Suche:the concept horse

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.

Like Sun Ra's Arkestra and John Coltrane are to jazz, the Mystic Revelation of Rastafari are to reggae – the ultimate expression of roots music and Rastafarian ideology in reggae music, music functioning at a high level of spiritual consciousness combined with an equally avant-garde and forward-looking approach to sound.
The group's stunning, unique and groundbreaking 1973 album ‘Grounation’, a mighty conceptual triplealbum (the first ever reggae triple!) is, similar to Marvin Gaye's 'What's Goin' On', a definitive allencompassing cultural statement of its time and place. A sprawling album of raw and unique cultural expression that combined Rastafari consciousness with deep spiritual jazz music – an absolute and essential classic of Reggae music.

The Mystic Revelation of Rastafari group came into existence at the start of 1970s, the union of two artists (and groups) of equal repute – Count Ossie and his African Drums and saxophonist Cedric ‘Im’ Brooks’ and his group,

The Mystics. Both Ossie and Brooks were alumni from the great Studio One Records. Master drummer Count Ossie and his collective of Rastafarian drummers performed for Haile Selassie on his
momentous visit to Jamaica in 1966. Cedric Brooks came out of the Alpha Boys School – the fertile breeding ground of musicians who dominated the Jamaican music scene from the 1960s onwards; Tommy McCook,

Don Drummond, Johnny Moore, Headley Bennett, Johnny Osbourne, Yellowman, Leroy Smart, Bobby Ellis, Joe Harriott, Eddie Thornton, Vin Gordon, Rico Rodriguez, Owen Gray, Leroy ‘Horsemouth’ Wallace and more.

The Mystic Revelation of Rastafari’s ‘Grounation’ is a massive opus, a work of profound musical genius that tells the story of Jamaica through music and words. The album is a cornerstone in the history of reggae, a unique and other-worldly album the like of which has never been made since.

Soul Jazz Records are releasing this long-revered album release in two unique vinyl formats: a one-off pressing limited-edition deluxe box set triple-vinyl edition complete with a free 45 single + art print + an exact-replica reproduction Mystic Revelation 1977 mag/zine + download code; And secondly as a triple album + download
code. There is also a deluxe 2 CD version
complete with large format booklet encased in
double-walled slipcase. All editions come with
extensive new sleevenotes, photography, exact
reproductions of the original text and artwork

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.

Within the last ten years the resurgence of sixties Gallic Pop, once known as Ye-Ye music, has escalated beyond an inter-stellar dizzy height. What might have been a waning, embarrassing genre destined for a shelf life/death gathering dust amongst the Eurovisions of yesteryear, the ‘jerk-beat’ psychsploitation records of the latter day French-Disco had soon found new floor space in some of the most credible nightspots in London and Japan.

Without a shadow of doubt, the flagship LP with best odds on becoming a discerning household object was “Histoire de Melody Nelson” by one Serge Gainsbourg. An inimitable, 45-minute concept LP handcrafted by a bass-driven psychedelic rock group and a heaven sent, 1001 piece orchestral and choral symphony. The album left hip hop producers alongside progressive rock aficionados crying out for more and more for years to come. This LP was in a league of its very own… or was it?

The seldom-sung musical arranger for Melody Nelson has become one of the most enigmatic names in French-funk; lorded by many as the “French David Axelrod” Jean-Claude Vannier’s name is the lesser-spotted, tell-tale seal of sample-friendly quality when it comes to crate-digging ‘en Francais’. Suitably, when rumours amongst French record dealers claiming “the band who played Melody Nelson recorded a follow-up lp” became a legend of psychedelic folk-lore. Another unconfirmed rumour about JCV taking the remaining out-takes of the beloved Melody Nelson to create a promo-only experimental rock LP left sample hungry producers and DJs in turmoil…

For those in the know the answers to these mysteries lay flat between the anonymous gatefold sleeve of an undiscovered conceptual album bizarrely entitled “L’Enfant Assassin des Mouches” by a custom-built avant-rock entourage called Insolitudes. The rocking-horse manure treasure hunt began.

So here we have it. The mythical teen-tonic for all those suffering from Melody Nelson withdrawal symptoms. For record collectors looking for that special something, this LP contains the extra-special EVERYTHING. Peruse the following genres: Psychedelic, Classical, Soundtracks, Jazz, Hip Hop, Samples, Avant Garde, Funk. Then place a copy of “L’Enfant Assassin des Mouches” in each section.

History denotes that when ‘our man in Paris’ Msr. Gainsbourg first heard the initial bones of this LP he took his poetic pencil to paper providing bizarre liner notes, thus consummating the most extraordinary concept album of all time. The story “The Child Assassin Of The Flies” was to be included as the only information to grace the LPs highly collectible, concertina gatefold sleeve. The story in full is reproduced in its native-tongue on this very special re-release package. The CD also includes the bonus track “Je M’ Appelle Geraldine”, a beat heavy John Barry-esque track taken from Vannier’s super-rare 7? EP “Point D’Interrogation”.

DJs and Producers such as Jim O’Rourke, Stereolab’s Tim Gane and David Holmes have spent sleepless nights in perusal of original copies of this perfect release and now regard it as ‘One Of The Best’. Recent copies on eBay have commanded ridiculous price-tags, and is now one of the most sought-after articles amongst the vinyl hungry hip-hop community.

