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Reissue 2025

"Get Up Stand Up" is a 2004 song by the Italian dance project Stellar Project,

created by singer-songwriter and producer Stefano Sorrentino, featuring American actress and singer Brandi Emma.

Their song, thanks to mixes by Phunk Investigation, reached number one on the US dance airplay chart (Billboard) on November 20, 2004.

The song also reached number 14 on the UK singles chart that same year.

The "Phunk Investigation vs. James Senese" collaboration, specifically the track "E'na Bella Jurnata,"

is seen as a high-quality fusion of Italian Disco and funky house, praised for its driving beats,

70s disco melodies, and signature saxiness from the legendary Senese,

making it an instant anthem for clubs and Ibiza.

Reviews highlight it as a grand cru of Italian dance music, blending classic vibes with modern house energy,

a must-have for disco and house lovers.

Reissue 2025

"Get Up Stand Up" is a 2004 song by the Italian dance project Stellar Project,

created by singer-songwriter and producer Stefano Sorrentino, featuring American actress and singer Brandi Emma.

Their song, thanks to mixes by Phunk Investigation, reached number one on the US dance airplay chart (Billboard) on November 20, 2004.

The song also reached number 14 on the UK singles chart that same year.

UK wave funk veteran DMX Krew returns to Abstract Forms with his latest double album project. Escape-MCP features 13 tracks of synth drenched electro and elastic techno grooves drawing inspiration from a 1983 computer game where the player is trapped inside a computer by a rogue processor. Fortunately DMX Krew isn't trapped inside a computer and is still with us making killer grooves. Don't sleep!

Die Reise von MUNA war schon immer davon geprägt, Raum für die komplexen, chaotischen und ekstatischen Realitäten des Lebens zu schaffen, und mit ihrem vierten Album "Dancing On The Wall" sind sie so prägnant, düster und mitreißend wie nie zuvor. Ausgehend von den funkelnden, mit Konfetti übersäten Höhen ihres selbstbetitelten Albums aus dem Jahr 2022 kanalisieren sie nun die ängstliche, unsichere Energie des Lebens in einem Los Angeles, das von politischen Spannungen, Umweltzerstörung und dem stillen Druck der Prekarität der Millennials geprägt ist. Das Ergebnis ist ein Album, das sich sowohl intim als auch spektakulär anfühlt, eine Popwelt, die mit Biss, Witz und emotionaler Resonanz aufgebaut ist, ein Soundtrack für Herzen, die gleichzeitig in Flammen stehen und das Chaos um sie herum beobachten. Auf dem gesamten Album erkundet MUNA Sehnsucht, Intimität und Verbundenheit vor dem Hintergrund einer Welt im Wandel. Es gibt eine stille Auseinandersetzung damit, wie man weiterleben, lieben und sich gegenseitig erreichen kann, während man Zeuge politischer Brutalität und systemischer Gewalt wird, und wie Freude ohne Verleugnung überleben kann. Tracks wie "Wannabeher" fangen den schwindelerregenden Nervenkitzel ein, sich vollständig in die Fantasie eines anderen zu begeben, während "Why Do I Get A Good Feeling" noch lange nach dem Ende des Beats nachhallt, eine Meditation über flüchtige Freude und ausgesetzte Möglichkeiten. Das Album schließt mit "Buzzkiller", einer schonungslosen Auseinandersetzung mit Sehnsüchten und ihren Folgen, dem Schmerz, etwas erreicht zu haben, nur um festzustellen, dass neue Fragen, Zweifel und Sehnsüchte zurückbleiben. "Dancing On The Wall" wurde von Naomi McPherson produziert, wobei ihre charakteristische Liebe zum Detail mühelos mit der ausgefeilten Pop-Technik ihrer Bandkollegin Josette Maskin hinter den Kulissen verschmilzt, um lebendige, atmende Welten für die prägnanten Texte und die unverwechselbare Stimme der Leadsängerin Katie Gavin zu schaffen. "Dancing On The Wall" verbindet euphorische Klanglandschaften mit prägnanten, menschlichen Geschichten. Das Album spiegelt einen intensiven, selbstgesteuerten kreativen Prozess wider, der von Instinkt, Vertrauen und vollständiger künstlerischer Kontrolle geprägt ist. Es wirkt lebendig, eindringlich und filmisch und spiegelt eine Generation wider, die sich durch Unsicherheit navigiert und sich dennoch nicht von ihrer Freude abbringen lässt. Mit diesem Album beweisen MUNA erneut, dass Pop gewagt, intim und sozialbewusst zugleich sein kann: ein Album, das nicht nur den Moment einfängt, sondern ihn zu einer Welt destilliert, in der man leben möchte.

