Search:the gentle people

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves.Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl's newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single "Not Hell, Not Heaven" outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. "It's about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim," explains vocalist Kat Moss. "It's trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain't working for me." The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on "Fantasy." "It's incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated," Moss says. "`Fantasy' is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard." The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, "Are We All Angels," asking questions like, "Is this all there is?" and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. "It's about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn't matter how `good' or `bad' you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do," explains Moss, noting that punctuation on "Are We All Angels" has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl's debut, 2021's How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record's sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called "Seeds to Sow," that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. "It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we're fulfilling that," says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023's widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next.Scowl's growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band's scope. "Will would say, `Everything you have here is correct, but it's in the wrong place,'" says Gilbert. Moss adds: "Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses." But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. "Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate," says guitarist Malachi Greene. "At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes."

Vines, the solo project of New York-based multi-instrumentalist and composer Cassie Wieland, offers a window into her inner world through expansive swaths of sound. She pieces together a celestial mix of synths, percussion, strings, and vocoded voice, making music that is at once deeply personal and cinematic in scope. This diaristic approach first took shape with her 2023 EP Birthday Party, and is crystallized on her debut LP, I’ll be here. With the sweeping and vulnerable I’ll be here, Vines arrives fully formed as an artist who crafts deeply resonant and open music–the kind that invites listeners in to listen, reflect, and share in the journey of learning through living.

“It was through making music that I was able to meet myself,” Wieland said. “Anything I’m going through or feeling is something that somebody else out there can relate to, and that’s really special to me.”

I’ll be here is both a culmination of years spent creating gossamer soundscapes and an opening to a new journey for Wieland as an artist. The album grew out of her years as a composer and songwriter, and builds on the language she developed on Birthday Party, which transformed the tumultuous feelings of the passing of time into minimalist meditations. It was just a start, though–a prologue, a development of the kind of language and ideas she wanted to express. With I’ll be here, she digs deeper and writes music that feels more sprawling, further solidifying her singular voice.

Wieland’s musical composition process is similar to journaling, lending itself to the music’s honesty. When she writes, she makes room for all the ideas she has; in these sessions, there are no wrong ideas, and she allows the music to be attuned to the experiences she’s having at the time. With I’ll be here, Wieland zeroes in on themes of anxiety, loneliness, navigating human connection, and having to grow up from a young age, ultimately coming to a place of acceptance. And though it began as a journal written in solitude, her collaborators shape the music with her.

Working with friends, in fact, was a crucial part of bringing the record to life. “Everything that was supposed to happen came together so easily because of the people involved,” Wieland said. I’ll be here was co-produced and recorded with Wieland’s longtime collaborator Mike Tierney, a four time Grammy-nominated engineer who has worked with artists across the contemporary classical and experimental scene like minimalist pioneer Steve Reich, LA’s preeminent classical ensemble Wild Up, and various bands on Bang on a Can’s Cantaloupe Music label. Percussionist and composer Adam Holmes and violinist Adrianne Munden-Dixon are two other longtime collaborators who are frequent fixtures of her live show. Holmes plays synths, drums, and banjo; in live settings, his kit is loaded with elements of the songs that are then triggered by MIDI, making the music an interactive, evolving experience. The album’s gentle, filamented edges are colored by Munden-Dixon, whose poignant string melodies elevate Wieland’s introspective compositions, as well as cellist Helen Newby, saxophonists Julian Velasco and Jordan Lulloff, and bassist Pat Swoboda.

Wieland takes an economic approach to writing music, building the swirling and immersive landscapes of Vines through short melodies, lyrics, and phrases. As each element layers and interweaves, they grow into sprawling webs of ghostly sound. Prior to Vines, Wieland composed pieces for other people to play using a minimalist’s sensibility, writing slowly unfolding melodies for instruments like violin and saxophone. In recent years, she sharpened her solo style across a variety of singles and covers which have garnered significant attention on social media for their emotional resonance (“being loved isn't the same as being understood” in particular went massively viral on TikTok in 2024). Birthday Party, her debut as Vines, brought her writing to a much more intimate space, centering on her vocoded voice cloaked in feathery reverb. A series of recent singles, meanwhile, including “I am my home,” showcase the way that Wieland’s music is born from the story of her innermost feelings, extending far beyond just the self.

Though Wieland’s music often deals with dark themes, it unfolds with tender melancholy, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. On “Evicted,” Wieland wonders if she’s getting sick or moving on, if she’s lost or found. Her vocals expand with each lyrical repetition, as the instrumentals slowly encircle and the music’s rhythm grows and bursts into a heart-wrenching, yet radiant wave reminiscent of post-rock bands like Explosions in the Sky. “Tired” follows a similar trajectory, building from a looping, melancholy rhythm and floating lyrics into a solemn resignation. Elsewhere, Wieland takes a more ruminative approach: “Omw” begins with twinkling piano and melancholy strings that gradually transform into an undulating mass. It is a song born out of the warm feeling of reminiscence, the slight return of hope that comes with nostalgia.

With any searching journey, there is also a point of understanding. The title track closes the album with the freedom of acceptance. A marching drum beats steadily beneath Wieland’s open vocals, moving forward, ever onward as it flies into the ether. In Wieland’s delicately textured music, there is room to come into yourself, and learn to love whomever that is. I’ll be here is a special space that can be all your own, one in which to feel what needs to be felt. “This is music for your story,” Wieland said. “I want you to use it how you need it.”

For her second full-length as Plume Girl, Sowmya Somanath crafts a space where boundaries of language, feeling, and sound start to dissolve. ‘Unnameable Glory’ ruminates on the limits of expression, and the luminous freedom that emerges when we let go of the need to name. Elaborating on the exploratory songs of her debut, Plume Girl continues to bring together Hindustani classical improvisation, ambient soundscapes, and experimental pop.

Somanath’s voice—from gentle murmur to radiant call—guides the listener through dreamlike arrangements: sunrise guitar arpeggios, humming choirs, heartbeat kickdrums, and synths tremble. Elsewhere field sounds and old family recordings are collaged, a woman’s giggle transposed into a piano melody, a sloshing body of water mirrored by synth bleeps. Plume Girl conjures moments of revelation, drawing from the natural beauty and intuition, that unnameable glory.

Is there a divinity or a wholeness that exists beyond language, belief, or tradition? Unnameable Glory both celebrates and gently challenges the notion: Can we honour the creative richness of culture while also seeing through the divisions it creates? Can we meet the world—and each other—without assumption, without fear, with eyes made new? In these songs, the sacred is found not in grand gestures, but in the anonymous freedom of simply being: the iridescence of oil and water on a street, the smile of a stranger, the hush that settles by a creek.

At the heart of the album is a sense of curiosity and surrender—a willingness to listen without judgment, to let the moment be unnameable, to allow wonder to arise and dissolve. And yet, as Somanath notes, there’s an impulse to capture that’s tough to ignore; a need to replicate and remember. Unnameable Glory dwells in this tension: between holding and letting go, between the urge to define and the beauty of what cannot be contained. There is a quiet, revolutionary joy in simply living and sensing together. Music becomes a meeting place for the whole, the holy, and the unnamable.

Over and through the hot cement of North East L.A., an almost-dry riverbed winds like a snake through the city. Coyotes lap at its trickling stream by moonlight, as pedestrians rush past it by day without a second glance, their thoughts tangled up in the distractions of life in a sprawling metropolis. Here, amongst the many avenues and gentle hills, we find Coffin Prick (alias: Ryan Weinstein).

Loose Enchantment, this latest Coffin Prick record, is music conceived of in a different frame of mind for humans living in a world nearly-disenchanted with itself. The album consists of eleven new pieces of music recorded by Coffin Prick himself at his home in Los Angeles, a great city of quicksand-like commitments and those who love them enough to uphold the ends of their collective bargains. A record as much about the confusion of modern life as it is endeavored to expose the lusts in the very loins of creation. Sounds enchanting enough for you? Let’s look a little more closely…

On the heels of 2023’s Laughing (Sophomore Lounge), Coffin Prick got busy. And fast. Playing shows into the year with a newly minted live band, while simultaneously working day and night in his home studio laying the ground for what would become Loose Enchantment. Whereas he was essentially a recording know-nothing at the inception of his last LP, he’d learned a thing or two about better capturing his ideas by this point, taking the sidesteps and victories born of the experience Laughing provided and turning the bright lights on them. As many of Los Angeles’s drivers choose to do, it was time to take some surface roads. Odes to self-delusion, the mysteries of creation, cleanliness, and the secrets in other people’s lives.

A little Loose Enchantment for everyone, basically.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

'It begins with a shoebox of mysterious provenance, full of recordings from the Vendée department on France’s western seaboard: songs of love and war, life and death, played out on land and sea. Songs passed down and sung by ordinary men and women, gracefully delivered with the poetic economy which unites the folk song of all peoples.

Next it takes a group of contemporary musicians to make selections from this treasure trove and sing these old songs anew; to sing them for their beauty, of course, and to reclaim the people’s tradition from those who would seek to exploit it for nefarious political ends. Who better for this task than Tartine de Clous, a singing trio from Vendée’s neighbouring department of Charente-Maritime, who burst into national and international consciousness with their debut album "Sans Folklore" in 2015? The result of their shoebox rummagings, the new album "Compter les dents", recorded in 2019 and finally seeing the light of day, is bound to delight old fans and win them many new ones.