Matmos are one of the most prominent experimental electronic artists working today, crafting work by creating new conceptual frameworks & immediately testing those frameworks absolute limits. For Regards / Uklony dla Boguslaw Schaeffer they've focused on another artist known, in large part, for doing the same. Boguslaw Schaeffer was one of the first Polish artists creating electronic music. In step with American contemporaries like John Cage and Morton Feldman, he worked across the boundaries of classical composition, electronic experimentation, and radical theater in playfully form-breaking ways. Matmos are not the first ones to recognize the power of his catalog, from Solo (a 2008 documentary that garnered numerous international awards), to the annual Shaeffer's Era Festival (most recently celebrated simultaneously in Warsaw and Los Angeles) his work continues to inspire. Regards.. however, was not just inspired by his work, Matmos were given access to the entirity of Schaeffer's recorded works to use as they saw fit, commissioned by the prestigious Instytutu Adama Mickiewicza. They re-assembled & re-combined these recorded works with modern instrumentations in a way that only Matmos could, and what emerges is a composite portrait of the utopian 1960s Polish avant-garde and the contemporary dystopian cultural moment regarding each other across a distance. To facilitate the transcultural exchange that is the album's essential premise, all song titles and liner-notes are provided in both English and Polish. The album was mastered by Rashad Becker and features illustration and design by acclaimed artist Robert Beatty (Tame Impala, Osees, Mdou Moctar). Like the anagrams of the letters of Boguslaw Schaeffer's name that were re-assembled to create some of the song titles, the album itself is a musical re-assemblage of component parts into possible but unforeseen new shapes. Adding harp from Irish harpist Una Monaghan, erhu, viola and violin from Turkish multi-instrumentalist Ulas Kurugullu, and electronic processes from Baltimore instrument builder Will Schorre, and Horse Lords wunderkind Max Eilbacher, the resulting arrangements constantly toy with scale as they move from the close-mic-ing of ASMR and the intimacy of chamber music to the immensity of processed drones and oceanic field-recordings that close the album. Offering a "life review" of production styles, Regards / Uklony dla Boguslaw Schaeffer builds temporary shelters out of the panoramic wreckage of modernist composition, sixties tape music, seventies dub, eighties industrial music, nineties postrock and dark ambient, 2000s era glitch fetishism, and contemporary post-everything collage sensibilities.

Hailing from Ancaster, Ontario, Carl Didur has been an enigmatic fixture of Toronto’s underground music community for close to two decades. Originally traversing the Golden Horseshoe with The Battleship, Ethel, a band which sprung from his first outfit CEDRUMATIC, Didur soon moved to Toronto. Throughout the mid-2000’s he could be spotted playing his trademark ace-tone organ as a member of No Dynamics and Rozasia in the city’s crammed rogue venues, such as The Bagel and the infamous and transient Extermination Music Night. During these years The Battleship, Ethel continued to tour, often performing as backup band for Damo Suzuki, while at other shows inviting Dave Byers (Simply Saucer) and Bob Bryden (Spirit Of Christmas) to perform alongside the band. Perhaps the most enduring legacy of "The Battleship, Ethel", which dissolved in 2009, is that it laid the creative foundation for Carl and bandmate Michael McLean's next project, the prolific, studio focused, Zacht Automaat. As Zacht Automaat released music at a frantic pace, Carl continued to collaborate with members of a tight-knit group of Toronto’s downtown scene including touring with U.S. Girls and Slim Twig, performing and recording with Colin Fisher as Fake Humans, guesting on Absolutely Free’s Currency EP and producing New Fries’ most recent album The Idea of Us. Throughout the last decade Didur’s purely solo output has served to document his unimpeachably singular approach to music making. I Cannot See You Too Well (2011), Nothing is the Secret to Anything (2014) and Is It Yesterday? (2020) all released on cassette were followed by a digital album of gentle minimalism called Natural Feelings Vol I (2020). His solo shows consist of multiple tape machines running loops through various analog devices (a Certified Electronics Technician Didur now spends his non-piano playing hours of the day repairing all manner of tape echoes and synthesizers) or solo Wurlitzer electric piano improvisations, his performances gracing both stage and gallery. With his latest release Maybe Next Time, Didur further establishes himself as a singular artist with a unique methodology honed from years of music-making and listening. The album’s compositions swing from lush Axelrod-ish affairs filled with Mellotron strings to the album’s spiritual jazz influenced centerpiece The River Meets The Sea. “I was inspired by Eno's Here Come the Warm Jets, Crazy Horse but only when they are sad, Alice Coltrane, Jessica Pratt, McDonald and Giles, and so many others…” states Didur. Infused with a melancholic tone throughout, tracks such as Close My Eyes and Autumn’s Here invoke cinematic memories with tape echo and reverb applying a softened focus to the proceedings. Carl explains the context for the tone and the setting for the record’s gestation: “Maybe Next Time is a record I made after the world lost a sweet person that many in our community loved. Unlike most of my albums this one never seeks to shock or surprise you. It is about sadness, confusion, dissolution, transformation and ultimately a deeply forgiving sense of love. It is a concept record about being a human being!”

A Ride is the new dark alt-country concept album on the road by Phill Reynolds, to be released on June 17th, 2022 by Bronson Recordings; Like all the best concept albums, A Ride takes you on a journey. This one concerns the last three days of an American runaway’s life. Part road-trip, part engrossing mystery, part search for redemption, it’s the fictional tale of a troubled man whose past comes back to haunt him. Via eleven intimate, chronologically-sequenced songs, we travel with him. There are epiphanies and dream sequences, drunken dive-bar nights and chats with Jesus and Lucifer. As the narrator battles with his dark side, it is ultimately we, the listeners, who must weigh-up and flesh-out his story. According to its creator Phill Reynolds, AKA Italian alt-country singer-songwriter Silva Martino Cantele, the key to The Ride’s mystery might lie within its fifth song, A Clockwork Dream. “That’s where we discover that, because of some kind of courtroom trial, the narrator has lost someone who was very important to him”, Reynolds explains. “But we never find out her name or her relationship to the main character. Is she a blood relative? Is she his wife or someone else?”. The origins of A Ride go back to 2015. On tour in the US, Reynolds took in the shifting landscapes, the people he met and their stories. All of this fed into the album he recorded at the all-analogue TUP Studio in Brescia, near Milan. Reynolds played almost all of the instruments himself and co-produced A Ride with long-term collaborator Bruno Barcella. If A Clockwork Dream features a full band arrangement – “I think of it as the kind of thing Neil Young & Crazy Horse might do on a Sunday morning”, says Reynolds – other songs are sparer, more intimate. Banjo, Fender Rhodes, harmonica and glistening slide guitar all feature as Reynolds delivers haunting confessionals such as Run, Run Away and The Fault Is Mine, songs likely to appeal to fans of artists such as Damien Jurado, Strand Of Oaks or For Emma, Forever Ago-era Bon Iver. Intricate, rapid-fire fingerpicking on the first single This Isn’t Me and The Call of The Dark demonstrates Reynolds’ dexterity, while his voice is a rich, fully-lived in instrument seasoned with the salt of experience,and strengthened by the 120 or so gigs a year he used to do before COVID took his one-man show off the road. Long an inhabitant of picturesque Italian towns in the Vicenza province, Phill Reynolds was born in Marostica and currently lives in Zugliano. He was only five when The Beach Boys’ Barbara Ann worked its magic upon him via the radio. Later a fan of ‘90s Californian punk bands, Reynolds was writing and performing in his own post-hardcore bands by 13, but didn’t make it to the nearest big city, Milan, until he was 19. Bands still matter deeply to him. But his love for folk music has deepened over the last decade or so, hence his solo act alter-ego. Where did the name Phill Reynolds come from? “Everybody asks me this,” he smiles. “Especially in the UK. The truth is I needed an alternative name for a gig I was doing, and at the time I was in love with the music of Phil Ochs and Malvina Reynolds. Malvina Ochs didn’t sound too good to me, so I became Phill Reynolds, and I like that, because it sounds like a normal person”. The esteemed Italian label Bronson Recordings will release his fourth solo album A Ride on June 17th, 2022, on CD, vinyl and digital. A Ride is the most ambitious and fully-realised Phill Reynolds album to date. He was assisted by Stefano Pilia (lead guitar on Dive Bar Oblivion), IOSONOUNCANE (backing vocals, synth, bass and field recordings on World On Fire), and C+C=Maxigross (bass, drums and backing vocals on In The Dark). The record’s story is a dark one, but not one without hope. “Every end is a new beginning”, says Reynolds. “One of the main themes here is that life can be a sort of trap unless you recognise your own demons and try to deal with him. So we must be prepared and try to live well”.

