This week’s guide is by CF Smith and contributors Words By Shoaib, Benny Thomas, and Irfan Ayaan.
Every Friday on Twistedsoul, we wade through the underground and pull together a fresh batch of new releases we’ve been vibing with – the kind of records we love and reckon you will too. If your ears lean toward the experimental and the left‑of‑centre, here are six new discoveries worth sinking into. Each one comes with a mini write‑up and a link to grab your own copy. Happy listening and have a lovely weekend.
Albums
Philippe Lamiral Poirier & Roméo Poirier – Images parlées
Roméo Poirier follows up last year’s brilliant Off The Record with an album that sees him working with his father, Philippe Lamiral Poirer. Created in the years leading up to his father’s passing, Images parlées (which translates to ‘Spoken Images’) shows Roméo Poirier crafting a tribute that’s more inquisitive and vibrant than a traditional memorial. Working from his father’s texts and spoken fragments, he gives the material a light, glowing treatment that feels playful on the surface but gently weighted underneath. The balance between affection and distance makes it work: the words are clearly personal, but Poirier doesn’t overstate the emotion. Instead, he lets the productions do the shaping, nudging the voices through bright, exotica-flavoured textures that feel springy, slightly uncanny, and full of movement. The result is a record that sounds like remembrance made tactile. It’s touching without becoming solemn, and distinctive enough to stand apart from the rest of Poirier’s stunning catalogue. More than a tribute, it feels like a conversation kept going by other means. Alongside the album, there’s a companion book showcasing Philippe Lamiral Poirier’s physical artwork, titled Images traversées, which was published to mirror the ongoing dialogue between his paintings, texts, and sound. All in all, a really, really beautiful piece of art. – CFS
Sol Monk – Sands Don’t Sleep
Sol Monk‘s Sands Don’t Sleep is a warm, slow-burner built on a deep groove and crisp drums. It’s the drummer’s second album with guitarist Tamuz Dekel and bassist Dor Samoha, following 2025’s freewheeling ‘New Moves’. Jazz, soul and broken beat drift together naturally, giving the tracks a loose, lived-in feel that never forces the mood. On ‘Open Spirals’ and ‘Blue Hall’, Monk shows two sides of the EP with the same easy confidence. ‘Open Spirals‘ feels light on its feet, circling through a loose, searching groove with real bounce in the rhythm section. ‘Blue Hall‘, by contrast, sinks deeper, slower, and more reflective, letting the deep, rich bass textures of Samoha do most of the work. With Rejoicer stepping in on bass and keys, the album takes on a psychedelic shine that lingers well past the end. Cool sh*t for adventurous musical minds. – CFS
Kronstad 23 – Dødehavet
Dødehavet by Kronstad 23 sounds like a record made by people who actually enjoy playing together, which already puts it ahead of a lot of stuff. It’s got this loose, lived-in feel, like the songs are figuring themselves out in real time, but not in a messy way. It makes sense as the quartet recorded the tracks live to tape at keys player Øyvind Arnodd Vie Berg’s home studio in Bergen, with most tracks captured in one or two takes. What I liked most is that it never feels like they are trying too hard. It’s weird in a good way, Kronstad 23 are confident enough to sit in their own mood. There’s a groove all over it (‘Bolverk‘, ‘Høytrykk‘ and ‘Myrra‘), but it’s not the big obvious kind. It sort of creeps up on you. The whole album has this warm, analogue haze, too, which helps. I love how some tracks don’t feel overly cleaned up or ironed flat, check (‘Stratosfæren‘, and ‘Svalgang‘). Overall, Dødehavet sounds like people in a room chasing a feeling instead of polishing every corner until the life disappears. Drop into Kronstad 23’s cool little universe for a while. Honestly, it’s a great place to be, and you’ll be pretty happy to stay there. – BT
Clear Path Ensemble – Ascending
