Cerca:audacity

The wiggy wanderings of Oog Bogo wind up on the same island of lost joys all at once, manufacturing a virtual jukebox of singles and side flips that won’t unplug, and just keeps reeling and raging on instead. A bright metallurgy of guitar pop, psych, post-punk and apocalypse disco embosses the sleek, multicoloured flash of ‘Plastic’.

 Oog Bogo are a four-piece rock band from Los Angeles and their new album is ‘Plastic’, an electrifying set of songs and sounds that just don’t stop, working like a machine that makes joy and endless flips and repetitions, whether in front of the turntable or out in the real world.
 In the past several years, Oog Bogo dropped two records that previewed this explosion in wildly divergent ways: 2019’s ‘Oogbogo’ EP, with wigged-out production, its contorted fun house mirror images pulling punk, psych and new wave in and out of focus in a chaotic procession of mutant tunes. 2021’s ‘EP2’ radiates a starkly different vibe, as chilled-out guitar-pop tunes conjure a flowing medley of plaintive echoes and atmospheres in a mellow mist of hiss.

 Kevin Boog recorded these records in a largely hermetic state: at home on 4-track, playing all the parts, slowly drawing out the sounds. The songs for ‘Plastic’ were demoed this way too, as a starting point for a group interpretation - but when, for obvious reasons, logistics prevented everyone from getting in the same room to even rehearse, the planned recording session at Ty Segall’s Harmonizer Studios took on a different shape.

 Starting off with only drummer Thomas Alvarez (Audacity) to accompany him, Kevin
realized that any obstacles to getting the record made were also opportunities, for
something else that was also right to happen. Rather than reach for the design of the
demos, he kept himself in the present moment, approaching every passage as fluidly
as possible, playing what he needed to play, staying open to what he needed to
know. It didn’t hurt that the laptop with all his songs crashed right after he walked into
the studio! There was no way possible but forward.
 The direction was right on with the guys at Harmonizer - Ty Segall’s sense of
imagination made him the ideal production counterpart to walk together with Kevin
into this world, psyched to experiment and ready to get weird at any time. Ty and
engineer Matt Littlejohn met all requests and requirements in the form of sounds, with
gear and approaches that amazed and delighted, and an eternally ebullient spirit.
 As this was Oog Bogo’s first time recording away from home, Kevin was a kid in a
candy store - where the store owner turns out to be a Wonka-esque philanthropist.
As band members Mike Kreibel (Dirty & His Fists) and Shelby Jacobson (Shannon
Lay) joined the session, there was a synchronicity and community with everyone
involved, finding an unexpected road to realizing the songs, with all the colours and
hues they added making everything pop that much harder.
 Fluidity was key: ‘Plastic’’s tunes depict a polymorphic cast of characters. As in life,
they leap avidly from style to style; from pretty psych rock to new wave apocalypse
disco and harsh post punk bleakness, sometimes in a verse and a half. Corkscrewing
over and over like a riff-driven space-coaster, morphing in and out of each
successive moment with increasing momentum and gravity, ‘Plastic’ defines and
redefines Oog Bogo, with sweet tunes, barely-controlled intensity and sharp
production moves - a killer first album and an equally killer evolving state of mind.