Matmos are one of the most prominent experimental electronic artists working today, crafting work by creating new conceptual frameworks & immediately testing those frameworks absolute limits. For Regards / Uklony dla Boguslaw Schaeffer they've focused on another artist known, in large part, for doing the same. Boguslaw Schaeffer was one of the first Polish artists creating electronic music. In step with American contemporaries like John Cage and Morton Feldman, he worked across the boundaries of classical composition, electronic experimentation, and radical theater in playfully form-breaking ways. Matmos are not the first ones to recognize the power of his catalog, from Solo (a 2008 documentary that garnered numerous international awards), to the annual Shaeffer's Era Festival (most recently celebrated simultaneously in Warsaw and Los Angeles) his work continues to inspire. Regards.. however, was not just inspired by his work, Matmos were given access to the entirity of Schaeffer's recorded works to use as they saw fit, commissioned by the prestigious Instytutu Adama Mickiewicza. They re-assembled & re-combined these recorded works with modern instrumentations in a way that only Matmos could, and what emerges is a composite portrait of the utopian 1960s Polish avant-garde and the contemporary dystopian cultural moment regarding each other across a distance. To facilitate the transcultural exchange that is the album's essential premise, all song titles and liner-notes are provided in both English and Polish. The album was mastered by Rashad Becker and features illustration and design by acclaimed artist Robert Beatty (Tame Impala, Osees, Mdou Moctar). Like the anagrams of the letters of Boguslaw Schaeffer's name that were re-assembled to create some of the song titles, the album itself is a musical re-assemblage of component parts into possible but unforeseen new shapes. Adding harp from Irish harpist Una Monaghan, erhu, viola and violin from Turkish multi-instrumentalist Ulas Kurugullu, and electronic processes from Baltimore instrument builder Will Schorre, and Horse Lords wunderkind Max Eilbacher, the resulting arrangements constantly toy with scale as they move from the close-mic-ing of ASMR and the intimacy of chamber music to the immensity of processed drones and oceanic field-recordings that close the album. Offering a "life review" of production styles, Regards / Uklony dla Boguslaw Schaeffer builds temporary shelters out of the panoramic wreckage of modernist composition, sixties tape music, seventies dub, eighties industrial music, nineties postrock and dark ambient, 2000s era glitch fetishism, and contemporary post-everything collage sensibilities.

25TH ANNIVERSARY OF GAVIN HARRISON'S DEBUT ALBUM REISSUED
Gavin Harrison has established himself as one of the most revered
drummers in the progressive rock scene in recent years
As a member of Pineapple Thief, Porcupine Tree & King Crimson at one time or
another, as well as guesting on numerous acclaimed recordings, he has secured a
reputation as one of the most thrilling drummers around.
In 1997 Gavin released 'Sanity & Gravity', an impressively ego- free debut solo
release featuring performances from a stellar line-up including Mick Karn, Richard
Barbieri, Jakko Jakszyk (21st Century Schizoid Band) & Dave Stewart (Egg,
National Health). Avoiding making a typical 'solo' drum album as a means of
demonstrating his prodigious technique, Gavin created an expressive & emotional
album that is strong on both groove & melody.
In his own words, "faced with the prospect of making a 'solo' drum album I
decided I would take a more experimental approach to playing my instrument,
rather than make a record of fast fashy solos & flls to try & show off my
technique. I felt there was a way to express emotion from the drums played with
the attitude of "blowing" on a saxophone or "twiddling" around on a piano."
The original album has gone on to gain legendary status in the 25 years following
its original conception with the CD fetching high sums on the resale market.
Kscope is now thrilled to present the album reissued & remastered with an
exclusive bonus track & new original artwork for the anniversary. Essential
listening!
'SANITY & GRAVITY' WILL BE ISSUED VIA KSCOPE