Die Reise von MUNA war schon immer davon geprägt, Raum für die komplexen, chaotischen und ekstatischen Realitäten des Lebens zu schaffen, und mit ihrem vierten Album "Dancing On The Wall" sind sie so prägnant, düster und mitreißend wie nie zuvor. Ausgehend von den funkelnden, mit Konfetti übersäten Höhen ihres selbstbetitelten Albums aus dem Jahr 2022 kanalisieren sie nun die ängstliche, unsichere Energie des Lebens in einem Los Angeles, das von politischen Spannungen, Umweltzerstörung und dem stillen Druck der Prekarität der Millennials geprägt ist. Das Ergebnis ist ein Album, das sich sowohl intim als auch spektakulär anfühlt, eine Popwelt, die mit Biss, Witz und emotionaler Resonanz aufgebaut ist, ein Soundtrack für Herzen, die gleichzeitig in Flammen stehen und das Chaos um sie herum beobachten. Auf dem gesamten Album erkundet MUNA Sehnsucht, Intimität und Verbundenheit vor dem Hintergrund einer Welt im Wandel. Es gibt eine stille Auseinandersetzung damit, wie man weiterleben, lieben und sich gegenseitig erreichen kann, während man Zeuge politischer Brutalität und systemischer Gewalt wird, und wie Freude ohne Verleugnung überleben kann. Tracks wie "Wannabeher" fangen den schwindelerregenden Nervenkitzel ein, sich vollständig in die Fantasie eines anderen zu begeben, während "Why Do I Get A Good Feeling" noch lange nach dem Ende des Beats nachhallt, eine Meditation über flüchtige Freude und ausgesetzte Möglichkeiten. Das Album schließt mit "Buzzkiller", einer schonungslosen Auseinandersetzung mit Sehnsüchten und ihren Folgen, dem Schmerz, etwas erreicht zu haben, nur um festzustellen, dass neue Fragen, Zweifel und Sehnsüchte zurückbleiben. "Dancing On The Wall" wurde von Naomi McPherson produziert, wobei ihre charakteristische Liebe zum Detail mühelos mit der ausgefeilten Pop-Technik ihrer Bandkollegin Josette Maskin hinter den Kulissen verschmilzt, um lebendige, atmende Welten für die prägnanten Texte und die unverwechselbare Stimme der Leadsängerin Katie Gavin zu schaffen. "Dancing On The Wall" verbindet euphorische Klanglandschaften mit prägnanten, menschlichen Geschichten. Das Album spiegelt einen intensiven, selbstgesteuerten kreativen Prozess wider, der von Instinkt, Vertrauen und vollständiger künstlerischer Kontrolle geprägt ist. Es wirkt lebendig, eindringlich und filmisch und spiegelt eine Generation wider, die sich durch Unsicherheit navigiert und sich dennoch nicht von ihrer Freude abbringen lässt. Mit diesem Album beweisen MUNA erneut, dass Pop gewagt, intim und sozialbewusst zugleich sein kann: ein Album, das nicht nur den Moment einfängt, sondern ihn zu einer Welt destilliert, in der man leben möchte.

Melbourne / Naarm stronghold Butter Sessionsclock 15 years in the game with a trilogy of 12"s, sustaining their uncompromising streak of peak-form electronics. The family-style V/A binds friends, collaborators, former studio neighbours and DJ booth allies, capturing a label that exists as community as much as catalogue.

Disc Two lifts off with recurring contributor Rory McPike's first label outing as Rings Around Saturn, a blissed-out cosmic floater skimming the periphery. Booked in the early days of the label's formative Mania residency, Japanese don Gonno twists freestyle, techno and breaks into pure ecstasy, before the unerringly bold Jennifer Loveless spikes the punch with a hallucinatory mix of drums, disembodied voice and jazz club keys.

On the flip, Boorloo's Guy Contact rolls out Dance In The Grey, a shadowy prog churn pitched between new-romantic vocal sheen and EBM muscle, with Kate Miller completely rewiring the script on Sub Series E - a masterfully minimal, double-time meditation. suki presents his Sniper1 alias to close with a demonic body-jacking groove loaded for the system.

Whether taken alone or folded into the three-disc triptych, each instalment stands as a bag-ready constant, charged with Butter Sessions' curatorial finesse.

Reissue 2026

A hit born... three times over!

Released in 2005, "Born Again" was re-released in 2011 after becoming one of the most sought-after dance records in Europe.

It went straight to #1 in the Netherlands, where it also went gold!

Now available again on vinyl, remastered by Gianni Bini at HOG Studio, with versions by Balearic Soul, Pastaboys, and Funkerman.

The lyrics are truly powerful and different. I was born into a system that doesn't give a shit about you, or me, or life.

Don't be a victim of the things I do to survive, because I've always known, you Babylonians are good...

Reissue 2026

"Call Me" is an electronic/house track by DJ Dino (Dino Lenny) on Nu-Tella Records, released in 2003.

It's praised for its deep, emotional, and melodic atmosphere, occasionally shifting from darker tones to uplifting major keys,

recalling classic electronic sounds with modern touches, though specific aggregate scores are scarce.

Official 2026 reissue includes, in addition to the original and remixes by Par-T-One and Santos, the previously unreleased version by Walterino.

Mixes completely remastered by Gianni Bini at HOG Studio.

