Search:field report

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."

'Intensely textured, interlocking guitar riffs weave together on New Bright Object, the debut album from Berlin and Edinburgh-based duo I’m Not You.

Working under the name I’m Not You, artist Alex Gibbs (bass & vocals) and sound designer Niall McCallum (guitar & drums) have honed a sound that draws in equal measure from jazz funk of Weather Report and the math rock of Don Caballero. Their debut album, New Bright Object is their most developed statement to date, an intricate, robust and unique collection of songs born from serpentine jam sessions in rural idylls.

The duo make no secret of their admiration for bands like Battles and Tortoise. They reference Jim O’Rourke’s lounge numbers and the droll lyricism of Modern Lovers’ Jonathan Richman. There’s a touch of Vini Reilly in their sparse and serpentine guitar lines. A hint perhaps of Mogwai. All these names place New Bright Object within a constellation of albums made with bigger budgets for wider audiences.

New Bright Object opens In a flash of light, comet-like, with the sound of ‘Mr. Wind- Up Bird’. The threads they weave are full with intent, as moments of density rise like hills from the track’s quieter valleys. It’s easy to imagine the pair looking out over the rolling fields of the garden studio in East Lothian where they recorded the album, as they assiduously try and draw their own landscapes in sound.

Similarly, there is a crispness to ‘A Certain Arrangement Of Atoms’ - every clipped hat, rim-shot snare and tightly wound tom a fine-tipped mark on the score. It is intricate and precise, a result perhaps of Niall’s attention to detail. Then there is the piano, Alex’s grandmother’s, slightly out of tune, which adds a few expressionist strokes to this pointillist composition. The piece loosens, until all we’re left with is the bass.

Although the album orbits around the pendulum sway of ‘The Older I Get’, it is ‘What Cats Think About’ that stands out most. That it does is by design – a nod to the Sun City Girls and albums that like to throw their listeners a curveball every now and then. Pleasantly ramshackle, confusingly domestic, agreeably strange.

All this speaks to the spirit of the album and the creative relationship between two best friends whose differences seem to have been the only things they could agree on.'

This is a special work by acclaimed composer and musician Adriaan de Roover, who has released records on Dauw, VIERNULVIER, PIAS, and Consouling Sounds. Chansons de trottoir / Stoepliedjes documents his relationship to sampling in the form of a radio play.

Originally created as a radio piece for Resonance FM in Manchester, the album is a sonic portrait of a walk through Brussels. It is constructed from two field recordings: one made during a walk from Metro Midi towards Adriaan’s home, and another recorded on a walk towards Flagey. Rather than foregrounding recognizable landmarks, the piece focuses on the pavement underfoot: the steady, repetitive rhythm of footsteps on sidewalk tiles.

The recordings are mixed with samples from the music of the Brussels hip-hop group STIKSTOF. Their music became the soundtrack to a period in which Adriaan’s desire to move from Antwerp to Brussels began to take shape. Through repeated listening, the city of Brussels gradually revealed itself to him. This experience echoes that of countless music fans who, while listening to The Beatles, imagine what Liverpool might be like: a city revealed through sound and myth, often crystallized in lukewarm Hard Rock Café–style projections.

Chansons de trottoir / Stoepliedjes is an exercise in sampling and an exploration of how one might find a personal place within the music of others. It frames appropriation as an attentive and considered act. Suspended between memory and imagination, the piece exists closer to a dream state than to reportage.

The song titles on Van Halen's aptly titled Fair Warning don't lie. The likes of "Unchained," "Mean Street," "Push Comes to Shove," "One Foot Out the Door," and more indicate the mood the band channels on its double-platinum 1981 record — the nastiest, darkest, and fiercest album of the group's storied career. For the fourth time in four years, Van Halen throws down the gauntlet to all challengers and emerges victorious.


Sourced from the original analog tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl at Fidelity Record Pressing, and strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP set plays with unfettered clarity, dynamics, and immediacy. Benefitting from superb groove definition, an ultra-low noise floor, and dead-quiet surfaces, this vinyl edition captures what went down in the studio with tremendous realism and involving presence.

Taking a more controlled approach in the studio and still completing everything in less than two weeks, Van Halen and producer Ted Templeman relied on studio amplifiers to direct the sound. Further diverging from the live-on-the-floor approach of its earlier albums, the ensemble also employed overdubs to great effect. The result: Dense, stacked architecture that underlines the hard-hitting tenor of the songs — and which comes alive like never before on this reference edition that looks as good as it sounds.

The premium packaging and gorgeous presentation befit the reissue's select status. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. Aurally and visually, it is made for listeners who want to immerse themselves in everything involved with the album, including the iconic cover art adopted from William Kurelek's haunting painting, "The Maze."

Isolated frames from Kurelek's childhood-inspired work — including a man bashing his head into a brick wall, a guy pinning down an adversary as he delivers bare-fist blows to his face and others watch with apparent glee, a boy tied down on a conveyer belt and being sent through the equivalent of a meat saw — adorn the front and back covers. The sunnier visual disposition of Van Halen's prior efforts gives way to something sinister and tortured, traits reflective of the music within. The band members, too, are visually depicted not in glamorous shots but in a serious black-and-white portrait in which the quartet is clad in black leather jackets.

Tough, aggressive, stark: Fair Warning comes on like a series of bare-knuckled punches to the solar plexus and boasts lyrical narratives to match. Though not a concept record, the concise album revolves around themes of roughing it on the streets and struggling to survive amid dim prospects. Singer David Lee Roth reportedly penned many of the initial lyrics after traveling to Haiti and observing extreme poverty. The characters and situations populating Fair Warning reflect hardscrabble existence, last-chance desperation, and underlying danger.

