Cerca:exploded view

Mannequin presents an expanded double-LP of 'Exploded View' from Dutch minimal synth pioneers The Actor. Originally released in 1982 by Trumpett Tapes, the album was repressed for the first time by Mannequin Records in 2014, and is now coming back to life again in 2022, enriched by an extra full-length of demos from a 1981-1984 period.

Singing both in English and German, The Actor songs are often related to modernism, fashion and dancing, like a sort of early incarnation of Depeche Mode but totally devoted to home taping and diy recordings, where Trumpett was definitely the perfect home for it, having releasing such amazing cassettes from Doxa Sinistra, Ende Shneafliet, Dr C.Stein, and many more. A must have for the dusty/rusty analog synthesizers lovers.

Die-cut sleeve. In the fall of 2013 Bry Webb was putting the finishing touches on his second album Free Will. Released on May 20th 2014, Bry, with his newly assembled band The Providers, spent the following few years traversing North America playing clubs, festivals and storied stages such as Toronto’s Massey Hall. Nothing new for an artist who had spent the aughts in a constant state of motion with Constantines, a band who on average had performed one of every three nights on a stage somewhere in the world. In fact, running in parallel to Bry’s solo touring schedule was a reunion with his former Constantines’ bandmates to once again present their incendiary live show and celebrate the 11th anniversary reissue of the band’s Shine A Light. It is what happened as the decade wound down that seemed out of character for an artist who had spent close to 20 years immersed in the studio and on the stage: the music stopped altogether. Bry explains his feelings at that time, “I lost the musical plot about 5 years ago and stopped playing music entirely, sold instruments and recording equipment, and committed myself to the idea that I was absolutely done”. Webb dedicated himself to his ongoing work in community radio, months turned to years and musical life seemed to be all but gone from view. Now in an unexpected turnaround 10 years on from the recording of his last studio album, there is not only a return to the stage for Bry but also a new record. Primarily composed in a season of upheaval, Run With Me contains some of Bry’s rawest sentiments. Fresh and painfully present there is an immediacy one can hear as emotional walls collapse in real time. Bry explains the context of the album’s creation: “In early 2023 my personal life exploded. In the process of dealing with that, I started writing music again and started recording at home. Advised that I needed to figure out how to ask for, and accept, help from other people, I sent early recordings of songs to friends from twenty-five years of music making - many folks I hadn’t connected with in years - and asked if they’d contribute anything to the songs. People came through in ways that overwhelmed me to the point that I cried when I wrote out the list of players for the liner notes. I felt incredibly cared for. From Andy Magoffin, who recorded the first Constantines album in 1999, to members of the Cons, to my nieces Addy and Ella playing drums, and a doppler recording of my daughter’s heartbeat, the record is a document of my creative life, and the people who made it possible to make music again.” If the cover of Run With Me looks familiar, it is with full intent. The album’s technicolor marbling and die cut text serve to signal the inclusion of the album in a trilogy started with Bry’s first record Provider. Just as that album starts with the track Asa, this new one introduces itself with the instrumental Webb. The trilogy is now completed with his daughter's first, middle and last names represented as the first tracks on each of the three albums. While the LP’s package signals its place in the collection, and tracks such as Older Than The Dirt and What I Do revisit their predecessor’s familiar sonic starkness, Run With Me is the outlier of the trio. A number of new tracks forego the quietude of Provider and Free Will, clearly recalling the rallying rhythms of Constantines’ anthems. Thunder Bay (instrumental backing courtesy of The Harbourcoats circa 2009), with its insistent kick drum and wall of electrics, support one of Webb’s most indelible melodies, and the not so subtly psychedelic Modern Mind reveal an expansion of Webb’s palette. Perhaps the furthest afield is the contextual centerpiece of the album, Goodbye, where we not only hear a joyful voice that lay dormant for years, but hear it reclaim its power. Backed by Constantines’ Will Kidman, Doug MacGregor and Dallas Wehrle, Bry belts out “I’m through with all the rage, now watch the light pour out of me.” As with all of Bry’s work, Run With Me’s lyrics take their time to settle in. Songs of self-examination, reconfigured love ballads, and songs for those who work to help others. Songs of singing abound. It’s there in Older Than The Dirt’s second verse: "Logic to the last intention, logic in the way we kept holding on forever, singing as the floor- was swept”, ten thousand birds sing a warning song in Thunder Bay and again in Goodbye’s telling of a cathartic return to one’s true self with its celebration of those “Who sing - sing all joy - all joy of language, in a single word”. Joining Bry in singing Run With Me’s songs of “death, transition and hope,” are kindred spirits Jennifer Castle, Julie Doiron, Daniel Romano and Steph Yates. All of these singers elevate the album’s healing sentiments and help express the album’s central plea; a prayer of sorts wrapped in the traditional Scottish Gaelic melody of She Is Here’s second verse: “Let the sun rise in the morning and any witness bring. Let all the blooming cosmos teach us to sing”.

