. Bruce’s mind is everywhere, and considering his Hessle Audio pedigree, I’m surprised that it doesn’t really seem like much of that corner of the music world is noticing. You can still pick up all three vinyl EPs in a discounted Bandcamp bundle, which I recommend – with enough buzz, maybe someday Jeremy Allen White will play this Bruce too.

Cracked Actor Nazi School LP (Last Laugh)
After that 2010 repressing of Negative Approach’s debut EP, I assumed we all learned our lesson to never, ever airbrush, Photoshop or colorize iconic hardcore / punk cover art, but I’m looking at the slightly-enhanced cover of this Cracked Actor reissue, and you know what? It’s tastefully done. Last Laugh has long been a reliable source for archival punk obscurities, and this LP collects the Killed By Death-immortalized Nazi School single along with a handful of other 1981 originals, previously relegated to a Japanese-issue CD from 2010 (punk historian voice: as was the style at the time). I have such a soft-spot for punk like this, where the general reactionary sense of the music was in full-effect but not yet codified, as evidenced by Cracked Actor’s Twisted Sister haircuts (maybe it was a Long Island thing). “Nazi School” remains a classic, and while the rest of these songs probably aren’t quite at that level (a couple even veer in that “Michael J. Fox playing Chuck Berry” direction), I can’t imagine ever being offered the chance to listen to Cracked Actor and refusing. “Epileptic Fit” will appeal to fans of GG Allin’s earliest singles, no doubt! I also love when bands did their own “radio commercials” back then, and there’s a perfectly stupid one here, replete with fake German accent (really leaning into their hit single, it would see). Who’s gonna do a comp of all the radio commercial spots townie punk bands made for themselves? Seems like a job for Last Laugh if there ever was one.

Creative Writing Baby Did This LP (Meritorio)
What’s a more hated college course than creative writing… Econ 101? I’d imagine that this Western Mass quartet suffered through a number of those morning seminars themselves, but they’re having the last laugh with their easy-going, homework-optional band. Featuring folks from Estrogen Highs, Sore Eros, Huevos II and other even-more-unsung indie-rock groups, Creative Writing know what they’re doing on their debut, Baby Did This. It’s indie-rock with power-pop, country-folk and post-punk flourishes in the proud American tradition. I think of Pavement, Teenage Fanclub, Wilco and other ’90s cult classics who looked toward Neil Young, The Velvet Underground and Big Star instead of Metallica or Minor Threat for post-adolescent inspiration. It’s pretty edgeless stuff, by design… the guitars chime and volley, the tempos are insufficient for jogging (or even power-walking), and the vocals are exceedingly polite. There’s probably some sarcasm in there, but Creative Writing play it so straight that any sort of pointed jab or sign of discontent goes right over my head, coasting on a wave of their affable jangle-pop. Of course, that could just be an insecure projection. Maybe they’re nothing but sincere? Maybe they actually enjoyed creative writing?

Forming Division Bring Them Down / Move 7″ (Total Life Society)
How many middle-aged indieheads would trade in their life savings (four hundred dollars) for the chance to be in a band with J Mascis or Mike Watt, let alone both? And yet that’s the dream that Matthew Wascovich is living, fronting these two legends (with John Moloney on drums!) in Forming Division. The band may or may not exist beyond this sole seven-inch single, but wait, Wascovich has also released singles on his Total Life Society label by Vicious Fence (he sings, with the one and only Mark Arm on guitar) and Subterranean Clocks (he sings, Watt’s back on bass and Brendan Canty plays drums!)? What’s next for Wascovich, a band with Jon Wurster, Bob Mould and Josephine Wiggs? I don’t know if Wascovich has some sort of blackmail dossier on these guys, or six-figure checks with which to lure them – or maybe, just maybe, he’s simply a great guy to be around and start bands with – but whatever the case, he’s like the modern-day Hugh Hefner of seminal ’90s underground-rock bunnies. Back to this single: “Bring Them Down” is a simmering shuffle featuring Mascis’s incessant soloing and a cool stop-start beat from Moloney; “Move” crawls by comparison, with Watt showing goodnatured restraint as Mascis continues to have a field day shredding. Wascovich kinda sings like a regular guy they randomly pulled in off the street, and not just in comparison to these indie heavyweights, which brings a level of relatability to the project (if also further confusion as to how he ended up in this covetable position). He has a cool deal going, and I’m not just saying that in hopes of being asked to play bass in a hypothetical new band he’s starting with Kim Thayil (though, if he was interested, I am available…)

