The Fat Angel Sings

San Francisco shoegaze four-piece Aluminum have announced a new album, “Iconoclast HaHa”, and the band shared its lead single, “Killing Time,” . “Iconoclast HaHa” is due out October 30th via Felte. Check out the new single below.

The band consists of Marc Leyda (vocals, guitar, sampler), Ryann Gonsalves (vocals, bass), Austin Montanari (guitar), and Rick Altieri (drums).

Gonsalves had this to say about “Killing Time” in a press release: “This one comes from the frustration of living within a system that sets you up for failure, always ‘not being enough’ or ‘being too much,’ and all the anger, exhaustion, and pressure to comply.”

Leyda adds: “Much of the album comes from the ambient stress and uncertainty of our current place in time, and how it can affect both external and internal reality.”

Gonsalves also directed the song’s video and says: “I clean a little beach off the Bay some mornings, picking up bits of Styrofoam, lost shoes, shotgun shells, Big Gulp cups, etc. I imagined everything I picked up going through a grocery store conveyor belt and became fixated on the cycles of waste.”

“We intended for this to be a more guitar-forward album,” says Leyda, “so we recorded through Marshall stacks to give it a heavier feel, and to get a faster, more punkish sound that will be massive and immersive in a live setting.” 

Leyda adds: “We wanted to visualize the commodification of the individual alongside the endless waste put out by American society.”

“Iconoclast HaHa” follows the band’s 2024 debut album, “Fully Beat”. The band worked on the album with recording engineer Jack Shirley at Atomic Garden Studio in Oakland.

We have a new slice of music for you.
It’s a recording of a song called ‘Me and Magdalena’, penned by Ben Gibbard for the Monkees 2016 record ‘Good Times!’ It’s a much treasured tune in the Flyte camp.
We performed it rather spontaneously one afternoon with our dear friend Jacob Alon at Dom Monk’s studio in Somerset. Roy Lowe plays the drums, Nick plays the bass and harmonises, Tommy Heap plays the double bass and Jacob and I play acoustic guitar and sing.

Later, during the mixing process, a reverberant trumpet got added, played without the trumpet’s mouth piece, to ethereal effect.

The original song is set on the California coast, but we felt like we’d outstayed our welcome in this song-setting and relocated the lyrics to the valleys of the river Tay in Scotland, the backdrop of Jacob’s formative years.

Initially meant for our own private enjoyment, we decided we ought to release it to the wider world. Our friend Jonny Gent very kindly donated a painting of his to be the single cover. It’s a view of the highlands from his car window and couldn’t have fitted more perfectly.
Put it in your headphones and let it swirl around your brain. We hope it takes you somewhere good.

On “Sirenas”, Los Angeles quartet Allah-Las explore psychic vistas of atmospheric instrumental storytelling. The band’s sixth album coalesces around a more spontaneous soundscape shaped by freeform experimentation, intuitive vibrations, and open-ended moments of inner and outer worlding. Channeling a fluid sweep of influences, from The Durutti Column, I.A.O., and Popol Vuh’s scores for Werner Herzog to Jacques Cousteau’s expansion of The Silent World beneath the ocean’s surface, “Sirenas” mediates on subconscious grooves loosely imagined and deeply felt, and opens up previously unimagined pathways in the process.

A sound cultivated from the annals of California culture; the perfect mixture of the sands, the seas, the streets and cities of the golden state.

All songs written by Matthew Correia, Spencer Dunham, Miles Michaud, and Pedrum Siadatian

released August 28th, 2026

Jimi Hendrix’s performance of “Star Spangled Banner” at Woodstock in August 1969 was a turning point in the history of the counter-culture movement. As a summing up of one of the most volatile eras in the nation’s history, his adaptation of our national anthem has entered our cultural lexicon as perhaps the most powerful musical touchstone of the era

In conjunction with the debut of the extended concert film Jimi Hendrix: Live At Woodstock – A Second Look, we’re pleased to announce that we will be debuting more content to the Jimi Hendrix YouTube Channel over the coming weeks and months.  In addition to streaming the entire Jimi Hendrix music catalog via YouTube Music, fans can enjoy a growing collection of new and archival releases from the main Jimi Hendrix Channel. Subscribe today, follow our community posts, and be among the first to get updates on future releases.

