Ba Da Bing Новости

After 45 years, Trigger’s never-released second album, Second Round, invites listeners to rediscover the hard rock sound that made the band a standout act of the 1970s. In early 1979, Trigger walked out of Electric Ladyland Studios with a completed second album. Mere months had passed since their self-titled debut came out on Casablanca Records, home to KISS and Parliament. The band had toured with Cheap Trick and The Godz, met Bruce Springsteen and Joni Mitchell, and things were looking bright. But Casablanca unexpectedly went bankrupt, and the label’s artists went into freefall. Trigger unsuccessfully sought interested parties, shelved the recordings and disbanded; a disappointing end for a band who dominated the Jersey Shore club scene on their way up with fiery, kick ass live shows. RIP Trigger: 1973-1979. Jump to 2024. Guitarist Richie House is living in Northern New Jersey with his wife, enjoying a relaxing afternoon at the community pool with neighbors. One of them, Andrew Wexler is shocked to discover his friend had a band in the ’70s. He listens to their recordings, and as an avid record collector, assumes the mission of getting that unheard second album released. He writes to Ba Da Bing, a label with Jersey roots. Much excitement ensues. Second Round’s long-awaited release will now be available. All original members—Derek Remington (vocals/drums), Jimmy Duggan (guitar/vocals), Tom Nigra (bass guitar/backing vocals), and Richie House (lead guitar/vocals)—are present on the recordings. Sadly, Duggan and Nigra have passed away, but Remington and House have overseen this reissue, with songs sourced directly from the analog masters.. The Trigger of today maintains a high level of quality, albeit with a bit less flair, and even less hair. And there’s more going on here than at first listen. While the band carries the earmarks of their era—melodic hard-rock fashioned for Saturday night parties—they override the cliché with incredibly catchy songs. How would a ripping song like “Back Talk” have been received in 1979? It’s a question we’ll never be able to answer, but the raw energy of the track spans generations. “One In A Million,” however, with its full harmonies and forceful chorus, could have easily made the soundtrack for Fast Times. Celebrate the discovery of this lost gem by giving it a listen. You’ll be Trigger happy…

Almost Like You Could ignites its art punk fire with Lucy Alexander proclaiming, “Everyone wants something to talk about / But not a minute to spare, so be brief.” Not surprising from a song that’s 1:54 (‘Higher’), but the raw honesty in her lyrics ring far after the music ends. Alexander, along with bandmate Luke Cartledge, place the propulsive power of their beliefs at the core of their debut full-length album, and their guiding motivation towards social justice is as fierce as it is welcoming. “Living as part of the queer community, and being queer myself, leads me towards supporting every person’s truth,” Alexander says. Scrounge’s songs skip to a fast beat, electrifying the entire album with a sense of empowerment. Their approach is OG punk: they make music for their peers and themselves. Only now, with a world of connections possible, they’re able to open arms wide for a far-reaching embrace. Alexander’s rich vocals give their sound its central force, anchoring the songs with confessional lines (“If this is the pinnacle, then I need a miracle/ Cause everyone’s laughing at me,” “There’s not much left/ this corpse I have to keep/ Above board.”). They sing about economic inequality, political corruption, environmental destruction, and collective change. “We’re inspired by those around us, and we write about what we care about. Art has always existed for us as a means of catharsis, a way of expressing something we might not be able to otherwise, and we hope our music can be that for other people too,” says Alexander. “I think I’ve actually written a filthy banger,” she states while re-listening to “Buzz/Cut”, a grunge-honoring hammer of a song that takes a journey from disappointment, to self-realization, to release. Alexander and Cartledge’s gratification in making an album they’re proud of mirrors the empowerment conveyed in their lyrics. A follow-up to debut mini-album Sugar, Daddy (Fierce Panda, 2022), Almost Like You Could came together over 18 months, in between “teaching, touring, graduation, and a wedding”, as Lucy explains, for the band always has a handful of shows coming up. It’s a strange outcome for a duo who first bonded over their mutual love of SOPHIE. “She radicalized the structure of sound, and revealed herself through it,” Cartledge explains. “That was a massive inspiration when we started playing together, stripping everything away to open up new possibilities as artists and as people." Having already toured Europe and the States, Scrounge is preparing to be on the road throughout 2025. In a world where the idea of true community is ephemeral, Lucy and Luke seek to foster it everywhere they play. And their belief in change is ultimately buoyed by hope. “I know that it’s never been this good,” they sing.

