Jim Osman

“I like a creative process where people will draw out things, and I won’t know where it’s coming from. I still get new discoveries.”

Jim Osman

Jim Osman is a sound artist, electronic musician, director, and researcher from Leeds, UK, currently making music under the moniker Soborgnost. Jim’s Soborgnost project performs sci-fi dance punk at the intersection of minimal wave, disco dub, industrial, proto-house, drone, and noise; his directorial work spans opera, puppetry, performance art and audio drama. As Soborgnost, Jim has performed throughout the UK and abroad, including Birmingham Electroacoustic Sound Lab (BEAST), Café OTO, Supernormal Festival, an international tour to Switzerland and Italy, and two high-profile concerts supporting Cabaret Voltaire in Sheffield and London. Jim studied at Goldsmiths University, where he received the Associate Black Artists Award from the Theatre and Performance Department; he also studied opera directing at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. Currently based in London, Jim writes for The Quietus, and researches speculative fiction in media art and creative technology.

Jim is currently preparing for two shows as Soborgnost, supporting seminal electronic music group Cabaret Voltaire — at FORGE Warehouse (Sheffield) on 25th October, and the Institute of Contemporary Arts (London) on 21st November. Ahead of these shows, we caught up with Jim at a pub in south-east London, discussing opera directing, dub, speculative fiction, digital folklore, gothic futurism, and more…

Zyggy/PRXLUDES: You’ve been making music under the Soborgnost moniker for the past couple years. You’re releasing a debut EP with the project, and are about to embark on a tour of shows in continental Europe — tell me a bit about where the project started?

Jim Osman: I started this band called Spirit Data. I always wanted to be in a band where there’s a bass player who plays krautrock-y bass lines over and over, and these dubby approaches. I had a few friends of mine: Bella Steinsdotter — who’s also a pop musician — my friend Ark Potyka, he does a lot of sound for screenings of German expressionist films; and then Teodora Kosanović, who plays bass. They’re all really cool. What I love about that band is [that] I’m Black British, but they’re [from] Poland, Norway, and Serbia. So I was doing this band. I had a metal spring — I had this little metal box with a spring and contact mic that I would just whack. I got this sampler; I built up, I got the SP-404, got these noise machines — and this was to play samples [and] to add texture, as well as vocals in this band.

I ended up doing a solo show at IKLECTIK, where I did sci-fi storytelling with music [and] with live coding. Then I did this programme [with] a great artist called Antonio Roberts, called (Algo|Afro)futures, which was a live coding project run by and for Black musicians. He had a gig at Birmingham Electroacoustic Sound Theatre (BEAST): Mwen was playing — they’re an amazing British-Ugandan musician — and I was supporting them. And he [Antonio] said “you can do live coding, or you can do something else…”

So I imagine this solo show was the beginning of the project you’re calling Soborgnost — what inspired the new direction you were taking?

I saw this technique with the SP-404, where you have different samples looping… But you put them all in one-shot mode, so they’re all hitting on the first beat of the bar, and you mute and unmute them, wrap them to different effects. So it’s like you’re doing the process of a dub mix. And I’ve always been into post-punk basslines — I’m a huge Joy Division fan, A Certain Ratio, ESG.

At the same time I was getting into this territory, me and my girlfriend were DJ’ing mutant disco together at The Moon, in Cardiff — when I was studying a Masters in opera directing at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. I was also DJ’ing at a night called Intox Extravaganza, which is a hangover from The Montague Arms, in south-east London. That was a very eclectic, weirdo music night. I was getting into this space between dub, disco, funk — Black dance music — and avant-garde weirdness and experimentation. Free jazz, as well. The space in-between. I was learning about my own heritage — Nyabinghi drumming practices. All of these things kind of came together.

My mother was the tarot card reader and psychic clairvoyant reader at Harrods. -laughs- She was a high-profile psychic in the UK (and was in a goth/industrial band in the 80s). And so I’m quite into Fortean phenomena, the occult, cybernetics, and sci-fi… In some ways, the Soborgnost project is a transmutation of a lot of my interests. But they come through vicariously, I think.

