Suche:slick walk

This is Ric aka DJ Robert Smith.

2026 Repress

Lisa Decker returned with her second studio album "Soliloquise" one year after her debut album "Serendipity" in 2021 with Japanese Jazz trio Nautilus from Tokyo and a superb single remix of "Everytime" by Pat Van Dyke featuring rapper John Robinson.

For this project she worked on eight new songs. Half of the album is arranged by Nautilus and the other half is produced by SaturnVybz who is known for his works with/and projects like Slick Walk, The Ruff Cats and Jazzanova.

Getting a step forward and conceptually a bit different this release gets the "Oonops Drops" FLIP SERIES treatment which means: Side A and Side B are made by different artists or differentiate from each other like the first volume with Nautilus X Anna Sato & Toshiyuki Sasaki (OD006LP).

Songs like "Free", "Let's Wake Up" and "Summer Child" with their feel warm note of groovy, jazzy pop and the more swing-jazz tune "Rimy Whitewater" meet guitar-electronic touched songs like "Love And Hope", "On My Way" and "True Blue" or her dreamt away track "Stay With Me" with smooth bouncy beats and with an atmosphere for being the perfect soundtrack for a night ride on deserted streets.

Lisa is careful about the artwork and after working together with renowned artist Lindsey Kustusch from San Francisco on her first album she collaborates with local artist Sebastian Maria Otto who is known for his signature art style and exhibitions from Germany to Japan.

Lisa will perform live in Hanover, the 20th May at roof top of the Historical Museum together with Nautilus. Japan meets Germany. Lucky coincidence or: "Serendipity".

The second volume in the "Lisztogrooves" series from Igor Gonya's label Lisztomania is packed with both heavy hitters and emerging talents. Across both sides of the vinyl, you'll find some exceptional tracks, starting with Manuel Sahagun's slick deep house groove "Get Yourself." There's also a taste of US house from Human By Nature, enriched with a rich atmosphere and 90's piano riffs. The A-side concludes with a high-energy, uptempo jackin' filter workout from Serbian mainstay and the MTV Europe Music Awards winner Gramophonedzie. The B-side offers a more stripped-back yet deep and solid groove. French producer Naux builds his arrangement around chord stabs, which serve as the foundation of the track. Stogov delivers a soul-drenched, late-night cruiser with "Walking Wide," while JR From Dallas and Justnique close out the EP with a perfectly seductive slice of deep house, complete with smooth chord work and warm, sneaky vibes. This is another hugely effective and stylish release.

Forest Green Vinyl

Seafood Sam is a futuristic artifact. If that description might sound confusing at first, it matches the eclectic dualities found in true originals. With his effortless cool and timeless style, the North Long Beach native defies convention and exact comparison. He's a virtuosic rapper, a stop-you-in-your tracks singer, and a symphonic producer. Welcome to the lavish life of a laid-back transcontinental man of mystery, rolling in old school Cadillacs, eating caviar with a blade in his pocket, and making plays in vintage Pelle Pelle gear. A blaxploitation icon for the Instagram age, blessed with the bars of a `90s legend and 23rd century swagger. Seafood Sam is a true hero of modernity. On his full-length album debut for up-and-coming label drink sum wtr (Kari Faux, Deem Spencer, Aja Monet) debut, Standing on Giant Shoulders, Sam splits the difference between Snoop Dogg and D' Angelo, Curren$y and David Ruffin. The songs reveal a forward-thinking sensibility rooted in ancestral soul. He creates spiritual hymns for the streets that tap into universal ideals and irrepressible groove. In an era plagued by short-term thinking, his ambitions reveal a crate-digging depth of music history and a meticulous ear for detail. The giant shoulders in the album's title refer to James Brown, Bobby Brown, and Miles Davis - the holy trinity who inspired Sam's process. From the Godfather of Soul, Sam took a perfectionist's rigor and focus. The example of Bobby Brown lent an unshakeable confidence and self-belief. While the constant artistic left turns of the trumpeter that birthed Ccool offered an aspirational archetype. The story starts in the glory days of Long Beach hip-hop. As a young child, the G-Funk era soundtracked rides in Sam's father's car. Some of his earliest memories are trying to memorize Snoop's verse on "Nuthin' But a "G" Thang." Beyond gangsta rap, the LBC has historically doubled as a capital of lowrider soul and carwash oldies. At any intersection, you could hear Dogg Food or Brenton Wood, Warren G or Barbara Lynn. This too was absorbed via osmosis. It also just so happened that the art of performance was always in Sam's blood. So at family functions, he and his sister supplied entertainment by singing karaoke renditions of The Isley Brothers. While his Harlem Shake remains a thing of local lore. Long Beach is a culturally diverse mecca of skate parks and gang life, street fashion and tricky dance moves. This is the place that raised Sam on a diet of Wu-Tang and Nelly Furtado, Lil Bow Wow and Allen Iverson. He was the middle ground between his two older brothers: one who gangbanged, the other who graduated with a master's degree from UC-Santa Barbara. But it wasn't until the end of high school that Sam started to take rap seriously. Alongside long-time collaborators like Huey Briss and Reaper Mook, Sam's name began to make waves on the northside of the city, but he was partially distracted by a modeling career that paid the bills and took him all to way to walk in Paris' fashion week. The first turning point arrived with 2018's "Ramsey," a self-produced, slick-talk anthem with over 10,000,000 streams across all platforms. With each subsequent release, Sam showcased his peerless consistency, building buzz both online and in the city streets. Spin hailed his "smooth and unhurried cadences and understated lyricism_ that sounds like nothing else in Long Beach." Clash raved about Sam's "evolution as an artist, cruising through nostalgic production with slick, witty rhymes." The culmination arrives with Standing on Giant Shoulders. It's the evidence of a master, a young sensei in the model of Quincy Jones. All rhymes, singing, production, and arrangements were handled by Sam - with an assist from his close Long Beach kinsman Tom Kendall from the group Soular System. It's hard-edged and lyrical enough for disciples of Larry June and Roc Marciano, but orchestral and melodic enough for fans of Anderson .Paak and H.E.R.

Zwei Garagen-Generationen treffen aufeinander! Reverend Beat-Man, das Schweizer Ein-Mann-Orchester und der König des Blues Trash, trifft auf Milan Slick, eine echt dunkle Seele und vielleicht Reinkarnation von Nick Cave (ach, noch zugegen)/Johnny Thunders, um Rock'n'Roll zu spielen, der so frisch und lebendig, wild und düster ist wie nie zuvor. Reverend Beat-Man und Milan Slick lernten sich 2020 inmitten der Pandemie kennen, als sie einen Soundtrack für den Vampirfilm "A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night" von Ana Lily Amirpour schrieben. Zusammen spielten sie Gigs bei Super Sonic Records oder im legendären SO36 in Berlin, um dann gemeinsam mit Beatrice Graf und Benjamin Glaus ein Album unter dem Namen "Reverend Beat-Man & The Underground" zu produzieren (im Rahmen des Rocklette PALP Festivals), eine makabre Tanzparty zum Untergang der Menschheit. Als Nächstes nahmen der superprimitive Rock 'n` Roll-Trash-Hi-Energy-Lo-Fi Reverend Beat-Man und der raffinierte, clevere, verspielte und düstere Milan Slick ihr erstes gemeinsames Album im ehemaligen Züri West Studio mit Sebastian Zwahlen und dem einzigartigen Robert Butler von Miracle Workers auf. Reverend Beat-Man ist eigentlich eine Ein-Mann-Band mit einer Mission: Blues-Trash und wilden Rock'n'Roll. Geboren 1967 in Bern, Schweiz, im Sommer der Liebe und des Hasses, ist er seit 1992 auf Tour, zuerst als Lightning Beat-Man, dann als Reverend Beat-Man One-Man-Band und mit seiner Band The Monsters. Er spielte in ganz Europa, Nord- und Südamerika, Japan, Vietnam, Neuseeland, Australien, Afrika, CBGBs, Montreux Jazz, Muddy Roots usw. Er ist der Gründer von Voodoo Rhythm Records (1992). Wäre er Politiker, würden ihn sogar seine Feinde respektieren (die Regierung). Er wurde 2014 für den Schweizer Musikpreis nominiert, gewann den lokalen Musikpreis als einflussreichster Musiker in Bern (Hauptstadt der Schweiz) und betreibt dort einen Platten- und Souvenirladen. Der Singer-Songwriter Milan Slick (Jahrgang 2004) steht noch ganz am Anfang seiner Karriere, hat aber bereits mit namhaften Künstlern wie Mario Batkovic oder Birdman Jäggi oder seiner eigenen Band Fatigues zusammengearbeitet. In seiner Musik sind Einflüsse von u.a. Nick Cave bis David Bowie zu hören, aber auch, dass sich eine eigenwillige junge Stimme herauskristallisiert, von der wir in Zukunft hoffentlich noch viel hören werden. Als Classic Black or limitiertes Glow In The Dark Vinyl, jeweils mit vierseitigem A4-Insert & DLC, Digisleeve-CD, Kassette sowie Tonband mit Extras erhältlich!

