Thanks, Leon!

luomo – talovahti

Terrence Dixon – When Stars Remember

Decimus

Thank you, Jack

Here

Here

Gentle Fire – Explorations (1970–1973)

John Butcher – Away, I was

Daniel O’Sullivan & Richard Youngs – Persian Carpets

Indian Talking Machine Part Two

Morton Feldman and Tobias Hume – Intermissions

Kevin Drumm – Behold Nothing

Klaus Wiese – Uranus

Jack Sheen – Press

Composed by Jack Sheen

Performed by Apartment House
Violin: Gordon MacKay, Mira Benjamin
Viola: Bridget Carey
Cello: Anton Lukoszevieze
Piano: Kerry Yong

Recorded by Mark Knoop at City University, London
Mixed by Jack Sheen
Mastered by Nicholas Moroz
Cover photograph by Laura Hilliard of Variações para Piões by Inês Tartaruga Água

“It’s hard not to figure Jack Sheen’s compositions primordially; they lurch and rock with an abortive conviction, as if heralding culture’s approach—still half-submerged, slouched and red, ages ago. His work is somehow determinedly before almost everything; it feels like a dialectical twin to Beckett’s afterwards. Press moves with grossly impoverished intent—almost as if composed—while trembling and stumbling on the cusp of accident. This projected bodily timidity corresponds with a situation right on the edge of culture, just before language. Most of the time, it is enough simply to breathe and move: the complexity of these actions alone is astonishing, especially given the right alienating technology. This is realistic: Press renders poverty florid, but with ornaments and mordents of catgut. And then, through the buzz of wood, guts, and bluebottles, a piano appears—all shining lacquer, muscle, and grammar. It feels parabolic. Press is an extraordinary sequence.”
(Ed Atkins, 2026)

“Jack Sheen’s Press casts a rotating rallentando shadow on blithe sidewalks under the foot-traffic on its way to music. A rusted public bench has just been vacated, or is brushing someone’s hair. Your piano teacher has failed to answer the doorbell and so you sit on the steps with your papers, peeling paint off of the banister and listening to yourself wheeze. Sheen’s music steps too softly to flatter us, the agony of the lightest possible touch interposed with the motion sickness of what we still physically call gratitude. It’s music of ‘weight’ as a neutral parameter, not as the promise of benevolence. When the door opens it’s too late: the music has been swept away, leaving a flurry of dust filling up the streaks of light in this empty lobby, but a final lament deprives us of the reassurances that we may have just been imagining things.”
(Derek Baron, 2026)

“Beautiful Swimmer and Future Times caretaker Max D racks up 90 mins of 7″ only digs for TTT, including in his own words: “Lots of HC and punk, scuzz and freak shit, because shit is definitely scuzzy and freaky at the moment”

Cooked up at home with baga small plates, ‘All 7s’ speaks to a whole other side of Andrew Max’s collection that was thrown down on the break-heavy ‘Influences’ and ‘Dolo DS’ sides in recent years for DDS. Coming from a particularly turbulent Washington D.C., he naturally hails the refusenik energy of the city’s deep-rooted hardcore punk scene – Discord Records, Minor Threat, Bad Brains – with a fully charged A-side of thrash and snot, before switching tack on the B-side to a sexier sequence of fluoro-greased synth boogie stews, hobbled industrial slugs, and rudely skewed machine funk familiar to his own productions as part of Beautiful Swimmers, Lifted, Maxmillion Dunbar, Dolo Percussion and others.”

Thanks, Boomkat.

“TTT overse’er Will Bankhead aka Spirooo fires at will with 100 mins of choice, oddball picks spanning Skaters-esque goop to BM, body music, riot grrrl , knurled noise and whatever the fuck else he fancies.

As with all his mixtape actions under the What We aegis ‘Pigment In Gut’ is spurred by a daring moxie that short-circuits presumptions and follows a meta logic thru his heaving shelves. Keener ears will know to expect the unexpected as the track sequence baits and switches between styles and patterns. A knackered industrial complex of collapsing machinery and anarchitextures emerges as the tape unfurls, but complicated with snatches of more melodic and outernational flavours that leave guesses breezing in the wind, ’til the end.”

Thanks, Boomkat!

Here

Takuma Watanabe – Delay x Takuma (Re-works by Vladislav Delay)