Search:say she she

Yumi Zouma release a special one off coloured vinyl (colour in colour red), a cover version album of Oasis seminal album (What's the Story) Morning Glory reimagined by Yumi Zouma - first time pressed on vinyl for retail. On bands own imprint.

In a world of endless, bottomless content, to find something that stands out from the crowd is a rare thing. But it’s something that 7ebra manage without breaking a sweat. Based in Malmö, twin sisters Inez and Ella Johansson deal in sparkling indie-rock that’s pretty without being soft, sweet without losing its edge and catchy without being cheap. With Inez on guitar and vocals and Ella on keys, organ and Mellotron, their minimal set-up makes a virtue of simplicity – with a sliver of guitar fuzz, and organ lines snaking around stark, striking vocals, augmented by shivering harmonies, they don’t need a lot to make music that’s colourful, kaleidoscopic, and effortlessly original.

7ebra debuted in 2022 with the double-single “I Have A Lot To Say”/ “If I Ask Her”, two helpings of psych-tinged, street-smart rock and roll, and the music scene around them wasn’t slow to notice. They opened for the Future Islands and the Dandy Warhols, were picked out by Apple Music’s Matt Wilkinson as a Hidden Gem of 2022 and were booked for prestigious showcases SXSW and Eurosonic. With a packed schedule of shows across Europe and the UK already planned for 2023, their world looks set to get a lot bigger – something that their debut album Bird Hour makes certain. The record is a warm, elegant introduction to the sound 7ebra have crafted. The songs are full of personality and character, but also retain a little bit of enigma, a sense of keeping something secret to themselves. To unwrap that elusiveness is a daunting task, but one the listener can’t resist leaping into.

Ella and Inez’s parents played in bands as they were growing up, so picking up music was a natural thing for them. The origins of 7ebra start with Inez whiling away the hours playing guitar in her bedroom. “I learned by playing covers by myself in my room”, she says. “Ella didn’t do that as much, but we sometimes played and sang together, country songs”. Eventually she would start writing her own. Ella wasn’t involved originally (“we did play together a few times”, she says, “and it just went to shit laughs. We fought a lot”), and Inez was originally reluctant: “I was a bit unsure whether I wanted to be in a band with my sister. Because you get clumped together all the time, when you’re twins”. But Ella was keen to join, and eventually persuaded Inez to let her join for a show. It went – so well that producer Tore Johansson (The Cardigans, Franz Ferdinand), saw it and asked if they’d like to record with him. That changed things, says Ella: “It made us think there might be something in this music”. As a duo, 7ebra were in flight. “In the end, it’s kind of a nice thing too being sisters in a band”, Inez says. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. It just made sense to play together”.

On the album that they eventually came up with, the talent that caught Johansson’s eye is immediately obvious. Opener “Secretly Bad” has a way of walking along your nerves, an eerie echo of a hymn in Inez’s vocal backed by a swirl of woozy blend of guitars and organ. That’s followed up by “I Like To Pretend”, an easily charming song that has a sleepy brightness about it, like morning sunlight breaking through a window. They take a couple of different genres for a whirl on Bird Hour – they’re tense and snappy on “If I Ask Her”, breezy and cocky on “Lighter Better”, and there’s even a couple of droplets of blues and folk in the mix, in the raw intensity of the emotions in the slower songs, the vulnerability and aching of songs like “Lean” and “Stripey Horsey”. The record has a way of sweeping you along in its mood and tones, fuelled in part by the band’s use of repetition, sometimes fast and fevered, sometimes crawling and hypnotic. The duo’s musical input blends perfectly, with Inez’s guitar and vocals forming the core, and Ella drawing in the detail with keys, organ, and harmonies, to really bring out the vivid nature of the songs. Indie rock that’s melodic and sweet, but with enough shadow mixed in to make it really compelling.

On Bird Hour, what strikes you first about 7ebra’s sound is how fully formed it is, how much they’ve carved out their own sonic territory, perfected by trial and error in the studio with Johansson. “Tore wanted us to try everything possible”, says Ella. “We had moments where things weren’t working. But that was necessary in order to find the good stuff”. 7ebra’s signature might be found in the deft way they deal with emotion – unafraid of being open, but a little too clever to make things too clear cut: “You can’t take yourself that seriously. It’s too emotional to take it seriously, to start hating yourself. But at the same time, it is quite serious”, says Ella. Another trademark is the simplicity – a 7ebra song has just enough to make it work, and nothing more. “I think it was important for me that our voices were at the centre of the songs”, says Inez, “that all the little melodies have their place, and don’t get overwhelmed. With lyrics, I sometimes come up with something, and just feel ‘there’s no need to add more to this’. Sometimes a line works by itself. You don’t have to add a bunch of lyrics”. Finally, the album’s themes are ones that will resonate with most people that have set foot on this planet. “I guess it’s about trying to understand yourself, in relation to others. Just life. ‘Why am I not good at this, why is this thing happening to me, why is this thing so hard, why am I so stupid?’”, laughs Ella.

7ebra haven’t been around for very long – but a handful of songs and their fizzing live shows have stirred up the biggest buzz in Scandinavian music in quite a while. Their debut album justifies it all. It showcases the magic they’re capable of conjuring up, and hints at even more to come in the future. But from where they are right now, they’ve made something very special. Bird Hour takes all that promise and turns it into something concrete, in the form of one of the year’s best rock debuts.

In a world of endless, bottomless content, to find something that stands out from the crowd is a rare thing. But it’s something that 7ebra manage without breaking a sweat. Based in Malmö, twin sisters Inez and Ella Johansson deal in sparkling indie-rock that’s pretty without being soft, sweet without losing its edge and catchy without being cheap. With Inez on guitar and vocals and Ella on keys, organ and Mellotron, their minimal set-up makes a virtue of simplicity – with a sliver of guitar fuzz, and organ lines snaking around stark, striking vocals, augmented by shivering harmonies, they don’t need a lot to make music that’s colourful, kaleidoscopic, and effortlessly original.

7ebra debuted in 2022 with the double-single “I Have A Lot To Say”/ “If I Ask Her”, two helpings of psych-tinged, street-smart rock and roll, and the music scene around them wasn’t slow to notice. They opened for the Future Islands and the Dandy Warhols, were picked out by Apple Music’s Matt Wilkinson as a Hidden Gem of 2022 and were booked for prestigious showcases SXSW and Eurosonic. With a packed schedule of shows across Europe and the UK already planned for 2023, their world looks set to get a lot bigger – something that their debut album Bird Hour makes certain. The record is a warm, elegant introduction to the sound 7ebra have crafted. The songs are full of personality and character, but also retain a little bit of enigma, a sense of keeping something secret to themselves. To unwrap that elusiveness is a daunting task, but one the listener can’t resist leaping into.

Ella and Inez’s parents played in bands as they were growing up, so picking up music was a natural thing for them. The origins of 7ebra start with Inez whiling away the hours playing guitar in her bedroom. “I learned by playing covers by myself in my room”, she says. “Ella didn’t do that as much, but we sometimes played and sang together, country songs”. Eventually she would start writing her own. Ella wasn’t involved originally (“we did play together a few times”, she says, “and it just went to shit laughs. We fought a lot”), and Inez was originally reluctant: “I was a bit unsure whether I wanted to be in a band with my sister. Because you get clumped together all the time, when you’re twins”. But Ella was keen to join, and eventually persuaded Inez to let her join for a show. It went – so well that producer Tore Johansson (The Cardigans, Franz Ferdinand), saw it and asked if they’d like to record with him. That changed things, says Ella: “It made us think there might be something in this music”. As a duo, 7ebra were in flight. “In the end, it’s kind of a nice thing too being sisters in a band”, Inez says. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. It just made sense to play together”.

On the album that they eventually came up with, the talent that caught Johansson’s eye is immediately obvious. Opener “Secretly Bad” has a way of walking along your nerves, an eerie echo of a hymn in Inez’s vocal backed by a swirl of woozy blend of guitars and organ. That’s followed up by “I Like To Pretend”, an easily charming song that has a sleepy brightness about it, like morning sunlight breaking through a window. They take a couple of different genres for a whirl on Bird Hour – they’re tense and snappy on “If I Ask Her”, breezy and cocky on “Lighter Better”, and there’s even a couple of droplets of blues and folk in the mix, in the raw intensity of the emotions in the slower songs, the vulnerability and aching of songs like “Lean” and “Stripey Horsey”. The record has a way of sweeping you along in its mood and tones, fuelled in part by the band’s use of repetition, sometimes fast and fevered, sometimes crawling and hypnotic. The duo’s musical input blends perfectly, with Inez’s guitar and vocals forming the core, and Ella drawing in the detail with keys, organ, and harmonies, to really bring out the vivid nature of the songs. Indie rock that’s melodic and sweet, but with enough shadow mixed in to make it really compelling.

