quête:dual concept

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Idiology was originally released in 2001 and is now finally back on vinyl. This re-issue is pressed on white color vinyl and presented in a die cut jacket with artworked inner sleeve and free download card. From their beginnings in 1992, Cologne native Jan St. Werner and Dusseldorfer Andi Toma have consistently challenged electronic music"s paradigm in often surprising and always intriguing ways. Idiology is the duo"s seventh album and is no exception to this rule, as Mouse on Mars surround themselves with strings, woodwinds, brass and the band"s own heavily modified fleet of machines in the St. Martin"s Tonstudio. Fans should once again brace themselves for the inevitable shock of the new as Germany"s most irreverent audio renegades have created the perfect soundtrack for a highly sinister dance party. Kicking off with "Actionist Respoke", the album"s first single, Mouse on Mars officially declare their independence from glitchtronica"s shoegazing legions. Longtime collaborator Dodo Nkishi lends a uniquely warped vocal sensibility to the track which already features Mouse on Mars"s darkest grooves to date. The rest of the album continues to thicken the group"s sonic stew. Tracks such as "Presence" and "Catching Butterflies With Hands" have their populist intentions undermined by Werner and Toma"s meddling hands, while the duo reprise their flirtation with the orchestral as heard on the opening tracks from 2000"s Niun Niggung. At the other end of the spectrum, "Introduce" is a truly evil slice of twisted lympho-zoid hip-hop. Idiology takes no prisoners in its dual-pronged assault on the conventions of modern music. Only with the loungy closing number, "Fantastic Analysis" (a term Werner and Toma invented to describe their working process), do Mouse on Mars let the arrangements breathe a long sigh of relief, the calm after the storm. To enable these stylistic achievements Mouse on Mars enlist the help of partners in crime such as: Nkishi, the multi-talented Harald "Sack" Ziegler, house icon Matthew Herbert on piano, violinist Matty Arouse, in addition to fellow programming wizards Adam "Vert" Butler and F.X. Randomiz. The latter two toured with Mouse on Mars in 2000 as they successfully triumphed over audiences around the globe.

EAT is the brand new album from your favourite rapper trumpeter, Pan Amsterdam. Made with fans of both food and hip hop in mind, the LP opens up a new pocket in the Pan Am dimension: the rapper-producer album. The whole thing’s a collaboration with underground legend and Def Pressé family Damu The Fudgemunk.

EAT lands in the wake of the success of Pan Am’s second album, HA Chu. Food, of course, was a vital component in the culture of that work, with GUTS-produced single Carrot Cake receiving plaudits from the likes of BBC 6 Music, and interludes taking place over Chinese food. HA Chu was named his ‘hostile industry diss record’ by Bandcamp and ‘a jazz musician’s vision of what hip-hop can be’ by The Times.

Whereas HA Chu was conceptualised while Pan Am’s real life alter ego Leron Thomas was on tour as Iggy Pop’s bandleader (Iggy had loved Pan Am’s debut LP, The Pocket Watch, leading to him asking him to write and produce his 2019 album Free), and saw guests such as Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williamson and Doves’ Jimmy Goodwin in his El Diablo guise, EAT’s genesis was slightly different.

About to fly on tour in Europe last year, Pan Am was in need of a DJ. Up steps Damu The Fudgemunk, fresh from creating his KPM library-sampling opus Conversation Peace (on Def Pressé Editions). Tour life led to a mutual musical respect, Damu creating soundscapes in his head as he got to know Pan Am’s intricacies whilst performing together.

‘We had some good hangs and talks,’ recalls Pan Am. ‘In those hangs and talks, it seems Damu was taking musical notes because the music he would give me was fitting like a glove. It reminded me that artists be observant and it pays off in the end. Damn fun making this project.’

Perceiving the world in terms of taste, EAT is musically wistfully joyous and lyrically playful, a full menu with Pan Am your maître d' and Damu the chef du cuisine. Damu’s beats are deep, warm, melodic and progressive, a perfect playground for the duality of Pan Am’s beat poetry and Leron’s caressing trumpet, which as always is a persona in itself.

EAT is the brand new album from your favourite rapper trumpeter, Pan Amsterdam. Made with fans of both food and hip hop in mind, the LP opens up a new pocket in the Pan Am dimension: the rapper-producer album. The whole thing’s a collaboration with underground legend and Def Pressé family Damu The Fudgemunk.

EAT lands in the wake of the success of Pan Am’s second album, HA Chu. Food, of course, was a vital component in the culture of that work, with GUTS-produced single Carrot Cake receiving plaudits from the likes of BBC 6 Music, and interludes taking place over Chinese food. HA Chu was named his ‘hostile industry diss record’ by Bandcamp and ‘a jazz musician’s vision of what hip-hop can be’ by The Times.

Whereas HA Chu was conceptualised while Pan Am’s real life alter ego Leron Thomas was on tour as Iggy Pop’s bandleader (Iggy had loved Pan Am’s debut LP, The Pocket Watch, leading to him asking him to write and produce his 2019 album Free), and saw guests such as Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williamson and Doves’ Jimmy Goodwin in his El Diablo guise, EAT’s genesis was slightly different.

About to fly on tour in Europe last year, Pan Am was in need of a DJ. Up steps Damu The Fudgemunk, fresh from creating his KPM library-sampling opus Conversation Peace (on Def Pressé Editions). Tour life led to a mutual musical respect, Damu creating soundscapes in his head as he got to know Pan Am’s intricacies whilst performing together.

