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All Men Unto Me is a project led by Rylan Gleave, composer and vocalist (most notably in Ashenspire and various Paraorchestra projects). Today, All Men Unto Me announces their second album Requiem, an album which re-imagines an ancient mourning in a real, contemporary setting. Taking the broad emotional arcs of the Missa pro Defunctis, these structures pave way for new songs, ruminating on patriarchal power systems and the conditions of transmasculinity within these, through the haze of Queer reverence and forgiveness. In Rylan's words, the Missa pro Defunctis "translates to ‘Mass for the dead’, and refers to the Catholic text taken from the Roman Missal. When set to music, it is called a ‘Requiem’. Requiem masses are usually performed at funerals. I’ve sung in a few Requiems — Mozart, Fauré, Duruflé — when I’ve been in choirs, and felt those dramatic arcs of the structure in my own voice. Writing a Requiem felt like processing my own complex feelings about the Church, patriarchal power within it (and more broadly), and the death of a part of me in a framework that allowed for mourning. The contours of sorrow, light, forgiveness, and reverence made space for these songs to speak to my own identity as a survivor, and use that structure in a way that let me direct an ancient narrative myself." Marrying traditional Anglican soundworlds of electro-pneumatic church organ and stacked choral vocals with heavier sounds, closer to experimental/noise rock and doom metal, Requiem sits at times near Swans, Kayo Dot, Lingua Ignota, Greet Death, and Scott Walker.







[e] SEQUENTIA [video]

Chris Liebing's first full solo techno LP, 'Evolver' is released on 27th March 2026, via his own CLR imprint. The German techno don's LP features a host of collaborators across music, images, and artwork. Luke Slater, Charlotte De Witte, Speedy J, The Advent, Terence Fixmer, Pascal Gabriel, Daniel Miller contribute to the music, while long-time collaborators Studio Bergfors deliver design, and legendary photographer Anton Corbijn shot Liebing for the project.

The Evolver LP is the sum total of Chris Liebing's three decades at the beating heart of techno. It's the record only someone whose first break as a techno DJ was playing five hours at Sven Väth's infamous Omen in Frankfurt - and who has ridden out every twist and turn of life and subcultures since, while remaining rooted in the true school, dark, sweaty techno sweat pits of the world - could have made. It's the result of deep introspection, but it's about utter immediacy. It's the sound of someone previously driven along by compulsion and happenstance at last finding the confidence to be utterly intentional about their practice, allowing them to take the most classic, familiar, proven elements from the past and render them completely new.

Evolver is also Liebing's first completely solo album. There are collaborations, yes: with old friends from the OG techno generation, Luke Slater, Speedy J, and The Advent, all on uncompromising form, and with new generation figurehead Charlotte De Witte, who provides a thrilling narration of total surrender to the moment on acid clarion call "Symphonie des Seins". But unlike all Liebing's albums to date, there's no co-pilot. Every structure, every mixdown, every choice serves his singular vision of how his untold immersion in the surging currents of the world's greatest clubs should sound. The elements are all those forged in the white heat of Omen and Tresor in the mid 90s - brutal repetition, titanium kick drums, industrial atmospherics, but also dark rave euphoria, ever present surging acid lines just on the cusp of trance, and just enough human voices to remind you of bodies on the dance floor - but rendered with all the extraordinary accumulated skill and technological developments since then.

It's Chris's vision entirely, his musings on sound, technology, and life birthing tracks like "Roy Batty." Inspired by thoughts of AI becoming sentient and hungering for more life like Rutger Hauer's titular Blade Runner character, it was one of the first tracks to emerge and a foundation stone for the album. And in pursuit of that vision, it's built like a "proper album". The anticipation and menace of intro "Unfold" tip over into the glowing hot high drama psychedelia of "Symphonie…" then the breathless headlong rush of The Advent collab and on through an unfolding narrative that goes deep, goes dark, opens out into grand vistas, takes strange turns before finally landing on the alien landscape of… well… "Endtrack".

Not everything is pummelling on Evolver - the dazzling title track feels like you've been welcomed into the courtly dance of a higher dimension civilisation, and the audacious Speedy J collab "Shaping Frequencies" is a beatless flow that tests the boundaries between signal and noise. But for all its complexity, conceptualism, and stylistic branching out, every last part unmistakably powered by that dark techno-cavern energy above all else. All of it positively radiates the qualities of Liebing's greatest work and sets to date - but somehow even more so than before. Whether you're listening for aesthetic inspiration, cerebral stimulation or just that raw physical power, this album will sweep you up into its momentum and won't let go of you until it's done.

As Poorly Knit completes it's first arc of the Sun, it's children become four, as a new mini LP is born.

Tending to his crop with dreams of rotation, Bruce sows and scythes four new grains in the porky mill. Of this strange fruit, that further explores his increasingly familiar, hyper-real and sonically surreal work within this current “movement,” he finds his foothold once more in a wild world intensity: fear and fury grappled in equal measure.

What's more, in celebration of the plentiful harvest thus far, (let alone in the interest of seed diversity), Bruce invites four fellow reapers to the farm, offering their recipe from the spoils of the label's yield:

Vancouver based Brit-abroad, dj_2button pulls apart 'The Hand,' with his 'Accidental Mood Mix,' to be reborn as an Odyssian 13 minute stomper: "a fight of emotions, of light and dark; in quiet protest to the incessant fear mongering that slowly numbs us on a global scale." Balearic shores can be seen glimmering in the distance, whilst you are dragged by part man part (very horny) bull into the depths of dancefloor madness.

re:ni proves she is the captain of her own ship as sweet SSRI numbness billows in the sheets and fraying, dubwise halyards tether and tear through her devilishly elegant 'sertraline queen mix'. polyrhythms plotted and percussion plundered; the vocal from 'Golden Water Queen' sounds oh so sweet in the claws of its new Regina.

Hotly titted deep house reviver, fka boursin empties clips with their bubblegum 'boomkat mix,' of 'The Price,' swivelling the original's brash and bawdy bonce, to face a 120 reality we all need to wake up and start sniffing. Sprinkled with trauma on an icing of a bassline more than a little rood, boursin is packing enough cake for the whole function to take home in (dreadful) goody bags (and even allowed compression in the mastering - mental).

Last and indubitably not least, from lying somewhat dormant in the depths of UK dance music legend, none other than flippin' Untold (!?) rises to seal the release with typically megalithic prowess. Proving he was just resting his eyes for a bit, his 'A1 Mirabelle Mix,' weaves and whips an otherworldly beauty, technically tantalising 'Dham's Jam' in adornments both sour and sweet. It's nothing short of a cloaks and daggers banger, primed for the darkest of dancefloor cosmic moments, and serving as a little less-than-warm-reminder that Untold’s presence in the world of dance music is crucial as ever.

Frankly, if you couldn't tell from all the verbose waffle, they have all absolutely smashed and finessed it: they were all approached after expressing a real resonance from the previous releases and it's such an honour to have them and their fantastic visions on the label.

Available digitally or on high quality cassette, the final chapter of the Poorly Knit's first act has been woven whimsically into the fraying folds.

a A1. It Ain’t Over Till… 04:37
b A2. Wesley’s Sniped All Our Bleeding’ K (Re-Vamped) 05:40
[c] A3. Rockfall [05:06]
[d] A4. You Were Right [10:00
[e] B1. The Hand (dj_2button's accidental mood mix) [13:07]
[f] B2. Golden Water Queen (re:ni's sertraline queen mix) [05:36]
[g] B3. The Price (fka boursin's boomkat mix) [08:30]
[h] B4. Dham's Jam (Untold's A1 Mirabelle Mix) [09:42]

[a] A1. It Ain’t Over Till… [04:37]
[b] A2. Wesley’s Sniped All Our Bleeding’ K (Re-Vamped) [05:40]
[c] A3. Rockfall [05:06]
[d] A4. You Were Right [10:00
[e] B1. The Hand (dj_2button's accidental mood mix) [13:07]
[f] B2. Golden Water Queen (re:ni's sertraline queen mix) [05:36]
[g] B3. The Price (fka boursin's boomkat mix) [08:30]
[h] B4. Dham's Jam (Untold's A1 Mirabelle Mix) [09:42]