Gaute Granli Rosacea LP (Nashazphone)
Still hurts to remember that Ghédalia Tazartès no longer walks among us mortals, but his spirit lives on in many forms. One of them is Norwegian artist Gaute Granli, who, much like Tazartès, forges his own distinctive sonic path, unconcerned with listener comfort or conventional musical methods, even by “experimental” standards. His work was last reviewed in these pages back in 2018, on the Jandek-meets-Severed Heads outer limits of Animalskt, and while Rosacea is clearly the work of the very same Gaute Granli (could there be more than one person on Earth with that name?), it’s by no means a retread. These songs, while still sounding as though they were cobbled together from the bits and pieces other musicians discarded, favor sweeter melodies, softer textures and brighter hopes. It’s full of the spirit of weird, singular artists who never quite got their due – J.D. Emmanuel, John T. Gast, Autre Ne Veut, Richard Youngs, Lewis, most certainly his Rump State bandmate Mark Morgan – with the sense that Granli hasn’t chosen to create these messed-up albums, but was compelled by forces outside his control. Take “This Is Never Ending”, which sounds like a mens’ church choir rehearsing inside Jabba the Hutt’s intestines, or “Carmelade”, which forefronts some Tarzan-like devotional singing over a synthesizer’s three warbling notes and an eventual off-time bass kick. We are peering directly into Granli’s cracked-open skull, and it’s full of writhing, colorful worms.

Gumm Beneath The Wheel LP (Convulse)
So this group is Gumm, from Chattanooga, TN, not GUNN from Orange County, nor are they to be confused with the Berlin punk band Gum. This is the sort of intensive cognitive testing that should keep me nice and dementia-free well into my nineties, so I thank the hardcore-punk scene’s endless similar iterations for keeping my brain on its toes. Beneath The Wheel arrives in a haze of feedback, with a modern-typical stompy riff opening up the horseshoe pit in a manner redolent of the typical three-letter suspects (Gel, Bib, Spy). This particular hardcore style completely exhausts me at this point, but mercifully it’s merely one piece of Gumm’s puzzle. Instead, they lean heavily into an upbeat and polished hardcore style ala Paint It Black and the first few Militarie Gun records, just one Strung Out drum-beat from verging on Strike Anywhere’s territory. By third track “Flavorless”, Gumm’s guitars are fully limber and melodic, a lively antidote to the stale down-picked half-step style I’ve come to dread. Vocalist Drew Waldon really comes across as a younger Dr. Dan Yemin here, full-throttle screaming enunciated so well that you won’t need a lyric sheet to follow along. Gumm are clearly trying to write their own songs rather than reconfigure someone else’s, and it leads to stuff like “Human Web”, a song that eventually builds to its own righteous sing-along chorus. For semi-enlightened hardcore kids looking for a path that doesn’t lead to E-Town Concrete or IDLES, Gumm offer an appealing alternative.

K9 Thrills LP (Who Ya Know)
Nothing wrong with a lil’ tie-dyed punk rock! K9 are a new Richmond group, and while clearly punk in ethos and approach, don’t expect any bondage pants or liberty spikes from their full-length debut. Their ideas seem to spring from a similar well as that of Meat Puppets, or Hüsker Dü, or Chronophage, or even Milk Music / Mystic 100s (had they not wandered off on that endless ayahuasca trip). In other words, their music calls to mind the optimistic promise of independent college-rock in the mid ’80s, where trembling vocals, guitar jangle, jazzy drumming and psychedelic elements could be harvested for novel use. When only the dumbest punks were still punks and everyone else was hoping to find a fresh direction forward (even if it meant thrash-metal), the desire to differentiate oneself was inevitable for the art-minded and curious. Though K9 were probably children when Layne Staley died (let alone when Meat Puppets and Sonic Youth toured together), I sense a trans-generational likemindedness that results in some great tunes here. Thrills balances upbeat rockers (“95x”, “Who Ya Know”) with mid-tempo pop (“A Race”, “Arms Fall Off”) comfortably, an easy-listen that’s just the right amount of dirty: a little ripeness without the stink.

