Suche:blood trust

K.W. Cahill records and plays acoustic and electric guitars, mandolin, karimba, melodica and an AM/FM portable radio on March 2024 time.

Mastered by James A. Toth in Toronto.

Luke Lund is a self-taught producer and sound artist from Finland. Over the past eighteen years, his work has absorbed influences ranging from the darkest fringes of club culture and the most caustic strains of industrial noise, to the subtlety of musique concrète and the rawness of rock.

It all started when he discovered that abstract sound design could stand as music in its own right, a revelation that ignited his enduring commitment to noise, sound art, dub techniques, and experimentation.

“Peel the Scab” emerges from this premise as a visceral and frenetic immersion into his “lo tech” facet, a term the artist himself employs to define the album’s style.

Allergic to programming, these are pure dub-blooded sessions pushed straight to tape, twisted until they yield under their own weight. It is a work constructed upon dense, disjointed rhythms: brutalist grime infused with a suffocating mutation of dub.

American Steel is the last great band to come out of Berkeley's 924 Gilman scene. Forged in the same ¬res as Operation Ivy, Crimpshrine, and Rancid, these soulful punks have at long last decided to unearth their self-titled album from 1998. AmSteel evolved into one of the most artful and sophisticated punk bands around, but this quartet began as a truly raw and wrathful DIY outfit, and we're grateful for the opportunity to share this 17-song hidden gem. We have been begging the band to release this material since Red Scare first began. Literally pestering them for twenty years. Listen to this dynamic debut and you will understand why.

Over two years in the making, and many more in the two musician’s shared dream, ‘Real Thing’ unites longtime collaborators Michael Collins (Drugdealer) and Natalie Mering (Weyes Blood). Recorded across continents, ‘Real Thing’ is a return, a refinement and a reminder of the deep connection that has bound these two titans of song over multiple collaborations. The journey of ‘Real Thing’ began when Collins, while on a European sojourn, crossed paths with Parisian producer Max Baby. As one does while in Paris, they found themselves in a studio owned by a member of the 1970s French prog rock band Magma. There, a chord progression long-gestating in Collins’ brain blossomed into a bonafide demo.

Collins recalls, “I realized immediately that it was the perfect thing to show Nat, who I had been wanting to collaborate with again for years.” The connection and musical camaraderie between Collins and Mering dates back to 2014 in Oakland, where a chance meeting and studio session marked the genesis of their enduring partnership. Collins reflects, “Since then, I’ve felt like she’s my musical family. I can’t really ask for more in terms of someone who inspired me to even get to this place in my songwriting.” On the B-side is ‘The News’, Drugdealer’s first collaboration with Robbie Chemical. What began as a simple harmony grew into a panoramic partnership, the musician’s voices effortlessly entwined, and a pop paragon envisioned. Inspired by generational conversations on chaos, change and connection, the track opens a new chapter - topical, personal and unmistakably Drugdealer. As Drugdealer, Michael Collins has crafted a career that blends introspective songwriting with a reverence for classic pop and R&B. A native of the East Coast, Collins’ musical adventure began with the experimental pop collages of Run DMT and Salvia Plath before evolving into the more melodic, refined songwriting heard in Drugdealer’s acclaimed albums ‘Raw Honey’ and ‘Hiding In Plain Sight’.  Natalie Mering, better known as Weyes Blood, has similarly forged a path of emotive, transcendental folk-pop that delves into themes of myth, love and existential longing.

Known for her ethereal voice and evocative lyrics, Mering’s latest works, ‘Titanic Rising’ and ‘And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow’, are nothing short of modern classics, though also feel like just the start of this artist’s undeniable ascent.  “For both artists, this is their first song since their respective 2022 albums, and what a way to come back. ‘Real Thing’ feels like uncovering a forgotten ’70s disco duet” - PASTE  “A lush and insistent folk-pop jam” - Stereogum  For fans of Mac Demarco, Kate Bollinger, Men I Trust, Toro y Moi, TOPS, Alice Phoebe Lou, Tame Impala, Thee Sacred Souls, Vacations, Allah-Las, Kurt Vile, Beach Fossils, Slow Pulp, Foxygen, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, Hand Habits, Father John Misty, Oracle Sisters, Whitney, The Lemon Twigs, Mild High Club, Khruangbin, Angel Olsen.

