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Released on cultish London based label Mushroom in 1972, this album brought together the anarchic genius of saxophone player Lol Coxhill, with the pure magic of a dutch rhythm section: Pierre Curbois on the drums and keyboard player Jasper Van’t Hof. A clash of the titans as a matter of fact, with the more classical and impro sounding lines of Coxhill and the straight – almost jazz-rock – harmonies of the other two players. A fascinating record comparable to Keith Tippett small groups and the rise of the most peculiar impro-jazz scene.

What if Japanese city pop met no wave? Neither in your wildest dream such occurrence could be real, but let’s make things clear. Frank Chickens could have been possibly forerunners for several famous alternative bands, Cibo Matto on top of all, but sure had a development on their own. Our history began in London, early eighties, art duo Frank Chickens is the original creation of Japanese performers Kazuko Hohki and Kazumi Taguchi. All of a sudden the band debuts with a pair of singles and a full length on Kaz Records, it’s 1984, but could have been easily 1994. Backed by the likes of Steve Beresford (Alterations, The Slits, General Strike, London Improvisers Orchestra), Annie Whitehead (Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Robert Wyatt), Lol Coxhill, Tony Coe and Clive Bell (the top of the cream of the English avantgarde) the band soon became a case in history. Now we have the pleasure – 37 years after its original release – to reissue their second album: Get Chickenized!

The record came out in 1987 on the british label Flying Lecords and showed a different side of the project, with a major focus on the so-called synth wave counterculture, still maintaining a certain avant feel. With original conspirator Steve Beresford still on board, the band was propelled in the studio by another key figure of the London underground: journalist, composer and producer David Toop. Being John Peel’s favorite for a while, the band built a cult following retaining some absurd live performances, well known for their idiosyncratic choreography. Later revamped in the year 2000 - thanks to cult label Ninja Tune – the band enjoyed a second wave of success, with a remix album featuring the likes of Pizzicato 5, Fink and Neotropic. With a cover embellished by the labor of Pere Ubu David Thomas, this second influential album is finally available for your listening pleasure. Here’s your chance to dive deep into this exotic pop extravaganza.

Limited rerelease. Unavailable for years. The legendary album from 1984. Fully remastered by David Cunningham. These recordings were originally released on cassette by Touch in 1984 with the exception of 'Parts Of My Body', released on a single by Canal Records in 1979. Performed by: Steve Beresford: bass, piano, farfisa organ, prophet 5, trumpet, flugelhorn, euphonium, percussion, glockenspiel, voice, toy piano, melodica, noises, rhythm tracks, drumkit. David Toop: guitar, prepared guitar, bass, percussion, flute, alto flute, glockenspiel, voice, tapes, noises, rhythm tracks David Cunningham: tape treatments with guests: Lol Coxhill, Dawn Roberts and Maartje ten Hoorn 'The atmosphere which General Strike conjure together suits an old fashioned, cold war-ish scenario of technology. Their 'Interplanetary Music' is the space pop of George Pal and 'The Day The Earth Stood Still', of computers built like Blackpool Tower in order to struggle through simple trigonometry, of 'The Jetsons' and I.G.Y. They go no further than Expo 67, the world's last gasp of optimism. And although there are dark and disquieting moods set in this mosaic which their listeners have pieced together, it is made with a humour which is true to the spirit of adventure which those references apply. The sanitation merchants who make up most of the world's record-makers today would forbid our ears from hearing these strangely electric keyboards, earthworked textures, bizarre chattering of percussion, and voices that seem like puzzled robots. Cataloguing the sound in that way makes it all seem a bit of a joke, but it isn't: laughter is encouraged, but it's serious music, made with a great deal more serious spirit than the great and disheartening mountain of music which today implores you to hear and not listen.' (Richard Cook).