Sub Pop newbie Lex Walton just dropped her label debut, “Ultimate Love Forever”, taking aim at many systemic transgressions including the “widespread meaninglessness in indie rock” at a time of genocide and tyranny. In a recent interview with Larry Fitzmaurice, Walton asked, “Do you need to see more people get killed for you to feel something other than a wristwatch at the himbo dome, or whatever fucking bullshit? What are you doing?” 

She’s talking about MJ Lenderman here, whose “houseboat” vocal gets a nod in “Hipster Runoff.” But Walton’s sentiment gnaws at something that’s angered me for years: everyone wants to rip off Neil Young but only the guitars. I think these Crazy Horse wannabes would be far more compelling if their lyrics gleaned anything but bro-y word salad or celebrity name-drops. But hey, what do I know?

Walton sheds her peers’ verbose habits by tearing into “hypnagogic Republicans, shitgaze landlords” like Ariel Pink and Wavves directly and calling out algorithms, short-form video content, drones, and killer cops for being equal players in the inevitable, optimized end of the world.

That “Hipster Runoff” is this totally batshit, Suicide-meets-Wolf Parade-style blog-rock scorcher, plagued with decay and produced by Dan Boeckner himself, is just another part of her language. While Arcade Fire’s Sarah Neufeld drags her bow across the song, Walton shouts out Kony 2012 and pushes back against the millennial apathy her music is so cleverly cribbing: “I know it’s the obvious thing to say / It’s not gonna change anyone’s mind / But you know if they’re gonna round us all up tomorrow / I just want you to know that I hate you.” Rock music can’t save anyone anymore, but we can use it to say who’s killing us. 

Nestled across from the Mississippi River in present-day Southwestern Illinois, “Cahokia” was one of and most technologically complex urban civilizations in Medieval North America, theorized by archaeologists to have been constructed by multiple indigenous tribes. This pre-Colombian city—once a thriving hub for art, culture, and commerce—fell into ruin in the final centuries of the Middle Ages over a series of hypothesized environmental and colonial catastrophes. When Greg Freeman invokes the name of this centuries-gone civilization in his latest single, it follows snapshots of contemporary disillusionment with sub-par conditions that don’t change even when it feels as though we’re living through “the days of one thing after another.” The names and faces of those in power get swapped out but the struggles stay the same. The problems the new generation inherits are just leftover ones that those before them never figured out how to solve.

Freeman has been known to dig up the roots of whichever locale serves as the site of his songs and examine how the present has grown out of its regional history. His 2025 record, “Burnover” put a bar band spin on New England gothic, mythologizing the pine-shaded corners of Vermont and Upstate New York. Since “Burnover’s” release, Freeman has relocated to Chicago, so it makes sense that the story he tells on its follow-up, “All Set The Bone”, would begin in what would eventually become Illinois. “Time to join the world you fucked up / Time to wake your girls and boys up,” he intones as a buzzy electric guitar and some rumbling drum fills crash in—a call-to-arms that eschews subliminal messaging and instead opts for desperate directness. Armed with a new backing band and production from John Congleton, Freeman and co. have never sounded so urgent. “These are the days when subtly is dead and gone forever,” he declares. Maybe it should’ve died long ago. After all, the world has ended many times before.

On the 35th anniversary of Pearl Jam’s generation-shaking debut, here’s how the band’s members and collaborators remember its creation

Stone Gossard was 24 years old, and not ready to give up. In March 1990, Andrew Wood, the singer of Gossard’s band, Mother Love Bone, died of an overdose, just weeks before they were supposed to release their major-label debut. That summer, Gossard and his bandmates, including bassist Jeff Ament, were left mourning and adrift. Mother Love Bone had experienced the kind of instant success that made other local bands furious, signing a record deal after playing fewer than 10 shows.

What were the odds of winning that lottery twice? “I didn’t know what was going to happen,” Gossard said. “But I knew I wanted to make more demos and make more songs. I felt like I could do it again.”

He was, of course, correct. Within a few months of Wood’s death, Gossard composed an album’s worth of extraordinary songs, or at least the bones of them, minus vocal melodies and lyrics. “I’m pretty persistent,” said Gossard, who maintained a calm, prescient certainty that he would find another worthy band, another great singer. He was encouraged by the surge of Seattle rock around him, from Mudhoney, fronted by Gossard and Ament’s former Green River bandmate Mark Arm, to Soundgarden, whose next album would be “Badmotorfinger”. “I knew there was more out there,” said Gossard. “Andy was special, but I knew that there were other artists and other people out there that had a completely different thing.”

