Jungle’s Volcano (2023) is an album of fiery passion, rhythmic groove, and sonic detail. To reduce it to a lossy, compressed file is to view a volcanic eruption through a dirty window. The 24Bit/44.1kHz FLAC version unlocks the full experience—every shaker, every breath, every synth pad floating in the stereo field.
For the audiophile, the collector, or simply the fan who loves music enough to hear it as the artists intended, seeking out the “Jungle - Volcano -2023- -24Bit-44.1kHz- FLAC” file is not an act of snobbery; it is an act of respect. It respects the thousand small decisions made in the studio, the analog warmth of the tape machines, and the digital precision of the final master.
So turn off the lossy streaming, invest in a proper DAC, find a quiet room, and let the high-resolution eruption of Volcano wash over you. You’ll never listen to “Back on 74” the same way again.
Final Note: Always support the artists. Purchase Volcano from official high-res stores or stream it via lossless services. Pirated FLAC files often contain upsampled MP3s or incorrect metadata. Trust only verified sources for your 24/44.1 journey.
Jungle’s 2023 album widely praised as a polished, energetic "summer mixtape" that leans heavily into danceable funk, soul, and disco
. While some critics found it formulaic or "sanitized" compared to their previous work, others hailed it as the group’s most cohesive and fun record to date. Key Highlights & Critical Reception Production & Sound
: The album is noted for its "analog texture" and slick, radio-ready production. It features prominent female vocals, largely provided by Lydia Kitto , which give the record a unified feel. Visual Integration
: Much of the album's success is tied to its visual identity, specifically the viral, one-take music videos choreographed by Shay Latukolan Collaborations
: The record features a range of guest appearances, including Erick the Architect Channel Tres , and UK hip-hop legend Roots Manuva Metacritic
is the fourth studio album by the British electronic duo , released on August 11, 2023, through Caiola Records Album Overview The album is primarily categorized as Electronic , blending elements of
. It has received "universal acclaim" from critics, holding a Metascore of Metacritic Technical Specifications
High-resolution FLAC (lossless) is available via digital platforms like Resolution: 24-Bit / 44.1 kHz. Physical Media: Also available on Vinyl, CD, and Cassette. Tracklist & Featured Artists The record features several high-profile collaborations: "Candle Flame" : Featuring Erick the Architect. "I've Been in Love" : Featuring Channel Tres. "You Ain't No Celebrity" : Featuring UK hip-hop legend Roots Manuva. "Pretty Little Thing" : Featuring Bas. Other Guests : Includes appearances by Mood Talk and JNR Williams. Metacritic Key Tracks Volcano by Jungle Reviews and Tracks - Metacritic
Jungle features guest appearances from Bas, Channel Tres, Erick the Architect, Mood Talk, Roots Manuva, and JNR Williams. Metacritic
This guide covers Volcano, the fourth studio album by the British electronic duo Jungle (Josh Lloyd-Watson and Tom McFarland), released on August 11, 2023. Album Overview Release Date: August 11, 2023. Labels: Caiola Records and AWAL.
Format Specs: Commonly found in 24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC (Studio Master quality).
Sound Profile: A high-energy mix of 70s funk, disco, 90s house, and neo-soul. Critics describe it as a "summer record" that is more danceable and "freer" than their previous work, Loving In Stereo. Tracklist (14 Tracks)
The album features several high-profile collaborations and hit singles: Us Against The World Holding On Candle Flame (feat. Erick the Architect) Dominoes I've Been In Love (feat. Channel Tres) Back On 74 (Viral hit known for its choreography) You Ain’t No Celebrity (feat. Roots Manuva) Coming Back Don’t Play (feat. Mood Talk) Every Night Problemz Good At Breaking Hearts (feat. JNR Williams & 33.3) Palm Trees Pretty Little Thing (feat. Bas)
It looks like you’re referencing a high-resolution digital release of the album Volcano by the British electronic project Jungle, released in 2023.
Based on the technical specs (24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC) and the album's background, here is a draft article suitable for a music blog or review site. Album Review: Jungle Explodes with ‘Volcano’
Artist: JungleRelease Date: August 11, 2023Format: 24-Bit / 44.1kHz FLAC (Lossless)
When Josh Lloyd-Watson and Tom McFarland—the duo known as Jungle—burst onto the scene a decade ago, they were defined by a certain "anonymous" cool and mid-tempo retro-soul. Fast forward to 2023, and their fourth studio album, Volcano, proves they have fully evolved into a high-energy, floor-filling collective that refuses to sit still. High-Fidelity Energy
Listening to Volcano in 24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC is a transformative experience for audiophiles. The album is dense with percussion, layered vocal harmonies, and vintage synth textures. In a lossless format, the "shimmer" of the disco-inspired high ends and the punch of the sub-bass in tracks like "Candylane" are preserved with a clarity that standard streaming often compresses away. Key Tracks and Collaborations
The record is characterized by its pace. Unlike their previous work, which allowed for more "breathing room," Volcano feels like a continuous DJ set.
