RA Podcast

The masked duo go on the record to address criticisms, identity and their forthcoming album, Infinite Now. Anonymous DJ-and-producer duo Two Shell are both loved and reviled. They've spent the last few years making the question of their identity inseparable from their music, earning an enormous fanbase with their original, up-tempo productions, and then alienating much of it through relentless pranks. Some of their most illustrious capers have included selling albums embedded in rocks, sending decoys to give fake interviews and booking stand-ins to perform in their place at major gigs and festivals. But after their headline set on Glastonbury's IICON stage last summer—a proper, career-spanning 90 minutes that they actually turned up for—fans flooded their inbox with the same comment: "we know it wasn't you up there! classic!!" Their response was an Instagram post that broke the script. "Anonymity sometimes feels like a mistake," they wrote. And now, on the eve of a new album called Infinite Now, they've agreed to sit down for their first-ever video interview. In this RA Exchange, Two Shell directly address the criticisms that have been levelled against them over the years; discuss what they owe their fans; and unpack their creative process, embrace of AI and more. Listen to the episode in full.

The Drain Gang cofounder talks about mysticism, Gen Z and his new album, Sulfur Surfer. Bladee's work as a founding member of the Swedish collective Drain Gang has shaped a new generation of underground music. The group's sound, which is rooted in cloud rap and Auto-Tune experimentation, and pulls from trance, noise, metal, goth and grunge, has earned them an enormous following of fans—AKA "drainers"—overwhelmingly under 30. Bladee has long been one of Drain Gang's most prominent voices, building a prolific solo career alongside the collective's output. His work engages with mysticism through vulnerable, diaristic lyrics about his state of mind. On his new album, Sulfur Surfer, he presents an autobiographical figure caught between "letting go and holding on"—a continuation of his longstanding interest in spirituality and the occult. He draws on the story of St. George, the Swedish painter Hilma af Klint and the occultism of British group Current 93, whose frontman David Tibet makes a guest appearance. In this RA Exchange, Bladee talks about making honest music, the role Drain Gang has played in pushing him to find his voice, his ambivalence about fame and his collaboration with Skrillex. Sulfur Surfer is out now on Trash Island. Listen to the episode in full.

The Sonic Youth cofounder opens up about her solo output, the intersection of art and music, and her new album, PLAY ME. For over four decades, Kim Gordon has navigated the edges where fine art meets noise. Her claim to fame was as a founding member of Sonic Youth, the band that took the nihilistic, abrasive energy of New York's no wave scene and forged it into a new language for rock. After Sonic Youth's public breakup in 2011, Gordon returned to her original creative practice: visual art. But in recent years, she has undergone a staggering creative transformation that's led her back to music. At 72—an age when most legends are content with the heritage circuit—she has instead dived headlong into the sounds of the present: industrial electronics, Chicago footwork and the blown-out low-end of SoundCloud rap. Aiming to break with her Sonic Youth legacy, Gordon released her first two solo albums, No Home Record and The Collective, in 2019 and 2024, respectively. And now, she's back with her third LP: PLAY ME. Working alongside producer Justin Raisen, she uses beat-oriented frameworks to interrogate what she calls the "tyranny of frictionless culture." From naming Spotify playlists in her lyrics to donating proceeds to reproductive rights, her work remains a vital, confrontational critique of late capitalism and technocratic fascism. In this RA Exchange, Gordon discusses the process of moving closer to solo work, as well as the masculinity of rock; her evolving relationship with electronic music; the politics of the "body;" and why, after thinking she was done with music, she keeps getting pulled back in. Listen to the episode in full.

The Brazilian party starter unveils 60 minutes of sun-drenched house. Minas Gerais isn't the typical Brazil of postcards. Yet from this landlocked terrain emerged one of its most accomplished sons. As OMOLOKO, João Vitor has mastered the art of summoning summer on the dance floor. Armed with a pair of CDJs and a USB, he carries sun-kissed house dreams shaped by countless hours lost in Discogs rabbit holes, forgotten corners of YouTube and the dust of hidden record shops. Vitor was born in Rio Grande do Norte, in Brazil's northeast, before moving south as a child when his family set out in search of new opportunities—a well-worn path in the world's fifth-largest country. Adopting the alias OMOLOKO in the late 2010s, he quickly became a beacon in Belo Horizonte's bubbling electronic scene. Carrying sounds from home deep in his memory alongside a restless desire to make the world dance to his own findings, he carved out a singular voice with genre-hopping sets, grounded in an affection for infectious grooves and warm, rolling kicks. In recent years, Vitor's fine-tuning of his craft behind the decks have made him more than a familiar face at countless essential nightlife hubs around the world, from Panorama Bar to Dekmantel, São Paulo's Gop Tun to Ibiza's DC-10. His résumé, already impressive, is expanding nicely. So to mark the beginning of carnaval in Brazil, who better for RA.1025. Vitor's RA Mix draws deeply from the lineage of house's most celebrated names, alongside obscure gems your Shazam wouldn't dare recognise. With slow-cooking patience, the session follows wherever the language of dance leads: South African kwaito, diva vocal flashes, funk-laced deep house, vibraphone-led strides and salsa-laced drumwork. It’s like a dream team of house offshoots, all meeting for the very first time at the beach. Read more at https://ra.co/podcast/1044 @OMOLOKOO

The Texan prodigy transmits the sound of sci-fi techno in 2026. What does the future feel like in 2026? In an era dominated by nostalgia and electronic revivalism, even techno—a genre once defined by futurism—has begun to feel stagnant. Enter Gautham Garg, aka Decoder. Raised in Dallas, the 21-year-old offers a refreshed vision of techno for the present moment. While comparisons to techno stargazers like Mills and Richie Hawtin are inevitable, RA.1023 reveals a broader palette. Microtonal flourishes recall Aleksi Perälä’s Colundi era, while the patient structures lean closer to Perlon-style minimalism than early-2000s severity, with nods to Ricardo Villalobos and Margaret Dygas. Built largely from unreleased material, RA.1023 captures Garg’s vision of techno for this decade. There’s weight, but it’s more body than bite: elastic, finely tuned drums and a buoyant hypnotism that persists even in rougher moments. Though often labeled sci-fi, Garg’s sound adds layers to cold futurism—instead, optimism shines through. In his hands, techno’s future still feels bright. Find the Q&A and tracklist at ra.co/podcast/1042 @iamdecoder