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

2025 Repress

On his fourth album proper, Now Here No Where, Danish producer Kölsch (aka Rune Reilly Kölsch) is charting new terrain. Fans of his ‘years trilogy’ – 1977, 1983 and 1989, released on Kompakt over the past decade – were privy to a kind of sonic diary, an autobiography, tracking the artist’s early years through three albums of superior, meticulously rendered techno. Calling in collaborators where needed – most notably, the strings of Gregor Schwellenbach – there was still something deeply personal going down, not quite hermetic, but internally focused; the albums proved not only Kölsch’s mastery of his chosen form, but also his capacity to make techno personal, individual, and to trace histories of the self through music. But on Now Here No Where, Kölsch finds his feet firmly planted in the present. Reflecting on his new album, he notes, “It is fascinating to write about memories and feelings that have had years to manifest and develop, but how would I approach current emotions?” It’s a good question: our past coheres through the narratives we build around memories, but the moment we’re in, the newness of the now-ness, is harder to navigate; this story is as yet untold. For Kölsch, this makes Nowhere Now Here “an album about life in the year 2020. A time defined by confusion, misinformation and environmental challenges. It is an emotional interpretation of personal and mental challenges, observations and personal growth.” Kölsch does this with music that effortlessly balances emotional heft with the dancefloor’s brimming desires. It’s a space that Kölsch has navigated for a while now – one of techno’s breakthrough acts, an in-demand DJ across the globe and a prolific and restlessly creative producer, he’s also Kompakt’s biggest-selling act – but Now Here No Where ratchets up the lushness, making for a delirious drift across twelve tracks that are at once perfectly poised and deeply trippy. “Great Escape” is an elegant swoon, an opener that pivots on a sigh and a prayer; then “Shoulder Of Giants” bustles into view, subliminal clatter and an aching violin line giving way to a riff that glows with fluorescence and iridescence. “Remind You” combines an odd ECM jazziness with notes from a twenty-first century torch song; “Sleeper Must Awaken” mines huge buzzing synths and lets them float, in and out of sync, with reduced, ticking beats; “Traumfabrik” (dream factory – there’s a giveaway) is oddly lush, the tones malleable and plastic, morphing across a glitching undertow. There are sad, emotional washes of strings throughout the penultimate “While Waiting For Something To Care About”, while “Romtech User Manual”’s patterns twist and shape in the light. Throughout, Kölsch never keeps his eye off the dancefloor, and you can tell this is his still his home. “The amount of energy and joy I experience every time I perform, has a profound effect on me. It has inspired me so much of late and has become an integral part of my musicality.” “The way we join in expressing our hope for the future every weekend has given me so much,” Kölsch concludes. The club as a temporary autonomous zone, as a space both of freedom and of politics; somehow, that’s all here, Now Here No Where. “Most of all, it is an album about hope.”

Auf seinem vierten Album “Now Here No Where” betritt der dänische Produzent Kölsch (alias Rune Reilly Kölsch) neues Terrain. Seine Trilogie mit den Jahreszahlen 1977, 1983 und 1989, die in den letzten zehn Jahren bei Kompakt erschienen war, hatte seine Fans durch eine Art akustisches Tagebuch, eine Autobiografie geführt, die die frühen Jahre des Künstlers über die Länge von drei großartig produzierten Techno-Alben nachgezeichnet hatte. Wo es nötig war, wurden Kollaborateure hinzugezogen - allen voran für die Streicher, arrangiert von Gregor Schwellenbach -, dennoch zeichnete die Musik immer auch etwas zutiefst Persönliches aus, etwas nicht Hermetisches, auf eine bestimmte Art immer auch nach Innen fokussiert. Die Alben bewiesen nicht nur, wie sehr Kölsch die von ihm gewählte äußere Form beherrscht, sondern auch seine Fähigkeit, Techno zu etwas Persönlichem und Individuellem zu machen und der eigene Geschichte durch Musik näher zu kommen.

Auf “Now Here No Where” steht Kölsch nun mit beiden Beinen fest auf dem Boden der Gegenwart. Mit Blick auf sein neues Album stellt er fest: "Es ist faszinierend, über Erinnerungen und Gefühle zu schreiben, die Zeit hatten, sich zu manifestieren und zu entwickeln, aber wie nähere ich mich meinen aktuellen Emotionen?”. Eine gute Frage: Unsere Vergangenheit wird im Innersten zusammengehalten durch Geschichten, die aus Erinnerungen entstehen, aber der Moment, in dem wir uns befinden, die Neuheit des Neuen, ist schwieriger zu beschreiben; die Geschichte ist noch nicht erzählt. Für Kölsch ist “No Here Now Where” daher "ein Album über das Leben im Jahr 2020. Eine Zeit, die von Verwirrung, Desinformation und ökologischen Herausforderungen geprägt ist. Es geht dabei um die emotionale Interpretation von persönlichen und mentalen Herausforderungen, von Beobachtungen und der eigenen, individuellen Weiterentwicklung".

Kölsch tut dies mit Musik, die mühelos kleine Gefühlsausbrüche mit den großen Sehnsüchten der Tanzfläche in Einklang bringt. Es ist dieser Zwischenraum, in dem sich Kölsch schon seit einiger Zeit bewegt, als weltweit gefragter und gefeierter Live Act, DJ und so unermüdlicher wie kreativer Produzent (nicht umsonst ist Kölsch der “biggest-selling-artist” bei Kompakt), doch “Now Here No Where” treibt all das noch weiter auf die Spitze: ein enormer Sog entsteht, der uns über zwölf Tracks hinweg gefangen hält wie ein perfekt ausbalancierter Trip. Der Opener "Great Escape" ist pure Eleganz, ein Track, der irgendwo zwischen Seufzer und Gebet hin und her schwankt; dann drängt "Shoulder Of Giants" ins Blickfeld, ein unterschwelliges Geklapper, eine wehende Geige, schließlich ein schillernder Riff, der in der Dunkelheit zu leuchten und zu glühen scheint.

"Remind You" kombiniert seltsamen ECM-Jazz mit einem sentimentalen Liebeslied des 21. Jahrhunderts; "Sleeper Must Awaken" schürft im Bergwerk riesiger Synthesizer, mal im Takt, mal aus dem Takt ticken die minimalen Beats; "Traumfabrik" ist ungewöhnlich “lush”, die einzelnen Töne, geschmeidig und modelliert, zerfließen in einem glitzernden Abgrund. Das vorletzte Stück "While Waiting For Something To Care About" wird von traurigen, emotionalen Strings untermalt, während sich die Strukturen von "Romtech User Manual" im Licht drehen und immer wieder neu formieren. Die ganze Zeit über behält Kölsch die Tanzfläche im Auge, und man merkt ihm an, dass sie immer noch sein Zuhause ist: "Die Menge an Energie und Freude, die ich bei jedem Auftritt erlebe, hat eine tiefe Wirkung auf mich. Sie hat mich gerade in letzter Zeit stark inspiriert und ist zu einem integralen Bestandteil meiner Musik geworden.”

"Die Art und Weise, wie wir an jedem Wochenende gemeinsam unsere Hoffnung auf eine bessere Zukunft zum Ausdruck bringen, hat mir viel gegeben", so Kölsch abschließend. Die Vision des Clubs als eine temporäre autonome Zone, als ein Raum von großer Freiheit aber auch von politischen Ideen, das ist irgendwie alles hier drin, Now Here No Where. "Es ist vor allem ein Album über Hoffnung."

Portland, Oregon dark rock trio HOAXED return with their stunning new album Death Knocks. Three years in the making, the group—featuring vocalist/guitarist Kat Keo, drummer Kim Coffel, and new bassist/vocalist April Dimmick—have honed their stygian craft to perfection. "We've added another element to the writing and collaboration process," says the band. "April comes from a classic heavy metal background, and her influence is in these songs. We've also had experiences on tour that have helped shape these songs. You can hear influence from the bands we toured with and learned from. We played together for three years as we wrote this album, and we learned a lot about our styles, and our sound evolved naturally together on stage. So, when we sat down to write this album, it didn't feel like a departure or a change." Anchored by the witchy spell of opener "Where the Seas Fall Silent," the rock-hardened groove of "Kill Switch," and the dimly lit power pop of "The Family," HOAXED upped the tempo, sawed the edges (Dimmick's raspy menace intimidates), and strengthened their ties to the golden gods of heavy metal. Indeed, cyclical riffs, dynamic rhythms, and bottom-heavy bass propel Death Knocks through its filmic, hard-nosed gloom, but Keo's sorcerous vocal hooks seal the deal. Often smartly paired with Dimmick's angels' n' demons, her performance effuses fragility and potency across the album's alluring expanse. HOAXED recorded Death Knocks at Falcon Recording Studios with producer/engineer Gabe Johnston (Unto Others, Vintersea) and enlisted Arthur Rizk (Power Trip, Kreator, and more,) for mixing and mastering. In total, the group spent eight days in February and March tracking Death Knocks. While most bands spend months ironing their metallic mettle, Hoaxed's expeditious time at Falcon engendered a polished, big-sounding force befitting their larger-than-life songs. Short: Portland, Oregon dark rock trio HOAXED return with their stunning new album Death Knocks. Three years in the making, the group—featuring vocalist/guitarist Kat Keo, drummer Kim Coffel, and new bassist/vocalist April Dimmick—have honed their stygian craft to perfection. FFO: Ghost, Tribulation, Bloody Hammers, Khemmis, Unto Others, GGGOLDDD, Katatonia. Pallbearer

Swan Song

The vinyl LP at the heart of this éthiopiques 31 tracks 2 to 11 was one of the very last vinyl records ever released in Ethiopia. But above all it represents, we felt, the absolute masterpiece of the Ethiopian Groove – the Swan Song of Swinging Addis. The album leaves a clear idea for posterity of the level of sophistication and mastery that modern Ethiopian music had achieved, before being crushed under the Stalino-military heel of the Derg – as the bloody revolution that was unfolding came to be called.