Cross Record's new album, Crush Me, is steeped in the pressures and wonders of existence—a profound statement, especially coming from artist and death doula Emily Cross. A two-and-a-half-year gestation period offered challenges, disappointments, and joys reflected in the cramped space of the album, which explores how we handle the weights we carry. Emily Cross had held hundreds of Living Funerals and was as many episodes deep into her podcast, What I’m Looking At. She was five years into serving clients as a death doula and fresh off a tour with Loma, her band with Jonathan Meiburg (Shearwater) and Dan Duszynski, when she began work on her fourth album. After moving from Austin, TX to Dorset, UK, she established the Steady Waves Center for Contemplation (named after a track from her second record, Wabi-Sabi ), where she hosted Living Funerals, met clients, scheduled mindful tea sessions, and showcased experimental music nights. All the while, she was scribbling down song ideas. Cross’s Tascam four-track demos finally reached readiness, and she sent them to an interested major independent label. She was encouraged to push her imagination to the limits of what a record could be. So, unlike her usual process of recording as inexpensively as possible, she prepared a two-week recording session in Germany with a group of skilled musicians from around the world. True to her previous work, Cross left plenty of room in her demos for experimentation, collaboration, chance, improvisation, and complete obliteration, then resurrection when necessary. Comfort and traditional structure were eschewed in favor of unaccountable magic, prayers whispered into The Void. Cross is comfortable with the chaotic and unpredictable, a perspective demanded by her work and writing style. The Berlin Airbnb was packed with people, instruments and luggage. During a ride down in a tiny elevator to the studio, Cross realized how central the sense of being crushed was to the album. “I thought of it later and it dawned on me that ‘Crush Me’ perfectly embodied the record,” says Cross. Yes, the weight of a body laying limply atop yours, or the tight squeeze of a hug, can be pleasant. Go too far, and you’re in the hands of a cruel, adolescent god. Upon leaving Germany, the record was unfinished, and without a roadmap. As passages were recorded as isolated parts, Cross and musician Marcin Sulewski collaborated, facing a haphazard brick pile, waiting to be assembled. Work dipped in and out of view like a buoy bobbing in a violent sea over many months. During that time, the aforementioned interested label went radio silent, suddenly not seeming so sure of a thing. Collaborators disappeared, continuing the themes of abandonment, surrender, and disarray that followed the project. Cross physically felt her entire body go numb: In a twist of fate, the record was rescued by long-time friend and supporter Ben Goldberg at Ba Da Bing Records who was eager to help realize the project. Cross worked for months on the album, all the while nursing a pregnancy and continuing her full-time funeral work. The last minute participation of Seth Manchester of Machines with Magnets, who mixed and mastered, was an essential liferaft. He gave true final form to the abstracted songs. Crush Me has the effect of a spell being cast, with songs balancing heaviness and levity. Vocals, guitars, and keyboards float above, as drums and upright bass (often bowed) lurch beneath. On “Rolling Backwards” percussion wanders about while feedback squeals and persists in the distance. “Dorset Area Of Natural Beauty” starts with a thick, unhinged church organ progression punctuated by the disquieting sounds of laughter reaching the point of hysteria. “God Fax” is a slow-moving panic attack, with shallow breaths in and out framing a guttural cacophony like a wooden freighter encountering increasingly turbulent waters and vocals struck emotionless by autotune. The album ends with “Twisted Up Fence,” a reflection on life from outside the wall--wistful, warm, and comforting. Cross, likely with a smile on her face, sings: “You say it’s an endless abyss” “And I say the abyss is the best”

Fables of the future fuel the present. Lisel (Eliza Bagg) draws from this tradition on The Vanishing Point, a daring musical odyssey of altered singing, experimental pop, broken melodies, and striking electronics. A culmination of her continual dissemblance of genre, Lisel’s new album is an epic composed of allegorical tales, forming a dystopian storybook of life in the shadow of impending catastrophe. It’s a high-concept work of contemporary pop sounds, hyperpop motifs and tropes. Every song reflects the shared psycho-emotional experience of moving towards unsettling futures and looking beyond these outcomes, to the point where the horizons vanish. Evolving the sonic toolkit she employed on Patterns For Autotuned Voices And Delay (2023), Lisel transforms pop into a canvas for operatic storytelling. Along with making her own work, Bagg is a classical singer working in baroque and contemporary experimental opera, and with her project Lisel, she seeks to develop new, expressive qualities out of ancient vocal techniques from the Baroque and Renaissance periods. Her opera experience has infused her with a desire for a big, cinematic sound and holistic world-building, creating a “total artwork,” and she fits that medium into the form of a solo project. From haunting whispers to soaring melodies, she reaches back towards ancient musical traditions while incorporating futuristic sounds in order to imagine how a possible future might look back at contemporary existence. Dystopic stories melt into pop songs, hammered to ruin. Both through sonics and lyrics, the album recounts urgent narratives as ancient mythological fables, chronicling in operatic density the deepening awareness of the world’s looming, inevitable vanishing point. Photographer Carla Rossi further builds Lisel’s world through a series of photographs that similarly draw on Renaissance and Medieval painting, while placing them aesthetically in a digital realm. In these dramatic, hyper-stylized photos, Lisel takes up classical poses and yields iconographic symbols, further exploring the dissonance in her work as these manufactured “paintings” recall storytelling of the past while depicting images from an imagined future.

