Поиск:nine lives the cat

REPRESS

New Delhi-based Peter Cat Recording Co. will release their debut album, ‘Bismillah’ on June 14, 2019 via French independent label Panache Records. Debut UK live shows are soon also to be announced by the band.


Peter Cat Recording Co. could almost have a question mark on the end of its name. Not least as founder & frontman Suryakant Sawhney refuses to explain where that name really comes from or what it means (perhaps a reference to the Tokyo jazz club owned by Haruki Murakami), but also since the very existence of the band itself raises a raft of questions. When was the last time we fell for an indie rock band for the right reasons? Not because the band in question nostalgically imitate a perceived ‘golden age’ but because they innately embody the fundamentals of such music: fantasy, sincerity and the freedom to make music without rules or career aspi- rations. And when was the last time this kind of band sounded like Sinatra, Barry White, the sweetest doo-wop, humid fanfares and a psychedelic wedding band, all at once? And all of this coming from India?
In truth, the story of Peter Cat Recording Co. was written within the triangle of San Francisco, Delhi and Paris.
In the first of these cities, Sawhney (a native of Delhi) pitched up to study film-making. More distracted by the city’s peaking live scene of the early noughties, this is where he started to make music and to sketch out an idea for the band.“
The people I lived with supported my idea of writing music, they introduced me to great mu-
sic. There used to be a great garage scene in San Francisco, like The Oh Sees also Ty Seagall, Mikal Conin, all those bands. This is a world I had never seen in my entire life. A big inspiration from San Francisco was that you could record yourself. You don’t need to be in a studio and spend a lot of money to make an album. You can do it”.


At the end of the 2000s, Suryakant returned home to New Delhi, and started his band for real, more or less the same band that plays today. “I wasn’t so concerned about will we be performing, will we be the greatest band, will we be trendy. I just wanted to make something that was consequential and important for us, I think. Something which would last, something people could listen to and be like « this is life changing ». It was for the sake of beauty”.


For the first few years and in India alone, this is exactly what Peter Cat Recording Co. did, in total indifference to the rest of the world. This was until young Parisian label Panache stumbled across the band online via Vice’s THUMP subsidiary, stupefied by the band’s cosmic video for seven-minutes-and-counting track, ‘Love De- mons’. And so in spring of 2018, ‘Portrait Of A Time: 2010-2016’ was released on Panache - making the first international release from Peter Cat Recording Co., bizarrely enough, an anthology of re-mastered, hidden gems from the band’s ramshackle back catalogue, previously recorded in Suryakant’s own living room. With Peter Cat’s off-kilter charm hitherto unheard of beyond the fringes of India, the release provided a gateway op-
Whilst the title track found its way onto Tracks Of The Year lists at the Guardian & NME, it was tricky for new PCRC enthusiasts to get a firm grip on the startling push/pull between the immediate, uncanny music this release gathered, and the cultural backdrop of New Delhi at which it was so startlingly at odds.


Opportunity for a wider fanbase to fall in love with their cloud-like, drunken songs for the first time.
If discovering your favourite new band via a ‘Best Of’ feels a curious premise, then ‘Bismillah’ does more than hint towards the promise of Peter Cat Recording Co’s future. Blending gypsy jazz, psychedelic cabaret, space disco, bossa supernova, Bollywood and uneasy listening with kaleidoscopic ease, in many senses, the band’s knack hasn’t altered. Always different, paradoxical, unpredictable yet somehow familiar. The new album opens to the strains of bird chatter, the whisper of a city’s soundscape and the first few notes from an instrument which seem to be calling us to the departure lounge, a fore-shadow of the flight ‘Bismillah’ launches its listener
on. Suryakant sings with the detached, rueful elegance of Sinatra marooned on a desert island, whilst his band create small space-time capsules which navigate their way through genres and eras – including the future – and between nostalgia and eccentricity.


Peter Cat recently trailed ‘Bismillah’ with the release of ‘Floated By’, an appositely titled musing on failure & missed opportunities, punctuated by the fulsome brass section which weaves through so much of the album.


The languid, blue quality to the track is offset by the attendant music video, created with footage shot, implau- sibly enough, at Suryakant’s own marriage ceremony (needless to say, the wedding band hired for the day was of course, Peter Cat Recording Co.) Sawhney dryly notes; “Hopefully it’s not a many-a-times-in-a-lifetime event. You can’t fake that set, those people actually having a good time, being really emotional and intense.” ‘Bismillah’’s colour-drenched album cover also captures Suryakant’s father-in-law making his wedding toast on that same day - a nod back towards the cover of ‘Portrait Of A Time’, itself a black & white image taken at the wedding ceremony of Suryakant’s own father.