On Bird Hour, what strikes you first about 7ebra’s sound is how fully formed it is, how much they’ve carved out their own sonic territory, perfected by trial and error in the studio with Johansson. “Tore wanted us to try everything possible”, says Ella. “We had moments where things weren’t working. But that was necessary in order to find the good stuff”. 7ebra’s signature might be found in the deft way they deal with emotion – unafraid of being open, but a little too clever to make things too clear cut: “You can’t take yourself that seriously. It’s too emotional to take it seriously, to start hating yourself. But at the same time, it is quite serious”, says Ella. Another trademark is the simplicity – a 7ebra song has just enough to make it work, and nothing more. “I think it was important for me that our voices were at the centre of the songs”, says Inez, “that all the little melodies have their place, and don’t get overwhelmed. With lyrics, I sometimes come up with something, and just feel ‘there’s no need to add more to this’. Sometimes a line works by itself. You don’t have to add a bunch of lyrics”. Finally, the album’s themes are ones that will resonate with most people that have set foot on this planet. “I guess it’s about trying to understand yourself, in relation to others. Just life. ‘Why am I not good at this, why is this thing happening to me, why is this thing so hard, why am I so stupid?’”, laughs Ella.

7ebra haven’t been around for very long – but a handful of songs and their fizzing live shows have stirred up the biggest buzz in Scandinavian music in quite a while. Their debut album justifies it all. It showcases the magic they’re capable of conjuring up, and hints at even more to come in the future. But from where they are right now, they’ve made something very special. Bird Hour takes all that promise and turns it into something concrete, in the form of one of the year’s best rock debuts.

Baby Rose makes healing music for the aimless and heartbroken. The Grammy-nominated singer/songwriter and producer's uniquely rich voice naturally lends itself to her powerful, smoke-filled ballads lamenting lost loves and broken futures. "I make music to help myself get through things," she says. The piercing honesty and vulnerability she brings to her lyrics in turn helps others process their feelings and find a place of healing. For Rose, it's a journey that's still ongoing. "If I'm going to leave anything behind, it's going to be getting people back to themselves," she says. "As I get back to myself, it's a constant reset: Remember who you are, remember who you want to be." You can hear the impact of this approach in Baby Rose's upcoming second album, Through and Through. Take the hypnotic "Fight Club." Over the track's simmering baseline and crashing cymbals, she declares, "I don't need no one else to show me the way." She describes the song as a "breaking of the shell. It encourages me to just go for it and not care about what anyone else thinks." Therein lies Baby Rose's strength: a determination to live, love, and create on her own terms. "I'm not just a singer with a unique voice," she says. "I'm somebody that has something to say." In the years since releasing her last album, To Myself, Rose has been painstakingly piecing together its sequel. Started almost immediately after its release, her new body of work finds her in a state of musical and personal transition. It's a subtle merging of new sounds_stirring rock, upbeat r&b, psychedelic funk, pop, and soulful ballads_, all mastered through analog tape to make the music feel warmer and all-encompassing. It's also a journey inward as she battles past fear and self-doubt to finally discover_and love_who she is, where she is. Finishing an album with such peace and firm resolution is a first for Rose, but she makes it clear: She's nowhere near done writing her story. "I think as long as I'm being raw and trying to push past my comfort zone, it will feel rewarding," she says. "I don't want to be the type that doesn't take risks because I'm afraid. I have to trust that as long as the music is honest and innovative, it'll be timeless."

You never have to guess what Tink’s thinking. The Chicago-born songstress and rapper says it all in her music. She spits, speaks, and sings straight from the heart without filter or apology. At the same time, she breaks boundaries, dropping off bars with uncontainable charisma and belting out hooks with show-stopping range. She can be romantic in one crescendo before getting raw in a bout of wild wordplay. This versatility consistently affirms her as a force in her own lane. Following her 2011 debut mixtape Winter’s Diary, she dropped projects at a prolific pace, including Alter Ego, Blunts & Ballads, and Boss Up. 2014 saw Winter’s Diary 2: Forever Yours arrive to widespread critical acclaim, landing on year-end R&B album lists from Billboard and Rolling Stone. It also yielded “Treat Me Like Somebody,” which gathered 64 million Spotify streams and counting. A year later, XXL touted her among its coveted “Freshman Class.” Following a stint in the major label system, she embraced independence again with Winter’s Diary 4 2016, Voicemails [2019], Hopeless Romantic [2020], and A Gift And A Curse [2020]. She collaborated with everyone from Sleigh Bells and Pentatonix to Future, G Herbo, 6lack, and K Camp. During 2021, she served up Heat of the Moment powered by “Rebel” [feat. Jeremih] and “Might Let You” [feat. Davido]. After raking in streams in the hundreds of millions and earning acclaim from Pitchfork, The FADER, HYPEBEAST, and more, she opens up like never before on her 2022 album, Pillow Talk.

Their masterpiece? With breaks for dayyyyyys and an almost ambient, heavy jazz atmosphere throughout, *this* is the apex of British jazz-rock fusion. We'll Talk About It Later was first released on Vertigo in 1971 and original copies are now very tricky to score. Like all the Nucleus records, it’s aged ridiculously well and this Be With re-issue, re-mastered from the original analogue tapes, shows off just why this deserves to be back in press.

Genius trumpeter and visionary composer Ian Carr was one of the most respected British musicians of his era. He was a true pioneer and saw the potential in fusing the worlds of jazz with rock, just as Miles Davis and The Tony Williams Lifetime did in the US. In late 1969, following the demise of the Rendell-Carr quintet, and tiring of British jazz, Carr assembled the legendary Nucleus. Regarding music as a continuous process, Nucleus refused to “recognise rigid boundaries” and worked on delivering what they saw as a “total musical experience”. We can get behind that.

Under bandleader Carr, Nucleus existed as a fluid line-up of inventive, skilled musicians. This constant evolution and revolution was all part of the continuous musical exploration and discovery that took jazz to new levels. And the music has kept relevant. To steal a line from a review of our re-issue of Roots, when it comes to anything Nucleus “it’s basically already hip-hop”.

We'll Talk About It Later is arguably Nucleus's best album. Not only that, it's in the top 5 of all fusion albums. By the time Nucleus entered Trident Studios in September 1970 to record Elastic Rock's successor, they had already won a best group award at the Montreux Jazz Festival. Once again presented in a Roger Dean designed die-cut gatefold sleeve it continued to demonstrate the chemistry and interplay that worked so brilliantly on Elastic Rock; Carr's sumptuous trumpet and flügelhorn lines, Karl Jenkins's funk-filled electric keyboards, Chris Spedding's wah-wah guitar, Brian Smith's sax and the rhythmic foundation of drummer John Marshall and bassist Jeff Clyne.

The group work and insane musicianship Nucleus were famed for is in evidence from the off. The intensely funky "Song for the Bearded Lady" is absolute FIRE, blasting out the speakers to leave listeners floored. Counterpoint riffing segues into a spacious groove and a Carr trumpet solo demonstrating the influence of electric Miles from the period. The stop-start funk of "Sun Child" would appeal to Soft Machine devotees whilst the genuinely touching "Lullaby for a Lonely Child" is a lovely downtempo ballad. Featuring an understated, reflective horn line from Carr and Smith and atmospheric, shimmering bouzouki from Spedding, there's an exotic flavour which contributes to the bliss. The ominous, sleazy title track retains a swaggering menace and is not the only track to lend a sort of heavy stoner rock atmosphere. The guitars and bass are deep and low throughout, conjuring heavy psych moments to go with the actual jazz and even funk. To say this album was in conversation with Bitches Brew would not be overstating the sheer brain-frying brilliance.

The Weather Report-adjacent "Oasis" opens Side B, a colossal track featuring nearly 10 minutes of steadily building melodic horns, keys and choppy guitar riffs. So ace, it could easily go on for another 10. Mesmeric. Spedding adds unique vocals to the undeniable groove of "Ballad of Joe Pimp" whilst saxophonist Smith's duet with drummer Marshall at the conclusion of "Easter 1916" - inspired by the Yeats poem about the Irish nationalist uprising in Dublin - adopts the wildness of the most incendiary free jazz.