Dino Lenny and Marco Capelli are the two people collectively known as Andrea Doria, a name known by many as that of an oceanliner which sunk in the Atlantic Ocean. Originally released in 2003, the official reissue remastered by Gianni Bini at HOG Studio is now available

Goose Bumpsis Hutter's second solo release and was produced by Hi-Style Records's Jimmy Sutton (JD McPherson, Pokey LaFarge, The Bellfuries). Sutton assembled an all star cast of musicians, including Alex Hall (engineer, drums) and Joel Paterson (guitar). Almost all recording was done live at the analog Hi-Style studio in Chicago. Bonafide contemporary rock star JD McPherson wrote "Everybody's Valentine" for Hutter; it could easily find its way into the next Bond film. Emanuela's influences draw from disparate historical musical threads like doo- wop, German punk, and classic country. From the balladry of "Monday Morning" to the punk-surf rock of "The Voices," Hutter's original songwriting shines throughout. Goose Bumpsis a must listen for fans of modern rock with a classic twist

MUNA sind magisch. Welche andere Band hätte das verlorene Jahr 2021 mit Pailletten und Pompoms geprägt - und dich dabei ganz nebenbei zum Singen bringen können (und vielleicht sogar zu glauben), dass "Life's so fun, life's so fun" ist? All das während der vielleicht unruhigsten Phase deines Lebens? "Silk Chiffon", der Instant-Hit von MUNA mit Labelchefin Phoebe Bridgers, schlug wie ein doppelter Regenbogen in den grauen Himmel der anderthalbjährigen Pandemie ein. Pitchfork nannte es einen "Strudel von Schmetterlingen im Bauch", NPR einen "Queerwurm", der US-Rolling Stone "eine der süßesten Melodien des Jahres, die die Art von purer Pop-Seligkeit ausstrahlt, die so viele Bands anstreben, aber fast nie richtig hinbekommen." Für MUNAs Gitarristin und Produzentin Naomi McPherson war es ein "song for kids to have their first gay kiss to." Und so blühten mehrere Tausend verrückte Twitter- und TikTok-Memes auf. Seit Beginn ihrer Karriere haben MUNA den Schmerz als Fundament der Sehnsucht, als Zentrum der radikalen Wahrheit, als Teil des Erwachsenwerdens und als inhärenten Faktor der Erfahrung von Marginalität betrachtet - die Bandmitglieder gehören Queer- und Minderheitengemeinschaften an und spielen ihre Songs vor allem für diese. Gavin, McPherson und Josette Maskin - die Gitarristin von MUNA - verbindet eine bald zehnjährige Freundschaft. Sie begannen im College an der USC zusammen Musik zu machen und veröffentlichten 2017 mit der Single "I Know a Place" einen frühen Hit als eine aufgestaute Beschwörung zur LGBTQ-Zuflucht und Transzendenz. Jetzt, in ihren späten Zwanzigern, ist das Trio so etwas wie eine Familie geworden. Sie verbrachten einen Großteil der frühen Pandemie als eine Gruppe, die füreinander und für MUNA da war, selbst als sie sich über nix in Bezug auf Zukunft sicher sein konnten. Sie wurden von ihrem vorigen Label RCA gedroppt und es gab nur wenig Einkommen, kein Adrenalin, mit dem sie arbeiten konnten, keine Live-Shows mit Publikum, das sie an den Beistand erinnerte, den ihre Songs bieten können. "Muna", das selbstbetitelte dritte Album der Band, ist mehr als eine Rückkehr. Die Zeit der Unsicherheit und des offenen Hinterfragens der Band hat alles weggebrannt und ein Meisterwerk von einem Album hinterlassen - die kraftvolle, bewusste, dimensionale Leistung einer Band, die niemandem außer sich selbst etwas beweisen muss. Der Synth auf "What I Want" funkelt wie eine ROBYN-Tanzflächenhymne; "Anything But Me", das im 12/8-Takt galoppiert, erinnert an SHANIA TWAIN im Neonlicht der Achtziger; "Kind of Girl" mit seinem aufsteigenden, klagenden THE CHICKS-Refrain bittet darum, mit deinen besten Freund*innen bei maximaler Lautstärke gesungen zu werden. MUNA arbeiteten mit dem Quellcode des Pop, der das Herz berührt - das Album ist voller Sehnsucht und Offenbarung und hart erkämpfter Freiheit.

English composer Andy Cartwright aka Seabuckthorn uses picking & bowing techniques combined with various open tunings on string instruments to form a mixture of approaches, often with layered accompaniments. Generally the songs lean towards to the experimental genre, whilst on the edge of the ambient and folk.

Having grown up in Oxfordshire, Cartwright studied sound engineering in Cornwall and then lived in the cities of London, Paris & Bristol working as a broadcast wireman. He now resides in the French Southern Alps making music.

Cartwright has been actively touring internationally for several years performing in festivals and events throughout Europe. Since 2009, he has released several releases on some labels such as Lost Tribe Sound, IIKKI, Fluid Audio and recently Quiet Details. Various songs have featured in documentaries, film, websites and contemporary dance, as well as making original scores for film.