Zwei Garagen-Generationen treffen aufeinander! Reverend Beat-Man, das Schweizer Ein-Mann-Orchester und der König des Blues Trash, trifft auf Milan Slick, eine echt dunkle Seele und vielleicht Reinkarnation von Nick Cave (ach, noch zugegen)/Johnny Thunders, um Rock'n'Roll zu spielen, der so frisch und lebendig, wild und düster ist wie nie zuvor. Reverend Beat-Man und Milan Slick lernten sich 2020 inmitten der Pandemie kennen, als sie einen Soundtrack für den Vampirfilm "A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night" von Ana Lily Amirpour schrieben. Zusammen spielten sie Gigs bei Super Sonic Records oder im legendären SO36 in Berlin, um dann gemeinsam mit Beatrice Graf und Benjamin Glaus ein Album unter dem Namen "Reverend Beat-Man & The Underground" zu produzieren (im Rahmen des Rocklette PALP Festivals), eine makabre Tanzparty zum Untergang der Menschheit. Als Nächstes nahmen der superprimitive Rock 'n` Roll-Trash-Hi-Energy-Lo-Fi Reverend Beat-Man und der raffinierte, clevere, verspielte und düstere Milan Slick ihr erstes gemeinsames Album im ehemaligen Züri West Studio mit Sebastian Zwahlen und dem einzigartigen Robert Butler von Miracle Workers auf. Reverend Beat-Man ist eigentlich eine Ein-Mann-Band mit einer Mission: Blues-Trash und wilden Rock'n'Roll. Geboren 1967 in Bern, Schweiz, im Sommer der Liebe und des Hasses, ist er seit 1992 auf Tour, zuerst als Lightning Beat-Man, dann als Reverend Beat-Man One-Man-Band und mit seiner Band The Monsters. Er spielte in ganz Europa, Nord- und Südamerika, Japan, Vietnam, Neuseeland, Australien, Afrika, CBGBs, Montreux Jazz, Muddy Roots usw. Er ist der Gründer von Voodoo Rhythm Records (1992). Wäre er Politiker, würden ihn sogar seine Feinde respektieren (die Regierung). Er wurde 2014 für den Schweizer Musikpreis nominiert, gewann den lokalen Musikpreis als einflussreichster Musiker in Bern (Hauptstadt der Schweiz) und betreibt dort einen Platten- und Souvenirladen. Der Singer-Songwriter Milan Slick (Jahrgang 2004) steht noch ganz am Anfang seiner Karriere, hat aber bereits mit namhaften Künstlern wie Mario Batkovic oder Birdman Jäggi oder seiner eigenen Band Fatigues zusammengearbeitet. In seiner Musik sind Einflüsse von u.a. Nick Cave bis David Bowie zu hören, aber auch, dass sich eine eigenwillige junge Stimme herauskristallisiert, von der wir in Zukunft hoffentlich noch viel hören werden. Als Classic Black or limitiertes Glow In The Dark Vinyl, jeweils mit vierseitigem A4-Insert & DLC, Digisleeve-CD, Kassette sowie Tonband mit Extras erhältlich!

Zwei Garagen-Generationen treffen aufeinander! Reverend Beat-Man, das Schweizer Ein-Mann-Orchester und der König des Blues Trash, trifft auf Milan Slick, eine echt dunkle Seele und vielleicht Reinkarnation von Nick Cave (ach, noch zugegen)/Johnny Thunders, um Rock'n'Roll zu spielen, der so frisch und lebendig, wild und düster ist wie nie zuvor. Reverend Beat-Man und Milan Slick lernten sich 2020 inmitten der Pandemie kennen, als sie einen Soundtrack für den Vampirfilm "A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night" von Ana Lily Amirpour schrieben. Zusammen spielten sie Gigs bei Super Sonic Records oder im legendären SO36 in Berlin, um dann gemeinsam mit Beatrice Graf und Benjamin Glaus ein Album unter dem Namen "Reverend Beat-Man & The Underground" zu produzieren (im Rahmen des Rocklette PALP Festivals), eine makabre Tanzparty zum Untergang der Menschheit. Als Nächstes nahmen der superprimitive Rock 'n` Roll-Trash-Hi-Energy-Lo-Fi Reverend Beat-Man und der raffinierte, clevere, verspielte und düstere Milan Slick ihr erstes gemeinsames Album im ehemaligen Züri West Studio mit Sebastian Zwahlen und dem einzigartigen Robert Butler von Miracle Workers auf. Reverend Beat-Man ist eigentlich eine Ein-Mann-Band mit einer Mission: Blues-Trash und wilden Rock'n'Roll. Geboren 1967 in Bern, Schweiz, im Sommer der Liebe und des Hasses, ist er seit 1992 auf Tour, zuerst als Lightning Beat-Man, dann als Reverend Beat-Man One-Man-Band und mit seiner Band The Monsters. Er spielte in ganz Europa, Nord- und Südamerika, Japan, Vietnam, Neuseeland, Australien, Afrika, CBGBs, Montreux Jazz, Muddy Roots usw. Er ist der Gründer von Voodoo Rhythm Records (1992). Wäre er Politiker, würden ihn sogar seine Feinde respektieren (die Regierung). Er wurde 2014 für den Schweizer Musikpreis nominiert, gewann den lokalen Musikpreis als einflussreichster Musiker in Bern (Hauptstadt der Schweiz) und betreibt dort einen Platten- und Souvenirladen. Der Singer-Songwriter Milan Slick (Jahrgang 2004) steht noch ganz am Anfang seiner Karriere, hat aber bereits mit namhaften Künstlern wie Mario Batkovic oder Birdman Jäggi oder seiner eigenen Band Fatigues zusammengearbeitet. In seiner Musik sind Einflüsse von u.a. Nick Cave bis David Bowie zu hören, aber auch, dass sich eine eigenwillige junge Stimme herauskristallisiert, von der wir in Zukunft hoffentlich noch viel hören werden. Als Classic Black or limitiertes Glow In The Dark Vinyl, jeweils mit vierseitigem A4-Insert & DLC, Digisleeve-CD, Kassette sowie Tonband mit Extras erhältlich!

Will probably ship earlier than the 14th. Up until Raising Hell, the rap juggernaut we know as Run-DMC was still in its building and breaking-down- doors phase. In 1986 that changed, and in a dramatic way. With their third long-player, the group had reached the mountaintop. It was THE record that proved hip-hop wasn't a fad. Raising Hell marked an important and significant new era for the group. Leaving producer Larry Smith for up-and- coming sonic innovator Rick Rubin (still co-produced by Run's brother Russell Simmons), they began to fully transition not only their own sound, but the sound of the entire genre. Less live playing - with some exceptions - and a slicker, tighter sonic attack. Musical aesthetics aside, though, at their core they stayed true to the essence of hip-hop: two turntables and a microphone, or two. It's impossible to talk about the album without its worldwide smash, 'Walk This Way,' which hit #4 on the Billboard pop charts and saw the group digging in the rock crates to summon Aerosmith in the flesh, combining Steven Tyler's and Joe Perry's musicianship with the group's own take on the '70s classic. The song's video cemented Run-DMC as legit MTV idols, and both groups rode its wave to new heights. Beyond 'Walk This Way,' the platter is full to the hilt with undeniable classic singles: 'You Be Illin''; 'It's Tricky'; 'Peter Piper' and the fashion-world shifting 'My Adidas.' Each song was new proof that Run-DMC's sound was indeed new, but still familiar, and full of the energy, charisma and innovation that drew fans to their first two LPs. Aside from the singles, the reason the album stands up so well is the fact that there is virtually no filler. 'Proud To Be Black' remains a pioneering and underrated cut when people talk about 'conscious' hip-hop. And to make sure they never lost the streets that gave them their start, 'Hit It Run,' 'Son Of Byford,' 'Is It Live' and 'Perfection' all bring it back to the group's early days in the park. Besides the triple platinum status the album achieved, it was more than just a pop smash. It signaled a new era for rap music, and it was

the no-turning- back point for the entire genre. This was the beginning of what we now call the Golden Era, and it still sounds as fresh today as it did three decades ago.

Following the release of ‘Just Something’, her acclaimed comeback album at the end March, Dee C Lee is back with a brand-new single ‘Back In Time’, with a special 7” on Acid Jazz.

Having served as the album’s thrilling opening track, for this release there is a new radio mix, highlighting the slick, disco-tinged soul at its heart - a perfect soundtrack to the summer.

The 7” is backed with ‘Walk Away’, written with fellow Style Council member Mick Talbot, and already a firm fan favourite after its digital release preceding the album.

It is presented in a wonderful picture sleeve, with a new portrait of Dee by Will Parsons, with a classic Acid Jazz disc label. Limited to 500 copies - pre-order is recommended!

Afro-Cuban star Daymé Arocena has announced her new album 'Al-Kemi' which will be released on February 23 via Brownswood Recordings. It is her first album since 'Sonocardiogram' in 2019.



Dayme's new single "American Boy" accompanies her album announcement. No other song on the album embodies Arocena’s artistic liberation like “American Boy” - an exhilarating, futuristic slice of progressive pop. “I wrote it ten years ago, but thought it was too much of a pop song,” Dayme reflects. “In an indirect way, the music industry had shown me that I wasn’t welcome in that world. There isn’t a Black woman like me who enjoys the kind of success usually reserved for Rosalía or KAROL G. The image of music genres like salsa or bachata has been painfully distorted throughout the years. You are supposed to clone and fuse yourself in order to conceal your Black or indigenous side. They told me I didn’t fit in that world, but I’m going to prove them wrong.”