Time makes many’s the alteration, and "Compter les dents" finds 'les garçons' - Geoffroy Dudouit, Thomas Georget and Guillaume Maupin - in a different state of being from their debut release. The trio, friends since youth, have certainly matured between albums, as one would expect; consequently the newer performances are more considered and poised, unfolding with a patient confidence. A relaxed domesticity prevails, something to do with the fact that the album was entirely recorded chez les amis, in contrast to the first album, which was mostly recorded at live performances in bars and night-spots across France.

Lending gravitas to the grain of their voices we mark a deepened richness, doubtless born of the various vicissitudes of daily existence which these gentlemen - and we too as citizens of this turmoiled globe - have weathered in the intervening years. Not too dissimilar, in fact,
from some of the vicissitudes detailed in those old Vendée songs. Plus 'ça change', right?

There’s a greater complexity and subtlety to their unique three-part harmonising, too. Their voices mesh in even stronger - almost telepathic - 'fraternité' than ever before: now commanding and mighty as a full-rigged counter-vessel, now gentle and lulling as a mother’s
cradle-croon, or as the whisper in a lover’s ear.

Three legendary figures of French traditional music, now sadly departed, preside as tutelary spirits over Compter les dents. They are: the late Claude Flagel, musician and ethnomusicologist; and the late Jean-Loup Baly of the well-known 1970s band Mélusine. Most of the album was recorded by Claude in the Brussels home he shared with his late wife Lou Flagel. The album is dedicated to the memory of Jean-Loup, Claude and Lou.

For the first time there are several guest instrumentalists working their magic to expand the Tartine de Clous sound. Jean-Loup plays a characterful accordéon on the song ‘La Veuve'. The other guests are: Maurice Artus (voice), Robert Thébaut (violin), Quentin Manfroy (piccolo, contrabassoon), Marceau Portron (cigar box guitar). Their contributions add even more conviviality to that which the trio of singers already share, a sensation which will doubtless be shared by those who happen to find a place in their lives for "Compter les dents".'

Liner notes by Alasdair Roberts.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

The Austin, TX-based singer-songwriter—whose decades-long career has seen six full-length studio albums, three EPs, countless collaborations, and an illustrious supergroup project in Glorietta—spent a season of rest away from his focus on writing songs. In the wake of the end of a long relationship, he wanted to prioritize processing his grief as a human, not as an artist bleeding on the page. “I love all the records I’ve made in the past. But in making them, there was always the thought in the back of my mind of where and what it could get me. I made both creative and business decisions with a goal in mind... a goal that often never came. This time it was all about just the joy of making it, about having fun with it.”

Profile 1
KONISHI yasuharu
Band leader, songwriter, arranger and producer of the now disbanded Pizzicato Five (1985- 2001). Although having 2 successful world tours and 5 international albums under his belt, with fans ranging from London’s Karminsky Experience to Karl Lagerfeld, many of his fans know him as a DJ, spinning in Tokyo’s hotspots such as Shibuya’s ‘Organ Bar’. He tours regularly throughout Japan and abroad. In the Jackson 5 Remix Album, his remix ‘I want you back (readymade 524 mix)’ received an extraordinary amount of national radio play.
The remix album itself has scored healthy rankings in major record stores. In 1998, his own project ‘Punch the Monkey!’ (in which he remixes the theme tune of a popular Japanese cartoon series ‘Lupin the Third’) sold over 700,000 records, and this, some say, began Japan’s remix rush. His achievements truly invaded the mainstream when in 2000, he produced the No.1 single ‘Oha-Rock’ which became a social phenomenon in itself. Most
recently, he set up his own record label, ‘readymade international inc.’ from he which he plans to release new exciting solo works.
His talents also embrace film and photography and he is well known as a director in promotional videos, shows and advertisements. T-shirts and original goods which Konishi personally designed are sold in select shops such as BEAMS of Shibuya.
He is also a writer having regular columns in various magazines, and has also written several books. A collection of his essays have been published under the title ‘Kore wa koi de wa nai’ (’This is not love’
)
Profile 2
IKEDA masanori (Mansfield)
Began his DJ career in London, 1991, while working in Soho’s Soul Jazz Records. After becoming resident DJ at ‘Blow-Up’ in London’s Wag Club, he has toured the country and the rest of Europe. With his friends Karminsky Experience and Gentle People, he has also organised numerous club events, compiled CDs and produced radio programs. Returning to Japan in 1997, as the DJ with the rarest records in the East, he immediately made his name Djing at many popular events up and down the country. He is recognised for rocking dancefloors on a global scale having completed a very well-received European tour in 2000.
Apart from his DJ work, he has contributed remixes for Konishi Yasuharu’s ‘Punch the Monkey!’. His solo releases include his mix CD series ‘Spin Out’ , ‘Spin Out 2’ (V2 Records Japan). His albums ‘6 Complexions of Mansfield’ and ‘It’s a mans’s man’s field’ (readymade records) released under his alias Mansfield have established his name as a sound creator. He is expecting to release a new album from readymade international early 2002. This
is the DJ/composer that everyone’s talking about.

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

'Challenge Me Foolish' is an almost lost album of µ-Ziq material circa 1998-99, an era that saw Mike Paradinas release 'Royal Astronomy' on the now defunct Virgin subsidiary Hut records, and also tour with Björk.

It's an era of his music that's definitely worth re-exploring, in which Mike went against the grain by producing music that was baroque, melodic and whimsical, while the IDM movement he was lumped with made instrumental music that was often neurotic and complicated. His taste for melody and dreamy beauty above roughness and intricacy confused people who were hanging on too tightly to the rules. He even brought in Japanese vocalist Kazumi, adding an extra human touch.

'Challenge Me Foolish' is something of a companion to the Royal Astronomy record, arguably even better given the fresh ears selecting the material. It's imbued with a confident sense of pastoral colour, and a gentle optimism, utilising bells, studied orchestral arrangements and airy synthesisers that sit the album somewhere between, Jean Jacques Perrey (the French electronic composer whose whimsy was always balanced with serious innovation and chops) and the colourful, optimistic soundtracks of Joe Hisaishi. There's a strange sense of the old and new throughout, the sentimental and utopia, with nary a hint of darkness. Even when the album dips into the hyperkinetic rhythms of jungle, the melodies and mood still retain a sense of gentle warmth. Dive into peak time Paradinas.

Since the late 90"s, Jakob "Dino" Dinesen has become a stalwart of the Danish jazz scene, performing with nearly everyone of note in the country as well as internationally celebrated names such as Kurt Rosenwinkel, Jeff "Tain" Watts, Jakob Bro and Paul Motian. Finding joy and inspiration in the building of bridges between genre boundaries, his career in music has seen him travel and perform all over the world, enriching his sound and soul with every new experience. His new record seeks to convey his dream of a future world at peace with itself. "Slow Flow" is set to release on January 25th on April Records. "I envision a world where people from every corner of the globe come together, dancing, sharing meals, and finding joy through my music. My children are a blend of Africa and Denmark, and I hope they"ll carry the traditions and wisdom of both their mother and father as they navigate their path. I would love for music like this to be the soundtrack to their journey through life." Rooted in the playful live sound of an atypical quintet featuring cello and djembe, Slow Flow sits in a unique space somewhere between earthy, simplistic, and acoustic and contemporary, electronic, and unexpected. The record"s sound is soft spoken and full of compassion-a dark-timbred music where the intimate, warm breath of his tenor saxophone intertwines with the crisp, organic tones of the cello. Together, they float over smooth, analog synths and electronic loops, while the carefully crafted lines of the bass and the gentle rhythm of hands on drum skins carry the music forward. Occasional erratic, quirky bursts from an affected keyboard and weaving improvisations offer moments of energy and contrast. Each of the album"s nine original compositions paint musical pictures of contentment that are dear to Dino, as well as offering musical tributes to four of his heroes in Yusef Lateef, Wayne Shorter, Coleman Hawkins and Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis". Drawing on modern European jazz, African rhythms, Italian circus music, and reggae, Slow Flow plays as a deeply personal exploration of Dino"s identity, whilst providing a dream-like message of global peace that promises to resonate with like-minded people all around the world..

"When it travels, the voice is a double agent, a trickster, or a dubious guru, but when it pauses for a recording, it's historical, capturing a mood or an emotion for all time. I didn't expect that I would hardly recognize the people who made Salt — myself and Hessel Veldman — a year and a half after recording it, but this is where I find myself now, so I'll say a few words about this temporary prosopagnosia.

Twelve years ago, when I moved to the Netherlands from Japan, I made a piece called How to Lose Your Voice. It was a YouTube hit because people wanted to learn how to actually lose their voices, though I doubt they found what they were looking for in the video. But I mention it because it's like a diary for me: my voice simply isn't the same now as it was then.

I wonder where my voice has gone.

I just listened to a radio interview with a woman who had her larynx removed.

About fifteen minutes after listening to her new voice, altered by the use of a voice prosthesis to make her audible, the interviewer played a recording of her pre-surgery voice. Of course, I was curious to hear it, and although it was immediately obvious that the gentle ease of her first voice was gone, this new voice, with its raw, gravelly sound, was even more intriguing because of its determined power to express that which needed to be expressed.

When Hessel and I first listened to the Salt in its entirety, I said in astonishment, "who wrote this?"
Marianna Maruyama, sure, but this artist goes by more than one name. Many voices spoke through me in this album. You might even recognize one of them as yours."