In a lot of ways, Soborgnost sounds like it’s quite a personal project for you —bringing together all these different genres, and themes, and elements of your own heritage…

I suppose it’s exploring my heritage… but not intentionally. It’s just real. My very nerdy interests. I think if anyone tries to do things authentically, all the different things that have informed who they are [will] come through. It’s not like I’m trying to do anything specifically. I would reference Ursula K. Le Guin’s Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction: we are the experiences we’ve had. I’m unapologetically Black, but I’m unapologetically northern, as well. -laughs- You know what I mean?

I love that analogy. Tell me a bit about how some of these experiences have directly influenced this debut EP as Soborgnost?

I’m really influenced by Black Audio Film Collective, John Akomfrah, people like that. I’m really influenced by The Last Angel of History, which looks at Afrofuturism in music, before it was a popular term; he [Akomfrah] suggests that George Clinton in funk, Sun Ra in jazz, and Lee “Scratch” Perry in dub, are this kind of triangle of Black space. I got interested in this idea of dub as this banishing of evil energies. I use a lot of electromagnetic frequencies — I use this machine called a “ghost box”, which paranormal investigators use to make contact with ghosts… -laughs- It’s like a shortwave radio that skips through different channels. But I’ll use it as a dub siren, and I’ll put it through electromagnetic frequencies.

You mentioned how you trained as an opera director at the Royal Welsh. I understand you still undertake opera work — how does your background in opera inform the music you’re making, and your wider approach as a creative?

I love Baroque, and I love modern [opera]. Jump over the Romantic period. I think this is to do with mythic resonance, folklore, and symbolism. I’m hugely influenced by Mikhail Bakhtin — Bakhtin really lamented about naturalism in theatre — he loved puppetry, and the mask. I was having a chat with an opera director doing puppetry in the Czech Republic, in the 80s — towards the end of the Soviet Union — and [he said that] the only stage that wasn’t censored was the puppetry stage; because of symbolism and allegory as a way of bypassing censorship. From there, I got really into Soviet-era science fiction; Darko Suvin — a prominent sci-fi scholar — he’s quite into Bakhtin, as well. There’s that tradition of thought.

For me, the opera directing is more like how an artist would consider a fine art foundation. A lot of the work I do now is writing text adventure games on computers; and for me, [as] I’m getting more interested in tech, I’m like “back to the foundation” — pixel art, retro stuff. I’m really interested in immersion in text, in language. I like seeing where the creative engagement can come [at] the foundations… Base level things.

So studying opera gave you a kind of dramaturgical foundation that you’ve taken into other mediums?

That’s it. For me, dub is like a foundation; dub is like a cybernetic machine. I was really influenced by an artist called Paul Rooney — he did a great piece called ‘Lucy Over Lancashire’, and it’s a monologue from the point of view of a fairy, trapped in a Puma trainer, on a washing line. It references Lee “Scratch” Perry, and Simply Red… It’s a funny monologue about how dub banished evil energy, and how the devil resides in Lancashire.

These things are coming through, and I’m recognising them and bringing them forth, but it’s not necessarily a prescriptive thing. I like a creative process where people will draw out things, and I won’t know where it’s coming from. I still get new discoveries. What I do [with Soborgnost] is very “live” — I don’t necessarily have a strict start, middle, and end. I have it in my mind, and I’ll have rehearsed certain flavours, but I can change things on the fly; because it’s all muting and unmuting loops live.

As we’re on the subject: you’ve talked a bit about dub processes being part of your foundation. Tell me a bit about the loops you tend to use in Soborgnost tracks…

All the basslines come from other bass players! Seb Stone was the first bass player I worked with; I’ve worked with various bass players since. We talk about ideas, they send me stuff… Every track starts with a recording of a live bassline. I was very influenced by Andrew Weatherall — I saw Andrew Weatherall when I was 17 in York. He was using a lot of [these] basslines in his house and disco stuff. I remember going to those nights, and loving the music they were playing… It was kind of like, space disco. As I got older, I started to find the stuff I was looking for — but I was already looking for it when I was a teenager. “I want the disco, but I also want the specifically post-punk basslines”… At the time, journalists would call it “death disco” — I guess I really resonate with that.

I guess one can trace those connections back, right? I can definitely relate to trying to find those connections and influences from when I was young…

Totally. I did an interview for The Quietus with this amazing band called Devon Rexi; they have one track where people think it’s a Bauhaus cover, but it’s not. And I [was] like “are you influenced by no wave stuff?”, and they were like “no, we’re just jamming, listening to dub, and doing things…” — it’s through the same process, as opposed to being derivative.