This Be With edition of We'll Talk About It Later has been re-mastered from the original Vertigo master tapes, Simon Francis’ mastering working together with Cicely Balston's cut at AIR Studios to weave their usual magic with these wonderful recordings. The stunning die-cut sleeve has been restored with the original gatefold window pane depicting the Irish uprising in 1916. Incredible, timeless, guaranteed spine-chills.

Defamator is the long-time-coming debut project of 24-year-old Chloe Gallardo. It tells a story of betrayal in love and friendship and the painful reality of overcoming love lost and former heartbreak.


Drawing influences from artists such as Broadcast, Grouper & My Bloody Valentine Gallardo adds her own haunting, folk-style vocals and hyper-specific lyrics to create a sonic unique to her. A style that she describes in her words as “dark shoegaze bedroom indie pop”.

Album opener “Bloodline” epitomises this bittersweet modus operandi. 15 seconds into its dainty acoustic strum , Gallardo adamantly sulks “I’m fucked up” - the salvo of a lyric about feeling like a family disappointment. As the track lifts up into a cascading gaze-pop rush, recalling the likes of Bachelor and Snail Mail, we’re blessed with a pristine elegance that belies the song’s raging core.
“I have always written music this way.”, she says of this fundamental contradiction. “It’s funny because I try so hard to write darker sounding songs and they always come out way too pretty. So, I’ve resorted to writing the most gut-wrenching and intense lyrics to compensate.”

Written mostly during peak-pandemic times in Gallardo’s bedroom - (“you can hear how scared and alone I was.”) - the songs that made their way onto Defamator arose from a concerted period of healing. Drawing from the teachings of therapy, the songwriting process gave her the means to channel some deeply entrenched emotional scars.
This venting of anger is implicit throughout the record. The album’s title - Gallardo’s own neologism - uses the concepts of “defamation” and “defamatory speech” to innovate a kind of pejorative accusation. As a result, it is like we are actively listening to Gallardo forcefully take command of her past. Of the title track she explains: “The song Defamator is about someone who spoke untruthful things about me in order to manipulate me and the way people perceived me and I felt that was an underlying theme in most of the album.”

Recorded at Jazzcat Studios in Long Beach California with Jonny Bell (Hanni El Khatib, Adult Books, etc.) Defamator marks Gallardo’s first time in a “legitimate recording studio”. And it shows. Bell’s production is vital moving part here. There’s more stripped back affairs - ‘There Will Be Blood”; ”The Way’ - songs which gently seethe and purr like Grouper’s spectral dream-pop; Gallardo’s fluttering folk-ish voice gloriously pushed to forefront.

Old style, Tip-On Jacket, and 8pp heavy insert featuring a treasure trove of newly discovered photos, and a 6,000 word essay by Kris Needs.

In 1962, Karen summoned Richard Tucker to join her in Colorado, extolling the healthier lifestyle, and plentiful gigs at Boulder folk club The Attic. Upon his arrival, the pair solidified their personal and professional relationship, riding horses in the mountains, and performing as a duo at parties and venues throughout Denver and Boulder. Stories of the spell they conjured - and rumours of tapes! - have circulated among friends and musicians who witnessed them, but until now, no recorded evidence had turned up.

Shuckin' Sugar is the glorious result of three reel to reel tapes that miraculously found their way to us in November, 2018; which featured two complete shows from The Attic in January '63, and a benefit concert for The Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) recorded the following February. Their gigs would often include brief solo sets from Karen and Richard, in addition to the duets, and all seven solo songs of Karen's found on the three reels are included here, as well as five duets, sequenced as close to how it all went down as humanly possible. To describe the record would take a poet, but all I can say is that unveiling a missing chapter in the Karen Dalton story - with six songs we've never heard her sing before - is cause for celebration in Delmore's world.

"From her opening, jaw-dropping lift-off with early blues standard "Trouble In Mind," the unique
otherworld Karen conjured springs into vivid life. Playing to audiences inevitably bound to the era's formalities and traditions, Karen instinctively pushed the envelope, straying into uncharted territory beyond the established borders. She must have bewildered many who came to see her in those winsome Peter, Paul and Mary times." From the liner notes by Kris Needs

Fresh out of high school, Hannah Jadagu released her debut EP, What Is Going On?, a collection of intimate bedroom pop tracks recorded entirely on an iPhone 7, which was, at the time, Jadagu's most accessible mode of production. An off-the-cuff approach to music making and instinctive ability to write unforgettable hooks belied the intensity of Jadagu's subject matter. What Is Going On? confronted some of the nation's most urgent struggles through Jadagu's compassionate perspective. What Is Going On? built on the small online fanbase Jadagu had developed by releasing music on SoundCloud for years as she realized her growing passion for songwriting. Now, Jadagu is releasing Aperture, her first LP and most ambitious work to date. Written in the years between graduating from high school in Mesquite, TX and her sophomore year of college in New York, Aperture finds Jadagu in a state of transition. "Where I grew up, everyone is Christian; even if you don't go to church, you're still practicing in some form," Jadagu says, laughing. "Moving out of my small hometown has made me reflect on how embedded Christianity is in the culture down there, and though I've been questioning my relationship to the church since high school, it's definitely a theme on this album, but so is family." As a kid, Jadagu followed her older sister - a major source of inspiration - to a local children's chorus, where she received choral training. "I hated it," Jadagu admits. "But it taught me how to harmonize, how to discover my tone, how to recognize and write melody." The aching single "Admit It" is dedicated to Jadagu's sister, whose love and impeccable taste have been a constant since Jadagu was a kid. The siblings were raised on mom's Young Money mixtapes and the Black Eyed Peas (to whom Hannah credits her love of vocoder) but it was in the sanctity of her sister's car that Jadagu discovered the indie artists who inspire her work. With Aperture, Jadagu faced the challenge of finding a co-producer capable of complementing her work without dominating it. Enter Max Robert Baby, a French songwriter and producer who captured Jadagu's attention with his take on Aperture's lead single "Say It Now." The duo worked remotely, sending stems to one another via email, before meeting in-person for the first time at Greasy Studios on the outskirts of Paris. "When I recorded my EP, it was all MIDI, but in the studio Max and I worked with a ton of analog instruments," Jadagu says. "Every track on this album, except for 'Admit It,' was written first on guitar. But the blanket of synths throughout helps me move between sensibilities. There's rock Hannah, there's hip-hop Hannah, and so on. I didn't want any of the songs to sound too alike." An aperture is defined as an opening, a hole, a gap. On a camera, it's the mechanism that light passes through, allowing a photographer to immortalize a moment in time. For Jadagu, the word perfectly encapsulates the mood of her debut album. In the years it took her to complete, she faced moments of darkness, sure, but the process of making it was ultimately a cathartic experience, one she now shares with you. Let the light in.

Tape

Fresh out of high school, Hannah Jadagu released her debut EP, What Is Going On?, a collection of intimate bedroom pop tracks recorded entirely on an iPhone 7, which was, at the time, Jadagu's most accessible mode of production. An off-the-cuff approach to music making and instinctive ability to write unforgettable hooks belied the intensity of Jadagu's subject matter. What Is Going On? confronted some of the nation's most urgent struggles through Jadagu's compassionate perspective. What Is Going On? built on the small online fanbase Jadagu had developed by releasing music on SoundCloud for years as she realized her growing passion for songwriting. Now, Jadagu is releasing Aperture, her first LP and most ambitious work to date. Written in the years between graduating from high school in Mesquite, TX and her sophomore year of college in New York, Aperture finds Jadagu in a state of transition. "Where I grew up, everyone is Christian; even if you don't go to church, you're still practicing in some form," Jadagu says, laughing. "Moving out of my small hometown has made me reflect on how embedded Christianity is in the culture down there, and though I've been questioning my relationship to the church since high school, it's definitely a theme on this album, but so is family." As a kid, Jadagu followed her older sister - a major source of inspiration - to a local children's chorus, where she received choral training. "I hated it," Jadagu admits. "But it taught me how to harmonize, how to discover my tone, how to recognize and write melody." The aching single "Admit It" is dedicated to Jadagu's sister, whose love and impeccable taste have been a constant since Jadagu was a kid. The siblings were raised on mom's Young Money mixtapes and the Black Eyed Peas (to whom Hannah credits her love of vocoder) but it was in the sanctity of her sister's car that Jadagu discovered the indie artists who inspire her work. With Aperture, Jadagu faced the challenge of finding a co-producer capable of complementing her work without dominating it. Enter Max Robert Baby, a French songwriter and producer who captured Jadagu's attention with his take on Aperture's lead single "Say It Now." The duo worked remotely, sending stems to one another via email, before meeting in-person for the first time at Greasy Studios on the outskirts of Paris. "When I recorded my EP, it was all MIDI, but in the studio Max and I worked with a ton of analog instruments," Jadagu says. "Every track on this album, except for 'Admit It,' was written first on guitar. But the blanket of synths throughout helps me move between sensibilities. There's rock Hannah, there's hip-hop Hannah, and so on. I didn't want any of the songs to sound too alike." An aperture is defined as an opening, a hole, a gap. On a camera, it's the mechanism that light passes through, allowing a photographer to immortalize a moment in time. For Jadagu, the word perfectly encapsulates the mood of her debut album. In the years it took her to complete, she faced moments of darkness, sure, but the process of making it was ultimately a cathartic experience, one she now shares with you. Let the light in.

