Jean Grünewald Discusses Montreal Dances Across Borders' New Compilation "Volume 2"

Volume 2 album art courtesy by Thomas Lopez and Elisa Gleize

On September 28th, 2021, Montreal Dances Across Borders  followed-up their 2020 project Volume 1 with another exciting compilation project: Volume 2. This anticipated release from the Montreal collective brings together 10 incredible electronic artists for a more-than-worthy cause; with 100% of Bandcamp going to Solidarity Across Borders, a Montreal-based migrant support network working to combat the unjust realities faced by immigrants and refugees. 

While the compilation’s sound is experimental and eclectic, the participants’ unanimous support for the project’s cause acts as a base for it’s overall sonic unity. Despite its variety, each track inspires dance, movement and energy. 

Volume 2 features tracks from: HRT, LE SERVICE HUMAIN, PULSUM, AN_NA - Red Wine, s.talbot, HUMAN JUNGLE, Inside Blur, K-10, Remote Access and DBY. It was curated by Jean Grünewald and Louis Paulhus with artwork by Thomas Lopez and Elisa Gleize. The entire project was mastered by Elliott Sebag.

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Volume 2 album art courtesy by Thomas Lopez and Elisa Gleize

Jean (AKA ottoman.grüw), one-half of the curatorial duo behind the project, spoke with me about challenging borders in a multitude of ways. 

Simone Tissenbaum for Also Cool Mag: I read in a summary you wrote about the project that music embodied in spaces is inherently political… What does that mean specifically for Montreal Dances Across Borders?

Jean Grünewald: The project was created to remind us that [dance] music, embodied in spaces, is above all political. The idea of ‘dancing across borders’ relates specifically to this kind of music. Underground dance and techno music survives the shared cultural knowledge of marginalized groups that is ongoingly threatened by systemic oppression. The spaces where this music is played, whether it’s a warehouse or a club, allow for moments of togetherness... Moments where you can acknowledge and celebrate different realities. The hope is that this can create more empathy, solidarity and respect between different people.

Also Cool: I understand that the music itself is political, and clearly the spaces in which that music is shared become political as well. What does that mean for digital spaces? How is it the same, or different, when we’re talking about this type of music being experienced in a digital sphere?

Jean Grünewald: There’s a paradox in the way that digital releases are connecting but also fragmenting. If there was a pandemic in an era without digital networks, there would have been no compilation at all. This is certainly connected to the idea of borders, dancing across borders, getting rid of the borders… It’s something that digital methods do.

AC: I’m curious then, not to be harsh on the digital realm, but to consider what might be lost inside of it. Obviously there is a connecting factor, but what is being lost right now in a world where live music and shows and events are harder to come by?

JG: With less [in-person] events, I’m wondering how much our feelings of togetherness and empathy are fed. Because when you’re going to a show, whatever it may be, you have people close to you. If they’re reacting in a certain way... you hear that, you see that. Even though you’ve never seen these people before, spoken to them, and may never see them again, there is a connection that is made. You’re testifying the existence of those other people at this specific moment, while you’re also testifying of your own existence.

AC: Is this project designed to address the lack of connectedness you think we’re collectively experiencing?

JG: Maybe [this compilation] is not a whole solution, but it’s an attempt at remedying the situation. In the same way that it’s directly connecting the artists involved, it’s indirectly connecting the people that are listening to the compilation, with listening to the album acting as a shared experience. 

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With such thoughtful and politically-engaged creation and curation, you can expect nothing less than a moving piece of work, both physically and emotionally.  

The project is available on Bandcamp in a PWYC format with all proceeds being directed to Solidarity Across Borders. 

Montreal Dances Across Borders

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Simone Tissenbaum is a Montreal-based dancer, educator, and writer. 

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PREMIERE: Pascale Project's Tonight My Dance (Dir. Antoine93, Released via La Rama Records)

via Pascale Project

It's been a summer of asking, "Where's the party?" From party-hopping from the skatepark DJ set to the secret outdoor rave and then back to the spontaneous park party. The pure bliss of running into your friends on the way to the gig and then finding each other again on the clandestine dancefloor is unmatched. If you know, you know, and if you don't, someone will probably post an Instagram story about it later that night.

Either way, if you like the sound of the end-of-summer dream I'm describing, then you'll love Pascale Project's latest music video for Tonight My Dance. Soaked in the tradition of summer fun in the city, elements of Freestyle and Electro weave into the House beat and are made for having a good time. These sounds evoked by our beloved corner of the world (Montreal) are now broadcast to the global network of party purveyors. The track is one of three off of her latest release, "Where's The Party" (La Rama Records).

via Pascale Project

Tonight My Dance brings the glam of club culture, calling back to glossy Y2K aesthetics and 90s high-fashion commercials. Directed by Antoine93 (another great musician and party-goer extraordinaire who we have previously covered), the video was created on a $0 budget in the true DIY spirit.

Watch Tonight My Dance below

Pascale Project

Instagram I SoundCloud I Bandcamp

Tracklisting:

A1 - Tonight My Dance

A2 - Welcome (Dust-e-1 Remix)

B1 - Welcome

B2 - Go Home

All cut at 45rpm for diverse playing styles!

Music by Pascale Mercier.

Mastered by Nik Kozub.

Artwork & design by Kris Guilty.

Manufactured & distributed by La Rama Records.

Malaika Astorga is the co-founder of Also Cool. She is a Mexican-Canadian visual artist, writer, and social media strategist currently based in Montreal.

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PREMIERE: Honeydrip Shares Debut EP Anti-Ego

Honeydrip by Ariana Molly

Picture yourself rolling up to the secret rave; you can hear the bass pounding through the trees. As you get closer, you start to run into your friends and see the coolest-looking strangers you've never seen stomping their hearts out on the dancefloor. 

This is the energy that after-hours legend Honeydrip brings with her new EP Anti-Ego. Heavily influenced by the intersection of Black culture and electronic music, the EP is an extension of the dub and sound systems culture. It honours the exploration and boldness found in the genre and every genre that has come of it. Honeydrip expertly meshes dub, techno, dancehall, reggae, and drum and bass while re-contextualizing and pushing the story forward.

We caught up with Honeydrip about her experience in the afterhours scene, learning to DJ, and her EP, of course.

Malaika Astorga for Also Cool: How did you first get into DJing and electronic music? How did you make the transition from a party-goer to the person keeping the party going?

Honeydrip: I spent high school listening to hip hop and dancehall, which then transformed into alternative psychedelic rock. By university, I started my radio show in 2015, playing downtempo electronic and lofi artists like Lukid, invention_ , etc. 

I've always been interested in music that had uncommon melodies, sounds and was generally considered dark or melancholic. I think that naturally led me to enjoy electronic music. A lot of the music I listened to since I was young had aspects of electronic music; I just didn't know at the time. 

Also Cool: What has your experience been like in the Montreal nightlife scene? 

H: I got into DJing because I wanted to make my radio show the best possible, so seamless transitions seemed key. A boyfriend of mine at the time and a good friend of mine (Ativan Halen) were mentors.

AC: What kind of music did you first get into here, and how have you seen the after-hours and electronic music scene change over time?

H: I started DJing right around the time that I started going out. My DJ gigs helped me discover the music scene in Montreal. I also would go to parties with friends that I made through DJing. But before DJing, I was a cheerleader and went to pubs, aha. 

Having a radio show forced me to do research on Quebecois artists as well as Canadian artists. I had a quota of local content on my radio show, which helped me discover so many of the local artists who are my peers now. 

Since I was really into Lo-Fi and cool Downtempo beats, I was a really good opener when I first started. One of my favourite gigs when playing that genre was opening for MNDSGN, but as I continued going out, the sensation I felt on the dancefloor when dance music was playing was so exciting and inviting I naturally started getting into that music. 

My experience in the nightlife scene has been a journey of finding the spaces that I am the most comfortable in, where there is a nice mix of beautiful people, good music, and a bouncy crowd. Every DJ has a certain type of crowd that builds through personal connections, fanbase, musical tastes. I'm super happy with the crowd I've built, and I feel that it's representative of who I am.

Honeydrip by Ariana Molly

AC: Can you describe your favourite going out / after-hours memory? (Whether it be here or elsewhere)

H: One of my favourite going out memories was at Nowadays in NYC with Umfang and LSDXOXO on the lineup. When I go out, I'm more the type to dance than to socialize, and I love it when I'm in a crowd of people dancing as hard as I am. It was like that all night, with crazy hypnotic music. Nowadays is a large venue, but the crowd was insane. I usually prefer intimate crowds because it's easier for us all to be on the same page. 

AC: Your EP meshes genres, expanding and contrasting sounds to open up a new world of electronic music. Where have you drawn inspiration for the album, and how do you hope it that will push the story forward in electronic music?

H: I think with the history of my musical tastes, I have always been jumping from Black music (Hip hop, dancehall, reggaeton, reggae) to electronic music. At many times I was at a crossroads with what I wanted to play or what genre I wanted to be recognized by, and this EP is my deciding I can be both. 

AC: This has been a summer of music and dancing pretty much anywhere people can set up a generator. What do you hope the after-hours scene will be like post-pandemic? What are some values that you think are important for people to integrate into these events?

H: I really respect the people that take the time to organize these DIY events. It takes a lot of love to do what they are doing. The summer has made it easier for these parties to happen. Still, once winter settles in, I'm concerned with the lack of spaces we have, with many staple nightlife spots being lost throughout the pandemic.

AC: What would your advice be for people who want to get into DJing and making music, but don't know where to start?

H: To start DJing, Intersessions and Chippy Nonstop regularly offer classes physically or virtually to learn how to DJ. Also, follow the artists you like because they will be sharing courses or even offering some themselves sometimes. Join Facebook groups to get access to used equipment. Start digging!

For producing, it helps to have hardware, so you don't do everything on your computer. Getting a midi keyboard or drum pad makes the process more organic. Also exploring VSTs because I feel like most producers have their favourite VSTs that they use frequently. It helps develop their sound. Once again, keep an eye out for beginners courses or reach out to people you know that produce. Most people are always willing to help :)

AC: What's next for Honeydrip?

H: A remix EP may or may not be on its way. And this is just the beginning of my transition to a producer. So far, I am loving it and will continue to release music as consistently as I can.

Credits:

Animated & Produced by Emma Forgues

Composed by Honeydrip

Vocals by King Shadrock

Mixed by Francis Latreille

Mastered by Valentin Ignat

Honeydrip

Twitter I Instagram

Soundcloud I Bandcamp I Spotify I Apple Music

Malaika Astorga is the co-founder of Also Cool. She is a Mexican-Canadian visual artist, writer, and social media strategist currently based in Montreal.

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PREMIERE: Slic Shares Director's Cut of Hypnotic Electronic Track "EZ"

Single cover shot by Ana Hernandez.

You know that feeling when you've been out all night with your friends, it's 5 AM, and you're debating whether or not to get breakfast together, that feels so purely like going out in the summertime? Still buzzed from the night before, traces of glitter and silvery outfits shimmering in the morning sun? Maybe I'm getting a little too niche here, but for those of you who know exactly what I'm talking about, "Ez," the latest track from electronic-pop artist Slic, captures this feeling of endless summer and early-morning adventures perfectly.

Slic is a Venezuelan-American artist based in Brooklyn-by-way-of-Miami. Their longstanding affair with the club began as a teenager in Miami amidst the EDM explosion of the early 2010s while Carl Cox was still DJing underground warehouse parties.

They integrate structural threads of Venezuelan music not found in the sample library: beat patterns drawn from tambores, reggeaton, and merengue are loaded up with digitally-generated specimens of sound. In their compositions, the laptop grid becomes a vantage point from which to build a shimmering, transnational future.

"Music can be a way to channel collective wish fulfillment," they explain, embracing a crucial element of pop: the visceral romance of pure belief that punctures through and out into the glaring light of reality."

Watch the exclusive director's cut of EZ below.

Videographer by Ana Maria Hernandez

Directed by Ana, Khalil Flemming, and Slic

Slic

Spotify I Bandcamp I Soundcloud I Apple Music

Instagram I Twitter I TikTok

Malaika Astorga is the co-founder of Also Cool. She is a Mexican-Canadian visual artist, writer, and social media strategist currently based in Montreal.

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Escape into a Glimmering, Shroomy Tableau with Priori's "Little Flower" EP

Artwork by Angelina Nonaj
Design by Ellyson Gasparetto

A friendly face and frequent visitor at our studio space in Montreal (official Also Cool Mag HQ), Francis Latreille, the Quebecois producer, DJ, and label owner known as Priori is a mainstay in the city’s electronic music scene. With influences spanning from the rhizosphere to the exosphere, Priori’s unmistakable productions blend intricate organic sounds with whirring, bleepy cosmic soundscapes traversing house, techno, ambient, and IDM. The spinning, airy rhythms are a full sensory dance bound to keep you light on your feet.

