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Far over on the west coast of the USA we find a room full of drum
machines, samplers and keyboards. Hard at work is Israel ‘Iz’ Gravning aka Tone Scientist, who’s been using this Seattle studio to produce genre-defying future music for more than 25 years.
An avid student of jazz fusion, hip hop, house, techno and others, he
was galvanised to build his own studio after hearing jungle and drum & bass on a trip to London in 1995. His musical course thus intersected with the collectives then pushing new dancefloor sonics rooted in the rich tradition of Black music – like Nuyorican Soul over on the east coast, and the new broken beats of IG Culture, Dego and Bugz In The Attic in London. Then, in the early 2000s, Iz put out a handful of EPs under different aliases, including ‘Lion Dub’ on the Guidance sublabel Subtitled, but soon stepped back from the public stage. That’s not to say he stopped making or playing music, though. Far from it. Fast forward two decades and our very own Walrus, chilly but happy in the depths of a Toronto winter, happened across ‘Lion Dub’ in the legendary Play The Record store. Intrigued, he tracked Iz down and discovered he had been active all this time. A short email exchange later and this 2xLP of archive material was born.

These six tracks explain fully why Iz calls his studio the ‘Time Machine’: vintage equipment and instruments converse with up-to-date software; classic sounds and textures twist into fresh configurations; and Iz’s own creativity and musicality sings to us from a location beyond the trappings of time or genre.

All music written, produced and mixed by Israel Gravning aka Tone
Scientist in Seattle/Washington between 2005 - 2008 except for “Things

BROWN VINYL VARIANT

"Flight of the Behemoth" is the third album by sunn O))).

The band collaborated with legendary Japanese noise artist Merzbow, who mixed tracks 3 and 4. The first ever use of a drum machine on a sunn O))) track is heard on "F.W.T.B.T.", a deconstructive interpretation of Metallica's "For Whom the Bell Tolls”.

This punisher also features the first ever vocals heard as evoked from the band themselves.

Contains full color 24”x36” folded poster and all this grimness is housed in a glorious case-wrapped gatefold jacket. Also contains the vinyl only bonus track: "Grimm & Bear It”.

Vinyl/metal cut by Matt Colton (Alchemy Mastering) who also cut the vinyl for the bands 2019 releases: “Life Metal” & “Pyroclasts.

Clear Vinyl

Downwards’ deep bonds with NYC catalyse the debut LP by Jim Siegel’s Vivid Oblivion, a reveberating post-industrial salvo produced by adopted Brooklynite Karl O’Connor (Regis), and co-mixed by Anthony Child (Surgeon) and Simon Shreeve, who also mastered it. It’s a super deep, highly atmospheric beast somewhere between Valentina Magaletti’s most expressive percussion work, Bark Psychosis, and classic, moody 4AD, which is coincidentally referenced via the artwork, made by Chris Bigg - legendary graphic designer and longtime assistant to Vaughan Oliver.

Invoking the density, vertiginous scale, and dark grimy nooks of NYC, ‘The Graphic Cabinet’ was realised by Jim Siegel - hardcore legend and occasional/regular drummer with everyone from Raspberry Bulbs to Damo Suzuki and Boredoms, made in close collaboration with Karl O’Connor aka Regis during 2021.

Stemming from intently deep listening sessions immersed in LPs by Viennese aktionist Hermann Nitsch and the myriad eras of Killing Joke, while also absorbing the atmospheres of classic Tarkovsky flicks, the album began life as gonzo field recordings of Siegel smashing the f*ck out of his drum kit, zither, scrap metal and gongs in an array of abandoned warehouse spaces. The recordings formed the basis of Karl’s compound productions, which add depth charge bass and sonorous metallic atmospheres to the mix, along with birdsong and gibbon hoots, plus guitar textures by Nick Forté (Raspberry Bulbs, Rorschach) for a dread-lusting jag deep in the belly of the Big Apple.

With a palpable tang of rust and blood in the air and grime under the fingernails, the seven tracks evoke a resoundingly brutalist portrait of space and place. Siegel’s nervy percussive discipline is framed in alternating barometric and light settings from cut to cut, variously snaking from the poltergeist clang and haunted resonance of ‘Converging and Dissolving’ to slamming motorik thrum in ‘Oblivion’ via imaginative descent into cyberpunk simulacra of the city as jungle-at-night in ‘Remnant Corridor’, replete with animalistic atmospheres that recall Organum.

While the raw attack and devilish swerve of the rhythms are utterly fundamental to the record, Karl’s atmospheric content and the animist mixing magick of Anthony Child and Simon Shreeve most potently give flesh to its bones. Patently evident on the stepping pulse and searching zither that keens into detuned orchestration on ‘Immediate Possession’, the zoned-out klang of ‘Stand Aside’ or in the flooded warehouse chaos of ‘Test For Traps’. The attention to spatial, textural and proprioceptive detail is tightened throughout, peaking with ‘Bargemaster’, a dense slab of tension that sounds like Jon Mueller’s Silo recordings fed through The Caretaker’s fogged machinery.

It’s one of the most impressive records on Downwards for a long while, bound to gnaw and spark the nerves of experimental rock and post-industrial’s greats, anything from The New Blockaders to Faust, Flying Saucer Attack and into iconic Blackest Ever Black releases in the modern era.

Low Company presents Yuta Matsumura’s Red Ribbon, a sequence of introspective, lavishly melodic dream-songs and amphibian atmospheres recorded in scattered periods over 2018-21. Having played in bands like Low Life, M.O.B. and Orion, and the duo Jay & Yuta (with Jay Cruikshank), Red Ribbon is Matsumura’s first solo outing, and represents a conscious effort to move away from guitar-based songwriting. He composed its nine tracks mostly on piano - layering vocals, bass, keyboards, flute (courtesy of Maeve Parker), violin/cello (Laurence Quinn) and clacking drumbox rhythms into dynamic, dubwise avant-pop structures which are supple and spacious but fizzing with detail and vivid inner life. The laconic 4/4 pulse, heat-warped synth-tones and haunting vaporous melodica of opener ‘Box Garden’ set the tone: its surreal psychedelic patternings barely concealing a deep sting of longing and regret. The cryptic lyrics suggest chance encounters, hidden logic, missed opportunities, fatalism, serendipity. A city submerged: everyone else paused mid-movement, while you’re allowed to swim free and fish-like through the streets, over the rooftops...‘Tangled Orchid’ is a tense night-drive through dry desert heat and into the unknown, running away from your old life, chased down by dust-devils of half-baked schemes and abandoned plans, while ‘Myth Machine’ drops the tempo and something mind-altering, guiding us on a tripped-out dub-disco scuba among alien flora and fauna, a world of impossible shapes and sensations. At which point, the mood of the album decisively shifts, firstly with ‘Sake No Otoh’, sung in Japanese by Haruka Sato: an instant-classic, breathtakingly intimate lover's lament that sounds like it got lost on its way to heaven and is now doomed to orbit the earth forever. The songs that follow continue in this more confessional, imploring mode. As if the travelling's done, the baggage has been cast off, and we’ve arrived at our destination, where the real process of rebirth and repair can begin. The music’s textures become less overtly dubby and electronic, with more of an organic, earthy, chamber-pop/avant-folk feel, at once sad and hopeful-sounding. Three songs in particular bear the influence of Eno’s 70s work (and its mutant bedsit offspring Lifetones, Flaming Tunes, etc): ‘‘E. Potential’, where baroquely chorused vocals - half-agonised, half-beatific - teeter on top of simple oscillating piano loops, and the stately, dawntreading ballads ‘Tabula Rasa’ and ‘No Sleep For Birds’. The bulk of the album was made prior to lockdowns and all of that; its themes of reset, self-examination, the need to f**k it all off and take spiritual stock, are timeless. Though they perhaps have a more bittersweet resonance now the world has returned pretty much to how it was, only worse. Track list: 1. Box Garden 2. Tangled Orchid 3. Myth Machine 4. Red Ribbon 5. Soko No Ato 6. Tabula Rasa 7. E. Potential 8. No Sleep For Birds 9. Zookeeper's Trial

A unique longplayer by Germany's Funk champions The Mighty Mocambos: 'Scénarios' is a wild journey through iconic performances captured on 8-track tape, including celebrated versions of breakdance favourites like 'Axel F.' And 'Let The Music Play' as well as brand new original material composed especially for recordings in unusual settings.

Hamburg's deep funk chefs are known for their intuitive recordings that capture the energy of a live performance, and with this record they go all the way.

Just before the pandemic, the group recorded an in-store live session at legendary Hamburg record shop Groove City and taped an impromptu performance at JAM PDM! breakdance battle in Potsdam. Both were released on vinyl 45s, quickly sold out and became secret weapons for DJs. While most bands shifted their stage to the studio in 2020, producing an abundance of isolated lockdown-inspired material, the Mighty Mocambos – never shy of an antidote - took the mobile version of their recording studio on the road.

With no audience allowed at the Pitt Hopkins Music Session charity concert, the group used the occasion to compose meditative folk-soul instrumentals to be performed exclusively on stringed instruments. Sweaty funk does not work via video stream, but the format provided a welcome opportunity to create something entirely different. Even without electricity and drums, the cinematic "Four Two Three" and "Silent Heroes" are unmistakably recognizable as Mocambo themes.