Quinnisa Kinsella-Mulkerin recorded her first song at five years old with her parents, who comprise the adventurous Maine band, Big Blood. Ever since the age of five, she was writing songs, banging on chimes, strumming guitars, and clanging together whatever else she could find. Improvisation was natural, and she stuck to the approach. Quinn brings this innate sense of songwriting to The Wickies, a duo she formed with Aiden Arel a year ago at age 16, whose chill approach and fluid delivery belie true inventiveness in the underneath mechanics. Inspired by seventies folk icons like Stevie Nicks, Krautrock bands like Can, and modern indie-rockers like Alex G, The Wickies feel like an amalgamation of these decade-spanning sounds, but uniquely their own. Quinn’s voice croons like a seventies folk star, but it possesses a great and controlled tone. Her vocals feel like another instrument within the mix, building and growing each song to its fullest sound, leaving no detail within the mix unheard. Their use of echoing guitar lines recalls sixties psych, a springboard for their unique take. Quinn’s lush, free-flowing lyrics, created on the spot, complement Aiden's fleshed out backing instrumentation and over-dubbing. Quickly, the pair created more material than they ever needed, allowing them to mold their recordings into a self-titled debut album. Like a painter crafting the perfect exhibition of their finest work, Aiden and Quinn condensed their improvisations to all the best parts. Tracks like “Campfire Song” and “Skipping Pond,” exemplify the ethereal and lackadaisical atmosphere of their sound. “I keep finding these weird, obscure bands from the seventies that have one album and nothing else, which is awesome,” Quinn said, “I want my music to sound like somebody found it in a record store that no one has ever heard of and uploaded it to YouTube. I want it to sound a little strange.”

*BLACK VINYL*Asher White's third album in two years (and fifteenth overall), Home Constellation Study is less a refinement of last year’s sly, quaint New Excellent Woman and more an explosion of it. Her meticulous chamber pop has given way to resplendent swells of horns and squeals of noise, throbbing bass and queasy orchestral loops. The cover, painted by White, frames a burst of flowers against a dark blue abyss, mimicking the music: over frenzied sambas, bleary slacker rock, hushed ambient meditations, and surprisingly slick disco. The past year has found the prolific Providence-based singer-songwriter ascending through her city’s fertile experimental rock scene alongside the breakout synth-punk act BabyBaby_explores and her labelmates Or Best Offer. Live, White’s band plays riotous, unpredictable noise rock that nods to their city’s storied DIY scene; on Home Constellation Study, mid-album highlights like “Downstate Prairie” and “Hymn” nod to Providence’s bands of yore with their blistering sheets of feedback and pummeling drums, placing White, improbably, within the lineage of local heroes Les Savy Fav or the broken pop dispatches of Black Pus. At its core, however, Home Constellation Study is the product of studied, monastic auteurism. Like New Excellent Woman, it was arranged, performed, recorded and mixed by White alone in her basement studio in Providence. “Happy Birthday” is an earnest psalm, a paean of devotion and remorse to God a la Beverly Glenn-Copeland that drifts along with Panda Bear haziness. White’s concept of “toxic femininity” undergoes further investigation on “Good luck!” and “Runes,” both with Elliott Smith-like chord changes and the barbs of cynical romantics like Aimee Mann. Asher White’s vision has never been so expansive and unpredictable.

forgive too slow, Avant Garde artist julia-sophie’s deeply personal debut album is testament to her ability to transform adversity into raw beauty, combining her traditional songwriting roots with her own take on experimental electronica. It features her intimate voice backed by warm and precise electronic sounds whose free spirited explorations give body to the carefully written personal songs julia-sophie comes off the drama of her 2010s rock band, Little Fish, which was signed to a major label. The surreal experiences (like being flown to Las Vegas in helicopters with a bag of slot machine money or given limousines for the day to go shopping), along with having to work in environments where she felt unsafe, drove her decision to leave the fame game. She turned down the offer to emigrate to America and engage with the machinations of the system as it did not feel “true or congruent with who I was”. Instead, she focused her attention on her hometown (Oxford, UK). She started recording lo-fi pop in her garage, using an old laptop, wonky microphones and hitting whatever was around for beats. Candy Says grew to be more of a collective than a band, and eventually co-wrote a film score for indie film Burn Burn Burn and recorded a cover of Running Up That Hill for the Netflix film Close (starring Noomi Rapace). Julia-Sophie soon started recording songs with her friend B, who had a studio stacked from wall-to-wall with analogue recording gear, vintage synths and drum machines. She decided to self-release and the music reached audiences beyond her expectations, including support from BBC Radio 6 and a feature in The Quietus. forgive too slow is Julia-Sophie’s debut solo album, and concerns relationships and the struggles we go through when we “forgive too slow” and can’t break out of patterns from the past. The songs narrate her story of self-destruction (“numb”), love (“falling”), and loss (“telephone”). By the end, embers are still burning and there is no telling if Julia-Sophie has found peace, but we do get a sense that she has gotten closer to the core of her being and is finally living authentically.

Ba Da Bing is releasing the soundtrack to 2022’s paeon to cuisine prep, Flux Gourmet. A vibrant, four-coursed, 23-track double album, Flux Gourmet includes contributions by Heather Trost, Jeremy Barnes, Marta Salogni, Cavern of Anti-Matter, and Roj (Broadcast), as well as Strickland’s own compositions as part of The Sonic Catering Band. British Director and sonic pioneer, Peter Strickland, known for The Duke of Burgundy (2014), Berberian Sound Studio (2012) and Björk: Biophilia Live (2014), has always pushed visuals and narrative to absurd heights. In Flux Gourmet, performance artists taking part in a residency dedicated to sonic catering combining cooking, sound and theater. Food is amplified, microphones are jammed against blenders, and the sizzling sound of the frier turns becomes an ominous rattle. The film’s soundtrack is equally as process oriented, experimental, and kaleidoscopic as its protagonists’ practice. Contributors are Cavern of Anti-Matter, Jeremy Barnes, Heather Trost, Roj (formerly of Broadcast), Tim Harrison, Dan Hayhurst and Nurse With Wound.

