Buscar:ethos

Pleasure Pool are Finn O’Hare, Andrew Robertson and a rolling cast of Glasgow-based musicians, performers and artists. They sound like nothing else to have come out of Glasgow recently, exploring the territory between live performance and club culture through their collaborative ethos and party-starting attitude. Their debut EP, Night Scars, arrived in early March 2020 and now comes Love Without Illusion, Pleasure Pool’s debut album, released on Optimo Music.

Love Without Illusion adds layers of complexity and introspection to Night Scars’ squarely dance floor-focused brew, though the record still oozes danceable energy. Open Hours is like opening a door and finding a party already in full swing, an assortment of recurring Pleasure Pool motifs – echoing, dubbed-out vocals, gorgeous, impossibly airy synth melodies, louche percussion, cowbells, rising and falling flecks of trumpet – all introduced in short order. Lick The Bag, which prominently features vocalists Chloe Charlton and Raissa Pardini, has a controlled chaos befitting its morning-after-the-night-before name.

The rest of the album rides this glimmering, night-magic mood at varying frequencies, with the title track a gentle storm of grandiose walls of synth and pulsing vocal fragments. The slow and low flickering funk of album closer Zero Hours pulls all that has come before it together to end things in the woozy bliss of a walk back home in warm, gentle sunlight.

Love Without Illusion is a dazzlingly complete expression of Pleasure Pool’s intoxicating sound and vision. Dive on in and explore.

Brian Fennell is a student of simplicity

As SYML (pronounced simmel), which translates to simple in Welsh, Fennell writes emotive ambient pop songs that capture the ethos of his musical persona.

With delicate piano, swells of strings and Fennells sterling vocals, the songs that comprise In My Body, embody the relinquishing of all emotions, a cathartic release laid bare.

Cyphon Recordings continue their deep dive into the rich heritage of UK and Detroit electronic sounds with their second label release, this time from Danny Was A Drag King label boss DJ Rocca.

Active since the 90s, the Italian producer is a dedicated explorer of the Italo Disco-inspired sounds native to his home. He’s been plotting his sonic journey for decades, making pit stops at labels across Europe including Rekids,Toy Tonics, Slow Motion, Rotten City Records and Roam Recordings. On top of his solo outings, collaboration has played a big role in his production journey to date. He’s worked with artists like Howie B, Jazzanova and Zed Bias, as well as joining forces on ongoing projects with fellow Italian stalwart Daniele Baldelli and Dimitri From Paris, the latter under the name Erodiscotique.

Now back on his solo pursuits for Cyphon, Rocca proves he’s still very much at the top of his game. The four cuts on ‘Code 041’ explore all shades of electro, from raw, old school machine funk to futuristic cosmic sounds. It’s electro done the Rocca way.

The title track sets the tone. An eerie bass line crawls along, providing a bed for reflective pads to glide and mysterious synth sounds and echoing vocal samples to ricochet above. ‘No Gym’ greets us next, bringing that Italo flair Rocca’s mastered so well. It’s the most vibrant track on the release, matching colourful pinging synths and tropical-tinged melodies with a signature driving acid bass line.

On the flip, ‘The Bigger Lake’ takes the EP in a different direction, on a trip through dark glistening pads, tittering percussion and sub aquatic bass before the dusty breaks and moody, jazzy keys of ‘Omega’ bring the release to a close. Mirroring Cyphon’s label ethos, Rocca showcases the best of the past and present of a timeless sound.

URBAN WARFARE

Music has always been a common means to deal with global events – so does this new release on Snork Enterprises by Lee Holman. Having actually performed in Ukraine shortly before the war, Lee Holman clearly has chosen the title of his new release by purpose. “Urban Warfare” dedicates for titles, all of them bearing names with military connotation, to the recent events in Ukraine and beyond.
The musical means of his choice to process the happenings are raw, straight forward electronic sounds echoing from the underground. His combination of beeping, roaring and crooked tunes creates a dystopian atmosphere in each track – yet, each in its unique way. This makes the release a diverse collection of four tracks of unadorned urban club sounds dashing through present day history.

LEE HOLMAN

An uncompromising underground ethos, Lee Holman has garnered support from a host of Techno's brightest names.
Performing in clubs since the late nineties, he has travelled throughout Europe, North America, South America, Asia and everywhere inbetween, compounding a reputation for his unique vision on Techno. Playing a fusion of deep, raw and energetic electronics, his sound creates a myriad of tension, constructing the perfect combination of musicality for club appearances.
Performances both as a live act and as a DJ have unlocked opportunities to share hallowed ground with Techno’s elite, appearing in prestigious underground venues such as TRESOR Berlin, Corsica Studios London, 8Bahn Arnhem, Sub-Scape Antwerp, Move Medellin, Tag Chengdu, Arkham Shanghai, Nechto events Kyiv + many more.
Production has earned him international recognition, leaving his mark at the forefront, building a reputation for consistency, originality and delivering his dynamic sound on both cutting edge and classic Techno Labels. Generating consistent support, he has remixed for high profile artists such as Aubrey and Gary Beck and has himself been remixed by leading Techno mainstays ranging from Orlando Voorn to Mike Dehnert.
Founding the Kawl Imprint, the label’s aim was to provide diversity in Techno and this formula was immediately picked up on and amounted to rave reviews and impressive charts and plays by leading connoisseurs of the underground.
This year, his releases have been frequent and in demand, with his production skills confirmed for Knotweed Records, Science Cult, Shaded Music, Nechto and more, adding to an already excellent discography.
With an ever expanding release schedule, combining remixes and a new label project called Demarcation, Lee Holman promises to be unrelenting in his definition of essential timeless Techno.

“A Dream In A Dream” is the debut LP by DJ Piper, also known as Felix Wagner of techno superstar duo FJAAK.
One might be surprised about this all hip-hop instrumental album looking at Felix’ all dance music focussed musical resumé. Nevertheless, he has been crafting rap beats ever since he started producing as a teen, but had his childhood friends freestyle over the tracks solely. It took until 2020 when he teamed up with Lukas and
Jonathan Nixdorff of Kommerz Records to release his first solo track “Iluminay”, which was part of “Kommerz Season 1: Anti-Virus” compilation and shared by B-Real of Cypress Hill right away.

Now, 2022, marks the right moment to share his debut album, a waltzing ode to hip-hop’s golden era. The Berlin- Spandau original merges the legacies of both Pete Rock and Dr. Dre, while funky breakbeats meet laid back SoCal “Chronic” vibes. 12 instrumental tracks and 2 skits strong, his album tells the story of a young man, who lives up to his wildest teenage dreams. Most of the track ideas came up while being on tour with FJAAK. Between international transit areas, making inspirational new friends and bizarre encounters all over the world, beat making became DJ Piper’s safe space to process all the positive madness around him. As a result, “A Dream In A Dream” breathes that raw, untamable creative energy around Felix’ extraordinary day-to-day life, while being heavily influenced by the sound of his childhood, 90s and 2000s rap.

To visualize “A Dream In A Dream” DJ Piper and Kommerz Records joined forces with Raman Djafari, a childhood friend of the artist, who illustrated music videos for Dua Lipa and Elton John (no joke!) and worked for New Release Information Adult Swim. Raman’s supernaturalistic aesthetics bring life to DJ Piper’s somewhat psychedelic, somewhat nostalgic fantasy, locating the album in an otherworldly version of Spandau, hometown to both of the artists.
As one half of FJAAK Felix became an icon of Berlin techno conquering major festival stages and mainstream audiences while heavily representing underground D.I.Y. mentality up to this very day. As an initiator of Spandau20 label and collective, Felix pushes his creative family and day 1’s regardless of commercial potentials.
The same ethos and love for culture fuels the DJ Piper project. No matter if it’s FJAAK or DJ Piper, techno or hiphop… Integrity is key!

