Suche:broken english club decade

To mark 25 years of Tsunami Records, Wunsch delivers a landmark release that celebrates the label's legacy while looking firmly toward the future.

For this special anniversary project, Wunsch brings together a powerful lineup of artists who embody the spirit and evolution of the sound: Black Forests (Arcanoid and Wunsch), The Rare Breed (Regis and Wunsch), Broken English Club, Giving Ground (Function and Wunsch), Microcorps, Rumenige, and Sabotak. Each contribution reflects a distinct voice, yet together they form a cohesive statement - raw, uncompromising, and deeply rooted in the underground.

This release is more than a milestone; it's a testament to 25 years of dedication, vision, and sonic exploration. From driving, industrial textures to immersive and atmospheric moments, the record captures the essence of Tsunami's identity across decades.

A celebration of past, present, and future - this is Tsunami at full force.

Wally Badarou is a synth pioneer and musical polymath. But rarely does he sing over his sumptuous tracks. The 6 songs that comprise new record Simple Things finally realise Wally's vision for select backing tracks from his beloved Colors Of Silence.

The tracks were originally developed back in 2001 for the release of the original CD; here, Wally has “simply" added overdubs and vocals to their mastered mixes with some discerning edits. Simply put, Simple Things is another slice of simply stunning Wally Badarou genius.

Simple Things has been decades in the making. Indeed, Wally struggled not only with the idea of singing these wonderful songs himself but singing them in English and writing his own lyrics, while wrestling with the sensational backing tracks, which themselves seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

As Wally explained to us: "In addition to the instrumental artist I have been known as, so far, there has always been a singer who simply was not sure he was, up until now. Even though “Back To Scales Tonight”, my very first album, was, indeed, a song album."

Opener "It Couldn't Be You" embellishes the uptempo groove of soca-funk gem "The Lights Of Kinshasa". As Wally explained to us, it's about “a simple love story somewhere, one rainy night, under the lights of Kinshasa. A woman, a man, online dating, quite usual in our times. Then they meet, almost missing each other." The guide vocal Wally had laid for Colors Of Silence - with an organ sound - seemed striving for words in Linguala, a Congolese language he could not speak. Therefore the decision to do it himself was not an easy one, for it had to be in English to fit his singing. We think it turned out pretty good!

"You Can't Hide Always" vocalises Wally's deep concerns set to the propulsive "Smiles By The Millions": "Populism, ostracism, radicalism, ethics and values all turned upside down worldwide, are they all inevitably exacerbated by our social networks? It could all melt down one day, like a house of cards in the ocean of fake news and false prophecies”. Wally wanted to keep the track as bare as possible but, inevitably, the backing vocals and the synth-brass arrive ultimately to present a welcome 70s flavour, with no snare-drum added.

The bright and breezy "We'll Make It Again" adds vocals to "Where Were We", a tropical, reggae-tinged bounce through the islands. Here's Waly: "Where were we when we last said: "I love you"? Simple words to express something quite common, but never quite simple to deal with. A simple song about the resilience of the broken hearts.” The reggae came from it being conceived when Wally was scoring for “Third World Cop”, a 1999 Jamaican action movie.

"Walk Straight Ahead" provides Wally's gorgeous, contemplative and idiosyncratic vocals to the deep serenity of Colors Of Silence highlight, "Amber Whispers". It's a gliding, divine, mini melodic masterpiece. It'll make you swoon in its extreme beauty. As Wally describes, "it started as just whispers, sweet amber whispers. Then the colour turned darker, as darker skies seemed to fall upon us while the whole world keeps on walking ahead, straight ahead, regardless of the blatant warnings, feeling much too comfortable in conformity. Initially, the verses were to be spoken only. I realised they could be sung all the while, without overshadowing the ethereal atmosphere." Amen.

The serene, celestial "Painting My Life Blue" presents the vocal version of "Days To Wonder". Says Wally, "how does it feel when your second half is gone after decades of riding life together? Past the temporary loss of your bearings, you come to realise you've been blind to the essential, and suddenly you can see...For this most intimate song of mine, I had tried to come up with a melody on top of the existing backing track, long before realising the melody was in the keyboard part already. It just needed to be properly mixed with it."

The profoundly emotional "Just Two Lovers" works up the formerly-too-brief and glorious "Crystal Falls" into a much fuller masterpiece and features acoustic guitar sparkle before fully glistening with some gentle head-nod percussion. Waly explains further: "Dear little green men, please tell me, what is it about us that makes you want to come and visit us so often (contrary to Fermi's assertion)? And here is the reply I believe I heard them sing: "You've got the key you've been searching for: Love”. I reverted to the initial backing track I had made around 1985, which already bore the melody, and which I added acoustic guitars to, before singing it." An astounding closer.

