Posts Tagged ‘Jazz’

Iconic Norwegians TRELLDOM, founded by legendary vocalist Gaahl, unveil the visualiser single ‘Folding the Mind’ as the next advance track selected from their forthcoming new full-length: …by the word…

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With …by the word…, TRELLDOM are pushing forward hard into their new musical era that was ushered in by the previous full-length …by the shadows… (2024), which ended a 17-year hiatus of the Norwegian band.

Mastermind Kristian Eivind Espedal aka Gaahl and his diligently selected collaborators have gone even beyond the complex yet sinister sound that they established with  …by the shadows… The exponentially grown confidence and hard-gained experience of joining together seemingly quite different musicians is reflected clearly in each track of …by the word…

TRELLDOM have concluded the process of escaping the narrowest definition of black metal without compromising their artistic mission. Their music does not only stay loyal to the spirit of their black metal roots, but the Norwegians are making a solid point that their new sound is even more dark and fierce than ever before – just in more twisted and unhinged ways.

…by the word… is the result of Espedal expanding the immense range of his vocals even further into unexplored territories. And it should be noted that this was partly achieved by his return to the famous Grieghallen Studios in Bergen to work again with legendary producer Eirik Hundvin aka Pytten, who was instrumental in the creation of the ‘Norwegian black metal’sound.

Although Espedal remains firmly at the helm of TRELLDOM, the current line-up plays a massive part in the fresh exploration of musical extremes. Guitarist Stian “Sir” Kårstad (formerly also in DJERV) guarantees a form of continuity as he already contributed to the second and third album of the band. Furthermore, the new constellation features renowned percussionist Kenneth Kapstad, formerly of MOTORPSYCHO and hammering the drums in SPIDERGAWD, MØSTER!, and THORNS. Kapstad brought the internationally acclaimed jazz musician and saxophone player Kjetil Møster (MØSTER!, RÖYKSOPP, THE END) along. Bass player Eirik Øien is the latest addition to the cast of characters.

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Saccharine Underground – 27th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Bell Barrow are on fire right now. And so is half the world. I wouldn’t necessarily suggest that they thrive on war and global turmoil, so much as feel the compulsion to create in the face of global crisis. I may be projecting a little here, but seriously – come the fuck on: how can anyone not feel all-consuming, abject terror right now? We’re hearing a lot of Israel claiming an ‘existential threat’ from the supposed nuclear activities of Iran right now – although this seems a little lacking in credibility, since it can’t also be true that the USA ‘annihilated’ Iran’s nuclear capabilities last summer. I mention this in my preface to the review of True Human Trough because although the current events aren’t mentioned specifically, it’s clear that this is an act who are tuned in to current tensions as well as ecological concerns, and who channel the energy of anxiety into their music.

As they themselves write, “These compositions function as experiments in torture empathy: forcing the listener to inhabit the suffering inflicted on our ecosystem by human dominance while simultaneously confronting a far older truth—that humanity’s power is temporary, localized, and ultimately irrelevant. Plant life, scavengers, and insect civilizations speak here through perceived chaos, not to ask for mercy, but to assert inevitability. True Human Trough reflects agony, yes—but more importantly, it documents supremacy. We may poison this world for now, but be clear…in the universal order, they rule in the end.”

I admire their optimism, and for what it’s worth, I share this hope. Because right now, it feels as if our species is suffocating the planet harder by the second. And suffocating is how the first track on this frenzied sonic blitzkrieg of an album feels. ‘Solunar Theory’ is a melting morass of experimental jazz immersed in a wall of phased reverb. Time signatures collapse into chaotic discord on ‘The Unbirthing of Jackals’. Everything lurches, drunkenly, it’s a dizzy stagger that’s powerful enough to unsettle the guts and leave you seeing stars. This is a woozy cacophony rendered all the more brain-frying by the wild application of reverb. Everything is off-kilter, the EQ is all over and there’s flange and phase and good old-fashioned manic musicianship, melting Beefheart and Zappa and Trumans Water in a cauldron with The Necks and Throbbing Gristle. Reading that back, it actually reads like some fucked-up Victorian era recipe that’s only missing some tripe and trotters to top a truly foul soup. Bell Barrow simmer up a pretty foul sonic soup even without these ingredients: ‘Neckless of Tongues’ delivers it