Witness the crazies, poor folks, and hunters of “Mean Street”; the former prom queen turned pornographic actress on “Dirty Movies”; the menace and vice of “Sinners Swing!”; the streetwise hustle of “Unchained”; the isolation and alienation of “Push Comes to Shove”; the desire for escape on “One Foot Out the Door”: A carefree California beach party Fair Warning is not.

Having said he felt angry and frustrated during the sessions, guitarist Eddie Van Halen uses the forceful arrangements as a playground for his seemingly unlimited arsenal. Supported by a crack rhythm section and a hyped-up Roth, he performs with an almost impossible combination of punk-like intensity, technical finesse, lyrical fluidity, and unbridled emotion. The virtuoso was increasingly butting heads with Templeton and seeking a freedom in the studio he believed denied him.

No wonder he plays like a bat out of hell. Listen to the rapid-fire manner in which he slaps the high and low E strings on the 12th fret of his instrument on “Mean Street,” instilling the tune with funk flair and metal-spiked sharpness. For the pouty strut of “Dirty Movies,” Eddie Van Halen contributes slide guitar magic made possible after he sawed off the lower portion of a Gibson SG so he could reach further down the fretboard.

Related intensity, urgency, and daredevil momentum punctuate the surging “Sinner’s Swing!” A heavily flanged, delicately melodic introduction frames the attitudinal “Hear About It Later,” among the most creative arrangements of Van Halen’s career. And do riffs come any bigger or magnetic than those on the high-wire kick of “Unchained”? As for the out-of-left-field “Sunday in the Park,” an instrumental composed on an Electro-Harmonix micro-synthesizer: Who but Eddie Van Halen to supply creep factor in such an ingenious way?

Despite selling fewer quantities than Van Halen’s prior efforts, Fair Warning remains for many diehards the record that epitomizes all of the band’s immense strengths —Roth’s manic energy and tongue-wagging humor, Alex Van Halen’s rhythmic heartbeat-in-your-chest bombast, and Michael Anthony’s lucid bass lines included. Arriving when the New Wave of British Heavy Metal and new-wave movements were taking flight, it signaled a shot across the bow from a band determined to stay a step ahead and provide proof nobody could touch what it delivered.

More than four decades later, Fair Warning still sounds that alarm.

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.

10 years after their debut, City Of All Times audio-visual enquirers John B McKenna and Richard Greenan re-appear as Devonanon, to share the findings of a decade-long sonic experiment. Like its predecessor, Richard & John is a living, breathing collection of field recordings and compositions, gathered gradually from remote corners of the pair's lives. Familiar waypoints - interwoven microtonal synths, regurgitated live performances, polite whispering, and the gurgling hum of vehicles (land and sea) - all fold into the perpetual stew.

Where City read like a crumpled postcard account of fraternal reportage, Richard & John is a tone poem on something more amorphous, and out of time - a garbled history of human closeness, upheaval and mark-making, that seems to buckle and creak like a tapestry with no beginning or end. No two spoonfuls are the same, as our story reels through kosmische library stylings ('Wilderness Engine'), to cortex-quieting free association ('Generate Countryside'), and baroque instrumentation ('Blood Laughing', which features beautiful turns from Masayoshi Fujita on vibraphone, and Rosa Juritz on bassoon).

Back in 2006, Richard Linklater’s film adaptation of Philip K Dick’s sci-fi novel A Scanner Darkly was greeted with suspicion. No one had done justice to the “master” (Bladerunner, Minority Report, Total Recall, The Adjustment Bureau had or have all met with mixed reviews). And, movies attempting to conjure up the effects of drugs were met with derision from the stoned cognoscenti. How could a story of dependence on Substance D (“Death” for short) be created with multi-million dollar stars in the frame anyway? Linklater had a plan; He’d use rotoscoping (an effect that falls somewhere between Kiki Picasso’s sketches brought to life and Disney on ‘ludes). The celebrities would be shrouded in mystery, in fact Keanu Reeves’ skin suit would make him almost invisible at times, a mumbling wreck swaying centre stage. A waste of talent? A waste of money? To complete the experience, a left field musical score was needed to ensure that everything wasn’t as it seemed. The phone books are full of creative composers but Graham Reynolds And His Golden Arm Trio jumped off the page. The band name is from a Frank Sinatra film where he plays a drug-addled muso. Perfect. Graham Reynolds works in extremes, he’s collaborated with DJ Spooky, the Austin Symphony Orchestra and with live film collage creator Luke Savisky. More importantly his Golden Arm Trio are never three and never the same people twice. For the movie he created short sound bytes – a surf-like instrumental, a country-tinged breather, the sound of stuttering insects crawling through your hair. The resultant soundscape is itchy and scratchy, full of mood swings and musical metaphors, an ever changing and unpredictable set of highs littered with reflective undertones and occasional soft, almost super numb realities. THE SOUNDTRACK: “Strands of post-rock, electronica, jazz, and vintage rock are woven and recombined throughout the album for unusual juxtapositions.” All Musi // “A tactile, emotional resonance often missing in contemporary scoring.” Soundtrack.ne // The music in isolation is bold and uncompromising, shifting as it moves through genres and sounds. THE COMPOSER : Graham Reynolds works in extremes; Short take moments of sound – whether it be a surf-like instrumental, a country-tinged breather or the sound of stuttering insects crawling through your hair – are all in his tick box. The resultant soundscape is itchy and scratchy, full of mood swings and musical metaphors, an ever changing and unpredictable set of highs littered with reflective undertones and occasional soft, almost super numb realities.

