Telephone Explosion Novedades

“Are you ready to come into my world?” Dorothea Paas asks on Autumn Roses, the lead single from her latest album, Think of Mist, out this fall on Telephone Explosion Records. It’s an invitation extended with equal parts sincerity and slyness, delivered over a casually propulsive groove and layers of transcendent harmony. The only option is surrender.

Think of Mist is Paas’s sophomore album, following 2021’s Polaris-longlisted Anything Can’t Happen - “one of the most stirring and emotionally resonant break-up albums of recent years” (Uncut). Widely praised for its emotional resonance and lush sonic landscape, Anything showcased the talent that has made Paas a fixture of Toronto’s music scene for over a decade - both as the leader of her own band, and as a vocalist and guitarist for a constellation of groups including U.S. Girls, Jennifer Castle and Shabason & Krgovich.

For listeners of: Jessica Pratt, Fievel is Glaque, Cassandra Jenkins, Cindy Lee, The Roches, Labbi Siffre, Linda Perhacs, Stereolab, Dear Nora, Connie Converse, Julie Byrne.

“Are you ready to come into my world?” Dorothea Paas asks on Autumn Roses, the lead single from her latest album, Think of Mist, out this fall on Telephone Explosion Records. It’s an invitation extended with equal parts sincerity and slyness, delivered over a casually propulsive groove and layers of transcendent harmony. The only option is surrender.

Think of Mist is Paas’s sophomore album, following 2021’s Polaris-longlisted Anything Can’t Happen - “one of the most stirring and emotionally resonant break-up albums of recent years” (Uncut). Widely praised for its emotional resonance and lush sonic landscape, Anything showcased the talent that has made Paas a fixture of Toronto’s music scene for over a decade - both as the leader of her own band, and as a vocalist and guitarist for a constellation of groups including U.S. Girls, Jennifer Castle and Shabason & Krgovich.

For listeners of: Jessica Pratt, Fievel is Glaque, Cassandra Jenkins, Cindy Lee, The Roches, Labbi Siffre, Linda Perhacs, Stereolab, Dear Nora, Connie Converse, Julie Byrne.

Throughout the 1960s, Canadian composer Bruce Haack was as ubiquitous on children’s and variety shows as were exotic animals from the San Diego Zoo. But he wasn’t there to perform so much as demonstrate. In his formative compositions for theatre and ballet, he had experimented with tape loops and musique concrète techniques; by the early ’60s, he wasn’t just playing around with electronic sounds, but also making the very gizmos that generated them. By day, Haack would eke out a living as a composer for commercials and a series of instructive, interactive children’s records made with collaborator Esther Nelson.

But by night, Haack was making music that was decidedly adults-only.

Originally released in 1970, The Electric Lucifer was Haack’s first work pitched to a contemporary rock audience, released by Columbia Records in the dying days of a post-hippie moment when bizarro outsider-psych could still find a home on a major label. If it was not the first rock record to feature electronics, it was certainly among the first to give them a starring role—both musically and conceptually.

Coming And Going is the fifth release from Mas Aya, pseudonym of acclaimed Nicaraguan-Canadian composer, producer, and musician Brandon Miguel Valdivia. Over the past twenty years Valdivia has emerged as one of the most prolific and respected musicians in Canada.

In 2021 Valdivia's breakthrough LP as Mas Aya, Máscaras, ushered in a new era. With warm reception from the likes of Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, the New York Times, and NPR it shed new and long-overdue light on his inventive compositional outlook.

Coming And Going is the follow-up to Máscaras and, much like its predecessor, it represents yet another colossal shift in Mas Aya's creative journey.

The fact that its title is so evocative of flux is no mistake; it's an album that teems with subtle contradiction and restless intrigue, all the while carving pathways toward the reconciliation of these opposing sonic and thematic forces.

It's this very plurality that makes Coming And Going Valdivia's most intimate and personal effort to date. The music reflects upon community, family, the nature of home, and spirituality

There’s a profound tenderness that imbues The Butterfly Myth, the debut album from Toronto artist Caitlin Woelfle-O’Brien. Each of the nine songs, unreserved in their beauty, contain strength and softness in equal measure; a delicate balance that invites the listener to feel themselves held and reflected. Steeped in the lowkey balladry of 90s alt-rock soul searching, propelled by timeless r&b undercurrents and tinged with a few country flourishes, The Butterfly Myth manages to speak of grief in a way that feels warm and nourishing.

"The Butterfly Myth" by Blunt Chunks includes the following tracks: "High Hopes", "Every Day", "Breathe", "Can't Be The End" and more.

New York / Toronto producer Tony Price makes his Telephone Explosion debut with the Interview/Discount LP. Made up of two side-long tracks, the record is an electrifying collision of fractured jazz-concréte and combustible downtown funk that crushes the entire continuum between minimalism and maximalism into a hypnotic wreck of metropolitan sound matter. Finding inspiration in the quicksilver impressionism of modal jazz, the manic bombast of early electro-funk and the narcotic non-linearity of 1970s minimalism, Price assembled a crew of jazz-funk heavyweights and free-improv wizards and set out to create an auditory representation of the soundscapes of New York City.