A stumbling but gracious collection of songs rooted in a kind of drunken soul music, the melancholy nature of some of the songs on ‘Bismillah’ renders them almost liquid, before they develop into more dance-like shapes. Suryakant’s rangy voice swoops from the falsetto glide of ‘I’m This’ to the beat-up baritone blown along by the warm breeze of ‘Soulless Friends’. The elliptical structure of album opener ‘Where The Money Flows’ also al-
lows for the use of brief bursts of autotune effect on his vocal without feeling incongruous, whilst the desultory lyrics of ‘Heera’ (a Hindi word for diamond) - sharing something with the Morricone school of grand storytelling - have an emotional weight that would impress even coming from a native English speaker. Perhaps the most gleefully unpredictable moment on ‘Bismillah’ comes with the illusory, vocal loops on the intro to ‘Memory Box’, errupting into 8 exhilarating minutes worth of unbridled, string-backed disco joy. A cat might have nine lives, but on ‘Bismillah’ and beyond, Peter Cat Recording Co. are hinting towards an un- knowable multitude of dimensions. Throw them all together, and it equates less to a listening experience and more to an out-of-body experience.


Peter Cat Recording Co. are: Suryakant Sawhney (vocals/guitar/organ), Dhruv Bhola (bass), Kartik S Pillai (organ/guitar/electronics), Rohit Gupta (horns), Karan Singh (drums)

Superb contributions from leading Irish and international composers, musicians and singers including Agu, Linda Buckley, Cathal Coughlan, Adrian Crowley, Neil Farrell, Eileen Gogan, Tony Higgins, Carol Keogh, Michelle O"Rourke, Wally Nkikita, Brigid Mae Power, Michael J Sheehy, Mike Smalle and Jah Wobble. The first in a series of major releases from Bring Your Own Hammer, the album offers a collection of songs about the sea, sea journeys and migration to and from Ireland in the nineteenth century. You are invited to journey with us as we criss-cross the Atlantic world following the remaining threads of lives shaped, in one way or another, by the sea.

Daga Voladora's last album came out in 2016. To alleviate such a long wait, only a couple of celebrated singles. Now, finally, Cristina Plaza (identity gracefully hidden under the Daga Voladora name that was before Gran Aparato Eléctrico and also a quarter of Los Eterno and half of Clovis) releases an album and does it, for the first time, in vinyl format. "Los manantiales" is the title of the happy and long-awaited return of an artist that never completely left.

"Los manantiales" ("The Springs") refers to all those sources from which I drink to make my songs: Stereolab, Broadcast, Galaxie 500, Cate Le Bon... And also some of the flamenco language. Flamenco in my own way, of course," explains Plaza. "Los manantiales" will also bring echoes of acts that the artist has not practiced as much such as Esclarecidos, Vainica Doble, Ana D or Kikí d'Akí. Deep voices for songs with substance.

But there is also that other idea of the spring that gushes forth when it can no longer be contained. "It has taken me so many years to make this album because I had a prejudice related to the previous one "Primer segundo" in which there was a coherence. Not finding that concept or thinking that this or that wasn't Daga Voladora, I couldn't get into it. Until I decided that maybe I didn't have to impose such a rigid direction on myself..."

Sketched in a town bordering Ávila where Plaza decided to get lost in the summer of 2022 and then finished off in a basement in Madrid for several months, the nine songs of "Los manantiales" make up a short album, premeditatedly short ("I don't like the songs to be longer than 2:50") but, above all, varied. Because, as can be sensed in the song Quise ser ( "I wanted to be a fictional hero, an expressionist painter, a promising actress"), here are all the imagined Cristinas and their different lives ("The song Lejos de la multitud is that longing of mine to be a vagabond"), an unmistakable sign that, as the artist confesses, "I am my own spring". And all this joyful dispersion comes from the premise with which Plaza approached the album: "I said to myself: 'Let's play'. I set out to have a good time. Suddenly, I wanted to do a dub track and I came up with Fosforito or a rock song like Lou Reed in the 80s and there was 'Me vi penando'. I wanted a rock record, an experimental record, something like Broadcast, and a musical! I wanted to do a thousand things!"