Remastered for its 10th Anniversary, the newly cut vinyl edition of Ripely Pine features the bonus track “Up In The Rafters,” long a live favorite that really should have been on the album in the first place. More than anything, Aly Spaltro has 20,000 second-hand DVDs to thank for her first album. Despite being recorded at a proper studio in her recently adopted home of Brooklyn, Ripely Pine showcases songs conceived during her tenure at Bart’s & Greg’s DVD Explosion in Brunswick, Maine. Little did customers know, the same store they’d drop off their Transformers movies was providing the ideal four-year cocoon for the development of a major musical talent. Spaltro worked the 3:00 PM to 11:00 PM shift. Each night, after locking up, she’d walk past Drama and Horror, pull out her music gear from behind a wall of movies, and write and record songs until morning broke. She did this every day, drawing strength from the monotony of her routine and testing out multiple techniques, approaches and instrumentation. Anger, confusion, love, happiness and sadness reigned, and the songs ran rampant, with little form or structure. Isolated for those many hours, Spaltro let melodies morph together, break apart and pair up. This is how she taught herself to write music and sing. Taking the name Lady Lamb the Beekeeper, Spaltro became one of the most beloved musicians in Portland. Her live shows were unhinged, as melodies followed an internal logic only apparent to Spaltro herself. She sang and played guitar, and the songs offered a vivid yet brief snapshot of her expansive world. At 23, with years of writing and performing music already under her belt, she ventured to the next milestone—recording an album. This would be the first time she did so in a professional studio and the first time she shared the process with anyone else. Luckily, she met Nadim Issa at Let ’Em Music in Brooklyn. He was taken enough by her abilities to dedicate nine full months toward the recording of Ripely Pine, and she with his producing abilities to ease comfortably into making him a part of her recording process. She wrote everything—all the songs, all the arrangements. And the two of them assembled an album that finally fit what existed in Spaltro’s mind. Keeping the songs’ stark rawness, the record is a pure representation of her sound. Ripely Pine shouts the introduction of a new talent from every groove. These recordings come as close as possible to conveying the intense majesty of her live shows, and, much like those performances, a narrative breathes through the record’s progression. The album opens with urgency and anger, settles into reconciliation and reciprocation, and ultimately reaches toward resolution, realizing infatuation leads to a loss of self; instead, embracing one’s own strengths is the most powerful thing of all.

The rawness of The Veils' Nux Vomica can be enjoyed to a degree never heard before, with Ba Da Bing's limited edition pressing of the records with the original mixes by Nick Rainey left intact.

Originally released in 2006, The Veils sophomore album Nux Vomica was praised for its “Herculean intensity” by The Guardian, and called “a heady blast of gothic psychodrama” by The Observer, while Pitchfork praised leader Finn Andrews’ “magnetic, outsize persona.” Long out of print, the vinyl version was resuscitated by Music on Vinyl in 2017 and quickly sold out. Now, The Veils present the definitive version of their most heralded album to date, which dusts off the original mixes by legendary producer Nick Launay (Public Image Limited, The Birthday Party, INXS and Midnight Oil) and offers them to fans here for the first time. Taken from the original two-inch analog tape reels, each song was carefully remastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road Studios in London.

Nux Vomica was the first of many creative reinventions for Andrews, who at 22 had already released an album on Rough Trade, moved from New Zealand to London to form a band, then back to New Zealand where he once again started the band anew. The creative progression is clear in Andrews’ incisive lyricism and knack for hell-fire dramatics. From the positively mirthful “Advice for Young Mothers to Be” to the simmering ominousness of “Nux Vomica,” from the ornate spectacle of “Calliope!” to the Grand Guignol of “Jesus for the Jugular”, Nux Vomica is a remarkably accomplished album for a musician so young who was facing the pressures of British musical stardom.

All intentions to release this dark and raw set of recordings were dashed upon submission to Rough Trade for approval, who didn't like the results. They hired mixing engineer Bill Price to adjust the sound and add additional instrumentation. Launey’s mixes were shelved and forgotten about, while the album nonetheless went on to be a critical highpoint for the band and is much loved to this day.

To celebrate the release of The Veils’ massive new double album, …And Out Of The Void Came Love, Ba Da Bing is issuing a limited-to-1200-LPs simultaneous run of Nux Vomica in a form you have never heard it before. The brilliance of Andrews’ talents come through all the more clear in this version, which strips his songs to the core and allows the holes to show. Here’s where the seeds of a lifelong artistic talent really began to first take root.

It’s been seven strange years since The Veils’ last studio album Total Depravity, and Finn Andrews has a new double LP to show for it. "...And Out Of The Void Came Love" is the result of this tumultuous period of injury, isolation and new life...

Following the release of Total Depravity, Andrews released a solo album and began a worldwide tour. One night, while lashing out at a particularly intense moment on piano, he broke his wrist on stage. “It sounds wild and Jerry Lee Lewis-esque, but it was an absolute fucking nightmare,” Andrews says. He played on and finished the rest of the tour, but it wasn’t until he got it examined much later that he realized what a bad move that was. “The scaphoid bone in my wrist had died, which I didn’t know was possible. My sister said that at least it was a really ‘on brand’ injury for me.”