A reissue on black vinyl of the cult 1982 soundtrack to Tron by legendary electronic pioneer and composer Wendy Carlos (The Shining, Clockwork Orange). The music, which was the first collaboration between Carlos and her partner Annemarie Franklin, featured a mix of an analogue Moog synthesizer and GDS digital synthesizer, along with non-electronic pieces performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Two additional musical tracks (“1990’s Theme” and “Only Solutions“) were provided by the American band Journey. This is the first reissue of the black 18 track 1 LP vinyl. 2022 will mark the 40th anniversary of the Tron Franchise. The original film tells the story of computer engineer Kevin Flynn who finds out that an executive at his company, has been stealing his work. Flynn tries to hack into the system but instead is transported into the digital world of The Grid , where he has to battle Sark, and the imposing Master Control Program. Helped by Tron (a security program) and Yori , Flynn becomes a freedom fighter for the oppressed programs of the grid. The soundtrack perfectly captures the geometrically intense landscapes of cyberspace and the virtual gladiatorial computer game.

John McLaughlin feiert sein Comeback mit "Live at Montreux Jazz Festival 2022". Dieses unverzichtbare Live-Album gibt den einzigartigen Auftritt von John und seiner langjährigen Band "The 4th Dimension" in Musik und Film wieder.

Am 11. Juli 2022 kehrten John und The 4th Dimension gemeinsam mit der preisgekrönten Künstlerin Jany McPherson, die den Auftritt mit ihrem Gesang und ihrer Klavierkunst bereicherte, zum Montreux Jazz Festival zurück. Zusammen boten sie dem Publikum im Stravinski Auditorium eine beeindruckende Show und spielten Fan-Favoriten wie "New Blues Old Bruise", "El Hombre Que Sabia" und Pharoah Sanders' "The Creator Has a Master Plan".

Back in an unmissable picture disc reissue: THE MOOD MOSAIC
Vol.1 – The Hashish Party, ready to win over collectors and vintage sound lovers. Originally released in 1997 by Yellowstone
Records, this iconic compilation blends jazz-funk, lounge, Latin
jazz, soul-jazz, and psychedelia into a truly unique musical
journey.

The tracklist features legendary artists like Serge Gainsbourg,
Michel Legrand, Gábor Szabó, George Shearing, and Shocking
Blue, delivering an irresistible mix of exotic grooves and retro
atmospheres. The picture disc format enhances the series’ visual
appeal, making every copy a true collector’s item

SWEARING AT MOTORISTS haben einen langen Weg hinter sich, seit der Name 1994 auf Plakaten für eine Fake-Band erschien Die hingen auf mysteriöse Weise in Plattenläden und Musiklokalen in Dayton, Ohio, Ein paar Monate nachdem die Plakate auf auftauchten kritzelte Dave Doughman den Namen auf eine Kassette mit homerecordings, die er an Freunde verschenkte, und 1995 war die Band dann offiziell geboren. Ende der 90er Jahre veröffentlichten S@M eine Reihe von 7"-EPs bei verschiedenen Labels, und nachdem sie wiederholt von John Peel gespielt wurden und die Presse weltweit positiv über sie berichtet hatte, erhielt die Band einen Vertrag mit dem damals neuen Label Secretly Canadian. Sie veröffentlichten 2 EPs und 4 LPs auf Secretly Canadian, darunter Number Seven Uptown aus dem Jahr 2000 und This Flag Signals Goodbye aus dem Jahr 2002, die beide in den Jahren ihrer Veröffentlichung vom MOJO Magazine zum Underground Album of the Year" gewählt wurden. Swearing At Motorists zogen 2005 nach Berlin, Deutschland, und veröffentlichten im folgenden Jahr ihre letzte LP für Secretly Canadian, Last Night Becomes This Morning, bevor sie leise in der nicht enden wollenden Berliner Nacht verschwanden... 8 Jahre später war die Band plötzlich in Hamburg wieder aufgetaucht, mit einem neuen Album: "While Laughing, The Joker Tells The Truth", das 2014 auf Anton Newcombes Label A Recordings Ltd. erschien. Co-produziert von Dave und Rick McPhail (von Tocotronic), erzählt das Album die Geschichten dieser verlorenen" 8 Jahre im klassischen Motorists-Stil. Der Autor Camden Joy, vielleicht eine weitere Underground-Figur der 90er/00er Jahre, beschreibt es am besten: "Like Iggy Pop's great lost Nashville record or the legendary demos for the Strokes masterpiece that never was, this recording is full of catchy courage, significant low notes, bedroom rhythms, hooks, and so on, all of which make for an impossible amount of pleasure. This Swearing At effort towers heads and squirrels above whatever that was you were just listening to. I see why Rolling Stone gave it five stars." - Camden Joy 11 Jahre später ist die Band in Hamburg erneut aufgetaucht, aus einer weiteren Auszeit und mit einem neuen Album, das im Herbst 2025 über BB*ISLAND erscheinen soll. Vor der Veröffentlichung stellen wir euch das Album von 2014 noch einmal, oder zum allerersten Mal vor. Vielleicht lag Camden Joy genau richtig. Zu gut, um vergessen und vergriffen zu sein. Das Beständige an Swearing At Motorists sind ihre Auszeiten als Band. Alles andere ist Bonus, aber das ist natürlich der beste Teil. "...While Laughing...demontrates Doughman's unerring abilitity to turn autobiographical minutiae and emotional turmoil into exquisitely heartfelt rock'n'roll poetry. From the warmly familiar powerpop chug of Groundhog Day (Damn The Piper) and Great Actress, to the tearjerker wistfulness of Wrote You A Letter and acoustic closer It's Love That Chooses You, this is classic Swearing At Motorists throughout...." - Andrew Carden/ MOJO