Jahmal Padmore, a Toronto-based singer-songwriter and drummer, is a master of introspection and musical innovation. Having begun his career as a punk rock duo with The Carps, Jahmal's solo artistry has since flourished, earning him critical acclaim for his contemplative R&B ballads. In 2022, he released his latest album, Esparonto, a testament to his unyielding commitment to artistic expression. Jahmal has graced the stages of Pop Montreal and delivered a mesmerising sold-out performance for his album release, cementing his place as a rising star in the industry. Set to tour Europe and the U.S. throughout 2023 and 2024, Jahmal's genre-blurring sound, which includes R&B, punk rock, and calypso, is a powerful meditation on love, relationships, and the human experience.

"The Wooz" by Jahmal Padmore includes the following tracks: "Denial", "Silver Lines", "In 5", "Not Long Now" and more.

This version of the album comes on WHITE vinyl.

Jahmal Padmore, a Toronto-based singer-songwriter and drummer, is a master of introspection and musical innovation. Having begun his career as a punk rock duo with The Carps, Jahmal's solo artistry has since flourished, earning him critical acclaim for his contemplative R&B ballads. In 2022, he released his latest album, Esparonto, a testament to his unyielding commitment to artistic expression. Jahmal has graced the stages of Pop Montreal and delivered a mesmerising sold-out performance for his album release, cementing his place as a rising star in the industry. Set to tour Europe and the U.S. throughout 2023 and 2024, Jahmal's genre-blurring sound, which includes R&B, punk rock, and calypso, is a powerful meditation on love, relationships, and the human experience.

"The Wooz" by Jahmal Padmore includes the following tracks: "Denial", "Silver Lines", "In 5", "Not Long Now" and more.

This version of the album comes on WHITE vinyl.

Telephone Explosion proudly presents the self-titled debut LP from Toronto’s UH HUH, out physically and digitally on April 14, 2023. The album features eight tracks of dub-damaged art rock which conjure a potent vision of spaced-out 1980s post-punks feeding their angular rhythms and bass-heavy grooves through layer upon layer of grime-spattered spring reverb.

There is a palpable sense of discovery and exploration throughout UH HUH’s 37 heady minutes. Elastic basslines and serpentine guitar phrases throb and glide, cutting through dubwise reverberations like hands moving through an opaque cloud of reefer smoke.

Formerly known as Teenanger, the reconfigured (and reinvigorated) group’s newfound sense of sonic identity is put on display the moment the door kicks open. The percolating spaciousness of opener “Somewhere Beyond” is followed by the cyclical grooves of “Redemption Pause.” Vocalists Christopher Swimmings and Melissa Ball each take respective turns at lead vocal duties, showcasing their contrasting yet complimentary styles.

“Babylon”, a slab of overcast, loping funk features both singers on the same track, alternating between Swimmings’ stoned syncopation and Ball’s saccharine melancholy. This juxtaposition leans against a backdrop of reverb-soaked drums, watery guitar chords and rippling trumpet.

The slinking, fractured grooves of “Rain (In The Afternoon)” and “Citrus Song” call to mind the deranged minimal dub-wave of Naffi or Vivien Goldman. Both songs feature lyrical content heavily inspired by the Florida swamplands, although the aural landscape on these tracks is decidedly more brutalist than Boca Raton. Two of the songs included here are reworkings of previously released Teenanger numbers. “Blinds Drawn” is reduced to its core elements of bottom-heavy rhythm, spliced guitar shanks and Swimmings’ murmured ruminations. “Good, You”, on the other hand, is completely re-imagined as a blissed-out melt of opiated bossa nova.

After countless hours of experimentation during the album’s recording sessions at Toronto’s Studio Z, the band decided to send their drum machines, snare drums and percussion through an obscure 1960’s Japanese Guyatone guitar amp with a notoriously ecstatic spring reverb sound. The result was immediately inspiring.

The dank, busted and clanking tones produced by the Guyatone evoke a muggy, humid atmosphere that mimics the photo on UH HUH’s cover. The process of re-amping is literally the means through which UH HUH found the sound of this record. UH HUH is a record that asks more questions than it does provide answers. This is searching music that requires that the listener lean into it, the more time you spend in between the beats, bars, notes contained within, the more vivid the picture becomes.

Good Time​ is Teenanger boiled down to its very essence. A lean and muscular eight-song album that is the sound of a band who simultaneously has everything and nothing to prove. It’s what happens when seasoned songwriters flex their chops in an environment that fosters boundless creativity. It is also Teenanger’s most fun album. Choruses soar to previously unattained heights, descending to a rhythmically fertile ground to pull earworms that will stick inside listeners’ heads for days. If its songs were citizens, they would reside in a diplomatically neutral city-state, melting pots of art rock, pop, dub, post-punk and new wave.

The music of ​Good Time​ certainly elicits pleasure, but lyrically things are more weighty. The band does not shy away from its commentary on contemporary issues. There are calls to reject societal norms, ruminations on humanity’s obsession with technology and warnings about our impact on the environment. Teenanger never gets too earnest, delivering everything with an irreverence that has been there since day one.

Recorded at: Studio Z. Mixed by: Sandro Perri. Mastered by: Noah Mintz. Cover Photo: Colin Medley. Graphic Design: Thomas van Ryzwyek & Jonathon Yule.

This project is funded in part by FACTOR, the Government of Canada and Canada’s private radio broadcasters. Ce projet est financé en partie par FACTOR, le gouvernement du Canada et les radiodiffuseurs privés du Canada.

This album was created with the generous support of the Ontario Creates.

