Поиск:public image

Both Tymon Dogg and Richard Dudanski had musical roots playing in The 101'ers with future Clash singer/guitarist Joe Strummer. All three shared a deep love for southern Spain, due perhaps to the influence of the Romero sisters, Paloma (later "Palmolive" of The Slits) and the artist Esperanza, who were among the first Spanish punk refugees in London. Tymon's career began with beguiling interactions with Apple Records, The Moody Blues and future Led Zeppelin members John Paul Jones and Jimmy Page before he discovered his true musical self as a punk / folk experimentalist, opening shows for the likes of The Slits, Raincoats and Pop Group and becoming the longest-running musical foil in Strummer's career, continuing into The Clash and Mescaleros. Similarly, Richard played in Basement 5, Public Image Ltd, The Raincoats and others before following Esperanza back to Granada...which subsequently became second home to Tymon and Joe. Spain is not without its own punk heroes, and chief among them was Granada's Antonio Arias, another pal of Joe's and leader of Spain's musical heroes, Lagartija Nick, which also included Dacoits members Juan Codorniu and JJ Machuca. Antonio sings the albums two Spanish-language songs. while Tymon sings the other nine...and there's an instrumental, "Mongols", which the band considered too epic as a stand-alone instrumental to mess with! Tymon sings three songs from his past: "The Wheel Of Life And Death" has been heard before as a live bonus track on the expanded reissue of "Battle Of Wills", "Conscience Money" was heard in a very different version on the impossible-to-find "Made Of Light" album, and an embryonic take of "Something To Prove" turned up the even rarer 1989 solo album, "Relentless". If you imagine the playful elasticity of "Sandinista!" recast into a more straightforward record, with Tymon taking the lead on something more than that album's "Lose This Skin", you're halfway there. Guests include Killing Joke bassist / famed producer Youth and Dr Robert from The Blow Monkeys

Repress!

The publication of "Jet Sounds" in October 2000 and its subsequent release on the international market represented the turning point from the initial productions carried forward by Schema and the new course taken by the label reaching sales of 40,000 copies and still counting. It's the year 2000 and the avant-garde of the new jazz pop Italian scene is called "Jet Sounds". The debut album by Nicola Conte features nearly 20 musicians and moreover the visionary, sophisticated appeal of Nicola with a sound that has already become T . He tells a cinematic story as the images become a soundtrack for the music: Scene 1: A young woman is walking on the sea shore. She's alone, only white sand and crystal blue water by her side. It's late in the afternoon and the sun is glancing over her shoulders while a soft bossa nova fills the air. Scene 2: He's drivin' fast, there's little time left and a man to chase. Like busy spiders working a web, the beat of the big band pulses a 5/4 jazz theme. Scene 3: It's night; the park; shadows following, shadows hiding mystery? Undefined eastern/oriental sounds adrift on a pulsing psychedelic beat. What's the next move...?

,somewhere in the nowhere, between cows and sheep, there's a little studio:"klingt als ob man den schrank aufmacht und einem fällt alles entgegen" (fortuna ehrenfeld) "sounds shit" (new york times) "nope" (bbc6) "i fucking love it!" (brian eno) "honestly?!" (meg white) "mind opening" (hans zimmer) "well done" (idles) bonny und clyde sind in ein, ja sie hören richtig, walisisch/oberösterreichisches indie-duo reinkarniert und plötzlich riecht hier alles wie reifenabrieb nach einem vollgas-start auf der straße richtung sonnenuntergang.an den drums wird hier schnell eine new sensation offenbar.tank girl, punkbraut, madonna, blumenmädchen.mit roher gewalt und einem einzigartigen stil ballert veva mit stampfenden beats den weg zum tresor frei, während tom lässig mit dem ellenbogen durchs regal geht und die erbeuteten juwelen in form von schmutzig geschliffenen britesquen songzeilen für die ewigkeit auf den pokertisch wirft.im haldern studio hat martin, sänger und mastermind von fortuna ehrenfeld, den beiden einen derart geschmackvollen noise appeal auf die leiber genagelt wie man in hierzulande nur (viel zu) selten hört." FALSE LEFTY stellt die punkwelt auf den kopf. sie brechen nicht nur optisch, sondern auch musikalisch jedes klischee. drei saiten, drei trommeln- mehr braucht das duo FALSE LEFTY nicht. die band bricht mit perfektionismus, reduziert sich von überflüssigem, lässt das unwichtige weg und setzt auf einen minimalismus, der die hoffnung weckt, dass es doch so wenig braucht, um gute musik zu machen- eine vision, zwei menschen, drei saiten, drei trommeln. FALSE LEFTY sind eine newcomer band, bestehend aus einer schlagzeugerin, die im stehen drei trommeln spielt und einem sänger, der seine gitarre nur mit drei saiten bespannt: die frage ist nicht, was gute musik braucht, sondern was sie nicht braucht. seit der gründung der Band vor einem jahr spielten FALSE LEFTY über 40 konzerte, sowohl als headliner wie auch als support für Public Image Ltd., Fortuna Ehrenfeld, The Lathums, SONS, Kapelle Petra, Cash Savage and the last Drinks und viele andere.

Erstmals seit 1982 auf Vinyl erhältlich: 'Psychotic Jonkanoo' war das sechste Creation Rebel-Album in drei Jahren, ursprünglich lizenziert an das Glasgower Post-Punk-Label Statik. Ein weiterer solider Killer-Dub, weniger instrumental, mehr ausgereichtet auf bewusste Vocals im militanten Stil samt unterstützenden Harmonien im Black Uhuru-Stil. Mit Backing-Vocals der Punk-Legende John Lydon (The Sex Pistols, Public Image Limited) und einer ausgesprochen experimentell-britischen Herangehensweise an traditionell-jamaikanischen Roots-Reggae, was zu einem unverwechselbaren Hybrid-Sound führt, der immer noch frisch klingt.

'Anybody searching Adrian Sherwood's catalogue for an easy point of entry would do well to start here, and everyone else can simply applaud Psychotic Jonkanoo as the last truly great roots reggae album of the 1980s.' - All Music

Miles Davis' A Tribute to Jack Johnson is the best jazz-rock record ever made. Equally inspired by the leader's desire to assemble the "greatest rock and roll band you have ever heard,” his adoration of Johnson, and Black Power politics, Davis created a hard-hitting set that surges with excitement, intensity, majesty, and power. Bridging the electric fusion he'd pursued on earlier efforts with a funkier, dirtier rhythmic approach, Davis zeroes in on concepts of spontaneity, freedom, and identity seldom achieved in the studio — and just as infrequently accepted by the mainstream.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity's 180g LP reissue brings it all to fore with startling realism. Benefitting from SuperVinyl’s nearly inaudible noise floor, superb groove definition, and clean, ultra-quiet surfaces, this 180g LP showcases everything — from the bold tonality of the headliner's white-hot trumpet solos to the decay of crashing cymbals, carry of wiry guitar notes, and echoes of the studio — in reference fashion.

Bristling with exuberance, Davis' high-register passages explode with authority and commanding presence. Around him, a barrage of urgent backbeats, knifing riffs, and supple bass lines emerge amidst black backgrounds. One of the most prominent differences long-time fans will notice is how much more aggressive, immediate, and vibrant the music sounds, with those aspects central to the composer's original desires.

Utilizing wah-wah and distortion, the go-to instrumentalist of the performances— guitarist John McLaughlin — attacks with a nasty edge, slashing style, and vicious streak that allows A Tribute to Jack Johnson< cross the until-then-impenetrable divide between rock and jazz. Davis puts both feet in the former camp and erases any gap. The stories of the record’s creation are nearly as legendary as the sounds within: Two sessions, multiple jams, different sets of musicians (several uncredited), and near-miraculous production perfectionism that made it all appear cohesive.

The least-well-known masterpiece of Davis' career, the 1971 record — seamlessly assembled and spliced together by producer Teo Macero — was a victim of limited record-label promotion. Audiences also didn’t immediately know what to make of its original cover art — faithfully replicated here. In addition, the powers that be at Columbia Records were directing the public’s attention to Miles at Fillmore, a completely different kind of album guided by two keyboardists. A Tribute to Jack Johnson practically lives in a different universe, one from the future. To many listeners who did manage to hear it — among them critic/musician Robert Quine, Stooges leader Iggy Pop, and renowned critic Robert Christgau — it surpassed everything that came before.

Indeed, Davis treated it as a personal manifesto: An opportunity to salute the Black championship boxer admired for his threatening image to the establishment and impeccable taste in clothes, cars, women and music. Davis explains in the liner notes his affinity for Johnson — a stance mirrored by the defiant music, which hits with a prize fighter's force and reflects the graceful elegance with which a pugilist navigates the ring — and closes the album with a Johnson quote read by Brock Peters.

Inspired not only by Johnson but by Jimi Hendrix and Sly Stone, Davis changed his approach and his band. He surrounds himself with a cadre of musicians in their 20s and, in the case of bassist Michael Henderson, a 19-year-old fresh from touring with Stevie Wonder. Henderson gives Davis what he requested: boogie-based grooves that don’t lose shape or direction. Soprano saxophonist Steve Grossman, drummer Billy Cobham, and organist Herbie Hancock adhere to a similar aesthetic that prizes brazenness, innovation, and energy.