Repress of this Christmas classic, 300 copies on snowy WHITE vinyl! "At long last! Finally on vinyl! Can Fifteen Great Christmas Songs be collected together on one lovely 12-inch vinyl disc featuring bands and artists from the Damaged Goods archives? ...you betcha bottom dollar they can! Each song has been recorded with the Christmas spirit in full flow and we'd guess the odd mince pie was consumed along the way as well. The full-on Christmas feeling that is flowing through these wonderful tracks is a joy to behold and we implore you to not just read these sleeve notes but to go crimble-crumble-crazy and actually buy this record and treasure it, not only this year but for many years to come. We are very proud to have put this album together as Christmas is our favourite time of the year. We love the feeling at special Christmas gigs - the overinflated people and prices of things and the way everyone just has to go out and drink as much as they possibly can in the name of the good old lord Jesus. We did this for you, and only for you because we really, really care and want to share the joy that only Damaged Goods Records can bring you at this special time of the year. So enjoy some great music from the likes of Will Billy Childish, Miss Holly Golightly, Helen Love, Goldblade & Poly Styrene, The Courettes and so many more and remember, this LP is not just for Christmas it's for LIFE!" - Ian Damaged, National Elf

elbow return with their seventh studio album on 3rd February 2017. 'Little Fictions' was recorded in Scotland and Manchester and sees the band collaborate with the string players of The Hallé Orchestra, the Hallé Ancoats Community Choir, members of London Contemporary Voices and session drummer Alex Reeves. As with the previous three elbow albums it was produced by Craig Potter.
'Little Fictions' is emphatically a band album. Having written individually for its chart-topping predecessor, 'The Take Off and Landing of Everything', sessions this time were collective affairs, with all four members gathered initially in a house in Scotland before moving to Guy's attic in Prestwich and finalising recordings in the familiar setting of Blueprint studios, Salford.
'Little Fictions' is an upbeat album. All the band talk of the sessions being 'joyful', Mark summarises it as 'the sound of four people who love what they do and each other', of an album that came into being naturally and, at times even unconsciously. Lead single 'Magnificent (She Says)' was embraced for the joyous, thrilling piece of music it is, positive and outward looking. Mark never even considered his audible switch towards electric guitars, most notable on the psychedelic lushness of 'All Disco', until the very end of the process.
The departure of drummer Richard Jupp prior to commencing the writing and recording process in earnest saw early sessions characterised by new approaches to rhythm, with the band utilising percussive noises, sampling and loops to build tracks. The grooves that run through much of the album, from the go-go beats of 'Gentle Storm' through the jagged trip hop of 'Kindling' to the soulful 'Firebrand & Angel' represent both the band's widest musical palette and a newfound sense of experimentation borne from both necessity and desire. That desire fuelled the title track, an eight minute piece that is epic without at any point feeling excessive. As a shorthand for the album it is perfect, crossing musical genres and experimenting with sound in ways that demonstrate the confidence and enthusiasm of the band throughout the recording process.
'Little Fictions' is, therefore, more than just yet another brilliant elbow album. In many ways it marks the start of a new chapter for the band, characterised by a rediscovery of shared purpose in doing the thing that has always brought them together, the place that Mark describes as 'the creative space where we all meet'.

Robert Glasper’s holiday album In December was released last year as an Apple Music exclusive. We’re now able offer it widely available to physical retail and all DSPs!



Is there anything to be done with carols like “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and “Joy to the World” that hasn’t been done in the past 300 years? If there is, Grammy-winning pianist, composer, and producer Robert Glasper is the kind of artist to do it. “I like covering songs that people know well,” Glasper tells Apple Music. “That’s what I’ve done throughout my whole career.” It’s true: As a jazz pianist, he’s obviously learned his way around making classics his own, whether they were written by Mongo Santamaría or Kurt Cobain. But, he says, “The biggest challenge in making a holiday album was trying to do it in a way that feels festive but at the same time feels real and not corny.”



He succeeds on both fronts on In December, his holiday album that mixes classic carols with a set of originals, and which was recorded in Spatial Audio. Part of what keeps it credible is the fact that Glasper’s hiphop/R&B/jazz fusion is done on a compositional level instead of just a cosmetic one (no collages of sampled sax solos and drum loops here). The covers reveal a lot about his musical worldview: Sung by Tony winner Cynthia Erivo (The Color Purple), “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” is turned into dark, airy neo-soul, while “Joy to the World”—sung by Alex Isley—feels like a Stevie Wonder ballad. But the originals reveal even more. “The intention for this album was less about Christmas songs and more about songs that feel good during the holidays,” Glasper says. “I stayed away from thinking too much about Christmas and its traditional lingo, and concentrated on real things people go through during the holiday season.”

The prolific & visionary artist known for his work with TV ON THE RADIO, and SPACEK emerges from the shadows with this extremely limited 7" on his newly formed label SPA. This will not be repressed so get it while you can! Full pic sleeve. (SPA) NUJAZZ SOUL HEADZ
"COULD IT BE UR LOVE" introduces a gentle and soothing half-time rhythm, inviting the audience to experience a love bruk atmosphere. SPACEK draws inspiration from the heavenly nights at Plastic People, creating a track that resonates with selectaz who love to move on the dance floor. The warm and luscious sonic of this piece is a testament to SPACEK's meticulous attention to detail and passion for creating music that transcends boundaries.
On the flip side, "DANCING IN THE LIGHT" presents a horse-step rhythm that underpins a future lovers rock style track. With synths and bass pulsating, this track is tailor-made for dance floor enthusiasts who enjoy a one-foot skank.

The unconscious and unknown must be really nice places. In any case, if you take the second album of Menelaos Tomasides under his given name as travelogue. A trip into dreamlike territory, yet concrete enough, a journey without target yet looking forward and looking back into familiar places, „dreamhike“ both continues and departs from the style Menelaos has found earlier, in “When the Moon Comes Through”, or his more conceptual-intentional “31 Minuten” works. As the album title - which roughly translates to “dream hiking” but also hints on “walkabout” and “songlines” – suggests, we are rambling between the real and the imaginary. From the bucolic border triangle of Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands to the buzzing streets of the capital of Cyprus, where Menelaos has lived for many years, the tracks are about real places, about real experiences and emotions yet interwoven with a dreamlike fabric. Something that is just not tangible, yet substantial and palpable. Something concrete that manifests in the genuine and special sound design of this records - basically all of Menelaos’ works - his really special treatment of dynamics and loudness. It is one of the very few records where the established language of music making, specifically Techno, House, Dub, and early 2000’ Electronica, the clicks, thumps and plops from an earlier age of electronic music, transmogrify into slow movements of something new. Something that is gentle and truly personal, looking inwards. There are four-to-the-floor beats, there is wobbly bass, and dubby chords, even sublimated clarion calls. There is an immense energy in these tracks, the sheer materiality of low frequencies of a massive sound system manifested in a tiny room. Yet it is without any aggression, stripped bare of sonic pressure. It is quiet music no matter how high you turn up the volume. A rare treat, that requires exceptional skills and exceptional restraint and control on the technical side of music making. Probably it is a result of Menelaos specific combination of instinctual, intuitive approach to making music, which meets a genuine love for sound in seemingly endless loops of refinement that can lead to such a result as „dreamhike“. The elegant floating balance of control and playful experimentation manifests for example in a track that continues the ongoing collaboration with seasoned Cologne improviser Achim Fink on bass trumpet. Not only in this respect, the album can be described as a product of openness. It comes from a lot of taking in the world, of travel, of places and people met, of friendship and conversation (not necessarily with words). The deep trip of “dreamhike” further manifests Menelaos as one of the truly independent voices of electronic Cologne and beyond. Somewhat alike in character and attitude probably to what late Pete Namlook has established for Frankfurt with his label Fax +49-69/450464 (though ultimately warmer and much less uncanny) Menelaos has found his very own sound and vision. Music that answers to no one but speaks to everyone. Uncompromising yet gentle to the core: kind sounds from a kind spirit, arguably the most extraordinary and valuable quality music can have these days.

Mermaid Chunky. It's all in a name, sometimes. The danceable, costumed, curiosity rich duo of artists Freya Tate and Moina Moin are as imaginative as they profess. Or, to get more to the point, as we all need them to be. Freya and Moina are two visual artists and musicians from Stroud and South London, places where they importantly found communities (Stroud's SVA and the capital's Total Refreshment Centre) of like minded people just as willing to chase down an idea to its possibly illogical conclusion. And it is in the collective and the idea of participation that Mermaid Chunky really clicks. This is a party, a collective dance, made all the better with more: people, ideas, layers, kick drums, recorders, saxophones, frogs. To wit, the album's first track and first single, "Céilí," named after a traditional Scottish or Irish social gathering and dance, which builds from a simple recorder line into a swelling, warm burst of major chord dance music. Goosebumps or check your pulse. Further down the rabbit hole, "Chaperone" is almost boardwalk electro, like Fischerspooner on a ferris wheel; "Frogsporn" and "Nature Girl" are mucky, trippy dirges filled with stalactites of synth and squelch; "Tiny Gymnast" is a kaleidoscopic waltz into the night. Hold onto your seats, ladies and gentlemen. You might be wondering how we, DFA Records, all the way over in cynical Brooklyn, entered the picture. There was a day a few years ago, sun shining in full Springtime splendor, when James heard something while waiting for a coffee down the street from the office. It sounded simple yet deceptively complex: a dance track, but one where the one - that anchoring first beat in a measure - could be heard a thousand different ways. Frustrated and interested, he Shazamd the song, playing at the shop from an episode of Zakia's Questing show on NTS, and brought it back to the office, where we all listened to it about fifty times. (The song was "Friends," from Mermaid Chunky's VEST EP, released in 2020. It led to an invitation to open for LCD at Brixton Academy in 2022. Mermaid Chunky has also played live alongside The Comet Is Coming, Alabastair Deplume, Snapped Ankles, and many others.) Thus began our search for Mermaid Chunky. A quest it has been and a quest it will always be.