Deluxe LP features 140g virgin vinyl; heavy-duty board jacket, artwork by Art Rosenbaum + DL. RIYL: Bob Dylan, John Prine, Townes Van Zandt, Ry Cooder, Michael Chapman, Michael Hurley, The Youngbloods & Bonnie “Prince” Billy. Jake Xerxes Fussell’s 4th album finds the acclaimed folksong interpreter, guitarist, and singer navigating fresh sonic and compositional landscapes on the most conceptually focused, breathtakingly rendered, and enigmatically poignant record of his wondrous catalog. Produced by James Elkington and featuring formidable players both familiar (Casey Toll, Libby Rodenbough) and new (Joe Westerlund, Bonnie “Prince” Billy), it includes Jake’s first original compositions; atmospheric arrangements with pedal steel, horns, and strings. One of the most striking and strangely moving moments on Jake Xerxes Fussell’s gorgeous Good and Green Again an album, his fourth and most recent, replete with such dazzling moments arrives at its very end, with the brief words to the final song “Washington.” “General Washington/Noblest of men/His house, his horse, his cherry tree, and him,” Fussell sings, after a hushed introductory passage in which his trademark percussively fingerpicked Telecaster converses lacily with James Elkington’s parlor piano. That’s the entire lyrical content of the song, which proceeds to float away on orchestral clouds of French horn, trumpet, and strings, until it simply stops, suddenly evaporating, vanishing with no fade or trace, no resolution to its sorrowful minor-key chord progression, just silence and stillness and stark presidential absence. It feels like the end of a film, or the cold departure of a ghost, and is unlike anything else Jake has recorded. In all his work Jake humanizes his material with his own profound curatorial and interpretive gifts, unmooring stories and melodies from their specific eras and origins and setting them adrift in our own waterways. The robust burr of his voice, which periodically melts and catches at a particularly tender turn of phrase, and the swung rhythmic undertow of exquisite, seemingly effortless guitar-playing here he plays more acoustic than ever before pull new valences of meaning from ostensibly antique songs and subjects. On Good and Green Again, Jake not only ventures beyond his established mastery of songcatching and songmaking into songwriting, but likewise navigates fresh sonic and compositional landscapes, going green with lusher, more atmospheric and ambitious arrangements. The result is the most conceptually focused, breathtakingly rendered, and enigmatically poignant record of his wondrous catalog. It’s also his most deliberately premeditated album, representing his fruitful return to a producer partnership after two self-produced projects, What in the Natural World (2017) and Out of Sight (2019) (William Tyler produced his friend’s self-titled 2015 debut.) This time James Elkington produced and played a panoply of instruments, bringing to Jake’s arcane song choices his own peerless sense of harmony and orchestration, balance and dramatic tension. The pair enlisted a group of formidable players including regular bandmembers Casey Toll (Mt. Moriah, Nathan Bowles) on upright bass, Libby Rodenbough (Mipso) on strings, and Nathan Golub on pedal steel. They were joined by welcome newcomers Joe Westerlund (Megafaun, Califone) on drums, Joseph Decosimo on fiddle, Anna Jacobson on brass, and veteran collaborator and avowed Fussell fan Bonnie “Prince” Billy, who contributes additional vocals. Album opener “Love Farewell” (featuring some beautiful singing by Bonnie “Prince” Billy), an elliptical tale of the folly of war, set to the world’s most heartbreaking goodbye march for a lover left behind. “Carriebelle” and “Breast of Glass” each similarly concerns, in its own way, romantic love and leavings. All three songs highlight Jacobson’s diaphanous, understated brass parts, tying them together in a true lover’s knot. “Rolling Mills Are Burning Down,” with its distant keening strings and capacious sense of space, observes and mourns the loss of work and community in the wake of elemental disaster. Nine-minute tour de force “The Golden Willow Tree,” the sole explicitly narrative song herein, is a hypnotic, minimalist rendering of a tragic maritime ballad about scuttling an enemy ship in exchange for wealth and glory and a captain’s inevitable betrayal. “Fussell is creating his own legacy within the long lineage of traditional folk musicians and storytellers that have come before him.” The New York Times // “So elegant … It’s relaxing in the way that pondering a Zen koan is relaxing, and sweet in the way that the wounded, honey-voiced blues of Mississippi John Hurt are sweet.” Pitchfork // “Music that resides at the seams of Appalachia and the cosmos.”

Tape

The Forbidden Dance label is marking their first year of existence and with already top-notch names (Vick Lavender, Alton Miller, The Mechanical Man) with the first three releases, they are celebrating the one year mark with another global gem, disco and house finest - Ilija Rudman!
Where Wild Horses Go is conveying an unquestionable sense of 80's electro and synth boogie filled with smooth and heavily reverberated rhythmics drenched in strong snares. Aligned with catchy and spaced-out disco pads, the album is riddled with ever strong analogue elements processed in a light, quirky and summerish way but with enough groove in some tracks easily applicable on the dancefloors in the late hours.
Dead Horse Gang is a brainchild music band/brand by Ilija Rudman dedicated to cinematic dance concept laying on the Los Angeles funk attitude, Art Of Noise perception of sound and raw 12-bit grooves making a statement of mid 80's culture with surf vibe of California summer.
"Dead Horse Gang Music is more than music, it's a way of life, a way of thinking, a path to a maximum freedom of the one, who can accept it."
-Ilija Rudman

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

The Forbidden Dance label is marking their first year of existence and with already top-notch names (Vick Lavender, Alton Miller, The Mechanical Man) with the first three releases, they are celebrating the one year mark with another global gem, disco and house finest - Ilija Rudman!
Where Wild Horses Go is conveying an unquestionable sense of 80's electro and synth boogie filled with smooth and heavily reverberated rhythmics drenched in strong snares. Aligned with catchy and spaced-out disco pads, the album is riddled with ever strong analogue elements processed in a light, quirky and summerish way but with enough groove in some tracks easily applicable on the dancefloors in the late hours.
Dead Horse Gang is a brainchild music band/brand by Ilija Rudman dedicated to cinematic dance concept laying on the Los Angeles funk attitude, Art Of Noise perception of sound and raw 12-bit grooves making a statement of mid 80's culture with surf vibe of California summer.
"Dead Horse Gang Music is more than music, it's a way of life, a way of thinking, a path to a maximum freedom of the one, who can accept it."
-Ilija Rudman