‘We had some good hangs and talks,’ recalls Pan Am. ‘In those hangs and talks, it seems Damu was taking musical notes because the music he would give me was fitting like a glove. It reminded me that artists be observant and it pays off in the end. Damn fun making this project.’

Perceiving the world in terms of taste, EAT is musically wistfully joyous and lyrically playful, a full menu with Pan Am your maître d' and Damu the chef du cuisine. Damu’s beats are deep, warm, melodic and progressive, a perfect playground for the duality of Pan Am’s beat poetry and Leron’s caressing trumpet, which as always is a persona in itself.

Nectar’s Kamila Glowacki spent four months painstakingly painting the album cover for No Shadow on canvas. A pink mirror re­ects the image of lemons posed directly in front of it as well as the unseen, empty space beyond. Flip over the record and you’ll ‑nd the tracklist printed on the back of the canvas, revealing the physical record itself to be a facsimile of Glowacki’s painting. Inspired by Dutch still life paintings, Glowacki describes the process as a meticulous labor of love that required her to “wring out every possible drop” of herself into the band’s latest release. No Shadow is two works in one, then: an album and a painting created in separate but parallel artistic processes, two mirror images in constant conversation with one another. No Shadow follows up Nectar’s 2018 full-length debut Knocking at the Door with ten tracks co-produced by Glowacki and Champaign-based composer and producer Andrew M Rodriguez. Recorded over the course of a year, No Shadow finds Glowacki at her most self-assured as a songwriter and vocalist. No Shadow’s title references the dual concepts of certainty and enlightenment. Evoking Plato’s allegory of the cave, Glowacki describes turning to face the sun and rejecting the false illusion of reality created by the darkness of depression.

Precious Metals are excited to announce "Chaos Butterfly", the debut album from the Vietnamese-Canadian electronic music producer, vocalist and filmmaker, x/o. “Chaos Butterfly” is an epic tale of catharsis and self-actualization explored through metamorphosis. It is a free-falling kaleidoscopic journey into a beautiful nightmare, both cataclysmic and tender. Expanding on the themes present in their first EP “Cocoon Egg”, the album builds a parallel world from a different perspective. “Chaos Butterfly” tells a loose narrative about an anti-hero navigating trauma through whirlwinds of grief and anger; a vengeful spirit who finds true strength in inner healing and forgiveness. An allegory for transcending societal concepts of gender, “Chaos Butterfly” is a journey of self-acceptance and reflection of x/o’s own path towards their non-binary identity. Throughout the voyage, x/o pulls apart and collides masculine and feminine tropes both theoretically and musically by utilising contrasts between soft and hard, internal and external, calmness and anger, loud and quiet. This system of symbolism and influences reveal a pattern that is the overarching theme of duality. Colliding disparate but interconnected influences, x/o references Playstation 2’s Final Fantasy X world-building, Fight Club, the half-yoma warriors in the anime Claymore, as well as the real legends of the Vietnamese Trưng Sisters. Musically, “Chaos Butterfly” resists easy categorisation, playfully fusing moments of reversed breakbeat, with elements of solemn ambience, distorted metal, and trip-hop catharsis, with inspiration from artists such as Yoko Kanno, to Bone Thugs-n-Harmony as well as Deftones, Massive Attack, Orbital, and Aaliyah. The album journey begins with opener “Chrysalis Wrath”, a prologue to the story, and emblematic of the metamorphosis of the album. A soft and unassuming exterior to the hard shell and bone that lies beneath. Delicately cascading melodies and disembodied vocals are torn asunder by a brooding, ominous synth, punctuated by blasts of percussion, like dark clouds forming on the horizon, the egg cracks; a foretelling of what is to come and a reference to what has been. This is followed by “Red Alert,” the first single from the release, which blends airy melancholic vocals with a flurry of drum breaks and synths plucks, an ambitious and cinematic exploration of intuition against recurring trauma. Melodies drifting and out of focus under the swirling vocal, like the blur of neon street lights reflecting in a rain-soaked cityscape. It’s a liminal poem about listening to your inner voice to protect you from harm. Duality is never more apparent than on “Promise : Armour” delicate piano melodies drift and settle like snowfall before crushing blows of hardstyle kicks blast through the ether, as their soulful, but anguished vocal harmony is overcome by a demonic refrain “Cross your heart, don’t cross me”. x/o is a founding member of s.M.i.L.e, a trail-blazing collective of like-minded artists in Vancouver pushing the boundaries of club experimentation, showcasing artists such as Actress, Hitmakerchinx, Mechatok, Nídia, and Shygirl. This is an album that reaches dizzying heights, and in 2022 we expect x/o to do the exact same.

Limited 300 180g white vinyl LPs with printed inner Discobag and digital download.