Introducing: Temporary Blessings, the new project by stalwart Naarm / Melbourne trumpet player and composer Liam McGorry.

Assembled to realise McGorry's compositions drawing on 1960s Italian & French soundtrack music, Temporary Blessings brings together trusted instrumentalists and fellow travelers from Melbourne's rich enclave of cinematic soul. With Liam at the helm, the group is composed of members of Surprise Chef, Karate Boogaloo, Saskwatch and Let Your Hair Down.

The resulting recordings realise McGorry's sonic visions of film noir, giallo, library music and cinematic soul, captured live in one room with what the maestro describes as "a shared spirit". The recordings, produced by paragon Henry Jenkins, bring together emotive string arrangements, tough horns and a steadfast rhythm section with an acute attention to detail McGorry has developed over years in the saddle.

Liam says: "I find great comfort in collaborating with good friends and playing together in the same room and taking these blessings as they come."

A veteran of Melbourne soul, McGorry's steady hands have touched some of the city's most revered projects over the last 15 years; McGorry-led projects Saskwatch, Dorsal Fins and Ex-Olympian sit aside Sampa The Great, Ella Thompson and Adrian Eagle on Liam's heavy list of credits and collaborators. He has contributed more than his fair share of bricks to the great structure of Melbourne soul, always playing the background, true to his humble nature.

LP available in black or orange and brown splatter vinyl.

Introducing: Temporary Blessings, the new project by stalwart Naarm / Melbourne trumpet player and composer Liam McGorry.

Assembled to realise McGorry's compositions drawing on 1960s Italian & French soundtrack music, Temporary Blessings brings together trusted instrumentalists and fellow travelers from Melbourne's rich enclave of cinematic soul. With Liam at the helm, the group is composed of members of Surprise Chef, Karate Boogaloo, Saskwatch and Let Your Hair Down.

The resulting recordings realise McGorry's sonic visions of film noir, giallo, library music and cinematic soul, captured live in one room with what the maestro describes as "a shared spirit". The recordings, produced by paragon Henry Jenkins, bring together emotive string arrangements, tough horns and a steadfast rhythm section with an acute attention to detail McGorry has developed over years in the saddle.

Liam says: "I find great comfort in collaborating with good friends and playing together in the same room and taking these blessings as they come."

A veteran of Melbourne soul, McGorry's steady hands have touched some of the city's most revered projects over the last 15 years; McGorry-led projects Saskwatch, Dorsal Fins and Ex-Olympian sit aside Sampa The Great, Ella Thompson and Adrian Eagle on Liam's heavy list of credits and collaborators. He has contributed more than his fair share of bricks to the great structure of Melbourne soul, always playing the background, true to his humble nature.

LP available in black or orange and brown splatter vinyl.

Following the success of the first season’s release, the official soundtrack to Vikings Season 2 returns to vinyl with another immersive chapter in the saga. Composed by Emmy Award-winner Trevor Morris (The Tudors, The Borgias, Dragon Age: Inquisition), this score continues to build the series' signature atmosphere. From pulse-pounding battle themes to introspective, ambient textures, the music reflects the growing scale and complexity of Ragnar's world as alliances shift and empires collide. For this second season of Vikings, Trevor Morris collaborated with Einar Selvik from the band Wardruna. The soundtrack features original music by Einar as well as co-compositions together with Trevor. Vikings (Music From Season Two) is available as a limited edition of 750 numbered copies on red coloured vinyl. This 2LP package includes a 4-page booklet with pictures and liner notes by Trevor Morris.

The quietest voices can be the most durable.

American Football’s original triumph, on their 1999 self-titled debut, was to reunite two shy siblings: emo and post-rock. It was a pioneering album where lyrical clarity was obscured and complicated by the stealth musical textures surrounding it.

Like Slint’s Spiderland, or Codeine’s The White Birch, even Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock, American Football asked far more questions than it cared to answer. But there wasn’t a band around anymore to explain it, anyway. The three young men who made the album – Mike Kinsella, Steve Holmes, and Steve Lamos – split up pretty much on its release.

Fifteen years later, American Football reunited (now as a four-piece, with the addition of Nate Kinsella). They played far larger shows than in their original incarnation and recorded their long-anticipated second album, 2016’s American Football (LP2). The release was widely praised, but the band members still felt like their best work was yet to come.

