Search:the art of sleeping alone

Crate digger and music enthusiast James Endeacott compiles ‘Unlock Your Mind With Morning Glory’ for Two-Piers Records – A glorious heady mix of the weird and wonderful eclectic music from his radio show ‘Morning Glory’

“One weekday afternoon towards the end of 2017 I sat in The Lyric pub on Great Windmill Street, Soho with my dear friend Raf. I’d just finished another of my weekly Soho Radio shows and was starting to think about the next one. Raf had been on as a guest playing some of his favourite tunes of the day. We had a few drinks, told a few stories and started to plot and scheme. It was always a dream of mine to have a daily radio show. Radio had always informed and excited me from my early teens listening to John Peel under the blanket when I should’ve been either sleeping or revising right up to the present-day musical excursions of NTS, WFMU and numerous internet based stations.

We decided to speak to Adrian and Dan who ran Soho Radio to see if they’d be up for us doing a daily morning show. To our surprise they were into the idea and within 5 minutes Adrain came up with the name Morning Glory. We all liked it. We were all excited. It was all systems go. In December 2017 Raf and myself started a daily 2 hour show. We did the show together, got guests in and the musical policy was whatever we felt like that day. After several months Raf found the mornings too much. Off he went into the distance occasionally coming back with a smile, and a bag of new music. I carried on alone and then suddenly in March 2020 the world stopped, and we went into lockdown.

We set up in my house in Catford, Southeast London and carried on. The show became 3 hours a day and I started to invite friends, record labels, record shops, bands etc.. to supply me with hour long mixes that I played every day. The show took off during this time. My musical tastes expanded as I spent all day long searching for new sounds from around the globe. People started to send me more and more music. I became obsessed with the show. The audience started to take to social media and ask for certain tracks or artists to be played. I got listeners to make me mixes to play on the show and I did several phone interviews with musicians while playing some of their favourite tunes.

I was grateful that Soho Radio left me to my own devices. They never told me what to do or what to play – they trusted ma and I trusted my instincts.

The music on this compilation is not a ‘best of’ it’s just how I felt when I compiled it at the start of 2025. Apart from a couple of tracks they are all things I’ve come across since the show started in December 2017. If I did a list of tracks now I’m sure it would be completely different. Surely that’s the point. We never stick in one place. We are always moving and searching. Always trying to unlock our minds. Put it on. Take your time and let it take you somewhere” James Endeacott 2025

London-via-Accra artist BLACK FONDU shares his seven-track debut EP ‘BLACKFONDUISM’, following the underground momentum of singles ‘im not sleeping’ and the Steve Lamacq BBC 6 Music-premiered ‘holla back girl’. Available on vinyl, and with a self-directed video for ‘#music’, the project marks the first full expression of a voice emerging as one of the UK’s most uncompromising new forces.

‘BLACKFONDUISM’ captures that evolution in its rawest form. The EP came together quickly through instinct and freestyling, recorded between his room in London and a short period in Paris. Each track reflects a world he understood only after living through it. ‘IN D4 CLUB’ channels the exhilaration of acceleration, ‘BOYS’ explores the foundation provided by maternal love, ‘im not sleeping’ confronts denial after more than twenty revisions, ‘C00N V2’ marks a moment of creative rebirth, and ‘BLACK1E’ navigates the tension between self-perception and the world’s gaze. Closing track ‘#music’ distills the entire project into one statement.

Working alone has brought challenges, but he has learned to trust the emotional volatility that fuels the work. “I care so much and would die for this, but I cannot let it kill me. I have to trust myself the same way I trust myself when I make music.”

At 21, BLACK FONDU has carved out a sound that collides hyperpop, noise, rap, punk energy and abstract grime into something instinctive and volatile. Influenced by everything from Rachmaninoff to MF DOOM to Xiu Xiu, he writes, produces and performs every element, including the fractured visuals that accompany his tracks. Praise from BBC 6 Music, Pitchfork, NME, The Quietus, Pigeons & Planes, METAL and Line of Best Fit has positioned him as one of the most intriguing new voices in the UK underground, with explosive live shows across London, the UK and Europe.

With BLACKFONDUISM, he introduces a universe that refuses to sit still. “I wanted this EP to act as an introduction to my worlds. It felt important to put this out so I can do anything after.” He hopes listeners feel alive when they hear it, and jokes that he wants the record to “evolve music, even just a little.”

BLACK FONDU’s sound remains a paradox, abrasive and fragile, chaotic and meticulous, always guided by instinct. Or, as he puts it, “A bit fucked. But alive.”