2017 album now available at a cheaper price. Limited colour vinyl 12” (Marled colour) DL card included is for indie stores only. Standard LP + DL. CD digipack. Under license from Lakeshore Records. A Fire Records release. Back in 2006, Richard Linklater’s film adaptation of Philip K Dick’s sci-fi novel A Scanner Darkly was greeted with suspicion. No one had done justice to the “master” (Bladerunner, Minority Report, Total Recall, The Adjustment Bureau had or have all met with mixed reviews). And, movies attempting to conjure up the effects of drugs were met with derision from the stoned cognoscenti. How could a story of dependence on Substance D (“Death” for short) be created with multi-million dollar stars in the frame anyway? Linklater had a plan; He’d use rotoscoping (an effect that falls somewhere between Kiki Picasso’s sketches brought to life and Disney on ‘ludes). The celebrities would be shrouded in mystery, in fact Keanu Reeves’ skin suit would make him almost invisible at times, a mumbling wreck swaying centre stage. A waste of talent? A waste of money? To complete the experience, a left field musical score was needed to ensure that everything wasn’t as it seemed. The phone books are full of creative composers but Graham Reynolds And His Golden Arm Trio jumped off the page. The band name is from a Frank Sinatra film where he plays a drug-addled muso. Perfect. Graham Reynolds works in extremes, he’s collaborated with DJ Spooky, the Austin Symphony Orchestra and with live film collage creator Luke Savisky. More importantly his Golden Arm Trio are never three and never the same people twice. For the movie he created short sound bytes – a surf-like instrumental, a country-tinged breather, the sound of stuttering insects crawling through your hair. The resultant soundscape is itchy and scratchy, full of mood swings and musical metaphors, an ever changing and unpredictable set of highs littered with reflective undertones and occasional soft, almost super numb realities. THE SOUNDTRACK: “Strands of post-rock, electronica, jazz, and vintage rock are woven and recombined throughout the album for unusual juxtapositions.” All Musi // “A tactile, emotional resonance often missing in contemporary scoring.” Soundtrack.ne // The music in isolation is bold and uncompromising, shifting as it moves through genres and sounds. THE COMPOSER : Graham Reynolds works in extremes; Short take moments of sound – whether it be a surf-like instrumental, a country-tinged breather or the sound of stuttering insects crawling through your hair – are all in his tick box. The resultant soundscape is itchy and scratchy, full of mood swings and musical metaphors, an ever changing and unpredictable set of highs littered with reflective undertones and occasional soft, almost super numb realities.

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label KRAAK presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why."
Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

Two times UK Blues Award winner second album for APM Records released on CD. HSLB carries the narrative of a bluesman upto no good who when his world falls apart, admits what he’s done and atones. Produced by Phil Dearing (Eliza Carthy, Gretchen Peters, Lauran Cantrell). Features special guest Vaneese Thomas (daughter of Rufus and sister to Carla Thomas). Radio for HSLB : no.1 IBBA radio chart two months running , Top 50 iTunes Blues album chart (US) / no.3 Roots Music Report Blues Album (Global)/ no.1 Roots Music Report Blues song ‘Blind Leading The Blind’ (Global) / Top10 Living Blues radio chart (US) / Top 20 National College Radio (US), airplay on 50 stations (US) / airplay in Netherlands, Australia, Canada, Switzerland, Croatia, France, Italy, Germany, Israel Press for HSLB : Blues In Britain front cover, reviews Blues Matters, Blues in Britain, Rock & Reel, Living Blues (US), Blues Blast (US), Charlotte Blues Society (US), Blues Roadhouse (US), Big City R&B (US) Bluestown (NL) “Mississippi MacDonald riffs like a fabulous Albert King circa his Stax days”. • Mississippi MacDonald is playing: Love Fields Stage-Glastonbury, Linton Blues Festival, Dereham Blues Festival, Brightlingsea Festival, Over The Hill Festival, Mississippi MacDonald won Traditional Blues Artist of the Year 2024 and Acoustic Blues Artist of the Year 2024 at the UK Blues Awards in April. HSLB Nominated for UK Blues album of the year

Jimpster dons his Franc Spangler cap and joins forces with up and coming London-based producer and DJ Hudson’s Choice for a four track EP entitled Myatts Field. Touching on trippy slo-mo electronic grooves, tropical moods and percussive house jams it brings a more experimental and left field sound to Delusions Of Grandeur which we’re sure you’re going to love!

Opening track AcidMan sets the tone of the EP with a bubbling 303 line taking centre stage while pitched down vocals add a hint of menace, heightening the psychedelic mood. Dubby FX and analogue synth lines drift in and out of focus and give a live jam feel to the arrangement reminding us of something that might grace the decks of A Love From Outer Space. Heavily Percussed continues offering up a crazy percussion tool loaded with wonky cross rhythms, glitchy found sounds and a hypnotic synth sequence for good measure.
Flip over for Myatts Field, another slower tempo mutant discoid house groove which takes us on a deep trip into the jungle. Echoing sax and hazy vocals transport us to another world where Weather Report experimented with rolling four on the floor grooves and spacious dub.

Closing out the EP Roots picks up the pace with another percussion-heavy slice of tropical sounds which doffs a cap to masters such as Gregory and Osunlade. Steel pan melodic lines intersperse with chiming synth sequences making for an unusual yet hooky club track which will lock the dancers into its incessant groove.

