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As is now a well-established tradition, when 7 appears in the catalogue number it is the turn of handyman Asymmetrical.

The title takes its inspiration from a tag that appeared in the bathroom of the historical Knick Knack Yoda after one of the (in)usual nights, and is a leap in time, a project born from the layering of different sessions that took place between 2018 and 2020 and only sees the light of day today.

7 is also the number of inches of PVC on which this double is engraved, hosting on one side the track that gives the album its name, on whose rhythms the sound of Luigi Gargano’s saxophone echoes. On the other Estetica Della Notte, is a journey into the phenomenology of tumultuous nights in the shadow of Rome’s Dome. The covers of the 170 numbered records are embellished by Ester Reset’s photographic project, available for extended fruition in the editorial project accompanying the 30 limited edition copies.

Fangen wir ganz von vorne an. Der Bandname: Er taucht auf im Werk der Beatles, von Cockney Rebel, Townes Van Zandt, Monty Python. Womit er auch einen ersten Hinweis auf die Musik liefert. Die Band: Vier Freunde, davon drei Musiker, 13 Alben im CV. Die Idee: Old school is the new modern. Pfeif auf Innovation. Pfeif auf Kunst. Konzentrier dich auf das, was du selbst am liebsten hörst. "Echte" Songs, mit Strophe, Refrain, zuweilen Mittelteil und wenn's passt auch mal Tonartwechsel. Melodiös, ohne seicht zu werden. Mitreißend, ohne aus der Kurve getragen zu werden. Deep, ohne kitschig zu werden. Oder, gottbewahre, esoterisch. Das Album: Alles wie immer, nur anders. Gitarren, Bass, Schlagzeug, plus hörbar mehr Keyboards/Synthesizers/Soundscapes. 12 Songs, die sich praktisch allen Facetten dieses Lebens widmen. Liebe, Körper, Kätzchen, Clubs, Theater, Astronomie, Wohnkonzepte, Mode, Müdigkeit, Müllentsorgung. Und, nicht zu vergessen, the way to the bathroom. Aufgenommen in Stuttgart, Hamburg, Karlsruhe, Paks/Ungarn und Uppsala/Schweden. Between Planets eben. And there you are.

Originally released to a fan base and music press that were unprepared for the band to move on from the punk fury of "Crossing The Red Sea", The Adverts "Cast Of Thousands" has since been recognized as a lost classic of the time. TV Smith's cutting observational lyrics and sharp musical instincts saw his song writing grow and move in unexpected directions. The primal thumping was replaced by dynamic and driving drumming, acoustic guitars and probing solos emerged, and Tim Cross joined to add keyboards and fill out the overall sound. The one constant was the pounding throb of Gaye Advert's bass. Encouraged to experiment by surprise producer Tom Newman (Mike Oldfield "Tubular Bells") the band found themselves stretching creatively, both in song writing and recording techniques. They might agonize over the sound of recording a match being lit in the middle of one song, while doing a single take of a vocal via a microphone hung in the bathroom for another. Giant choirs were built meticulously over multiple tracks, while the sound of a rat running through the reverb room would be captured forever. The results wrapped some of TV's best songs in strange and inventive sounds to compliment his anti-pop smarts and rock and roll heart. They did not know it at the time, but the band was falling apart. Tensions would soon rise to the level that replacement players were called in to finish their final tour. Punk fans left them in droves. Critics skewered the singles from the album. Their record label had moved on to the next big thing. Feeling that they had reached a creative peak made the tumble even harder to swallow. Time has been very kind though, and fans discovering punk after the first wave have been able to hear "Cast" for what it is - a brilliant and biting collection of rock and roll. Still full of stomp and swagger even when stripped down on "My Place" or via the anthemic surge of "Television's Over", with TV's hook factory on full display on the anti-love song "Love Songs", and the band closing the album with the creeping ballad "I Will Walk You Home"; The Adverts had grown from a great punk rock band to a great rock band. Black vinyl.

Fire Red Vinyl. As one would expect of any historic city, the houses in Decatur, GA are old, and while many have been renovated to suit the needs of the 21st century family, the one Lunar Vacation calls home has not. The porch is quaint and crumbly, the roof leaks, and there is a single bathroom shared by the band's five members who insist that this is not, actually, a bad thing. "I used to be so protective of the songs when I gave them over to the band," lyricist/vocalist/guitarist Gep Repasky says. "There's so much trust involved, but this house helped us grow as best friends, as musicians, as a band." That newfound sense of trust is apparent on Everything Matters, Everything's Fire, whose title, taken from the concluding track "You Shouldn't Be," is a thesis statement. While Lunar Vacation's last album, 2021's Inside Every Fig is a Dead Wasp, happily bathed in the waters of indie pop, their latest effort is exploratory, a product of many hours shared experimenting in a living room together. Inspired by prolific shapeshifters like Yo La Tengo and Björk, Everything Matters, Everything's Fire adopts an ethos that every idea has the potential to be a good one. "Our last album was super produced, manicured," guitarist/ vocalist Maggie Geeslin says. "This one's organic. We embraced mistakes; it made the work even better." In other words: everything matters, everything's fire.

Afraid of Tomorrows ist das kommende zweite Album der britischen Alternative-Rock-Band The Mysterines. Das Album entstand nach der Veröffentlichung des Debütalbums Reeling im Jahr 2022 und der Tournee als Support für die Arctic Monkeys. Die Band schrieb fast 40 Songs in den Sessions für das Album, wobei die Songs, die „eine Emotion hervorriefen“, mit John Congleton aufgenommen wurden. Außerdem wurden sie durch den Dokumentarfilm Meet Me in the Bathroom inspiriert, der die Geschichten von New Yorker Rockbands der 1990er und 2000er Jahre erzählt, darunter die Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD Soundsystem und Interpol. The Mysterines sind diesen Oktober wieder auf Tournee in UK/EU, u.a. in Berlin, Hamburg und München, und werden diesen Sommer auf Festivals auftreten, u.a. beim Hurricane und Southside. Das neue Album enthält 12 Songs und ist als limitierte coloured Vinyl erhältlich.

Bogus Blimp. The Spectacular Rock Orchestra. Like the vaudeville acts of old they offer tuneful melodrama to the masses. Each song is another act in a play venturing from dark, exotic, and bombastic monuments to stumbling and naked moments of beauty. Bogus Blimp combine the dark 30's of Europe with the avantgardism of our times' rock 'n roll into a genre of its own making: Cabaret Core, Silent Movie Punk, or Horror Pop.