K/S/R Already In Heaven LP (Physical / Gilgongo)
One of the most valuable skills an artist can wield these days is the ability to command the attention of a prospective audience. I’d like to commend free-improv trio K/S/R on doing so with their album cover here: this freaky posse posing in a cave with accordion, chain, violin and Morbid Angel t-shirt are enticing! They look like if Wolf Eyes got to cast a Scooby-Doo remake with a cast of trip-metal enthusiasts, and the hype sticker promises experimental music from an intriguing “New Mexico / Hudson Valley” axis. Do they split they difference and hang out in southern Indiana? There was so much to think about before I even put the record on, and now that I’m spinning it, I am afforded plenty of space to do such thinking. The trio of Justin Clifford Rhody, Abigail Smith and Ben Kujawski leave delicate touches through these five improvised pieces – if they were crime scenes, you’d have trouble pulling a full set of prints. Various forms of strings are lightly rubbed and plucked, keys are tickled with feathers, and it hovers in that mode, incapable of waking any nearby sleeping babies. I kept waiting for a powder keg to explode, for a shriek to pierce the gloomy din – any sort of reaction against the primordial stasis of their sound – but it never arrived. Their cover photo displays three prospective party animals, but Already In Heaven is the most docile form of noise – a forehead passed out on the keys, a light snore reverberating against the lower bout of a nearby violin.

Maraudeur Flaschenträger LP (Feel It)
Feel It continues its stranglehold on the world’s supply of slippy slappy dancey post-punk, now claiming one of the Europe’s finest: Maraudeur. I keep hoping to one day see someone confuse them with NYHC legends Merauder – an accidental swapping of festival bookings, perhaps? – but for now, this group’s various European vowels have kept them safe from any hard pitting. Maraudeur have been at it since the mid ’10s, though I am relieved to report that they do not seem to have honed any new musical skills or impressive chops in that time. In fact, I’d say that the songs of Flaschenträger are more aimless than anything they’ve done – they sound like if Erase Errata or Priests simply stopped writing their songs halfway through, and went and recorded what they’ve got anyway. It’s beautiful in that regard, to hear carefree post-punk like this… pieces of The Raincoats and The Cure just kinda jumbled on the table, songs as likely to dig in their heels as trail off absentmindedly. There’s gotta be a secret method to this madness, though – how else to explain the inclusion of a “secret” final track, or at least that thirty second gap of silence before it? Just when you think you know where they’re headed, whoop! You got meraudeured.

Method Of Doubt Total Soul Ignition 7″ (Scheme)
The “(Noun) Of (Noun)” hardcore band-naming convention continues to wreak havoc on society, but at least Method Of Doubt had the good sense to come up with an EP title cool enough to print on a t-shirt all by itself. This Florida hardcore band clearly worships at the altar of New Age Records, and while that’s far from my favorite era of hardcore, I hold respect for anyone who chooses to wear a XXL band t-shirt with a Krishna bead necklace while getting all emotional about how straight-edge they are. That’s the aura of these four songs, which balance the urban groove of early ’90s NYHC with the sluggish tempos of Outspoken and Chokehold. Method Of Doubt carry the introspection of Bold and the passion of Unbroken, and when vocalist Liam Quinn pleads the line “I will not assist with your genocide”, his frustration reads understandably sincere. For all the chugga-chugga ignorant-beatdown hardcore hypnotizing the youth, my ears are open for “mature” hardcore such as Total Soul Ignition (read: hardcore made by 24 year-olds instead of 18 year-olds). Their earnest presentation and emotional (but not emo) delivery is well suited to this most holy of hardcore formats, the seven-inch EP, not merely alive but thriving on CT’s Scheme Records.