500 CDs in gatefold digifile sleeve.

Each drum controls a virtual musical instrument (synthesizers, samplers, arpeggiators, etc.) within Ableton Live music software that, in combination with a custom step sequencer developed with MaxforLive app, allows Davide to perform real melodies/electronic orchestration without the use of any backing track. 100% live. In addition to that, he also uses a microphone set up in the middle of the drumkit to capture the dynamics of the acoustic drums and translate them through an 'envelope follower' into electronic parts in several ways. About ‘Perceive Reality’: Opener Belief bursts the record into life, as skittering arpeggios spin across a vast open plain of pad synths, before the ground splits beneath it with thrashing drums. On Conceived, Davide creates a simultaneously dark and euphoric wall of crystallised sound, a cacophony of pounding drum hits and icy electronic stabs, with an intensity that continues into Collide. With its shuddering, cut-out reverbed synth pads split in two by crashing cymbals and snares, the song spins itself into a transformative cycling trance, before slowly fading and washing away into silence, only to be broken by Conjectures’ sudden cymbal slams and transfixed toms that roll like thunder into a frenzy, before their final lightning strike. On Subjective, arpeggios twist around beating kick drums and toms, quickly scaling to a furious yet tightly wound sequence that envelops the listener, before Relief, where the album finally takes the shape of a huge wave of calm, glimmering hope and reflection. About the concept behind this latest album, Davide says, “Perceive Reality is a vivid exhortation to deepen the relationship with reality, avoiding simple and often illusory visions. In a historical context that fosters the proliferation of dual information and visions, individuals are increasingly exposed to the danger of perceiving less the complexity of events, thus losing the training to express complex and articulated opinions, the result of a reflection, whether individual or collective. Without having the presumption of resolving epochal issues, the project alerts to the fact that univocal answers do not exist and that only by developing a path of knowledge and giving ourselves the opportunity to examine things in depth, can we enter into the relationship with the existing.” Press highlights so far: Video premiere on Rumore.IT (Italy).

French artist Trudge returns to Lobster Theremin with his debut LP No More Motivation arriving on March 18th with a genre-bending and original masterstroke; charged as it is cerebral. The album's concept points to the artist's tumultuous relationship with music; plagued by life events and the looming shadow of tragedy. That same relationship however, has led to an album of nuance, a cathartic whirlwind that pushes and pulls from one part of the psyche to the next.

From the laden house sounds found in his earlier work, to the hard-hitting emotive techno we hear today, both Trudges’ personal and artistic evolution runs parallel, drawing between the lines of introspection and dance music’s modern functionality. Bangkok Radio kicks off proceedings with a reminiscent drive through the city's bustling landscape, as space unfolds the further we travel from the hustle and bustle of daily life. No Motivation, Meaningless is a nod to the producer's headspace - burdened by the unpredictability of reality and it’s governing influence on art; echoing throughout the entire album.

Mazzomba explores the duality of light and dark; heavily submerged sounds can be heard melting below the surface, as airy synths create an ethereal glow - acting as our torch through the crud-infested trench. The album's interlude Berserk provides a rest bite, an ambient dreamscape laced with deeply layered textures - casting warm fluorescent light amongst the clouds as balance is restored.

Dead Orange and Gradient demonstrate the artist's knact for intelligent sound-design and world-building soundscapes, while Unghosted and Punishments sees Trudge venture into raw and unwavering compositions created for the dance-floor. Closing the album is Blue Ritual, a thought-provoking piece that has the ability to transport and heal. It’s introspective layers point to the changing winds to come - rounding off an album not binded by genre, but an eclecticism that characterizes an artist true to his craft.

Meaning all things magick and supernatural, the root of the word occult is that which is hidden, concealed, beyond the limits of our minds. If this is occult, then the Occult Architecture of Moon Duo’s fourth album - a psychedelic opus in two separate volumes released in 2017 - is an intricately woven hymn to the invisible structures found in the cycle of seasons and the journey of day into night, dark into light.

Offering a cosmic glimpse into the hidden patterning embedded in everything, Occult Architecture reflects the harmonious duality of these light and dark ener¬gies through the Chinese theory of Yin and Yang.

In Chinese, Yin means “the shady side of the hill” and is associated with the feminine, darkness, night, earth. Following this logic, Vol. 1 embraces and embod¬ies Moon Duo’s darker qualities — released appropriately on February 3, in the heart of winter in the Northern Hemisphere.

According to guitarist Ripley Johnson, “the concept of the dark/light, two-part album came as we were recording and mixing the songs, beginning in the dead of winter and continuing into the rebirth and blossoming of the spring. There’s something really powerful about the changing of the seasons in the Northwest, the physical and psychic impact it has on you, especially after we spent so many years in the seasonal void of California. I became interested in gnostic and her¬metic literature around that time, especially the relationship between music and occult qualities and that fed into the whole vibe.”

Adds keyboardist Sanae Yamada, “the two parts are also intended to represent inverted components of a singular entity, like two faces on the same head which stare always in opposite directions but are inextricably driven by the same brain.”

First Fragment was founded in 2007 by Phil Tougas (Chthe'ilist, Atramentus, Funebrarum) & brothers Gabriel Brault-Pilon and David AB. From day one, the trio sought to create a brand of extreme technical death metal that combined counterpoint-based riffing, neoclassical lead guitar work, power metal-inspired passages as well as flamenco & swing sections in a desire to branch out and establish their own unique voice in the Quebec scene. Their critically-acclaimed 2016 debut album "Dasein", released through Unique Leader, built upon the foundation established with the band's notorious EP "The Afterthought Ecstasy", self-released in 2010, Dasein was the culmination of almost 10 years of hard work and dedication to their craft. First Fragment have since honed their craft and perfected their sound through expanding upon their extensive musical influences, further blurring the line between flamenco-inspired technical death metal and neoclassical power metal. The result is "Gloire Éternelle" - an ambitious conceptual album that is unmistakably First Fragment, yet at the same time, impossible to categorize and pigeonhole. Boasting baroque-influenced guitar counterpoint, flamenco sections, unique slap-bass-driven swing grooves (which the band trademarked by name as "swingdowns"), face-ripping lead guitar work and bombastic drumming. Add a highly aggressive dual vocal approach and a lyrical approach soaked in abstract poetry (sung all in french), sprinkle with a ton of fretless bass solos and the result is the ultimate shredfest. A word which may be perceived positively or negatively depending of the listener, but nevertheless, a shredfest with soul, memorability, identity, purpose and conviction. For fans of : Yngwie Malmsteen, Cacophony, Racer X, Spawn of Possession, Capharnaum, Theory In Practice & Necrophagist