When Daymé decided to switch gears and record her fourth studio album in Puerto Rico with the iconic producer Eduardo Cabra (Calle 13), she never imagined that she would end up moving there.



“From the moment I stepped foot on the island, I realized that I never wanted to leave,” says the 31 year-old Cuban singer/songwriter with a hearty laugh. “At the time, I had spent three years away from Cuba, living in Canada with my husband. I called and asked him to come over to Puerto Rico, and to please bring all my stuff. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part. It was simply love at first sight.”



Relying on instinct and intuition is how Daymé has managed her career since she burst on the international scene with 'Nueva Era,' her prodigious debut album, in 2015. Now, she has fully reinvented her sound with 'Al-Kemi,' a revolutionary – and transformative – fusion of neo soul singing, Afro-Caribbean beats and slick new millennium pop.



The album is titled 'Al-Kemi' with the Yoruba word for alchemy. "It means the cosmovision of transformation," she explains. "It is mixing all the elements to achieve an unbeatable result, full of shine and light, like gold springing from the skin."



From the cosmopolitan smoothness of lead single “Suave y Pegao” – an effortless fusion of jazz, bossa nova and urbano stylings with reggaeton star Rafa Pabön on guest vocals – to the smoldering neo-soul of “A Fuego Lento,” with Dominican singer Vicente García, Daymé’s latest album relies on sacred formats of the past but rearranges them in a conscious quest to redraw the very definition of what Latin pop is supposed to sound like.



“It was definitely a team effort,” she reflects from her new home in San Juan. “Flexibility may well be my biggest virtue. I’m always open to every possible suggestion when it comes to making things better. My piano player, Jorge Luis "Yoyi" Lagarza, and I worked on the demos with the rest of my band. Then with Eduardo Cabra’s direction, we enlisted musicians from all over the Caribbean – Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic. Everybody added their energy and coloring.”



It was Daymé’s piano player who originally suggested she contact Eduardo Cabra known for combining commercial aptitude with a refined sense of craftsmanship. Not only did Cabra accept the singer’s offer, but he also invited her to stay at his home during the four months when they recorded 'Al-Kemi' in his Puerto Rico studio.



“I had no idea that he was familiar with my music,” she enthuses. “Eduardo has been in the industry for a long time, and he comes from a world that is more global and commercial than mine. He was the ideal candidate for this project, but I initially didn’t know if he would understand the social, psychological and personal complexities of the message that I wanted to express.”



“Daymé is one of the most talented musicians that I’ve ever worked with,” says Cabra. “Working together was a joy, because she knew exactly the kind of fusion that she was going for: a cross between her Afro-Cuban roots – which clearly are strong on this album – with the more contemporary vein of analogue synths, samples and a bit of electronica. We wanted both worlds to communicate, to be both respectful and disrespectful to the ancestral colors. I feel comfortable with both, and even Calle 13 walked the two paths. This is also the album where Daymé opened up to the Caribbean at large. Her understanding of harmony and her performance skills are out of this world.”



Born in Havana in 1992, Daymé grew up immersed in Afro-Cuban folk, but also listening to cassette tapes of Sade Adu, her father’s favorite singer. She was identified as a prodigious



talent at only 8 years old and soon started studying music. After studying at the prestigious Amadeo Roldán conservatory, she became co-founder and band member of the Cuban-Canadian jazz collective Maqueque in 2017. With the collective, she launched several international tours and earned a GRAMMY nomination.



“In Cuba, the emphasis on technique is exacerbated,” Daymé explains. "At the same time, opportunities are scarce on the island. A career in music provides a potential for escape, which is why the competitiveness is off the charts.”

Seafood Sam is a futuristic artifact. If that description might sound confusing at first, it matches the eclectic dualities found in true originals. With his effortless cool and timeless style, the North Long Beach native defies convention and exact comparison. He's a virtuosic rapper, a stop-you-in-your tracks singer, and a symphonic producer. Welcome to the lavish life of a laid-back transcontinental man of mystery, rolling in old school Cadillacs, eating caviar with a blade in his pocket, and making plays in vintage Pelle Pelle gear. A blaxploitation icon for the Instagram age, blessed with the bars of a `90s legend and 23rd century swagger. Seafood Sam is a true hero of modernity. On his full-length album debut for up-and-coming label drink sum wtr (Kari Faux, Deem Spencer, Aja Monet) debut, Standing on Giant Shoulders, Sam splits the difference between Snoop Dogg and D' Angelo, Curren$y and David Ruffin. The songs reveal a forward-thinking sensibility rooted in ancestral soul. He creates spiritual hymns for the streets that tap into universal ideals and irrepressible groove. In an era plagued by short-term thinking, his ambitions reveal a crate-digging depth of music history and a meticulous ear for detail. The giant shoulders in the album's title refer to James Brown, Bobby Brown, and Miles Davis - the holy trinity who inspired Sam's process. From the Godfather of Soul, Sam took a perfectionist's rigor and focus. The example of Bobby Brown lent an unshakeable confidence and self-belief. While the constant artistic left turns of the trumpeter that birthed Ccool offered an aspirational archetype. The story starts in the glory days of Long Beach hip-hop. As a young child, the G-Funk era soundtracked rides in Sam's father's car. Some of his earliest memories are trying to memorize Snoop's verse on "Nuthin' But a "G" Thang." Beyond gangsta rap, the LBC has historically doubled as a capital of lowrider soul and carwash oldies. At any intersection, you could hear Dogg Food or Brenton Wood, Warren G or Barbara Lynn. This too was absorbed via osmosis. It also just so happened that the art of performance was always in Sam's blood. So at family functions, he and his sister supplied entertainment by singing karaoke renditions of The Isley Brothers. While his Harlem Shake remains a thing of local lore. Long Beach is a culturally diverse mecca of skate parks and gang life, street fashion and tricky dance moves. This is the place that raised Sam on a diet of Wu-Tang and Nelly Furtado, Lil Bow Wow and Allen Iverson. He was the middle ground between his two older brothers: one who gangbanged, the other who graduated with a master's degree from UC-Santa Barbara. But it wasn't until the end of high school that Sam started to take rap seriously. Alongside long-time collaborators like Huey Briss and Reaper Mook, Sam's name began to make waves on the northside of the city, but he was partially distracted by a modeling career that paid the bills and took him all to way to walk in Paris' fashion week. The first turning point arrived with 2018's "Ramsey," a self-produced, slick-talk anthem with over 10,000,000 streams across all platforms. With each subsequent release, Sam showcased his peerless consistency, building buzz both online and in the city streets. Spin hailed his "smooth and unhurried cadences and understated lyricism_ that sounds like nothing else in Long Beach." Clash raved about Sam's "evolution as an artist, cruising through nostalgic production with slick, witty rhymes." The culmination arrives with Standing on Giant Shoulders. It's the evidence of a master, a young sensei in the model of Quincy Jones. All rhymes, singing, production, and arrangements were handled by Sam - with an assist from his close Long Beach kinsman Tom Kendall from the group Soular System. It's hard-edged and lyrical enough for disciples of Larry June and Roc Marciano, but orchestral and melodic enough for fans of Anderson .Paak and H.E.R.

Minas 'Num Dia Azul' is a sublime slice of private press bossa nova meets jazzy MPB perfection. Warm and bubbling with youthful spirit, the music is simultaneously loose in swagger, yet slick and tight. The album was originally released in 1983 and reflects the great music coming out of Rio at the time, yet 'Num Dia Azul' wasn't recorded in Rio, but actually in the USA.

Recorded in North Carolina just after Patricia and Orlando Haddad had graduated from the North Carolina School of the Arts, the record was only released for the Brazilian market on their own Blueazul Records imprint. As with most private press labels, they could only afford to have it pressed in small quantities. To add to its later obscurity, hundreds of copies were also destroyed in a house fire. They say cream always rises to the top, and fast forward to the 2010s, the word amongst collectors and DJs was spreading about this mythical under-the-radar recording. People from across the globe were contacting Patricia and Orlando for more information, hoping to secure themselves a copy. Luckily the original tapes had remained with the artists and were in great condition, so in 2016 the pair ran a successful Kickstarter campaign to have it remastered and repressed.

For this Mr Bongo 2023 re-issue, we have tried to keep it as close to the original 1983 version as possible, both in the packaging and audio presentation. The CD version comes with bonus tracks. We are super proud to keep Patricia and Orlando's serene recordings in the circulation that they deserve to be. One for fans of Brazilian artists such as Burnier & Cartier, Edu Lobo and Joyce. We are sure those fans will lose themselves in the alluring textures of 'Num Dia Azul'

It's the pair you've all been waiting for! FINALLY!

Alan Tew's Drama Suite Part II. What can we really say? Honestly? We guess the first thing that strikes you is how clean the drums are. Almost impossibly slick but dripping so, so heavy with the neck-snapping funk you'd expect from perhaps the most sought-after library funk set of them all! The cheapest on Discogs is, currently, £1300+. Now's your chance to remedy that. If you know, you know. And we think you know...

"The Rub" is a cool, low-slung heavy-funk roller with relaxed brass and alto flute phrases. Up next, "Money Runner" is another edgy funk glider, its easy-tempo moving in harmony with slinky rhythmic riffs and featuring a seemingly ad-libbed electric piano solo. Strutting along after, "White Elephant Walk" is another laconic, deeply stoned walking theme with electric piano and alto flutes. There follows a couple of brief "walking" links before the brilliantly tense "Master Plan" slowly builds. Expectancy grows to the main theme around a minute in and then a melodic theme builds slightly to the 3 minute mark before floating down gradually and elegantly to its climax. It's utterly fantastic. The smoky, after-hours "Night Watch" is a slow, cool gem featuring alto flutes and synths.