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

JP’s historic restoration carpentry has continued to be a baseline for his relationship to music; the yin to his yang, the Burt to his Ernie, the Dolly to his Porter. It was through this concurrent line of work that he met another twice-initialed singer with a penchant for old Americana music, obscure film, and overly elaborate ethnic meal preparations: one JD McPherson. The two became fast friends and would eventually, through many twists, turns, false starts, and biblically-proportionate plagues, enter a modest studio in Nashville to record Harris’ latest album.

Over the course of nine months in 2023, they recorded a sometimes lush, sometimes sparse, and sometimes jarring country album of Harris’ originals, loudly and violently squelching any attempt to pigeon-hole a song into any subgenre of country music. Only albums by Lee Hazelwood and an obscure folk album Waylon Jennings made when his hair was still short were allowed to be mentioned in reference. Featuring the guest vocals of Erin Rae, The Watson Twins, Shovels & Rope, and producer JD McPherson himself, the record is equal parts satire, reflection, and apology to those that would listen.

In a musical landscape of period-correct reproduction, “outlaw” internet posturing, and flavor-of-the-month variants on country,

“JP Harris Is A Trash Fire” burns bright as a dumpster in a Walmart parking lot on a moonless night; some will fear it, some will gravitate to its acrid warmth, and most will have no idea what to make of the situation. Harris has been steadily elbowing the definitive boundaries of “country music” wider with every album, both sonically and lyrically, and his latest piece of self described “Avant-Country” is no exception.

Free jazz poetry by a spry, 85 year old Joe McPhee, adapting his renowned improvised practice to words - juxtaposed with Mats Gustafson’s sparing brass and electric gestures. It’s an utterly timeless and transfixing salvo, another shiny notch for Smalltown Supersound’s Le Jazz Non Series.

As a common ligature to the OG free jazz scene of ‘60s NYC, with formative binds to its European offshoots and the experimental avant garde, Joe McPhee is a true force of nature who has represented jazz at its freest over a remarkable lifetime. In duo with Swedish free jazz and noise standard bearer Mats Gustafson, he upends expectations with an astonishingly vivid and upfront example of his enduring contribution to freely improvised music. In 11 parts he variously reflects on everything from the neon sleaze and scuzz of NYC to contemporary US politicians and laugh out loud imitations of his previous sparring partners such as Peter Brötzmann, with a head-slapping immediacy that leaves you reeling, spellbound.

McPhee’s flow of rare, organic cadence, ranging from urgent to contemplative and dreamlike, is blessed with a unique turn-of-phrase that surely mirrors his decades of instrumental work. Gustafsson, meanwhile, dextrously takes up the mantle with a multi-instrumental spectrum of sounds, leaving McPhee unbound and able to float and sting on the mic. There’s obvious wisdom in his perceptively penetrative observations, as derived from a rich cultural life well spent, but also a playful naivety and levity in his ability to veer from almost melodic speech to explosive aggression and a knowing, bathetic wit. It’s perhaps hard to believe that McPhee only started incorporating and performing spoken word in his work in the past ten years, a half century since his declaration of “What Time Is It‽” announced his arrival on a legendary debut ‘Nation Time’ (1971), ushering in one of free jazz’s most singular characters in the process.

Oscillating between discordant reflections on life as a touring musician, set to Gustafsson’s skronk and culminating in a snort-worthy imitation of Peter Brötzmann’s gruff German accent, on ‘Short Pieces’ or the glowering growl and noise exhortations of ‘Guitar’, he evokes a more sweetly consonant calm in ‘When I Grow Up’ and eerie threat of ‘The Dreams Book’, and viscerality of ‘Disco Death’, where Gustafson’s tonal versatility comes into hugely mutable play, whilst McPhee’s extraordinary, unaffected voice is a constant. It’s perhaps McPhee’s balance of cool measuredness and wellspring of barbed energies that allows us, at least, to get the most out of this one; not stifling with mannered or manicured enunciation that can trigger certain icks; keeping close to the nature of spoken word in a way that avoids cliche and becomes inherently critical of it within his purposeful, non-hesitant clarity and unflinching approach.