‘I feel like the second album was us figuring it out,’ says Nate. ‘For me, it wasn’t quite done. I knew there was still more.’

Enter American Football (LP3). ‘We put a lot of time and a lot of energy into it,’ says Mike. ‘We were all thoughtful about what we wanted to put out there. Last time, it was figuring out how to use all of our different arms. This time, we were like – Ok we have these arms, let’s use them.’ The band used the same producer, Jason Cupp, and recorded the album at the same studio (Arc Studios in Omaha, Nebraska) as its predecessor – yet they approached it in a markedly different way. There was a determination to let the songs breathe, to trust in ideas finding their own pace. The final result is a definite, and deliberate, stretching of the band.

As a result, LP3 is less obviously tethered to the band’s past than the second album. An immediate contrast between LP3 and its two predecessors is its cover. The two previous albums featured the exterior and interior of a residence in the band’s original hometown of Urbana, Illinois (now attracting fans for pilgrimages and photo opportunities), by the photographer Chris Strong. But American Football knew that LP3 was an outside record. Instead of the familiar house, this time the cover photo (again by Strong) features open, rolling fields on Urbana’s borders. It is a sign of the album’s magnitude in sound, and of the band’s boldness in breaking away from home comforts.

American Football also joked that LP3’s genre was ‘post-house’, because of this very conscious visual break. But, in a strange way, there are links in LP3 with an actual post-house genre: shoegaze. The more exploratory members of the original British shoegaze scene were inspired by the dreamtime and circularity of house music (ambient house in particular), cherishing its sonic possibilities. That spirit drips into LP3, most obviously on ‘I Can’t Feel You’, a collaboration with Rachel Goswell of Slowdive.

The album also features Hayley Williams from Paramore on the album’s catchiest moment, ‘Uncomfortably Numb’, and Elizabeth Powell, of the Québécoise act Land Of Talk. Mike wrote lyrics in French especially for her.

LP3 is contemplative, rich, expressive, yet with a queasy undercurrent. It is heavy with expectancy, revealing its ideas slowly, eliciting the hidden stories people carry around with them. ‘I feel like my lyric writing has changed a lot over the years,’ says Mike. ‘The goal is to be conversational, maybe to state something giant and heavy, but in a very plain way. But, definitely in this record, I keep things a little more vague.’ As on the first album, the lyrics on LP3 may seem confessional and concentrated, but the more you scrutinize them, the further their meaning slinks away. Or, as Mike tellingly sings on ‘I Can’t Feel You”: I’m fluent in subtlety.

‘Somewhere along the way we moved from being a reunion band to just being a band,’ says Steve Holmes. American Football is now a bona fide ongoing focus, and they are making some of the best music of their lives. American Football (LP3) stands with two other rare reunion successes – Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine’s mbv – as a fine example of how a band refinding one another can augment, rather than taint, their legacy.

‘I think that there are those albums, or the music that you heard when you were younger, and they imprint on you,’ says Nate. ‘And no matter where you go, or what you do they’re always there.’ He is talking of Steve Reich – an early and ongoing influence on American Football – but he might as well be reflecting what is said of his own band, and the ardent following they inspire. American Football stands as an enduring symbol of elusive emotional landscapes, where introspection can be as dramatic as confrontation

Just a year after her critically-acclaimed album Still, Erika de Casier returns to surprise release her fourth album Lifetime.

A sonic moodboard fully written and produced by Erika herself, Lifetime is a testament to de Casier’s singular taste—her ability to pull from the past, to curate sonic and visual references with intention, and to transform them into something uniquely hers. Thoughtfully composed yet effortlessly cool, Lifetime is an album that resonates, proving that Erika’s vision isn’t just about what she creates, but how she makes us feel when we listen.

She began dropping breadcrumbs about the record last month, Erika mysteriously putting a limited set of nameless cassettes up for sale on Bandcamp. Even with no context of what was on it, the tapes quickly sold-out in under thirty minutes and fans began to speculate new music coming. As cassette deliveries began to pour in last week, their theories proved correct. Derrick Gee streamed the cassette live on his channel and fans online began freaking out as they put the pieces together (see here and here!). That so many rushed to embrace the music before even knowing what it was speaks volumes — Erika isn’t just admired, she’s trusted, and with Lifetime, she rewards that devotion in the most Erika way: subtly, stylishly, and on her own terms.