Now we're talking, "The Fence (a)" is just sensational and worth buying this album all on its own. It's likely the reason you're here, anyway. Another impossibly funky, slow and easy tempo with a bass riff to die for, dramatic guitar with gorgeous electric piano and alto flute phrases. It was sampled for "Action Satisfaction" by J5, way way back. "The Fence (b)" is a slower, more deliberate version of the previous heater, but it's no less essential. Indeed, it's absolutely jaw-drooping. Closing out this remarkable side, "Surveillance" is another horizontal masterpiece of relaxed yet dramatic jazz-funk. Vibes ad-lib in centre section and give you an idea of how Roy Ayers making library funk in the mid-late 70s might've sounded. Sensational.

Flip over for "Total Silence", a near-beatless and understated scene-setter featuring neat interplay of guitar and synthesizer themes over bass and hi-hats. The slow "Eyes" follows, a brief gem with subdued electric piano solo and a light climax. The fantastic "Drama Backcloth (1a)" is up next, a repetitive piano and bass refrain with guitar figures over the top. Its creeping crime-funk vibe was pilfered for "Outta Town Shit" by Ghostface Killah in 2006. "Drama Backcloth (1b)" is a short, subdued version without the guitar figure. "Drama Backcloth (2)" features an expectant, background marimba figure over light rhythm whilst the cool "Drama Backcloth (3)" centres around a relaxed riff and the angular "Drama Backcloth (4)" presents eerie progressions with piano interjections. It's decidedly non-rhythmic!

We're then onto 14 (!) different half-minute "Scenechanges", all jazzy and funky, some cool and dramatic, some slow and rhythmic. All ace and groove-fuelled. The aptly-titled "Final Statement" closes proceedings, a slow, pensive theme on guitar joined by cool brass and a solo trumpet to its climax.

As with all of our KPM re-issues, the audio for Drama Suite Part II comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. And as usual, the sleeve reproduction duties were handed over to Richard Robinson, the current custodian of KPM’s brand identity. We're not quite sure what else to say about this landmark record, other than, GET IT!

Where Greasy Mike takes a trip to the Orient - and returns with 16 slices of sizzling spices in a sleazy Szechuan sauce! Expect all manner of tasty treats to liven up the party, but don't forget to bring the Baijiu!...

The always tasteful Half Baked crew looks to one of their own for this fresh slice of delicious minimal. Sam Bangura was a new young resident for the party back in 2018 and since then has really honed his own sound. It's laid bare here across four fine cuts, with opener 'Range Finder' serving up bristling drum machine grooves and cheeky basslines overlaid with cosmic chords. 'Axel's Limp' is a brilliantly vibrant melodic overload with scintillating drums and plenty of neon colours.

'Bugbear' gets more gritty with a standout bassline powering forwards rugged tech house and 'How Are U Feeling?' then gets spaced out and slick.

Lost soul phenomenon Lewis Taylor's Numb finally arrives on double vinyl! One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, most enigmatic figures and most under-appreciated talents, Andrew Lewis Taylor is a prodigious multi-instrumentalist and eclectic polymath. He enjoys a fiercely loyal following which, over the years, has included celebrity champions like Bowie, Elton and D'Angelo. Numb is Taylor's sixth album, initially released on his own label Slow Reality (an anagram of his name) and licensed to Be With for this long-awaited physical edition. It captures Taylor's wholly unique, intoxicating take on lush, late-night psychedelic soul music.

Lewis wrote and recorded these 10 brand new tracks after a 17 year break from making music, although the album came together over a two-year period. The years away have done nothing to dull Taylor's unique musical vision. He still astounds. The lyrical themes, however, have shifted. Understandably, more than a decade and a half of soul searching and unflinching self-examination cannot fail to influence this most honest of songwriters, and boy does it show. Numb marks a return to the darker, more mysterious side of his output: "Brian Wilson-channels-Smokey Robinson atmospheres", as Mojo put it recently.

After playing a rapturously received gig at the Bowery Ballroom in NYC in 2006, Lewis unceremoniously walked away from music and disappeared completely. An interview in 2016 shed light on some of the reasons for Taylor’s withdrawal from the business, but there was no hint of a return anytime soon. Then in June 2021, news emerged out of the blue that he was readying new music alongside Sabina Smyth with whom he had worked first time around.

On Numb, Lewis deftly balances stark, soul-bearing lyrics with moody mid-tempo pop-soul sheen. He deals candidly with depression, mental turmoil, even thoughts of suicide - clearly more personal than Taylor's earlier songs. The music is rich, warm and layered, with infectious melodies and hooks that stick with you. A true grower of an LP, it really does reward repeated listens. As Jim Irvin in Mojo reflected, "despite the depths these plumb, it's a curiously uplifting experience, unfurling like a concept album about life's challenges with an optimistic beauty at its heart."

Triumphant dubwise horns ring out yet, almost instantly, “Final Hour” takes on a dark, downbeat vibe. With lyrics that confront (and, seemingly, confound) death head-on, Lewis ensures the groove is still there, the beats still swing and your head still nods, strings glissade. Woven around delicate yet insistent piano and subtle strings over a killer bassline, the title track “Numb” is a good example of the lyrical themes throughout the album. As Taylor reflects, "So removed I feel no pain / And for all I know I could be having the time of my life" with a coda that feels very much in conversation with Brian Wilson's finest harmonies. "Feels So Good" is sophisticated 90s-sounding soul of the highest order. The music and vocals feel simultaneously optimistic and despondent. Downlifting. A neat trick, and one Lewis has been so adept at over the years. "Apathy" is a mini-epic, a symphonic-soul gem which builds and glides and, eventually, soars. “Worried Mind" is another slow-builder, creeping out the gate in a sketchy, discordant fashion before climbing to half-crescendo but never quite breaking free of its disorientating restraint.

The brighter "Please" presents a more hopeful mood, with the refrain "I still believe" ringing out as Lewis harmonises with himself. "Brave Heart" quietly struts from step one, as Lewis's falsetto swaggers over a downtempo backdrop with ace echoey drums, beautiful strings and serene electric guitar. Closing out Side C, "Is It Cool" answers its own (non-) question with a spellbinding five and a half minutes of swoonsome deep soul that oscillates between a restrained, barely-there backdrop and a lushly full musical accompaniment of acoustic and electric guitar and organ over bass and slick drums. The penultimate track "Nearer" is a magical, soul-stirring ballad in which Lewis sings of reaching a sweet salvation and achieving a peace of mind. If the hairs on the back of your neck aren't standing up by the midway point, you might need to check your pulse. Album closer and true tear-jerker "Being Broken" places Lewis's gorgeous voice high in the mix and the wordless falsetto and melodies invite you to ponder what Pet Sounds might sound like if it were refashioned as a dubby 21st Century electronic soul album. Astonishing.

Simon Francis’s vinyl mastering spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so, as ever, nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Cicely Balston at Air Studios and pressed at Record Industry. Turn it up and let the Lewis Taylor sound envelop you.

2 x Solid White LP, 5mm spine Sleeve UV Gloss Finish, 2x Heavy Weight Printed Inner Sleeve UV Gloss finish, marketing sticker.

Legendary electronic music duo Orbital return Early 2023 with new album “Optical Delusion”, the Hartnoll brothers first studio album since 2018’s Monster’s Exist. Recorded in Orbital’s Brighton studio, “Optical Delusion” includes contributions from Sleaford Mods, Penelope Isles, Anna B Savage, The Little Pest, Dina Ipavic, Coppe, and perhaps most surprisingly, The Medieval Baebes.
Earlier this year, Orbital celebrated their storied history with “30 Something” which, unlike other Best Of’s, contains reworks, remakes, remixes and re-imaginings of landmark Orbital tracks including “Chime”, “Belfast”, “Halcyon”, “Satan”, and “The Box”

SHORT BIOG:

“A human being experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest of humanity – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison…”

You many have seen this quote attributed to Albert Einstein on social media, the archetypal Smartest Guy Ever apparently having an out-of-character religious epiphany. It certainly leapt out at Paul Hartnoll of Orbital who spotted it in Michael Pollan’s 2018 book How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression and Transcendence.

“As soon as I saw ‘optical delusion’ I thought Oh hey, that’s the album title,” says Paul. “It just seemed to say so much about how people construct their own realities, how we see patterns that aren’t there, how we see what we want to see.

“But it’s actually a misquote. He never quite said that. In the German original what he’s really saying is that human experience is as relative as physics. Wouldn’t it be good if we could accept that, and find a kind of universal theory of everything for the human race? Then you look at everything from history to art to your Twitter feed and you think yeah, that’s what we’re all trying to do all of the time…”

Hence ‘Optical Delusion’, the tenth original Orbital album and the latest in a burst of renewed post-pandemic creativity for two brothers who’ve stayed at the top of their game longer than anyone from the post-1988 Class of Acid House.

