Growing Bin Germany Schallplatten & CDs

Review: It's been a while since Fila Brazillia's 1995 album Maim That Tune has been available on vinyl. The announcement of this remastered 30th anniversary edition is therefore very positive news. Their first 'proper' studio album (its predecessor, the genuinely brilliant Old Codes, New Chaos, was effectively an expanded collection of earlier singles interspersed with blissful ambient interludes), 'Maim That Tune' is a 90s downtempo classic that not only features some of the Hull duo's most beloved tracks - the sublime, tempo-changing deepness of 'A Zed & Two L's', early progressive house number 'Slacker' and the head-nodding bliss of 'Harmonicas Are Shite' - but also a swathe of equally impactful but lesser-spotted gems (the buzzing '6Ft Wasp', jazzy hip-hop head-nodder 'Extract of Pienal Gland' and the string-laden stoner funk of 'At Home In Space').

Review: For sensitivity and naturalism in experimental music, Gosha Martynov & Natasha Sinyakova seize the crown with their new album Imena Rek. On their first foray into the physical, the duo expand the spectral ambience and medicated breaks of their earlier work with lithe touches of organic jazz and Cafe Del Mar cool, creating a complex assemblage of dreamy downbeat and emotive electronica that's entirely easy on the ears. The record is an ever-evolving, life-giving slough; we wade through many restorative swamps, each bearing its own sonic, ecosystemic character. The fen's mouth stretches open wide on 'Pozhaluysta', tempting the listener with an open-skied siren song set to skittish drum pats, while things grow hazier from 'Osvobodi Menia' and thereafter; the trip-hop influence is almost entirely naturalised, shedding the genre's usual rough-edged clicks and pops for a preferential sawn-off, willowy sound, that retains its smoothness even in moments of irresolution and tension, as on 'Rany'. And the slow mangrove whirl 'Iskra' really flaunts the pair's talents, with beautifully played pan flutes, and resonant silicate rustles, convoking a new hallowed ground; we wind up mentally clutching at damp mosses, imagining ourselves laid arrest in a sodden but warm bayou, as we're serenaded by two Armenian-American master musicians.