Finn’s convalescence meant a lengthy hiatus from touring, so he did what he does best and stayed at home and wrote songs. “I was in a cast and couldn’t use my right hand. I sang the melody lines, then recorded the right hand piano part, then the left hand part. It might have been an interesting, avant-garde process if it wasn’t also just profoundly annoying.”

Just when his hand had healed sufficiently for him to play again, The Veils found themselves in need of a new record label but Finn set about starting to make a new record regardless. Producer Tom Healy invited Finn to his small studio underneath the old Crystal Palace ballroom in Mount Eden, and they listened through the legions of songs he had amassed throughout the previous year.

“Tom was incredibly patient, it was a really laborious process - I brought a lot of junk down there and we had to sift through it all to try and find the parts worth saving.”

Following another two years of intermittent recording between lockdowns, Finn’s wife became pregnant, and yet more songs started coming.

By the time the songs had been recorded, it was clear that arranging the album into two halves best suited such varied material - but the meaning of the songs as a whole still eluded Andrews. “Then my daughter was born, and suddenly the whole record made sense to me,” he says. The music was telling a story, and somewhat strangely for The Veils, it seemed to have a happy ending.

The result of all these years of questioning, confinement and precarious uncertainty is the magnificent new double album from The Veils … And Out Of The Void Came Love. It is an album intended to be listened to in two sittings with a short break in the middle, or as Andrews instructs: “Make a coffee or smoke a cigarette – but don’t mow the lawn or go to the movies or something, that takes too long.”

Composer Victoria Kelly’s soaring string arrangements play an integral role in bringing the songs to life, as do musicians Cass Basil (bass), Dan Raishbrook (lap steel, guitar), Liam Gerrard (piano), Joseph McCallum (drums) the NZTrio and special guests the Smoke Fairies on backing vocals.

“Refreshingly passionate… Andrews rages with a Herculean intensity.” The Guardian
“Horse-whipped, lightning-crash clamor… magnetic.” Pitchfork
“One of the finest songwriters of his generation.” Drowned in Sound

Eva Louise Goodman’s Nighttime project locates itself on a musical tree planted on the British Isles, perched atop the branch of folk leaning into sixties rock. Her upstate New York environs don’t stray far from that image. With tempered percussion, floating mellotron, and singing that evokes Bleecker & MacDougal on a fervent Saturday afternoon, her new album Keeper Is The Heart reaches deep into the essence of musicians such as Vashti Bunyan, Sibylle Baier and Pentangle, breaking down the decades into a sound thoroughly and bizarrely modern.

Through her years performing with Mutual Benefit, Goodman fell in love with life on the road and the collaborative energy of a band. In this third Nighttime album, she channels these experiences into her own music. The creative journey from writing to recording to mixing drove her deeper into a sense of self while expanding her sound. In the process, she put aside lo-fi origins and challenged herself to achieve the same intimacy with a bigger production.

Like most paths of self-discovery, the journey started with displacement. In October 2019, Goodman set out to record the album on her own, while cat-sitting at a friend’s empty Brooklyn apartment. Rather than recording, she was drawn to the overgrown garden, where she spent her days listening to music and reading old journals. Charlie Megira, The Incredible String Band and Roy Montgomery invoked the spirit of the album, as she realized that a new, more collaborative approach would be necessary to bring the songs to life.

In March 2021, after a pandemic year immersed in sound experimentation and writing, she entered the upstate New York studio of recording engineer Rick Spataro (Florist). Together, Spataro and Goodman dove into creating the album, recording one song a day, letting the spark and excitement of spontaneity be their guide. “I've always been fascinated with ‘automatic’ arts,” Goodman says, “where things are created intuitively and without premeditation, from the subconscious.” In this light, they worked with abandon–pushing through the heaviness of songs written years earlier with the same energy as songs which were not yet fully developed. Taking chances, improvising, they sought to strip away pretense, and elude perfectionism at all cost.

Among their experiments, the duo manipulated tape speeds–slowing or speeding up different instrument tracks, imbuing passages with altered perspectives. Improvisation was the key in track five, ‘The Way,’ a song about “the magical act of carving out a path through life, amidst all possibility.” After a long day of recording, the song was feeling heavy and uninspired. As night fell, Spataro picked up the Stratocaster and, in one take, laid down a rolling, roiling guitar line that defined the track.

This spirit of surrender weaves through the album. “Break free from time, and sink in the pool of the mind,” begins ‘Garden of Delight’, an energetic highlight, propelled by 60’s-era organ and Jefferson Airplane-esque vocals. The song was accidentally deleted after the first day of recording. By luck or fate, the one surviving file captured the song’s loose and free-wheeling essence. Inspired, Goodman encouraged her circle of collaborators to work similarly: “I gave everyone trust and total freedom to contribute as they felt called to, encouraging an intuitive approach of simply improvising, playing through the song a few times and then sending over the results.” Synth, cello, violin, saxophone and flute all appear, but often in unconventional ways.

Keeper Is the Heart reflects Goodman’s process towards greater creative freedom. The first words she sings: “Lift the veil of all of this hate/To see the fear at its base.” Her last lines: “We’ll follow the fates across the great expanse of time/To the source of the light within our mind.” In between is a work of art awash in personal awakenings that revel in the freedom of intuition, the lifting of veils, and the beauty of transformation. As Goodman states, “What is it you find when you look inward to see beyond, past your fears, to your heart's true desires?”