When you follow Nina Simone's credo that an "artist's duty is to reflect the times", it became evident that once the world slowly started opening up again, further concerts would be captured on the group's portable Fostex R-8 tape machine. Luckily, restrictions fell on the very evening that the band hit the open air stage at the Import Export in Munich on September 11th 2021. The extended afrobeat-inspired jam on J.J. Cale's "Carry On" witnesses people celebrating and dancing together again for the first time after a year and the manic "Munich Psycholympics" unleashes all bottled-up energies that had being lying dormant.

The slightly kafka-esque "Ghost Walk" was taped during a soundcheck for a concert that was eventually called off for safety reasons, reflecting once more the uncertainty of the time. The last scénario sees the Mighty Mocambos returning to a packed indoor venue, playing "Let The Music Play" to a audience of b-boys and -girls – a testament to the sheer power of music. Featured as an encore here, an acoustic version of "Where Do We Go From Here?" (originally recorded with Lee Fields) closes the record and its restless voyage through unusual recording situations.

"Scénarios" differs drastically from other live albums as it does not seek to replicate existing material from studio albums. All songs were written or arranged especially for the live recordings in order to combine the group's DJ-friendly trademark sound with added vibes and momentum from the audience. Most of them were recorded while they were performed in public for the first time ever.

Comes in gatefold sleeve & includes download voucher.




d 04: Theme from Beverly Hills Cop (Axel F) Live

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

Eight years after their first collaboration, ‘The Compass Joint’, slipped out as an ultra-limited white label, Charlie Soul Clap and Tom Trago have reunited to bring us a similarly warming, sun-splashed sequel, ‘The Compass Jawn’.

Like its predecessor – a now near-mythical 12-minute epic recorded late one night in Tom’s former squat-turned-studio close to legendary Amsterdam venue Trouw, and subsequently championed by DJ Harvey – ‘The Compass Jawn’ was inspired by the pair’s mutual love of both Caribbean keyboardist and FM synthesis enthusiast Wally Badarou, and the 1980s output of Chris Blackwell’s legendary Compass Point studio in Nassau, the Bahamas.

As sequels go, ‘The Compass Jawn’ is a bit of a belter. During the recording in 2019, Tom and Charlie sought to subtly evolve the original’s memorable lead line, reaching the for Yamaha DX7’s percussion patch – something utilized many times by Badarou during the 1980s.

The resultant ‘Studio Version’ is, if anything, even more emotive and uplifting than its predecessor. Underpinned by a shuffling rhythm pattern, the track ebbs and flows brilliantly, with jaunty synth stabs, undulating melodies and sparkling keyboard riffs ushering in held-note chords and a gorgeously rushing, ever-rising lead line. Throw in some starry pads and sunset-ready synth motifs, and you have another gorgeous, life-affirming treat.

‘The Compass Jawn’ comes backed with two top-notch alternative mixes. First up is an ambient ‘Dub’ mix from Trago that strips back the beats and instead focuses on the track’s many key melodic elements. Pushed forwards by drum machine handclaps, it’s a bubbly, sun-bright revision full to bursting with twinkling electronic motifs, jammed-out motifs, hands-aloft riffs and a bleeping take on the fluid and kaleidoscopic lead line.

Rounding off the package is the duo’s original demo mix – a raw, tough, and slightly more sub-heavy affair that’s notably more percussive and sweat-soaked whilst still sporting the key lead lines and FM synth sounds that make the studio version such a memorable and mood-enhancing affair.

White Vinyl

GIOVANNI just seems to get it while expanding & innovating. That perfect blend of tracky Italo early drum machine bang the box type of proto house electro soul. Out on TIM ZAWADA's STAR CREATURE label. *Bonus - Also includes the hit "OUT OF CONTROL" for the first time on 12".

What Are People For? make the perfect kind of dystopic dance music for our times. Born from a collaboration between artist Anna McCarthy and musician/producer Manuela Rzytki, the band could be the illicit lovechild of Tom Tom Club and Throbbing Gristle, displaying the ideal balance of hip shaking vibes and dark provocative content.

On their collaborative debut, McCarthy and Rzytki share songwriting duties. The album was produced by Rzytki herself. They are joined by Paulina Nolte on backing vocals and Tom Wu on drums, while Keith Tenniswood mastered the record.

The whole project stems from a publication and exhibition by McCarthy laying the foundations for the content and lyrics of the album, which is humorous, poetic and political. As a lyricist, McCarthy uses her storytelling ability to explore anxieties and desires, digging into free surreal word associations reminiscent of Su Tissues’ tongue in cheek experiments with Suburban Lawns, but also explosive and gripping like a Kae Tempest rap.
Rzytki’s precise sonic palette and talent at penning structured bangers perfectly complement McCarthy’s playful and subversive language manipulations. Rzytki's beats are rooted in old school Hiphop loop principles and an authentic love for the analog. Her use of an array of synthesizers and other "real" instruments adds to WAPF's depth, soul and sincerity.

The album opens with a joyful anthem, full of energy and melodic hooks. The audience is confronted with the quintessential titular question What Are People For? and told that they are just a mere disposable commodity. Throughout the album, lyrical themes revolve around underground aspects of society, violence, political ideologies, sexuality and mysticism. The content is deep but the album is as danceable as it is biting.

73, with its drum machine hysteria and hypnotic synth basses is a a text collage written on the 73 bus through London, consisting of situations and conversation snippets encountered along the way. Drones indulges in the narrator’s paranoia as they feel they are being watched by cigarette machines, whilst the haunting choir is half spoken, half sung, ending on the orgasmic chanting of the word “mummy”. Nursery Rhyme brings more soothing incantations. There is definitely an affinity for fairytales, albeit adult ones and especially the anarchistic ones such as The Moomins, who were a consistent influence on the band. The artwork for the record, created by McCarthy, is a beautiful children's book-style painting of the group in a forest, seemingly about to engage in a magical encounter to which we are invited.

WAPF? have absorbed and digested a variety of influences. Trip hop, Punk and Techno are rubbing shoulders on Party Time. 1977 was coined “Summer of Hate” in the UK and unsurprisingly in WAPF?’s Summer of War, ethereal singing alternates with a powerful marching Garage/Grime chorus reminiscent of street protests and UK culture.

Mz. Lazy starts like an invitation to meditation and references Gertrude Stein’s book Ida in which she develops the idea that publicity is a new religion and people are now famous for being famous. Repressed anger explodes into violence and freedom at the end of the song as our heroine eventually grabs an axe to destroy her oppressors.
Fantasize, on its part, is raw, sexual and liberating while the closing track Bring Back the Dirt is a welcome hymn into a world that is becoming more and more sanitised.

While exploring deep subject matters throughout their album, WAPF? manage to remain satirical, exciting and funny. Each and everyone of their songs have a cathartic quality.

The visual identity of the band is intrinsic to their appeal. Live, they are eccentric, wild and unapologetic, wearing see-through costumes, bright miniskirts and intricate headpieces while delivering their songs with sharp intensity. Their performances radiate queer sexiness and transcend B52's thrift store aesthetics, creating a space for collective dreaming.

WAPF? is a rare combination of contemporary punk energy, irresistible groove, absurdist dry humour and astounding depth of field. They have the mighty power to create a party with their music and soon you will find yourself lifting your arms as if controlled by an external force, to chant: WAPF? WAPF? WAPF?

– Marie Merlet (Malphino, Little Trouble Girls, London)

Herbert Bodzin's "Revival II" is the next exciting vinyl highlight on our young label. It features completely unreleased electronic music which was recorded between 1979 and 1982. On the album we can hear the sounds of legendary analogue machines like the ARP 2600, the Korg PS-3300, the Roland System-700 Modular synthesizer, the PPG Waveterm and the PPG Wave 2.2 as well as classic synths like the Roland Jupiter-8, the Polymoog and the Prophet-5. The album additionally features Bernd Hollendiek, as well as Bodzin's two sons, Stephan and Oliver Bodzin. Most of the music they performed was completely synthesizer based while Oliver Bodzin played drums on a few tracks. The songs are a mixture of mostly ambient, deep, psychedelic, yet experimental and futuristic sounds as well as more vibrant recordings that featured the complete band. One of these vibrant tracks is "Lifting Blue" which qualifies as a unique version of space rock. On other tracks like "Voices of the Mind" we hear deep melodies topped with dreamy vocoder voices. "Against the Wall" sounds like it could be taken off of an Italian horror movie soundtrack while the mid-tempo "Orbital" pre-dates the sounds of techno and trance. As a side note, the album may also show early musical influences of Stephan Bodzin, who became world famous in the 1990s as one of the leading techno producers. Without any doubt, "Revival II" should be an exciting lost masterpiece of German electronic (rock) music and a must have for synth music lovers - revived and finally alive!

An original and particular approach to rhythmic electronics, with an incredible sound, like in all of Potter's works. Six hypnotic tracks from Colin's archive of rarities, for the first time on vinyl, perfect to play really loud.

These six pieces were recorded between the late 80s & mid-90s at IC Studio, which was then located in Tollerton, North Yorkshire.