Anchor and Adjust is the debut album from, Australian synth-pop duo
Syzygy; Rebecca Maher and Gus Kenny both formerly of beloved
Melbourne synth-punk band Spotting
This new project explores a more unadulterated electronic aesthetic combined
with an unabashed pop sensibility.Gus was listening to a lot of 80s synth music
and minimal wave, while Bec was deep into mainstream 80s pop divas and new
wave. The resultant album sits at a crossroads of genre. The melodies of new
wave pop meet the synth tones of 80's coldwave, the vocal dynamics of postpunk and the DIY ethos and raw edges of punk. Layered synths twist and weave.
Featuring celestial, emotive vocals, the album is often bright and upbeat,
danceable, but also moody, thoughtful and clever. It is sparkling and edgy
electronic pop.
The album's lyrics explore the power dynamics in relationships, including the
relationship with yourself. It is about control and being controlled. Attempts to
unravel years of ingrained behaviour and decision making to try and see the world
another way. It yearns for clarity, asking questions and searching for definitions to
try to understand what is perception, what is manipulation and what is truth.
I was speaking to myself, through myself. Both aware of having these feelings
and disconnected from how they were making me feel. Making this record
allowed me to create order and meaning. It was both my wake up call and my pep
talk for changes I desperately needed in my life. Rebecca Maher. Pressed on
Transparent Purple Color vinyl.
GENRE : Synth-pop, Electronic, Darkwave

Written and recorded between 1972 and 1982 in Western Oregon, Back to the Woodlands is a previously unreleased, and nearly lost, album made by Ernest Hood during the same era as his near mythical album Neighborhoods . A visionary combination of field recordings, zithers, and synthesizers, Back to the Woodlands offers an unprecedented depth of access to this singular artistic mind. Born into a musical family, Ernest Hood began a promising career as a jazz guitarist during the 1940s, touring internationally with his brother Bill Hood and the saxophonist Charlie Barnet , before contracting polio in his late twenties. The disease left Ernest unable to play the guitar and confined him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. It also forced him to adapt and innovate around his musical practices in the face of adversity; Hood's value of sound matured with a remarkably democratic and nonhierarchical approach and application. Taking up the zither, a less physically-demanding stringed instrument to the guitar, embarking upon the unprecedented process of incorporating field recordings into his work as early as 1956, and eventually discovering the synthesizer, Hood's music became imbued with optimism and subtle cultural critique. This ethos and technique - refined over the coming decades - would lay the groundwork for a sprawling body of radio work, mail order recordings for homebound listeners, and Neighborhoods , self- issued as a small vinyl edition in 1975. Where Neighborhoods , a nostalgic opus, drawing from a well of collective memory of the 1950s, is defined by traces of human activity, Back to the Woodlands leaves the modern world behind, delving into Hood's love for nature. Only recently discovered in his archives, the album dramatically expands his concept of "musical cinematography," imagistically triggering states of sensory memory from within its zither and synthesizer melodies, intertwined with field recordings made during Hood's extensive travels throughout Oregon. If Neighborhoods is a retreat into the gauzy joys of a romanticized past, Back to the Woodlands is an immersion in the timeless sanctuary of the natural world. A fascinating counterpoint to its predecessor, Back to the Woodlands brings us even closer to Hood's belief in the transportive qualities of sound; that field recordings could serve as a vehicle for the imagination and liberation, particularly for those with similar mobile disabilities as his own. Across the album's twelve compositions, the rippling instrumental harmonics - shifting between abstraction and playful melody - fold so seamlessly into the birdsong, bubbling brooks, and other environmental ambiences, that they often give the impression of having been recording within the landscapes toward which they whisper. Falling somewhere between the immersive calm of healing music and New Age, the creative field recording practices of sound ecologists world building for Folkways, and the jazz infected ambiences during Obscure / Editions EG's highest heights, Back to the Woodlands sculpts an singular proximity of music for its moment; a form of ambient sonic realism that draws the consciousness toward its surroundings as much as within. Working closely with his estate to maintain his original vision, Freedom to Spend has restored and remastered this never before released, lost masterpiece by Ernest Hood from the original tapes. Ernest Hood's Back to the Woodlands will be issued on vinyl, as well as on CD in combination with its contemporary Where the Woods Begin , with new liner notes by Michael Klausman . On behalf of Ernest Hood and Freedom To Spend, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Oregon Wild, an organization dedicated to protecting and restoring Oregon's wildlands, wildlife, and waters as an enduring legacy for future generations.

area127 brings a fresh collab between Tadan and V2 - exemplifying the label's ethos of bringing artists together for raw live sessions.

This release is the result of one deep-night experimental session. Made without a plan, but expect some sssshhhhaakers throughout.

Written and recorded between 1972 and 1982 in Western Oregon, Back to the Woodlands is a previously unreleased, and nearly lost, album made by Ernest Hood during the same era as his near mythical album Neighborhoods. A visionary combination of field recordings, zithers, and synthesizers, Back to the Woodlands offers an unprecedented depth of access to this singular artistic mind.

Born into a musical family, Ernest Hood began a promising career as a jazz guitarist during the 1940s, touring internationally with his brother Bill Hood and the saxophonist Charlie Barnet, before contracting polio in his late twenties. The disease left Ernest unable to play the guitar and confined him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. It also forced him to adapt and innovate around his musical practices in the face of adversity; Hood’s value of sound matured with a remarkably democratic and nonhierarchical approach and application.

Taking up the zither, a less physically-demanding stringed instrument to the guitar, embarking upon the unprecedented process of incorporating field recordings into his work as early as 1956, and eventually discovering the synthesizer, Hood’s music became imbued with optimism and subtle cultural critique. This ethos and technique - refined over the coming decades - would lay the groundwork for a sprawling body of radio work, mail order recordings for homebound listeners, and Neighborhoods, self-issued as a small vinyl edition in 1975.

Where Neighborhoods, a nostalgic opus, drawing from a well of collective memory of the 1950s, is defined by traces of human activity, Back to the Woodlands leaves the modern world behind, delving into Hood’s love for nature. Only recently discovered in his archives, the album dramatically expands his concept of “musical cinematography,” imagistically triggering states of sensory memory from within its zither and synthesizer melodies, intertwined with field recordings made during Hood’s extensive travels throughout Oregon. If Neighborhoods is a retreat into the gauzy joys of a romanticized past, Back to the Woodlands is an immersion in the timeless sanctuary of the natural world.

After a year of releases exploring recent musics from the USA, Europe and the southern hemisphere the Horn of Plenty presents a survey of archival private, demo, and live tapes from local avant-anarcho-punks The Apostles. The tapes were (poorly) recorded in Islington & Hackney squats between 1981-1983 and they capture the fledgling band exploring various line-up’s, styles & techniques with limited means and ability. In 1983 The Apostles released their first vinyl EP and switched mainly to a more straight-ahead anarcho-punk style. They gained a strong following then called it a day in 1989. Their vinyl output is still regarded highly by fans and collectors and their ‘official’ demo tapes have become highly sought-after, particularly since being namechecked by Ty Segall in a 2014 interview. In a 2009 article charting the band’s history (frontman) Andy Martin gives these early tapes a mere footnote and states that, in his opinion, they are ‘Best Forgotten’. With respect Andy, I beg to differ. Best Forgotten shows the band grappling with the political, racial and cultural tensions of the time whilst exploring radical politics and issues around homosexuality and mental health. Their sympathies with The Angry Brigade’s ‘direct action’ ethos extended to their involvement with the squatted Centro Iberico and The Wapping Autonomy Centre where they worked closely with Crass, Poison Girls, Flux of Pink Indians and The Mob among others. Viewed retrospectively, it’s easy to draw comparisons with early Fall records, The Door and The Window etc… but also at their melodic best they echo 60’s beat groups and even 70’s blues-rock. A keen interest in tape collage (supplied here by Ian Rawes who later became established with his London Sound Survey project) and the avant garde also inform the mix. Highlights include a bleak reworking of Lemon Kittens’ Chalet D’Amour and a live version of Simon & Garfunkel's I Am A Rock segueing into their take on Alternative TV’s Splitting In Two recorded at The Recession Club in Ponsford Street, Hackney. The short-lived Recession Club, which The Apostles co-ran and where Andy Martin worked the door, also hosted the first ever Coil concert. On that night he refused entry to Death In June on account of their ‘inappropriate attire’. Best Forgotten comes in a hand stamped, stickered and assembled edition of 500 copies and includes an A3 poster and 32 page A4 zine collecting archival photos and images from The Apostles tapes & zines along with liner notes and reflections on the tracks written by Steve Underwood (Harbinger Sound), Chris Low (former Apostles drummer) and The Apostles frontman Andy Martin, who thought this whole thing was daft.

repress

Levon Vincent returns with his fourth full-length studio album Silent Cities a striking departure from his previous records. This, his first release experimenting with the cassette format, Silent Cities is a kind of mixtape through more private moods and personal pitches (literally given Levon’s non-standard tunings).