Priori’s scope of creativity is most evident in his multitude of collaborations, including Jump Source with Patrick Holland (Project Pablo), the NAFF label with Adam Feingold (Ex-Terrestrial), ANF, New World Science, M.S.L., and Ntel, among others. Little Flower is the artist’s second solo EP after debuting with the cerebral On a Nimbus in 2019. With such a relaxed disposition, you’d never guess how busy he is - we took a moment to discuss creativity, curiosity, and life’s comforts.

Maya Hassa for Also Cool: Journeying back down to Earth from your spot on the nimbus, you encountered a little flower. Tell us about this flower.

Priori: Hehe! I'd like people to picture their own little flower, but I see a purple daisy. There is an old tree nearby, narrating the lyrics in the title track.

Also Cool: This EP sounds like walking through the depths of a dense, shimmering forest, all senses stimulated, becoming more and more engulfed in nature's harmonious symbiosis. You mention taking pleasure in the chaos and coveting the unknown - how do you approach exploration in your creativity - what are you curious about, where do you let that curiosity lead you?

Priori: That's super flattering and pretty much what I had in mind when making it. Except for maybe the title track, I don't think these songs have narratives. To me they are more like tableaux or landscapes. If you look outside a window, small changes/events occur, transient (i.e. someone walking their dogs) or gradual (the sky changing colour). Sometimes it's nice to just sit there and enjoy the view. The title track tells more of a tale, it's kind of an ode to growth and diversity.

I just try to stay curious, which in my case is the main fuel for creativity. It really doesn't have to be music, though. Books, video games, places, people.

Credit: Ariana Molly

AC: While on the subject of creativity, I can't skip over the multitude of different projects you are involved in - what are you working on these days, who are you collaborating with?

Priori: I think I appreciated the seclusion at the beginning of the pandemic, and it was great for writing new solo material, but ultimately I really enjoy the collaborative process. I've been working on a lot of music with close friends lately - Maara (who released a record on NAFF last year) and I made a few tunes that we're very happy with. I'm also working with Olivia (aka Regularfantasy) on some vocal club things, which is a really fun process. I have a release ready from sessions with Ludwig AF as well, that will come out at some point. Maybe some new Jump Source material in the future as well. Patrick and I share a studio, so there's a constant exchange of ideas and sounds. We both get very excited by the recording process itself so we need to dedicate time for experimentation. We just re-wired everything and there are new possibilities, which is usually when we write our best work, in my opinion.

AC: Has your direction changed over the course of the past year's chaos? Your older releases draw references from science fiction, but Little Flower is bustling with earthy vibrations.

Priori: I think it is always changing, whether consciously or not, but I also don't think of science fiction as being separate from earth. There is a lot we don't understand about this place, and we come up with stories to fill the gaps, express our views, or just to have fun. I also just got excited by some of the sounds I was getting using modular synthesis and how they reminded me of biology and matter (knocking rocks together, leaves rustling, insects flying, etc.). Sounds from nature are complex and the infinite routing possibilities of modular instruments really bridge that gap.

AC: Lately I've found comfort in listening to and making cheesy remixes of uplifting 90's trance and early 2000's dance music - maybe a little too much - what's your go-to feel good music, or maybe you have other comforts that you enjoy?

Priori: Haha you have to indulge. I think music should trigger feelings and feeling good is nice! Lately a lot of brit pop and rap. Shoegaze is the constant.

AC: If you had to spend the next year in a sensory deprivation tank, but were offered one week to immerse yourself back into the world, where would you go and what would you do?

Priori: This is kind of what spring felt like this year. Go on a hike with friends, swim in a lake, eat fruits, mushies if it feels right.

Priori

Bandcamp | Soundcloud | Instagram | Spotify

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Artwork by Angelina Nonaj
Design by Ellyson Gasparetto

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Holobody Releases Shimmering Experimental Pop Album "Phosphorus"

Holobody by Laura Donohue

Fuelled by love, light, and an understanding that change is the only constant in life, Holobody has released his record Phosphorus, which has been eight years in the making. Released on his label Gusding, the project fulfills ideas dating back nearly a decade and brought to a head through Saturn's recent run in Capricorn.

Phosphorus opens up the world of Holobody for us, and it feels as if we're being transported through a world of shimmering crystal light, surrounded by flora and reflections of past lives, moving towards a higher self. The album has a light-hearted psychedelic electronic tone, reminiscent of early 2010s indie pop. Soft and gentle melodies carrying beautiful narratives serve as an ode to the archetypal muse, the lightbringer, morning star, recognized variously as Prometheus, Venus, and Lucifer.

Holobody (Luke Loseth) navigates through this iridescent juggernaut by transforming his songs into breathing ecosystems, drawing on pop, electronic, and folk traditions as inspiration.

You can support Holobody by checking out his website, and listening to Phosphorus on Bandcamp.

Malaika Astorga is the co-founder of Also Cool. She is a Mexican-Canadian visual artist, writer, and social media strategist currently based in Montreal.

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Hildegard (Helena Deland & Ouri) Talk Friendship, section1 & Remembering How to Fly

Hildegard by Jules Moskovtchenko

To understand the world of Hildegard is to immerse yourself in the deep waters of Helena Deland and Ouri's soul connection and friendship. Their debut record has been described as the result of merging their identities, coupled with a complete loss of ego. The result is a beautiful and experimental eight-track experience, documenting the creative bond they share.

The duo are both accomplished musicians in their own right, both having toured the world with their individual projects. They've also been longtime Montreal friends, and over the years, the three of us have gotten to know each other through many shows, nights out, and mutual friends. 

I caught up with Ouri and Helena earlier last week to talk about the album, their friendship, dreams, and their label section1. I explained right off the bat that I wanted to skip the typical PR questions and get into the more esoteric, conceptual energy and of the record. They happily agreed and took me by the hand into the world of Hildegard. 

Malaika Astorga for Also Cool: I first heard the album three years ago, and it's so exciting to have watched it come to fruition so beautifully, but I guess we should start at the beginning. How did you two become friends?

Ouri: We had been gravitating around each other for a while. We initially met through a friend group when we were around 20 years old. We properly became friends when our manager suggested that we do a few studio sessions together. It was so immediately effortless, and there were no expectations. We just completely connected.

Helena Deland: The friend group where we met unintentionally revolved around a couple guys. The whole group gravitated towards certain people, and everyone acted in response to those individuals instead of each other. This became obvious when we hung out one-on-one and became friends. It was crazy that we didn't sense that before.

O: If we had never experienced that, it would've been such a loss. It was such a fundamental part of my life experience. 

Hildegard by Jules Moskovtchenko

Also Cool: It is very Montreal to exist around people until you finally connect individually one way or another after seeing each other around for so long. 

What have you learned about friendship and your creative connection with each other throughout this process?

I've seen you both out in the world together so much, and it seems like you have a really happy friendship. I specifically remember you two drawing outside of Pumpui together, and it seems so beautiful to have a friend with whom you can be your inner child.

H: It's interesting because I do feel like the way that I exist with Ouri is so unique. [She] brings out things in me that my other friends don't, which is also true about the music. 

This collaboration is more than the sum of its parts; it depends on its alchemy. We've also spent so much time one-on-one for this project that people always tell us we act like siblings. 

O: I never feel like I have to be a highly individual part of this group, I just want to blend, and I want this energy to circulate all the time. I think that this is an essential part of our friendship. I feel like since we experienced this together, we've been researching flexibility and ego, and we're trying to get back to that every time. When we're on video shoots, and we're not crossing paths all day, it feels very wrong. We need the excitement and comfort that we share together.

AC: It sounds like a really nice soulmate connection.

Both: Yeaaaaaa (blush)

AC: Your record sounds like when Durocher (an after-hours in Montreal) was at its peak: Where you could walk through all the walkways, to all the different parties alone; knowing you would find your friends or make new ones along the way. At the same time, the album also feels very vulnerable and without ego. 

Going into it making the album, did you intend to make it a dance record, or did you want to just try and see what happened?

H: It was very unintentional. We usually resume it by describing the first day in the studio, where we were super excited and eased into the atmosphere. We had a drink in the evening, and it was kind of a party atmosphere. So the tone kind of has to do with how we broke the ice.

AC: If the record is a late night out with a friend, what would your morning routine look like? Would you make breakfast? Would you not talk? Would you lie down in the park to try and get over the hangover?

O: I think we would do a yoga session in the morning and then let each other choose what we wanted to eat, and then we would stare at a fire.

H: Haha yeah, we would make a fire and take our time with that. We also love discussing and unpacking the night before. 

We would definitely have a time without each other too, maybe on separate walks, and then we would come back to each other. We know this by experience, really. (laughs)

O: We were together for two weeks the last time. We would party and then try to come back to life.

Hildegard by Jetro Emilcar

AC: The tone for Jour 1 has been described as "Processing by partying." Both of you have travelled all over the place. You have experienced all kinds of different things, so I'm wondering what your most transformative party experience has been. 

H: There are so many, but there's this feeling that I sometimes get that's interesting. It feels like a "life drive," but at the same time, it comes when you're out, not sleeping, drinking and so on, so there's also this death drive to it, too. 

It's the feeling of time passing, and I just want it to stop, and every time I look at the clock, it's scandalizing that it's gotten so late. I just love those nights where it feels like if you could stop time or if you could exchange a little of the future for more of this, you'd do it. It's a very present moment feeling.

O: The beginning of summer in Montreal, maybe Durocher, maybe Moonshine. It's 5am, the sun is starting to maybe come out a bit. I would stop time to always live in this. We've also experienced this feeling together after doing the album. This was just a crazy night.

H: The one where we ended up on the soccer pitch?

O: No, the one with the mic at Durocher. (laughs)

H: There was also the one where we played Piknic.

O: Oh yes! We had lost Helena in the crowd, and she reappeared at the most epic moment of the set. There were hundreds of people everywhere. But also that experience of losing your friend at a party and then finding them again is very special.

AC: Well, I was going to ask, what would a perfect Montreal summer night be for you? 

H: I think the unexpectedness of nights in Montreal is one of its best qualities. It's small geographically, and you don't know where you'll run into someone. Everyone lives a 30-minute walk away from each other, and so you can end up on anybody's roof. Like that night, you played Piknic, and we walked home.

O: We played games and explored all the different metro stations and all the parks.

H: It's nice to think that this is almost possible again for the first time in a year now.

AC: Hildegard seems very much like a world. Can you describe this world as if it were a dream?

O: It's a castle.

H: An H-shaped castle.

O: We can run between towers and different rooms.

H: There's beautiful nature, but there's also something a little eerie. We wrote a really cool story to go with a playlist, and every step was following Hildegard's day. It was very community-oriented, but there were lonesome moments, but also sensuality and self-care.

O: That's also a mystical experience, to share with a community. 

H: But the dream, it would be a pretty lucid dream. 

AC: Do you have a favourite dream?

O: Since I was a kid, whenever I feel trapped, I think about flying before going to sleep. In my dream, I just run and fly, and I go everywhere. I feel free. This is something that I love to do.

H: Wow, so you're a good lucid dreamer! 

AC: I do the same! I always knew I could fly in my dreams, and I knew that I just had to remember how to do it. It's amazing

H: It's the closest we'll come to flying in this life. 

Hildegard by Jetro Emilcar

AC: Helena, your most recent album profiles the emotional fallout of when two people put their lives in each others' hands. Hildegard feels like the healed, higher-self from this experience. How does it feel different to put your life in Ouri's hands?

H: Aww, it's amazing, honestly. It is a big part of what's so joyful on the record; there's this intense fusional energy and abandonment of others and gradual attunement to how to make the other feel good. The reward is the music we make together, and the company, and the moments we share. 

It feels so liberating and like we understand each other in ways that are not always given in heterosexual relationships, even though we're just friends. I personally haven't really experienced this kind of closeness with a collaborator and friend. Having those things meshed together, it's eye-opening to all of what's possible in terms of proximity. But it's also this whole learning process; we're constantly adjusting and growing together. 

AC: You've worked with a lot of different people for the visuals of the project. Can you tell me more about your collaborators and that process?

O: We started working with Melissa Matos, who built the conceptual visual world of Hildegard. She had a whole team of people doing graphic design, 3d work, photos, etc.

AC: Yeah, your website feels like a portal into that world you're describing. 

H: Every element of the website is from our texts, our conversations, our emails, our sounds… But it's also designed to really include the interaction, and whoever wants to use it can explore with it, which is true of the music. 

It acts more as a space to project things onto and into. Melissa has been so helpful in designing an intentional world.

Hildegard album art

AC: How's it been working with section1? You're their first release and their introduction to the world of what section1 is. You've also been involved in the music industry for quite a while, and I'm wondering what this experience has been like?

