Suche:quiet force

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.

For most of us, life is a series of human interactions; some good, some bad, some happy, some sad. But what would life be without those peripheral characters who plant themselves into our worlds through the sheer force of their presence? Whether we speak to them or not, those vibrant contrasts to the everyday tide of ordinary people are a magical part of the human experience. Oddballs and misfits, flamboyant instigators or low-key game changers, we all clock them on our own hectic journeys, and they make the day a little brighter. Everyone has their favourite people.

Following the runaway success of their first one-shot single in 2020, Favourite People reconvene for a full-length of blues-tinged cuts stemming from sessions at Selva Studios in Brooklyn. The project’s roots predate the studio, from scattered jams and sweaty nights in New York nightspots to impromptu recordings on cruise ships, but the flashpoint of inspiration that truly set the album in motion was the arrival of a blonde 1960s Fender Telecaster. From there, the motley crew of sharp-shooting string slingers and sticks men set about crafting paeans to those striking souls who make the world a more colourful place.

The emphasis here is on the kind of forward-facing, electrically charged mix you felt (whether you realised it or not) hearing early Sabbath or Priest for the first time. With their undeniable bias towards vintage soul, Favourite People are far from heavy metal, but the same lineage of blues and by extension jazz informs the music, while the tonal crunch of that 70s era guides the sound. Feasting on tasteful overdrive and leaning on the unmistakable flavour of tape for much of the recording, the deal was sealed on this purposeful exercise in vibe thanks to the near-mythical texture of Guy Davie’s EMI Nigeria console at Electric Mastering.

Across the album there are mellow shades and bursts of good-time get-down exuberance, but the lead singles capture the essence of the band in no uncertain terms.

‘Promise Of Nibbles’ brings the Favourite People MO into sharp relief with a low-slung, hard swinging blues confection full of overheating organ and duelling guitars in pursuit of Southern-stewed boogie (im)perfection.

‘We’ll Be Late To The Party’ turns up the tempo and dials in the fuzz, striking an anthemic note which lands somewhere between urgent highway escapism and euphoric communal revelation.

‘Mass and Mustiness’ leans in on the funk dimension of the group’s sound with the sweetest licks and chops on that fabled telecaster backed up by an acutely angled beat and the slinkiest of b-lines.

These are but three of the vibrant vignettes laid down by this quietly unassuming collective of heads down jammers, loose groovers and vintage sound freaks –heavy grooving instrumentals pulled from their own moments of pure musical magic and captured on disc for your listening, dancing, living, loving pleasure.

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.

Purple Vinyl

Concentric Records present this special edition EP by the Berlin-based duo YHDESSA - composed of Dutch-Italian composer and poly- instrumentalist Grand River and Sardinian electronic music experimentalist Enrica Falqui.

Entitled Along The Simple Line, the 5-track EP is a unique sonic journey that merges in pure form the distinct worlds of the two composers, exposing a warm and delicate essence. Perfectly punctuated, and in a pace of its own, the album gently and precisely unfolds through touching musical spaces, dramatic textures, entrancing rhythms and unexpected vocal lines, revealing a wonderful depth. The result is so perfectly uniting as if woven by the same two hands.

Yhdessa is a collaborative project made up of Grand River and Enrica Falqui which was conceptualised in 2017 while the duo shared a music studio and were living as a couple in Berlin. Their first piece, released in 2018 on the label One Instrument Records, was named after the Vermona E-Piano and is composed entirely using the analogue synthesizer that was built in 1978. Following this came their lingering soundscape Waldorf Micro Q featured on the record “One Instrument Volume 01” as well as an impelling remix of Dunes by Jiska Huizing and Rudi Valdersnes.

Aimée Portioli is a Berlin-based Dutch-Italian composer and sound designer who records and performs as Grand River. The name Grand River evokes nature, scale, and movement, all key forces in Portioli’s work. Her first release as Grand River was the resolute 2017 Crescente EP, which includes Flies, a composition named by XLR8R as one of the best tracks of that year. She followed this with her melodious debut album Pineapple (Spazio Disponibile, 2018), which garnered praise from The Quietus, amongst others. The moving and dynamic subsequent album, Blink A Few Times To Clear Your Eyes (Editions Mego, 2020) was lauded by Resident Advisor and The Verge, and was elected among the best albums of 2020 by Inverted Audio. Separately, Grand River’s work has appeared on compilations by Ghostly International, Tresor, Longform Editions and has composed an official remix for Tangerine Dream.

Enrica Falqui is a Sardinian music producer and DJ currently based in Berlin. With artistic versatility as one of her defining traits: she comfortably traverses between the dimensions of electronic music. For over a decade she has dedicated herself to the study of sound and the relentless excavation of lesser-known music, which has earned her bookings all over the world and commissions for her productions from some of the most respected labels including Marignal Returns which released Plexus, a mini-album of cool, divergent compositions. Enrica is also part of the coveted duo, ERIS, whose debut and sophomore EPs, Moments and Champions League, found their home on the illustrious Cabaret Recordings. The releases entwine the forceful with the ethereal and create an original, future-facing and club-orientated sound. Moloko, a drum-focussed track laced with weaving synths, was considered by Resident Advisor as one of the best tracks of 2019.

Aimée and Enrica’s musical union through Yhdessa, is one of colour and warmth. It expresses an experimental electro-ambient side of the two composers, to form a style that is meditative, other-worldly and at times introspective. Although, the two are now, no longer romantically engaged, they maintain a passionate friendship to match this profound musical partnership.

The long-running Kompakt imprint will release an EP by German DJ and producer Sascha Funke in September. Sharing five tracks that traverse quirky house and techno, Treets marks Funke’s monumental return to Kompakt since his Zug um Zug two-tracker in 2014.

Speaking about Treets, Funke says he is "very happy to be back on the mothership Kompakt" after an eight-year break. As one would expect with Funke, the EP fits the cosmic world of Kompakt to a tee. The title track conveys a weird, tripped-out atmosphere as an alien-like vocal burbles between an acid bassline and squeaky percussion. It's a tantalising glimpse of Funke's freaky underworld. E_Plus follows a similar wonked-out vein, only this time, the vibe is ominous. Funke pairs an orchestral vocal with bleepy pads and signature acid-drenched melody — a solid offering oddball of energy. On Alles Paletti, a 2-step drum pattern and string of bright claps create a sunny soundscape, complemented by a robust bassline and ethereal synth notes. It's fairytale house music, the kind only Funke can produce. The penultimate track Haus More is subdued, as chugging drums slither between a wobbly melody. The Other Version feels futuristic, as Funke goes full-force electro. Extra-terrestrial vocals return, but the pace is cranked up by strident sound FX and thudding drums. An eccentric end to an eccentric EP.

Sascha Funke is a Berlin-based producer and DJ with two decades' worth of releases building his back catalogue. BPitch Control, Turbo Recordings, Endless Flight, Running Back, and several more esteemed imprints have released his work. Today, he continues to create sleek sounds that weave various genres from house, techno, disco, Krautrock, wave, electro and unclassified anomalies. As a DJ, Funke is just as free-wheeling as his productions. He's played E1 in London, Caos in São Paulo and Renate in Berlin, amongst others, displaying his sweeping sound to a worldwide audience. Having been exposed to euro-dance pop as a youngster, you can hear flashes from the genre stitched throughout his work but blended in a way that's quintessential to Funke. Never one to change his sound according to the latest trend, Funke stays true to his creative vision — one of the most significant challenges for producers today.

Das traditionsreiche Kompakt-Imprint wird im September eine EP des deutschen DJs und Produzenten Sascha Funke veröffentlichen. Mit fünf Tracks, die sich durch schrulligen House und Techno auszeichnen, ist “Treets” Funkes monumentale Rückkehr zu Kompakt seit “ Zug um Zug” im Jahr 2014.

Im Gespräch über Treets sagt Funke, er sei "sehr glücklich, nach acht Jahren Pause wieder auf dem Mutterschiff Kompakt zu sein". Wie bei Funke nicht anders zu erwarten, passt die EP hervorragend in die kosmische Welt von Kompakt. Der Titeltrack vermittelt eine seltsame, abgedrehte Atmosphäre, wenn eine außerirdisch anmutende Stimme zwischen einer Acid-Bassline und quietschenden Perkussionsinstrumenten dahinplätschert. Es ist ein verlockender Einblick in Funkes freakige Unterwelt. “E-Plus” geht in eine ähnliche Richtung, nur dass dieses Mal die Stimmung bedrohlich ist. Funke paart einen orchestralen Gesang mit bleepigen Pads und seiner typischen Acid-getränkten Melodie - ein solides Angebot voller Energie. Auf “Alles Paletti” schaffen ein 2-Step-Drum-Pattern und eine Reihe heller Claps eine sonnige Klanglandschaft, die durch eine robuste Bassline und ätherische Synthesizernoten ergänzt wird. Das ist märchenhafte House-Musik, wie sie nur Funke produzieren kann. Der vorletzte Track Haus More ist zurückhaltend, da tuckernde Drums zwischen einer wackeligen Melodie schlittern. “Treets (The Other Version)” fühlt sich futuristisch an, weil Funke hier voll auf Elektro setzt. Der außerirdische Gesang kehrt zurück, aber das Tempo wird durch schrille Soundeffekte und stampfende Drums angezogen. Ein exzentrisches Ende für eine exzentrische EP.

Sascha Funke ist ein in Berlin ansässiger Produzent und DJ mit einem Backkatalog von zwei Jahrzehnten an Veröffentlichungen. BPitch Control, Turbo Recordings, Endless Flight, Running Back und einige andere angesehene Labels haben seine Arbeiten veröffentlicht. Heute kreiert er weiterhin geschmeidige Sounds, die verschiedene Genres wie House, Techno, Disco, Krautrock, Wave, Electro und unklassifizierte Anomalien miteinander verweben. Als DJ ist Funke genauso freizügig wie seine Produktionen. Er hat unter anderem im E1 in London, im Caos in São Paulo und im Renate in Berlin aufgelegt und seinen mitreißenden Sound einem weltweiten Publikum vorgestellt. Da er schon als Jugendlicher mit Eurodance in Berührung kam, sind in seiner Arbeit immer wieder Anklänge an dieses Genre zu hören, die aber auf eine Art und Weise vermischt werden, die ganz typisch für Funke ist. Niemals verändert Funke seinen Sound nach dem neuesten Trend, sondern bleibt seiner kreativen Vision treu - eine der größten Herausforderungen für Produzenten heutzutage.