Now with ‘Optical Delusion’ the Hartnolls dig deeper into the unquiet psyche of our increasingly surreal and disordered world. Sketched out partly during lockdown but fully recorded in the uncertain After Times, the album summons up conflicting emotions and sometimes beguiling images from years when the science fiction doomsdays that the Hartnolls watched on TV as kids finally came true. There are mesmeric tracks with names like ‘The New Abnormal’ and ‘Requiem For The Pre-Apocalypse’ and ‘Day One’. But there are also straight-up bangers and ethereal cosmic dreams, abstract sound wars and deeply human songs of separation and loss.

And it all starts with a bang. Lead single ‘Dirty Rat’, an outright Fall-meets-Front-242 class rant with vocals by Sleaford Mods mob orator Jason Williamson, harks right back to the Hartnolls’ days of politicised anarcho-squatpunk. It began as a remix swap (Orbital did the Sleafords’ ‘I Don’t Rate You’) and morphed into a comic, brutal, bass-driven harangue not so much against our rulers but at the petty, mean-spirited, frightened, Mail-reading voters who put them there: the people who are “blaming everyone in hospital/blaming everyone at the bottom of the English Channel/blaming everyone who doesn’t look like a fried animal.”

Also key to the album is opening track ‘Ringa Ringa (The Old Pandemic Folk Song)’ which returns to an Orbital truism, that time always becomes a loop. This chugging, cyclical Orbital groove gives way to an unnerving past-meets-present timeslip fit for ‘Sapphire And Steel’ as goth maenads The Mediaeval Baebes materialise to sing ‘Ring O’Roses’ – the innocent nursery rhyme whose roots are in the Black Death.

“I’ve always liked folk music and mediaeval sounds,” says Paul, himself an occasional Morris dancer. “I had the basis of that track and I wanted to spin it off somehow.” Trawling his archives he stumbled on The Mediaeval Baebes’ version of ‘Ring O’Roses’ “and my hackles just went up. I was like, my God, this is the original pandemic folk song.”

?his being Orbital, there are collaborations galore on the album, the roles once played by Alison Goldfrapp, Lady Leshurr or David Gray now filled by new talents. London singer-songwriter Anna B Savage contributes a compellingly fragile, Anohni-like vocal to ‘Home’, in which nature reclaims the scorched and vacant mega-cities. ‘Day One’ is a pulsing techno track featuring the singer Dina Ipavic. Paul got in touch with her after working on a score for a sculpture show of giant robotic installations by his friend Giles Walker during the pandemic. First Paul cut up his own score and Ipavic’s vocals on the track The Crane, which appears on the deluxe version of the album. Then he thought, Why not work with her for real? The result is school of ‘Belfast’, a bassy dreamscape with vocalised clouds billowing above.

The pensive ‘Are You ?live?’ adds to the Orbital product range of existential questions (‘Are We Here?’, ‘Where Is It Going?’) in collaboration Bella Union signings Penelope Isles, AKA brother and sister act Lily and Jack Wolter. “They’re our studio mates, they work upstairs!” says Paul happily. “And they’ve both got amazing voices.”


But Orbital are Orbital and never far from the dancefloor. “Eventually the more abrasive bits came back into the fold…” ‘You Are The Frequency’, first of two tracks to feature mysterious vocalist The Little Pest, surrounds the listener with warped voices ordering you to the dancefloor (Phil: “we wanted the idea that the music is kind of absorbing you”). And the second, the sinister ‘What A Surprise’, traps you in a paranoid electronic hall of mirrors.

In another nod to Orbital’s resurgent past the cover artwork once again comes from fine art painter John Greenwood, creator of fantastical grotesques for the covers of ‘Snivilisation’, ‘In Sides’ and Orbital’s most recent album, 2018’s ‘Monsters Exist’. Orbital had just had a slick Mark Farrow cover for ‘30 Something’ – this is a return to the overripe and bulbous techno-organic constructions that somehow express Orbital’s own uncontrollably fertile sound.

There are gaps in the future that Orbital are desperate to fill too; there will be tours and festivals and rooms and fields full of people. Those long paralysed months when we had little to look forward to but a Zoom DJ set made Paul and Phil appreciate the things that make life worth living.

DOUBLE BLACK LP : 2 x 140 G Black Vinyl , Sleeve & 2 x Heavy Weight Printed Inner with UV Gloss Finish

Legendary electronic music duo Orbital return Early 2023 with new album “Optical Delusion”, the Hartnoll brothers first studio album since 2018’s Monster’s Exist. Recorded in Orbital’s Brighton studio, “Optical Delusion” includes contributions from Sleaford Mods, Penelope Isles, Anna B Savage, The Little Pest, Dina Ipavic, Coppe, and perhaps most surprisingly, The Medieval Baebes.
Earlier this year, Orbital celebrated their storied history with “30 Something” which, unlike other Best Of’s, contains reworks, remakes, remixes and re-imaginings of landmark Orbital tracks including “Chime”, “Belfast”, “Halcyon”, “Satan”, and “The Box”

SHORT BIOG:

“A human being experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest of humanity – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison…”

You many have seen this quote attributed to Albert Einstein on social media, the archetypal Smartest Guy Ever apparently having an out-of-character religious epiphany. It certainly leapt out at Paul Hartnoll of Orbital who spotted it in Michael Pollan’s 2018 book How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression and Transcendence.

“As soon as I saw ‘optical delusion’ I thought Oh hey, that’s the album title,” says Paul. “It just seemed to say so much about how people construct their own realities, how we see patterns that aren’t there, how we see what we want to see.

“But it’s actually a misquote. He never quite said that. In the German original what he’s really saying is that human experience is as relative as physics. Wouldn’t it be good if we could accept that, and find a kind of universal theory of everything for the human race? Then you look at everything from history to art to your Twitter feed and you think yeah, that’s what we’re all trying to do all of the time…”

Hence ‘Optical Delusion’, the tenth original Orbital album and the latest in a burst of renewed post-pandemic creativity for two brothers who’ve stayed at the top of their game longer than anyone from the post-1988 Class of Acid House.

Now with ‘Optical Delusion’ the Hartnolls dig deeper into the unquiet psyche of our increasingly surreal and disordered world. Sketched out partly during lockdown but fully recorded in the uncertain After Times, the album summons up conflicting emotions and sometimes beguiling images from years when the science fiction doomsdays that the Hartnolls watched on TV as kids finally came true. There are mesmeric tracks with names like ‘The New Abnormal’ and ‘Requiem For The Pre-Apocalypse’ and ‘Day One’. But there are also straight-up bangers and ethereal cosmic dreams, abstract sound wars and deeply human songs of separation and loss.

And it all starts with a bang. Lead single ‘Dirty Rat’, an outright Fall-meets-Front-242 class rant with vocals by Sleaford Mods mob orator Jason Williamson, harks right back to the Hartnolls’ days of politicised anarcho-squatpunk. It began as a remix swap (Orbital did the Sleafords’ ‘I Don’t Rate You’) and morphed into a comic, brutal, bass-driven harangue not so much against our rulers but at the petty, mean-spirited, frightened, Mail-reading voters who put them there: the people who are “blaming everyone in hospital/blaming everyone at the bottom of the English Channel/blaming everyone who doesn’t look like a fried animal.”

Also key to the album is opening track ‘Ringa Ringa (The Old Pandemic Folk Song)’ which returns to an Orbital truism, that time always becomes a loop. This chugging, cyclical Orbital groove gives way to an unnerving past-meets-present timeslip fit for ‘Sapphire And Steel’ as goth maenads The Mediaeval Baebes materialise to sing ‘Ring O’Roses’ – the innocent nursery rhyme whose roots are in the Black Death.

“I’ve always liked folk music and mediaeval sounds,” says Paul, himself an occasional Morris dancer. “I had the basis of that track and I wanted to spin it off somehow.” Trawling his archives he stumbled on The Mediaeval Baebes’ version of ‘Ring O’Roses’ “and my hackles just went up. I was like, my God, this is the original pandemic folk song.”

?his being Orbital, there are collaborations galore on the album, the roles once played by Alison Goldfrapp, Lady Leshurr or David Gray now filled by new talents. London singer-songwriter Anna B Savage contributes a compellingly fragile, Anohni-like vocal to ‘Home’, in which nature reclaims the scorched and vacant mega-cities. ‘Day One’ is a pulsing techno track featuring the singer Dina Ipavic. Paul got in touch with her after working on a score for a sculpture show of giant robotic installations by his friend Giles Walker during the pandemic. First Paul cut up his own score and Ipavic’s vocals on the track The Crane, which appears on the deluxe version of the album. Then he thought, Why not work with her for real? The result is school of ‘Belfast’, a bassy dreamscape with vocalised clouds billowing above.

The pensive ‘Are You ?live?’ adds to the Orbital product range of existential questions (‘Are We Here?’, ‘Where Is It Going?’) in collaboration Bella Union signings Penelope Isles, AKA brother and sister act Lily and Jack Wolter. “They’re our studio mates, they work upstairs!” says Paul happily. “And they’ve both got amazing voices.”


But Orbital are Orbital and never far from the dancefloor. “Eventually the more abrasive bits came back into the fold…” ‘You Are The Frequency’, first of two tracks to feature mysterious vocalist The Little Pest, surrounds the listener with warped voices ordering you to the dancefloor (Phil: “we wanted the idea that the music is kind of absorbing you”). And the second, the sinister ‘What A Surprise’, traps you in a paranoid electronic hall of mirrors.