A long-in-the-works project of ours, here comes A Tribe Called Kotori's first foray into full-length territories, as the immensely talented Rampue takes us on a melancholy-riddled ride across his phantasmatic mindscapes. A true sound explorer, deftly steering his ship down the junction of electronica, abstract and balearic-infused prog house, the Berlin-based vibist has us transfixed and elevated throughout the twelve cuts that form the backbone to this lushly textured promenade in sound - at times understatedly euphoric, at others rivetingly exotic.

Of the creative process that lead to 'Bubblebath Trance', Rampue explains "It all started and ended in the same moment: my cherished feline companion, my laptop awash with an unintended bath, and alas, a dearth of backups. The resultant calamity, an echo of chaotic tranquility." Under the generous layer of irony lies some unaltered truth about Rampue's debut long-player for A Tribe Called Kotori: this sense of serenity that goes with stepping into this warm and bubbling primitive chaos of sorts infuses the listening experience far and wide. Distantly emulating the "euphonious strains" of iconic PS1 video games soundtracks from his youth days, the album has us surfing a constant paradox of emotions, wistful but not abandoning itself to sorrow, dynamic yet suspended in some sort of mind-expanding stasis. As if you were looking at the world beneath you in exploded view, conscious of all thing, slowly moving up the many layers of our atmosphere towards uncharted skies.

A paragon of Rampue's most poignant take on classic electronica tropes, 'Harmonie' blazes with a poetic fire that engulfs about everything in its wake. Just figure yourself riding a chocobo across the sand-covered expanse of North Corel (toasting to the FFVII nerds here) as this blasts out in the distance. From this trancey bubblebath emerge lots of musical shades and nuances, from the nicely dubbed-out, brass-heavy coastal jazz of 'Schattenschranz' to the choppy, trip-hop-adjacent future electronics of 'Inside', via the exuberantly joyous mess of faux-organic number 'Tripomatic' and cinematic charisma of 'Ich hasse Sonne' high-flying orchestrations.

Connecting the dots between that trance-indebted ebullience and further downtempo-friendly attraction, 'Verfahren' perhaps encompasses best what 'Bubblebath Trance' is about: gracefully walking the tightrope in-limbo nostalgia-soaked inner movements and a powerful outward thrust, burning to let the feelings ooze out from the shell that holds them.Clad in purely 90s-compatible breaksy motion, 'Salz' is another attempt to reconcile emotional and physical dissonance, like kneading all states - solid, liquid and vaporous - into an impossible mega-vibe of its own; malleable, strong and enveloping in equal measure. Borrowing from two-step and UK garage, 'Take Away' is a definite high in Rampue's master unfolding of musical twists and turns, summoning a Boarder Community-esque atmosphere and clashing it alongside floor-ready footwork motifs to fascinating effect.

An ode to his studio companion, 'Buchla Trip' finds Rampue's exploring his machinic friend's quirky yet soulful array of electronic potentialities - making it sound like a conversation you'd have with R2-D2 in the heart of a Sandcrawler, whereas 'Kajal' beams us up to a fragmented headspace, halfway altered PC-Pop and arps-loaded electronica on amphetamines. Effusive and transporting, the title-track 'Bubblebath Trance' could well figure as the album's no.1 medley in essence: a bountiful lucid dream of dancing forms, colours and sentiments to wrap your head around, confidently drifting from a liminal state of consciousness down the rapids of one's troubled inner workings.

Rounding off the package, the languid ambient finale of 'Die Leiden des hungrigen Fruehstuecks' rubber-stamps the feeling that 'Bubblebath Trance' belongs to that rare category of albums. The ones that mint their own alphabet aside from typical norms and expectations, teaching you the ropes of their new language as it unreels between your ears - real and unreal, elusive to any other meaning than the one your guts and brains will be inclined to give it to, in real time. A crystal-pure object if you will, that shall not reveal its secrets, even after a thousand listens and just as many wowing moments.

Canadian alt. rock 5-piece Mother Mother have experienced a whirlwind decade, amassing over 830 million streams and views, earning 14 million monthly listeners on digital platforms and 2 million searches at Shazam.
In 2021 they became something of a TikTok sensation when songs from their back catalogue exploded on the platform, quickly accumulating a staggering 325 million uses of #MotherMother as well as 1.5 million fans (now at 2.7m).