The result is a playful album, very enjoyable; but above all elegant and extremely precise. In both form and substance. Thus, the melodies are so rounded at first listen; the music would work perfectly on its own, stripped of lyrics that respond to the maxim, so often ignored, that there is really only one way to say things. "I have tried to refine the texts a lot. There are some phrases taken from Steinbeck, other things that emerge in a somewhat magical way. There's also Gary Snyder, Kerouac and his Dharma Bums, echoes of California..."

It's an album made, as usual with her, in the most absolute solitude (except for the collaboration of Andrés Arregui on sax and the final mix by Fino Oyonarte). Bareback. "I recorded everything with my computer, with my instruments, my analog keyboards, my rhythm boxes, little noises I make around... I don't make demos. I just do it. In a rough way. What I do do is repeat. The good thing about this method is that many things happen spontaneously and that's where they stay".

An album that, for all of the above, responds to the best notion of caprice. A whimsical whim, signed and finished off by the splendid cover designed by Beatriz Lobo, which feartures a painting ('La chica del King Creole') by the legendary artist Javier de Juan.

In "Los manantiales" there are many possible worlds, as many dreamed ones. Of course, those of Daga Voladora (not in vain, the album opens with a song titled Cristinópolis), but also those of any curious and sensitive listener who, by the way, will find more than one musical wink along the way. You just have to be attentive.

The fresh-faced folk pop band Stornoway seem promising: They play with guileless vigor, have a light-stepping chemistry as a unit, harmonize well. Their lead singer Brian Briggs has a lovely, pure high tenor, the kind of voice that effortlessly conveys simple longing. And yet, on their second album, Tales from Terra Firma, they continue to be almost crushingly dull, making well-appointed and cheerfully empty music that successfully communicates next to nothing.

Their Achilles Heel is a simple and unfortunate one, the same on Tales as it was on 2010's Beachcombers Windowsill. Stornoway are clearly in love with Celtic and British folk, and yet they can't write a memorable melody to save their lives. Try to sing along to the verse melody of "Zorbing", their most well-known tune, and pay attention to what your face muscles are doing; most likely furrowing with the effort of recall. Each of Tales' painstakingly arranged nine songs sinks underneath the weight of this insurmountable problem, which is a shame.

If you're making folk-pop, an inability to write a catchy melody is a difficult deficiency to overcome. Stornoway try valiantly with their complex arrangements, which quickly grow exhausting. “You Take Me as I Am” is cluttered with horn charts and pointlessly banging piano. “(A Belated) Invite to Eternity” builds to a full Explosions in the Sky crescendo, with glimmering tremolo guitar and a “Tonight, Tonight”-style sweeping string section, but having built zero momentum and generated zero heat until that point, their planned fireworks display fizzles.

“Farewell Appalachia” follows the same pattern, with celesta, finger-picked acoustic and electric guitar all tracing an emptily pretty circle with nothing in the center. The melody of "The Great Procrastinator" is almost cleanly written enough to be memorable-- and then the ersatz Dixieland jazz interlude crashes in. Stornoway are deft players, and the transitions are tightly managed, but this is praise on the same order as praising the brushwork in a hotel-room painting.

Briggs’ lyrics are filled with uncomplicated images of the good old British countryside, but his lyrics trample over all these dew-covered fields with wordy, awkward phrasing: "And in the gathering dew, I was lucid as a floodlight,” goes a line from “(A Belated) Invitation to Eternity”. “There's a hunger in the air/ A lemon swollen in the trees" he bleats on “Knock Me on the Head”. On “The Great Procrastinator”, he sings that he is “a scientist with far too many metaphors and far too little data to conclude in time.” They don’t read particularly well, and they don’t sound much more natural when sung.

Tales From Terra Firma is a peculiar record-- carefree music that feels leaden; tuneful-sounding songs that offer no tunes to hold onto. They seem an odd fit for 4AD, a label mostly home to singular voices. They may be a mercenary signing, an attempt to ride the coattails of Mumford and Sons' success. But Mumford and Sons, as head-smack simple and pandering as they are, have a pretty crucial ingredient in their arsenal: they write anthems. In that regard, they have Stornoway pretty thoroughly beat.

