Well here we are it’s only been a couple of weeks since the pilot episode of Chord Confessions. Yet it feels like an eternity. For me making shows is easy when it’s just me pulling all the shots. I do find it uncomfortable when asking others to help me make show like this.
The idea behind it is simple. Present life changing musical pieces, and why they are so. Songs that changed everything. That changed a life direction somehow. It could be from early childhood or maybe from last week. It might be the piece you want played at your funeral or the track that reminds you of a loved one, or the one that helped you through a dark patch.
The shows are real stories, the most important music on the planet and I get to mention some fantastic people out there. People like you!
So get involved DM me with your stories or send them to trevlad@gmail.com and let’s create something special together.
Welcome to Chord Confessions episode two.

Scholars of the Peak is the evocative ambient electronic project of Drew Huddart, a musician and sound artist based in the High Peak District of the UK. Drawing inspiration from the rugged landscapes, rolling hills, and resonant traditions of his home region—including his background as a campanologist (bell-ringer)—Huddart crafts immersive, atmospheric soundscapes that blend subtle field recordings, melodic synth layers, and haunting textures.
Under the Scholars of the Peak moniker, he has released a series of acclaimed albums and tapes, including Polymorphic (2024), Peak Quest: The Call of the Summit (2025), Transmissions from Mother Hill (2025), and the recent The Seawatch Observatory Tapes (2026 on Preston Capes Tapes), which captures coastal atmospheres with evocative, mist-laden electronics. His work often explores themes of place, memory, and the natural world, earning praise in underground electronic and hauntological circles for its contemplative beauty and innovative fusion of organic and synthetic elements.
Huddart handles all aspects of composition, performance, production, and design himself, releasing primarily through Bandcamp while building a dedicated following through live performances and collaborations. Scholars of the Peak offers a serene yet deeply resonant escape—an electronic rolling hill where blips, bleeps, and beeps feel right at home.
Here’s Drews confession:
 
I remember the first time I heard this song. I was around 15 years old & it was during the late 90s ITV television series The Grimley’s, a nostalgic comedy set in 1970s Dudley, West Midlands. In it we follow the daily life of Gordon Grimley, an outcast teenager who is deeply in love with his teacher, Miss Titley. It’s an alternate universe where Noddy Holder plays the school music teacher with Alvin Stardust the local pub landlord and Brian Conley as the brilliant but cruel PE teacher Doug ‘Dynamo’ Digby. Slade songs scatter the series with one episode closing out with Mr Holder singing Cum On Feel the Noize on an acoustic guitar in an empty classroom. A real treat that was. I feel Noddy and Slade are criminally underrated. 

I had a conversation with the late great Virgin Radio DJ Pete Mitchell just a couple of weeks before he passed away, he was a friend of Noddy’s and I’d said how much I’d love to be in a room with just Noddy Holder and a guitar to hear his sing some Slade classics completely raw. Pete responded “I have, and you would love it”.
 
I always felt like the piano was an instrument out of my reach – I simply was not clever enough to know what to do so spent 20 years playing the guitar thinking learning a few tabs and progressing to chords was the limit of my ability after my uncle Graham gave me my first guitar aged 16. In more recent years I began familiarising myself with the Slade back catalogue and I discovered a real treasure trove of tracks. How Does It Feel stayed as a standout track for me. By a stroke of luck, my Uncle Graham messaged me to say he was upgrading his electric piano, would I like his old one. Yes! Absolutely! Now was my chance to just sit down, alone and try and learn the piano at my own pace. I didn’t want to sit and learn keys, notes, chords or scales – I wanted to learn how to play How Does It Feel then I felt everything else could start once I’d tried that.
 
Cue some disastrous piano sessions struggling to get my fingers working independently of one another and scouring YouTube for any cover videos of the track in a hope I can see where other people “put their fingers”. Eventually I managed to carve out a reasonable rendition of the intro & chorus and I felt incredibly proud of myself. I’d isolate Noddy’s vocals and try and play along.
 
Eventually I picked up a midi keyboard and began playing around with Ableton. A questionable decision was to produce a synthwave version of How Does It feel – you can hear that here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBvdaQnAJjs&list=RDrBvdaQnAJjs&start_radio=1&pp=ygUcc2xhZGUgaG93IGRvZXMgaXQgZmVlbCBjb3ZlcqAHAQ%3D%3D


This was all before Scholars of the Peak became a thing but this journey, from this Salde song was the true catalyst in directing my down the musical road that eventually became Scholars of the Peak.  