Ethiopia1976.

The Revolution that broke out in February 1974 rolled on in a ruthless march. The whole of Ethiopian society was utterly stunned. The bouquets of flowers handed joyfully to the first tanks of the coup d'état were to wilt very rapidly. From September 1976 to February 1978, 18 months of Red Terror (the name given by the junta itself) spilled blood throughout the country. This fratricidal conflict took its heaviest toll among students and youth. The shift from feudalism to a cruel and primitive Stalinism left the country's citizens deeply traumatised, and snuffed out any pretence of activism, whatever the sector of society. This ice age was to last for seventeen long years.

ሙሉቀን፡መለሰ Mulukèn Mellèssè Muluqän Mälläsä

It was three tracks by Muluken that served as the opener for éthiopiques-1 more than 25 years ago. Seven more tracks appeared on éthiopiques-3 and 13, all accompanied by The Equators, which was soon to become the Dahlak Band.

The first track, Hédètch alu, also the very first piece that Muluken ever recorded, left audiences both unsettled and amazed. Reflecting the singer's extremely young age (he was just 17 at the time), this angelic voice mystified many, who thought they were in fact listening to a feminine voice. He was not yet 22 when he released his last vinyl record in 1976 with Kaifa Records (KF 39LP), one of the very last to be issued in Ethiopia, before the cassette tape became the dominant medium for music distribution – and before the new revolutionary regime put a stop to all independent musical life, via an unspeakable barrage of prohibitions and other persecutions.

Mulu qèn, literally, “A well filled day”. This tender maternal intention wasn't enough to ward off the cruelty of fate. His mother's premature death drove Muluken to leave his native Godjam, in northeast Ethiopia, to live with an uncle in Addis Ababa. Born Muluken Tamer, he took his uncle's last name – Mèllèssè.

The spelling Muluken appeared in his administrative records. Transcription of Amharic to the Latin alphabet, both in Ethiopia and for scholars, gives rise to controversies and quibbles that can never be neatly settled. French allows for a closer approximation of the original pronunciation, thanks to its battery of accent marks, confusing as they may be to anglophones.

Between rather accommodating administrative record-keepers and the various versions that pop up in interviews given by the artist, Muluken's year of birth oscillates between 1953 and 1955…

1954? One thing is certain: the artist's talent made itself known very early indeed, because he got his start in 1966-67, at the age of 13 or 14. Photos from the period attest to his extreme youth. It's a strange sort of initiation for a very young teenager to become a sensation in the heart of Addis's nightlife at the time, Woubé Bèrèha – the Wilds of Woubé. And what's more, in the club of the Queen of the Night, the Godjamé Assègèdètch Alamrèw herself, the very same that was portrayed by Sebhat Guèbrè-Egziabhér in his novel-memoir Les Nuits d’Addis Abeba2… The legendary female club owner who is remembered to this day by the capital's ageing boomers.

Muluken first tried his hand at the drums, before he grabbed the microphone. He emigrated briefly to the Zula Club, across the street from the old Addis Post Office, one of the ground-breaking bars of the burgeoning musical scene, before joining the Second Police Band in 1968, for around three years. He spent a few months with the short-lived Blue Nile Band founded by saxophonist Besrat Tammènè. As the musical scene grew increasingly successful, and pulled slowly but decisively away from its institutional ties, Muluken released his first 45rpm single in February 1972 (Amha Records AE 440). It was included in two LP Ethiopian Hit Parade compilation albums in September of the same year. All in all, Muluken released eight two-track 45s and the same number of original cassette tapes between February 1972 and 1984, the year that he departed for permanent exile in the USA. After converting to Pentecostalism in 1980, Muluken gradually abandoned all secular musical activity. In 1985, at the end of a concert in Philadelphia, he decided to quit concerts and recording for good. Mèlakè Gèbré, the historic bass player from the Walias band who was playing with him that night, recalls that everything appeared so irredeemably diabolical in Muluken's eyes, that it was to be the end of his contribution to Ethiopian Groove.

The end of the story, the beginning of a legend.

Dahlak Band, forgotten by History

Aside from his personal history and vocal talents, it must be remembered that Muluken Mèllèssè was one of the biggest names in the musical innovations that marked the end of the imperial period. These éthiopiques aim to convince those who are just discovering this hidden gem... As for Ethiopians themselves, they are to this day captivated by this singular and atypical figure in the Abyssinian pop landscape – even though he withdrew from public life some 40 years ago. Incorrigible devotees of poetic twists, of more or less hidden meanings, Ethiopians appreciate above all the care Muluken took in choosing his lyrics and the writers who penned them, such as Feqerte Haylou, Alemtsehay Wodajo and, here, Shewalul Mengistu (1944-1977). Love songs, written by women, a far cry from the conventional drivel that pleases sappy sentimentalists.

Muluken is equally acclaimed for his perfectionism when it came to music, the opposite of the overly casual approach that is all too common. He remained a faithful partner of musicians who came from a lineage that borrowed from several inventive and pioneering bands (Venus, Equators, Dahlak). Amongst them were certain artists who began their musical lives with Nersès Nalbandian at the Haile Sellassie Theatre and who come of age in around 1973 – at just the wrong time, you might say. Among them were the pillars Shimèlis Bèyènè (trumpet), Dawit Yifru (keyboards) and Tilayé Gèbrè (sax & flute). Most notably Tilayé Gèbrè, certainly one of the most important musicians, composers and arrangers of his generation, of the end of the imperial era, and of the early years of the Derg.

It was only in 1981 that a miraculous opportunity arose for Tilayé to escape the Stalinist paradise of the dictator Menguistou Haylè-Maryam. Once again it was Amha Eshèté (1946-2021) who provided a solution. The spirited and courageous producer, who had been in exile in Washington since 1975, succeeded, thanks to his incredible perseverence, in bringing the Walias Band to the USA. It was, in fact an extended Walias Band comprising ten musicians3, six of whom chose to slip away after a few concerts and the recording of an LP (The Best of Walias, WRS 100). Tilayé Gèbrè was one of these. He has been living in the USA ever since. There he joined the then-nascent Ethiopian diaspora, which lived largely unto itself, and was making only very modest headway in the American musical market. It seems unfair that Tilayé Gèbrè and the Dahlak Band were not able to benefit earlier from the public recognition that they do deserve.

A similar draining away of the top-rate talents would lead to the reorganization of the major groups of the “Derg Time”. The remaining artists spread themselves around between Ibex Band (renamed Roha Band), Ethio Star Band and a remodeled Walias Band. That spelled the end of the Dahlak Band.

With this record, produced by the essential Ali Abdella Kaifa a.k.a. Ali Tango, we can appreciate everything that the Derg not only destroyed, but also prevented from flourishing. This gem of Ethiopian-style afrobeat came out in 1976 (and, by way of a parenthesis, before the FESTAC 1977 in Lagos, which was attended by an impressive delegation of Ethiopian musicians — although Fela was already personna non grata in his own country). Despite everything that might distinguish this ethio-groove from Fela’s music – no colonial axe to grind, no question of political confrontation with the authorities, no claims to negritude or Africanism for the Ethiopian musicians, and less extrovertion! –, this LP fits beautifully into the saga of intense and electrified soul of the new “African” groove that Fela and Manu Dibango embodied so well from that point onwards.

In restoring this record to its place in the afrobeat epic, it can be seen that, if nothing else, the timeline bestows a legitimate pedigree and a historical primacy to works that had no international impact when they were originally released.

Warning! Masterpiece!