Lucy has been a prominent figure on the UK folk scene for many years with her
skills much in demand by a plethora of esteemed folk artists, which has meant
her solo career has taken a back seat. Until now.
'We are only Sound' was recorded in the glorious medieval surrounds of Much
Wenlock Abbey, home to Nick Drake's sister Gabrielle who gifted the recording
space - as well as the use of her brother's instruments - through a mutual friend.
Specifically, Nick Drake's piano and guitar were tuned and used in the recording
bestowing a unique quality to the album. Songs were recorded together, in one
room, in one take.
Lucy's crystalline vocals are highlighted by sparse accompaniment: the exquisite
melodies interwoven with intricate - yet delicate - guitar playing and subtle
electronic touches. Songs are introspective and dreamy, written over a span of
eight years during which Lucy experienced motherhood, breakups and all that
comes with such heart and life changing events. "I think these themes and ideas
are universal," she says. "They would resonate for other people too." Lucy
continues, "I find it hard to articulate my thoughts in sentences - it's much easier
to muse through them in songs. It's how I work through my feelings. There's a lot
of wonderings in them, but no answers".
Lucy is joined by Kris Drever (Lau) on guitar and vocals, Ben Nichols (Nadine
Shah) on double bass, Tom Lenthall on piano, Neil McSweeney on bass and M G
Boulter on slide guitar.

Lucy has been a prominent figure on the UK folk scene for many years with her
skills much in demand by a plethora of esteemed folk artists, which has meant
her solo career has taken a back seat. Until now.
'We are only Sound' was recorded in the glorious medieval surrounds of Much
Wenlock Abbey, home to Nick Drake's sister Gabrielle who gifted the recording
space - as well as the use of her brother's instruments - through a mutual friend.
Specifically, Nick Drake's piano and guitar were tuned and used in the recording
bestowing a unique quality to the album. Songs were recorded together, in one
room, in one take.
Lucy's crystalline vocals are highlighted by sparse accompaniment: the exquisite
melodies interwoven with intricate - yet delicate - guitar playing and subtle
electronic touches. Songs are introspective and dreamy, written over a span of
eight years during which Lucy experienced motherhood, breakups and all that
comes with such heart and life changing events. "I think these themes and ideas
are universal," she says. "They would resonate for other people too." Lucy
continues, "I find it hard to articulate my thoughts in sentences - it's much easier
to muse through them in songs. It's how I work through my feelings. There's a lot
of wonderings in them, but no answers".
Lucy is joined by Kris Drever (Lau) on guitar and vocals, Ben Nichols (Nadine
Shah) on double bass, Tom Lenthall on piano, Neil McSweeney on bass and M G
Boulter on slide guitar.

Manda Moor hits back-to-back releases on Hot Creations with her Picante EP, accompanied by a remix from Hot Creations artist and Mood Child co-founder Sirus Hood.

It’s safe to say that the past 24 months have seen Danish/Filipino DJ, producer and label founder Manda Moor surge onto the international house scene with a combination of stand-out releases alongside sets at the likes of Hï (Ibiza), The Beams (London) and Club Space (Miami). Having made her debut on the label with the excellent ‘The Climax’ EP last year, she returns to Hot Creations almost a year to the day with her latest EP as she brings the heat once again with her ‘Picante’ EP - with fellow Mood Child co-founder Sirus Hood joining on remix duties.

A bubbly and playful title cut fusing rolling drums, vibrant vocal interjections and a slick groove to bring plenty of energy, ‘Picante’ takes cues from its title to bring a zippy production made to make crowds move, while Sirus Hood’s take lays a focus on snaking drum grooves as crisp organic percussion arrangements take a hold. In keeping with the theme, the EP is rounded out with another dynamic effort in the form of ‘Tabasko’ as Moor fuses more lively and hard-hitting drum grooves with sweeping bird noises and further vocal samples for another helping of dancefloor energy.

Today sees Belgian-Caribbean provocateur Charlotte Adigéry and her long-term musical partner, Bolis Pupul announce their debut album Topical Dancer, due for release on March 4 2022 via Soulwax’s iconic label DEEWEE.
Cultural appropriation. Misogyny and racism. Social media vanity. Post-colonialism and political correctness. These are not talking points that you’d ordinarily hear on the dancefloor but Charlotte Adigéry and Bolis Pupul are ripping up the rulebook with their debut album Topical Dancer. The Ghent-based duo, who broke out with their 2019 Zandoli EP, are rare storytellers in electronic music: they take the temperature of the time and funnel them into their playful synth concoctions – never didactic and always with a knowing wink.

Their debut studio record – which cements them as a duo under both their names for the first time and is co-written and co-produced by Soulwax – is both a triumph of kaleidoscopic electro-pop and “a snapshot of how we think about pop culture in the 2020s.” It captures Charlotte and Bolis’s essence as musical collaborators and the conversations they’ve had over the past two years on tour, as well as their perspectives as Belgians with an immigrant background, Charlotte with Guadeloupean and French-Martinique ancestry and Bolis being of Chinese descent.

Beyond the album’s thematic heft, Topical Dancer reflects Charlotte and Bolis’s idiosyncratic sound: it’s thoughtful but it bangs. Their take on familiar genres is always off-kilter; songs sound undone or a little wonky; but these are nocturnal heaters to make the club throb. “We like to fuck things up a bit,” laughs Bolis. “We cringe when we feel like we're making something that already exists, so we're always looking for things to combine to make it sound not like a pop song, not like an R&B song, not a techno song. We’re always putting different worlds together. Charlotte and I get bored when things get too predictable.”

Topical Dancer is fizzing with ideas – there’s certainly no filler among its 13 tracks. But above all, perhaps, it has a restlessness, a desire not to be boxed in and to escape others’ narrow perceptions of who they are. It’s summarised by the refrain of their new single, ‘Blenda’: “Don’t sound like what I look like / Don’t look like what I sound like.” “One thing that always comes up,” says Bolis, “is that people perceive me as the producer, and Charlotte as just a singer. Or that being a Black artist means you should be making ‘urban’ music. Those kinds of boxes don’t feel good to us.”

‘Blenda’ in particular references how “I am a product of colonialism,” says Charlotte, “and I feel guilty for taking up space in a white country.” The song was inspired in part by Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book Why I’m Not Longer Talking To White People About Race. “It talks about the colonial past and post-colonial present in the UK,” Charlotte continues, “but that isn’t merely a British or American problem, Belgium is part of that as well.” She says that her home country is likewise “oblivious to a big part of its history” which “results in general ignorance and a lack of understanding and empathy towards Belgian inhabitants of immigrant descent.”

On Topical Dancer, it’s less about finger pointing or being dogmatic about all the things they speak about. It’s about emancipation through humour. “I don’t want to feel this heaviness on me,” says Charlotte. “These aren’t my crosses to bear. Topical Dancer is my way of freeing myself of these issues. And of having fun.”

Meaning can come from surprising places. In 2020 the Irish guitarist Cian Nugent moved back into his family home in Dublin to care for his mother, Kathy, who was then recovering from a stroke and experiencing aphasia (difficulty with speech). She began saying: "she brings me back to the land of the living" seemingly out of nowhere and with little knowledge of its origin or meaning. "It stuck with me," says Cian, who at the time was working on songs for what would become his 4th album, and felt it would make an apt title for that record. "The songs here act as a way of processing change and accepting new futures." Kathy also provides the cover art, a painting she made while still in the hospital. Seven years since Nugent's previous album, She Brings Me Back To The Land Of The Living merges the previously explored styles across Night Fiction (2016), the expansive Born With The Caul (2014) and his enigmatic debut Doubles (2011). Extensive touring across North America and Europe, including work as a guitarist with Steve Gunn, Ryley Walker and Nap Eyes, provided Nugent with a greater understanding of his musicianship and a clarity of purpose - all of which contributed to the making of his nest album to date.