It’s a family affair. One formed almost thirty years ago, back in the mid-nineties, when the pair joined seminal French jazz combo Olympic Grammofon. For twenty-four years they have worked together as Bumcello, each complementing the other, echoing polar opposites. The Boom in Bumcello is none other than Cyril Atef, incisive drummer, relentlessly pushing beats towards new horizons. The Cello is Vincent Ségal, cellist without blinkers and extraordinary musical alchemist. Since 1999, these two die-hard music fans, coming together for mercurial results, have released one record after the other whilst conquering the hearts of their live audiences, old regulars as well as new recruits. We have all been seduced by the way their music leapfrogs categories - these two experts are much more interested in kindred spirits than pigeonholing, and this very spirit is celebrated on more than one track of this ninth record, whose concept is original to say the least.

Everything began with an idea by Cyril Atef - a soundtrack based upon drawings penned by Marin, Vincent’s son, architect and visual artist. The musicians involved then coached their reaction to these images on a score, and the pair were charged with collating and adjusting the results. These thirteen ink drawings, in a heroic fantasy vein, constituted a matrix which was then to serve as a guide, like a roadmap through a singular and multi-faceted labyrinth. The key to this sonic fresco is in Bumcello’s image – an eclectic aesthetic twinned with a great sense of contrast. Herein lies the trademark of this entity animated by the gift of musical ubiquity, gorged on scales and rhythms, capable of a slap as much as a gentle caress. From classical music to electronics, from improvised music to sophisti-pop, everything is allowed with no preconceived ideas. They can even reclaim the traditions of others, all the better to propel them towards new horizons - this is how the very history of music has always panned out.

If you listen between the lines and look at the details, more than one piece bears witness to the moments and individuals that have impacted the criss-crossing lives of Vincent and Cyril. The track Crash is the perfect excuse to create a Jamaican-style jam with New York inflections, and we can see, in capital letters, the name Hilaire Penda, playing alongside Bumcello at the Apollo Theater in the associated drawing. This bass player from Cameroon, who died on 5th November 2018, was more than just a friend for the two Frenchmen. He was one of the family. Similarly, they give a nod to another Cameroonian, and another departed friend - singer of rock band les Têtes brûlées, Zanzibar, through the vocals of fellow countryman Zanzi. The ghost of Rémi Kolpa Kopul, emblematic voice of Radio Nova, haunts the margins of Spark Av, in a vocal sample with a smattering of effects. As for I Remember Tim, it directly honours the memory of Timothy Jerome Parker, aka The Gift Of Gab, another friend who left us in 2021. Tim is depicted in a drawing with the docks of Oakland in the background, and it’s his alter ego within Blackalicious, Chief Xcel, who remotely added his signature to the track, notably by adding the words of Lateef The Truthspeaker to brass and woodwind sounds.

These are the only additions to Bumcello’s original nucleus, all the better to create a genuine musical concoction where Vincent Taurelle is in charge of production and mixing sessions recorded live and direct. He is also invited for a twinkle on the keys (piano, synths, Wurlitzer, organ), on a handful of tracks. Already at the commands of previous opus Monster Talk, always taking care over the slightest detail, the one that makes all the difference, this pianist is now also part of the family. “Everything he brings is perfect, whether added though slight touches or through very important choices”, say the two members of a combo which today, appears to us under the guise of a trio, adding an extra dimension to a far-reaching mix, in the image of the veiled or more explicit tributes making up the cornerstones of this release.

Booker, a drawing where we see the musicians enter a club, honours James Booker, great pianist from New Orleans who has always fascinated Vincent, in a genre that is off-beat and gender defying. Her Story was created by Cyril in support of the Iranian women’s movement. Aysyen Kampe evokes, even in the original drawing, a tradition that remains impactful for Bumcello – Haitian mysticism, and Ouï Khouïette Ouï conjures up the beats of the Allaoui, a war dance from Western Algeria, one they have taken part in in the past with the help of Cheikha Rabia. They deliver a metal version, original and surprising, especially as Marin Ségal’s drawing features the Nicholas Brothers, those iconic dancers of the 30s jazz scene!

Resolutely hard to pin down, Bumcello’s beats can initially take on the structure of disjointed house, though Sangre begins like a film soundtrack, “in a Mexican style” adds Vincent, who was at the origin of this track. A delicate alap on the cello can open up onto afrobeat rhythms, a well-pitched voice can enchant, like on the amazing The City Has Eyes which has everything of a hummable pop hit. Emblematic of this manner of encompassing all music without being exclusive, Le Grand Sommeil, a direct reference to the Howard Hawks movie inspired by Raymond Chandler, a precursor of David Lynch, begins nice and smooth but ends on a wild tempo, on a drum’n’bass tip, as in the good old days of Cithéa, when this Party story began in the other century.