If you’ve come here expecting the spiritual, nu‑jazz, electronica vibes of past Clear Path Ensemble releases, you’re in for a surprise. Ascending takes a different route entirely, opening up a deeper, more meditative space. Cory Champion gets busy with vibraphone, marimba, glockenspiel, Rhodes, and all that light percussion stuff, so the whole album has this delicate, almost weightless feel, but it still moves. ‘Tongue Rhythm‘ starts with these hypnotic interlocking patterns that feel kind of glassy and meditative, then ‘Train of Thought‘ goes even softer and more reflective, with rolling percussion and lush chords. Then later on, ‘Saying Something‘ and the title track have a warmer, duskier feel to me, a bit more of that hazy electric-jazz glow. And ‘Epicycle‘ at the end is probably my favourite kind of moment on the record: really airy, almost celestial. Ascending is just so easy to live with. I’ve had it on while doing nothing, at work, while walking around, late at night, and it keeps working in different ways. It’s calming, but not in that bland playlist way. There’s something slightly off-centre about it, which is probably why I keep going back to it. – CFS
Hannah Peel & Beibei Wang – The Endless Dance
The Endless Dance feels like stepping into a world where rhythm, nature, and imagination move in constant conversation. Hannah Peel and Beibei Wang blend modular synths, prepared piano, traditional percussion, and improvised textures into something fluid, playful, and deeply physical. Even in its most experimental moments, the music never feels distant. There’s warmth in every strange sound. Opening piece ‘Wild Geese Arrive’ grows out of a marimba warm‑up that Wang didn’t even realise was being recorded. Later, the interlocking polyrhythms of ‘Tiger Sex’ are lifted by a drifting sample of Peel’s voice, echoing through the mix as he urges Wang to keep going. ‘Awaken The Insects’ turns Wang’s own voice into a piece of percussion, sparring rhythmically with the clacking Kuai Ban (快板). She sounds fierce, almost confrontational – but the joke’s on us. She’s actually firing off a childhood tongue‑twister with the intensity of someone casting a spell. ‘Offerings To The Beast’ pairs metallic percussion and pulsing electronics, moving together in hypnotic cycles, while tiny human details buried in the mix keep the track grounded and alive. It feels ancient and futuristic at once. ‘Feed The Fireflies’ is gentler but equally immersive. The arrangement glows with soft synth patterns and delicate rhythmic movement, creating the sensation of wandering through nature at dusk. Rather than building toward a climax, the track simply drifts and transforms organically. What makes The Endless Dance so compelling is its freedom. Peel and Wang trust instinct over structure, allowing curiosity and movement to guide the entire experience. – WBS
Mexican Institute of Sound & Meridian Brothers – Ruido Tovar
Ruido Tovar sounds like two musical troublemakers having the time of their lives. Camilo Lara and Eblis Álvarez dive headfirst into the psychedelic world of late-70s and early-80s Mexican tropical music, pulling apart cumbia, danzón, and son before rebuilding them with warped synths, surreal humour, and just enough chaos to keep everything delightfully unpredictable. Rather than treating Rigo Tovar’s legacy with museum-like reverence, the duo embraces his adventurous spirit. The result is an album that feels nostalgic and futuristic at once, packed with playful twists, eccentric arrangements, and melodies that remain surprisingly infectious amid the experimentation. ‘Ritmo Babilonia‘ is an immediate highlight. Beck‘s guest appearance slips naturally into the album’s offbeat universe as swirling electronics and tropical rhythms collide with infectious energy. ‘Cumbia Beckiana‘ pushes the collaboration even further, transforming classic cumbia structures into something wonderfully strange without sacrificing groove. Speaking of groove, ‘Cumbia del Lobo‘ and ‘Concorde‘ are so infectiously funky and fun, they’ll have you dancing along in no time. Throughout the record, Lara and Álvarez balance satire, affection, and musical curiosity with remarkable ease. Ruido Tovar is never content to sit still; it constantly finds new ways to surprise. It’s a vibrant celebration of cultural exchange, proving that tradition can be honoured most effectively by boldly reinventing it. – IA