In another nod to Orbital’s resurgent past the cover artwork once again comes from fine art painter John Greenwood, creator of fantastical grotesques for the covers of ‘Snivilisation’, ‘In Sides’ and Orbital’s most recent album, 2018’s ‘Monsters Exist’. Orbital had just had a slick Mark Farrow cover for ‘30 Something’ – this is a return to the overripe and bulbous techno-organic constructions that somehow express Orbital’s own uncontrollably fertile sound.

There are gaps in the future that Orbital are desperate to fill too; there will be tours and festivals and rooms and fields full of people. Those long paralysed months when we had little to look forward to but a Zoom DJ set made Paul and Phil appreciate the things that make life worth living.

Introducing the debut EP from a brand new supergroup of producers under the pseudonym of KALOA. Following on from ‘Eye’s Closed’ —their first (massive) feature on the imprint alongside Tatora; expect high-grade, cutting-edge liquid production infused with future soul. An amalgamation of tribal influences, dreamy vocals, slick beats, heavy bass; dancefloor ready.

Mark your calendars now with xx December as the official launch of Kaloa’s ENSO. Launching across all major digital and streaming platforms with a limited run of full art vinyl.

Lisa Decker is back with her new single and two songs of her upcoming album which will appear around May 2023.

After her debut album "Serendipity" in 2021 with Japanese Jazz trio Nautilus from Tokyo and a superb single remix of "Everytime" by Pat Van Dyke featuring rapper John Robinson this will be another step forward in her career and conceptually a bit different.

It gets the "Oonops Drops" FLIP SERIES treatment which means: Side A of Lisas songs are arranged by Nautilus and Side B by producer SaturnVybz (Jazzanova/Slick Walk/The Ruffcats).

To get a first impression please have a listen to this upfront single-release and get one of these limited 45s.

Lisa is careful about the artwork and after working together with renowned artist Lindsey Kustusch from San Francisco on her first album she collaborates with local artist Sebastian Maria Otto now who is known for his signature art style and exhibitions from Germany to Japan.

Stay excited for the really astonishing full release very soon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Glenn Fallows and Mark Treffel released their first album, ‘The Globeflower Master Vol. 1’, on Mr Bongo in September 2021. With its lush, warm and timeless productions paying homage to classic 60s and 70s soundtrack composers, it was very well received and struck a chord with the scene’s connoisseurs. Louder Than War emphatically stated, "It’s impossible not to like The Globeflower Masters Vol. 1.”, with Gigwise echoing that praise “slickly compelling retro vibes”.

The Globeflower Master Vol. 2 is the slightly edgier and more grown-up sequel to Mark and Glenn's 2021 debut album. For this excursion, the Brighton-based duo wanted to lean a little further into their European film soundtrack influences, with particular inspiration mined from the works of Stefano Torossi, David Shire, and Roger Webb. This expansion of their sound builds upon the rich tapestry of cinematic funk à la David Axelrod, Serge Gainsbourg and Morricone that fashioned Vol. 1. Here the arrangements, melodies, and harmonies have been refined; only what is needed is left. Pulled into its vortex for the ride. This record doesn’t pull any punches.

The recordings are drenched in visual imagery; they stimulate the senses and invite the imagination to roam. Ethereal, hazy memories of lost summers are triggered; the beauty of listening to music when driving along a deserted road in the Italian countryside lined with cypress trees heading towards the sun, and beyond. As the musical journey progresses, we even take a voyage to another planet. Whether these memories are real or constructed recollections of scenes from film and television, the tracks evoke a feeling of nostalgia and comfort. Like all the best music, 'The Globeflower Masters Vol. 2' takes us out of ourselves even if it's only temporarily.

To consolidate the shape of the sound, drummers Timmy Rickard and Ollie Boorman (who also featured on Vol. 1) and John Maiden (Tricky collaborator) sprinkled their magic and forged their stamps onto the recordings. Collaborating with other talented musicians contributed to the picture Mark and Glenn wanted to paint. The ‘Globeflower Master Vol. 2’ is a fitting tribute to the music they love and care deeply about and a glorious addition to their musical world.

City life isn’t always easy or pleasant, but whether you call it home or you're just out for a visit, there’s an undeniable energy that envelopes you. Danger becomes excitement, speed becomes the regular pace, and exhaustion morphs into an urge to rally, to not miss a beat of what these myriad concrete jungles have to offer. And after a while, you learn to settle into it. You relax, you walk with a little more ease, and, eventually, you become yourself at your most slick. Hiatt dB’s
City Slick celebrates that carnality of the city, while simultaneously asking the one question burning in every city dweller’s mind - why am I even here?? Rat races, dumpster res, endless injustice, outrageous prices, conquered green spaces... an innite array of inhumanity hurled in your face on a daily basis; Is it really worth it? But we all know why
we're here, and it’s not something you can verbalize. It’s the feeling you get when the hellscape precipitates that which life is all about: real, serendipitous, life-arming experience.

Still, even on its best days, the City can be unkind. So if you need some tunes to help you push on, Hiatt’s cooked up the perfect soundtrack for your pavement-pounding steps

Montparnasse Musique is a balance of two distinct sensibilities: Algerian-French producer Nadjib Ben Bella’s passion for raw organic beats, and South African DJ Aero Manyelo’s love of DIY synthesis in the digital realm. It’s a bold blend of fresh and processed flavours; the acoustic grit of traditional Africa combined with the pulse of modern Johannesburg — gqom, kwaito, techno, afrohouse. Together they produce an electro-acoustic sound, loaded with infectious hooks, uncompromising and authentic. For their self-titled debut EP, the cross-continental duo collaborates with Congolese bands Kasai Allstars, Konono Nº1, Mbongwana Star and Basokin on five audacious dance tracks forged from the tribal rhythms and mystic voices of the Kasai rainforests, amplified by the aggressive growl of hand-wrought instruments from Kinshasa’s urban wilderness, and augmented with the slick precision of an EDM toolkit. The end result is an inevitable evolution of Congotronics into a sharp-edged, club-ready sound. Nadjib Ben Bella is a DJ and producer who draws influences from the gnawa music of his North African roots and a diverse range of Sub-Saharan sounds from musicians he has worked with over the years. Most recently he has been touring Europe with West African band Les Amazones d’Afrique. Aero Manyelo, a name now synonymous with the burgeoning South African house scene, has honed a distinctive electronic sound that translates across the international club circuit and has attracted a broad range of collaborators — including Idris Elba and The Mahotella Queens on the opening track of an album inspired by the Nelson Mandela biopic Long Walk to Freedom. The EP was recorded and mixed by Kwezydoctor at Khaima Studio in Lille, France.



c 3 Bitumba (feat. Mbongwana Star) Extended
d 4 Sukuma (feat. Muambuyi) [Extended]
[Extended]

’Angelo lost his shit over it. Aaliyah’s 3rd favourite track of all time is on it. David Bowie rocked up with it to a TV interview, declaring it “the most exciting sound of contemporary soul music”.

In 1996, Lewis Taylor released his self-titled masterpiece. A true modern classic, it’s an album that was years ahead of its time. Forget 25 years ago, it could easily have been made in 2021. An effortless blend of neo-soul, sophisticated pop, smart grooves and laid-back white funk, it enjoyed rapturous reviews from critics and music legends alike. But the album never managed to make an impact and given what was likely a token vinyl release at the time, the original records have long since been near-impossible to find. Lewis Taylor’s Lewis Taylor remains a holy relic for some and criminally unknown to most.

Lewis Taylor’s impeccable influences created a dazzling sonic palette: the LP as a whole suggests the visionary brilliance of Prince; the vocal stylings evoke the yearning power of Marvin Gaye; the effortless guitar playing shares the virtuosity of Jimi Hendrix; the haunting tones conjure Tricky; the innovative production and engineering invite comparisons to studio mavericks like Todd Rundgren and Brian Eno; the multi-layered, complex harmonies flash on Pet Sounds-era Brian Wilson; the dark, drama is reminiscent of both Scott Walker and Stevie Wonder; the complex arrangements create textures and moods with the feel of Shuggie Otis on Inspiration Information; the bold experimentation is akin to progressive artists like Faust and Tangerine Dream; the atmosphere is in conversation with Jeff Buckley’s Grace… and we could go on. That might all sound like marketing hyperbole, but not as far as Be With is concerned. It is a genuine wonder how an album this good could’ve passed so many people by.

But despite all the reference points, the similarities are really only skin-deep because the album sounds truly original. It occupies its own distinct, strange universe that feels dark and brooding one moment, bright and joyous the next. Ultimately, Taylor sounds like Taylor.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the credits, the album wasn’t the work of Lewis alone. Sabina Smyth gets an executive producer credit on the original sleeve, but in fact she worked with Lewis on the production and arrangements, did a lot of the backing vocals and she co-wrote Track, Song, Lucky and Damn with Lewis.

Lewis clarified all this in a Soul Jones interview with Dan Dodds in 2016. He explains how not giving Sabina the credit she was due at the time was an unfortunate consequence of where his head was at and he’s now trying to set the record straight.

Together they created an exquisite and sensually-charged record, with a freshness to the writing that makes the songs catchy, melodic-yet-deep and sometimes even funky. The music is predominantly guitar-led and a mixture of organs and synths, live drum loops and electronic percussion make for a sort of modern soul backing orchestra.