 On ‘Phantom Rhythm’, Gong Gong Gong’s raucous debut, the
minimalist Beijing duo created a drummer-less sound that was
more than the sum of its parts, inspired by back-porch blues,
Sahelian guitar music, New York no-wave, Cantonese lion
dance percussion and, seemingly most incongruously, techno.
 With ‘Phantom Rhythm Remixed’, Gong Gong Gong bring to life
a concept they’ve planned since the release of their acclaimed
first album, curating their favourite China-connected electronic
music producers to remix ‘Phantom Rhythm’ in its entirety.
 The globe-spanning collaboration features Yu Su (Vancouver /
Kaifeng), Zaliva-D, Simon Frank, Howie Lee (Beijing), Mong
Tong, Scattered Purgatory (Taipei), Knopha (Xiamen), Wu
Zhuoling (Chengdu), Angel Wei (Copenhagen) and P.E.
(Brooklyn).
 The album traces a common thread, organically expanding the
palette of Gong Gong Gong into ambient club tracks, thumping
dance music, cinematic soundscapes and doomy, bit-crushed
psych.
 Gong Gong Gong are the duo of Tom Ng and Joshua Frank.
Formed in 2015 in Beijing, China, they make music from the
sparest of means: one guitar and one bass, interweaving riffs to
create forward-charging, drumerless grooves. Their inspirations
extend from Bo Diddley to African and Southeast Asian folk
music, psychedelic drone and the structures of electronic music.
 “A couple of misfits and a brash bouquet of sound” - Pitchfork
 “Spare and savage” - The New Yorker
 “String-focused, hypnotic, spitfire tracks” - Stereogum
 “A rare kind of intimacy you don’t often find with driving,
ramshackle funk” - Loud And Quiet
 “Depending on your ear, the Beijing-based guitar-and-bass duo
could sound like The Feelies’ stuttering post-punk, Bo Diddley’s
rock and roll boogie or Tinariwen’s droning desert blues” - NPR

Cryovac Recordings recognizes and recruits artists with individualism and creativity to add to its list of collaborators. Cryovac has evolved into a project that is brought to life by craftsmen, musicians and visual artists that give their time and effort for a common cause. Cryovac aims to weave a thread between the varying sonic approaches that describe a direction techno must go. A. García tends the cryovac from conception to press; combining with Mike Kretsch to create a unique minimal sound. Mr. Joshooa has the tools and know how to describe his personality as his work. He swims the Detroit techno-sphere wearing many hats, and is always pushing techno forward by any means necessary. Cryovac is a vehicle for the rebel spirit; we hope you listen to it.
The Cat Lover E.P. starts with Mr. Joshooa taking his time weaving a slow funky grind. “Horse Hockey’ is the name of this 4/4 two step that gallops and bangs its way through cinematic synth rises, heroic harmony, and crunchy to smooth samples. Mr. Joshooa's mischievousness is on full display with his second jam “fuck around”. Tumbling samples form a bop that is maneuvered playfully through a hectic arrangement. Side 2 is a. garcia and Mike Kretsch’s domain. Their first effort minimally clicks and rings into a soulful melody; popping rhythm holds your body to terra firma so your mind can “spacetravel”. B2 ,”meerkat”, opens with a raw kick on top of marmic synth evolving into a dramatic techno drive turning and shaking along a desolate road

‘Archive Series Volume no. 5: Tallahassee Recordings’ is the lost-in-time debut
album from Iron & Wine. A collection of songs recorded three years prior to his
official Sub Pop debut, ‘The Creek Drank the Cradle’ (2002). A period before the
concept of Iron & Wine existed and principal songwriter Sam Beam was studying
at Florida State University with the intent of pursuing a career in film.
‘Archive Series Volume no. 5’ documents the very first steps on a journey that
would lead to a career as one of America’s most original and distinctive singersongwriters. ‘The Creek Drank the Cradle’ arrived like a thief in the night with its
lo-fi, hushed vocals and intimate nature, while almost inversely Tallahassee
comes with a strange sense of confidence. Perhaps an almost youthful discretion
that likely comes from being too young to know better and too naïve to give a
shit.
The recordings themselves are more polished than ‘The Creek Drank the Cradle’
and give a peak into what a studio version of that record might have offered up.
‘Archive Series Volume no. 5’ was recorded over the course of 1998-1999 when
Beam and future bandmate EJ Holowicki moved into a house together. Beam
had not been performing publicly however, he was known for playing an original
song or two in the early morning glow of a long night. Holowicki - also in the film
program and who would go onto a career as a sound designer at Skywalker
Sound - had a mobile recording device and after some prodding convinced his
friend to record these late-night meditations.
Together they would record close to twenty-four songs, ideas and sketches, with
EJ on bass and Sam on vocals, guitar, harmonica and drums. The recordings -
all captured in the house where they lived - have a ‘live in the room’ feel akin to
say Neil Young’s ‘Harvest’ or Nick Drake’s ‘Five Leaves Left’, rather than the
homespun lo-fi 4-track home recording experiment taking place at the time.
These recordings, minus one track, have never been made available and were
instead left preserved on a hard drive for the last twenty years. The one track
that floated out there, called ‘In Your Own Time’ was shared without a title to
childhood friend Ben Bridwell (Band of Horses) at some point. The song became
known as the ‘Fuck Like A Dog’ song and Ben shared it with more than a few
folks during the golden era of mix CDs. Two of those folks were Jonathan
Poneman from Sub Pop and journalist Mike McGonigal, who included it on his
best songs of 2001 mix CD, passed out to friends and acquaintances. And for
many that is where the Iron & Wine story begins, until now.
‘Archive Series Volume no. 5’ is the foreword to your favourite book that you’ve
somehow skipped over time and time again. It’s an alternative history mixed with
some revisionist history told over the course of eleven songs. It’s also the debut
record by Iron & Wine some twenty years after the fact.

A conceptual album featuring five long tracks with raw in–your–face sound and production, over–charged fuzz & wah wah guitar, powerful vocals with killer echo/reverb and studio effects. This is must for any hard rock / metal / heavy psych aficionado, reissued for the first time on vinyl and remastered from the original tapes.

Including insert with liner notes and rare pictures from the archive of Vicente Feijóo, the original guitarist & vocalist from Zarpa. Heavy carboard sleeve + OBI.

Formed in Mislata, Valencia, in 1977 by four teenager friends (Vicente Feijóo on lead vocals & lead guitar, Eduardo Feijóo on bass & vocals, Javier Herviás on guitar and Jesús Martinez on drums), Zarpa Rock (“Claw Rock”), later shortened to Zarpa, evolved from a group called Wolframio. After spending most of 1977 learning how to play their instruments, they were approached by a management agency called Zeus Rock, joining their roster in company of bands like Doble Zero.