H: It's been super exciting. I sent our songs to Brontë because I wanted her to help place it in this industry. I trust her and her taste, and I thought she would be a good person to understand what we were trying to do. So when she responded by telling us that she wanted to release it, we were elated. 

It's been so nice to develop the world of Hildegard as they develop the world of section1 and be proud of one another's projects.

O: Being introduced to their network has been really amazing. It feels like it's alive and not a stiff uni-dimensional thing. It's one of the first times I feel like the team received our work, and we're so excited about it. 

H: I remember when Brontë told me she was going to start a label. She told me she had a secret, and I thought it was about who she was dating. Instead, she told me she was going to launch a record label, and I started crying.

I think part of the label works into the mythology of Hildegard at this point because it was so organic and unsought after, which is also the case with section1.

AC: What does the future of the project hold?

O: We have dreams, we want to travel together to places we've never been before

H: This is working so well for me so far, where Hildegard is this project that I can put in all my attention for very focused amounts of time. I want to keep doing that; it nourishes everything else in a really lovely way. We have the backbone of the next record ready as well, which is exciting.

We want to make music elsewhere and keep exploring how environments influence the creative flow. The last two times we were together for a long time were in March, and that seems to have a specific vibe.

It's kind of like the third character, the place that we make music in. The studio we made this record in was so important to us, and it no longer exists, so it's a very nostalgic mind space.

Listen to Hildegard below

Hildegard

Instagram I Website I Spotify I YouTube

Malaika Astorga is the co-founder of Also Cool. She is a Mexican-Canadian visual artist, writer, and communications specialist currently based in Montreal.

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Premiere: Splash into the Sunny Season with Emissive's New EP "Wave Science"

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Image credit: Sanjeet Takhar

‘Tis the season for cosmic boogie. You might’ve caught our interview with Toronto’s Active Surplus (Evan Vincent and Ian Syrett) for their debut release on Vancouver label Pacific Rhythm last year - this time Evan is flying solo with this wavey four-track release as Emissive. The warm analog grooves are fit for any vaxxed girl summer activity.

Whether it’s a hazed-out park picnic, cute splash in the pool, or a moonlit rooftop hang, the free-flowing melodies and flavourful bass will have you yearning for a dance. Paying tribute to the Black American pioneers of electronic dance music, “Wave Science” is hot - an undeniable summer playlist must-have.

As the artist says himself, it’s time to summon the spirits of dance, love, and seasonal warmth. “Less thinking, more feeling.” Support Emissive and Pacific Rhythm on Bandcamp and listen to “Wave Science” below.

Emissive

Bandcamp | IG | Soundcloud

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YNDI (FKA Dream Koala) Will Leave Audiences Transfixed with Debut "Noir Brésil"

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YNDI, shot by François Quillacq

What’s in a stage-name? For Paris-based singer, songwriter, composer and producer Yndi Ferreira Da Silva, retiring her former moniker Dream Koala allowed her to reconnect with her ancestry and creative intuition through realizing a new musical venture.

Beginning her career in 2012 as Dream Koala, the multidisciplinary artist released three electronic-pop EPs, Odyssey (2013), Earth. Home. Destroyed. (2014), and Exodus (2015), which received praise from the likes of NPR Music and Vogue. You may know Yndi from her performances on the popular music platform and Youtube channel COLORS, or her internationally renowned single “We Can’t Be Friends,” which gained over 30 million streams on Spotify alone.  

Since remerging proudly as YNDI, the singer has been co-producing her debut record Noir Brésil, which is set to release May 28th, 2021 via Paris’ Grand Musique Management.

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YNDI, shot by François Quillacq

Opening my interview with Yndi, I ask her about the decision to use her first name rather than Dream Koala, to which she responds: “Everything about the process of making this album was so intimate; singing in French and Portuguese, playing Afro-Brazilian percussion, imagining the visuals… I didn’t want to hide behind an alias. I wanted to share this project under my real name, the one my family and friends call me!”

Through marrying the poetry of her two maternal languages (French and Portuguese) with Afro-Brazilian percussion, Noir Brésil houses a range of exquisite soundscapes celebrating Yndi’s heritage. Yndi says the album’s overall eclecticism developed from a desire for each track to be “its own little world.”

Emotionally, Yndi harnessed memories linked to her spirituality to guide her songwriting, as well as “childhood bliss, depression and pure escapism” in the conceptualization and production of Noir Brésil. The result is Yndi’s honeyed voice elegantly draped over thirteen dynamic tracks. Adorned with ambitious instrumentation, featuring electrifying percussion performed by the Brazilian band Zalindê, Noir Brésil drifts, waltzes and somersaults through a paradisal universe unique to Yndi’s remarkable artistry. Though her work’s foundation and sustenance is incredibly personal, she tells me that she wants her music to be “a place where listeners can explore their own emotions, and not necessarily feel [hers]”.

Yndi notes Timbaland and Clara Nunes as significant musical influences and remarks that Carlinhos Brown’s “Afagamabetizado” has shaped the way she perceives music to this day. She mentions that her craft is equally impacted by video games, anime and cinema, which is evident in her vibrant and captivating music videos. On the music video for her song “Nuit,” the singer comments:

“It is a love letter to the video games that affected me during my life. It was an opportunity to imagine a Zelda or Shadow of Colossus set-up in Brazilian folklore. I wanted to use these games’ aesthetics to tell a story inspired by Brazilian ‘Congado,’  a religious celebration that symbolizes the coronation of African kings and queens.”

Yndi shares that working on Noir Brésil brought along some welcomed challenges and lessons. “I learned to trust myself, to believe in my creativity and defend my ideas,” she details. “I have also learned that if you are true to yourself, you will always create something new because we’re all unique and ever-changing.”

Though working independently comes naturally for Yndi, she indicates that staying grounded and connected to her creative vision was facilitated by collaborating with others. “When you work alone, you overthink so much! It’s difficult to get the drive you need without collaborating with other artists. My friend Superpoze co-produced the album, and Noir Brésil wouldn’t be the same without the amazing work of Zalindê! Nothing matches the feeling of creating something new with someone else. Everyone around me has been so committed to the album — I am so lucky!”

Going forward, Yndi is eager to continue producing music videos for Noir Brésil, as she wants her album to be both a visual and musical experience. She plans to tour with her band, promising to present an unparalleled performance when live music becomes possible once again.

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YNDI, shot by François Quillacq

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NOIR BRÉSIL

Out May 28, 2021 via Grand Musique Management

1. Noir Brésil

2. Amazona

3. Novo Mundo

4. Nuit

5. Illusão

6. Exil

7. O Cantos Das Ondas

8. Reliques

9. Eternel

10. Saudade

11. Dia De Carnaval

12. Eden

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YNDI

Instagram | Facebook | Spotify

Zoë Argiropulos-Hunter (she/her) is the co-founder and managing editor of Also Cool Mag. Aside from the mag, she is a music promoter & booker, and a radio host & DJ.

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Nature Is Healing, Change Is Imminent: YlangYlang Releases New Album "Cycles & Decay"

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Image credit: Thomas Boucher

Imagine laying on a densely-covered forest floor, soft moss cushioning your head, enveloping your hands as you push into it, sinking deeper, becoming one with the foliage. A cool morning dew wets your clothes and you take a satisfying little stretch as you think, “I am but a small frog in an opportunity-filled pond.”

Or maybe you’re just cold, or too distracted by the loons crying on the lake. Either way, this small ritual of participating in the natural cycles of your surroundings strikes a chord - it’s comforting.

Catherine Debard’s new release, “Cycles & Decay,” on Montreal label Everyday Ago, is a reflection on the healing cycles found in nature - growth, decay, erosion, renewal. Debard is a prominent figure in Montréal’s electronic music scene, both in the underground as well as in the academic setting. Her experimental solo project, YlangYlang, spans over a decade of deep-rooted involvement through performances and releases featuring an elegant layering of field recordings over ambient drones, noise, spoken word poetry, and live instrumentals from collaborators.

Releasing on international labels including Crash Symbols (USA), Phinery (DK), Fluere Tapes (SE) and ΠΑΝΘΕΟΝ (RU), YlangYlang has also graced the line-ups at festivals including Suoni Per Il Popolo, Mutek Montréal, Electric Eclectics, Strangewaves, and Tone Deaf. Debard participated in a residency at Red Bull Music Academy at Calgary's National Music Center and in a workshop hosted by Suzanne Ciani.

Lose yourself in the deeply intimate organic soundscapes of “Cycles & Decay” - or in YlangYlang’s words in the, “decomposed sound matter,” “rotten music,” or “compost music” that sets its own parameters, flowing non-linearly towards healing - and check out the equally intimate interview below to be taken on a journey of slowing down, recalibrating, and taking inspiration from nature’s controlled chaos and unyielding cycles of creation and destruction.

Maya Hassa for Also Cool: What was the landscape you were in when making these recordings (either the field recordings or other parts as well) and what were you feeling while being there?

Catherine Debard: I began working on Cedar St. the day media were reporting about the Amazon forest wildfires, in August of 2019. I remember watching footage in awe, while recording cassette loops through distortion pedals. It felt pretty surreal, and heavy I guess. The song was actually called 'Cendres' (Ashes) until earlier this year. The four songs have an end-of-Summer-early-Fall vibe to them, so I'd say earthy landscapes, grey skies, crisp air, burnt orange, russet, crimson, amber, olive, and disintegrated fragments of nature scattered in lovely ways. I regularly roamed the back alleys from my house to Jarry Park back then - I usually walk when I need to ponder and clear my head. 

I listened to the rough versions of the tracks, trying to find possible structures for them, unlocking the mysteries within. These walks were very contemplative. I felt deeply attuned to nature's slow decay, zooming my attention to dehydrated fruits, shrivelled delicate leaves, scattered strange shrubs, patches of moss, the smell of damp earth.

Also Cool: Maybe it’s because I’m in a forest while I write this, but Cedar St. and Waning Now sound like laying on the forest floor while being consumed by the moss and lichen surrounding you, maybe even decomposing with it. How would you describe the idea of decay in sound - in the composition of a piece, the sound manipulation, or the possibility of decaying music in its physical recorded state? 

CD: While isolated at home last year, I became interested in trying to re-grow leaves from the cores of vegetables. On our kitchen table, I grew little leafy ecosystems, miniature islands in glass bowls. Leaves would grow to a certain point, then they'd wilt, and their entire appearance would start to shift. The greens would either fade or veer into yellows, browns, or peach tints, strange furs would appear as mold and slime began to spread. It was pretty captivating. Around the same time, I was contemplating the idea of 'shadow self', or in a very simplistic way, the subterraneous, dark counterpart of the conscious self that contains the ugly repressed stuff. I've oftentimes tried to bridge this disconnect between my mental activity (mostly rational and mundane), and the raw, unexplored potential underneath, which I can't access. I’ve wondered about the possibility of 'eroding the mind' metaphorically, using these decay processes I was witnessing in nature.

I've decided to apply this idea to music and composition. It led me to develop, within each song, a kind of relational system in which the sounds would interact with each other. I'd imagine various strategies in order for them to affect one another through various causal reactions, either in 'cooperative' or disruptive ways: 

'What if, every time this sound erupts, it generates little patches of sound fur onto that layer of synth? What would happen to the synth?' 

'What if the static quality of this recording was influenced by the dynamics of this bass movement as if it were pushed by the wind?' 

'How can a piano emerge out of this rumble of sounds and evaporate into thin air?' 

'Can the song flicker in a subtle way, like the sunlight seeping through the leaves of a tree?' 

The more abstract, the better. It forced me to seek new mixing & assembling techniques that would concretize these conceptual ideas.

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AC: The second track feels like sitting on a dock in the rain, glass bottles washing up on the shore, reminiscing. What is the meaning of the lyrics on Penumbra? 

CD: That sounds really good, I wish I were there! Penumbra is a love song written just before the dawn of a relationship. Now that I think about it, it's the only love song I've ever written in a profuse catalogue of songs about relationships! It's telling - I've given a lot of thought on the subject, read countless books, and experienced various iterations of disappointment, frustration and doubt throughout the years. Then, in 2019, a new perspective emerged. Nothing new, really, but the difference was that instead of intellectualizing my way through it, I saw a concrete path. 

The first step was to jump out of my head and dive inwards to investigate the darkened, the uncomfortable, the dim, the vague, the penumbral. What is in there?!! Then, I needed to foster a kinder relationship with my inner self, gather together all the pieces hidden in the corners, not just the flattering parts. Right around that time, I met someone I could imagine being this truer version of myself with, someone with whom I could explore and fabricate a new kind of relationship, something truly good. It felt dizzying, like being on the edge of a cliff and taking a leap into the unknown. That's what the song is about; the decision to make oneself vulnerable again, carefully, by removing the protective barriers - and also being intrigued by the unknown. It can even be a love song towards a renewed connection to oneself as well.