Clear Vinyl

I met Thomas Roussel in 2017 at a Pigalle fashion show in Paris. As always with Stéphane Ashpool, the designer of Pigalle, casting is perfect and the clothes are modern and groundbreaking. But my eyes and ears were intrigued by this retro-futuristic instrument next to me, the Cristal Baschet. French composer and conductor Thomas Roussel wrote the soundtrack of the show.
He add this magnificent instrument in his "not very classical" orchestra, this is what I immediately loved with him!
He invited us into his world of classical music with a fresh twist, simplicity and audacity.
At the same time I was scratching my head to find something different to celebrate the 15th anniversary of Ed Banger records.
For a long time I had this idea of mixing both electronic and classical music together. Exactly like my heroes Metallica did in 1999 with the Symphonic orchestra of San Francisco! Thomas Roussel seems the perfect man for this crazy idea. We did Ed Banger 15 together and we became friends.
Thomas Roussel grew up in Dijon, spent his days at the conservatory and his nights at L’An-Fer, one of the most respected Techno club in France. Probably the reason why he ended up working with Jeff Mills, on two projects mixing Jeff’s 909 and a classical orchestra.
By experimenting new ways of using an orchestra, by creating state-of-the-art scenography and producing more ambitious music he quickly became the man in charge of everything "classica". The list of his collaborations is too long and will ruin this little introduction.
It could sounds like this : Chanel, Apple, Cartier, Kenzo, Nike, Dior…
Performing from Paris to Macau, from Monte Carlo to Dubai and from New York to Beijing!
In 2017 Thomas Roussel released his first album as Prequell with Universal Music.
A successful collaboration that really allows Thomas Roussel to become an artist.
In 2022 Ed Banger records is proud to release Thomas Roussel "LATE METAL" a 3 tracks EP.
Where uplifting orchestration and electronic music composing collide. The perfect soundtrack of a block buster movie mixing George Lucas & Christopher Nolan generations. It’s also a marker of our time, music boundaries are explosing. It’s time to hear the London Symphony Orchestra’s strings battling with a Drum’n’Bass beat, a way to DEIFIED classical music.
It’s also a record for your eyes. Art director Andy Picci created an algorthym and gave life to a mercury abstract form. This collaboration
marks the need for Thomas Roussel to always push the boundaries and take his project to another LEVEL.

19 minutes of brutally up front and relentlessly rowdy hardcore punk, that slams a firm British stamp on the classic Swedish Hardcore blueprint. This wrecking ball sits somewhere between the 80’s Hudiksvall sounds of MISSBRUKARNA, the damaged NO FUTURE confessions of THE PARTISANS and the sheer rock and roll audacity of the SKITKIDS. Back to back riffs that'll stick to your brain like the glue at the bottom of your bag and steaming drums blasts that’ll plough through your skull like a juggernaut driven by a maniac high on amphetamine. Mylo Oxlo provides the artwork once again, perfectly capturing the claustrophobic animosity of the Rat’s latest 12 song romp and rampage. Fittingly dropping on the year of the Rat while the Tories take a strangle hold of the U.K for another 4 years. Hold onto your seat, feel the burn and don’t you dare turn this fucker down.

‘The Syd Barrett of the avant-jazz scene’ British jazz composer, pianist, songwriter, Mike Taylor died tragically young, leaving just two albums as well as co-writes with Ginger Baker for Cream’s Wheels Of Fire album to his name. In 1973, under the direction of Neil Ardley, several of the performers who had worked with him recorded an album of Taylor’s surviving orchestral music, jazz tunes and songs as a memorial to him and to preserve his work as a composer and song writer for posterity. Taken from Ardley’s master tapes, this is their critically-acclaimed tribute to a master of his art by friends and colleagues, themselves representing a cross-section of the cream of modern British jazz talent of the day.

Collective Personnel

Tony Fisher, Greg Bowen, Henry Lowther, Ian Carr (trumpets, flugelhorn) : Chris Pyne, David Horler (trombones) : Ray Premru (bass trombone) : Barbara Thompson (flute, alto flute, soprano sax) : Ray Warleigh (flute, alto sax) : Stan Sulzmann (flute, alto sax, soprano sax) : Bob Efford (oboe, tenor sax, bassoon) : Dave Gelly (bass clarinet, clarinet, tenor sax) : Bunny Gould (bass clarinet, bassoon) : Peter Lemer (piano, electric piano, synthesizer) : Alan Branscombe (vibraphone) : Chris Laurence, Ron Mathewson (bass, bass guitar) : Jon Hiseman (drums, percussion) : Neil Ardley (director) : Norma Winstone (vocal)

Composed by Mike Taylor. Music direction by Neil Ardley. Recorded by Denis Preston at Landsdowne Studios, London, 1973. For publishing credits, contact MCPS London, England.

Mastered by Martin Mitchell at Moorend Studios, February 2007.

He looked like a bank clerk, but acted like a mystic”. Obituary – ‘Melody Maker’, February 15th 1969

“You’ll be returning to this for eons to fully unlock its genius.” Record Collector

“From the eerie opening sounds, like an orchestra tuning up, through a searing chord, and then into the frantic countermelody under long brass on Brown Thursday, and the baleful march-time of Land of Rhyme in Time, Taylor's audacity is plain.” The Guardian

Mathieu Harlaut has always had the audacity to push his curiosity to its logical conclusion, conjuring up unique sonic spectres. Verging on strange, these apparitions aggregate a myriad of influences and approaches combining DIY, scholarly appropriation and pop arrangements. Chamberlain, his alias, embodies the project, where classical, jazz, electro and soundtracks merge to form innovative musical compositions. Chamberlain’s vision emerges as he takes these diverse territories to create completely new landscapes. Evocative postcards of journeys to come. A present where influences and inspirations offer up the ideal framework for creating new horizons.