In that vein, during a portion of “Yesternow,” Davis segues into a separate performance (which became known in its entirety as “Willie Nelson”) played by guitarists McLaughlin and Sonny Sharrock, bass clarinetist Bernie Maupin, keyboardist Chick Corea, bassist Dave Holland, and drummer Jack DeJohnette. Dig it!

Talking with jazz scholar Bill Milkowski — who himself noted how McLaughlin’s unrestrained style, decibel-forward volumes, and rapid-fire power chords engendered himself to the rock crowd at the same time that his harmonics and syncopation still definitely made him a jazz player — guitarist Henry Kaiser summed up part of the appeal of A Tribute to Jack Johnson as well as anyone, saying: “It’s a jazz record that way way more open than other jazz records at the time, but still not free jazz. McLaughlin’s rhythm guitar playing on ‘Right Off’ — the use of different chords in a rock shuffle than what anybody had used before — was revolutionary.”

And to think that’s just one aspect of a record that contains multitudes. “Never let them forget it.” Indeed.

Perifaerye is a multi-part work of art comprising of 18 soundscapes, 36 digital drawings and 24 writings. Perifaerye is at once a record release, a book, a website; in the autumn of 2023 a series of playlists were published on billboards, linking the online soundscapes to the real-life physical realm. This publication is an artistic hybrid: a vinyl record / book combining sound, image and text.

The 18 audio works condense the sounds of the urban periphery into a sonic cartography. In Hamburg-Eidelstedt, people live in smaller detached houses and in larger apartment blocks. New housing estates have been developed recently in direct neighbourhood to the motorway, and currently in the district centre; a district where post-war housing estates and architectural remnants from a village past co-exist. Even meadows and fields, surrounded by the noise of motorways and other traffic, aeroplanes (the airport is close by) and railways (passenger and und freight trains, long distance, regional and local services). This collection of soundscapes – each a short composition on its own – presents a sonic portrait of a contemporary urban area.

In spring 2023, Jorn Ebner recorded the urban spaces of the Hamburg district of Eidelstedt. For each audio piece there is an image. The artist’s writings reflect and accompany the creative process.

For this book and record, Sebastian Kokus and Thomas Korf created a very haptic design. Each part of the whole can be experienced as a single piece: the A2-sized poster is part of the outer sleeve; the booklet presents image and text (German only); the record is visible through the holes in the inner and outer sleeves and forms part of the cover.

Danielle Boutet’s P »Pièces« is a mysterious artifact of Quebecois marginalia, self-released in 1985. Moving from languid ennui to high drama, »Pièces« is a dreamy gestalt, an album that borders Chanson, spoken-word, jazz noir, and minimalism, conjured from the chasm between acoustic and electronic realms. »Pièces« allows us a window into the highly intimate songcraft and compositional skill of an artist who longed to linger not in the public eye, but in relation with others and the world around her.

Born in Quebec City, Boutet studied music at the University of Montreal, where she focused on composition and percussion, before becoming involved in Montreal’s feminist and lesbian art scene. Primarily written, performed, and recorded by Boutet, with voice, guitar work, and technical assistance by Sylvie Gagnon, Pièces was created during a paradigm shift in home recording. Originally composed for the piano, Boutet and Gagnon utilized a consumer-friendly Tascam 4-track Portastudio and versatile Yamaha DX-7, alongside guitar, bass, marimba, and the human voice, to expand and contemporize the original composition’s scope.

Inspired by prog rock and British poet and musician Anne Clark, »Pièces« translates Boutet’s influence by moving between sunny, wistful fairytale and dark, wintry dirge. Filled with longing marimba, vertiginous, startling synth pads, and folk guitar, each track on Pièces offers a wholly unique proposition. Some are modal and rife with the ethereal psychological tension of a sci-fi soundtrack, while others are more like entering a smoke-laced lounge, the entertainer embodying seduction.

With the sprechgesang of artists like Serge Gainsbourg, there is an intense intimacy to Boutet’s delivery, sometimes as if she is performing for an audience of one. As one lyric goes, translated to English from French: “Like holograms/ Images from a world/ That inhales souls/ And exudes drama.” Another song contains an excerpt from The Tao of Physics: “The eastern sages specify clearly that they do not identify an ordinary void, but rather, a void having an infinite creative potential.”

To English-language audiences, the album’s title, »Pièces«, might seem to simply refer to the eleven different pieces. The title can also, of course, refer to parts of a larger whole, but Boutet is keen to point out that there is also another meaning: In French, a pièce is a room. On the cover of the original cassette, Boutet is seen sitting on a chair, alone in an empty apartment, a cable snaking at her feet. Listening to »Pièces« is like entering eleven different rooms: whether a study encased in shadow, a greenhouse left to wither in an eternal frost, or a divine nave.

Boutet sold a few dozen copies around Montreal, a scene mostly occupied by the new wave explosion de rigueur, but the inclusion of Pièces in the 1987 issue of Ladyslipper—the North Carolina-based mail order catalog that championed women musicians of all calibers and careers—led to more exposure throughout North America. “In the catalog,” Boutet says, “they included it in the New Age section, but I was, and still am, aware that this album is relatively unclassifiable.”

Boutet would release one more album, titled Musiques Urbaines, before getting pulled in the direction of interdisciplinary art and theory. “Although I never stopped making music, I lost all interest in public diffusion or performance,” Boutet says. Despite her departure from performance and publicly releasing music, she left behind a strange and enthralling document of Montreal’s 1980s feminist fringe, an aural document of the historic moment when self-recorded music and its practical potential became a prismatic reality.

Danielle Boutet’s Pièces arrives February 16, 2024 as part of uncommon¢ (“uncommon sense”), an open-ended, serialized endeavor from Freedom to Spend that provides new meaning for rarefied recordings from music’s outermost fringe.

Trailblazing instrumental synth pop experiments created to soundtrack Japan’s booming 1980s cartoon and comic industries. The brightly futuristic instrumentals on this collection reflect the mindset of composers and musicians who believed in a technological future where everything was possible.

In the late 1980s Japan experienced a brief but heady period where societal changes combined with new-found wealth to open up a world of possibilities. A huge influx of cash - artificially created by slashed interest rates after an agreement with the US to weaken the dollar relative to the yen - resulted in the inflation of real estate and stock market at a rapid pace. While the economic bubble it created was unprecedented and impossible to sustain, for a while money was in plentiful supply.

The musical genre City Pop reflected the aspirations of the country’s booming leisure class. Video games flourished with Nintendo's 1983 launch of their Family Computer (or FamiCom). Studio Ghibli was founded 1985 to later became one of the most famous and respected animation studios in the world, and Anime and Manga were established as major forms of entertainment for all generations of the Japanese public.

Music was no mere footnote to the anime and manga boom: the two forms of media often went hand in hand, and not simply through the presence of background melodies. With generous budgets available, even two-dimensional static manga comics could be released with an accompanying soundtrack of original music known as an ‘Image Album’.

Composer and arranger Kazuhiko Izu was one such beneficiary of this open budget approach. Written to accompany artist Katsuhiro Otomo’s manga comic Domu, the composer and arranger took advantage of the world-leading (and wallet-busting) Japanese synthesiser technology available at King Records’ fully equipped studio. Featured on this compilation, A3: Act 2 Scene 26 reflected the story’s sci fi themes with a blazingly futuristic yet warmly funky slice of synth pop that presents a joyful celebration of synthesisers and their seemingly endless possibilities.

Kan Ogasawara was another composer who made early mastery of the litany of synthesisers, drum machines and sequencers that had become available. Two tracks written to accompany the 1985 period manga Yume No Ishibumi are featured here; Honowo’s experimental electronic textures add spice to a jaunty electro pop melody that recalls the Rah band’s 1983 hit Messages From Stars; the jazz-tinged Utage rounds out Ogasawara’s shimmering synth textures with beautifully crafted backing from legendary musicians Yuji Toriyama (guitar), Pecker (percussion) and Jun Fukamachi (piano).

Before becoming one of the pioneers of Japanese Kankyo Ongaku (Ambient Music), Takashi Kokubo worked on the proto techno track Kiki (Jungle At Night). It was put together for the 1984 anime film Shonen Keniya (Kenya Boy) using some of the most expensive music technologies available at the time. This Africa-Inspired dance track offers a contemporary parallel to the early techno music that young Detroit based producers were then creating using cheap Japanese Roland drum machines and synthesisers.

This is the first compilation of Japanese anime and manga soundtracks curated by Kay Suzuki and Rintaro Sekizuka from Vinyl Delivery Service (a Tokyo based online record shop which also operates in East London's renowned wine and hifi shop Idle Moments). With a cover by artist Kazuki Takakura and two pages of liner notes, this vinyl only compilation of music never before released outside of Japan, captures a vital aural snapshot of an era whose forward-thinking sounds went hand in hand with cutting edge technology.