“I wanted to make some tracks which were much more rhythmic. By then the studio was a 16-track and I had acquired more equipment for making sounds and changing sounds. There was an Akai S950 sampler, an Emulator II, Roland TR727 and Yamaha RX11 digital drum machines, a Roland Juno 60, and some new effects processors. I even, briefly, used an Atari for MIDI sequencing, but using a computer in the studio felt a bit weird in those days. Ironic really, given the situation now. There were a lot of new methods to learn and the tracks on this album were the result of some of these experiments, during which I also found ways of integrating the old analog synths with the newer machines. Mixing was still done hands-on, in real-time, with alternative and often radically different takes being made of the same multitrack. Very different to the way things are done now. Better or worse? Who knows? But different.” - Colin Potter, IC Studio, London 2022.

Colin Potter is a sound engineer and musician currently based in London. He has worked within the fields of electronic and experimental music for over 40 years, collaborating with the likes of Current 93, The Hafler Trio, Organum, Andrew Chalk, and most notably as a key part of Nurse With Wound alongside Steven Stapleton. He started the esteemed ICR (Integrated Circuit Records – still active today) label in 1981 releasing a several wonderful home studio recordings of his own, as small run cassette releases.

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.

We are excited to reissue Kuedo's classic 2011 album 'Severant' on double vinyl for the first time, and with a bonus track 'Work, Live & Sleep In Collapsing Space'. The cover artwork has been redesigned by Raf Rennie (Who also designed Kuedo's recent album on Brainfeeder, Infinite Window). In terms of feeling, ‘Severant’ explores the space between the detached world of the imagination and the real-time world; that feeling of coming out of a daydream, on the edge of the drift from the day-to-day grind. Jamie says of this moment ”As reality shapes imagination and escapism affects your choices in the real world, there is a strange relational loop between the two and the space in between the two. There’s a bitter sweetness in that gap, it has a certain emotive quality, kind of in between being and non-being”. Again, musically ‘Severant’ is inspired by related themes. It sounds as if it’s in a sweet spot between the emotive, innately futurist synth soundtracks of Tangerine Dream and Vangelis, borne from a time when the very idea of futurism was more prevalent, in combination with musical ideas and inspiration from the emotionally ambivalent, materialist fantasies of ‘coke rap‘ such as The Clipse. Rhythmically the record is influenced by what Jamie calls ”the two ultra modernmusics of modern times”, footwork from Chicago, which Planet Mu has explored in depth on its recent releases, and again the drum machine grids of coke rap. Jamie says ”I wanted to capture a really futurist sentiment, kind of melancholy and grand luminescent, so I used the instrument that most evokes that for me - that sweeping Vangelis brass sound.” And on coke rap he talks about the emotional ‘half being’ of the music, the energetically charged, detached ambivalence of the MCs, and the admission that the MCs could be ”fantasising without admitting to doing so.”

Following on from last year’s acclaimed Sylva Sylvarum, the epic double LP from Ora Clementi (her collaborative project with James Rushford), crys cole returns to Black Truffle with Other Meetings. Originally commissioned and released on cassette by Boomkat Editions in 2021, Other Meetings is a major addition to the body of carefully hewn solo work cole has released over the last decade, offering up two side-long suites of her radically intimate approach to sound. After many years dominated by touring and travel, cole found herself in lockdown in her Berlin apartment, working in a limited space with minimal equipment. Digging through archives of recordings taken overseas and exploring the sonic potential hidden in the objects surrounding her (including a coffee pot and a vase of dying flowers), she crafted what in her liner notes she calls ‘an internal dérive, a journey that drifted through many places without a defining compass’. Totalling over 50 minutes, the two pieces unfold at an unhurried pace, each containing four individually titled subsections. Beginning with a sequence of the highly amplified small sounds characteristic of much of cole’s work, the opening moments of ‘The time between two durations of sleep’ are underpinned by a gentle rocking motion, weaving together contact mic crunch, metallic resonance, glimpses of bird song, and isolated drum machine hits, the sonic space expanding and contracting as focus moves between elements. Briefly side-lined by a tactile but unplaceable sizzling, this complex weave of voices then returns in a kind of dubbed-out ‘version’, the percussive accents echoing around the stereo space. In one of the record’s most beautiful and unexpected moments, these sounds are joined by a sparse melodic line performed on a broken 1980s digital synth, the vaguely New Age timbres being taken on a long, tonally ambiguous wander. Cole’s immersion in memories of travel comes to the fore in the final section of the first side, titled ‘Wat Paknam’ after a royal temple in Bangkok, where snatches of voices, ringing bells and distant waves of chanting blur together with synth tones into an increasingly abstracted wave of sound. The second side, ‘Slices of cake’, opens in a similarly hallucinatory outdoor space of echoing bird song and liquified traffic before abruptly zooming in on a microscopic world of subtly processed and highly amplified objects, explored with a starkness and quiet insistence that calls to mind the fringe not-quite-concrète of outsiders like Paul A.R. Timmermans or Knud Viktor, whose obsessive interrogation of dripping water might also serve as a point of reference for the following sub-section, the aptly titled ‘magischer Abfluss’ (magic drain).

While Other Meetings develops many aspects of cole’s previous work – the hyper-magnification of small gestures, the unsettling edits and fades partly inspired by hypnagogic states, the location recordings smeared into oneiric haze – it is almost as if these pieces are somehow songs, the remnants of an evaporated music of which nothing remains except isolated hits from a synthetic drum, a handful of notes, or simply a duration of emptied atmosphere. Radically reductive yet deeply musical, Other Meetings is a major work from an artist driven by an uncompromising and idiosyncratic vision.

Presented with an inner sleeve with photos and liner notes from the composer and remastered audio.

HOT REPRESS !!! "Who is t his!?" Whether it's a playlist in a cof fee shop in Brooklyn, a cafe in Par is, or a commercial break on NPR, the answer is likely Menahan Street Band. Their idiosyncratic brand of atmospheric instrumental music has lended its timeless cool to countless events, par ties, et al. Now they're back with yet another two sided head-turner. From the heavy drum fill at the top, to the swirling, psychedelic outro, “Midnight Morning” is a beat-forward track blending trippy synths with lush horns that sonically beckon you to get lost in its euphoric swing. “Steppin Through Shadow” paints a cinematic dreamscape that floats along a surreal plume of hypnotic drum machines, and soft, electric piano. The gentle melody and operatic vocal accompaniment disarm, leaving the listener awash in a sea of aural nirvana.

Hand Stamped, Hand numbered, Limited press, with insert.

An oddly familiar/familiarly odd entity floating about the relatively cohesive surface of contemporary electronic music, Belgium-via-Italy based duo Front De Cadeau has been knocking genres askew and blowing overused terminologies out of the water with unrelenting panache over the past decade. Championing a sound unmoored by vanishing trends and cross-pollinating approaches, F2C punch back in on Antinote with their anticipated debut album, “We Slowly Riot”, an 8-track mishmash of tunes previously released and not.

Bastardizing tried-and-tested rave tropes by slowing the tempo down to barely recognizable shapes and contours, Hugo Sanchez and Maurizio Ferrara dish out a new high in their ever expanding discography. Free-falling down the K-hole with no parachute on, “La Ketamine” burns slow but steady. A practically immersive dub filled with processed minutiae and vibrational drums out a mystic forest, it’s a helluva trippy post-industrial joint that unfolds, heady and empyreumatic to the bone. “We Slowly Rot” puts on offer a buggy script-like swing, adorned with F2C’s trademark blend of spoken word and jacuzzi-warm vibes, whereas “There is Something Wrong” steers us into further sizzling, syncopated groove territories through a fevered meshwork of sliced-and-diced vox samples, overheated machine talk and primitive percussions on a African Headcharge tip.

Draped in eerie, 8-bit-infused layers and Arabian Nights ambiences, “Slam is Slam” treats us to a spookily fun Oriental mix of hot-tempered darbukkahs and FX-soaked riffs. The outrageously sensual “Ouvre Ta Bouche” is a tactile invitation to get down in some dark alcove of sorts and more if you hit it off. A steely dub primed for post-party divagations, “Climate Change” slowly veers off into verbed-out industrial jazz as bars run by, while “Legal Illegal” cuts a path of acid-dipped dancehall from outer-space across the club. Last but not least, Jewish clarinets quietly move along waves of sedated bass on “Casa Gaza”, rounding it all off on a dreamy, cinematic note that serenely phases into a liquid-like roller over one solidly deeper-than-deep home stretch.

"They push everything right to the brink and then pull back at precisely the right moment" - Pitchfork

"'Growing Up Pains (Unni's Song) gives a tantalising glimpse of where their future could lie. Matching lucid pop elements to daring innovation, ALASKALASKA allow the song to become a portal to their own potential." - Clash

"It’s impossible to walk away without the repeated promise 'I won’t let you down' in 'Growing Up Pains' stuck in your head – and it’s a mantra we should all be following as we as a species continue to fight for our future." - Beats Per Minute

ALASKALASKA announce their superb new album, Still Life, arriving October 14th on Marathon Artists (Lava La Rue, Courtney Barnett, Pond).