"Back on 74": The standout hit that became a viral sensation. Its effortless soul and intricate choreography (seen in the interactive music video) capture the essence of the album: nostalgic yet modern.
"I've Been in Love" (feat. Channel Tres): A perfect marriage of Jungle's soulful production and Channel Tres’s West Coast G-funk vocals.
"Holding On": A high-tempo track that showcases the group’s ability to blend breakbeats with soulful hooks. The Verdict
Volcano is arguably Jungle's most confident work to date. It leans harder into house, disco, and hip-hop influences than its predecessor, Loving in Stereo. By utilizing a wider array of guest vocalists (including Erick the Architect and Bas), the duo has created a record that feels like a celebration.
For those with high-end audio setups, the 24-bit FLAC version is the definitive way to hear this album. The separation between the various vocal tracks and the "live" feel of the instrumentation makes it one of the best-engineered electronic albums of 2023. Final Score: ★★★★☆ (4/5) Jungle - Volcano -2023- -24Bit-44.1kHz- FLAC -P...
Jungle’s fourth studio album, Volcano (2023), is a masterclass in feel-good, sample-heavy production that leans more heavily into the duo's DJ-focused, electronic dance roots than ever before. If you are listening in 24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC, you are experiencing the album’s "warm and hazy" summer textures with the maximum possible fidelity, ensuring that the "deliciously analogue" percussion and silky-smooth synth stabs remain perfectly clear without compression artifacts. The Sound: Summer in High Fidelity
While past albums felt more like full-band recordings, Volcano is designed for the dance floor.
Production Quality: In a lossless FLAC format, the "bakelite, mahogany, and coconut shell" percussion described by critics truly pops, providing an immersive soundstage that highlights the duo's "expert sample chopping".
Lydia Kitto's Influence: Now a permanent fixture, Kitto provides lead vocals on nearly every track. Her "sweet high notes" and "raw-throated soul" are a unifying force across the 14-track project. Key Tracks
Volcano (2023) by Jungle is a high-energy, 14-track album blending 70s funk and disco, written primarily while on tour and recorded in both LA and London. The 24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC release accompanies Volcano: The Motion Picture, a dance film exploring themes of love and resilience with guest features from artists like Channel Tres.
Jungle on 'Volcano' and Their Electrifying Music | Sound of Life
Jungle - Volcano - 2023 - 24Bit - 44.1kHz - FLAC - P
Release Information:
About the Album:
"Volcano" is the highly anticipated sophomore album from British funk and soul group Jungle. The album is a masterclass in blending genres, with the group seamlessly fusing elements of funk, soul, reggae, and electronic music to create a truly unique sound.
Tracklist:
Audio Quality:
This release features high-quality audio with a resolution of 24Bit and a sampling rate of 44.1kHz, providing a clear and detailed listening experience. The FLAC file format ensures that the audio is lossless, preserving the integrity of the original recording.
Download Information:
About Jungle:
Jungle is a British funk and soul group from London, formed in 2017. The group consists of Jack Plumtree, Tom Reggeti, and Zut Alors!. Their music is characterized by catchy hooks, infectious grooves, and a blend of live instrumentation and electronic production.
Accolades:
Conclusion:
"Volcano" is a highly anticipated release from Jungle, and this 24Bit, 44.1kHz FLAC version ensures that listeners can enjoy the album in the best possible quality. If you're a fan of funk, soul, and electronic music, this album is a must-listen. Download and enjoy!
The 2023 album "Volcano" by Jungle is presented in a 24-bit/44.1 kHz FLAC format, produced at Metropolis Studios by the British duo alongside multiple collaborators. This 14-track release features guest artists like Erick the Architect and Channel Tres, with high-resolution files available via ProStudioMasters Jungle, Volcano in High-Resolution Audio - ProStudioMasters
Jungle released their fourth studio album, , on August 11, 2023, featuring a blend of modernized electronic dance music with 1970s soul and funk. The 14-track project, featuring collaborations with Channel Tres and Roots Manuva, was largely developed during a mobile recording session in Los Angeles. Purchase the 24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC release on
They found the disc half-buried in red ash, its paper sleeve singed and clinging to a crate stamped with a name nobody in the camp remembered owning.
