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Inspired by John Cage, Jon Hassel, Brian Eno, and the emergence of house and techno music, Technodrome is jazz bassist turned electronic experimentalist Motohiko Hamase’s foray into what he calls ambient house or, as he explains, "using the gritty sensation inherent to the core of house music" to create an ambient record "aiming to express inverted images, optical illusions, and the sense of déjà vu that modern people can get in the city".

Technodrome is constructed around innovative minimalism, a robotic funk orchestrated by bass lines and percussions, and monochrome moods. It’s the most intriguing project in Hamase’s discography, a ghostly ride set in 90s urban landscape, where repetition sets the groove and brings things to life, echoing Hamase’s deeper subtext for his compositions: "and attempt to recreate (as metaphor) the time in our mother's womb".

The album was initially released in 1993 by Newsic, the cult label started by Tokyo’s Wacoal Art Center (also known as Spiral), home, notably, of Yoshio Ojima who co-produced the album. It is now reissued in conjunction with Motohiko Hamase’s #Notes of Forestry and Anecdote albums – Bandcamp | WRWTFWW

Originally released in 1981 as a limited vinyl pressing of 300 copies on Agi Yuzuru’s fabled experimental label Vanity Records (R.N.A. Organism, Dada, Sympathy Nervous, Tolerance…), Lady Maid is a testament to the creativity of the early 80s’ Japanese electronic and experimental scene, encapsulating a prolific era when audio gear became affordable for musicians to explore sounds in the comfort of their home, free from studio time pressure and major label rules.

Entirely imagined and brought to life by an inspired Yukio Fujimoto, the 6-track opus was conceived with a Korg MS-20, a Korg SQ-10, a Boss Dr. Rhythm DR-55, and…a Texas Instruments Speak & Spell! It’s elegantly minimalist, honest and witty, very playful, cleverly pop, and downright fascinating. The a-side captures the fun side of avant-garde electronica, lo-fi wave, proto-glitch, and IDM, a joyful ride beautifully interrupted by the cinematic mood switch of the b-side - a 20 minute ambient piece flirting with sci-fi, melancholy, and hints of metallic darkness. Unclassifiable and marvelous! – Bandcamp

More from the label We Release Whatever The Fuck We Want Records 

Bing & Ruth’s music exists in the cracks between. Project leader David Moore has a degree in music and his earlier compositions, found on the 2010 album City Lake, can have the air of the conservatory. So it makes some sense to slot his work in with contemporary classical. But the era of classical music Moore most frequently evokes—the trance-inducing minimalism of the 1960s and ’70s—has at times been filed as new age. And divisions between *that *genre and the more critically acceptable sphere of “ambient,” a word that sometimes describes Bing & Ruth, have always been porous. Beyond these labels, Bing & Ruth is also hard to pin functionally. Moore’s pieces can feel formal, less like “environments” and more like compositions that need to be tracked carefully over their duration to be understood. Though he’s made music for an ensemble that includes woodwinds and strings, Moore also includes processed tapes and production choices that smudge the lines between acoustic and electronic music.

On City Lake and 2014’s Tomorrow Was the Golden Age, Moore’s music evoked the best of what had come before him—Philip Glass’ repetition, the emotional shading of Max Richter, Eluvium’s comfort with rock dynamics—but he’s steadily grown into a sound that feels all his own. No Home of the Mind, his third proper album and first for 4AD, is his most distinctive record yet. His working group is still here, but the arrangements on *No Home *feature Moore’s piano much more prominently, and it’s a more focused record. If City Lake and Tomorrow sometimes found him moving between established styles, demonstrating wide-ranging mastery because he can, the new album stays focused on wringing as much feeling as possible out of narrower terrain. And No Home of the Mind is the earthiest Bing & Ruth record yet. You can smell the sweat that went into it. – Pitchfork