Yes what a stunning opener with Slade and How does it Feel? Thank you Drew Huddart aka Scholars of the Peak for that.
Also a massive thank you to my secretary Sharon whom you may know a Gareth Evans aka HDRF for their fantastic work to make this show possible. I love making the time to put these together but I do not love making the time to reposting requests, reminding people who have said they’ll send in something etc, etc.. I don’t know how Sharon does it, and I apologies for any threats made but without them I would have given up on this, and what a shame that would have been.
I have no budget to pay Sharon so I do urge you to grab something or everything from HDRFs Bandcamp catalogue. Also I have no budget because most of you are not subscribing which I understand as the shows are free to listen to for a while but wouldn’t it be nice to listen to them in a week from now. Wouldn’t it be nice to get the music only mixes of the shows? Well you can for about 3 quid a month.
Now back to business…

Warmfield is the evocative, place-bound electronic project of Paul Broome, a UK-based musician (also active in bands like Fauxchisels and Monica’s Last Prayer) who explores the hidden layers of the West Riding of Yorkshire and its surrounding fringes through a blend of ambient, downtempo, and electronic soundscapes interwoven with spoken or sung words.

Described as a “parageographical exploration” of people, places, folklore, history, and everyday memory, Broome’s work under Warmfield draws deeply from local Yorkshire landscapes, industrial heritage, sporting lore, and personal recollections—evoking a hauntological yet warmly nostalgic sense of northern English terrain. His productions feature subtle synth textures, field-inspired atmospheres, and narrative elements that map forgotten corners like parish villages, rugby grounds, roundabouts, and market halls.

Since emerging prominently in 2024, Broome has built a prolific catalog via his Bandcamp label and releases on DIE DAS DER, including the expansive 23-track album Warmfield-cum-Heath (March 2024); the rugby-themed EP The Dreadnoughts (November 2024); the evocative mini-album Barbara & Henry (2025); and the 1980s-set Saver Strip (April 2025), with tracks like “Tesco Roundabout (Underpass)” and “Britain’s First Food Court” capturing faded retail and urban memories.

A 2024 compilation gathered much of that year’s output, and Broome continues to record in The Back Room (Stone, Staffordshire), self-releasing tapes, vinyl, and digital editions that resonate in underground ambient and DIY electronic scenes for their intimate, geographically rooted storytelling and gentle electronic melancholy.

Warmfield invites listeners to wander the spectral edges of the Merrie City and the Rhubarb Triangle—one shimmering synth line and whispered memory at a time.

Here’s Pauls confession:
As a teenager in the late 80s I was navigating life on a strict diet of heavy metal, noise and proto-grunge. The guitar was king. I was a horror movie nut – and even published a short lived fanzine called The Small Hours. So, apart from the soundtracks of John Carpenter, electronic music was almost entirely absent from my sphere of influence. 

The main bonus to publishing a fanzine back then was the glut of promotional items you would receive on a regular basis. One day what should arrive in the post but a 10″ and cassette copy of a new release from Solar Lodge records – The Unreleased Themes for Hellraiser by Coil.
Now, I had heard about these recordings due mostly to Clive Barker mentioning them in several interviews. I knew he had commissioned them for his directorial debut, but the studio had vetoed their use (too weird or something) and insisted on the Christopher Young score that was ultimately used (which is also great, but very different). 

The first time I pressed play I was at my mate (and chief fanzine layout person) Andy’s house. For some reason we decided to turn out the lights and crank up the volume… It freaked us out.

This was the moment that I first realised the latent power of electronic music and the infinite emotive and metaphysical possibilities that lay within it. It was the moment that planted a seed. It was the moment that altered my DNA and lit a fire.

There have been many more such moments over the last 40 years. But that was the first.

---

Hope this is useable 🙂 
All the best!

• Paul.
• Artist / Song Title: Coil / Main Title (Unreleased Theme for Hellraiser)

Magpie Vectors is the shadowy, ritualistic electronic alias of EQ-P (often stylized as eqp or Edwina Louise Quatermass-Palmer), a Leeds-based artist, writer, and self-described “aestheta-berserker” whose work channels occult-tinged ambient, modal techno, warped house, and experimental sound design into hypnotic, otherworldly sonic ceremonies.

