One cold and starry night in December 1994, a tiny, beguiling creature poked its nose through its delicate eggshell in the dark recesses of a decrepit London pub. This beast was bright-eyed, slightly clumsy, but ever so hungry. His name was Reverberations. Soon enough, his his whiskers grew and learned the ways of the world. He was often to be found alone in rooms making inimitable repetitive noises that would thereafter be stored on magical black discs. These disks quickly gained repute the world over, and it wasn’t long before the beast could be seen poking his whiskers in hundreds of cities around the globe, so people may hear him making these strange noises in front of them.

Cut to 17 years later, the creature had grown weary. It looked in the mirror in terror of its coming of imminent coming-of-age. All it saw was that long awkward word that no one could spell: Reverberations. “All these syllables,” it thought, “they are but the wrinkles of old age!” it declared desperately. And without haste, the beast flew to Russia to see a plastic surgeon, who carefully gave it wonderful facelift free of any such “wrinkles”. Rejuvenated, the animal returned home as “RvS” and resumed its clamourous activities.


Ok seriously, we have one of those. We’re a bit OCD too. Record labels and parties have always been platforms from which music we believe in can be showcased when we want, how we want, and with the look we want. In this respect, Reverberations, and now, RvS, has always comprised of a colourful palette of combined tastes and creative visions. We strive for diversity and individuality with our releases and parties, yet with a common flavour throughout.

Having cleaned the state and deleting our 1994-2011 back-catalogue, RvS is a culmination of lessons learned from a prolonged education in the music business (more error than trial). We are a family, but we welcome all talented musicians and artists who share our outlook.

And yes, we love trees, bees, squirrels and snails.