Nohz Slumber Between Rotten Walls LP (Kick Rock / World Gone Mad / Croux)
I love when hardcore and punk bands are clearly a product of their own direct and distinct communities, like how early ’80s DC hardcore only sounds like DC hardcore, or how those NWI punk bands from ten years ago created the egg-punk sound. Nohz are from Toulouse, France, however their brand of blackened hardcore-punk could’ve come from anywhere on the planet in the past ten years. Over aggressive polka-beat drumming and unfriendly down-picked guitars, the vocals arrive on bat-wings, with a daisy chain of effects pedals that render even the most casual scream into a cacophonous echo from the depths of Hades. It’s anti-social black-metal aesthetics grafted onto hardcore flesh, in a manner pretty consistent with Destino Final, Bone Awl and much of Youth Attack’s 2010s: a theatrical nihilism that’s mostly for titillation purposes. Nothing wrong with it, I suppose – there’s no faulting Nohz’s delivery of the goods here – but this internet-propagated sound has reached levels of over-saturation, a stylistic cul-de-sac we continue to circle. Unless your singer is that guy from Lancaster, PA who just got arrested for stealing a hundred skeletons from the graveyard (look it up!), or your songs are absolutely blistering and unmatched, I find myself feeling more placated than inspired by the current (and surely future) bands pursuing this particular style.

No Idols No Idols 7″ (Iron Lung)
After being accidentally exposed to the Hardlore podcast’s “best ’00s hardcore band” competitive bracket, I needed something to quell my nausea, so I quickly threw on this debut seven-inch from Baltimore’s No Idols. These five songs coated my stomach with time-tested American hardcore-punk and I immediately snapped back into shape, ran outside and did a hundred shirtless pushups in the street. They’ve got that early Fucked Up songwriting style (see “Ballad Of A Fool” in particular) mixed with the formative bite of Last Rights and an aesthetic approach similar to some of the finer purveyors of hardcore in the ’00s, such as Waste Management, 86 Mentality and Knife Fight. The drums sound fantastic, especially when drummer Robin Zeijlon gets to tear it up on all those toms, pushing things to a level of intensity in league with Poison Idea at their (literal) heaviest. No Idols aren’t doing anything new here, so much as chasing the platonic ideal of hardcore-punk, one far removed from the pro-core, merch-team, beat-em-up nonsense that is somehow thriving now more than ever. You might not be able to beat ’em, but we certainly don’t have to join ’em, especially knowing that raging hardcore such as No Idols continues to sprout like weeds through the cracks in our increasingly corporate-reliant underground.

Emmett O.C. 9 From The Warped Mind LP (Sweet Time / Low Ambition)
Sorry to disappoint, but this isn’t a tribute to the greatest west-coast teen drama of the early ’00s: this man’s full name is Emmett O’Connor, and he’s played in a variety of underground Cleveland punk bands you probably haven’t heard of (MK Ultras, Archie & The Bunkers, etc.). He’s stepping out here on his own, looking like a dashing ’50s greaser on the cover (or, some could argue, a twink heartthrob of the mid 2020s). I assumed he’d give us some form of punk, and voila: this solo-project follows the common path of vocals over drum machines and synths, the cheaper-sounding the better. An extremely low-fidelity affair, picture if you will an egg-punk John Maus excitedly crooning over chintzy gear on the street outside of Goner Fest to the bemusement of all passersby. The punker / sharper tunes resonate with me the most, whereas I find the doo-wop inspired tracks (proof of his greaser bonafides) least palatable, no matter how many Cindy Lee fans out there want to argue otherwise. It’s not a new thing to holler “one two fuck you” over a peppy drum-machine beat and monotonous synths, but “The Air Conditioning Is Making Me Sick” is up there with Buck Biloxi as far as enraged-yet-futile solo punk-rock is concerned. I like my one-man-band garage-punks like my Negronis: bitter as hell.

Officer John The Return Of Officer John 12″ (Wah Wah Wino)
Wah Wah Wino have been on a prolonged hot-streak, so why not throw their hat into the Trip-Hop Olympics with Officer John? It’s trendy without a doubt, but Wah Wah Wino has broken enough fresh new ground to dispel any initial cynicism. The label continues to reveal Ireland’s underground music scene as diverse and innovative, and while The Return Of Officer John does not break new ground, it’s another winner all the same. The Officer John moniker is allegedly that of one Niall Rogers, but based on Wah Wah Wino’s track record of their artists being something like 75% real people, who can really say? What I do know is that his music is supremely vibes-based, baggy trip-hop and ’00s chill-wave colliding like a warm tongue on a perfect scoop of ice cream. The typical trip-hop beats come from airy, live-sounding drums, over which neo-new age guitars chime soothingly. Rogers’s voice is appropriately tuneful-yet-incomprehensible (a dream-pop requisite), like Thom Yorke trapped in a well (if only that were truly the case!). It’s post-Washed Out indie with a club-music mindset – rather than a band waiting for some DJs to remix their shoegaze tracks into dance hits, Officer John cuts to the chase. Morgan Buckley actually steps up to the plate with a remix of EP-opener “Stay” to close things out, refracting Officer John’s pastel colors into an even wider spectrum of sway-able grooves care of some extra-funky bongos and bells. Mr. Buckley, you’re well on your way to becoming this generation’s Fatboy Slim, and I am here for it.

