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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ranging from sanguine emotional clarity to distortion and unrest, Wow Sailor voyages through sunlight and storms in this mindful and explorative album. Happy Fear is an intricate tapestry of emotional experience, where fear and joy clash heads in the pursuit of self-understanding. Scattered field recordings of literature, ambiance and chance encounters provide atmospheric depth to enrich a resonant and meditative soundscape.

This tale begins with fond yet powerful nostalgia, before segueing into a range of hybrid instrumental explorations in which guitar, voice, violin, and trumpet blossom alongside refined electronic foundations. The album closes off with indulgent melancholia reminiscent of the opening, providing lifelike circularity to the album.

All songs remain connected; one leading into another without pause or silence. This urges the listener to digest the work in a single sitting as elements of the story seem intrinsically connected.

The first half is studded with gems of atmospheric conversation and recordings, providing a living and textured environment for the crafted synthetic sounds of Wow Sailor to evolve. Most songs are free from percussive structures, but In Her Gaze breaks the mold with clear percussive dictate. The middle and latter titles are connected by ominous frequencies that err on the darker side of curiosity - encouraging exploration into the transformative power of fear.

All in all, the work glimmers with spontaneity and diversity that resembles real-life experience. Carefully crafted sonic interplays bare semblance to the fluctuating emotional life of the ever sensitive and sentient human being.

Dugnad Rec sits at the helm of yet another wonderfully creative and philosophical work. This release gives verity to the artistic integrity, sound design, and mental exploration of the label. Wow Sailor’s work radiates an enticing, authentic, and indelible mark of individuality.

It has been twenty years since the first Back To Mine release but still the series is going strong. These personal after-hours soundtracks have never sounded more relevant than now, and next up is GRAMMYr Award-nominated, San Francisco-based artist Tycho. It finds him going deeper than one of his famous Burning Man sets as he heads into otherworldly, cinematic headphone territory with tunes from Lancaster, Little Dragon, Octo Octa, Ulrich Schnauss and many more across four fantastic sides of vinyl.

On 14 October 2022, wildly creative free-form songwriter Rachael Dadd is to release her brand new studio album 'Kaleidoscope' via Memphis Industries and follows 2019's 'Flux', which was released to much acclaim and which she was touring when the pandemic struck. Like so many people disconnected from their communities and struggling through the lockdowns, Rachael Dadd turned inwards, seeking escape through music and connection through song writing, and her hope is that when people listen to 'Kaleidoscope' "they will feel held and find space to breathe, grieve and celebrate." "This album is a lot more honest and personal than 'Flux'" she shares, "but I feel the songs are universal as they are largely rooted in truth and love. If I had to pick a favourite album it would be this one because of the magical rekindling of human connection when me and my band got back in a room together again. All that magic went into these songs." Co-produced "intuitively, boldly, and playfully" by Rachael and Rob Pemberton (The Staves, Emily Barker, Maja Lena), 'Kaleidoscope' includes musical collaborators such as Maja Lena (Low Chimes), long-time collaborator Emma Gatrill (Willy Mason), Alex Heane (bass), Charlotte West (synths), Alex Garden (strings) and 'Flux' producer Marcus Hamblett (Villagers, James Holden, The Staves), giving the record "just the right colour combination, just the right pattern of shapes, plenty of space where needed and finally landing in a sound world that feels fresh and open and true" reflects Rachael.

On 14 October 2022, wildly creative free-form songwriter Rachael Dadd is to release her brand new studio album 'Kaleidoscope' via Memphis Industries and follows 2019's 'Flux', which was released to much acclaim and which she was touring when the pandemic struck. Like so many people disconnected from their communities and struggling through the lockdowns, Rachael Dadd turned inwards, seeking escape through music and connection through song writing, and her hope is that when people listen to 'Kaleidoscope' "they will feel held and find space to breathe, grieve and celebrate." "This album is a lot more honest and personal than 'Flux'" she shares, "but I feel the songs are universal as they are largely rooted in truth and love. If I had to pick a favourite album it would be this one because of the magical rekindling of human connection when me and my band got back in a room together again. All that magic went into these songs." Co-produced "intuitively, boldly, and playfully" by Rachael and Rob Pemberton (The Staves, Emily Barker, Maja Lena), 'Kaleidoscope' includes musical collaborators such as Maja Lena (Low Chimes), long-time collaborator Emma Gatrill (Willy Mason), Alex Heane (bass), Charlotte West (synths), Alex Garden (strings) and 'Flux' producer Marcus Hamblett (Villagers, James Holden, The Staves), giving the record "just the right colour combination, just the right pattern of shapes, plenty of space where needed and finally landing in a sound world that feels fresh and open and true" reflects Rachael.