Lo-fi, low budget, and low key, The American Analog Set's suite of hypnotic, neo-psychedelic, Texas sloth-kraut LPs appeared briefly on Austin's Emperor Jones label and slunk quietly into the sprawling indie underground as the old millennium crested. Gathered here are "The Fun Of Watching Fireworks", "From Our Living Room To Yours", and "The Golden Band" albums, garnished with period b-sides, outtakes, and demos. Remastered from the original analog tapes,this early-career spanning 5xLP box includes lyrics, photos, and ephemera from the before times.

Lo-fi, low budget, and low key, The American Analog Set's suite of hypnotic, neo-psychedelic, Texas sloth-kraut LPs appeared briefly on Austin's Emperor Jones label and slunk quietly into the sprawling indie underground as the old millennium crested. Gathered here are "The Fun Of Watching Fireworks", "From Our Living Room To Yours", and "The Golden Band" albums, garnished with period b-sides, outtakes, and demos. Remastered from the original analog tapes,this early-career spanning 5xLP box includes lyrics, photos, and ephemera from the before times.

PRESSING OF 200 COPIES ON CLEAR VINYL.

RIYL Zero 7/ Plaid / Hot Chip / Weather Report / Isolee / Baby Fox

Old friends Julian Bates and Alex Gray —working together as Mighty Truth for the first time since 1995’s From The City To The Sea — filled a car with old analogue synths, kids’ noise toys, and collected field recordings took a road trip down to hole up in an old water mill in southwest England’s bird-twittery, bee-loud Quantock hills.

Things got cinematic: unequal measures of early Weather Report, Wim Wenders, and Serge Gainsbourg kept them wonderfully lost in their imagined world. Back in London with guest singers Allonymous (Paris via Chicago) and Wayne Paul (London), they completed the album and decided to just call it Mighty Truth. With an aim to present the live show at moonlight pop-up cinema venues, Mighty Truth are here for the next chapter in their epic saga.

Back then….

Old friends Julian Bates and Alex Gray first met through their shared obsession with classic cars (both owned old SAAB 96s). At the time, Julian’s band Nightrains was signed to ACE Records in the UK whilst Alex worked first as a session keyboardist for the likes of Edwyn Collins, Billy Mackenzie, and Busta “Cherry” Jones, and later as a mixer and remixer working with S’express producer Pascal Gabriel, Malcolm McLaren, and soul DJ legend Dr Bob Jones.

Working together in the studio for the first time producing Vanessa Freeman (4 hero), Alex and Julian decided to embark on a drop-tempo jazz trip project they named Mighty Truth. Dr Bob heard that first self-released vocal track “Rebirth” and started dropping it on Kiss FM (UK). After guest DJ slots on Coldcut’s Kiss show, Alex and Julian signed to Tongue and Groove records.

The album From the City to the Sea produced a number of singles and both “Rebirth” and “Is it a Wizard or a Blizzard” were licensed to many compilations both in the UK and internationally (eg. Dope on Plastic, Mole Listening Pearls, Eight Ball).
The Sound of Sinners is a NYC boutique record label focused on vinyl and digital releases by Indie, ambient, avant-garde and electronic artists.

Only 200 copies of black 180g vinyl was made.

"Macrodose" is an album recorded in the classic form of Producer & MC, (Antiquant and Prykson Fisk). JuNouMi Records (est. 2002) gives this hip-hop project the highest mark of quality. Real underground rap album including many guests such as Axel Holy and King Kashmere from UK.

Prykson writes about the album as follows: Macrodose is a lyrical "trip report" with a perfect musical accompaniment, a diary of a total life transformation inspired by the power of medicine contained in entheogens.

To emphasize the urban character of the project, we asked the well-known street artist TYBER to create the graphic design of the album, which is ultimately based on a dedicated mural painted in September in Gdańsk.

Mr. Aleksander aka Prykson Fisk aka Fred Flin100NER is 170 kg of live hip-hop. Beat-boxer, MC and DJ, associated with Hip-Hop culture since 2003. Prykson is an experienced psychonaut and owner of the KOMORA REC home studio. Creator and author of over 20 albums and mixtapes. His official debut K02M02 (2020) landed in the respectable 7th place of OLiS... Representative of the MOST BLUNTED team, KOLOKOS - one of the creators and founder of such projects as: Renegaci Funku, Hedora, Prykson Ifs and Dusty Vibez. He played beats in every genre, from dubstep, grime, drum and bass, through rap, to jazz and funk played live with a band. He has conducted countless workshops in the field of hip hop (beat-box, rap) throughout Poland... A fan of good food, underground music, multidimensional visual art and conspiracy theories. An experienced gourmand of life and a well-known local healer.

Antiquant - 24-year-old producer from Zielona Góra. He has collaborated with artists such as Ryfa Ri, Mada, Asthma, Mareceli Bober. With his beats, he tries to drown the listener in an ocean of cosmic sounds. The axis of its production is the artistic achievements of producers such as flying lotus, monte booker and j dilla. In his songs, he does not limit himself to one style, his beats are often a patchwork of various genres of music. In his productions you can hear boom bap drums, trap eight hundred eighth notes and jazz trumpets coexisting in the strangest musical ecosystems. Antiquant appreciates experiments, loves to push his boundaries, look for undiscovered sounds and use effects in ways they shouldn't be used.

A Late Lunch’ is the soundtrack to Akiko Iimura’s eponymous movie realized in 1978. It is based on acoustic instruments and field recordings, brilliantly reconfigured and mixed by Bekaert to create a surreal, immersive soundscape. The technique used includes superposition and speed change of recordings, radical sound effects and juxtapositions of sounds. The players were prominent musicians of the 1970’s, including Maggi Payne, George Lewis, David Rosenboom and Blue Gene Tyranny.