Tangential Music is pleased to present the new album from veteran Spanish DJ and producer, Dj Toner (aka Antonio Herrera). Alongside his co-writer/arranger Daniel Molina and with guests that include the legendary Blue Note Records innovator Erik Truffaz and Grammy winning flautist and saxophonist Jorge Pardo, he has created a 10 track collection of slow-burning instrumentals that straddle the worlds of hip hop, jazz and electronica.

With a personal, precision tooled approach to his craft, the Andalusian has offered up an album of finely modelled downbeat moods.

At first glance, ‘Out Side’ is made up of recognisably superior hip hop instrumentals but if you listen carefully, and with patience, one can hear a craftsman at work. A wooden box is just a box until you look closer. The hidden joints, the perfect lining up of the grain, the years of artisanal graft and laser-focussed attention to detail that go into making something that has nothing present, that doesn’t deserve to be there. This is how Dj Toner operates.

The two singles that preempt the album’s release reveal different sides of his craft. ‘Camina’ struts with tough intentions. Soundtrack-y in an exploitation police drama manner, the get-out-of-my-way drum break and tension-filled chords suggest the bad cop, Erik Truffaz’s piercing lyrical trumpet lines, the good. The Afro-jazz horns led second release ‘Surprise’ is an altogether more playful, sunbaked affair. Sensual and slow-burning, there’s still an edge but it’s too hot to quarrel.

Dj Toner’s minimalist attitude to creation is shared with his co-composer Molina - an individual’s contribution may be cut to the bone, leaving just its aura or tone. The echo of a piano, a single blast of tuneful wind from a flute, a perfectly positioned drum hit.

Since the Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA began applying his beatmaking prowess to movie soundtracks, the hip hop instrumental has been acknowledged as something to listen to, as much as being used as a DJ tool or backing for an MC. Dj Toner’s instrumentals can, therefore, be seen as soundtracks. Soundtracks to his life and craft, vignettes of his environment in both the urban sprawl and the wider and slower spaces of “el campo”.

The sweet-tempered jazz-blues of ‘La Rimosa’ is a gentle welcome to the album. A simple, laid back groove with the most romantic of piano hooks that one could imagine Common dropping rhymes on. You’re kept on your toes with the odd purposeful moment of discordant interruption but the tender heart of the composition is never far away.

‘O’Beat’ hints at John Coltrane with the sparse but full-sounding upright bass before a head-snap break leads into a curious piano groove, a vintage organ swirls into a psychedelic fractal, whilst the bluesy female vocal snippets add the spice, that zing in the Granadan gazpacho.

The flamenco guitar driven ‘Flama’ is an excellent example of intricate sample placement and musicality. Old school (school yard) scratch interludes, sweet piano hooks, a minimalist but knife sharp flute contribution from Jorge Pardo, and the crunchiest of drums taking us for an intriguing walk round the corner.

We’ve mentioned them before but it’s on ‘Sweetband’ that we can feel that Wu-Tang dread hanging off its shoulders. A brooding orchestral number with powerful horns and a cavernous piano hit. The title of the piece is in stark contrast to the dark shadows of the tune.

Erik Truffaz returns in fine form on the super lethargic jazz-funk-hop of ‘The Day’. His instantly identifiable muted trumpet sound paints dazzling colours over the more earthy tones of the filtered down keys as a rubbery upright bass keeps the forward momentum. Dj Toner’s ‘Blessed Are The Weird People’ album, was rated in Jazz Magazine as one of the 20 jazz albums of 2021, so he isn’t some dilettante when it comes to playing with the complex hues of jazz but he does like to strip it to its bare essentials.

‘Fanega’ sees a gorgeous flute contribution from Jorge Pardo. An eerie boom-bap groove with sprinkles of electronic pulses and washed out chords is the canvas on which the award-winning multi-instrumentalist evokes the heat shimmer of the savannah.


‘Esperanza’ translates as ‘hope’ in English and this lovely slow, swinging jazzy groove really does provoke feelings of positivity and belief. Sublime vibraphone and another stunning trumpet offering from Erik Truffaz, take us on a journey of warm days and possibilities, the shuffling drums and sweet chord patterns are nicely finished off by a tranquil horn chorus towards its unhurried end.

‘Under Beat’ ends on a beefy boom-bap groove with a liquid funk bassline, elegant synth strings and old school scratching. Again, there’s that undisputable soundtrack edge, action and motion, the smell of the city.

There you have it, 10 tracks that go beyond the surface, deep into the dedicated craft of Dj Toner. Decades of experience and collaboration purified and refined into beat-heavy emotions, listen closely or crank it up, it’s down to you!

Strawberry Wind, produced by Richard Swift (Nathaniel Rateliff and The Night Sweats, Foxygen, The Shins) not only delivers on a promise to create an honest album for kids and parents but it represents what Baylin calls the “beautiful divide,” of juggling family life with her creative life, a difficult task by any measure. “The divide in me is easy to feel because I invest 100% of myself into my family and often the creative gets put to the side,” she explained, “so when I decided to begin writing for this album it just poured out of me.” Now singer / songwriter Jessie Baylin shares that creative outpouring on her debut children’s album, ‘Strawberry Wind’. Throughout the album, Baylin doesn’t hold back on telling it like it is. Weaving through lyrical themes of dream life, supermoons and summertime vibes are some gentle doses of reality. “I don’t want to lie to my kids. Life is hard sometimes and you need to find a way to deal with it... there will always be things in life you can’t control. But, you can dream of a better world and make your own refuge,” says Baylin, who is mom to 4-year-old Violet and is expecting her second child with her husband. Baylin, who’s released four critically-acclaimed albums over the years, says the seed was planted for this album after recording a cover of Harry Nilsson’s He Needs Me from the kids’ film Popeye. “The song has a childlike sense, but the message is very deep. It’s magical, it’s dark, and it hit all the right notes. I wanted to do an album that feels like that” she says. “Since becoming a mother, I found myself being around the house a lot and I started gravitating to these wonderful albums I remembered from my own childhood - The Beatles, Harry Nilsson’s The Point!, John Lennon, Roger Miller’s Robin Hood and Carole King’s Really Rosie." The magic of those iconic 1970s records she mentions is that they’re all grounded in solid songwriting and were never dumbed down for the audience. “Those records felt very honest and that was my mission here. I also wanted it to feel magical and remind people of the child inside of all of us that is filled with a sense of wonder and pure joy and hope.”

Created with her accomplice Matthis Pascaud (guitars and production), her new opus Oizel , gives pride of place to her folk and pop influences. With her voice poised, naked and quivering, in subtly kneaded French - her language of sunken hearts, she calls on the inspiring birds, mocking blackbirds or wild geese, funny birds, libertarians and marginal people of all feathers. Between poignant laments and cheeky refrains, it resonates like a vibrant declaration of independence, and gives voice to the gentle yet fierce, tender yet unruly song of an artist and a woman who, more than ever, from the impregnable heights to which her music lifts her, tells us: "No, you're not going to put me in a box like that."

A tribute to one of the greatest songwriters & artists of our time! Features newly recorded covers from Keith Richards, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Rufus Wainwright, Lucinda Williams, Maxim Ludwig & Angel Olsen, Rickie Lee Jones, Mary Gauthier, Bobby Rush, Automatic, The Afghan Whigs, and Rosanne Cash. Special Record Store Day Edition pressed on Silver Nugget vinyl and housed in a silver laminated jacket Booklet features liner notes by compilation producer & former Lou Reed publicist Bill Bentley, featuring photos by Mick Rock and Timothy Greenfield-Sanders. "To me, Lou stood out. The real deal! Something important to American music and to ALL MUSIC! I miss him and his dog." - Keith Richards "Lou seemed fearless to me, like he'd rather die than be a people-pleaser. I took inspiration from that." - Rosanne Cash "Lou Reed is my earliest influence, my introduction to punk rock, and the soundtrack to the beginning of my romance with Maxim." - Angel Olsen "Lou Reed has been gone now for many years. He's one of the few people whom I miss as much now as when he left. There are so many instances where I wonder what he would say or what he would think. His general aura would always lend something really unique to the room. Thank God he left his great music and recordings. His personality is sorely missed. Love you, Lou." - Rufus Wainwright // It goes without saying that the legendary Lou Reed was a true rock 'n' roll pioneer. From The Velvet Underground's debut in 1967 all the way through the end of his days, Reed sang truth from his heart. He lived life to the limit-and then some. The Power of the Heart is a tribute to Reed's freedom of expression with covers spanning his ground-breaking years with the Velvets into his majestic solo career. Each track is a glorious extension of the Rock 'n' Roll Animal's soul, ever adventurous and avant-garde. The Power of the Heart: A Tribute to Lou Reed kicks off with a legend in his own right, Keith Richards, reimagining the Velvets' classic, "I'm Waiting for the Man." Richards' rendition instantly invites you on board this unforgettable ride. In stark contrast, "Perfect Day" is somehow even more melancholy than the original given the Rufus Wainwright treatment, featuring sparse fingerpicking and gentle harmonies. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts deliver a version of "I'm So Free" that would have even Lou rockin' in his grave. It's thrilling to hear these songs reinterpreted and sung by such heavyweights; you can even hear as Lucinda Williams channels the spirit of Lou with her take on "Legendary Hearts." Other notable tracks include a punk-drunk, loved-up duet by real-life lovers Angel Olsen & Maxim Ludwig with "I Can't Stand It," and Rickie Lee Jones' reimagining of "Walk on the Wild Side," both whimsical and enticing with her whispery vocals, stripped-down percussion, and a piano fit for a late-night lounge. This tribute album truly defies genre, but its throughline, in the end, is its heart: a deeply thoughtful collection of songs that shaped a generation, each paying homage to a man whose body of work still sings.

