Cerca:mortimer

Emerging producer Très Mortimer dishes out eight huge heaters on the highly-anticipated ‘M1 City’ release, a dedication to the mighty Korg M1, coming to Seth Troxler’s Slacker 85 on 25th October.

Kicking off ‘M1 City’ is the simplistic, but refined and booth-rattling ‘Work That Body’. A crisp M1 stab is the main character in this, amplified by thunderous and high energy drums.

Then there’s ‘Secrets’, a house jam inspired by the likes of MK that utilises TR-909 drums, a subtle rolling bassline, intimately whispered and soulfully sung vocal shots, and, of course, classic Korg M1 synth stabs. Together with dramatic contemporary builds, a highly danceable house smasher is formed.

‘No More’ is pure gasoline for the dancefloor. Très pairs another barrage of clean M1 stabs with a rousing vocal sample that leads into, with the help of a rolling snare, another highly effective house drop. Following the extremely saucy ‘Big Daddy’ skit, we’re dropped straight into ‘One Of Those Nights’, a show-stopping track complete with cutting, sharp stabs, a bulging bassy synth and a West Coast-esque synth sound.

‘Bitch I’m From Chicago’ feat. Gleebz is, as the title suggests, a dedication to the city where house music found its name. Batting off all the poser cities like LA and Miami in the sassy lyrics, it embodies the spirit of Chicago with hefty kick drums and weighty chord stabs.

At the tail end of the release, ‘Let Me Go’ and ‘Love’ (featuring vocalist 7000 (7K)), bring things to a rousing emotive close. Both tracks see Très put clean vocals over piano riffs, giving off differing moods – the former is euphoric, the latter melancholic. Synths bubble beneath, and each track funnels their own respective house grooves, resulting in two tracks fit for both the dancefloor and headphones.

Très Mortiner explains: “The M1 sound is classic. It automatically transports you back to those timeless house songs that never get old. For me, house music is all about connection. People experiencing a little moment of euphoria together when they hear a riff that they all know on the dance floor. That’s what it’s all about. With this project I wanted to tap into that 90s rave sound and spirit. I wanted it to sound like the OG Chicago rave scene.”

“M1 City is my first project to be released on vinyl. I think vinyl is very much alive. It’s essentially for music connoisseurs now. I don’t expect people to have a vinyl collection when all music is always available to everyone on their phones. Nevertheless, I love the idea of some random DJ finding this record in a shop in 10 years. Who knows what I’ll be producing then?”

Très Mortimer is a key figure in Chicago's house scene, steadily building a strong following with his no-nonsense, dancefloor-driven sound. Drawing inspiration from his Polish roots, Trés has signed with major labels like Mad Decent, Insomniac’s IN/Rotation, and Ministry of Sound, while also launching his own imprint, Optics Records. He made his mark with a clever rework of Zombies' 1968 hit ‘Time Of The Season’ (1M+ streams). Standout releases include his downtempo collaboration with plumpy, "BAMBU," and his latest single, "At Night I Think Of You," which was recently given a remix makeover by Seth Troxler and Nick Morgan.

Slacker 85, launched in 2023, is the record label behind ‘M1 City’. Founded by Seth Troxler, it aims to give a platform to "oddball, esoteric and diverse sounds," positioning itself as a counter to the polished, refined dance artists dominating the scene. Troxler, upon the label’s launch, declared that he wanted to create something for "the anti-hero, the kids who could have done it but didn’t care to try”—essentially, "the slacker." So far, it’s delivered a range of releases from artists like Jackmaster, Danny Daze, Dan McKie, and Andre Salmon, offering tracks rooted in house music's past but evolving within its present boundaries.

‘M1 City’, this ode to a piece of gear that consistently finds itself at the heart of house music history, highlights Très Mortimer’s respect for and knowledge of the scene and its key gear. Trè combines this admiration and inspiration of house music’s greats with a modern sensibility, resulting in eight tracks worthy of today’s dancefloors and today’s ravers.