A synth specialist, there can be few artists more under-appreciated given their vast influence than Wally Badarou. His solo work practically defined the sound of the Balearic DJs of the 1980s, and thus the more sophisticated sound of dance culture thereafter. He was one of the Compass Point All Stars (with Sly and Robbie, Barry Reynolds, Mikey Chung and Uziah "Sticky" Thompson), the in-house recording team of Compass Point Studios responsible for a series of albums in the 1980s recorded by Grace Jones, Tom Tom Club, Mick Jagger, Black Uhuru, Gwen Guthrie, Jimmy Cliff and Gregory Isaacs. Badarou's keyboard playing could also be heard on albums by Robert Palmer, Marianne Faithfull, Herbie Hancock, M (Pop Muzik), Talking Heads, Manu Dibango and Miriam Makeba. He also produced Fela Kuti. Phew!

When we asked Wally about the significance of this collection's title, he explained: "These are "Simple things” that everyday’s life seems to build upon. The simplest are the harder to describe, but when satisfactorily described i.e. with simple words, they are the more genuine and authentic to express and share. I’ve immersed myself in other classic song lyrics, something I hardly did before, just to appreciate the genius behind the simple words they were made of, and had a great time studying how powerful they were in expressing complex ideas such as love."

Recording was twofold: first, most of the backing tracks were recorded in 2001, in Wally's studio in Normandy, mostly using hardware synths and Yamaha digital consoles. Then, he fine-tuned the melodies and wrote the lyrics in late 2023, then added some overdubs and sang them all during summer 2024. States Wally, "Digital Performer was and remains the DAW I’ve been using throughout, ever since the 80s."

Wally's sophisticated synth textures and expressive keyboard runs are so full of character, so full of life, that this work of art transcends any easy genre categorisation. Meticulously remastered and cut by both Simon Francis and Cicely Balston respectively, it has been pressed to the highest possibly quality at Record Industry in Holland. Sometimes, the simple things are the most extraordinary.

Nervous Records, the iconic label synonymous with the rise of house from the streets of New York City, will mark 30 years in the music industry by releasing the celebratory compilation LP ‘Nervous Records: 30 Years’ on October 1st (Part 1) and October 15th (Part 2).

Featuring original mixes of the label’s biggest tracks, plus remixes by some of its most celebrated acts, ‘Nervous Records: 30 Years’ is both a celebration of the past and of the future. Featuring a who’s who of electronic dance music, the long player sees names including Louie Vega, David Morales Darius Syrossian, Tensnake, Monki, Franky Rizardo, Danny Howard and more take on iconic Nervous cuts: ‘You Make Me Feel Mighty Real’, ‘Treat Me Right’, ‘Future Groove’, ‘Feel Like Singing’, ‘Get Up Everybody’, ‘Break You’, ‘Hot’, ‘End This Hate’, ‘Unspeakable Joy’, ‘Can Ya Tell Me’, ‘Jerk It’, ‘The Anthem’, ‘It Makes A Difference’, ‘Learn 2 Luv’ and ‘Don’t You Ever Give Up’.

The album marks one of the most enduring, extraordinary legacies to grace America’s illustrious music history, not just in electronica but far beyond. Founded in 1991 by Michael and his father Sam Weiss, and recognizable immediately by its distinctive character logo, the label grew rapidly, in no small part due to Michael Weiss’ practically unmatched passion for discovering new music.

“Louie Vega and Kenny Dope woke me at 4am on Tuesday night, Wednesday morning from their studio telling me they had something really different that I needed to hear,” Michael recollects. “I asked if they could play it over the phone. They said if I wanted to hear it I had to come to the studio. So of course I got myself up, got dressed and went there. That “really different track” ended up being ‘The Nervous Track’, a tune that became our signature release and was also highly instrumental in the emergency of London’s ‘Broken Beat’ movement.”

The label’s willingness to take chances on fresh sounds and innovative concepts rising up from the melting pot sidewalks of NYC ensured a body of work that has become a living musical history of the city. House cuts ‘Unspeakable Joy’ and ‘Nitelife’ (Kim English), ‘Get Up (Everybody)’ (Byron Stingily) and ‘Feel Like Singing’ (Sandy B) bump up against hip-hop anthems like ‘Who Got Da Props’ (Black Moon) and “Bucktown” (Smif-n-Wessun) and reggae cut ‘Take It Easy’ (Mad Lion); soulful flows from Mood II Swing (Kim English ‘Learn 2 Luv’, Loni Clark “Rushing”), Armand Van Helden (‘The Anthem’) and Nuyorican Soul (‘Mind Fluid’) sit alongside seminal techno singles like Winx’ ‘Don’t Laugh’. The young artists and producers who joined the Nervous Records’ family have gone on to become some of the most hallowed and celebrated dance acts of all time: Louie Vega, Kenny Dope, David Morales, Tony Humphries, Roger Sanchez, Armand Van Helden, Kerri Chandler, Kim English, Byron Stingily, Josh Wink, to name just a handful.