Zoo Min Sha is the solo project of Ryo Konishi, who also performs with the jazz-pop band CRCK/LCKS. 2 songs released in 2023, featuring AAAMYYYY, Ema, and Sara Yoshida (Mononkvl), and themed on parting with people, are now available in analog!

In addition to presiding over CRCK/LCKS, Ryo Konishi has participated in works by Chara and millennium parade, produced music for Amazon Prime Video's "More Than Words", produced music for the opening ceremony of the 2020 Paralympics, and has a growing presence in a wide range of other areas. This is his third analog work. Side A is "Glittering," which features AAAMYYYY as a guest performer and has a magnificent and beautiful sound centered on her clear voice and string quartet. Side B is "I Hear That Song", which features the beautiful ensemble of winds and strings and the gentle, enveloping harmonies of Mononkvl member Sara Yoshida and musical actor/jazz singer Ema. This is a piece as beautiful as a clear sky and a gem of pieces by the splendid members.

Nia Archives is the star at the forefront of the latest era of jungle. Since her emergence in 2020, her collagist soundscapes have helped bring the sound to a new generation of clubgoers (though fair warning: don’t call her a “revivalist” – she’s the first to point out that the scene never went away). So when it comes to talk of the 24-year-old producer, DJ, singer and songwriter’s much-anticipated debut album, the odds are you’re thinking of a full-length record of weightless jungle tracks with basslines so intense they’ll leave your ears ringing.

But the reality of the Bradford-born, Leeds-raised artist’s first ever album – while very much replete with that exquisite jungle sound she does so well – is also doing something a little different. On the thrilling and freeing Silence Is Loud, Nia Archives is looking to make music for beyond the rave. As she explains: “I think music can be experienced in different ways, and there’s different kinds of music for different scenarios. Say you’re at a festival listening to music with thousands of other people, that can feel really uniting. But then you might listen to an album on your own in the bus, or in a taxi; and this project is definitely more a record to sit and listen to than a collection of club tracks.” Nia is intent that Silence Is Loud is taken in as a full body of work of something “more song-focussed, putting interesting sounds on jungle.” It means that this is a record which finds gloomy Britpop, warm Motown, soaring indie, a love for Kings of Leon’s Aha Shake Heartbreak, skittering IDM, Madchester, classic rock, old skool hardcore and more, woven and fused into her ragga and junglist tapestry, all layered with feeling, imbued with her songwriterly lyricism about loneliness, relationships, family, navigating her 20s, and the intense potential power of silence.

The vast sonic palette on Silence Is Loud comes down to Nia’s broad array of influences through her life. With her Jamaican heritage, Nia remembers hearing jungle as a child via her nana, as well as at Bradford Carnival, where she was drawn to the soundsystem culture, dancing carefree on the floats in the parade. The first album she ever bought was Rihanna’s debut, Music of the Sun, and she also went to Pentecostal church back then, and was obsessed with gospel. Aged 16, she moved to Manchester, where she didn’t really know anybody: and so, her solution to meeting people was going out. “Partying was a huge part of my life,” she says, “They used to do little freestyle cyphers at the house parties and I would join in – that’s kind of how I got into singing.” She had found music boring at school, but in meeting all these new people she became interested in making her own music as a hobby. “I was making boom-bap kind of stuff which I didn’t really like in the end,” she laughs, “My lyrics are quite deep, so on a hip-hop beat it all sounds really depressing. I wanted people to dance to my music.” And so she began experimenting with faster tempos alongside that melancholy songwriting, teaching herself how to make beats on Logic: “It’s all been a lot of trial and error, really.”

Nia went to study music in London, and was also interested in visual art, making collages and VHS: “Before the music, I was trying to make a visual archive of my life and the people around me,” she explains, “And then my music was like my diary, and a sonic archive, as well.” Hence, she paired the word “archives” with her middle name, Nia. To this day, in her spare time she’s working on pulling together a documentary on the global nature of the jungle scene.

Back on those first two EPs, Headz Gone West (2021) and Forbidden Feelingz (2022), she honed that junglist sound, painting it with new flecks of colour and vibrance. It was only after she started releasing work that she realised pursuing music could be a viable life path for her. The decision has been paying off ever since. Nia Archives placed third in the prestigious BBC Sound Poll for 2023, alongside garnering a nomination for the Brit Awards’ Rising Star prize, plus wins at the DJ Mag, NME, the MOBOs and Artist and Manager Awards. She has also toured the world – be it North America, Europe or Asia – and even opened a show in London as part of a little something called Beyoncé’s Renaissance World Tour. She’s renowned as a party-starter in her own right, too, with takeovers at Glastonbury, Warehouse Project and her own Bad Gyalz day event. She’s done official remixes for the likes of Jorja Smith, had a huge summer hit with her Yeah Yeah Yeahs rework ‘Off Wiv Ya Headz’, and worked with brands like Corteiz, Nike, Flannels, Burberry, FIFA and Apple. In just three years, it’s fair to say that Nia Archives has become a need-to-know name in dance music.

But Nia is not interested in being one fixed thing. Building on the terrain from her third EP, Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against Tha Wall, the universe of Silence Is Loud is not totally unfamiliar territory; but it’s still emblematic of a bolder scope than we’ve heard from the artist before. Working with Ethan P. Flynn (the songwriter and producer known for his work with FKA twigs and David Byrne), the resulting record is an impressive feat of deftly-sculpted textures; sometimes big and euphoric, like the wobbly, lusty bass of ‘Forbidden Feelingz’, or elsewhere notably gentle and quiet – see: the gorgeous, surprisingly drumless ‘Silence Is Loud (Reprise)’, a heartfelt number that sits somewhere in the school of Adele. “I really sharpened my songwriting skill on this project,” Nia says, “I was really intentional about what I was writing about, and I really loved co-producing with Ethan. His process is so different to anyone I’ve worked with before, and he’s got a kind of DIY set-up like me.” Flynn’s flat overlooks the Barbican, adding that unquantifiable futurist urban quality that the area holds to the music. The pair enjoyed the collaborative process so much that the album was done within three and a half months.

Perhaps this is why Silence Is Loud maintains an exuberant immediacy while still being sleek and spacious, interspersed with flourishes of metallic beats, lush melody and topped with her sugary but powerful vocal, floating over it all. There is an intimacy to the record, perhaps in part due to Nia writing most of her lyrics while sitting in bed in her flat in Bow (once a bedroom producer, always a bedroom producer). You can hear it on the refrain for lead single ‘Crowded Roomz’, which finds rippling guitar lines cutting taut through the beats as Nia refrains: “I feel so lonely crowded rooms.” The song is an examination of life on tour, constantly surrounded by people, but not necessarily those she can be herself around; more than that, the track is exemplary in the category of sad bangers.

Silence Is Loud often finds itself in that push and pull between melancholy and euphoria. There’s a celebration of her unconditional love for her younger brother (the title track), a rumination of an evening with an Irish boy she met by Temple Bar (‘Cards On The Table), or a letter to herself on the light and airy ‘Unfinished Business’, even coming to terms with a lover having a past they haven’t quite processed yet (“nobody comes with a clean slate”). The latter was recorded the week after a music festival, and accordingly captures Nia’s vocal in its not quite healed, husky state.

Nia’s work is always a snapshot of where she’s at when she’s making it. This might not be the debut album you were expecting, but that’s what makes Silence Is Loud so special. Nia Archives has learned the rules of her sound, and is unafraid to break them, pushing jungle and herself into new, unchartered territories that, in turn, go some way to map the history of the greats of British dance music. More than that, it plants her firmly in that lineage.

96kHz - 48-bit HD Audio with digital booklet including original photography by Christopher Kayfield and liner notes by Shaun Brady.

Pianist Kevin Hays, bassist Ben Street, and drummer Billy Hart reunite for a second, scintillating trio date, BRIDGES, featuring original compositions by Hays and Hart with classics by Wayne Shorter, Bill Frisell, The Beatles, and Milton Nascimento.

Hays Street Hart, the trio of pianist Kevin Hays, bassist Ben Street, and legendary drummer Billy Hart, recorded their acclaimed 2021 debut, ALL THINGS ARE, under less than optimal conditions. The album began life as a performance in honor of Hart’s 80th birthday in December 2020, live-streamed from an empty Smoke Jazz Club in the final weeks of that grueling pandemic year. Despite those adversities, the music they created that night was spectacular enough to convince all involved that it should be released.