'Still Life' finds writers and producers Lucinda Duarte-Holman and Fraser Rieley embrace a more free-form electronica, giving a taste of what's to come with this fantastic new record produced by Jas Shaw (of Simian Mobile Disco)–full of digital sounds, drum machine and synth melodies cunningly sat beside rich, organic, acoustic instrumentation, it's a looping tug of war between existential dread and everyday simple pleasures.

Listen to / watch the video for 'Still Life' (shot by Jacek Zmarz) here: https://youtu.be/TL7s6QJ3ANc

Four seasons of dawn chorus, panoramically framed by fruit trees and more analog synths than can comfortably fit in a cow shed-come-recording studio...the scene is set for the recording of ALASKALASKA’s second album Still Life. Ordinarily located in South East London, writers and producers Fraser Rieley and Lucinda Duarte-Holman were eager to get out of the city. Taking advantage of this rustic countryside scene, they were able to capture something uniquely their own.

Following their debut album in 2019, they resurface into a new era embracing all the things that first put the band on the map, attracting the likes of Tame Impala, Hot Chip, Porches and Nilüfer Yanya for tour support slots. For Rieley and Duarte-Holman, writing began in 2019, pre-lockdown-era, although the subsequent alone together/together alone time added a new spin on ALASKALASKA's process of experimentation and fine-tuning. The band now push their foundational ideas further and explore the freedom of playing with new sounds. Duarte-Holman explains, “...with everything going on at the time, the restrictions led us to try working in a new way. The limitations were different, but meant we were able to adventure into a more electronic soundscape that we're really looking forward to expressing live."

The ‘Still Life’ LP has been pressed on recycled black vinyl to reduce the carbon intensity of the finished product.

First album from Cologne based Jazz / Hip-Hop band for Melting Pot
Music home to artists such as FloFilz, Twit One, Summers Sons,
Pachakuti & young.vishnu, etc.

Bokoya is a four-piece jazz/hip-hop band from Cologne who plays
improvised beat music. Like a four-headed human drum machine, Bokoya improvise, shape, and develop beats in the electric field of repetition and variation. It's impossible to put a tag on Bokoya's music.

BADBADNOTGOOD, Dilla, Krautrock, Ambient and dub might work as
rough reference points for the music but don't do it justice. After a sling of releases on Wadada Records, Bokoya are now signed to Melting Pot Music where they will release their forthcoming projects.

- The Complete 1988 Film Score by John Massari - Available For The First Time On Vinyl 180 Gram Violet and Blue Vinyl (Light In The Attic Exclusive Variant) - Exclusive Liner Notes by Composer John Massari - Exclusive Liner Notes by Killer Klowns Co-Creator Stephen Chiodo - Heavyweight 12" x 12" Art Print - Old-Style Tip-On Jackets with Matte Satin Coating // KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE have finally landed at Waxwork Records! After much anticipation, we are thrilled to present the official 1988 Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by John Massari for the very first time on vinyl! Would you believe someone if they told you a circus tent-shaped spaceship landed in your small town and was abducting your neighbors to store them in cotton candy cocoons? In this '80's cult classic, teens Mike Tobacco (Grant Cramer) and Debbie Stone (Suzanne Snyder) have to fight both the diabolical bozos and the local law enforcement's disbelief to save themselves and their community! The original score to Killer Klowns From Outer Space is kicked off by the classic 80's horror movie theme track, Killer Klowns (From Outer Space) by California punk band, The Dickies. The 'nightmare merry-go-round' continues with a smattering of menacing electronic brass sections, electric guitar, bombastic drum machine beats, & harpsichord combined with sci-fi synth elements to capture the ultra-specific origins of the antagonists. Massari's score to Klowns is a retro-synth joyride from start to finish featuring immediately recognizable cues from the beloved 80's cult-classic! Waxwork Records is thrilled to present the official Killer Klowns From Outer Space double LP, released for the first time on vinyl. Complete with 180 gram "Cotton Candy" and "Popcorn" vinyl, deluxe packaging, new artwork by Ruiz Burgos, old-style tip-on jackets with matte coating, a heavyweight 12"x12" art print, and liner notes by composer Massari and Klowns co-creator Stephen Chiodo!

South-east Turkey born DJ, sound artist and producer Banu uses music as a political tool. For her, the strong message carried through sound is a vehicle to express emotions as well as a means of fighting against oppression. Using participation, social design, ecology, feminist and queer theory to create multimedia installations with sound as a main element, Banu‘s practice is closer to contemporary art and activist spaces than the club realm.

Banu‘s debut album TransSoundScapes is an exercise in female solidarity between her as a migrant woman and her sisters from the trans community, where an artist from one marginalised group is showing support towards her trans sisters, using her platform to help them amplify their voices and building a bridge towards a mutual understanding of femininity.

Conceptually, TransSoundScapes comes in continuation of Banu‘s previous research-based work, using music as a positive tool for change while working with various marginalised communities. The album originated from the very real experience of being confronted with verbal harassment in Berlin on a daily basis, particularly aimed at her transfeminine friends and companions. As a queer woman of Turkish and Kurdish origin, Banu did not only observe the verbal aggression directed at her friends, but also understood most of the insults shouted in languages such as Arabic. Seeing how she got signifi cantly more verbal violence directed at them when in company of trans people made a lasting impression on her, so she wanted to try and use her relative privilege to amplify transfeminine voices through her music.

Coming from a very conservative family, making music has been her lifelong dream. It was the moment she had the opportunity to work with the iconic Arp 2600 synthesiser (a younger sibling to Eliane Radigue‘s infamous 2500 machine) that all her disparate interests came into place to create an empowering soundscape with the aid of analogue drum machines. TransSoundScapes has a very full, porous sound, where every element that comes into play sounds soft yet clear. Across the 7 tracks, Banu conjures pounding subterraneous bassy techno („Surgery“), slithering tentacular EBM („First Time“) and pulsating cavernous soundscapes („Harem“), where oversized dancefl oor elements are woven with poetic spoken word passages, resulting in sensusous yet political anthems. Banu artfully merges loosely related genres such as techno, electro, dub and sound poems into a sound that is at once deeply personal and extremely compelling.

All of the tracks are collaborative efforts, Banu seeing the process as an exchange of care and shared experiences, while integrating research into her writing process. The lyrics in „Transition (part 1+2)‘‘ are an adaptation of Sara Ahmed’s “Living a Feminist Life”, while „Surgery“ was born out of series of interviews with trans people, channeling the metallic sounds of a surgery room to refer to society‘s perception of transness as a medical condition. Tracks like „First Time feat. Patricia“, „Harem feat. Prince Emrah“ or „We feat. Aérea Negrot“ document her encounters with various trans women, centering their life experiences while also developing a deep dialogue through the process of making music together.

The darkest and perhaps the most emblematic track is ‚‘Bianka (In Memory Of)‘‘, dedicated to the late Bianka Shigurova, a 22-year old Georgian actress found dead in her apartment. It was her Tbilisi photographer friend George Nebriedze who told her Bianka‘s tragic story, whose death is suspected to be an assasination due to transphobia. Banu chose one of Nebriedze‘s analogue photos of Bianka as the album‘s cover art.

Greg Puciato, the enigmatic singer known for his diverse list of projects, from the incendiary The Dillinger Escape Plan to the brutalist electro-pop outfit The Black Queen and the unabashedly thrashy Killer Be Killed, releases his debut solo album, Child Soldier: Creator of God this Autumn via Federal Prisoner. The Los Angeles-based singer premiered the single “Fire For Water” on BBC Radio 1’s Rock Show with Daniel P. Carter and followed with the debut of a video for the three-minute track via Revolver. The video was edited and directed by Puciato and fine artist Jesse Draxler, Puciato’s Federal Prisoner co-founder. Puciato played all of the instruments on the song with the exception of drums, which were done by Chris Pennie (the last original material the pair worked on together was The Dillinger Escape Plan’s 2004 Miss Machine), who also contributed additional programming. “I started writing in May or so of 2019, for what I thought would be the next Black Queen album, except that’s not at all what came out. So, just like with everything else that’s been born from necessity, it felt like the right time to create a home for anything that I do that didn’t fit neatly under any other existing roof. The misfits needed a place to go,” explains Puciato about releasing his first solo album.

Finnish Disco and Electronic Music from Private Pressings and Unreleased Tapes 1980–1991

Hot on the sold-out heels of the three previous Svart-issued early 80’s synth pop and underground electronic music compilations (Satan in Love, Dance For Your Life, Cold War On The Rocks comes the last part of the quadrilogy: Black Hole, that reaches the final frontier of collectable cult synth disco music: privately released and completely unreleased music from 40 years ago. Black Hole has been again compiled by Mikko Mattlar, whose encyclopedic knowledge in the field of Finnish electronic music produces 20 cuts of electro-cult has helped him dig up 20 cuts of rare groove from obscure regional compilation records, seven inches of which only a test pressing exists, demo tapes and privately financed singles. Stylistically the compilation moves from 1979 disco funk as performed by Peak Funktion on their unreleased record to homebrewed synth visions by late 80’s bedroom wizards. Interesting curiosities among the 20 tracks include the riveting dance number by Jarkko Väljä, who received some fame back in the day as a Michael Jackson impersonator, and released one 7” single, that has become an expensive rarity. Another thing you wouldn’t believe existed at all if it wasn’t included here is “Israel Is Real” by We, a short-lived gospel vocal quartet, accompanied here by a drum machine and a synthesizer, which makes for an unforgettable and surprisingly catchy four minute piece of underground gospel disco from 1983. The compilation Black Hole – Finnish Disco and Electronic Music From Private Pressings and Unreleased Tapes 1979-1991 will be released by Svart Records on double vinyl and CD on October 14th.