Lifetime follows last year’s aforementioned album Still, which was named one of the Best Albums of the Year by Pitchfork, Stereogum, NPR, Vogue, Vulture and more, and features Blood Orange, They Hate Change, and Shygirl. The album took her on a world tour including a US run that included both weekends of Coachella. She also released one of the best songs of the summer shortly after in the form of “Bikini,” a track with her frequent collaborator Nick León (“Ex-Girlfriend,” “Friendly” Remix) that was named the #1 song of the year by The FADER and Resident Advisor.

First ever release of pioneering radiophonic / experimental / electronic / soundtrack composer you may never have heard of but really should have by now. 26 tracks in all.
As we began the mammoth task of whittling down material for this album Elizabeth recalled the time she met Delia Derbyshire. It was during a party for existing and former Radiophonic Workshop composers at BBC Maida Vale in the early 1980s. Delia introduced herself with typical energy and exuberance proclaiming "It's up to you now - I'm passing the baton. Show these men how we get things done". That must have been quite an honour and responsibility for a young, female composer establishing herself within the male-dominated environs at Delaware Road.
Looking back over a musical career spanning almost five decades, it's clear Elizabeth rose to the challenge and made her mark. She was consistently in demand with television and radio producers, composing for an array of ground-breaking, critically acclaimed and popular BBC projects. Whilst Delia's legacy has achieved mythical status with her position as an innovator and feminist icon secured, the majority of Elizabeth's recorded work remains unavailable so her contribution to the output of the Workshop and evolution of British electronic music is somewhat under-appreciated.
Perhaps this record will help start to remedy the situation. Included are early tape experiments, home demos and non-BBC commissions from the early 1970's to the late 2000s. Having listened to 260+ digital audio tapes from Elizabeth's personal archive we have barely scratched the surface but hope to provide an indication of the breadth of her compositional and sound design skills.
Classically trained in cello and piano, Elizabeth graduated from the University of East Anglia with a degree in Music in 1973. She was mentored by Tristram Cary who helped her to become UEA's first recipient of a Masters in Electronic Music and later awarded an Honorary Doctorate by Staffordshire University. Joining the BBC as a studio manager in 1975, Elizabeth transferred to the Radiophonic Workshop in 1978. One of her first tasks was to create special sound effects for Blake's 7 using tape loops, the EMS 100 and trusted VCS3.
Her celebrated score for The Living Planet in 1982 featured early use of the PPG synthesizer and earned an Emmy nomination. Over the following years studio technology evolved rapidly, but Elizabeth transitioned from analogue recording techniques to newer digital platforms with relative ease, using samplers, midi sequencing and computer controlled workstations.
With an incredible 1,400 commissions to her name, she created special sound for The Day Of The Triffids, Lord Of The Rings, countless radio dramas including Iris Murdoch's The Sea, The Sea, Harold Pinter's Moonlight, all of Howard Barker's plays, productions of King Lear, Wordsworth's Prelude and The Pallisers. The success of The Living Planet led to further work for the BBC Natural History Unit followed by numerous commissions for The Natural World. At one point in the late 1980's at least five of her signature tunes were being broadcast every week including Points Of View, Horizon, Doctors To Be and Everyman.
After the closure of the Workshop in 1996 Elizabeth became freelance, arranging Faure's Pavane for the BBC World Cup '98 coverage (reaching no. 9 in the UK singles chart). She wrote additional music for Monty Python's Holy Grail DVD, scored Michael Palin's Full Circle and Sahara TV series, The Lost Gardens Of Heligan and The Human Body with Robert Winston.
Retiring from the music industry in the late 2000's, Elizabeth recently returned to her East Anglian roots and now lives near the coast. She walks daily, listening to all kinds of music, new and old, on her beloved air-pods.