Probleman Eg Vannæ Plantæ Sjøl Om Di E Død LP (Banditt Media)
One of the Bandcamp tags for Norweigian emo-punk group Probleman’s newest album, the I-don’t-even-wanna-attempt-it Eg Vannæ Plantæ Sjøl Om Di E Død, is “fifth wave emo”. Fifth wave – really?? There’s probably a terrible YouTube video by an even more terrible guy that explains in detail these five alleged emo waves, but I refuse to look it up, or even acknowledge such an unsettling designation. However you care to slice it, Probleman sound a lot like emo as I understood it in the late ’90s – big pop-rock swings from The Get Up Kids, Braid and The Promise Ring that were tempered by the fact that they actually existed within a DIY hardcore-punk underground, blissfully premature for all the package reunion tours, destination nostalgia-fests and prospects of money, however diminishing, that make it all so dreadfully unappealing today. Let’s think instead of the four members of Probleman in Trondheim, Norway, pouring their hearts out over upbeat pop-punk drumming, energetically-chiming guitar leads and vocals that are sensitive (but not too sensitive), having a blast working out their songs in a well-insulated practice space as untold feet of snow accumulate outside. There’s zero chance of me picking up their Northern Norwegian Helgeland dialect, no matter how many times I spin this LP, but c’mon, this is joyous, scruffy-shiny pop-punk – Probleman’s emotions do not require a shared language to resonate.

RHDP Kaskasero LP (Beach Impediment)
Apparently it’s short for “Red Horse Drunk Punks” (or “Red Horse Drugs Pancit”?), but whatever the case, this Filipino trio (by way of Virginia Beach) are aware of their name’s proximity to a certain strain of Chili Pepper. You can call your punk band Crede or Shone Tempo Violence all you want, but you only have yourself to blame if people associate you with similarly-monikered ’90s sleaze-rockers. Thankfully, that’s as far as RHDP’s alt-rock similarities go, as they prefer to rock in an aggressively boozed-up way, unfit for even the worst of Woodstocks. It’s a little too hardcore for the Nashville Pussy / Turbonegro set, but is it really? Especially if everyone is all coked up and playing Twister on the pool table? The indulgent guitar-soloing and high-octane rock moves call to mind the covered roster of Guns N’ Roses’ The Spaghetti Incident?, from Nazareth to Johnny Thunders, played heavier and more belligerently than the old guard. RHDP are way more Filipino, too – all of their songs are sung in Tagalog, though the fist-pumping and whiskey shots are a universally-shared vernacular. It’s fun on record, but I have the suspicion that the songs of Kaskasero are meant to be experienced live and in person. I can think of no better place to experience RHDP than a dive bar in Virginia Beach’s off-season, their speaker-popping hard-rock drowning out the depressingly constant procession of military aircraft above.

Emily Robb Soundtrack To The Space Between Attack And Decay LP (Petty Bunco)
Film and TV soundtracking has become one of the few viable career paths available to creative musicians as of late. If Daniel Lopatin and Bobby Krlic aren’t driving around Los Angeles in Cybertrucks, it’s not because they can’t afford them. Emily Robb has now joined the growing ranks of indie artists with film soundtracks on their resumés, but like all of Robb’s recorded output thus far, this isn’t a bid for fame and fortune, it’s another excuse to make something cool with her friends. I haven’t seen The Space Between Attack And Decay, but I understand it to be a very limited-run indie film made by Philly people, some of whose names I recognize from around town. From spinning the soundtrack, it’s easy to grasp how Robb’s guitar-centric vignettes might converse with the film’s surreal scenes. Her solo work often favors a heads-down repetition, and while that’s not out of the equation, her musical colors have expanded from a strictly universal fuzz to folk, spaghetti westerns, garage-rock and Link Wray-abilly. If I’m reading it right, that’s Robb playing the drums and bass (see “Dance Music”) as necessary, no longer solely tethered to the guitar. As is the case with projects such as these, Robb was surely responding to prompts and requests from the film’s creators, but sometimes that’s how one arrives at their best creative work, taking the director’s inspiration and running with it. I know this much: I wish “Frustrated Wake Up” would softly play in the background whenever I wake up frustrated.

