Back catalogue: Post Rock/Experimental

Review: This new collaboration between Swedish producer Civilistjavel! and Lebanese artist Mayssa Jallad is both a conceptual inversion and a sonic ghost of Jallad's original record. Refracting material from her Beirut-focused album through sparse dub techno, Civilistjavel! transforms narrative-rich compositions into abstract, often beatless forms where Mayssa's voice floats disembodied in a fog of delay and reverb. Tracks like 'Baynana (Version)' and 'Holiday Inn (March 21 to 29) (Version)' feel haunted by memory, with structure hinted at but rarely resolved. It's a remarkable shift in context, but one that remains emotionally aligned. Civilistjavel!'s production avoids spectacle in favour of slow erosionivocal fragments hover, dissolve, re-emerge. Even more rhythmic moments like 'Kharita (Dub)' maintain an eerie restraint, built on slippery grooves and shimmering decay. Both artists are working far from their geographic homesiMayssa in Boston, Tomas in Uppsalaibut the result sounds uncannily unified. It's a record that holds grief and beauty in the same hand, illuminating the quiet force of Mayssa's voice and Civilistjavel!'s deft minimalism. Not so much a remix album as a parallel reality: austere, spectral, and deeply moving.

Review: "Random, tense, scary and compulsively fascinating". That's how Chris Connelly describes the period in which the tracks on this album were originally written. As the main man behind some of the most iconic and influential industrial bands in history - Ministry, Revolting Cocks, Murder.Inc... - he's definitely well placed to make this kind of judgment. And it comes across even more understandable if you grasp the fact he's meaning all that in a good way. Throbbing Gristle should need no introduction, having pretty much written the blueprint for industrial musick in the nuclear age. A sound that screamed "get us out". Combine that oeuvre with this guy, then, and you have something which is uncompromisingly explosive and effective. Not to mention fitting, given half the people on the street seem convinced we're rushing headfirst into another atomic standoff, if not something much, much worse.

Review: American guitar legend Ry Cooder's 1985 score remains a defining example of minimalist film music, built almost entirely around sparse motifs and slide guitar. Recorded for Wim Wenders' feature set in the American Southwest, the ten-track sequence avoids orchestration entirely, opting instead for open-ended cues that feel improvised but never unfocused. 'Paris, Texas' opens with the recognisable main theme i a slow, resonant guitar line set against silence. 'Brothers' and 'Nothing Out There' follow similar patterns, with minor variations in phrasing and tempo. The inclusion of 'Cancion Mixteca', sung by Harry Dean Stanton, adds one of the only vocal moments on the set, grounded in traditional folk. The remainder of the tracks i including 'No Safety Zone', 'Houston In Two Seconds' and 'Dark Was The Night' i continue the pared-back approach, prioritising tone and atmosphere over melody. Some 40 years since its original release, the material hasn't dated i not because it sounds modern, but because it was never trying to. It remains quietly influential, especially in the way it reframed narrative scoring through reduction.