Under Zeus Rock guidance, the band did their first recording: a conceptual album titled “Los 4 Jinetes del Apocalipsis” (The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse) which due to low studio budget, was recorded “live in the studio” in a single one-hour-and-a-half take. After the bankruptcy of Zeus Rock, the proposed album project was shelved. Zarpa shared stage with legends like Ian Gillan and later on, in the heyday of Heavy Metal in Spain, they managed to release two more LP’s which established them as a very popular band, even opening for Barón Rojo, true Metal Stars in the early 80’s. They’re still in active.

“Pretty much heavier and more loaded with crazed lead guitar than any of the other big ones from Spain like Storm, Tapiman, Leño or anything else I can think of” – Rockadrome

“Their music combines the slightly bluesy mid-70s Spanish hard rock sound of bands like Storm, which channeled Sabbath and Deep Purple, with a just-this-side-of-NWOBHM early heavy metal sound”
-Shit-Fi

A maelstrom, the chaos, a vortex, a turmoil. These are appropriate words to describe the hard work of the prolific French producer.

With a cryptic history incorporating nearly two decades of aliases and side projects born out of free parties in warehouses, fields and basements, it is under this moniker that the artist has truly come into his own.

His skill and vision spanning from 135 bpm wave powerful to a pensive and subtle ambient track, Maelstrom's sonic universe is both precise and limitless, described better by feeling ('approaching storm over river/horse with the bit in its teeth/sliver of moon') than genre. Maelstrom cofounded the label RAAR in 2015 with frequent collaborator Louisahhh where he released his debut album «Her Empty Eyes» in 2017. Throughout the next 2 years, he has delivered exciting collaborations with cutting edge electro imprints such as CPU and Cultivated Electronics in the UK, Private Persons in Moscow, or Mechatronica in Berlin, while playing an all electro live set in clubs and raves, from Paris to London or Tokyo.

2021 will see the release of his second album, Rhizome, with a focus on the concepts of interdependence and creative ecosystems

Eutropic are an avant-pop outfit obsessed with analog synths and the concept of time.

DARK AGE DAY DREAM is a concept record that obsesses over the nature of time! It’s our attempt to make sense of reality, so it’s full of contradictions and ambiguities. It's a sonicjourney, which takes the basic idea of synth-pop and then turns it inside-out, side-ways and upside-down. By intuitively connecting dots between synth-based musics – late 70s classic electronica, Cold Wave and New Wave as well as all types of iterations of techno – Eutropic created a singular amalgam of sound: simultaneously dance-floor friendly and the perfect companion to deep introspection.

NOTON signs Italian-born, Bern-based sound-artist and producer Saele Valese.
In ‘IVIC’, his debut LP, Saele Valese, distills hauntological noise, droning tonal experiments and minimalist rhythms into a series of electro-acoustic-wave ventures written over five years in Berlin, Saas-Fee and Thun.
Drawing influences from the psychoacoustic properties of the live album format, IVIC’s 11 tracks were mixed and recorded live on DAT cassettes and through DAW experimentation, without the possibility to revise the final recordings. Valese adopted this approach to conceptually propose reconciliations between the irreversibility of the
past, and acceptance of its residuals in the present. The track titles themselves follow this pathos, citing the works of the American photographer Francesca Woodman and the poet Sylvia Plath. The inclusion of passages incorporating live sonics and throes of industrialismnso,ton.info contributes to the images of gravity, intimacy and spatiality that the music presented here invokes.
In keeping with this imagery, the music possesses a dilated, shuffling rhythmic base, much like the firm traversal of a tanker against a storm of jangling components, and still moments of gloomy sonics
alternating with more ravenous upheavals of power electronics.
If the track divisions do not pass by unheeded, they are consistently assembled to sonically accompaign the emotional charges and momentum of an imaginary cinematic experience; the beats caves in
for instants of relief, only to recoil in a cognated tempo but rearranged structurally. In another gesture of cogitated stride, the portentous waves of the record progressively rage into a turmoil in its third quarter during 'Horse The Color Of Rust'. The album reaches its closure fluctuating through microtonal oscillations to slowly eclipse into silence.
´In Your Rosary ì and Yì ou Cannot See Me From Where I Look At Myself ì were previously released on vinyl via Saele Valese’s own imprint, JSMË.
The track ‘You Cannot See Me From Where I Look At Myself’ 4 - is dedicated to the memory of Marco Bacher.
Artwork designed by Carsten Nicolai. Mastering by Matt Colton (Metropolis Studios, London).