‘Infauna’ refers to the animals living in the sediments of the ocean floor or river or lake beds, while ‘bloat stage’ is occurs during the decomposition of a corpse. Yes, I looked this up while experiencing the obliterative force of ‘Bloat Stage Infauna’, and in context, it all makes sense. ‘Rites of Silent Spring’ is almost black metal in its frenetic frenzy, but of course, it’s also a jazz-infused instrumental which is a long way removed from black metal – which pretty much sums up True Human Trough, an album that’s everything all at once.

The production and mix is deranged, demented, furious. There’s no intention of softening the blows here: Bell Barrow are set on bringing pure mayhem and disruption – of the best possible kind.

We are living through historical moments in real time. As we hurtle towards self-extinction – it’s more a question of by which means than if now, what with the pace of climate change, AI’s rapid and unfettered advancement and now – let’s call it what it is – the onset of World War 3 – with True Human Trough, Bell Barrow have created a work which soundtrack the next stage of the end of times.

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Jeremy Moore by Fleurette Estes- February 2026 - Landscape 001

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Jeremy Moore by Fleurette Estes

Bearsuit Records – 20th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Anyone who’s been following this site for any time will have likely encountered the work of Eamon the Destroyer, and Edinburgh-based label Bearsuit Records, and in doing so, will have learned that the label specialises in weird shit, and that Eamon is an artist who conjures a uniquely strange musical hybrid, which is entirely free of the mores of genre-specificity. Idiosyncratic is the word.

And what better way to shed new light on all of this than through a remix album? I’ve written extensively in the past with a critical view on remixes – about how they eke out material on and on, or pad out singles into EPs and albums, and also about how they can be really fucking boring, with back to back versions of the same song over and over but with different drums, more disco drums, more aggressive drums, more industrial drums, while the vocals are dubbed out and mostly what you get is some ravey shit.

This is very much not the case with the remixes of We’ll Be Piranhas, the original version of which was released in 2023 and has already been subject to a follow -up / satellite release in the form of Alternative Piranhas EP (2024), which, as the title suggests, features alternative takes of some of the songs on the album. Since then, Eamon the Destroyer has released another album of new material, but this evidences that there’s more mileage in Piranhas yet. These reworkings are subtle and sensitive and, in the main, preserve the essence of the original tracks. That is to say, it’s a chaotic assemblage of twangy Western stuff which clashed and melts into Eastern vibes, all melted together with a filmic overlay, and none of it makes sense, but at the same time it makes perfect sense – if that makes sense. And if it does, well, good, because little else about all this does.

The sequencing of the tracks is different from the original album, and it works, taking into account the transformative reinterpretations of the songs, starting with a laid back but grooved-up take on ‘A Pewter Wolf’ by Senji Niban.

The Elkeyes remix of ‘Rope’ is particularly brain-bending, with its warped jazz elements which are vaguely reminiscent of later Foetus. At the same time, it brings a weight, a long shadow of gloom, with organ-like drones. It’s a lot to process all at once. And while remixes often add length to tracks, the reworked title track is cut to half the length of the original, although with the weirdness and distortion turned up a long, long, way. Similarly, the No Mates Ensemble cut ‘My Stars’ from nine-and-three-quarter minutes to three and a half, and reframe it as a slowly evolving avant-jazz meandering. Elsewhere, ‘Société Cantine transform the low-key space-synth strum of ‘Underscoring the Blues’ into a seven-minute hybrid of quasi-operatic drama and drum ‘n’ bass.

