Search:jennifer castle

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

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

In the early 21st century on the bustling streets of New York City, Jennifer Vanilla is a container, a portal, a joy delivery system, a self help regimen, a social mirror, a Times Square celebrity, a shark-toothed advertiser, a kicky talk show host and an ebullient mascot. Collaboratively crafted with co-writer/co-producer Brian Abelson , Jennifer Vanilla's debut full length Castle in the Sky is a deft and mercurial "jennifreaky" journey, traversing 90s dance music, no wave, post-punk, art pop, new age and experimental R&B. "Consider this an invitation, I'll be your guide," Vanilla beckons on the album's "Take Me For A Ride," which, like much of the album, is driven by their nimble and virtuosic vocal delivery. Variously steely, theatrical, sensuous and authoritative, Vanilla's vocals harken the sparkling precision of Ann Steel, the growling tenacity of Laurie Anderson and the wispy tenderness of Shelley Duvall in Faerie Tale Theatre. Jennifer Vanilla performances often are exercises in the transformation of reality through fantasy, testing the limits thereof, while the songs of Castle in the Sky are an artifact of that laboratory. Many of these songs took on numerous incarnations over the course of years before arriving at their album form, mutated in direct response to audience reaction. A year after the initial release of Castle in the Sky via Sinderlyn Records, a vinyl edition of the record arrives on December 1, 2023, featuring bonus remixes and reworks from Jerry Paper and musclecars.

“Are you ready to come into my world?” Dorothea Paas asks on Autumn Roses, the lead single from her latest album, Think of Mist, out this fall on Telephone Explosion Records. It’s an invitation extended with equal parts sincerity and slyness, delivered over a casually propulsive groove and layers of transcendent harmony. The only option is surrender.

Think of Mist is Paas’s sophomore album, following 2021’s Polaris-longlisted Anything Can’t Happen - “one of the most stirring and emotionally resonant break-up albums of recent years” (Uncut). Widely praised for its emotional resonance and lush sonic landscape, Anything showcased the talent that has made Paas a fixture of Toronto’s music scene for over a decade - both as the leader of her own band, and as a vocalist and guitarist for a constellation of groups including U.S. Girls, Jennifer Castle and Shabason & Krgovich.

For listeners of: Jessica Pratt, Fievel is Glaque, Cassandra Jenkins, Cindy Lee, The Roches, Labbi Siffre, Linda Perhacs, Stereolab, Dear Nora, Connie Converse, Julie Byrne.

“Are you ready to come into my world?” Dorothea Paas asks on Autumn Roses, the lead single from her latest album, Think of Mist, out this fall on Telephone Explosion Records. It’s an invitation extended with equal parts sincerity and slyness, delivered over a casually propulsive groove and layers of transcendent harmony. The only option is surrender.

Think of Mist is Paas’s sophomore album, following 2021’s Polaris-longlisted Anything Can’t Happen - “one of the most stirring and emotionally resonant break-up albums of recent years” (Uncut). Widely praised for its emotional resonance and lush sonic landscape, Anything showcased the talent that has made Paas a fixture of Toronto’s music scene for over a decade - both as the leader of her own band, and as a vocalist and guitarist for a constellation of groups including U.S. Girls, Jennifer Castle and Shabason & Krgovich.

For listeners of: Jessica Pratt, Fievel is Glaque, Cassandra Jenkins, Cindy Lee, The Roches, Labbi Siffre, Linda Perhacs, Stereolab, Dear Nora, Connie Converse, Julie Byrne.

Die größten internationalen Hits der 80er, 90er und 2000er Jahre in einer exklusiven Doppel-Vinyl-Kollektion! Entdecken Sie die wichtigsten Künstler, die ihre Jahrzehnte geprägt haben!

New York City"s Jennifer Vanilla, aka Jennifer Vanilla and Brian Abelson, offered a portal into a colourful world of innovative electronic sound with their 2022 debut album "Castle In The Sky", traversing new wave, post-punk, art pop, and experimental R&B. Now Love Injection, the multi-faceted brainchild of Barbie Bertisch and Paul Raffaele comprising a print magazine, radio show, record label, and production duo breathe new life into one of the album"s standout tracks "Jennifer Pastoral" on home turf, in the form of a 12" single alongside two ethereal mixes featuring maestros Dave Darlington on mixing duties and Francois Kevorkian as mastering engineer.