“We did a release with Josh Wink under his Winx alias entitled ‘Nervous Build-Up’,” Michael said. “It did well and it was obvious how talented Josh was. Subsequent to that release I was pretty persistent in asking him to continue to play me his new demos. During one phone conversation he said, “Mike I’m gonna play you something over the phone but don’t laugh when you hear it.” That demo ended up being ‘Don’t Laugh’, which became one of our biggest international hits and still to this day is one of America’s earliest and most impactful techno hits.”

As much a celebration of the label’s future as it is of their past, Nervous Records: 30 Years is but a marker in the imprints’ history, a clear sign of where they’ve been and also where they’re going. With 30 years behind them, the label’s determination to unearth new raw diamonds in the rough is as unwavering as ever.

“I’ve always been one to look at what others are doing (the industry at large) and think, “ok, are they doing this specific thing for a reason, or doing it because everyone else is doing the same thing” and make my decision based on that,” says Nervous Records’ General Manager Andrew Salsano. “In an age where data metrics and analytics reign supreme, I remain steadfast that they should be complementary to your decision and not the sole indicator to make one. So many songs today are written with 15 second hooks in mind for social media, and while there’s nothing wrong with that business model you will always be chasing the wave instead of carving out your own path and identity.

“My primary focus for the sound of the label has and will continue to revolve around signing good songs and music that has the ability to react at the street level first. The best results come from artists that are firstly given a bit of local love that grows into a global impact. Fresh ideas that express child-like curiosity and artists showing vulnerability in their music are also something I look for, artists and producers that are not making music with certain markets in mind, but rather their own style and signature that is unique but able to straddle the fine line of underground and overground.”

Still as raw, as underground and as finely tuned to the dance floor as they ever have been, perhaps the secret to the success - and the longevity - of Nervous Records has something to do with that hard, dogged, no-holds-barred NYC edge that runs through the veins of the label. With the next generation of producers rising from the clubs of New York, one thing is certain; Nervous Records will be there to find them, nurture them and bring them to the world at large, over the next decade and beyond.

Ever since the late 1950s bossa-nova revolution, Brazil’s influence on French music has been undeniable. Pierre Barouh, Georges Moustaki and a vast array of lesser known artists, all made the Musica Popular Brasileira (MPB) an axis of promotion at the service of a cool and metaphysical, modern and mixed Brazilian lifestyle. Some were seduced by the poetic languors of the bossa, some were looking for fun, and others just loved the American hybridization of jazz-bossa, jazz-samba.



What is bossa nova? One of its creators, Joao Gilberto said: "Its style, cadence, everything is samba. At the very start, we didn't call it bossa nova, we sang a little samba made up of a single note - Samba de uma nota so .... The discussion around the origins of bossa nova is therefore useless”. It is nevertheless useful to remember that these magnificent Brazilian songs, which the guitarist describes as samba, were shifted and balanced around improbable chords. "I like things that lean, the in-betweens that limp with grace," said Pierre Barrouh, quoting Jean Cocteau.



With emotion, arrangements for violin and supple guitar licks, bossa nova rapidly changed. A transformation that can be heard in the Tchic, tchic, French Bossa Nova 1963-1974 compilation, the result of a cultural reappropriation, which traveled through the United States and supplemented itself in France.

A musical revolution that has remained significant, bossa nova was born in Rio. From 1956 to 1961, Brazil lived through its golden years. In five years, the country had invented its modernist style. Elected president in 1956, Juscelino Kubitschek de Oliveira, an elegant man with a broad forehead, brandished a promising slogan: "Fifty years of progress in five years". He quickly got to work. Not worried about increasing debt, he launched the project for a new federal capital, Brasilia, designed by the communist architect Oscar Niemeyer. Volkswagen opened state-of-the-art factories and created the “fusquinha”, the Beetle. In Rio, the Vespa made its first appearance. The Arpoador Surf Club crew run into the “girl” from Ipanema, Helô Pinheiro - the tanned garota ("chick"), between a flower and mermaid, who at 17 walked by the Veloso bar, where the fiery author and composer, Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes, were getting drunk on whiskey. From then on, bossa symbolized cool.

In 1958, Joao Gilberto recorded Chega de Saudade, which the directors of Philips denied, calling it "music for fagots". The marketing director, who believed in it, secretly pressed 3000 78-inch vinyls and distributed them at schools around Rio, creating a tidal wave.

American jazzmen then took over. In particular, trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie and guitarist Charlie Byrd. In November 1962, the Brazilian Ministry of Foreign Affairs funded a "Bossa-Nova" concert at Carnegie Hall in New York, inviting the genre’s pioneers. Unprepared, the show soon turned to disaster. But the troupe was invited to the White House by Jackie Kennedy. The first lady loved "the new beat" and in particular Maria Ninguem, a song by Carlos Lyra, later covered by Brigitte Bardot.