While Levon has always pro
duced dance floor jams with the intention of raising people’s heart rates, Silent Cities began with 72 bpm: his average resting heart rate, and the concept of tuning the music he was making to his own body rather than increasing anything. This brought the tempos down to 72 bpm or even half of that, at 36bpm. Programming the record during the empty cityscape of Berlin lockdowns, this is the first time Levon’s created an album for the home stereo or for headphone listening whilst navigating through a city. A mixtape specialist in his youth; he was always wanted to play with the cassette format. The results are sure to delight any listener, with the ever-present ambient, krautrock, shoegaze, hip-hop and electro influences coming to the foreground on this work.

“I was expanding further along the lines of a surprise favourite from my previous LP, a song called She Likes To Wave To Passing Boats which was not a 4 on-the-floor piece to play in clubs but a more impressionistic piece of music that I wrote to expound some emotions one day” says Levon. “It was a song written using just intonation. I really love how warm the pure 4ths sound, so when working on the new LP Silent Cities I decided to use my own tunings”.

Historically, the use of just intonation has meant that such instruments could sound "in tune" in one key but at the expense of more dissonance in the other keys. None of the songs on Silent Cities use standard Western equal temperament, Levon created his own scale designs coupled with the ancient ratios found in just intonation.

Born in Houston in 1975, Levon’s life changed dramatically when his parents moved their family to New York in 1981, uprooted from what he knew, the shock, the change from Houston to New York at 6 years old, is referred to constantly in Levon’s Musical output over the years. Levon's family moved houses in and around NYC from 1981 -2010, never more than a mile or two from the WTC. He lived on the Lower East Side during his teenage years and early 20s. This time period and this locale are also a big theme recurrent in his music as he tries to convey how the "downtown" lifestyle and culture-melding affected him so much at a tender age. He cut his teeth working in record shops around lower Manhattan, and while working at the Halcyon Record shop in Brooklyn he (alongside DJ Jus-Ed) was instrumental in creating the wave that came to be known as the "NYC House Renaissance" circa 2010. During the Y2K years he studied 20th C post-minimalism at Purchase college of New York under James McElwaine (who tangentially produced Man Parrish’s Self-Titled proto-hip-hop debt LP). Levon was fortunate to study theory with avant-garde composer Dary John Mizelle and orchestration under conductor Joel Thome. He undertook masterclasses with Philip Glass and also served as intern for John Kilgore, engineer for Steve Reich, where he was present for notable mix sessions such as “Violin Phase.”

Post-minimalism clearly remains an influence not to mention the early sampler stars of 80s freestyle and synth pop. Mixing such far-reaching influences is something Levon executes tremendously well. The first track Everlasting Joy moves at a head nodding 96 BPM tempo, reflecting formative influences like Paul Hardcastle’s Rainforest or Art Of Noise’s Moments in Love. “Those types of songs were a big eye opener for me as a youth, because it was where I realised songs in popular culture didn’t have to be kept to just 3 minutes, and they didn’t require vocals either. So, Everlasting Joy is a song with that intention, one that might be radio-friendly, despite the long arrangement and without vocals. You could say it was inspired by 107.5 in NY because that was a station I listened to a lot in the 1980’s.”

The majority of demos on Silent Cities were recorded before Covid-19 hit the world - when Levon had found a studio space outside of home in his adopted city of Berlin. It was a career first - working on music outside the bedroom. This riding the train or bicycling ‘going to work’ in Berlin opened up a new mood in his music, using the time back and forth to be inspired - commuting as an NYC transplant who still feels as a tourist in Berlin, with a pair of headphones, looking out the window on the train, or stopping on bridges and parking his bike to enjoy Berlin's skyline and horizon. Then, the pandemic struck and “work” came to a halt. Levon had recorded so much material during that year in the studio out of house it seemed like an inflection point for him to lighten the burden of the possessions he was carrying.

“People close to me have watched me give away synths and hardware regularly and I have given away my record collection every few years for my whole life. As a struggling artist in my 20s who had worked in record stores that whole time, I learned that moving constantly with 12k records just wasn't the way to live. So, in light of the pandemic, I set up a shop online, and sold all my music equipment. I also created a separate shop for all my sneakers and clothes. Easy come, Easy go. This provided me with a slow drip type of income that carried me quite well through the pandemic and it allowed me to focus on my own art and music. Getting rid of all my possessions felt like a weight being lifted from my shoulders and I was able to stay the course and remain committed to the music. I needed a further 2 years to mix and arrange the LP. If it weren’t for the pandemic, I would not been able to make this type of LP, so in light of everything, I was able to turn a depressing time in to something lasting and musically very positive.”

You can hear how his approach to a cassette release retains the "Medium is the Message." ethos. Silent Cities is a spooling, warm piece about life memories and embodiment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hitting play on SEAMOSS2, the latest missive from Portland noisetinkerers Sea Moss, is like punching the big red button on a cartoon
bomb before it explodes into a multicolored mushroom cloud
From the second Nap Time revs up, vocalist Noa Ver and drummer Zach
D'Agostino absolutely clobber the listener with a distorted hodgepodge of sounds
as raw and violent as they are winkingly playful, as if Black Dice and Melt-Banana
were caught in the middle of some kind of psychotic square dance together.The
duo's setup "which involves a primitive assemblage of hacked feedback
oscillators, colorful Rococo tin boxes, and a contact mic plugged directly onto
Ver's neck to capture her barking intonations " harkens back to an era of DIY
where live performance meant everything. Blurring the line between reckless
improvisation and tightly- knit compositions, the band achieves a disorientingly
complex interplay. Though Sea Moss's music may initially seem to be an act of
pure blunt force, the duo's true prowess lies in the intricacy of their rhythmic
interplay. As freeform as it all might seem, SEAMOSS2 contains the band's most
potent, precise compositions yet, refining the distinct style they forged on
disorienting releases like Bread Bored and Bidet Dreaming into a thrilling act of
controlled chaos.
In an era where the communal spirit of DIY feels more difficult to achieve than
ever, Sea Moss embody the classic ethos of weirdo punk music in all its absurdity
and wonder. It's this same sense of scrappiness that's earned them attention
from legends like Lightning Bolt and Machine Girl, and SEAMOSS2 illustrates why
they're every bit as deserving of their own trophy in the noise-rock hall of fame
one adorned in broken contact mics and scuffed-up scratches from one too many
bloody basement shows.

Gondwana Records announces Horizons the debut album from Jasmine Myra, produced by Matthew Halsall, it's an elevating debut record of understated beauty

Jasmine Myra is a Leeds-based saxophonist, composer and band leader Her original instrumental music has a euphoric and uplifting sound, influenced by artists as diverse as Kenny Wheeler, Bonobo and Olafur Arnalds and like Mammal Hands and Hania Rani her music has a special, emotive quality that draws the listener into her world. Matthew Halsall first heard Myra's music in 2019 shortly before the pandemic hit, signing her to Gondwana Records and producing her beautiful debut album, Horizons.

"I was immediately drawn to Jasmine's music. I could hear jazz, electronica in her music but with a deep, honest, emotional quality. I was really impressed with her skills as a composer and bandleader, that she is open and intelligent enough to bring all those influences together, to make something fresh and original. We were also delighted to work with a young artist from the North of England. London is often seen as the place to be, but cities like Manchester and Leeds are full of creative musicians too, and that sense of local community is at the heart of our values as a label."

Myra came-up through the bustling, creative Leeds music scene and her music draws on the sense of community that permeates life in the city and which is notable for a strong DIY ethos in its musical community. She attended Leeds Conservatoire and played with the Leeds based Abstract Orchestra, a jazz big-band, led by tutor Rob Mitchell that explores the synergy between jazz and hip-hop found in the recordings of Madlib, MF Doom of J Dilla. Indeed, Myra cites MF Doom and Soweto Kinch as early influences on her own music. It was in her last year at the conservatoire that Myra started to consider leading her own group and started to really think about what her own music might sound like and her first band featured guitarist Ben Haskins and drummer George Hall who both feature on Horizons and her band draws heavily on the Leeds community featuring rising stars such as pianist Jasper Green and harpist Alice Roberts.

Myra also mentions local legend, Dave Walker, who owns an instrument repair shop called 'All Brass and Woodwind' which is right next to the music college. She worked there while studying and he introduced her to a lot of local musicians. Walker also has his own line of saxophones (played by Shabaka Hutchins, Pete Wareham and Nubya Garcia), and gifted Myra the saxophone she plays on Horizons. It was Walker who encouraged Myra to apply for Jazz North Introduces, a scheme that supports emerging jazz artists in the North of England and Myra credits her winning a place, in 2018,with helping her grow in confidence.