Anything Can’t Happen is the long-awaited debut album from Dorothea Paas, one of Canada’s most beloved singer-songwriters. For over a decade, Paas has played her unique, prismatic style of folk songcraft for audiences across North America, and lent her talents as a guitarist and vocalist to artists like Jennifer Castle, U.S. Girls and Badge Epoque Ensemble. The songs on this album have been through a near-infinite number of forms – Paas has played them solo and with a full band, electric and acoustic, at house shows and in sold-out venues. they manage to fit inside each context, like water taking the shape of its container.

All of this makes Anything Can’t Happen feel far more mature and complex than a debut album. It’s a statement of purpose, a next step in a decade-long process of artistic growth and evolution, and a bridge between the DIY style of Paas’s previous cassette releases and a more refined studio sensibility. Recorded in studios in Hamilton and Toronto, and mixed by Max Turnbull of Badge Epoque and U.S. Girls and Steve Chahley, these songs bring a diverse range of musical influences into conversation: inflected with the layered reverberations of Grouper, shot through with the piercing harmonies of the Roches, electrified with the searing energy of Sonic Youth. You can hear Neil Young in the grittiness of the title track’s guitar; Joni Mitchell’s Hejira in the album’s lyrics, Fairport Convention in Paas’s voice. The influence of Stevie Wonder - one of Paas’s greatest musical role models - is present too, in the album’s conceptual foundations.

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”.

JOHN BARERA (2MR/ALLERGY SEASON/DOLLY/SORRY RECORDS) is a DJ, Producer & Label owner based in NYC. His sound is rooted in techno and house’s most classic iterations: sturdy, barreling grooves, shimmering pads, deep liquid dubs and the occasional acid burn. BRIAN ABELSON is the producer of JENNIFER VANILLA’s “CASTLE IN THE SKY” album. Here they team up for 6 mesmerizing tracks of funky disco-tech on the latest 12" from the YOU TOO CAN WOO crew. Intricate rhythms, hypnotic synth arpeggios, lush ambience & seriously funky basslines make "THE ARC" a fantastic showcase of this duo's talent and versatility.

With Echo’s Reach Isla Craig presents a sophisticated set of compositions that perfectly wrap her Highland influenced melodies in an organic blanket of musical peat formed from a mix of jazz, R&B and psychedelic folk. Leading a band of Toronto’s finest including Ted Crosby (sax) Mike Smith (bass) and Evan Cartwright (drums), Isla showcases her affecting vocal presence that has made her an in-demand collaborator with artists such as Jennifer Castle and The Cosmic Range. An autumnal record influenced by the power of nature often found steps away from city streets, a diary of days spent within the valleys of Toronto, the moors of Scotland and the Irish countryside, Echo’s Reach is a tribute to the infinite and the resilence of those who forever seek to understand its meaning. Genre: Alternative / Folk / Singer-songwriter Listen: https://s.disco.ac/honhrdcdqjal Track list: 1. Song For Boots 2. Moon 3. Spider Owl 4. Spirit 5. Psyche (Valley, Girl) 6. I Went Looking 7. Weather 8. Young Woman 9. Psyche (Valley, Girl) reprise

Das Londoner Duo Jockstrap (Georgia Ellery und Taylor Skye) wird sein lange erwartetes Debütalbum "I Love You Jennifer B" am 9. September via Rough Trade Records veröffentlichen. Jockstrap haben die bevorstehende Veröffentlichung bereits mit ihren Singles "50/50" und "Concrete Over Water" angedeutet. Beide wurden von BBC Radio 6 Music auf Rotation genommen und von der nationalen und internationalen Presse hoch gelobt. Das kosmische Begleitvideo zu "Concrete Over Water" wurde bei einer exklusiven Vorführung im The Castle Cinema, Hackney, uraufgeführt, gefolgt von einer weiteren von Jockstraps kultigen Partys im The Glove That Fits. Georgia Ellery und Taylor Skye von Jockstrap kommentierten die Albumveröffentlichung wie folgt: "I Love You Jennifer B ist eine Sammlung von Jockstrap-Tracks, die seit 3 Jahren in der Mache sind. Alles darauf klingt ziemlich einzigartig, also hoffen wir, dass für jeden ein Track dabei ist; also etwas, das dich anspricht und sagt "Ich bin ein Banger"." Skye fügte über "Glasgow" (ihre neue Single) hinzu: ""Glasgow" ist unser coming of age, moving forward, long-distance, travelling, beautiful bosk, wonderful thicket song." Und Ellery sagte über das Thema des Songs: "Glasgow ist eine tolle Stadt, vielleicht meine Lieblingsstadt in Großbritannien! Der einzige Nachteil ist, dass es die ganze Zeit so verdammt kalt ist." Wenn Georgia Ellery und Taylor Skye als Jockstrap Musik machen, gibt es für den Prozess und das Ergebnis nur eine Definition: pure moderne Pop-Alchemie. Mit ihrem Debütalbum"I Love You Jennifer B" werden sich Jockstrap als eine der vitalsten jungen Gruppen etablieren, die seit Jahren aus Londons Schmelztiegel der Musikkulturen hervorgegangen sind.