Jinte Deprez aka J. Bernardt, eine Hälfte und Co-Frontmann der belgischen Band Balthazar, veröffentlicht sein zweites Solo-Album. 'Contigo' greift auf eine Vielzahl von Einflüssen zurück, darunter Pop, Soul, Funk und Spaghetti-Western-Soundtracks, und spiegelt Deprez' Liebe zu Künstlern wie Serge Gainsbourg oder Ennio Morricone wider. Das Album dient als Soundtrack für verlorene und verwundete Liebende, ist eine emotionale Achterbahnfahrt und fängt Deprez' persönliche Reise mit einer Mischung aus Melancholie und Humor ein. 'Contigo' ist ein dramatisches, fesselndes und farbenfrohes Werkund beweist J.Bernardts außergewöhnlichen Fähigkeiten als Sänger, Songwriter, Instrumentalist und Produzent.

Saltburn is the 2023 black comedy psychological thriller film
written, directed, and co-produced by Emerald Fennell. The film stars a student (Barry Keoghan) at Oxford University, who finds himself drawn into the world of a charming and aristocratic classmate (Jacob Elordi), who invites him to his eccentric family’s sprawling estate for a summer never to be forgotten.

The film became one of the most-streamed films upon its streaming release on Amazon Prime Video in December 2023. It received critical acclaim and several accolades, including nominations for two Golden Globe Awards and five BAFTA Awards.
The music was created by Anthony Willis, who previously scored Fennell’s Promising Young Woman among others. Saltburn is available as a limited edition on white & black marbled vinyl and includes an insert.

First Word Records is proud to bring you 'The Essance' - the classic debut album by Essa (formerly known as Yungun), originally released in 2004, now released on vinyl & digital for the first time, 20 years on!

A lyricist, lawyer and a Londoner, legendary MC Essa has earned praise over the years from artists such as Nas and Mark Ronson, as well as performing and recording with legends like De La Soul, Wu-Tang Clan, Guru, Slum Village and Pharoahe Monch.

This 15-track album is considered one of the greats to emerge during UK Hip Hop's "golden era"; a vibrant time for the genre when artists such as Ty, Jehst, Roots Manuva, Klashnekoff, Skinnyman, Task Force, Doc Brown and Foreign Beggars were garnering huge fanbases, and an eco-system of shops like Deal Real, club nights like Kung Fu, labels like Lowlife, and stations like Itch FM were prevalent, while BBC 1Xtra was a mere infant.

'The Essance' includes production and features from luminaries such as Harry Love, Mr Thing, Lewis Parker, Kyza, Devise & Ben Grymm, to name a few.

Esteemed author Musa Okwonga says on the reissue liner notes "the most startling thing about 'The Essance' was its range. Yungun (Essa) was one of the few MCs who could perfectly walk the paths of hope and melancholy with equal ease, whose artist name belied the wisdom of his lyrics. Beyond that, his delivery was supremely self-assured, filled with a swagger he could always justify.

Yungun's gifts also extended to the stage, where he was one of the best young actors that many of his contemporaries had seen, and to languages, which saw him writing and rhyming in Spanish with a notable flourish. He was also someone who constantly walked between two worlds, excelling in one of the country's most competitive academic environments during the day and then delivering a soaring radio set by night. Raised in a vibrant vein of North London, endlessly curious about the world around him, Yungun's fine ear for music and passion for the variety of life made him someone who could reach all audiences.

'The Essance' is a beautifully-woven meditation on the human condition, one which takes you from the dancefloor to the summer afternoon barbecue to the bathroom mirror; yet it is also the opening statement of a unique career."

In the words of Essa himself "my key goal for this album was to span so many moods and styles that I couldn't be categorised, leaving me free to then go in whatever direction I chose. I was almost too successful with this – I would later struggle to pin down my own identity, both on and off the mic, as a rapper slash lawyer, of mixed-heritage, blessed to be able to enter many circles but feeling truly at home in none. As I write this, twenty years (plus a marriage and several children) on, I finally feel more at peace with being undefinable, and am getting better at bringing my full, authentic self into as many aspects of life as I can. I am grateful to be able to look both back and forward, with equal passion."

'The Essance' was followed with a collaborative album with DJ Mr Thing ('Grown Man Business'), then some years later on First Word with 'The Misadventures of a Middle Man' in 2014. There's also a forthcoming project in the works, due for release Summer 2024 with all-new material produced by Pitch 92. Both these releases also coincide with the 20th anniversary of the First Word label (named "label of the year" at the 2019 Worldwide Awards).

A timeless piece of work, 'The Essance' is true-skool boom bap through and through that stands up two full decades later, from the ethereal anthem 'Liquid Love', to the uptempo bounce of 'Dancing Shoes', to the grit of 'The Big Idea', to the thought provoking 'What Eye See Pt.2', to bangers like 'Push' or 'Spit Fire', this is an essential addition to the collection of any discerning hip hop head.

'The Essance' is due to be released on vinyl & digital worldwide on February 23rd 2024.

Peace Okezie, das Genie hinter Master Peace, nimmt kein Blatt vor den Mund. Er muss die Dinge aussprechen und verkörpert den Satz: "Wenn du es sagen willst, dann sag es einfach." Obwohl er nie unvorsichtig oder unsympathisch mit seinen Worten umgeht, ist dieser Satz eine Bestätigung, die ihn antreibt.

Seine Energie ist auf Augenhöhe mit der eigenwilligen, überschäumenden und vor allem extrem guten Musik, die er macht. Bei Master Peace geht es darum, die Menschen in seine verrückte, wunderbare und kakophonische Welt einzuladen. Er zieht Hörer an, die sich nach Rebellion und Abweichung von der Norm sehnen. Mit seinem Debütalbum "How To Make A Master Peace" verschiebt Master Peace die Parameter des Genres mehr denn je. Peace lässt seine Inspirationen spielen, indem er die Generationen der britischen Musik, die ihn groß gemacht haben, in seinen Sound integriert. "I Might Be Fake" hat die Dringlichkeit von "Giddy Stratospheres" von den Long Blondes aus dem Jahr 2005, gemischt mit der Spacigkeit des Klaxons-Katalogs der späten Nullerjahre. "Shangaladang" ist eine Ode an Peace' Black-Music-Inspirationen, mit einer Anspielung auf Skepta; hier passt er den Text "I've got my hood mates and white niggas" aus dem 2016er Song "Man" des Rappers an seine rauere, The Clash-artige Melodie an.



Der raue Künstler wird bereits als neue Stimme des britischen Indie gefeiert und war bei den AIM Awards 2023 als "One To Watch" nominiert. Das 11-Track-Album ist eine Mischung aus der alternativen Musik, mit der der Brite aufgewachsen ist, von Arctic Monkeys & Friendly Fires bis hin zu Gorillaz.