A bubbling name within the UK house landscape for several years, it’s fair to say that 2022 was the year that ALISHA truly emerged as a surging name of note, dropping stand-out material via Eastenderz and making appearances at Warehouse Project, Shelter, INPUT and Amnesia for Jamie Jones’ iconic Paradise events. Taking things up a level as she gets set for an even bigger twelve months, her first release of 2023 comes on Jones and Lee Foss’ globally renowned Hot Creations with her latest single ‘Changes’ - accompanied by a classy remix from ever-excellent house music icon Mike Dunn.

A warping and driving production armed with tough kicks, rumbling low-ends and squelchy synths, all guided by the track’s hooky and infectious vocal sample from South Street Player’s iconic 1993 record ‘(Who?) Keeps Changing Your Mind’, ‘Changes’ is a rugged yet vibrant production geared to keep dancers moving as much as ALISHA’s own high energy presence in the booth. Switching up the aesthetic and diving deep into a swirling, soulful journey, Mike Dunn’s remix harnesses the vocal to pair with rich chords for a delightful slice of house music.

Elkka’s deep intuition is the unifying thread throughout Cardiff-born DJ and producer’s illustrious career. Vibrant releases for Local Action, Ninja Tune and her own label and party, femme culture, have marked her as an unstoppable force within the London underground.

This recognition metabolised when she was awarded BBC’s prestigious Essential Mix of the Year in 2021, spotlighting her radiant blend of classic house, breakbeat and experimental electronica to the world over.

As the next curator of DJ-Kicks, Elkka is voyaging through rave euphoria. “This is a really special moment for me because DJ-Kicks has been a formative part of my musical education,” she says.

An intoxicating journey through Chicago house and disco, leftfield techno, UK bass and electro-punk, Elkka conjures up an atmosphere that is as primed for the club as it is the listener’s interior world.

Black Vinyl – stock is slightly limited on this one and orders might be subject to cutbacks

After asking Chloé Thévenin to collaborate on the soundtrack of her show "Static Shot" (2020), Maud Le Pladec has called upon the producer and DJ again for "counting stars with you (musiques femmes)". A new ambitious, militant and feminist creation made for the 2021 season of Montpellier Danse. The dancer and choreographer, accompanied by six dancers, uses dance and song to explore the unspoken, the marginalisation and the representation of women musicians from the Middle Ages to the present day by summoning historical and contemporary figures such as Kassia of Constantinople, Barbara Strozzi, Giovanna Marini and Clara Schuman...

“In concrete terms," says Chloé, "I composed the music by taking on board the songs of the dancers, drawing and reworking the voices from the repertoire of all the women composers who have been silenced by history. It’s a collective work, with Maud Le Pladec and Tom Pauwels (of the Ictus Ensemble), and we built on it as we rehearsed and developed the piece. The voices, their choices and reinterpretations were able to evolve into the music that I was composing.” Immersed in the creation and the work-in-progress nature of this show, Chloé has imagined a soundtrack based on song. She uses the performers’ scansions, whispers, performances

WRWTFWW Records is proud to present the first official worldwide reissue of the debut album from fabled Japanese folk singer-songwriter/actress/writer Hako Yamasaki, Tobimasu. The limited edition 180g vinyl LP comes in a heavy sleeve with the original artwork, and the digipack CD has one bonus track. Tobimasu is also available in digital formats.

Originally released in 1975 on legendary independent label Elec Records, Tobimasu is a masterpiece of melancholy carried by one of the most beautiful, moving, melodic, and haunting voices in the history of Japanese music. An extraordinary singer and guitar player, Hako Yamasaki wrote the album at only 18 years old, showing incredible emotional maturity and music making skills, and creating, out of nowhere, a downright classic of folk music, brilliantly arranged and sequenced.

Hako Yamasaki’s folk is bluesy, psychedelic, soft, and poetic, perfectly fitting the themes of nostalgia, love, and nature she covers with heartbreaking intensity. Her songs capture sorrow ravishingly, offering glimpses of empowering hope and uplifting wisdom. A unique voice, a unique approach, and nothing less than magnificent music.

Hako Yamasaki, a pioneer in both the creative boom and the rise of feminism in 1970s Japan, went on to release over thirty albums, building an impressive discography and a fascinating career filled with ups and downs. Her work, inimitable and timeless, deserves the utmost recognition and should be celebrated. Again and again and again.

Tobimasu is released in conjunction with Hako Yamasaki’s beautiful follow-up Tsunawatari, also available on WRWTFWW Records.

Gold Vinyl

Lael Neale still has a flip phone and there were no screens involved in the creation of her new record Star Eaters Delight. The album is her second for Sub Pop and reveals an expansion of her sonic collaboration with producer and accompanist Guy Blakeslee. In April of 2020, in the wake of transformations both personal and global, Lael moved from Los Angeles back to her family's farm in rural Virginia. Looking at the world from a distance and getting in tune with her own rhythms, she wrote and recorded steadily for two dreamlike years, driven by a need to make order out of chaos. Forged in isolation, Star Eaters Delight is a vehicle for returning, not just to civilization, but to celebration. She says, "Acquainted with Night (recorded in 2019, and released in 2021), was focused inward, amidst the loud and bright Los Angeles surrounding me. It was an attempt to create spaciousness and quiet reverie within. When I moved back to the farm, I found that the unbroken silences compelled me to break them with sound. This album is more external. It is me reaching back out to the world, wanting to feel connected, to wake up, to come together again." Album opener and lead single "I Am The River" melts the ice with a dynamic explosion of minimalist transcendental pop clearly descended from the Velvet Underground's branch of modern music's family tree. Blakeslee's spare yet cinematic arrangements create an ambient space in which Neale's clear and unaffected voice can explore familiar themes in an unexpected way. Subtle but potent references to Shakespeare, Emerson and the Bible (which she hasn't read) swirl together with deeply personal musings and touches of wry humor, always more optimistic than cynical. While this is a record about polarities- country vs. city, humanity vs. technology, solitude vs. relationship - the deeper intention is to heal; to come to terms with our differences and put the broken pieces back together again. Lael's affinity with the Transcendentalists has to do with her quest to hold onto sovereignty over her own mind. In a time when our devices are constantly flooding us with information, opinions and propaganda, Lael is intentional about what she takes in - hence the flip phone and the cassette recorder. Neale identifies as a minimalist "not because I don't like things, but because I value freedom more."

Tape

Lael Neale still has a flip phone and there were no screens involved in the creation of her new record Star Eaters Delight. The album is her second for Sub Pop and reveals an expansion of her sonic collaboration with producer and accompanist Guy Blakeslee. In April of 2020, in the wake of transformations both personal and global, Lael moved from Los Angeles back to her family's farm in rural Virginia. Looking at the world from a distance and getting in tune with her own rhythms, she wrote and recorded steadily for two dreamlike years, driven by a need to make order out of chaos. Forged in isolation, Star Eaters Delight is a vehicle for returning, not just to civilization, but to celebration. She says, "Acquainted with Night (recorded in 2019, and released in 2021), was focused inward, amidst the loud and bright Los Angeles surrounding me. It was an attempt to create spaciousness and quiet reverie within. When I moved back to the farm, I found that the unbroken silences compelled me to break them with sound. This album is more external. It is me reaching back out to the world, wanting to feel connected, to wake up, to come together again." Album opener and lead single "I Am The River" melts the ice with a dynamic explosion of minimalist transcendental pop clearly descended from the Velvet Underground's branch of modern music's family tree. Blakeslee's spare yet cinematic arrangements create an ambient space in which Neale's clear and unaffected voice can explore familiar themes in an unexpected way. Subtle but potent references to Shakespeare, Emerson and the Bible (which she hasn't read) swirl together with deeply personal musings and touches of wry humor, always more optimistic than cynical. While this is a record about polarities- country vs. city, humanity vs. technology, solitude vs. relationship - the deeper intention is to heal; to come to terms with our differences and put the broken pieces back together again. Lael's affinity with the Transcendentalists has to do with her quest to hold onto sovereignty over her own mind. In a time when our devices are constantly flooding us with information, opinions and propaganda, Lael is intentional about what she takes in - hence the flip phone and the cassette recorder. Neale identifies as a minimalist "not because I don't like things, but because I value freedom more."