On the surface the album is gorgeously laidback, but beneath the lush, sometimes slick, production there’s a murkiness in the seriously gritty funk/hip-hop instrumentation. Lewis Taylor can be a claustrophobic listen. Even its one-word, often seemingly throw-away track titles add to the sense of unease. In its most positive moments, there’s still a sense that things aren’t quite right. The magic comes from this compelling tension.

The languid, strutting “Lucky” is a sensational opening statement. Sinuous electric guitar winds around the shaking percussion with a killer bass line rattling your bones, and Lewis’s voice is sublime. Its six-and-a-half unhurried minutes manage to distill the work of Marvin, Al Green and Bobby Womack because yes, it’s *that* good. Up next is the tough, dusty drum and jazzy, unsettling psych-guitar workout of “Bittersweet”. Aaliyah described it the “perfect song”, which says it all. By turns loping and soaring, tightly coiled and blasting free, 25 years on its discordant, swaggering majesty still sounds like future R&B.

The swinging, blue-eyed funk of “Whoever” oozes sophisticated sunshine soul for hazy days before “Track” sweeps in. The music tries to lift us up, beyond the reach of the vocals trying to drag us back down as Taylor sings “my mood is black as the darkest cloud”. The spare, dubby electro-soul of “Song” closes out the first half of the album with barely contained dread as it creeps towards the lush, synth-heavy coda.

The smouldering “Betterlove” eases us into the second half, coming on like a languorous response to the call of “Brown Sugar”, before sliding into the shuffling, softly-rocking “How”. Somehow the remarkable “Right” manages to both warm things up and smooth things out even more. Taut yet luxurious, it’s definitely not wrong.

“Damn” was to have been the album’s title track and you might also be able to hear its influence on D’Angelo’s Voodoo, maybe most obviously in the chaotic closing moments of “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”. Building to a screeching wall of noise that suddenly cuts dead, “Damn” sounds like the natural end to the album, with the celestial a cappella “Spirit” serving as a heavenly reprise.

When it came to the sleeve, art director Cally Callomon heard Taylor’s music as “sideways off-camera glances at a plethora of influences he had” and wanted to interpret that visually: “I went off into night-time London to see if I could find his song titles in off-beam low-fidelity photographs. I even found a shop called Lewis Taylor”. With a slide for each of the album’s ten tracks, nine of them are on the inner sleeve and the slide for “Damn” makes the front cover. It should’ve been the album’s title, but concerns over distribution in the US scuppered this.

One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, Andrew Lewis Taylor is an enigmatic figure and a hugely under-appreciated talent. A prodigious multi-instrumentalist who got his start touring with heavy blues/psych outfit the Edgar Broughton Band, he released two albums of psychedelic-rock as Sheriff Jack before Island signed him on the strength of a demo alone. But Taylor was destined to be one of those artists unable (or unwilling) to be pigeonholed and despite the best efforts of Island’s publicity department the music never sold in the quantities it needed to or deserved to. Island eventually let him go in the early 2000s and in June 2006, Lewis Taylor retired from music.

Typical for the mid-90s, this CD-length album was squeezed onto a single LP for its original vinyl release. Simon Francis’s fresh vinyl mastering now spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Pete Norman and pressed at Record Industry. The original artwork has been restored at Be With HQ and subtly re-worked to work as a double.

This sprawling psychedelic soul opus really is a forgotten should-be-classic. We know that there are those of you who know, and as for the rest of you, we’re a bit jealous that you’re getting to hear Lewis Taylor for the first time.

WOLF Music welcomes Amsterdam’s Retromigration to the family with a five-track summertime sizzler, ready-made for hazy parkside sunsets and beach jaunts alike.

Hotly tipped and rarely skipped, Retromigration has been lighting up the scene with a string of killer releases over the past 18 months on labels like Healthy Scratch, Ltd, W/Lbl, GLBDOM and Ravanelli Disco Club.

Flexin’ that signature chopped and looped style across the EP, the A side is a double dose of house joints via ‘Bloom Street’ and ‘Brining It’, the former a bumpin’ New York nodding cut, the latter an synth heavy roller.

Flip it to find a more jazz-tinged affair but with its feet still firmly in the house domain. ‘Free Spirit’ channels a groove that could last forever, with a bass and keys combo that riffs away any creeping anxieties, before Arthur Dudley joins for ‘One Night With Colin’ a late night, smoked out, jazz joint trip.

‘Slick Walkin’' closes out the EP – a lesson in how to make samples dance any which way you want them to, as piano melodies flicker over a double nice bassline and tasty synth touches.

LIMITED UCKE YELLOW VINYL.

Xardinal Coffee is a debut album that is a strikingly contemporary record of slick hip hop, rich textures, idiosyncratic grooves and electronic-tinged wonky R&B. It’s an album that feels intricate and busy but also manages to retain a sense of space and looseness, allowing hypnotic rhythms to unfurl with grace. EXUM, aka Antone Chavez Exum Jr. credits the 'genius' of his two producers, Erik Samkopf and Dex Barstad, who he works closely with.

Samkopf being the producer responsible for Xardinal Coffee respectively. 'Sam and I don’t really like doing anything that doesn’t have an ückean effect. We’re not from here you know, we’re just getting adjusted’, says EXUM of the album’s eclectic sonic palate. 'We love to push the envelope on what is considered quirky, but try not to think about it too much. If me and another are walking down a street, who's going to be first to try something spectacular? Them. My walk will speak.’

However, any sense of weirdness is also married with an infectious and accessible quality. Tracks such as Arrest the Dancer - 'a David Bowie/Lady Gaga-type beat we got from YouTube by a producer named Raixsa' - comes alive with an irresistible funk strut, almost recalling Prince in the swaggering bounce of it. On top of this, EXUM’s vocals offer versatility and flexibility, moving from caramel smooth croons to tight rap flows and to enthusiastic bursts of singing.

A sense of texture is palpable throughout too. Portabella Mushroom was recorded on a rare magic mushrooms trip and retains a lysergic and psychedelic quality, sucking the listener up into its swirling atmospheres. Whereas the sparse, minimal and slightly eerie beats of Wolves Eat Wolves was recorded in pitch black and the song takes on that kind of crepuscular vibe, which interspersed with the song’s dark lyrical content - touching upon sex trafficking - further cements this. ‘I take no form’, the artist says, and his formless nature speaks to his willingness to constantly recreate himself as an artist.

A love of words is also clear in EXUM’s delivery, with them being carefully placed and sequenced amidst the ambitious soundscapes of the record. 'Writing is precious to me', he says. 'The vulnerability to bleed on paper. While playing with words, styling the same outfit for the 7th day in a row.'

Initially EXUM looked up producer Erik Samkopf to work with when he’d had a temporary falling out with his previous producer Barstad. In love with Samkopf’s work with Pen Gutt, EXUM took a punt and flew from his hometown of Richmond, Virginia to Oslo, Norway to work with him. As EXUM and Barstad patched things up, EXUM and Samkopf were building chemistry, creating something truly unique. 'Dex and Sam never cease to amaze me', he says. 'They’re versed and creative beyond measure, they both have an immense amount of musicality, and most of all, their love for music is sweaty.’

However adding to the legend, EXUM took a little detour on his musical journey, spending years as a professional footballer in the NFL, for teams such as the San Francisco 49ers and the Minnesota Vikings. Now leaving that chapter of his life behind, EXUM has returned to the true love held dear to him ever since he can remember: music.

EXUM is not simply trying his hand at music though; he is crafting every part of his artistic journey, from carefully selected contributors (such as string composer Christian Balvig) and overseas producers, to shaping his own brilliant music videos with directors such as Allison Bunce and Rosabel Ferber. Both of whom occupy creative space in his art world, which goes by the name of ücke. He has effectively created his own musical ecosystem. 'You’ve got to create your own world and live highly in that first', he says. 'Making it inevitable for other worlds to not be touched by what’s vibrating through you. In my world I’m already a massively iconic artist.'

One of the most significant collections in Trojan’s immense catalogue, the ‘The Trojan Story’ album dramatically changed the perception of Jamaican music among the general British public outside of the country’s Afro-Caribbean population.

Prior to its release in 1971 there had never been an attempt to present a comprehensive anthology of the island’s musical development, with vintage ska, rock steady and reggae widely regarded as obsolete and of precious little merit.

The treble disc set, which became an instant best-seller, had been the brainchild of Trojan’s label manager and Black Music fan, Rob Bell, who, assisted by Trojan stalwarts, Dandy, Webster Shrowder and Joe Sinclair, produced arguably the most significant Jamaican music retrospectives of all time.

Now, 50 years following its original release, this hugely influential album has been revisited by Bell, along with reggae musician, Rusty Zinn, who have succeeded in improving what was already an almost perfect collection.

Presented in the original eye-catching artwork, the set is further enhanced by a highly illustrated 50-page booklet in which Bell relates the stories behind the release and the 50 tracks featured on the compilation.