All those bands — these post-punk artists in the 80’s — they all came from visual art. And I really recognise this; these are people coming from visual arts backgrounds, and making music. They were all reading William S. Burroughs, and really influenced by Burroughs and Gysin’s cut-up technique. It’s that kind of collage approach that I really resonate with this. I’m doing similar approaches in various other forms, I guess.

One of my tracks is called ‘Rhizocorp’. That features Rosa Brook, from Pozi. That title — ‘Rhizocorp’ — is taken from a book called Megacorp: From Cyberdystopian Vision to Technoeconomic Reality; he [Matthew E. Gladden] talks about the “rhizocorp”, which is the technologically post-humanised megacorp. The post-cyberpunk, Deleuzean sort of megacorp. That’s what that song’s about.

Let’s talk a bit more about the production on the EP — how do your live vocals fit into the samples and loops?

Everything’s very heavily processed with the vocals. I have two microphones; both go through a VE-20 effects pedal. One of them’s [called] the Noisy Mic-2, by JMT Synth in Japan — that’s super noisy. My sampler, I put through a modified Alesis Micro Limiter from the 80’s, but it’s been modded to high-pass the side chains, so the bass comes out super thick. It makes the digital sounds a bit crunchy, and lo-fi. That’s something I want to explore more; I love working with 4-track cassette tapes, lo-fi processing.

What is it about lo-fi production that resonates with your compositional approach?

I think there’s definitely influences in hauntology, Mark Fisher — how it references cultural memory. I love how certain frequencies in dub, certain tempos in any music, I can just vibe with — they regulate the nervous system. There’s something about dubby, chuggy, rhythms… Groups like Pram, who I love; Ghost Box Records, that sort of saturation of sound, that does the same thing on a cognitive level. I don’t quite know why. Maybe that’s the mystery I’m solving; why I’m so drawn to those sounds. I’m a big noise music fan, whether it’s noise or power electronics — the non-fascist power electronics, obviously. -laughs-

I think my autism is a big thing with that. I’m fiddling with all these knobs, making bleeps and noises… It’s definitely stimming. I’m hugely influenced by David Byrne, of The Talking Heads, and how he’s expressing his autism wearing oversized suits. I think there’s a similar thing I think I’m doing. There’s definitely a dry, dark sense of humour to what I’m doing — one hundred percent. I’m taking the piss out of myself in a lot of things.

Do you feel like it’s an intuitive process for you, then? Creating all of these different musical systems…

The systems I’ve created, the frameworks in which I do things, allows me access to these flowstates. Every song has a recording of a live bassline, and they’re all in one-shot mode and these other things. When I limit myself — everything has a bassline at the forefront, and I’ve got other loops that I’m muting and unmuting — it’s dubbed by process. The music doesn’t necessarily “sound” like dub, but it’s a form. I give myself these rules and that’s my playground.

A lot of my work is really informed by tabletop role-playing games, and worldbuilding. Big up my friend, Phil Legard, who is a lecturer at Leeds Beckett University — his work looks at the occult, he looks at how chaos magic basically originates from Leeds (this is just one podcast interview he did talking about that). I really love how HDK (Heimat der Katastrophe) — and dungeon synth labels — these albums look like soundtracks for films that haven’t been made. I kind of want to do the same thing. I describe my music as dub mixes, or 12-inch dance mixes, of post-punk songs that don’t exist. -laughs-

I’m working on this project called Accept the Cookies, funded by Immersive Arts’ Experiment Fund, exploring the early internet as decentralised — how the algorithmic web, the emerging Web3, is centralised and neoliberal. I’m really interested in this idea of digital folklore: you know, folklore is decentralised, and mythology is centralised. Mythology as what’s “written in stone” — mythology as how folklore is manipulated for nation-building.

I really resonate with this idea of digital folklore as an almost anarchic space on the early internet. Somewhere where there’s simultaneously “no” culture, but also “all” cultures — and especially non-Western cultures. As a kid from a diaspora background, that stuff really informs how I view my music.

Absolutely, yeah. A lot of what’s so-called “postmodern”, or “postdramatic”… Actually, cultures and people of the global south have been doing that! We’ve been fucking with concepts of time, doing things backwards, etcetera, before Europeans [and] their idea of “linearity”. So this idea of saying “we’re now after our form”… No, we need to acknowledge these older concepts.