What happens when you let go of something you've always been passionate about? Will it come back? And if so, in what ways and with what impact?
These questions laid the foundation for Toby Whyle's debut album 'Call It A Night'.

It is a journey to find out what feels right to him-this means escaping old patterns and allowing himself to try new things. Musically, he exposes himself unreservedly to the gravitational forces of electronic music and guitar pop by orbiting these points of attraction without ever really getting caught by either of them. Each song moves along its own trajectory, fueled by Toby's thoughts and experiences.

His first single, 'No One Moves', hitting number 1 on the FM4 charts in early 2021, marked the beginning of a new adventure-a journey upon which Toby embarks entirely on his own for the first time. After his first EP, 'A Mood Of Its Own', and the release of further singles, the debut album 'Call It A Night' will be out on May 20th, 2022, on Matches Music.

PRESSTEXT
Writing songs has always been quite natural and ever-present in Toby Whyle's life. And he's written plenty of them over the last decade. However, what's new is the realisation that songwriting is one of his few means to slow down the bright and fast-paced world surrounding us. Driven by the urge to create and develop something new, he started to write again. And suddenly, this feeling of being able to pause time came out more intense and immediate than ever.

In this way, the singer, songwriter, and guitarist manages to stand back from the constant rush, carving out space to move freely at his own pace. " Each song is an empty room, and I can decide for myself how I'm going to furnish it. It might get rather chaotic with stuff piled up to the ceiling, then again there's almost nothing in it", he describes his approach to songwriting. For him, creating melodies, crafting music and lyrics is not just a means of reflecting on situations he finds himself in but also a tool of handling them. Toby's music strives to affect and inspire people in all the different phases in life, as his songs are also a result of the diverse situations he's gone through.

Aesthetics and craftsmanship play a crucial role in Toby Whyle's creative process, from crafting songs, recording and producing them, and building and maintaining a particular visual language. He aims to create high-quality and exceptional music that enthuses and delights people, which sparks energy and conveys a certain feeling.

Radio Slave & Dustin Zahn team up as Radio Zahn for ‘Berlin Sessions Vol. 1’.

Joining forces for the first time, Radio Slave and Dustin Zahn launch their collaborative works as Radio Zahn with a set of colourful, groove-laden techno tracks inspired by the sound of mid-90s New York on Rekids this May. Across all three mixes of ‘Twilo’ and ‘Power Muzik’, the duo deploys chunky, hard-hitting drums alongside building arrangements and masterful use of synths and dubbed-out FX, with the former featuring vocals by Toy Tonics member Kosmo Klint. A dream for fans of intricate, dancefloor-friendly techno, the release showcases why Radio Slave and Dustin Zahn are two of the most consistently exciting artist in dance music.

Responsible for some of the most recognisable tracks in the genre, including ‘Grindhouse’, ‘Don’t Stop No Sleep’, ‘Another Club’, and other timeless cuts, Radio Slave aka Matt Edwards’ work with Joel Martin as Quiet Village and solo work as Rekid has received critical acclaim, and he remains one of the most in-demand and consistent remixers around.

Since the late ’90s, Zahn’s hypnotic and driving techno has consistently caught the ears of top DJs and labels worldwide, best exemplified at his legendary marathon sets at Berghain. His vital work with Intellephunk includes the nearly two decades long running Communion after-hours events, cementing his invaluable contributions to the Minneapolis techno scene and beyond.

DENGUE FEVER's debut album was all covers of the cute, romantic
Cambodian pop of the 1960s - Having gotten that out of their systems,
they've followed it with an album of original material that shatters the
language barrier with mildly psychedelic, blissed out pop
On "Tip My Canoe", Zac Holtzman takes a stab at singing in Khmer, laying those
long, mellifluous syllables over a tweaky vamp, as Nimol uses her imposing pipes
to trace accents so dynamic that they sound almost vocodered as she leaps
around her impressive range. "Sni Bong" channels Dick Dale through its verses
and explodes into crunchy garage rock choruses, with a– wait for it– Cambodian
rap bridge. "One Thousand Tears of a Tarantula" pairs sun- baked spaghetti
western guitars with Nimol's clipped, forceful singing, and acoustic ballad
"Hummingbird" closes the album on a quiet note, with Nimol sliding between
English and Khmer. If that fact that Dengue Fever's music has been used in films
as diverse as Jim Jarmusch's Broken Flowers and the John Cusack vehicle Must
Love Dogs isn't proof enough of its potent versatility, then the ease and unity with
which the band conflates idioms should be.

MASTERED FROM THE ORIGINAL ANALOGUE MASTER TAPES AND PRESSED ON MOFI SUPERVINYL

· A Bold Celebration of Romantics, Escapists, and Dreamers: Electric Light Orchestra’s Eldorado Marries

Rock and Symphonic Elements, Includes the Aptly Titled Hit “Can’t Get It Out of My Head”

· Mastered from the Original Analog Master Tapes for Audiophile Quality: Mobile Fidelity 180g Vinyl LP and

· Melodic, Beatles-Inspired Tour de Force Features Full Orchestra and Choral Section: Arrangements and Lyrics

Transport the Listener to Faraway Horizons



Electric Light Orchestra leader Jeff Lynne did more than figuratively reach for the sky on Eldorado. Daring to be bold, and creating imaginative worlds that invite the listener to escape the mundane, the visionary composer-musician achieved a multidisciplinary fantasia and, in the process, a prog-rock landmark. Nearly 50 years later, the concept album's brilliance can be experienced like never before in cinematic fashion.



Mastered from the original analogue master tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl vinyl at RTI, and housed in a tip-on jacket, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition 180g LP of Eldorado allows the long-time audiophile staple to resonate with previously unheard dynamics, tones, and colours. Conjuring the feeling of journeying to different horizons, the record's songs teem with layer upon layer of details, which can now be heard as the producers intended.



Presenting the album with breath-taking clarity yet retaining the warmth, texture, and emotion that differentiate live music from reproduced sounds, this collectible reissue features reference-quality levels of in-the-moment presence, grand-scale sound-staging, and instrumental balance. Bursting with a veritable cornucopia of stimuli, MoFi's Eldorado LP also benefits from superb separation and immersive atmospherics that stem from the meticulous remastering process – as well as an ultra-low noise floor, industry-leading groove definition, and dead-quiet surfaces courtesy of the MoFi SuperVinyl properties.

An artistic breakthrough that established Electric Light Orchestra as a pioneering band (and confirmed Lynne as the leading practicing Beatles disciple), the 1974 effort remains notable for its involvement of a full orchestra and choral section, the range of which are captured with exquisite results on this LP. Eldorado distinguished itself from the band's first two works not only via Lynne's sharpened songwriting but due to the hiring of an orchestra that augmented the group's three string players. Co-arranged by Lynne and conductor Louis Clark, the symphonic movements bolster the contagious fare without ever drowning it. The accents also act as transports into the varied narrative universes.



Finished as a story before Lynne put notes down on paper, Eldorado ironically owes its inspiration to Lynne's father. In response to his dad's criticisms about the band, Lynne conceived a melodic tour de force that, like The Wizard of Oz, which informs the cover art, emphasizes the power of everyday dreams and everyman heroism. It's no coincidence that the sonic journey begins with an overture punctuated by the words of a cynic who condemns "the dreamer, the unwoken fool."



Beautiful yet fun, ambitious yet consistent, Eldorado proceeds to celebrate such romantics and escapists. A Technicolor escapade marked by lush melodies, fluid crescendos, and an intoxicating blend of energetic rock and sweeping orchestral elements, the album weds rich imagery and sweeping sounds in manners that make the two inseparable. In Lynne and company's hands, reality and fantasy collide, and dissolve any dividing lines. The proof is not just in the epic production, but in the timeless (and catchy) nature of songs such as the balladic "Boy Blue," power-pop packed "Illusions in G Major," and, of course, the aptly titled hit, "Can't Get It Out of My Head."



Decades later, Eldorado doubles as the equivalent of an out of body experience, an invitation to break away from monotony whether you're listening to your Mobile Fidelity reissue on a large system or an excellent pair of headphones.



MoFi SuperVinyl

Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analog lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world's quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label's engineers hear in the mastering lab.

After her stunning collaboration with Jim O’Rourke (Le Piano Englouti, BT055), Brunhild Ferrari returns to Black Truffle with Stürmische Ruhe, her first duo with Christoph Heemann. A legendary figure in underground music, Heemann has quietly produced a unique body of work since his beginnings with the absurdist cutups of H.N.A.S. in the mid-1980, including collaborations with Merzbow, Organum and Nurse With Wound, the eerie psychedelia of Mirror (with Andrew Chalk), In Camera (with Timo van Lujik) and Plastic Palace People (with Jim O’Rourke), and the precise cinema pour l’oreille constructions of his solo works. Created together in Ferrari’s Parisian studio (once shared with Luc) between 2011 and 2014, Stürmische Ruhe is a single half-hour piece that folds rain and storm recordings into a intricately woven fabric of haunted electronics, unexpected edits and disorienting processing. Banging with the jarring thump of a slamming door (an element that will reappear periodically throughout the piece as a kind of punctuation mark), it is immediately obvious that concrete sound is used here in a free, poetic way outside of the strict confines of documentary field recording. The wind captured by Ferrari’s microphone roars and whistles, accompanied by thick clusters of wavering tones whose unpredictable rises and falls in volumes are synchronised with the bumping and thudding of windows and doors. At some points the microphone sound melts into a wavering low-bit digital smear before fanning out into broad, atmospheric depths. The cinema for the ear constructed here suggests not linear narrative or documentary, but an organic flow of cross-fades, double-exposures and abrupt cuts, a free-associative dream in which wind and water take on mythical characteristics. Throughout the piece's second half, layers of synthetic floating tones and pinging upward glissandi negotiate a constantly shifting balance with wind-borne whispers and rustles, at times dropping to silence, at others rising up with elemental force. As Ferrari explains in her liner notes, Stürmische Ruhe is a meeting of ‘completely opposite sound worlds’ in which ‘almost-violence’ is joined with a ‘reconciling harmony’. Reaffirming the infinite possibilities of the musique concrète tradition while avoiding its academic tropes, Stürmische Ruhe is accompanied by tri-lingual liner notes from Brunhild Ferrari and arrives in a sleeve graced with the beautiful art informel paintings of her father, Wolfgang Meyer Tomin. Cut at 45rpm for maximum fidelity.