In 1998, New West Records was in its infancy - The label had only
released a handful of records before becoming fortunate enough to work with Shaver, a duo consisting of Billy Joe Shaver and his son, Eddy Shaver - The guitar virtuoso son and the outlaw-country hit-songwriter formed an incredible pair that would go on to release 6 critically acclaimed albums.

In 1999 the duo released Electric Shaver and the title says it all. Billy Joe had made a career out of playing acoustic country songs but with Electric Shaver, he and Eddy plugged in and delivered an outlaw country record with blues licks and rock solos.

In celebration of 25 years working with this amazing catalog, New West Records is proud to release Electric Shaver on vinyl for the first time.

This is a one-time color pressing. These will not be pressed again.
Each record is packaged in a colored foil paper sleeve with foil stamped sequential numbering 0001-2000. This record is limited to 2000 copies

Repress!

Using an old door, 17 strings, chopsticks and combining them with phasers, echo units and amplification, the new device was to become his signature sound, mixing Irish folk influences with Asian and North African sounds in a mesmerising and soulful new way that brought him to the attention of the leading improvisers of his day - Alice Coltrane, Ravi Shankar, Don Cherry and more.

A logical follow up to AllChival's recent reissue of Stano's debut LP, Michael O'Shea's self titled LP was originally released on Wire's Dome Imprint in 1982.

The background to the album is as interesting and inspiring as the artist who created it - born in Northern Ireland but raised in the Republic, O'Shea was keen to travel and escape the troubles of his home.

Wandering throughout Europe and the Middle East, O'Shea found himself living and working as a relief aid in Bangladesh in the mid Seventies where he learned to play sitar while recovering from a bout of hepatitis. A later period spent busking in France accompanied on zelochord by Algerian musician Kris Hosylan Harp led to O'Shea's idea of combining both instruments as a homebuilt instrument - Mo Chara (Irish for "My Friend").

He later described the process on the back of the LP himself saying:

"Having sold my sitar in Germany and being desperate for money to travel to Turkey, I conceived of the idea of combining both sitar and zelochord. The first Mo Cara was born, taken from the middle of a door, which was rescued from a skip in Munchen"

A combination of dulcimer, zelochord and sitar, O Shea would play it with a pair of chopsticks, striking the strings softly using Irish folk rhythms mixed with the rich, nostalgic sounds of of the many Asian artists he'd encountered on his travels.

It was a pan cultural sound standing at an unusual crossroads of folk, traditional, rock, progressive, jazz, electronic and post-punk worlds without hesitation.

Perfecting the instrument on the streets, there were further spells spent busking in the underground stations and cafes of London's West End and Covent Garden during the heady days of the 1970s when they were full of eccentric street entertainers, jazz improvisers and musical pioneers.

His work with Rick Wakeman never saw the light of day but O'Shea's contact with the world of post-punk London ensured his name would live on.

Introduced to Wire's Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis via cartoonist Tom Johnston, O'Shea eventually acquiesced to an open invite to record at their studio. Turning up unannounced in the summer of 1981 the LP was recorded in a day in the legendary Blackwing Studios and released on Dome the year after.

The first side features the fifteen minute masterpiece "No Journeys End" with the B side featuring more input from Wire in processing the Mo Chara sound.

Lewis himself said years later of the forgotten masterpiece: 'I always said it was the best job we ever did.'

After an aborted LP with The The's Matt Johnson the following year, O'Shea quietly disappeared from the formal recording world and his brief but unique contribution to the music world came to a sad end in 1991 when O'Shea was struck by a post van and died a few days later in hospital in London.

This repress on All City's AllChival imprint has been remastered and reissued with the approval of both Dome and his surviving siblings.

Beautiful, soulful jazz record by Jimetta Rose and The Voices of Creation, a Los Angeles-based community choir, a mainstay of the local scene. Highly recommended!!

The Voices of Creation are a community-based choir led by vocalist, songwriter, arranger, producer and mainstay of the Los Angeles scene Jimetta Rose. Made up of a multigenerational group of mainly non-professional singers backed by some of the city’s finest musicians,their music marries hip strains of gospel with layers of jazz, soul and funk. While aspects of their music might recall Kamasi Washington, The Staple Singers or Sly Stone, Jimetta’s unique vision has resulted in new spiritually-charged forms of music whose whole-hearted embrace of love, joy and peace act as sonic healing balms for the soul.

For Jimetta - whose resume includes collaborations with Miguel Atwood Ferguson, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Sa-Ra Creative Partners, Angel Bat Dawid, Shafiq Husayn, MED and Blu - the very act of creation was part of a healing process: “I was very low at the time and I wrote most of the songs going through hardship. But I found comfort in the songs and a way to adjust my mindset to where things got better. So I thought ‘if this music works for me, maybe it will work for other people’ I believe that every person has their own voice and their own note and that we can use our voices to heal ourselves. That’s the intention behind creating the project.”

After putting out a call on social media for people interested in joining her choir she was met with a sea of replies. Members were chosen in less-than conventional fashion: “I recruited people based on their interest in healing themselves and others, not necessarily on their musical experience or being seasoned performers” she says. Among those accepted into the ever-evolving collective, which was begun initially as a community choir, were the likes of Sly Stone’s daughter Novena Carmel, better known as a radio DJ for KCRW’s flagship breakfast show. Jimetta’s upbringing in the Pentecostal church, where she was a youth choir director, fed into her otherwise intuitive teachings of her songs and arrangements to the inexperienced members with help from the group’s seasoned organ player/co-musical director Jack Maeby.

Produced by Mario Caldato Jr. (Beastie Boys, Seu Jorge) and his wife Samantha Caldato the results show the incredible sense of togetherness and communal spirit that the group had built up over time in the rehearsal sessions. The six tracks of their debut album, a mixture of originals and rearranged covers, are performed in a wide-eyed mix of styles that reflect Jimetta’s vision for borderless music: “It’s new black classical music,” she explains. “It’s all the hodgepodge of being an African American but also with creativity and vision for the future. It has a taste of what is to come and what we can do. What we have gone through and who we are now.”

The group’s propensity for warm and buoyant sonics finds representation on album opener Let The Sunshine In, a sparkling rework of the Sons and Daughters of Lite’s deep jazz classic. Their version finds the group’s dynamic group harmonies offset with Allakoi Peete’s nimble afro-percussive touches and plenty of soul- drenched keys courtesy of pianist Quran Shaheed and organ player Jack Maeby. A similarly uplifting take on Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s choral jazz classic Spirits Up Above follows, with Maeby’s groove-laden organ lines inspiring some gorgeous group harmonies as well as prime solo turns from the likes of Kellye Hawkins, Zavier Wise, Tamara Blue, and Khalila Gardner.

Another Sons and Daughters of Lite cover follows as Jimetta leads the choir in the groove-drenched ode to self-affirmation Operation Feed Yourself. Written as a series of mantras for everyday living, the Jimetta-penned composition How Good It Is harnesses the full transformative power of music to generate a stirring and joyful ode to positivity - it’s chanted declarations bringing out some of the group’s most deeply-felt and affecting vocal performances over some superlative piano and organ accompaniment with a surprise feature vocal from Novena Carmel.

Jimetta’s talent for re-imagining songs in her own light is highlighted in Answer The Call, her vivid re-telling of Funkadelic’s Cosmic Slop: “When I listened to the original song, the Mom in the story was really going through it. I thought of how I could turn this into a song that can encompass the glorification of all mothers and I thought of the Egyptian cosmic goddess Nut. To that mother we’re all the seeds planted in the garden. Answering the call in your life is literally that. Finding out exactly what you’re here for through your heart.”

The album finishes with the standout original gospel number Ain’t Life Grand. Over swaying organs and clapped percussion Jimetta’s lyrical mantras serve to emphasise the good feelings that come to those with a grateful heart. Good feeling is an apt descriptor for the mood of the album as a whole. Its shining positivity provides a welcome ray of light in an increasingly dark world. “It’s a shortcut if you will to the better feelings” Jimetta says. “The hope that we need to keep pressing forward. We are saturated and inundated with images of chaos and destruction, death and hatred. There’s so much we can witness. So, I want to make sure that there is a representation sonically of the other parts that are still there to witness so that we can continue to build those things. So that the systems we support actually reflect what we want to experience. So it’s like: “Don’t give up and Let The Sunshine Into You” and then find out what your purpose is and answer the call.”