Remastered Reissue des 1980er Klassikers 'My Beach' der 'verwöhnten Gören aus Malibu', den widerwärtigen und respektlosen Surf Punks. Ein Sommer-Soundtrack aus Surf-Rock, New Wave und SoCal-Punk, für Fans von Descendents, Ramones, Agent Orange und Devo. Streng limitierte Auflage auf 'Kook Juice' farbigem Vinyl im Hochglanzcover mit Redux-Artwork und farbiger Innenhülle, samt Faltposter mit Lyrics und Surfbegriffsglossar und einem Surfbrettaufkleber.

Indonesian trio Grrrl Gang builds on their considerable worldwide buzz with Spunky!, their full-length debut album. Released on 22 September 2023 by Green Island Music in partnership with exclusive licensees Kill Rock Stars (United States), Trapped Animal Records (United Kingdom) and Big Romantic Records (Japan and Taiwan), the album is preceded by its title track and first single dropped on May 30, featured from the same title of the album, 'Spunky!' Spunky! arrives following some major life changes for Angeeta Sentana (vocals, guitar), Akbar Rumandung (bass, vocals), and Edo Alventa (guitar, vocals), including a switch in locale from Yogyakarta, the city where they formed the band while still in college. “This is Grrrl Gang’s first release after we graduated and got day jobs that made us have to move to Jakarta, which is undeniably 180 degrees compared to Jogja,” says Rumandung. “But moving to Jakarta enabled us to work with Lafa on Spunky! from start to finish.” The song itself essentially describes Sentana's experience during a manic episode. “I feel like I’m on top of the world, untouchable. I do things without thinking, always chasing after that feeling of instant gratification. I feel extra confident in myself to a point of grandiose thinking and that I could do anything,” Sentana explains. That would be Lafa Pratomo, the in-demand producer brought in to help shape the ten tracks that make up Spunky! With a resume that includes the likes of the chanteuse Danilla and legendary singer-songwriter Iwan Fals, Pratomo might not seem the obvious choice to take the Grrrl Gang producer’s chair. But according to Rumandung, “In terms of production, this was something new for us by working with someone outside of Grrrl Gang’s comfort zone.” Indeed, Pratomo considerably beefs up Grrrl Gang’s sound particularly Alventa’s guitar tones, Rumandung’s rumbling bass, and touring drummer Muhammad Faiz Abdurrahman’s muscular beats while preserving the band’s signature raucous energy, catchy melodies, and Sentana’s attitude-filled, equal-parts-honey-and-vinegar vocals. The music video for Spunky! premieres on the Grrrl Gang YouTube channel on the same day as the release of the song. The video, directed by Bathroom Girls, is part of a continuous movie, with Spunky! being the second chapter. It tells the story of an introverted girl who goes to a house party to validate herself among her peers. Despite facing challenges to her self-esteem, she manages to overcome her discomfort to survive the night. During the party, she watches Grrrl Gang perform Spunky! and is mesmerized by the confident performance of Angee, the lead singer. The girl imagines herself as Angee, a confident and cool person that she will never be. Hailing from the cultural city of Yogyakarta, Indonesia, Grrrl Gang is a rising force in the independent music scene with their infectious melodies, anthemic songs, and electrifying live performances. The power trio, composed of Angee Sentana on guitar and vocals, Akbar Rumandung on bass, and Edo Alventa on guitar, has been making waves in the Southeast Asian music scene since their formation in 2016. Grrrl Gang's music is a celebration of their collective roots and a testament to the power of pop music to connect people across cultures and borders. Their lyrics touch on themes such as feminism, mental health, and relationships with a raw honesty that speaks to a generation of young listeners. With their infectious energy, socially conscious lyrics, and unique sound, Grrrl Gang is poised to take the global music scene by storm and become a voice for a new generation

Der norwegische Singer/Songwriter Marius Drogsås Hagen genießt mit dem Alternative-Pop-Universum seines Projekts Team Me internationalen Erfolg und Aufmerksamkeit und gewann zahlreiche Musikpreise. Der Back-to-Basics-Ansatz des neuen Albums 'Return To The Riverside' ermöglicht ihnen einen reduzierten und organischen Sound, die Texte sind direkt und einfach, das Ergebnis klingt erwachsen, schlank und fokussiert. Die zutiefst persönlichen Songs drücken die Liebe Hagens zu seiner Heimatstadt Elverum aus, aber auch die schlechten Erinnerungen an die dort verbrachte Zeit, und den Versuch, aus einer neuen Perspektive auf die Kindheit zurückzublicken und zu verstehen, wie sie die Höhen und Tiefen seines Lebens beeinflusst hat.

You have said too much to a stranger in a bar bathroom; your back is killing you because of everything you haven’t said; you’ve overwatered your houseplants again. Small Million is here for you. Flowing from the collaboration of longtime creative partners Ryan Linder and Malachi Graham, the Portland-based indie pop outfit welds deeply affecting sonic production to smart lyrics about intuition and inhibition, losing control and ending up in unexpected places, being willing to fuck up, bodies hurt and bodies joyful.

The effect is both intimate and epic, delicate and fierce. Listen to it to ache, dance to it to heal. In the time since Small Million's last release, years of chronic pain have led lead vocalist and lyricist Malachi Graham to deep explorations of embodiment that have changed everything from her singing voice to her dance moves to her observation of human frailty. “There’s one side of chronic pain that leads you towards intuition, self-discovery, and listening closely to yourself. But it also means you end up sitting on the side of the room a lot, watching people and paying attention. Also you’re pissed,” notes Graham. Producer and instrumentalist Ryan Linder’s background as a filmmaker informs the textured richness and intelligent restraint of his song building. He approaches production with obsessive technical rigor that’s always in service of centering intense emotion.

Graham’s clear, unadulterated vocals breathe at the heart of Linder’s rich sonic terrain, drawing comparisons to The Cranberries and Florence + the Machine. Linder and Graham have been writing as a duo for a decade, but for their newest chapter they've expanded the band, enlisting Ben Tyler (Small Skies) on drums and Kale Chesney (Lo Pony) on bass and harmonies.

Small Million's evolution into a four-piece has expanded the band’s sound from their synth pop origins to encompass more organic, raw indie rock energy. Small Million has played with artists like Fakear, IDER, Hatchie, HÆLOS, Lo Moon, and Loch Lomond, and their tracks have been featured on compilations by Tender Loving Empire, PDX Pop Now!, and Vortex Music Magazine. They released their debut EP Before the Fall in June 2016, their follow-up, Young Fools, in Fall 2018, and singles “Saintly” and “Tarot” in 2019. Their newest music is dropping throughout 2022.