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

With lyrics that "give a voice to the feelings of people who often get left out of
popular discourse and pop culture" (NPR), Oliver Anthony became the first artist
in history to debut at No. One on the Billboard charts without previously having a
song on the charts with his hit song "Rich Men North of Richmond." The song has
been streamed more than 153 million times on YouTube and has tallied more
than 433 million across all streaming platforms. He is the first living male
songwriter to chart 13 songs simultaneously in Billboard's Top 50 Digital Song
Sales. Five of his other songs have made iTunes' Top 10, including "Ain't Got a
Dollar," which also claimed the No.One spot on Spotify's Viral 50 list.
In April, he released his first studio album, Hymnal Of A Troubled Man's Mind; the
dynamic 11-song collection "hits on an emotional, nostalgic musing of childhood
joy compared to adulthood strife. These ideas expound on facets of human
existence untouched by the political realm, no matter which camp you find
yourself on" (American Songwriter). Produced by Grammy winner Dave Cobb, the
album was praised by fans and critics for its "homespun sound" that shines light
on "his grainy, soulful vocal with acoustic guitars, bass and fiddle" (Billboard).
"Helmed by Nashville super- producer Dave Cobb, the 18- track collection is rife
with stories of addiction, depression, faith, and fury as Anthony documents the
decade leading up to his unexpected rise to stardom (it also features eight Bible
verses as interludes). A stark departure from "Richmond" in some ways and
others not, the album is proof that his viral moment wasn't a fluke." -
"This album represents the most pure and transparent view inside my heart and
soul that I could offer. While Richmond was the song that got my name out in the
public, these songs represent the true foundation of the music that got me
through life up until now" - Oliver Anthony Music

The Boysnoize Records catalogue contains more than a decade of milestones in the life of Angeleno DJ and producer PILO. His signatures—a focus on sound design, and a digital crunch evocative of hardware rather than software—are present from the very beginning, but the evolution of Pilo’s skill and sophistication is clear as he stretches from electro to experimental to techno and back again in a slowly oscillating gradient. Yet despite his dozen or so releases in just as many years, G.L.A.M. (dropping November 8th, 2024 from BNR) is Pilo’s first proper album. That the record embraces the cyclical nature of time is apropos; the artist’s journey towards self-actualized mastery always ends with a new beginning.



Over the eight tracks of G.L.A.M., Pilo reaches deep into the dream that first ignited the passion that has driven him since. For a chosen few internet-connected American teens in the aughts, the sounds of European electro (and electroclash) trickled down their ethernet cables and instilled a fantasy of exotic, sartorial, sexually-fluid hedonism that felt a world away from the hard-edged masculinity of the hip-hop and skate cultures dominant at home. Pilo opens G.L.A.M. expressing this idealized fantasy with the track “Superstar DJ,” channeling the tongue-in-cheek self-celebritizing of Miss Kitten and The Hacker’s seminal work. “I’m a superstar, come meet me at the bar,” hiss Pilo’s heavily effected vocals, over a bassline of chopped mentasm synths driven by a swift, club-ready rhythm. The fingerprint of 2000’s electro a la International Deejay Gigolo Records is recognizably present, yet Pilo is too adept, too confident in his studio abilities to let his tracks rely on the retro. A great joy of this album is the future-facing richness of its production, always nodding to its spiritual guide of the past, while constantly breaking new sonic ground.



G.L.A.M. continues with “Girls Rule The World,” its vicious, droning bassline and sticky, titular hook making it the perfect electroclash soundtrack for a revenge plot on an ex-boyfriend. “What you Want” offers an instrumental exercise in “synthesizers are the new guitars,” and Pilo’s FX chops really shine as he warps and distorts his sounds into an undiscovered dimension existing somewhere between both. “Loverboy” enters the more melodic, Legowelt-inspired realm of electro, pushing above and beyond the foundation of analogue minimalism with flourishes of impressive sound design to construct something both climactic and cathartic. Scopa lends her perfect coldwave sprechgesang to titular track “G.L.A.M.,” with Pilo’s vocal processing offering surprises throughout and his FX chains wielded as instruments unto themselves.



On the track “A Slow Thinning Halo,” Pilo might be conjuring the haunting vocal chops and chiptune simplicity of early Crystal Castles, but the whiplash snap of his drums and sizzling production are all his own. “Spend the Night” is G.L.A.M.’s least nostalgic—and most unashamedly pop—offering, with the mic being passed between Sana and DEEVIOUS (previously featured on Pilo and Boys Noize’s 2023 track “Pvssy.”) DEEVIOUS’ sultry singing rides atop the bassline as it hypnotically struts across the floor, while Pilo’s skillful arrangement, deft rhythm programming, and atmospheric control elevate the songcraft into full-spectrum worldbuilding.



As the penultimate track, the contemporaneity of “Spend the Night” serves as transition away from the album’s previous, past-leaning exercises, allowing Pilo to step fully into the future with “One Last Embrace.” The closing track still references aughts sounds, but it borrows so widely and prolifically that Pilo’s reassemblage can only be described as singular. Here, Pilo pushes his engineering into psychoacoustic territory, as the eerie, beautiful melancholy of “One Last Embrace” explodes into a thrashing bassline that warbles like a drowning memory, struggling against the sinking weight of time. Pilo allows it to survive for 16 electrifying, gut-wrenching bars before letting go. In G.L.A.M., as in Pilo’s career, as in life, every ending can only be a new beginning.

Pøltergeist haben bei Bad Omen Records (Watch Hazel, Satan's Satyrs) unterschrieben, und die Kanadier veröffentlichen ihr Debütalbum. Pøltergeist wird als eine Mischung aus Post-Punk, traditionellem Metal und Shoegaze aus den frostigen Ebenen beschrieben und spielt treibenden Coldwave, der einen Weg von den Katakomben in den Kosmos zeichnet. Die vielleicht prägenste Destillation des Pøltergeist-Stils kommt mit der Vorab-Single 'Children Of The Dark', einem eingängigen, stürmischen Rocksong, der auch thematisch auf einer doppelten Ebene funktioniert. Sänger Kalen Baker hegt seit langem eine Vorliebe für die mystischen Metal-Klänge von Angel Witch, Cauldron oder Blue Öyster Cult und war sowohl von der zeitgenössischen Post-Punk-Band Spectres als auch von der britischen Melancholie von 'Script From The Bridge' der Chameleons berührt. Ganz zu schweigen von Gothic- und Post-Punk-Legenden wie Sisters Of Mercy, The Sound und Paradigmen des Himmlischen wie Cocteau Twins, Slowdive und My Bloody Valentine. Gestärkt durch den lyrischen Einfluss spiritueller Vorläufer wie Moorcock, Lovecraft, Poe und David Lynch von Twin Peaks wurde der Sound von Pøltergeist geboren; ein düsteres, aber magisches Reich, in dem dämmrige Intensität in einem psychischen Kampf mit metallischer Stärke verbunden wird. 'Nachtmusik' bleibt Bakers Vision eines "Kaleidoskops aus Emotionen, Klängen und Ideen" treu. Dies ist eine Platte, die sich im Herzen nach dem spirituellen Reich der 1980er Jahre sehnt, aber mit den Füßen fest im Hier und Jetzt des 21. Jahrhunderts steht. Während sich am Himmel Gewitterwolken zusammenbrauen, beginnt Pøltergeists Reise in die Dunkelheit gerade erst.

Deaf Forever
8/10
"'Nachtmusik' alles mit, was eine gute Postpunk-Platte braucht: eingängige, gekonnt komponierte Songs, schwermütige Atmosphäre, guten Gesang mit klassisch monoton-melodischer Stimme und einen Spritzer Shoegaze"

Metal Hammer
5.5 / 7
"NACHTMUSIK fa?ngt die Sehn- sucht und dunkle A?sthetik des Achtziger Jahre-Deathrock fu?r die Gegenwart ein - ohne zu kopieren. Ganz ohne Zwang, dafu?r mit jeder Menge emotionalem Tiefgang und einem gewissen Gruselfaktor. Ein starker Auftakt und definitiv ein of- fenes Ohr wert - nicht nur an regne- rischen, euphorieberaubten Herbsttagen".

Rock Hard
8/10
"Wer auf Unto Others, In Solitude, Lunar Shadow oder Tribulation steht, wird mit ziemlicher Sicherheit auch Gefallen an der Musik von PØLTERGEIST finden, die für ihr Debütalbum "Nachtmusik" Elemente aus Gothic Rock, Heavy Metal, Post-Punk und Hardrock in einen Hexenkessel schmeißen, einmal kräftig durchrühren und die Suppe mit einer kräftigen Geisterbahn-Lyric-Würzmischung (in Anlehnung an weltbekannte Horror-Autoren wie Edgar Allan Poe und H.P. Lovecraft) abschmecken".