Crate digger and music enthusiast James Endeacott compiles ‘Unlock Your Mind With Morning Glory’ for Two-Piers Records – A glorious heady mix of the weird and wonderful eclectic music from his radio show ‘Morning Glory’

“One weekday afternoon towards the end of 2017 I sat in The Lyric pub on Great Windmill Street, Soho with my dear friend Raf. I’d just finished another of my weekly Soho Radio shows and was starting to think about the next one. Raf had been on as a guest playing some of his favourite tunes of the day. We had a few drinks, told a few stories and started to plot and scheme. It was always a dream of mine to have a daily radio show. Radio had always informed and excited me from my early teens listening to John Peel under the blanket when I should’ve been either sleeping or revising right up to the present-day musical excursions of NTS, WFMU and numerous internet based stations.

We decided to speak to Adrian and Dan who ran Soho Radio to see if they’d be up for us doing a daily morning show. To our surprise they were into the idea and within 5 minutes Adrain came up with the name Morning Glory. We all liked it. We were all excited. It was all systems go. In December 2017 Raf and myself started a daily 2 hour show. We did the show together, got guests in and the musical policy was whatever we felt like that day. After several months Raf found the mornings too much. Off he went into the distance occasionally coming back with a smile, and a bag of new music. I carried on alone and then suddenly in March 2020 the world stopped, and we went into lockdown.

We set up in my house in Catford, Southeast London and carried on. The show became 3 hours a day and I started to invite friends, record labels, record shops, bands etc.. to supply me with hour long mixes that I played every day. The show took off during this time. My musical tastes expanded as I spent all day long searching for new sounds from around the globe. People started to send me more and more music. I became obsessed with the show. The audience started to take to social media and ask for certain tracks or artists to be played. I got listeners to make me mixes to play on the show and I did several phone interviews with musicians while playing some of their favourite tunes.

I was grateful that Soho Radio left me to my own devices. They never told me what to do or what to play – they trusted ma and I trusted my instincts.

The music on this compilation is not a ‘best of’ it’s just how I felt when I compiled it at the start of 2025. Apart from a couple of tracks they are all things I’ve come across since the show started in December 2017. If I did a list of tracks now I’m sure it would be completely different. Surely that’s the point. We never stick in one place. We are always moving and searching. Always trying to unlock our minds. Put it on. Take your time and let it take you somewhere” James Endeacott 2025

Originally release in March 2009, Midle Cyclone is repressed for 2025. 'Middle Cyclone' was produced by Case with Darryl Neudorf and recorded in Tucson, Brooklyn, Toronto, and Vermont. It features Case backed by her core band - guitarist Paul Rigby, bassist Tom V. Ray, backing vocalist Kelly Hogan, multi-instrumentalist Jon Rauhouse, and drummer Barry Mirochnick - along with numerous guests including M. Ward, Garth Hudson, Sarah Harmer, and members of The New Pornographers, Los Lobos, Calexico, The Sadies, Visqueen, The Lilys, and Giant Sand, among others. In addition to twelve new songs written by Case, 'Middle Cyclone' includes covers of "Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth" by Sparks, and "Don't Forget Me" by Harry Nilsson.

In 2006, SPIN Magazine called Case "one of pop music's best" voices, and Interview Magazine hailed her album 'Fox Confessor Brings The Flood' as "one of the most original, beguiling, honest records of the year." The album also earned Case Female Artist of the Year honors from the PLUG Independent Music Awards, and a Top 10 placement in the Village Voice's annual Pazz and Jop Critics Poll of the year's best releases. 'Fox Confessor' was Case's first album to debut in the Billboard Top 100, and has sold nearly 200,000 copies in the U.S. alone.

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

Gabriel Birnbaum cuts straight to the spiritual essence of the characters he inhabits, painting affecting and lovingly drawn scenes bolstered by cathartic hooks. Like one of his own espoused patron saints, Paul Simon, Birnbaum sets new challenges for himself with each recording, honing the nuts and bolts of his songcra and pinpointing unexpected new aesthetic contexts for it. The lush and psychedelic folk-rock songs on his new album Patron Saint of Tireless Losers confidently cut to the essence of his artistry, highlighting a mature narrative voice, and a consistently surprising musical syntax. As much as anything Birmbaum has put into the world, it's a tour de force that thrives on both self-assuredness and restlessness_marks of a crucial and constantly evolving artist whose work it's impossible to turn away from once you tap into its frequency.

Seit mehr als 35 Jahren sind BONFIRE der Inbegriff von "Hard'n'Heavy made in Germany". Jetzt veröffentlichen sie ihre beliebtesten Alben "POINT BLANK", "FIREWORKS" und "DON'T TOUCH THE LIGHT" als MMXXIII Re-Recording-Versionen mit einem komplett neuen Artwork! Erstmals digital bei allen Streaming-Anbietern, als farbig limitierte und nicht limitierte Vinyl und als CD-Digipack verfügbar. In ihrer Karriere sammelten Bonfire mehrere Millionen Streams und Plays und erreichten mit einer ihrer letzten Veröffentlichungen "Fistful Of Fire" Platz 35 in den deutschen Albumcharts und stiegen auch in der Schweiz auf Platz 43 ein.