Philadelphia, PA's finest rock & roll up-and-comers, Big Nothing, have announced their sophomore full-length, Dog Hours, due out February 18th from Lame-O Records. Dog Hours finds the four-piece incorporating new dynamics and textures into their timeless songwriting to make ten songs of warm and welcoming guitar pop that's as comforting as it is catchy.

To mark the album's announcement Big Nothing have shared Dog Hours' lead single "A Lot of Finding Out" a slice of up tempo, alt-country tinged power-pop that's sure to please fans of Evan Dando and Tom Petty alike.

Big Nothing (guitarist/vocalist Matt Quinn, bassist/vocalist Liz Parsons, guitarist/vocalist Pat Graham, and drummer Chris Jordan) have a sound that's rooted in big guitars and big hooks, but unexpected circumstances forced them to try a different approach making Dog Hours. “With the pandemic, we were all writing separately and stuck playing quietly in our apartments,” Quinn explains. “And so it was pretty natural that we started making more stripped-back music.” The result is a more intimate version of Big Nothing that brings the acoustic guitar and layered harmonies to the forefront without sacrificing the palpable camaraderie that makes their music so endearing. It's an album that explores all of the uncertainties and existential dread of adulthood, but counters it with a Westerberg-esque sense of humanity and warmth.

The Sub Pop debut by ever-evolving art-punk band Guerilla Toss, who have done prior releases with DFA, Tzadik, NNA Tapes and Feeding Tube Records. This album follows a 2020 Sub Pop Singles Club release.

Past releases have received great reviews, including acclaim from The Needledrop, Stereogum (Best EPs Of 2019) and more.

Dig deep enough inside yourself - start treating your body as your sanctuary rather than your enemy - and eventually you’ll find yourself blooming right back out into the sun. That’s the transformation Guerilla Toss trace on their newest album ‘Famously Alive’, their effervescent Sub Pop debut. After a decade sprinkling glitter into grit, building a reputation as one of the most ferociously creative art-rock groups working, the upstate New York band have eased fully into their light. This is Guerilla Toss at their most luminescent - awake, alive and extending an open invitation to anyone who wants to soak it all up beside them.

Singer and lyricist Kassie Carlson, multi-instrumentalist Peter Negroponte and guitarist Arian Shafiee wrote ‘Famously Alive’ at home in the Catskills during the pervading quiet of the pandemic year. The uncertainty of COVID-19 lockdowns and the total disruption of routine forced Carlson to negotiate with herself in new and challenging ways. “You have to be with yourself all the time during the pandemic,” she says. “I had to figure out a way to manage my anxiety. The pandemic was hard, but it helped me get comfortable inside my own body. My peace of mind came out of being thrust into the deepest shit. This album is all about being happy, being alive, and strength. It’s meant to inspire people.”

‘Famously Alive’ finds Guerilla Toss coming into the fullness of their power, celebrating their prismatic idiosyncrasies from a place of optimism and abundance. It is a joyous album, equal parts bizarre, accessible and fun.

The Sub Pop debut by ever-evolving art-punk band Guerilla Toss, who have done prior releases with DFA, Tzadik, NNA Tapes and Feeding Tube Records. This album follows a 2020 Sub Pop Singles Club release.

Past releases have received great reviews, including acclaim from The Needledrop, Stereogum (Best EPs Of 2019) and more.

Dig deep enough inside yourself - start treating your body as your sanctuary rather than your enemy - and eventually you’ll find yourself blooming right back out into the sun. That’s the transformation Guerilla Toss trace on their newest album ‘Famously Alive’, their effervescent Sub Pop debut. After a decade sprinkling glitter into grit, building a reputation as one of the most ferociously creative art-rock groups working, the upstate New York band have eased fully into their light. This is Guerilla Toss at their most luminescent - awake, alive and extending an open invitation to anyone who wants to soak it all up beside them.

Singer and lyricist Kassie Carlson, multi-instrumentalist Peter Negroponte and guitarist Arian Shafiee wrote ‘Famously Alive’ at home in the Catskills during the pervading quiet of the pandemic year. The uncertainty of COVID-19 lockdowns and the total disruption of routine forced Carlson to negotiate with herself in new and challenging ways. “You have to be with yourself all the time during the pandemic,” she says. “I had to figure out a way to manage my anxiety. The pandemic was hard, but it helped me get comfortable inside my own body. My peace of mind came out of being thrust into the deepest shit. This album is all about being happy, being alive, and strength. It’s meant to inspire people.”

‘Famously Alive’ finds Guerilla Toss coming into the fullness of their power, celebrating their prismatic idiosyncrasies from a place of optimism and abundance. It is a joyous album, equal parts bizarre, accessible and fun.

Martin Rude & Jakob Skøtt Duo released 2 albums in 2020: The Discipline of Assent & The Dichotomy of Control. For the third installation in their Stoic opus, they join forces with Tamar Osborn on saxophone & alto flute. Similar to their first 2 albums, Rude & Skøtt improvised a tidal wave of ideas and grooves in the studio of Causa Sui’s Jonas Munk, the perks of which were shipped to the UK for Osborn’s overdubs of echo-drenched sax and wah-flute. An improvisation rippling across time & space, merging a river of constantly in flux head-on improv, as well as making room for floating harmonies and studio-wizardry. Playful, experimental and explorative, the trio ventures into a free wash of exotica drenched in deep modal jazz-vibes - with splashes of something more futuristic and modern. But contrary to what the title suggests, there are also roaring waves of energy, sizzling funky grooves to complement the ambient undercurrent. It’s a record akin to the library & film music of the 60’s and 70’s and an ode to the willful river of experimental moderation. Far in. Bios: Tamar Osborn: Saxophonist, composer and multi-wind instrumentalist is the creative force behind modal jazz ensemble Collocutor (On The Corner Records). She is a long-standing member of the Dele Sosimi Afrobeat Orchestra, performs and collaborates regularly with Sarathy Korwar, Jessica Lauren, Emanative, Ill Considered and DJ Khalab, and is an in-demand session musician. Martin Rude: Multi-string instrumentalist & lead singer in Sun River, as well as stand-in bass player in Causa Sui. Jakob Skøtt: Drummer in Causa Sui with a slew of side projects on El Paraiso, as well as responsible for the label’s visuals.

Black Vinyl, DL Card. Following Lucy Gooch’s acclaimed ‘Rain’s Break’, her first release on Fire Records earlier this year, the artist’s acclaimed debut EP ‘Rushing’ is revisited with new artwork and a brand new track, ‘Orthione’. “Lucy’s sound marries the etheral qualities of ambient music with buoyant, effortless pop” Crack ‘Rushing’ in its original shorter five-track incarnation was heralded as a touchstone beneath the cascading torrent of modern times and an oasis for turbulent times. An intimate collection of songs built around Lucy’s emotive vocals and unique ambient dream pop, the newly added stand-out track ‘Orthione’ trips into the esoteric world of Laurie Anderson and Philip Glass; here her voice is the grounding force that travels to a space that heals and grows. “For an artist whose favourite trick is the seemingly infinite crescendo, she clearly knows the value of restraint” Pitchfork // “Expansive, upfront, spectral pop” KEXP // “The pastoral element of the music resonates more as you tune in to Lucy’s unique vocal.” Loud And Quiet

After the worldwide success of their first album Puzzle (1999), which sold over 200,000 copies and went gold in Japan, Xavier Boyer (vocals, guitars), Pedro Resende (bass), Médéric Gontier (guitars) & Sylvain Marchand (drums) reunited with producer Andy Chase to record the follow-up, Wallpaper for the Soul, in New York City. Starting in November 2001 at Stratosphere Sound, the prolific sessions gave birth to twenty tracks, twelve of which appeared on the original tracklist. The eight outtakes were compiled on the mini albums A Piece of Sunshine (2003) & Extra Pieces of Sunshine (2004). This new vinyl edition will be the first time all these songs appear together.

Almost 20 years on, WFTS is a tour de force of contemporary songwriting with obvious nods to the past somehow revisited in a timeless fashion. Tahiti 80’s second effort can also be seen as an alternative and more sophisticated snapshot of an era often associated with the rebirth of rock (The White Stripes, The Strokes…). This set of songs also established them as stalwarts of the Post French Touch cannon, showcasing both their ability to write catchy songs and their knack for mélanges & experimentation. 1,000 Times or The Train are unique examples of blue-eyed soul augmented with French flair (« Prefab Sprout as produced by Thomas Bangalter » suggested Uncut which listed WFTS in their Top Ten’s albums of 2003). Listen to Don’t Look Below today, and ask yourself who was mixing Destiny’s Child with My Bloody Valentine in 2001? Delicate numbers like Open Book or live favorite Better Days Will Come both demonstrate T80’s songwriting skills and their innate sense of melancholia.

Listening back to WFTS today, one cannot help but think of it as an album recorded in a state-of-the-art fashion. All four members would typically perform together in the same room. Basic takes were printed on a 24-track analog tape machine and then bounced onto a computer for editing. A fine example of this method is the title track itself. Originally written on acoustic guitar, Wallpaper … is the result of three eight minutes synthesizer jams pieced together. The Frenchmen were keen to try out multitude of ideas and had developed a taste for experimentation. The sessions also coincide with a rich outburst of creativity from a band on top of their game after several months of touring around the world.