Orkus
"Dieses Debütalbum wartet auf mit charmanter Dunkelheit, gehüllt in einen intensiven Sound, der über Post-Punk-, Metal- und Death-Rock-Ein-Aüsse hinausgeht. Stimmungsvolle Vocals, starke Atmosphären und eingängige Dynamiken tragen Arrangements, in die man nur zu gerne versinkt".

Superhero? Supervillain? Super WHAT? CZARFACE & MF DOOM's newest team-up record Super What? is, much like the Avengers' arch-enemy Thanos...inevitable (and all-powerful!).

The icon MF DOOM unleashes his wizardry and wordplay throughout the record, while CZARFACE (bolstered by the legendary Wu-Tang Clan's Inspectah Deck and Esoteric) slash through each of the Czar-Keys' produced tracks as the team raises the bar on their previous LP, Czarface meets Metalface (2018). Featuring golden-age superhero DMC (of RUN-DMC) and Hieroglyphics' leader Del The Funky Homosapien, with art by longtime CZARFACE co-creator Lamour Supreme, this album will bring all
the thrills of a cosmic summer blockbuster.

Recorded and slated for an early 2020 release, and paused while COVID raged, this collaboration of masked men is finally finding its way to you on all formats.

2024 Repress

Finders Keepers invite you to witness the incredible first ever Buchla synthesiser concerts/demonstrations providing a distinctive feminine alternative to The Silver Apples Of The Moon if they had ever been presented in phonographic form. This is history in the remaking.

This spring Finders Keepers Records are proud to release an archival project that not only redefines musical history but boasts genuine claim to the overused buzzwords such as pioneering, maverick, experimental, groundbreaking and esoteric, while questioning social politics and the evolution of music technology as we've come to understand it. To describe this records as a game-changer is an understatement. This record represents a musical revolution, a scientific benchmark and a trophy in the cabinet of counter culture creativity. This record is a triumphant yardstick in the synthesiser space race and the untold story of the first woman on the proverbial moon. While pondering the early accolades of this record it's daunting to learn that this record was in fact not a record at all... It was a manifesto and a gateway to a new world, that somehow never quite opened. If the unfamiliar, modernistic, melodic, pulses, tones and harmonics found on this 1975 live presentation/grant application/educational demonstration had been placed in a phonographic context alongside the promoted work of Morton Subotnick, Walter Carlos or Tomita then the name Suzanne Ciani and her influence would have already radically changed the shape, sound and gender of our record collections. Hopefully there is still chance.

In short, Suzanne was a self-imposed twenty-year-old employee of the Buchla modular synthesiser company, San Francisco's neck and neck contender to New York's Moog. Buchla was run by a community of festival freaks and academic acid eaters whose roots in new age lifestyles and the reinvention of art and music replaced the business acumen enjoyed by its likeminded East Coasters. In the eyes of the consumer the creative refusal to adopt rudimentary facets like a piano keyboard controller rendered the Buchla synthesiser the more obscure stubborn sister of the synth marathon, steering these incredible units away from the mainstream into the homes and studios of free music aficionados, art house composers and die-hard revolutionaries. Championed and semi-showcased by composer Morton Subotnick on his albums The Bull and Silver Apples Of The Moon, Buchla's versatility began to open the minds of a new generation, but the high-end design features and no-compromise modus operandi was often confused with incompatibility and, in the pulsating shadow of Moog's marketing, the revolution would not be televised nor patronised. Suzanne Ciani, as one of the very few female composers on the frontline (and also providing the back line) did not lose faith.

These concerts' are the epitome of rare music technology historic documents, performed by a real musician whose skills and academic education in classical composition already outweighed her male synthesiser contemporaries of twice her age. At the very start of her fragile career these recordings are nothing short of sacrificial ode to her mentor and machine, sonic pickets of the revolution and love letters to an absolutely genuine vision of and 'alternative' musical future. In denouncing her own precocious polymathmatic past in a bid to persuade the world to sing from a new hymn sheet, Suzanne Ciani created a bi-product of never before heard music that would render the pigeon holes ambient' and futuristic' utterly inadequate. Providing nothing short of an entirely different feminine take on the experimental records' of Morton Subotnick and proving to a small, judgmental audience and jury the true versatility of one of the most radical and idiosyncratic musical instruments of the 20th century. These recordings have not been heard since then.

The importance of these genuinely lost pieces of electronic musics puzzle almost eclipses the glaring detail of Suzanne's gender as a distinct minority in an almost exclusively male dominated, faceless, coldly scientific landscape. Those familiar with Suzanne's work, a vast vault of previously unpublished non-records', will already know how the creative politics in her art of being' simultaneously reshaped the worlds of synth design, advertising and film composition before anyone had even dropped a stylus in her groove. Needless to say this record, finally commanding the archival format of choice, courtesy of the Ciani and Finders Keepers longstanding unison, was not the last first' with which this hugely important composer would gift society, and the future of a wide range of exciting evolving creative disciplines.

You have found a holy grail of electronic music and a female musical pioneer who was too proactive to take the trophies. With the light of Buchla and Ciani's initial flame Finders Keepers continues to take a torch through the vaults of this lesser-celebrated music legacy shining a beam on these non-records' that evaded the limelight for almost half a century. You can't write history when you are too busy making it. With fresh ink in the bottomless well, let's start at the beginning. Again. You, are invited!

On October 20, 2023, Anetha will release her third tempetuous compilation on her label Mama told ya entitled MTY-AIR «Mille attaques, les vents contrèrent», just one year after MTY-TERRE «Contre tout, toutes et tous, la terre demeure» and two years after MTY-EAU «L’eau repousse les feux agressifs».

Through air element, the compilation comes up with the collaboration of 22 artists with 20 tracks, divided into 4 vinyls: Once again, Anetha carried away with her a generation of electronic artists from around the world to simply blow our mind.

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ON AIR: After twelve successful releases on Mama told ya, Anetha paraglides in our skies with the stormful MTY-AIR, a volatile new compilation: 4 swirling vinyls, 20 aerodynamics tracks, 1 wind blowing perfume.

Entitled «Mille attaques, les vents contrèrent», it will be the third of a series around the four elements. Capricious yet vigorous, air sweeps out everything on its way. Nothing can save you when you’re in the eye of the cyclone: prepare to fly hard. Alongside our windbreaker artists, skydive into the celestial vastness of sound: Gusts of disturbed techno, squalls of groove, mental tornado, minimal bass hurricane, cloudburst of psytrance… Time to get some fresh air.

Piercing pampero, mad mistral, forceful cierzo are blowing, blazing khamsin, steady sirocco, sharp shamal, dank nor’wester are entwining… Techno winds from all around the world are joining the fight against humanity. This is « Endgame » (B2). Final chapter, twisters and typhoons are cleansing the surface of earth, overthrowing everything on their path. Poor soul, don’t try to confront air’s blast as it will « Facelift » (D2) the shit out of you in less than a second. Take shelter as air is untouchable, unpredictable, unstoppable. Or if you’re brave enough, you’ll jump into the sky, looking for the currents to carry you up, sailing whirlwinds, riding airwaves, on the road to the « Temples of Quantum » (H2). Now jump!

The artwork has been once again entrusted to visual artist Karin Kimel, who worked on MTY-EAU’s artwork. She delivers an aerial scenery where supernal wafts are swirling, embalming our air. Diplomatie Studio took care of the design, mastering was entrusted to Sixbitdeep. And for the second time, with a direct message from earth to Earth, we opted for recycled vinyls.

REPENTANCE wurde 2018 vom ehemaligen SOIL- und DIRGE WITHIN-Gitarristen Shaun Glass aus Chicago, Illinois gegründet und ist eine primitive, aggressive Metal-Band. Im Frühjahr 2018 veröffentlichte die Band ihre ersten beiden Demo-Tracks, gefolgt von einem von der Kritik gefeierten Debütalbum ("God For A Day", 2020) und zahlreichen Shows mit hochkarätigen Acts wie TRIVIUM, DEVILDRIVER, JINJER, SKULL FIST, TOXIC HOLOCAUST, SACRED REICH und anderen.
"REUE kam ganz natürlich zusammen, was eine sehr reinigende Erfahrung war. An diesem Punkt in meinem Leben hatte ich gehofft, mit einer fast völlig neuen Gruppe von Menschen zu arbeiten und neue Musik zu machen -- und diese Crew war organisch eingesperrt. " Shaun Glas
Im September 2021 kündigten REPENTANCE ihren weltweiten Vertrag beim deutschen Label Noble Demon an und veröffentlichten ihre brandneue Single "Reborn". Ausgehend von der nächsten EP der Band und mit Corey Beaulieu vom mächtigen TRIVIUM an der Gitarre für ein Gast-Solo, war "Reborn" ein beeindruckender erster Blick auf das, was in naher Zukunft von REPENTANCE zu erwarten ist! Aber nicht nur mit einer neuen Single, sondern auch mit einer erneuerten Besetzung ist dieser Track der perfekte Einstieg in die Wiedergeburt des aggressiven, modernen Metal Sounds der Band. Die Ankunft der wilden Stimme von Adam Gilley setzt die Messlatte hoch und macht deutlich, dass es sich hier um eine wahrhaftige Reinigung des Sounds der Band auf allen Ebenen handelt.
Im Mai 2023 kehrt die Band mit einer weiteren Ohrfeige zurück, die in der Metal-Szene Wellen schlagen wird, indem sie die erste Single des kommenden Albums auf den Markt bringt, die Gesangsaufgaben von MILO SILVESTRO, dem neuen Sänger von FEAR FACTORY, beinhaltet!
Das neue Album "The Process of Human Demise" erscheint am 4. August 2023.