First Fragment was founded in 2007 by Phil Tougas (Chthe'ilist, Atramentus, Funebrarum) & brothers Gabriel Brault-Pilon and David AB. From day one, the trio sought to create a brand of extreme technical death metal that combined counterpoint-based riffing, neoclassical lead guitar work, power metal-inspired passages as well as flamenco & swing sections in a desire to branch out and establish their own unique voice in the Quebec scene. Their critically-acclaimed 2016 debut album "Dasein", released through Unique Leader, built upon the foundation established with the band's notorious EP "The Afterthought Ecstasy", self-released in 2010, Dasein was the culmination of almost 10 years of hard work and dedication to their craft. First Fragment have since honed their craft and perfected their sound through expanding upon their extensive musical influences, further blurring the line between flamenco-inspired technical death metal and neoclassical power metal. The result is "Gloire Éternelle" - an ambitious conceptual album that is unmistakably First Fragment, yet at the same time, impossible to categorize and pigeonhole. Boasting baroque-influenced guitar counterpoint, flamenco sections, unique slap-bass-driven swing grooves (which the band trademarked by name as "swingdowns"), face-ripping lead guitar work and bombastic drumming. Add a highly aggressive dual vocal approach and a lyrical approach soaked in abstract poetry (sung all in french), sprinkle with a ton of fretless bass solos and the result is the ultimate shredfest. A word which may be perceived positively or negatively depending of the listener, but nevertheless, a shredfest with soul, memorability, identity, purpose and conviction. For fans of : Yngwie Malmsteen, Cacophony, Racer X, Spawn of Possession, Capharnaum, Theory In Practice & Necrophagist

First Fragment was founded in 2007 by Phil Tougas (Chthe'ilist, Atramentus, Funebrarum) & brothers Gabriel Brault-Pilon and David AB. From day one, the trio sought to create a brand of extreme technical death metal that combined counterpoint-based riffing, neoclassical lead guitar work, power metal-inspired passages as well as flamenco & swing sections in a desire to branch out and establish their own unique voice in the Quebec scene. Their critically-acclaimed 2016 debut album "Dasein", released through Unique Leader, built upon the foundation established with the band's notorious EP "The Afterthought Ecstasy", self-released in 2010, Dasein was the culmination of almost 10 years of hard work and dedication to their craft. First Fragment have since honed their craft and perfected their sound through expanding upon their extensive musical influences, further blurring the line between flamenco-inspired technical death metal and neoclassical power metal. The result is "Gloire Éternelle" - an ambitious conceptual album that is unmistakably First Fragment, yet at the same time, impossible to categorize and pigeonhole. Boasting baroque-influenced guitar counterpoint, flamenco sections, unique slap-bass-driven swing grooves (which the band trademarked by name as "swingdowns"), face-ripping lead guitar work and bombastic drumming. Add a highly aggressive dual vocal approach and a lyrical approach soaked in abstract poetry (sung all in french), sprinkle with a ton of fretless bass solos and the result is the ultimate shredfest. A word which may be perceived positively or negatively depending of the listener, but nevertheless, a shredfest with soul, memorability, identity, purpose and conviction. For fans of : Yngwie Malmsteen, Cacophony, Racer X, Spawn of Possession, Capharnaum, Theory In Practice & Necrophagist

Highly recommended. About the album Blind Emperor Through wetland, winters, rubble and fallout come horizons new; civilisation shattered under a vengeful cataclysm, eventually led to dawn from the light of a blighted leader. Every action has a reaction, and those who wish to prosper must first be willing to offer something of intrinsic value. As one empire crumbles, another takes its place. The struggle for a fleeting utopia comes at a cost, and those who strive towards golden gates must trek along a solemn valley. The Allegorist Berlin-based artist, The Allegorist, has been meandering through stories with her purposeful and introspective take on electronic music. Each release explores themes that require joint participation from the listener as they look to flood your mind with images of fabled characters and places through her artistic soundscapes. Her carefully build worlds that straddle sci-fi and fantasy, feeding off of the light and dark dualism are the perfect blend of reflective contemplation and storytelling. As a holistic artist, Anna Jordan (The Allegorist) encapsulates a myriad of her talents within her work. Her previous albums, Hybrid Dimensions I. and Hybrid Dimensions II., established her aesthetic and detailed fictitious stories, along with the language ‘Mondoneoh’, a language to unite all nations. Her latest endeavour, and 4th album, The Blind Emperor, portrays the essence of a mythical land that tells of struggle that will lead to prosperity. The protagonist, Blind Emperor, leads the charge into a brighter tomorrow. Like chapters from a novel, each track allows the listener to be carried by the story. It is an epic, cinematic, choral, ambient techno album. The album combines her depictive, written and musical storytelling with a concept portrayed visually, orally and audibly to deliver another saga in her ever-evolving figments of fantasy. It comes as an entire artistic project, as The Allegorist created the album art, wrote the included story and composed a poem that all combine to tell the tale of Blind Emperor.