Sa Pa Ambeesh 2xLP (Short Span)
Need to keep a close eye on the Short Span label, as they delivered some of my favorite adventurous electronic music in 2025, and seem poised to continue in 2026. Case in point is the newest full-length from Sa Pa, which extrapolates on the European producer’s penchant for minimalist dub-techno, wandering further off the map. These tracks move past blurry impressionistic techniques and towards the surreal with a consistently refined style. I’m picturing paddle-boats churning forward over colorful pools, cleansing dust storms, one of those fat-ass neon caterpillars nimbly crawling out on a mossy branch… the imagined electronic sounds of environmental and natural processes that approach the uncanny. “EOALH (Pressure Rhythm)” thumps and slurps ardently, but eventually a melodic element seeps in like drops of watercolor on canvas. “With Or Without Wires” reminds me of those nature videos where they somehow stuff a hi-res camera deep into an ant colony (with hundreds of those lil’ freaks marching past), but also you might be able to dance to this, and if delivered with the appropriate sound system (all-encompassing low-end and crystal-clear highs), it might be the most memorable cut of the evening. Though I am certain that electronic wires and computer chips played pivotal roles in the creation of Ambeesh, there’s a rich organic quality to these tunes that lulls me in and holds me in place. “Blue”, in particular, feels like I’m receiving a topographic survey of an alien planet’s biosphere, no oxygen suit required.

SnPLO Infinity Substance 12″ (Pin)
There’s the techno influencer route, where you churn out a steady stream of performative social-media content loosely tied to your musical output, and then there’s the path SnPLO has chosen: self-release intriguingly-hermetic records with barely any info printed on them. This is yet another tightly-knit scene of German techno scrutinizers whose faces I may never see, their esoteric aliases collaborating and, in the case of SnPLO, morphing into something new. I understand SnPLO to be the teaming-up of SnP 500 and PLO Man, though these two cuts are starkly refined enough that they could’ve easily been the work of a solitary mind, neither undercooked nor overstuffed. The a-side (both tracks are cruelly untitled) volleys familiar dub-techno sounds across an endless concourse, with choppy hi-hat / clap simulations working overtime, hypnotizing and red-blooded. I prefer the scratchy, smeary b-side – its groove swells with druggy motion, as if the vinyl was pressed in an egg-like shape instead of a perfect circle. Both tracks prefer subconscious shifts to drops, builds or any sort of overt deviations, though the deeper you peer into them, the more you’ll realize the secretive action at hand. As is the case with many prime examples of unvarnished European techno, there’s a reward to leaning backwards and unfocusing your ears as well, the head-under-a-waterfall pleasure of macroscopic listening.

Spatter Pattern Atomic Dinette 7″ (Mutated Pink Fuzz)
The band name, song title and label name are all phrases that could’ve been conjured up by Glenn Danzig in a Lodi, NJ basement circa 1979, which I presume is no unintentional coincidence. Spatter Pattern are a synth-punk trio from Kalamazoo, MI, and seeing as they decided to tackle Misfits’ classic “TV Casualty” on the b-side, it’s clear to which Fiend Club their allegiances lie. “Atomic Dinette” is conjured through two synth operators and one vocalist – no guitars – so it’s Ben Lyon’s exaggerated sneer and the unmerry, two-finger melodies that position this group in the realm of punk, not ‘wave. I could picture a punk band translating “Atomic Dinette” on guitars and drums quite easily, and with the chorus of “how will you survive in the blue mist”, I can practically feel the devilocks forming on their skull-painted heads. “TV Casualty” sounds pretty good through these B-movie synths and a twitching digital hi-hat, but that’s one of the joys of Misfits songs – they can be translated in any language, played on any instrument, and at the very worst, still sound kinda good. It’s only a quick taste of Atomic Dinette, but this is a punk forty-five, not a Tolstoy novel.