Locked in a 486 glow, lightblink machines nightlight, being enters lighttime limelight. The long nineties already distending, the Major midbloats, crowds throng superclubs- strobelit honeys on a podium in Ibiza already blasted a stratosphere away from mildewed badflats, emphysemic parlours, the fug of week old washing drying slowly on the rad. Ach we’ll hang it out in the morning fire another joint of badhash and turn that tape over. We are being Here. beings disconnected, shut ins, psychick worriers, long walks to and from clubs, mostly dark, always raining, or mizzling anyway, lug bigbrick machines into cabs and Venue, setup and playing live and right now from the lounge lobby at Sativa, down the stairs from the caustic, twitching thrashpit being sits, being works. Dole sludge, shirking class zeroes, scoff pizza rolls w salad cream, that headchef gaffer never reckoned you’d graft at the potwash, a slick fur of rotfood dish slop residue right to the elbow, absolutely bowfin. Rumours of other places, people, scenes, tapes sent and emissaries return, invites to get trains, overnightbus south to London. being brought water to the ‘wells in South London and monthly emissions snaked out into the world, into badflats elsewhere where gowched couch tatties sprawl and the being burrowed deep into memories.. Tea is toast and sandwich spread and endless crisps as the binbags pile high in the backyard, the being blinks, it’s a twilit morning and it’s time to go to bed.

This year marks the tenth anniversary of the theatrical release of Universal Pictures’ Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. The film adaptation by director Edgar Wright (Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver) of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s graphic novel series stars Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Kieran Culkin and has since become a cult classic due in no small part to the use of music in its storytelling. The soundtrack album and score were originally released in 2010 by ABKCO Records.

Each side of each LP is graced with an image of one of the “Seven Evil Exes” characters from the film, with an image of Scott Pilgrim with Ramona Flowers on the eighth side. This marks the first time ever that Godrich’s score will get a vinyl release, which will also be available separately on a blue vinyl 2-LP set, also on March 26. On the same day, the original single LP version of the soundtrack will be reissued as the Ramona Flowers Edition on blue, green and magenta vinyl, representing the colors of the character’s hair throughout the film.

Now ABKCO, with Edgar Wright and Nigel Godrich’s oversight, has curated an expanded, four LP picture disc Seven Evil Exes Edition offering of the soundtrack/score, including more performances by Sex Bob-Omb and demos from Beck, as well as fan favourite “Black Sheep” by Metric and sung by actress Brie Larson.

Since its release, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) has received many accolades. UK’s The Independent ranked it at number 4 out of “the 40 greatest film soundtracks of all time,” declaring that Wright “found a way to seamlessly integrate his soundtrack into Scott Pilgrim vs. the World’s narrative.” It was also included on Alternative Press’ list of “16 Fantastic Movie Soundtracks You Need To Hear.” “We Are Sex Bob-Omb” won the 2010 Houston Film Critics Society Award for Best Original Song.

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (Original Score Composed By Nigel Godrich)
• 2xLP
• First time released on vinyl
• Blue colour vinyl
• Social Support from Edgar Wright (Director) & Beck

This year marks the tenth anniversary of the theatrical release of Universal Pictures’ Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. The film adaptation by director Edgar Wright (Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver) of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s graphic novel series stars Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Kieran Culkin and has since become a cult classic due in no small part to the use of music in its storytelling. The soundtrack album and score were originally released in 2010 by ABKCO Records.

Each side of each LP is graced with an image of one of the “Seven Evil Exes” characters from the film, with an image of Scott Pilgrim with Ramona Flowers on the eighth side. This marks the first time ever that Godrich’s score will get a vinyl release, which will also be available separately on a blue vinyl 2-LP set, also on March 26. On the same day, the original single LP version of the soundtrack will be reissued as the Ramona Flowers Edition on blue, green and magenta vinyl, representing the colors of the character’s hair throughout the film.

Now ABKCO, with Edgar Wright and Nigel Godrich’s oversight, has curated an expanded, four LP picture disc Seven Evil Exes Edition offering of the soundtrack/score, including more performances by Sex Bob-Omb and demos from Beck, as well as fan favourite “Black Sheep” by Metric and sung by actress Brie Larson.

Since its release, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) has received many accolades. UK’s The Independent ranked it at number 4 out of “the 40 greatest film soundtracks of all time,” declaring that Wright “found a way to seamlessly integrate his soundtrack into Scott Pilgrim vs. the World’s narrative.” It was also included on Alternative Press’ list of “16 Fantastic Movie Soundtracks You Need To Hear.” “We Are Sex Bob-Omb” won the 2010 Houston Film Critics Society Award for Best Original Song.

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (Seven Evil Exes Limited Edition)
• 4x LP picture discs
• Limited Edition Set
• Exclusive bonus tracks not included on original soundtrack by Sex Bob-omb, Beck, plus highly sought- after Brie Larson w/ Metric
• Social support from Edgar Wright + Beck
Bonus ephemera: 
 • Full colour film poster
 • Exclusive Colouring Page by Bryan O’Malley
• Printed note from Edgar Wright, Director

Demon Records presents Distortion: 1989-1995, the first in a series of four expansive vinyl box sets chronicling the solo career of legendary American musician Bob Mould. Bob Mould’s career began in 1979 with the iconic underground punk group Hüsker Dü before forming the beloved alternative rock band Sugar and releasing numerous critically acclaimed solo albums. Volume one in this new series covers 1989 to 1995, beginning with Mould’s first post Hüsker Dü album Workbook and continuing through to Sugar’s final studio album File Under: Easy Listening.

Each album is presented with brand new artwork designed by illustrator Simon Marchner and pressed on 140g clear vinyl with unique splatter effects.

Includes a 28-page companion booklet featuring: liner notes by journalist Keith Cameron; a foreword by writer and actor Fred Armisen; a tribute from Richard Thompson; lyrics and memorabilia.

Mastered by Jeff Lipton and Maria Rice at Peerless Mastering in Boston.

Featuring an array of bonus tracks including Sugar’s 1995 collection of Bsides and non-album tracks Besides, along with Distortion Plus: 1989-1995 a new and exclusive collection of rarities and collaborations (pressed on clear vinyl).

Acclaimed by many as one of the greatest and rarest library LPs of all time, the album 'FEELINGS' by Jay Richford & Gary Stevan aka Stefan Torossi. With its iconic 'naked lady in the wild' cover, has been coveted for many years by collectors of all musical genres. This album showcases some outstanding compositions & arrangements that explore the exciting connections between rhythmic funk and orchestral jazz - and are now for the first time issued on 7" 45 vinyl double pack!

We open with the uplifting “Running Fast” - a driving, pulsating groove laden with Fender Rhodes and swept along by lush strings. If you're not feeling it - book an appointment to see your doctor! Next follows a B-Boy dancer filled with battle floor emotion - “Fearing Much” - this one packs a heavy bass and syncopated drum groove with dramatic, stirring strings. A must have 45 DJs fave! The opening drum break to “Feeling Tense” gives way to mellow vibes with a deep bass, silky strings and charged horns that deliver the perfect slick, down-tempo groove. Last one is another down-tempo vibe heavy on the bass and strings, “Walking in the dark”. 
All in all yet another MUST HAVE Dynamite Cuts 45!

• Featuring the distinctive voice of Lowrell Simon, the Lost Generation scored a big hit in 1970 with the single
‘Sly, Slick & Wicked’
• But it is this second LP released in 1972 which is now sought after by collectors
• Vocal soul at its very best, mixed with emerging funk sounds and sweet harmonies
• Reissued on 180gm heavyweight classic black vinyl with printed inner sleeve

This is a long overdue reissue of a fantastic album! Here we find a pure disco classic from the US scene of the late 70s. The original copies retail at plus $300, that's only if you can find one at all! So those who love to spin good music, but are unwilling or unable to lay down too much money can now lend an ear to this fine vinyl! The opening track is 6.5 minutes long and consists of ongoing grooves with a hint of rock thanks to the melodic lead guitar. The driving rhythms are irresistible with soulful and strong female lead vocals that capture you right away. This reminds me strongly of the lengthy Donna summer dance classic, released during the same period 'Better than walking out' which became a dance floor sweeper. There is nothing complicated here, just sheer groove interwoven with catchy melodies. 'Lovin' you is so easy' follows and is a mid-paced soul anthem that comes as clean, slick and close to pop music a tune can come, but the melody of the chorus will stick to your mind. The arrangements are tight revealing several layers of instrumentation on second take. The lead singer's expressive voice matches with the best of its genre. A grand dame of soul familiar to a wide audience. While we ruminate about the different stylistic ingredients of this album we reach ''Woman', an entire instrumental with a straight groovy beat paired by cool funky rhythm guitar that lies beneath a soundscape made by the electric piano. Both seem to interact tightly and communicate with another. This tune just moves you physically with ease. Lushly orchestrated ''Our love is special' turns out to be a wonderful soul pop anthem of the kind that stays with you when you have only enjoyed it once. I'm almost certain that most fans of the late 70's soulful dance and pop will spin this record over and over again. This is what the DISCO LADIES are made for. Their music has this certain disco feeling but the classic 60s Motown Soul roots are so obvious and keep the whole collection of songs so grounded, that the music will go straight to the heart, nestling there for a long time. ''I second that emotion' is again a mid-paced groover that has this fluttering beat with great instrumental figures build upon this footing. One might hear elements of reggae, gospel and funk melting into an utterly joyful soul pop tune that eventually would become an evergreen in the clubs. Last but not least we are treated to ''Woman', again the arrangements of lead and backing vocals are amazing! These are footed by equally amazing strings and horns. These melodies, soulful, expressive, intense and full of joy! The last tune is a vocal version of 'Woman'. Definitely being the highlight of the entire album and a worthy finale for a record that sticks out of the masses of disco music productions of it's era! All this makes a wonderful and delightful reissue ! worthy of joining every black music aficionado of the 1970s.