Another typical WFTS characteristic is Richard Hewson’s orchestration. Veteran string arranger, famous for arranging The Beatles’ The Long And Winding Road or writing RAH Band’s ‘80s classic Clouds Across The Moon Hewson gave the songs a sweeping orchestral touch. Strings, Horns & woodwinds were all performed at the now defunct Olympic Studios in London. Urban Soul Orchestra, a 24-piece ensemble who played on Oasis’ or Spice Girls’ hits can be heard on five songs: the opening trilogy Wallpaper…, 1,000 Times and The Other Side, then on the Northern Soul revival Soul Deep and lastly on the album’s closer Memories Of The Past.

Rouen’s most famous four-piece, now relocated in a house on France’s North West Coast, in the quiet seaside town of Étretat, added more bells & whistles and resumed production on the songs. With one last transatlantic leap during the summer of 2002, the boys flew to Portland, Oregon to attend the mixing sessions held by sound wizard Tony Lash (Elliott Smith, The Dandy Warhols…). Suggested by Sub Pop’s craftsman Eric Matthews, also a guest on trumpet and keyboards, Lash would later become a major collaborator on Tahiti 80’s subsequent albums.

In the meantime, Laurent Fétis, the designer behind Puzzle’s iconic artwork, had started working with artist Elisabeth Arkhipoff on a set of nostalgic photographs transfigured with a soft air-bush technique. Those visuals, like their predecessors, have since become an inseparable companion to Tahiti 80’s music.

Many musical fashions and flavors of the month have come and gone, but twenty years after its release, WFTS still sounds fresh and relevant. And always forward-looking, Tahiti 80 is currently wrapping up the recording of their eighth album, to be released in early 2022.

As escapism from corporate banality turned the corner in the `90s, a new generation of vibrant, software generated soundscapes emerged. Communal access to the internet propagated the new hive mind of ideas online, giving way to smoother, stress-free textures. The PC revolution opened the gateway to ray-traced playgrounds of color and light, allowing for visions of utopic proportions to manifest themselves on screensavers far and wide. Boot up your machine, load the software on this floppy diskette, and drop out of a reality bounded by the physical laws of the universe. Numero 95 is the soundtrack to the screen saver fever dream we're all trying to climb back into. Eight droplets of proto-vaporwave, synthesized in vinyl (or digital) form, fresh from Numero's archive of forgotten sounds. Are you looking for that half way point between smooth jazz and new age? Mac and PC? Quantum Leap and the X-Files? This software is for you. Housed in a replica floppy diskette, Numero 95 explores an early computer music unbound by scene or region. Eight solo pioneers vibing out at home in their headphones, traveling as far as the sound card would allow. This is music that barely escaped the hard drive and yet percolates at the edges of the algorithm 30 years later. Welcome to Numero 95.

Portuguese experimental trio 10 000 Russos are gearing up for the release of their fifth album ‘Superinertia’, which is due out September 10th on Fuzz Club Records. Following on from 2019’s ‘Kompromat’ LP and tour dates around the UK, Europe and Mexico in support, the Porto-based band describe ‘Superinertia’ as a record addressing the “state of inertia that humans live in the West nowadays. It isn’t a record about the past or future. It’s about now.” For all that ‘Superinertia’ might take aim at a world without motion, however, the same cannot be said of 10 000 Russos themselves.

On the one hand, since their 2013 debut LP and the three that have followed on Fuzz Club since (2015’s self-titled, 2017’s ‘Distress Distress’ and ‘Kompromat’), 10 000 Russos’ music has always been about as kinetic as it gets: a truly unrelenting and motorik sonic force. On the other hand, ‘Superinertia’ also sees the band itself move into whole new musical territories – aided especially by the recent addition of synth player Nils Meisel to the line-up (who replaces former bassist André Couto.)

“The synths really opened up the sound of the band and gave more routes for the music to journey down. The most important thing on this album was to not repeat ourselves. A new arc in our sound is coming to life”, drummer and vocalist João Pimenta explains. On said arc, the Russos sound is expanded to include moments that invoke Ry Cooder’s ‘Paris, Texas’ soundtrack (‘Mexicali/Calexico’), dancey outbursts that transport you to the 90s Summer of Love (‘Super Inertia’), the closest thing Russos have ever done to a pop song (‘A House Full of Garbage’) and even a touch of banjo (albeit one that sounds like a country band on amphetamines playing over a feedback-blasted Stooges beat.)

“10 000 Russos are bizarre and excellent in equal measure.” - The Quietus

“Songs drip with heavy echo, relentless beats and bass and a sense of charging into the ultimate infinite.” - Bandcamp Daily

“Something unholy has indeed been summoned out of the ground, and it is a power trio from the Iberian Peninsula.” - Clash Magazine

Portuguese experimental trio 10 000 Russos are gearing up for the release of their fifth album ‘Superinertia’, which is due out September 10th on Fuzz Club Records. Following on from 2019’s ‘Kompromat’ LP and tour dates around the UK, Europe and Mexico in support, the Porto-based band describe ‘Superinertia’ as a record addressing the “state of inertia that humans live in the West nowadays. It isn’t a record about the past or future. It’s about now.” For all that ‘Superinertia’ might take aim at a world without motion, however, the same cannot be said of 10 000 Russos themselves.

On the one hand, since their 2013 debut LP and the three that have followed on Fuzz Club since (2015’s self-titled, 2017’s ‘Distress Distress’ and ‘Kompromat’), 10 000 Russos’ music has always been about as kinetic as it gets: a truly unrelenting and motorik sonic force. On the other hand, ‘Superinertia’ also sees the band itself move into whole new musical territories – aided especially by the recent addition of synth player Nils Meisel to the line-up (who replaces former bassist André Couto.)

“The synths really opened up the sound of the band and gave more routes for the music to journey down. The most important thing on this album was to not repeat ourselves. A new arc in our sound is coming to life”, drummer and vocalist João Pimenta explains. On said arc, the Russos sound is expanded to include moments that invoke Ry Cooder’s ‘Paris, Texas’ soundtrack (‘Mexicali/Calexico’), dancey outbursts that transport you to the 90s Summer of Love (‘Super Inertia’), the closest thing Russos have ever done to a pop song (‘A House Full of Garbage’) and even a touch of banjo (albeit one that sounds like a country band on amphetamines playing over a feedback-blasted Stooges beat.)

“10 000 Russos are bizarre and excellent in equal measure.” - The Quietus

“Songs drip with heavy echo, relentless beats and bass and a sense of charging into the ultimate infinite.” - Bandcamp Daily

“Something unholy has indeed been summoned out of the ground, and it is a power trio from the Iberian Peninsula.” - Clash Magazine

Over the last few years, NuNorthern Soul has established a number of traditions, most notably annual releases that provide a snapshot of the label’s output while also considering their suitability for certain seasons. Perhaps the most popular is founder Phil Cooper’s Summer Selections series, which each year showcases warm and sunny gems mined from a range of forthcoming releases.

The 2021 edition of the sampler, the third in total, may well be the best yet. Six tracks deep and as subtly varied as you’d expect, the entertaining set features tracks from a mixture of exciting newcomers, experienced producers and long-time members of the NuNorthern Soul family.

To kick things off, Cooper introduces us to Marshall Watson, an American producer who later in the year will release two five-track EPs on the label. ‘A Door To The Sky’, which will feature on the Sunsets On Larkin Part 1 EP, is sumptuously sun-kissed, with delay-laden electric guitar textures and sparkling electronics reclining over a tactile electronic groove.

LOVA’s ‘Echoes of Memories’, the track that follows, recalls the atmospheric, synthesizer-sporting new age Balearica popularised by Quiet Force in the late 1980s. The Italian producer was signed after bringing a USB stick of productions to one of Phil Cooper’s gigs in Ibiza; his Gypsophilia EP will be one to check when it drops later in the year.

Gusk’s ‘Sketch #4 - Anafi Nights’ is seductive and exotic. It’s a crackling and atmospheric musical painting that daubs starry stabs and yearning melodies atop a bubbly, lo-fi drum machine beat. It provides a perfect snapshot of the Greek musician’s Mediterranean Sketches EP, which gathers together home recordings made between 1997 and 2003.

Arguably even more immersive and enveloping is ‘Aqua Blancas Sunrise’ by Tambores En Benirras, the musical project of Cumbrian selector DJ Gripper. A slow-burning delight full of intricate musical flourishes –think drifting female vocalizations, Indian-influenced percussion, twinkling pianos and haunting clarinet motifs the track is one of the many highlights on the Barrow in Furness based producer’s forthcoming debut album for NuNorthern Soul.

To round things off, Cooper has chosen to offer-up cuts from two very experienced artists. George Solar (real name Georg Boskamp) is an Ibiza-based German producer who has been collaborating and releasing music since the late 1980s. ‘Infrared’, his contribution to Summer Selections 3, is a languid and glassy-eyed slab of slow-motion Balearic dub. His Los Ra-yos Del Sol EP will be one to look out for later in the year and is his debut solo release.

The sampler’s final missive fittingly comes from long-time friend of the family B.J Smith, a regular contributor to NuNorthern Soul releases who has reunited with Huw Costin – a vocalist he previously worked with on Smith & Mudd releases for Claremont 56 for a double A side single due later in 2021. ‘Sun When You Come’ is as warming and hazy as you’d expect and features Costin’s emotive, reverb-laden vocals and mazy electric piano solos rising above a suitably horizontal groove. It provides a stunning, sunset-ready conclusion to another superb set of Summer Selections.

Underground rock festered and splintered as it spread through the U.S. in the mid-’90s, the alternative boom giving rise to microcosmic regional scenes singularly focused on feral powerviolence or screamo songs about breakfast. Boston’s Karate emerged as a force that could grip a national youth movement whose disparate tastes still commingled in the inky pages of fanzines overflowing with florid prose and on concert calendars for volunteer-run DIY spaces, community centers, and bowling alleys. In this world, Karate’s music was an enigma, one equally inviting to sneering punks and highfalutin indie-rock aficionados.Their 1996 self-titled debut, issued on Southern Records, set the standard.