AC: There’s a sense of controlled chaos throughout the tracks - sounds cycle between harshness and what seems like the exaggerated or over-amplified sound of rushing water or wind, and lush, bright moments of renewal. The music has a natural, nonlinear behaviour, but also a sense of a journey towards healing, flowing between good and bad moments. Is this state of healing what the album title, “Cycles & Decay”, is also alluding to? 

CD: Yes, totally! Change is imminent, it permeates everything, so I'm trying to make friends with it, to jam with it. I've had a good amount of highs and lows, I've struggled with my mental health, with my physical health, I've experienced losses, some harder to recover from than others, I am aware that I will suffer in the future too. With time, I started noticing the cyclic feel of my own life, the reoccurring waves, ever shifting, yet familiar. I thought that in order to avoid sourness, I should cooperate with the cycles instead of fighting against them. For me, that means being malleable, listening to myself more, trying to stay vulnerable and open (and not turn into ice), and exploring ways to heal and learn out of hardships, while developing tools that help me navigate the inevitable. Things will get rough again, but it's not a reason to reject happiness when it's available - or to cling to the good times. I want to be a positive force, not one that drags down.

As for chaos and non-linearity, I feel that it's what keeps me alert and challenges me in a good way. It would be easy to slip into stubbornness, despair or denial. We wake up every day and live in a society that isn't good for the majority of human beings - it's important to remember that again and again. 

Whitesupremacy-colonialism-capitalism-racism-oppressivesystems-pillageanddestructionoftheEarth

Not only that, we also have to reckon with the toxic stuff we've inherited from them, some nasty things like the notion, for example, that if I don't have a respectable career, I am considered a failure. That's ugly, right? It makes absolutely no sense to me; my value system rejects this idea, and yet I struggle with it often!

There are so many things to deal with, all at the same time, and chaos wakes me up - it makes me pay attention! Noticing times like the other day, when I did something that went against my values, becoming aware of when I contradict myself, listening to other perspectives and genuinely trying to get them, being gracefully present during an afternoon by the railroad tracks, obsessing about the future and then, after a few days, feeling at peace with it. Being proud of a friend's achievement, while acknowledging a tinge of envy, saying ‘fuck off’ to the idea of perfection, being able to articulate a complicated idea out loud for the first time... 

Working on music connects me with myself, eases the anxiety and helps me deal with unpredictability by creating my own unpredictable, chaotic musical landscapes and then, problem-solving / finding new ideas to make them sound good. I separate myself into two parts - a creative force and a destructive one. The destructive side is rambunctious, reckless, angry, sabotaging, it takes pleasure in making a mess, but it does so while trusting that the other side will come and harmonize everything. It's pretty therapeutic!

AC: Is there a story of a naturally occurring cycle or historical experience you would want to share? One that could provide some context to the cycles of sonic decay and rebirth you described? 

CD: The first cycle I became aware of was the cycle of the Moon. As I became more cognizant of the external influences I bathed in, I grew better at handling my mood swings & energy fluctuations. I felt I could better cooperate with the intangible forces. Paying attention to my menstrual cycle gave me some precious insight, too! Instead of forcing things, I try to better respect my body and its rhythms. Seasons form an important cycle too. I realized recently that I often create sound material during the Summer, assemble it into songs during the Fall, and mix and master music during Winter. In the Spring I feel too scattered to do anything. 

There are also larger life cycles, ones where you feel like you are tackling a big 'theme' in your life. I'll end by giving an example of one. A few years ago, I saw three snakes in the span of a month. The day before I caught sight of the first snake, I had a conversation with a friend about the concept of 'Mono No Aware' while sitting in the passenger seat of his car. As he pulled the definition and read it to me, I felt seen, as if something deep inside was acknowledged, followed by the realization I wasn't alone feeling this way. The first snake was a beautiful, golden and white snake in the middle of a dirt road in New Mexico, the second one was a lean black one with a red line on his back, and the third one, a smaller brownish grass-snake on a mountain in Hamilton, ON. I had always been afraid of snakes, as a symbol and in real life, and I had never seen any before. From then on, I associate a snake with the ouroboros symbol, and seeing one signals a new start for me.

AC: I can’t help but ask what your workshop with Suzanne Ciani was about?

CD: Suzanne Ciani is so inspiring. As legendary as she is, she emanates realness - and that's truly refreshing. She mostly talked to us about her relationship with the Buchla synthesizer, showed us her way around it, how to set it up, how to build a sequence. I'd never even dreamed of playing with one myself, so it was great to get to learn about the electrical pathways and how it modulates within the machine. It gave me ideas about composition - that's what financial constraint does, it motivates you to find alternative ways to create results, I'm getting quite good at it! Suzanne also shared stories from her early days in the experimental electronic music scene, and how she built  a pretty inspiring career for herself by staying bold and determined. I hope I soaked up some of her energy! 

Listen to “Cylces & Decay” below

YlangYlang

Bandcamp I Instagram I Soundcloud I Spotify

Composed & Produced by Catherine Debard

Recorded between 'my apartment in Montréal'
& Fort Rose, Hamilton in 2019

Catherine Debard: Piano, Synthesizers, Field Recordings, Noises & Textures, Vocals

Connor Bennett: Saxophone & Effects on Track 2 & 4

Evelyn Charlotte Joe: Acoustic Guitar & Effects on Track 2
Upright Bass & Toy Piano on Track 4

Video for Cedar St. by Charline Daily

Mastered by Amar Lal
Artwork by Catherine Debard

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Hold Tighter for Days Brighter: Skinnybones releases "SKB04"

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Photo: Vincent Castonguay for Éditions 8888

Make-up: Ashley Diabo for TEAMM Agency
©Vincent Castonguay
©Éditions 8888

Emerging from what seems like one of the most universally difficult winters, the feeling of warm sun beaming on your cheeks as you walk down snowless pavements, seeing people making cheery smalltalk on the corner, the sparkling sound of birds chirping in the branches above, it’s hard not to have a little spring in your step. A bit of jazz in your strut. Heck, maybe you even divert from your designated path when you go on today’s silly little walk. The swinging electro percussion of SKB04, the latest album from Montreal producer and DJ, Skinnybones, is the soundscape for that glitter in your eye, that pep in your walk, in hopes of brighter days ahead.

Working under the alias of Skinnybones, Léon Lo (he/him) has been involved in the city’s underground music scene since the early 2000’s, releasing numerous electronic projects on his label, Skitracks, and many others, including Well Rounded Records, the Dimseniya compilation by Friends for Friends, and on La Rama Dubs with YlangYlang. Skinnybones also hosts monthly radio shows on La Face B and n10.as and notably boasts two MUTEK performances (in 2011 & 2018), among many other local events.

SKB04 is a delightfully bubbling selection of hardware jams compiled over the past four years, referencing classic techno and electro sounds, tinged with a sunny swing. We talked Bell Biv DeVoe snares, the Rave as a living organism, and how to keep the dance music community alive through Pandemic Part II in the interview below.

In the words of the artist himself: World-wide raving folx, hold tighter for days brighter.

Maya Hassa for Also Cool: The smooth brightness of the opening track of SKB04 feels like emerging for that first sunny walk in March, when spring is in the air and in your step, and you have the sudden urge to buy flowers and smile at everyone you see. You mention optimism, hope, and rebirth amid round two of “pandemonium” spring - what was your mood going into writing these jams?

Skinnybones: The tracks on SKB04 are quite old already, and predate the pandemic. I’ve tracked a lot over the years and accumulated a large backlog of recordings, from which I sequenced this release. I was meaning to put out a follow-up to my last cassette for some time, but things kept getting in the way. Then the pandemic sent all the rigid structures around me into free-fall, which opened me up to reevaluating my priorities, making time for things that were important to me, and spending time inhabiting my inner-world.

While I feel like that was a really valuable gift, I’m burnt-out like everyone else in town - and the thought of us having to sacrifice another summer is gut-wrenching. I wanted to assemble an album that wouldn’t play into despair, but wouldn’t be completely delusional in its optimism, either. I hope it can lift people’s spirits, while still acknowledging the challenges of the times.

Pre-order of SKB04. You get 1 track now (streaming via the free Bandcamp app and also available as a high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more), plus the complete album the moment it's released. Purchasable with gift card Pre-order Digital Album $5 CAD or more Send as Gift High-bias 44 minute cassette tape with Riso-printed 4-panel j-card.

MH: It's noticeable throughout the album, but especially in the second half, that the electro patterns groove with a unique swing. Even when an acid bass-line comes in on “Cold Snap,” the track has a jazzy quality to it. You called it “skewed jack swing.” How would you describe your musical inspiration for this album?

SKB: Skewed jack swing happened when I hurried to the studio to tap out a Bell Biv DeVoe snare roll, playfully recorded it, got over the novelty, and started world-building around it in earnest. I’m a very big fan of free jazz music, and though the similarities between it and dance music may seem few, the way musical motifs are combined outside the constraints of rhythm and harmony in free jazz informs a lot of my music. In a way, this is also reflective of skewed jack swing, taking a familiar setup that could easily fall into pastiche and bending it so that it becomes something unintended, unexpected, and true to itself.

MH: What is your creative process when making a track — do you tend to improvise?

SKB: I almost always have one starting point in mind, be it a drum pattern, a melody or a sample I’d like to use. I’ll lay that down first, then start building up elements around it until I have enough blocks to play with. That will usually be within the first hour. Then I’ll spend a considerably longer time just vibing the hell out. I have a hardware setup, so it’s me improvising, twiddling knobs and pushing buttons, probably making pamplemousse faces and breathing really hard the whole time. When I’ve gotten that out of my system, I have a good idea of the elements that work and the ones that are clutter, so I cut the fat and streamline it. I then work out an outline of the song structure, which usually leaves ample room for noodling, then record one take of a controlled jam, which I later trim down.

MH: “Namur” makes me miss emerging from a dark tunnel at 7am with amen breaks still ringing in my ears. In what ways have you been staying hopeful for the return of the dance music scene (if at all) throughout the past year's lockdowns?

SKB: I actually wrote a Medium piece a little while ago about how I miss going out dancing. I think if we allow ourselves to accept that raving may not come back as the romanticized image that we have of it in our minds, there is more room for hope. To me, raving isn’t only about dancing in a club, rubbing sweaty shoulders with strangers to loud music—though that sounds about as close to paradise as anything right now—it’s about being part of a larger living organism.

What can constitute a living organism is actually quite varied and we don’t necessarily have to stick to a venue + sound system + DJ + dancers formula. There might be countless other ways for the rave to exist which may or may not include physical proximity. I’m keeping fingers crossed for “may include,” and hope it’s soon, but if that’s not the case, I’m still totally down to put my body, my mind, and my time to contribute to keeping the rave going in a larger sense.

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Photo: Vincent Castonguay for Éditions 8888

Make-up: Ashley Diabo for TEAMM Agency

MH: Could you elaborate on what being part of a “living organism” means to you? Is it the experience of a unified community, the sense of solidarity brought upon by a shared emotional experience, maybe even the physical sense of interconnection or anonymity brought upon by dancing together? A combination of it all?

SKB: Apart from music, people, venues, and lighting, a rave is also made up of less readily-identifiable things like frequencies, bodies, pressure systems, secretions, intelligence, chemicals, trajectories, impulses, breath, blood, emotions, energy. All of these things are variable, and every one of them acts on and influences every thing else. If a tune I love comes on and I start dancing my heart out, that will definitely affect how the person next to me, who's never heard it before, receives it. All that goes back to the DJ and acts on what they do next, and how they do it.

At the same time, if I had a terrible meal before going out and that same tune comes on when I get to the rave, but this time I feel miserable and just want to crawl into a corner and be left alone, I will act on the rave in a completely different manner, and the experience might end up going in another direction entirely. So, because every little thing is tied together, I consider the rave to truly be a living organism.

MH: That response makes me want to capitalize the word “Rave,” so I’ll do it here. Do you have anything specific in mind when you mention alternative ways for the Rave to live on?

SKB: If we see how easily things from what we consider outside the rave can have an impact on what happens inside it, like the bad meal example I gave, we can also start to see how things from what we consider within the rave can impact things outside of it. An easy image is the low thumping pulse you can hear when crossing the street to get to the venue, and the rush of excitement it can provoke in you while you're technically not even there yet — or how that same sound is perceived by the people living down the block. Bearing all that in mind, inside and outside start to not be such important distinctions anymore, and what we think of as the rave's boundaries start to get blurry. So maybe I don't need to physically see the DJ in order to be part of the rave. Maybe I don't need to have my head in the bassbin of a speaker. Maybe it's my speaker at home, or a set of headphones in the forest, or VR goggles, or butterflies in my stomach when thinking of a song, a place, or someone.

MH: You have a vast discography, going back to your first self-release in 2017, spanning a longtime involvement in Montreal's music scene, which includes two live MUTEK performances and multiple festivals and party series. What has your experience been like as an independent artist — do you prefer to self-release versus working with a label?