EQ-P crafts mixes and releases that function as tonal séances—pulling listeners through fog-drenched club pulses, shimmering ambient interludes, and gravitational distortions that feel equal parts industrial hauntology and midnight invocation. Drawing from a magpie-like compulsion to collect and transmute obscure influences, the project blends rhythmic drive with eerie, oil-slick atmospheres, evoking strobe-lit hallucinations and concrete mysticism.

Active across platforms like X (@elqpalmer), Bluesky (@eqp.bsky.social), and Bandcamp collections, Magpie Vectors has built a cult following in the UK’s underground electronic and experimental scenes. Recent highlights include live performances at events like Switched On Whitby Electronic Music Weekend (November 2025) and contributions to compilations alongside kindred spirits in folktronica, dark ambient, and DIY electronics. A new album dropped in early March 2026, with limited CD runs for UK collectors highlighting the project’s tactile, ritual-object ethos amid broader digital drops.

EQ-P’s output resists easy categorization—it’s club music that whispers ancient curses, ambient that prowls like a spectral bird, and a personal sonic grimoire where no sex magick is permitted in the apartment, but the air thickens with implication nonetheless.

Magpie Vectors gathers the shiny fragments of the night and forges them into something beautifully unsettling—one vectorized shriek and modal drift at a time.

Here’s Edwina’s story:
I’m, EQ-P or Magpie Vectors. Terrific fan of the electronic music scene, new, slightly nervy performer, and proud to know many of the artists here, and very proud to call some of them my friends. 
My chosen track that changed my life, and steered me in this direction, is from an artist who is probably tired of of me telling this story, as I’m always telling it,  (sorry again, Kevin!) but here we are, such was the profound effect of hearing one of their tracks in the middle of the night on Radio 6.

I had separated from my partner temporarily (as it turned out), and lived by myself for a while. I developed odd sleeping habits, and kept the radio on all night for company.

It was very early 2020, and I woke just after one cold midnight to hear the most beautiful music I had ever heard on the radio, and as I listened, I knew I was forever changed. Luckily, I caught the name of that track, and that of the artist. I went to find it online, and from there, an entire new world opened for me. 

I found not only the entire Black Meadow lore, in music, book, and broadcast forms, but a community of artists making the most creative work, sending out sonic excellence to the universe. 

As a child, and younger adult, my mother was my true musical influence – a classical pianist who had also played in jazz clubs in the north of England to put herself through her music degree – and was enchanted by electronic music. Nothing was off limits to her ear, and she bought stacks of albums into the home to excitedly share with me. I grew up with Delia Derbyshire, Wendy Carlos, Daphne Oram, and later, the more commercial artists such as Sky, The Electric Light Orchestra, as my life baseline. 

To rediscover the genre as an adult was transformative. 

After moving back home at the beginning of the declared COVID epidemic, work sent us home, which was rather what I needed, I had time to immerse myself in this new electronic scene. I spent that summer mostly outside, with my record deck set up in the garden, playing album after album, while getting acquainted with other fans online. And DJ Space Terrapin on Mad Wasp Radio opened the door even further for me. His shows are quite wonderful. 

What strikes me most about this community is how supportive these artists are, as a rule. I’ve been given opportunities as an artist which I’m sure I don’t deserve, but for which I’m so very grateful. Mainly, I’ve made some lovely, lovely friends for life, even if some of them are no longer with us. 

Thank you, HDRF, Subphotic, Band of Cloud, Guerilla Biscuits, Hymns for Robots, Polypores, DJ Space Terrapin…it’s a very long list, and apologies to anyone who deserves a special shout-out, but know that so many of you have supported me, even when it seemed I wasn’t creating anything. 

Many thanks, EQP as Magpie Vectors.

and here it is Soulless Party with The Village Under the Lake

Artist: Greg Wye – Sunshine Playroom / Prozapine / Persephonic Sprawl

Greg Wye is the multifaceted UK-based musician, producer, mastering engineer, and creative polymath behind the aliases Sunshine Playroom, Prozapine, and Persephonic Sprawl—each channeling distinct facets of his eclectic sonic palette from his home-recording setup in East Devon (with earlier ties to Leeds, West Yorkshire).