Gossard developed his new guitar riffs and arrangements in the attic of his parents’ house, alongside another guitarist he started hanging out with that year. Mike McCready was a metal kid turned Stevie Ray Vaughan acolyte with a gift for the kind of fluid solos that could make him “another singer in the band,” as Gossard saw it. At first, though, McCready wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to be doing. “Stone asked me to play with him,” he recalled, “and after a week, we were in his parents’ attic, with his dog Hillie at his feet. And I said, ‘Dude, do you wanna play in a band together? What’s going on here?’ ‘Cause Stone keeps everything close to the chest, still does. And he said, ‘Yeah,’ so I was like, ‘OK,’ and I broke up the other band I was playing in, like, the next day.”

The music they were making was moody, turbulent and dramatic;  it’s not hard to hear Gossard’s grief and confusion in it. But much of it also had an obvious swagger and drive, sometimes with grooves that hinted at funk, or at least a Jane’s Addiction-like approximation of it. “I like propulsion, I like rhythm,” Gossard said. “I wanted people jumping up and down. It can be kind of like ‘Achilles Last Stand,’ or anything moving toward that heavy, funky, grooving, chaotic thing.”

Ament and Gossard had slipped apart for a few months. “He told me he was writing some songs,” said Ament, who considered going back to art school. “At that point, I just needed to not play music for a while. I felt like I had kind of used up my chances at that point.” But Ament fell back in love with music after filling in on bass for another friend’s band, and ended up back with Gossard for their still-unnamed new project. In a July 1990 Rolling Stone piece on the delayed release of Mother Love Bone’s LP, “Apple”, Gossard and Ament said they recorded 12 instrumental demos and were “scouting additional talent for an entirely new group.”

To record those demos, Gossard reached out to Seattle’s best drummer, Soundgarden’s Matt Cameron. “I’ve met him a couple of times,” Gossard recalled thinking. “I’m presumptuous, so I’m actually going to call him and see if he’ll do it.” Guided by huge cardboard chord charts pasted up on the walls of Reciprocal Studios in Seattle, they knocked out the songs over two weekends. “I got the impression that he definitely had a pretty big picture of what this next musical endeavor was going to be,” said Cameron. “I felt like the music was very well-arranged and very well-focused for a potential singer. It felt like everything was parted out for vocals.” In some cases, the path was laid out: The song that would become “Black” (temporarily titled “E Ballad”) already had its wordless hook in the demo. The early version of “Alive” is an anomaly, since Gossard originally wrote the music in the Mother Love Bone days, and Wood had written an entirely different song to it. Titled “Dollar Short,” its lyrics and melodies are apparently lost to history. Mother Love Bone rehearsed it and played it at least once live but never recorded it in a studio.

Former Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer Jack Irons told Gossard and Ament about a guy living in San Diego named Eddie Vedder, who had recently made an impression on Irons and his friends, Flea among them, with his daring antics on a camping trip. “They were jumping off cliffs together on the river or something,” said Gossard. “He was well thought of.” Camping skills aside, Irons did also manage to mention at some point that Vedder “sings really good.”

Vedder got his hands on the tape, labelled “Stone Gossard Demos,” and the music on it stirred something in him. “I recorded my vocals in four or five hours,” Vedder said in 2009. He famously wrote most of the lyrics and melodies in his head while surfing after a couple sleepless nights. He was, at the time, working as a security supervisor at a petroleum company, while singing in bands and making four-track recordings in his home  —  the same spot where he recorded his vocals over the demo tape. “I just didn’t think about it,” he added. “And it changed our lives in infinite ways. It’s almost terrifying to listen to it. It gave me what’s certainly the best life I’ve ever lived  —  to be able to support my kids, to be able to travel. It was the best five hours I ever spent.”

The parts that Vedder laid down on “Alive” and “Once” (plus the eventual “Jeremy” B side, “Footsteps”) got eerily close to what would end up as the finished versions on “Ten“. There’s a rock-opera narrative there — the same character is in all three songs — that’s not necessarily obvious on the album. But the ingredients were all present, beginning with that singular singing voice, low, resonant and unabashedly passionate, the antidote to a decade of hard-rock singers trying to out-high-note each other. “I loved his low register immediately,” said Gossard. “I thought, ‘Oh, my God, this is so great. Nobody’s going down there.’” Vedder’s elliptical tales of adolescent trauma were a perfect fit with music that blended classic-rock tropes (especially McCready’s solos) with punk energy, grunge guitar tones and the groove-heavy vibe of early-Nineties alt-rock. The music on that cassette helped define the sound, style and attitudes of a generation. It made Pearl Jam so ridiculously popular that they had to spend a decade retrenching.