Die farbige Vinyl Version von «Room On Fire» ist inzwischen ausverkauft, jetzt ist der Longplayer wieder auf schwarzem Vinyl erhältlich.

As bassist for dance-punk outfit The Rapture, Mattie Safer cut his teeth in the music scene alongside a wave of now-legendary early 2000s NYC acts like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD Soundsystem and more (a time period recently immortalized in the documentary film ‘Meet Me In The Bathroom.’) Fast-forward nearly 2 decades and Mattie has found the sweeter side of dance music as the current lead vocalist for slo-mo kings Poolside, and now he presents his solo lovetempo project on Razor-N-Tape.

A chilled-out singer/songwriterly affair, the lovetempo EP moves between organic laidback disco, modern bossa nova treatments, and Sade-esque grown-n-sexy jazz grooves. Hitting notes of both melancholy and positivity, Mattie’s plaintiff vocals wind through all 4 of the original songs, delivering catchy and singable hooks. RNT regular Yuksek does what he does best, and takes the most uplifting tune of the pack into positively joyous hands-in-the-air territory with a stunning remix.

Pressed on 140 Gram Black Vinyl

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

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Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

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Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

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Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Billy & The Loins reunite for a tribute 7” to founding Loins member Chris Broderick. Billy recorded the first two Singing Loins LPs with Chris Broderick and Arf' Alan in his bathroom at May Road, Rochester in 1991 and 1993. The lads then decided to record an LP of folk variations of Billy’s own tunes, called At The Bridge. The Singing Loins then went their own way recording many LPs. Fast forward to late 2021 and the singer Chris was diagnosed with blood cancer. Before his passing in January 2022, he let Arf (and later Loin Rob), know that he wished them to carry on the group. That said Billy proposed a memorial 45 (and an LP to follow). The tracks: ‘The Song of the Medway’ is about their hometowns of Rochester, Chatham, Strood and Gillingham, all on the banks of the River Medway. Chatham's ancient Dockyard was where Nelson’s Victory was built. The Broken and the Lost of the Old Long Bar celebrates a drinking hole on Chatham High Street (which once boasted more pubs and brothels in a single mile than anywhere in the world). Especially written by Billy for this return of The Singing Loins, the songs are at once brand new and ancient. TRACKLISTING 1 - Song of The Medway 2 - The Broken and the Lost of the Old Long Bar

First-ever release of this legendary Tangerine Dream score from 1981 (aka Dead Kids).

Gatefold packaging / Green (Streaked Lime Green) Color Vinyl. (

Please check allocation with your rep.

It's never been available on any format until now! For this release, we dug out the original tapes and had them digitized and they sound incredible.

Such an atmospheric masterpiece and we are honored to be releasing it. This has been on many TD fans' wish lists for years and years.

Scream ist eine der erfolgreichsten Filmfranchises der letzten Jahre. Concord präsentiert im Mai 2022 eine Doppelveröffentlichung des Soundtracks zum neuesten Teil der Serie: Scream V, sowie eine 4-LP-Box mit den Soundtracks der ersten vier Filme in einer speziellen Sammleredition - plus bisher unveröffentlichte Tracks.

Scream ist eine der größten Horror-Franchises aller Zeiten und hat das Genre vor 25 Jahren neu belebt. Die Veröffentlichung eines brandneuen Scream-Films bietet die Gelegenheit, passend zu einem neuen Kapitel auf die Originalfilme und die Musik zurückzublicken. Der neue Soundtrack und das 4-LP-Boxset werden gleichzeitig angekündigt, wobei digitale und CD-Formate sofort in Verbindung mit LP-Vorbestellungen erhältlich sind.

Die Scream (2022)-Veröffentlichung ist eine Einzel-LP auf einer Spiegelkartonhülle, die ein reflektierendes Messer von Ghostface und eine bedruckte Innenhülle mit Fotos der Darsteller enthält.

This album is a tribute to Pastor Wylie Champion, who died while we were in the process of releasing this, his first record, and his wife, Mother Champion, who died a few months earlier. We met Pastor Champion a few years ago while we were putting together another release, The Time for Peace Is Now: Gospel Music About Us. We found him in a collection of YouTube videos from the 37th Street Baptist Church in Oakland, California, put together by the pastor there, Bishop Dr. W.C. McClinton. There was quite a lot of talent in those videos, and among them was Pastor Champion whom we liked so much that we decided to make a record with him. Pastor Champion wasn’t like any other pastor you’ve ever met. As an itinerant preacher, a carpenter, and a father of five, he made a name for himself traveling up and down the California coast with his electric guitar. He traveled alone and he played alone, well into his seventies. The easiest way to describe him would be as an outsider gospel artist. Other than these bare facts, we never learned much about him—except that he was also the brother of the well-known soul singer Bettye Swann. In fact, most of what we knew about him we got from his sister’s Wikipedia page. We decided that because we met Champion through the 37th Street Baptist Church, we would record him there too. We recorded him live on a two-track Nagra reel to reel, as we wanted the album to be analog in the style of traditional gospel recordings. Over the course of two evenings (when the workday was done), Champion taught his band—musicians who had never played together before—a handful of songs, a small selection of the nearly 2,000 fragments of songs and sermons that he regularly performed. We listened in as they all got more familiar with the material and each other over time. At some point, we mentioned to Champion that he would have to be interviewed by someone to write notes for the album. He wasn’t too pleased with this idea, saying he’d had a hard life and he didn’t want to talk about it. Over the next few months, we kept asking Champion to talk to someone about his life. He told us that he didn’t want to talk about growing up in Louisiana, his mother being accosted by the Klan, or that his father was a gambler. He didn’t want to talk about being jailed for 90 days for using a whites only bathroom, being in gangs or having a street name. We told him that was fine—he could talk about what he wanted to talk about. And he told us that he didn’t want to talk about anything. You know, there are times when you make a record where it’s already made in your mind before you start. But then in the end, the record you thought you were making is not the record you made. We spent years puzzling over this one, trying to figure out what it was saying, who it was for, and how to get people to pay attention to it. But Champion knew that this record wasn’t going to be for everyone. He didn’t really care. The important part for him was just getting the message out there in the same way that he always had, travelling alone with his electric guitar. “I want to say what I mean,” he said, “be practical, precise, to the point, and, at the same time, diplomatic.” In other words, he just wanted to be a good man. God bless Pastor Champion and Mother Champion, peace be with them and their family. Love to all.