Anything Can’t Happen is the long-awaited debut album from Dorothea Paas, one of Canada’s most beloved singer-songwriters. For over a decade, Paas has played her unique, prismatic style of folk songcraft for audiences across North America, and lent her talents as a guitarist and vocalist to artists like Jennifer Castle, U.S. Girls and Badge Epoque Ensemble. The songs on this album have been through a near-infinite number of forms – Paas has played them solo and with a full band, electric and acoustic, at house shows and in sold-out venues. they manage to fit inside each context, like water taking the shape of its container.

All of this makes Anything Can’t Happen feel far more mature and complex than a debut album. It’s a statement of purpose, a next step in a decade-long process of artistic growth and evolution, and a bridge between the DIY style of Paas’s previous cassette releases and a more refined studio sensibility. Recorded in studios in Hamilton and Toronto, and mixed by Max Turnbull of Badge Epoque and U.S. Girls and Steve Chahley, these songs bring a diverse range of musical influences into conversation: inflected with the layered reverberations of Grouper, shot through with the piercing harmonies of the Roches, electrified with the searing energy of Sonic Youth. You can hear Neil Young in the grittiness of the title track’s guitar; Joni Mitchell’s Hejira in the album’s lyrics, Fairport Convention in Paas’s voice. The influence of Stevie Wonder - one of Paas’s greatest musical role models - is present too, in the album’s conceptual foundations.

On November 3rd, Toronto’s Badge Époque Ensemble return to Telephone Explosion Records with their new album Air, Light & Harmony. The release keeps up the jazz-funk group’s torrid pace of
releases for TER; A,L&H being their 6th LP release, and 4th proper album for the label since 2019.

The release completes a trilogy of triptych-titled works, following 2019’s Nature, Man & Woman, and 2021’s Future, Past & Present. All 3 of these releases feature compositions which resample loops and
stems from prior albums. Air, Light & Harmony takes this gambit further with in-house recycling of snippets from dusty LP copies of their own work (ala Portishead’s famed approach) featured throughout to create warped and ambiguous moodscapes. This emphasis on texture is befitting of BÉE’s only entirely instrumental album.

On November 3rd, Toronto’s Badge Époque Ensemble return to Telephone Explosion Records with their new album Air, Light & Harmony. The release keeps up the jazz-funk group’s torrid pace of
releases for TER; A,L&H being their 6th LP release, and 4th proper album for the label since 2019.

The release completes a trilogy of triptych-titled works, following 2019’s Nature, Man & Woman, and 2021’s Future, Past & Present. All 3 of these releases feature compositions which resample loops and
stems from prior albums. Air, Light & Harmony takes this gambit further with in-house recycling of snippets from dusty LP copies of their own work (ala Portishead’s famed approach) featured throughout to create warped and ambiguous moodscapes. This emphasis on texture is befitting of BÉE’s only entirely instrumental album.

Toy Machine skateboard's seminal 1996 video “Welcome To Hell” features a unique and progressive patchwork of skateboarders, most of which would become icons in their world, and helped redefine
what the modern skateboarding video could be. A young Joseph Shabason felt that impact. The acclaimed musician hit rewind on his VHS copy of “Welcome To Hell” hundreds of times in his youth,
each watch as thrilling as the last. That invigorating, improvisational, full-body experience of skateboarding is one that Shabason likens to jazz, where a shared language exists between the wheels and woodwinds. The way the skateboarder and musician command that language is what distinguishes them, adding definition to the mercurial concept of “style.” This connection becomes most apparent in collaboration; ensembles of skaters and musicians are a noisy, creative bunch.

Reflecting on this relationship and the Toy Machine classic would ultimately lead Shabason to wonder: what does hell sound like? The answer was a concept album that, like his previous records, lives in
the personal. One that, much like skateboarding itself, would push him to try something new: rescoring "Welcome To Hell". Out on October 20th, 2023.

Here, they intentionally embrace aspects of jazz, but contrary to expectation, this only makes their unclassifiable essence more apparent. Olivier Fairfield (FET NAT, Timber Timbre) and his co- conspirator Simone Provencher (VICTIME ) are well aware of how elusiveness can be wielded persuasively. Their inimitable sound is often a difficult one to describe.

In 2016, After Reissuing Two Bruce Haack Albums, Haackula And Electric Lucifer Book Ii, Telephone Explosion Began Speaking With Ted Pandel (bruce's Lifelong Friend And Business Partner) About Working On The 1970 Masterpiece The Electric Lucifer. It Turned Out There Was Another Matter That He Wanted To Discuss: Finding A Final Resting Place For The Bruce Haack Archive.

We Were Shown Test-pressings Of The Electric Lucifer Board Mixes From His Columbia Studio Sessions, Countless Pieces Of Written Music, A Large Number Of Personal Photos, An Invitation From Raymond Scott Inviting Bruce To Play His Newly Created Electronium
Instrument (now Owned By Devo's Mark Mothersbaugh), Poems, Press Clippings, And, Most Importantly, A Heavyduty Shelf Containing 213 Reel-to-reel Tapes. All Of The Chosen Material On The Preservation Tapes Is Unreleased, Has Only Been Heard By A Handful Of People And Showcases A Relatively Unknown Period In Bruce's
Musical Career Where Bruce Was Recording For Sparrow Records (who Billed Themselves As "america's Best Christian Music Record Label'). Bruce's Signature Farad Vocoder Continues To Feature Prominently, But The Lyrical Content Is Decidedly More Religious.
The Bruce Haack Archive Is Now Resting In The Provincial Archives Of Alberta, In Edmonton,
Alberta, Canada.