Pressed on LP again for the first time in years. Aldous Harding's songs are not for the faint of heart. Disarming in their desolate imagery and vulnerable instrumentation, they deal with the raw materials of life: birth, death, love and grief. Sometimes reminiscent of 60s-era folk singers Vashti Bunyan and Linda Perhacs, Harding's work lies in more harsh terrain than her forebears - piercing the long history of the genre with a grit and sincerity rarely encountered. Based in New Zealand's Southern port town of Lyttelton, Auckland-born Harding began playing to the public in small-town venues and busking on the streets. It wasn't long before her name became synonymous with both the vivid devastation of her wordplay and the stark intensity of her performance; a unique blend of fragility and sinewy, world-won strength that belies her youth. Influential BB6 DJs Marc Riley and Mary Anne Hobbs picked up on tracks and a rigorous festival circuit followed in 2015. The Line Of Best Fit lauded her Great Escape performance: “Aldous Harding mixes traditional folk songs with dirge-y notes and ends her incredible performance with an A cappella cover of Edith Piaf she was told she was too young to be singing. It was spellbinding.” Of her debut record, The 405 said, “the voice is from another time and the imagery is dramatic, the themes are universal....

Retro house sounds from Italy on this release... tunes that still go down well with some of the big name festival dj's during their summer tour! A track that remained unpublished for 33 years until Devil Dee decided to make it public and bring his own voice to the spotlight joined by jazz-blues singer Joan Faulkner (former supporting voice of Boney M and Milli Vanilli, also known by her stage name 'Dee-Vah'). Devil Dee is Davide Mancori - a cinematograph with a flattering career as a club-dj from 80s-90s onwards - who lovingly produced this release which differs from most of the releases on Best Record by its housey vibe. 'And The Beat Goes On' was written in Germany in 1989 by Leonie Gane and Ryan Paris laying the crucial foundations for an evolutionary step of the italian disco music. A step forward for the 'Italo' movement considered obsolete and defunct. In fact, the track is also referring to the latest Italo-Disco which entirely covered the scene of the 1980s with furious activity, If the meeting between Devil Dee and the famous interpreter of 'Dolce Vita' - Mister Ryan Paris - creates the alchemy, the explosive mix is completed with the precious work of Marco Magrini. The arrangement by Pierluigi Cerin and the executive work of Claudio Casalini close the magic circle. Five friends and a great singer from Indiana to fill the dance floors all over Europe, while the images of the provocative and surreal video-clip capture the audience by splitting in two. There are those who do not want to see certain issues publicized and those who appreciate their cheekiness, such as Best Record which by publishing the vinyl printed at 180 grams celebrates the 40 years of activity.

Easy Listening Recordings is here, and to kick things off we've got a new three-track EP from Vancouver's Teen Daze.

We begin with the title track, Quiet City, and immediately conjure up images of late night drives through anonymous city streets. Brimming with emotion, and a gentle energy, this one could find itself at home in a warmup set, early in the night, or one of those aforementioned late night drives. No matter where you hear it, this is one of Teen Daze’s most beautiful tunes.

Life Style brings us out of the car, and onto the sidewalks of that once quiet city. Now there’s a bustling energy from crowds of people, steam rising from the sewers below. You’re navigating it all in stride, with Life Style in your headphones. This is City Music.

We start Side B with an ode to Vancouver, BC, aka The Glass City: Night Club. The soft, swung drums, the walking bassline, the dubbed out bongos; this one feels at home across the entire Lower Mainland. Maybe you’re taking a stroll along the Sea Wall, maybe you’re watching the sun set while sipping on something at Juice Bar, maybe you’re walking up to Paradise at 12 am. No matter how you might experience Vancouver, Night Club has got your soundtrack covered.

Finally, we wrap up this first disc for Easy Listening Recordings with a special vinyl-only track, called New Mood. Pulsating percussion lead this dream-like track through 4 ½ minutes of Balearic Bliss. A beautiful way to finish this first release.

Early support from:
Paula Tape, NIKS, Eug (Public Records), Pleasure Voyage, Masha Mar, Massimiliano Pagliara, Loz Goddard

Straight Outta Caledonia is the first commercially available “Greatest Hits” of the outsider songwriter Jackie Leven, an artist
who has largely remained in obscurity in his native Scotland despite being one of the greatest wordsmiths – and singers – it ever
produced. A well-travelled musician who began making psychedelic, progressive music in the late 60s before emerging as an
epic storyteller full of pathos, humour and humanity in the 90s, Leven lived and wrote like many of the fragile, gregarious
characters of his songs; large, full of life and empathy. Leven passed away in 2011 after recording 30+ albums under different
guises or with his briefly successful New Wave band Doll by Doll. Straight Outta Caledonia is a compilation collated by Night
School Records on its Archival label School Daze that seeks to introduce Leven’s music to new generations.
In an age of isolation, alienation and loss of visceral experience, Jackie Leven’s music can be massive and welcoming. It feels
connected to some universal humanity and vibrates with vitality. His songs are often full of tragedy and comedy simultaneously,
cutting straight to the heart, often plugging directly into the nervous system of the listener. His lyrics are rich, dense with imagery
that can veer from apocalyptic to the comically banal in a sentence, with a songwriting panache that can be heavy handed to
almost bursting point before skewering the song with a clownish, warm punchline. His productions ranged from Bob Dylan’s
Rolling Thunder Revue style rock band orchestrations with strings and organ as on the epic Ancient Misty Morning or they could
be pared down to the purest form of folk song as on Poortoun: Leven on stage alone with an acoustic guitar, albeit played with a
mastery of the instrument that he often only hinted at. Musically his sound can bend traditional structures or stay completely
confined within them yet still forever push towards an ecstatic release, as on the cinematic Snow In Central Park.
The most exciting, jaw-droppingly effective tool at Leven’s disposal was his voice. A multi-octave instrument that, though
damaged during a savage assault in Fife, he used with flair; he had both a brazen disregard for the rules and a deep humility, all
of which is evidenced with every phrasing. A baritone that could flit up through the register – always touched by his gentle
Kirkcaldy accent – it’s the prime delivery method for his songs. Leven’s voice enabled him to inhabit the characters in his songs to
an uncanny degree, a skill that in turn enables the listener to empathise with them and, subsequently, the singer. It’s most evident
in stand out song The Sexual Loneliness Of Jesus Christ, a breathtaking re-telling of the life of its protagonist, not as a pure,
sinless messiah but as a sexually frustrated, solitary man condemned to an existential loneliness no one else will ever feel. In
many ways the track is the archetypal Jackie Leven song. Produced by Pere Ubu’s David Thomas, what strikes the ear first –
after the samples of unemployed workers in Glasgow following the closing of the Clyde shipyards – is the audacious, rhythmic
tremolo effect Leven employs through the verses before the production opens up to allow Leven’s vocal to lift into a soar, a
freeing glide powered both by the force of the singer’s chutzpah and the inherent, doomed destiny of the protagonist. With any
other singer such subject matter could come across as gauche or worse, pretentiously sonorous, but Jackie Leven’s genius was
such that he could be this cinematic and brazen while touching something elemental and true in the beholder. It’s a skill evident in
every song on Straight Outta Caledonia, the trademark of a songwriter who revelled and excelled in intensity with a lightness of
touch.
In his lifetime, Jackie Leven toured, wrote and recorded at a ferocious rate. He recorded under aliases to avoid record contract
restrictions, played house shows in Europe after or instead of official concerts, events which were often spoken word story telling
masterclasses as well as performances of his often bewilderingly dense songbook. His music has traditionally been catalogued
as “folk” music and has been largely banished to a small, dedicated group of international fans and apostles both private and well
known, like author Ian Rankin or Glenn Matlock. Since his passing in 2011 however, there has been a growing recognition
amongst a newer generation, with artists like James Yorkston or Molly Nilsson publicly stating the influence of the unsung
troubadour on their own craft. Jackie Leven’s fairytales for hard men are often forensic deconstructions of masculinity, sad and
ecstatic, light and shadow, always endlessly rich, a resource as bountiful as Leven himself’s human spirit undoubtedly was.

Too Pure are excited to get Moonshake’s debut album, ‘Eva Luna’, back in
print, releasing a deluxe edition, re-mastered from analogue 1Ú2” tape, on
blue double vinyl.
 The reissue contains 19 tracks - the album’s original 10, the non-LP threesong single ‘Secondhand Clothes’, the two B-sides from the ‘Beautiful
Pigeon’ single and four tracks from a November 1992 John Peel session.
The release also includes an 8-page full-colour booklet.
 Moonshake were formed in 1991 by David Callahan (vocals, guitars,
samplers), formerly of The Wolfhounds, and New York musician Margaret
Fiedler (vocals, guitars, samplers). Callahan and Fiedler recorded a demo for
Creation Records, and were joined by John Frenett (bass) and Miguel
Morland (‘Mig’, drums) to record and release the ‘First EP’ for Creation in
1991.
 They took their name from a 1973 single by Can. Both Fiedler and Callahan
wrote songs, and they would (generally) sing on the songs that they wrote.
Their output of shared inspiration produced wildly different results - Can, PIL,
Kraftwerk, MBV and Erik B & Rakim were a melting pot that made
Moonshake somewhat uncategorizable, and as Margaret noted in an
interview, “Moonshake was a collision - it was supposed to be a collision.”
 Their debut album, ‘Eva Luna’, took its name from a novel by Chilean author
Isabel Allende, and the tracks on it are split evenly between the two
songwriters. Callahan’s songs are somewhat angry, dissonant, post-punk
affairs, while Fiedler’s are just as angular, but her quieter sometimes near
whispered vocals compliment her writing partner’s equally. Producer /
engineer Guy Fixsen, fresh from his work on My Bloody Valentine’s
‘Loveless’, was instrumental in making the album cohesive.
 This album has been critically revisited often since its original release, with
Tiny Mix Tapes describing their sound as “an updated take on Can and
Public Image Limited’s rhythmic propulsion with noisier guitar work and a
predilection for sampling influenced by The Young Gods.” Last year, in a
wonderfully long piece to celebrate the album’s 30th anniversary, Louder
Than War wrote that they were blown away by the album’s “utterly
spellbinding, dizzyingly genre-defying approach at articulating explicitly the
sound of a city in the throes of urban psychosis and derangement... ‘Eva
Luna’ really is one hell of a ground-breaking record, and it stands resolutely
alone among all of the albums released in 1992 as no other band has
managed to create anything remotely similar before or since. It really is a
unique album with few equals.”
 In 1993, the original incarnation of the band split up, and Margaret Fiedler
and John Frenett went on to form Laika with Guy Fixsen. Callahan and
Morland continued on with guest musicians, with Callahan ultimately
remaining the band’s sole original member. Moonshake ended in 1997 but
their legacy is indisputable.