By way of some cosmic miracle, only one Total Hell pops up
when the band moniker is searched on Discogs. And that would
be the band responsible for the five-song blast of heavy metal
sounds at hand. Now active for about two years plus change
and exported from the very metal and punk fertile New Orleans,
Total Hell is DD Deth (aka Drew Owen—Sick Thoughts
wheelman, Trampoline Team etc) on drums / vocals, Henry
Hell (John Henry of Static Static, Heavy Lids) on bass / vocals,
and guitarists Jason “Panzer” Craft (Persuaders, Tirefire) and
Michael Maniac (Michael He-man of Trampoline Team).
If self-deprecation is beyond the listener’s processing skills,
then please know that as self-described purveyors of the “New
Wave of Shitty Heavy Metal”, Total Hell’s big-boy debut is
not “shitty” in any manner whatsoever. These four recordings
(“Desecrate”, “Clones From Hell”, “Violator”, and “Disfigured”)
are melodic monstrosities that hit with a wall-to-wall, floorto-
ceiling hugeness, while doing so in an economical manner.
There will be no mistaking this for Broken Bones screeching out
of an iPhone inside the vegan squat. On the flip, this is no Bob
Rock joint. DD Deth elaborates: “Recorded on a Tascam 8-track
cassette live at home (aka “The Parkway”) by Michael He-Man
and the process was a nightmare. Original tape crapped out on us
back in early 2020 so we had to redo the whole thing. Intros and
interludes were done last minute by me with the cheapest midi
keyboard on the net.” Well, color Goner Records impressed.
One might get momentarily lost in the cavernous drums that
introduce opener “Desecrate”, but soon the buzzsaw-riff-wall
will crush one into a smudge on the bathroom floor. Without
rocking some safety goggles and diving headfirst down a
terminology rabbithole, this is punk jumping into the sack
with metal and leaving black boots on the bedroom floor rather
than white hightops. Xmas came early for fans of Anti-Cimex,
Celtic Frost, pre-shit Discharge, Motörhead, Blitz, Midnight,
Venom, Broken Bones and...one gets the picture.

Siv Disa, the Chinese-American New York singer currently residing in Iceland has announced her debut album, Dreamhouse on UK based label Trapped Animal. Dreamhouse is available on Sky Blue 180GSM vinyl with a printed inner sleeve including song lyrics. The outer sleeve is printed uncoated high-quality card. Also available on Digipak CD and via Digital streaming and DL. The artwork was conceived and built by Siv Disa. It features a dreamy hand-painted dollhouse—the front image is a photograph of a tangerine sherbet living-room-in-miniature, complete with a teacup table and a glowing salt shaker lamp. The artist herself is hanging on the wall ensconced in a gilded frame overlooking the tableau. The back cover explores the same dollhouse, from a distance: there’s a garden in the basement, a maze of threads in the gallery, and a small ocean in the bathroom. A callback to the intricate maximalism of 70’s psychedelia and Neo-art nouveau, there are layers of details embedded into each room for the viewer to discover. Dreamhouse is a wild journey through its creator's psyches. It moves from gentle break-up songs to dark nights out in the fluorescent haze of nighttime New York and Reykjavik city filled with deep hallucinogenic beats... before it finally closes on a song infused with the isolation of 2020. The first part of Dreamhouse was recorded in upstate New York with collaborator and producer Sam and the sea, they both chose to relocate when the pandemic hit the US – and regrouped at a studio cabin in the wilderness to complete Dreamhouse and take time to escape the ensuing storm we all faced. It’s important to understand, whilst a product finalised during lockdown – this album was largely conceived way before the lockdown or pandemic, this is Siv Disa’s debut album and it was always going to be luminous and otherworldly, as with its creators. Quotes : “psychedelic pop that converges the encompassing textures of Broadcasts with Joanna Newsom’s pleasantly off-kilter melodies” - Line Of Best Fit // “...a haunting feel, while her warm, soft voice invites the listener into even the darkest of stories…Fear is an embodiment of this distinct sound she’s mastered.” Audiofemme // “profound lyrics flow from an ethereal plane, it’s an utterly captivating offering” Get In Her Ears

Featuring Anthony Green of Circa Survive, Adam Lazzara and John Nolan of Taking Back Sunday and additional percussion from Benjamin Homola of Grouplove, Fuckin Whatever is a fluid project born of longtime friendships and late nights on the road, but what it could grow to become is entirely unwritten. It all started on the 2016 Taste Of Chaos tour. After Green wrapped his opening set with Saosin each night, itching to play more music, he started setting up impromptu acoustic gigs in the parking lots after his set. One night, his restless energy led to an impromptu backstage jam session with Lazzara, Nolan, Homola, and others––except there were no instruments involved. Using just their voices and a stomp or two in lieu of percussion... before they even realized it, Fuckin Whatever was born. They decided to start recording these nightly jam sessions on their phones, and by the end of the tour, there were literally dozens of recordings. There are some as long as 17-minutes, some recorded in bathrooms, and even one in the legendary tunnel between the stage and sound booth at Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado. What they share in common is the camaraderie of the many talented voices (and sounds) involved. Fast forward to 2020––ugh. With a creative need to continue making and releasing music, Anthony approached the group about releasing some of those recordings. Feeling a similar restlessness, Nolan suggested they try making and recording something for real instead. "I'm Waiting On You" is what came next, and it's truly the spark that led to the rest of this EP coming together. There are zero instruments on Fuckin Whatever's self-titled debut. "It's pretty much 80% mouth noises and 20% Ben slapping things around the house," Lazzara explains. Those voices, however, are among some of the most recognizable in modern rock music, yet here they take on a new life. Call it a band, or a supergroup... it's Fuckin Whatever.

Like any good party, there's an after-party. What, you didn't think we'd keep it going? C'mon.

We began this one with Jacques Renault's Sky Islands, a full-length album that sought to achieve euphoric disco delight within a wonky conceptual framework; it's his late-night live DJ sets in spirit, organized like a 70s or 80s vinyl megamix or public-access radio program, but comprised solely of a couple dozen originals he crafted in the studio, most of them being wrapped up during the summer and fall of last year.

Of course, we realized delivering such an experience, where no “song” is more than about 90 seconds, would do nothing for the working DJ, unless the working DJ is looking to nod off for thirty or take an extended bathroom break. Thus, Coast to Coast, a 12-inch that collects seven of the songs from the LP—in full- length, special-disco-mix, club-ready form.

This EP will be followed by more long-form cuts, as well as additional goodies. There will be an after-party for the after-party.