That brings to mind concepts of Afrofuturism — which I understand you’ve explored before in some of your projects…

Not necessarily Afrofuturism, but gothic futurism. That’s influence from Rammellzee, who coined the term gothic futurism; he was half African-American, half Italian-American, and the idea was a cartoonish parody [of] how monks used lettering. Another link there is Leila Taylor’s book Darkly: Black History and America’s Gothic Soul. It’s more about being “a” futurism, which is then used by marginalised people, in that kind of xenofeminist lens, that kind of Donna Haraway lens — rather than it being a particularly Afro kind of futurism. On that note, big up bands like Nkisi, Dhangsha, Moor Mother… Artists who are making industrial and dark music, that are drawing on diversity of folk heritages.

My “genre” — everything I do — is post-cyberpunk magic realism. It’s magic realism and symbolism. When Octavia Butler writes about the Oankali race of people [ed. in Butler’s science fiction trilogy Lilith’s Brood (a.k.a. Xenogenesis Trilogy)], and says they have two characteristics — the hierarchical characteristic, and the creative characteristic — it’s a perfect analogy for aspects of the human condition. But by that process of cognitive “estrangement”, as Viktor Shklovsky said, it shows us how another system could work that could be as viable as ours. It makes us see that our systems are systems. They’re forms we’ve agreed upon in language. And that gives us the agency to critique them. I think that speculative fiction does that in ways that naturalism, and realism, is unable to.

Alongside your own track, the debut Soborgnost EP features two rexmies. Tell me about how you sought out collaborators for this release?

The EP has three live versions, and two remixes — one by Lord Tusk, and one by Peaking Lights. For me, this comes back to Burroughs and Gysin, tape cut-ups, and collage… I’ve sent them a live version, but I’ve also sent them the stems that I’m looping on my sampler — and just said “do what you want”.

I had a really amazing gig at Acid Horse Festival, in Wiltshire. I feel like I have a connection [there], whether it’s reading about Aphex Twin’s connection with Cornwall, reading about the Welsh language — I’m interested in the Welsh language because [they’re] some of the earliest people to come to the UK, a lot of folk tales have their roots in the Mabinogion. [My] cover art was made by Mutartis (Paul Boswell), Boswellian Artifacts — I met him at Supersonic Festival — and the reason I knew he was the right person to do the cover art is because he knew the connections [to] Rammellzee.

I went to Central Saint Martins for drama school — for a year at the Drama Centre, before that Titanic sunk. I loved CSM, and I was very critical of how conservative the theatre school was. I saw all of this interesting stuff happening in all of the other departments, and was annoyed I wasn’t able to collaborate with all of this more interesting stuff… -laughs- I worked with Alexis Milne, and also an artist called Lolly Adams — I was doing sound for her when she was supporting Peaches at the Turner Prize opening ceremony, I can’t remember which one it was. That got me into performance art, and thinking differently about theatre. In the same way, for, the weird music — post-punk — has been a way for me to find my people. When I was at theatre school, I didn’t get on with that many people; but there were a few people who were like “hey, we’re going to this event called krautrock karaoke” — and I was like, I’m gonna fuckin’ go to that! -laughs-

I love that so much. I guess so much about finding your scene, or your trible — whatever that is — comes from consciously following those connections and subcultures as they come, right?

When I first came to London, I said to my friend Legion of Swine — he does noise music, he’s in Scandinavia now — “do you know any weirdo music people, noise people”? And he gave me a long list. A lot of the people I know now are from that list he gave me, [of] people doing noise music. Even in theatre: when I’ve gone to performance art, when I’ve done theatre, or opera, the music is kind of the connection. Whenever I meet someone, as soon as I find out they’re into The Fall, I’m like “I get it!” — and then maybe you’re into Burial, or SOPHIE, or other stuff.

I feel like subculture transcends background after a certain point. Once you have access to these spaces, it can be like entering a world where the divisions don’t have to be as pointed. Does that translate outside of that London circuit for you, as well?