One of the masterworks of 20th century electronic music, "The Electric Lucifer" by Bruce Haack. Originally recorded in 1968 and 1969 (and released in 1970) it is an album both unique in conception and superb in realization. Your your gateway to the profound yet playful universe of Bruce Haack, a "far-out" place where flower-power and inner-space electronics collide!

Symphony Orchestra is a new group from Maximilian Turnbull and Michael Rault. Both Rault and Turnbull are accomplished songwriters, performers and producers in their own right, with Turnbull leading The Badge Epoque Ensemble, playing with the group Darlene Shrugg, and once releasing records under the name Slim Twig and Rault having released several psychedelic rock & roll classics under his own name in the past decade. The pair have worked together in various capacities for many years, writing and recording together on U.S. Girls' In A Poem Unlimited, and contributing to each other's releases, but the debut LP from Symphony Orchestra (due out May 12th on Telephone Explosion) marks their first release as an official entity.

Needless to say, there is a potent creative chemistry between Rault and Turnbull and Radiant Music showcases the alchemy between their distinct skill sets. The album is an exercise in pure collaboration. After years spent focusing on solo projects and working as hired guns on other projects, the duo came together with no specific intentions other than to work free of boundaries and direction. Freeing themselves from the familiar pressures of deadlines and expectations, they found a sense of discovery through togetherness. Duties on this project were split between Rault acting primarily as a one-man rhythm section and lead vocalist with Turnbull bringing chord sketches and his trademark aphoristic lyrical musings to the table. Trading off roles on guitar and keys from song to song, the duo's deft approach to melody bleeds through their instrumental parts as much as it does through Rault's vocal melodies. The majority of this album was self-engineered over the course of three sessions in 2018, at Michael's Montreal studio. Dormant during the pandemic, Rault's move to Los Angeles and the birth of Turnbull's twin sons, work reignited in 2022. The latterly tracked instrumental 'Concerto' and ballad 'Unthink The Thinkable' provide a dynamic depth to the album perhaps attributable to this tumultuous pause. Mixing came courtesy of Steve Chahley & Tony Price (U.S. Girls, BÉE, Jane Inc, etc).

In all of their work, Rault and Turnbull have made a hallmark of elaborately precise production and arrangement, Radiant Music is no different, though its pared-back simplicity provides a streamlined directness. The pairing of Rault's soulful, elastic vocal with Turnbull's evocatively cerebral lyrics provides a thrilling sensation unlike anything else in their respective catalogs. With an explosive, groove-forward approach, kaleidoscopic walls of vocal harmony and technicolor displays of guitar work, these 31 minutes of music will most certainly stimulate the mind of any fan of classic pop rock and funk. The blown-out breakbeats, winsome woven vocal melodies and propulsive wah-wah guitars of the title track evoke memories of an after-school cartoon special that never really existed outside of a lysergic daydream. "Harp In The Wind" is a perfect moment of overcast melancholy complete with ribbons of weeping synthesizers and velcro-fuzz guitar that could rip a clean line through Kevlar. "Know Thyself" and the harmony-rich "Intersection" are standout tracks that find a kinship in Stereolab's space-age effervescence. "Concerto" is a slab of beaming, mischievous funk that nods to Billy Preston's extraterrestrial keyboard explorations.

Radiant Music, like the best pop music, is life-affirming, confectionary, and enticing. Symphony Orchestra have created an album that hits you right where you need it, anchoring heady, adventurous sonic ideas down to a solid foundation of masterful songcraft, virtuosic instrumental performances and undeniable groove. Not a bar, nor beat is wasted.

With Cruisin', their second album for Telephone Explosion, Toronto's Bernice distils their playful sense of composition resulting in the most affecting collection of their young career. Across fifteen tracks, a special kind of contemporary, jazz-inflected pop unfolds, miraculous for being both fun and musically adventurous, all in the name of emotional resonance. Each groove in the bassbin is matched by a little scratch at the listener's heartstrings. The album was recorded at home with Phil Melanson (Sam Gendel, Andy Shauf) and Thom Gill (Beverly Glenn-Copeland, Joseph Shabason), led by songwriter and vocalist Robin Dann (Martha Wainwright) and producer Matthew Pencer, with additional contributions from longtime members Dan Fortin and Felicity Williams (Bahamas) being captured remotely.

Throughout their eleven years as a group, working at the intersections of several scenes and spotlights (many of which begin and end at Toronto's beloved Tranzac Club), Bernice have developed an idiosyncratic musical language that feels immediately inviting and wonderfully refreshing. The group's two previous releases, Eau De Bonjourno (2021) and Puff: In The Air Without A Shape (2018) received generous nods from both Stereogum and Pitchfork, who described the music as "unusually mesmerizing". With the songcraft a little more crystalline and the vulnerability notched up, Cruisin' feels like the right record to open Bernice up to a much wider audience.

Development of the album began in Spring, 2021 during a writing retreat at the family farm in Bond Head, Ontario. Members of the band luxuriated in slow time, tinkering with lyrics and melodies, sharing meals, knitting. From this communal gathering, the concept of 'dedication' emerged as a guiding theme. Specifically, developing songs in an almost epistolary form; as love letters or check-ins for friends, community members, pets and other more elusive acquaintances (a longtime working title for the project was 'Songs For People').