Balamii resident and Sticky Tapes-founder Theo Everyday arrives with a huge debut on Cheeky Sneakers, seamlessly blending the worlds of jungle, electro and trance with his signature sauce of nostalgic and futuristic hyper-funk.

Having curated the Sticky Tapes mix series and label - supporting music from artists such as Stones Taro, Om Unit, Jossy Mitsu and Lobster Theremin label head Asquith - the DJ and producer knows a thing or two about merging differing styles and energies. The Holsten FM EP plays out like a three hour club set; placing classic UK sounds at its foundation and throwing multi-coloured paint all over them.

'The Way You Feel' makes use of the pitched-vocal, SoundCloud hyper-pop aesthetic with hardcore-piano stabs and heartstring-tugging cheese wrapped within a huge low-end swinging bassline. A great lights-up tool to leave them with a smile on their face. The classic rave energy is maintained on the EP title track - a stripped-back cut of ragga jungle-step that's as meditative as it is devastating.

From golden-era rave and jungle future-mutations to heads-down club sounds, 'Every Body's Talking (Well Let's Talk)' is a strobe-light power sequence for when things are in full swing, before 90s breakbeat and trance join forces on a 'Six and Two Threes' hands-in-the-air moments.

Breaks-littered dream sequences that feel like a warm hug follow on 'Summer Lie In' - its chopped melodies and stirring atmospherics causing ripples within the pond of paradise - before 'Mod Cons' closes with a squelching cut of acid-electro on a killer digi-only exclusive.

Based in Winnipeg, Manitoba, an "inland island that floats on infinite
prairie ground," Living Hour has always been a band that's thrived in
seclusion.Helping to foster a thriving local community, and taking
inspiration from the faces and places of their hometown, the band have
always been motivated by the belief that their own music only gets more
interesting when it includes other voices
For their new album, Living Hour called upon friends from near and far.
The result is "Someday Is Today", the band's third full-length effort and the muchanticipated follow- up to their 2019 "Softer Faces" LP, acclaimed by the likes of
NPR, Stereogum, Paste, Vice, Bandcamp, and more. On "Someday Is Today", the
group's sound is collaborated with a variety of drummers including Jason Tait
(The Weakerthans, Broken Social Scene) and is fleshed out further with the help
of three producers: Melina Duterte (Jay Som, Bachelor, Chastity Belt), Jonathan
Schenke (Parquet Courts, Snail Mail, The Drums), and Samur Khouja (Cate le Bon,
Deerhunter, Regina Spektor) all of whom impart their own backgrounds on the
album's finished glow.
"Someday Is Today" is Living Hour at their most pensive and longing. It was
recorded over seven straight days during the dark depths of a Manitoba winter,
with the band cocooned in the sounds they were making as the temperature hit
-30 outside the door. The album thrives by keeping just enough connection
across its varied palettes to feel like one cohesive world. Whether it's the album's
soft and gorgeous harmonies or the captured sound of wind tubes being swung
above their heads, the songs here feel bound by something bigger than
themselves; an energy that flourished in spite of it all, a human connection that
grips just strongly enough even when pushed to its frayed, unreachable extremes.