Blonde on Blonde: A double album that transcends time, defies space, suspends reality, and looks through the human soul and tells the listener characteristics about themselves they didn't know. Professor Sean Wilentz, historian-in-residence for Bob Dylan's Web site, comes as close to summing up its brilliance in his superb Bob Dylan In America as any who've tried: "The songs are rich meditations on desire, frailty, promises, boredom, hurt, envy, connections, missed connections, paranoia, and transcendent beauty – in short, the lures and snare of love, stock themes of rock and pop music, but written with a powerful literary imagination and played out in a pop netherworld." No lie.

As part of its Bob Dylan catalogue restoration series, we are thoroughly humbled to have the privilege of mastering the iconic LP from the master tapes and pressing it on 45RPM LPs at RTI. We feel that the end result is the very finest, most transparent edition of Blonde on Blonde ever produced. Forever renowned for what the Bard deemed "that thin, that wild mercury sound," the album's famed aural character lives and breathes on this superb version, with wider and deeper grooves affording playback of previously buried information and lifelike presentation of the studio sessions.

Prized for a unique sound that cultural critic Greil Marcus tagged "the most glamorous record imaginable; listening you can see the chequered jester's suit Dylan had worn on stage for the nine previous, furious months," Blonde on Blonde is to music, production, prose, and performance as what hydrogen is to water. The secret to its inimitable aural character partially stems from Dylan's request in Nashville to producer Bob Johnston to remove the baffles from the studio room, allowing the musicians to interact as well as the music to assume a more organic quality that drifts from one microphone to another.

The story of Blonde on Blonde is almost as compelling as the music within. Dylan, frustrated with how initial attempts fared in New York, relocating to Tennessee and pairing with Nashville's top session players as well as members of what would become the Band, feverishly chasing perfectionism while also arriving at an on-the-fly feel that remains a reference point for recorded music. The Bard sweated over lyrics, demanded his band get the exact sounds he heard in his head, and limited most takes to a handful at most. A majority of songs were recorded long after midnight, the post-A.M. vibe reflected in the nocturnal aura, woozy optimism, inversion of intervals, and spiritual soulfulness of the playing.

Am 14. Juli starten Aerosmith eine umfassende Neuauflagen-Reihe ihres Katalogs erstmals über UNIVERSAL MUSIC. Diese umfasst die Jahre 1974-2012 in welchen die Alben ”Aerosmith”, ”Draw The Line”, ”Get Your Wings”, ”Honkin’ On Bobo”, ”Just Push Play”, ”Live! Bootleg”, ”Music From Another Dimension”, ”Nine Lives”, ”Toys In The Attic”, ”Rocks”, ”Night in the Ruts” und ”Rock In A Hard Place”, von den amerikanischen Rocklegenden veröffentlicht wurden.
Aerosmith ist die meistverkaufte amerikanische Hard-Rock-Band aller Zeiten und hat weltweit mehr als 150 Millionen Tonträger verkauft, davon mehr als 85 Millionen in den USA. Mit 25 Gold-, 18 Platin- und 12 Multi-Platin-Alben halten sie den Rekord für die meisten Auszeichnungen einer amerikanischen Band und sind die Band mit den meisten Multi-Platin-Alben einer amerikanischen Band. Sie haben 21 Top 40 Hits in den US Hot 100, neun Nummer 1 Mainstream Rock Hits, vier Grammy Awards, sechs American Music Awards und zehn MTV Video Music Awards gewonnen. Im Jahr 2001 wurden sie in die Rock and Roll Hall of Fame aufgenommen und belegten Platz 57 bzw. Platz 30 auf der Liste der 100 grössten Künstler aller Zeiten des Rolling Stone und von VH1. 2013 wurden Tyler und Perry in die Songwriters Hall of Fame aufgenommen und 2020 erhielten sie den MusiCares Person of the Year Award.