Lead single 'Underneath My Toe', one of the first pieces developed under this theme, finds the group at their most graceful and direct. Beginning with songwriter/vocalist Robin Dann singing simply 'Hi / I miss you all the time', the composition proceeds to shift subtly between soft jazz balladry and low-bit funk, revelling in the intimate beauty of a long-time-no-see letter to a dear old friend.

Though being a band that so deeply values the art of fartin' around, Bernice couldn't settle on such a straightforward approach. During the creative process, a clarifying question arose: 'Can you cruise to it?'. This somewhat ambiguous aesthetic criteria became a guiding light for the album. 'Sure, it's a beautiful song about building trust with a new nonagenarian friend... but can you cruise to it?'.

Case in point, both follow up singles, 'No Effort To Exist' and 'Second Judy', fall into a more nebulous, bewildering category of song. Undoubtedly affecting, emotionally charged, existentially searching, yet also undeniably juicy. Drum patterns skitter into place while synth tones shift on a dime to meet thematic twists. There's errant whistling and curious overdubs. Then in come elegant backing vocals, elevating the narrative while an unlikely, left-field groove is established. Miraculously, the listener is not just moved, but Cruisin'.

Therein lies the marvel of Bernice: they remind us that the rec room funk of Mario Kart 64 need not exist in mutual exclusivity to a rich tapestry of human emotions. Even as we live through this most cursed timeline, we can look into the heart of things, dwell on the challenges we're called to witness, and find a little levity to carry us through; grab a lil' mushroom and cruise the existential soup.

Ingredient is the elegant collaboration of Toronto poets, composers, producers and dear friends Ian Daniel Kehoe and Luka Kuplowsky. Their self-titled release is an enigmatic electronic avant-pop record attuned to the micro and macro perspectives of the natural world. Ingredient is an album whose lyrics are more poem than lyric, and whose songs exist in a merger of house music, philosophically-minded lyricism and contemporary R&B. One might recall electronic and art-pop luminaries such as Yukihiro Takahashi, The Blue Nile, and Arthur Russell, or connect it to contemporaries like Nite Jewel, Westerman and Blood Orange. A distinct world of dance, of questions, of secrecy and ultimate softness.

Eight years of friendship forges strange telepathy.

In the summer of 2020, Ian Daniel Kehoe was entrenched in a new feeling of heaviness; psychosomatic symptoms had started to proliferate; stress made new pores across the body, bending sensitivity into pain. His days were met with confusion, detachment, sleeplessness and pain without causation. Disfigured, he felt that what had been central and centering was blown out to the periphery of things. In a moment of self-preservation he reached out to his dear friend Luka Kuplowsky to make an album together. For Kehoe, it was an instinctual grasp for the anchoring truthfulness of deep friendship and the potential for a dedicated creative collaboration. Kuplowsky’s presence was light, supportful and curious, eager to explore musically the sounds they were mutually drawn to: house music, ambient pop, dub. The duality between Kuplowsky and Kehoe – between the Aflight and the Unmoored – is a portrait of a friendship whose exchanges came easy and produced an outpouring of song. Creation and therapy crisscross. In email correspondence that catalogs their process of collaboration, affection abounds: “feels bare without the Luka Licks”, or “Love you so much”, or “Kinda just overwhelmed with deadliness coming in at all angles.” When their voices first come in together on “Wolf,” that harmony arrives in a dramatic avant-pop sound that is bold and wondrous.

Kuplowsky and Kehoe both arrive at Ingredient as established artists whose works are committed to language’s propensity to provoke and mystify. Kuplowsky’s 2020 album Stardust is an idiosyncratic and otherworldly blend of pop and jazz romanticism grounded by Cohen-esque vocals and a stirring philosophical curiosity. Kehoe’s entrance into the new decade has hatched four records of pop experimentation, most recently 2022’s Yes Very So, a euphoric and bold album of poetic synth-pop and meditative ambient instrumentals. Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s union as Ingredient is a beautiful and unusual chemistry that integrates their distinct approaches while bringing forth a newness: a sound that alternates between cinematic technicolor and dubbed out fogginess; a lyricism that exchanges their lucid and clear poetics for a playful and obtuse verse. The album intuitively taps into the opposing emotional states of Kuplowsky and Kehoe during the conception of the record, contrasting the buoyancy of trumpeting keyboards (“Resurface”), angelic synthesized voices (“Come”), and rolling bass (“Photo”) with the record’s underlying darkness of whirring buzzsaw textures (“Transmission”), whooping sirens (“Wolf”) and murky ambience (“Illumination”). Lyrically, this duality arises in the record’s flux between openness (“Variation”, “Raindrop”) and existential dread (“Wolf”). “Illumination” most clearly crystalizes this opposition, reconciling the verses’ neurotic yearning for enlightenment with the chorus’ liberating doctrine of negation: “no more devotion… no more delusion”. Amidst the gradations of light and dark, Kuplowsky and Kehoe trade indelible, lush melodies as though their voices are made of a substance that melts easily one into the other. The harmony of poetry, sound, and texture cuts through your brain fog like a wet diamond.