City Slang is thrilled to welcome Pom Pom Squad into the City Slang family. The way Mia can nod to her influences, be they of the iconic 60’s girl group, characters from a John Waters film, or cutting edge fashion from today, while simultaneously spinning a beautiful and original story in her songs, is absolutely thrilling. This is the kind of record that makes you not only excited to see what you can do with an artist in a post-pandemic future, but also how you can build their career in the present circumstances. We cannot wait for you to hear this record in its entirety!

Produced by Sarah Tudzin of Illuminati Hotties and co-produced by Berrin herself, it’s a record that plays out like an exorcism in front of your bathroom mirror -- confronting the dark we’ve had planted within us and then ripping it out, all while watching every second of it. It’s vulnerable yet triumphant, deliciously irreverent & inviting yet sneering in the faces of those that had once tried to define her. First single “Lux” was unanimously praised by press including Stereogum who called it “a serrated blast of noise in which Berrin takes someone to task with glee” and The Fader who said “come for the scrappy punk reimagining of The Virgin Suicides, stay for Pom Pom Squad's galvanizing treatise on feminine awakening in a world that would rather keep your eyes shut.”

Mia Berrin spent her childhood trying to find where she fit right in the world, looking to the pop culture icons on TV in hopes of finding an image she connected to. She connected with the films of John Waters and David Lynch, loved the dark campiness found in Heathers, was in awe of the power of women like Courtney Love and Kathleen Hanna. Growing up as a female of color who would later in her life unearth and embrace her queerness, discussing and reconciling

Music for animation cyber-noir film “Battlefield” (based on same-titled book by Stephen King)

Animated films soundtrack is one of the most substantial aspects of Bystryakov's career. He masterfully balances between being a composer and a sound designer. A cartoon thriller for Stephen King's original story was created at the Kyivnaukfilm studio in 1986. The work itself reached the Soviet reader in 1981 for the first time and was King's first publication in the USSR, as well as "Battleground" was the first and only film adaptation.
"Battlefield" is a work that belongs entirely to its time. This soundtrack is a semi-conscious journey through the night TV network: from Italian horror movies and detectives to the movie Blade Runner on the last working channel well past midnight.
Actually, in such a sequence, the fabric of the work is revealed. The atmosphere in the style of Goblin (Untitled I), thus echoing the work of Enno Morricone (Title theme, Theme of the boss). In addition to melodic fragments, he boldly creates minimalist pieces that undoubtedly sound like an early acid house (Untitled II), because the sounds of Roland TB-303 and TR-606 are instantly recognisable.
Bystryakov's approach did not involve the use of many tools or effects. He worked with one Roland Juno-106 synthesiser, using the full palette of its sound. His new tool is a counterpoint. This is how the final theme (End Theme) is constructed, where a piercing solo on a saxophone changes the atmosphere to nostalgia.

We’re celebrating our 10th Editz release with another astonishing EP of heavy reworks from Joe Cleen.

A1 is straight up disco burning energy making us wish we could get onto a dance floor immediately.

A2 is a twinkling clav & percussion bomb brimming with fun time brass sections.

B1 Beefs up the beats with this wonky slice of Nigerian disco funk and B2 takes us home with a breezy summer time guitar trip guaranteed to put a smile on your face.

Ulna’s OEA is a “bar-rock getting sober record.“ The first full length solo record of Ulna, aka Adam Schubert of Cafe Racer, OEA is an ode to reinvention. Along with the release comes a rebranding--formerly Ruins, Schubert’s new pseudonym ULNA is a reference to a pivotal moment in his childhood. At the age of 14, Schubert shattered the bone on the inside of his forearm in a skating accident, and took up the guitar. “That’s what made me serious about playing music,” says Schubert.

This name change also accompanied Schubert’s shift towards sobriety--OEA was created right as Schubert reconfigured his life without drugs or alcohol. With the exception of the final track, “Dead Friends,” the whole album was written while in a recovery program. “You have to reinvent your whole personality, you have to be a different person,” says Schubert.”Who am I if I’m not the crazy drunk dude who’s doing drugs in the bathroom?”

OEA is an intensely personal record, in subject matter but also quite literally--Schubert plays every instrument, though the record feels far from a home-demo, recorded and mastered by Robby Hanes at Strange Magic Recording in Chicago’s Logan Square. Schubert’s songs are ambling and full of picked guitar and retro harmonies, a stylistic sensibility he attributes to a love for the Beatles and “acoustic rock with a weird punk edge,” a-la Big Thief and Kurt Vile. Though instrumentally sunny, his vocals hint at something else - there’s an underlying ache. OEA is an easy listen, but with a depth of emotion that demands listeners’ attention.

OEA explores the range of emotions experienced in the transition to sobriety, from fear to backslide to self doubt. At first listen, “Turn The Record On” feels almost like a love song, with a chorus of “turn the record on/ you’re my favorite song,” but in actuality the song is the story of an empty encounter rather than romance. “It’s kind of about this sad hookup with someone else who is equal in your addiction, you’re just using each other because you don’t want to be alone in your using,” says Schubert. “We both have this problem and we can have fun in it together because we both understand. They know the score.”

While “Turn The Record On” speaks to a moment of shared addiction, other tracks examine what comes after sobriety. “And I took the pill like I should / and I stayed clean just like I said I would,” begins “Last Song,” which Schubert cites as one of the hardest tracks to write. “I got sober and I take medication and - I’m doing all this stuff now but nothing’s changed,” says Schubert. “ I think that’s pretty common in people who get sober. I did all this stuff and now what?”

The penultimate track on the album, “Last Song” fades into a noisy interlude that gives listeners the feeling of motion, like entering a tunnel and emerging into a quieter, lo-fi recording, the closing track “Dead Friends.” The only non-studio track, “Dead Friends” was recorded in Schubert’s home, and carries with it a warm intimacy. “I wanted it to sound like you’re outside somewhere, you're walking, and you step inside somewhere that feels safe,” says Schubert.

This closing track embodies the mood of OEA- warm but with a melancholy edge, like coming in from the cold but still feeling a lingering chill. It’s an album that feels comfortable and cohesive--though individual tracks stand alone, OEA works best when listened through start to finish. It’s a record to put on while cooking dinner and let sink in.

Minimal Wave presents ‘Recordings 1980-1982’ (MW077), a triple 7” box set by pioneering south Florida synth-punk band Futurisk, in honor of their 40th anniversary. Founded by Jeremy Kolosine in 1978, Futurisk recorded many songs and performed live throughout the early 1980s. Though they had released two 7”s that sold out, had a legendary live show, and even some videos, by 1984 Futurisk was history. Eventually, the main core of Futurisk would be the Jeremy Kolosine, Richard Hess, and Jack Howard line-up though much happened leading up to this point.