The new album by B.Visible is a distinctive studio work, which captures the state of mind of searching for something, without actually knowing what. The only thing you can make sense of is that you aren't currently satisfied, and you want a change in your life, even though you aren't exactly sure of where you belong. This music is a quest, a search for a greater range of self-expression. B.Visible captured this very thought-provoking concept by focusing on what really matters, musically, and conceptually alike. He stayed true to his feelings, regardless of judge-ment or other people's thoughts and opinions. In the end, it's all about fulfilling creativity and exploring feelings without boundaries.

"In Between Places", demonstrates his remarkable talent for extending varied elements across the whole spectrum, allowing a wide range of influences to inspire, entertain and captivate the audience in a very spe-cial way. What makes "In Between Places" stand out is the fact that it shows the artist's chops, without seeming to try to hard to do so. It's or-ganic and dynamic; technically accomplished, but also incredibly spon-taneous and one-of-a-kind in its execution. The instrumental is perfectly balanced, allowing B.Visible's expertly interwoven patterns of melody and rhythm to soar through the mix and come alive with raw and thrilling performance.

Ultimately, "In Between Places" is a truly special album, which is rich in terms of sound design and textures, tipping the hat off to artists such as Four Tet, Flying Lotus or Apparat, only to mention a few. This record is a musical journey with a unique twist.


Viennese producer B.Visible is always pushing his craft forward with each concept being an evolution. His music is mutating organically as each project brings novelty but always while blending sharp electronic components with dusty acoustic layers. That duality exists in every aspect of his creative journey with DJ sets revolving around second-hand records and modern-day productions but also his live project offering a whole new dimension and generosity to the audience. B.Visible melts the barrier between analog and digital in a such distinctive and elegant way that it feels natural.

Red & Yellow Vinyl

With its first track produced in early 2017 (that crowds worldwide were listening to already in 2018), the OBI THINE XI album by RICO PUESTEL took up the time of 4 years to become the wild-at-heart ride at hand.
The fantasy concept of OBI THINE XI (based on an anagram of the label name EXHIBITION) tells stories from a wonderous kind of holistic place in space with two dualistic layers and velocities of perception present:
On the one side of SPACE, the main plot is based on the idea of an exhibition-walkthrough, representing the culmination of the EXHIBITION label itself. Throughout these acts of promenading from exhibit to exhibit, the journey passes different angles of RICO PUESTEL's musical mindset from the uniquely designed depths of OBI XI or RITUALIST to the blunt uplifts like MODEST or ID (a cooperation with scene-bedrock Tom Wax), finally peaking with the retro-game styled melodies of THINE that close this primal arc.
On the other side of TIME, there's a 12“-exclusive mini-album within the album itself that pays tribute to the vinyl record (and all of its fans) with four tracks at the end of each side, telling tales at their own pace and reflecting their perspective on the main course of the album like reflective and feverish dreamscapes from places without any conception of time.
The union of both layers merges the dualism of space and time, demonstrating the wayward ideas and musical excesses of RICO PUESTEL when it comes to his grasp and definition of Techno music and beyond – you gotta say yes to this excess...

The Temple Pillars Disappear Into the Clouds is the title of the new record from Bloody Head. Recorded mostly live at Stuck on a Name Studios by St. Ian Boult. Both wilder and more restrained than previous efforts. Punk? Noise rock? Psych? Sludge? All/none of the above, but the keen eared seeker of the weird may detect snippets of Les Rallizes Denudes, Kilslug, Brainbombs, Rudimentary Peni, Mainliner, Hawkwind, Donovan amongst the sonic morass. Lyrically it deals with big concepts, tumbling down. Dualism? Taoism? A beautiful garden or a broken jaw? Human endeavours losing track of themselves and getting lost in the clouds of their own creation. Ascend to Nirvana or fall into the Abyss. As above, so below....

Hominid Sounds is thrilled to be release The Temple Pillars Disappear Into the Clouds by Nottingham's finest, Bloody Head. The record will be out in Vinyl LP and digital in May 2021.

About Bloody Head
Any interpretation of these two words, collectively, leads to a singular conclusion: Something has gone wrong. This is the essence of Bloody Head; the acceptance, reflection, celebration and battle against things (mind/body/spirit) going very wrong. It is the manifestation of things getting wonky and breaking, revelry in destruction and decay. Broken (brain/dick/mind) blues. Bleak party

bangers as a soundtrack to our collective slow motion apocalypse. What does the future hold for Bloody Head? Fuck knows! Everything. Nothing. More/less of the same, whatever that is....

A maelstrom, the chaos, a vortex, a turmoil. These are appropriate words to describe the hard work of the prolific French producer.

With a cryptic history incorporating nearly two decades of aliases and side projects born out of free parties in warehouses, fields and basements, it is under this moniker that the artist has truly come into his own.