All that said, Vedder didn’t completely nail it on his first try. “There was one part in there that’s as hysterical as anything I’ve ever heard  —  I haven’t laughed so hard in years,” Vedder said. He’s referring to his early version of “Once,” which is easily the goofiest thing he’s ever recorded. The humongous chorus is intact, but the rest wavers between bizarre spoken word segments and ill-advised falsetto funk breaks. “It becomes this little audio play or something. I’m fortunate that they were able to see beyond that and give me the job.”

Before Vedder actually got the gig, the other guys had to get to know him. In October 1990, the singer was able to get seven days off from his day job. He was ready to make the 1,200-mile drive from San Diego, only to be surprised and delighted to hear that Gossard and Co. would cover the cost of flying him out. “I was like, ‘Wow, OK… I don’t have to pay for it?’” Before he came out, Vedder completed two or three more songs over Gossard’s demos, including “Black.”

Vedder wanted to overcome any potential awkwardness by getting straight to work. “He called and said, ‘I just have one request, and that’s when we get there, if I can go straight from the airport to the practice place and we can play,’” recalled Ament. “And so, that was kinda our mode for the next week. We’d play for three or four hours, and we go over and get a bean burrito at Mama’s, and we’d play until seven or eight at night, and then we’d hang out and drink some wine or whatever and whatever we did, and we did that for five or six days straight, and half the time we were working on songs we already knew, and half the time we were, like, jamming.”

It was clear to everyone involved that the band was the real deal. “I had never really been in a situation like that, where all five guys were fuckin’ firing on all cylinders,” said McCready. “And it wasn’t too thought out. I mean, we’d rehearsed prior to it, but when it happened, it was like, ‘OK.’ I felt like we could fuckin’ take on some other bands. I was like, ‘We’re fuckin’ great!’”

On drums was another newcomer, Dave Krusen, who grew up half an hour away from Seattle, bashing out on prog-rock in his basement; the Police’s Stewart Copeland was a musical role model. Shortly before Vedder’s arrival, Krusen heard that the former members of Mother Love Bone needed a drummer. He called up Ament and had a successful jam session. “It was right in the mode of the stuff that I loved to play,” says Krusen, who developed the highly syncopated style he used on “Ten” simply by following Ament’s parts. The bassist eventually gave him a James Brown live album for Christmas and suggested he study it. Struggling with a drinking problem, Krusen would play on all of “Ten” and then immediately be pushed out of the band.  “He was pretty out of control,” said Gossard. But his former bandmates still love his playing, and reunited with him for their 2017 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. “Dave Krusen was a real hero,” said Vedder. “He was really, really a great drummer. He had a great flow and a great style.”

Pearl Jam’s original line-up, who were about to christen themselves Mookie Blaylock, jammed for five or six days and came away with most of “Ten” ready to go, as a 10-song rough demo they knocked out at the end of that week demonstrates. “It wasn’t an audition,” said Vedder. “It was just an art project.” By January 1991, he had relocated permanently to Seattle, and the band went into the studio to record pro-level demos of several songs. One of them, “Alive,” ended up as the version on their finished album, despite attempts to re-record it. “We tried to do it and it was just like, ‘This is cool, but this one just has an urgency to it,’” said Krusen. “The fact that it isn’t as clean-sounding  —  and it’s not as ‘good’ sounding  —  just worked for that track, in the context of the lyrics and all that. We had to capture a feeling, and that was more important than the sound quality of the recording.”

When Pearl Jam entered Seattle’s London Bridge Studios in March to begin recording in earnest for the album, the band was well-rehearsed, especially after playing a bunch of live dates opening for Alice in Chains. The producer was Rick Parashar, whom they’d met on the Temple of the Dog album. But some of the musicians describe Parashar as more of an engineer than a producer. “Stone and Jeff were really doing the producing,” says Krusen. “And that’s how they got the sounds they did. Rick was more of a sounding board, and a great engineer.” Krusen’s first child was born just as they started recording, and he “was drinking every day” during the sessions. Considering all that, he plays remarkably well. “I learned to play on various substances,” he shrugs, though he regrets some of his performances.