It’s different alright, and that’s the point of a remix album, of course. But the success of the We’ll Be Piranhas remixes is that it doesn’t fall into the trap of regular remix mode. Here, the songs aren’t obliterated, but simply respun. It’s a winning formula, and this is anything but a predictable rehash exercise.

(Click image to listen.)

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blankrecords – 13th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

For context, a definition: Spökenkieker: soothsayer / a person who has second sight and is believed to have the ability to know and tell what will happen in the future. And we also learn that ‘The local mythological figure of the Spökenkieker is situated in the mystical depths of the Teutoburg Forest and serves both as name giver and patron saint for this journey to the initial starting point.

Arguably, anyone who has invested any significant time in studying the past can predict the future. History has a habit of repeating itself, and this has perhaps never been more apparent than now. Consider the following:

In 1933 Mussolini closed the national opera to “renovate” it.

In 1934, Hitler closed the national opera house to “renovate” it.

In 1935, Portuguese dictator Salazar closed the national opera house to “renovate” it.

Orwell’s 1984 is considered one of the greatest dystopian novels of all time, but 1984 is an inversion of 1948, the year it was written, and as such, penned in a recently post-war world, holds a mirror to the ways in which totalitarian regimes operate. And now, here we are, and it’s not just the US under Trump, but a creeping shift towards totalitarianism and total surveillance. We may not be in World War 3, but the world is very much at war, and what peace we have is hanging on a knife edge. If you’re not scared, you’re simply not paying attention.

Sicker Man’s fifteenth album, Spökenkieker is a mesh of different elements thrown together and mixed, blended, chopped, and pulped together. ‘Stop the Gravy Train’ is a perfect example of the melting pot of post-punk, stuttering drum machines, ambience, rave, and experimental jazz. And that’s just four minutes. And however representative it is, it doesn’t really prepare the listener for so much going on all at once. And it’s no mere wheeze that the album is strewn with spoken word samples culled from the past – the idea is to pull these snippets into the present, and cast the future, too, a layering of sorts whereby the past reverberates, echoes forward through the generations.

‘Jojatsu’ and its reprise, and the three-part ‘Ad Finem’ sequence is built around an orchestral / jazz hybrid that transitions between passages of tranquillity and of tension, while samples flit in and out.

I’m going to hit the pause button here for a moment: I’ve been fairly explicit in my dislike of Public Service Broadcasting over the years, online and in conversation. So why is Spökenkieker great and PSB’s work an abomination? It boils down to the fact that Sicker Man is digging through the archives and responding to both the past and the present in a way which strives to articulate something meaningful. It may not be immediately apparent, but some of the titles offer clues: ‘Greedy People’ and ‘Mean Drift’ for example. In contrast, boil these dark moments in history and present them as some for of nostalgia-infused entertainment, no more than the endless ‘documentaries’ churned out on Channel 5, lean on content and even leaner on analysis.

Spökenkieker engages on another level, and the aforementioned ‘Greedy People’ lands like Melvins gone jazz with a Roland 606 spinning a primitive post-punk beat while muttering samples criss-cross over one another as things take a turn for the experimental / ambient / dark dance vibe – and if that sounds like a wild hybrid, it is. ‘Matchless’ is simply a frenzy of elements which defies categorisation. The fact that it works is barely conceivable. But work, it does, and well.

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Stunt Records – 6th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Well, this is a conundrum. This Is Why We Lost is the second album by Danish trio Smag På Dig Selv is pitched as a work which ‘shatter[s] the boundaries of electronic music’, and was made with the ambition ‘to create music that can exist within a trance or club-oriented setting, while still carrying a strong melodic and narrative arc’. Only, the band lineup consists of two saxophonists and one drummer, while single cut ‘Vik’s Rawcore’ features vibraphonist Viktoria Søndergaard. No arguing that it’s an intriguing, even exciting proposition, but can it really ‘shatter the boundaries of electronic music’? Or does it instead take acoustic music into new territories?