Seit mehr als 35 Jahren sind BONFIRE der Inbegriff von "Hard'n'Heavy made in Germany". Jetzt veröffentlichen sie ihre beliebtesten Alben "POINT BLANK", "FIREWORKS" und "DON'T TOUCH THE LIGHT" als MMXXIII Re-Recording-Versionen mit einem komplett neuen Artwork! Erstmals digital bei allen Streaming-Anbietern, als farbig limitierte und nicht limitierte Vinyl und als CD-Digipack verfügbar. In ihrer Karriere sammelten Bonfire mehrere Millionen Streams und Plays und erreichten mit einer ihrer letzten Veröffentlichungen "Fistful Of Fire" Platz 35 in den deutschen Albumcharts und stiegen auch in der Schweiz auf Platz 43 ein.

Over the course of his six-decade-long career, Dr. John embodied a near-mythic multitude of musical identities: global ambassador of New Orleans funk and jazz and R&B, visionary bluesman, rock and roll innovator, one-time top 10 hitmaker, self-anointed and massively revered high priest of psychedelic voodoo. On Things Happen That Way, the six-time Grammy-winning Rock & Roll Hall of Famer otherwise known as Malcolm John “Mac” Rebennack Jr. reveals yet another dimension of his cosmically vast musicality: a lifelong affinity for classic country & western, whose songs he first encountered via the 78 rpm records frequently spun at his father’s electronics shop. Things Happen That Way arrives as the latest and final studio album from an artist who remained wholly unpredictable, alchemizing the charmed simplicity of traditional country into a wildly enchanting body of work.



Things Happen That Way marks the fulfillment of a longtime goal of the legendary singer/songwriter/pianist, who first began plotting a country inspired album decades ago. In bringing his album’s songs to life, Dr. John drew on a lineup of musicians befitting of a universally beloved luminary who worked with the likes of Van Morrison, the Rolling Stones, B.B. King, Etta James, and artists as diverse as Aretha Franklin, Ringo Starr, and Eric Clapton. Along with an elite cadre of New Orleans session players, the album’s personnel include icons Willie Nelson and Aaron Neville, as well as label mate singer/songwriter Katie Pruitt and country-rock powerhouse Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real. True to an artist whose music “transcended race and cultural divides”—as Black Keys frontman Dan Auerbach proclaimed in presenting Dr. John his lifetime achievement award at the Americana Music Association Honors and Awards in 2013—Things Happen That Way reflects both a rich sense of history and a boundless passion for defying expectation.

Bristol-based trip hop trio Jabu this week announced details of their second album. ‘Sweet Company’ will be released on November 20th via the group’s own do you have peace? imprint.

Sweet Company is the second album by Jabu. Where their first LP, Sleep Heavy, was an unflinching exploration of grief, dark and disembodied, Sweet Company’s deep, sedative soul feels like more of a lovers’ outing: optimistic, becalmed, looking outwards as well as inwards, and longing for the kind of human connections where ego and self-consciousness might dissolve. It is perhaps also an exhortation to love and accept yourself, to recover a lost innocence and peace – that paradise which has always been lost. Released via their own do you have peace? label, Sweet Company is on the one hand a very intimate and private-sounding work - the sound of life played out in a room, a bubble, a home, a head. The rhythms of everyday domesticity: listening to the plants, cars in the street, voices through the wall…. going to work, not going to work, sleeping heavy or not sleeping at all. Wavering on the brink of a revelation, of something just beyond the material world, while you wait for the kettle to boil. The core Jabu trio of producer Amos Childs and vocalists Jasmine Butt and Alex Rendall is present and correct. Sweet Company has theexhilarating sweep and confidence of a collaboration between people who trust and understand each other implicitly, and, secure in that knowledge, are able to give the absolute best of themselves to us. As before, Jasmine’s voice is a textural, painterly instrument, layered and blurred into abstraction, resisting the limits of language; the songs she sings on are portals into vast internal landscapes where the normal rules of gravity are suspended, every sound is smothered in a cathedral-like resonance, and you're both fearful and hopeful that you might never find your way back out again. Alex takes a more narrative, confessional and no less engaging pop tack: as on the gauzy, decelerated 2-step of ‘Lately’, with his masochistic, self-mocking entreaties to “be cruel to me … I like it when you make a fool of me”. Childs has a true hip-hop fiend's ear for a striking sample, and how to loop it to most hypnotic and rapturous effect, but here takes things to ever more powerfully uncanny and auteurish places, drawing inspiration from the voidal bliss-outs of shoegaze (AR Kane’s amniotic dream-pop epic 69 is one influence cited) and the space-time disturbances of dub, commanding both a raindrops-on-cobwebs delicacy and an immense, oceanic pressure. His productions seem to resist linear progression - instead they move by a kind of unstoppable diffusion, like weeds reclaiming an unkempt garden, or alien flora patterning the sea-floor and coral-caves of the subaquatic level of a computer game which may exist only in your, or his, imagination. Perhaps it's Daniela Dyson, the British-Afro-Colombian artist who contributes her vivid, energising poetic mysticism to two tracks, who best sums up Sweet Company's ambition and effect: “Me quiero perder en los momentos tan puros en su esencia que Las Horas mismas se detienen para ser testigo de nuestro amor” (I want to lose myself in the moments so pure in their essence / that The Hours themselves stop to bear witness to our love…). For a precious half an hour, we're invited to celebrate the smallness of our lives - and the limitless grandeur which that smallness contains. When it ends, we step back from the brink but things aren’t quite the same anymore: we’re haunted by what we briefly almost knew.