In Brazil, the 1964 military coup quickly ended this euphoria. The destructive atmosphere that ensued pushed many Brazilian musicians to leave, if not to exile. Thus, Tom Jobim, Sergio Mendes and Joao Gilberto arrived to the United States. In New York, Joao Gilberto met saxophonist Stan Getz. At the time, he was married to the Bahianese Astrud Weinert Gilberto, who had a German father. She had never sung before, but she knew how to speak English. Getz therefore asked her to replace her husband on The Girl From Ipanema. The Getz/Gilberto record with Tom Jobim on piano, was released in March 1964. Phil Ramone, the "pope of pop" was in charge of sound.

Bossa nova arrived in Paris through the classic “guitar-voice” channel (Pierre Barouh, Baden Powell, Moustaki…) But France loved jazz and Paris had already welcomed its American contributors. All these good people were to pass through Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The cabaret l'Escale became the Mecca of Latin American sound where one could find Pierre Barrouh and his friends, such as the Camara Trio, samba-jazz aces, whose only record was published by the Saravah label. With a band strangely called Les Masques (a band that included Nicole Croisille and Pierre Vassiliu, among others), the Camara Trio recorded an interesting Brazilian Sound, including the track Il faut tenir which is present on this tasty compilation of rarities.

Other enlightened musicians can also be found on the compilation, such as Jean-Pierre Sabar (songwriter for Hardy, Auffray, Leforestier ...) and the French pop rock organist Balthazar. In 1975, Sabar recorded Aurinkoinen Musiikkimatka on a Finnish label, which featured the crazy Vai, Vai, included on this record. We are now following the footsteps of Brazilian electronic musicians such as Sergio Mendes, Eumir Deodato or Marcos Valle who created funk and disco sounds on their keyboards and synthesizers. A style that influenced Véronique Sanson when she wrote Jusqu’à la Tombée de la nuit in 1969 for Isabelle de Funès, the niece of Louis and a great friend of Michel Berger - Sanson did end up singing this track on her 1992 Sans Regret record.


The pinnacle of exoticism and travel, Sylvia Fels’ Corto Maltese includes bongos, sea mist and ocean sounds. The title was taken from Jacky Chalard’s concept album written in 1974, Je suis vivant, mais j’ai peur (I am alive, but I am scared), based on Gilbert Deflez’s science fiction novel.


However, bossa nova extended the scope of popularity. "In the 1970s, I was a fan of Sergio Mendes, Getz / Gilberto. I fell in love with this music that I knew because I had been an orchestral singer, " explained Isabelle Aubret, who in 1971 delivered a composite record of covers by the very funky Jorge Ben, Orfeu Negro, Tom Jobim, Vinicius de Morais and Jean Ferrat. "I recorded this album for Meys Records in Paris, far from Brazil, with wonderful musicians, François Raubert, Roland Vincent, Alain Goraguer...". The latter wrote the arrangements for Casa Forte, a very percussive title borrowed from Edu Lobo, one of the initiators of the bossa who spent time in California. "Jazz and bossa came together and produced very rhythmic music. I love singing, it allows me to dream, to have fun, to feel a high on stage, and these songs brought me joy, made me swing, my singing felt like a dance.”


The world tours of French singers and their desire for the tropics, often brought them to Rio with its hills, forests, caipirinhas and tanned bodies. There are surprises though, like this Iemenja (Iemenja is the goddess of the sea in the Afro-Brazilian candomblé religion). Not unlike the composer and musician Jean-Pierre Lang, based in Sao Paulo, Claire Chevalier taught Brazil to Brazil. In 1970, the singer and painter published a 45-inch vinyl, Mon mari et mes amants (My husband and my lovers), under the improbable pseudonym of Clarinha (little Claire). She was then living in Rio, with her husband, Joël Leibovitz, who founded a band called Azimuth, and who owned a record label specialized in "sambas enredos" songs for samba school parades.


For its B side, she asked Pierre Perret to come up with lyrics for a song composed by Carlos Imperial: "Oh goddess of the sea, o goddess Iemenja, I bring a white rose to adorn your long hair ..." . "Perret came to see us, and we had fun, remembers Joël Leibovitz. We wrote Lemenja for fun, we recorded it at the Havaí studio, behind the Central do Brasil the central station. Erlon Chaves, the arranger who worked with Elis Regina, joined us" adding his share of Afro-Brazilian percussions and funky brass to the mix.

There is a common misunderstanding in Franco-Brazilian history: that bossa, admittedly hedonistic, is perceived as funny, even though the poets who wrote the texts are often philosophizing on the human condition. Its French interpreters pull it towards a carnival inspired universe, far removed from its fundamental essence. Thus, Jean Constantin covered the famous Samba da minha terra, an ode to the art of samba written by the classic Bahian composer Dorival Caymmi, renaming it with the enticing title of Pas tant de tchi tchi pompon: "On your pier there is no tchi tchi / when you arch your back, you know everything is alright ”(lyrics by Gérard Calvi). This expedited bossa aims for the absurd, but retains a certain elegance.