“It was more difficult than making Temple of the Dog,” said Gossard. “That’s what I remember thinking. We overthought it. You can get really bogged down as a young band in the process of recording.” Eventually, tensions grew between the band and Parashar (who died in 2014). “It felt dysfunctional,” Gossard added. “We didn’t know where we wanted to go and that’s where it broke down, so communication got bad, and it just went south.” Nailing “Even Flow” was the hardest part, with Vedder recalling them recording it 70 times or more. Krusen partially blames himself. “That song has a giant edit in the middle of it because I just had a hard time tracking it. I don’t know why.”

Vedder was apparently unaware of his bandmates’ worries and tensions during the sessions.  Unlike Gossard and Ament, he had never made a professional album before, except for his contribution to “Hunger Strike.” “I’m glad I didn’t hear that then,” Vedder said, “because they had made records, and I thought they knew what they were doing! And I thought that this was my first chance to make a real record, and to be honest, I was pretty damn focused on the job at hand. I was in a new town and I was in a new whatever, so that replaced my friends and family, that batch of songs and writing. It was a big deal to be able to make a real record.”

When it came time for vocal overdubs, Parashar needed a break and brought in engineer Don Gilmore, who would later become a producer for Linkin Park and others. Gilmore recalls Vedder actually living in the recording studio, sleeping on a couch. “He had pictures, and artwork  —  kind of like an insane person  —  put up all over the studio,” Gilmore says with a laugh. The studio’s security system required Vedder to be locked in at night, but he didn’t mind. “Eddie wanted to redo stuff and redo stuff and redo stuff,” adds Gilmore. “He really wanted to get things right. So I come in in the morning, I unlock the door, and Eddie would come out and he’d be drawing and doing things and having coffee, and he’s like, ‘Yep, let’s do it.’ So we’d get in there and would just work all day.”

Vedder was revising lyrics, and also trying to get the vocal takes up to his standards, which were already quite high. “He had complete command over what he was doing,” says Gilmore. “Eddie just was in search of perfection, not unlike a lot of big artists. . . . He was sort of internally producing himself and directing himself. He had an idea of what he wanted, and nobody was going to tell him it would be a different way.”

Engineer Tim Goldstone mixed the album in the English countryside, with the band hanging out in the pastoral setting of Ridge Farm Studio, where the Smiths had recorded Meat Is Murder. It was mostly relaxed. Between some minor overdubs, most of the band played tennis, and McCready recalls “smoking a bunch of hash” and listening to a couple of Pink Floyd albums that Ament suggested. But Vedder remembered at least one battle: He had to fight off an effort to cut 45 seconds out of “Black,” including the part where he sings, “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life.” “That’s almost the peak of the song there,” said Vedder, still a little peeved, “and it almost got lost.”

At some point in the process, the band is convinced something went wrong. The guitars and drums float inside stadium-size digital reverb that now sounds more Eighties than Nineties, which they tried to rectify with a tougher-sounding 2009 remix by Brendan O’Brien. In general, the members of Pearl Jam are more critical of “Ten” than most of their fans. “From a musical point of view, it still seems kind of unrealized,” said Gossard. “But that just shows I can’t hear it.” Still, he loves playing the songs live: “The way we inhabit the songs and what they mean to all of us now is incredible, in terms of what they mean to the crowd  —  and how long ago they were written and how they still reveal new things.”

In the end, “Ten” is the sound of a band settling in for what they already knew would be a long, long ride. “We would always think, ‘What’s the third record going to be, what’s the fourth record going to be like?’” said Vedder. “We were really wanting to figure it out, knowing it was somehow going to get better. And we weren’t going to stop trying.”

While mainly known for its influential punk scene, Washington DC also had a thriving indie rock scene in the late ’80s and early-’90s that was heavily influenced by the UK’s C-86 scene and labels like Creation, Cherry Red and 4AD. Velocity Girl, in fact, were named for Primal Scream’s song on C-86, and played a similar style of very fuzzy janglepop.

The group included former Black Tambourine member Archie Moore and, originally, Bridget Cross who, when she left to focus on Unrest, would be replaced by vocalist Sarah Shannon. The band’s gift for melody, and love of shambolic, noisy guitars, is evident on this EP that collects songs from three early 7″s. “My Forgotten Favorite,” which would turn up a few years later on the Clueless soundtrack, is the obvious standout (and arguably Velocity Girl best song), but the other five songs are equally stellar.