With his characteristic attention to detail, Chamberlain is a skilled craftsman and an alchemist in turns. With him there is no apparent "timeline". No welded joints. No stiches. The overall impression of Chamberlain's music is enveloping, finding just the right points of balance and energy to evoke a particular atmosphere. But it doesn’t diffuse atmosphere, it’s more like an ambient perfume. Chamberlain's tracks are like the many notes of a fine fragrance, infusions that elicit subtle and contrasting emotions. Be it the music lover's indulgent solitude or the sensory exultation of a shared club experience.

Luigi Grasso rubbed shoulders, when he was twenty, in New York. He then fed on all those artistic possibilities that thrive in the big apple, and bit into it with full teeth, with fierce greed. Jazz was already flowing in his veins, and he was going to enrich this impetuous river of multiple confluences, which he discovered in the prolix underground of the city universe. Meetings, musicians, friends, artists, approaches, differences, additions, mergers, the Italian had found his America for the best and for the sake of it. In words and music. As in Greenwich Village, where he would find a refuge nest in 2O14. In the heart of Manhattan between Soho, Broadway, Chelsea, Hudson. This once bohemian neighborhood, where trees thrive at the foot of red brick buildings, is more often called "the village". Here the young saxophonist from the south of Italy will pose his audacity and his appetite. He will quickly fraternize with the best, in this refuge for artists where gospel, rock, rap, soul and, above all, reign supreme, reign in gospel, rock, rap, soul.

Triumph breeds confidence, and with confidence comes an expansion of ambition, a focus of ability, an emboldening of audacity. De-Loused In The Comatorium had risked everything Omar and Cedric possessed on the wildest of gambits, the most impossible of dreams: making sense of the riot of influences ricocheting about Omar’s head, and memorialising their departed friend Julio Venegas through Cedric’s magical realist roman-a-clef. It Clouds Hill shouldn’t have worked. But it did, and with that fiendish tightrope act successfully accomplished, the duo stretched the wire even further and higher, over a figurative fiery pit peopled with lions, crocodiles, piranha and other sharp-toothed beasts not yet known to man. Because how do you make great art without taking great risks? Frances The Mute was no De-Loused Part Two. For one thing, the band’s configuration had changed, in the most painful way. Shortly before the release of De- Loused, sound manipulator and founder member Jeremy Michael Ward passed away, a wound Omar says the group never recovered from. But even though his inspired fucking- with-the-sonic-parameters is absent from Frances The Mute, his spirit and influence can still be determined, the album’s concept derived from a diary Ward had encountered in his day-job in repossession. “Jeremy picked up lots of interesting stuff when he was a repo man,” remembers Cedric. “Weird things, including this diary, He let us read it a bunch of times. It was by a guy who’d been adopted and was searching to find his real parents. It was very surreal, it didn’t make much sense – the guy might’ve been schizophrenic – but it was very inspiring. It felt like how certain music helps you escape your boring every-day life. The names and scenes in the diary directly inspired these songs.” Some of the tracks pre-dated De-Loused, having their origins in early demos Omar recorded at the duo’s Long Beach home Anikulapo, songs such as The Widow and Miranda The Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore. Cedric had heard these jams in their embryonic state and began working in his mind on what he could bring to them. “I was attracted to The Widow like you would be to a lover, right?” Cedric remembers. “I sang over it with Omar while we were touring De-Loused in Australia on the Big Day Out, like, ‘Okay, I’ve got something for this.’” A potent ballad, laden with emotional crescendos and evoking the epic drama of Ennio Morricone – an effect aided by an elegiac trumpet part performed by Flea – The Widow would become The Mars Volta’s first song to chart on the Billboard Top 100, capturing the album’s potent sorrow and widescreen sprawl in miniature. Indeed, the lush sound of the album, the depth of detail and breadth of instrumentation, belies its grungy roots. Having tasted the luxury of Rick Rubin’s mansion, Omar veered in the opposite direction when recording Frances, cutting the album in what he describes as “a shithole... Basically a warehouse with one little air conditioner on its last legs, awful wiring and a console you couldn’t rely on. We were there night and day – I would literally lock engineer Jon DeBaun in there. He slept on a mattress in the vocal booth.” A considerably more complex and ambitious album than its predecessor – four of its five tracks lasted over ten minutes in length, with its closing epic Cassandra Gemini spanning over half an hour – Frances The Mute wasn’t recorded “live” by an ensemble, but with the individual musicians coming into the “shithole” and recording the parts Omar had scripted for them separately. “They had to have absolute trust in me,” Omar remembers, “Like actors trust their director.” In addition to the core band – now fleshed out with incoming bassist Juan Alderete, and Omar’s brother Marcel on keyboards and percussion – the album featured guitar solos from John Frusciante, saxophone and flute by future member Adrian Terrazas-Gonzales, a full string section, and piano played by Omar’s hero, salsa legend Larry Harlow. “It was a childhood dream come true,” Omar says. “We recorded with him in my hometown in Puerto Rico, and my father flew in to watch the session. Larry was a perfect gentleman, and a very lively spirit.” The album’s fevered intensity infected even the staid string section, Cedric remembers. “When they performed the part on Cassandra Gemini, ’25 wives in the lake tonight’, one of the guys in the orchestra played so hard he broke his bow, this real old, antique bow. And you could see his ‘classical’ side come out – like, ‘I broke this playing a fuckin’ rock song??’ He was pissed off. But I was like, ‘Fuck yeah, man, that’s on the record! You’ve got to realise things like that are cool.’” The album also features field recordings of “the coqui of Puerto Rico” during the opening minutes of Miranda That Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore. “We took a page out of the Grateful Dead’s book there,” laughs Cedric. “They recorded air. We recorded fuckin’ frogs in Puerto Rico.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