Das Londoner Duo Jockstrap (Georgia Ellery und Taylor Skye) wird sein lange erwartetes Debütalbum "I Love You Jennifer B" am 9. September via Rough Trade Records veröffentlichen. Jockstrap haben die bevorstehende Veröffentlichung bereits mit ihren Singles "50/50" und "Concrete Over Water" angedeutet. Beide wurden von BBC Radio 6 Music auf Rotation genommen und von der nationalen und internationalen Presse hoch gelobt. Das kosmische Begleitvideo zu "Concrete Over Water" wurde bei einer exklusiven Vorführung im The Castle Cinema, Hackney, uraufgeführt, gefolgt von einer weiteren von Jockstraps kultigen Partys im The Glove That Fits. Georgia Ellery und Taylor Skye von Jockstrap kommentierten die Albumveröffentlichung wie folgt: "I Love You Jennifer B ist eine Sammlung von Jockstrap-Tracks, die seit 3 Jahren in der Mache sind. Alles darauf klingt ziemlich einzigartig, also hoffen wir, dass für jeden ein Track dabei ist; also etwas, das dich anspricht und sagt "Ich bin ein Banger"." Skye fügte über "Glasgow" (ihre neue Single) hinzu: ""Glasgow" ist unser coming of age, moving forward, long-distance, travelling, beautiful bosk, wonderful thicket song." Und Ellery sagte über das Thema des Songs: "Glasgow ist eine tolle Stadt, vielleicht meine Lieblingsstadt in Großbritannien! Der einzige Nachteil ist, dass es die ganze Zeit so verdammt kalt ist." Wenn Georgia Ellery und Taylor Skye als Jockstrap Musik machen, gibt es für den Prozess und das Ergebnis nur eine Definition: pure moderne Pop-Alchemie. Mit ihrem Debütalbum"I Love You Jennifer B" werden sich Jockstrap als eine der vitalsten jungen Gruppen etablieren, die seit Jahren aus Londons Schmelztiegel der Musikkulturen hervorgegangen sind.

A few years back I had this dream: I was walking through vast grasslands
towards a solitary hill
On top of the hill was a movie house. On the marquee: History of Jazz.I kept
thinking about it. What was in the movie house? What happened before? What
followed? Why was I going there? Why "History of Jazz"? To reach some kind of
insight, I began a film script, extending the dream tenfold. The script morphed
into a novella-sized book, a series of songs, and finally, a "mind-movie" podcast,
forming this labyrinthine, multi- medium story – equal parts dream, film and
waking life. Figuring out how to transcend the traditional parameters of the album
to create a more panoramic story- vision is something I've been unconsciously
trying to do for some time. I've been pushing against the edges – toying with
narrative, characters and visuals with Easterween and Niagara, a weird children's
book Daydreams for Night – but the scope of life behind Rialto felt too
irrepressible and expansive to be boxed in an album. The book and podcast have
kicked open the doors – allowing the album to lead or serve where it should.In
Rialto's extended narrative, Klaus (loner, insomniac) is working a stint as a driver
for a small town writer's festival. Following a series of unsettling paranormal
events, he finds himself agreeing to a strange request - to deliver a film reel in
time for its premiere at a secluded movie house - the Rialto. The journey leads
him through a circuit of strangely located, oracular movie houses, screening a mix
of dreams, fantasies, memories and prophecies - numinous films of personal
revelation. Inhabiting the movie houses are underworld characters and spirits
with ambiguous motivations, some helping and some hindering Klaus's quest. It's
a Dantesque, deep cleanse pilgrimage to untangle bitterness and trauma,
rediscover a lost clairvoyance, ancestry, and ultimately, the medicinal source of
eternal youth. A metaphysical noir. A hyperstition.Rialto's album stars seven
singer-artists playing characters alongside mine: Tamara Lindeman (The Weather
Station), Daniel Knox, Thom Gill (Owen Pallet, Beverly Glenn- Copeland), Ryan
Driver (Jennifer Castle), Felicity Williams (Bahamas), Robin Dann (Bernice) and
Martin Tielli (Rheostatics). All Toronto- based like me except Daniel (Chicago).
Performed by the Venuti String Quartet with arrangements by Andrew Downing.
Produced by Jean Martin (Tanya Tagaq). It's my 13th album and fourth on Tin
Angel - previous releases on Tin Angel: Miracle In The Night (2019), Small Town
Water Tower (2016), and Niagara (2014). Each of Rialto's eight podcast episodes
features a chapter from the book performed by a cast of twenty five - made up
almost entirely of musicians – including the speaking voices of the
aforementioned singers, as well as Meg Remy (U.S. Girls), Claudia Dey, Veda Hille,
Devon Sproule, Luka Kuplowsky and others. Rialto is available as a 101-page eBook (illustrations by David Ouimet) on Sud de Valeur Press. Premiere
performances begin fourth quarter 2021. Happy Rialto listening, reading,
watching, dreaming...