I’ll admit that I’m not mad keen on conventional ‘club’ music – no doubt a revelation which will come as a shock to many – but then perhaps I’ve never been to any decent clubs. It may seem perverse that I like noise and drone but find bangin’ choonz insufferable. This Is Why We Lost is built on techno / electronic tropes with insistent beats and some throbbing basslines – the second half of the album’s first track, ‘Like A Word I Never Knew’ goes full drum ‘n’ bass… and sax. For atop the frenetic fills and frenzied rhythm, not to mention the pulsating bass – whatever instrument is responsible for that – there are some strong jazz currents.

‘Let’s Go!’ is a slab of lively Europop / EDM, while ‘Vik’s Rawcore’ is full-on HI-NRG stomper – albeit with a mellow breakdown in the mid-section which prefaces the inevitable build before the beat drops again.

There’s no question that this is technically (or techno-ichally, if I’m up for deploying a shit pun) accomplished and innovative, and while AI is insidiously creeping its way and hollowing out the arts at a devastating rate, it’s refreshing to find an act which turns the tables, instead using acoustic instruments to create sounds associated with electronic music. The fact musicians and artists in all fields are embracing AI is bewildering. Why? Just why? The creative process is what makes the work of creativity, learning new techniques and ways to articulate the contents of the mind via any given medium. When I write, as much as delving for words and scouring a Thesaurus may at times be painstaking, this is precisely what it’s all about. The fundamental purpose of art is to convey the complexities of the human condition. To remove the human element from the art is to remove its very heart and any sense of feeling. AI is not art, it’s entertainment plagiarised from all preceding art. Fuck that.

Smag På Dig Selv aren’t the only ones using conventional, acoustic instrumentation in unconventional ways: Jo Quail is very much striking forth in new territories in forging immensely powerful ‘(post-)rock’ music with solo cello (aided by effects and a loop pedal), but what they’re doing is rather different.

‘Ya Tal3een’, featuring Luna Ersahin is altogether different, a stirring, primal folk composition led by an immensely powerful vocal performance, is more reminiscent of the earthy works of Wardruna, evoking vast expanses of woodland and rugged mountains. Elsewhere, the title track manifests as a thick, textured drone, an ambient piece which forms shapes as it evolves, but sounds more like strings, organ, synths, than any of the instruments listed. There’s a fleeting moment of melody which reminds me of something else, too, but it eludes me. ‘Fitness Bro’ amuses with its hyperkinetic energy, the pulsating groove – topped with big sax action – evokes fast treadmills and rapid reps, pumping biceps and perspiration. It also call to mind that brief moment in the early 80s when post-punk acts embraced saxophone, extending the initiative of The Psychedelic Furs and Theatre of Hate.

‘Jeg Ved Ikke Hvad Jed Siger’ swings into dark hip-hop territory, and it’s cool, unlike the happy hardcore of ‘Hits 4 Kids Vol. 3000’, complete with whistles and samples. Just no. It may not be quite as bad as Scooter, but there really is no need for this.

And perhaps THIS is why we lost. The album has some strong moments – many, in fact and they’re solid, too, showcasing a rare creativity, and an approach to composition that’s postmodernism turned up eleven… or thereabouts. I’m personally very much on the fence with this one, since it’s 50% mind-blowing and 50% Europop mediocrity. It certainly has its moments, and will likely to appeal to most, at least at some time.

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Clonmell Jazz Social – 13th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

1984 has never felt more relevant. In the early chapters, Winston is shown rewriting history, in the form of news articles – something which has become a defining feature of the Trump Administration of late. The quotation ‘The Party told you to ignore the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command’ has been all over social media in recent weeks. Because we live in a time when a woman in her car calmly saying ‘I’m not mad’, or a medic shielding a woman from assault, can be murdered by the state, the event filmed and broadcast from many angles, and reported as being ‘domestic terrorists’. When news reportage becomes outlandish fiction, there’s a problem of unspeakable proportion. And so it’s become the objective of the media wings of governments – those of America, if Israel, of ours here in England – to preserve fictions and mask facts for their own propagandist, gaslighting ends.