SKB: To be honest, my self-promotion game has nothing on my artistic output. I’m not a very outgoing person, so I haven’t always secured the good connections. Because of that, and because I’m not very real-world goal-oriented when it comes to my music, I’m much more comfortable in self-initiated frameworks, be they releases or parties. I should also acknowledge that I’ve been surrounded by talented and gifted people throughout my music-making years, and that I’ve ridden on a lot of coattails, and benefitted from a lot of energy outside of my own. Nothing I’ve done has been self-initiated in the strictest sense.

I have also had the good fortune to have people from the world at large show an interest in my endeavors, and they’ve only been good experiences up to now. I’m always up for more! However, I have a day job and a small family, so I really prefer going at my own pace.

MH: Where can our readers find you (if you're hosting any streams, live shows, online performances, etc)?

SKB: I don’t have any shows lined up right now, but I host a monthly radio show, Sober Ravers Union, which airs every fourth Wednesday on La Face B . I mix records for an hour or two, and usually have mixes from guests of the non cis-white-het-dude-DJ persuasion. I also co-host another monthly radio show with my partner YlangYlang, Heavy Metal Parking Lot, which airs every fourth Saturday on n10.as. That show focuses on experimental music, found sounds and field recordings. Also, I used to put out a free download bootleg every month on my Bandcamp page. I may get around to doing that again, so that might be a good place to look!

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Yoo Doo Right Releases Title Track From Forthcoming Debut LP "Don't Think You Can Escape Your Purpose"

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Yoo Doo Right by Stacy Lee

Montreal krautrock trio Yoo Doo Right have released the title track from their first full length Don’t Think You Can Escape Your Purpose, out on hometown label Mothland May 21st, 2021. This six-minute slow-burn propels the listener through a metamorphosis of sound; tethering between a surfy trip and an atmospheric, spaced-out drone, while remaining wholly contemplative from start to finish. The single hints at a refined stride for the group, presenting a masterful cocktail of soundscapes and experimentations that make it clear their debut LP will have a strong first impression. On the release, the band comments: "It’s about a person who is losing touch with reality. Who thinks he has a higher purpose, and is supposed to be an ambassador to a higher extraterrestrial race. It’s a looming atmospheric rhythm and crawl."

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Yoo Doo Right by Stacy Lee

Alongside this anticipatory single, the band have also released an accompanying music video that is just as immersive as their otherworldly sound.

"In an attempt to achieve a higher purpose in life, the subject instead witnesses their own deteriorating mental posture. As a means of overcoming assumed existential risk (the hurdles of our great filter), the subject looks above and within believing that they alone have been chosen to solve the problems that our species faces. Images of Eva Szasz' 1968 short film Cosmic Zoom, produced by the National Film Board of Canada were cast over foliage to make for fitting imagery, complimenting the narrative."

- Justin Cober from Yoo Doo Right

Watch the video for “Don’t Think You Can Escape Your Purpose” below

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DON'T THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE YOUR PURPOSE

Available in digital, LP & CD formats via Mothland on May 21, 2021

1. A Certain Sense Of Disenchantment
2. 1N914
3. Marché Des Vivants
4. The Moral Compass Of A Self-Driving Car
5. Don't Think You Can Escape Your Purpose
6. Join, Be Curst
7. Presto Presto, Bella's Dream
8. Black Moth

All songs written by Yoo Doo Right.

Tracks 1, 2, 3, 7 and 8 recorded by Guillaume Chiasson at Le Pantoum, Québec City. Tracks 4, 5 and 6 recorded by Sébastien Fournier at Hotel2Tango, Montréal. Mixed By Guillaume Chiasson. Mastered by Harris Newman at Greymarket Mastering, Montréal. Artwork by Louis-Alexandre Beauregard.

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Yoo Doo Right

Instagram | Facebook | Youtube

Bandcamp | Spotify | Apple Music

Zoë Argiropulos-Hunter (She/Her) is the Co-Founder and Editor of Also Cool Mag. Aside from the mag, she is a music promoter & booker, radio host & DJ, and a musician.

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Premiere: punctï Makes a Case For Colouring Inside the Lines With "Surprise"

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punctï is the most intriguing practice of musical constraints since Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies (or at least we think so). Turning the concept of limitation on its head, multifaceted experimental artist Laura Bardsley (and her alternating cast of one-off collaborators) strive(s) to embrace a “less is more” mindset by creating an album once a month following the same set of guidelines: composition, recording and overdubbing are done in the first, single session, and; post-production is done in another session, who’s duration is roughly the same length as the first. By cultivating a conceptual environment that aims to stretch the possibilities of performance and improvisation, Bardsley captures the “noise, meditation and inner turmoil” at the core of “Yes-Wave.” At the same time, Bardsley explains that “[the] project is all about reclaiming that childhood joy and wonder, without all the learned insecurity.”

Today, punctï premieres her 48th release, Surprise. In 15 tracks that graze the minute mark, punctï paces, yo-yos and chips away at the question she asks herself time and time again: “How do you feel today?” We had the chance to catch up with Bardsley on tinkering solo with her sampler, the restlessness of late-capitalism, and why Tiffany Haddish is “nobody’s bitch” to celebrate the four years of punctï. Check out our full interview below.

Zoë Argiropulos-Hunter for Also Cool: Hi Laura! Thank you so much for chatting with Also Cool. Before we get into the specifics of your latest album Surprise, let's talk about the punctï project. What inspired you to pursue such an ambitious endeavor? In what ways has working within the punctï framework impacted your artistic process, as a musician or as a performance artist?

Laura Bardsley: punctï started 4 years ago on a rather dejected Valentine's Day evening. I had a four track app on my phone and decided to make at least four tracks with the app in one night. After releasing my first album, I realized that it would be super fun to continue making albums in very short time-frames, especially if I collaborated with other artists. [The constraints of punctï] allow my collaborators and I to flex our music muscles every month, and I’ve learned enough about producing, mixing and mastering that I’ve realized there is so much more to learn.

I learned that Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner's relationship was built on a set of rules, just like punctï. It's really illuminated the endless possibilities of what is possible under a specific framework. For performing, I channel a disillusioned office worker, and it's a blast because: a) I've never worked in an office, so it's an acting challenge, and; b) It's a meld of performance art, music, choreography and comedy; sincerely the most fun I can have in one performance.

Also Cool: On that note, you've spoken to how your work channels and critiques feelings of restlessness and inadequacy within the constraints of late-capitalism. How has your perception of, and relationship with, these concepts changed and impacted the spirit of punctï with the dawn of COVID-19 and working-from-home?

LB: My perception of these concepts has only been cemented by the onset of COVID-19, but with more hope for change and growth than ever before. We're at a point where the whole world is experiencing this restlessness and these feelings of inadequacy. Somehow in our shared anxieties, there is a general understanding that this system is worn out and in need of replacement.

I've been doing remote sessions with my collaborators for most of the pandemic, and it definitely is more of a challenge to get into a creative, open and non-insecure mindset. Thankfully, we have the internet and all its gifts… Although I do truly prefer working with people IRL, and will cherish those sessions when they come back.

AC: Something I noticed when studying the punctï project as a whole is that all your collaborative albums reflect different levels of spontaneity. Can you speak to this notion of "Yes-Wave" that you and your collaborators embrace, and how you embody its mindset throughout your production process?

LB: I attribute the spontaneity to the time constraints and spirit of the project: each album is a record of my collaborators and I are at in that moment of our lives. What is grinding our gears right now? What makes us giggle? What makes us nostalgic?

One of my rules for punctï is that if you really like what you're playing, really feeling it, then change it. Make it better, make it different and challenge yourself to explore it. I used to worship No-Wave music, but at a point the rejection of musicality got old to me — I don't want to reject it, I wanna embrace it. I wanna say Yes to The Wave washing over me.

AC: You've tapered off from partnering with another artist to create Surprise entirely solo. What caused this shift and what influences did you bring into the work?

LB: I've produced the occasional solo punctï album, and since this month marks the project’s four year anniversary, I decided to do it alone. As for constraints, I only used my Sampler PO-33 KO, voice, and bass on one track. I was inspired by Tierra Whack's Whack World, where she made 15 one minute songs. Obviously I'm no Tierra Whack, and some of my tracks are over one minute long, but I really enjoyed making Surprise. At points I wanted to make more sample-based tunes, which I pepper into the record. There's bitter stuff, like "Previous Her,” nostalgia for recess on "Snow Worlds,” sex in "Eyes,” and of course, the anxiety of the pandemic in "Like A Lazy Aristocrat.” Oh, and a song about Tiffany Haddish, cause she's the best.

AC: I feel like with any work, there is always some "lessons learned" sentiment that lingers after it's fully realized. If this idea rings true to you, what has been the main take-away from Surprise?

LB: I think because I make an album per month, it's usually not really until later, looking and listening back that I get some kind of a "lessons learned" feeling. The main takeaway from this album is one I keep having to remind myself of: Why try? Why the fuck not.

AC: To close off, do you plan to continue the punctï monthly releases? Do you have any other projects or collaborations you'd like to plug?

LB: I'm pretty sure I'm gonna keep doing punctï until I die. I did the math and at age 69, I'll be producing album #420.

I do more accessible music under Blue Odeur. My newest single "Foam Born" is out on all platforms and on YouTube with a snazzy video.

Listen to Surprise below!

punctï

Spotify | Bandcamp | Youtube

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Laura Bardsley

Website

Zoë Argiropulos-Hunter (She/Her) is the Co-Founder and Editor of Also Cool Mag. Aside from the mag, she is a music promoter & booker, radio host & DJ, and a musician.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

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Premiere: Lindus asks, "After the Haze, What?"

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Cover art: Bénédicte Morin

Whether it’s work fatigue, COVID-fatigue, or just feeling plain tired of being in situations, the experience of being stuck in a fog seems ubiquitous. Lindus has been roaming the shadows of the underground music scene for over a decade. Now based in Toronto, he’s freed himself from corporate shackles and produced a highly emotional 5-track EP called After the Haze, What? for Liquid Love Records’ third release. This psychedelic house record is the product of transcending the barriers of an unfulfilling lifestyle and stifled creativity, of growth, and of bravely asking the question, “What comes next?”

Check out our interview with Lindus - and don’t forget to listen and support - below:

Lindus makes his Liquid Love Records debut offering a heavily emotional and unique five-track EP of deep, psychedelic, house. “Rubber” kicks off with a minimalist, bass-laden take on the Eastern European micro sound: think Rhadoo making modular synth loops. Things speed up on “More Underground”, a Montrealer’s take on Jeff Mills retold through distant memories of summer loft parties and winter mornings spent at the mythical Stereo club. Haze gives way to texture and melodies with the delicate euphoria of “In My Wires” and “For These Places We Loved” - rhythmic dance tracks while basking in the melancholic, distant calls of re-pitched vocals and outlandish synths. It's finally time to leave the club and things wrap up with “Try Not To Forget”, the kind of pronounced dark techno hit whose energy contrasts the fading body of the early morning raver. Lindus has been a bedroom musician for over a decade and is currently based in Toronto, Canada, where he works on themes of originality, process and the possibility (or lack-thereof) of transcendence in music. After The Haze, What? EP drops Wednesday 27th January via Bandcamp. 1. Rubber (Loop Mix) 2. More Underground 3. In My Wires 4. For These Places We Loved 5. Try Not To Forget Bandcamp: https://linduslindus.bandcamp.com/album/after-the-haze-what

Maya for Also Cool: How did you get into making music?

Lindus: I'm part of the internet generation - it's where my first connections came from. Sites like OiNK [Oink’s Pink Palace, now shut down], the first private torrent site, introduced me to some extremely nerdy internet stuff, which then expanded into music and music sharing.

I never really discovered much music through friends - most of it was through there - and the people on it listened to a lot of post-rock, like Godspeed [You! Black Emperor] and Explosions In The Sky - then everyone started getting into Burial’s end-of-the-world vibe. It was a time when the internet was a communication hub, but not as standardized as it is today. You had to crawl through lots of forums.

In 2010, MUTEK did a crazy showcase in Montreal. They featured Kode9, Spaceape, Flying Lotus, and Martyn - they were really on top of it that year. I started getting into dubstep and discovered clubbing through that - which in retrospect was a weird introduction to [the scene]. So my musical brain at the time looked like a mix of dubstep, psytrance, and all the Montreal post-rock bands like Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Silver Mt. Zion.

Also Cool: When did you start producing your own tracks?

Lindus: There's something about the world of dance music where there’s a high chance that someone who is consuming it is also participating in creating it. Especially back then, no one was buying gear - we were all making beats on the computer. There was a sense that anyone could try it. Lots of people downloaded the free version of Fruity Loops [FL Studio] and tried their hand at making music. That was when going to parties and making music started to overlap for me. I began making loops and sharing them online - before Soundcloud became so popular, people were using other platforms, like Myspace.