" It gave me the opportunity to start gigging outside of Leeds, which I was very keen to do. I was quite surprised by people's reaction to the project and the support I was being shown, which helped me gain a lot of confidence. It became clear to me very quickly that being a solo artist was what I wanted to do and it was also apparent to me that mine was one of the only female-led instrumental bands on the Leeds scene, which encouraged me even more, as I wanted my project to inspire younger female musicians".

Horizons was produced by Matthew Halsall and mixed by Portico Quartet collaborator Greg Freeman, and much of the music was written during lockdown. It was a hard time for a lot of people, and initially Myra struggled mentally, deprived of shows and the connections of making music with her band and friends, but she also realised what she wanted as an artist and the result is heard on Horizons.

"I realised that my aim was to start writing music that made people feel happy and uplifted. Writing is one of my biggest passions, but I also love performing. Playing live and seeing the audience connect with my music and have a positive experience brings me so much joy".

This sense of elevation is at the heart of Horizons, together with the feeling of a journey, of reaching new ground. Prologue and Horizons were originally composed as one piece as they encapsulate Myra's own personal development as she worked on the album - taking the listener on a journey, especially Prologue; and then Horizons is that moment of release when you've reached the end goal. 1000 Miles takes inspiration from the music of Shabaka and the Ancestors. Whereas Words Left Unspoken was written after Myra's grandmother unexpectedly passed away in June, and due to Covid restrictions she was unable to visit her before she passed and say how much she loved her. Morningtide is a nod to Kenny Wheeler, particularly the track Opening from Sweet Time Suite on Music for Large and Small Ensembles but Myra also puts her own spin on it as she also does with Promise, another track influenced by Wheeler. Awakening has a calm and euphoric quality and represents that sense of problems lifting, or of reaching the other side, and New Beginnings finishes the album with a positive vibe and a sense of moving forward from darkness

This then is Horizons. A soulful, emotional and up-lifting debut from a major new voice. A snapshot of a young artist at the beginning of her journey - drawing on jazz and electronica influences to create something fresh and new. But also a celebration of her home town Leeds, and a record built on a sense of support and community before looking out to wider Horizons.

Jamie Cullum on BBC Radio 2 "...That's Jasmine Myra and 'New Beginnings', wonderful to hear new music from a new artists i've not heard before, a great new artist!"

Tom Ravenscroft on BBC 6 Music "Leeds-based saxophonist, composer and band leader Jasmine Myra. 'New Beginnings' on Gondwana Records. Compositions drawing influence by Kenny Wheeler, Bonobo, Ólafur Arnalds. Produced by Matthew Halsall"

Reissue of the breakthrough sophomore album by the rising Belarussian post-punk/synthpop band // The second LP by Belarussian trio Molchat Doma, Etazhi, meaning "Floors", was first released in 2018 on Berlin-based Detriti Records. It became a viral hit, garnering over one million views on YouTube and becoming a legitimate phenomenon on Bandcamp. The band may fly under the radar in their native Belarus, but they've reached huge audiences across Europe and beyond. Six separate vinyl pressings of the album have sold out in quick succession, and Sacred Bones Records is now thrilled to bring the record back in print for good. Molchat Doma (translated as "Houses Are Silent"), founded in 2017 in Minsk, Belarus, stands at the intersection of post-punk, new-wave and synth-pop. Dark yet danceable, and with a heavy dose of goth ethos, their music is reminiscent of the masters that predate them, but make no mistake: Molchat Doma creates a sound and meaning that is immediately recognizable as all their own. The band is comprised of Egor Shkutko, who sings the Russian lyrics in his deep monotone, Roman Komogortsev on guitar, synths, and drum machine, and Pavel Kozlov on bass and synths. RiYL: Depeche Mode, New Order, Drab Majesty, Black Marble

Today Chicago-based percussionist, composer and producer Makaya McCraven announces the details of his new album In These Times, which is set for release on September 23rd via International Anthem / Nonesuch / XL Recordings. The first offering from the new album is a song tiled "Seventh String," which encapsulates the various musical dimensions present on McCraven's new album, a career-defining body of work that is a remarkable new peak for the already-soaring McCraven. In These Times is a collection of polytemporal compositions inspired as much by broader cultural struggles as McCraven's personal experience as a product of a multinational, working class musician community. It's the recording that he's been trying to create for 7+ years, as it's been consistently in process in the background while he's put forth a prolific run of releases including: In The Moment (2015), Highly Rare (2017), Where We Come From (2018), Universal Beings (2018), We're New Again (2020), Universal Beings E&F Sides (2020), and Deciphering the Message (2021). With contributions from over a dozen musicians and creative partners from his tight-knit circle of collaborators - including Jeff Parker, Junius Paul, Brandee Younger, Joel Ross, and Marquis Hill - the music was recorded in five different studios and four live performance spaces while McCraven engaged in extensive post-production work at home. Featuring orchestral, large ensemble arrangements interwoven with the signature "organic beat music" sound that's become his signature, the album is an evolution and a milestone for McCraven, the producer. But moreover, it's the strongest and clearest statement we've yet to hear from McCraven, the composer. Profiled in the New York Times, Vice, Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, the Guardian, and NPR, among other publications, Makaya and the music he makes today is what Passion of Weiss explains, "is part of a necessary conversation about the next evolution of the Black improvised music known colloquially as 'jazz.' He's found the threads connecting the past with the present, and is either wrapping them with new colors and textures, or he's plucking them gleefully like the strings of a grand instrument." McCraven, who has been aptly called a "cultural synthesizer" and "beat scientist," has a unique gift for collapsing space, destroying borders and blending past, present, and future into poly-textural arrangements of post-genre, jazz-rooted 21st century folk music. In These Times encompasses his artistic ethos, his experiences, identity and lineage, while pushing his music to new heights.

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.

OVERVIEW: Press Club return with their third studio album, Endless Motion, to be released this October. Brave, energetic and expansive, the idea of motion has always been central to the Press Club ethos. Having made music together for 12 years, the Melbourne-based punk rock four-piece reject stagnancy, constantly pushing to change and thrive in a scene that largely stays the same. Endless Motion is the ultimate artistic statement about the past three years – a collective and global struggle that has provided the material and circumstances for Press Club to emerge as one of the most exciting and relevant bands of 2022.

OVERVIEW: Press Club return with their third studio album, Endless Motion, to be released this October. Brave, energetic and expansive, the idea of motion has always been central to the Press Club ethos. Having made music together for 12 years, the Melbourne-based punk rock four-piece reject stagnancy, constantly pushing to change and thrive in a scene that largely stays the same. Endless Motion is the ultimate artistic statement about the past three years – a collective and global struggle that has provided the material and circumstances for Press Club to emerge as one of the most exciting and relevant bands of 2022.

OVERVIEW: Press Club return with their third studio album, Endless Motion, to be released this October. Brave, energetic and expansive, the idea of motion has always been central to the Press Club ethos. Having made music together for 12 years, the Melbourne-based punk rock four-piece reject stagnancy, constantly pushing to change and thrive in a scene that largely stays the same. Endless Motion is the ultimate artistic statement about the past three years – a collective and global struggle that has provided the material and circumstances for Press Club to emerge as one of the most exciting and relevant bands of 2022.

Taking Back Sunday scored one of the highest charting independent rock albums
of 2004 when 'Where You Want To Be' hit No. 3. Dubbed "one of the most
anticipated albums of 2006" by Alternative Press, the band's follow- up and
Warner Bros. debut Louder Now released on April 25, 2006, took the group's
classic ethos of intertwining vocals and hardcore meets- rock- meets- pop to an
even more enticing level, besting its predecessor and skyrocketing to No. 2 on
Billboard's Top 200 selling 158,000 copies in its first week and garnering a Gold
certification in the process.
'Louder Now' went on to receive favorable reviews from critics, and was voted
Kerrang!'s album of the year. Additionally, it reached top 10 status on several
Billboard charts and the top 20 in Canada, Australia and the UK where it later was
certified silver by the BPI for sales exceeding 60,000 copies.

3am Recordings brings you its debut album, from label boss Al Bradley. While it would be much easier to get some huge name in for this who is previously unrelated to 3am, it was never going to be like that here. Staying true to the ethos of the label, it was important that this milestone was a reection of the label and what it has always stood for. The move back to vinyl in 2015 has rmly planted the label back
in its place as one of the UK's most consistent for house music, retaining its value of working with artists who have been involved with the label over its 19-year history, or who have been rm supporters of 3am during its time. Over the 9 cuts there are a variety of vibes, 'Little Treasures' aims to cover a selection of sounds that represent Al's inuences & styles, having been buying records since the mid-80s &
playing vinyl as DJ since he got his decks in 1991. The past is important as it represents where we started, the future is equally important, as it's the area of the unknown & we have to embrace it...