Two years later, the trio has reconvened, this time fully cognizant that they were going to record an album at Sear Sound Studios in NYC. The captivating BRIDGES brilliantly spotlights the unique chemistry and shared spirit of exploration that emerged fully formed on that initial impromptu session. The title succinctly hints at some of the reasons why Hays, Street and Hart work so well together: this is a trio that bridges generations, certainly, as well as a wealth of diverse experience and inspiration. But it also sums up a mutual desire to bring people together through music.

“In this world that seems to be crumbling beneath our feet,” Hays explains, “we sense the need to make allies where there might be adversaries. On the most intimate level, interpersonally and inter-psychically we set out to overcome any number of misunderstandings and adversarial situations.”

Not that there was any antagonism to overcome within the trio itself. More than anything, Hays Street Hart is a mutual admiration society of the highest order. The esteem in which the pianist and bassist hold Billy Hart likely goes without saying. The drummer was ordained in 2022 as an NEA Jazz Master, just one of the many honors he has chalked up over a breathtaking career. He began his career with an apprenticeship under the revered vocalist Shirley Horn and went on to make notable music with such luminaries as Miles Davis, McCoy Tyner, Herbie Hancock, Wes Montgomery, Jimmy Smith, Stan Getz, and as part of the quartet Quest featuring David Liebman and Richie Beirach.

But Hart is if anything, even more laudatory toward his younger bandmates. Street has been a member of the drummer’s stellar quartet for two decades, alongside pianist Ethan Iverson and saxophonist Mark Turner, a tenure that speaks for itself. As for Hays, Hart is quick to place the pianist in the exalted company of some of his iconic former collaborators.

“I’ve been lucky enough to have the chance to perform with Herbie Hancock and McCoy Tyner,” says Hart modestly. “Each generation presents their own equivalent, and Kevin is an example of the latest innovations. There was Herbie and McCoy, then it was Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett, and then you have what's coming next. I think Kevin is definitely part of that continuum.”

Though Hays sticks strictly to the piano on BRIDGES, he is also an accomplished singer whose vocal instincts fuel his inventive and lyrical melodicism. Street points to those facets as key to the connection between the pianist and Hart, who has enjoyed several meaningful collaborations with vocalists.

“It always seems to me that Kevin has the capacity to sing in his mind and then accompany himself on the piano,” Street describes. “That makes for such a nice connection with Billy, who has played with and learned from so many singers. I don't even feel like we're playing as a piano trio most of the time; it feels more like a quartet.”

Those qualities are especially clear on Hays’ “Butterfly,” which opens the album. Though it’s performed here as an instrumental, the pianist has composed lyrics for the piece, and its gorgeous, song-like quality shines through. Hays also contributed the breathtaking ballad “Song for Peace,” highlighted by Hart’s gentle, embracing brushwork and Street’s sturdy, stentorian tone. The pianist’s third original, “Row Row Row,” is constructed on a twelve-tone row, but as the playful title suggests, it has none of the more stringent qualities of the serialist composers.

Hart’s stunning “Irah,” originally recorded on his quartet’s self-titled 2006 debut, is dedicated to the composer’s mother and was recorded at Street’s suggestion. The bassist also brought guitarist Bill Frisell’s reflective “Throughout” to the date, imagining Frisell’s Americana influences would resonate with the similarly inclined Hays, who approaches the tune with a harp-like beauty. Hays’ love of pop and rock music is also reflected by the inclusion of The Beatles classic “With a Little Help from My Friends.”

The trio pays tribute to the late, great Wayne Shorter with “Capricorn,” originally released on the composer’s 1969 Blue Note album SUPER NOVA and later included on the Miles Davis Quintet set WATER BABIES. Hart called Shorter one of a kind. I think of the many times I heard him excel – with the Maynard Ferguson Big Band, with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, with Weather Report. And in each case, he was innovative.”

BRIDGES closes with the title track, a dazzling piece by the great Brazilian singer and songwriter Milton Nascimento, which Hays calls “one of my favorite compositions ever, by anybody.”

BRIDGES was recorded under ideal studio conditions by a now-established trio with a weeks-long European tour under their belts. Perhaps what’s most remarkable about the album is not that Hays, Street, and Hart play so masterfully together – with three artists of their caliber, who could expect any less? – but that this second outing maintains the bold spirit of inquisitiveness and spontaneity that its predecessor naturally possessed. Credit that to a trio perpetually determined to discover new bridges worth building.

Violist, violinist and singer-songwriter Marla Hansen returns to Karaoke Kalk with "Salt", her second full-length album to date. Building upon the sonic palette the Berlin-based musician established with her debut "Dust" in 2020, "Salt" takes the delicate mixture of acoustic instruments such as viola, violin, piano and guitar combined with subtle electronics to the next level. The new album is both a remarkable departure and at the same time sheds a new yet reassuring light on Hansen's work and creativity. "Salt" features numerous collaborations with like-minded musicians and friends, e. g. producer and composer Simon Goff, The Notwist's drummer Andi Haberl and the renowned artist DM Stith.

The "Dust" has settled. After having recorded her solo debut of that name, in 2020 the world came to a grinding halt, leaving Marla Hansen left to her own devices in her adopted home of Berlin. For Hansen, who previously had lent her talent to many creative minds such as The National, Sufjan Stevens, The Hidden Cameras, Jay-Z and Ravi Coltrane, the collaborative aspect of writing and producing music had always played a crucial part in finding her own path as a solo artist.

"I started to explore synthesizers and electronic production myself," she remembers of the time when meeting other musicians in person was out of the question. "I am proud that I accomplished many of the electronic elements of the new album by myself, and otherwise laid the groundwork for the final electronic structures through my own experiments. I always wanted to record a 'big' record, one that has a lot of power and sound, and this one is 'bigger' than anything I have done so far."

"Salt" is big, indeed. The opener "Chains" is driven by a gliding bass line, bobbing 808 snares, deep chords and a mesmerizing chorus doubled by luscious strings, marking the beginning of a new chapter in her creative journey. A stark statement, both musically and lyrically. Meanwhile, the title track of the album is an almost abstract sounding ambient miniature, sketch-like, dark and haunting, showcasing Hansen's voice in a shy, brittle and fragile state. If This Mortal Coil/The Hope Blister were ever to record another album, these songs should be high up on the shortlist of tunes to pick. "The One Time" - a duet with Hansen's long-time friend DM Stith - gently meanders between a Philip Glass-inspired piece for chamber orchestra and a vocal ensemble performing on Top Of The Pops. In this range of styles and approaches, Hansen's vision is more present than ever.

For refining and finishing the songs, Hansen turned to Simon Goff, who produced the album and engineered much of the recording, merging Hansen's newly-found songwriting approach with the artistic delicacy which made her debut album an exceptional piece of work. Features include among others: Alice Dixon (Oriel Quartett) on cello, Kyle Resnick (The National, Beirut) on trumpet, Benjamin Lanz (The National, Beirut) on trombone and tuba, and Miles Perkin on bass. And then there is The Notwist's Andi Haberl, who "crafted perfect drum and percussion parts to move the songs wherever they needed to go, either into their driving grooves, slow-build explosions or gentle swells of feeling."

But what are songs actually about? "The themes revolve around a feeling of being trapped. Having to stay inside during the pandemic, with all the silence and stillness coming with it. Simultaneously, I was caught up in a professional situation that was not working for me, yet it required a lot of energy and time. I was thinking a lot about how to break old habits and patterns. Patterns in my life, patterns I saw my friends and loved-ones stuck in. There are a lot of ways that people can be trapped, and breaking out of that requires a lot of courage and energy - on all levels. The title 'Salt' seemed to fit, ocean themes showed up naturally in some of the songs, and I thought often about the quote: 'The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.' Maybe I was just dreaming of the ocean, since it was inaccessible for the first time! But I wanted a cure for this feeling of being trapped, in a time of uncertainty and anxiety, salt as a remedy seemed to have some truth in it: sweat, tears or the sea."

Perseverance and the urge for freedom prevailed in the end. "Salt" is a bold artistic achievement, with songs as big as the biggest waves imaginable. With melodies as alluring as the most comfortable breezes. Perfect from start to finish.

Five albums, sixty tracks and still counting. Cool Million are back with a new album!

Ten years ago the euro soul duo Cool Million released their first album 'Going Out Tonight' on UK soul label Expansion Records. The album took the soul crowd by surprise, cause who were these guys that out of the blue, could recreated the soulful sound of the 80's hey day like no other?

The answer to that question is; Rob Hardt and Frank Ryle. One a super musician from Germany with skills you can only dream of. The other a Dj/musicfreak from Denmark with a masterplan – both of them with tons of dedication and passion for thier craft.

Thier passion and ambition have kept them in the came for a decade and they have worked with a long list of artists, some known some not, some forgotten some on their way up! The list include names such as: Jean Carne, Keni Burke, Shirley Jones, Eugene Wilde, Meli'sa Morgan, Rena Scott, Leroy Burgess, Peggi Blu, Yvonne Gage, Marc Evans, Alton McClain, Kenny Thomas, Lisa Stansfield, Tom Moulton, Joey Negro, Dimitri From Paris and John Morales, Glenn Jones, Marc Sadane, Tim Owens, Gavin Christopher, Michael Jeffries.

Cool Million tells that they feel privileged and humble when they look at the list of names they have worked with over the ten years. Futhermore they add; 'Who would have thought that two dudes from northern Europe would be able to create music with people that talented, we hope we could do it, when we started but that we actually done it, is amazing and wonderful'.

