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Madwonko
Rehearsal tapes. Room mics. Music that hasn't been fixed yet. This show is recordings from band practice spaces — my own band mostly, plus submissions from anyone willing to share the mess of a song still becoming itself. Half-finished riffs, blown takes, the drummer coming in a beat late. Wrong notes very much welcome.
22:00-00:00
Jah Bong
Jah Bong has been playing music that doesn't fit neatly into any category for longer than he'd probably like to admit. His tastes run from kosmische to kora, with long detours through anything that clocks in over ten minutes. The Space Cowboy is the natural result — a show built around the idea that the best music rarely comes with a genre label attached.
08:00-11:00
Vulture
Sonic Decay is Vulture’s weekly excavation into the beautiful ruin of sound. A collision of punk urgency, industrial abrasion, post-punk shadows, no wave weirdness, and other deliciously damaged transmissions. Expect distorted guitars, mechanical pulse, basement tape archaeology, and the occasional sonic ambush. Not background music. More like structural wear for your speakers.
23:00-00:00
Madwonko · 2026-05-03T12:00:00.000Z
Trans-Europe Express doesn't ask you to enjoy it. It asks you to submit. The title track arrives eleven minutes in, after two shorter pieces have quietly lowered your defenses — no drums yet, no urgency, just Hütter's voice processed into something barely human, reading city names like a departure board. By the time the sequencer kicks in, you're already on the train. You didn't notice yourself boarding. That's the Kraftwerk trick, and it took me years to see it. The music sounds mechanical because it is, but mechanism isn't the point — momentum is. Those interlocking sequences don't pull you in by being complex. They pull you in by being inevitable. One note follows the next the way track follows track in the dark, and before long you stop wondering where you're going and just watch the lights go past. What most of their imitators missed is that repetition isn't laziness. It's pressure. By the time Trans-Europe Express fades out, seventeen minutes after it began, you feel like something has moved through you. Not an album. A route.
Madwonko · 2026-05-03T12:00:00.000Z
The last time someone tried to explain Alice Coltrane to me, they gave up halfway through and just put the record on. That's usually how it goes. She resists summary the way certain places resist photographs — you can capture the surface, but whatever made you stop and stare doesn't survive the transfer. Classically trained pianist from Detroit. Widow of John Coltrane. Founder of an ashram in the Santa Monica mountains. Devotional musician who spent two decades recording music she never tried to sell. All true. None of it explains why, fifty years later, someone puts on Journey in Satchidananda for the first time and feels, with no context and no preparation, that something has shifted in the room. The first time I heard her, I didn't know what I was hearing. That's the only honest place to start.
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