Repress!

'What The World Needs Now...', released September 4th 2015, is the 10th studio album from legends Public Image Ltd (PiL).

Released on CD, double vinyl and digital download, the 11-track album follows the huge critical success of 2012's 'This is PiL', the band's first album in 17 years. In winter 2014 PiL returned to Steve Winwood's Wincraft studio in the Cotswolds' to record the new album 'What The World Needs Now...' . Commenting on the album, John Lydon says, "Buy now while stocks last." PiL will be on tour in UK/Europe/North America from September 2015. What The World Needs Now...', is self-funded by PiL and released on their own label 'PiL Official' via Cargo UK Distribution. The artwork for the album, partly inspired by Native American Hopi characters, was designed and painted by John Lydon.

Tomáš Knoflíček is a musician, sound organizer, and curator based in the Czech Republic. His activities are mainly related to post-everything quartet Gurun Gurun (Home Normal, Buh records), in which he collaborated with a number of mainly Japanese musicians (e.g. Haco, Asuna, Aus, Cuushe, Moskitoo). Since 2004 he has been working at the Faculty of Fine Arts and Music University of Ostrava, where he focuses mainly on interdisciplinarity in art, especially the relationship between image and sound. He is the co-organizer of the Kukačka project (kukacka.org), focusing on art in public space, and also the curator of the Lauby and Dukla galleries in Ostrava. As a curator or co-creator, he participated in a number of sound art projects and collaborated with many visual artists, for whom sound is an important means of research (e.g. Christoph Zwiener, Julia Gryboś, Barbora Zentková, Matěj Frank, Jan Krtička, Pavel Sterec, Lišaj). Knoflíček is also the author of several music videos and VJ-sets for Gurun Gurun, Wabi Experience, and Haco. In 2021 he released his first solo album Vaguely delimited targets (LOM label).

Whitney did more than turn Whitney Houston into a pioneering sensation known around the world by her first name. Originally released in June 1987, the singer's blockbuster sophomore record became the first album by a female artist to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart — a position it claimed for a total of 11 weeks en route to selling more than 10 million copies in the U.S. The Diamond platinum effort also contains four No. 1 Hot 100 hits that, when combined with the three chart toppers from her 1985 debut, gave her seven consecutive No. 1 singles — an accomplishment that no other artist has accomplished. Commercially and creatively, Whitney stands on hallowed ground — especially now that the record plays with a sound that puts into perspective just how extraordinary, engaging, and vital Houston's music remains.


Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl at RTI, Mobile Fidelity's 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP of Whitney invites listeners to experience the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee's pivotal album in audiophile quality for the very first time. Free of the dynamic limitations and tonal flatness prevalent on prior vinyl and CD pressings, it lets the music breathe and reveals the copious detail, nuance, and texture within the immaculately produced songs. MoFi's SuperVinyl profile offers further advantages in the forms of a nearly inaudible noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superb groove definition.

In addition to featuring extreme clarity and immediacy, this numbered-edition reissue does wonders for the attribute that inspired more than 20 million people around the globe to add Whitney to their record collections: that inimitable voice. Houston's trademark mezzo-soprano — an acrobatic instrument equally capable of taking off on fantastic flights and unwinding for hushed meditations — benefits from the fantastic airiness and transparency afforded by this meticulously restored edition. Whitney has never sounded or looked better. The crossover landmark deserves nothing less.

Issued just two years after Houston's breakthrough debut, Whitney immediately signalled the genre-defying singer's intent to continue to push ahead and expand her palette. Shot by photographer Richard Avedon, the album cover depicts an iconic image of Houston — captured with a gleaming smile, bright eyes, teased-out afro, toned arms, and a right hand that appears to wave a friendly hello — whose active, athletic profile stands in contrast to the extremely formal sit-down shot of her that graces her '85 record. The change is telling: Whitney overflows with unfettered joy, rhythmic vibes, and deep-seated emotions that forever endeared her to the hearts and minds of countless listeners — and which set the standard for the wave after wave of divas that followed in her footsteps.

It's no coincidence that the first track on Whitney is the declarative "I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)." Like Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" and Madonna's "Material Girl," the feel-good smash is one of the quintessential '80s gems — a lithe, melodic, celebratory release of pent-up energy and loneliness that glides across club floors, shouts to the rooftops, and shrugs off any concerns about vulnerability or embarrassment. Houston's swooping voice moves in sync with the sleek beats and dipping-and-diving synths. She practically takes her fellow musicians by their hand and leads them in a blissful dance that nobody would dare sidestep. Focusing on Houston's singing — a task made challenging only because of the impossible-to-ignore hooks and grooves — showcases the virtuosic facets of not only her register but her control, discipline, smoothness, and warmth.

That she replicates those feats for the entirety of the nearly 53-minute-long album makes Whitney that much more special. Houston reaches back and channels her childhood gospel training on the R&B-flared "So Emotional"; effortlessly slips into Quiet Storm mode on the duet with her mother, gospel great Cissy Houston, on "I Know Him So Well"; flirts with smooth jazz and collaborates with tenor saxophonist Kenny G on the lush "Just the Lonely Talking Again"; conjures dreamscapes and shadow-boxes with supple funk on a romantic cover of the Isley Brothers' "For the Love of You"; and, for the majestic power ballad "Didn't We Almost Have It All," displays the sky-scraping reach of her vocals amid a grand arrangement made even bigger by Houston's sweeping performance and triumphant finish.

Houston's once-in-a-generation talents weren't lost on the adoring public, radio deejays, or industry experts. In addition to harbouring four No. 1 hits and receiving nominations for four Grammy Awards, Whitney generated another Top 10 success in the guise of the Afro-Cuban-leaning "Love Will Save the Day." The album also netted Houston four American Music Awards; two Billboard Music Awards; back-to-back People's Choice Awards; a Soul Train Award; and various other accolades. It all makes the crux of the Washington Post's July '87 review of the album appear prophetic: "Her voice sounds stronger still and the songs are varied but so consistent she could garner 10 Top 10s out of a field of 11."


That claim still holds true. A brilliant fusion of pop, R&B, smooth jazz, and soul, Whitney is a showstopper – and one of the key reasons Houston is the most-awarded female artist of all time.

Betty Davis was a musical maverick with vision. Image, substance, sex, and grit combined with a badass band that could deliver the funk bed backbone to the sultry music between the sheets. After cutting two notorious discs for the Just Sunshine label (Betty Davis and They Say I’m Different), and Nasty Gal for Island Records, Davis went to work on her most personal and expressive record yet. After capturing 10 hard-hitting tracks in 1976 at the remote Studio In The Country (Louisiana), a creative difference with her then label caused the platter to be unexpectedly shelved. Davis would cut one final album and soon retreat from the music business, completely disappearing from the public eye.

Is It Love Or Desire is a little-known gem in the Davis catalog. Mastered from the original tapes, and untouched for over 30 years, this release features detailed liner notes, the originally intended artwork housed in a lavishly packaged digipak, rare photos, archival material, and recent interviews with Davis and her skin-tight band Funk House.

Never bootlegged, never released, never heard until now, the secret story of this lost album will finally enter the history books and cement this bold soul sisters contributions to music and popular culture. Its time to get down…

“All in the Golden Afternoon We Glide” (Realia006) is the forthcoming record from LATHE 00, the new moniker under which Umbria-based artist Leonardo Carloni has recently started to operate.

Preceded by several collaborative undertakings, LATHE 00’s debut solo album is akin to an experiment in autotheory, where art-making practice and theoretical inquiry are entwined to the point of being virtually inseparable. Through the combined use of autobiographical and philosophical elements, “All in the Golden Afternoon We Glide” meditates on individuality, technology, and new forms of (post-)human existence.

The record has been conceived as a three-act project, with each act comprising four compositions that correspond to as many recurring themes: birth, love, death, and emptiness. Produced over the course of two years, the album has a total of twelve tracks, the majority of which run for less than two and a half minutes. Upon closer inspection, these tracks feel less like standalone pieces of music and more like outtakes of a single but continuously mutating continuum.