Lasooing together white-knuckle posthardcore tension, sharply focused slowcore serenity, and resplendent jazz complexity, Karate eschewed settling in any one definiable style. But they certainly used the language of punk to get their point across; occasionally, guitarist Geoff Farina abandons his warm, hushed cadences for a hoarse shout that made him sound ragged, intensifying an aggression that burst out with every snaggletoothed guitar riff or drum snap that went off like canonfire.

Few followed their path—but who could keep up? Karate could make pensive moods blossom into feverish rollicking (“What Is Sleep?”), gracefully tip-toe around aggressive punk explosions without getting bent out of shape (“Bodies”), and stretch out

slowcore’s quietest reveries till their reflective notes sound ripped from an improvisational jazz session (“Caffeine or Me?”). Karate formally introduced the trio as a vital part of an independent U.S. punk scene stubbornly flowering in the face of the major labels’ ’90s harvest.

Purple Vinyl

Even if you're well-acquainted with composer and multi-instrumentalist Colin Fisher's richly varied output, his gentle fifth solo album, Refections of the Invisible World may come as a surprise. Psychedelic lyricism has always been a fundamental aspect of his sonic signature, but his second collaboration with producer Jeremy Greenspan (Junior Boys, Jessy Lanza, Morgan Geist) finds the Toronto native luxuriating in expansive atmospherics for its full duration.
That's not to downplay the eclecticism he finds within this ethereal landscape. Each track tills its own discrete sonic acreage, and while every one emanates from a clear focal point, the spontaneous impulse that drives Fisher's more audibly improvisational music always remains close at hand. Some pieces unfold rippling aquatic vistas or delight in prismatic guitar arpeggiation, elsewhere his plaintive, blues- infected tenor saxophone wafts like some strange jazz apparition, or becomes a chorus of cosmic murmurs. The presence of electronics is undeniable, but equally irrefutable is the organic instrumental sources of these disparate hues. In fact he's discovered a rare balance: no matter how effects-saturated, every gesture on the record feels palpably sculpted by Fisher's hands and breath. As such, Refections of the Invisible World carries a sense of intimacy at the heart of its diffuse, dream-like sonics.
Fisher has a been a major presence in Canada's music community for more than twenty years—particularly in more experimental and improvisational circles. Nothing short of a guitar virtuoso, he also wields saxophone, drums, and various other instruments with similarly refined musicality, vivid textural imagination, and sometimes feral abandon. His one-man-band tape Garden of Unknowning for Manchester's Tombed Visions, showcase all of this as he spars with different iterations of himself. The Quietus' cassette critic Tristan Bath extolled it as "miraculous," adding that "it’s a visceral experience soaking up this record, and it’s all down to Fisher’s utterly innate sense of musicality." He subsequently cited it in his 2018 contributor's year-end chart for the Wire.
In 2014 his partnership with Nick Millevoi's trio Many Arms on Suspended Defnition (Tzadik) prompted Spin's Brad Cohan to remark "Many Arms have dug even deeper into math-metal wizardry, bolstering their already imposing lineup with gale-force blowing guest saxophonist Colin Fisher, thus blasting their outré sonic blitz into a fire-breathing free jazz otherworld." Fisher later engaged the band's bassist, Johnny DeBlase, to team up with him and Kid Millions (Oneida, Man Forever) as Monas. As an ongoing collaborator to introspective dance music auteur Caribou, Fisher frst appeared in offshoot project Caribou Vibration Ensemble, and subsequently on acclaimed albums Swim and Suddenly. He's also made two duo albums with celebrated Nova Scotian jaw harp innovator chik white for Dylan and Lisa Nyoukis' Chocolate Monk label. In addition to performing alongside the likes of Jaime Branch, Joe McPhee, William Parker, Laraaji, Gerry Hemmingway, and Fred Frith, he has contributed to recordings by the Constantines (Sub Pop), Bernice (Arts & Crafts), Rhys Chatham (Table of the Elements), Born Ruffans (Warp), Anthony Braxton and AIMToronto Orchestra (Spool), and many more.

Originally released on CD in 2012, Chapter's landmark compilation of 70s gay musical pioneers gets a vinyl release for the first time ever - and on limited baby pink vinyl to boot! Strong Love explores the first wave of openly gay songwriting, emerging after New York's Stonewall Riots kickstarted the modern gay rights movement in 1969. It took just a few years for the defiant chanting and interlocked arms of early 70s pride marches to reverberate onto record, and Strong Love begins with the earliest known example, 1972's A Gay Song by London hippie collective Everyone Involved. Across 15 tracks, the compilation takes in disarmingly personal folk, uplifting soul, outsider country and dark synth-rock. But tellingly, none of its songs could be considered well-known. New York's Steven Grossman released the first major label album by an openly gay artist in 1974, and Tom Robinson hit the UK Top 20 with the fiery Glad To Be Gay in 1978, but these are the exceptions. The coy ambivalence of Lou Reed and David Bowie was about as sexually adventurous as the 1970s music industry got, and most Strong Love artists released their own self-funded recordings in very limited numbers. Unlike their lesbian counterparts, who joined forces to create long-lasting record labels, strong distribution networks and considerable sales figures, gay male musicians in the 1970s existed largely in solitary bubbles. Which doesn't mean they didn't carve out niches of their own. Chris Robison played with the New York Dolls and Elephant's Memory, while LA glam seducer Smokey saw members of the Stooges and Quiet Riot pass through his backing band. Steven Grossman was covered by Twiggy and Scrumbly & Martin are infamous for their work with San Francisco drag hippies the Cockettes. Strong Love illustrate the vision, talent and raw courage that drove 1970s songwriters to sacrifice popular careers for the sake of honesty and selfexpression. Compiled by Chapter Music's Guy Blackman, with an evocative introduction from drummer RIchard Dworkin (who played with Blackberri and Buena Vista), the album is a powerful tribute to pioneering artists whose music has been neglected for too long.

Ubisoft and Laced Records have joined forces to create a special double soundtrack vinyl in celebration of the fifth anniversary of Tom Clancy’s Rainbow Six Siege.

Before there was PUBG and Fortnite, tactical multiplayer shooter Siege enjoyed a quiet launch in mid-2015. The tense Attackers versus Defenders break-and-clear gameplay saw players doing as much tactical planning in advance as reactive shooting in the moment. Thanks to rock solid gameplay, consistent developer support and a rabid core fanbase, the game grew and grew to become one of the most popular shooters in the world with 10s of millions of players and a thriving esports scene.

Initial lead composers Paul Haslinger (formerly of Tangerine Dream) and Ben Frost (TV show Dark) delivered a taught and atmospheric electronic score for the game on launch. They were later joined by Jon Opstad, Will Bates and Danny Cocke, who contributed score music for the five subsequent years of content.

As escapism from corporate banality turned the corner in the ’90s, a new generation of vibrant, software generated soundscapes emerged. Communal access to the internet propagated the new hive mind of ideas online, giving way to smoother, stress-free textures. The PC revolution opened the gateway to ray-traced playgrounds of color and light, allowing for visions of utopic proportions to manifest themselves on screensavers far and wide. Boot up your machine, load the software on this floppy diskette, and drop out of a reality bounded by the physical laws of the universe.

The eighth entry in Numero’s Cabinet of Curiosities series.

Following on from the success of ‘​For the Rest of My Days​’ (Obese records, Fat
Beats NYC, 2011) , ‘​Outer Circle Movements​’ (Obese Records , Soulspazm , 2013)
and more recently Pegz & Silent Titan - ‘​Equilibrium​’ ( HydroFunk records), The Silent
Titan returns in 2019 with his forthcoming solo EP, ‘​Quiet Elevation​’.
Titan, who has been making a name for himself as a producer in Australia for the past
15 years, is eager to see how worldwide Hip Hop fans will take to his sound.
“I always want to make records that can’t be pin-pointed or linked directly to one corner
of the globe”, he says. His production style sees him carrying on the legacy of iconic
sample-based producers such as Pete Rock and Madlib, building on the tradition that
the greats have established before him.
He comments, “As a producer who has great honor and devotion for Hip Hop culture,
I'm here to express to the world through my music what these pioneers have taught me
through their production, build on that style and bring something new and fresh to the
table.”
‘​Quiet Elevation​’ includes collaborations with ​MED​, ​Blu​, ​Kota the Friend​, ​Raff Alpha
and ​Ozay Moore​, alongside the Australian-based talents of ​Minx​,​ Luke Dubber
(​Hermitude​) and world class saxophonist ​E.Baker​.
The drums hit hard, the sample chops are tight and the synths are heavy.
‘​Quiet Elevation​’ is less reserved than his previous releases and sees The Silent Titan
really coming out of his shell and exploring new sonic landscapes and arriving at a
point where hip hop heads from around the globe will be forced to stop and take
notice.

It’s nearly a decade since William Doyle handed a CD-R demo to the Quietus co-founder John Doran at a gig, who loved it so much he set up a label to release Doyle’s debut EP (as East India Youth). Doyle’s debut album, Total Strife Forever, followed in 2014, as did a nomination for the Mercury Music Prize. A year later, he was signed to XL, touring the world and about to release his second album – all by the age of 25.

After self-releasing four ambient and instrumental albums, Doyle’s third full-length record – and the first under his own name – Your Wilderness Revisited arrived to ecstatic reviews in 2019: Line of Best Fit described it as “a dazzlingly beautiful triumph of intention” and Metro declared it an album not only of the year, but “of the century”. Just over a year later, as he turns 30, Doyle is back with Great Spans of Muddy Time.

Born from accident but driven forward by instinct, Great Spans was built from the remnants of a catastrophic hard-drive failure. With his work saved only to cassette tape, Doyle was forced to accept the recordings as they were – a sharp departure from his process on Your Wilderness Revisited, which took four long years to craft toward perfection. “Instead of feeling a loss that I could no longer craft these pieces into flawless ‘Works of Art’, I felt intensely liberated that they had been set free from my ceaseless tinkering,” Doyle says.