Covering deep house, dub techno, broken beats, raw machine funk, beatless ambience & more, the album is one that is danceoor-aimed, but works beyond that area too. With support from the likes of Placid (We're Going Deep), Carlo Gambino (We_R_House), Lolu Menayed
(Rawtrax), Lars Behrenroth (Deeper Shades of House), Loz Goddard (Oath), James Reid (Sonet), Moodymanc (2020Vision) & many more, the album reaches right across the spectrum of electronic music.

Danielle Arielli is a young and promising producer based in Berlin, completely devoted to the DIY ethos. Her banging DJ sets are full of energy, mixing classic Chicago House with Detroit Techno, Ghetto House and all the black magic in between. After her first full length
EP on her own label TOOFLEZ MUZIK, her follow-up EP on "Smile for a while" sublabel "All That Jelly" is completely on the same level as her DJ sets - bang dat sh*t!

The Brattleboro, Vermont trio THUS LOVE stand together, a bond cemented by their experience as outsiders looking in. For THUS LOVE, DIY is an ethos that reflects not only their musical vision but their very existence as three self-identifying trans artists. From the band’s inception, Echo Mars (she/her), Lu Racine (he/him) and Nathaniel van Osdol (they/them) have lived together under the same roof, designed and produced their own merch, and created their own recording studio from scratch. “I realize that most artists don’t live this way,” says Mars. “But for us, it was never really a choice. The art we make is so tied to who we are and the community we’re a part of, that this is the only way we can possibly do it.”

The band was just starting to regularly headline renowned local venue The Stone Church when everything came to a screeching halt. Rather than idly wait, the band decided to take their future in their own hands. Armed with nothing but YouTube videos and her

innate curiosity, Mars constructed a makeshift studio in their apartment, recording during odd hours when their next-door neighbors were out and about.

Gustav Ejstes has always been on his way to someplace else. The Swedish musician has been making records as Dungen for two decades now, and while he’s lauded as one of the sharpest and most adventurous musicians in psychedelic music since 2004’s breakthrough Ta det lungt, for Ejstes psych has always been only a starting point. Or maybe it’s something more like an ethos—psych with its promise of exploration, the way it prioritizes seeking out new sounds, of leaving the old self behind, of setting into the ether to see what else might be out there. En Är För Mycket och Tusen Aldrig Nog (One is Too Much and a Thousand is Never Enough) is the first Dungen record since 2016’s Häxan and the first proper Dungen studio album since Allas Sak was released in 2015. If we’re thinking of psych-rock as a genre, with its readymade tropes—fuzz guitars, shimmering harmonies, pastoral textures—it’s possibly the least psychedelic record Ejstes has ever made. But if psych is really about transcending what’s come before in favor of new ways of seeing and hearing, then the opposite is true. And that means En Är För Mycket och Tusen Aldrig Nog goes further out than any Dungen record before it. There are classic psych rave-ups, of course, and the kind of brilliant vocal harmonies Ejstes has long made his trademark. There are soft, shuffling grooves that transform into wide-eyed cosmic revelations. There are intimate songs guided by Ejstes and his piano, which he plays so gently it sounds like he’s trying not to wake someone in the next room.

Bay Area Thrash Metal legend Blind Illusion returns after 34 years with a follow-up to “The Sane Asylum”, featuring Doug Piercy (ex-Heathen) and Andy Gallon (ex-Death Angel)! Thrash as a primitive, earthy genre has given us many greats: Metallica, Slayer, Exodus, Death Angel, Heathen and the like. But the more calculated, technical, and ultimately colorful inventors of progressive Thrash, a genre that blossomed handsomely after Watchtower’s debut in 1985, are what truly push the limits of Thrash and test its creative bandwidth. Blind Illusion on their new album “Wrath of the Gods”, achieve this to a degree that has seldom been approached, let alone passed, in the rest of Thrash history, just as they did 34 years ago on “The Sane Asylum”. What is most impressive and revealing about this album, however, is not the technical ability of the musicians involved (although there is nothing wrong with their ability). It’s the pure brilliance that shapes every song, and the demonstration of how focusing on the art of songwriting will work wonders for a band. “Straight as the Crowbar Flies” introduces us first to the astral energy this album exudes, with catchy riffing and Marc Biedermann’s raspy, growling vocals. The screeching guitar solos and the abrupt rhythm changes keep the song fresh, but the band’s incorporation of technical Thrash elements crossed with extremely catchy riffing and drum arrangements proves to be the strong attributes of this album. There are numerous instances where the band finds its virtue in slowing down, letting a power chord ring out, and then letting the drums restart and propel the song once again. When the band decides to let their guard down and get cagey or manic with the rhythm, it’s done so with precision and doesn’t come at the expense of the song structure. When they get technical, the notes still vibrate with emotion, and the song doesn’t just become a vacuum for skills to be shown off. This message is most evident in every song, which all feature catchy guitar licks and great guitar riffs. What Blind Illusion does best on this new masterpiece is deliver cleverly-written and fun songs with catchy riffs. At the heart of Thrash, that’s really all you can ask for. The effects of how masterfully composed this album is has lend the production a unique ethos that makes it feel human. This is a group of guys who know what die-hard Thrash fans want to hear, and they know how to put it on their 2022 album “Wrath of the Gods”.

Jake Mehew's debut album Sage is a modern and contemporary take on spiritual jazz, a truly exceptional record from the eclectic and highly talented Leeds' artist.Whilst staying within the ethos of spontaneous, unedited performance, Mehew constantly pushes and manipulates the genre's boundaries.The recognisable and lush sound of the Fender Rhodes, layered on a bed of punchy, percussive, grooves, provides the bedrock for powerful improvisations, running alongside Meyhew's subtle analogue synth manipulation and production.

Sage was workshopped over one frantic lockdown week in August 2020. It's a truly honest experience of seven days of hard work, a multi tracked record, made without using overdub to capture the true energy of the performance.True to the spirit of albums made in a pre digital era Mehew set out to capture ideas, interaction and performance at their inception rather than post production.

Jake Mehew is an up and coming composer, performer and producer based in Leeds, UK. His work combines principles of free improvisation with the technological considerations of the avant-garde. Using a combination of acoustic instruments, modular synthesisers and samplers Mehew creates rich, meditative soundscapes that envelop the listener in an immersive sound field.

Das Londoner Electro-Pop-Duo Real Lies verbindet klassische englische Pop-Poesie mit den regenverhangenen Atmosphären von Künstlern wie Claude Young, Drexciya und Richard D James. Auf dem zweiten Album 'Lad Ash' romantisiert Texter Kevin Lee Kharas ekstatische Teenagerausflüge, die die Koordinaten für zwei Jahrzehnte des aufregenden Hedonismus setzten. Eine wilde Zeit, die sowohl zum euphorischen Debüt 'Real Life' (2015), Remixes für Pet Shop Boys und Two Door Cinema Club in 2016, als auch zur langen Wartezeit auf den Nachfolger führte.

LAUNCH EVENTS Sept 2nd - Film premier at the David Lean Cinema in Croydon with a Q & A afterwards by Griff and Mark, and an aftershow party nearby with special celebrity guests TBC. An 18 track compilation featuring the best of Croydon's punk and post punk scene! Are They Hostile? Is a new documentary film about the Punk, New Wave and Indie scene in Croydon in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. It takes its name from the first single by Croydon band Bad Actors. To coincide with the film’s release Damaged Goods Records are releasing a compilation vinyl LP and CD featuring bands from in the film including Johnny Moped, The Marines, The Daleks, Case, Fanatics and also bands such as The Straps who played Croydon many times usually at The Star Pub in West Croydon. The CD version also features a specially recorded introduction by the legendary ex-Croydon Greyhound DJ Peter Fox. It’s been argued that Croydon was the birthplace of Punk in the UK, largely due to The Damned and Johnny Moped. But there was a group of other, less well-known bands who were part of that scene, or who came just after, but who didn’t achieve the same success or recognition. The film and album attempt to set the record straight by shining a light on bands such as Bad Actors, Case, The Daleks, The Heroes and Fanatics. the music still fizzes with the energy and enthusiasm of youth and the punk ethos of just doing it. And the participants, if a bit older and slightly less slim than forty years ago, come alive in the current interviews as if connected to the mains. As the saying goes, “old punks don’t die”, but they do remember. The documentary film takes us through the history of these bands, the people in them, the places they played and, through current interviews with “a bunch of old punks”, what they did next, and how formative and important being in a band was for them growing up. The film is the brainchild of Bad Actor Griff Griffiths and Mark Williams and will premier at the David Lean Cinema in Croydon on 2nd September with a Q & A afterwards by Griff and Mark, and an aftershow party nearby with special celebrity guests TBC. Griff explains: “It’s also a film about being young, being passionate, being part of something.” TRACKLISTING 1 – Bad Actors – Are the Hostile? 2 – Johnny Moped – Groovy Ruby (Live at the Roxy) 3 – The Marines – Step This Way 4 – Slime – Controversial 5 – Case – Smiling My Life Away 6 – The Daleks – Tiny Town 7 – Fanatics – Total Confusion 8 – The Straps - New Age 9 – The Heroes – Tarzan 10 – Bad Actors – One Of Us 11 – Johnny Moped – Incendiary Device (Live at the Roxy) 12 -The Marines – Pleasure Business 13 – Slime – Loony 14 – Case – I Don't Wanna Kill The Whales 15 - The Daleks - Rejected16 – Fanatics – When The Sun Goes Down 17 – The Straps – Brixton 18 – The Heroes - Russia