Under Sunshine Playroom, Wye conjures “light and fluffy, melodic psychedelia” laced with nostalgic hauntology: sampling childhood TV snippets, archive sounds, and retro textures to craft affectionate, bittersweet trips down memory lane. Debut album The Old Railway Track (2023) delivered a sprawling 16-track evocation of lost summers and faded railways, while follow-up Melancholy Melodies & Stolen Memories (April 2024) trawled deeper into melancholic, stolen childhood melodies—earning praise in underground press for its uncanny 1970s/80s authenticity in a modern context.

As Prozapine, the focus shifts to layered guitar-scapes and introspective, textural compositions—evident in revamped EPs like Prescription for Acute Sleep Deprivation (updated 2025), featuring guest woodwinds and dreamlike, sleep-deprived drifts that blend organic instrumentation with electronic subtlety.

Persephonic Sprawl ventures into pure ambient, drone, and experimental territory: atmospheric sketches and moods, most recently realized in the March 2026 mini-album Kleeep—a 7-track homage to Paul Klee’s paintings, translating colorful, abstract canvases into shimmering sonic landscapes available in limited CD editions.

All projects release primarily through his Bandcamp hub (prozapine.bandcamp.com), where Wye also operates Persephonic Audio for high-quality mixing and mastering services. A one-man operation embracing neo-psychedelia, hauntology, and sonic archaeology, Greg Wye’s work invites listeners into personal, memory-haunted worlds—whether basking in sun-dappled psychedelia, wandering guitar-layered reveries, or drifting through abstracted drone paintings—one nostalgic fragment or painted-inspired pulse at a time.

Czukay, Wobble, Leibezeit – Mystery RPS (No.8)
So the fact that this track is titled ‘mystery’ is quite apt, as it was a complete mystery to me for quite a few years… 1993/4 was my first year as a student in Leeds. This was before the internet had invaded every home, and discovering new music was either through mate’s recommendations, hearing something on the radio (J. Peel) or taking a complete punt on something based on the cover & blurb. Sometimes just picking up something from a sale bargain bin. Which is how I came across this track – I picked up a single CD without a case or sleeve in HMV for 1.99. it had an orange and silver face, with the letters BE large at the top and 76:03 below ‘Ambient 3’ and it was Disc 2 (so must have been separated from Disc 1 somewhere along the way). It was a voyage of discovery in the dark, without the inlay and track listing, I had no idea what most of the tracks or artists were (and couldn’t just ‘Google’ it)

I only recognised The Future Sound of London somewhere towards the end. I loved most of the stuff on it, but what the heck was it all? The one that really fascinated me was Track 2. Starting with some ominous footsteps and an eerie humming machinery sound, an insistent deep bassline fades up. A half-whispered voice starts asking ‘Can you feel the wind?, the hypnotic drum groove develops and occasionally someone seem to be clanking a pipe with some metal. It was so different, so otherworldly, but it resonated with me very deeply and I became obsessed. I hadn’t yet discovered Can & Krautrock, even though I knew Copey was always singing the praises.
I kept telling all my mates that ‘I want to be in a band like THIS!’ (spoiler: unfortunately I never was as I couldn’t find anyone with similar musical ambitions).
It was a few years later when I finally stumbled across the intact ‘Ambient 3’ double-CD with the track listing, to put names to all the beguiling music I’d been listening to blind

So this was Jah Wobble with Holger Czukay and Jackie Leibezeit of Can – and that sent me on another voyage of discovery…

Rick Flynn
I have 3 tracks that all sparked different changes in my life and love of music. I’ll start at the beginning. 

1. Mogwai Fear Satan – Mogwai

So back in 1997, prior to joining a band as a bass player (never a guitarist who played bass….always a bassist) I was into the indie wave of bands, Oasis et al. I joined a band, a band that would open my eyes to a whole new genre of music and allow me to play with so many other cool bands. Not long after joining said band, we would happen to sat in the drummers bedroom chatting about music and stuff that was of interest. He pressed play on a record that would change the way (and what) i would listen to for the rest of my musical life. It was Mogwai’s debut album, Young Team. As the music played i was lost in melodic basslines, powering feedback and sparse bleak and fragile quiet breaks. The albums final track, the 16 minute, 19 second epic Mogwai Fear Satan. From its slow building delay ridden chord intro, to the defenining building feedback sections and the stripped back flute melody section. It had everything I never needed i knew and to this day is the song that will mark the end of my time on this earth. Mogwai from that point would be my favourite band and laid the foundations for all that came after. 