‘A Summer Day at Stony Point’ was composed in 1969, with participation of David Behrman, Shigeko Kubota and Charlotte Warren. The piece was commissioned by English composer Hugh Davies who presented it at the Harrogate festival the same year. Stony Point is a small village in New York State where John Cage co-owned a small pseudo-commune art resort where like-minded artists gathered. ‘A Summer Day at Stony Point’ is nothing more than a page of a journal, a fragment of a notebook that utilizes a series of sound sources recorded at Stony Point on one beautiful day in the summer of 1968. Other electronic sound sources were recorded at the Brandeis University where Alvin Lucier was professor. The final realization of the piece was done at Henri Pousseur’s APELAC Studio in Brussels, 1969.

The soundtrack for Akiko Iimura’s ‘Mon Petit Album’ was composed on the basis of a simple description of the technique of the film and its time span. It includes David Behrman on alto, from an outdoor recording at Stony Point, plus excerpts from a Transition concert in London, the band Bekaert formed in 1971 with Michel Herr, Takehisa Kosugi and Ryo Koike, both members of the Taj Mahal Travelers. The atmosphere is quiet and pastoral throughout with a very dreamlike flavour.

Jacques Bekaert (1940-2020) was a man of many gifts: author, journalist, composer, photographer, visual artist, wine connoisseur, radio talk show host, diplomat and expert in Southeast Asian affairs. His whole life Bekaert has been actively involved in music but not much of his work got recorded or published. In the early 60’s Bekaert studied with Pousseur and through his frequent visits to the US he became friends with artists like John Cage, David Tudor, Charlotte Moorman and most of all David Behrman with whom he had a close friendship ever since. Bekaert helped organize the first European tour of The Sonic Arts Union (David Behrman, Robert Ashley, Gordon Mumma, Alvin Lucier) and in the early 70’s he formed the group Transition (with Belgian jazz pianist Michel Herr, Takehisa Kosugi and Ryo Koike, both members of the Taj Mahal Travelers). His meeting with Japanese experimental film-maker Akiko Iimura resulted in two film soundtracks featured on this one of a kind discreet avant garde album.

When asked in a 1979 interview about his double life as a musician and a journalist, Bekaert replied, “I suppose they’re both unsafe, unstable, questioning jobs—composing and reporting. Journalism takes me to places, shows me the world as it is. My music is my wish for the kind of world I’d want to live in. The little peaceful state I dream for everyone, where you can be yourself, and happy, and as collective as possible without giving up total privacy.”

Originally released in 1981 on the Belgian Igloo label this reissue comes with the same sleeve as originally designed by Alain Géronnez.

Third Pressing of Gilroy Mere's Adlestrop on blue vinyl with a blue cover.

Adlestrop is inspired by the remains of the rural railway stations, that were closed in the wake of the 1963 Beeching Report.

“This record started with Edward Thomas’s poem Adlestrop and a chance visit to the village that it takes its title from. I wanted to see the station, but found it was no longer there, all that remains is the old platform sign Adlestrop, now part of a local bus shelter. However as I walked around the village I was struck that; “all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire” were still singing away - like ghosts from Thomas’ verse.

Visiting Adlestrop spurred me to get hold of a copy of the Beeching Report which, in Appendix 2, lists all the services and stations recommended for closure in the 1960s. The names read like an epic British poem, from halts to branch-line stops and stations and singular terminals for public schools, mines, ferries and even an asylum. There’s Ravenscar where a resort was planned but got no further in its construction than the station, and a hotel - the grid marked out for the roads never laid. Bethesda, a short branch line from Bangor up towards Snowdonia, was used for slate and passengers and is now just a quiet green valley, Christ’s Hospital on the old Cranleigh Line, opened with seven platforms to cope with the daily flood of pupils attending the famous school nearby which never came as it was a boarding school. Many of the stations have vanished, with just fields and car parks left in their place, some are repurposed as houses, or shops, or abandoned as artefacts of a lone-gone industrial past.

Armed with a digital recorder, and with a copy of Beechings Report as my guidebook I made notes and recordings on my travels around the country, and used them as the starting point for a set of pieces that try to capture the fading layers of history, in the areas where the stations had once stood making sure each track retains something of the real place within them. Back in my studio I reacted, improvised, and crafted musical responses to each station, trying to capture the ghosts and former lives of the stations and their imprint on the present.”

Gilroy Mere is Oliver Cherer who trading as Dollboy, Rhododendron, and Australian Testing Labs as well as his own name has meandered his way through the backwaters of left of centre English folk, ambient and electronic music, issuing numerous albums of original music to much critical acclaim via highly regarded boutique labels such as Static Caravan, Second Language, Deep Distance, Polytechnic Youth, and Awkward Formats.

Frances Castle is the illustrator/owner behind the Clay Pipe record label and The Hardy Tree is her on- going musical project. Common Grounds was started during the first 2020 lock down - when time moved very slowly and travel away from home became impossible.

The album was recorded at home by Frances, then mixed to tape with Ed Deegan at Gizzard Analogue Studios in East London. Ed plays drums on three of the tracks.