LATHE 00’s first feature is a work of rare beauty. As a one-person debut project, its stylistic variety, compositional maturity, and technical rigor are outstanding. By combining a forward-looking production style with references as varied as ambient, hyper-pop, instrumental post-rock, world-beat, and modern classical and folk music, LATHE 00 develops a mode of expression that transgresses genres and is distinctively his own.

The result is a signature sound that feels equally primordial and hyper-contemporary, fleshly visceral and detached. The inclusion of the artist's own vocals in the music is a notable aspect of this style. Alongside sampled materials, his non-lexical vocalisations appear as both an affirmative and negative act, simultaneously gesturing towards bodiless dissolution and a desire to reclaim one’s all-too-embodied presence in this world.

Despite being a concept album grounded in a profound theoretical substrate, “All in the Golden Afternoon We Glide” surprisingly relies on wordless communication only. As such, in it, song titles become key vectors of information. Appealing primarily to the listener’s sense of sight, they are used in a way that seamlessly blends the aesthetics of the digital (“Loading of Image Aborted!”), nature (the title track), and ritual (Pouring Blood into the Lake).

The album will be released in digital format alongside a limited-edition printed publication conceptualised and designed by Lidia Ginga Cozzupoli and Bernardo Berga.

Anlässlich ihres 40-jährigen Bestehens präsentieren die kanadischen Progressive-Sci-Fi-Metal-Innovatoren VOIVOD ihre spezielle Jubiläumsveröffentlichung "Morgöth Tales", die frische Studio(neu)aufnahmen der aktuellen Bandbesetzung von 9 speziell ausgewählten, nicht so offensichtlichen Stücken aus dem erstklassigen und extrem vielfältigen Backkatalog der Band (zwischen 1984 und 2003) sowie einen brandneuen Song im Titeltrack des Albums, "Morgöth Tales", enthält. "Morgöth Tales" enthält außerdem spezielle Gastauftritte der ehemaligen VOIVOD-Mitglieder Eric "E-Force" Forrest (E-Force, Gesang bei "Rise") und Jason "Jason" Newsted (ex-Metallica / Flotsam And Jetsam, Bass bei "Rebel Robot"). "Morgöth Tales" ist der Nachfolger von VOIVODs 15. (!) hochgelobten und für den Juno Award nominierten Studioalbum "Synchro Anarchy" (2022), das in Deutschland Platz 7 der offiziellen Albumverkaufscharts erreichte. Die Veröffentlichung ist erhältlich als Ltd. CD Jewelcase im O-Card mit Bonustrack (eine Coverversion von "Home" von Public Image Ltd) und als 180g Vinyl LP mit 4-seitigem LP-Booklet. Und verpasst nicht VOIVODs Tournee zum 40-jährigen Jubiläum der "Morgöth Tales"...

The Junkyard 2 came into fruition when it was released in May of last year, as an intimate collection of what she considered her best material. Scott has been taking piano lessons since she was eight years old growing up in California, and that instrumental talent is one of the most striking elements on the record. The songs reckoned with touchy subjects -- emotional labor, insecurity, healthcare -- with razor-sharp wit and care. Even if it was recorded poorly, the brilliance of the writing and performance still resonated. After that, she realized she had to do better, and so she unveiled Public Void in September. She ditched the piano, played with software, and gave her music a texture that was bolder, weirder, and catchier. Together, the two projects and Scott’s other singles have combined to amass 87.8 million on-demand U.S. streams, according to MRC data. The landscape of TikTok is cluttered, and hits are ephemeral, but Scott’s strike a unique chord and her image is constantly growing. When asked if she considers that music will be her full time job, she pauses, reluctant to think too far ahead. “I think, for the near future, yes,” she ultimately answers. “I’m definitely not leaving college for it. But the next couple of years are locked in.” As of April 2022, “Rät” is now a gold single. The album has streamed over 350M times in under 2 years.

The Junkyard 2 came into fruition when it was released in May of last year, as an intimate collection of what she considered her best material. Scott has been taking piano lessons since she was eight years old growing up in California, and that instrumental talent is one of the most striking elements on the record. The songs reckoned with touchy subjects -- emotional labor, insecurity, healthcare -- with razor-sharp wit and care. Even if it was recorded poorly, the brilliance of the writing and performance still resonated. After that, she realized she had to do better, and so she unveiled Public Void in September. She ditched the piano, played with software, and gave her music a texture that was bolder, weirder, and catchier. Together, the two projects and Scott’s other singles have combined to amass 150 million on-demand U.S. streams, according to MRC data. The landscape of TikTok is cluttered, and hits are ephemeral, but Scott’s strike a unique chord and her image is constantly growing. When asked if she considers that music will be her full time job, she pauses, reluctant to think too far ahead. “I think, for the near future, yes,” she ultimately answers. “I’m definitely not leaving college for it. But the next couple of years are locked in.”

Bruce Falkian is a world famous contemporary artist who exhibits at the world's most prestigious art galleries and fairs. Bruce Falkian moonlights as an agent of espionage against the Terrorism Industrial Complex. Wait... what?

To understand Bruce Falkian we first must understand the link between image and war. In the late 1800s the precursor to the video camera was invented. It was directly inspired by guns, specifically, Samuel Colt's Revolver. It borrowed not only its barrel mechanics, swapping bullets for exposures, but its terminology too. Load, point, scope, aim, shoot, flash. The camera and the gun, united by cordite, would go on to prove the most efficacious tools in shaping the modern world.

The 20th century was a laboratory when it comes to killing and image making, glorified through Hollywood and the Western genre. Propaganda would prove highly effective in creating and sustaining support for militaries fighting for ideological global control. Devised first in the aptly title 'Propaganda' (1928) by Edward Bernays, a nephew of Sigmund Freud, Advertising and Public Relations became the leading media industries, learning how to control the population through images, usually just to buy random crap they didn't need, but other times to overthrow democratically elected politicians in foreign countries. Eventually Western Liberal Democracy assumed domination, built of course on the enslavement of all peoples and nations who didn't fall in line with its specific ideas of living. The Red Scare inspired countless anti-leftist, anti-communist works of art throughout the Cold War, notably and most bizarre, funding the abstract expressionist movement as a non-ideological alternative to socialist realism art. When the Soviet Union fell, Western Liberal Democracy was able to promulgate its unhindered views around the world through its various media empires and actor states. Is it a coincidence that a third of the almost $85 billion dollar global camera equipment market is represented by the greatest propaganda beast the world has ever seen, the USA?

Guns are dangerous because of the obvious. Images are dangerous because we are bad at perceiving what is real (as any jump scare, deepfake, newsreel will attest to.) Videos aren't technically real, they are only a collection of rapidly changing static images which give the illusion of movement. It's easy for us to collectively decide that a video is real, because that's the way our brains perceive reality. People who lead the world of media understand this, which is how they are able to control us, make us invade foreign countries, vote for specific politicians, feel ugly or fat etc. However, ubiquitous as they are, it seems that the image is in crisis. It seems that we've run out of them. Or perhaps our understanding of an image is changing, with the aid of near instantaneous text-to-image AI technology. So what does this mean for guns? What does this mean for war? How will images be used as an aid to war in the 21st century? It remains to be seen, but Bruce Falkian will be a useful agent.

The rawness of The Veils' Nux Vomica can be enjoyed to a degree never heard before, with Ba Da Bing's limited edition pressing of the records with the original mixes by Nick Rainey left intact.

Originally released in 2006, The Veils sophomore album Nux Vomica was praised for its “Herculean intensity” by The Guardian, and called “a heady blast of gothic psychodrama” by The Observer, while Pitchfork praised leader Finn Andrews’ “magnetic, outsize persona.” Long out of print, the vinyl version was resuscitated by Music on Vinyl in 2017 and quickly sold out. Now, The Veils present the definitive version of their most heralded album to date, which dusts off the original mixes by legendary producer Nick Launay (Public Image Limited, The Birthday Party, INXS and Midnight Oil) and offers them to fans here for the first time. Taken from the original two-inch analog tape reels, each song was carefully remastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road Studios in London.

Nux Vomica was the first of many creative reinventions for Andrews, who at 22 had already released an album on Rough Trade, moved from New Zealand to London to form a band, then back to New Zealand where he once again started the band anew. The creative progression is clear in Andrews’ incisive lyricism and knack for hell-fire dramatics. From the positively mirthful “Advice for Young Mothers to Be” to the simmering ominousness of “Nux Vomica,” from the ornate spectacle of “Calliope!” to the Grand Guignol of “Jesus for the Jugular”, Nux Vomica is a remarkably accomplished album for a musician so young who was facing the pressures of British musical stardom.

All intentions to release this dark and raw set of recordings were dashed upon submission to Rough Trade for approval, who didn't like the results. They hired mixing engineer Bill Price to adjust the sound and add additional instrumentation. Launey’s mixes were shelved and forgotten about, while the album nonetheless went on to be a critical highpoint for the band and is much loved to this day.