Indeed, Jean Constantin was not an idiot, the rather large man had a huge mustache and liked fantasy, (Les pantoufles à papa, Le pacha, inspired by cha-cha-cha-cha, salsa and jazz) but he was also the lyricist of Mon manège à moi interpreted by Edith Piaf, the composer of Mon Truc en plume by Zizi Jeanmaire and the soundtrack of François Truffaut’s 400 Blows. Le Poulpe, published in 1970, from which this bossa is extract, was arranged by Jean-Claude Vannier, an accomplice of Serge Gainsbourg’s Melody Nelson. In short: "There is enough of samba / By looking at the parasol / Because my poor cabeza / Is going to die in the sun".

Even the American actress Marpessa Down, who was at the heart of the bossa nova revolution with her role as Euridyce in Marcel Camus’ film Orfeu Negro, winner of the 1959 Cannes Palme d'or, fed the clichée with Je voudrais parler au petit cuica - "Tell me how you manage to always make people want to dance / It's true, I must admit that I cannot resist your magic" - in consequence, once can hear the cuica, a little drum inherited from the Bantu.


But bossa nova had many angles. Societal, of course, pushing actresses who were symbols of women's liberation like Brigitte Bardot, Jeanne Moreau, or Sophia Loren to engage in the exercise of accelerated bossa. In February of 1963, Sophia Loren made a record in French in Rome, Je ne t'aime plus, featuring the song De jour en jour, a bossa written by two Italians, Armando Trovajoli and Tino Fornai, which was released a little later by Barclay. Bossa accompanied the 1960s, a decade of moral liberation. Ann Sorel, who interpreted La Poupée des favellas, caused a sensation with L’amour à plusieurs, a provocative song written by Frédéric Bottom and Jean-Claude Vannier. As for the actress Andrea Parisy, she displayed her bourgeois cheekiness in Marcel Carné's Les Tricheurs before interpreting Les mains qui font du bien. And Magalie Noël, the friend of Boris Vian, who sung Johnny fais-moi mal, was hired to sing Une énorme Samba, composed by Alain Goraguer (arranger to Gainsbourg, Bobby Lapointe and Jean Ferrat) with lyrics by Frédéric Botton.

But in the end, of what wood is bossa nova made of? The answer is given by Christianne Legrand, daughter of Raymond the conductor, and sister to Michel the composer: "With me, with jà" - jà means "immediately" in Portuguese. In 1972, the singer, an expert in vocal jazz and a member of the Double Six, published Le Brésil de Christianne Legrand. Two songs included on the Tchic Tchic compilation that demonstrate how bossa, jazz, funk, rock, etc. work like a swiss army knife: the music is used to denounce broken systems, or miracles, HLM et ciné roman, Cent mille poissons dans ton filet, two songs from the O Cafona soundtrack, a successful telenovela broadcast, at the time in black and white, on TV Globo. The first was adapted in French by the fighter and friend of the Legrand tribe, Agnès Varda. The second is content with a play on words, jostling them into a summer fun.



Véronique Mortaigne

Dekmantel UFO Series continues its resurgent form with a new album of bruising, industrial wave and techno from Broken English Club. UK techno mainstay Oliver Ho debuted his dark and brooding alias more than 10 years ago with a release on Jealous God under the guidance of the late, great Juan Mendez (Silent Servant) — Songs Of Love And Decay is explicitly dedicated to Mendez, whose influence runs deep in this seductively sinister corner of underground, independent electronic music.

Within the overarching aesthetic of the Broken English Club sound, Ho finds the freedom to deliver a full spectrum album as diverse as it is consistent. You can sense the shadow of his roots in 90s tribal techno punching through on 'Crawling' and 'Death Cult', while 'England Heretic' leans on thick swathes of analogue synthesis indebted to Giallo soundtracks and the ever-compelling lure of 80s synthwave. In its grinding layers of distortion and dubbed out vocals 'Vessel Of Skin' speaks more to the post-punk influences which have set Broken English Club apart since the outset. This isn't a purely retro-fetishist expedition, though — 'Pacific Island Kill' and 'Lost Gods' exude stark modernism in their sharply-angled sequences and dramatic sound design, moving beyond the functional demands of 4/4 dance music to reach to more cinematic zones.