3. – Dohnavùr

During lockdown I started to use Twitter (back when it was good) to find new music and would ofter listen to Lippy Kids, music bazar (name check?) and his then Electronic Odyseey. In these shows he would play some of the more mainstream electronic artists i was aware of, but lots of new and exciting artists. At the time, I was also going through a very rough patch mentally and my home life was unpleasant to say the least. These shows were a break from that noise and somewhere I would get lost for an hour. He spoke about a label ‘Castles In Space’ and at first it was the name that intrigued me, already knowing The Orb track of the same name i investigated further. I saw, via Bandcamp that there was a Subscription Library and hastily joined. I was at the brink mentally and close to doing something horrendous that would damage the future of my family, but as I looked through the back catalogue of albums released I came across an album by a band (well duo) called Dohnavùr. I pressed play on my phone and the sound of the opening to Cloudback changed my whole outlook on life. I knew that I could get better, sort my life out, talk about my problems. This track saved my life! It will always mean so much to me. 

Rick Flynn is the passionate UK-based music enthusiast and dedicated Bandcamp digger behind Rick’s Listening Page, a curated showcase of sonic discoveries shared via Instagram (@rickslisteningpage) and echoed across his online presence.

A self-described “music lover” and bass player (with nods to #MDANT in his bio), Flynn maintains an expansive Bandcamp collection under rickscottflynn—boasting thousands of items focused heavily on electronic music, alongside ambient, experimental, and underground gems from labels like Third Kind Records. His wishlist and “new” additions highlight atmospheric soundtracks, entropy-infused ambients (e.g., Nicholas Langley), quirky projects (Portland Vows’ Plastic Alice, dogs versus shadows’ Hollow Headaches), and esoteric releases that suggest a taste for textured, introspective electronics—perfect for rainy drives, contemplative listens, or unearthing hidden corners of the scene.

Through Rick’s Listening Page, he spotlights finds and favorites from Bandcamp and beyond, serving as an informal curator in the vein of underground music communities. His shares often surface in niche roundups (e.g., I Heart Noise’s Dispatches from the Underground), where his recommendations help amplify lesser-known artists in ambient, drone, and leftfield electronic spheres.

Based in Brighouse, UK, with ties to Last.fm for deeper tracking, Flynn embodies the ardent fan who treats music discovery as a daily ritual—quietly championing the overlooked, the shimmering, and the strange, one thoughtful share at a time. Whether highlighting sax-kissed highlights or entropy-laced ambients, Rick’s Listening Page is a gentle beacon for fellow explorers wandering the vast, rewarding fringes of modern independent music.

Greg again

OK, here goes… Swing Out Sister – Theme (from It’s Better to Travel) It’s the 1980s, I’d just turned teenager and my musical tastes was pretty much electro-pop. The first album I ever bought was Falco3 and my heroes were the Pet Shop Boys. As soon as I heard Swing Out Sister on the radio, I was absolutely buzzing from the saccharine sugar rush of Breakout, so many catchy hooks with lush synths, strings and major 7th splendour. So I went straight down to Our Price (or it might have been WHSmith?) and bought the album It’s Better to Travel. It generally unravelled per expectations, jazz-pop chords, all slick synth-based 80s production topped off with Corinne’s incredible Sade-esque voice.. But when it came to the closer ‘Theme’- at first I wondered whether there had been some mix-up at the record company or duplication plant? The rest of the album had lush orchestration on most of the tracks but… Opening the track with harp and timpani, strings, horns… bassoon and harpsichord?
And no singing? This wasn’t the saccharine pop I’d just feasted on. It sounded more like one of my dad’s Mike Oldfield records. Or the score to an intense finale scene from a fantasy adventure film? At first I wasn’t sure what to make of it. But there was something about it that just grabbed me. Confounding expectations this was a revelation- a pop band doing an atmospheric movie soundtrack. Anything was possible – ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ and all that, it made me realise that you shouldn’t pigeonhole bands, and also as an artist you could do whatever you want – don’t pigeonhole yourself! It opened me up to other styles of music (and eclectic styles side by side on one record). It planted the seed for exploring ‘modern classical’ soundtrack stuff years later, getting into artists like Johann Johannsson, Nils Frahm, Sylvain Chauveau to name a few.
Whenever I play this track blind to someone who’s never heard it before and ask them to guess who it is, the look of disbelief on their face when I say Swing Out Sister is always priceless…