His skill and vision spanning from 135 bpm wave powerful to a pensive and subtle ambient track, Maelstrom's sonic universe is both precise and limitless, described better by feeling ('approaching storm over river/horse with the bit in its teeth/sliver of moon') than genre. Maelstrom cofounded the label RAAR in 2015 with frequent collaborator Louisahhh where he released his debut album «Her Empty Eyes» in 2017. Throughout the next 2 years, he has delivered exciting collaborations with cutting edge electro imprints such as CPU and Cultivated Electronics in the UK, Private Persons in Moscow, or Mechatronica in Berlin, while playing an all electro live set in clubs and raves, from Paris to London or Tokyo.

2021 will see the release of his second album, Rhizome, with a focus on the concepts of interdependence and creative ecosystems

LA-based producer, composer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist James McAlister is a rare creator, and highly sought after collaborator. Perhaps best known for his work with Sufjan Stevens , McAlister has also appeared on record with Lorde amongst many others, and is a regular contributor to Aaron Dessner 's projects, including the latest albums from Taylor Swift, folklore and evermore . His regular work with film music includes The Two Popes, The Big Sick, and Ron Simonsen 's recent films. In 2018 he joined Stevens, Casey Foubert , St. Vincent and Moses Sumney for the Oscar performance for music from Call Me By Your Name, where he played piano and a bottle of cupcake sprinkles. With nearly countless projects to his name, it was in 2017 that his collaboration with Stevens, Nico Muhly, and Bryce Dessner entitled Planetarium was released by 4AD. Around the same time McAlister started a deep dive into a personal sonic realm that has manifested as an ambient project under his own name. 2018 saw the release of Three Breaths , the first offering from this exploration. 2021 will see the second installment, an album called Scissortail which vividly puts McAlister's evolving master craft on display. It is a collection of moving, meditative, immediately satisfying and quietly stunning work. It is the sound of an artist letting go entirely of pre-conceptions or expectations, instead mining the depths of that very real and abstract place of sound, texture, color and feeling. Some songs arrive almost intuitively, while others feel mechanically made, fed through the framework of synthesizers and the patchwork of recording gear. And with that comes a compelling duality to the work; a machine grace informing the on-going but subconscious dialogue between energy and material, sensitivity and asceticism.

White Vinyl

For Intervals, Arndt's chose the family piano to begin the creative process. By placing less importance on the skittering rhythms, which propelled previous Near the Parenthesis collections, Arndt was able to focus more on the instant gratification of sitting down and just playing. These ideas became the back- bone in which he then composed eight tidal tracks, mostly in the early morning hours in his East San Franciso Bay creekside home.
In these sessions, Arndt utilized various synths, and percussion to provide additional depth and atmosphere to the tracks' original skeletal structures. Arndt says of Intervals, "The title has a dual meaning as there has been a decent period of time between my previous album Helical and the release of Intervals, Four years to be exact. This concept of time and the spaces between gives the title its other connotation, which is a nod to musical intervals and the spaces between notes. I think this becomes evident in my use of arpeggiation, which I feel is a grounding motif across the album."
As with many Arndt's Near The Parenthesis works, there is a gentile hopefulness sewn through Intervals forty-minute runtime that provides much-needed solace in such unsettling times.

LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide), is a hallucinogenic chemical compound, first synthesized in 1938. Upon its introduction into popular culture in the 1960’s it quickly shifted not only the mind of the artist but also the person experiencing the art.
Hip-Hop artist Cambatta is known for his thought provoking and psychedelic-inspired rhyme techniques. His newest album entitled, “LSD”, is just as the title insinuates- mind-bending and consciousness-shifting. This album was created throughout four years of psychedelic usage and reality-based life changing events. This process has made the album a duality of both real and surreal interpretations.
The album’s title is also an acronym for “Lunar Solar Duality,” alluding to the album’s dichotomy of light and dark conceptualizations and countless other polarizing and multi-entendre-latent compositions. Whether you have ever experienced LSD or not, this album is sure to impact anyone receptive and perceptive enough to take a dose.

Substance, the second album by producer Moisture, sets out to deliver an immersive tech-noir fantasy of emotional and physical deconstruction. Inspired in part by William S. Burroughs 1959 novel Naked Lunch, the conceptual narrative of the album follows a humanoid subject through an urban landscape and the exploration of its depravations.

Sampling and filtering sounds from other music, movies and own field recordings, the tapestry of Substance is a three-dimensional world of hard industrial spaces and fluid organic matter. While it's conception is rooted equally in literature and film as well as music, one can draw comparisons in particular to Barry Adamsons 1989 album Moss Side Story, in that it also works as a chronological narrative; the tracks aligning to make a world of its own.

And while Adamson was aiming to create an imaginary soundscape of his native Manchester, the geography of Substance is based on the city of Malmö. Using field recordings from it's city streets, the album paints a rain soaked, neon-clad portrait of the city's hedonistic nightlife.

On the opening "The Marketplace" we are teleported to Bergsgatan at night (the track title a subtle nod towards Eden Ahbez 1960 song of the same name).

This introduction is similar in line with the experience Burroughs once had in 1957 upon entering Malmö for the first and only time, which he details briefly in Naked Lunch: "averted eyes and the cemetery in the middle of town (every town in Sweden seems to be built around a cemetery), and nothing to do in the afternoon (...)"

This image of Malmö portrayed with dread and loathing holds a longstanding narrative tradition over the cultural geography of the town. Yet it is often paired with an image of great promise and bohemian splendor, seemingly a paradox but often perversely intertwined. This duality has always been a vital mindset in the underground music scene of the town and its illegal after hours clubs. Substance is a work steeped in the grayscale prism of techno and its post-industrial fetischism. Yet in picking it apart, one can find elements of everything from post-punk, drum & bass, trip hop and new age.