“I want total freedom, total possibility, total acceptance. I want to fall in love with the rock.” That’s how Lillie West describes the theme of “DIVER,” the song she calls the thesis of Lala Lala’s third record, I Want The Door To Open. The rock in question is a reference to Sisyphus, the mythical figure doomed by the gods to forever push a boulder up from the depths of hell. To West, it is the perfect metaphor for, in her words, “the labor of living, of figuring out who you are, what's wrong with you, what's right with you.”

Coming off of 2018’s acclaimed The Lamb, an introspective indie rock album recorded live with a three-piece band, West knew she was ready to make something sonically bigger and thematically more outward-looking than anything she’d done before; a record that would be less a straightforward documentation of her own personal struggles and more like a poem or a puzzle box, with sonic and lyrical clues that would allow the listener to, as the title says, open the door to the greater meaning of those struggles.

The result is I Want The Door To Open, a bold exploration of persona and presence from an artist questioning how to be herself fully in a world where the self is in constant negotiation. From the moment West declares “I want to look right into the camera” over a cascade of dreamy vocal loops on opening track “Lava,” I Want The Door To Open distinguishes itself from anything she’s done before in scope and intensity. The ultra-magnified iteration of Lala Lala is fully encapsulated in the monumental “DIVER.” Inspired by a character from a Jennifer Egan novel, it’s a pop song of Kate Bush-esque proportions replete with layered synths and booming, wide open drumming by fellow Chicago musician Nnamdi Ogbonnaya, and West pushing her vocals to the ragged edge. I Want The Door To Open is a musical quest undertaken with the knowledge that the titular door may never open; but it is through falling in love with the quest itself that one may find the closest thing to total freedom, total possibility, and total acceptance available to us on this plane of existence.

“I want total freedom, total possibility, total acceptance. I want to fall in love with the rock.” That’s how Lillie West describes the theme of “DIVER,” the song she calls the thesis of Lala Lala’s third record, I Want The Door To Open. The rock in question is a reference to Sisyphus, the mythical figure doomed by the gods to forever push a boulder up from the depths of hell. To West, it is the perfect metaphor for, in her words, “the labor of living, of figuring out who you are, what's wrong with you, what's right with you.”

Coming off of 2018’s acclaimed The Lamb, an introspective indie rock album recorded live with a three-piece band, West knew she was ready to make something sonically bigger and thematically more outward-looking than anything she’d done before; a record that would be less a straightforward documentation of her own personal struggles and more like a poem or a puzzle box, with sonic and lyrical clues that would allow the listener to, as the title says, open the door to the greater meaning of those struggles.