“Like many others with nowhere else to go, I walked the streets of my neighbourhood for exercise and well-being. I rambled like I might in the country side; stopping every now and then to take in the view, or notice something I’d missed before. I took to looking up local streets in historical newspapers, and read reports of mysteries and crimes that had happened here in the past. I researched the names of the people who had lived in my flat before me, viewed old census returns from the surrounding area, and noted the birth places and livelihoods of past residents. I began to see the ghosts of these people on my walks, and notice the things that they had left behind; shapes of ancient tram tracks creeping under the tarmac, an old gas street lamp in an alleyway, a tiny metal sign indicating a culverted river. I spent my evenings writing and recording the music on this LP, and then the following day would listen to the rough mixes as I walked, the music began to soundtrack the walks, and the walks began influencing the type of music I was creating.” - Frances Castle, 2022
1. A Garden Square in the Snow 2. The Spire of St Mary's 3. St Saviour's Through the Railings 4. Shop Fronts and Parked Cars 5. The New River Path, August 6. Railway Tracks 7. Mist on the Playing Fields 8. Face at the Window, Seaforth Crescent 9. Up on the Hill

These recordings, made in 2001 in the weeks before September 11, constitute a unique historical document. They are spoken-word adaptations of scenes taken from Destroy All Monsters, the first book by acclaimed writer and 'pop culture alchemist' Ken Hollings. A multistranded postmodern epic, Destroy All Monsters offers a radical retelling of Desert Storm, America's military operation targeting Iraq, using imagery derived from MTV videos, CNN news reports, Japanese kaiju movies and anime, Hong Kong action flicks and tales of alien abduction. The book's entire narrative nervously unfolds in an unstable of world of terror monsters, wrecked cities and dangerously tall buildings: where an event like 9/11 is inevitable. The book was officially launched on September 13, but distribution in the United States was delayed when ports on the Eastern Seaboard were closed to shipping post 9/11, leaving copies of the book stranded in the Atlantic. 'Published the very week of the "attacks on America",' Toby Litt wrote at the time, 'Destroy All Monsters is genuinely, spookily prescient…as a progress report on Planet Earth, it seems to have timeslipped onto the front pages.' Lydia Lunch praised it as 'a hallucinogenic spiral into future nightmare', while The Scotsman called it 'mind bending reading.'

In the summer of 2001, Ken Hollings was approached by sound designer and electronic music composer Simon James, who wanted to create an audio adaptation of scenes from the novel to share with subscribers to a spoken word channel launched by totallyradio. The idea was to record Ken reading his own words and then embed them in a soundscape that evoked the fragmented complexity of the original text. Ken concentrated on a small handful of threads from the overall narrative, while Simon directed and engineered the final recording. This resulted in the two sequences of words, sounds and electronic tonalities contained on this audiocassette: an unsettling portrait of people about to be overtaken by events.

In October 2001, having just got married in London, Ken and Rachel Hollings went to New York for their honeymoon, just as they had originally planned. They spent an unforgettable week in a city struggling to recover from the seismic changes that had just taken place while a sudden wave of anthrax attacks on government and media offices filled the news cycles. Rachel took a photograph of Ken at Ground Zero, where crowds of onlookers continued to gather, and the air still smelled of burning.

Ken Hollings is a writer and broadcaster whose main concern is the relationship between culture and technology. He has written and presented numerous critically acclaimed features for BBC Radio 3, BBC Radio 4 and Resonance 104.4 FM His other books include Welcome to Mars, The Bright Labyrinth, The Space Oracle and Inferno all available from Strange Attractor/MIT Press. His latest book, Purgatory, is due from Strange Attractor in Spring 2022.

Simon James is a producer, musician and sound designer based in Brighton, UK, whose work combines electronic sources with field recording techniques and sound treatments, using sound to transport the listener to fantastical audio worlds. Simon's latest release, Electro Smog, collects electromagnetic field recordings from Shenzhen's electronic markets, recorded while he was in China at the invitation of Musicity and The British Council.

The Destroy All Monsters audio adaptations marked the first occasion Ken and Simon worked together – subsequently they collaborated on the 12-part series Welcome to Mars for Resonance 104.4 FM and Connecting, an audio portrait of the original 'phone phreaks', for BBC Radio 3. In 2021 they teamed up again to make Fast Forward, a six-part documentary series for Kasperksy Lab.

Over the past decade, Egyptian-born, Barcelona-based DJ and techno producer Raxon, known to friends and family as Ahmed Raxon, has popped out a steady stream of twelve-inch singles, precision-tooled, for labels like Cocoon, Drumcode, Diynamic, Truesoul, and Ellum Audio. An alumni of Kompakt’s Speicher series – check the insistent, vibrating pulses of “The Ancient” and “Dark Light” on 2019’s Speicher 107 – with Sound Of Mind, Raxon has produced a long-awaited debut album that’s ready and aching both for the dancefloor and the boudoir, traversing the heat of the club and the warmth of the home.

“The idea of an album has always floated around in my head for the past few years,” Raxon confirms, “but it was never the right moment in my mind.” Instead, he’s been insistently pursuing his vision of deep, elegant techno, taking him from early DJ gigs in Dubai, including the legendary audio tonic night, then relocating to Europe on the recommendation of Herman Cattaneo, all the while allowing his experiences to inform and transmute his producer’s thumbprint. He’s an architect by training (though he gave architecture up for electronic music), which might explain why Raxon productions are so sturdy and well-designed; but remember also that architecture is a field filled with brave experimentation, something Raxon definitely draws on throughout Sound Of Mind.

Like many albums from the past twelve months, Raxon’s debut developed partly thanks to the unique social situation the planet has found itself caught within. “In the beginning of 2020 I started working on a few tracks with the album in mind,” he recalls, “with no idea of what’s to come in the next few months. As catastrophic as the situation was/is, I found myself in the studio; in a way the lockdown gave me that creative freedom in the studio, to try to tell my story through sound.” And indeed, there is something in the way of ‘life writing’ about Sound Of Mind, particularly in the way Raxon’s productions pay subtle homage, perhaps, to his formative listening experiences in the late nineties.