The early ’80s were a fertile time for electronic music, as the explosion of relatively affordable synthesizers and drum machines gave creative musicians a new way to express themselves. For Danny Krivit, DJing at the Roxy and soaking in the sonics of the Paradise Garage, it meant an exciting collision of the worlds of dance music and hip hop. For our latest release, Mr. K has pulled out two of his sureshots from that era and given them a tune-up for today’s sound systems.

“Pleasure Boys” by Visage was released in 1982 and epitomized the new wave crossover sound that would be co-opted and expanded on under the Freestyle banner. While the track was conceived with the vocal taking the lead, that vocal was never heard at the Roxy, Krivit’s focus being the thunderous synth bass break that he’d extend to epic proportions using twin copies of the single. It’s this routine that he’s recreated on our featured edit, a bare bones riff that still sounds enormous on a club system.

For the flip, Krivit goes a little deeper with his edit of “Emotional Disguise” by Peter Godwin. Another cut originally released in 1982, Krivit again ditches the overwrought new wave vocal in favor of the atmospheric synth stylings of the instrumental, which he accurately describes as a standout, “played at the Garage and at the Roxy for the hip hop crowd.”

Energetic, atmospheric, and with huge sonic impact, these edits are appearing on 7-inch for the first time.

In the kitchen of the Byron Bay home of Winston McCall stands a
refrigerator, adorned on one side by a quote from Tom Waits: "I want
beautiful melodies telling me terrible things."This, the PARKWAY DRIVE
vocalist says, is a pretty good summation of himself
It holds true, too, as one of the guiding principles behind Darker Still, the seventh
full- length album to be born of this picturesque and serene corner of northeastern NSW, Australia, and the defining musical statement to date from one of
modern metal's most revered bands.Darker Still, McCall says, is the vision he and
his bandmates – guitarists Jeff Ling and Luke Kilpatrick, bassist Jia O'Connor
and drummer Ben Gordon – have held in their mind's eye since a misfit group of
friends first convened in their parents' basements and backyards in 2003. The
journey to reach this moment has seen Parkway evolve from metal underdogs to
festival- headlining behemoth, off the back of close to 20 gruelling years, six
critically and commercially acclaimed studio albums (all of which achieving Gold
status in their home nation), three documentaries, one live album, and many,
many thousands of shows.
While Darker Still remains irrefutably PARKWAY DRIVE, it finds the band sonically
standing shoulder to shoulder with rock and metal's greats – Metallica, Pantera,
Machine Head, Guns N' Roses – as much as it does their metalcore
contemporaries. "I wanted a classic guitar tone for this record," explains Ling, who
credits much of his inspiration to the connection his riffs have with a crowd in a
live setting.
Emerging from the darkness of the past few years, this is the true face of
PARKWAY DRIVE: redefined and resolute, focused in mind and defiant in spirit.

Jonathan Fitoussi & Julie Freyri are Model Alpha. 8 years on after their first album Dimensions, Perceptions is the duo's second album and was entirely composed on analog synthesizers.
Model Alpha is inspired by electronic artists such as Kraftwerk, Laurie Spiegel, Manuel Göttsching or early Detroit techno productions. An elegant blend of synthesizers and drum machines including remix by Chloé (Thévenin).

On his fourth solo album, much as in Oh! (2020), the French composer, pianist and vocalist follows his ongoing exploration of the crossroads between poetry and songs, piano and synth, old-time verses and contemporary sounds. Inspired by the rhythms, effects and speech patterns of urban music, he also delivers, with a warm and moving voice, the texts of three poetesses from the past.
Since 2013, Ezéchiel Pailhès has been crafting a unique French synth pop. On his first three albums, he switched between songs inspired by poetry, instrumental ballads and electronica with hummed
choruses. This latest record is a collection of eleven new songs, two of which he wrote: "Opaline" and "Ni toi, ni moi" (neither you nor me). The others are adaptations of poems written in the 16th, 18th and
19th centuries by French poetesses Louise Labé (1524-1566), Marceline Desbordes-Valmore (1786- 1859) and Renée Vivien (1877-1909).
Poetesses from the past...
From classical music to songs, poetry adaptation is an old French tradition. "My universe has always embraced the musicality of this literary genre," the artist recalls. He actually started this project in 2017 with poems and sonnets by William Shakespeare, Pablo Neruda, Victor Hugo and above all Marceline Desbordes-Valmore, who can be heard again on songs such as "Dors-tu?" (Are you sleeping?),
"Élégie" or "L'attente" (The wait). A figure of romanticism, the author left her mark on the early 19th century through the quality of her texts and her formal inventions, particularly praised by Balzac, and
apparently a decisive influence on Verlaine and Baudelaire. "Marceline's poetry is very musical," says Ezéchiel admiringly. "Her use of rhythm and repetition sounds great and takes on a new perspective when set to music. In fact, she wrote some of her texts with singing in mind.”
“Ces longs secrets dont l'amour nous accuse, Viens-tu les rompre en songe à mes genoux ? Dors-tu, ma vie ! ou rêves-tu de moi ?”
“These long secrets for which love accuses us, Do you come to my knees to break them in a dream?
Are you sleeping, my life! or do you dream of me” (“Dors-tu ?”, after “Les pleurs” (the tears), 1833)
Besides her, we find the more famous, and rebellious, Renée Vivien, whose texts inspired three songs, "Regard en arrière" (Looking backwards), "Mélopée" (Melopoeia) and "La fille de la nuit" (The
night girl). Sometimes nicknamed "Sapho 1900", this figure of lesbian culture and, more broadly, of female genius, combined in her work the themes of desire, dreams, melancholy and the relationship with nature.
“Ta forme est un éclair
Ton sourire est l’instant Tu fuis, lorsque l’appel
T’implore, ô mon Désir !”
"Your shape is a spark of lightning
Your smile, the very moment
You flee, when the calling
Begs you, O my Desire!"
(After “Parle-moi, de ta voix pareille à l’eau courante” (Speak to me, with a voice like flowing waters) and “Ta forme est un éclair” (Your shape is a spark of lightning), Renée Vivien, 1901)
Lastly, with "Tant que mes yeux" (As long as my eyes), Ezéchiel was inspired by a 1555 poem by Renaissance poet Louise Labé, whose main topic explored female love, physical and spiritual desire,
and the torments and pains they generate.
" At the start of the project ", Ezéchiel continues, " I was interested in many poets, men and women, past and present, before my selection was narrowed down to these three female authors. Their works,
often written in difficult or secret conditions, express a raging romanticism, a passionate soul, fuelled by desperate and tormented love. I found it interesting, as a man coming from another world and time, to face this otherness, to trade viewpoints. Obviously, I could loudly claim that the album was the result of a concept, that it reflects today's world, and that it allows me to explore the notion of gender,
giving visibility to the work of a few women, while at the same time pairing these ancient texts with a more modern and rhythmic music, and obviously, there is some truth in that. But more than anything, I
wanted to serve the text itself, to express the emotion and connection I felt with these works.”
Today's rhythms and prosody...
Ezéchiel Pailhès combines texts from French literature with electronic music, its effects and rhythms, as well as a form of scansion that echoes rap, R&B or the current fusion between hip hop and pop,
which is part of our musical background and that of younger generations. "I wanted to cross-reference texts from the beginning of the century with this type of music. I wanted to use today’s techniques to tell the tale of different daily lives and experiences.
The album is thus marked by contemporary electronic orchestrations, in which he drops his favourite instrument, the piano, and his digital collage technique to use more extensive synth melodies, enhanced by drum machines, bringing a gentle and bright vibe to the romantic texts. Lastly, we can hear slight digital tones of Auto-Tune, which Ezéchiel uses sparingly and inventively.

Beyond its sophistication, the term "melopoeia" means a "sung declamation", a "recitative song", sometimes interpreted in a monotonous way. On this album, it could also refer to a sense of phrasing, which does not come from rap, but rather from jazz, Ezéchiel's first love. " In the past, I tried to hide my jazz culture, but it naturally came back on this new album, as can be heard, for instance, in Regard en arrière.” With its verses anchored in our literary memory, the following track "Mélopée", perfectly illustrates the album's vision. It manages to transcend eras, mixing past romanticism with a modern
prosody, fuelled by the nonchalance of hip hop and the warm chords of jazz.
“Qu’un hasard guide enfin mon désespoir tranquille
Vers l’eau d’une oasis ou les berges d’une île,
Où je puisse dormir, mon voyage accompli,
Dans la sécurité profonde de l’oubli”
"May chance guide my quiet sorrow, at last
To the water of an oasis, the shores of an island,
Where I may sleep, having traveled my way,
In the safe depths of oblivion".
(After “Sillages” (Trails), René Vivien, 1908)

First vinyl edition of these homemade electronic tracks, recorded in a primitive bedroom studio between 1993 and 1994 by Mahk Rumbae, a British born fan of synths and drum machines. A surprising crossover, as it alternates between the soft balearic sound heat and the urban indu-electro rigour.