It goes without saying that the global metal scene would not be the same without Sepultura. For 35 years now, the Brazilian icons are not only a band revered worldwide; they have been, are and forever will be at the very forefront of Thrash Metal, trailblazing ever since they released their long-since legendary debut album “Morbid Visions” in 1986.
While quickly establishing themselves as leaders of the second wave of Thrash already in the late eighties, to this day they never came even close to stagnation. “Quadra”, their mighty new undertaking, is proof of a will unbroken, a thirst unquenched and a quality so staggeringly high it’s a wonder this band doesn’t implode. Now three albums deep into what may very well be their strongest incarnation yet – uniting the talents of old-school members Andreas Kisser (guitars, vocals) and Paulo Xisto Pinto Jr. (bass), vocal force of nature Derrick Leon Green (vocals) and drummer Eloy Casagrande – Sepultura are an unleashed power to be reckoned with, uniting bucketloads of experience and youthful vigour in a totally revived way.
“On ‘Quadra’, we felt the urge to revisit that old thrash feeling of ‘Beneath the Remains’ or ‘Arise“,’ only seen through the eyes of today,” Andreas Kisser utters the magic words. “Add to that the tribal percussion, the orchestral elements, the choirs, the melodies and the clean vocals and you get a thorough run-through of our entire career, backed by a very contemporary approach.” Fuelled by an energy almost uncanny for a band that has been active for so long, Sepultura storm through a contemporary thrash monument, backed by sublime melodies, a very eerie atmosphere and a fiendishly high level of technicality. Kisser is appreciating these compliments, still maintaining his very down to earth approach. “We don’t heed the past and we don’t try to be preoccupied by the future too much,” he shrugs. “We’re in the now, trying every day to make Sepultura a little bit better. That’s what keeping us strong.”
And that’s what they have been doing for the last 30+ years. Album after album, tour after tour, no gap in between records longer than three years. “Music is all we do,” Kisser states matter-of-factly. “If it wouldn’t be for Sepultura,” he laughs, “I would be a sad and lonely guy. Sepultura is what we are.” And “Quadra” is living testimony to that. The old Sepultura echo through the very fibre of the songs in all its raw and morbid splendour, but yet it’s the present, the experienced and refined beast that is Sepultura in 2020 that’s blasting out thrash metal anthems for a fucked-up age.
With now 15 albums under their belts, Sepultura are the work horses of the metal world, always ready to attack. In many ways, “Quadra” broadens the vision the Brazilian thrash troopers had on “Machine Messiah” (2017), again relying on the impeccable talent of Swedish producing giant Jens Bogren and his Fascination Street Studios. “He is so full of passion, it’s unbelievable, man,” Kisser raves. “He’s really there, he really cares about the projects he’s doing. For Sepultura, he’s like the fifth member of the band. The chemistry was so amazing, 99 percent of what we were trying do to actually worked. That was insane!” Even after more than 30 years at the forefront of international thrash, guitarist Kisser sounds positively baffled by working with Bogren. “We felt like we were in our rehearsal room.”
Bringing together a monumental grandeur and a wild, untamed ferocity, Sepultura stepped up their game musically – and conceptually as well. “We were possessed by the number four, by the numerology of it”, Kisser starts to explain. “I divided the album into four parts as if we were doing a double vinyl. Side one is the pure and raw thrash side. Side two brings in the rhythms and percussion from our ‘Roots’ era. Three is getting a bit experimental and four brings forth the melodies and the acoustic guitars.” With John North’s book “Quadrivium” as a further source of inspiration, Sepultura dive deep into a mystical world full of hidden meanings. “You have four seasons and twelve month in a year just to pick one example. A lot of stuff in our culture is divided like that.”
Plus, Quadra also is the Portuguese word for ‘sport court’ that by definition is a limited area of land, with regulatory demarcations, where according to a set of rules the game takes place,” he adds. “We all come from different Quadras. The countries, all nations with their borders and traditions; culture, religions, laws, education and a set of rules where life takes place.” In the Quadra of thrash, however, we all are the same. And we bow our heads in unison to the mighty leader that is Sepultura.

Bristol’s Sydney returns to Black Acre with two Jazz infused cuts featuring saxophonist Guy Hobley and emerging guitarist Charlie J-W. One of Gilles Peterson’s Future Bubblers, Sydney is a live artist and traditional instrument enthusiast who debuted on Black Acre with a Swaziland inspired debut mini-album entitled ‘Ode to eSwatini’ earlier this year, showcasing an eclectic mix of broken beat and Jazz.

Now the Bristolian returns with two collaborations featuring two vibrant Jazz and Blues musicians - Guy Hobley on the saxophone and guitarist Charlie J-W. “With the record being South American influenced the titles and artwork are based on a garden in Mexico named Las Pozas. Paraíso meaning paradise and Dahlia being the native flower toMexico found in the Las Pozas garden" – Sydney Conceptualized during Sydney’s first session as a Future Bubbler using one distorted PA speaker in a room full of the new generation year 3 bubblers with Gilles Peterson present, ‘Paraíso ft. Guy Hobley’ flutters into place with shuffling percussion, reverberating piano fills and smooth sax melodies from Guy Hobley whilst underlying world instrumentation operates throughout, including bongos, claves and shakers.
Created in one afternoon alongside fellow band member and friend Charlie J-W, ‘Dahlia’ gives a warming aural experience with a Nina Leão vocal sample, cantering south American drums, a mix of traditional guitar strums, pedal hits and accordion strikes, all glued together with stylish synth stabs.

Support from:
Gilles Peterson,Jamz Supernova, Bradley Zero, Moxie, Horse Meat Disco

20 years of Pop Ambient. Already? One didn’t notice. It’s an anniversary which comes quietly. An anniversary with quiet tones.
In the spirit of the special restraint of pop-elegance, it has no reason to drawn attention to itself with a big „Tam-Tam“. Or better: „Bum-Bum“. The bass drum stays outside. Nevertheless, in fast-paced, overstimulated times of moving forward, it’s a joyful occasion to look back.
What strikes most by putting or listening to 20 years of pop ambient in a row is the central theme that holds together the dense aesthetic concept like the pearls of a necklace.
Floral beauty for digital naturalists. Music like flowers, that don’t wilt. Timeless. Ageless. But with all of the conceptual unity and resolution, Pop Ambient would not be Kompakt without the break, the friction, the expansion of musical boundaries in between tradition and innovation, in between conspiracy and the openness of the discourse.
Aestheticism, escapism, acting in the spirit of „nevertheless“. Swans drifting by, clouds pass over, everything is floating and: „Boredom is a stylistic device“ (Andy Warhol).

Pop Ambient Music is medicine against illnesses, that you don’t even suffer from. It’s giving everything, demanding nothing.
Musical lotus leafs, off which the virtual wastewater of our time is rolling like the reality is dripping off the matrix.


In this sense, we’re happy about the pop-ambient anniversary greetings from new and old companions like Thore Pfeiffer, Max Würden, Yui Onodera, Jörg Burger, Thomas Fehlmann, Morgen Wurde, Leandro Fresco aswell as contributions from T.Raumschmiere, Andrew Thomas and, after a long break, from friends from early days like Joachim Spieth, Markus Guentner und Klimek.

Pop Ambient 2020 is released digital, as CD and of course as a chic double vinyl. Also included in the package: The whole distinctive cover-series as an art book of 44 pages. And for all of the old and young fans and collectors there is the Pop Ambient 2001 in a overhauled original version out on vinyl for the very first time.



Breath in. Breath out. Thank you.



Wolfgang Voigt, September 2019.