The result is I Want The Door To Open, a bold exploration of persona and presence from an artist questioning how to be herself fully in a world where the self is in constant negotiation. From the moment West declares “I want to look right into the camera” over a cascade of dreamy vocal loops on opening track “Lava,” I Want The Door To Open distinguishes itself from anything she’s done before in scope and intensity. The ultra-magnified iteration of Lala Lala is fully encapsulated in the monumental “DIVER.” Inspired by a character from a Jennifer Egan novel, it’s a pop song of Kate Bush-esque proportions replete with layered synths and booming, wide open drumming by fellow Chicago musician Nnamdi Ogbonnaya, and West pushing her vocals to the ragged edge. I Want The Door To Open is a musical quest undertaken with the knowledge that the titular door may never open; but it is through falling in love with the quest itself that one may find the closest thing to total freedom, total possibility, and total acceptance available to us on this plane of existence.

An exploratory record that dances across time and genre, guided by fidgety miniatures and jazz inflected collage. Throughout, the band pool together their instrumental chops, moving from fluid and serpentine R&B to meditative, minimalistic piano, evoking a contrast of virtuosity and self-surrender.

While constructed from the inspiration of soul, funk and film music, BÉE mediate those influences having first digested them through the productions of Madlib & the RZA.
A sticker on the sleeve tells us Self Help “combines jazz-funk and mysticism,” a signpost to where its musical and spiritual concerns align. The jazz-funk component translates to arresting hooks in sideways song forms: echoes of Gainsbourg spooled through Azymuth-style Brazilian jazz and punctuated by the whip and snap of Steely Dan. “The Sound Where My Head Was,” the instrumental centrepiece, exemplifies present-wave jazz but also ancient sounds, giving off the mothballed air of a Hiroshi Yoshimura record in a library-music archive.

Self Help’s mysticism emerges in broad and specific ways, denoting not only a search beyond cliché and intellect but also an inquiry into the beat, the spirit, the one will. This isn’t new territory for them: Turnbull—the artist formerly known as Slim Twig, who writes and performs with U.S. Girls and various other Toronto concerns—named the group’s Nature, Man & Woman EP after the Alan Watts book. Building these songs from his drafts over three weekends at Toronto’s Palace Sound studio, the ensemble was free to tap out of the city and into some other place, taking up residence in a collective mind maze. The album produces, in equal measure, familiar surprises and the surprisingly familiar. Intoxicated jazz riffs swerve left at phantom intersections. Rhythms cut loose and tie you in knots. But wired in to each song is a sense of gentle accumulation, making every featherlight flourish weigh a ton. U.S. Girls’ Meg Remy brings serenity to “Sing a Silent Gospel,” and wears its antic melodies lightly. The soul shimmer of “Unity (It’s Up to You)” lets the players pool their R&B chops into something fluid and serpentine while, on guest vocals, the musical performance artist James Baley issues urgent declaratives: “Water must pool, as a rule, before tasted/Or else the water is wasted.” The words throughout the record complement the ensemble music while riffing on the precarious nature of unity itself. Then, closer “Extinct Commune” finds Turnbull deserted at the piano, playing phrases of meditative minimalism taking after the composer Joanna Brouk.

For all the record’s reach, it is these contrasting quiet moments that bring Self Help’s communal spirit into focus. A note on personnel: Badge Époque Ensemble now has a seventh member in Karen Ng, the saxophonist and sometime collaborator of Do Make Say Think, Feist, and others. In BÉE, Ng joins Chris Bezant and Giosuè Rosati, her bandmates in the Andy Shauf live band, as well as U.S. Girls co-conspirators Turnbull and Ed Squires, and other Torontonian cross-pollinators listed below. Guest vocalists across Self Help include Meg Remy, who sings with Dorothea Paas on the opener, James Baley, and Toronto singer-songwriter Jennifer Castle on the remarkable “Just Space for Light.” Words by: Jazz Monroe

Der dramatische Thriller der beiden Safdie-Brüder ist eine hypnotische Odyssee durch die New Yorker Unterwelt, in der der Protagonist verzweifelt versucht, seinen Bruder aus dem Gefängnis zu holen. Die Hauptrollen spielen Robert Pattinson (in seiner bislang besten Performance) und Jennifer Jason Leigh. Musik und Bilder gehen dabei eine Symbiose von unglaublicher Tiefe ein, wenn banale Events zu Dramen und Montagen zu Miniopern werden. Oneohtrix Point Never gelingt mit dem Soundtrack ein ausgesprochenes Hörerlebnis, das seinen exzellenten Studioalben in nichts nachsteht, und mit "The Pure And The Damned" featuring Iggy Pop einen markanten Schlüsseltrack enthält.