French techno titan Madben unveils his much anticipated ‘Troisième Sens’ LP on Maceo Plex’s Ellum Audio.

Madben started absorbing the techno of Jeff Mills, Dave Clarke and Speedy J in the 90s, growing up in Lille in northern France. He retains a passion for DIY culture and warehouse parties thanks to youthful raving at Brussels' Fuse, Gent's Kozzmozz or in abandoned factories in Courtrai. All this has shone through in his music, including a debut album on Astropolis in 2018 that featured a collaboration with Laurent Garnier and a recent EP for Garnier and Scan X’s label.

Over the last decade, he has become a European club and festival favourite playing places like Berghain and Awakenings. His studio boasts a fine array of machines utilised to full effect on this latest opus. ‘Troisième Sens’ perfectly reflects what the artist has always loved, listened to and played, keeping one eye on the dance floor but never at the expense of musical narrative. It’s a genuinely progressive, multi-genre body of work that allows listeners to fully immerse themselves in the seemingly limitless depths of the Frenchman’s sonic capabilities.

He says, “Over the years, I learned to have more fun with the gear in my studio, and this has been the result. The album took three years to finish; I started in an underground basement studio in Paris before moving to Nantes. Therefore, it may surprise listeners with such a diverse selection of moods. It's dark in places but happy in others.”

'Departure' kicks off with uplifting synth work and broken techno beats that have a celebratory feel. 'Addicted' is a lithe cut with steamy vocals and a more fulsome combo of drums and bass, while 'Circuit Breaker' cuts loose in the cosmos. Acid wobbles, smeared synths and metallic percussion all make for a bouncy cut before 'Fade In Fade Out' continues the cosmic trip with vastly oversized synth patterns that will light up a dark space with overwhelming euphoria.

The brilliant 'It's 1 am In A Rave' is a dark, heads-down banger with 'Lost Memories' then layering up melancholic synths and Plastikman-style drum loops into something full of deep thought. There is no let up with the superb acid techno gymnastics of 'No fear', and 'The March' is a turbulent mix of sheet metal synths that whip about over steel-plated drums. 'You Dance Like A Robot' is end-of-the-world electro with a menacing robot vocal, and the electro tip continues with expert drum programming and menacing leads on 'Deep In The Jungle'. 'Meta' is a flailing rhythmic workout that sounds like the machines are in meltdown, and 'I Made A Dream During This Nightmare' is a serene techno soundscape for ruminating about the future of the human race.

Intelligent yet immediate, impactful but emotional, ‘Troisième Sens’ is another standout techno record from Madben.

She’s out of this world…

Maltese musician & producer Joon’s galactic debut arrives on our shores fully formed a decade after she first set sail. 12 cuts of uniquely addictive Synthesized Pop twist & turn on the rocky waters of life.

Her story begins after a life-changing car crash on the streets of Malta many moons ago. She was lucky to walk away in one piece. “That car crash was a wake-up call,” she says. “It made me realize how precious life is & I started living the life I felt was worth living.” Inspired to finally pursue her love of music full time, she began collecting instruments. Starting with a Stylophone& a vintage rhythm box, she started documenting ideas. Returning home to Malta after a few years in London, she only met one other woman making electronic music on the island. Driven by the desire to make music possible & accessible for the next generation, Joon co-founded the Malta Sound Women’s Network.

Ten years later, she sends us messages in a bottle from across the Mediterranean Sea. Armed with a Moog & her ethereal voice, she transmits hope & joy from a bedroom somewhere between Sicily & North Africa. Her music is right at home alongside outsider pioneers like Fever Ray, Grimes, Laurie Anderson & Molly Nilsson. Dream Again glides across heavy rhythms & eclectic electro. Telling stories of alienation with a throbbing heartbeat & space-age melodies, she lets us into her ultra-vivid world where anything is possible. Produced by Johnny Jewel, the album shines bright like comet orbiting the label’s dark sky, a much-needed vision of light on the horizon.

“Even if I’m sad or heartbroken, I remain optimistic. I want to grow old with no regrets.”

It’s time to Dream Again…

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

Angelo is an EP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist and singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy's father and both of Stuart's parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo's sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, "to get us out of our grief and into our bodies," says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal _ a resourceful, collective answer to "what happens now?". Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. "Such a bro-y, `80s dude car, it's been super fun to drive around in a new town," Murphy says. "He's older than us, he's a classic, he's got a story." It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, "Which Way To The Club." The question is quickly resolved by "Take A Trip" as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip - the kind of imagined space or chamber within one's self capable of "shifting a fraction of who you are," says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be "as free as we could be," adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: "What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room." Next is "Shy Guy," a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: "We are in junior high, we're on the dance floor, what's going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?" The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. "Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too," Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one - something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, "It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission." "Angelo" and "Ooo La La" deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean's catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo's dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude "Colors" drifting into "Where Do We Go?", a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space. It all culminates in "Caldwell's Way," a fond farewell to their Bay Area community - "a part of my life that I knew couldn't come back," says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There's the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: "I'd rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars." And the song's namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. "I'm only miles away, maybe I'm just feeling lonely," the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and "Nostalgia" runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

A gorgeous and gripping portrait of Fenne's last two years, Big Picture was pieced together in an effort to self-soothe. Tracked live in co-producer Brad Cook's North Carolina studio, the album delineates the phases of love and becomes a map of comfort vs claustrophobia. Though its creation took place amid personal and global turmoil, the ruminative yet candid Big Picture is Fenne's most cohesive, resolute work to date, both lyrically and sonically. "This isn't a sad album _ it's about as uplifting as my way of doing things will allow," she says. "These songs explore worry and doubt and letting go, but those themes are framed brightly." With confidence and quiet strength, each track provides an insight into Fenne's ever-changing view of love and, ultimately, its redefinition _ love as a process, not something to be lost and found. While the album was written alone in Fenne's Bristol flat - a fact intentionally reflected in its compact sonic quality - Big Picture was transformed from a solitary venture into a unifying collaboration during the recording process when she was joined by her touring band, Melina Dutere of Jay Som (mixing), Christian Lee Hutson (guitar and co production), and Katy Kirby (vocals). Notably, these 10 songs are Fenne's first and only to have been written over the course of a relationship; 2018's On Hold and 2020's BREACH both confront the pain of retrospection, saying goodbye to a love that's gone. Big Picture does the exact opposite _ rooted firmly in the present, it traces the narrative of two people trying their hardest not to implode, together. "This album is an observation of the way I think about love, the selfexamination that comes with closeness and the responsibilities involved in being a big part of someone else's small(er) world," summarizes Fenne. "It was written in a place of relative emotional stability - stability that felt unstable because of its newness, but also because of the global context. 2020 was the year of letting go, but we'd all already let go of so much and nothing felt like mine anymore. Writing always did, though, so that's what I chose to do."

ULTRAMARINE VINYL

A gorgeous and gripping portrait of Fenne's last two years, Big Picture was pieced together in an effort to self-soothe. Tracked live in co-producer Brad Cook's North Carolina studio, the album delineates the phases of love and becomes a map of comfort vs claustrophobia. Though its creation took place amid personal and global turmoil, the ruminative yet candid Big Picture is Fenne's most cohesive, resolute work to date, both lyrically and sonically. "This isn't a sad album _ it's about as uplifting as my way of doing things will allow," she says. "These songs explore worry and doubt and letting go, but those themes are framed brightly." With confidence and quiet strength, each track provides an insight into Fenne's ever-changing view of love and, ultimately, its redefinition _ love as a process, not something to be lost and found. While the album was written alone in Fenne's Bristol flat - a fact intentionally reflected in its compact sonic quality - Big Picture was transformed from a solitary venture into a unifying collaboration during the recording process when she was joined by her touring band, Melina Dutere of Jay Som (mixing), Christian Lee Hutson (guitar and co production), and Katy Kirby (vocals). Notably, these 10 songs are Fenne's first and only to have been written over the course of a relationship; 2018's On Hold and 2020's BREACH both confront the pain of retrospection, saying goodbye to a love that's gone. Big Picture does the exact opposite _ rooted firmly in the present, it traces the narrative of two people trying their hardest not to implode, together. "This album is an observation of the way I think about love, the selfexamination that comes with closeness and the responsibilities involved in being a big part of someone else's small(er) world," summarizes Fenne. "It was written in a place of relative emotional stability - stability that felt unstable because of its newness, but also because of the global context. 2020 was the year of letting go, but we'd all already let go of so much and nothing felt like mine anymore. Writing always did, though, so that's what I chose to do."