In 1979, the teenage Jeremy Kolosine won studio time and money in a competition with his drum-machine-triggered guitar-synth act called ‘Clark Humphrey & Futurisk’. He decided to form a band around the name to record a more punk release titled The Sound of Futurism 1980 / Army Now. It was an ambivalent anti-war anthem with Jack Howard on drums, Frank Lardino on synth, and Kolosine on vocals and guitar synth. Many live shows ensued with the line-up which included Jeff Marcus on bass and Vinnie Scrimenti on drums but in 1981 a rift between the band caused them to part ways. They continued for a bit as ‘Radio Berlin’ (no relation to the Vancouver act) and Kolosine, who had gotten absorbed in a new analog synthesizer with sequencer continued as Futurisk.

He recruited synthesist and recording engineer Richard Hess who had a myriad collection of Moogs, Oberhieims, and CATs. Jack Howard returned on drums and syn-drums and the lineup for the Player Piano EP was cast. The EP, like the live show, was a strange blend of punk, minimalist, and disco-influenced electro-pop, with drum machine triggered synths and often frantic real drums all led by Kolosine’s schizophrenic Bowie / Ferry / Foxx adulations. It was recorded by Richard Hess and the band in the rooms of a friend’s house. The drum sound, recorded in a bathroom, rocks, even today. Reportedly, Futurisk may have been the first synth-punk band in the American South, and their 1981 track ‘Push Me Pull You (Pt. 2)’ was an early pre- ‘Rockit’ excursion into electro-funk.

The ‘Recordings 1980-1982’ box set includes three 7”s, an Army Now (1982) Flexi 5” x 7” postcard, and a 16-page full-color booklet featuring unpublished photographs of the band, the history of the band, and an interview with founder Jeremy Kolosine. The three 7”s are The Sound of Futurism 1980 / Army Now which includes an unreleased track from the same session, the Player Piano five-song 7” EP from 1982, and the Ocean Sound 7”, which has not been released in this format until now. All three 7”s are remastered, pressed on heavyweight 70-gram vinyl, and housed in heavy color printed matte sleeves featuring the band’s original artwork. The box is case wrapped and depicts an early illustration of the band printed in black on white with a spot gloss. Limited edition of 600 copies.

Die Hot Rats waren Gaz Coombes (Supergrass) und Danny Goffey die sich den Spaß machten Songs ihrer Jugend zu covern. Überwacht hat das Ganze dann noch Star-Producer Nigel Godrich. Neben Songs von Bowie, Kinks, Velvet Underground, Sex Pistols u.a. 2010 ging das Duo auf eine kurze Welt-Tour mit Stationen in NewYork, Mexico City, London, Paris oder auch Tokyo. Und hier wurde das lärmende Live-Vermächtnis des Duos festgehalten. 'Live In Tokyo' komm mit 15 Tracks, 180 Gr. Black Vinyl und seitlichem Obi-Strip wie sonst fast nur bei Japan-Releases üblich!

The five members of Sun June spent their early years spread out across the United States, from the boonies of the Hudson Valley to the sprawling outskirts of LA. Having spent their college years within the gloomy, cold winters of the North East, Laura Colwell and Stephen Salisbury found themselves in the vibrant melting-pot of inspiration that is Austin, Texas. Meeting each other while working on Terrence Malick's 'Song to Song', the pair were immediately taken by the city's bustling small clubs and honky-tonk scene, and the fact that there was always an instrument within reach, always someone to play alongside. Coming alive in this newly discovered landscape, Colwell and Salisbury formed Sun June alongside Michael Bain on lead guitar, Sarah Schultz on drums, and Justin Harris on bass and recorded their debut album live to tape, releasing it via the city's esteemed Keeled Scales label in 2018. The band coined the term 'regret pop' to describe the music they made on the 'Years' LP. Though somewhat tongue in cheek, it made perfect sense ~ the gentle sway of their country leaning pop songs seeped in melancholy, as if each subtle turn of phrase was always grasping for something just out of reach. Sun June returns with Somewhere, a brand new album, out February 2021. It's a record that feels distinctly more present than its predecessor. In the time since, Colwell and Salisbury have become a couple, and it's had a profound effect on their work; if Years was about how loss evolves, Somewhere is about how love evolves. "We explore a lot of the same themes across it," Colwell says, "but I think there's a lot more love here." Somewhere is Sun June at their most decadent, a richly diverse album which sees them exploring bright new corners with full hearts and wide eyes. Embracing a more pop-oriented sound the album consists of eleven beautiful new songs and is deliberately more collaborative and fully arranged: Laura played guitar for the first time; band members swapped instruments, and producer Danny Reisch helped flesh out layers of synth and percussion that provides a sweeping undercurrent to the whole thing. Throughout Somewhere you can hear Sun June blossom into a living-and-breathing five-piece, the album formed from an exploratory track building process which results in a more formidable version of the band we once knew. 'Real Thing' is most indicative of this, a fully collaborative effort which encompasses all of the nuances that come to define the album. "Are you the real thing?" Laura Colwell questions in the song's repeated refrain. "Honey I'm the real thing," she answers back. They've called this one their 'prom' record; a sincere, alive-in-the-moment snapshot of the heady rush of love. "The prom idea started as a mood for us to arrange and shape the music to, which we hadn't done before," the band explains. " Prom isn't all rosy and perfect. The songs show you the crying in the bathroom,, the fear of dancing, the joy of a kiss - all the highs and all the lows." It's in both those highs and lows where Somewhere comes alive. Laura Colwell's voice is mesmerising throughout, and while the record is a document of falling in love, there's still room for her to wilt and linger, the vibrancy of the production creating beautiful contrasts for her voice to pull us through. Opening track 'Bad With Time' sets this tone from the outset, both dark and mysterious, sad and sultry as it fascinatingly unrolls. "I didn't mean what I said," Colwell sings. "But I wanted you to think I did." Somewhere showcases a gentle but eminently pronounced maturation of Sun June's sound, a second record full of quiet revelation, eleven songs that bristle with love and longing. It finds a band at the height of their collective potency, a marked stride forward from the band that created that debut record, but also one that once again is able to transport the listener into a fascinating new landscape, one that lies somewhere between the town and the city, between the head and the heart; neither here nor there, but certainly somewhere.

Joe Cocker Live is a superb live album by Joe Cocker, released in 1990. It was recorded on October 5th, 1989 at Memorial Auditorium in Lowell, Massachusetts with the exception of the last two tracks which were recorded in the studio.