LP is black vinyl + LP3 insert for full album Download. Check out the first 18 or so seconds of “Can I Ride”, the title track on the first release by Polvo, the two-guitar juggernaut that represented the other side of Chapel Hill indie rock (more on that in a moment). That two-note riff, and the guitar twang that follows, recalls the opening notes on another monster song: “The Sprawl”, a key track on Sonic Youth's epochal Daydream Nation, an album released in October 1988, less than two years before Polvo formed. This compilation's nine tunes—the first seven from the Can I Ride double 7” EP (1990), the last two from the “Vibracobra” b/w “The Drill” 7” (1991) are not quite the sound of a torch being passed, but they were a sign that Sonic Youth's weird tunings, the hardcore punk and proto-indie rock on SST Records, and R.E.M.'s hazy rock (three big influences on this era of Polvo) were changing lives. Even back then, the impossibly catchy roar from Merge’s flagship act Superchunk was known to outsiders as the sound of Chapel Hill. But Polvo was something different from the same region. While the band never cottoned to the “math rock” tag (and it’s hard to disagree with them), there is no question that there was a distinct “how can we make guitar rock sound different from all the other guitar rock” vibe going on in the mid-Atlantic, from Richmond (math rock’s true home, don’t @ me) to the North Carolina Triangle over to Louisville and down almost to Atlanta. (If the Mastodon dudes aren’t down with Polvo, I’ll eat your shoe.) No, Polvo were their own brand of squall, not afraid of big hooks (“Leaf ”), odd tempos and textures (“Lull”) and rolling thunder (“Totemic”), and answers to the musical question, “What if the Feelies grew up on Dinosaur Jr.?” (“Tread on Me”). Indie rock? Not the 2022 kind. Math rock? Eh, not really. This was the sound of a new Southern rock, of a pre-internet guitar storm that looked at what came before and said, “What's next?” Track listing: Side A 1. Can I Ride 2. Leaf 3. Lull 4. Totemic 5. Tread on Me. Side B. 6. Teen Dream 7. Snake Fist Fighter 8. Vibracobra 9. The Drill

Freedom is both an integral and multi-layered topic for improvised music, describing its mechanics, aesthetics, and values and often an underlying political dimension as well. In the case of free jazz specifically, the word carries additional weight given the music's deep connection to the black liberation movement of the 1960's and 70's.

The passionate and unclassifiable work of Calgary-based improviser Jairus Sharif embraces each of these definitions of freedom and others, albeit strictly on its own personal and idiosyncratic terms. Since early 2020, the 34 year-old autodidact has been generating a steady stream of homespun solo recordings that forge unprecedented connections between hip-hop abstraction, cosmic skronk, outsider jazz, and staunch post-punk DIY ethos.

Leading up to the pandemic, Sharif's immersion in spiritual and exploratory jazz had culminated in him deciding to purchase an alto saxophone. Unbeknownst to him this instrument would be a catalyst for him to discover his own ardently individualistic artistic voice.

Prior to that point, he had always been somewhat of a solitary musical traveler. In 2002, he acquired his first instrument—a pair of Technics 1200s — but struggled to find local collaborators that had equal investment in hip hop culture. Ultimately, Sharif picked up the guitar, turning to the resilient local punk community, that had also nurtured both of his mothers some time earlier.

As Black Lives Matter gained momentum in the wake of George Floyd's murder, Sharif was suddenly flooded with an acute awareness of his own identity. It compelled him to zealously plunge headlong into open-ended spontaneous solo creation. Water & Tools, his strange and stirring debut for Toronto's Telephone Explosion Records (home to full-lengths from the likes of Brodie West's Eucalyptus, Mas Aya, and Joseph Shabason), offers a glimpse into this ongoing hermetic journey.

As Sharif dedicated himself to uncovering his own deeper musical truths, he assembled a home studio in his basement, cobbling together a drum kit from bits his bandmate had left at his house pre-pandemic, chaining effects together and outfitting the entire space with microphones. Somewhere between the chaos of child's treehouse and the tidy import of a shrine, this space (pictured on the album's back cover) consecrated his own imagination. He laid it out to maximize access to any and every tool in his arsenal, providing him a freedom to explore that he had never permitted himself to consummate before.

Within this cozy private universe, his recent purchase—the saxophone—assumed new meaning. It furnished a tangible connection to the black radicalism that mobilized free jazz, but also something far more personal. From a technical standpoint, the instrument was completely unfamiliar to him, yet rather than this being a hindrance to Sharif, his inexperience opened fruitful path forward, unencumbered by preconceptions. Resolving to shirk formal training, convention, and build his own understanding of it from scratch, allowed him to access his most raw, fundamental creative impulses. The Saxophone's inseverable bond with breath compounded this effect, echoing revelatory discoveries he had been making about breathing through yoga, research, and psychotherapy. Of course, the parallels with BLM's harrowing rallying cry—“I can't breathe”—were not lost on him either.