Originally released and sold on their fall 2009 US tour, Flower-Corsano Duo’s “The Chocolate Cities” stands as one of the group's most spirited releases. Recorded live in Cambridge, England and Geneva, Switzerland these recordings capture the power and energy being harnessed by the duo at a time of frequent touring, just after the release of their monumental double-LP “The Four Aims.” Michael Flower is perhaps best known for his work in Vibracathedral Orchestra, along with a slew of other bands, collaborations, and solo work. Meanwhile, Chris Corsano is well known as one of the premier drummers of modern times, and a frequent collaborator of Joe McPhee, Bill Orcutt, Bill Nace, Paul Flaherty, and many more. As a duo Flower and Corsano present an endlessly shifting and transforming sound, meshing elements of free jazz, drone, and ecstatic psychedelia into something all its own. While Corsano guides with his nimble and dynamic drumming, Flower plays amplified Japan Banjo (also known as a Shahi Baaja) providing melody, lead, and drone, often simultaneously. Gripping even in its quietest passages, thoughtful even in its most unrestrained crescendos, “The Chocolate Cities” documents a duo at the height of their collective prowess. Saved from the obscurity of its original CDr format and presented for the first time on vinyl with stunning new artwork by Chris Corsano, “The Chocolate Cities” stands as testament to the power of two magnificent players even 15 years on.

After the successful release of Paulette Tajah's 'Journal Of A Butterfly' EP on digital format, it's now turn for the vinyl LP to be released. The quality is excellent and the whole album is an absolute must to listen to. The songs are brilliantly recorded and we at Mad Clown Productions are sure it will end up in many vinyl collections across the world.

Limited to 500 copies on gold vinyl, contains download also. The second of three groundbreaking albums by the ultimate power trio who morphed blues into hard rock and spawned punk. A much-loved opus with a side-long concept piece. A bona fide inspirational rock classic. “Tony McPhee has turned to anarchic paranoid battlegrounds of the mind for inspiration,” Melody Maker. And a second side that delivers the mighty ‘Cherry Red’, McPhee’s take on The Beatles’ ‘A Day In the Life’, a sideswipe at junk food and a glorious interpretation of John Lee Hooker’s ‘Groundhogs Blues’. “Both musically and lyrically, ’Split’ speaks for a lost time, a nomad time when ideals took to the hoof and musicians stayed on the road rather than confront the fact that the '60s 'war' had been lost.” Julian Cope // “Murky, fuzzy, and wisely esoteric.” AllMusic. // “Supercharged, fractured and raging.” MOJO // Remastered and packaged with bonus tracks on the download (out-takes from the original sessions that spawned this spontaneous monster).

Beloved tenor Andrea Bocelli, the most celebrated classical singer in modern history celebrates his 30th anniversary as a global icon with a brand new album Duets – 30th Anniversary. This new definitive career-spanning collection features all the classic duets with Ed Sheeran, Céline Dion, Sarah Brightman, Dua Lipa, Matteo Bocelli, Stevie Wonder, Jennifer Lopez, Laura Pausini, Giorgia, Christina Aguilera, Veronica Berti, Lang Lang, Ellie Goulding, Edith Piaf, Ariana Grande, Mary J Blige, Cecilia Bartoli, Katharine McPhee, Alison Krauss, Bryn Terfel, Mary J Blige alongside brand new superstar collaborations with Shania Twain, Chris Stapleton, Gwen Stefani, M° Luciano Pavarotti, Marc Anthony, Lauren Daigle, Matteo Bocelli & Hans Zimmer, Karol G, Sofia Carson, Elisa & Virginia Bocelli. Andrea Bocelli - 30 years of bringing people together.

The Well is the second album by the duo So Sner, composed of Susanna Gartmayer (bass clarinet) and Stefan Schneider (electronics). Recorded over nearly two years in various studios and spaces, the album reflects So Sner's extensive touring across Europe. The final mixing took place in Vienna at the studio of Martin Siewert, who served as both co-producer and mastering engineer. Known for his meticulous attention to sonic detail, Siewert brings his unique techniques and distinctive sound enhancements to the album, resulting in a work that is both stylistically cohesive and daringly uncompromising.

So Sner’s critically acclaimed debut album REIME (TAL26, 2021) was celebrated for its innovative fusion of bass clarinet and electronic sounds in unexpected and surprising ways. With The Well, the duo explores both fluid and dissonant sonic landscapes, embracing different structural and sonic challenges. The result is a quieter, more introspective set of compositions than many might have anticipated. The album is a statement of two confident collaborators crafting complex, spatial musical moments in their own distinct manner.

The music on The Well generates a multiplicity of effects that transcend conventional oppositions such as hand-played versus programmed, composition versus improvisation, or analog versus digital. The album suggests a re-articulation of these categories, allowing the ten tracks to gradually blend one musical idea into another, and one musician into another, in a circular and complementary fashion. The polymetric permutations and exploratory reed components create a soundscape where all elements coexist harmoniously, without compromising or diminishing each other’s presence.

With its sparse sound architecture, The Well invites listeners into a space of effective emptiness, offering room for the mind and body to explore—a sonic island where one can develop sensuality through patient movement.

For So Sner, live performance is a passion of the mind, and since they began working together in 2020, their music has taken them to many different places. The live experience has deeply influenced the recorded music on this album, with the interplay between live performance and studio work informing their creative process. The Well captures the genuine act of exploring new territories, serving as a storage place for the time and space shared by the duo, re-filtering their experiences of performing and traveling together.