20 Jahre Pop Ambient. Schon? Hat man gar nicht gemerkt. Ein Jubiläum auf leisen Sohlen. Ein Jubiläum der leisen Töne. Und ganz im Sinne pop-eleganter Zurückhaltung, kein Grund, großes Tam-Tam zu machen. Oder besser gesagt: Bum-Bum. Denn die Bassdrum bleibt ja draußen. Dennoch freudiger Anlass genug, in reizüberfluteten, schnelllebigen Zeiten auf dem Weg nach vorne einen Blick zurück zu werfen. Wenn man 20 Jahre Pop Ambient Platten hintereinander legt / hört, sticht einem zunächst der sprichwörtliche rote Faden ins Auge und ins Ohr. Der Faden, der das dichte, ästhetische Konzept zusammenhält wie die Glieder einer Perlenkette. Florale Schönheit für digitale Naturalisten. Musik wie Blumen, die nicht welken. Zeitlos. Alterslos. Aber Pop Ambient wäre nicht Kompakt, wenn nicht bei aller konzeptionellen Ge- und Entschlossenheit, auch der Bruch, die Reibung, das Ausweiten musikalischer Genregrenzen zwischen Tradition und Innovation, zwischen Konspiration und Diskursoffenheit, inkludiert wäre. Ästhetizismus, Trotzdemismus, Eskapismus. Schwäne treiben, Wolken ziehen, alles fließt – und: »Langeweile ist ein Stilmittel« (Andy Warhol).

Pop Ambient Musik ist Medizin gegen Krankheiten, die man gar nicht hat. Gibt alles und verlangt nichts. Musikalische Lotusblätter, an denen das virtuelle Schmutzwasser der Zeit abperlt, wie die Realität an der Matrix.

In diesem Sinne freuen wir uns über pop-ambiente Jubiläumsgrüße von neuen und alten Weggefährten wie Thore Pfeiffer, Max Würden, Yui Onodera, Jörg Burger, Thomas Fehlmann, Morgen Wurde, Leandro Fresco sowie Beiträge von T.Raumschmiere, Andrew Thomas und nach langer Pause, von Freunden aus frühen Tagen wie Joachim Spieth, Markus Guentner und Klimek.

Pop Ambient 2020 erscheint Digital, als CD und natürlich als schickes Doppelvinyl. Mit im Paket: Die gesamte unverwechselbaren Cover-Serie als 20-seitiges Kunstbuch. Und für alle neuen und alten Fans und Sammler, erscheint zeitgleich Pop Ambient 2001 erstmalig auch auf Vinyl, in generalüberholter Originalversion. Das Ganze gibt es zudem im schicken Jubiläumsschuber in limitierter Auflage und farbigem Vinyl, exklusiv erhältlich nur auf kompakt.fm …

Einatmen. Ausatmen. Danke.

Wolfgang Voigt, September 2019

In the vapor trail of How Does It Make You Feel,' the first track on this self-titled full length, one can smell the burnt ozone of a seventies-full-orchestra-nebula-pop-odyssey, the flakes floating down and landing like snow, giving grave-chills ... the ash of a masterpiece pop song. Once And Future Band: this incredibly accomplished cabal of total prog wizards has circled the earth, but then, these are the accomplished gentlemen of many former pursuits (the formidable Drunk Horse among them) and all of them comets themselves.

The very mid-'70s vibe at work here surpasses pastiche, and crests that lovely anachronistic conceptual peak: a fully realized and meticulously arranged psych record, meant to be listened to from top to bottom, with the lights down low and in a comfy chair perhaps, or while gazing out the window of your life pod. The Dark Side of the Moon feel, with shades of early Yes's technicality, a dash of Steely Dan's vocal prowess and effortless sheen, and some seriously outsized hooks that call to mind the mighty ELO, Le Orme and, yes, even the unsinkable Queen powered on Brian May's tape echo jet fuel and sequined power cells.

This is a head record in the classic sense but utter fealty to The Dark One insures both being trapped and infected by the pop-parasite. That it is largely self-produced (with tracking / engineering on three of the songs by Phil Manley at El Studio) makes it all the more jaw dropping. Making prog cool again, again, and then slightly more complicatedly, again.

Beyond being a quality mixture of unusual dance tracks and unique electronica, XYXX is a conceptual body of work whose themes of sex, race, unity and destruction reveal themselves to those listening closely. XYXX is the first collaborative album between Berlin based electronic producer NYMA (Nima Chatrsimab) and Toronto based, Detroit raised vocalist Noisy Vibration. Sitting somewhere in between house, techno and electro, but with honest pop sensibilities, the record is a push-and-pull of ideas, highlighting each artist in distinctive and mesmerizing ways. The Berlin-via-Tehran musician, DJ and sound engineers melting-pot influences and wealth of experience are the perfect vehicle for Noisy Vibrations piercing lyrical style. He lets her do the talking, while delivering a powerful message of his own through more subconscious means. From the opening refrain the dialogue begins, angelic tones embrace you with open arms. Noisys lyrics speak to NYMAs colourful beats and masterful sound design, connecting to the moment and full of unexpected turns. XYXX is an album that is both spontaneous and carefully considered. With XYXX, the ride is completethe DNA whole.

Sometimes in life you find yourselves at a point where you need to walk away and leave something behind if you ever want to go back to it. Other paths must be walked, other experiences learnt from to give you a fresh view of where you've come from. In that sense going back to the roots, rediscovering their past with fresh eyes, is the concept behind Richard Dorfmeister & Rupert Huber's new Tosca album, 'Going Going Going'.For over two decades and several albums Tosca has served as a vehicle for Richard and Rupert to express their personal moods and impressions, each release holding up a mirror to their inner lives. Now though after ten albums the journey has come full circle and once again they've returned to the kind of instrumental tracks, full of deep beats and dubbed out textures that made Tosca's name. The result is 'Going Going Going', an album that Tosca fans will immediately recognize and yet one that doesn't just trade on former glories. Hitting the ground running opening track 'Import Export' sounds like a Lee Scratch Perry version of a Ennio Morricone soundtrack, a motif reoccurs throughout the album, most notably on 'Dr Dings', their reinterpretation of America's classic 'Horse With No Name'.