Second full-length album by Sheffield-based project Randolph & Mortimer. An 8-track 40-minute-long sonic and emotional journey heavily influenced by 80’s propaganda and the parallels we face today involving politics, religion & conspiracy theories. Created half by machines and half by the mind of Sam Evans, “The Incomplete Truth” clings to the same roots that catapulted R&M to the forefront of the techno-EBM-industrial scene with their debut album “Manifesto for A Modern World” (2019) but takes this new work to a higher level in terms of composition and production.

Born in the wake of depression resulting from a terrifying near-death experience in the workplace, Sam conceived this album as a live setlist from some alternate reality free of everyday working. Every track is a potential success and includes collaborations with artists like Andi, Neu-Romancer, Black Dahlia and Dominique Slva. All killer, zero filler.

What is Randolph & Mortimer? A folk duo, a pair of accountants, a techno act…a law firm? What started off as an ‘art project’, influenced by 80s Industrial, 90s rave music and inspired by the documentaries of Adam Curtis, has morphed into a full on New Beat / Body Music dance-floor moving machine. Their studio releases have gained support from some of the biggest underground DJ’s in the world like Ancient Methods and gone on to top various genre sales charts on Bandcamp. Whilst the R&M live shows have seen them share bills with Godflesh, Youth Code, PIG and 3Teeth.

In 2019 it was time for R&M to throw a marker down and so came “Manifesto For A Modern World”, the debut album comprised of tracks from the “$ocial £utures”, “Hope Tragedy Myths” and “Citizens” EP’s plus some additional songs. This album is basically a greatest hits of Randolph & Mortimer. A statement of intent. All killer and no filler. The original limited edition CDs and tapes sold out and it had some incredible reviews. A Model Of Control called it “An absolutely outstanding release” and super cool New York DJ Andi Harriman (Synthicide) made it one her of top 10 albums of 2019 on Post-Punk

So here we are in 2020 and the Randolph & Mortimer story has seriously stepped up a gear with this double vinyl version of the album featuring all Manifesto tracks plus the acid styled dance-floor favourite “Apply Yourself” and four brand new tracks (“Crystal Peaks”, “Stateless”, “What Are You?”, “Fantasy Land”) which make up a whole new EP.

Limited edition of 400 copies with folded poster/insert and sticker.

2024 Reissue

LTD BRIGHT GREEN VINYL W/ 4 PAGE INSERT** **JEWEL CASE CD W/ 12 PAGE BOOKLET** A gloriously off-kilter yet deeply personal record that mixes absurdist punk theatre with an unexpectedly tender dive into mental health, Catholic guilt, and the surreal poetry of everyday life. “It’s more personal than the previous ones,” frontman Pete explains, “but not in a heavy way – more like Mortimer & Whitehouse than The Bell Jar”, succinctly summing up the Dinner Ladies’ approach: taking the kitchen sink, giving it a saxophone solo, and letting it spill over with charm, wit, and a fair helping of existential unease. Parody and poignancy runs through every song. Tracks like ‘Is There Life in Rhyl?’ and ‘Holy Pictures’ explore personal trauma and social conditioning through an unmistakably British filter; Catholicism, childhood fear, seaside holidays, and haunted toilet trips included. For fans of: The Fall, The Kinks, John Cooper Clarke, X-Ray Spex, Madness, cabaret, collage, chaos, and joyfully honest punk.

Die Ballade von Wallis Island erzählt die Geschichte von Charles (Tim Key), einem exzentrischen Lottogewinner, der allein auf einer abgelegenen Insel lebt und davon träumt, seine Lieblingsband McGwyer
Mortimer (Tom Basden und Carey Mulligan) wieder zusammenzubringen. Sein Traum wird überraschend
Wirklichkeit, als die ehemaligen Bandkollegen und einstigen Liebenden seiner Einladung folgen und ein
privates Konzert in seinem Haus auf Wallis Island geben. Doch alte Spannungen kommen wieder an die
Oberfläche, während Charles verzweifelt versucht, seinen Traumauftritt zu retten.