Ingredient’s self-titled record was assembled by Kuplowsky and Kehoe over the course of six months in a home studio they frequented daily. Amidst synthesizers and drum machines they composed, re-composed, and workshopped a wide array of music, ultimately focusing on a set of eight songs that lived in a shared musical and philosophical world. Recording days often ended in basketball games at a local court or a rooftop commune over a pot of tulsi tea and a crossword puzzle. Kuplowsky brought in the Blue Cliff Record – the classic anthology of Chan Buddhism – whose inscrutable and sublime insights remained constant throughout the recording process as an activator of reorientation and reflection. While Kehoe was frequently rendered physically immobile by bouts of anxiety, a patience and mutual caring governed the pace of their creation; rest, stretching and meditation became equally important as the act of arrangement. Invited into their intimate circle of composition was Thom Gill, whose heavenly voice uplifts “Variation” and “Raindrop,” and Karen Ng, whose alto sax simmers and dances around the funky strut of “Raindrop.”

The lyrics on Ingredient reflect the persistence of change, the infinite variability of nature where randomness and divergence are no accidents. In Daoism, duality, in the form of Yin and Yang, is not contradictory as it is in Western idealist philosophy, but rather composes the eternal and lived paradox of our changeless-changing universe: changeless because all is change, and changing because the dynamism of the Dao makes each moment transformational. Kuplowsky and Kehoe refract this way of seeing the world, as in Variation: “Variation in the natural world / there it is.” Ingredient is an experience of the manifold ways of saying there it is of the transformational world, and there it is, unfolding. Elsewhere, change and ephemerality is addressed through the record’s preoccupation with non-human perspectives, reorienting the listener to the wolf, the mouse, the emerald frog, the centipede, the bird, the fly in the lamp. The album cover visualizes this fascination with the striking image of a reddish-orange frog atop a defamiliarized landscape of dark green leaves. Mirroring the exploratory process of the record’s collaboration, the frog also signals the amphibian’s natural inclination to leap into boundless potential. Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s lyrics manifest philosopher and ecologist Timothy Morton’s concept of “the mesh,” drawing attention to the “vast, entangled web” of interconnectedness that connects all life forms and interweaving the songwriters’ shared wonder into the Animal’s unknowability. As Luka narrates in the breakdown of the dance-floor ready “Photo,” “the closer we observe things, the further they retreat into abstraction.” In Ingredient’s ecosystem, perception is a reversible fractal where the world’s minutest details mirror the shape of the cosmos.

According to the Dao, the path to healing starts by reorienting perception away from the self and toward the self’s subsumption in Totality. For Kehoe, collaborating with Kuplowsky became the reorientation necessary for the self-preservation he was seeking, opening up a shared creative practice to navigate and soften the complexity of his psychological shattering. The album begins with Kuplowsky intoning “colossal faith” which bounces around the stereo field in a cloud of echo, and it is the enormity of “faith” that centers both Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s collaboration and their inquisitiveness in the vast mysteries of our very being. Truth in Ingredient is not an essential nugget, but a bending of the light – it is the equivocal entanglement of how we are in nature as nature, but with a plea or prayer under our breath that marks our felt distance from what we are a part of: “carry me towards the mountains of my birth / returning to the nest / the silence of the earth.”

Toronto’s Dan Lee steps out of the spotlight and into the producer’s chair on the new collaborative Lee Paradise LP, Lee Paradise & Co., due October 28 2022 on Telephone Explosion. Lee Paradise & Co. follows 2020’s critically acclaimed The Fink LP, and finds Lee flipping the shadowy nihilism of the project’s previous releases upward into a sort of cybernetic universality. This is Dan Lee in producer mode, veering away from the pursuit of a singular musical direction rooted in personal vision, towards of a process rich in collaboration, emotional expansion and tonal exploration.

Starting off as a set of mood-focusedinstrumental sketches drafted by Dan on his own, the compositions began coloringthemselves in after he started sending the tracks out to collaborators, asking them to contribute without much in the way of direction or intention. With help from an ensemble cast of artists including Carlyn Bezic (Jane Inc.), Jonathan Pappo (Scott Hardware, No Frills, Ducks Ltd), Scott Hardware, Isla Craig, Victoria Cheong (New Chance), Jay Anderson, Charise Aragoza & Lukas Cheung (Mother Tongues) and Daniel Woodhead (Moon King), nearly every aspect of this album’s creation eventually became open to collaboration, from musical performances, lyric writing, and vocals all the way through to mixing and mastering.

Sonically, the record is still unmistakably Lee Paradise: a widescreen polyrhythmic psychedelia that melts, bubbles, whirrs and klanks; the sound of the human and the machine grooving in accordance towards new futures. The album’s sonic palette is at once synthetic, warm and extraterrestrial. Arpeggiated square wave melodies dance in lockstep with crunching hi-hats, digital bells and chimes fall like crystal rain in stereo above plush pads and gurgling bass figures. Used to finishing the records on his own, Lee mixed this album with Montreal’s Asher Gould-Murtagh and the results are spacious, dusty and dubbed out. “Carnival” sets the scene with it’s stuttering, busted funk groove and ribbons of aqueous vocal harmony from New Chance’s Victoria Cheong. “Raffles”(featuring one of Daniel’s two vocal performances on the record) radiates a mellow optimism in its solar-warped balearic bliss. The album’s final track, “Youngish” is a gliding, melancholic downtempo instrumental thumper saturated in a kaleidoscopic array of lysergic tones. As always, the record anchors itself to the dancefloor with the screwed-down electro of “Cement”, the swinging midnight afterglow of “Leaving” and “CS2X”’s fluttering rave arpeggios.

Lee Paradise & Co. is the sound of an expert producer and sound sculptor conceding to the elusive flows of inspiration, knocking genre conventions askew and hopscotching between a variety of styles, musical identities and sound worlds with absolute panache.

Freedom is both an integral and multi-layered topic for improvised music, describing its mechanics, aesthetics, and values and often an underlying political dimension as well. In the case of free jazz specifically, the word carries additional weight given the music's deep connection to the black liberation movement of the 1960's and 70's.

The passionate and unclassifiable work of Calgary-based improviser Jairus Sharif embraces each of these definitions of freedom and others, albeit strictly on its own personal and idiosyncratic terms. Since early 2020, the 34 year-old autodidact has been generating a steady stream of homespun solo recordings that forge unprecedented connections between hip-hop abstraction, cosmic skronk, outsider jazz, and staunch post-punk DIY ethos.

Leading up to the pandemic, Sharif's immersion in spiritual and exploratory jazz had culminated in him deciding to purchase an alto saxophone. Unbeknownst to him this instrument would be a catalyst for him to discover his own ardently individualistic artistic voice.

Prior to that point, he had always been somewhat of a solitary musical traveler. In 2002, he acquired his first instrument—a pair of Technics 1200s — but struggled to find local collaborators that had equal investment in hip hop culture. Ultimately, Sharif picked up the guitar, turning to the resilient local punk community, that had also nurtured both of his mothers some time earlier.

As Black Lives Matter gained momentum in the wake of George Floyd's murder, Sharif was suddenly flooded with an acute awareness of his own identity. It compelled him to zealously plunge headlong into open-ended spontaneous solo creation. Water & Tools, his strange and stirring debut for Toronto's Telephone Explosion Records (home to full-lengths from the likes of Brodie West's Eucalyptus, Mas Aya, and Joseph Shabason), offers a glimpse into this ongoing hermetic journey.

As Sharif dedicated himself to uncovering his own deeper musical truths, he assembled a home studio in his basement, cobbling together a drum kit from bits his bandmate had left at his house pre-pandemic, chaining effects together and outfitting the entire space with microphones. Somewhere between the chaos of child's treehouse and the tidy import of a shrine, this space (pictured on the album's back cover) consecrated his own imagination. He laid it out to maximize access to any and every tool in his arsenal, providing him a freedom to explore that he had never permitted himself to consummate before.

Within this cozy private universe, his recent purchase—the saxophone—assumed new meaning. It furnished a tangible connection to the black radicalism that mobilized free jazz, but also something far more personal. From a technical standpoint, the instrument was completely unfamiliar to him, yet rather than this being a hindrance to Sharif, his inexperience opened fruitful path forward, unencumbered by preconceptions. Resolving to shirk formal training, convention, and build his own understanding of it from scratch, allowed him to access his most raw, fundamental creative impulses. The Saxophone's inseverable bond with breath compounded this effect, echoing revelatory discoveries he had been making about breathing through yoga, research, and psychotherapy. Of course, the parallels with BLM's harrowing rallying cry—“I can't breathe”—were not lost on him either.

Water & Tools is a dense, contradictory statement with a blustery surface that shelters a soulful heart. It's generous music, exuding profound vulnerability—grappling with the loss of one his mothers, Lisa—all the while brimming with electric wide-eyed wonder. Almost every one of the nine pieces seems to carry some semblance of a groove, while remaining completely untethered from pulse. For Sharif, this collection is an expression of newfound lucidity, however for the listener his sonic concoctions act as powerful psychotropics. At points, there's a timelessness that's conveyed through the music's processional, ritualistic tenor, and yet there's an endless amount of wild, futuristic detail waiting to unspool at any given moment. Similarly, while this recording emerges from Sharif's private pilgrimage and personal emancipation, he also leaves room for collaboration. Woven throughout Sharif's one-man-ensemble textures, one finds Maxmilian Turnbull (of Badge Epoque, U.S. Girls, and Cosmic Range infamy) providing sundry keyboards and treatments, as well as his mixing skills.

Whether conjuring effusive psychedelia or plumbing introspective depths, the music that Jairus Sharif produces is singular, visceral, and wondrously unpredictable. Water & Tools sketches a raw, firsthand account of his nascent explorations within his own unbridled imagination.

10 Track LP - Japanese multi-instrumentalist Masahiro Takahashi's latest album, Flowering Tree, Distant Moon, is a meditation on seasons and distance. Recorded in isolation at his temporary home studio in Toronto, following the coldest winter he’d experienced to date, this is a collection of hushed, lush color wheel electronic vignettes.

Flowering Tree, Distant Moon was created using an array of instruments including software synthesizers, granular samplers and a shruti box. The original Not Not Fun cassette run sold out quickly and this Telephone Explosion re-release will be Takahashi's first official vinyl offering.

The songs shimmer and sway, unspooling in sparkling arcs and alternating between reverie and lullaby. Inspired by blooming apple trees, gagaku music, the nostalgia of immigrants and longing for home, Flowering Tree, Distant Moon moves from soothing to surreal, a swirl of quiet melody and imagined landscapes, as transportive for its listeners as its maker.

An exploratory record that dances across time and genre, guided by fidgety miniatures and jazz inflected collage. Throughout, the band pool together their instrumental chops, moving from fluid and serpentine R&B to meditative, minimalistic piano, evoking a contrast of virtuosity and self-surrender.