You find your tribe, yeah. My first gig was in Birmingham. I draw a lot of connections between Birmingham and Bristol, because they are these melting pot places where you’ve got dub and noise… People who’ve really championed me [include] Kikimora Records — they’ve promoted me in Birmingham, at this festival in Derby. They have the best names for their festivals: Psychic Dancehall, Nightgarden, Incantations Fest. I was playing those. What I love about what they’re doing is [that] they’re putting on gigs around the Midlands — and in austerity Britain, it’s just really important.

The best thing about my project is how it gets me out of London; it gets me to places I wouldn’t otherwise venture. I played this gig [called] Weird Garden, which was in Lincolnshire — it’s in this really cool art space. The guy who put on the night passed away, but his mates are still putting on the night in his name.

Of course — that sense of community, and seeing other thriving communities, is so special.

That’s it. One of the reasons why I got into power electronics was from randomly meeting this Native American guy on Omegle, who was really into power electronics… This was back when you could put what your interests were [on Omegle]. I’ve got a lot of friends from all over the world because of the internet. A lot of bands I discovered as a teenager were from guilds on World of Warcraft… -laughs-

Do you feel like your live shows — whether as Soborgnost or otherwise — fit into a specific music scene or community?

What I love [about] my first gig being in Birmingham, at Birmingham Electracoustic Sound Theatre (BEAST)… Because I’m doing dub, and disco, and chuggy stuff, I get booked for post-punk-y gigs, and dance gigs. But I also get booked for sound art! I did a gig with Trevor Wishart… -laughs- So my first gig was at BEAST, and the following year, I did a gig and Trevor Wishart was on the bill. I love that my music sits between this place where you can dance do it, but you can also think to it — you know what I mean?

It’s so important. People feel music in different ways, and that’s how you reach different audiences.

For me, when you put experimentalism and weirdness into dance music, it allows the anxious, neurodivergent person to have agency. That’s what I like. When you have chuggy music, but also weirdness, I hope it allows people to connect to that feeling of being in rhythm. You know, Gregory Bateson says the “Western mind” seeks to control things; and it’s about this connection between the “head” brain and the “micro-biome” brain. That’s what I was realising when I did my Quietus interview with African Head Charge: “different frequencies bring the ancestors close” — different genres, different tempos. Whether it’s that these things exist in a Jungian sense, or whether it’s the gesture of them.

I’ve been really humbled by people telling me there’s a lot of healing going on in what I’m doing, and they’ve connected with that element. When some artists see me play gigs, they’ve said “oh, there’s something about the landscape in there”. It might be the way I’m using loops. But what’s interesting about landscape — particularly the horizon — is that it gives you space to dream. Photographers talk about using space, and [how] we “fill in the gaps”; it’s interesting how people have seen my music as this idea of landscape. Maybe it’s what they view beyond the horizon — and it’s different for every listener.

Is there a particular message you’d like audiences to take away from your work under Soborgnost?

To bring it back to digital folklore… If this neoliberalism — what Yanis Varoufakis calls technofeudalism — is emerging, if neoliberalism is essentially this process of disenchantment, this negative programming; then we need re-enchantment. It’s a process of re-enchantment. It goes back to Ursula K. Le Guin’s Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction — this authentic, inclusive connection. It’s about connection, yeah.

There’s something in that, for sure. This idea of discovering re-enchantment in the creative process, in presenting that creative process to others…

My work is only of so much interest to me. Most of my ideas come from theory — even if they’re very embodied, or intuitive, they’ll come from theory. I guess I’m in the process of excavation with my music. Maybe it’s discovery, but there’s also a sense of excavation to it. I think that’s my love of film noir, it’s my love of cyberpunk; it’s my love of the fact that cyberpunk comes from noir. I’m very drawn to Robert Anton Wilson, conspiracy theories, mystery. I don’t know why; I suppose in my mind, I go from folk forms — I think of the Western, the “acid western”, detective fiction, as these kind of postmodern folk forms. I forgot to mention Victoria Nelson’s book, The Secret Life of Puppets — she says that humanity has become modern and technically advanced so quickly, our esoteric and mystical side of things comes through as a Freudian, repressed urge. Like, why do we still celebrate Halloween? I find that so interesting, that symbolic language.

To round things off, let’s talk about some of the collaborations you’ve worked on with Soborgnost. You’ve recently been working closely with Bold Mellon Collective…

That was my first ever London gig! And my second gig ever. They’re incredible… I did some dramaturgy for Emilia Nurmukhamet, for their show as well — which was amazing. I love them, I need to hang out with them more. Meeting them and their energy, it’s like, healing: this world has great people, as well.