Reflecting on the first decade of Cool Million it's fair to say that Rob & Frank are two determined and ambitious gentlemen with extraordinary talent.

So what can Cool Million tell us abouth their new album? 'It's a classic Cool Million album where we work/collaborate with various artists, staying true to our original concept both in terms of genre and how we think a album works best. Having say that we think that our fans will be a little surprised with the fact that this is our slowest album to date. We believe we have more variety than ever and it's a fact that the music on the new album is slowed down in terms of more ballads and mid-tempo songs compared to our other albums'.

'The reason for this development is that we wanted to try something that was a little out of our comfort zone. Also we felt that we wanted to prove that we can do quality slow jams aswell. You could also argue that is's beause we both turned fifty this year.. haha'.

toechter is an all-female trio operating from Berlin. toechter’s 2nd full-length album »Epic Wonder« sees its classically trained members blend elaborate string arrangements with ethereal indie pop and delicate rhythms. Katrine Grarup Elbo, Lisa Marie Vogel and Marie-Claire Schlameus exclusively use analogue sound sources (such as violin, viola, cello, and their voices), which were then electronically processed.

Named after the Greek god of the wind, toechters 2022 album »Zephyr« exhaled deeply with concurrently invigorating and confusing sounds. »Epic Wonder«, their second album, was created in the spring and summer of 2023. Playing with forms and contours, the music sounds like the awakening of something new. One seems to be listening to an ongoing conversation, an exchange about what music could be, where it wants to go and how it contributes to our view of life. It all rests on a simple premise:

»Every sound you hear in our universe comes from us. The string trio is the core of toechter, the starting point of all our work.«

Those looking for new worlds of sound can find them in the work of this classically- trained musicians. Whether they add voices or percussive instruments, sample the sounds, or manipulate them electronically; ultimately they are exploring the string trio's place in a world shaped by the digital.

»Prelude« opens the album, seemingly a conversation, yet not only between humans. We catch the word ›love‹ which soon morphs into pure sound images, while a violin theme tentatively takes over. Is it the dawning of a new day? The chorus of sound transforms into a fascinating rhythmic figure, creating a club-like experience that fades out in delicate structures. A perpetual transformation.

According to toechter, »Epic Wonder« is all about making connections. Connections between people, animals, plants, fungi, rocks, soils, oceans, ice caps, stars, and planets. One imagines oneself in a folk-pop song of the 60s, or even blown around by Morricone's desert wind:

»The world as we see it is in desperate need for a deeper understanding; for compassion, for empathy. We have to understand that we are all part of the same organism. Epic Wonder is a dream, a wish, a longing for kinship between all species that share the world - all that is alive.«

The acoustic throbbing and knocking in »Sea Of Serenity« makes you think of encounters with mythical creatures or planetary oceanography; and out of the mechanically clacking groove of »Shift Souls« a gentle, but steady movement awakens with voices that seem to sound from the depths of the sea. Everything is in flux, floating in and out of dimensions and elements.

The album ends with »Mercury«, spherically elegant and almost science fiction-like. Here, a pizzicato melody leads us back to the baroque, simultaneously representing a detail of intertwined sonic worlds, while the steady, housy baseline develops its driving theme.

»Creating the music for the album, we allowed ourselves to waft away with the aspiration that connections are possible. Sometimes dwelling on subtle, yet marveling phenomena like the evening fog covering a valley on Midsummer, sometimes on grandiose splendors like the genesis of mountains or the birth of a child - letting interactions and encounters with other beings float through the musical universe as drips of emotional perceptivity.«

For the visual manifestation of »Epic Wonder«, toechter has engaged with Finish up-and-coming lens-based artist Aino Kontinen. Her work will grace both the cover art of the album and accompany the first single and video as an ephemeral tale in motion.

An autumnal treasure, East Village’s Drop Out has spent the past thirty years finding new ears to bewitch and new hearts to melt. The only album from this British four-piece, recorded and released in the early nineties, it’s long been considered one of the hidden jewels of its time, and is talked of with hushed reverence by people who know. Bob Stanley of Saint Etienne once called it “an elegy for a particular brand of eighties guitar music, sweet minor chords and Dylanesque lyrics”, which captures what makes it so special; in summarising its era, though, it also effortlessly transcends it.

Like all great guitar gangs, East Village fell together as a four-piece; having relocated from High Wycombe to London in mid ‘80s, brothers Martin and Paul Kelly on bass and guitar, set on forming a group together, were joined by John Wood (guitar) and Spencer Smith (drums). Wood and the Kellys shared writing and vocal duties; it was an ideal combination, and one of the many charms of East Village is their various song writing voices, a tip of the hat, seemingly, to the 60s folk-rock groups who influenced them.

Originally influenced by garage-rock and freakbeat, the band eventually came through via the same scene as groups like Felt, The Go-Betweens, The Weather Prophets, and Primal Scream. They’d formed as Episode Four, releasing an EP, Strike Up Matches, in 1986, which has gone on to become one of most sought after releases of the C86 era. Their first two singles as East Village, ‘Cubans In The Bluefields’ (1987) and ‘Back Between Places’ (1988), were released on Jeff Barrett’s Sub Aqua label.

When it came time to record Drop Out, East Village found a supporter in Bob Stanley, who bankrolled the album sessions until Barrett re-signed the band to his new imprint Heavenly Recordings in 1990. The album that took shape is dusky, heartfelt, lamplit, full of chiming minor chords, close harmonies, rattling organs, all buoyed by a rhythm section that moves as one, steady and elegant. There’s melancholy here, certainly, on songs like ‘What Kind Of Friend Is This’, but also pleasure and freedom, on ‘When I Wake Tomorrow’ and ‘Silver Train’. The group were obsessed with Dylan’s Eat The Document at the time, and the album’s rich with references to the film; Drop Out’s character is also somehow close to the thin wild mercury sound of Blonde On Blonde, and the lambent light of the Byrds’ Notorious Byrd Brothers.

In one of life’s gentler surprises, ‘Silver Train’ became an unexpected radio hit in Australia when released there as a single in 1993. The story of East Village seems marked by such unexpected turns and surprising events. None was more surprising for their fans at the time, though, than their onstage split in 1991, leaving an unreleased album in the can. Encouraged by Jeff Barrett the band revisited the tapes two years on and while mixing the album for its posthumous release in 1993 invited Debsey Wykes (Dolly Mixture, Coming Up Roses, Saint Etienne, Birdie) to sing the quietly devastating album closer, “Everybody Knows”, a perfect, sad-eyed sign-off.

Listening now to Drop Out, its timelessness is clear. It could have been recorded by young folk-pop hopefuls in the late sixties, taking their shot at the big time; but it could just as easily have been recorded yesterday, by a group that’s both reverent to music’s past, but forward looking in spirit and temperament. It’s that kind of album. Drop Out’s pop poetry is fully formed, with a singular charm that takes in wistfulness, romance, and good times, and a clutch of deeply moving songs that are overflowing with melody and gracefulness. It’s pretty much everything you’d want from a guitar pop record.

It's also an album that’s slowly accrued its own legend. From its stunning cover art, photographed by Juergen Teller originally for a Katherine Hammett campaign, to the ten perfectly formed songs within, Drop Out’s significance in the scheme of things is such that, a decade ago, it was given a rare 10/10 rating in Uncut magazine, who called the album “the lost classic of its era”. Drop Out comes round every decade or so, each edition introducing new fans to its understated beauty, and this latest reissue is its most elegant and deluxe yet.

The 30th anniversary edition of Drop Out lands in two formats: an LP with tip-on style jacket and four-page insert, designed to partner with the 2019 vinyl reissue of their singles and rarities compilation, Hot Rod Hotel; and a double CD, featuring an extra disc compiling the group’s early singles and alternative versions. This CD edition previously has only been available in Japan, though it now features a new, superior mix of their second single, ‘Back Between Places’. Both feature new, typically eloquent liner notes from writer Jon Savage.

The members of East Village have all gone on to do inspired things: Martin Kelly joined Jeff Barrett at Heavenly and has managed label mainstays Saint Etienne since 1993; Paul Kelly formed Birdie with Debsey Wykes, and is now a renowned film director and graphic designer; both Paul and Spencer Smith played in Saint Etienne’s live band; John Wood moved to China to teach, and released a lovely, understated folk album, Quiet Storm, in Japan in 2006. But with the hazy perfection of Drop Out, they’ve all already etched their names in the firmament.

Welcome to Masters Series - for people who understand that some things just can't be tamed. (Read: these are scratchy, poppy, and rough recordings from busted acetates. Click the listen tab to preview quality. These are cleaned up as best we can get them - if that's not going to work for you, don't order!)

For this limited edition Masters Series release, we enlisted the help of two of the world's heaviest collectors and djs, and champions of the Preservation Project from day one, Supreme la Rock on Side-A, and Skeme Richards on the B-Side.

Both gentlemen tackled reworking and re-editing funky previously unreleased psych songs. Both songs, "Sad Country Boy" on Side A and "Your Mind" on Side B, are by unknown groups and both feature drum breaks intros - perfect for you to cut up, so you're gonna need two copies. We won't be mad at you if you feed the breaks and chop them up either. This one is for the heads.

The story behind The Masters Series

In our hunt for unreleased soul, we occasionally find some incredible gems that are just a bit too beaten to restore to the ears of the general public. Rather than return them to the moldy basements from whence they came, we press them up to share with those who love to share.