These are but some of the approaches Ho burrows into as he shapes out the depth and breadth of his muse on Songs Of Love And Decay. It's marked by the undeniable impact of his production, perfected over a decades-deep career at the bleeding edge of machine music. At times the album celebrates the addictive thrust of the dancefloor, while elsewhere it relishes the tension of suspended animation. Throughout, the gritty veneer binds together this accomplished, uncompromising body of work as both a fierce artistic statement and a loving tribute to Mendez — an artist who equally embodied the darker side of the dance.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Standard black vinyl is limited to 500 copies. Digipack CD. It’s two years since CONNECTIVITY (2021) smashed into the top 40 and debuted at #1 in the UK download chart, propelling the fiercely independent voice of GRACE PETRIE from critics’ choice to the main stages of major festivals across The UK and Ireland, Australia and Canada. For a seasoned road dog who spent almost 15 years clocking up tours with the likes of Billy Bragg, Frank Turner and Hannah Gadsby, the COVID lockdowns were like a cage for Petrie and when restrictions lifted, she hit the road harder than ever, armed with her most searing and successful record to date, and determined to make up for lost time. Sell-out headline tours across the UK, Australia, Canada and New Zealand followed, with audiences from Melbourne to Toronto mesmerised by the ferocity of her socially urgent lyricism and the barnstorming power of her live show. But travelling the globe hasn’t diminished her laser focus on the political issues plaguing the UK, with two more Prime Ministers, endless blunders and evermore division seen since she last swapped microphone for pen and paper. Now the songwriter is back - stronger, older and a whole lot angrier than ever before. As right wing ideologues trade in suspicion and cynicism, tearing communities apart against a backdrop of crumbling public services, the ordinary folk of Britain continue to suffer the consequences of corruption and individualism. From within this maelstrom of despair comes BUILD SOMETHING BETTER - the new, uncontainable album from Grace Petrie. Recorded raw and unflinchingly with folk-punk legend Frank Turner in the producer’s seat, BUILD SOMETHING BETTER is a return to blistering protest form for Britain’s most relevant political songwriter, a decade after being hailed as “a powerful new voice”, (The Guardian) and “a millennial’s Billy Bragg” (Huffington Post). In a world that seems to make less sense than ever, these are songs made to both holler along to from the crowd barrier and to tear up with on a lonely late night train. A record for everyone whose broken heart beats for, and whose boots stomp in time with, the hope a brighter tomorrow. “An effervescent charm-bomb of a performer” - The New Yorker. Headline Tour: 21st Feb Belfast - Oh Yeah Centre 22nd Dublin - Whelan’s, 24th Manchester - Academy 2, 28th Kendal - Brewery Arts 29th Edinburgh – Summerhall 1st March Gateshead – Glasshouse 6th Birmingham - Glee Club 7th Leeds - Brudenell Social Club 8th Nottingham - Rescue Rooms 9th Liverpool – Philharmonic 13th Oxford - The Bullingdon 14th London - Islington Assembly Hall 15th Brighton - Concorde 2 16th Norwich - Norwich Arts Centre 20th Cambridge - The Junction 21st Portsmouth - Wedgewood Rooms 22nd Exeter – Phoenix 23rd Bristol - Trinity Centre

Standard black vinyl is limited to 500 copies. Digipack CD. It’s two years since CONNECTIVITY (2021) smashed into the top 40 and debuted at #1 in the UK download chart, propelling the fiercely independent voice of GRACE PETRIE from critics’ choice to the main stages of major festivals across The UK and Ireland, Australia and Canada. For a seasoned road dog who spent almost 15 years clocking up tours with the likes of Billy Bragg, Frank Turner and Hannah Gadsby, the COVID lockdowns were like a cage for Petrie and when restrictions lifted, she hit the road harder than ever, armed with her most searing and successful record to date, and determined to make up for lost time. Sell-out headline tours across the UK, Australia, Canada and New Zealand followed, with audiences from Melbourne to Toronto mesmerised by the ferocity of her socially urgent lyricism and the barnstorming power of her live show. But travelling the globe hasn’t diminished her laser focus on the political issues plaguing the UK, with two more Prime Ministers, endless blunders and evermore division seen since she last swapped microphone for pen and paper. Now the songwriter is back - stronger, older and a whole lot angrier than ever before. As right wing ideologues trade in suspicion and cynicism, tearing communities apart against a backdrop of crumbling public services, the ordinary folk of Britain continue to suffer the consequences of corruption and individualism. From within this maelstrom of despair comes BUILD SOMETHING BETTER - the new, uncontainable album from Grace Petrie. Recorded raw and unflinchingly with folk-punk legend Frank Turner in the producer’s seat, BUILD SOMETHING BETTER is a return to blistering protest form for Britain’s most relevant political songwriter, a decade after being hailed as “a powerful new voice”, (The Guardian) and “a millennial’s Billy Bragg” (Huffington Post). In a world that seems to make less sense than ever, these are songs made to both holler along to from the crowd barrier and to tear up with on a lonely late night train. A record for everyone whose broken heart beats for, and whose boots stomp in time with, the hope a brighter tomorrow. “An effervescent charm-bomb of a performer” - The New Yorker. Headline Tour: 21st Feb Belfast - Oh Yeah Centre 22nd Dublin - Whelan’s, 24th Manchester - Academy 2, 28th Kendal - Brewery Arts 29th Edinburgh – Summerhall 1st March Gateshead – Glasshouse 6th Birmingham - Glee Club 7th Leeds - Brudenell Social Club 8th Nottingham - Rescue Rooms 9th Liverpool – Philharmonic 13th Oxford - The Bullingdon 14th London - Islington Assembly Hall 15th Brighton - Concorde 2 16th Norwich - Norwich Arts Centre 20th Cambridge - The Junction 21st Portsmouth - Wedgewood Rooms 22nd Exeter – Phoenix 23rd Bristol - Trinity Centre