Harry Christelis – whose latest offering features Christos Stylianides (trumpet/effects), Andrea Di Biase (bass/synth) and Dave Storey (drums) – is not seeking to propagate propaganda here, but simply to explore sonic territories, with a album of ‘post-jazz, ambient and folk-inflected improv’, which ‘captures a deep collective instinct – reflective, spontaneous, and richly atmospheric…’ Christelis explains that “in the creative process — as in life — there is never true certainty, never a ‘right way.’ These are simply fictions we hold onto. This realisation inspired the title Preserving Fictions: a reminder to stay present with whatever comes, grateful for each lesson, knowing that something new may be just around the corner, waiting to turn that on its head.”

The album launches with the longest track, the nine-minute ‘Blues of the Birds’, which is, at heart, an ebb-and-flow ambient composition… but then there’s clattering percussion and waves and wisps flittering skywards, before, around the mid-point, it settles into a smooth, strolling, settled feel. Nice. And all that.

The spontaneous nature of the way this album was created is perhaps one of the reasons behind the broad spectrum of the pieces which it comprises, and it’s worth noting that Miles Davis and Talk Talk are cited as central influences, in that they become more apparent once you’re aware of this fact, which roots what is, on first hearing, a nebulous, meandering work. Not that it isn’t nebulous or meandering, or that these are bad things, but there is a solid contextual framework in which these pieces sit.

The title of ‘A Sense of Parrot’ is laced with absurdity, but the sonic actuality is a composition which drifts serenely, underpinned by a strolling bass and some nicely loose-wristed percussion, while ‘Wood Dalling’ (named after the Norfolk village in which it was

composed) has something of a post-rock feel, a sepia-tinted nostalgia augmented with gentle woodwind. The percussion-led ‘Djembe’ is fundamentally self-explanatory, and one of the album’s most explicitly jazz pieces.

‘How old are you?’ is a phrase I’ve often used to disparage people – usually in the workplace – over petty or otherwise juvenile or irritating behaviour. Christelis’ piece by the same title doesn’t convey anywhere near the same sense of frustration at human behaviour, but with bowed low notes scraping beneath ambient undulations, while chirps and chatters of wildlife are just audible in the background behind ringing guitar notes and vast reverberations.

The compositions on Preserving Fictions are sedate, and take their time in unfurling, and it’s a welcome alternative to much of the wilder, more frenetic jazz-leaning releases which have come my way of late. It’s not that I dislike them – far from it – but in stressful times, something gentler and somewhat transportive is most welcome. Preserving Fictions fits the bill nicely.

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16th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Holy fuck. Sometimes, you want a racket, because it blows away all the shit, the, the anxiety, the bewilderment, all the other messy crap that is life right now. And I do mean right now: not ‘the twenty-first century’, not the 2020s – although the last five years has been a relentless pummelling of awful, awful stuff – but this is the immediate present we’re looking at here. ‘Unprecedented’ is a word we hear a lot. But we really do live in times which are unprecedented. Waking up every morning wondering what fresh new hell has happened in the hours since you went to bed, wondering if the world still exists and if you have really woken up or if this is all a hellish nightmare is gruelling.

With UPSIDEYERHEAD, PLQ MRX deliver that racket. Their bio tells it that ‘From the depths of North Philadelphia’s underground comes PLQ MRX, a project operating at the intersection of abrasive noise rock, acid-soaked psychedelia, and warped funk’. Say what? We go on to learn that ‘Beyond the music itself, PLQ MRX cultivate an aesthetic steeped in excess, altered states, and grotesque carnival imagery. Their world is populated by surreal characters and exaggerated rituals, exploring pleasure, debauchery, and sensory overload. The band leans into both the highs and the ugly turns of the trip, embracing chaos as a core element of its identity’.