Next up an artist who is relatively new to me under his alias Swimming Lesson. Mr. Darryl Wakelin. Who sent in his own blurb which goes like this:
What is a Darryl Wakelin, and what music does he make?: I’ve been making music since I was about 9, but I was obsessed with sound, noises and music from as young as I can remember… I would be so excited by the sound collages on programmes like Vision On, any of the Radiophonic stuff that was all over the BBC in the 70s, TV themes like The Persuaders, twanging rulers on desks, putting a slinky to my ear for Star Wars laser sounds – all that stuff. Electronic music, though, really, really satisfied my brain…and I found out when I was 35 that it’s because I have synaesthesia (a condition where senses overlap). The form I have means I perceive music as an endless/limitless 3d image in my mind’s eye, with every instrument or sound having weight, shape, texture and movement. Electronic music makes the best pictures! I assumed up until that point that everyone had this and that was why music was so beloved! Back to the 1970s – I started tinkering with electronic music in around 1977 and have been obsessed ever since. I was in a few bands in the 1980s, with names like Integrated Circuit, Genetixx, and Oasis (!), and made a lot of soundtracks for student films when I was at film school. During the 90s I continued making soundtracks, did a lot of work with choreographers, and a lot of my own stuff – all under names like Storm Boy, Koenig, Pierre and Velo-music. These days I have 3 main projects – ‘swimming lesson’ is firmly focussed on a handmade/old-school home studio aesthetic, drawing inspiration from growing up in the 1970s and 80s; ‘Isograph’ is abstract ‘ambient’ experimental work that takes the microscopic world, folklore and mysticism as starting points for tracks, combined with very particular sound design that generates detailed, sharp-focus brain-images for me; and ‘Luder’ is all about Brutalism, Modernism, Europe, and that particular brand of the 1980s contradictory optimistic/dystopian eye on the future.

Track: ‘Rooms with Brittle Views’ by Bill Nelson, Disques du Crepuscule 1981.

Here’s Darryl’s two Chord Confessions which I’ll play back to back.

I first heard this track at my friend Willy Carter’s house – his older brother was one of those cool kids who managed to find this kind of stuff – a Belgian 7inch by an artist nobody really cared much about?! I was absolutely transfixed by this song and demanded to hear it over and over again. It sounded like everything I ever wanted to hear, all in one song – the sound of a robotic, automated dystopian future from the synths, cranky, spiky guitar, cool bassline…and lyrics like ‘your house is a machine for living in’?!?! Wow. Bill fast became my favourite artist of the 80s and I still love all his Cocteau Records output, and the home studio aesthetic really resonated with me, but this track is the one that sounded most like the cool/scary, Ballardian future I envisaged at that point….brilliant.

Track: ‘Upon This Earth’ by David Sylvian, from ‘Gone to Earth’ (double album), 1986.

From the first play of this album when I got it on release, to this day, I am wrapt from start to finish… The instrumental album as a whole though, is, to me, the most beautiful collection of music I’ve heard, and the final track ‘Upon This Earth’ moved me profoundly as an 18 year-old and still does. It’s not ‘just’ the overall tenor of the piece, or the gorgeous Robert Graves poem at the start about heartbreak and betrayal, or the plaintive piano chords, tumbling gently throughout, or the keening Frippertronics engraving and scratching heartache onto the delicate backdrop… it’s more than the sum of its parts, and I still don’t know why it affects me the way it does. It’s an amazing piece of work, and changed my emotional responses to music forever. Up until then, I wanted to hear fairly extreme dynamics, and synths, and bass, and drive and rhythm, or abstract noise and more synths…and then there was this. Sylvian is a bona-fide genius.

Wonderful stuff there ‘Upon This Earth’ by David Sylvian and before that ‘Rooms with Brittle Views’ by Bill Nelson. Thank you for the tales Darryl.
Next up is someone who’s been mentioned earlier in the episode. A figure who has been an important one in many of our lives. Not least my own. He has been one of the greatest sources of inspiration and discovery for this channel. Now years on it’s sometimes scary how many of the same artists feature on our episodes.
It is of course Marc Fabian Erdl Who we all know as DJ Space Terrapin or Gehege Drei is the enigmatic radio host, archivist, and selector behind It Came From Enclosure Three, the long-running experimental music broadcast on Mad Wasp Radio—a weekly deep-dive into the outer reaches of electronic, avant-garde, ambient, and genre-transcending sounds, often dubbed the “irrepressible voice of the Zoological Garden.”