Spiritiste Excommunication Hymns LP (Protagonist Music / Tor Johnson)
With screamo’s undeniable (and stupefying) resurgence, it was only a matter of time before I came across a new band like Baton Rouge’s Spiritiste. Their sound hearkens back to the era when screamo was more closely aligned with crusty hardcore than mall-metal, full of bands from ex-communist eastern European states who treated hardcore with a collective mindset (and if they’re lucky, North American distribution care of Ebullition). Portraits Of Past, One Eyed God Prophesy, Inept and Ananda come to mind, a blast-beat-free emotional hardcore sound full of the jagged drum beats and high-on-the-neck guitar parts that cause audience members to violently tap on the straps of the big backpacks they are inexplicably wearing at the show. Like the wave of screamo I’m describing, Spiritiste do not shy away from the political, directing their understandable rage towards a number of well-deserving targets, most directly expressed in “The Dead Travel Fast”. These songs aren’t as chaotic or thrilling as I generally like this sort of thing to be – I am an original Witching Hour Records Koffin Kids fan-club member, after all – but I am sure their friends are supportive, and that they provide a necessary function in the hardcore ecosystem of Baton Rouge. Real hardcore kids are needed everywhere.

Te/DIS Impending Divulgence LP (Galakthorrö)
Four albums in and I’m starting to think that Te/DIS’s gloomy disposition is permanent. Maybe the sun never shines in Duisburg, Germany? Whatever the basis for Te/DIS’s somber outlook, it fits Galakthorrö like a black-leather opera glove. The label is highly selective with its stamp of approval, and Te/DIS has not strayed from the script since their debut EP a dozen years ago. Impending Divulgence might not be a crucial new work in that respect, but if you want dreary minimal-synth with an eerily-calm Dr. Frankenstein on vocals, look no further. This is music for bat caves (and clubs named The Bat Cave) and hidden libraries from the 1800s, or any concealed location where guano and dust accumulate equally. I appreciate how detached Te/DIS sounds when he sings, real pod-people emotion, which suits the similarly science-fictiony electro-industrial backdrop. Even on a track like “Your Truth My Lie”, where he actually sings a melody, it comes across like HAL 9000 attempting Depeche Mode karaoke. This is precisely what I want to hear from a tertiary Galakthorrö artist: electronic goth music fully committed to its own morbid fantasies.

There There LP (Psychic Static)
One of the interesting things about my micro-generation of hardcore kids – let’s say, those who are currently between the ages of 37 and 47 – never really stopped being in bands. Prior generations of punks took decades off, and some, in rare cases, actually stopped playing music, but there are just scores of any-gendered dudes out there like me who have been doing bands, old and new, since the turn of the century. Therein lies the rub: how do you keep it exciting or meaningful; how do you find a worthwhile path forward into this unavoidably middle-aged underground? Sometimes a new band is the way to go, as is the case with There, featuring ex-personnel from Arab On Radar, Doomsday Student, Athletic Automaton and The Cancer Conspiracy. That’s a Providence post-hardcore pedigree if there ever was one, and There take what they already know how to do and apply it to this slightly new configuration. As you might imagine, the guitars chase you like bees over booming, untraditional drum patterns, as bassist / synth-player Josh Kemp vocalizes in a way as to suggest he might be losing his mind a little. They throw in the occasional blast-beat for good measure, but it’s the side-long closer “The Famous Handsome Actor” that I find most intriguing, which points to the question of “if Klaus Schulze managed Racebannon in the early ’00s, who’s paying the weed dealer?”.

Ugne & Maria Zotasphere LP (Hands In The Dark)
I enjoyed Ugne Uma’s recent EP so much that I vowed to check out any and all musical Ugnes I might come across. So far it’s a move that’s paying off, as this new collab album between Ugne Vyliaudaite and Marija Rasa Kudabaitė is a choice dip into the electro-abyss. Together, these two operate in a melting-pot of downtempo moves I’d associate with the Stroom label. Dub-techno, new-age, trip-hop, ambient, dubstep, experimental… Ugne & Maria throw so many colors in the mix that it becomes something else entirely, beholden to none of its individual parts. This results in mostly-instrumental electronic beats that move at their own pace, with keys, pads, chords and strings connected by the thin layer of syrup they’ve been doused in. I’d take you directly to “Xmas Rec”, a downtempo stepper tilted on its axis, full of intrigue and cushioned by five stubby bass notes, but I’d want you to stay for “I Contain Multitudes” too, which sounds like an inebriated Lolina messing with Porter Ricks tracks in your isolation-tank headphones, cartoon fragments of dance music bubbling up all around. At first listen, it kind of felt like a mess to me, albeit a highly enjoyable one; while the satisfying background-music appeal of Zotasphere hasn’t dissipated after repeated listens, I think I’m starting to grasp Ugne & Maria’s puzzle-logic.