When we discover that PLQ MRX have emerged from ‘the remnants of the Philadelphia collective Plaque Marks, who first surfaced in 2017 with the EP Anxiety Driven Nervous Worship’ and that the current lineup features current and former members of Author & Punisher, UNSANE and SWANS (having been joined by Vinnie Signorelli for this release), it all makes sense.

And yes, it’s every bit as wild as the amalgamation of ‘abrasive noise rock, acid-soaked psychedelia, and warped funk’ would have you expect.

‘Us V. Them’ crashes in with some wild, frenetic jazz action before a thunderous riff crashes in, drums and bass to the fore, guitar a wah-wah laden blitzkrieg that calls to mind The Stooges. The vocals – half-spoken, half-spat, thick with distortion and swamped in reverb, sit almost on another plane, growling and snarling away amidst the maelstrom. Making out the lyrics isn’t easy, but feeling the vibe zaps straight to the very core instantaneously.

There’s a dirty, low-slung swaggering groove to ‘Gansta White Walls’, which locks into a heavy bass-led workout and grinds away, building layers of depth a couple of minutes or so in before hitting the ‘frenzied, motorik’ pedal, while the eight-and-a-half minute ‘Gentrify My Skull’ is a brawling, squalling sludgy stoner doom monster, littered with scrappy samples and as ugly as hell, with mangled-to-fuck vocals and a relentlessly gut-churning bass, and bursting into a full-throttle blast of black metal at the end.

The final track, ‘Hundred Dollar Hot Dog’ is the album’s shortest, but packs the most into a mere three and a half minutes. It really does seem to be a song about an expensive hot dog, and brings the rage in spades, with a lengthy refrain of ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you’ amidst a squall of guitar and an all-pervading dense murk.

It’s rare to hear a release that doesn’t sound like anything else, but with UPSIDEYERHEAD, PLQ MRX have done it. It’s crazed, outside the box racketmongering of the highest order. It might be genius, it might be madness, but it’s absolutely head-spinningly awesome.

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Christopher Nosnibor

This is the first time I’ve felt so conspicuously old that I’ve felt the compulsion to lurk in the shadows and hope I’m invisible. The sensation is compounded by the fact I’ve done something to my back and it’s agony to transition between sitting and standing, and to pick up my pint from near my feet. It would have been so easy to declare turning out too much effort, but beer and live music usually proves to be the best medicine, and so it is once again tonight.

Still/Moving probably count as a rock band by contemporary standards, but they’re a blend of indie and emo and are, essentially, a pop band. They’re also very much a typical university band, finding their feet and padding out a limited number of original compositions with covers. They cover a song by 21 Pilots. They cover ‘Alley Rose’ by Conan Gray. The singer hasn’t quite figured out her moves or what to do when she’s not singing, but they sound solid, with some nice fluid, rolling drumming. Whether this is their limit and they’ll peter out by the time of their finals, or they’ll evolve , only time will tell.

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Still/Moving

Every time I see Cowgirl I hear something different, even with the same or similar setlists. There are some new songs making their debut here, and the US alt-rock of Pavement with a light dash of country and some West Coast breeziness which define their sound are all present as ever, but now I’m hearing a bit of Dinosaur Jr, too. Tonight is their first time out in a while, but if they’re remotely rusty, it’s not evident out front. And just as was the case when I caught them back in September, they crank it up and rock out, the twin guitars and dual vocals of Danny Barton and San Coates switching back and forth. The contrasting styles work so well. Sam’s breaks, like his stage presence, is contained, displaying a certain precision and constraint, whereas Danny is far more flamboyant, at times going full Neil Young in his feedback-laden fretwork, fully wigging out. Again, the set concludes with an immense, climactic finale with a devastating wall of sound. This is how to warm things up on a cold January night.