Operating from an archival mindset, DJ Space Terrapin curates mind-bending “sound safaris” that blend obscure finds, hauntological echoes, library music curiosities, and contemporary underground electronics into hypnotic, exploratory sets. Episodes like Continental Drift, Gehege Drei Kaleidoskop, and listener-choice specials (e.g., on Charity Shop Classics) showcase his eclectic ear: from British hauntology twists to global oddities, jazz-rooted wanderings, and collaborations with labels and artists in the experimental sphere.

His mixes appear on Mixcloud (where he archives broadcasts), with features in compilations and remixes (e.g., contributing to projects on Unexplained Sounds Group and See Blue Audio anthologies. Praised by peers in the scene—including shoutouts from Magpie Vectors, Morgen Wurde, and others—for his adventurous programming and expert curation, he champions the weird, wonderful, and overlooked.

Whether guiding listeners through dystopian buttery textures, proto-human remixes, or shade-rather-than-light anthologies, DJ Space Terrapin remains a trusted guide in the worlds DIY radio underground—delivering weekly doses of sonic zoology that reward deep, headphone-immersed listening, one enclosure at a time. Tune in via Mad Wasp Radio or Mixcloud archives for the full, genre-defying expedition.

To experience the Terrapins confession in the best way is to let him tell it himself. Take it away miestro:

There are moments in your life, when everything comes together, all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, at least for a while, and after that things have changed. So, about 50 years ago, in 1976, (half a century, imagine that…), my mother went to party, a rare occasion, as she worked hard and raised me alone. But this was a birthday of a close friend, and it was in our neighbourhood, so, with a few words of comfort and one or the other stern warning she went away. When I woke the next morning, she was there and had gift for me, from her friend…a Musiccassette, a blue one, from The Beatles. Aha
I might have heard the name before, but knew nothing and thought that I never had heard them. as my mom told me this morning, these Beatles had been great, but alas, had split, „long ago“. You know how kids feel about time. They had split 1970, and that made them for the 7 year old reptile I was but a part of the dim and distant past, like World War II, of which my mother talked quite a lot, or the dinosaurs, who had called it a day also roundabout that time, to the best of my knowledge. Ancient History, all of it.
I was instantly in love, dear listeners. The beginning alone, the combination of Strawberry Fields forever, segueuing into Penny Lane, two track that should not work together – but boy, how they did- Cranberry Sauce – Shivers ran down my spine…Then stuff like Lady Madonna, or I am the Walrus, or Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band…the urge to dance, to move, to jump or run around…the sheer kinetic energy that these songs induced…I remember being completely enthralled.
But the real postmodern cracker still waited for me. Well, back in 1973…we all had heard rumours abut a new show in German Television, from America, just for Kids…Sesamstraße, Sesame Street. There had been tests, they said, in 1971, and in 1973 the show was established all over Western Germany, except for Bavaria. Watching this still not adapted, ultra-American – in the best sense – show was incredibly cool and liberating for us Kids. The German writer and cartoonist F.W. Bernstein summed it up what it was like to watch Ernie and Bert, Grover, etc at that time: „Oh when the saints go marching in“. Although as usual in Germany it was translated into German and synchronized, even the songs, this still was a window into another world. Brownstone houses, groovy Monsters in the Neighbourhood, Talking Frogs, People of Color, and an easygoing lifestyle rarely to have in the smalltown where I grew up.
Well, in 1976 they were to germanify Sesame Street, giving it a German frame, and that was the end of it for me, mostly. I still loved the old routines, but the German framing was abominable, filled with „the heavy slime of pedagogical sorrows“ – again F.W. Bernstein…So i stopped tuning in. Anyway…golden times.
Well, and the Blue Album, from the Beatles? …When „Something“ faded out, a new song started, and although I was already high as a kite, musically, the real cracker was to come now…The Beatles, thos mystical icons wer singing…Krakengarten, bzw. Im Garten eines Kraken…Octopus’s Garden…But, hey, this could not be…that was Kermit’s song…wasn’t it.? But of course. I had sung along more than once, loved it to pieces, sure, although the underwater atmosphere was a biut uncanny …now, the Beatles, connected to Kermit…unbelievable. I had known the Beatles for ages, indeed. And everything was connected – wheels within wheels, so to say…. Thos Liverpudlian gods had humour, and Kermit was Ringo Starr’s avatar. Who would have thunk?