To celebrate the release of The Veils’ massive new double album, …And Out Of The Void Came Love, Ba Da Bing is issuing a limited-to-1200-LPs simultaneous run of Nux Vomica in a form you have never heard it before. The brilliance of Andrews’ talents come through all the more clear in this version, which strips his songs to the core and allows the holes to show. Here’s where the seeds of a lifelong artistic talent really began to first take root.

A joint release between Discos Nada & Litoral. Alcides Neves’ unique second LP ‚Des (Trambelhar) Ou Não’ is reissued for the first time on vinyl, alongside his first release ‚Tempo de Fratura‘.

Somewhat of a concept album, this LP was conceived as having a predominantly experimental A-side and a more folky B-side, with songs influenced by Alcides’ native Northeastern Brazil. Alcides chose to release his second record independently as well, owing to the risk-averse nature of the labels at the time. Indeed, rather than adapting to the demands of the labels and making more romantic or commercial music, Alcides went in the opposite direction and released the most experimental record of his career.

The result is an album with distinct identities on each side but with an experimental bent throughout. The LP’s sounds are reflected by its striking cover, which collates some of Alcides’ artistic heroes - Frank Zappa, Gilberto Gil, Jimi Hendrix, Arnold Schönberg, Igor Stravinsky (to whom he also dedicated a song on the LP) among others, above an artwork in the style of Northeastern Brazilian folk art.

By blending traditional regional Northeastern elements with an experimental approach and influences from 20th century classical music, Alcides Neves crafted one of the most unique Brazilian records.

Carefully remastered by Paulo Torres with updated original artwork, the record is reissued in a gatefold sleeve including a promotional image from the time of release. This LP furthermore includes an insert with a text written by the journalist and researcher Bento Araujo, editor of the bimonthly publication ‚Poeira Zine‘ and author of the ‚Lindo Sonho Delirante‘ series of books.

A joint release between Discos Nada & Litoral. One of the first independently released Brazilian records, Alcides Neves’ debut LP ‚Tempo de Fratura’ is reissued for the first time on vinyl, alongside his second release ‚Des (Trambelhar) Ou Não‘.

Hailing from the Brazilian North East, Alcides Neves released his debut album a few years after moving to São Paulo, in 1979. The LP’s release coincided with the emergence of the city’s seminal Vanguarda Paulista movement, which led some researchers to locate Alcides within the movement. As the artist himself affirms; however, he did not fit into any established musical movements, and while it is perhaps possible to identify some influences, it is not possible to consider his music as belonging to a specific lineage either.

Alcides’ singularity and experimental disposition is on full display on his opening album, which revels in its own disformity and lack of external interference, made possible by releasing the LP independently.

The album translates to ‚Time of Fracture‘, a fitting moniker for the context in the final years of the Brazilian military dictatorship. The eleven songs that comprise the album are proof that the album was not named randomly, showcasing a broad range of both experimental and folk influences, while also including lyrics that originally did not get past federal censors.

Carefully remastered by Paulo Torres with updated original artwork, the record is reissued in a gatefold sleeve including a promotional image from the time of release. This LP furthermore includes an insert with a text written by the journalist and researcher Bento Araujo, editor of the bimonthly publication ‚Poeira Zine‘ and author of the ‚Lindo Sonho Delirante‘ series of books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Retro house sounds from Italy on this release... tunes that still go down well with some of the big name festival dj's during their summer tour! A track that remained unpublished for 33 years until Devil Dee decided to make it public and bring his own voice to the spotlight joined by jazz-blues singer Joan Faulkner, (former supporting voice of Boney M and Milli Vanilli, also known by her stage name 'Dee-Vah'). Devil Dee is Davide Mancori - a cinematograph with a flattering career as a club-dj from 80s-90s onwards - who lovingly produced this release which differs from most of the releases on Best Record by its housey vibe. 'And The Beat Goes On', was written in Germany in 1989 by Leonie Gane and Ryan Paris. Laying the crucial foundations for an evolutionary step of the italian disco music. A step forward for the 'Italo' movement which at the end of the 80s was been considered obsolete and defunct. In fact, the track is also referring to the latest Italo-Disco which entirely covered the scene of the 1980s with furious activity, If the meeting between Devil Dee and the famous interpreter of 'Dolce Vita' - Mister Ryan Paris - creates the alchemy, the explosive mix is completed with the precious work of Marco Magrini. The arrangement by Pierluigi Cerin and the executive work of Claudio Casalini close the magic circle. Five friends and a great singer from Indiana to fill the dance floors all over Europe, while the images of the provocative and surreal video-clip capture the audience by splitting in two. There are those who do not want to see certain issues publicized and those who appreciate their cheekiness, such as Best Record which by publishing the vinyl printed at 180 grams celebrates the 40 years of activity.

Limited to 500 copies worldwide.


Heavy as f-ck and deep as hell, this devastating split album gleefully corrupts and corrodes Dub’s sunshine reflections. Celebrating rhythm & noise in its dank echo chamber, these demolition dub tracks are built from obsessive studies in distortion, overdrive and seriously ruff textures, amongst an absolutely insane amount of sub-bass level.

‘Disintegration Dubs’ is a three way low end collision, between G36 (The Bug aka Kevin Martin/Gorgonn’s rig torturing beat project) and JK Flesh (Justin Broadrick of Godflesh/Jesu etc…). As the album title suggests, this instrumental pile up of floor crawling, sound system crushers, is a clearer sign than ever, that these three producers crave their dub cuts to be mutant and heavyweight, totally damaged and completely atomised. Dub as sonic obliteration

Anyone previously smitten by Techno Animal’s deeply psychedelic face off with Porter Ricks, on the long out of print ’Symbiotics’, or who worshipped Zonal’s recent rhythmic wreckage via Relapse records, will surely gorge greedily on Disintegration Dubs’. Likewise, newbies, who have snapped up this year’s ‘Fire’ by The Bug or ‘New flesh in dub’ by Godflesh, will find endless pleasure within these dread-tech, annihilated dubs and Industrial strength steppas rhythms. Echoes of Basic Channel, early Iration Steppas, Public Image Limited or even Andy Stott can be heard within this collection’s haunted atmospherics and bulldozing rumble. Yet, these three individual producers have obviously found their own recognisably original sound, within these monolithic grooves, and what makes this album so utterly refreshing, is just how well the three disparate sound manipulators complement each other fully, as they collectively set their sights on some shared, relentlessly futuristic sci-fi vision, for a new form of dub.

Obviously, Martin as The Bug, and Broadrick with his colossal dubs of Godflesh and his filthy back catalogue of JK Flesh releases, have both long since subscribed to the genre, aesthetic and fragmentation of Dub. Meanwhile relative newcomer, Gorgonn, is The Bug’s long time, live soundman, and former bandmate with DJ Scotch Egg in Devil Man, as well as having formed Dokkebi Q with Kiki Hitomi (ex-King Midas Sound), so he is no stranger to the art of deviant dubs either…

G36 dropped their appropriately titled debut EP ’Floor Weapons’, in 2018, on PRESSURE, as well as providing the backing riddim for the first ever release from Jamaican MC phenomena Nazamba, with his startling debut, ’Vexed’. Alternately, Justin has previously released seven albums solo, as JK Flesh, that systematically contorted, distorted and completely bastardised techno for labels such as Hospital Productions, Downwards and Speedy J’s Electric Deluxe… (Next year will also see a full JK Flesh album on PRESSURE too…!)

This album is Mastered by Stefan Betke aka POLE, at Scape Mastering.

Four years in making, Voyeurs In the Dark is Toronto artist Barzin’s fifth studio album. That the album is more cinematic in its scope and conceptual in feel than his previous studio albums can be attributed to the time he spent over the past several years composing the soundtrack for the independent film, Viewfinder. Voyeurs In the Dark retains that cinematic quality, and at the same time infuses the music with elements taken from Jazz, electronica, rock and pop. Having primarily explored the quiet side pop and folk in his previous four albums, Barzin has expanded his musical palate, broadening his sound towards a more an experimental direction, while still retaining his preoccupation with exploring the internal landscape. The uniformity of sound that characterized the previous albums has been abandoned for the expression of differing aspects of the self that at times hold opposing views and desires. This is best represented in the image chosen for the cover of the album, which depicts three figures in one body. The album seems to be the expression of not one unified self, but the various aspects of the self. Voyeurs In the Dark sees the artist plot a seductive, contemplative route through city haze, shuttling between graceful glimmering interludes, with wonderfully atmospheric songs at every stop. From opener Voyeurs In the Dark’s first guitar strums and the fizz of its drum machine, the record envelopes itself in a glorious shadow, as shown in the slow waltz of I Don’t Want To Sober Up, dancing around its own swirling guitar chords. On Watching, Barzin plunges himself deeper into a wash of cyclic bass, guitar and synth riffs, as the gloom grooves into light. It’s Never Too Late To Lose Your Life has a much more affirming and urgent tone, shade turning into shapes and motion, while To Be Missed In the End builds its own smoke in a cloud of saxophone and sparse guitar notes, closing out a record full to the brim with scatterbrain beauty and eclectic dusk. Voyeurs In the Dark will be released worldwide on Monotreme Records on May 6th on CD and limited edition180 g black vinyl LP with printed inner discobag and digital download card. Press highlights so far: Video premiere and feature interview on Rumore.IT. Airplay on BBC 6Music, Amazing Radio (UK and US), Glastonbury FM, Shoreditch Radio, Indie Music Discovery, Listen to Discover, Norfolk Radio. Press coverage in V13, Skope, Whisperin and Hollerin, Fame Magazine, High Violet, Indie Midlands, Beehive Candy, Music Won’t Save you. Feature confirmed for Wonderland Magazine. PUBLICITY - UK and North America press and radio Cannonball PR. Europe Five Roses Press

2023 Repress

"banging piece of sound art" - The Observer

"...a fascinating piece of Brutalist techno that pivots between crisp machine-like minimalism and granulated noise." - Clash

"A piece of immediately engaging techno it reveals more of itself with each listen." - CMU Daily

Nik Colk Void is well established with her work as one half of Factory Floor, one third of Carter Tutti Void (alongside Chris Carter and Cosey Fanni Tutti) and with the late Peter Rehberg as NPVR, but perhaps surprisingly, "Bucked up Space" is her first solo album release.