The very first Grammy winning artist in Reggae history, MYKAL ROSE is the voice of the greatest days of Black Uhuru. He’s responsible for hit songs such as ’Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner’, ‘Sinsemilla’ or ‘Sponji Reggae’. Thanks to Sly & Robbie, Mykal Rose and Black Uhuru have been a turning point into Reggae history, giving to the four corners of world the raw and brutal sound of Jamaica early 80’s violent political crisis, far from Bob Marley refined and sophisticated music.

40 years after he left the group, Mykal Rose returns with ‘Rain And Blood’, a new single that could have been taken from another Sly & Robbie-produced Black Uhuru album. In a 1986 proto- digital reggae style, Swiss reggae powerhouse THE 18TH PARALLEL recorded an early dancehall-roots-reggae riddim with none other than the legendary Robbie Shakespeare himself on bass. Mixed by today’s finest sound engineer from Jamaica, Gregory Morris (Protoje, Lila Ike, Mortimer,...), ‘Rain And Blood’ combines the best of modern reggae sound with an impeccable groovy riddim inspired from back in the days. On top of this, the finest horns section of the new Jamaican music scene, TOPP BRASS, graces us with a timeless instrumental cut called ‘Red Sky’. This is heavyweight reggae at its best!

TCF Music Group founder and Rochester's own 38 Spesh is back with his brand new offering, 'Gunsmoke', featuring 9 bangers with guest appearances by the late great Fred The Godson (RIP), Ransom, Flee Lord, Che Noir and Klass Murda, as well as productions by Harry Fraud, Rain 910, Tricky Trippz and 38 Spesh himself, all topped up with outstanding artwork by Laz.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

The American psych pop quintet Paper Garden had established a solid reputation performing to university students in their native New York and in surrounding states in 1967-68 before being commissioned to cut a debut LP with British producer Geoff Turner for Musicor, the resultant sessions yielding a self-contained concept album of totally new work. With sitars and tabla on some songs trading places with baroque elements and orchestrated interludes, the breezy psych pop gets pulled in all manner of directions and often sounds closer to the British psychedelic sound than anything Stateside. A rare and rich listening experience!

As one of Britain's finest songsmiths of the 1960s and 1970s, Peter's voice continues to convey magic and emotion with a lustre of lysergic lyrical lacquer.

His brilliant 60's group Kaleidoscope were one of the great psychedelic groups to emerge from the U.K. during those heady days.

With infectious pop tunes laced with folk- rock jingle- jangle goodness and anapaestic lyrics that set them apart from many of their contemporaries, Kaleidoscope were vital as was too their more progressive folk early '70s incarnation as Fairfield Parlour. The band has often been spoken about with the same reverence reserved for Pink Floyd's Syd Barrett era, despite their lack of mainstream success.

This is a 50-50 collaboration with Mark Mortimer, formerly of DC Fontana and The Sorrows, who has always been a fan of Peter's work. Chelsea is more sonic expressionism from the two musicians; the songs are "psychedelic" in a sense without ever falling into the trap of being shoddy xeroxes of past glories. As Spill Magazine put it:"This is not a retro or throwback album. This is an album that may be ahead of its time." This is modern, forward-looking music that longtime Kaleidoscope fans will enjoy.

The album is produced by Julian Cope producer Donald Ross Skinner in London and Rick Reil in New York.

Change is good. It’s inevitable. It’s the general nature of how the universe works all around us. Change comes in many forms, and this particular one is the debut EP from 2Phargon. While it might be the debut, the veteran producer behind the new alias isn’t a stranger to Dirtybird, Lee Mortimer aka Friend Within.

The EP features three brand new tracks under the new guise covering a wide landscape. “Feel A little Strange” is a monster attention grabber - the perfect piece to kick off the new venture. “Micro” is fast-paced filled with moments of drifting away before snapping back into stride. Rounding it out is “Dwelling”—a bubbling kaleidoscope of sound.

We welcome the change with open arms.