“The album this turned out to be – and that I’ve wanted to make for ages – is a kind of Englishman-gone-mad, scrambling around the verdancy of the country’s pastures looking for some sense,” says Doyle. “It has its seeds in Robert Wyatt, early Eno, Robyn Hitchcock, and Syd Barrett.” Doyle credits Bowie’s ever-influential Berlin trilogy, but also highlights a much less expected muse: Monty Don, presenter of the BBC programme Gardener’s World, Doyle’s lockdown addiction.

“I became obsessed with Monty Don. I like his manner and there's something about him I relate to. He once described periods of depression in his life as consisting of ‘nothing but great spans of muddy time’. When I read that quote I knew it would be the title of this record,” Doyle says. “Something about the sludgy mulch of the album’s darker moments, and its feel of perpetual autumnal evening, seemed to fit so well with those words. I would also be lying if I said it didn’t chime with my mental health experiences as well.”

Lead single “And Everything Changed (But I Feel Alright)” is representative of the album as a whole: eclectic and unpredictable, but also playful and properly danceable. On top of the gently pulsing electronics, soothing harmonies and glowing melodies, there’s a ripping guitar solo that ricochets around the song like a pinball. “I wanted to get back into the craft of writing individual songs rather than being concerned with overarching concepts,” Doyle says. Elsewhere there’s the synth pop strut of “Nothing At All”, pulsating static on “Semi-Bionic”, incandescent synths and enveloping soundscapes in “Who Cares”, and the ambient glitch groove of “New Uncertainties”.

Great Spans of Muddy Time is a beautiful ode to the power of accident, instinct and intuition. The result, however, is far from an anomaly: this celebration of the imperfect album is one that required years of honed craft and dedicated focus to achieve, “For the first time in my career, the distance between what I hear and what the listener hears is paper-thin,” Doyle says. “Perhaps therein reveals a deeper truth that the perfectionist brain can often dissolve.”













m 13. [a sea of thoughts behind it]

During this difficult situation where we are forced to see beautiful theaters empty and quiet, the eclectic Ital Oscillazioni (Elvio Seta), best known for his bulky live instrumental performances, in the long wait for the release of his 2 first albums offers us a couple of unpublished tracks “obscure-italo” on vinyl, in which he clearly expresses his New Romantic nature.

These two releases blend the raw and pure sound of his vintage synths, with the surprising theatricality of the Opera represented here by Gioacchino Rossini’s “L’Equivoco Stravagante”.

A retrofuturistic Concept-italoDisco that, while we are sweaty and busy dancing it in a dirty nightclub, will transport us for a few moments to an elegant Italian theater of 1982, surrounded by heavy red velvet curtains.

The Pet Parade,” the title track to Fruit Bats’ newest album, might be a surprising opening track for longtime fans of Eric D. Johnson’s beloved indie folk-rock project. The six-and-a-half-minute tone poem smolders and drones over just two chords, inspired by the strange and silly community events that he saw growing up outside of Chicago, in La Grange, Illinois, in which people dressed up and showed off their pets. Decades later, The Pet Parade emerges in troubled times, living within what Johnson refers to as the beauty and absurdity of existence. While many of the songs on The Pet Parade were actually written before the pandemic, it’s impossible to disassociate the record from the times. As an example, producer Josh Kaufman (Bob Weir, The National, and Bonny Light Horseman, in which he plays with Johnson and Anaïs Mitchell) was brought in for his deep emotional touch and bandleading abilities. However, Johnson, Kaufman, and the other musicians on The Pet Parade drummers Joe Russo and Matt Barrick (The Walkmen, Fleet Foxes), singer-songwriter Johanna Samuels, pianist Thomas Bartlett (Nico Muhly, Sufjan Stevens), and fiddler Jim Becker (Califone, Iron & Wine) were forced to self-record their parts in bedrooms and home studios across America. Still, says Johnson, “The songs have enough intimacy that it doesn’t sound like it was made a million miles away.” Such tension and turmoil also impacted the lyrics of The Pet Parade. While “Cub Pilot” and “Here For Now, For You” began as more traditional love songs from a personal “I” to a specific “you” Johnson quickly realized that these songs needed to comfort broader audiences, changing the words to a more inclusive “we” and “us.” So too in “The Balcony,” a song ostensibly about a particular space in his grandmother’s apartment, but one that evolved into a metaphor on patience. At times upbeat and reassuring (“Eagles Below Us”) and at times quietly contemplative (“On the Avalon Stairs”), The Pet Parade marks a milestone for Johnson, who celebrates 20 years of Fruit Bats in 2021. In some ways still a cult band, in other ways a time-tested act, Fruit Bats has consistently earned enough small victories to carve out a career in a notoriously fickle scene. And Johnson himself who has played in The Shins, composed film scores, gone solo and returned back to the moniker that started it all, and most recently, earned two GRAMMY® nominations with Bonny Light Horseman doesn’t take this long route of life’s pet parade for granted. “I’m still really excited to make records,” he says. “Lucky and happy and maybe happier that things went slower for me. I’m savoring it a lot more.

When a synth master like Steve Moore joins forces with the legendary KPM, magic must materialise. And so it does with Analog Sensitivity: cinematic, enigmatic synthscapes to both haunt and heal.

New York-based multi-instrumentalist/producer/film composer Steve Moore is probably best known for his synthesizer and bass guitar work as Zombi, together with Anthony Paterra. But he is also part of Miracle and Titan as well as being a prolific solo artist releasing music as Gianni Rossi, Lovelock and under his own name. Steve’s music has found a home across labels like Future Times, Mexican Summer, LIES, Static Caravan, Relapse, Kompakt, Spectrum Spools, Death Waltz and Ghost Box, and much of his recent work has been scoring films like The Guest and Cub. Prolific indeed.

The story of Analog Sensitivity starts with those soundtracks, or more specifically the time in between them. Rather than being commissioned by KPM, this LP comes from music Steve was recording sporadically and tinkering with for over three years during the downtime between his film projects. There were no ideas about what it was nor a plan for how it would be released, or even if it was going to be released at all.

However, after Jon Tye invited him to play on the Ocean Moon project for KPM Steve realised that the hallowed library label might be the perfect home for what he had been working on. The people at KPM agreed. Finishing production in late 2019 in Albany, NY, he came up with the track sequencing and suddenly, he had an album: Analog Sensitivity.

The LP opens with the dystopian electronic minimalism of “Eldborg”, its dark synth bass unfolding to ominous synth pads, shadowy sustains and glistening arpeggios. “At The Edge Of Perception” brings an unsettling retro-future of edgy analogue leads and desolate FX. The sound of a robotic core tears through the sparse textures of the enigmatic “Rose Of Charon”. A chilling breeze blows through a persistent, hypnotic synth sequence on “Time Freeze”. Title track “Analog Sensitivity” is a sparkling transcendental synthscape of melody, drones and celestial synth. The brooding “Behind The Waterfall” winds down the first side, building subtle strings and a desolate sound beneath its haunting organ.

“Mirror Mountain” ushers in side two, its woozy bass and arpeggio unfolding to envelop the muffled, muted echos of its organic leads. "Syzygy" emerges you in bubbling sequences, airiness and ambient electric guitar tones. It’s followed by the cinematic minimalism of “Pentagram Of Venus” and its trickling FX. The wind swirls through the otherworldly “Of Dust Thou Art” kicking up clouds of unsettling, plodding synth sequences leading to the uneasy atmosphere of “Message From The Beast” which builds to the echo of the last refrain of some choral incantation. Closing track “Urge Surfing” is as cool a climax as you’d hope from something so brilliantly titled, riding along hushed waves of brooding electronics.

With the clue right there in the title, Analog Sensitivity is built up from the quieter aspects of the sound Steve has been exploring and evolving for over 20 years. It’s a layering of ambivalently dense and airy, muffled and echoing sounds from his collection of synthesizers and other electronic music hardware. And whilst some of Steve’s other work uses this vintage equipment to conjure the past, that wasn’t his intention here. Steve explains “I wanted Analog Sensitivity to feel atemporal, as though it could have been released any time over the past 30 or 40 years. While not specifically in the spirit of any particular album, I’m really into old KPM artists like Alan Hawkshaw and Brian Bennett”.

Distressed of sound and disturbed of subject matter, “Down-Faced Doll” sees the classic indie outfit connect with their dark-sides to deliver a cacophonous alt/folk stomp unlike anything they’ve released before. Based on a chilling true story told through the eyes of a discarded toy, its lyrics like clues, begin to lay evidence to a scene enough to turn anyone’s blood blue.

As vocalist Ian H. says:

“By far the most disturbing song I’ve ever written. Some songs seem to have a strange compelling energy which no one can rightly claim authorship to. They ‘write themselves’ but of course a great deal of working and shaping occurs too… A true story - well the first two verses are. The last two verses are my attempt to imagine “how did it ever get to this”…”
Customised with discomposing Eastern-inspired guitar riffs and clamouring percussive rhythms, “Down-Faced Doll” instils an unshakable feeling of paranoia, pursuit and unsease to match its haunting storyline. “Ewan and Stephen immediately tuned into its unsettling vibrations to create sounds and dark corners as you are unwillingly dragged through the scenario.” Ian adds.

Created & produced by Bradford (Ian Hodgson, Ewan Butler & Stephen Street), “Down-Faced Doll” was mixed by Stephen Street (Blur/New Order/ Kaiser Chiefs) and mastered by John Davies. It is taken from what will be Bradford’s first new studio album in over three decades: ‘Bright Hours’ - set for release early-on in 2021.

Bradford are a revered indie band formed in Blackburn in 1988. Championed by Morrissey, the band earned a cult status with their acclaimed debut album 'Shouting Quietly' in 1990, a record as-produced at the time by Stephen Street. Touring with the likes of Joe Strummer, The Sugarcubes, Morrissey and more, the band burned brightly and brilliantly. Fading away against the neon glow of the Madchester era, the band split in 1991.