It’s no retro trip, but there’s plenty of variety here, and a few moments that’ll tickle the collective memory – see the prowling pulsations of the opening “Majestic”, the alien breakbeat action of “Vice” and “Journey Mode”, where the interstellar tones feel like Foul Play or Steve Gurley, the leaking gas and woozy keys that make “Droid Solo” so subtly destabilising, or the strobelight drones that sputter and flare throughout “El Multiverse”, where dappled organ tones fight it out with interdimensional transmissions, all sucked into the vortex of a late-night techno mantra. Beautifully sculpted, Sound Of Mind feels consummate, an elegant set that pulls Raxon’s vision into its sharpest focus. Alive with possibilities, it’s a fever dream of creativity.

In den letzten zehn Jahren hat der in Ägypten geborene und in Barcelona lebende DJ und Techno-Produzent Raxon, der Freunden und Familie auch als Ahmed Raxon bekannt ist, eine ganze Reihe von 12inch-Singles auf Labels wie Cocoon, Drumcode, Diynamic, Truesoul und Ellum Audio veröffentlicht. Wir kennen Raxon außerdem durch seinen Beitrag zur Kompakt Extra/Speicher-Reihe – man höre sich nur mal "The Ancient" und "Dark Light" auf dem 2019 erschienenen Speicher 107 an. Nun hat Raxon mit “Sound Of Mind“ sein lang erwartetes Debütalbum produziert, das sowohl für den Dancefloor als auch für die eigenen vier Wände geeignet ist und dabei sowohl die Hitze des Clubs als auch die Wärme des eigenen Zuhauses durchmisst.

"Die Idee eines Albums schwebte in den letzten Jahren immer in meinem Kopf herum", bestätigt Raxon, "aber es gab nie den richtige Moment." Stattdessen verfolgte er leidenschaftlich seine Vision von tiefem, elegantem Techno, die ihn von frühen DJ-Gigs in Dubai, einschließlich der legendären Audio-Tonic-Nacht, dann auf Empfehlung von Hernan Cattaneo nach Europa führte. Im Laufe dieser Zeit sammelte er unzählige Erfahrungen, die es ihm erlaubten, seinen Stil als Produzent mehr und mehr zu transformieren. Raxon ist gelernter Architekt (obwohl er die Architektur für die elektronische Musik aufgegeben hat), was vielleicht erklärt, warum seine Produktionen so robust und gut durchdacht sind; aber man sollte auch nicht vergessen, dass Architektur bestenfalls immer ein Feld mutiger Experimente ist, etwas, worauf Raxon in “Sound Of Mind“ definitiv zurückgreift.

Wie viele andere Alben der letzten zwölf Monate auch wurde Raxon’s Debüt von der einzigartigen gesellschaftlichen Situation, in der sich der Planet momentan befindet, beeinflusst. "Anfang 2020 habe ich angefangen, an ein paar Tracks für das Album zu arbeiten", erinnert er sich, "ohne zu wissen, was in den nächsten Monaten auf uns zukommen würde. So katastrophal die Situation auch war/ist, ich fand mich im Studio wieder; in gewisser Weise gab mir der Lockdown auch eine kreative Freiheit im Studio, um zu versuchen, eine Geschichte durch meinen Sound zu erzählen." Und in der Tat gibt es auf “Sound Of Mind“ so etwas wie eine "Lebensgeschichte", besonders in der Art und Weise, wie Raxon’s Produktionen eine subtile Hommage an seine prägenden musikalischen Erfahrungen in den späten Neunzigern darstellen.

Es ist fürwahr kein Retro-Trip, aber es gibt hier viel Abwechslung und ein paar Momente, die das kollektive Gedächtnis kitzeln werden - zum Beispiel der sich langsam heran pirschende Pulsschlag im Eröffnungstrack "Majestic", oder die außerirdischen Breakbeats von "Vice" und "Journey Mode", in denen sich die interstellaren Sounds ein wenig wie Foul Play oder Steve Gurley anfühlen. Dann das ausströmende Gas und die wummernden Tasten, die "Droid Solo" subtil destabilisieren, oder die Strobo-Drones, die in "El Multiverse" herum sprudeln und flackern, wo einzelne Töne einer Orgel mit interdimensionalen Transmittern um die Wette strahlen und schließlich in den Strudel eines nächtlichen Techno-Mantras gesogen werden. “Sound Of Mind“ fühlt sich formvollendet an, wie ein elegantes Set, das Raxon’s Vision verstärkt in den Fokus rückt. Ein Fiebertraum voller Kreativität und Möglichkeiten.

As long-time fans of this sublime four-track compacto 7" by the illustrious Brazilian duo Luli Lucinha e O Bando, we have floated the idea of re-issuing this beauty for several years now. So finally, the time feels right to release this beloved gem back into the world.

Originally issued on Som Livre ‎Records in Brazil in 1972, this rarity has long been lost to only but the most hardened Brazilian record collectors and those lucky few who own an original copy. The four genre-defying compositions blend elements of psychedelic rock, MPB and folk, and are glued together by the synergy of Luli and Lucinha's vocals and the outstanding arrangements by Zé Rodrix. Whether it be the lost Brazilian-psych anthem of 'Flor Lilás’, or the tripped out folk-funk of 'Dourado Da Manhã’, the EP oozes magic and brilliance. The record also features the Brazilian percussionist, Alyrio Lima, who later became a member of the iconic Weather Report.