Australian art-punk combo Tropical Fuck Storm continues its hot streak of brain-bending releases with Moonburn, a maxi-single cassette on Joyful Noise Recordings. Side A offers the new song, "Moonburn," a ballad in the classic TFS style written and sung by Gareth Liddiard. Fiona Kitschin steps up to the microphone on "Ann," a cover of The Stooges that swaps Ron Asheton's scorching guitar part for a deranged sound collage of guitar freakouts, siren noises, and electronics. Side B includes an acoustic take on the fan-favorite song "Aspirin (Slight Return)" and a haunting cover of Talking Heads' "Heaven."

Louisville, KY hardcore conquerers, Inclination, have announced their debut album, Unaltered Perspective, due out June 24th via Pure Noise Records. Unaltered Perspective proves why Inclination have been turning so many heads in their relatively short existence. The album features a seemingly endless well of vicious riffs courtesy of guitarists Caleb Murphy and Isaac Hale (who also plays with heavyweights Knocked Loose), while bassist Peter Katter and drummer Christopher Mills provide an earth-shaking foundation. And the towering sound is the perfect delivery system for vocalist Tyler Short's roaring voice and pointed lyricism.

Louisville, KY hardcore conquerers, Inclination, have announced their debut album, Unaltered Perspective, due out June 24th via Pure Noise Records. Unaltered Perspective proves why Inclination have been turning so many heads in their relatively short existence. The album features a seemingly endless well of vicious riffs courtesy of guitarists Caleb Murphy and Isaac Hale (who also plays with heavyweights Knocked Loose), while bassist Peter Katter and drummer Christopher Mills provide an earth-shaking foundation. And the towering sound is the perfect delivery system for vocalist Tyler Short's roaring voice and pointed lyricism.

Stratton returns to Of Paradise for the label’s 20th release. Chalking up a hat-trick of EP’s on the imprint, with the impeccably effective ‘Never Bettered Always Battered’. Arguably his most accomplished and significant release to date, this 4-tracker effortlessly showcases the London-based producers expertly distilled and patented style of evocative and headstrong UK hardcore.

The A-side launches with the anthemic ‘Badboy’, a true floor melter, loaded with tunnelling drums, an electric bassline and a criminally infectious chopped vocal. Following that is ‘Double Happiness (Bludclot Mix)’, a lethal dose of no nonsense proto-rave goods, emanating from the streets of North London. The product of a truly skilled operator who fully understands the inner workings of the kick, hoover and piano.

‘Bless’ kicks off the flip side with effortless momentum. The impetus clearly focused on rupturing bassbins and rewiring brains, with its weapons grade drums, growling bassline, lethal Amen break, euphoric melody and rabid hoover.

Closing out the release is ‘Vapour Trail Hurricane’ another system-rushing slice of hardcore mastery that pulls no punches in its pursuit of dance floor dominance. Fuelled by a hammering kick, sharp sirens and swirling acid lines, these are the final moments before imminent self destruction.

This is true peak-time pressure from one of the UK’s most exciting and inimitable talents.

Emeralds _ musicians John Elliott, Steve Hauschildt, and Mark McGuire _ emerged from the rust-pocked, post-millennial Midwest drone/noise scene seemingly unable or uninterested in keeping up with themselves. Their proliferation of material was intimidating; mountains of improvised, home-recorded music were released on limited-edition tapes, CD-Rs, and split LPs. There is and was a sense that the Ohio trio was after something beyond physical mediums. By 2008, their sprawling live sets were a known can't-miss at any underground experimental event. Tiny Mix Tapes reviewed that year's appearance at No Fun Fest: "No one's sawtooths, sines, and other various waveforms were so beautifully sculpted and beamed out into the Plejades as Emeralds'." These basement dwellers were shaping meditative, psychedelic, arpeggiated electronic music in the veins of German kosmische forebears like Ash Ra Tempel, Klaus Schulze, and Tangerine Dream. Made primarily with synthesizers and guitar, Emeralds' music possessed the same astral psyche with a home-crafted punk edge, a distant descendant of that pioneering era, and a bridge to someplace new, someplace scorched. Released on Aaron Dilloway's (Wolf Eyes, etc.) Hanson imprint, Solar Bridge was the first Emeralds album to receive any kind of proper distribution and represents the first attempt to archivally preserve their fluid craft. The first of an inimitable five-LP run before the band dissolved in 2013, Solar Bridge is a moment of glistening primacy that boots up a catalog and legacy that the heads still grapple with. Emeralds begin to make sense of it in the fall of 2022 with a remas- tered Solar Bridge LP release on Ghostly International. Emeralds materialized as a fully formed entity radiating cosmic potential. Their discography evolved and incorporated different qualities and vocabularies, but hearing where it started will always feel different. The density, the patience, and the sheer refinement presented on Solar Bridge legibly demonstrates how and why Emeralds has become a legendary part of the contemporary electronic music canon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tony Wright, Frontmann von Terrorvision und Laika Dog, schafft es auf seinem dritten Soloalbum, bedeutungsvolle, melancholische und zu Herzen gehende Texte mit unvergesslicher akustischer Perfektion zu verbinden. 'The Anti Album' ist sein bisher ambitioniertestes Werk, auf dem er seine Identität als Singer/Songwriter gefunden hat. Die Songs fühlen sich an wie eine tiefgründige, aufeinander aufbauende Reflexion seines bunten Lebens in als auch außerhalb der Musik.