No one knew why a music disc with the words Jungle — Volcano — 2023 — 24Bit — 44.1kHz — FLAC — P... would be where the supply run left it, miles from the last radio tower and six days’ march from any mapped road. The label was precise, digital: a studio timestamp, a resolution boasting fidelity so high it felt like a promise. Whoever had made it wanted everything about this recording to be true.
Mateo turned it over with the tip of his machete. The surface caught the weak light and scattered it into something like heat. “Play it,” Lila said, though none of them had a player small enough for lossless files. They had an old field recorder with a cracked screen and a battered USB port. It fit the disc with the kind of luck that felt like a machine finally remembering how to breathe.
When the first file loaded, the jungle outside the tarps seemed to tilt closer. The recording began with low, precise tones—an inaudible thrum that made their teeth buzz. Then a single bird called, not like any bird they'd heard but like a song someone had remembered from the edge of waking. Leaves sighed. Footsteps pressed into the wet earth. The microphone had been placed—careful, deliberate—on the rim of something alive.
At minute seven, a distant rumble joined the sounds: slow, freight-train low, like the planet shuffling its feet. It shouldn't be audible from where they sat; the nearest volcano had been mapped and declared dormant three generations ago. Still, the recording captured its voice—a threaded, patient vibration beneath frogs and insect chatter.
Mateo felt his throat tighten. “This was recorded from inside the caldera,” he said. “Or… very close to it.” Jungle’s Volcano (2023) is an album of fiery
They listened to a human voice then, breathy, trading in catalog numbers at first—dates, altitudes, decibel readings—until the speaker stopped counting and started telling a story. It wasn't the neat, clinical log they’d expected but a confession spoken into the dark.
“We came for the sound,” the voice said. “Not because we believed in treasure, or in the old maps, but because there is a frequency the mountain keeps to itself. We wanted to hear it, and when you try to listen to something that large you have to become small.”
As the storyteller spoke, the recording layered. The ambient hiss became a pattern: percussive pops aligning with the voice like a metronome, then harmonics weaving through the band of insects—an entire chorus that seemed keyed to the volcano’s simmer. At times the human voice faltered into humming, matching some subsonic phrase until the recorder caught the hairline edges of harmonic resonance. The mountain, it seemed, had tone.
The voice stopped keeping tidy time. “We tuned the mics to twenty-four bits,” it said, and the numbers took on a liturgical cadence. “High fidelity: for the small things to stand up next to the big thing.” It laughed quietly. “We called the project P—precision, perhaps, or pilgrimage. We called the files clean because we could not bear to call them anything else.”
Outside the tarps, tree frogs answered, little thumb-sized cymbals in a percussion section. On the disc the frogs’ clicks coalesced into an ordered rhythm, and for a stretch of three minutes the jungle sounded tuned—scales aligning with subterranean moanings that rose like warming magma. Lila’s hand hovered over the recorder as if she could touch the sound and make it stop.
“Everything changes when you listen that hard,” the voice said. “The mountain tells a history you weren't supposed to read. It speaks in scars: old flows, animal paths, the bones of things that refused to leave. We wanted to record the mountain’s keeping.”
A howl threaded in, not human at first—a long, melodic cry that might have been a jaguar or a thing that had learned to sing the jaguar’s chorus. The vocalist on the disc sighed and said, “She came at dawn. She sang in a throat tuned to the caldera’s edge. We recorded her and then we argued about what to do with the track. Some said keep it raw, let the world hear the mountain as if it were wild. Some said edit—clean the hiss, remove the human noise, present the volcano like an instrument on a stage.”
They had named the file with precision, the voice confessed, because names anesthetize. “Label it clean, put the year for posterity, promise fidelity,” the narrator said. “We were making evidence and also offering a votive. We did not expect the mountain to accept either.”
At twenty-nine minutes the recording shifted. There was an abrupt rise in low frequencies—gentle at first, then urgent, like a throat clearing. The field recorder caught a pattern not immediately threatening: rocks settling, a shallow tremor vibrating through cup-and-skin. But underneath was a new presence, a phase-shifted tone that made the hairs on Lila’s arms lift. It matched the cadence of the people in the camp when they listened to their own heartbeat. It was intimate in a way that felt invasive.