The theme of depravation that soaks through Burroughs Naked Lunch seems oddly befitting to this side of Malmö (one wonders what the author would have made of it had he stayed longer) Through rhythmic excursions and the exploration of repetition, the tracks of Substance are arranged to convey this self-destructive longing for depravity. Michel Foucault's ideas on limit experiences serves as context for this peculiar form of endeavour, as he puts it: "the point of life which lies as close as possible to the impossibility of living, which lies at the limit or the extreme."

Photonz is the alias of Marco Rodrigues a DJ, producer and driving force of Lisbon's underground scene. For little over a decade now, he's been crafting his own deeply personal style of Portuguese house and techno. As a DJ, Photonz grew a reputation for deep crates and intensely euphoric sets and in 2017, together with Violet (co-founder at his Radio Quantica) and Lisbon's own Rabbit Hole collective, he started the now infamous Mina parties - a monthly, sex-positive, queer and intersectional-feminist techno party aimed at using the dissociative potential of intense raving to create a temporary space of suspension away from patriarchal expectations. 'Nuit' is Photonz?s debut album and a simultaneous reference the Egyptian Goddess of the Stars or Night. Marco was really swept away by the concept of ?freedom of form under the night sky?, the accepting embrace of Nuit. Ancestral, but also socially advanced and utopian; a deification of the night time. These ideas manifest themselves as eleven songs spread across two LPs that wax and wane like the moon. Photonz channels early techno, Drexciyan rhythms, balearic & atmospheric house; layering sounds, creating moments. All songs have been mastered by George Horn at Fantasy Studios in Berkeley. The vinyl comes housed in a royal blue and neon yellow jacket with duality/birth symbolism and trance-hieroglyphs designed by Eloise Leigh. Each copy includes a glow-in-the-dark sticker and a postcard with notes

A regular participant and core member of the CV family since
the very beginning, it was only a matter of time before Simon
Mann would unveil his first solitary vinyl release. Previously,
his appearances on CV’s introductory VA – CVR VI, the
stunning eight-track digital release titled the ‘Shadow Ranger
E.P.’, and performances representing the label both live and
DJing, have allowed Controlled Violence to decipher Simon’s
modus operandi, his artistic milieu, and his sound. Beneath
The Canopy is, however, Simon’s most synoptic work to date,
dancing between labyrinthine environs (natural or
otherworldly), heart-felt progressions, and playful percussion.
From start to finish, the organic elements of Simon Mann’s
artworks present themselves with a sense of wonderment.
The mind begins to lose itself between the defined sounds of
electronic devices, and those derived from reality. Beneath The
Canopy doesn't seek to confuse, but rather define, and
subsequently present the concepts of unity. It summarises the
duality between analogue and digital that occurs in our world,
proving that Simon Mann is both an elite musician, and a being
who is truly sync with the world around him.

Georgian artist Sophia Saze releases her debut two-part album 'Self' on Francis Harris' Kingdoms imprint, with part one dropping on cassette this June. "The record embodies my story of duality within the context of identity, insomuch as the idea that every person has a deeper layer we don't show on the surface."
Born in Tbilisi, Sophia Saze is the daughter of political refugees who's spent her life living in numerous different countries before eventually finding home in Brooklyn. Finding it difficult to find her own identity due to living a nomadic lifestyle, the classically trained musician became entangled with electronic music before becoming a key player within New York's nightlife scene and launching her Dusk & Haze imprint in 2017.
A reflection of her struggles throughout life, 'Self' is very much a memoir of the many different places she's lived during her journey, including Georgia, Russia, USA, France and Canada. Contrasting to her recent productions, which are geared more towards the dancefloor, her debut longplayer is downtempo and features a medley of musical influences - mixed in two parts and released as a concept album on cassette. Maintaining a sonically raw feel throughout, 'Self' draws the analogy of analog to modern day digital culture whilst also taking a stance against perfection, whether integrating the distance crackle of her machines or intentional off-beat piano notes in minor. Part One was conceived, for the most part, during a sleepless yet inspired 48-hour studio session. Processed field recordings accompany samples from her childhood, such as soviet cartoons and intimate VHS recordings of her family. The result is a well-seasoned and personal story portrayed in fourteen tracks mixed together.
"I feel the element of patience is somewhat of a lost commodity in our generation, particularly for albums. We're consumed by track to track interpretations and constantly searching for the next instant stimulation. With this record, I wanted to reiterate the idea that if you don't have the willingness to sit through the whole thing, then you're not stepping into it with the right mindset to begin with."
Every artist who collaborated on the record is handpicked, such as vocalist Ricardo Rivera. The final production was also mixed by Francis Harris himself. All of their involvement means they share a fragment of the concept.

Ltd. Ed. 180 units w/ Special Poster Cover

Syncope is concept EP, a mutant musical and visual project
initiated in 2018, promoting the inherent link between music and graphic design. It takes roots in Isaac Newton's Opticks treatise, which for the first time addresses a relationship between audible and visible. Syncope aims to explore the diversity and affinity of distinct phenomena such as frequencies, colors, synesthesia, polyrhythm ...Each exploration takes the form of a visual and musical narrative. This duality emerges on all visual and musical media, mixing plastic and technological elements, organic and synthetic, exploring the intimate relationship between man and machine. Dual nature also existing within the object, both a cover and a poster. A particular interest is giving to printing, using offset, with bronze and purple Pantone colors.This EP is the first object resulting from this project. Oil thief is an ambient track with synthetic and bestial sounds. Jungle is a rite of passage integrating African percussion and polyrhythms. Mengele Zoo close this EP with a progressive and psychedelic guitar slick.