Mike Cooper wrote his final songwriter record, a suite of gloaming glam-rock anthems performed with a spiritual jazz trio, while living on the Costa Tropical of Granada, Spain, an era when he was considering retiring from music altogether. A chance encounter and a last-ditch record deal convinced him to make one last album, which he recorded in 1974 at Pathway Studios in London, with “The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World,” featuring the inventive South African jazz rhythm section of Louis Moholo and Harry Miller with UK saxophonist Mike Osborne. This first-ever reissue includes a bonus CD of Milan Live Acoustic 2018, a previously unreleased solo set that represents Cooper’s return, after forty-four years pursuing free improvisation and electronics, to a new, deconstructed approach to singing, steel guitar, and songcraft. The deluxe LP+CD edition also features a six-panel insert with additional artwork and an essay by the artist about both records. The deluxe 2xCD gatefold edition features an eight-panel version of the same insert. In the wake of his magisterial triptych of early 1970s avant-folk-rock records Trout Steel (1970), Places I Know (1971), and The Machine Gun Co. (1972) the British songwriter, guitarist, and fledgling improviser Mike Cooper retreated to the Costa Tropical of Granada, Spain. With no prospects for touring or recording again, his fiery band the Machine Gun Co. had disintegrated. Cooper sets the scene in his liner notes of the first-ever reissue of his unjustly forgotten next album Life and Death in Paradise (1974): No one came running with offers of fame and riches, and we fell apart, and I left the country and headed for the beach, disillusioned and a bit disorientated musically. I went to Almuñécar in Andalusia, a place I had been going since 1969, because a painter friend from Reading, Rowland Fade who made the collage in the gatefold of my earlier album Trout Steel had moved there in 1968. It was in this synthetic coastal “paradise,” unmoored and adrift, considering retiring from music altogether, that he began tentatively writing new songs. A chance encounter with producer Tony Hall, who offered Cooper a last-ditch record deal on Hall’s nascent Fresh Air label, convinced him to make one last album with the stipulation that he could assemble what he called “The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World.” I told Tony that I would do it if I could hire some of my South African jazz musician friends that I had used on my Pye/Dawn albums and some friends from Reading that I still knew and admired. I called up Harry Miller, Louis Moholo, and Mike Osborne, who were in fact a trio at the time … and several local Reading heroes, including the singer-songwriter Terry Clarke. The result, recorded live with minimal overdubbing at Pathway Studios in London, was Life and Death in Paradise, an utterly singular suite of gloaming glam-rock anthems performed with a spiritual jazz trio comprising the inventive South African jazz rhythm section of Moholo and Miller with UK saxophonist Osborne. Unlike anything else in Cooper’s extensive catalog. Fresh Air fizzled, and Life and Death became Cooper’s final record as a songwriter, having pushed the form as far as he could. Drifting north from Spain back to the UK, he fell into the scene of the London Musicians Collective (LMC) including Paul Burwell, David Toop, and saxophonist Lol Coxhill, Cooper’s bandmate in the Recedents and fully embraced free improvisation. He was still, however, interested in singing and lyrics, so, influenced by Tom Phillips, William Burroughs, and Brion Gysin, he began experimenting with text collage and cut-up techniques, arriving at his own hybrid compositional strategy for improvisatory songs. The previously unreleased solo set Milan Live Acoustic 2018 represents Cooper’s return, after more than four decades pursuing free improvisation and electronics, to a new, deconstructed approach to singing, lap steel guitar, and songcraft. Presented here together with Life and Death in Paradise, the two records provide fascinating bookends to Mike Cooper’s long, mercurial, and pioneering practice as a songmaker.

Jac Berrocal, David Fenech and Vincent Epplay return with Ice Exposure, their second album for Blackest Ever Black. A sequel and companion piece of sorts to 2015's Antigravity, its title couldn't be more apt: sonically it is both colder, and more exposed - in the sense of rawer, more volatile, more vulnerable - than its predecessor, capturing the combustible energy and barely suppressed violence of the trio's celebrated live performances with aspects of noir jazz, musique concrète, no wave art-rock, sound poetry and spectral electronics all interpenetrating in unpredictable and exhilarating ways. While there are moments of great sensitivity and even a cautious romanticism, the prevailing mood is one of anxiety, paranoia, and mounting psychodrama: close your eyes and Ice Exposure feels like a dissociative Hörspiel broadcasting from the seedy backstreets of your own troubled mind. Before he picks up an instrument or opens his mouth, Berrocal's unique and compelling presence can be felt: a combination of studied, glacial cool and anarchic, in-the-moment intensity that has served him well over a long and storied career. It was honed during his time as a theatre and film actor, and in the 70s Paris improv scene, it powered his influential Catalogue group in the 1970s, numerous seminal, sui generis solo sides, and far-sighted collaborations with the likes of Nurse With Wound, Lol Coxhill, Pascal Comelade and James Chance which have seen him come to be valorised by two generations of avant-garde agitators and eccentrics. Now in his eighth decade, it comes with an added gravitas, perhaps, but no less energy or vitality. On Ice Exposure, his lyrical, instantly recognisable trumpet playing is a key feature - see especially the ghostly, dubwise take on Ornette's 'Lonely Woman', the dissolute exotica of 'Salta Girls', and the sublime echo-chamber soliloquy 'Opportunity'. But more often it's his voice that commands centre-stage, whether casually discharging surreal poetic monologues or moaning in animal despair - a vocal tour de force that transcends language and culminates in the Dionysian frenzy of 'Why', Berrocal's half-spoken, half-howled exclamations jostling with David Fenech's slashes of dissonant guitar, over Badalamenti-ish, panther-stalk drums. Fenech's origins are in the mail-art scene of the early '90s, when he led the Peu Importe collective in Grenoble, and since then, in addition to his own recordings he has worked as a software developer at IRCAM and played with Jad Fair, Rhys Chatham and many others. Together with Vincent Epplay he is responsible for Ice Exposure's inspired arrangements and vivid, vertiginous sound design. Epplay is a visual artist and composer with particular interest in aleatory composition, concrete, and the reappropriation of vintage sound and film material. He and Fenech fashion a remarkable mise-en-scene for Berrocal to inhabit, one that embraces cutting-edge electronics while also paying homage to the best traditions of outlaw jazz and libidinous rock'n'roll ('Soundcheck' invokes the brutish spirit of Berrocal's hero Vince 'Rock N Roll Station' Taylor). On 'Blanche de Blanc', Berrocal's voice is framed by a groaning, ghoulish orchestra of industrial drones, while 'Equivoque' evokes the most humid and hostile Fourth World landscapes and 'Panic In Surabaya' lives up to its name, a hectic, pulse-quickening concrète collage that leaves you gasping for air. This is a searching and singular trio operating at the absolute peak of their powers, with an interplay that transcends studio and stage and occurs at an almost telepathic level. Ice Exposure is a triumph of that group mind, an underworld dérive as life-affirming as it is unnerving and psychologically precarious.













Panic In Surabaya