AC: Your write-up on the record describes a melancholy night at Stereo - do you have an emotional connection to that nightclub?

Lindus: Around 2011, there was a split in the scene - something broke at a local level, where what was originally supposed to be about music started having social consequences.

People started going into totally different scenes - some went from dubstep to bro-step, and some people realized they needed something new. A notable transition track was Joy Orbison's Hyph Mngo - it's deep, it's physical - like dubstep - but it sounded new. So a lot of dubstep heads transitioned to house and techno, myself included.

At one point people started hosting parties at this place called Velvet. One time I showed up with my roommate - we were like 18 or 19, just these awkward guys who went to these parties they found a link to online. When we showed up to Velvet, we got bounced - the bouncer actually pretended that we got the wrong address.

To me that was a sign that something in the scene had changed. The people putting on those parties were making a kind of shiny house music that was becoming really popular at the time - and all of a sudden these new venues would check you when you came in. That was totally unlike the [more relaxed] dubstep parties. At that point, it was a departure from the [underground] scene - it became more corporate. There was a car brand called Scion that put a bunch of money into these parties - I think that's when Red Bull also started getting involved - it felt really stale.

Maybe a year later, I went to Stereo for the first time, and it felt like a new community. It was like discovering a new part of dance music that I didn't know, because I didn't grow up with house or techno at all. When you're in there during the weird hours, like seven-thirty to nine [A.M.], you’d notice a special type of vibe - and the music made so much sense for the room.

That's also when I understood why people had to play house and techno in certain settings - you’re not going to play dubstep at seven in the morning when most people in the room are tripping. I tied the utility of the music with the scene and the space - and suddenly things made sense for me.

Then I just kept going. I definitely went to some weird nights. I saw Solomun there, which made me realize, “wow, they can really pack it with bros,” then I went to CLR Chris Liebing nights, where everyone was dressed in black and the music had really clean and crisp production and sounded super mechanical. I also went to see Danny Tenaglia and other house classics there - and those nights were great. It felt like I was entering into dance music history.

AC: How do you think SoundCloud affected the development of underground music culture - and the politics of it?

Lindus: Form became really important. I usually think of the Low End Theory stuff [the experimental club night responsible for Flying Lotus’ rise to fame, among others]. When that album came out, it was just at the beginning of the Internet. Everyone picked up on the formal characteristics of it - like the sidechaining, the pads, and the unquantified beats. Because of the Internet, like a week later, people from Sweden were copying those beats. Music felt really decentralized. You could also say democratized, because there were more people taking part in creating [these new genres].

With dubstep, there was this messianic thing. There was this vision of a scene in the UK - and with me being far away in Canada, experiencing this new genre from the UK felt full of promise. It didn't have anything to do with the formal characteristics of the music - it was more about the vibe, the projects, the communities. When people started getting good at Ableton and making really quick clones of beats, it made it hard to situate the music and sound within a scene. You no longer knew who to look to for leadership. Now it's easy to connect with a lot of people online and you can build community through the online medium.

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Credit: Liquid Love Records

AC: Why sad nights at Stereo?

Lindus: Dance music got so big, and happiness became such a key part of the messaging that was used to sell it. Suddenly everything was like a Zedd music video - starting with some lady working at her boring office job, then the beat drops, and all of a sudden she's dancing on a beach.

Transcendence and dissociation through dance music became a push for happiness. They lowered the booth and stereo at some point, and that was a big change because all of a sudden, the DJ was like right there, six feet away from you. You got sold so much on the idea that every night you went, you had to have [the time of your life] - so my anticipation would really build up. With time, I became more attuned to the fact that things didn’t really have to go that way.

There was this one night that I went to Stereo with Martin [Liquid Love Angel], and we saw Jeff Mills. Immediately after his set, Mills suddenly disappeared with a small group of people - there was just no community vibe in there. It was really the antithesis of the dance music "promise" that you're going to go in and find community and warmth.

It felt grim - Jeff Mills played for like three hours and one minute. That's probably what the contract said, but it wasn't just about how that specific night went, it was about the industry of expectations and selling you this dream. It became even more commercial with things like Boiler Room and hyper-produced videos of parties with messaging like, "This could be you..."

AC: So what is it about a club culture that isn't necessarily the foam parties and euphoria that get marketed to us?

Lindus: Like with any artform, you can experience different emotions through music - there are sad tracks, you can feel melancholia, dissonance. Sometimes you actually can't lose yourself in the music - and maybe that's a good lesson to have. Compare that to times when you feel like ravers are in disregard of the world that they're in, where raving seems to be all about consumption and taking drugs. Everything is focused on the self. Or when you see people throwing water bottles at Stereo - it's stupid - and you can really feel the disregard for the context and the space that these people have. They don't give a shit about your experience - they're only there to have a “great” night.

Another thing is that the sadness you might feel is not necessarily the minor-chord type. You feel it with the cliché of leaving a club in the morning and seeing people go to work. Why does it feel weird to be on the subway at 10:00 AM on a Sunday and seeing people way older than you going to their real jobs? How do you relate to that?

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Credit: Liquid Love Records

AC: Coming back to the album, and more specifically its title, did you transition from a corporate job into making music? What's the story behind that?

Lindus: I studied philosophy in grad school. When I graduated, I didn't really know what to do. I was in Toronto and there were just so many corporate jobs. So I got one, and it was soulless. It's a cliché that corporate work has no soul, but working for one of the big insurance companies, I was thrown into this completely regimented life - there was no originality. Everything was processed and repetitive. At one point I just couldn't do it anymore, so in August I quit, after over two years.

I found a space with some friends, and I was so over the structured lifestyle, that I decided to just smoke a lot of weed, sit in this basement, and make music. It was such a strong response to everything that I had experienced - a real loss of hope from being in that regimented world where you couldn't really want anything, where the barrier between what was true or not was really blurry. Corporate messaging was so often around keeping people motivated and engaged - that involves mountains of deception. I got out of there with such a deep feeling of nihilism - without even really realizing it - but [in the basement] there was nothing to do but smoke weed and make music.

AC: So what's after the Haze? What's the story behind the album title?

Lindus: It's in reference to that hazy time after leaving my corporate job. Standard stuff like going to therapy, starting to figure yourself out, building a healthier relationship with yourself in the second half of your twenties.

I really enjoyed the Haze - I found a lot of comfort in being stoned, going to parties, and things feeling kind of approximate. I also always liked music with tons of reverb. When I abandoned the corporate lifestyle, I still felt the haste of it. Wake up, get high, go to the studio - I was still totally drowning in those loops.

At one point, I faced the question: what do you do after that? The Haze is kind of atemporal - you're high, then you're tired from the high, then you sleep, and then you get high again. It's hard to make change from within that circularity. It's kind of like being in a relationship, when you're at a point where you want to know what comes next. You can't really put it into words, but there's a striving for [growth].

This project is me striving for something beyond the Haze.

After the Haze, What? is available on Bandcamp at the link below:

After the Haze, What? by Lindus, released 27 January 2021 1. Rubber (Loop Mix) 2. More Underground 3. In My Wires 4. For These Places We Loved 5.

Written and produced by Lindus
Mixed by Lindus.
Additional arrangement by Martin Cadieux-Rouillard.
Mastered by Cristobal Urbina at See You Mastering.
Cover by Bénédicte Morin

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Music Creating Its Own Universe: Dileta Cultivates Eclectic Energy in the Electronic Music World

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Dileta by Moussa Fellahi

From screamo band member to popular Montreal techno DJ, Pascal Rivard, better known as Dileta, is nothing short of a unique and remarkable artist. Prior to meeting them in person for the first time in July, I had seen Rivard perform several times at parties and at raves; their eccentric energy enlivening the room still fresh in my memory. Last month, I had the opportunity to interview Rivard over Zoom, and we discussed music, COVID, and the Montreal electronic music scene.

Born and raised in Ahunstic, Rivard has always been close to Montreal and its dynamic artistic community. They began their musical career in heavy metal and screamo bands during high school, playing bass, guitar, and – you guessed it – as a screamer. During this time, the most popular form of electronic music in Montreal was psytrance, which Rivard would not come to enjoy until much later: “At the time I was too stuck up in my idea of what music was,” they explain. Their musical beginnings still linger as remnants in their electronic music many years later: “Looking back on it I was looking for the same characteristics in the music I was listening as what I enjoy in dance music now. I was always more into the textures and moods, and rhythm play and angularness of the music, more than technical prowess, which is a lot of metal.”

What first initiated their transition into electronic music was their encounter with the coldwave scene in Montreal, a genre they describe as “dark, 80s-inspired, minimal synth music.” Going to coldwave shows was their first “real experience with dance music,” and soon became a full-time passion. While they were living in Sherbrooke studying electrical engineering, they became friends with a Montrealer who showed them “everything about UK bass music, jungle, hardcore, garage, all of that;” genres still very much present in their newer music. “And that’s when it kind of exploded in my brain,” they explain.

The first parties they organized were small ones in the basement of their Hochelaga apartment, after finishing their degree and moving back to Montreal. “Me and a few friends of mine were all taking turns trying to learn.” Their first event, “Bad Timing,” was at La Sotterenea in the Plateau, and presented in collaboration with Lésions. “It was pretty full, and people were dancing… We didn’t know where we were going with all these styles of music, but it was really fun.”

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Dileta by Moussa Fellahi

Rivard has since become a staple in the underground Montreal DIY techno scene. Before the pandemic put a halt to all cultural and musical public phenomena, Rivard was achieving what they describe as their “dream life, which was a bit crazy.” As a musical performer, they had never been so busy. They had their music and event platform, Coolground, busy with projects, and were also doing shows as a resident for Homegrown Harvest, a prominent rave-organizing collective in Montreal. “It was so fulfilling and so fun and I got to meet all these amazing new people in the scene all the time,” they said. “Until that all stopped… It was a bit demoralizing.” They now focus on guest and radio mixes, such as with Montreal-based radio n10.as. “I rent a studio and I can still go play loud music, that’s what’s been saving me I think.”

 Another online music-sharing platform they have been playing for is Music Is My Sanctuary, or MIMS. Rivard and one of the platform’s founders had been in touch, and “the two of us hit is off because we’re two ridiculous music dorks, like we enjoy finding music and digging in rabbit holes.” Shortly after the pandemic began, one of the founders asked Rivard to record a mix for MIMS. Now, Rivard makes a seasonal mix every three months for MIMS and is part of the new-release picks team, which chooses new records every week to promote. Alongside these projects and their full-time job as a software developer, they explain they are “still practicing multiple times a week, and trying to perfect vinyl mixing, which is really hard.”

At the time of the interview, their then-latest mix was their favorite they had ever recorded (since then they have released their newest mix dimlit). The mix, titled Skyway Uplink, is a rollercoaster - not only in terms of BPM changes, but in also  track genres, equalization, layering, fading, blending, and grooves. It has enough variation to satisfy any musical taste, literally. According to the Soundcloud description, there’s “IDM, tech house, broken beat, wonky techno, speed garage, club, nu-disco, hardgroove techno, grime/RnG, ghetto house, hardcore, some hard to classify stuff.”

Presented by coolground founder dileta, SKYWAY UPLINK wires you out of routine and into a new simulation every season. You'll find yourself whirling through winding lanes lit by all kinds of coloured gleams and glares. This first installment is deeply inspired by the works of composer Hideki Naganuma and the Japanese bass scene, with a focus on pitched vocal chops, processed funk elements, video game nods, and ultra-electronic speed - let's call it CYBERFUNK. Actual genres included: IDM, tech house, broken beat, wonky techno, speed garage, club, nu-disco, hardgroove techno, grime/RnG, ghetto house, hardcore, some hard to classify stuff.

It includes a lot of influence from cyberfunk, a genre “I’m kind of obsessed with right now,” says Dileta. “It’s really high speed, really synthetic, with really bright synth, really processed, and with video game music influences.” The mix perfectly captures what Rivard searches for in their music: spontaneity and unpredictability. Rivard did about twenty different takes for the first five minutes of the set, and the rest of the two hours in just one. “I felt like I had run a marathon,” they said, chuckling. “I was so concentrated while I was doing it… I was drenched in sweat by the end.”

There is no clear categorization Dileta identifies with in terms of a musical genre or style: “I go everywhere…. If you listen to my mixes it’s going to be all over the place.” BPM is one of the many techniques they like to play around with, but their intent is to stay unpredictable with it. “The instinctual way is to start at 120 and to go up to 170 or 180 or something, but I’ve been trying to do other stuff recently because it gets too predictable and my little teenage angst rebel spirit wants to be unpredictable,” they explain.