This album is a sequel to trumpeter/bandleader Red Rodney’s ‘One For Bird’ recorded live at the Tivoli Gardens 1988. The band he brought from USA includes then up-and-coming young players: Dick Oats (alto saxophone), Garry Dial (piano), Jay Anderson (bass) and John Riley (drums), musicians that have become regular SteepleChase recording artists. Red Rodney (1927-1994) succeeded Miles Davis’ post in the Charlie Parker Quintet from 1949 to 51. This indelible experience enabled him to be an adviser on Clint Eastwood’s 1988 Golden Glove awarded film “Bird”, which featured Red’s character extensively. The publicity that came with the film seemed to have given a boost to his career. Red started to play professional at the age 15 but slowed down during early and mid- 70s due to his addiction. He made a successful come back later and toured the world with his band. “Rodney rockets through most of his solos here, ascending into high-register terrain with the audacity if youth. At 62, he plays with the ebullient spirit more typical of men half his age.” - Mark Stryker, Cadence

In his essay ‘The Meaning of My Avant-Garde Hillbilly and Blues Music’, Henry Flynt talks about how his music should be analysed as an intellectual tribute to the music of the autochtone, setting aside plain folk references, but adopting academic insights to mold the music one makes as a folk creature. Much of Flynt’s discourse applies to the music of Glen Steenkiste’s Hellvete. Over the past twenty years he has been thoroughly investigating both the ethnic musical language of various regions as well as the contemporary pioneers that preceded him as a drone musician, internalizing concepts such as e.g. deep listening or just intonation. Casting off any redundant ideas or sounds, and stripping down the focus to develop singular concepts, his working method lead to pieces such as ‘Droomharmonium’, in which he shapes the endless variations on a theme, emphasizing detail and nuance rather than multitude. The Indian harmonium here serves as the main device to worship ancient ghosts and masters, and to preserve a continuum in a tradition that touches both folk and avant-garde culture. The materialisations are sustained tone compositions which become a means of appreciation of the people and cultures that paved the way for forms of mutual escapism. This might well be the core of what Hellvete’s music is about. As much as it is a form of self-entertainment – like folk music in the old days – it also invites the listener to a shared experience of sonic reverie, it is a casual gift to the community.