DualExercise_l is elaborated on the premise of collaboration and reinterpretation, it presents the original work of two artists along its respective recompositions.
As a musical release produced by Manchester's Daniel Ruane & oqko co-founder smog, DualExercise_l opens up with side A comprehended of two the original compositions which go through reinterpretation on the flip side. Taking the concept of entropic degradation for focus, with harsh textural depth, twisted mechanistic noise and glimmers of breaks, bass and broken techno providing the sonic backdrop, Ruane and smog serve out their singular visions of pandemonium across four slabs of high octane compositions.

Muscle and Mind is the return of Oscar Mulero to long plays, after Grey fades to Green and Black Propaganda. 'Muscle' and 'mind' may seem antagonistic terms in real life, but in terms of music they make sense together, especially when talking about techno.

The coalition of introspection and abstraction is not incompatible with the rough and the percussive, and this
album is a good example of this. The underlying message behind the title refers to the reflection of mental states in the body, the genesis of emotions where body and mind are managed by the sense of hearing.

Throughout these twelve tracks, one can dive into the musical world of this producer whose discourse mutates in every album, always intricate, always meticulous. Darkness acts as a thread and repetition as hypnotic therapy. But now, he sets his usual hard sound aside and looks for a much more cared for and precise sound , where there is room even for a harmony and musicality that go hand in hand with danceability.

The combination of atmospheres and rhythms is constant throughout the album. Each of the cuts has been prepared with few sonic elements. He takes elements away one by one, and keeps exclusively the necessary.

A record that has been developed during endless hours in airports and travelling, absorbing influences from all over the planet. Made in solitude but surrounded by people who don't know what you are really doing on that computer. To close the circle, the album was mixed in professional studio using solid state technology, which gives this work a unique warmth that cannot be achieved in a domestic environment.

Muscle and Mind will be released on vinyl and CD. The digital version will include extra tracks which will also be published in an EP. This will precede the album with edited tracks from the album and remixes by Stanislav Tolkachev and SHXCXCHCXSH.

Muscle and Mind is the return of Oscar Mulero to long plays, after Grey fades to Green and Black Propaganda. 'Muscle' and 'mind' may seem antagonistic terms in real life, but in terms of music they make sense together, especially when talking about techno.

The coalition of introspection and abstraction is not incompatible with the rough and the percussive, and this
album is a good example of this. The underlying message behind the title refers to the reflection of mental states in the body, the genesis of emotions where body and mind are managed by the sense of hearing.

Throughout these twelve tracks, one can dive into the musical world of this producer whose discourse mutates in every album, always intricate, always meticulous. Darkness acts as a thread and repetition as hypnotic therapy. But now, he sets his usual hard sound aside and looks for a much more cared for and precise sound , where there is room even for a harmony and musicality that go hand in hand with danceability.

The combination of atmospheres and rhythms is constant throughout the album. Each of the cuts has been prepared with few sonic elements. He takes elements away one by one, and keeps exclusively the necessary.

A record that has been developed during endless hours in airports and travelling, absorbing influences from all over the planet. Made in solitude but surrounded by people who don't know what you are really doing on that computer. To close the circle, the album was mixed in professional studio using solid state technology, which gives this work a unique warmth that cannot be achieved in a domestic environment.

Muscle and Mind will be released on vinyl and CD. The digital version will include extra tracks which will also be published in an EP. This will precede the album with edited tracks from the album and remixes by Stanislav Tolkachev and SHXCXCHCXSH.

Roots In Heaven is a Berlin-based act that could very easily capitalize on his past accomplishments within the world of intrepid electronic music. As a label owner, resident DJ at cutting-edge clubs, and accomplished solo artist behind a number of conceptually unique full-length albums, the conceiver of this project won't likely need any introduction to the intrepid fans of electronic music. As an extension of this artist's already solid commitment to deep sound, Roots in Heaven represents a new voyage without the help of biographical cues to his listeners: hidden behind an evocative mesh mask lined with obsidian feathers, Roots in Heaven ignores the need to provide 'social proof' or self-justification. He communicates purely through the language of concentrated sensory impression, for which reason he has titled his debut, 'Petites Madeleines,' after one of the most memorable descriptive sequences in literary history (the famous meditation on the madeleine from Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu). As a prelude to the first full-length, Roots In Heaven has issued an untitled EP as a resounding 'shot across the bow'. However, this record is no half-conceived experiment to see what works and what doesn't, nor does it even feel like an 'EP' (in the traditional meaning of being a précis whose full report is available elsewhere). Attentive listening to its contents can cause a kind of time dilation, and a mysterious feeling of entering a world where familiar dualities (nature vs. technology, action vs. contemplation) are replaced by a feeling of total immanence. The A-side, 'Sang des Betes", accomplishes this with cascading, viscous layers of electronic tones that narrow and widen, rise and fall like the breath of some ancient entity. Periodically, bright flashes of tone arc across the horizon of the sound space, emphatically present but also elusive.