Das Londoner Electro-Pop-Duo Real Lies verbindet klassische englische Pop-Poesie mit den regenverhangenen Atmosphären von Künstlern wie Claude Young, Drexciya und Richard D James. Auf dem zweiten Album 'Lad Ash' romantisiert Texter Kevin Lee Kharas ekstatische Teenagerausflüge, die die Koordinaten für zwei Jahrzehnte des aufregenden Hedonismus setzten. Eine wilde Zeit, die sowohl zum euphorischen Debüt 'Real Life' (2015), Remixes für Pet Shop Boys und Two Door Cinema Club in 2016, als auch zur langen Wartezeit auf den Nachfolger führte.

San Francisco band touches upon black metal, blues, ambient and more. Of all things, it’s laughter that pervades Mamaleek’s Diner Coffee, the San Francisco metal deconstructionists’ sonically crushing ode to the humor found within catastrophe, American diners, and “the little things.” Featuring a mix of live performances, samples, and field recordings, Diner Coffee laughs through its harsh songs in an attempt to reflect the camaraderie found at the heart of global calamities and changing personal situations. It’s an homage to the quotidian set to the backdrop of the mythologized, sanctuary-like properties of a diner, reveling in irony-less nostalgia. Mamaleek embodies this ethos on and off the record. Originally two anonymous brothers, the past few years have seen Mamaleek adding members and venturing into live performance. Diner Coffee, following in the footsteps of 2020’s Come & See, features new, unfamiliar, unknown voices—including expanded experiments with horns, woodwinds, and strings and a Bay Area-local blues harmonica player who improvised recorded selections during practices. The resulting tracks touch on signifiers from black metal, blues, ambient, and more. Diner Coffee simultaneously represents the band’s artistic progression and the state of the world. Taking a surprisingly optimistic perspective, Mamaleek once again puts forward a project of left-field, wholly unique compositions, eluding easy categorization and furthering their abstraction of genre. “The group cloaks its music in the kind of warm, hypnotic distortion that defines shoegaze, and underneath that haze is a style that’s conceptually abrasive yet altogether beautiful.” Forbes //

Tracklist 1 Libations to Sacred Clowns 2 Boiler Room 3 Badtimers 4 Save Your Poor Wicked Soul 5 Grief and a Headhunter's Rage 6 Wharf Rats in the Moonlight 7 Diner Coffee

A decade is a long time in music, but it feels less epic when the music in question is timeless, picturesque, and immersive. Founded in London, run from Bali for a period, and now based in Ibiza, NuNorthern Soul has grown from humble roots to become one of the most popular outlets for Balearic music on the planet.

NuNorthern Soul started in the late 1990s, long before the label launched, NuNorthern Soul was a regular Sunday session in a bar in Chester, UK where label founder Phat Phil Cooper and school friend Jim Baron (Ron Basejam, Crazy P, JIM) sat behind the decks and played laidback, eclectic musical selections to wind down the weekend. The name was suggested by one of the event’s regular punters, who likened the community feel of the event to his experiences as a Northern Soul dancer.

Fast forward to 2011. Following a move to London, Cooper was introduced to Ben Smith, a singer-songwriter and producer whose music he’d long admired. After bonding over a few pints of Guinness, Smith offered to hand over a hard drive full of unreleased tracks; together, the pair put together what would become the NuNorthern Soul label’s first ever release: a fine album of beautiful, boundary-free music entitled The Movedrill Projects.

Another EP from Smith, Dedications to the Greats, followed in early 2013, with the sometime Fug and Akwaaba band-member recording emotive, life-affirming cover versions in his signature style. It was followed by an EP of opaque, sunset-ready songs from Ragz Nordset, and NuNorthern Soul was on its way. While the label has subtly moved around musically since, offering up EPs and albums that incorporate elements from a multitude of becalmed and blissful styles, the core ethos remains the same. Significantly, those early Ben Smith and Ragz Nordset releases still stand up to scrutiny all these years on.

Smith has remained a big part of the NuNorthern Soul family ever since, and it’s fitting that two of his tracks – the stunning, undulating downtempo epic ‘Over Land & Sea’, from improvised 2019 album From The Ash, and Jonny Nash’s glistening, shuffling 2015 rework of ‘Hold On To It’ – are featured on this 10th birthday celebration of the NuNorthern Soul story so far.

It’s right, too, that Jim Baron, whose stints behind the decks with Cooper in Chester began the NuNorthern Soul story, also makes two appearances. His chugging, jangling, wide-eyed 2014 Ron Basejam rework of Ragz Nordset’s ‘You Started It All’ – a track that has so far racked up over three million streams on Spotify – was an early label hit, while his fragile, softly spun masterpiece as JIM, ‘Whisper in the Wind’ (featuring none other than Ben Smith on guitar), features here via a deliciously stretched-out, sunrise-ready remix from James Holroyd under his Balearic-friendly BEGIN guise.

Sentimentality aside, the success of NuNorthern Soul is rooted in Cooper’s ability to pick music to release from a wide variety of artists that fits the label’s colourful, atmospheric, and tactile sonic vision. This lovingly curated box set is testament to that, with immersive, yearning efforts from veteran musicians such as Jon Tye (here appearing as Captain Sunshine, via the breath-taking ‘The Oceans Inside’) and the late, great Ryo Kawasaki (remixed by Mancunian, former Body & Soul NYC resident DJ Andi Hanley) being joined by wonderfully on-point productions from relatively recent signings such as Torn Sail (the Balearic folk swell of ‘Disconnected’), George Koultalieris, My Friend Dario and Tambores En Benirras.

10 Years, 5 EPs, 10 tracks, exclusives, previously unreleased and hard to find NuNorthern Soul treasures. Packaged in a full colour commemorative designed box with full colour inner sleeves. 1 track per side of vinyl for maximum audio pleasure. Comes with 4 page NuNorthern Soul insert. Limited edition.

Nothing is explained in the mysteries around us, but some art touches their soul: last year, Justin Tripp, one half of the US-American impro electronic duo Georgia and London-based electronic artist Zaheer Gulamhusein man behind projects like Waswaas and XVARR -joined forces as STRING. Together they went on a virtual vacation and never came back. As the virtual is fully real due to its virtuality, they created a truly authentic aural hardware journey, hauntingly adventurous, calm, and surprising.
Without defining the scope, STRING tumbled through a dark musical zone that stretched to the horizon, letting the sound shape itself while falling discreet into an appealing abstract space. Hovering clockwise shortly above the ground, they formed impossible geometric musical figures - weightless, fluid clouds, made up of relations between asymmetrical elements. Like in nature, their collaborative work avoids identical characteristics. In an expression of respectful admiration, they softly celebrate the irregularities between their specific genetic musical fingerprints, creating eight light binding clouds of dawn. A meditative musical voyage that transports cosmic particles of idealistic Berlin school ambient right into the heart of their electronic machines. All tunes swing calm but constitutive, dancing around synthesized surfaces that form obsessed flaming orbs of fear and hope, of matter and antimatter.
A shared love for hardware and the ethos of improvisation guided STRING into an experimentation, in which each party aligns closely to the core ideas of co-operative, in-the-moment electronic music, tied across the eight tracks in a sequence.
Finding a home with the highly esteemed Hamburg based label V I S, STRING’s debut “Last Index Of…“ will enter the earth in double vinyl and cassette format, plus tripping on at the digital platforms.
(Text written by Michael Leuffen) the sound shape itself while falling discreet into an appealing abstract space. Hovering clockwise shortly above the ground, they formed impossible geometric musical figures - weightless, fluid clouds, made up of relations between asymmetrical elements. Like in nature, their collaborative work avoids identical characteristics. In an expression of respectful admiration, they softly celebrate the irregularities between their specific genetic musical
fingerprints, creating eight light binding clouds of dawn. A meditative musical voyage that transports cosmic particles of idealistic Berlin school ambient right into the heart of their electronic machines. All tunes swing calm but constitutive, dancing around synthesized surfaces that form obsessed flaming orbs of fear and hope, of
matter and antimatter.
A shared love for hardware and the ethos of improvisation guided STRING into an experimentation, in which each party aligns closely to the core ideas of co-operative, in-the-moment electronic music, tied across the eight tracks in a sequence.
Finding a home with the highly esteemed Hamburg based label V I S, STRING’s debut “Last Index Of…“ will enter the earth in double vinyl and cassette format, plus tripping on at the digital platforms.
(Text written by Michael Leuffen)

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."