REPENTANCE wurde 2018 vom ehemaligen SOIL- und DIRGE WITHIN-Gitarristen Shaun Glass aus Chicago, Illinois gegründet und ist eine primitive, aggressive Metal-Band. Im Frühjahr 2018 veröffentlichte die Band ihre ersten beiden Demo-Tracks, gefolgt von einem von der Kritik gefeierten Debütalbum ("God For A Day", 2020) und zahlreichen Shows mit hochkarätigen Acts wie TRIVIUM, DEVILDRIVER, JINJER, SKULL FIST, TOXIC HOLOCAUST, SACRED REICH und anderen.
"REUE kam ganz natürlich zusammen, was eine sehr reinigende Erfahrung war. An diesem Punkt in meinem Leben hatte ich gehofft, mit einer fast völlig neuen Gruppe von Menschen zu arbeiten und neue Musik zu machen -- und diese Crew war organisch eingesperrt. " Shaun Glas
Im September 2021 kündigten REPENTANCE ihren weltweiten Vertrag beim deutschen Label Noble Demon an und veröffentlichten ihre brandneue Single "Reborn". Ausgehend von der nächsten EP der Band und mit Corey Beaulieu vom mächtigen TRIVIUM an der Gitarre für ein Gast-Solo, war "Reborn" ein beeindruckender erster Blick auf das, was in naher Zukunft von REPENTANCE zu erwarten ist! Aber nicht nur mit einer neuen Single, sondern auch mit einer erneuerten Besetzung ist dieser Track der perfekte Einstieg in die Wiedergeburt des aggressiven, modernen Metal Sounds der Band. Die Ankunft der wilden Stimme von Adam Gilley setzt die Messlatte hoch und macht deutlich, dass es sich hier um eine wahrhaftige Reinigung des Sounds der Band auf allen Ebenen handelt.
Im Mai 2023 kehrt die Band mit einer weiteren Ohrfeige zurück, die in der Metal-Szene Wellen schlagen wird, indem sie die erste Single des kommenden Albums auf den Markt bringt, die Gesangsaufgaben von MILO SILVESTRO, dem neuen Sänger von FEAR FACTORY, beinhaltet!
Das neue Album "The Process of Human Demise" erscheint am 4. August 2023.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Ending a break of twelve years, The Villains Inc. returns from the past to deliver four lost tracks from the label mastermind himself! Author of a short yet remarkable discography on Dominance Electricity, Electro Empire, and Drivecom just to name, Italian don Gab.Gato takes this opportunity to revisit some of his classics by a quatuor of undisputed electro heavyweights.

UK veteran Phil Klein opens hostilities on A side with his outstanding remix of "Electro Empire". Originally released on German Electrocord back in 2003, Gab.Gato's version sees a luminous electro-funk treatment in pure Bass Junkie style. Needless to say this electro banger will hit you hard with its untouchable sub bass, oldschoolish tones, hammering drums and retrofuturistic atmosphere!

Italian techno / electro legend Max Durante, coming next, propels "The Villains Inc" cut to another dimension. Taken from the "No Light Or Shadow EP" (ATVS002 in 2008), the track mutes into a milestone of an experimental slaughter tinted with industrial sororities. Following a catchy Speak n' Spell overture, the song introduces some hot and sexy female orgasms, while a heading acid line enhanced by a straight to the point rhythm will drive you on the dancefloor.

US DJ / Producer Sinistarr on the flip goes deeper into the realm with his "Couterterrorism" rework of "A Scanner Darkly". Published on Boris Divider's Drivecom in 2007, the tune evolves into a completely fresh and transformed version. A frantic bassline carries you away on a fast inducing grimey dancefloor boogie combined with hi tones and no nonsense electro beat!

Last but not the least, Drexciyan Dj Stingray closes the EP with its groovy "313 Psycotropic mix" of "S.N.A", a tune written by Gab.Gato and Matteo Merlo in 2007 on "The Systematik Network Attack EP" (ATVS001). Stingray's mix sounds like a sonic, ethereal and thought after assault based upon cutting-edge sororities over playful vocals.

Craftily written and designed (artwork project by Gab.Gato, and illustrated by Simonloop aka Urbanmagic, in 2009 was prophetic on his own: clones programmed to reappear from the past), nasty "Reprogrammed EP" features the almighty ATVS signature we all know, a dark, magnetic and rough sound ranging from breakbeat acid-tinged to Detroit-influenced electro and techno style. Should we mention that this limited 12" (no digital) is expected to sell fast and earn the status of collectible masterpiece, just like the previous releases on the label!

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

Rapper and producer duo ​Verbz & ​Mr Slipz announce their latest album ‘Radio Waves’ ​due out ​13th November 2020​. Released on the acclaimed Hip-Hop label ​High Focus Records​, the 22-track project sits perfectly between present-day greatness and unrivalled nostalgia welcoming us into their unique rap landscape. The cover, designed by ​Matt Littler​, captures the essence of the album perfectly.

Born and raised in Croydon, rapper ​Verbz has proven himself time after time with his innovative rhyming style and distinct flow. The creative partnership wouldn’t be complete without Brighton based producer Mr Slipz who marries ​Verbz’ form with his laid back jazzy sound as well as unmistakable attention to detail. The pair started making music together in 2017 when they released their debut collaboration ‘Lessons Of Adolescence’. This was followed by extensive tours and studio sessions where their musical alliance was cemented and their bond has been untouchable ever since.

Kicking off the album with humour and personality, '​2202 FM​’ is a full-bodied track which sees ​Verbz spit tales of admiration for his city whilst at the same time striving to escape. With London on the brain,

‘Summer In The Bits’ ​is an introspective analysis of a summer's day in the capital full of tense trials and tribulations. Moving throughout the album, ​‘Kno The Status’ welcomes three potent guest verses from Alex Holy​, ​Datkid & ​Upfront ​paired with an unrivaled ​arrangement and instrumentation magnifying Mr Slipz’ craft. Once again his incomparable production delivers on ​‘Weekend Blues’ ​which see’s ​Verbz regretfully address craving more from his weekend to then be greeted by numbness on a Monday morning. ​High Focus linchpin Fliptrix delivers some captivating combinations on ​‘My Wonders’ ​honing n on the current state of the world from his point of view. Up next is one of the lead singles

‘The Feeling’, which is a refreshing and rare representation of the classic Boom Bap sound. Before signing out, ​Verbz’ ​impressive storytelling shines through on ​‘In My Mind’ offering insight into his artistry as he allows access to his inner thoughts via vivid storytelling lyrics. Sandwiched amongst the project are evocative radio skits placed to perfection, offering angles of comedy including a mini-interview acting as the final pieces to the puzzle.

This record is the culmination of two years of hard work packed with skill and finesse, as we have all come to expect. With their unrivalled chemistry, the dynamic duo have proven themselves to be some the most exciting artists on the scene, and '​Radio Waves' is going to cement their position at the top of the ranks.