Anita Clark’s new Motte album, »Cold + Liquid«, builds glacial atmospheres, frozen moods and isolated impressions. Portraying New Zealand through socio-geological sound, breathing in Christchurch cultures and locales, the album embodies an artistic simulation of the Kiwi environment. Motte borrows from an array of sound sources to create an immense entity, with each piece situated precisely along the path. »Cold + Liquid« offers this rich sensory experience, transporting the listener into a world of Clark’s imagination.

As a master violinist, Clark is a favorite of the NZ music scene. She’s been employed by Nadia Reid, Marlon Williams, Lawrence Arabia and Maryrose Crook of The Renderers for her skills. Currently, she plays with The Phoenix Foundation, Luke Buda and Don McGlashan and The Others. Her skillful reach across genres fuels her popularity both with the rock under and overground, and she has also built a rich CV of film soundtracks and contemporary dance compositions.

With such a powerful musical force behind it, Cold + Liquid germinated as a result of a prolonged silence. Clark was suffering from vocal cord paralysis, leaving her with a culminating sense of frustration which could only be released through songwriting . The album’s early life was purely instrumental. But as she prepared for the studio and was searching old voice memos hoping to find vocal tracks, her voice returned. A fervent week followed, where she reimagined the entire album, now with singing. She aimed to make something colossal, and set about finding the right textures to add. A friend who works at Oamaru Freezing Works gave her field recordings of the temperature control room, a vast cold space of isolated machinery, where ice grows and dissolves in ever-evolving sculptures. Getting her hands on shortwave/longwave radios, she incorporated frequency sweeps. Another friend provided her with the mechanical drones underneath the deck of a cement cargo ship, as it lay docked in Lyttelton Harbor. Still more sources came from Sign of the Bellbird, an historic environmental site in South Christchurch, where Clark and Thomas Lambert recorded bellbirds, rolling boulders, snapping sticks, thrown dirt and the papery sound of the native harakeke plant.

While violin dominates the first Motte album, Clark sought to expand instrumentation. She was gifted a handmade Pūrerehua puoro, a traditional Māori instrument that sounds similar to the whirling and hovering of a moth (which is “motte” in German). A reacquaintance to the guitar occurred after developing an alter ego project entitled 'Sex Den,' with sleazy noir-esque guitar riffs in response to a failed rumour from a local drug-addled dive bar. Guitar and synth allowed for a broader songwriting palette along with a sometimes Dadaist approach to lyric writing. These new tools accent the extreme ambiences of »Cold + Liquid«, while additional work was provided by Ben Woods on synth and bowed guitar.

*Originally a Rough Trade Exclusive release to go with their end of year top ten charts.., we have made a further 300 pressing of this limited EP, that celebrates and indeed, accompanies one of 2021’s standout releases, Cassandra is in the UK in late August for GreenMan and the End of the Road.*

Cassandra Jenkins takes the opportunity to expand on a track from her An Overview On Phenomenal Nature LP and presents two side-long ambient pieces as an exclusive for Rough Trade. "The Ramble (Morning, May 2021)" and “The Ramble (Night, May 2021)” both prominently feature field recordings made in her native New York’s Central Park, and in the woods of upstate New York. Improvised piano, saxophone, and guitar interconnect and break apart over the sounds of birdsong, crickets, and a distant metropolis. There will be no further pressings of this.

Swiss musician Delia Meshlir didn’t realize what her voice could do when she started out playing music. Through such groups as the drudge-rock Cheyenne and experimental Primitive Trails, Meshlir let the music lead her singing along. It wasn’t until she began writing the songs for Calling The Unknown that she started allowing her vocals to preside. Unbounded by structure, Delia Meshlir’s first full-length under her name brings layers of beauty, intensity and strength, all coming to a head with her striking vocal delivery.

Having acquired a stocking job at Irascible, a label based in Lausanne, Switzerland, dedicated to promoting local talent, Meshlir had the ideal launching point for her music. Now, in coordination with Irascible, Ba Da Bing will be releasing Calling The Unknown in North America.

Meshlir lost her grandmother while preparing the album, and many of the tracks reflect seeking a path through grief with love. On “A River”, she explores where feelings can exist when they are for someone who has passed. She sings: “I’m calling the unknown / but no one remains.” As the first song on the album, it serves as a perfect introduction, with refined drumming, reverb-wrapped guitars and tasteful saxophone lines. At command of a full band, Meshlir never abuses the opportunity, often having members hold back in restraint and add mere touches of color to her songs. However, when more urgency is required, she adapts beautifully, as on the raw and driven track “Dirty Colors”. Ultimately, the album is an invitation to peace after suffering.

Delia Meshlir is a trained visual artist who is creating her own videos and doing her own artwork for Calling The Unknown. It is a singular artistic work with stunning breadth.

Cassandra Jenkins' An Overview on Phenomenal Nature emerged from the blue earlier this year. With pandemic unknowns and political upheaval leaving most at frayed ends, the New York-born musician’s assuring voice and expansive fresh take on songwriting created a much needed reflective space for listeners worldwide. As 2021 comes to a close, Jenkins revisits those flowing textures and refrains with (An Overview On) An Overview On Phenomenal Nature, a collection of previously unreleased sonic sketches, initial run-throughs, demos, and sound recordings from the cutting room floor that provided the scaffolding for what became one of this year’s most critically acclaimed albums.