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"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."

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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.

Today Chicago-based percussionist, composer and producer Makaya McCraven announces the details of his new album In These Times, which is set for release on September 23rd via International Anthem / Nonesuch / XL Recordings. The first offering from the new album is a song tiled "Seventh String," which encapsulates the various musical dimensions present on McCraven's new album, a career-defining body of work that is a remarkable new peak for the already-soaring McCraven. In These Times is a collection of polytemporal compositions inspired as much by broader cultural struggles as McCraven's personal experience as a product of a multinational, working class musician community. It's the recording that he's been trying to create for 7+ years, as it's been consistently in process in the background while he's put forth a prolific run of releases including: In The Moment (2015), Highly Rare (2017), Where We Come From (2018), Universal Beings (2018), We're New Again (2020), Universal Beings E&F Sides (2020), and Deciphering the Message (2021). With contributions from over a dozen musicians and creative partners from his tight-knit circle of collaborators - including Jeff Parker, Junius Paul, Brandee Younger, Joel Ross, and Marquis Hill - the music was recorded in five different studios and four live performance spaces while McCraven engaged in extensive post-production work at home. Featuring orchestral, large ensemble arrangements interwoven with the signature "organic beat music" sound that's become his signature, the album is an evolution and a milestone for McCraven, the producer. But moreover, it's the strongest and clearest statement we've yet to hear from McCraven, the composer. Profiled in the New York Times, Vice, Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, the Guardian, and NPR, among other publications, Makaya and the music he makes today is what Passion of Weiss explains, "is part of a necessary conversation about the next evolution of the Black improvised music known colloquially as 'jazz.' He's found the threads connecting the past with the present, and is either wrapping them with new colors and textures, or he's plucking them gleefully like the strings of a grand instrument." McCraven, who has been aptly called a "cultural synthesizer" and "beat scientist," has a unique gift for collapsing space, destroying borders and blending past, present, and future into poly-textural arrangements of post-genre, jazz-rooted 21st century folk music. In These Times encompasses his artistic ethos, his experiences, identity and lineage, while pushing his music to new heights.

Leaving Records presents Under the Lilac Sky, the debut LP by Arushi Jain, an India-born, US-residing composer, modular synthesist, vocalist, technologist, and engineer. At six songs spanning 48 minutes of ambient synth ragas intended to be heard during the sunset hours, Under the Lilac Sky invites the listener to transport themselves through intentional listening. Jain states, “You know that moment when the sun is bidding farewell to the sky, and the colors turn into beautiful hues of purple and pink and everything in between? That is the moment that this album will shine the most. The deeper you listen, the more shades you’ll see.”

Jain’s work focuses on reinterpreting traditional Indian classical music through the lens of electronic instrumentation. She re-contextualizes ancient sounds in a modern framework, carrying the torch of electronic luminaries such as Suzanne Ciani and Terry Riley while pursuing personal explorations of her musical heritage and upbringing. Under the Lilac Sky is a cinematic statement of intent, an album that reverently nods to Jain’s musical history while presenting a bold sonic point of view. Jain states, “This album is the coming together of two distinct cultures of Hindustani classical and modular synthesizers representing the two parts of me that evolved into one whole in between my time in India and California”

Voice is emphasized as an essential element of the album, not just for the lyrics or the melodies but also as a source of texture. It is most recognizable when Jain sings aalaaps or sargam of the different ragas the songs are composed in, however her voice is deeply embedded in other, sometimes quieter layers of the record. Jain, who spent her childhood studying indian classical as a vocalist says, “At any given point, there is at least one layer in the record that carries my voice. The human voice is powerful and unique to every individual. My voice is unique to me, so I decided it should be present at all times even if it’s unrecognizable.”

Another core theme of Under the Lilac Sky is the time of day, and the role it plays in influencing how one interacts with the music. “Intrinsic to Indian classical music is the concept of Time and Seasonality. For each raga, there is a specific time of the day when it is meant to be heard for it to shine in it’s authenticity. It harkens to the question of when the environment around you is most in tune with your own sound and breath, and how it supports you in realizing your vision of the moment. This album is meant to be an ode to those timely rituals, and is best heard while you take a moment to do what you love.”

Jain’s exploratory musical ethos finds a like-minded home within Leaving Records’ “All Genre” philosophy. Jain is acutely aware of her role as a composer and modular synthesist reinterpreting a historical art form. “For Indian classical music, this is atypical. The music I compose is inspired by a centuries old tradition, yet aestheticized in a novel way, using the tools and technical innovations of analog synth movements. My art is crafted using machines that I’ve slowly fallen in love with and made my own.”

First thought, best thought. Until the next thought: a guiding principle for No Age in the 16ish years they've been around. Constantly responding to their own streams of consciousness with reductive flexibility, they've taken the basic duo of guitar and drums with vocals WAY farther than anyone listening in halcyon Weirdo Rippers days could have guessed. Expounding on those larval possibilities, they've zig-zagged in serpentine precision, in and out of the teeth of the wringer - ranging outside and back in again, as befits the present thought. And now, six albums into it, these principles have led them to make People Helping People. Composed in their studio of ten years in the "pre pandemic" times, then an eviction from said space, and finished deep in the midst at their new basecamp: Randy's Garage. It starts with an instrumental, too. First counter-intuition, best counter intuition! Nearly five minutes prelude Dean's debut vocal interjection - a zoom in from the upper atmosphere, Randy's guitar clouds pulsing with radiation, paced by spare, percussive accents. When the first song with singing ("Compact Flashes") bounces in on an insane synthetic beat, the only recognizable sound of No Age is a sputtering of enchanted clicks and creaks - muted guitar strings and drumkit rattlings that cycle for a full minute before voice song and snare fall into place. This is the sound of People Helping People: No Age, deep in the lab, scraping available nuclii together to see what new compound they find next. Erasing the starting points, reordering the pieces and beginning anew. It's an everyday mindset - and as the first No Age album recorded entirely by No Agee, People Helping People is a broadcast of entirely lived-in proportions. Side one ricochets expertly back and forth between magisterial instrumentals and sing-song forms cut up on the mixing desk, as with the undeniable hitness of "Plastic (You Want It)", winningly rewired to MIDI-mangled beat squelches. They don't really land on a straight up punk-style riff until it's almost time to flip the side, and even once they've got off on a run of rockers on side B, their aesthetic choices continuously reframe the norms, enhancing their inherent power. People Helping People finds their disparate desires operating in perfect sync; prolegomenic weirdness fused immaculately to classic rock propulsion, transforming the energy pouring out from their hands and feet with electronics. Dean's lyrics are like pieces taken off the belt at the factory and put together into a John Chamberlin-esque sculpture, meant to sit out in the rain. Randy's guitars, collaged into arrangements that reflect, again, boundless curiosity and exquisite restraint. This is People Helping People: unpretentious, suspicious, inviting, confident, left field. The most accurate display of the No Age ethos put to record. Yet!