Pronounced 'CLIT DRIP' for those confused or too shy to ask, CLT DRP have been turning heads since 2017. The genre-bending trio's non-apologetic and yet playful approach has seen them garner praise from TheLineOfBestFit, Gigwise, and plenty more. Their music gets you moving, invites you in with power, and makes you question your environment and yourself. In their time, CLT DRP have already supported Nova Twins, Warmduscher, among others, and performed at 2000trees and ArcTanGent festivals.

Tony Wright, Frontmann von Terrorvision und Laika Dog, schafft es auf seinem dritten Soloalbum, bedeutungsvolle, melancholische und zu Herzen gehende Texte mit unvergesslicher akustischer Perfektion zu verbinden. 'The Anti Album' ist sein bisher ambitioniertestes Werk, auf dem er seine Identität als Singer/Songwriter gefunden hat. Die Songs fühlen sich an wie eine tiefgründige, aufeinander aufbauende Reflexion seines bunten Lebens in als auch außerhalb der Musik.

Emeralds _ musicians John Elliott, Steve Hauschildt, and Mark McGuire _ emerged from the rust-pocked, post-millennial Midwest drone/noise scene seemingly unable or uninterested in keeping up with themselves. Their proliferation of material was intimidating; mountains of improvised, home-recorded music were released on limited-edition tapes, CD-Rs, and split LPs. There is and was a sense that the Ohio trio was after something beyond physical mediums. By 2008, their sprawling live sets were a known can't-miss at any underground experimental event. Tiny Mix Tapes reviewed that year's appearance at No Fun Fest: "No one's sawtooths, sines, and other various waveforms were so beautifully sculpted and beamed out into the Plejades as Emeralds'." These basement dwellers were shaping meditative, psychedelic, arpeggiated electronic music in the veins of German kosmische forebears like Ash Ra Tempel, Klaus Schulze, and Tangerine Dream. Made primarily with synthesizers and guitar, Emeralds' music possessed the same astral psyche with a home-crafted punk edge, a distant descendant of that pioneering era, and a bridge to someplace new, someplace scorched. Released on Aaron Dilloway's (Wolf Eyes, etc.) Hanson imprint, Solar Bridge was the first Emeralds album to receive any kind of proper distribution and represents the first attempt to archivally preserve their fluid craft. The first of an inimitable five-LP run before the band dissolved in 2013, Solar Bridge is a moment of glistening primacy that boots up a catalog and legacy that the heads still grapple with. Emeralds begin to make sense of it in the fall of 2022 with a remas- tered Solar Bridge LP release on Ghostly International. Emeralds materialized as a fully formed entity radiating cosmic potential. Their discography evolved and incorporated different qualities and vocabularies, but hearing where it started will always feel different. The density, the patience, and the sheer refinement presented on Solar Bridge legibly demonstrates how and why Emeralds has become a legendary part of the contemporary electronic music canon.