Tape

A gorgeous and gripping portrait of Fenne's last two years, Big Picture was pieced together in an effort to self-soothe. Tracked live in co-producer Brad Cook's North Carolina studio, the album delineates the phases of love and becomes a map of comfort vs claustrophobia. Though its creation took place amid personal and global turmoil, the ruminative yet candid Big Picture is Fenne's most cohesive, resolute work to date, both lyrically and sonically. "This isn't a sad album _ it's about as uplifting as my way of doing things will allow," she says. "These songs explore worry and doubt and letting go, but those themes are framed brightly." With confidence and quiet strength, each track provides an insight into Fenne's ever-changing view of love and, ultimately, its redefinition _ love as a process, not something to be lost and found. While the album was written alone in Fenne's Bristol flat - a fact intentionally reflected in its compact sonic quality - Big Picture was transformed from a solitary venture into a unifying collaboration during the recording process when she was joined by her touring band, Melina Dutere of Jay Som (mixing), Christian Lee Hutson (guitar and co production), and Katy Kirby (vocals). Notably, these 10 songs are Fenne's first and only to have been written over the course of a relationship; 2018's On Hold and 2020's BREACH both confront the pain of retrospection, saying goodbye to a love that's gone. Big Picture does the exact opposite _ rooted firmly in the present, it traces the narrative of two people trying their hardest not to implode, together. "This album is an observation of the way I think about love, the selfexamination that comes with closeness and the responsibilities involved in being a big part of someone else's small(er) world," summarizes Fenne. "It was written in a place of relative emotional stability - stability that felt unstable because of its newness, but also because of the global context. 2020 was the year of letting go, but we'd all already let go of so much and nothing felt like mine anymore. Writing always did, though, so that's what I chose to do."

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Tape
"And we"re coming out of dreams / And we"re coming back to dreams" is the first thing you hear Bill say as you remake your acquaintance on YTILAER. Right out the gate, he"s standing in two places at once: meeting up with old friends behind the scenes and encountering them on the record, finding himself coming round the bend and then again as someone else on down the line. Like the character actor he played on Gold Record, writing stories about other people, telling jokes about everyone, and in singing them, becoming the songs. "You do what you"ve got to do / To see the picture" Bill"s got a full band sound going on this one, with him and Matt Kinsey on guitars, Emmett Kelly on bass and backing vocals, Sarah Ann Phillips on B3, piano and backing vocals and Jim White on drums. Jim and Matt sing on one song, too, and some other singers come in, too. Bill plays some synth here and there, and Carl Smith drifts in and out of the picture with his contra alto clarinet, as do Mike St. Clair and Derek Phelps on brass. Somehow in between them all, you might think you hear the distant sound of a steel guitar. And you might - but you might not, too. In this company, Bill continues his journey, tunneling underneath the weathered exterior of what seems to be and into the more nuanced life everything takes on in the dark. With Bill"s voice making the extraordinary leaps and bounds that measure the lives of the songs, the band follow him through passages that seem to invent themselves; other times playing with deeply soulful grooves and/or desperate intensity, as these moments come and go. There"s nothing they can"t do. "I wrote this song in five and forever / I"m writing it right now" Bill sings on "Natural Information" - an admission of the everyday alchemy he"s forever trafficking in. Time passes, triangulating the encounters that went into any one record with two out of any three others, all of it made flesh, new constitution, in our stereo speakers. If every album is its own life, it stands to reason that they"re invariably passing in the night. Cascading images flowing from the stream of consciousness. Turning like pages from the journal, unspeakably personal, then suddenly become tall tales, like a book pulled off the shelf, completely unbound. Headlines flow through. Mirror images, mirthful ones. Bill"s lyrics strain at the lines on the page, not content to separate the printing of the fact from the myth or be confined to ink on paper. They want to fly free. And they do. "I realize now that dreams are real" On YTILAER"s inner sleeve, alongside his lyrics, Bill celebrates the "exhilaration and dread" of cover artist Paul Ryan"s paintings. Paul"s another one met up with again down the road, his indelible cover imagery on Apocalypse and Dream River now an axis of meaning in the Callahanian world - and in the bright colors found in these new images, a parallel to Bill"s recognitions here. "A breath of exquisite air as we come up from drowning", sounds like the desired hope for those hearing the songs of YTILAER.

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

BLUE & BONE VINYL

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.

Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.

There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.

Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same.

Pressing Info: 180g translucent pink vinyl, limited to 250 copies, download card included. Five years on from their 2018 debut album 'Great Vowel Shift', Lviv, Ukraine-based krautrock outfit Sherpa The Tiger are now returning with their second album, 'Ithkuil, via Fuzz Club Records - with 100% of the profits from the release going to the band to help support them during the war. Where their previous work was centred around vintage synths, minimal ambient and neon-lit kraut-disco grooves, 'Ithkuil' sees Sherpa The Tiger explore more expansive and layered structures and compositions - incorporating intricate guitars, flute, arpeggiators and jazzy piano references, alongside an array of other elements that originate from a broad spectrum of past and present music genres. "This album bears the name of 'Ithkuil' for a reason", the band state: "Like the language we borrowed the title from, the sound of the record has a lot of levels, layers, and orchestral nuances. We consider this album and its pieces a single journey. Every track of the LP works as a mandatory stop for contemplation and reflection that happens on the route of the listener." Sherpa The Tiger began working on the new material in 2019 during their EU live shows in support of 'Great Vowel Shift' and chalk the more textured and cinematic results down to a more collaborative approach. "We wanted to rethink the Krautrock heritage explored on our last album and made a clear stylistic shift that was determined by a totally different approach to our music-making. The tunes on 'Great Vowel Shift' were cooked in a sort of live-looping mode with two musicians jamming. This time, with 'Ithkuil', the process of creation was shared among 4 musicians, and that approach had a great impact on the final result." Several years in the making and now released against a backdrop of war and invasion in their home country, 'Sherpa The Tiger' say that 'Ithkuil' acts as a snapshot of pre-war times: "Since the war caught us in the middle of planning the release as opposed to creating the music itself, the album can be perceived as a wistful reminder of the pre-war life that doesn't seem to be coming back. The life we actually experienced but lost any recollection of and which we are desperately trying to bring back through the music created by the other us now dwelling in an absolutely different reality."

Tape

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Like many debut solo albums from musicians in bands, Jared Mattson’s Peanut didn’t originally come from a need to break away. As a composer for the Mattson 2, Jared Mattson was working up a batch of new songs through the winter of 2019-2020, looking ahead to the next album he and brother Jonathan Mattson, the blitzkrieging drummer, would record. As the pandemic hit stateside, Jared holed up in his home studio and kept developing the new music. And during that process it became increasingly clear to them that this wasn’t shaping up to be the next Mattson 2 album. This was a Mattson 1 album.

Jared had been absorbing the guitar work on records by reggae stalwarts Aswad and Burning Spear, and also the Police’s Andy Summer and the ways he gives songs space. And Jared wanted a prominent bass sound, too, where the guitar itself sometimes settles into the passenger seat so that the bass can drive. Lyrically, the album taps into our rattled world, where anxiety, loss, violence, and regret are sometimes pierced by the promise of love. The time spent working on the album was a profoundly introspective time as he reflected on past relationships while living through and writing during the pandemic, he also never lost sight of this truth about himself: Life is great with music.

One of the album’s standout highlights is “Burn Down Babylon,” which is propelled by the bass’s funk-you-say groove. You don’t often encounter many pop songs with so blunt an opening line as, “I got punched in the face last night by a neo-Nazi,”—a true experience that was delivered many years ago in a bar brawl in Carlsbad, California. But to hear the music that goes along with this tale manages a vibe that is less melee and more backyard jubilee.

When “Please Come Here,” with an intro that slinks along like a Cadillac on a Sunday morning drive, kicks in, it’s typical of the album’s melodic pop flourishes, but the twist here is that the vocals are in Japanese (The Mattson 2 have toured Japan 20 times and covered many Japanese pop songs on 2018’s Vaults of Eternity: Japan). Ween’s “She Wanted to Leave” is the lone cover, but the way Jared reimagines the song makes it fits seamlessly within the album’s sonic template. The song’s inclusion was also a personal way to honor one of Jared’s best friends, who died from cancer two years ago. The two had always bonded over the song and marveled at its inherent beauty. Ultimately, Mattson’s solo debut unfolds like a string of fascinating clouds: These are not songs in a hurry; they shift around as they float by, and, most notably, they carry their unique kind of electric charge.