Extended listening: Velocity Girl were more fond of 7″s than EPs, but their 1993 debut “Copacetic” (released, like all their albums, on Sub Pop) has held up well, and gotten better with age.

This new compilation “1989-1992” covers the band’s pre-Sub Pop years and shows that their skill with a tune was there from the beginning, across several line-up changes and numerous early releases. The all-time classic “Forgotten Favorite” is included, as is their debut single “I Don’t Care If You Go,” featuring original vocalist Bridget Cross (later of Unrest). There are also crucial split single and compilation contributions, a few choice covers (Beat Happening, The Jam) and even a pair of unreleased tunes.

Newly remastered and featuring extensive liner notes by DC scene scholar John R. Davis and gorgeous art by Galine Tumaysan, “1989-1992” is the comprehensive view of their early years that Velocity Girl has long deserved and their fans have long wanted.

released August 28th, 2026

35 years after “Ten” started it all, the band’s live performance of the album is coming to vinyl for the very first time! “Ten Live” is the complete “Ten” performance recorded on April 29th, 2016, at Philadelphia’s Wells Fargo Center.

The three-sided LP captures a historic night when Pearl Jam performed the album in its entirety — for only the second time in the band’s history and the first time ever in the U.S. On April 29th, 2016, Pearl Jam played their 10th sold-out show in South Philadelphia. To mark the occasion, the venue had a special surprise for the band: a banner reading “Pearl Jam 10 South Philadelphia Sellouts” made to hang in the rafters of the Wells Fargo Center.

Seeing the banner, Eddie knew there was another way to celebrate.
“I saw that number and I was like, I think we gotta do it,” Eddie told the Philadelphia crowd from the stage that night.
What followed was Pearl Jam performing “Ten” all the way through, track-by-track.

“Philly gives back, they just give back,” Eddie told the crowd that night. “We just tried to figure out something that we could get for you. Something that we could wrap and unwrap with you.”

Preorders begin today, with the album arriving November. 27th in two colour editions: (“Turned My World To”) Black vinyl and a limited-edition clear vinyl pressing

One of the most influential progressive rock bands of the late ‘60s / early ‘70s, Soft Machine’s initial line-up was Robert Wyatt (drums, vocals), Kevin Ayers (bass, guitar, vocals), Daevid Allen (guitar) and Mike Ratledge (organ). They emerged from the UK underground in 1967, featuring prominently at epoch-making London venues such as the UFO Club and Middle Earth to establish a powerful reputation over the next decade with a series of accomplished albums and some innovative concert performances (notably in the UK and France) and with a support slot on the Jimi Hendrix Experience US tours throughout 1968.

Centred around the band’s five CBS albums (“Third” to “Seven“), “Slightly All The Time” includes an entirely different and previously unreleased set of recordings of the “Fifth” album. It also contains all of the band’s extant BBC sessions (the complete performances for the first time) and a significant amount of previously unavailable audio-visual full concert recordings.

After two albums for ABC/Probe – “The Soft Machine” and “Volume Two” – they signed to CBS/Columbia with a line-up consisting of Wyatt, Ratledge, saxophonist Elton Dean and bassist Hugh Hopper, releasing their most successful long player, “Third”, came in 1970. This was followed by four more albums during a period of significant acclaim across Europe, and a frequently evolving line-up.

Soft Machine disbanded in 1978, apart from the occasional reunion, before being relaunched as Soft Machine Legacy in 2004, touring extensively and making many more albums. Since 2016 they have been known simply as Soft Machine and in March this year the current line-up issued their latest album, “Thirteen“. They will be playing live across the UK and Europe for the rest of the year and well into 2027, including festivals and club dates in Italy, The Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Hungary.

This extensive boxed set presents the story of the most vital, influential period in the Soft Machine story. Centred around their five CBS albums, all remastered from the original ¼” tapes and including the discovery of an entirely different and previously unreleased set of recordings of their “Fifth” album, it also contains all of their extant BBC sessions (some have been released before, decades ago, these are the complete performances for the first time) and a significant amount of previously unavailable audio-visual, full concert recordings from Europe (UK/France/Belgium/Germany).

Packaged in a sturdy 12” x 12” slipcase, with a hardback book featuring many rare photographs and extensive notes by journalist and author Sid Smith, progressive rock fans (who buy detailed boxed sets like this in large quantities), will delight in this comprehensive examination of one the great names in the genre.

Released on the 30th of October.