In the band’s homeland, they have had numerous Top 10 Alternative Radio hits, spent several weeks at #1, and have been the most played alternative artist at radio for multiple years running. The band have also found success on the road. Their most recent pre-pandemic tours featured numerous sold-out headline dates including New York, London,
Los Angeles and all across Canada and the US.

Last autumn Mother Mother performed a sold out UK tour to over 9,000 rabid fans, including two nights at the 02 Forum in Kentish Town.

‘Change’ is the brand-new album by Anika, the first solo music from theBerlin based artist in 8 years.
A British ex-pat and former political journalist, Anika has collaborated withBEAK>and Tricky and released two albums with Mexico City’s Exploded.
View to great acclaim. The single ‘Change’ tackles personal growth as well as wider issues and grapples with eternal questions as to whether one can ever truly change.
It has been 11 years since the release of her last solo album, 2010 cultfavourite ‘Anika’; she suddenly found herself with a lot to say. “This album had been planned for a little while and the circumstances of its inception were quite different to what had been expected. This coloured the album quite significantly. The lyrics were all written there on the spot. It’s a vomit of emotions, anxieties, empowerment and of thoughts like - How can this go on? How can we go on?”
The intimacy of its creation and a palpable sense of global anxiety are
seemingly baked into the DNA of Change. Spread across nine tracks, the central feeling of the record is one of heightened frustration buoyed by guarded optimism. The songs offer skittering, austere electronic backdrops reminiscent of classic Broadcast records or ‘High Scores’-era Boards of Canada, playing them against Anika’s remarkable voice - Nico-esque, beautifully plaintive and - in regards to the record’s subject matter - totally resolute. Incantatory tracks like ‘Naysayer’ and ‘Never Coming Back’ are both a call to arms and a warning. “‘Never Coming Back’ was written after reading Rachel Carson’s ‘Silent Spring’,” she explains. “I was living in the old East countryside outside of Berlin, where there seemed to be no shortage of birds. Apparently their numbers have dropped significantly, but it is one of these changes that we never really stop and notice. We take things for granted, until it’s too late. With all this other noise
going on, care for the environment has quickly been moved to the backburner. So long as we get what we want NOW and on demand, who cares about whether we are taking care of the future?”

‘Cracker Island’ is the eight studio album from Gorillaz, an energetic, upbeat, genre-expansive collection of 10 tracks featuring yet another stellar line-up of artist collaborators: Thundercat, Tame Impala, Bad Bunny, Stevie Nicks, Adeleye Omotayo, Bootie Brown and Beck. Recorded in London and LA earlier this year, it is produced by Gorillaz, Remi Kabaka jr. and eight-time Grammy Award-winning producer / multi-instrumentalist / songwriter extraordinaire Greg Kurstin. Title track ‘Cracker Island’ kickstarted the new campaign this Summer hitting the charts across the globe with a top 10 video racking up 10M views in 10 days. The virtual band exploded onto TikTok gaining over 2.1 m followers in the space of a few months where they continue to innovate, taking virtual characters where no character has been before…

Originally released in 2014, “Instruction Booklet N. 1232” marks the first cassette release on Dauw for Tatersall under his The Humble Bee moniker. Taking advantage of the format, each side on “Instruction Booklet N. 1232” is reserved for a single piece nearing the 20-minute mark.

“Exploding View” (aka Side A) swells into existence with a very grand sounding synth-driven melody. Of course the other thing that’s present is the decaying sound of the tape loop that’s working to bring that music to life. At first, the melody grows and grows, fairly undisturbed, but eventually the sound of so-much tape warble threatens the rising nature of the piece until it sounds as though it is one loop away from total decay and simply fluttering out of existence.

But of course that’s the point. There’s a tension between that grand melody that opens these moments and that warble. It’s a lesson in opposites: the mechanics of a tape loop, guaranteed to break down, placed in contrast with those signature Tatersall melodies, which somehow seem eternal. And just as that tension seems too much to bear — the melody dies to be replaced by something altogether new. What comes next is something much quieter, driven by a sub-aquatic bassline, some rhythmic tape hiss and some gentle piano.

It’s a very dramatic and sudden break. The technical elements of that could be attributed to Tattersall’s understanding of how far a melody can be pushed before it succumbs to the abuse of being processed out of existence — perhaps the tape had been looped and processed to its breaking point. Regardless of whether it was a technical or artistic choice, that hard break serves an important narrative function. Frequently in instrumental music, musicians play with opposites (quiet-loud, clean-distorted) to create a narrative to their work since they don’t have words/lyrics as a tool. In the case of The Humble Bee’s use of tape loops, one set of opposites in tension is always driven by the fragility of the melodies and the limitations of a machine guaranteed to inevitably decay the media it is designed to support. And where one thrives, the other takes a backseat. As side A winds down, the melodies are much more sparse — appropriate for en ending, yes; but it also gives more space for those hisses and crackles to claim their moment.