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Cowgirl

BirdLands (not to be confused with late 80s / early 90s indie act Birdland – the additional ‘s’ in conjunction with the mid-name capitalisation suggesting perhaps the enactment of a verb rather than some geographical location) have been going a few years now, performing their first gig in 2022, and released their debut album in 2024. And yet somehow, they’ve bypassed me – perhaps on account of their live outings being comparatively rare, with their last performance being in July last year. Small wonder this hometown crowd is pleased to see them.

From the moment they take the stage, it’s clear that this is a band with both confidence and ability, and confidence in their ability, too. With two guitars, keyboard, sax, and trumpet, there’s considerable scope for arrangements, and for a band who describe themselves as ‘Post-Punk-Art-Rock’ a significant amount of jazz and funk happens, quite often simultaneously. The bassist is tight and versatile, nailing down some solid grooves and occasionally slipping in some slap action, and in conjunction with the drummer, they make for one strong rhythm section. There’s a lot going on here, with Arctic Monkeys being one of the more obvious touchstones, and not just on account of the wordplay and the unabashed northernness they exude. The lead singer certainly channels Alex Turner in his inflection at times, but then there are dashes of Brett Anderson here and there, and with the incorporation of yelps and whoops, Mark E. Smith as interpreted via James Smith (of Post war Glamour Girls / Yard Act).

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BirdLands

And while most of the stylings are nineties / noughties, some of the interplay between the sax and buoyant bass action is straight out of the Eighties. It’s not just that there’s a lot going on: it’s a lot to process. But there is absolutely no denying their quality. The songs are masterfully composed and arranged, they’re tight, they’re together, they perform rather than simply play. Now they need to expand their horizons beyond York.

House Of Mythology – 9th January 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Zu just keep on defying genre and creating music that lands from a different angle every time, even after the best part of thirty years. While postmodernism – which emerged in the 1950s and became the defining mode of art and culture from the 1980s – fundamentally revelled in endless recycling, embracing the notion that anything original has already been done, and that the future of creativity lies in how creatively one may appropriate and hybridize the past, Zu have spent their career bucking that trend with relentless creative innovation.

After a six-year lull, Ferrum Sidereum is their second release of 2025, following the wildly eclectic Jazzisdead under the moniker of RuinsZu in April, a live document of a collaboration between Zu bassist Massimo Pupillo and saxophonist Luca T. Mai, with drummer Yoshida Tatsuya, founder of the Japanese band Ruins.

Ferrum Sidereum – Latin for ‘cosmic iron’ finds the core trio back in the studio, and drawing inspiration ‘from the mythological significance of meteoritic iron, found in artefacts like ancient Egyptian ritual objects, Tibenta ‘Phurpa’ blades, and the celestial sword of Archangel St Michael. This elemental force,’ they write, ‘imbues every moment of the album’s apocalyptic sound.’ On a purely personal level, I’m drawn immediately by the idea of an ‘apocalyptic sound’. We live in what feels like apocalyptic times, after all. I am surely not alone in feeling that since the arrival of the pandemic, we’re racing towards the end of days, and if anything, the exponential rise of AI only seems to be accelerating that race.

Zu are staunchly anti-AI when it comes to their own approach to art – a topic they touch on with single cut ‘A.I. Hive Mind’ – and explain, “We are very spiritually-oriented people,” says Massimo. “Machines and AI do not have spirituality. So they can mimic and they can assemble existing things, but they cannot create. That spirit is probably the most important thing that our music carries.”

Recent AI releases by the howlingly abysmal artificially-generated retro-rock act The Velvet Sundown and even more cringe-inducingly gash country wank of Breaking Rust may show how far the technology has come, but simultaneously reveals just how it’s absolutely no substitute for real, human-made art. This derivative, soulless wank is beyond derivative: that is to say, it’s precisely what you’d expect from melting down the entirety of a genre and regurgitating the lowest common denominator output. It also demonstrates precisely why Zu could never be recreated by any kind of digital modelling. They are completely off the wall in every direction all at once, and on Ferrum Sidereum, ‘The music combines the complexity of progressive rock, the grit of industrial music, the precision of metal, the spirit and energy of punk, and the freedom of jazz. The result is a sonic journey that is as cerebral as it is visceral, defying easy categorisation while remaining unmistakably Zu.’