When Jenkins visited Josh Kaufman’s studio this summer, they opened up their original sessions to uncover the ideas that were shed in the creative process. The new collection, (An Overview On) An Overview On Phenomenal Nature, isn’t merely a retrospective; it acts as a clear-eyed addendum as well as a compelling origin story, coming to life as a subconscious companion to the original album.

First takes of “New Bikini” and “Hailey” are born from opposite starting points; while “New Bikini” began as an airy alto meander, “Hailey”’s origins lie in an upbeat dance track. On “Crosshairs (Interlude),” Jenkins’ pitched vocal delivers a straight monotone, recasting the format as poetry with music highlighting her words, and “Ambiguous Norway (Instrumental)” lifts the ambient nature of the mournful song into glimmering waves. The demo version of “Michelangelo” contains alternate lyrics “I’m Michelangelo, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle,” a lost contrast to the later verse where Jenkins’ likens herself to the sculptor. On “Hard Drive (Security Guard),” we join Jenkins as she listens to a passionate museum guard whose promised “overview” of the exhibit on view builds into a monologue of observations on art, politics, feminism and the human condition. This candid interaction evolved into the cornerstone and title of Jenkins’ album.

Before they decided to make an album together, Jenkins brought Kaufman a song called “American Spirits.”The dusky ballad takes us to the Texas plains via a voicemail from the payphone of a county jail (“Miss Cassandra”). Cassandra sings, “Time here burns through the sunsets / Like you and a pack of American Spirits” over warm instrumentation with a vocal delivery that reinforces Jenkins’ unwavering tenderness towards her subjects.

(An Overview On) An Overview On Phenomenal Nature bookends Cassandra Jenkins' musical output this year with nuance, coloring in the corners, and giving us another window into her ever-expanding world of chance encounters, experiences, and sonic textures. They glimmer like the sun’s changing patterns on the wall as a new day gets going.

Ichiko Aoba’s albums have only been available as expensive Japanese imports, until now. In November, Ba Da Bing will release Windswept Adan on 2xLP in North America, Europe and the United Kingdom, with deluxe packaging.

After creating her label, hermine, last year to celebrate her tenth
anniversary in music, Aoba released the most complex and rewarding
work of her career, 2020’s Windswept Adan. While audiences in
the west are only just learning she exists, her accomplishments are
unquestionable; she contributed to the soundtrack for The Legend of
Zelda: Link’s Awakening, was cited by Owen Pallett as an inspiration
(“I’ve never been so blindsided by a musician as I was by Ichiko
Aoba”), and has collaborated with the likes of Haruomi Hosono,
Cornelius (who met her only two years after she first picked up a
guitar and was blown away), Ryuichi Sakamoto, and recently Mac
DeMarco.
Ichiko Aoba’s iconic voice and classical guitar playing are
immediately recognizable, timeless sounds. Windswept Adan,
envisioned as a soundtrack for a fictional film, builds its own world with
sweeping co-production and arrangements from Taro Umebayashi,
which “recall the Wes Anderson scores of Mark Mothersbaugh or
the cinematographic swells of American composer Jherek Bischoff”
(Bandcamp). It’s the story of a young girl sent to the island of Adan, a
place where there are no words.
While international listeners of Aoba may not understand the words
she sings, and despite the central importance of lyrics in her writing,
it’s a testament to the power Aoba wields that one can resonate so
deeply with her work. No matter the breadth of her sonic palette, and
on Adan her scope is as wide and encompassing as Joanna Newsom’s
on Have One On Me, Aoba manifests an intimacy that makes one feel
in the room with her.
Ichiko Aoba’s work gained greater exposure in the past year as the
need for comfort grew while the world sequestered in solitude. She
has a rare musical gift that is matched only by her ability to hone it
into meticulous craft. Her music embraces and elevates alone time to a
generous and tranquil place. In it, listeners are invited to feel a sense of
consolation and possibility. The magic she imparts yields articles like
“Ichiko Aoba and the emotion of space during the pandemic;” in other
words, her effect is singular.

Melbourne-via-Tasmanian four-piece Quivers first released
their 2018 debut We’ll Go Riding On The Hearses as hand-made
cassettes. The album dealt with singer Sam Nicholson’s loss
of his brother in a freediving accident, and “trying to not think
about that, and often coming back to ghosts, benders, water,
and pissing in the snow.” When demand for the album grew,
it received a vinyl release and led Quivers to tour the US, film
a KEXP session, and be selected by NPR Music for both the
Austin 100 SXSW preview and as a “Slingshot” artist to watch.
Their life-damaged but hopeful jangle pop has only sharpened
since then, and while 2021 follow-up Golden Doubt conjures
up REM or The Clean, there is a lyrical directness that sets this
record apart as always its own.
Golden Doubt is carried by shimmering guitars and the
harmonizing vocals of members Holly Thomas and Bella
Quinlan. Elevated by the production of Matthew Redlich
(Holy Holy, Husky, Ainslie Wills), the record explores what
comes after grief, and how one throws oneself back into love. As
Nicholson explains, the album tries to bottle “the rush of feelings
and fears when you give in to falling for someone. It’s also an
album in love with other albums, and the other bands around
us.” Before each take at Woodstock and The Aviary studios in
Melbourne, Australia, the band would imagine a scene together
(a waterhole for “Laughing Waters”, an overgrown carpark for
“Videostores”) and then dive in to capture live group takes.
Quivers need to get words on the page and sounds out to keep
moving on. Both Nicholson and Thomas lost their brothers in the
same year, and through that shared vulnerability they all have
together that runs deep. Golden Doubt is also a love letter to
playing music as a band and processing it all together rather than
just carrying it as a weight. The cancellation of a 21-date US
tour they had slated for 2020 has left them undeterred; Quivers
plans to continue being a band and get back out into the world
as soon as it’s possible.

“Nothing ever really disappears,” Cassandra Jenkins says. “It just changes shape.” Over the past few years, she’s seen relationships altered, travelled three continents, wandered through museums and parks, and recorded free-associative guided tours of her New York haunts. Her observations capture the humanity and nature around her, as well as thought patterns, memories, and attempts to be present while dealing with pain and loss. With a singular voice, Jenkins siphons these ideas into the ambient folk of her new album.
An Overview on Phenomenal Nature honors flux, detail, and moments of intimacy. Jenkins arrived at engineer Josh Kaufman’s studio with ideas rather than full songs — nevertheless, they finished the album in a week. Jenkins’ voice floats amid sensuous chamber pop arrangements and raw-edged drums, ferrying us through impressionistic portraits of friends and strangers. Her lyrics unfold magical worlds, introducing you to a cast of characters like a local fisherman, a psychic at a birthday party, and driving instructor of a spiritual bent.

Jenkins’ last record, 2017’s Play Till You Win, confirmed the veteran artist’s talent. Evident of Jenkins’ experience growing up in a family band in New York City, the album showcased her meticulous songwriting and musicianship, earning her comparisons to George Harrison and Emmylou Harris. Jenkins has since played in the bands of Eleanor Friedberger, Craig Finn, and Lola Kirke, and rehearsed to tour with Purple Mountains last August before the tour’s cancellation. Her new record departs from her previous work in its openness and flexibility, following her peripatetic lifestyle. “The goal is to be more fluid, to be more like the clouds shifting constantly,” she says. The approach allowed Jenkins to express herself like she never has.

On album opener “Michaelangelo,” before the heavy drum beat and fuzz guitars enter, Jenkins sings quietly “I’m a three-legged dog, working with what I’ve got / and part of me will always be looking for what I lost // there’s a fly around my head, waiting for the day I drop dead.” Phenomenal Nature thrives in this dichotomy between ornate sonics and verbal frankness, a calming guided tour to the edge. Later, on “Crosshairs,” amid lush strings, she sings conversationally: “Empty space is my escape / it runs through me like a river / while time spits in my face.”

“Hard Drive,” the third track and album centerpiece, opens with a voice memo Jenkins recorded at The Met Breuer: a guard muses about Mrinalini Mukherjee’s hybrid textile and sculpture works, which were then on display in a retrospective titled Phenomenal Nature. “When we lose our connection to nature, we lose our spirit, our humanity,” she explains. Stuart Bogie's saxophone & Josh Kaufman's glittering guitar make way for Jenkins' spoken word which constellates scenes from her life, gradually building and blossoming as she recreates a meditation guided by a friend who incants, “One, two, three.”

Sounds of footsteps and bird calls run through the album’s glittering conclusion, “The Ramble.” Meditative and bright, it recalls how Jenkins felt while writing and recording her new material: “Everything else is falling apart, so let’s just enjoy this time,” she said. If Phenomenal Nature has a unifying theme, it’s the power of presence, the joy of walking in a world in constant flux and opening oneself to change.

Sarah Davachi presents her masterpiece, Gave In Rest. Her most fully studio-recorded album ever, she collaborates with Montreal heavyweights to create an album that uses both modern minimalism and early church music as departure points.

Sarah Davachi has quickly risen in prominence since her first release five years ago, and Gave In Rest represents her highest artistic achievement. By infusing her compositional style within a predilection for medieval and Renaissance music, Davachi unearths a new realm of musical reverence, creating works both contemplative and beatific, eerie yet essentially human. Gave In Rest is a modern reading of early music, reforming sacred and secular sentiments to fit her purview and provide an exciting new way to hear the sounds that exist around us.

Between January and September of 2017, Sarah Davachi lived in flux; storing her belongings in Vancouver, she spent the summer in Europe, occasionally performing in churches and lapidariums and seeking respite from her transitional state while surrounded by such storied history. This latest album echoes that emotional state of solitude and ephemerality, reaching towards familiar musical landscapes but from oblique perspectives.

'I named each track after a particular time of day as a way of expressing my experiencing different moments of quietude, how morning and night are both independent and interconnected entities in this regard,' she says. Her titles evoke canonical phrases referring to morning or evening prayers, as well as Latin and German phrasings for metaphors about the time of day. 'From my perspective, there is a lot of loneliness on this record, and I think it is as much about beginnings as endings,' she continues. 'In a way, it's about the prospect of the unknown as it manifests alongside a very inward form of grieving—really the essence of what constitutes a period of transition.

Davachi has mined a bottomless landscape where listeners can witness music's participation in their solitudes. Gave In Rest lends a voice to her personal exploration with a firm, intuitive stance.

Tracklisting