Three LPs packed in a trifold jacket. Pressed on Deep Ocean Pearl, Gold & Dark Green Vinyl. Take up your sword, channel your magic or board your Mech. Chained Echoes is a 16-bit style RPG set in a fantasy world where dragons are as common as piloted mechanical suits. The game is set on the continent of Valandis during the time of a multi-generational war between three kingdoms, Taryn, Gravos and Escanya. After a great catastrophe caused by Grand Grimoire shakes the continent, the kingdoms agree to sign a peace treaty. One year later, an unknown force strives to begin a new war. A group of unlikely heroes joins forces and eventually becomes the clan of Crimson Wings in order to stop it. The outstanding soundtrack for Chained Echoes was passionately composed, arranged and recorded over four years by Eddie Marianukroh as well as many other musicians who worked under his direction. It includes 50 tracks at two hours in length. Even the game has been out for a while, Marianukroh's admiration and enthusiasm for the game and his addition to it remain undiminished: "It has been over two years now since the release of Chained Echoes, which is rather difficult for me to believe. Time really flies, and it's honestly a bit frightening when I think about it. But, despite that, when I listen to the music I've written for this game, I still very much remain proud of what I composed. I really did give my all for this soundtrack. I will forever be grateful to Matthias for trusting me with the music for his game. I can vividly remember how I felt when I first came across his project, and how I nervously reached out to him about the composer position. I truly, truly cannot thank him enough for giving me this memorable experience that I will always hold dear. Thank you, my friend."

Brand new double LP on orange vinyl limited to 300 copies worldwide from Tyla (The Dogs D’amour) featuring the latest single ‘Cadillac Man’ - 'It’s becoming a bit of a cliche these days to say 'I dreamt this idea, song, story film book etc' But that's exactly what I did with the song 'Cadillac Man' the lyrics and the video idea and the melody as it was just after noon I jumped out of bed and scribbled the lyrics an picked up my trusty black Gibson J200 the guitar I've written nearly every song on since the day I bought it brand new in 1991. It was then I realised id dreamt the chords too!' I was 62 years old when I began writing and recording this album in the Autum of 2023 and I'm lookin' at 64 this July. I sent some of the songs to Simon (Hanson) who slapped on the drums then I sent them to Jamie Turnbull ('In Vino Veritas' / Tyla’s Dogs D'amour producer) knowing he was a great guitarist, but I didn't know just how good! This is the first album I have ever done that you can and even I do, play air guitar too! The songs flowed and i seemed to have captured most if not every human emotion in a Genie's lamp which I am now putting in your trusty hands and ears and eyes and soul. I beg you pop the cork, and I can guarantee that some if not all of your wishes will come true.' 'Gilding the Lily' Is the album I've been trying to write wanting to write, all my life.'

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

Opaque Mango Colored Vinyl. RIYL: Black Milk, Kendrick Lamar, Kamasi Washington, Mos Def, Blood Orange, Milo, Pharcyde, Blackalicious, Anderson Paak. Richmond, Virginia-based artist McKinley Dixon has always used his music as a tool for healing, exploring, and unpacking the Black experience in order to create stories for others like him. For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her, Dixon's debut album on Spacebomb, is the culmination of a journey where heartbreak and introspection challenged him to adapt new ways of communicating physically and mentally, as well as across time and space. The language accessibility aspect of this project draws right back to communication and connecting," Dixon explains. "I think about the messaging, and how this can be a way for another Black person, someone who looks like me, to listen to this and process the past. Everything I've learned about communication for this album culminates with this bigger question about time. Is time linear when you're still healing and processing? Westerners look at time travel as something to conquer or control - it's a colonizer mindset. That's ignoring how time travel can be done through stories and non-verbal communication, and doesn't acknowledge how close indigenous people are to the land and the connections groups have because they've existed somewhere for so long. Storytelling is time travel, it's taking the listener to that place. Quick time travel. Magic." Never relying solely on beats, Dixon taps into a hybrid of jazz and rap, pulling in an array of piercing strings, soulful horns, percussion, and angelic vocalists throughout the album-plus features by Micah James, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon, Pink Siifu, and more. Jazz instrumentals add a level of uncertainty, with the sounds and shifts evoking a lot of emotion and vulnerability. It's an energy he describes as "Pre-Kendrick Lamar To Pimp A Butterfly," the era when rap adopted more live instrumentation. The best way to sum up this album is: I was sad, I was mad, and now I'm alive," Dixon explains. "These things I talk about on the record have had harmful and brilliant effects on my timeline, and have forced me to be cognizant of the fact that living is complex. Rap has allowed me the language to communicate, and be someone who can communicate with people from all over. Knowing how far I've come, I think people will find trust in the message I'm sending."