Water & Tools is a dense, contradictory statement with a blustery surface that shelters a soulful heart. It's generous music, exuding profound vulnerability—grappling with the loss of one his mothers, Lisa—all the while brimming with electric wide-eyed wonder. Almost every one of the nine pieces seems to carry some semblance of a groove, while remaining completely untethered from pulse. For Sharif, this collection is an expression of newfound lucidity, however for the listener his sonic concoctions act as powerful psychotropics. At points, there's a timelessness that's conveyed through the music's processional, ritualistic tenor, and yet there's an endless amount of wild, futuristic detail waiting to unspool at any given moment. Similarly, while this recording emerges from Sharif's private pilgrimage and personal emancipation, he also leaves room for collaboration. Woven throughout Sharif's one-man-ensemble textures, one finds Maxmilian Turnbull (of Badge Epoque, U.S. Girls, and Cosmic Range infamy) providing sundry keyboards and treatments, as well as his mixing skills.

Whether conjuring effusive psychedelia or plumbing introspective depths, the music that Jairus Sharif produces is singular, visceral, and wondrously unpredictable. Water & Tools sketches a raw, firsthand account of his nascent explorations within his own unbridled imagination.

Multi Natural is a new example of Christina’s organic chamber music. We enter nine composed chambers. Nine rooms to inhabit, constructed out of elements that are slowly fusing. The album is a string of semi constant metamorphosis. A gesture appears, is elaborated upon—or is halted and replaced by a new gesture. Multi Natural has multi focal points, quite dissimilar to Christina’s other works that tend to have a more linear path.

Within this album lives a composer who is not afraid to let the content take over. In this, obviously composed work, there is still a large space for all those sounds to act freely. It is almost like Christina is waiting for the music to compose itself. This technique speaks of respect and trust for the listener, since it gives thelistener freedom to personally connect the lines.

When you put the needle on this record, everything turns to stone. The music flows and nurtures. Sounds that come from various realities—molded into a mutual understanding. With each spin, new events catch the ears. Like looking at alandscape, perceiving new details close and far with every gaze.

When Christina warps both time and space for you, it comes to you as a gift.

A cat may have nine lives, but Peter Cat Recording Co. has a multitude of dimensions. Formed in New Delhi around 2010 by the crooner Suryakant Sawhney, it's a group that's mutated over time, shedding members and accruing more, always evolving musically with each album: from gypsy jazz to psychedelic cabaret; ballroom waltzes to epic space disco; bossa supernova to uneasy listening. What's more they play jajj, which you've almost certainly never heard of. 
'Gypsy jazz is the description we used around the time of our first album Cinema that we sound nothing like now,' says Sawhney, before adding: 'At the time I was really into Strauss.' 

Portrait of a Time 2010 - 2016 is the first taste many Europeans will have of this highly original, musically capricious and deeply inscrutable New Delhi four-piece. The compilation helps you get to know a band who are essentially unknowable, not that that will stop you from trying. Furthermore, in a capital city known for its mystery, madness and mayhem, Peter Cat Recording Co. is something of ananomaly there too. 

While Suryakant's crooning is spookily reminiscent of a hipster 50's Sinatra, it was more his intention to ape legendary Bollywood playback singers like Kishore Kumar, Mohammed Rafi and especially Hemant Kumar. There are diverse American influences in the mix too, including Sam Cooke, Etta James and even Tom Waits, and time spent in San Francisco studying film may have contributed to the cinematic melange. Thrown together it becomes something unique that equates less to a listening experience and more to an out-of-body experience. 

They were signed to new French record company Panache after label boss Alexandre Rabia was trawling through YouTube one day and happened upon their remarkable promo for 'Love Demons'. It's a mind-blowing eight minute epic featuring the desert, one camel, a movie theatre, swirly organs over coruscating beats, dancing girls, more police and a cavernous pit that then-bassist Rohan Kulshreshtha falls into. 

You can try to compartmentalize them all you want, but just when you think you've got them pegged, they will evolve and transmogrify and the description you have in your hand will slip through your fingers like sand. Who knows if Peter Cat Recording Co. has nine lives, but you can listen to a past life on Portrait of a Time, and a future incarnation - much of it recorded in Paris - will be available in the autumn. Just remember, unlike a cat, you'll never put them in a box. 