823 is a multifaceted Perth-based record label, fashion brand, and artistic community, founded by Australian producer and all-around creative, Ta-ku (846k monthly listeners on Spotify). With an ethos of attention to detail and appreciation for the everyday things in life, 823 doesn’t stick to any particular genre. 823’s releases include Cabu’s (800k Monthly Listeners on Spotify) “So Far To Go” EP, Ta-ku and matt mcwaters’s duo project “Black and White,” which featured Masego collaboration “Flight 99” (14 million streams on Spotify), their debut release with Australian producer and instrumentalist Kuzich, and multiple sold out clothing capsules. “All Things Considered Vol. 1” set off a collaborative series of curated compilations, featuring both budding and well-established artists around the world including Idealism, Wun Two, pastels, SwuM, Jinsang, Saltyyyy V, and more. “All Things Considered Vol. 2” sees the continuation of this project, this time in partnership with fellow Perth-based powerhouse, Butter Goods.

Butter Goods is a Perth clothing brand rooted in skating culture and style, but drawing inspiration from hip-hop, jazz, and music at large. Butter Goods has been featured in major publications, including GQ, Complex, and HYPEBEAST. They’ve collaborated on releases with Peanuts and Puma, and have reached international levels of popularity. Butter Goods co-founder Garth Mariano’s deep love for and eclectic tastes in music drive his creativity, and are front and center in his partnership with Ta-ku and 823 on “All Things Considered Vol 2,” where the two team up to curate a wide-ranging compilation.

Arriving on September 2nd, 2022, “All Things Considered Vol. 2” is an exploration of Ta-ku’s and Mariano’s extensive and often overlapping musical palettes in two parts. The record pays homage to the love of instrumental music and hidden gems of new school jazz and funk that act as a source of inspiration and nostalgia for the both of them. The collaboration brings together over a dozen producers and instrumentalists from Sydney to Chicago, including Jadu Jadu, Gnarly, Tenderlonius, silentjay, and more. Side A is curated by Ta-ku and 823. It’s as much a love letter to the past as it is a nod to the future of beat-making. Featuring sample heavy, drum looped beats, sprinkled with the occasional ear candy for the attentive listener, it presents cruisy soundscapes & easy listening. Side B is curated by Garth and Butter Goods. It’s a raw and eclectic companion to Side A, leaning heavily into the texture and grit of multi-layered jazz and funk-driven beats.

As with any 823 release, the project is as visual as it is sonic. The artwork and visualizers are a celebration of Garth’s love of thrift culture and old nature documentaries, fused with 823’s design aesthetic of bringing everyday inspirations to the forefront. CRT style visuals are paired with 90’s spin, slide and fade away transitions. When partnered with the music, each visualizer could easily work as the intro for an episode of a VHS series of nature docos.

1st single, “senzu bean,” arrives on July 7th and kicks off Side A, showcasing Ta-ku’s hip-hop-centric tastes. Sydney producer Jadu Jadu teams up with UK-based TAMBALA, apltn, and Makzo for a vibrant instrumental. From a head-nodding bassline beneath fuzzy synths, to soft horn licks sprinkled over electronic drums, “senzu bean” is sonically rich and multilayered.

2nd single, “Too Much” by UK producer saaaz arrives July 20th. It’s a moody and low-tempo beat that builds itself up over time, complete with cryptic vocal samples and syrupy drums and bass. Also off of 823’s Side A, “Too Much” maintains a laid-back hip-hop theme but with saaaz’s signature and definitive lo-fi twist.

3rd single, “Goodmorning” from Baro Sura and silentjay of Melbourne arrives August 3rd, kicking off Butter Good’s Side B. The track is bright from start to finish and is a sun-filled track perfect for closing out the summer with. Final single, “Fool’s Gold” by Los Angeles producer L.Dre arrives August 17th. The infinitely creative beatmaker layers soft hums and the sounds of crashing waves over crisp drums and an infectious bassline. Together, it makes for a beat that sounds like it was made outside, under the sun, and is best enjoyed in the same way.

Focus track, “Seventh Wonder” by Tenderlonius, comes off of Side B, and is a window into the ideas and palettes on both sides of the compilation. The beat slowly fades in, one sound at a time, until it reaches a full-fledged groove, soaked in synths, bass, and horns, that’s impossible not to move to.

On the whole, “All Things Considered Vol. 2” is a forward-focused, sonic journey into the minds behind two of today’s great creative brands, and is as artistically eclectic and varied as those minds are, and a proud follow-up to its first volume.

LP contains A2 poster on uncoated stock.

Alexandra Sauser-Monnig and Amelia Meath have been yodeling together for upwards of fifteen years – in the backseat of a Prius while on their first cross-country tour, on back porches and backstages. It’s what led them to Fruit, their debut release as The A’s – a joyous ten-song collection spanning genre and decades, with interpretations of traditionals, lullabies, and an original song, it weaves between the weird and the wonderful. “Why I’m Grieving,” originally recorded by the DeZurik Sisters, was the inspiration for the A’s existence. The A’s reach into the past to hold hands with the DeZurik Sisters, two farm girls from rural Minnesota who taught themselves to yodel amongst all their animals, in a continuing celebration of the tradition of folk eccentricity and whimsy. The A’s played their first show together in 2013 after Sauser-Monnig first moved to North Carolina, where Meath had been living at the time, but it wasn’t until summer 2021 that they thought seriously about making Fruit. They decamped to Sylvan Esso’s Chapel Hill studio, Betty’s, for two weeks in the midst of a balmy and blooming Carolinian summer. They rehearsed during the day, deconstructing yodeling parts phonetically and staring absurdly into each other’s eyes as they practiced tongue twisting harmonies - and recorded in the nighttime, candles lit, a flickering glow against the windows framing the violet twilight outside. “There was a lot of giggling during the session,” Sauser-Monnig explains. “At one point I was getting a tangle out of my hair and was like, oh, my God, that sounds really cool – the sound of my hands in my hair. And then I thought, what if we recorded hair for a percussion track? And then it just sort of snowballed.” Across the record, the A’s employ a bizarre-o ghost orchestra of strange noises that are percussive and melodic. The credits include nylon shorts, string (singular), hair, shoes, ice chunk, gravel, frog sample, and shoelace, among other unexpected makeshift instrumentation. The backing band is built out by a more traditional group of players: saxophone from Sam Gendel on “Copper Kettle,” backing vocals from Jenn Wasner (Flock of Dimes, Wye Oak) on “When I Die,” string arrangements from Gabriel Kahane on “He Needs Me,” and more. Fruit is made up simply of songs the A’s love to sing – there are lullabies and love songs; “He Needs Me,” written by Harry Nilsson and first released by Shelley Duvall in the 1980 Popeye film; traditional ballads like “Swing and Turn Jubilee,” “Copper Kettle” and closer “Buckeye Jim,” a multiplying song about frogs and nature. The sole original track to appear on the album is the penultimate “When I Die,” written by Meath. It contains both wishes and instructions for the celebration of her death, a low synth bubbling beneath Sauser-Monnig and Meath’s voices. It’s a collection of ten seemingly incongruous songs, but with the throughline of Sauser-Monnig and Meath’s vocals and sense of humor working in tandem, they fit together into a cosmic yodeling-folk masterpiece. Fruit feels like blowing the dust off a precious artifact of decades past, but also winking and modern. Sauser-Monnig sums up their ethos on the project succinctly: “If it doesn’t make you cackle or cry, it doesn’t belong.”

Mice Parade returns from a decade of silence to release lapapọ, an album that spans the many styles of their storied career,and features guest singer appearances by Angel Deradoorian (Dirty Projectors) and Arone Dyer (Buke & Gase). The rock is louder; the West-African-inspired highlife breaks are chubbier; the dueling drumkits are more complex, the instrumental passages more serene. What started as a home recording project in the late 90s soon morphed into a formidable and completely unique live band of incredible musicians from around the globe, all live-mixed and effected by legendary UK engineer Brandon Knights (aka Dub Warrior), the longtime sound engineer for Lee Scratch Perry, Soul II Soul, Gladiators and others. After 9 albums and nearly 15 years years of worldwide touring, including festivals across the UK, Iceland, mainland Europe, Turkey and Japan, and supporting Stereolab across the US, Mice Parade fans can finally hear some new music, and the live band hopes to safely reunite later this year. Throughout it all, Adam has mostly recorded with same ethos: allowing only one take for each track, forcing him to either leave in mistakes or address them with mutes or distractions, and embracing the Bob Ross concept of 'happy accidents.' This was a strict rule for the first several albums, and while he eventually became less strict about it, it's still a goal that is achieved more often than not. Perfection is not the goal - indeed, there should be no such thing in music. Most songs are not even written before pressing the record button, but instead are built piece by piece in improvised fashion. lapapọ is a Yoruba word meaning something akin to "totally" or "altogether."