Some Crate-digging Compilations Are Often The Result Of Someone Hand-picking Their Choice Favourites From Another Country's Musical History, Perhaps Unaware Or Uninvolved With Its Cultural Lineage In The Process. On Soundway's Latest Release - A Treasure Trove Of Synth Jams, Pop, Samba Boogie, Balearic And Electro From 1980 & '90s Brazil - The Tracks Are Picked By Millos Kaiser, One Half Of The Brazilian Duo Selvagem, Who Are At The Helm Of Throwing Some Of The Country's Best Dance Parties. It's A Rare Compilation That Offers Brazilian Music Actually Picked By A Brazilian.
Whilst Names Such As Ricardo Bomba, Villa Box, Fogo Baiano, Electric Boogies And Batista Junior May Not Be Household Names, They Tell An Untold, Yet Rich And Important Part Of Musical History In Brazil. The Release Also Covers A Decade That Has Been Intentionally Forgotten And Brushed Aside By Many In The Country.
Onda De Amor Is A Release That Is Loaded With Smooth Grooves, Bubbling Bass, Glistening Synthesisers, Funk Strutting Guitar Lines And Sheen Of Production That Undeniably Marks It Of Its Time. For Kaiser This Compilation Is About Reintroducing Music During A Period Of Reappraisal, Catching A New Wave And Hoping Contemporary Listeners Will Ride It With Him. the Idea Is To Do Justice To These Songs. Songs That Combine All The Right Ingredients That Should Have Put Them On
Radio Playlists When I Was Growing Up Or At Least In The Cases Of More Adventurous Djs'.
Millos Kaiser Is A Dj, Digger, Vinyl Junkie/dealer Born In Rio De
Janeiro And Living In São Paulo For The Past 8 Years. He Launched The Dance Party/club Night Selvagem With Partner Trepanado In 2010, Bringing Thousands Of Dancers One Sunday A Month To A Public Square In The Heart Of São Paulo.

Toolroom founder and Grammy-nominated producer Mark Knight announces his new album Untold Business: 13-track collection of vocal house music which aims to inject a much-needed dose of meaning and longevity into the world of dance music.

Mark Knight has gone back to his roots on his new album Untold Business, reprising the sounds and records that made him the artist he is today. Diving through his extensive collection of classic Funk, House, Soul and Disco records from the 1970s and 80s has provided the bedrock for the album, which is an homage to the soulful, vocal-led house music that Mark first fell in love with in the 90s.

Step forward Mark Knight with a collection of meticulously crafted, positive, life-affirming records with a focus on real instrumentation and properly crafted songs that will stand the test of time. Untold Business is the antithesis of the functional, cookie-cutter dance music that has become increasingly ubiquitous over the years, and it sounds absolutely glorious.

Lead single ‘Everything’s Gonna Be Alright’ features vocals from Beverley Knight as well as the London Community Gospel Choir, who together bring a powerful message of positivity, solidarity and hope: themes that echo throughout the rest of the album.

“I wanted to write a song of hope as we come out of this incredibly tough time. I feel that musicians and producers have a responsibility to provide the soundtrack to people’s lives, and with this glimmer of hope on the horizon, I wanted this song to be a moment of positivity for the future ahead.” Mark Knight

From the string section, to the 14-piece London Community Gospel Choir, to the incomparably brilliant Beverley Knight on lead vocals – Mark worked with some incredible musicians on the single: an approach that informs his approach for the entire album. Untold Business features further collaborations with the likes of Shingai (Noisettes), Michael Gray, Robert Owens and many more.

In addition to the 10 new tracks recorded especially for the album, Untold Business also includes three of Mark’s singles from 2020, including one of the biggest releases of his career to date. All 4 Love was a collaboration with Rene Amesz and Tasty Lopez which became firmly lodged on the Radio 1 A list for six weeks with worldwide success following soon after. Picking up more than 10 million streams on Spotify it was without doubt one of the biggest house records of the year. Also included here are ‘If It’s Love’ - a joyous celebration of a soulful house sound that came to prominence in the 90s – and ‘Tonight’, which took inspiration from the brisk, looping, filtered house music of the early 00s.

It was a busy 2019 for Asian Dub Foundation with the long-awaited reissue of their Mercury Prize-nominated 1998 classic Rafi’s Revenge. The reissue garnered ecstatic reviews, all of which agreed that the sound and the message that ADF threw down in 1998 is as relevant now as it was then-perhaps even more so. So it’s timely that in 2020 the band are set to release their 9th album “Access Denied” which finds them as uncompromising as ever. The album showcases ADF in full spectrum mode from the tough Jungle Punk sound of “Stealing The Future” and “Mind-lock” through to the orchestral meditation of “Realignment” and the reggae lament of the title track.

With guestspots from Greta Thunberg, incendiary Palestinian shamstep warriors 47 Soul, Chilean revolt’s rap main figure Ana Tijoux and radical UK comedian Stewart Lee, Asian Dub Foundation continue their sonic opposition to the powers that be and “Access Denied” kicks harder and higher than ever.

Asian Dub Foundation are a genre unto themselves. Their unique combination of tough jungle rhythms, dub bass lines and wild guitar overlaid by references to their South Asian roots and militant high-speed rap has established them as one of the best live bands in the world. During their long and productive career Asian Dub Foundation have shared the stage with the likes of Rage Against The Machine, the Beastie Boys and Primal Scream also collaborating on record with the likes of Radiohead, Sinead O’ Connor, Iggy Pop and Chuck D.
The story began in the early 90’s when ADF formed from a music workshop in East London at the institution which is their spiritual home, Community Music. Their unique beginnings in a music workshop in east London marked out both their sound and their wider educational aspirations, as showed by their early involvements with Roma Youth in Budapest, hooking up with the leg-endary Afro Reggae in the favelas of Rio, and setting up their own education organisation ADF Education (ADFED), not to mention their campaigns on behalf of those suffering miscarriages of justice. Building a solid live reputation in the mid-90’s, particularly in France, they eventually es-tablished themselves as an important worldwide force and particularly as an explosive alterna-tive to the backward-looking obsession with Britpop in the UK.
In addition to their blistering live reputation ADF were one of the first bands to experiment with the now more commonplace live film re-score, beginning with their rapturously-received interpre-tation of the French classic La Haine back in in 2001. They’ve continued to perform said project or nearly two decades, taking in David Bowie’s Meltdown at London’s South Bank and a contro-versial show at the Broadwater Farm Estate, scene of the events that led to the London Riots of 2011.They’ve also rescored George Lucas’ debut THX 1138 (with encouragement from Mr. Lu-cas himself) and they’ve recently revived their explosive live interpretation to the continually rele-vant Battle of Algiers at the Museum of Immigration in Paris.

Celebrating its 25th anniversary, Far Out Recordings proudly presents two albums of previously unheard Azymuth demo recordings from 1973-75

Since their debut album release in 1975, Azymuth have risen to rank alongside the world’s greatest jazz, funk and fusion artists. As young men in Rio de Janeiro, they stood out for both their exceptional talent as musicians, and their wild rock ‘n’ roll antics in the predominantly middle-class worlds of bossa nova and jazz. Their signature ‘Samba Doido’ (crazy samba) sound ruptured the tried and tested musical structures of the day, resulting in what can only be described as an electric, psychedelic, samba jazz-funk hybrid.

Before they became Azymuth, José Roberto Bertrami (keyboards), Ivan ‘Mamão’ Conti (drums), Alex Malheiros (bass) and Ariovaldo Contesini (percussion) played backing band to just about every major artist in Brazil. Bertrami was also contracted as an arranger and songwriter at some the biggest labels of the era: Polydor, Philips, Som Livre, and EMI being just a few. Azymuth’s name can be found on record sleeves by the likes of Jorge Ben, Elis Regina, Marcos Valle, Ana Mazzotti and countless others. But at the dawn of the seventies, fascinated by developments in improvisational music - from jazz in the US, to progressive rock in the UK and of course samba, bossa and tropicália on home turf - the energetic young group were inspired and ready to move forward. Any spare moment in which they weren’t in sessions and writing music for other artists, they would be carving out their own sound.

These previously unheard recordings took place between 1973-75 at Bertrami’s home studio in the Laranjeiras district of Rio de Janeiro. At the time of recording, there was nothing in Brazil, less the world that sounded anything like them, so perhaps it’s unsurprising that when Bertrami presented his demos to the record companies he had been working for, he was turned away, and told in effect that the music was ‘wrong’.

One of the demos ‘Manhã’ would be picked up by Som Livre and Azymuth released their seminal debut album in 1975. Throughout the late seventies and eighties, the group released a series of now classic albums for Milestone Records, before taking an indefinite hiatus to pursue their individual careers.

When English producers Joe Davis and Roc Hunter arrived in Brazil in 1994 to record the first Azymuth album in over a decade, Bertrami dug out the demos which had sat virtually untouched for over twenty years. Joe recalls how he was “blown away by the freedom and intensity of the music, as well as the genius of the ideas musically.” Beginning a long and fruitful relationship, ‘Prefacio’ would be the first track Azymuth recorded for Far Out Recordings and was released on the Carnival album (1996).
Along with ‘Manhã’ and ‘Prefacio’, only a handful of these demos were ever professionally recorded and released, making this the first opportunity to hear many of these early Azymuth compositions in their raw, original form.