Fast forward to 2018 and a re-mastered 30 song collection entitled ‘Thirty Years Of Shouting Quietly’ was released on Turntable Friend Records. The album was re-appraised as a 'lost English classic'. This rekindling of belief slowly re-ignited the magic and chemistry that always existed between the band now Ian H and Ewan Butler and Stephen Street. So much so, that Stephen decided to join forces with them and become a fully fledged member of the band.

With a new look line-up on illuminating form, as a trio Bradford have lovingly crafted a jewel of a new album: ‘Bright Hours’ to be released early in 2021.

Directly following “Like Water”, their latest single “Down-Faced Doll” is a definitive signal that ‘Bright Hours’ will be every bit worth the long wait...

West coast composer, artist, and producer Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith has chartered a pioneering career with multiple critically-acclaimed albums since 2015. Following the release of The Kid in 2017, Smith focused her energy in several directions. She founded Touchtheplants, a multidisciplinary creative environment for projects including the first volumes in her instrumental Electronic Series and pocket-sized poetry books on the practice of listening within. She's continued to explore the endless possibilities of electronic instruments as well as the shapes, movements, and expressions found in the physical body's relationship to sound and color. It is this life-guiding interest that forms the foundational frequencies of her most recent full-length, The Mosaic of Transformation, a bright, sensorial glide through unbound wave phenomena and the radiant power discovered within oneself. "I guess in one sentence, this album is my expression of love and appreciation for electricity," says Smith. While writing and recording, she embraced a daily practice of physical movement, passing electricity through her body and into motion, in ways reflecting her audio practice, which sends currents through modular synthesizers and into the air through speakers. Not a dancer by any traditional definition, she taught herself improvisatory movement realizing flexibility, strength, and unexpectedly, a "visual language" stemming from the human body and comprised of vibrational shapes. Understood as cymatics, as Smith says, "as a reference for how frequencies can be visualized," much like a mosaic. Smith describes her first encounters with this mosaic; "the inspiration came to me in a sudden bubble of joy. It was accompanied by a multitude of shapes that were moving seamlessly from one into the other...My movement practice has been a constant transformation piece by piece. I made this album in the same way. Every day I would transform what I did yesterday...into something else. This album has gone through about 12 different versions of itself." As it has arrived, in a completed state, The Mosaic of Transformation is a holistic manifestation of embodied motions. Smith's signature textural curiosity that fans have grown to adore pivots naturally into a proprioceptive study of melody and timbre. Airy organ and voice interweave with burbling Buchla-spawned harmonic bubbles. "The Steady Heart" quivers to life, peppering blasts of wooden organ between winding vocal affirmations. As with a body, moving one portion requires a balance and counterbalance; here, subtle tonal twitchy signals fire in conjunction with coiling arias to create a mesmeric core. When the beat arrives at the midway mark, a swooping and jittery waltz, a sense of stasis in motion, a flow state, is sonically achieved. As soon as it syncs, it disappears back into the swirling ebbs of electric force. Other tracks stray into more ruminative physical realms. "Carrying Gravity" is built around string-like pads that expand and contract like a solar plexus, becoming taught and then loose. If the record could be summarized in a single movement, it is the 10-minute closing suite, a rapturous collage called "Expanding Electricity." Symphonic phrases establish the piece before washes of glittering electric peals and synthesized vibraphone helix into focus. Soon, Smith's voice grounds it all with an intuitive vocal hook, harmonized and augmented by concentric spirals of harp-and-horn-like sounds. Smith's music doesn't capture a specific emotion as much as it captures the joys of possessing a body, and the ability to, with devotion and a steady open heart, maneuver that vessel in space by way of electricity to euphoric degrees.

Avant-garde percussionist, singer, self-taught trumpet player, composer and author,
Edmony Krater, since the late 1970s has been a go to reference for French Caribbean music and all things Gwakasonné.

This Guadelopean great had been somewhat quiet since the mid 80s, however in 2019, after the recording of a live show for Cult Berlin club night, African Acid Is The Future that received a release via The Vinyl Factory, his light was relit.

Prior to this, in 2015, along with Diggers Digest, Paris based Heavenly Sweetness reissued the highly sought after 1988 album, ‘Ti Jan Pou Velo’ and Edmony began to stir up rumours of new material coming.

2018 saw his first foray into new recordings, Heavenly Sweetness released ‘An Ka Sonjé’, a record garnishing praise from Pan African Music, and he now readies his second for the label with, ‘J’ai Traversé La Mer’ (I’ve Crossed The Sea)

Like the hundreds of thousands before him, Edmony Krater also crossed the sea. Pulled from Africa, caught up in the violent and absurd logic of triangular trade. Slaves were forced to America, the Caribbean and Europe, where many descendants have since become famous writers, poets, leaders, athletes and of course, musicians.

French synth-pop talent Lucien & The Kimono Orchestra unveils his new solo piano album, a journey into cinematic soundscapes

Alone at the piano, Lucien takes us on a very personal album in a deep and quiet reverie. We spend a soft winter morning in his company, reminiscing about tender childhood memories.

Between previously unreleased tracks and revisited Kimono Orchestra pieces, "Piano Matinée" concludes a trilogy of recordings which have barely been released, while paving the way for a wider future. Universal, sensitive, cinematographic, the piano language spoken here by Lucien opens us to his musical world in a light that is both more authentic and accessible.

The album also tells us a personal story. That of a grandfather - an exceptional pianist but forced to give up his career when the Second World War broke out - who passed on to him a taste for music in his early childhood, before passing away.

Many years later, Lucien came across old cassette recordings of his eldest son, soon afterwards having a disturbing dream in which he swore he had had a dialogue with him and decided to go his own way. The self-taught musician spent a whole year honing his piano skills before deciding to freeze his performance in the summer of 2019 at the legendary Steinway at the Studios Saint-Germain.

Drawing freely on all his influences - jazz, funk, classical, cinema - Lucien's "Piano Matinée" is a special object, as intimate as it is melodious.

Swiss bass music maestro Bit-Tuner presents a widescreen ambient album about interactions and the traces they leave behind.

Bit-Tuner's 7th album "EXO" marks a milestone in his work: the widescreen and mostly beatless opus focusses on musical storytelling and atmospheric depth. The album was written and recorded towards the end of Bit-Tuner's 2-year stay in Athens.

Influenced by topics like the social and structural turmoils of the past years, the strong connections between communities and the sensation of being in an economic deadlock, Bit-Tuner wrote an album that urges to be listened to in a (self-)reflective way.

It is a call to listeners to listen closely, delve into the sounds surrounding them in any given moment and draw a quiet but firm inspiration from within. Following his field recording-based albums "The China Syndrome" and "The Japan Syndrome", "EXO" highlights his interest in cinematic music and soundtracks.

For the album, Bit-Tuner is collaborating with film maker Joerg Hurschler, who is creating animated footage that will be screened, mixed and live scored at Bit-Tuner's shows in 2020. Joerg Hurschler's work tells the story of molecular objects being propelled into a world similar to ours, where they operate, interact and affect their surroundings, creating and leaving behind something new and strange. What is it that surrounds us, and how do we approach and interact with forces that are beyond our (apparent) reach?

In her most personally narrative work to date, A Fossil Begins To Bray is the follow up on Dais Records for NYC producer Hiro Kone, furthering the dialogue set forth on her 2018 release, Pure Expenditure. While the statements on Pure Expenditure rallied behind a point of dangerous excess and injustice, the material on A Fossil Begins To Bray embark upon a journey of discovery and selfanalysis, proposing a potential reorientation towards absence in hopes of illuminating potential futures.

In Mao’s own words, “This album considers the power of absence as neither a lack or deficit, but as a quiet, indeterminable force to cultivate in this time of looming and unrelenting techno-fascism. It asks that we take pause to consider our learned languages and actualities and to better consider how desire shapes our recollections and interpretations of this ‘existence.’” This allegory is expertly applied to every song on A Fossil Begins To Bray. Mao has established a long history of employing absence in her productions to maximum effect. With a vast assortment of diverse elements at play, no single track ever feels overly convoluted and further illustrates Hiro Kone’s skillful attention to dynamic tension and flow. Tracks such as “Fabrication of Silence” and “Submerged Dragon” perfectly represent the power of absence, utilized in a matter to create unique amalgams of decisive, cinematic techno rhythms from the electronic void. As the melodic elements contained within A Fossil Begins To Bray begin to unravel and slowly take form, the unaware are rewarded with a driving yet tangible refrain that offers resolve in contrast to the dense, textureladen backdrop that forms the album’s foundation. The first single, “Feed My Ancestors”, expands upon Hiro Kone’s signature take on electronic music structures. Seemingly free from the predictable contracts imposed by any one genre’s stereotypes, Hiro Kone throttles the foreboding bassline in favor of more calculated, abstract cut-ups that gracefully hold the track in place between hopeful utopia and something more ominous.

Edition of 100 copies only.

Side A: 'Vodou'. Head priest: Gran Sèvitè Jean-Daniel Lafontant. Vodou priests: Oungan Eddy Saint-Jean and Anperè Jean Céus. Vodou priestesses: Manbo Françoise Célestin, Manbo Christine Lamour, Manbo Marie-Marthe Similien and Manbo Jacqueline Thélus. Other participants: Ounsi and members of Sosyete Na-Ri-VéH. Percussionists: Ountògi and the drummers of The Sacred Temple Na-Ri-VéH 777. Side B: 'Rara'. All-female rara band: Forever Rara Fanm of Belair.

Grand Rue recordings made by AMé in front of the Atis Rezistans, Port-au-Prince on 21 December 2015, 4:54pm to 5:18pm. Vodou ceremony and all-female rara band recorded by AMé at Temple Na-Ri-VéH 777 in Port-au-Prince, 16 December 2015, 9pm to 1am. Edited by Philip Marshall with AMé in Cologne, 16 May 2016. Mastered by Zachary James Watkins at Stank House, 3 August 2016. Artwork by Stefan Fähler. AD&D by Don Wyrm.