Side B is filled out by “Manual with Foot Pedal” and it begins as gently as its predecessor ended. Slowly eking outing it existence – it’s as if watching Tatersall set the board, showing his players on opposite sides of the table before really setting them in motion to do their thing. By the piece’s midpoint, melody has taken centre stage as a glitchy, piano-led rhythm marches its way forward, clearly carving out its space and claiming its territory. And almost immediately following that: the decay takes over again and those tape loops seem processed to near death — the melody almost barely decipherable as it flutters under the weight of the history of being looped/played ad nauseum. And in the very final moments, the melodies are sparse again, giving the tape hiss room to play its part — it’s as if Tatersall is giving both players enough space to take their final bows.

Still only 29 years old when composing and recording this album, Kjetil Mulelid is one of the brightest talents in Norwegian jazz, and these days that really says something. In Kjetil's childhood home they had a subscription for a "Classical Masterpieces" CD collection. One that especially caught his attention, and would be played repeatedly, included the most melodic piano music of Beethoven, Chopin and Debussy. At the same time his elder brother introduced him to "old" rock like Led Zeppelin and Queen, winning him over and getting him interested in the guitar rather than the piano. When he later applied to music education in high school with electric guitar as his main instrument, the teachers asked if he played other instruments. He duly played a song on the piano, and heard nothing more of it. Months later, thinking he was enrolled as a guitarist, he was (to his horror) introduced to the class as a pianist. While he loved listening to classical piano music, playing it he felt tied up in the "rules" and the sheet music. It was simply more fun to play rock music on electric guitar_ surely a familiar story! Later a classically trained piano teacher played him some gospel and boogie woogie and introduced him to some simple pentatonic hooks on a C major blues. He hadn't really touched the piano in a very long time, but the same night he started experimenting and improvising around what she had shown him, and from that moment he was all into the piano and would dig further into improvisation and jazz. And the rest is history, as they say. Kjetil was sceptical when we first suggested a solo piano record back in early 2018, but the idéa slowly grew on him and when the pandemic exploded and other plans had to be scrapped, he suddenly had the time as well as the means to do it. So the bulk of the album was written in a hectic lockdown period and recorded on a steaming hot June day in the legendary Athletic Sound studio on their unique and characteristic Bösendorfer grand piano from 1919. Of the piano Kjetil says the sound is one of a kind, very clear and not typically "perfect" like most new ones. We can only wholeheartedly agree, it sounds great and is also very well recorded and mixed, giving the impression that you sit next to him, and not in a concert hall. In turn joyful, playful and elegant, the album fully shows Kjetil's harmonic and melodic mastery and the influence from those early introductions to the classical masters. Whether staying with the tune or taking off on improvised flights, there is an ease and assurance in his playing that betrays his young age.Kjetil has a bachelor degree in jazz performance from NTNU in Trondheim, has played in most European countries, Japan and USA, released two acclaimed albums with his trio on Rune Grammofon, and is also a member of Wako.

After a triplet of solo 12"s, all courtesy of label main man Rupert Marnie, Hamburg-based imprint The Press Group are set to break 2018 in with the multi-flavoured TPG004 - a versatile debut VA that offers a fine close up on the label's whole cast of operating forces with some choice contributions from TPG's core tetrad including Youthman(29), Ten Letu, DJ Dodo and Marnie himself. Mind your backs!

Shape-shifting yet coherent as a whole, this collective effort puts together a swinging confluence of sounds and aesthetics - clearly aimed at the dancefloor but equally poised for laid-back chill sessions. First release on the label to reunite the entire crew, TPG004 mashes up a wide-spanning array of grooves and tempi in exploded view, giving full vent to each artist's idiosyncratic universe whilst establishing a hyper-modern sound ID, both infectiously funky and undeniably potent.

Casting its net far and wide: from the pared-down astronautical breakbeat of Youthman's 'Aemilia' to DJ Dodo's breezy jacking jazz-footwork hybrid 'The Machine' via Rupert Marnie's lithe ganjah-smelling shuffler 'Health' and Ten Letu's muscle-flexing acid roller 'Ah, You Shot Me!', it's a feast of feelgood beats that you're invited to, neatly connecting the dots between the guys' shared love for video game soundtracks, liquid dubstep, heavy jungle breaks, minimal house and further daydreaming, hazy harmonics to drape yourself into.