Back catalogue: All genres

Review: Swedish multi-instrumentalist Gustav Horneij, best known as OPE, finally lands on Jazzaggression with a new 10" release that showcases his singular approach to spiritual jazz and overdubbed improvisation. It's a new release composed entirely around bamboo flutes, but the instrumentation stretches far beyond i drums, bass, reeds, harp and subtle string textures are all played by Horneij himself, each part layered with a feel for groove and tone that's entirely unforced. Tracks like 'Instant' and 'Picante Beef' hit with warm, rolling basslines and smoky modal phrasing, while 'The Deepest Bowl' moves slower, drawing you in with flickers of flute and ambient space. 'Udon' is a clear standout, combining a floating top line with an earthy, locked-in rhythm section that could loop forever without tiring. Despite the solo setup, nothing feels precious or overcooked i the mood stays loose and tactile, like a small ensemble jamming in real time.

Review: Celebrating 25 years of two of the most influential house labels around, this joint double-pack from London's R2 and Osunlade's Yoruba Records is a heavyweight offering that bridges soulful roots and dancefloor depth. Karizma's long-awaited 'Spirit' appears in multiple formsihis original gospel-powered burner, a Josh Milan remix (as Honeycomb), and a dub version featuring Nicholas Ryan Gant, all radiating righteous, late-night warmth. The second R2 cut, 'W!thout !t' is stripped and punchy, full of Karizma's trademark percussive invention. Yoruba's side sees Osunlade light up the system with 'Electricity' and 'Sumpin' Like Dis', both steeped in rhythm and spiritual uplift. Afefe Iku's '823' dives deep into his signature twilight textures, while Karizma's Baltimore remix of Mr. Flip's 'Drippin'' closes the set on a loose and funky high. It's a snapshot of two defining voices in house musicirich in groove, spirit and intention.

Review: Steven Umoh aka London-based Nigerian singer Obongjayar is back with Paradise Now, a sophomore album that is a bold blurring of pop, punk, Afrobeat, funk, dance and folk into a colourful and coherent new sound. Crafted with producers Kwes Darko and Beach Noise, the album was recorded between London and LA so has a global spirit with universal emotional depth. It was designed to play from start to finish on a night out so is both a party record and a Trojan Horse with infectious grooves concealing layers of complexity and introspection. It's Obongjayar at his most adventurous yet and explores what modern, global pop can sound like in 2025.

Review: Bill Orcutt's approach to the guitar feels less like playing and more like detonating: a flurry of stabbing phrases, mangled blues motifs and broken time signatures that teeter constantly on the edge of collapse. It's a sound he's refined over decades, from his early days in Miami's punk and noise scenes to his present-day experiments in live-coded digital abstraction. This new album, which features two versions of 'Anxiety of Symmetry', finds him at his most feral and funny in years i a twisted tribute to the clunky MIDI guitar presets of the 90s, rendered via his cracked-software experiments with two fifteen-minute compositions built from a single concept: six sung numbers, each mapped precisely to pitches in a major scale. These micro-phrases ('1-2', '1-2-3', and so on) repeat and multiply, creating swirling polymetric harmonies that flicker between gentle hypnosis and algorithmic overload. Female voices loop in cycles of uneven length, forming structures reminiscent of Glass's Einstein on the Beach, but without its theatricalityithis is music of obsession, not spectacle. The emotional register is unusually soft for Orcutt, but behind the surface calm lies a meticulous compulsion. In an essay of the same name, he aligns this method with "Just Right" OCD, proposing a feedback loop between mental fixation and machine logic. What emerges isn't ambient in any passive sense, but a kind of orderly unravelingicomposition as therapeutic ritual, echoing the recursive spirals of Hanne Darboven or the trance-state potential of counting itself.

Review: San Francisco-based experimentalist Bill Orcutt pushes further into his self-styled minimal rock terrain with this new release on Fake Estates, his second full-length of 2025. Built around two tracks, 'The Four Louies I' and 'II', it splices Steve Reich's 'Four Organs' with the distorted ghost of Richard Berry's 'Louie Louie', reimagining both as pulsing, off-key suites of feedback, Farfisa drone and fractured rhythm. It's raw but surprisingly meditative: Reich's famously static harmonic structure folds around the mangled spirit of garage rock, with Orcutt teasing out weird resonances between proto-punk and process music. The sound shifts between hypnotic and deranged, balancing reverence and noise. You catch snatches of the Kingsmen's slack energy; then it unravels into metallic squall. There's humour and precision here, but also real intuition i a freeform rock album that wrings unexpected emotion from two of the most misunderstood works of postwar America. It doesn't so much bridge high and low art as short-circuit them. With this latest release, Orcutt adds another dissonant jewel to a catalogue that never stops interrogating what music is even for.

Review: The Middle East has always invoked a sense of wonder and escapism, even if a singular tag for a vast and varied global region is an instant disservice. So it's not much of a surprise to find many countries currently in the throes of an explosive rediscovery of psychedelic sounds. Ouzo Bazooka is just one example of the kind of bands we're talking about. Originally solo project from Uri Brauner Kinrot - a musician, scientist and producer - the vehicle quickly grew into the fully fledged group we have loved over the last five albums and ten years, give or take. Widely considered pioneers of the burgeoning scene, Kapaim (Hebrew for 'palms') cements their status as a cut above most psyche rock bands anywhere on the planet. Informed by jazz, soul, blues, and indigenous musical traditions of the South Eastern Mediterranean, it's a smooth and intoxicating ride.

Review: We Carry Eden is an album so deep you can plunge right into it and forget the real world entirely. It comes from Son Of Chi, the latest project by Dutch ambient pioneer Hanyo van Oosterom, and it melds drones, field recordings, dub, jazz and fourth world influences across a two-part composition that features storytelling by West African vocalist Omar Ka. A founding member of CHI and Chi Factory, van Oosterom crafts textured soundscapes rooted in meditative grooves and spiritual depth and is inspired by Patmos and Hopi wisdom. He also weaves nature, myth and memory into a unified sonic journey with fine artwork by Michael Willis underlining the message of harmony.