The voice on the recording grew thin. “It learned our notch,” the speaker said. “We set the mics to hear, and then it repeated us back. It found our chorus and it folded itself into our observation.”
In the tarp camp, no one moved. The sound on the disc made the night feel closer, as if the trees were leaning in to listen too. Mateo's radio, an old emergency model that rarely picked up a clear signal, hummed and then died like an instrument cut off mid-phrase.
“We wanted to publish,” the narrator whispered, “to prove the mountain had language.” The recorder’s mic picked up paper being smoothed and a pen—someone had tried to write the mountain's notes down as if transcription could capture tectonic grammar. Then nervous laughter, and someone saying, “Don't post the last file. Not out loud.”
There were three more tracks on the disc after the confession. They began with field recordings: insect choruses, a rainstorm that sounded like a stadium of tiny drums, a small group singing what could've been a lullaby. Each track laid a layer of human presence: footsteps on shale, the flap of a poncho, a child’s giggle muffled by a helmet. The last audio was the shortest file, unlabeled except for a single, blunt time mark: 02:06:13.
It started with a single low note, a pure tone that ran under everything like a new gravity. The note was almost invisible at first: it lived below human conversational frequency, a subterranean cello stretched tight. Then it changed: it matched one of the harmonics the team had been monitoring, and in that match something shifted in the pattern of the insects. A chorus altered pitch like a flock taking a single new direction.
On the disc, someone—perhaps the same voice—breathed audibly. “Now,” they said, and then there was a sound like a thousand grains of basalt clinking together in a current. For two minutes the field recorder registered the low note and a response—an answering phrase from the caldera that rose and fell like a chest. The mountain’s pitch was not a threat and not benevolence; it was acknowledgment. It sounded like an old neighbor clearing their throat to be heard.
When the sound stopped, there was silence the recording captured in high resolution, the kind of silence that contains fingerprints. Someone whispered, “It learned us,” and another voice—young, scared—said, “It knows our tunes now.” The tape ended with the last line, thin enough to be mistaken for wind: “We put it in a file named for clarity and then we split the set. Some of us burned the masters. Some of us buried them in ash.”
Outside, the camp’s night critters resumed as if nothing had happened. The red ash in which the disc had been found had been soft enough to leave fingerprints and not so old that rain had erased them. Lila pressed her thumbnail against the edge and found a smear of dust that looked like soot and salt.
“We should delete it,” Mateo said, the old field command almost reflexive. “We should leave it buried.”
“Or we should listen to it again,” Lila replied.
They listened to the file a second time. Where once there were only sounds, now they imagined meaning—patterns that resembled melodies they'd heard in markets, lullabies their mothers hummed, the bassline of a sermon's chant. The mountain had taken the echoes of their species and folded them into its own set of vibrations, and those vibrations sounded less like ownership and more like memory.
“Maybe music is the only thing big things will trade for,” the narrator had said on the disc, voice thinning on the tape. “You give a pattern; the mountain returns a pattern; you keep both.”
By dawn the disc had split the camp into quiet guardians and loud tellers. A small group wanted to keep the file secret: let the mountain's exchange remain a private liturgy. Another group wanted to publish—bring proof to the city, sell the recording as an experiment in acoustic ecology, stream the chorus to audiences who would pay to hear the voice of an old world.
In the end a pact was made simply: the disc would be left where they'd found it, slid beneath a flat stone and covered in the same red ash. They would write two copies—one to keep, one to bury—so the mountain might have a chance to forget them or to remember at its own pace. Lila scratched the time of the burial into the sleeve with a splinter of wood: 02:06:13, and she underlined the digits twice.
Years later, perhaps, someone would find a disc in a crate and play it on a machine with a cracked screen. They would listen to a voice confessing to a folly of pride and of reverence. They would listen to harmonics that matched a heart rate and decide what to do—publish, protect, burn, or bury. The mountain would continue doing what it had always done: keeping scores of lava and rain and root, taking down and giving back in cycles.
And in the recording, preserved in 24-bit honesty and 44.1 kilohertz patience, the mountain’s low note would remain, patient as bedrock, offering up its slow, difficult music to anyone small enough to listen.