“A huge thing for this record was to make it feel as close to our live show as possible,” says Tom Sharkett of W.H. Lung’s latest album. “We didn’t want it to sound live but we wanted to capture the excitement of the live performances.”

This is something that has become paramount to the group in recent years as they have undeniably blossomed into one of the most joyous and arresting live bands in the country. “The reason I’m in a band is to play live music,” says singer Joe Evans. “For me, music is live music. That’s what it’s for, to be played with people.”

The five-piece band, also featuring Chris Mulligan, Hannah Peace, and Alex Mercer-Main, decided to try something new on their third album after two incredibly successful collaborations with previous producer Matt Peel. In order to capture the energy, spirit and dynamism of their live shows, they relocated to Sheffield to work with Ross Orton (MIA, Arctic Monkeys, Working Men’s Club) who was able to harness this side of the band to remarkable effect. “Ross is the Sheffield Steve Albini,” says Evans. “He’s the king of not overthinking it and trusting the process of the art of recording songs. He was always there to stop us fucking around with cerebral stuff and get it down.” Sharkett echoes this too: “He was the exact producer we needed without us even realising. His productions and mixes are bombastic, lively and in your face and that’s exactly what we wanted.”

However, while this album is rooted in a sense of capturing a moment and a sparky liveness, that’s not to say it’s a raw or ragged record. It is still a meticulously composed, delicately layered and pristinely produced piece of work that, in true W.H. Lung style, runs the gauntlet from dance to pop to indie while still capturing that distinctly unique quality that is unquestionably their own. “It was a really big thing for me to realise what made us sound like us on this record,” says Sharkett. “I think the album sounds a lot more confident and self assured because of it. Some songs sound just so much like Lung and I’m really proud of that. I’m not sure we’ve done that as consistently across the other records.”

While the band have drilled deeper into finding their own singular identity, it’s not a record resting on its laurels. It’s a significant leap forward, expanding on their solid foundations while also breaking new ground. “The big difference with this record is its directness in every sense,” says Sharkett. “The songwriting is more upfront. Previously we’d focused a lot on vibe and production as opposed to just writing songs. The overall mission here was to revert to a classic songwriting structure and for the production to come afterwards.” And so what you have on this record are deeply considered and well-crafted songs, then recorded with blistering intensity in the moment, and then given a touch of experimentation afterwards. Then throw in Orton’s contributions to the band and it’s proven to be a real winning formula. “He brought a real dose of magic to the songs we’d written,” says Sharkett. “And brought an extra bit of wonk and quirkiness each time.”

The band’s ability to write more traditional and conventional songs is clearly a skill they’ve taken to with ease, at times there’s an almost Springsteen-like quality – but if he'd ever had an ecstasy period – to tracks such as ‘Thinner Wine’ and ‘Bloom and Fade’. While ‘How to Walk’ was constructed with one thing only in mind: that it would absolutely slay on stage. “I can’t wait to play this live,” says Evans. “We wanted a song to represent our live set, a new big one, and this is it.” Once again it leans towards the anthemic, with its driving, propulsive charge complete with incandescent synths and vocal melodies so irresistible you can already hear them being sung in unison by a crowd.

It’s an incredibly difficult feat to pull off a record that is more rooted in traditional songcraft while also capturing the power of a live performance, as well as pushing sonics into experimental new directions while working with a brand new collaborator. But here the band has managed to do just that. And the album’s closing song ‘I Will Set Fire To The House’ is a perfect example of such a thing. It’s a song that feels immaculately constructed but also very much alive and of the moment as its radiating synths engulf from the off, and Evans’ vocal is silky but powerful and in perfect symbiosis with Peace’s. It’s a song that captures the endless joys of music playing long into the night. “It may be a bit of a bloody bombastic way to end an album saying ‘and we’ll dance into the sunrise’,” says Evans. “But fuck it.”