Drawing the night in around his private, unnerving vigil, Ellis Swan returns to Quindi Records with an album of cracked beauty and haunted balladry. The Chicago-based singer-songwriter debuted on the label last year with a collaborative project called Dead Bandit, a vividly produced instrumental set in thrall to the badlands and a laconic, languid Americana.

Under his own name, Swan records intimate, poetic songs in a stark fashion, so fragile they might disintegrate in between your fingers were you to pick them up. He draws the microphone close to pick up every whisper and drags the music through layer upon layer of tape fuzz, leaving room for atmospheric impressions which loom out of the walls like the ghosts of past misdeeds. These pieces play on the natural distortion and delirium which occurs at the farthest end of the night - the hour before dawn might hope to break the veil of darkness.

Swan's is a hauntological sound, but like the late Israeli rockabilly icon Charlie Megira his process strikes a spooked tone past revivalism and out of time or place. The only anchor which places Swan anywhere is the subtle presence of Katherine Swan providing lyrics to '3am' and lyrics and backing vocals to 'It Could Be Worse'.

The impression cast is of one man and his guitar, but there are other textures tucked into the music - the muffled murmur of a drum machine or a low frequency organ hum, some desolate piano, other treated percussive impulses which might well have been the work of incidental sprites while the four-track was rolling.

There are fuller cuts like 'Evening Sun' and the title track '3am' which play with structural dynamics and creep out of the shadows a touch, while passages of plaintive, instrumental unease such as the hypnotic, mantra-like 'Chinatown' protract the space between songs. 'Swing' lolls between moments of bottomless silence and a discernible, rickety funk, and 'Puppeteers Tears' teases out a buried drama. But primarily, it's the light touch of 'Horses Bones' and tin can tenderness of 'She's My Sweet Summer Storm' which spell out the spellbinding character of 3am; a singular creation fusing the best qualities of folk, blues and Americana with a fearlessly experimental sound palette.

Limited edition picture disc in full colour printed sleeve

Covered In Stars featuring members of Luna, Spacemen 3, Slowdive, Spectrum, Add N To (X), The Vacant Lots, Spiritualized, Slipstream and more.

This is a wonderfully colourful, beautiful fun and powerfully transcendent album by Fuxa, Featuring driving drum machines, gritty fuzz bitten guitars on The Sun Is Shining and Mary, 80's neon midnight post-punk disco grooves on Shadazz and perfectly blissed out floating in space vibes (Help Me Please and Cluster Fuxa). The synths shimmer and elevate, guitars attack and sparkle and the vocals deliver dark romanticism which evoke often David Cronenberg inspired fantasies such as photographs of car crashes, crushes on perfect strangers and unknown futures. 
 - Simon Scott (Slowdive)


Fuxa returns in 2022 with a new album  'Covered In Stars'
 
Eight new songs and several years in the making, of what can best be described as a full on sonic explosion. Mixing space-rock elements, krautrock rhythms, punchy beats and swirling electronic sweeps and beeps that would make for a perfect soundtrack for any warp speed travelling cosmonauts with phasers set to fun!!
 
For the past 25 years Fuxa front man Randall Nieman has no doubt been on a cosmic journey in sound and space. from his early beginnings a part of Detroit locals Windy and Carl as a guitarist/synth player, running and releasing close to 100 releases on his own label Mind Expansion, to later joining Sonic Boom's (Spacemen 3) group Spectrum for close to a decade. Performing the songs that Spacemen taught him touring across North America and Europe as well as recording and releasing several releases with Sonic under the Spectrum moniker. 
Randall has since worked with and released numerous amounts of material with the likes of Martin Rev (Suicide), The Telescopes and Dean and Britta (Luna) to name a few.
 
It is no surprise that Randall would once again build this new album with friends that he became close to over the years musically and there's certainly no shortage of indie royalty star power on this album
 
Produced by Randall Nieman, Richard Formby and Stefan Persson.
Mastered by Simon Scott (Slowdive)
This album features guest appearances from Britta Phillips and Dean Wareham (Luna), Ann Shenton (Add N to (X)), Mark Refoy and Jonny Mattock (Spiritualized, Slipstream), Roger Brogan (Spectrum/Dean Wareham), Jared Artaud (Vacant Lots) and more! Each adding an unmistakable and timeless element that Fuxa's core members have created. 
It would be hard not to notice the sheer aesthetic glory of this release as once again Randall has chosen the amazing James Marsh (most would remember him as the phenomenal artist responsible for all the Talk Talk albums over the years. His artwork is not only featured on the jacket but on both sides of the limited edition picture disc vinyl.
Covered in stars is a celebration of 25 years of music and friendships made along the way. 

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Fuxa! 

** SISTER FUNK, SOUL-JAZZ and BLUE-EYED-SOUL - OBSCURE RARE GROOVES ALL THE WAY THRU! **

- the double vinyl LP comes with a full album download code
- deluxe double-gatefold LP with detailed liner notes & unseen photographs
- ALL songs appear on LP & digital for the very first-time
- sales notes by Joel Ricci (aka Lucky Brown)

When Tramp Records was founded, there really were very few ways in which the music lover could discover new music besides the traditional methods of digging, good luck, and inheritance. First there were torrent sites such as Napster and Limewire where generous collectors might digitize and upload portions of their accessions, and sometimes you could find entire radio show broadcasts of live vinyl curation made by real Disc Jockeys out there, a lot of the Deep Funk I heard for the first time in around 1999 I found this way via Disc Jockeys on radio shows from the UK, tunes were faded and mixed together and of course veiled with that unmistakable Mp3 'whoosh'. And unless you have been living as an off-grid hermit for the past 20 years, you know the rest of the story.

But though our world has changed, and even though everyone from our grandparents to our 5-year old nieces are curating their own internet playlists, I submit that the role of DJ has become even more vital, not less. We as a culture have always relied on our Disc Jockeys to introduce us to sounds that speak to their souls, to control the vibe and most importantly put forth the narrative that speaks to society as a whole. DJs are our tribal storytellers, and the music they bring us are the stories. And when a DJ like Tobias Kirmayer is telling us that story clearly and with conviction, it speaks to our souls as well.

"Countdown to...SOUL" is a compilation series that, much like Tramp Records' other critically-acclaimed comps such as Movements, Feeling Nice, and the Praise Poems Series' examines a unique facet of the Golden Era of Soul, Funk, Jazz and R&B. Perhaps, in this case the dawning of the Soul era, "proto-soul", "primitive soul", or even "pre-soul" if you will. When they were recorded, many of these tunes were still firmly ensconced in the Black Radical Jazz tradition, but there was a change in the air, something happening in the coming years that would revolutionize popular music forever. In fact, Soul had already taken over the world by the time many of these tunes were released on 45, but for various reasons, the artists and their music occupied the fringes of the idiom and therefore remained obscure. Countdown to...SOUL chronicles that beginning, that buildup, those heady moments before the lid blew off and American Black music would explode across the planet, while scouring the outskirts and tide pools for specimens that were emanating in their own respective neighborhoods and communities, so often overlooked by the American pop music machine.

Side A features barrier-breaking pioneer Frankie Staton and her message of "Love One Another" to the world that is as fresh and vital today as it was when it first came out in the late seventies. In that spirit, Tenison Stevens' appeal "Don't Rip Me Off" reminds us to treat each other as brothers and sisters.

Side B meets us at the altar of the formidable Hammond Organ with an Unknown and uncredited Organist found languishing on a one-of-a-kind unreleased acetate and moving on to explore the nexus of Soul, Bebop, and R&B with Don Patterson's "Paddy Wagon".

Side C satisfies our hunger for the blaring horn sections, big beat drums, wailing Hammonds, pleading vocals and gritty guitars of authentic Soul music (both brown and blue-eyed) with Marva Josie, Shirley Wahls and The Echomen, among others, but then takes a hard left turn into undoubtedly uncharted territory with the hybrid folk/country/soul story of Sherrif Black and poor Sally who, though she is tragically met with a terrible fate, thanks to the careful and conscientious mastering of our German engineers, the song itself remains alive and is a genuine addition to the canon.

For the remaining side, I'm gonna just let you discover this music on its own terms, as you won't find these tunes anywhere else, not on Napster, not even on Limewire, or anywhere else. I want to personally thank you for putting your trust in the DJ and for continuing to listen, study, appreciate, and share the work and mission of Tramp Records.

-Joel Ricci (May 2022)

'WINGS' is taken from THE INVISIBLE's album 'RISPAH', and comes with an exquisite remix from Floating Points !
While the lead track from Mercury Nominated indie-electronic mopey types The Invisible is a goodun, our money's on the phenomenal remix from the ever on-form Floating Points. Taking the crunchy drum-machine rhythm, tape hiss and guitar jangle from the original, Sam Shepherd reconfigures the track into a near eight-minute opium opus, whimsical synths and all. Funnily enough Dave Okumu's haunting vocals sound even more focused here as Shepherd tranforms them into a ghostly memory, reframing them as a complex recollection of loss. It's harrowing and beautiful stuff

All artists are well known for their outstanding sound design and mixing skills. Get carried away by pounding drums and razor sharp hi-hat patterns. Intense synth workouts, nebulous atmospheres and well-chosen floating percussion parts are desi- gned to melt the boundaries between modern sci-fi sounds and 90s techno vibes.