This is the story of how Jungle’s 2023 album, , became the definitive high-fidelity soundtrack for a new era of electronic soul. The Pulse of the Jungle In 2023, the British electronic project released their fourth studio album,
. Moving away from the lush, organic orchestration of their previous work, Josh Lloyd-Watson and Tom McFarland leaned into a high-energy, sample-heavy sound. The album was designed as a continuous "mixtape" experience, blending disco, mid-tempo funk, and hip-hop into a seamless explosion of rhythm. The Precision of 24-Bit Sound Final Note: Always support the artists
While the music itself is a throwback to the golden era of groove, the technical delivery of this specific release is cutting-edge. Presented in 24-bit/44.1kHz FLAC
, this version offers a "Studio Master" level of clarity that standard streaming or CDs cannot match. 24-Bit Depth:
This provides a significantly higher dynamic range. In tracks like "Casio" or "Back on 74," the space between the quietest synth pad and the sharpest snare hit is preserved, preventing the "loudness war" compression that flattens modern music. FLAC Lossless:
As a lossless format, every bit of data captured during the final mastering session in 2023 is retained. For the listener, this means hearing the subtle textures of the vocal harmonies and the grit of the analog-style samples exactly as the artists intended. The Impact
was met with critical acclaim, praised for its infectious energy and collaborative spirit, featuring artists like Erick the Architect and Channel Tres. For audiophiles, the
edition became the gold standard for testing speaker transparency and rhythmic timing. It wasn't just an album to listen to; it was a technical showcase of how vibrant and "live" a digital studio recording could feel in the mid-2020s. for 24-bit files or similar high-fidelity album recommendations?
It looks like you're referencing a music release (likely a lossless FLAC file) with a title fragment:
"Jungle - Volcano -2023- -24Bit-44.1kHz- FLAC -P..."
If you’re asking me to create a feature based on that (for a music player, file organizer, download manager, or metadata tagger), here are a few possibilities — depending on your actual use case:
For Volcano by Jungle specifically:
Recommendation: Keep the 24/44.1 FLAC for archiving, but don’t expect a night-and-day difference from CD quality.
This is where audiophile theology diverges. In blind A/B tests, many cannot distinguish 24/44.1 from 16/44.1 on consumer gear. However, Volcano is a special case because of its high crest factor (loud peaks vs. quiet moments). Tracks like "I've Been in Love" feature feather-light verses that explode into choruses—the 24-bit version retains micro-dynamics that 16-bit can theoretically capture but often compresses in modern mastering.
For most listeners, the real upgrade is moving from lossy (MP3/AAC) to any lossless. But for those with revealing DACs (e.g., Chord, RME, or even an Apple dongle), the 24-bit depth offers a lower noise floor—useful for late-night headphone listening where you crank the volume.
Automatically parse and rename messy torrent or scene release filenames into clean tags.
Example input:
Jungle - Volcano -2023- -24Bit-44.1kHz- FLAC -P....flac
Feature logic:
UI option:
“Auto-parse scene-style filename → ID3 tags & clean rename”
The keyword format Jungle - Volcano -2023- -24Bit-44.1kHz- FLAC -P... suggests a scene release naming convention (likely from a P2P or private tracker). However, legitimate sources exist:
Warning: Pirated “FLAC” files can be fake (transcoded from lossy sources). Always verify with spectral analysis or by purchasing from reputable stores.
Jungle – Volcano (2023) in 24-bit / 44.1kHz FLAC is the definitive digital edition for fans who value sonic fidelity. The format captures the duo’s intricate production without compromise. While the album is excellent at any bitrate (Spotify’s Ogg Vorbis 320kbps sounds good too), the FLAC version rewards attentive listening with micro-detail, precise imaging, and authoritative bass.
Whether you’re a DJ, a home speaker enthusiast, or just someone who has invested in good headphones, seek out the 24/44.1 FLAC. It’s not just an audio file—it’s the difference between hearing Volcano and experiencing it.
Have you compared the lossy vs. lossless versions of “Back on 74”? Share your listening notes in the comments below.
Jungle Volcano 2023: A Sonic Expedition in High Fidelity
In the realm of electronic music, few labels have managed to encapsulate the essence of the genre as effectively as Jungle. Known for their eclectic and often boundary-pushing releases, Jungle has once again ventured into uncharted territory with their latest offering: Volcano, a 2023 release that promises to transport listeners on a sonic journey like no other. Available in high-fidelity FLAC format at 24Bit-44.1kHz, Volcano is not just an album; it's an experience designed to push the limits of sound and emotion.
To truly benefit from 24/44.1 FLAC, use:
Avoid using Bluetooth headphones with lossy codecs (SBC, AAC) that will re-compress the FLAC. Use wired connections or LDAC (Sony’s high-quality Bluetooth codec).