MORE PRESS ON ‘VANITIES’ (MELO131)

"Vanities artily refines an exhilarating brand of up-front electro-dance" MOJO ⅘

'Idiosyncratic yet euphoric electronic pop on triumphant second LP' 9/10 Uncut

''One of the most effective alternative pop albums of the year'' 4/5 Record Collector
'Dance music for the modern age' - The Times (4*)

Drei Jahre nach dem fesselnden Long Player Debüt ,Highly Refined Pirates" stellte die hochgradig stylische Seattler Indie Pop Band MINUS THE BEAR ihren mit beachtlichen Störimpulsen durchsetzten Prog Pop auf ihrem zweiten selbstmörderischem Album ,Menos El Oso" zur Schau. Die Jungs legten hierfür selbst ihre Hände an die Regler und übernahmen die Aufnahmen und Produktion gleich mit. Pendelnd zwischen verschiedensten Stilen, welche von '70s Prog Rockern (YES, RUSH) '80s Prototypen Punks (FUGAZI) bis hin zu '90s Art Rock Mind Fucks wie JAWBOX und JOAN OF ARC reichen, berufen sich MINUS THE BEAR auf eine moderne Liebesaffäre zwischen treibenden Tanz Rhythmen und höchst abgefahrenem Collegerock. Abgemischt wurde das Ganze vom Bandmitglied und angesehenen Studio Freak Matt Bayles (u.a.THE BLOOD BROTHERS, MASTODON, ISIS, PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES). Auf dem Album finden sich so illustre Gäste wie Judah Nagler & Josh Staples (THE VELVET TEEN), Michael Richardson (THE NEW TRUST) und HEATHER DUBY.

The sophomore effort from Gray/Smith refines their petroleum-based, hard-lullaby sound with a decidedly dusty precision. To call this pair's brand of country-rock détournement "cosmic" would be too breezy: L. Gray and Rob Smith prefer to stare into sunken depths, channeling their recondite affections for lay-by mauve zones and red-dirt guitar wanderings. Formed in the outer-edges of Kings and Richmond counties circa 2020, Gray/Smith is something of an East-Coast involution. L. Gray (guitar and vocals) and Rob Smith (drums, guitar and vocals) are both trusty veterans of "band's bands" like Pigeons (Soft Abuse), No-Neck Blues Band (Revenant, Locust), Rhyton (Thrill Jockey), and The Suntanama (Drag City), freewheeling groups known for mining from polyglot sources: rough-hewn folk and the spiritual avant-garde, bargain-bin hard rock and and collector's-choice psychedelia alike. On their first, self-released LP Gray/Smith, serendipitously recorded at Gary's Electric at the top of 2021, the pair trained their assured chops onto the great American song-form, honing a murky but tight approach that variously cribs "urban cowboy" and finger-picked primitivism. A string of cryptic appearances soon followed, including a short-lived residency at a now-shuttered vodka dive; a micro-tour with Coloradan songstress Josephine Foster; and a series of backyard and barroom gigs sharing stages with compatriots like Stella Kola, Blues Ambush, Samara Lubelski, and Wednesday Knudsen. Heels in the Aisle is the slipshod, burnt-out, mid-'70s unter-prog comedown to their debut's backwoods, bushy-tailed, early-'70s, country-rock meanderings_expect more unrestrained riffs, artful studio wizardry, and worn-down introspection. Joining the ranks of bloodshot-eyed, blues-rock medleys à la Canned Heat's "Parthenogenesis" and Grand Funk's "Into The Sun," "The SDSPS" is the nearly side-length opening cut, an expanded song-cycle condensing and riffing on the themes of their debut. "Help Me" ventriloquizes Pomona College outlaw Kris Kristofferson's slow-roaring ballad of libidinal woe. On the flip side, "Verrazano Tile" and the title track pay heed to lower bays of Staten Island, while their arrangement of the traditional Zimbabwean tune "Guabi Guabi" is a bright Dead/Feat-like jaunt with blissed-out wah-wah pay-off. "Gaslight Boulevard" is lean, mean, and eight-beers-in space rock, and the closing track "Kekule's Ring" is a slack-jawed, wistful crash back down to earth. All this, packaged in a luxe, expertly-printed sleeve photographed by downtown artist Lary 7 and designed by Eric Wrenn (Sophie's Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides).

A double celebration of our rebirth 5 years ago and the very first release on the label back in 2000, the new series STATES OF ART features global creators of the forward-looking sound. The first of three vinyl EPs, with pioneering graffiti artist EGS delivering a special artwork.