This release is an absolute weapon and meant to create a higher state of tension and high voltage energy on any techno dance floor. ‘Insolate – Cosmic Paranoia’. The track’s kick drum has a clear crisp knock to it while the sub-bass swells and cradles around it perfectly. The sharp acid stabs in conjunction with this make it a very stomping track while the arpeggiated synth in the background flows with the voice resonance.

‘Mode_1 – Broken Machines’ is the second track on the EP and has a bit more depth and groove to it. The massive low end grooves beautifully with the flowing synth as well as the bright variations of hi-hats.

Next up we have ‘Elias the Prophet – Masochist’ which has a very bright kick and a wobbling bass that’s sure to make your chest rumble. The tight and delicate hats loosen up creating a washing of bright noise that flows over the track while the synth continues to send you into another realm.

The fourth track ‘Joton – Ziggurat’ fits perfectly due to the distressful synth. The track’s sub swells between every fourth and first beat while giving it space to ride smoothly beneath the kick drum between these intervals. The hats remain tight while the cymbals flow over the track creating even more tension.

Double LP documenting a realtime collaboration between Terrence Dixon (Metroplex/Tresor/Rush Hour) and Jordan GCZ (Off Minor/Minimal Detroit/Rush Hour). Finally the full results of these special sessions see the light of day (a ltd edition 12" of exclusive tracks owas released in 2020).
BIG TIP!

"In September 2019, Motor City techno legend Terrence Dixon made a rare trip to Europe. He was introduced to Jordan Czamanski AKA Jordan GCZ, a serial collaborator and electronic music improviser best known for his work as part of Juju & Jordash and, alongside David Moufang and Gal “Juju” Aner, as Magic Mountain High.

The pair hit it off immediately, so Czamanski powered up his studio and the pair began to jam. Over the following five days, the pair improvised extensively, stopping only periodically to drink coffee and discuss music, life and much more besides. While in the studio, they barely uttered a word to each other, instead responding almost psychically to the rhythms, grooves, riffs and musical motifs the other was spinning into the mix.

The results of these surprisingly magical 2019 studio sessions are showcased on Keep In Mind, I’m Out of My Mind, the pair’s first joint album and Dixon’s most significant musical collaboration since the Detroiter’s 2018 hook-up with German techno and ambient veteran Thomas Fehlmann.

In keeping with the project’s improvised roots, the six-track set is notable for its immediacy, pleasing looseness – it was mostly created using outboard equipment including synthesizers, drum machines and effects units – and sonic fluidity. It offers a neat, symmetrical blend of the two producers’ trademark styles, with Czamanski’s attractive chords, melodies and jazz-flecked motifs rising above hypnotic, cymbal-heavy rhythms that have long been the hallmark of Detroit’s sci-fi-fuelled techno sound.

This unique and appealing, dancefloor-focused sound ripples through album opener ‘Fretless’, an ultra-deep chunk of heady liquid techno, and the breathless bustle of ‘Operation Delete’, where bubbly synthesizer motifs, cascading ambient electronics and urgent bass cluster around a killer broken techno groove.

It’s there, too, throughout the surging, deliciously percussive ‘Space Chime’, an alien-sounding concoction that sounds like it was beamed down from some distant galaxy, the warming-but-intoxicating minor key swirl of ‘Axis Mundi’ – a two-part slab of techno psychedelia full of trippy electronics, dystopian jazz riffs and intergalactic intent – and the pitched-down, mind-altering oddness of closing cut ‘Above Ground’, when the pair goes all-out in pursuit of leftfield techno perfection.

Created from scratch in a few days by two of electronic music’s most accomplished improvisers, Keep In Mind, I’m Out of My Mind is an exemplary meeting of musical minds and sonic sensibilities."

Matt Annis

Comes with insert with photographs by Atelier Fantasma (Jop Verberne).

Back In Stock

Charlotte Leclerc talks loud and fast, she’s at full speed, at a heat of 10,000 degrees and gives off a very pleasant warmth - if you stay at the right distance. She’s like the sun: if you get too close, you’ll burn up straight away. Speaking of which, Charlotte has distanced herself, and not on purpose either. When coming home at night, instead of getting into the role of laboring musician, she chose instead to make music a bit like you’d smoke one last cigarette before bed. The story of this album began when I asked her if she made music by herself. I knew she played regularly with other people in bands, but nothing about any potential solo musical activity. She replied, “When I get home late at night, before going to bed, I like to switch on my old Vermona drum machine and my synths. I record stuff that isn’t songs, that I forget all about and don’t listen to again because it must be garbage.” It didn’t take more than that for me to really want to listen to it. After several months of enquiring, she accepted to send me all these “bits of music” as she calls them. I loved them straight away. Very loose and free tracks, a music made for no one in particular. No format, no structures, just creation sprinkled over daily life. Moments like these are often forgotten, lost in your head, which is overcrowded with day-to-day stuff. But in this case, she managed to save them, preserving them in time thanks to the record button. Style-wise, I’m not sure what Charlotte Leclerc’s “bits of music” are. Avant-exotica? Ambient-funk? Maybe. However, if you’re wondering if there’s any emotion in there, I’d answer as she would, “Yeah, loaaaads.”

With Panorama, Frank Maston pays homage to the classic era of library records and Italian soundtracks of the 70s. A blissed-out, grooving collection of filmic cues, it continues the unique brilliance of Tulips and Darkland. Elegant and easy, subtle and stylish, breezy and beautiful; this is his Maston-piece. Commissioned by legendary label KPM, Panorama cements Maston as a master of modern classics and the most mesmeric of contemporary composers.

In early 2020, Be With suggested to Frank that he should make a KPM record. He wasn't aware that they were still putting out new library records - but he was super keen: "It was completely surreal and it still hasn't fully sank in that I have a record in that catalog, sitting alongside those incredible albums that were so influential to me."

Frank was visiting family in his hometown of LA in March 2020 when the world ground to a halt so the KPM project arrived at a fortuitous moment. Having fantasised about committing to a record with no distractions, with a proper budget, access to his gear and space to work in - to really dig in and try to write and arrange the best work he could possibly make - it was a real "be careful what you wish for" moment. But, as Frank explained, "it completely saved my year and sanity to have something to focus on and get excited about. It was my lifeline." He spent seven months on it, working almost every day.

Maston had already been making library-influenced music so when KPM outlined the criteria for the tracks it was exactly what he had been doing all along. He thought the best approach would be to make a follow-up to Tulips that had a parallel life as a KPM record. Enjoying complete creative freedom, “gave me the drive to power through and dig in deep. I'm not sure if I could have kept myself on such a rigorous recording schedule under my own steam, and I think the momentum I had writing and recording it is part of the strength of this record."

Maston’s sleek retro-groove instrumentals emulate the classic KPM “Greensleeve” reel-to-reel recordings that provided mood-setting music for mid-century cinema, television, and radio programs. Apparently in close conversation with the John Cameron-Keith Mansfield KPM pastoral masterclass Voices In Harmony, Maston's Panorama could be heard as that record's funky follow-up. Yes, it's *that good*. Another reference point from the hallowed library would be Francis Coppieter's wonderful Piano Viberations.

Opener "First Class" is a blissed-out groove, featuring the soothing vocals of Molly Lewis and a glistening harp over drums, a two-note bass motif (from Eli Ghersinu of L'Eclair) and an assemblage of guitars, synths, French horn and glowing vibraphone. Acid Lounge, anyone? The irresistibly funky "Easy Money" is a gorgeous cut led by more of Molly's vocals, pastoral flute and Rhodes, underpinned by drums and percussion, grooving bass, chilled guitars and synth strings. Kicking the tempo up, the percussive "Storm" is a vibin' filmic-fusion jam where psychedelic guitars (courtesy of Pedrum of Allah Las/Paint) organ, jazzy flute, Rhodes and vibes all compete for a place in the sun, over drums and walking bassline.

The heavenly "You Shouldn't Have" is a delicate, melancholic wonder; a dreamy instrumental where the melody is shared by a whistle, harpsichord and celeste, over a cyclical piano chord sequence and bass, synths, guitars, organ and distant French horn. The tempo rises again with the passionate, sticky "Fling", a summery, nostalgic groove with skipping drums and percussion, warm bass and electric guitar, yearning flute and synth strings. The brilliantly titled "Fool Moon" has that Voices In Harmony sound down pat. A romantic slow-mo dreamscape of Rhodes and harpsichord, piano, light drums and softly strummed acoustic guitar.

Side B opens with "Medusa", a hopeful, mellowed-out track with shuffling drums, feel-good flute, muted horns, glowing Rhodes and synth strings. The soft and gentle "Morning Paper" is an elegant way to start the day; a beatless blend of flute, guitar, percussion, ambient synths and vibes. The upbeat head-nod jam "Scenic" has that widescreen car-chase feel, uptempo drums and percussion, grooving bass, piano, synths and ambient electric guitar. "Adieu" is a smooth summer vibe, relaxing with brushed drums, Rhodes, flutes and horns. Molly Lewis's gorgeous vocals steal the show, alongside vibes, jamming organ and synth strings.