Music and Poetry of the Kesh is the documentation of an invented Pacific Coast peoples from a far distant time, and the soundtrack of famed science fiction author, Ursula K. Le Guin's Always Coming Home In the novel, the story of Stone Telling, a young woman of the Kesh, is woven within a larger anthropological folklore and fantasy. The ways of the Kesh were originally presented in 1985 as a five hundred plus page book accompanied with illustrations of instruments and tools, maps, a glossary of terms, recipes, poems, an alphabet (Le Guin's conlang, so she could write non-English lyrics), and with early editions, a cassette of field recordings' and indigenous song. Le Guin wanted to hear the people she'd imagined, she embarked on an elaborate process with her friend Todd Barton to invoke their spirit and tradition.

For Music and Poetry of the Kesh, the words and lyrics are attributed to Le Guin as composed by Barton, an Oregon-based musician, composer and Buchla synthesist (the two worked together previously on public radio projects). But the cassette notes credit the sounds and voices to the world of the Kesh, making origins ambiguous. For instance, The River Song' description reads, The prominent rhythm instrument is the doubure binga, a set of nine brass bowls struck with cloth-covered wooden mallets, here played by Ready.' According to writer and long-time friend of LeGuin, Moe Bowstern (who pens the liners for the Freedom To Spend edition of Kesh), Barton built and then taught himself to play several instruments of Le Guin's design, among them the seven-foot horn known to the Kesh as the Houmbúta and the Wéosai Medoud Teyahi bone flute.' Barton's crafting of original instruments lends an other-worldly texture to the recordings of the Kesh, not unlike fellow builders Bobby Brown and Lonnie Holley. Bowstern notes, Other musician / makers have crafted their own Kesh instruments after encountering the earlier cassette recordings that accompanied some editions of the book.' Both Barton and Le Guin are sensitive to the sovereignty of indigenous Californians and were careful not to trample the traditions of the Tolowa people who lived in the valley long before the Kesh. You research deeply, and then you bring your own voice to the table,' said Barton. Within the Kesh culture, the numbers four and five shape the lives, society and rituals. Barton composed loosely around these numbers, patiently listening to the land of Napa Valley for signs and audio signals from the natural elements. Todd incorporated ambient sounds of the creek by Le Guin's house and a campfire they built together. The songs of Kesh are joyful, soothing and meditative, while the instrumental works drift far past the imaginary lands. Heron Dance' is an uplifting first track, featuring a Wéosai Medoud Teyahi (made from a deer or lamb thigh bone with a cattail reed) and the great Houmbúta (used for theatre and ceremony). A Music of the Eighth House' sends gossamer waves of the faintest sounds to float on the wind.' Like the languages invented in the vocal work of Anna Homler, Meredith Monk, and Elizabeth Fraser, the Kesh songs and poems play with the shape of voice.

The Music and Poetry of the Kesh cassette was meant to accompany and enhance the experience of reading Always Coming Home. Presented in this edition as a long-playing album, where only traces of the book linger (the jacket offers some of Le Guin's illustration, and a letterpressed bookmark featuring the the narrative modes of western civilization and the Kesh valley is included), the music alone breaking the silence of what might be. It can transport—offering a landscape for imagining a future homecoming. One in which we are balanced, peaceful, and tend to the earth and its creatures. A line from the Sun Dance poem reminds us, We are nothing much without one another.' Freedom To Spend gives new life to the recordings of the Kesh people in the first ever vinyl edition of Music and Poetry of the Kesh, out on LP, and digital formats on March 23, 2018. The LP will include a deluxe spot printed jacket with illustrations from Always Coming Home, a facsimile of the original lyric sheet, liner notes by Moe Bowstern, multi-format digital download code and a limited edition bookmark letter pressed by Stumptown Printers in Portland, OR.

This past Monday, January 22, Ursula passed from this realm to another leaving a life spent building and exploring other worlds while challenging social concepts of the real word she inhabited.

Freedom To Spend had been working under Ursula's enthusiastic endorsement and with Todd Barton, her musical collaborator on Kesh, to give the music that accompanied her 1985 epoch a new life. With the Le Guin family's encouragement to move forward with our planned release, we are humbled to play this small role in sharing Ursula's work.

As Pete Swanson, one third of Freedom To Spend, stated, Ursula's legacy is her work which transformed the world, and this is another piece of the universe that her imagination birthed becoming real.' Listen to A Teaching Poem / Heron Dance' below.