Collaboration between Broken English Club and Autumns exploring dub, post-punk atmospheres and political unrest. Debut EP is a bold and eclectic taster of this duo. Vacant Heads is the duo of Christian Donaghey (Autumns) and Oliver Ho (Broken English Club). Anyone familiar with their work, or underground electronic music in the last two decades, probably needs no further introduction. Having worked together (Autumns' album ‘Shortly After Nothing’ was released on Oliver’s ‘Death and Leisure’ label) and shared stages over the years. Vacant Heads was borne from a desire to collaborate on tracks and form a live unit.
Their debut self-titled EP is a bold taster of where Vacant Heads are at and where Vacant Heads are headed. These four tracks reek of a brutal and busted city - after-hours prowls with fuck all to do and nowhere to go. In “Crawling Up The Pisser”, Ho’s world-weary treatise on consumerism drools over the nag, nag, nag of the tightest and tautest post-punk electronics. “Heavy Rain Dub” is a ten-minute low-end cruiser. A deep, Digi-dub riddim underpins clarinet squalls, jaw harp twang and screwed vocals that feel like a nocturnal trip into Chris Morris’ ‘Blue Jam’…On Side B, “Street Toucher’s” rowdy snare hits, new wave synths and trademark distorted howl from Donagheyhint at the potential ferocity of their upcoming live shows. “Swan Dive” rounds off the EP - slowing down the tempo and pulling influence from the renegade sound of Adrian Sherwood’s revered production work with the likes of Tackhead and Keith LeBlanc. The heaviest breakbeats meet industrial churn and clipped vocal samples. Vacant Heads. Nothing up top. Pure body music.

Nervous Records, the iconic label synonymous with the rise of house from the streets of New York City, will mark 30 years in the music industry by releasing the celebratory compilation LP ‘Nervous Records: 30 Years’ on October 1st (Part 1) and October 15th (Part 2).

Featuring original mixes of the label’s biggest tracks, plus remixes by some of its most celebrated acts, ‘Nervous Records: 30 Years’ is both a celebration of the past and of the future. Featuring a who’s who of electronic dance music, the long player sees names including Louie Vega, David Morales Darius Syrossian, Tensnake, Monki, Franky Rizardo, Danny Howard and more take on iconic Nervous cuts: ‘You Make Me Feel Mighty Real’, ‘Treat Me Right’, ‘Future Groove’, ‘Feel Like Singing’, ‘Get Up Everybody’, ‘Break You’, ‘Hot’, ‘End This Hate’, ‘Unspeakable Joy’, ‘Can Ya Tell Me’, ‘Jerk It’, ‘The Anthem’, ‘It Makes A Difference’, ‘Learn 2 Luv’ and ‘Don’t You Ever Give Up’.

The album marks one of the most enduring, extraordinary legacies to grace America’s illustrious music history, not just in electronica but far beyond. Founded in 1991 by Michael and his father Sam Weiss, and recognizable immediately by its distinctive character logo, the label grew rapidly, in no small part due to Michael Weiss’ practically unmatched passion for discovering new music.

“Louie Vega and Kenny Dope woke me at 4am on Tuesday night, Wednesday morning from their studio telling me they had something really different that I needed to hear,” Michael recollects. “I asked if they could play it over the phone. They said if I wanted to hear it I had to come to the studio. So of course I got myself up, got dressed and went there. That “really different track” ended up being ‘The Nervous Track’, a tune that became our signature release and was also highly instrumental in the emergency of London’s ‘Broken Beat’ movement.”

The label’s willingness to take chances on fresh sounds and innovative concepts rising up from the melting pot sidewalks of NYC ensured a body of work that has become a living musical history of the city. House cuts ‘Unspeakable Joy’ and ‘Nitelife’ (Kim English), ‘Get Up (Everybody)’ (Byron Stingily) and ‘Feel Like Singing’ (Sandy B) bump up against hip-hop anthems like ‘Who Got Da Props’ (Black Moon) and “Bucktown” (Smif-n-Wessun) and reggae cut ‘Take It Easy’ (Mad Lion); soulful flows from Mood II Swing (Kim English ‘Learn 2 Luv’, Loni Clark “Rushing”), Armand Van Helden (‘The Anthem’) and Nuyorican Soul (‘Mind Fluid’) sit alongside seminal techno singles like Winx’ ‘Don’t Laugh’. The young artists and producers who joined the Nervous Records’ family have gone on to become some of the most hallowed and celebrated dance acts of all time: Louie Vega, Kenny Dope, David Morales, Tony Humphries, Roger Sanchez, Armand Van Helden, Kerri Chandler, Kim English, Byron Stingily, Josh Wink, to name just a handful.