The Well is a lucidly playful and ambitious album by two contemporary musicians who are continually learning to create and respond to the subtle and significant changes in their music, maintaining momentum throughout the entire work.

In addition to her work with So Sner, Susanna Gartmayer has recently collaborated with artists such as Joe McPhee and Maria Portugal, and remains a member of her long-running band, the Vegetable Orchestra. Stefan Schneider, founder of the label TAL, has recently performed with Garth Erasmus from Cape Town and fine art luminary Katharina Grosse.

The second studio album from The Groundhogs, now slimmed to the classic three piece line up of Tony TS McPhee on guitar, Pete Cruikshank on bass and Ken Pestelnik on drums. The beginning of their domination as the hardest working band on the circuit, a testament to their creativity as they re-tooled the blues into a neo-psyche groove. Breaking from their traditional influences, the first stepping stone for the power trio who would blossom with ‘Thank Christ For the Bomb’, ‘Split’ and ‘Who Will Save The World?’. Inspired by a Yardbirds’ freak out, hearing authentic Indian drumming and the magic that existed between this legendary trio, ‘Blues Obituary’ is a juggernaut of riffs. According to Tony in Zig Zag’s John Tobler’s sleeve notes to the 1987 re-issue of ‘Blues Obituary’ it was the BBC’s John Peel producer John Walters that forced the band’s hand. “He decided he hated the blues,” McPhee told Tobler, “We figured it was time to get away from it.” “A deep excursion into musical depths further down than Canned Heat ever dared go.” The re-issue also includes a mono-friendly single cut of ‘BDD’ plus its original B-side ‘Gasoline’, an aching solo Tony TS McPhee track

JD McPherson has created something unique and amazing with his latest album, Nite Owls. His first album release since 2018’s critically acclaimed Christmas classic, SOCKS. Over the past 5+ years, McPherson has stayed consistently busy writing new songs while at the same time touring with Alison Krauss and Robert Plant. Being a touring musician offers the chance to see the sights, tour the town and pick up some inspiration from the local record shop. With Nite Owls, JD wanted to try something new and different. He wanted to take the inspiration from multiple decades and styles and incorporate them into his own sound. “The initial idea for the record was: It’s like if The late-60s Ventures were the session band on the first New Order record.” Says, McPherson. Idea achieved. Nite Owls delivers the signature sounds of vintage garage-rock while also seamlessly bridging the sounds of Bowie and Alan Vega. Songs such as “Sunshine Getaway”, “The Rock and Roll Girls” and “I Can’t Go Anywhere with You” sound like Chuck Berry is jamming with Buddy Holly. While song’s like, “Nite Owls” and “Don’t Travel Through the Night Alone” give a nod to the Factory sound from the UK. The throwback sound of the lone instrumental track “The Phantom Lover of New Rochelle” would make Dick Dale ride and Link Wray rumble. With Nite Owls, McPherson takes inspiration from multiple genres of the past and combines them together to evolve a sound that is all his own.

"Still", eine Kollaboration der beiden Pianisten The Vernon Spring und Gwilym Gold, besteht aus vier meditativen Werken, die aus dreieinhalb Stunden kollektiver Klavierimprovisationen nach einem Trauerfall entstanden sind. Die Aufführung erfolgte am präparierten Klavier und Flügel, die beide mit dem Mechanical Resonator Piano (einer Andrew McPherson-Erfindung) ausgestattet sind. Das Ergebnis ist gekennzeichnet von Freundschaft und Grosszügigkeit in einer Zeit der Verletzlichkeit und unterstreicht die Schönheit sowohl der reinen menschlichen Interaktion als auch der modernen technologischen Instrumentierung.

This time we present 4 solo tracks by Lethal One (USA) on the exclusive label of Chris Liberator. Wellknown from Stay Up Forever. Check this one out !!

Shop Assistants formed in Edinburgh in 1984 and quickly gained a cult following, playing with kindred spirits the Pastels and the Jesus & Mary Chain and gaining positive coverage in fanzines and the music press. Their Shopping Parade EP and Safety Net single both hit the top of the indie charts and charmed listeners with their unique melodic blend of punk rock and 60s pop. The band signed to Geoff Travis' new Chrysalis Records imprint, Blue Guitar, in 1986 for the release of their debut album 'Will Anything Happen'. The album has since become a cult classic and is an essential listen for fans of indie, dream-pop, and shoe gaze. Stand-out songs include the lead single 'I Don't Wanna Be Friends With You', 'All Day Long', and 'Somewhere In China'. This newly expanded edition has been remastered from the original master tapes and compiled in collaboration with David Keegan and Laura McPhail from the band. CD 1 features the newly remastered version of 'Will Anything Happen' accompanied by B-sides from the era, plus previously unreleased instrumental demos from 1986. CD 2 contains a further 18 previously unreleased tracks including recently unearthed alternate versions and rough mixes from the making of the album, live recordings from London and Deinze, and a John Peel session featuring a cover version of Motorhead's 'Ace Of Spades'. The discs are housed in a 6-panel digisleeve with a 12-page booklet featuring lyrics and photographs.