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

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

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

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

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

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

For over a decade, Dean Johnson’s rustic tenor and simply strummed acoustic guitar have been perking up ears around the Pacific Northwest and beyond. Johnson has gradually built a devoted fan base — strictly through live performances and word of mouth — singing existential cowboy waltzes, ballads about wishing one could find a way out of heaven, honest confessionals, and other heartbreakers from a unique perspective. The phrase “hidden gem” would seem appropriate here, but it’s a misnomer when talking about Dean Johnson. He shines bright, in plain sight, and it was only a matter of time before people stopped to take a look. Dean’s gentle and passionate approach to songwriting has inspired many, and his work provides the listener the opportunity to believe once more that a song can be more than the sum of its parts. If you catch even a phrase of his melodies or the sobering tone of his voice, it waltzes its way into your heart like a letter written, signed, sealed, and delivered just for you. His debut album 'Nothing for Me, Please' (Mama Bird Recording Co.) was recorded at Mashed Potato Records in New Orleans with the help of Sam Gelband and Charlie Meyer, Dean’s bandmates in The Sons of Rainier; as well as Mashed Potato regulars Sam Doores (The Deslondes), Duff Thompson and Steph Green. The record is a hazy, relaxed daydream – anthems for those who know the sweetness and coldness of quiet moments, the power and the pain of love. Whether you’ve been waiting patiently these many for Dean to release these songs, or you’re just now coming across his work for the first time, the name Dean Johnson, much like his songs, won’t soon leave your mind.

The last twelve months have been a whirlwind for Henry Counsell and Louis Curran, the men who make up Joy (Anonymous). Having established themselves during the Covid-19 era by playing impromptu meet-ups on London’s South Bank, they have graduated to bigger venues, travelled to far-flung locales and recorded their second album, Cult Classics, while maintaining the spontaneous energy and irrepressible joy that made their name. Their music revels in the euphoria of being alive and all the feelings, good or bad, that come with it. It invites us into a community, draws us close and promises the night of our lives.

Recorded over the course of a year, the blueprint for Cult Classics was laid down over a two-week span at Imogen Heap’s Round House in east London. Joy (Anonymous) invited friends old and new to visit - they’d record live instruments in jam sessions upstairs and then retreat to a second room to flip and loop and generally mess with the sounds, moulding them into sizzling dance tracks. “Loads of people were coming up to me like ‘I thought this was going to be a dance record?’” Louis says, remembering the quietly beautiful music they’d be recording. “I’d be like, don’t worry about that, just keep playing.” He’d send it back to people later and they’d be floored - “That was my bit and you’ve made it... jungle!”

It was an organic and creatively fulfilling approach, one that didn’t allow any of the music to get stale or stagnate. As they built the tracks from the sounds they’d collected, Joy (Anonymous) would weave the new songs into their famously improvised live sets, testing them, refining them, taking note of the audiences’ reactions. In a year punctuated by a lot of travel, they’d also incorporate the voices of people they met along the way - “Beazley’s Poem”, which opens the record, features the words of a man who was working security at a Fred Again show at New York’s Terminal Five. “He was basically doing the opposite of his job and being a hype man, climbing on the fence and ramping up the crowd - we ended up hanging out with him - like, who’s this legend?” Louis explains. “He just speaks really amazingly about his life, all these amazing thoughts and opinions - he started jumping on the mic when we were playing, preaching these amazing messages to the crowd, like that we all need to be nicer to each other. The first time we played the record in its entirety, he introduced us and that’s the recording we’ve used.”

Joy (Anonymous) remain dedicated to the spirit of spontaneity. They shut a street down with a surprise waterside party in New York. On a trip to Copenhagen they played an impromptu set in a cafe, which turned into a house party and a night-long good time. In Lithuania, they ended up playing in a decommissioned prison. It’s harder, perhaps, to keep that spirit alive now that they are operating more within the confines of the music industry but they will keep lugging their kit to wherever the party calls for as long as they can. “I think if we lose that, we’ve kind of lost what makes us us,” Henry says.

Bursting with multi-genre reference points and disparate influences, Cult Classics is very much a dance album. The samples we made ourselves or we took from music that is quite different to dance music, but we definitely wanted to shout out a lot of the dance influences that we love,” Henry says. They listened to a lot of Daft Punk and Basement Jaxx as well as The Prodigy (“more rage stuff”), taking songwriting tips from their dance forebears, but also recording bits that felt more like jazz and motown (see: A Place I Belong and the lovely album closer, You’re In Or You’re Out). Emir Taha’s gentle classical guitar runs like a thread throughout Cult Classics, washing into the undertones of the record, tying it all together.

The album follows the beat of a night out, from frenetic, sweaty movement to the gentler winding down as the dawn breaks. At times it is euphoric, celebratory and pure, whirling fun, at others it seeks the joy in the darker emotions that life throws our way. 404 is designed to encapsulate everything about the Joy (Anonymous) journey so far. Skittering beats and ghostly vocals give way to vibrating house chords: sirens blare as we approach a dubstep drop. It’s dramatic and wild, ratcheting up, seeming to settle then hitting you with an intense and frantic breakdown before the ghostly vocal returns to lull us back into the world. It has the feel of a hungry cat playing with a mouse, toying with it before letting it get away.

What sounds like someone playing the spoons on playful, housey How We End Up Here is actually Louis’ restless habit of clicking his rings on everything, one of a myriad of calling cards and easter eggs that day one fans will recognise. They rework Miley Cyrus and Swae Lee’s Party Up The Street into a French-electro-inspired future classic, adding a note of melancholy to a tune that you can imagine hearing blaring from every car on a summer drive. The lyrics on Cult Classic are generally reassuring, inspirational, originally drawn from Henry in stream-of-consciousness freestyles. You’re fine the way you are, they seem to say - the repeated “No need to try” of A Place I Belong, the assurance that “It’s in me all the time” on In Me All The Time. Even the summery but regretful Did You Wrong hints at the growth that is possible from less than ideal behaviour. For Joy (Anonymous), joy isn’t about just being “happy” all the time - it’s about relishing every element of your being.

The name ‘Joy (Anonymous)’ is taken from the work Henry did with Alcoholics Anonymous groups: it is a way to build a community around sharing joy. Their impromptu live sets are known as ‘meetings’; they encourage fans to share moments of joy to their website. They care deeply about the scene they’ve come up in and are determined not to leave it behind. Every show is another chance to reach out and connect with people who love to come together and revel in music as loud as it can go.

Support slots for Fred Again and The Streets, wild B2Bs with Fred and Skrillex, and a set at Four Tet’s Finsbury Park all-dayer this summer have given the duo the opportunity to live out childhood dreams and introduced their infectious live shows to new audiences at huge venues.

With an album as assured and joyful as Cult Classics on the horizon (and a killer collab with The Blessed Madonna coming up), they’re only going to reach higher heights. But the essence of Joy (Anonymous) remains on the South Bank. Between shows at Ally Pally in September, they dragged their camping chairs and gear back down to the banks of the Thames: and it just felt right.

The House Of Love – guitarist and vocalist Guy Chadwick, lead guitarist
Terry Bickers, bassist Chris Groothuizen and drummer Pete Evans –
formed in London in 1986 - Chadwick had been around the music
industry for several years, but was energised seeing The Jesus And Mary
Chain, inspiring him to form the band - Signing to Creation, The House Of
Love were greeted enthusiastically by the music press and their single,
Shine On and self-titled debut album became indie disco classics - By
1989, the band were big news and had signed to Fontana, part of the
PolyGram group
The group's debut album for Fontana, also confusingly entitled The House Of
Love, was released in February 1990. Known often as 'The Butterfly Album' after
Trevor Key's distinctive artwork, much was made at the time of its protracted
birth and the weight of expectation, and the fact it was produced by five different
people. Years later, it sounds assured and confident commercial indie, bursting
with invention and melody. The re-recording of their Creation calling card, Shine
On, gave them a UK Top 20 hit and Beatles And The Stones points the way to the
gentler side of Oasis some years later.
This re-issue replicates the original 1990 Fontana UK release with printed inner
sleeve and lyric sheet and is pressed onto high quality 180g vinyl.

"One Sunday afternoon in 1990, I had a phone call from Keith saying that Sarah Records had received the demo cassette the two of us had recorded on a 4-track in a friend's shed and were interested in putting out two of the songs as a single. T

hey were Clearer and Alison. Delighted by this news, we booked some recording time with a studio we'd regularly used in our previous incarnation as Feverfew, the White House in Weston-super-Mare.

This was the first time we'd ever played a note of music that was using someone else's money, so the pressure was being felt. We recorded Clearer, Fearon and Chelsea Guitar, with Clearer becoming Sarah 55, the first of eight singles for the band across two labels. At that time, we were still toying with a name for ourselves and had settled with the Art Bunnies.

While driving us back home from Weston, though, I declared that I really couldn't see how people would take us seriously with a name like that. Disappointed, Keith (Girdler) then got out a piece of paper upon which he'd written several other contenders. These included Opal Trumpet, the Smiling Monarchs and (thankfully) Blueboy."

A Colourful Storm presents Blueboy's singles collection and the band's final retrospective release. Beautiful gatefold sleeve designed by Sarah Records' own Matt Haynes with original artwork insert, postcard and liner notes by Paul Stewart.