They have done sets before which stayed at a steady 115 BPM before suddenly going up to 175 at the end. “You need to feel it, but it can be a powerful too.” For those less familiar with this kind of terminology, imagine listening to Kelly Clarkson’s “What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger” all the way through until the last 30 seconds, and suddenly switching to Iron Maiden’s “Run to the Hills.” Rivard is also keen on practicing cuts with the faders, “less common with the Berlin techno way of doing things, or the house way or the UK bass way, it’s really from Detroit, like from the old school electro-DJs from Detroit, they always have two tracks, [flipping] them with the faders.”

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Dileta by Moussa Fellahi

One way to better understand Rivard’s music is through their description of the meaning behind the title of the mix Skyward Uplink: it means nothing. “I like to put words together that make you think of things, but don’t really mean the things they mean,” they explain. “If you read them together they don’t mean anything, but they make you feel things. It’s a bit how I approach DJing, too.”

The variation and diversity within Dileta’s sets are due in large part to the sheer amount of time and effort they regularly spend digging and searching for music. On average, for a 60-minute set, they will have 1,000 songs on their playlist to choose from and will have planned one or two tracks as the anchor of the rest of the set. On their Recordbox alone, they have around 30,000 tracks: “It’s getting out of proportion, but it’s well tagged so I can find what I want.” In terms of technique, Rivard focuses on different blending methods and layering: “It’s a lot of chemistry experiments, like layering things on top of each other and in front of each other in a temporal way.” They describe staying up until 5 am just to discover new music: “My hunger for musical discoveries is a bottomless pit.”

Rivard identifies with what they call the “Mile-End core, queer scene” of the larger Montreal electronic music community. “Montreal is divided into so many scenes, it’s a lot of microcosms of genres of dance music,” they explain. “There’s an industrial techno scene, there’s a minimal house scene, the psytrance scene.” The DIY scene they are a part of organizes underground (sometimes literally, for those who know) dance parties, but also tries to stay politically engaged and community oriented. “I think I love my scene honestly… There’s a lot of concern of safety, always touching upon subjects, [and] trying to do better,” they explain.

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Dileta by Moussa Fellahi

Organizing these parties is easier said than done – and for rave collectives in Montreal, the process of finding and being able to pay for venues is not a simple task. “We don’t have many clubs in Montreal which are open to, let’s say, left-field dance music,” says Dileta “A lot of it is done in DIY venues… Sadly most owners don’t really align with our values, it’s always about having to make a compromise to get in some spaces that are [in] more of a capitalist mindset.” The best solution, they argue, would be for the organizers to own venues themselves. “We’re in our little queer political bubble where we think we’ve got our values, and it’s all set and all understood by the scene but you get out… It gets more tense.”

One of their favorite aspects of the scene is the interconnectedness and support found between the organizers, DJs, and participants during raves. “You always feel close to the performers,” they reminisce. “Rave is a feeling when you can lose your body and forget your bodily restraints… I love playing when people are ready to go wild like that.” The conversation with Dileta reminded me of just how much artists and people in DIY communities have always found alternatives to produce and share art in the face of barriers, and with this pandemic it has become clear.

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Dileta by Moussa Fellahi

Dileta

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Soline Van de Moortele is a Philosophy student at Concordia/insatiable feminist, raver, and writer. 

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Introducing Messkina: The Montreal DJ Setting Herself Apart With Unapologetic Self-Acceptance

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

Picture yourself on a hot and unfamiliar beach, dancing to your escape from a busy routine towards an enchanting adventure. This scene describes DJ Messkina’s perfect setting to have her music pumping. 

After only a year of taking up DJing, the 21-year-old Montreal-based performer of Cameroon and Congolese descent has played in Montreal’s most popular clubs, such as Apt.200, SuWu, Datcha, Le Salon Daomé and Ti-Agrikol, to name a few. She’s even produced mixes for Moonshine and the major Brooklyn-based art collective Papi Juice, which celebrates the lives of the LGBTQ+ community.

Messkina’s unapologetic self-acceptance is what led to her DJ alias Messkina. It is the playful combination between her first name, “messy,” and the Arabic word miskeena for “unfortunate”  — a moniker she says echoes her character. 

Set apart by her contagious confidence and bold charm, Messkina’s presence behind the DJ booth encourages you to be yourself and dance to her carefully-selected house tracks influenced by the sounds of afro-fusion. 

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

Dressed in a cropped pink velour jacket coupled with matching sparkly velour flared pants, Messkina met up with me in her Saint-Henri apartment to discuss her unusual journey as an emerging talent, and her newest mix “Philantropute.”

“I started producing mixes at a really dark period in my life,” says Messkina. “It was right when I dropped out of college and got temporarily fired from the strip club where I was dancing,” she says before she pauses briefly. 

“Who knew you could get fired from a strip club?” she laughs.

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

The artist shares dealing with social anxiety starting at an early age, which kept her from staying motivated and performing academically. 

“Going to school was very demanding for me, and I smoked a lot of weed to get by,” she explains.

It was at this moment that she decided to pursue something new. 

It was shortly after that she responded to a call-out on social media looking for DJs. This led to her very first gig which was at the Mme Lee nightclub in Montreal’s Latin Quarter.

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

“It was packed. I was shaking because I was so nervous, but I did it.” she says.

Leaving school and her job as a sex worker ended up being a blessing in disguise as it pushed her to get back in touch with her creative side, and discover making music as a new-found passion.

Messkina quickly found her distinctive and diverse sound; which pulls together melancholic melodies, hip-hop, African drums and house music. 

“I make music that makes you want to dance. Not to bang your head to, but just vibe to the rhythm,” says the DJ. “Although, I still consider myself new to the scene, and I still have a long road ahead of me in terms of experimentation,” she says. 

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

Social distancing and other public health restrictions amid the COVID-19 pandemic have inherently changed the way DJs perform. At the beginning of the lockdown, Messkina tried live-streaming her sets and felt disappointed by the lack of connection with her audience.  

“I don’t like Zoom parties. It’s boring to me,” she says. “It’s not the same without an audience, as you don’t really know how it sounds and you miss out on instant feedback.”

“It was really nice to be able to perform again in person when bars were reopened. People were tired of being inside and wanted to go to the club. Although dancing was prohibited, they seemed to just enjoy their time out and socializing.”

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

Messkina shares that despite the mental toll the lockdown has had on her, she’s used her free time to think about the style and aesthetics she wishes to pursue in her musical career.

“I have broadened my horizons musically and discovered several musical genres that I wouldn't necessarily have appreciated a few months ago,” she explains. 

Her newest mix, “Philantropute,” is quite different from her previous mixes, featuring a higher-energy and dazzling tempo.

“It is more upbeat, hectic, and chaotic. It represents where I am mentally at the moment,” says Messkina.

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Messkina by Victoria Gravel

Listen to Messkina’s latest mix “Philantropute” out now

Keep up with Messkina

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Written by Stéphanie Ricci

Stéphanie Ricci is a Montreal-based freelance multimedia journalist. Currently completing a journalism major coupled with a sociology minor at Concordia University, she is passionate about storytelling in all forms, but is particularly invested investigative work, writing about arts and culture, and creating original content.

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Photo: @victoriagravel

Hair: @iceboxhair

Nails: @jazzzynailz

MUA: @crazycattie_makeup

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Also Cool x POP Montreal Premiere: Eve Parker Finley's "Come With Me"

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Photo credit: Laurence Philomène

While a caterpillar enters a chrysalis before transforming into a butterfly, Eve Parker Finley’s seamless blends of classical, electronic, ambient, indie pop, and folk music create safe spaces for listeners to reconcile with their emotions - and maybe even with their own transformations. The Montreal-based producer, multi-instrumentalist, media maker, and facilitator is premiering “Come With Me” (linked at the end) off her debut album Chrysalia, which will be released on December  4th with Florafone Records and Coax Records. She is also performing at this year’s POP Montreal on the Rialto Theatre rooftop at 3pm on September 24th - tickets are still available to see her IRL! We caught up with her on the new album, making video art, TikTok, and filming a video for virtual Miss Gay Panama 2020. Indulge below:

Maya for Also Cool Mag: You're releasing a new album - what's it about?

Eve Parker Finley: I'm releasing my first full album, and the official date is now December 4th, which is super exciting. It's called Chrysalia, and it's a bunch of songs that I've written over the past year or two years. I recorded it last summer with my friend Ky Brooks and I'm super happy with it. It's called Chrysalia because there's this word, “chrysalism”, that describes that feeling of pleasure you get when you're inside during a thunderstorm. So that, mixed with chrysalis, which obviously everyone thinks is what a caterpillar goes into to be safe and calm before it turns into a butterfly.

But actually, in the chrysalis, the caterpillar turns into a pile of goo and has to reconstitute itself - and it's super messy and gross. So [a combination of] those two things, plus I wanted it to sound a little more feminine, so that's why it's Chrysalia.

MH: You made a post on Instagram where you were talking about the idea of transformation - was that tying into the theme of this album and the title itself?

I feel like I'm always trying to reinvent myself. It ties back to my experiences through life and music. When I was a kid, I was in the classical music world from age four to 17, and I learned a lot through that, but I also found the culture really restrictive.

I remember my violin teacher was even like, "No one can wear nail polish or watches, or even too much jewelry here, because it's distracting,” and we'd play these competitions where people would finish and then bow to the three people in the room - and then everyone would be like, dead silent.

It was such an uptight culture - and no wonder so many people leave and stop playing music because of that. So I fell out of love with music when I was 17 and moved to Montreal. Here I found another way to do music and fell into more of a music scene. I eventually found my way back to violin electronics in a way that I found more exciting.

I started making music on my own, changed the genre of music I was making a bunch of times, changed names a few times. Now we're here in - I don't think my final form - but here we are.

MH: So no longer Lonely Boa? Or is that still a name that you go by for certain projects?

Lonely Boa has been retired.

It was definitely a really hard decision. I spent a lot of quarantine thinking about it. It's really scary to just start releasing music by your own name. That name of Lonely Boa has been really helpful for me to have a constant stage name throughout a bunch of gender name changes. But now it's time to come into my own and just be like, "I'm this person making this music and doing all these other things and they're all me and I am all of them."

MH: Going back to the notion of goo in a cocoon - is there something about the texture of sludge that interested you?

Yeah, totally. There are a couple songs on the album that are what I would describe as sludgy. The album is a kind of mix of genres. There are a couple songs that are contemporary classical, a couple songs that are more like indie pop bangers, alternative pop bangers. And then there are a couple of drone-ey, sludgy songs.

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MH: So you're making electronic music that’s meshed with more classical sounds - and maybe you're just creating your own genre - but what influences do you have for that?

For the longest time I had trouble describing what kind of music I made, and then I was like, "Oh, why am I trying to put this into a box?" I don't think people want to listen to just one kind of music anymore. I like to say that my music floats between three points of a triangle, which are indie pop/electronica, drone-y ambient, and contemporary classical.

MH: What are you listening to? What kind of music are you into that maybe isn't even related to what you're making? What do you find cool?

If you scroll through my Spotify "liked" songs playlist, you will find a big mix of pure pop music - you have Gaga, I've been really obsessed with the pussycat dolls recently (again) -  but I also love Tame Impala, indie pop music, I love some R&B, and a lot of folk-y/new folk music. I also love some noise stuff - like ARCA.

MH: What have you been up to these past few months - I noticed you had gotten into video production and were somehow involved in Miss Gay Panama? Like... I need to know.

So, I had a bit of a life change the past half a year. Back in January, I felt burnt out at my stressful job at McGill. I left in January, and then moved into an apartment by myself for the first time - and a month later the shit hit the fan!

 [During lockdown] I really had to learn how to be by myself and how to cancel out everything I thought I was going to do - all the shows, I was going on tour in June - and just  learn how to take care of myself and cook food, do laundry, and sleep.

I wanted to see what would happen if I could really focus on music in the next couple of years. [Because] when the pandemic happened, I was like, "Oh my God, what am I supposed to do? What can I do? What do I need to do?"

I thought about something I could easily share and realized I could start making videos. It seems like all of a sudden many of us [artists] have had to become video creators in a way that we weren't necessarily before.

I helped my friend win Miss Gay Panama Virtual 2020, which was so fun. We produced four different videos for the different categories - and it was really cool that she could participate from afar. We did a scrappy DIY - just a camera, a couple of lights, a little stabilizer borrowed from a friend, and a few friends helping - and we won!

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MH: Did you also get into TikTok?

I fell deep into the TikTok hole. I'm not as deep into it as I was a month ago, but it's so weird - it's beautiful and funny and intense, but it's also clearly designed to be this addictive feed of dopamine-releasing content. As much as I find it entertaining and love the medium and the style of wacky videos that people do, I don't want to get caught up in [a fad].

MH: Just last night I watched that Netflix documentary on social media called The Social Dilemma. It's interesting because TikTok and Instagram have been such important points of communication throughout the pandemic, and while we've all binge-scrolled on those platforms and know that they're unhealthy, [during the pandemic] social media has also been really helpful for people to feel less alone.