Unidad Ideológica Choque Asimétrico LP (La Vida Es Un Mus)
Essentially a law of nature at this point, Colombian punk and metal simply goes harder than anywhere else. Where else could the Imagen seven-inch, or Parabellum’s Sacrilegio have come from? Nowhere, that’s where. Unidad Ideológica hit the global scene in 2021 care of the ever-prescient La Vida Es Un Mus label, and Choque Asimétrico is their follow-up full-length. Much like its psychedelically horrifying cover art, this album rages with an injurious fury, the sound of what the kids call “crashing out” at breakneck speed. Imagine those self-titled Die Kreuzen songs as performed by The Shitlickers: bass-driven, frenzied progressions captured in a molten-hot recording that jumps out of the speakers. We get a moment of respite with the opening moments of fourth track “Huir”, but it’s short-lived – violent pogoing has kicked up all the dust on the floor and we can no longer see or breathe. “Colapso” is unsafely fast, cramming more notes in its close quarters than your average technical death-metal group, yet delivered with Framtid’s gale force. If these songs were less defined or memorable, the whole thing could blend together in an overwhelming blur, but Unidad Ideológica are too tight and in control to let that happen – they want you to experience every brutal detail with clarity, bearing full witness to your own demise.

Lou Venturini Fuck Composure LP (Accidental Meetings)
Another label I’d like to put on your radar is Accidental Meetings out of the UK. They’re a “label / party / podcast”, to be precise, and the music they release generally hovers in bass / dub / reggae territory, albeit appealingly skewed visions of such. I could happily bask in the humidity of Tokio Ono’s “Onion Soup Dub” until the spring flowers bloom, but before it gets away from me I want call this incredible twelve-inch from Lou Venturini to your attention. It’s a hard one to pinpoint, or even describe, which of course is grounds for excitement over here. Unintentional, digitally-abetted no-wave? Early Animal Collective turned IDM? Neither is quite right, especially when a track like “Stretch His Face” sounds like the best version of Butthole Surfers, or the early Primus demo that only exists in my dreams. There’s a lot of fast-fingered guitar, sometimes in acknowledgement of both dance music and Radiohead (say, “I Persevere”), and often in a manner similar to Glen Schenau’s excellent Nusidm. Venturini never lets the songs breathe, however, always tweaking and withering and spiraling parts in unintuitive ways. “Put Your Ear Near Mine” carries The Fall’s legacy beautifully, replete with electroshock vocal squeals. In earlier centuries, society would’ve quickly concluded that Venturini’s a madman and either exalted or executed him, but in our era he’s able to quietly release a small press-run of vinyl records for those lucky enough to stumble upon them.

Al Wootton Glorias 12″ (Lith Dolina)
Hell of a 2025 for Al Wootton, who has firmly established himself as one of the UK’s finest purveyors of creative rhythmic electronics. He’s as curious as we are, finding fresh ways to utilize the appealing properties of dub, post-punk, techno, cold-wave, what have you, and this new Glorias EP furthers his exceptional run. The premise is such: Wootton utilizes “minute samples of pieces by composers who were exiled from Franco’s Spain after the Spanish Civil War and field recordings of the Spanish countryside”. The resulting torn-edge collages are layered over an understated techno pulse on “Glorias”, the vibrant strings poking like sunlight through a bullethole-riddled canvas tent. It’s enthralling, alluring music that does not require the backstory to satisfy, but there’s no denying that the work is enhanced when you imagine the courageous anti-fascist composers who refused to snuff out their musical beauty in obedience. The b-side offers both a “Drums Version” and a “Drumless Version”, and I heartily recommend both – “Glorias (Drums Version)” lets the party take the wheel, whereas “Glorias (Drumless Version)” is messy-ambient par excellence, a gorgeous portal between the future and the past.