The album features tracks by Dave Mason (“Feelin’ Alright”), Randy Newman (“Guilty”, “You Can Leave Your Hat On”), The Beatles (“With A Little Help From My Friends”), and the Dennis Wilson / Billy Preston penned hit “You Are So Beautiful”.

The album went platinum in Austria, Germany and Switzerland, and achieved gold status in France. Available as a limited edition of 2500 individually numbered copies on transparent red vinyl.

• 180 GRAM AUDIOPHILE VINYL
• GATEFOLD SLEEVE
• LIVE ALBUM WITH 2 STUDIO TRACKS
• LIMITED EDITION OF 2500 INDIVIDUALLY NUMBERED COPIES ON TRANSPARENT RED COLOURED VINYL

Black Truffle is very proud to present Peaks by Australian cellist Judith Hamann, her debut release of electro-acoustic music. Known mostly for her live performance work with composers including Sarah Hennies, Yvette Janine Jackson, Alvin Lucier, Tashi Wada, and La Monte Young, here she steps away from the cello, moving into an intimate dreamscape woven from recordings gathered over years of itinerant touring.

Peaks is a work in two distinct parts, crossfading between different landscapes and apertures; from rooftop to church, from stasis to flares of momentary romanticism. Peaks considers summits as being both above and below, reframing the idea of apex from a more intimate perspective. Hamann considers how our domestic and personal geographies might form their own apogees, meridians, or nadirs.

Assembled in 2019 while an artist in residence in Krems, Austria, Peaks begins with Hamann’s more familiar cello but soon unravels into resonant electronic interiors; Southern California nightscapes heard through windows, San Francisco bathroom fans, snatches of recordings of friends, hand organs, and engines. signal/centinela draws primarily on recordings from Hamann’s time living in San Diego, and carries with it a certain sense of nostalgia in the sense of homesickness, longing, and displacement of distance and time. Side B is composed from recordings gathered on a different continent, Europe, weaving piano with recordings of sleep, breath, church organ, and the act of climbing. under/over emerges as it recedes, overlapping moments of arrival to create another kind of ‘spire’ in the sense of spir (breath). Peaks, with its omission of any recordings from Hamann’s home of Australia, hints at how the very construction of home itself, might be restless, untethered, changeable, and malleable.

On Peaks, Hamann interrogates tropes of ambient concrète musics, intentionally pivoting formally around material which teeters on the edge of cliche. This exploration asks whether familiar frames of harmony, field recordings and narrative trajectories can excavate new territories, or be ruptured. Peaks untangles a very personal sense of tension between beauty and shame in experimental music: treating lushness and harmony as possessing potentially muscular musical properties that might wrestle with or construct senses of belonging and home.

Any historians keen on the subject of "French youth in the 1980s" are holding a treasure in their hands. As a true archaeologist of this decade dedicated to disposable culture, digger-in-chief Vidal Benjamin with his newest compilation, 'Pop Sympathie', offers them a unique journey in the heart of the cyclone of emotions that struck all teenagers during the first seven years of François Mitterrand's mandate. Fifteen musical nuggets, exhumed from the dungeons of history, each and every one of them teaching us about what really obsessed the youngsters at that exact moment, i.e. what happens when the city lights come on at dusk, when irrepressible urges that stir them to get lost even more appear until the end of the night.

The artists gathered here did not have the honour of breaking into the local charts, but they all individually reached for the sky. Each song of 'Pop Sympathie' tells more or less the same story: that of a girl who throws herself into the night like one immerses one's self into the void, who rushes into a one-night adventure to become a star. And too bad if in the early morning she finds herself back at square one. In all these miniature odysseys there is neon lights, lasers, smoke machines, broken glass on checkered tiles, strangers on leather benches, celebrities in the bathrooms, stolen kisses, alcohol, drugs and cigarettes, Polaroids, venetian blinds and radioactive tubes.

If the first opus of Vidal Benjamin, 'Disco Sympathie', focused on the funky mood of songs that could have been played at Le Palace, then 'Pop Sympathie' develops itself as the imaginary soundtrack of another nightclub, Les Bains-Douches, the capital’s epicenter of nocturnal drifts. So what do we listen to, blasé, at Bains-Douches? Mainly synthesizers. The child of punk and post punk, French New Wave celebrates the matrimony of machines and lolitas under the auspices of a retro trend that revisits the atomic age. Trying to surf on that wave and hit the charts, a bunch of producers (Stéphane Berlow, Laurent Stopnicki, Bernard "Black Devil" Fèvre, Johny Rech, Jean-Yves Joanny ...) will spot their talents amongst friends, in a travel agency or at the local bar. These virtual stars are called Cecilia, Laurent, Sonia, Janou, Fabienne, Anne, Arielle or Ronan, not even 20 years old, and often leaving just an overexposed photo and their first name on a single as the only memories of their swift passage in this particular musical story. It took all the love and sweet madness of Vidal Benjamin to bring them back in the light of day.

Clovis Goux

Super deluxe lo fi 7" grape-colored vinyl housed in DIY low-budget sleeve, + includes "I love my VCR Sticker"

WRWTFWW Records is thrilled to announce the release of the long anticipated, always delayed, 30-years-in-the-making PSYCHOS IN LOVE Original Soundtrack, available at last and for the first time ever in a super deluxe low fidelity _7" grape-colored vinyl edition, housed in a DIY no-budget sleeve, and loaded with extras, including words from film director Gorman Bechard, lyrics of the theme song, a promotional postcard with a picture of the cast, a poster of a woman attacked in a bathroom, and the infamous as-seen-in-the-movie "I LOVE MY VCR" bumper sticker!

Filled with sleazy funk, macabre synths, homemade electronic kitsch, anti-grape propaganda, and rewind-worthy dialogue excerpts, Psychos In Love is the ultimate lo-fi horror-romcom soundtrack adventure with a theme song so memorable you'll find yourself humming it every morning. In Gorman Bechard's words, "For the Psychos In Love theme I purposefully wrote what I hoped were the worst lyrics of all time, giving them to Carmine Capobianco with one note, 'use them to write the worst song of all time.'"

The movie Psychos In Love (1986) is a trenchant, laugh-out-loud indictment of slasher films, romantic comedies, and grapes (that's right, pal, grapes), a true genre-defying post-modern cult classic that will wind its way into your heart as its characters work _their way through vats of gore. Packed tight with sly homages to - and parodies of the work of such cinema legends as Alfred Hitchcock, Woody Allen, Roger Corman, Groucho Marx, and Gerard Damiano, Psychos In Love foreshadows the grand guignol culinary delights of Silence of the Lambs, served up with a healthy portion of wry wit and all-American t&a.