Void explains, "When Peter Rehberg initially asked me to produce a record for Editions Mego, I didn't feel quite ready and asked if we could make a record together instead. Collaboration is so ingrained into what I do, I only felt ready to make this album after working through ideas live, using the audience in place of the collaborator."

Bucked Up Space combines Void's love of improvisation with the driving force of beat-driven music absorbed from performing in galleries, residencies and clubs across the UK and Europe. She goes on to say, "You find out more about yourself when you explain your ideas to others, and that's how I felt the live performance worked for me."

The process steadily teased out a language and Void employed a variety of tactics in the recording process including a methodical approach of collecting data at her home studio in a manner not dissimilar to keeping a diary. Her microscopic focus on raw instrumental noise, layered and reformulated, resulted in a sound catalogue that Void divided into groups for their tone, density and texture.

These initial pieces were taken to a studio in Margate to put them into a more cohesive compositional context. Something that pragmatically started as cold and detached was given warmth, unity and emotion in the studio. Via improvised repetition co-existing alongside organised production, Void conjures new sonic muscle with tracks such as 'Interruption Is Good' and 'FlatTime'. Initial recordings are rendered into sequences initiating the organic rhythms, triggering awkward jerks of high hats and percussion, or used to activate the margins of post effects detectable in the tracks like 'Demna', 'Big Breather' and 'Oversized'.

Void explains: "It was important to me that the simplicity in the work disguised a lot of complexity, I want this work to be absorbed instinctively."

The sleeve image, a still from We Are City by Brazilian artist Maria de Lima, was chosen to illustrate Bucked Up Space, which Void describes as "a distorted reality, the space that lives at start of an idea, then floats in public view, before returning to inform my understanding of the idea. Once the idea is out in the world, it moves and morphs into something else entirely."

Written, performed and produced by Nik Colk Void, the album was engineered by James Greenwood, mastered by Rashad Becker and tracks 1, 4, 5, 7 and 9 were mixed by Marta Salogni.

Bucked up Space is the result of the ideas and resulting sounds of free exploration morphing into a personal structured album that fearlessly moulds patience, listening and restraint. It's a sharp focussed work embracing collective action through the lens of the self. All this, and also one of the best abstract dance records you will hear in some time!

Interiors, the title of this new release from Ultramarine, may have a topical resonance for many listeners who have found themselves in involuntary confinement during the past year, but the five tracks on this EP were actually recorded in 2011, and they represent a significant opening out of the duo's evolving musical perspective.

Ian Cooper and Paul Hammond, who had become friends while growing up together in the Essex countryside, formed Ultramarine in 1989. Throughout the 90s their distinctive music, an enticing blending of acoustic with electronic instruments, secured a loyal following and won critical acclaim. Then, throughout the whole of the next decade, Ultramarine lay dormant. Interiors documents their reawakening, with Cooper and Hammond exploring approaches to music-making made possible by recently developed software, designed specifically with live performance in mind.

Four of the five tracks to be heard here were issued digitally last year. But as Paul Hammond has pointed out, "with Ultramarine the whole point is to create an artefact, so the form and the look of the finished product is central." That's an outlook shared passionately by Simon Lewin's label Blackford Hill, and the music now available on this vinyl record is appropriately enhanced with cover art by printmaker Katherine Jones. Her imagery matches the music neatly in its nuanced interplay of solidity and shadow, line and colour, geometric form and organic growth.

Ultramarine returned refreshed in October 2011, bursting back into public awareness with "Find A Way," issued as a 7" single on their own label, Real Soon. Clive Bell, writing in The Wire, extolled its engaging mix of electronic beats with cool vocals and tropical percussion. More generally Bell embraced Ultramarine's thoughtful hybrid electronica as "music you could enjoy at home without feeling your intelligence was being scorned, or that if you were not physically in a club, you were wasting your time."

On Interiors, the roots of that slinky single are laid bare on the purely instrumental track "Find A Way Back." Its two distinct parts stretch out the beats and flaunt those tropical flourishes, shuffling and flexing, vibrant and heady, languid and sultry. This is techno filtered through the fabric of magic realism, an exotically spiced concoction, chilled and ready to be savoured at home.

With the diagrammatic clarity of its punchy thrust and spooling loops "Even When" distils the essence of Cooper and Hammond's way of working with their musical material: layering and shaping, nurturing textures, plaiting rhythms and juggling accents. The cumulative impact is almost sculptural in its physical immediacy and looming presence. In contrast, on "By Return" the duo skew the outcome, projecting a selection of limber figures into dub's auditory hall of mirrors. They are clearly revelling in the reverb, relishing the recoil and decay.

Interiors ultimately opens out onto "Decoy Point (Version)." With its ozone saturated ambience, this closing track evokes marshland and mudflat soundscapes, seabird mews, maritime signals and tidal wash. Cooper and Hammond feel deep attachment to the Essex landscape and, in particular, to the local history and physical features of the Blackwater estuary. Blackford Hill provides an accommodating home for Ultramarine's ongoing project Blackwaterside, which has featured to date a 7" vinyl record plus 28-page booklet, and a photo film with soundtrack. Now, delving into the Ultramarine archive, this welcome incarnation of Interiors offers a fascinating glimpse of the duo finding their bearings, at a vital stage along the way.

Bols was a rock band from Tromsø, a town in northern Norway. The band was active through 1983-1986, and drew inspiration from the english post-punk acts of the early eighties (Joy Division, Echo & The Bunnymen, The Fall, Public Image Limited etc). The band was quite successfull locally, and did a couple of tours in Norway and Denmark. The band didn't release any records during their active period, even though recording sessions took place on several occasions in 1984 and 1985. The 2021 release "Film" is a collection of some studio recordings and some rehearsal room recordings, and spans the whole period of 1983-1986. The album was collected and remastered by Geir Jenssen from Biosphere.

Paint A Picture are incredibly pleased to announce news of their first release: a fully
remastered, licensed reissue of rediscovered British 7” Funny Situation recorded by Reflex - a
band put together by drummer David Humphrey (Public Image Ltd., Sparks, Mike Oldfield) and
privately released on his Star Records back in 1981. With the original record now changing hands
for in excess of £200 and just in time for a 40th anniversary release the reissue - remastered and
cut by Frank Merritt at The Carvery - will include updated original artwork whilst also containing an
insert providing further details and context on the release.
Recorded a few months after seminal Britfunk tune "Southern Freeez" at the very same Vine
Yard Studios and with the same engineer Simon Sullivan - the release unfortunately suffered from
a lack of marketing and proper distribution but almost forty years later the record is now receiving
the attention it deserves and with a price tag to match.
The A side presents a beautiful mesh of funk and soul styles with influence from other Britfunk
bands of the time but with a more overt jazz and rock feel fusing a tight rhythm section with smooth
vocals and climaxing in a guitar and saxophone duel.
The instrumental Version Two provides a fresh approach with the addition of dub FX and
Indian percussion with the use of a tabla added to the mix.

Tonnon produced the album with longtime collaborator, and The Beths’ guitarist and producer, Jonathan Pearce. Tonnon wrote the bulk of the songs during an extensive period of touring after the release of Successor - a period where Tonnon performed with Nadia Reid in Europe, The Veils in the USA, and The Chills, The Phoenix Foundation and Don McGlashan in New Zealand. The pair workshopped songs between tours, often recording new parts as the live versions developed.

Tonnon and Pearce recorded between 2017 and 2020, and in that time, Tonnon’s practise evolved heavily. He incorporated new technology into his set, including the Wellington-designed Synthstrom Deluge, which allowed him to adapt his set for new performance environments;Art Galleries, Museums, even New Zealand Fashion Week. He took that technology further when he collaborated with the Otago Museum on the immersive show for Planetariums, A Synthesized Universe, which travelled to Arts Festivals around New Zealand in 2019.

Creating a music video for ‘Old Images,’ which explored a lost passenger train network, Tonnon came to the idea for a new experience-based show called Rail Land. It took audiences on railways to reach distant community halls around Aotearoa. The show saw Tonnon combine historical research and spoken word narrative, with the immersive lighting and musical technology he developed for A Synthesized Universe. In March, Rail Land finished a three-night run at Auckland Arts Festival, cementing Tonnon’s move to the concept show.