"Hydra" is another laid-back 70s-sounding retro cinema cue with light drums and percussion, walking bass, spacey synths, clavinet, glowing vibraphone, vintage organ and electric guitar. Closer "Jet Lag" is a laconic bow out; bass-driven drum machine soul, featuring hand percussion, Rhodes, vibes, synths and organ.

Multi-instrumentalist Frank played a bit of everything across Panorama. Yet, humble as ever, he believes the time, energy, and enthusiasm of all of the musicians invited to the sessions helped him realise his vision: "There were two Italian flautists who really understood what I was going for. Two french horn players, cor anglais, a vibraphonist and a flügel horn player. I've never involved this many people in my projects before, and yet the result is the most "me" record I've ever made."

Musically, a strong Italian theme runs through the record. Frank is fascinated by ancient Rome and both his parents are Italian (Maston was originally Mastrantonio before anglicisation). So, it felt natural to fully embrace these strands and tie everything together with the striking artwork. The Romans were influenced by Greek culture, emulating their art and architecture, which, in turn, influenced Renaissance era artists. Frank acknowledged this tradition when reflecting on his place in the lineage of library and soundtrack composers. He then asked his friend Mattea Perrotta, a painter and sculptor, for some sketches. What he received was exactly what he had in mind: "Especially the theater mask, which really captures the range of moods on the album". Frank arranged them as per the cover and it soon felt right: "I wanted to make a cover that was reminiscent of the classic KPM albums without making it too pastiche - so it has its own identity and looks at home alongside other library records, while still fitting in nicely in the KPM catalogue." The last step was for us to introduce Frank to Be With-KPM’s Rich Robinson, who helped put together the back and centre labels and align it all within the KPM standard.

Panorama is a perfect title for the album. With no opportunity to travel for tours or recording projects, Frank arranged postcards from his collection on his desk with beautiful views of the mediterranean coast, the Roman Colosseum and Cinque Terre. These also served as visual prompts: "That was part of the sonic concept - imagining myself driving down the mediterranean coast with this music on, with the top down." Additionally, the range of moods and vibes - "I tried to make each song very different from the previous one in terms of tempo and arrangement and feeling" - speaks to the idea of a Panorama of music and sounds and emotions. The last track was originally called Panorama, but KPM already had that title in their catalogue so it was changed to "Jet Lag", which, as Frank notes, "is perhaps even more fitting, since the trip is over".

For the next instalment in our split series, we handed the reins over to two producers whose work has kept us continually inspired over the last few years. At the helm of the A-side, Berlin big-room havoc-wreaker AMOTIK puts on the burners right away with two riotous jams that scream nothing but sonic aggression. On the flip, the mysterious, genre-unbound Janice sweeps us into his psychedelic, non-formulaic techno mindset. True to AMOTIK's minutely balanced, well-integrated blends of punishing kick drums and sunken harmonics, metronomic destroyer "Narangi" swings the pendulum sharp and clean, from deep down a thick sludge of reverb-soaked, FX-topped percussive armada to bleeps n' bloops barrage fire, whereas quake-inducing tides of 909 thunder hail down upon the dance floor with unrelenting frenzy. The dusty bone-bruiser "Hara" picks up the torch and it's in no calmer mood. A slowed-down, breaks-loaded churner, this one relies on a fine engineering of lo-freq moves and pure hardware-processed filth to establish a murky motel, cinematic narrative of sorts. Up with the fracturing wares, here's Janice rocking the flip upside down with the aptly-titled "Mass Formation Hypnosis". Doing what's written on the tin, the faceless producer rushes us headfirst into the boiler for a thorough, unfaltering brainwash. Smelling of leather, grease and coal, this one's bristling with a delectably rugged palette of unambiguous electronics: an ultimate shelling of chest-rattling drum work, in-your-face bass uppercuts, trumpeting stabs and menacingly altered vox. The final salvo, "Names and Excuses", tops it all off on an ominously droney tip, flinging us right away into the frothing mouth of a deadly machine giant, hurtling and tumbling down mazy bowels of washed-out ambient techno via rhyzomatic gutters of brooding abstract motifs and no-frills heavyweight pound. Hectic. ''XVII'' comes adorned with a duly outstanding frame to shine, and will be pressed on 180g audiophile quality vinyl. Once again a way for RYC to openly declare its aspirations and goals, in letting people know that quality, passion and love for the music is all that matters.

To wit, if you think you know already what you’ll be getting into here heady, Television-esque multi-guitar jams played with motorik precision and a fiercely American intensity: you know, a Forsyth record well, go ahead and think that. I won’t stop you. Only . . . maybe the pulsing bass, curiously lurching drumbeat, and lunar synth squiggling of Sun Ra Arkestra maestro Marshall Allen that opens “Experimental & Professional” will set you back on your heels. But just for a moment, before Ryan Jewell’s drums and Tortoise alum Douglas McCombs’s bass twine into perfect alignment and then guitars played by Forsyth and Tom Malach (of Garcia Peoples) start chipping and hammering, twittering and sparring, the whole thing managing to evoke Remain in Light without sounding remotely like it.

Tracks : 1 Experimental & Professional 2 Heaven For A Few 3 Bad Moon Risen 4 You're Going To Need Somebody 5 Hey, Evolution 6 Long Beach Idyll 7 Robot Energy Machine

There’s no escaping the motherlode - that eternal continuum of high drama and overheated amp stacks fit to raise the pulse and revivify the spirits. It’s merely an unmistakable band chemistry that transforms base hard rock into gemstones, and this process is an increasingly rare phenomenon in the here and now. Luckily for Stockholm’s alchemists LUGNET, they are one of the few. Here in these steamrollering grooves and strident anthems is just the kind of swagger and bravado on which rock built its foundations in the ‘70s, yet without any of the cliches or the bloated self-importance. The roots of LUGNET may be visible to see, and the primal stomp of early Deep Purple, the apocalyptic sermonising of Black Sabbath and the cinematic majesty of Rainbow can easily be detected in the almighty sturm-und-drang. Yet this sound is delivered with charisma and maverick energy that effortlessly summons fresh vibrant life to a classic form. The spark that lit LUGNET originates in 2009, when Fredrik Jansson-Punkka (also drummer of Angel Witch, and whose storied history includes stints in Witchcraft, Abramis Brama and Count Raven) met bassist Lennart ‘Z’ Zethzon at Sweden Rock Festival and the two first discussed getting together to jam. Three years later this finally came to fruition and guitarists Bonden Jansson and Mackan Holten joined the fray, alongside vocalist Roger Solander. An original plan to play ‘70s blues-rock with Swedish lyrics was ultimately warped and transformed into the monumental attack of 2016’s self-titled debut proper on Pride & Joy Music. The road to ‘Nightwalker’ saw changes afoot in the band, as Solander was replaced by the soulful pipes of Johan Fahlberg, who matches the swashbuckling charm of the Dio/Coverdale tradition with flourishes and personality all his own, whilst Bonden Jansson made way for wunderkind new guitarist Matti Norlin. This was a quantum leap on from the debut, replete with fiery interplay and incisive song writing, from the slow Zeppelin-esque catharsis of ‘Death Laughs At You’ to the monstrous ‘Stargazer’-esque grandeur of the mellotron-assisted finale ‘Kill Us All’. The aftermath saw Lugnet traverse from strength to strength, a notable highlight being packing out their tent at Sweden Rock Festival in 2018 even whilst a certain Birmingham-birthed Prince Of Darkness himself occupied the main stage across the field. Michael Linder (formerly of Troubled Horse) soon replaced Mackan Holten, and this line-up has subsequently amassed enough material for two albums, with all members throwing their hat into the ring song writing-wise. One of these ‘Tales From The Great Beyond’ has already been recorded at SolnaSound Recording with the dream-team of Simon Johansson (Wolf/ Soilwork) and Mike Wead (King Diamond/ Mercyful Fate) at the helm / mixed by Marcus Jidell (Avatarium/ Candlemass). Just like for the debut album, the front cover artwork was designed by Vance Kelly. Whatever the future holds for Lugnet, only a fool would bet on the result not being a spectacular explosion of righteousness. This machine is firing on all cylinders, and rockers of all persuasions would be well advised to get on board or get out of the way. Track listing: Still A Sinner; In Harvest Time; Another World; Out Of My System; Svarv; Eaten Alive; Pale Design; I Can’t Wait; Black Sails; Tåsjö Kyrkmarsch

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.

Deeply ingrained into the fabric of the British electronic music landscape, Luke Vibert shows no sign of slowing down, after an illustrious career spanning three decades (to date!). Vibert returns to Hypercolour after 2020’s hugely successful trilogy series (Amen Andrews/Modern Rave/Rave Hop) with his 18th album (not counting albums released under his other monikers Kerrier District, Plug, Wagon Christ et al).

‘GRIT.’ finds Vibert in playful mode (and, let’s face it, whenever isn’t he!), as twelve tracks of acidic and squelching drum machine tracks come rolling out to play. Bouncy and hypnotising 303 jams of the highest order are served up here, with rhythms pulled from the electro, garage and house pools, all delivered in Vibert’s inimitable style.