Don't get me started on The Social Dilemma - I thought it was informative and I agreed with a lot of it, but they kept saying that there's nothing good about social media, that it's not a tool for anything. just an addiction, made for advertising, whatever. But people find community through those things, especially when they're isolated, and I think that's legitimate.

MH: I think it's also an important resource for information that we've all been learning to take advantage of, especially these past few months.

Also good to remember it's controlled by a company.

MH: You're doing music full-time time now, while also not being able to have in-person gigs and go on tour like before - how has that transition been for you?

At first it was terrifying, because I was like, "How is this possible?" The CERB has been really helpful, but I'm not in a place of making any money from music yet. I'm just investing in it now - I'll see what happens. At the beginning it was stressful, but it's also been very exciting to see this real energy to create new things.

There seems to be a new kind of economy popping up, like Bandcamp Fridays, where a hundred percent [of the proceeds] goes to the artists - and that's been super helpful. A bunch of live streaming gigs have also started to happen - I did a gig for Suoni Per Il Popolo and this thing called Arts Cast, and I got paid to do it, and felt awesome to play a show. It was my first show since the pandemic, no audience, but we took the visual of it so seriously - there were five different camera angles, we made the set, designed the colors and everything.

People always find a way to play and share music.

Check out “Come With Me” on Bandcamp

Come With Me by Eve Parker Finley, released 17 September 2020 It took a Long time to find you and fine Me. But now we are Both free. So won't you come with me. Won't you come with me? Take me to the clouds. Won't you come with me.

Violin, Vox, Electronics, Sax by Eve Parker Finley
Written by Eve Parker Finley
Recording and Mixing by Ky Brooks
Cello by Alexis Castrogiovanni
Viola by Gwendolyne Krasnicki
Mastered by Harris Newman (Greymarket Mastering)
Recorded at The Pines in Montreal, Quebec

---

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Montreal-based Molyness brings Berlin, and Moroccan fusion to the techno scene

Photo of Molyness by Moussa Fellahi

This interview was initially recorded in French, translated by the author.

Having moved to Montreal from Morocco three years ago to pursue her passion for electronic music, Ines Mouline – better known as Molyness – brings a fusion of Gnawa, Sub-Saharan, Berlinesque, and orchestral influences into the scene, and her art.

I first met Mouline last summer at a techno afternoon party in the Mile-End. My friend introduced me to her, and I got to see her mix a set for the first time at the Newhaus, a club downtown where she has often played. It was back in Winter, we took a taxi down to the club lit with blue lights, behind a hidden door in the Dirty Dogs on de Maisonneuve. From there on I got to see Mouline frequently play, either at house parties, outdoor raves or larger venues.

Nestled in the back room of Le Café Depanneur, Mouline and I discussed her upbringing, her influences, the beginnings of her musical path, and her positionality in the electronic scene of Montreal.

Photo of Molyness by Soline Van de Moortele

The style of her music is rooted in her attachment to her native Moroccan culture. She describes her style as “melodic-techno.” Mouline was born in Casablanca, but spent most of her childhood and teen years in the capital, Rabat. It was here that Mouline began her musical career. She grew up seeped in music, her mother pushing her to play piano, and gave her rock & roll influences – particularly, Pink Floyd, whose long intros and sound design have inspired Mouline in her musical production.

At a young age, her mother, a musician, had her playing piano, guitar, and later the bass. “My mother is one of the people who enriches me the most,” she said, “in what I do, in the sense that she encouraged me from the beginning. She let me leave so I could pursue something that I love and that impassions me.”

She began playing electronic music in highschool, as it became “la tendance,” the trend. New electronic music gear was hard to come by in Morocco – when she visited Medina with her mom, Mouline bought her first used production material, and eventually her dad would bring her back a Pioneer from France. Finally, her first year in Montreal, she purchased her first controller and her Traktor S4 which she continues to use for her live sets.

Photo of Molyness by Moussa Fellahi

Mouline arrived in Montreal three years ago first to complete a certificate at Musictechnic, and after discovering electronic music as an immutable passion during this time, she took the next year off from school to build networks and perform around the city. Last year she began a Bachelors degree at Concordia in electronic music.

Most of Mouline’s evolution as an artist has come from each of her live performances – learning to gauge the public and space is something which demands an interaction with the energy given to her from her audience. “When I compare my first live sets, my first playlists, even people’s reactions, I’m told more and more that in my live sets people are able to better recognize my signature [as an artist]… More and more I let myself go, I let myself experiment a lot more.”

“Each time I perform a live set, it’s an experience, and I learn so much from each one.”

Photo of Molyness by Soline Van de Moortele

The first set she played was in Morocco, at a hotel party with a beautiful view her friend from school invited her to perform at back-to-back. “It was the best way for me to throw myself in front of an audience,” she explained. “It gave me a sense of confidence and that’s what we want.”

Her professional performances in Montreal kick-started when she met Abdel – stage name DJ Adverb – who plugged her for gigs across the city. He connected with her through his cousin who knew Mouline back in Morocco, and invited her to play an opening set for a party he was organizing at the downtown Montreal club the Newhaus: “He told me ‘You’re going to play at the Newhaus, it’s now that I need you.’ He had never heard a set of mine, nothing. He just trusted me.”

Mouline did the opening set for the night, and she recalled the experience as being “totally sick, it was just do dope.” From there on, Abdel became a kind of manager for her, booking her frequent shows at the Newhaus and the Velvet club in Old Port. She’s also played underground parties, in hidden indoor spots with more industrial techno. “I like the underground side, I like the intense side of it, but I think I’m someone who always prefers playing in nature.” In general, Mouline isn’t one to go out a lot in clubs or in raves that she might play in. “I don’t really go out in those places, I’ve never been the clubbing type…It’s an intense lifestyle to go out all the time.”

Photo of Molyness by Moussa Fellahi

I asked Mouline about her biggest influences. “The first, the biggest, is David August.” David August’s Boiler Room set from 2014 was the first set she ever watched. “Honestly, there were no mistakes. His live set was perfect.”

“His album from beginning to end… that’s the kind of thing I want to do. The essence is very different from what I do, but in everything relating to [his] sound design, the way he interacts with the sound, how precise it is.” Him and Nicolas Jaar were the first DJs she followed.

“In music a bit more Arab there’s Shame who’s really good, and Monsieur ID. They play around a lot with Gnawian music.”

Mouline also described to me with passion one of her all-time favorite collaborative albums, “Marhab” by Maalem Mahmoud Guinia, Floating Points, and James Holden. A friend in Morocco showed her the album before she arrived in Canada. The album was done in a town near Marrakech, in Guinia’s home. They spent two-weeks in his home recording the album. “It was just recorded jamming…[I love] that alchemy, and that mixture.”

“[The album] is a good reference to what I want to create,” but with her own, less intense style.

Photo of Molyness by Soline Van de Moortele

As a full-time student whose courses went online, Mouline lost most of her routine structure when the pandemic began raging in Montreal. That said, she was able to be productive, in part in her musical production, and in part in the places she was able to play at. It was the first summer she spent away from Morocco.

“Honestly, it had a more positive than negative impact for me. I recognize we were really lucky to be in Montreal, we weren’t completely restrained, there was trust in the population... There are always phases, moments that are easier than others, moments of putting yourself in question, but I took time for myself.”

“What I loved was that it gave space for newer artists.” Mouline had a chance to play in and organize smaller events at a more local level, rather than going through large, established organizations and collectives.

Photo of Molyness by Moussa Fellahi

With the pandemic raging on and limited access to large events, Mouline believes more local artists will be brought forth. For the Montreal scene, Mouline said she’d “encourage…the push for outdoor parties.”

There are some, including Piknic Electronik and Igloofest. “But the prices keep going up…. I’d want to keep the spirit of Montreal…Everyone must feel good. We gotta stop increasing festival prices every year, [and] play more with the local scene. There’s tons of choices here for local talent, and diversity. No need to go far.”

UTOPIA · Utopia x Electroftours presents Molyness

Right as our interview was finishing up and Mouline was getting ready to leave, I wanted to ask her one last question that, as a techno-lover but not a techno-player, I wanted to know: how do you choose your songs?

“This is what I really learned through live performance… Between my first lives and the ones I do now there’s a huge difference. I now realize that the pieces I listen to alone, those that really get me vibing, aren’t necessarily the best for performing. It’s a different approach… I couldn’t give you the exact words to describe which songs I perform live.”

“It’s about the rhythms, and how you bring [the different songs] in. I play around, it takes time, it’s frustrating, you have to listen to a lot of bullshit… it always takes several steps. Some days I go check stuff on Beatport, Bandcamp, a bit of anything, and I transfer them onto my YouTube playlists.”

Molyness

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 Soline Van de Moortele is a Philosophy student at Concordia/insatiable feminist, raver, and writer. 

Introducing Liquid Love: A label for the Montreal underground

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Liquid Love Records is a new project by Montreal-based producer and DJ, Martin Cadieux (AKA Liquid Love Angel). “Boundary Condition” marks the label’s second release, embracing the spirit of local collaboration and paying tribute to the city’s underground scene. Two original tracks by Cadieux are accompanied by remixes from Toronto-based Korea Town Acid and Hesk. The EP features original artwork by Francois Beauchesne.

“Boundary Condition” features a hammering acid bassline with a vocal sample of Stephen Hawking discussing his theory of the universe before the Big Bang, “My motto is there are no boundaries.”

Representing the local scene’s diversity and no-boundaries versatility of sound, what begins as a 160 BPM, drum and bass hard-hitter transforms into to a slower, more club-friendly house mix, until it’s finally reworked as an emotional IDM-flavored jam with Korea Town Acid incorporating sustained pads and emotive chord progressions. Meanwhile, Hesk is recognizable for his footwork productions - and his stuttering remix keeps the essence of the style’s rhythmics while simultaneously pushing its boundaries with elements of acid and techno. 

Pursuant to the label’s essence, the record was produced with an improvisational style to it, using live hardware - representative of how Liquid Love Angel and friends organize and play live analog shows around the city.

Martin: “Detroit, New York and Chicago - they have their own sound. I wanted to start a label to represent Montreal. We have such a beautiful and diverse city, and we have a lot to offer in terms of music, producers, and DJs... We have a very vibrant city.”

Attending Concordia University’s Electroacoustics program, Cadieux developed an interest in experimenting with analog synthesizers. Being around so many people with a similar passion inspired him to build his own platform - giving exposure to an unfailingly innovative underground dance music scene.

Martin: “I got tired of always listening to other people's music. We have great artists in Canada. I know a bunch of them. I went to school with them. I'm going to shows with them. I'm playing shows with them. 

It did take time - but now that I have all these people, I'm putting everything together, and I only plan on releasing more music. Just seeing where it goes.”

In the spirit of improvisation (we’re all winging it, right?) Martin recounted how the collaboration came to be:

Martin: “I didn't know how it was going to turn out. Jess [KTA] checked it out on Instagram in a 10-second clip and she asked, ‘What is that?’ - she made a comment on one of my posts and said she was going to be playing in Berlin in a few days, at this club called Wilde Renate. She wanted to play the track - and I hadn't finished it yet… 

Then she hit me up like two weeks later and said, ‘Hey, I'm going to play in this club - I want your track where is it? What's going on?’ 

It's hard to put yourself out there - the more I'm doing it, the more I'm impressed with other people. Constantly releasing music - yeah, it's for the love, but also it takes concentration. It takes effort.”

Korea Town Acid by Colin Medley

From the producer, to the remixer, to the sound engineer, to the cover art, putting out a record is a collective effort - it takes a lot of coordination, a lot of synergy. It’s exciting to see a DIY project come to life and shed light on the lesser-known gems in the city.

Martin: “This is the beginning of something important for me, and I'm hoping to bring out other artists I find interesting on the scene through this.”

All proceeds from “Boundary Condition” will be donated to a local organization dedicated to supporting POC in Montreal - get it here. 

Liquid Love Records

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Liquid Love Angel

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Korea Town Acid

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Premiere: Korea Town Acid Space Cadet

Photo by Colin Medley, album art (below) by Ashli Ahn

For her latest release, KTA (Korea Town Acid) was inspired by “conquering [the] astro universe” vibes, Jeff Mills, and the Little Prince.

The Korean born, Toronto-based artist is a DJ, producer, and live performer of mind-bending hardware sets. Her improvisational production approach generates raw, hypnotizing compositions that are like living organisms - endlessly moving, continuously evolving. Each track was written live in one take, using hardware, with no post-editing. 

With elements of both chaos and euphoria, the energy at the essence of this EP is definitely one of the core ingredients for life in space. Album artwork by Ashli Ahn.

Join KTA on an adventure across the Universe

Space Cadet by Korea Town Acid, released 04 June 2020 1. Magic Spells 2. In Your Dreams One Live Hardware Take Adventure With Korea Town Acid

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