Lovesick is an Italian based band formed of Paolo Roberto Pianezza and Francesca Alinovi. Two multi-instrumentalists, whose influences are deeply rooted in the American country, rock"n"roll and western swing music of the 40s and 50s. In addition to their vocal harmonies, Paolo plays electric and acoustic guitar, as well as lap steel, Resonator and Dobro guitar. Francesca plays double bass with the addition of a brush pad, a percussion built into the double bass to keep the rhythm with a drum brush. The duo is joined by Alessandro Cosentino on fiddle and drums. Lovesick have played as opening act for Ben Harper, JD McPherson, Zucchero, ToquinIo and Edoardo Bennato and they have played big festivals all around Europe, alongside the likes of The Offspring, Social Distortion, Walter Trout, Fu Manchu, Secondo Casadei Orchestra and Ten Years After.

“Joe McPhee’s first international release, Black Magic Man, was issued on the newly formed Hat Hut imprint in 1975. It was a watershed moment for the 35-year-old musician. Based in Poughkeepsie, New York, he was too far away from Manhattan to have participated extensively in the Loft Jazz happenings of the decade. European exposure, however, would give McPhee an alternative circuit, something of an escape route from the trappings of American cultural myopia. “In support of the new record for this Swiss label, McPhee invited John Snyder on a European tour in October 1975. Snyder was a synthesizer player with whom McPhee had made the duet LP Pieces Of Light, released a year earlier on CjR. The two musicians developed an extensive repertoire, playing diverse spaces in the Hudson Valley. Geographically close gigs were a plus, since it took extra energy to hoist Snyder’s ARP 2600. “McPhee and Snyder were invited to play at the Willisau Jazz Festival in Switzerland. If you compare this live record with Pieces Of Light, a studio effort, it’s considerably more open. South African drummer Makaya Ntshoko is rolling thunder on the choral ‘Voices,’ shuffling under Snyder’s bubbly beat on ‘Bahamian Folksong.’ It is quite a special combination, enough so that Hat Hut chose to release it as their next LP, Hat Hut B in their alphabetical series. The Willisau Concert represents the sound of Joe McPhee opening up, opening out, expanding his field of operations to include new figures, fresh experiences, new continents of sound.” —John Corbett (excerpt from the liner notes)

“Black Magic Man is arguably the pivotal Joe McPhee release. It bridged the span between the regional and the international, bypassing the national altogether. “Recorded in the same sessions that produced Nation Time, Black Magic Man consists of music not chosen for that LP. Like its much-feted sister, technically it falls under the domain of CjR, Craig Johnson’s herculean effort in support of McPhee. An erstwhile painter, Johnson became a self-taught audio engineer, acquiring equipment expressly to document McPhee’s music. In December 1970, five years after Johnson and McPhee had met, they recorded two days of activity —a concert followed by an additional day of recordings—at Vassar College where McPhee was teaching in the Black Studies department. About half of the material was used to make Nation Time. While they had planned to issue a follow-up, the money wasn’t there, so the tapes sat dormant. “Fast-forward five years—Werner X. Uehlinger, a Swiss businessman who worked for Sandoz Pharmaceuticals, contacted Johnson while on a trip to the US, and over dinner with McPhee, they discussed putting out some of the unused tracks from the Nation Time sessions. With this casual encounter in 1975, Hat Hut Records was inaugurated. The new label’s maiden release was Black Magic Man, dubbed Hat Hut A, the first in what would become Hat Hut’s letter series. Along the way, the series would feature seven Joe McPhee records, including the first four in a row.” —John Corbett (excerpt from the liner notes)

“There are lots of outstanding Joe McPhee LPs. Nation Time being chief among them, but there’s also Pieces Of Light, Oleo and Topology. The Poughkeepsie, New York-based multi-instrumentalist, by now an international star of free music, has amassed a daunting discography, no doubt. If you want to peer deeply into the soul of Joe McPhee, however, there’s no way around it, you need to spend some quality time with Tenor. “Tenor is McPhee’s first solo record. He did not set out to make it. It was an afterthought, quite literally, born of a gathering of friends at the Swiss farmhouse of cellist Michael Overhage. A beautiful meal, some drinks, warm conversation, and ... why not, an impromptu recital. Hat Hut producer Werner X. Uehlinger was there and a year later issued it as McPhee’s third LP for the label (Hat Hut C in their famed letter series). “The existential blues ‘Knox’ sets the stage, indicating that this will not just be a toss-off postprandial singalong. ‘Good-Bye Tom B.’ carries on with aching melancholy, through burred notes and hushed harmonics. The relatively jaunty ‘Sweet Dragon’ is also emotionally loaded with Ayler-esque vibrato, slurs, wipes, and blasts of tone. The side-long title track comes without a theme, as a kind of pure investigation of the horn, its potential, its limits, its expressive capacity. There have been few solo sessions as comprehensive and devastating as this spontaneous after-dinner diversion in rural Switzerland in 1976. We’re very lucky someone pressed record.” —John Corbett (excerpt from the liner notes)