Over time, Tonnon and Pearce’s production moved further from the traditional rhythm sections that powered songs like Successor’s ‘Water Underground.’ In their place came off kilter electronic rhythms, like the beat in ‘Two Free Hands,’ and textures that blur lines between organic and synthesized sound. Guitars are set against synthesizers, and drums against drum machines in ‘Entertainment’ and ‘Peacetime Orders,’ which Tonnon also used in his soundtrack for RNZ’s 80s spy-themed podcast The Service. In ‘Leave Love Out Of This,’ a ballad starts with a piano and a string quartet, but ends in a wall of electronic sound.

The constant has been Tonnon’s lyrics. Whether singing about evolution and the future of work in ‘Two Free Hands,’ the television industry in ‘Entertainment,’ or environmental disaster and regulatory failure in ‘Mataura Paper Mill,’ Tonnon has followed a distinct approach to subject matter, description and phrasing that have seen him longlisted for the APRA Silver Scroll three times.

Tonnon’s explorations of local government and civic infrastructure in his work - an unusual preoccupation for a songwriter, have taken new meaning in his adopted home of Whanganui, where last year, he was elected by councillors as Whanganui District Council’s representative for public transport.

After Tonnon moved to Whanganui, and Pearce toured almost constantly after the success of The Beths’ first album, the pair conducted their collaboration over distance, but with key sessions at Pearce’s Karangahape Road studio, including drums and bass with long time band members Stuart Harwood and David Flyger, a string quartet led by Charmian Keay and arranged by Matthew Bodman, and additional drums with The Beths’ Tristan Deck.

As Leave Love Out Of This is released, Tonnon and Pearce find themselves in very different places to where they started, working on Auckland’s Karangahape Road, close to the venues like Wine Cellar and Whammy Bar where they regularly performed. Back in New Zealand since Covid, Pearce has had to adjust to being in one of Aotearoa’s best-known bands, while Tonnon, when not working on conceptual shows, wrestles with how to restore civic infrastructure to a post industrial city in the regions.

Created over a life-altering period of, Leave Love Out Of This is the culmination of years of experimentation and development - with new technology, new sounds, and new ways of creating, and performing music.

Orange Vinyl

Soul Jazz Records new ‘Cold Wave’ is a new collection of current electronic artists who have all been shaped by the early European cold wave artists of the late 70s and early 80s. This is the first release of Soul Jazz Records’ new Cold Wave overview and a second volume will be released just four weeks later. These first artists created new electronic musical landscapes as well as pursuing a stubborn D-I-Y aesthetic, often releasing material on cassette and pioneering use of lo-fi technology, primitive drum machines and home-recording
techniques. As part of this continued evolution today many of the artists featured here also self-release their own material, run labels, publish fanzines, or are part of wider musical collectives. Aside from the first electronic, no wave, and post-punk artists cited as influences – Suicide, Patrick Cowley, The Normal, Martin Hannett, Laurie Anderson, Public Image – this new generation of artists also show an exquisitely open source of electronic and disparate influences, everything from Underground Resistance to Purcell, from Scientist to New Beat and more besides. Most of the featured artists are based in Europe and include Krikor, Dissemblance and VQOA from France, De
Ambassade from the Netherlands, Moisture from Sweden, Kreidler from Germany, Celine Gillian and Carcass Identity from Belgium. One exception is FIT Siegel out of Detroit, connecting the electronic pathways of Europe to the Motor City.

Here’s a monster of its own. Not to be confused with Trevor Jackson early 2000 project (even if the british producer has obviously been informed by post-punk, dub, post-industrial and the likes) Playgroup was more than anything a collective, based somewhere around Bristol and London. Drummer Bruce Smith was the key figure behind the project. Neneh Cherry husband and fabulous motorik force for The Pop Group, The Slits, New Age Steppers, African Head Charge and – more recently - Public Image Limited, Bruce brought the post-punk aura into the realm of controlled chaos with several partners in crime.

Playgroup is the so-called English version of Jamaican dub, informed by the industrial revolution and the studio wizardy of On U Sound acolytes. Crucial Tony (Creation Rebel, Dub Syndicate, Singers & Players) on bass and guitars, Sean Oliver (New Age Steppers, Rip Rig & Panic) on guitar, the almighty Style Scott (Creation Rebel, Dub Syndicate, New Age Steppers) on drums and percussionists Eskimo (African Head Charge, Creation Rebel, Mark Stewart And The Maffia) and Bonjo I (African Head Charge) are among the main conspirators here. Produced by none else tham Adrian Sherwwod Epic Sound Battles Chaper One still resonates with its original dark humor and guerrilla warfare tactics.

During the 70′s the Italian public television – RAI - used to broadcast disturbing and paranoid dramas, being the subject whether the bottom of the sea or the so-called “educational” movies. Obviously all these images needed a musical counterpart. Libraries more often. These ad hoc soundtracks were handled by shady characters, a number of composers on the border of classical avant-garde, electronic space age and even breezy Italian pop. Some of those names are pretty much familiar: Ennio Morricone, for example. Or even mythological too, as in the case of Piero Umiliani. But the brightest and maybe the most inspiring was Egisto Macchi. ESP was a four-part television series produced by Rai in 1973, directed by Daniele D'Anza, and aired from Sunday, May 27 1973 to Sunday, June 17, 1973.

Straight Outta Caledonia is the first commercially available “Greatest Hits” of the outsider songwriter Jackie Leven, an artist
who has largely remained in obscurity in his native Scotland despite being one of the greatest wordsmiths – and singers – it ever
produced. A well-travelled musician who began making psychedelic, progressive music in the late 60s before emerging as an
epic storyteller full of pathos, humour and humanity in the 90s, Leven lived and wrote like many of the fragile, gregarious
characters of his songs; large, full of life and empathy. Leven passed away in 2011 after recording 30+ albums under different
guises or with his briefly successful New Wave band Doll by Doll. Straight Outta Caledonia is a compilation collated by Night
School Records on its Archival label School Daze that seeks to introduce Leven’s music to new generations.
In an age of isolation, alienation and loss of visceral experience, Jackie Leven’s music can be massive and welcoming. It feels
connected to some universal humanity and vibrates with vitality. His songs are often full of tragedy and comedy simultaneously,
cutting straight to the heart, often plugging directly into the nervous system of the listener. His lyrics are rich, dense with imagery
that can veer from apocalyptic to the comically banal in a sentence, with a songwriting panache that can be heavy handed to
almost bursting point before skewering the song with a clownish, warm punchline. His productions ranged from Bob Dylan’s
Rolling Thunder Revue style rock band orchestrations with strings and organ as on the epic Ancient Misty Morning or they could
be pared down to the purest form of folk song as on Poortoun: Leven on stage alone with an acoustic guitar, albeit played with a
mastery of the instrument that he often only hinted at. Musically his sound can bend traditional structures or stay completely
confined within them yet still forever push towards an ecstatic release, as on the cinematic Snow In Central Park.
The most exciting, jaw-droppingly effective tool at Leven’s disposal was his voice. A multi-octave instrument that, though
damaged during a savage assault in Fife, he used with flair; he had both a brazen disregard for the rules and a deep humility, all
of which is evidenced with every phrasing. A baritone that could flit up through the register – always touched by his gentle
Kirkcaldy accent – it’s the prime delivery method for his songs. Leven’s voice enabled him to inhabit the characters in his songs to
an uncanny degree, a skill that in turn enables the listener to empathise with them and, subsequently, the singer. It’s most evident
in stand out song The Sexual Loneliness Of Jesus Christ, a breathtaking re-telling of the life of its protagonist, not as a pure,
sinless messiah but as a sexually frustrated, solitary man condemned to an existential loneliness no one else will ever feel. In
many ways the track is the archetypal Jackie Leven song. Produced by Pere Ubu’s David Thomas, what strikes the ear first –
after the samples of unemployed workers in Glasgow following the closing of the Clyde shipyards – is the audacious, rhythmic
tremolo effect Leven employs through the verses before the production opens up to allow Leven’s vocal to lift into a soar, a
freeing glide powered both by the force of the singer’s chutzpah and the inherent, doomed destiny of the protagonist. With any
other singer such subject matter could come across as gauche or worse, pretentiously sonorous, but Jackie Leven’s genius was
such that he could be this cinematic and brazen while touching something elemental and true in the beholder. It’s a skill evident in
every song on Straight Outta Caledonia, the trademark of a songwriter who revelled and excelled in intensity with a lightness of
touch.
In his lifetime, Jackie Leven toured, wrote and recorded at a ferocious rate. He recorded under aliases to avoid record contract
restrictions, played house shows in Europe after or instead of official concerts, events which were often spoken word story telling
masterclasses as well as performances of his often bewilderingly dense songbook. His music has traditionally been catalogued
as “folk” music and has been largely banished to a small, dedicated group of international fans and apostles both private and well
known, like author Ian Rankin or Glenn Matlock. Since his passing in 2011 however, there has been a growing recognition
amongst a newer generation, with artists like James Yorkston or Molly Nilsson publicly stating the influence of the unsung
troubadour on their own craft. Jackie Leven’s fairytales for hard men are often forensic deconstructions of masculinity, sad and
ecstatic, light and shadow, always endlessly rich, a resource as bountiful as Leven himself’s human spirit undoubtedly was.