Luli (Heloisa Orosco Borges da Fonseca) and Lucinha's (Lucia Helena Carvalho e Silva) records have become extremely sought-after in recent years. Their inclusion on John Gómez's superb 2017 'Outro Tempo' compilation helped spread the gospel about their beautiful folky, MPB, private press albums from the late '70s and '80s. Prior to their musical partnership back in 1965, Luli released a heavenly Bossa Nova 7" nugget entailed 'Baleiro' and a self-titled solo album on Philips Records, which are now also highly-prized by collectors.

Here at Mr Bongo we feel Luli and Lucinha's names should be more widely recognised and break out of their cult artist status. They should be rated up there amongst some of the progressive, left-field greats of Brazilian music of their era. Sadly Luli passed away in 2018, but left behind an inspiring musical legacy for us all to savour.

Barang Bang Records Archive Series vol. 1

Previously unreleased recordings
Compiled by Gianmarco Liguori

Bernie McGann - alto sax
Kim Paterson - trumpet
Bobby Gebert - piano (side A)
Andy Brown – bass
George Neidorf – drums

Recorded by Trevor Graham in Sydney, Australia (copyright 1966)

There is no more engaging nor distinctive alto saxophone sound on the planet than McGann’s.
Sydney Morning Herald

McGann takes the language of Bebop then bends and stretches it to fit the contours of his own remarkable im-agination.
The Wire

Bernie McGann’s sound is exciting and physical, as heated as any post-coltrane modernist.
Downbeat

A lost treasure of Antipodean jazz

This compilation documents part of an exciting period in Australasian jazz. Recorded in Sydney, 1966, we can hear Bernie McGann was already one of the great Australian jazz stylists. At the time, the only publicly available recording he made was two tracks on the Jazz Australia compilation (1967) (CBS BP 233450).

Two years earlier, McGann was living in Auckland, New Zealand (1963-64). It was here that he worked regular-ly with Kim Paterson, Andy Brown and pianist Dave MacRae, and the basis of this band came into being.

‘Lazy Days’, ‘Chuggin’, and ‘Sky’ were salvaged from a cassette in Kim Paterson’s collection, one of the few remaining copies. Originally intended for a radio broadcast, the master tapes were reportedly destroyed after the session.

‘Rhythm-a-Ning’ and ‘When Will The Blues Leave?’ were taped by Trevor Graham at the Wayside Chapel in King’s Cross. Graham was a Sydney music journalist and ally of the avant garde, with the foresight to capture some of what was happening at the time.

This album is also notable for a rare appearance by the mysterious American drummer George Neidorf (mis-spelt as ‘Neidori’ in the liner notes on the first Soft Machine album), an early influence on drummer Robert Wyatt.

Field recordings of a major artist in strong company – a lost treasure of Antipodean modern jazz.

This time, RØDHÅD tunes into a place of reflection and reformation on his most avant-garde project to date: WSNWG – BACK TO ZERO. Intended to provide a space for solo releases, the imprint comes at a crucial turning point, as society circles in on itself during the pandemic.

RØDHÅD christens the label with MOOD, his first ambient experimentalist release, comprised of his own solo archival material mostly from 2017/2018, working on a plane of spontaneity, devoid of set structures. The result is a life-giving, intimate and solipsistic work. Awash with field recordings, droning loops and subtle granulations, the sparse soundscapes on the 18- track album are deeply profound and satisfying.

Collating a myriad of emotions through this sonic venture, RØDHÅD demonstrates his kaleidoscopic nature as a producer of atmospheric and ambient soundscapes, as well as his legacy provider of dance floor energies. The album will have unique artwork contributed by DJ & producer Silent Servant.

States of Fugue SF02 is the adventurous & uncompromising new record from Zoë Mc Pherson. It follows the success of her critically acclaimed 2018 album String Figures SF01, an audiovisual project that earned her invitations to perform around the world.

States of Fugue SF02 also inaugurates her new hybrid label SFX, a collaborative project with fellow multimedia artist Alessandra Leone. The label presents an opportunity for the pair to fully embody their creative vision whilst building bridges between, and for practitioners working at the intersection of different creative fields.

Zoë Mc Pherson's recent recorded work includes collaborations with Rupert Clervaux and Christina Vantzou, and a remix for Contagious, which was released on Rabih Beaini's Morphine imprint. SoF features collaborations with Elvin Brandi and dutch free improv scene singer Greetje Bijma, a cast which reveals Zoë's punkish & deviant taste and who's vocal work provides moments of both ballistic & mystic power.

Brandi features on Learn Ur Language with a rabid diatribe, somehow flowing through Zoë's staccato barricades. On album closer Bug, Greetje's alien annunciations are neatly vaporised into the year 3000.

The album relentlessly toys with typical dance music meter, creating complex organic structures that activate forgotten muscles in those exposed at sufficient volume, puppeteering the obedient dancer into new patterns of movement. Tenace is the prime example, where wormhole rhythms pull you in with the gravity of an unknown planet.

The album within it's singular feeling for electro-naturalism is rich in humanity and personality, aided throughout by the diverse terrain of Zoë's voice - a tool she uses for full spectrum expression, from whispers to screams. With the launch of SFX and a clutch of multimedia collaborations alongside, we are witnessing her evolve in all directions.

SFX is a new hybrid label from Zoë Mc Pherson and Alessandra Leone. After collaborating for three years on their multimedia String Figures project, the label will build on this foundation, continuing to develop and release objects and experiences across various mediums.

The labels first release will be Zoë Mc Pherson's sophomore LP
States of Fugue, released February 20th 2020.