Rick Flynn

2. Breadcrumb Trail – Slint

As mentioned above, Mogwai opened the doors to work much new (to me anyway) music and one of those acts and one that showed me that music can be fragile, brazen, uneasy, jaggered, broken, epic was Slint’s ‘Spiderland’ album. The almost silent and whispered eerie opening track ‘Breadcrumb Trail’. Spoken vocals, dark meaningful lyrics, storytelling at a different level. The melodic guitar that would also be a big influence to the whole band. It just hit differently than anything I’d heard before, but linked so well to my love of Mogwai, but this time with vocals that screamed for help. Amazing! 

Rick

Rick Flynn

Larry Farber. stockholm coffee tea juice, the best damn selection of weird cool unusual and amazing films books music toys shirts and people. Larryscorner.nu
Larry Farber is the spirited Detroit-born proprietor, curator, and artistic director of Larry’s Corner, a beloved offbeat cultural hub tucked away on Grindsgatan in Stockholm’s Södermalm district.

Originally from Detroit, Farber relocated to Sweden over three decades ago, eventually transforming a small storefront into a multifaceted venue that defies easy categorization: part cozy café (serving coffee, tea, juice, and good vibes), part eclectic shop stocked with “the best damn selection of weird, cool, unusual, and amazing films” alongside books, records, and oddities, and part intimate performance space championing underground music, experimental sounds, poetry, and live art.

Since opening, Larry’s Corner has become a go-to spot for adventurous Stockholmers and international touring acts alike—hosting everything from solo snare drum improvisations and looping performances to folk/rock/noise bands, jazz-adjacent sets, and intense evenings of avant-garde collaboration (think live bootlegs captured on Bandcamp and YouTube from artists like Ryosuke Kiyasu, Stellan Wahlström Drift Band, MOODD+Speak, and more). The venue’s small, welcoming room fosters close-up encounters with niche and boundary-pushing creativity, earning it a reputation as a sanctuary for “long live offbeat culture” in the Nordic scene.

Farber himself is a raconteur and local legend—frequently featured in podcasts (e.g., Sips and Clips, Troubadours and Raconteurs) sharing stories of his transatlantic journey, dream journals, and unwavering commitment to the strange and wonderful. With thousands of Instagram posts (@larryscorner) chronicling daily life, gigs, and finds, he keeps the spirit alive: open afternoons for browsing, evenings for discovery, and always an unapologetic “we just don’t give a damn” attitude toward the mainstream.

Larry’s Corner remains a rare, enduring gem in Stockholm—one man’s defiant love letter to the quirky, the creative, and the community that gathers around a good cup of coffee and even better sounds. Drop by from 2-ish till 6-ish (or whenever the music calls) and see for yourself.

So it must’ve been 1969. I thought it was 68 but I just looked and the lp came out 1968 and I just cannot imagine a sears roebuck department store record department in a Livonia Michigan shopping mall would be so hip. It was time for me to buy my very first lp George zinger my next door neighbor and best friend came with me Up until we had only bought 45s so getting a whole lp was kinda like a rite of passage I really didn’t want something that was being played on the am radio stations so three fog night cream and ccr were nixed Now this is where it becomes fateful but in a super positive way George thought I should get an lp by a group Called Chicago transit authority and I was tempted Pretty cool name and pretty cool cover- Fate loved me.
Chicago transit authority later became the group Chicago One of THE most boring groups ever I shiver to think how different my life had been if I’d taken that route But Fortunately for me I was and always have been Horny. Thusly when I saw an lp with a pretty girls butt on it I knew I was going places. That lp was Soft machine One of the coolest most creative groups ever and one fucking mind blower and life changer of an lp Somehow that lp opened my eyes to captain beef heart mothers of invention and the list is long I think about this memory often when people tell me what they heard on Spotify I have a hard time believing that Spotify gonna be supplying memories like getting soft machine at the record department of a Sears, Roebuck in 1969