“We did a release with Josh Wink under his Winx alias entitled ‘Nervous Build-Up’,” Michael said. “It did well and it was obvious how talented Josh was. Subsequent to that release I was pretty persistent in asking him to continue to play me his new demos. During one phone conversation he said, “Mike I’m gonna play you something over the phone but don’t laugh when you hear it.” That demo ended up being ‘Don’t Laugh’, which became one of our biggest international hits and still to this day is one of America’s earliest and most impactful techno hits.”

As much a celebration of the label’s future as it is of their past, Nervous Records: 30 Years is but a marker in the imprints’ history, a clear sign of where they’ve been and also where they’re going. With 30 years behind them, the label’s determination to unearth new raw diamonds in the rough is as unwavering as ever.

“I’ve always been one to look at what others are doing (the industry at large) and think, “ok, are they doing this specific thing for a reason, or doing it because everyone else is doing the same thing” and make my decision based on that,” says Nervous Records’ General Manager Andrew Salsano. “In an age where data metrics and analytics reign supreme, I remain steadfast that they should be complementary to your decision and not the sole indicator to make one. So many songs today are written with 15 second hooks in mind for social media, and while there’s nothing wrong with that business model you will always be chasing the wave instead of carving out your own path and identity.

“My primary focus for the sound of the label has and will continue to revolve around signing good songs and music that has the ability to react at the street level first. The best results come from artists that are firstly given a bit of local love that grows into a global impact. Fresh ideas that express child-like curiosity and artists showing vulnerability in their music are also something I look for, artists and producers that are not making music with certain markets in mind, but rather their own style and signature that is unique but able to straddle the fine line of underground and overground.”

Still as raw, as underground and as finely tuned to the dance floor as they ever have been, perhaps the secret to the success - and the longevity - of Nervous Records has something to do with that hard, dogged, no-holds-barred NYC edge that runs through the veins of the label. With the next generation of producers rising from the clubs of New York, one thing is certain; Nervous Records will be there to find them, nurture them and bring them to the world at large, over the next decade and beyond.

Nearly twenty years on from his last solo sortie, Tommy Gillard reemerges as Curved Needle with “Rain Of Molten Iron” - a new six-tracker scoping out the confines between hi-octane body music and FX-riddled experimentation.

After spending most of the decade working in the studio with Oliver Ho alias Broken English Club as Zov Zov, the West London-based producer reignites the flame of trueschool horror electronics with five cuts heaving us into a furnace of post-apocalyptic machine talk by the scruff of the neck, complimented by a remix from Broken English Club.

Blood Debts' is the compulsive debut album from Years Of Denial, the alter-face of London-based French musician/producer and DJ, Jerome Tcherneyan.

Though his formulative Marseille youth was spent exploring the darkest corners of post-punk, New Wave, not to mention Public Enemy and the inspirational Mille Plateaux and Basic Channel labels, Tcherneyan, already an extremely capable drummer, quickly extended his sonic palate toward and beyond the bass-heavy electronic isolationism, insistent beats and drone experimentation that's still very much prevalent in his work today.
One should not either pass over his integral contribution to the much-lauded, though stolidly underground "ghost-rock" unit, Piano Magic, which engineered sublime collaborations with Brendan Perry (Dead Can Dance), Simon Raymonde (Cocteau Twins/This Mortal Coil) and Alan Sparhawk (Low). Tcherneyan, always prolific, can also lay claim to impressive collusions with Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah (African Head Charge), Damo Suzuki (Can), 70's psych folk legend, Mark Fry to name but a few.
In 2005, Jerome founded and promoted the infamous 'Flesh' parties; guests including Andy Stott /Claro Intelecto/Edit-Select/James Ruskin/Kirk Degiorgio/Mark Broom/Oliver Ho/Sigha/Steve Bicknell and many more. These nights served as an invaluable education in Techno and Dubmixology; marathon sets played deep into the sunrise.
Skip forward a decade and the DJ bug is even deeper embedded, with Tcherneyan sharing the booth with, amongst many others, Orphx/Phase Fatale/Joefarr and London Modular Alliance.

Tcherneyan's muse and foil on 'Blood Debts,' his first for Oliver Ho's splendid and already essential new Death & Leisure imprint, is Maya Petrovna, an entrancing London-based vocalist, film composer and performance/physical theatre artist, whose voice perfectly evokes Billie Holliday, Diamanda Galas and all stations between.
There's a black neon heart at the centre of 'Blood Debts,' a fetishtic ritual of contorted flesh and altered states; a feverish, infectious paradox of primitivism and modernity. Years of Denial is the ghost in the machine.