On every track the frenetic energy in the studio is palpable, giving the recordings a beautifully personal feel and a sense of the phenomenally creative vision Bertrami, Malheiros and Conti were realising at the time. Fifty years on, Azymuth’s earliest recorded music retains an ineffable, futuristic quality, standing amongst their most captivating and moving work.

Credits:

Keyboards: José Roberto Bertrami (Mini Moog Series One, Arp Omni, Arp 2600, Arp Solina Strings, Fender Rhodes 88, Hammond B3 with box speaker, Clavinet with Wah Wah)
Drums: Ivan ‘Mamão’ Conti
Bass: Alex Malheiros
Percussion: Ariovaldo Contesini
Produced by Azymuth and Jose Roberto Bertrami
Recorded at José Roberto Bertrami’s home studio in Laranjeiras, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil between 1973–1975.
Issue and project co-ordinator: Joe Davis
Tape transfers by Roc Hunter (thanks to Simon Hitner)
Mastered by Daniel Maunick at the Sugar Shack, Lanark, Scotland
Mastered by Frank at Carvery Cuts
All tracks published by Far Out Music Publishing/Westbury Music LTD

Celebrating its 25th anniversary, Far Out Recordings proudly presents two albums of previously unheard Azymuth demo recordings from 1973-75

Since their debut album release in 1975, Azymuth have risen to rank alongside the world’s greatest jazz, funk and fusion artists. As young men in Rio de Janeiro, they stood out for both their exceptional talent as musicians, and their wild rock ‘n’ roll antics in the predominantly middle-class worlds of bossa nova and jazz. Their signature ‘Samba Doido’ (crazy samba) sound ruptured the tried and tested musical structures of the day, resulting in what can only be described as an electric, psychedelic, samba jazz-funk hybrid.

Before they became Azymuth, José Roberto Bertrami (keyboards), Ivan ‘Mamão’ Conti (drums), Alex Malheiros (bass) and Ariovaldo Contesini (percussion) played backing band to just about every major artist in Brazil. Bertrami was also contracted as an arranger and songwriter at some the biggest labels of the era: Polydor, Philips, Som Livre, and EMI being just a few. Azymuth’s name can be found on record sleeves by the likes of Jorge Ben, Elis Regina, Marcos Valle, Ana Mazzotti and countless others. But at the dawn of the seventies, fascinated by developments in improvisational music - from jazz in the US, to progressive rock in the UK and of course samba, bossa and tropicália on home turf - the energetic young group were inspired and ready to move forward. Any spare moment in which they weren’t in sessions and writing music for other artists, they would be carving out their own sound.

These previously unheard recordings took place between 1973-75 at Bertrami’s home studio in the Laranjeiras district of Rio de Janeiro. At the time of recording, there was nothing in Brazil, less the world that sounded anything like them, so perhaps it’s unsurprising that when Bertrami presented his demos to the record companies he had been working for, he was turned away, and told in effect that the music was ‘wrong’.

One of the demos ‘Manhã’ would be picked up by Som Livre and Azymuth released their seminal debut album in 1975. Throughout the late seventies and eighties, the group released a series of now classic albums for Milestone Records, before taking an indefinite hiatus to pursue their individual careers.

When English producers Joe Davis and Roc Hunter arrived in Brazil in 1994 to record the first Azymuth album in over a decade, Bertrami dug out the demos which had sat virtually untouched for over twenty years. Joe recalls how he was “blown away by the freedom and intensity of the music, as well as the genius of the ideas musically.” Beginning a long and fruitful relationship, ‘Prefacio’ would be the first track Azymuth recorded for Far Out Recordings and was released on the Carnival album (1996).
Along with ‘Manhã’ and ‘Prefacio’, only a handful of these demos were ever professionally recorded and released, making this the first opportunity to hear many of these early Azymuth compositions in their raw, original form.

On every track the frenetic energy in the studio is palpable, giving the recordings a beautifully personal feel and a sense of the phenomenally creative vision Bertrami, Malheiros and Conti were realising at the time. Fifty years on, Azymuth’s earliest recorded music retains an ineffable, futuristic quality, standing amongst their most captivating and moving work.

Credits:

Keyboards: José Roberto Bertrami (Mini Moog Series One, Arp Omni, Arp 2600, Arp Solina Strings, Fender Rhodes 88, Hammond B3 with box speaker, Clavinet with Wah Wah)
Drums: Ivan ‘Mamão’ Conti
Bass: Alex Malheiros
Percussion: Ariovaldo Contesini
Produced by Azymuth and Jose Roberto Bertrami
Recorded at José Roberto Bertrami’s home studio in Laranjeiras, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil between 1973–1975.
Issue and project co-ordinator: Joe Davis
Tape transfers by Roc Hunter (thanks to Simon Hitner)
Mastered by Daniel Maunick at the Sugar Shack, Lanark, Scotland
Mastered by Frank at Carvery Cuts
All tracks published by Far Out Music Publishing/Westbury Music LTD

No one had been through those doors in years. Unchanged, seemingly untouched, just a Guard watching over it, one wondered whether the place would ever see the light of day again. Built in the 70s by Scotch, there were only twenty such places in the entire world. Twenty studios, all identical. Most had undergone a digital makeover in the 80s, but not this one; situated in Lomé, this studio had stayed true to its original form. Silent and uninhabited but waiting for one thing, and one thing only: for the sacred fire to be lit once again. That of the Togolese Recording Office, is studio OTODI for those in the know. Through thick layers of dust, the console was vibrating still, impatient to be turned on and spurt out the sound so unique to analog. That sound is what Peter Solo and his band Vaudou Game came to seek out.

The original vibrations of Lomé's sound, resonating within the studio space, an undercurrent pulsing within the walls, the floor, and the entire atmosphere. A presence at once electrical and mystical sourced through the amps that had never really gone cold, despite the deep sleep that they had been forced into. In taking over the studio's 3000 square feet, enough to house a full orchestra, Vaudou Game had the space necessary to conjure the spirits of voodoo, those very spirits who watch over men and nature, and with whom Peter converses every day.

For the most authentic of frequencies to fully imbibe this third album, Peter Solo entrusted the rhythmic section to a Togolese bass and drum duo, putting the groove in the expert hands of those versed in feeling and a type of musicianship that you can't learn in any school. This was also a way to put OTODI on the path of a more heavily hued funk sound, the backbone of which maintains flexibility and agility when moving over to highlife, straightens out when enhanced with frequent guest Roger Damawuzan's James Brown type screams, and softens when making the way for strings. Snaking and undulating when a chorus of Togolese women takes over, guiding it towards a slow, hypnotic trance. Up until now, Vaudou Game had maintained their connection to Togo from their base in France. This time, recording the entire album in Lomé at OTODI with local musicians, Peter Solo drew the voodoo fluid directly from the source, once again using only Togolese scales to make his guitar sing, his strings acting as channels between listeners and deities...

The Untold Stories offer up their next double pack collection on their trademark transparent yellow and black vinyl. For Chapter V they welcome some new artists into the label with Jerome C, Jarz=Polors, Volta Cab, and MD Wallholz, all featuring for the first time. This combined with some superb works from Franco Cinelli and UNTLD regulars Ztrl, Ivan Lopez, Pheek, and Jonas Sella: makes for a memorable album of highly identifiable music, with varying vibes from the Street Knowledge track by Volta Cab to Ztrl's one perfect for summertime afterhours, altogether another very enjoyable collection.

Rockwell's rise to prominence as a rare, distinctive talent has been exciting the electronica music circuit the world over. Critical, thankfully, being the trusty forefront for all things audio-aesthetically delicious, presents the 'Aria EP' - 4 tracks of sound sublime, exemplifying Rockwell's refreshing angle on energy in the club combined with the characteristic, meticulously playful technicals, precise and thrilling as ever.The charmingly rustic intro of 'Aria' unleashes striking Flinstones-esque wooden triplets, scaling the track as stirring vocals weave through; haunting and uplifting at once, the title-track exudes sheer class. Slightly more buoyant, 'Live For The Moment' infuses an energetic tempo with profusions of ear-carressing funk and those ever-characteristic percussive twists - naughty all over. Swiftly plunged into apocalyptic darkness, the Ulterior Motive boys take a sinister liking to 'Noir'. Distinctly menacing and genuinely frightening, what better to bully the atmosphere than Hell-raising bass and staccato violins. Listen out for the breakdown bass - horrific and enriching, this track is dark by Devil's definition. Icing on the cake collaboration with underground legend Untold comes in the form of 'Rehoku Sunrise', a tribal earthy worldly masterpiece of running drums and raw, wild samples, glazing the soul in bliss. Bellissimo.