With thanks to: Ghetto Biennale, Leah Gordon, Atis Rezistans, Gabriel Toso, the priests and priestesses, the members of the all-female rara band, the percussionists, Clocktower Radio and all the Haitian People.

An introduction to Vodou music and Rara, by Gabriel Toso:

"Tanbou prete pa janm fè bon dans" ("A borrowed drum never makes good dancing")

"Music is to Vodou what water is to our bodies or fire to our hearts: all embracing, all inflaming. The spirits of Vodou are called upon and energised by the inexhaustible rhythms of Africa. Brought by the slaves to the New World, and merged with indigenous and European traditions, their magical power is the soundtrack of Vodou itself, its life-force.

Dancing, singing, praying are all fundamental aspects of Vodou; but above all it is the drumming that plays a major role during the ceremonies, an invitation to the lwas (gods) to join and partake in the rituals. Like the heartbeat of an infant in its mother's womb or the vibrations of our planet, the percussions of the tanbou (drum) are at once instrument and creator. Different batteries of drums correspond to different rites, countless rhythms to a multitude of nations of laws. The drum is not only a musical instrument but a sacred object, an expression of the divine. Its sound guides the initiates to their appointment with the spirit world.

Rara festivals are yearly celebrations that begin following Carnival during the Catholic Lent season, when the activity of the Vodou temples is at its quietest. During those six weeks Rara bands parade for miles playing music, dancing, and performing rituals for Afro-Haitian laws, while wearing specific costumes and using a variety of musical instruments. Probably originated in Haiti during the colonial period, Rara bands and their vast repertoire of songs are both politically and socially engaging while keeping an amusing, irreverent, and at times risqué personality. Traditionally connected with a Vodou temple, Rara bands leave the ceremonial spaces to interact in the public sphere through parading, thus reminding both participants and spectators of the physical presence of the lwas." – Gabriel Toso, London, 3 November.

The Juan Maclean return to DFA with a compilation LP of 12-inch singles they’ve amassed over the past six years – re-edited, re-mastered, and ready for fans who may have missed the tracks the first time around. From the dub house sway of 2013’s “You Are My Destiny” to the high-energy stomp of this May’s “Zone Non Linear,” and featuring two never-before-released tracks, “Quiet Magician” and “Pressure Danger,” The Juan Maclean once again justify their longevity as a musical force that is more than capable of repurposing club tracks for every setting.

The Brighter The Light is put together in a way that lends itself to appreciating the sheer banging quality of the songs while simultaneously being able to dance to them in your living room. For example, take “Feel Like Movin,’” which Pitchfork called “gloriously beatific” and “pure DFA gold.” In the new remastered version, the fullness of the keys and the kicks takes over, unfurling across the listener. Deep house rhythms, sparkling synths and a certain spaciousness are what’s emphasized across the record. Gone is the slow-motion melancholy disco from their recent full-lengths – The Brighter The Light is all fierce enthusiasm and dance floor missives, perfect for those who aren’t quite ready to let go of summer.

Juan Maclean is a DJ and producer who has been a mainstay of the New York club scene, as well as maintaining a rigorous international touring schedule, since the release of his first records on DFA in 2002. Vocalist Nancy Whang is his longtime collaborator, best known as a founding member of LCD Soundsystem and a busy touring DJ. Together, the two artists have released an extensive catalogue of 12” singles and full-length albums for DFA, including 2014’s seminal In A Dream LP. The proper follow-up studio album will follow in 2020.

Philippe Cam is the Thomas Pynchon of the electronic music world. Little is known about him and only a couple of pictures have been put online since he emerged on this planet to write his first and only album18 years ago. We know he worked as a sailor and that’s it. If you dig deeper you might find out that he worked as a DJ in the beginning of the 90ies in Brussels and began to study electronic music there and also began to write music for theaters and ballets.

The American distributor Forced Exposure once wrote that about him: „Philipe Cam is a star in his own field. He is among the few people who have succeeded to write hypnotic dance music without a conventional beat still conveying a thrilling, dramatic feel. Cam has developed an accurate, intense and complex formula of modulation-techno. Starting with music similar to Pan Sonic in 1996, his music turned towards a more elegant form of minimal music. Abstract soundtracks lead to an organic form of music, which was equally influenced by modern techno as Wolfgang Voigt's Studio 1/Gas or Basic Channel/Maurizio. Cam's music corresponds heavily to the Cologne scene, where his music is appreciated and played throughout the clubs by the likes of Michael Mayer, Tobias Thomas and various other DJs as well as experimental djs from the A-musik corner.“

So what’s new with his music? Basically the art of filtering is still his passion. Maybe he can be less associated with techno and the themes of his new tracks emerge in a more distinctive pattern? Well that’s hard to say, we would comment the energy of his early techno days in Brussels have returned here in a fierce way with some oft he tracks. The rhythmic movements are classy and stick with you. Whereas other tracks look for a distinctive relaxation of some kind.

We are releasing the album as a double clear vinyl with cover art by Yvette Klein who also designed the cover for his Philippe Cam’s album 18 years ago. Graphics for "Rotterdam" come from Cologne designer Daniela Thiel. We also would like to thank the cultural department of Cologne for supporting us to finance the album and to see the artistic value in this piece of minimalism.

The album kicks off with the mellow and soothing "Cocoa Beach". A Gentle beat that moves like bodies swaying in the hot summer sun. The clock moves a step forward and then a step backward as evolution takes a rest.

"Manga" feels like an acceleration to the moon, the contemplative moments come in spurts and hide in the intervals of the chords which are on the loose. Philippe Cam is the most energetic person in the world when it comes to core activity, this is head banging stuff for the ambient lounge.

"Short Summer" is a heavy and violent recognition. As intensive as it is it knows when to stop and disappear. In the ear and brain of the listeners it leaves an indisputable echo which lingers on for minutes. We suggest not to make a pause but jump directly into "Vermillions Sands".

What can be said about into "Vermillions Sands"? Be prepared some Terry Riley might lure around the corner to offer you some oranges on a silver plate, but don’t eat them. This is luring and beautiful at the same time. Maybe the best ambient track ever written and yet who can ever venture to say that without making a fool of himself. "Vermillions Sands" comes in waves and they could be longer we think.

"Rotterdam" the home of Philippe Cam for a long time but not anymore. He moved away. So that changes the perspective. But when was the track written? "Rotterdam" seems mechanical and rusty and spooky and divided. This arrangement is very different to all the other tracks so far and is almost dub in style but way more fractured. A steady stop and go emerges. But the longer it runs the better it gets. At minute 6 the brain resets itself and tries to grasp what has happened so far, reconstruction as a result of its own phantasmic imagination and hardly true at all, wonderful. Applause included!

Here comes "Bis", a short episode of a track and before we can comment on it, it is already over.

"The Game" is a mule of a track. It has a quiet stubborn sequence that bites and kicks you in the back without any change in near sight. We can hear a voice whispering, which sounds like a miniature vocoder featuring the voice of a child calling out - never stopping. This is treadmill to some extend but starts to breathe towards the middle of the track and slowly changes perspective. In fact there are some changes taking place here which go beyond a sound design that works heavily on the stereo image. Stick with it and the experience will be a great one.

"Ultimate Fly For Halloway" somehow orchestrates how you might feel after you climbed a 8000 meter high mountain and reached the top. A rejoicing off a special kind. Lava for the ears. No cheerleader murder plot sorry.

"Last Track" is a perfect example of a true minimalistic pice of music that manages to make contact with other genres and does this with elegance, determination and a lot of soul.

key selling points: The key selling point is the fact that Philippe Cam once was referred to as one of the main protagonists of the minimal music scene along with Wolfgang Voigt's Studio 1/Gas and Basic Channel/Maurizio. A true artist with a vision which is very rare.

Philippe Cam has picked up the sound he was famous for but has developed it further without selling out to any genre and expectation that rules our daily business.

Exactly this is the strength of the album to create a vivid world of impressions by using instruments in a whole different way than all software developers would suggest.

"Rotterdam" is a piece of art that can set off a firework when you listen to it and it owes nothing to anyone.

Over the last decade, we’ve come accustomed to Jason Letkiewicz releasing material under a dizzying array of aliases, each utilized to explore a different side of his multi-faceted musical persona. Now, some 14 years after he made his recording debut alongside Ari Goldman as Manhunter, Letkiewicz has joined forces with Into The Light Records to release his first album under his real name.

The Reflecting Pool sees Letkiewicz exploring the uncomplicated and uncluttered in the pursuit of pure aural beauty. While his recent album as Opposing Currents was dense, dark, urban and industrial, The Reflecting Pool is stripped back, quiet and melodious. The contrast between the two projects is marked, with The Reflecting Pool drawing more on Letkiewicz’s love of crystalline ambient, slow burn synthesizer soundscapes, early ’80s library music and the kind of obscure electronic new age music that has been a hallmark of Into The Light’s releases to date.

The set’s 12 tracks gently ebb and flow, with Letkiewicz making great use of dusty old drum machines, effects units and a range of vintage analogue and digital synthesizers. It’s a set-up that results in a range of complimentary mood pieces and interludes, from the delay-laden military drums and lilting lead lines of “Out of Body Experiences”, to the drowsy, sunrise bliss of “Sunspot”, the bubbling Tangerine Dream style shuffle of “Mind Awake Body Asleep” and the outer-space atmosphere of “The Kill Fee”.

Throughout, Letkiewicz showcases his seemingly intrinsic grasp of mood, atmosphere and melody. It can be heard within the glacial guitar motifs, occasional beats and elongated chords of “The Reflecting Pool”, the rhythmic bustle of “Numb Drums”, the glassy-eyed melancholia of “Arhythmia” and the cinematic paranoia of “Burning Off The Morning Fog”. It’s also evident amongst the classically beat-less ambient of closing cut “Weightless”, whose alien electronics, effects-laden pulses and opaque chords recall established masters of the genre.

With The Reflecting Pool, Letkiewicz has provided us with a much-needed dose of stress-free musical escapism, at the same time offering hope that in these troubling times, love may still save the day.