While constructed from the inspiration of soul, funk and film music, BÉE mediate those influences having first digested them through the productions of Madlib & the RZA.
A sticker on the sleeve tells us Self Help “combines jazz-funk and mysticism,” a signpost to where its musical and spiritual concerns align. The jazz-funk component translates to arresting hooks in sideways song forms: echoes of Gainsbourg spooled through Azymuth-style Brazilian jazz and punctuated by the whip and snap of Steely Dan. “The Sound Where My Head Was,” the instrumental centrepiece, exemplifies present-wave jazz but also ancient sounds, giving off the mothballed air of a Hiroshi Yoshimura record in a library-music archive.

Self Help’s mysticism emerges in broad and specific ways, denoting not only a search beyond cliché and intellect but also an inquiry into the beat, the spirit, the one will. This isn’t new territory for them: Turnbull—the artist formerly known as Slim Twig, who writes and performs with U.S. Girls and various other Toronto concerns—named the group’s Nature, Man & Woman EP after the Alan Watts book. Building these songs from his drafts over three weekends at Toronto’s Palace Sound studio, the ensemble was free to tap out of the city and into some other place, taking up residence in a collective mind maze. The album produces, in equal measure, familiar surprises and the surprisingly familiar. Intoxicated jazz riffs swerve left at phantom intersections. Rhythms cut loose and tie you in knots. But wired in to each song is a sense of gentle accumulation, making every featherlight flourish weigh a ton. U.S. Girls’ Meg Remy brings serenity to “Sing a Silent Gospel,” and wears its antic melodies lightly. The soul shimmer of “Unity (It’s Up to You)” lets the players pool their R&B chops into something fluid and serpentine while, on guest vocals, the musical performance artist James Baley issues urgent declaratives: “Water must pool, as a rule, before tasted/Or else the water is wasted.” The words throughout the record complement the ensemble music while riffing on the precarious nature of unity itself. Then, closer “Extinct Commune” finds Turnbull deserted at the piano, playing phrases of meditative minimalism taking after the composer Joanna Brouk.

For all the record’s reach, it is these contrasting quiet moments that bring Self Help’s communal spirit into focus. A note on personnel: Badge Époque Ensemble now has a seventh member in Karen Ng, the saxophonist and sometime collaborator of Do Make Say Think, Feist, and others. In BÉE, Ng joins Chris Bezant and Giosuè Rosati, her bandmates in the Andy Shauf live band, as well as U.S. Girls co-conspirators Turnbull and Ed Squires, and other Torontonian cross-pollinators listed below. Guest vocalists across Self Help include Meg Remy, who sings with Dorothea Paas on the opener, James Baley, and Toronto singer-songwriter Jennifer Castle on the remarkable “Just Space for Light.” Words by: Jazz Monroe

Flute, congas, bass, drums, guitar and clavinet; this unconventional arrangement of instruments intertwine to form the debut album by Badge Époque Ensemble - a group of creative improvisers assembled to perform new, largely instrumental compositions by Maximilian ‘Twig’ Turnbull(formerly Slim Twig - DFA Records).

Badge employs an eclectic cast of characters from the Toronto underground music scene, whose combined experience would take pages to spell out. It includes stints accompanying songwriters Andy Shauf and Marker Starling, outfitting heavies Blood Ceremony and Biblical, and respective careers spent gigging Django-jazz and the classical cannon.

Badge’s distinctive sound arises from the diversity of these musical exploits, creating a palpable chemistry well captured on the live-tracked songs that form the group’s self-titled debut. Part of this crucial chemistry can be attributed to the fact that four of the six players in the Ensemble have been at the core of the live, U.S. Girls band, a group that has scorched stages internationally over the past year and was hailed by Paste magazine as the best live band of 2018. While it may call to mind an improbable collision between psych-era Stevie Wonder and the whimsically dark, Fantastic Planet score, it is clear we are operating in a post Wu-Tang paradigm. If a crate of library, tropicalia, prog and electric jazz records were flattened into a single 12” and then fed into a sampler, we might approximate the process.

In the mid-80's, an original form of music was discovered on the midi-capable little planet of Austin, Texas. At the age of 32, Charles Ditto would release his first solo album applying cutting edge computers and synthesizers of the era (Roland DX7, Roland MKS-20, Roland MKS-80, Sequential Circuits Profit 2000 along with a Macintosh SE), creating a unique and detailed world that was inspired by Cluster, Eno & The Residents.

In Human Terms bridges the gab between contemporary classical and minimal pop. Rhythmic but melodically abstract. Microtonal and organic. Often described as experimental electronics, tone poems or Cyber-delic-psychotropic-avante-garde.
In Human Terms, remains very emotion, deep and different. Ditto's music imparts a new listening experience that is still somewhat indescribable today, but remains approachable and relatable.

'What makes Ditto's music so strikingly different is his overt use of emotion, very descriptive melodies and deep atmosphere' Audio Magazine - August 1988 // 'If Erik Satie had midi gear' Keyboard Magazine - April 1988 // 'Brian Eno meets Seastones, but with more melody' Relix Magazine - August, 1988 // 'Ditto's choice of Synthesizer tones are at once both organic and unique' Electronic Musician - June 1988.

Melodic Energy Commission is a Canadian gem and an interesting branch of the Hawkwind family tree (featuring Del Delmar on electronics.) Hailing from British Columbia, their unique blend of space rock, progressive and hippie psychedelia began in 1977 as a recording-only project titled "The Melodic Energy Commission of Collected Artists."