And you’ve got some exciting shows supporting seminal electronic act Cabaret Voltaire, as well?

Yeah! I did a gig in Brighton, which was like, a Backrooms-themed gig. And [during] the day, I emailed Mal [Stephen Mallinder] — because I knew he was teaching at Brighton Uni — and he was telling me about these student performances. Greta — who’s CURRENTMOODGIRL — was playing, so I went to see her do a show in Brighton. And me and Mal [then] met up for a pint; it was really great to meet him, he’s such a nice guy. I was then playing a gig at The Spirit of Gravity, and I was like “Mal, are you around, do you want to come along?” — and he came along, and he said “let’s talk about if you can play with Cabs [Cabaret Voltaire], or one of my projects”. He’s got me playing in Sheffield, and in London at the ICA [Institute of Contemporary Arts].

Those are both really significant. Sheffield because it’s Yorkshire, because it’s where I’m from; but also, Sheffield is such a socialist city. That’s gonna be great. And the ICA, because you have the infamous COUM Transmission / Throbbing Gristle film Other, Like Me, and Einstürzende Neubauten’s Concerto for Voice and Machinery. So even just to be in that space…

There’s a legacy there that you’re contributing to.

And it’s a gift that I can share that enthusiasm. Grant Morrison says, in this chaos magic lecture he gives, that “phylogeny recapitulates history” — you’ve been inspired by something, so you make something because you’ve been inspired, and that inspires someone else. And that’s what we’re decoding. What is that thing that passes [along] that chain? That’s why I sleep at night, and how I deal with being a person in the world.

–

Soborgnost performs with Cabaret Voltaire on 25th October in Sheffield, and 21t November in London – learn more and get tickets here:

• https://www.seetickets.com/event/cabaret-voltaire/forge-warehouse/3414595
• https://www.ica.art/live/cabaret-voltaire

Learn more about Jim Osman and his practice:

• https://linktr.ee/soborgnost
• https://www.instagram.com/soborgnost
• https://www.soundcloud.com/spiritdata
• https://www.cafeoto.co.uk/artists/soborgnost/

References/Links:

• Davenup Agency, ‘What are One-Shot Samples? A comprehensive guide to using them in music production’ (2023), The Sample Lab
• Samantha Hamilton Tarot, ‘Psychic Medium’s crazy accurate predictions on TV!’ (2009), YouTube
• Ursula K. Le Guin, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction (1986)
• The Last Angel of History (1996), dir. John Akomfrah, Black Audio Film Collective
• The Stone Tape (1972), au. Nigel Kneale
• Quatermass and the Pit (1967), au. Nigel Kneale
• Paul Rooney – ‘Lucy Over Lancashire’ (2007)
• Jim Osman, ‘Inbetween Worlds: Devon Rexi Interviewed’ (2023), The Quietus
• William Burroughs, The Cut Up Method (1963)
• Matthew E. Gladden, Megacorp: From Cyberdystopian Vision to Technoeconomic Reality (Defragmenter Media, 2019)
• Raine Petrie, ‘David Byrne and the autistic euphoria of Stop Making Sense’ (2023), Little White Lies
• The Bell Witch Podcast, ‘Chaos Magic and the Tongue of Angels: Discovering Leeds’ Occult History’ (2025), Patreon
• Leila Taylor, Darkly: Black History and America’s Gothic Soul (Watkins Media, 2019)
• Laboria Cuboniks, The Xenofeminist Manifesto: A Politics for Alienation (Verso Books, 2018)
• Octavia Butler, Lilith’s Brood (Xenogenesis Series) (Grand Central Publishing, 2000)
• The Mabinogion, BBC Wales
• Jim Osman, ‘The Strange World Of… African Head Charge’ (2023), The Quietus
• Yanis Varoufakis, Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism (Random House, 2023)
• Victoria Nelson, The Secret Life of Puppets (Harvard University Press, 2001)
• Other, Like Me (2020), dir. Marcus Werner Hed & Dan Fox
• Dave Simpson, ‘Einstürzende Neubauten’ (2024), Electronics Sound
• MonosonicJukeJoint, ‘Grant Morrison on Chaos Magic, the occult & Sigil creation.’ (2018), YouTube

header photo by Reece Jeffery