This is certainly true for the pieces presented on this album. They were first presented in a smoke filled and darkened art space in Ghent, Steenkiste surrounded by only a couple of candles and just enough stage light to see him erratically moving to the rhythm of the piece, occasionally twiddling the knobs of a Doepfer synth that processed the prerecorded harmonium tracks. Unlike most of his other performances this piece embraced the audience in a trance that was similar to that of an old-school rave club. Flynt writes: ‘The music should be intellectually fascinating because the listener can perceive and participate in its rhythmic and melodic intricacies, audacity of organization, etc. At the same time, the music should be kinesthetic, that is, it should encourage dancing.’ ‘Voor Harmonium’ does exactly that; it builds on the artistic ideas that have long been established in Hellvete’s oeuvre, but the ecstatic nature of these pieces merges the usual spiritual transcendence with one of determined physical bliss. It encourages both mind and body to step into the sound, to be enraptured, to celebrate.

The hugely anticipated second full length album from the incredible Stormzy.

Following the release of Gang Signs and Prayer, his award-winning, platinum-selling debut album, Stormzy may no longer be stepping between the street and the sermon, but he’s still walking between two worlds: that of the celebrity and of the Everyman. His desire to stay grounded is evident; as his career continues to soar, he seems more and more determined to help others reach new heights of their own.

"Kiska" is the lead single off Kedr's sophomore release, Your Need. The album is a celebration of life and rebirth. It's about a fighter's spirit, and if you will, a little audacity and courage. DJ'ing and early forms of dance music inspired a furious burst of creative energy after months of melancholy, sadness and reflection to record the album in only a matter of weeks. After her breakout album, Ariadna, which put her on the forefront of Russia's burgeoning electronic scene, Kedr felt lost with her identity and was searching for the direction of her next chapter. For a while she felt trapped by her own image and needed quite some time to resolve this internal dissonance - to grow, to evolve. DJ'ing was the main catalyst to pull her out of this rut. The art form shifted her inspiration to mainly old school styles of dance music: ghetto, house, breakbeat and UK garage. For the prior year and a half she was listening to ambient, kraut-rock and more experimental genres - one can hear the brighter, more energetic influence of early electronic music in the songs on Your Need. One day she was talking with her friend Flaty (Zhenya), a very talented artist from St. Petersburg who's signed to the GOST ZVUK label, and they decided to do a single together. He came to visit her in Moscow, but they ended up spending 10 whole days writing music together, from dawn to dusk. They vibed off each other's musical ideas perfectly and understood each other even without speaking. Zhenyais a beatmaster and pays attention to even the smallest details of a track. He brought incredible richness to the composition and Kedr considers him her teacher in this area. Kedr was in charge of the melodies and vibe of the tracks, and the vocal elements. Your Need is like a chapter of life. It's a story that illustrates different scenarios and moods that our mythical hero experiences, living in an urban jungle. From lost love to a bad trip on the dance floor, from euphoria to deep introspection. Our hero sometimes feels bold, lost or devastated, but also tender and full, like all of us at some point in life. The ending is joyful and bright. The last song gives hope and faith that a new day will come and wash away the old. You can feel like new every day. Your Need reflects an array of genres and a mix of cultures - a harmonious combination of differences. Everything Kedr loves about ghetto music, in the traditions of house, dub, breakbeat, 90s electronic music and modern sounds - she's embraced and expressed it all throughout. Your Need is Kedr's ode to music from different eras and changing periods.

