On my show this month:
There are two shows from Leo this month.
One of Leo's March shows drifts between shadow and glow, opening with the gloriously ragged devotion of The Fat White Family's live ode to Mark E. Smith — a fitting gateway into a journey that's equal parts haunted, tender, and defiantly alive. From Daniel Knox's storm-tossed piano laments to Daniel Avery's nocturnal pulse, the programme traces a path through late-night city streets, flickering neon, and the quiet spaces between conversations.

There are moments of strange beauty and off-kilter charm: Sparks alongside Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard reminding us how overwhelming love can feel, Lisa Knapp and Gerry Diver summoning ancient winds, and Brian Bilston's wry poetry finding fragile truth in the digital age. Elsewhere, Dry Cleaning, Pictish Trail, and The Twilight Sad lean into emotional abrasion, where vulnerability and noise become inseparable.

We take detours into shimmering ambience with Julianna Barwick and Mary Lattimore, ritual rhythms from KINACT, and the intimate ache of Nasiba Abdullaeva's voice. Bruce Springsteen appears like a lone figure beneath a streetlamp, while PVA and POWER PANTS inject flashes of defiance and electricity. The textures shift constantly: folk dissolves into drone, spoken word into static, melody into atmosphere.

By the time MEMORIALS closes the show, we're deep in the weeds — somewhere reflective, uncertain, but strangely comforted. This is a space for outsiders, night thinkers, and anyone who finds meaning in the margins. Stay with us, and let the signal carry you somewhere unexpected.

The other show slips between the mechanical and the human, opening with Mandy, Indiana's stark pulse and Shackleton's ritual rhythms — signals from somewhere deep underground. Charli xcx and John Cale collide in a beautifully unlikely moment, while Nocow and Throwing Snow trace cold electronic constellations overhead.

There's movement and friction throughout: Holy Fuck's kinetic drive, Sorry's restless storytelling, and the wiry immediacy of The Nicked and SPRINTS. Elsewhere, the mood softens into something more fragile — Haley Heynderickx and Max García Conover offer a quiet devotion, Flor and Emmanuelle Parrenin drift into pastoral dream, and Stereolab remind us that repetition can feel like floating.

Global echoes ripple outward, from Damily's hypnotic rhythms to imal Gnawa's trance and Bawrut's radiant dancefloor warmth.

Conrad Schnitzler and Charles Amirkhanian bring experimental textures that feel both archival and futuristic, while Craven Faults and caroline stretch time into wide, contemplative spaces.

As the show unfolds, tensions rise and dissolve — Mclusky snarl, Bill Orcutt fractures the blues, and Krista Papista burns with neon intensity. By the end, Neon Kittens leave us somewhere strange and unresolved.

This is a journey through pulse, memory, and transformation — music for late hours, open minds, and the thrill of not quite knowing what comes next.

Email: