Buscar:jack ladder

2024 Repress

The Call was DJ Club Sandwich’s second Electro EP, and Citra Lab Sounds fourth record. Moving towards slightly more complex beats while maintaining the energy and acid of his Flectic Mongs EP. You can think of it as the bridge from Flectic Mongs to the Jack Bregman LP.

Repress!

A blistering collection of ska tunes from Clement 'Sir Coxsone' Dodd's legendary Studio One Records, Jamaica's foundation label of reggae music. Featuring classic cuts from the originators of Ska - The Skatalites, The Wailers, Lee Perry - alongside a heavy dose of superb rarities from the might vaults of 13 Brentford Road - pure Ska Fever !

Soul Jazz Records new Studio One Ska Fever returns back to the early 1960s when Ska was the soundtrack to Jamaica's Independence and Sir Coxsone ruled the land and The Skatalites and Studio One were creating history on a daily basis with an endless stream of blistering, scorching classic tunes.

This album includes an incredible line-up of only the finest artists in reggae music, including Roland Alphonso, The Gaylads, The Ethiopians, Don Drummond, Jackie Opel and many more. An all-star cast from Studio One, as Chris Blackwell famously noted, the 'University of Reggae'.

The accompanying booklet contains extensive sleeve-notes from Studio One historian Rob Chapman (author of Never Grow Old and Downbeat Special), with information on musicians, tracks, label scans and more. Soul Jazz Records' Studio One Ska Fever is released in
CD- jewel case, 24-page booklet with card slipcase, as well as a heavyweight double-vinyl edition in deluxe strong gatefold sleeve (with full sleeve notes).

After humble lo-fi beginnings in the Australian Art-Pop Underground, Donny Benet has expanded his cult-like following across the Globe with a resonant Array of danceable Repertoire dealing with Love- and Affection. New album "Mr Experience" marks a new chapter, informed by a wealth of musical- and personal development.

For Mr Experience, Donny envisioned a Soundtrack to a Dinner-Party- Set in the late 1980's. While his earlier Recordings drew Inspiration from DIY Pop Conspirators such as Ariel Pink & John Maus, Donny channelled the Stylings of Bryan Ferry & Hiroshi Yoshimura as the Impetus for new Material, evident on the Intimacy found on ‘Girl Of My Dreams’ and it's lush production- with a soothing whistle-along Chorus for good Measure!

Sincerity has been a key component of Donny Benet’s output since the beginning. His songs deal with genuine Emotion served on a kitsch Platter. An alter-ego manifested in the beginning of the 2010's, Donny has blurred the Lines of Artifice to create a back- Catalogue that can embrace- and challenge, often simultaneously, - the notion of Irony in Art.

"Mr Experience" moves further away from ironic Notions as Donny explores lyrical- and musical themes which embody Observations of Maturation in his audience, his tightknit musical Community- and himself. While ‘mature’ is a term that often rings hollow as an album descriptor, the term couldn’t be more apt for Mr Experience.

Previous album The Don was created with the luxury of time. The phenomenal Response to that Album across Europe- and the United States - fuelled by accompanying Music Videos clocking in Views in the Millions- meant that there were scant Windows of Opportunity to write- and record a follow-up.

With a legacy in Sydney’s music community, working with Sarah Blasko, and tightknik collaborators Jack Ladder & Kirin J Callinan, Donny Benet is accustomed to collaboration on the Stage- and in the Studio, mostnotably on the 2014 full-length release Weekend At Donny’s.



“There is such immense talent evident in every aspect of the Donny Bene experience - the vision of the character, the steadfast adherence his narrative and the musicality of Benet himself all combine to makesomething truly genius.” - Double J, Australin.

“Donny Benet makes feminine music for everybody” - Vice, Netherlands.

“The Don does not sound like amusical copying machine”. - 3voor12 National, Netherlands.

“The set was punctuated with virtuosic solos and exquisite harmonies, and added another layer of genius to the show.
We almost couldn’t handle it... Donny for president!" - Indie Berlin.

“Everyone loves Donny Benet” - Feature in Gonzai, France.

“Phenomenal Australian Showman... Offers Top-Class Dance Music with Virtuose-Bass Guitar- and Keyboard Parts & incredible Sound-Colour feel.” - Podujatie.sk, Slovakia.

Donny has toured Europe five times since the start of 2018 and has played in the UK, Austria, Germany, Slovakia, France, Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Denmark, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Greece and Sweden. The Don will revisit Europe twice in 2020, once for his own headline shows in May then back again in August for festivals!

Whitney Houston’s self-titled debut album has few parallels. Viewed solely through the lens of sales numbers, Whitney Houston is a watershed statement on par with the most commercially successful and culturally dominant LPs ever released. Having sold more than 14 million copies in the U.S. and upwards of 25 million units worldwide, the 1985 LP became the equivalent of the television show or blockbuster film that everyone collectively experiences and discusses. Nearly four decades later, it’s lost none of its appeal or magnetism — and its artistic significance and historical import have only grown.


Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at RTI on MoFi SuperVinyl, and strictly limited to 4,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's 180g SuperVinyl LP of Whitney Houston presents the breakthrough in audiophile sound for the first time. The signature traits Houston exhibits on every song — her three-octave range, radiant warmth, personal conviction, impossibly controlled register — come across with exceptional clarity, focus, and presence. Free of artificial ceilings and constricted dynamics, this reissue plays with an openness, airiness, and balance that put the singer’s once-in-a-lifetime instrument and immortal artistry into proper perspective.

It does the same for the songs’ cascading melodies and captivating arrangements. Individually produced by one of four renowned industry veterans — Kashif, Micheal Masser, Jermaine Jackson, and Narada Michael Walden — each composition feels grander, closer, more genuine. A vocal spectacular, Whitney Houston benefits from the high-end characteristics of SuperVinyl, which include a nearly inaudible noise floor, superb groove definition, and dead-quiet surfaces. This is how an album that changed the direction of popular music — opening previously inaccessible doors for Black artists; bringing smooth-singing vocalists back into the mainstream; kickstarting a movement that soon included several “divas” who would command the charts through the early 21st century — should look and sound.

Though Houston’s seemingly effortless performances suggest otherwise, creating the record Rolling Stone ranks as the 257th Greatest Album of All Time wasn’t easy. Nearly 18 months were required to identify songs suitable for a still-unknown singer who did not fit into the conventional frameworks of the mid ‘80s. Confident, powerful, and prodigiously talented, Houston would forge her own parameters with Whitney Houston. In the process, she obliterated the stubborn lines between R&B and pop, Black and white radio. She dared to reimagine who could be a superstar and then went out and defined the role. Recorded for nearly $400,000 and released on Valentine’s Day, the LP exceeded the wildest expectations of those most closely associated with it — save for Houston and her family.

Having made her first public appearance at the age of 11 singing at a Baptist church, Houston understood pressure and knew her way around, inside, and through a song. The invaluable guidance and support she received from her mother, Cissy, an accomplished gospel vocalist who backed Aretha Franklin and Elvis Presley, are on display throughout Whitney Houston. They arrive in the types of authoritativeness, discipline, and diction rare for even most seasoned veterans — and unheard-of for a 21-year-old newcomer. Houston brings a soulful elegance, understated glamour, and in-the-moment rapture to every note. Moving up, down, or staying in the middle of the vocal ladder; channelling softness or sweetness; showing restraint or increasing the volume, she is a marvel of emotionalism, a dynamo who can seamlessly transition from one mood to another within a verse.

Though the 10-track LP largely concerns itself with the ballad tradition, Houston covers the bases, getting into an R&B groove on the fleet “Thinking About You,” turning up the heat on the duet “Take Good Care of My Heart,” and investing the contagious dance-pop confection “How Will I Know” with all the anxiety, hope, energy, and enthusiasm its lyrics demand. Featuring her mom on background vocals and Houston’s pitch-perfect tone, uncanny precision, and skyscraper highs (no AutoTune here, friends), the synth-based anthem propelled Whitney Houston into the stratosphere, the vocalist into regular MTV rotation, and the term “crossover” into popular parlance. The double-platinum single reached No. 1 on the Hot 100, Hot R&B, and Adult Contemporary charts — a trifecta that foreshadowed accomplishments that would ultimately crown Houston as the most-awarded female artist of all time.

Whitney Houston became the first album by a Black female performer to top the Billboard charts. It remained there for 14 non-consecutive weeks en route to claiming the title of the best-selling LP of 1986. It stands as the first debut and first album by a solo female artist to spawn three No. Hits, as well as the first album by a Black female artist to top the year-end charts in Australia and Canada. These are just a handful of the accolades — along with four Grammy nominations — that surround a set that also contains the unforgettable ballad “Saving All My Love,” string-accompanied “Greatest Love of All,” and sensual “You Give Good Love.”

As TIME observed in an article written two years after the album took the world by storm: “This is infectious, can't-sit-down music, and her performance dares the listener not to smile right back.” We’re still smiling.

After humble lo-fi beginnings in the Australian Art-Pop Underground, Donny Benet has expanded his cult-like following across the Globe with a resonant Array of danceable Repertoire dealing with Love- and Affection. New album "Mr Experience" marks a new chapter, informed by a wealth of musical- and personal development.

For Mr Experience, Donny envisioned a Soundtrack to a Dinner-Party- Set in the late 1980's. While his earlier Recordings drew Inspiration from DIY Pop Conspirators such as Ariel Pink & John Maus, Donny channelled the Stylings of Bryan Ferry & Hiroshi Yoshimura as the Impetus for new Material, evident on the Intimacy found on ‘Girl Of My Dreams’ and it's lush production- with a soothing whistle-along Chorus for good Measure!

Sincerity has been a key component of Donny Benet’s output since the beginning. His songs deal with genuine Emotion served on a kitsch Platter. An alter-ego manifested in the beginning of the 2010's, Donny has blurred the Lines of Artifice to create a back- Catalogue that can embrace- and challenge, often simultaneously, - the notion of Irony in Art.

"Mr Experience" moves further away from ironic Notions as Donny explores lyrical- and musical themes which embody Observations of Maturation in his audience, his tightknit musical Community- and himself. While ‘mature’ is a term that often rings hollow as an album descriptor, the term couldn’t be more apt for Mr Experience.

Previous album The Don was created with the luxury of time. The phenomenal Response to that Album across Europe- and the United States - fuelled by accompanying Music Videos clocking in Views in the Millions- meant that there were scant Windows of Opportunity to write- and record a follow-up.

With a legacy in Sydney’s music community, working with Sarah Blasko, and tightknik collaborators Jack Ladder & Kirin J Callinan, Donny Benet is accustomed to collaboration on the Stage- and in the Studio, mostnotably on the 2014 full-length release Weekend At Donny’s.



“There is such immense talent evident in every aspect of the Donny Bene experience - the vision of the character, the steadfast adherence his narrative and the musicality of Benet himself all combine to makesomething truly genius.” - Double J, Australin.

“Donny Benet makes feminine music for everybody” - Vice, Netherlands.

“The Don does not sound like amusical copying machine”. - 3voor12 National, Netherlands.

“The set was punctuated with virtuosic solos and exquisite harmonies, and added another layer of genius to the show.
We almost couldn’t handle it... Donny for president!" - Indie Berlin.

“Everyone loves Donny Benet” - Feature in Gonzai, France.

“Phenomenal Australian Showman... Offers Top-Class Dance Music with Virtuose-Bass Guitar- and Keyboard Parts & incredible Sound-Colour feel.” - Podujatie.sk, Slovakia.

Donny has toured Europe five times since the start of 2018 and has played in the UK, Austria, Germany, Slovakia, France, Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Denmark, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Greece and Sweden. The Don will revisit Europe twice in 2020, once for his own headline shows in May then back again in August for festivals!

Capitane Records freut sich, die Veröffentlichung von Moping in Style ankündigen zu können: Eine Hommage an Adam Green. Auf diesem mitreißenden Doppelalbum sind Regina Spektor, Father John Misty, Devendra Banhart, The Libertines, Jenny Lewis, Sean Ono Lennon, Frankie Cosmos, The Lemonheads und viele andere bekannte Namen zu hören, deren Beiträge Adam Greens Position als feste Größe des Indie-Rock der letzten zwei Jahrzehnte belegen. Mit einer Songauswahl aus Adams Soloalben, angefangen bei Garfield aus dem Jahr 2002 bis hin zu seinem letzten Album That Fucking Feeling, zeigt dieses Tributalbum Adams bemerkenswerte Bandbreite als Songwriter.Weithin bekannt als eine Hälfte des Songwriter-Duos The Moldy Peaches, hat Adam Green seit den frühen 2000er Jahren einen einzigartigen Einfluss auf seine Generation von Musikern und Künstlern ausgeübt. Seit den frühen Nuller, als Bands wie The Strokes, The Libertines und The White Stripes begannen, das neue Kapitel der Indie-Kultur zu schreiben, spielte Adam eine wesentliche Rolle dabei, an einem Dienstag voller gezielter Katastrophen zu verlieren? oder Bartholemew, bring me a fork? Von seinen frühen bis zu seinen jüngsten Songs haben sich die Fans von Adam Green an der kaleidoskopischen Landschaft der Sprache erfreut, die er malt. Mit seiner lyrischen Vorstellungskraft öffnet er Türen möglicher Bedeutungen und schafft es, absurd zu sein, ohne absurd zu sein, und anzüglich, ohne offenkundig provokativ zu sein. Er fädelt die sehr zarten künstlerischen Nadeln von Zärtlichkeit und Humor, Kitsch und hoher Kunst, Rock'n'Roll und Fackellied. Neben den Moldy Peaches und seinen Soloalben umfasst Adam Greens beeindruckendes Werk mehrere Serien von Gemälden, Skulpturen, zwei Filme in voller Länge und sogar epische Gedichte. Um es nicht zu sehr auf die Spitze zu treiben, aber für viele seiner Generation - zumindest für die Eingeweihten - hat Adams Statur fast Warhol-ähnliche Ausmaße erreicht. In einer Zeit, in der die im vorigen Jahrhundert Geborenen vielleicht den Verlust dessen bedauern, was wir kollektiv als "Gegenkultur" in Erinnerung haben, erinnert Adam Green uns alle an eine komplexere und reichere Ära des künstlerischen Dialogs. Für eine jüngere Generation von Songwritern, von denen einige auf Moping in Style zu hören sind, hat Adam den Weg geebnet und die Richtung gewiesen. Aus den geschickten musikalischen Händen seiner brillanten Mitwirkenden hören wir neue Sichtweisen auf Adams Songs und stellen fest, dass Adam Green vielleicht genauso sehr wie jeder andere der oben erwähnten Koryphäen des 20. Jahrhunderts dem großen George Gershwin ähnelt, einem Meister der Melodie und des Liedes. Dopple-Vinylalbum/CD Mit Devendra Banhart / Regina Spektor & Jack Dishel / Father John Misty / The Lemonheads / Sean Lennon / The Libertines / Binki Shapiro / Jenny Lewis / The Lemon Twigs / Frankie Cosmos / Ben Kweller / Kyp Malone (TV on the Radio) / Rodrigo Amarante / Joanna Sternberg / Hubert Lenoir / Jeffrey Lewis / Turner Cody / The Cribs / The Pirouettes / Vincent Delerm / Herman Dune / Cut Worms / Ben Lee / Lou Barlow / Jonathan Rado (Foxygen).

LTD. COL. VINYL

Definitive compilation spans solo recordings, rarities and duets with Lee Hazlewood Newly remastered from the original analog tapes by GRAMMYr-nominated engineer John Baldwin New interviews with the legendary singer, actress, and activist, Nancy Sinatra Extensive essay by Amanda Petrusich Q&A interview with Nancy & GRAMMYr-nominated reissue co-producer Hunter Lea Never-before-seen photos from Nancy Sinatra's personal archive Deluxe CD housed in 7"x7" hardcover book w/ 64-pg booklet Beautifully packaged Double LP featuring a 24-pg book 2xLP available on Standard Black Wax plus Summer Wine Sunburst Orange Release coincides with Nancy Sinatra's 80th birthday celebration Release to be supported by international press campaign in cooperation with Nancy Sinatra // Light In The Attic Records is proud to present Nancy Sinatra: Start Walkin' 1965-1976. The definitive new collection surveys Sinatra's most prolific period over 1965-1976, including her revered collaborations with Lee Hazlewood, over 23 tracks. Remastered from the original analog tapes by GRAMMYr-nominated engineer John Baldwin, the collection is complemented by liner notes penned by Amanda Petrusich (author and music critic at The New Yorker), featuring insightful new interviews with Sinatra, as well as a Q&A with archivist and GRAMMYr-nominated reissue co-producer Hunter Lea. The CD edition comes housed in a 7"x7" hardcover book (featuring 64-pages) and the two-disc vinyl set is presented in a gatefold jacket (featuring a 24-page booklet), with special color editions available exclusively at and independent record stores. Nancy's performance of the Lee Hazlewood-penned song "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" was a huge hit in 1966 and became her signature tune. The pair began a three year run of successful albums, duets and singles including "Sugar Town," "Some Velvet Morning," "Summer Wine," "Sand," "Jackson," and the title track to the 1967 James Bond film "You Only Live Twice." Start Walkin' explores Nancy's recordings with Lee, her inspired collaborations with songwriter Mac Davis ("Hello L.A., Bye Bye Birmingham"), producer Lenny Waronker ("Hook and Ladder") and the "should've been hit" song with arranger/producer Billy Strange ("How Are Things In California.") Over the years, she has been cited as an influence by countless artists, including Sonic Youth, Morrissey, Calexico, U2, and Lana Del Rey. Her haunting song "Bang, Bang" gained a new legion of fans when it appeared in the opening credits of Quentin Tarantino's 2003 film, Kill Bill Volume 1.

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.

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."

VINTAGE CROP serve to serve again. Over the last four years the Geelong group have become a burgeoning force in the Australian punk scene. Their burly, brusque yet supple songs have evolved from the garage rock of 2017’s ‘TV Organs’ album into the post-punk panic attack of last year’s ‘Company Man’ EP. Now they’ve sculpted their sound further, the barrage now offset with robust songwriting, their full-pelt bounce tempered with flailing guitar lines and sardonic commentary. Bringing to mind Wire tackling tracks from early 7”s by The Yummy Fur, it’s an inspired approach, both striking and effortlessly mirthful. Vintage Crop still dish-up plenty of commanding stomp, their lyrics remain as keen-eyed as ever, but now they’re unafraid to mess with the tempo and drive their point home.
‘Serve To Serve Again’ is Vintage Crop’s third full-length album. It was recorded by Mikey Young after a year of playing solid shows, including tours in Europe and the UK alongside Louder Than Death and URSA and some of the band’s biggest shows to date in Australia with Amyl & The Sniffers, R.M.F.C. and The Stroppies. This allowed Vintage Crop to nail the songs live before committing them to tape, pulling and pushing ideas, stretching them into new-found territories. ‘First In Line’ races off the blocks with its sawtooth riff and splintered beat, all jagged edges and ragged vocals. Quickly follow a pair of totemic bruisers in the guise of ‘The Ladder’ and ‘The North’, both brimming with a nigh anthemic quality, confident in their faculty to rouse the rabble. ‘Jack’s Casino’ is a lurching romp about gambling, ‘Streetview’ is similarly propellent, only choosing to meander and divert itself with cryptic trips around the neighbourhood: “He only moved to that side of town because the postcode is worth it’s weight in gold”.
There’s no better poised nod to frustration than ‘Gridlock’ - “the hustle and bustle of inner-city traffic is driving me nuts because the radios on static”. Guitar lines entwine and wriggle wildly free from the song’s pouncing rhythm and potent vocal, making for the most vigorous of rackets. ‘Just My Luck’ prowls with a shared thrumming verve, whilst ‘Everyday Heroes’ closes out the album with measured flair. Skewed and fervent, rangy at times yet always assured in its intent ‘Serve To Serve Again’ is long-legged leap for Vintage Crop into the delirious now. These songs strive to make sense of futility, they criticise the chain of command, question privilege and most importantly make us want more from life. Now all we have to do is turn up the volume!

After humble lo-fi beginnings in the Australian Art-Pop Underground, Donny Benet has expanded his cult-like following across the Globe with a resonant Array of danceable Repertoire dealing with Love- and Affection. New album "Mr Experience" marks a new chapter, informed by a wealth of musical- and personal development.

For Mr Experience, Donny envisioned a Soundtrack to a Dinner-Party- Set in the late 1980's. While his earlier Recordings drew Inspiration from DIY Pop Conspirators such as Ariel Pink & John Maus, Donny channelled the Stylings of Bryan Ferry & Hiroshi Yoshimura as the Impetus for new Material, evident on the Intimacy found on ‘Girl Of My Dreams’ and it's lush production- with a soothing whistle-along Chorus for good Measure!

Sincerity has been a key component of Donny Benet’s output since the beginning. His songs deal with genuine Emotion served on a kitsch Platter. An alter-ego manifested in the beginning of the 2010's, Donny has blurred the Lines of Artifice to create a back- Catalogue that can embrace- and challenge, often simultaneously, - the notion of Irony in Art.

"Mr Experience" moves further away from ironic Notions as Donny explores lyrical- and musical themes which embody Observations of Maturation in his audience, his tightknit musical Community- and himself. While ‘mature’ is a term that often rings hollow as an album descriptor, the term couldn’t be more apt for Mr Experience.

Previous album The Don was created with the luxury of time. The phenomenal Response to that Album across Europe- and the United States - fuelled by accompanying Music Videos clocking in Views in the Millions- meant that there were scant Windows of Opportunity to write- and record a follow-up.

With a legacy in Sydney’s music community, working with Sarah Blasko, and tightknik collaborators Jack Ladder & Kirin J Callinan, Donny Benet is accustomed to collaboration on the Stage- and in the Studio, mostnotably on the 2014 full-length release Weekend At Donny’s.



“There is such immense talent evident in every aspect of the Donny Bene experience - the vision of the character, the steadfast adherence his narrative and the musicality of Benet himself all combine to makesomething truly genius.” - Double J, Australin.

“Donny Benet makes feminine music for everybody” - Vice, Netherlands.

“The Don does not sound like amusical copying machine”. - 3voor12 National, Netherlands.

“The set was punctuated with virtuosic solos and exquisite harmonies, and added another layer of genius to the show.
We almost couldn’t handle it... Donny for president!" - Indie Berlin.

“Everyone loves Donny Benet” - Feature in Gonzai, France.

“Phenomenal Australian Showman... Offers Top-Class Dance Music with Virtuose-Bass Guitar- and Keyboard Parts & incredible Sound-Colour feel.” - Podujatie.sk, Slovakia.

Donny has toured Europe five times since the start of 2018 and has played in the UK, Austria, Germany, Slovakia, France, Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Denmark, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Greece and Sweden. The Don will revisit Europe twice in 2020, once for his own headline shows in May then back again in August for festivals!

Definitive compilation spans solo recordings, rarities and duets with Lee Hazlewood Newly remastered from the original analog tapes by GRAMMYr-nominated engineer John Baldwin New interviews with the legendary singer, actress, and activist, Nancy Sinatra Extensive essay by Amanda Petrusich Q&A interview with Nancy & GRAMMYr-nominated reissue co-producer Hunter Lea Never-before-seen photos from Nancy Sinatra's personal archive Deluxe CD housed in 7"x7" hardcover book w/ 64-pg booklet Beautifully packaged Double LP featuring a 24-pg book 2xLP available on Standard Black Wax plus Summer Wine Sunburst Orange Release coincides with Nancy Sinatra's 80th birthday celebration Release to be supported by international press campaign in cooperation with Nancy Sinatra // Light In The Attic Records is proud to present Nancy Sinatra: Start Walkin' 1965-1976. The definitive new collection surveys Sinatra's most prolific period over 1965-1976, including her revered collaborations with Lee Hazlewood, over 23 tracks. Remastered from the original analog tapes by GRAMMYr-nominated engineer John Baldwin, the collection is complemented by liner notes penned by Amanda Petrusich (author and music critic at The New Yorker), featuring insightful new interviews with Sinatra, as well as a Q&A with archivist and GRAMMYr-nominated reissue co-producer Hunter Lea. The CD edition comes housed in a 7"x7" hardcover book (featuring 64-pages) and the two-disc vinyl set is presented in a gatefold jacket (featuring a 24-page booklet), with special color editions available exclusively at and independent record stores. Nancy's performance of the Lee Hazlewood-penned song "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" was a huge hit in 1966 and became her signature tune. The pair began a three year run of successful albums, duets and singles including "Sugar Town," "Some Velvet Morning," "Summer Wine," "Sand," "Jackson," and the title track to the 1967 James Bond film "You Only Live Twice." Start Walkin' explores Nancy's recordings with Lee, her inspired collaborations with songwriter Mac Davis ("Hello L.A., Bye Bye Birmingham"), producer Lenny Waronker ("Hook and Ladder") and the "should've been hit" song with arranger/producer Billy Strange ("How Are Things In California.") Over the years, she has been cited as an influence by countless artists, including Sonic Youth, Morrissey, Calexico, U2, and Lana Del Rey. Her haunting song "Bang, Bang" gained a new legion of fans when it appeared in the opening credits of Quentin Tarantino's 2003 film, Kill Bill Volume 1.