‘Charagma’ makes for a forceful opener. It’s a full-on sonic blast, at first harsh noise, then pounding industrial riffery, which lunges into sprawling jazz-infused metal, then lurches back to the riffery but with an expansive, proggy twist. It’s a big seven minutes – which is different from a long seven minutes. It doesn’t drag, but what it does do it leave you with whiplash. ‘Golgotha’ whips out all the brass and woodwind at once, and this provides the backdrop to some highly-detailed math-rock which goes all-out crazed around the three-minute mark. And it turns out they’re just warming up.

There’s some hefty chug and churn going on here. There’s also a whole load of manic horns blasting away. Recent single ‘Kether’ is representative, but at the same time not, in that it’s a seven-and-a-half-minute beast of a piece that lurches and lumbers all over, but there’s no way anything can be truly representative of an album that covers so much ground, and is so wildly unpredictable. ‘Kether’ reflects the heavier end of the album… and also the more twisty, melodic side, too – which essentially makes my point. Any thirty second snippet of the album would present a different story. The aforementioned ‘A.I. Hive Mind’ is spasmodic, jazzy, mathy, frenetic, intense, six songs in one.

‘La Donna Vestita De Sole’, the first of the album’s megalithic cornerstones cocking in at nearly ten minutes stands, towering, in the centre. Initially it’s soothing, smoothing, restful, ambient, but of course built to tumultuous towers of monumentally powerful prog, and they lay down some seriously solid grooves. ‘Hymn of the Pearl’ – clocking in at just over nine and half minutes again starts out easy in a haze of slow-building bass and electronic, a bass groove building until it eventually erupts – and when it does, it does, massively.

Arriving at the title track and finale, amidst a whirlwind of noise and all kinds of otherness, there’s something of a post-punk vibe in the build-up… not to mention bass to make you shit your pants. But then it’s got desert rock vibes and elements of Krautrock as it pushes forward, and they still find time for an explosive post-rock crescendo around a third of the way in. The finale is devastating. It’s too much to keep up with – and at the same time, it’s perfection. Zu do zu, as they say. Alright, not, but close enough. The bottom line is that this is a uniquely crafted work, to which AI could never get close. Not remotely.

Ferrum Sidereum is simply huge in every respect: scope, scale, ambition, sound, production. It’s heavy, it’s inspired, and it’s an album to lose yourself in.

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Constellation welcomes Montréal-based jazz ensemble Bellbird to the label.

Meanwhile Bellbird celebrates with new track ‘The Call’ and will kick off 2026 playing a half-dozen shows on a winter tour of Western Canada in January.

Bellbird features tenor saxophonist Claire Devlin, alto saxophonist and bass clarinetist Allison Burik, bassist Eli Davidovici, and drummer Mili Hong. The players hail from various countries and backgrounds: rooted in modern jazz, Bellbird’s music also channels influences from the players’ wide range of influences steeped in Montréal’s genre-mashing experimental undergrounds, including punk/rock, drone/minimalism, electroacoustics and more. (Constellation has previously worked with Hong via her terrific drumming on The Obsession With Her Voice by Erika Angell and for Angell’s smouldering live shows).

Bellbird’s first album Root In Tandem was self-released in 2023, garnering some well-deserved critical accolades, and acclaimed live appearances on the Avant/Jazz circuits in Canada ever since.

Hear ‘The Call’ here:

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BELLBIRD LIVE

January 2026 • Canada

January 15 – The Esplanade (Medicine Hat)
January 16 – Yardbird Suite (Edmonton)
January 17 – Buckingjam Palace (Calgary)
January 18 – ArtsPlace (Canmore)
January 23 – Alliances Français (Vancouver)
January 24 – The Bassment (Saskatoon)

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Bellbird

Bellbird photo by Marc Etienne Mongrain