"kiska" Is The Lead Single Off Kedr's Sophomore Release, Your Need. The Album Is A Celebration Of Life And Rebirth. It's About A Fighter's Spirit, And If You Will, A Little Audacity And Courage. Dj'ing And Early Forms Of Dance Music Inspired A Furious Burst Of Creative Energy After Months Of Melancholy, Sadness And Reflection To Record The Album In Only A Matter Of Weeks. After Her Breakout Album, Ariadna, Which Put Her On The Forefront Of Russia's Burgeoning Electronic Scene, Kedr Felt Lost With Her Identity And Was Searching For The Direction Of Her Next Chapter. For A While She Felt Trapped By Her Own Image And Needed Quite Some Time To Resolve This Internal Dissonance - To Grow, To Evolve. Dj'ing Was The Main Catalyst To Pull Her Out Of This Rut. The Art Form Shifted Her Inspiration To Mainly Old School Styles Of Dance Music: Ghetto, House, Breakbeat And Uk Garage. For The Prior Year And A Half She Was Listening To Ambient, Kraut-rock And More Experimental Genres - One Can Hear The Brighter, More Energetic Influence Of Early Electronic Music In The Songs On Your Need. One Day She Was Talking With Her Friend Flaty (zhenya), A Very Talented Artist From St. Petersburg Who's Signed To The Gost Zvuk Label, And They Decided To Do A Single Together. He Came To Visit Her In Moscow, But They Ended Up Spending 10 Whole Days Writing Music Together, From Dawn To Dusk. They Vibed Off Each Other's Musical Ideas Perfectly And Understood Each Other Even Without Speaking. Zhenyais A Beatmaster And Pays Attention To Even The Smallest Details Of A Track. He Brought Incredible Richness To The Composition And Kedr Considers Him Her Teacher In This Area. Kedr Was In Charge Of The Melodies And Vibe Of The Tracks, And The Vocal Elements. Your Need Is Like A Chapter Of Life. It's A Story That Illustrates Different Scenarios And Moods That Our Mythical Hero Experiences, Living In An Urban Jungle. From Lost Love To A Bad Trip On The Dance Floor, From Euphoria To Deep Introspection. Our Hero Sometimes Feels Bold, Lost Or Devastated, But Also Tender And Full, Like All Of Us At Some Point In Life. The Ending Is Joyful And Bright. The Last Song Gives Hope And Faith That A New Day Will Come And Wash Away The Old. You Can Feel Like New Every Day. Your Need Reflects An Array Of Genres And A Mix Of Cultures - A Harmonious Combination Of Differences. Everything Kedr Loves About Ghetto Music, In The Traditions Of House, Dub, Breakbeat, 90s Electronic Music And Modern Sounds - She's Embraced And Expressed It All Throughout. Your Need Is Kedr's Ode To Music From Different Eras And Changing Periods.

Tadd Mullinix first made a name for himself as Dabrye in the early 2000s with a pair of instrumental albums combining the rhythmic finesse of Detroit hip-hop with the ingenuity of electronic music. But instrumental beats were only a temporary goal, a way for Mullinix to catch the ears of MCs. On Two/Three, his second Dabrye album for Ghostly International, Mullinix brought together a formidable crew of local and national talent to make the statement he'd always intended. Released in 2006, Two/Three o-ered a fevered vision of rap's future that remains just as intoxicating a decade on. Ahead of the long-await-ed conclusion of Dabrye's hip-hop trilogy in 2018, Ghostly is reissuing Two/Three.

Dabrye's move towards rap began in 2004 with the album's first single, 'Game Over' featuring Jay Dee and Phat Kat. An early inspiration of Dabrye's, Jay Dee invited Mullinix to his crib in 2002 for a listening session during which he picked the 'Game Over' beat to rap on. Crucially everyone involved was in accord that despite perceptions of their respective work this would be a hardcore rap song. Together with Kat, Jay delivered a one-two lyrical punch on 'Game Over' that no one saw coming. Detroit made the world go round and everyone's head spun. 'Game Over' set the tone for the album and, over the next few years, became a Detroit anthem — shortly after Jay's passing in 2006 the audience at Movement Festival sung his verse.

Moody, propulsive, and above all ambitious, Two/Three emerges from a sonic stew of Detroit and UK dance music, Jamaican sound clashes, and hip-hop sampledelia. The guests, a who's who of the mid-'00s underground rap scene, engage in a raucous rhyming session that pays as much attention to the realities of the streets as it does world events. MF Doom, Wildchild, Vast Aire, Beans, and AG represent for the various coasts while local talents — Waajeed, Ta-Raach, Invincible, Finale, Kadence, Guilty Simpson, Big Tone, Phat Kat, and Jay Dee — bring Two/Three alive with an infectious energy. In between bursts of raw rap and hard beats, Dabrye showcases detailed instrumentals that evoke bleak industrial futures, underwater meditations, and smoky late night sessions. With Two/Three Dabrye placed himself at the forefront of hip-hop's new wave, throwing a Molotov cocktail into the rap world as uncompromising as the head-twisting cover art from WK Interact. The independent press praised Mullinix's audacity. Over the following years the impact of Two/Threewas felt in slow increments as Dabrye's music became central to the sonic makeup of a new generation of producers. As this beat scene grew and moved away from rap, it showed Mullinix the influence of his work and the value of his vision for Dabrye as his own brand of Detroit hip-hop.