As a visual artist and ambient composer, Tor Lundvall's work often recontextualizes the familiarity of everyday life through abstraction and space. Starting with the snapshot of a moment, Lundvall extracts its underlying complexity of the seemingly mundane and gives sleeping suggestion a presence and purpose. Mainly working sans vocals, Lundvall returned to voice exploration for 2018's A Dark Place, a somber, dark synth album that merged his mastery of textural ambience with traditional pop structures.

Rescued from old DAT tapes A Strangeness In Motion: Early Pop Recordings 1989-1999 are some of Lundvall's earliest completed synth pop works which have remained unreleased until now.

Though Lundvall's work throughout the collection has the recognizable ambient bones and sensibilities he has refined throughout his career, many of the tracks call back to the synth-driven pop of Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, The Human League and New Order, with the common thread being the sparse density and mood created by reservation and the lonely impulse to twist convention, not to rip it up and repurpose it. Rather than 10 disparate ideas, Lundvall's curation of A Strangeness In Motion: Early Pop Recordings 1989-1999 feels like excerpts from a broader work, allowing the listener to fill in the holes and ladder up to his larger themes and concepts, perhaps coloring his prior works in new hues and tones.

'For years I dismissed these songs as naive and youthful relics, but I've grown much fonder of them in recent years along with the memories they evoke,' he says of the decade spanning collection of tracks, many of which were sketched out in his duo with Drew Sullivan, After The Outing. 'Original One', 'Procession Day', 'The Clearing', and 'The Melting Hour' are present here as solo reworkings, originally culled from his sessions with Sullivan. The remaining songs were ideas originally considered for Passing Through Alone (1997) and its proposed follow up, provisionally and playfully titled Femalamania.

'The title was summing up my girl problems at the time and also a silly word spin on Robyn Hitchcock's Fegmania!' he says. 'Sadly, the project was abandoned—a rare decision for me and perhaps the only time I've scrapped an album entirely.'

LP,180, 2018 REISSUE - REMASTERED FROM ORIGINAL TAPES, CAREFULLY REPRODUCED ORIGINAL ART

The two sides of 1973's Big Business / Wind of Change are mainly the work of thegreat Keith Mansfeld but there's a killer cameo each from Alan Hawkshaw and David Snell to help deliver a thematic suite, diverse in mood, applicable to dramatic and environmental situations'. A Be With favourite and truly one for the heads.
The Big Business of side A is all the work of Keith Mansfeld. It's heavy on the suspense and features the vital Hot Property', an insistent groove so good that Madlib sampled it to lace the ace Long Awaited' by Lootpack with Dilated Peoples.
Sleeping Giant 1' is a more feshed out version of the equally-dazzling Fatal Error', evoking the orchestral magic of David Axelrod. Indeed, it conjures images of Diamond D falling over himself in the early-to-mid 90s to loop its intoxicatingly
eerie soundscape. Complete with guitar flls that recall Paris, Texas-era Ry Cooder, you need this record for this piece alone.
The horn-and-fute-led "Tycoon" is a head-nodder and "Power Complex" has some fantastic percussion. Other highlights include the breezy glide of Whistle Stop Tour' and its sister groove Clean Air.'
Over on Side B is the more expansive Wind Of Change, which includes the David Snell and the Alan Hawkshaw contributions. But these ain't no fller. Snell's shufing International Flight' sounds like a smooth Dorothy Ashby track tossed from the heavens. Hawkshaw's Road And Rail' is about as luxurious and strung-
out as the great man gets and it might just be the highlight of this whole set.
Not to be outdone, if Mansfeld's Balance Of Power' doesn't make you feel like king of the world then you must be playing it wrong. Oh, and did we mention World In Action'!
As with all ten re-issues, the audio for Big Business / Wind of Change comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regularSimon Francis. We've taken the same care with the sleeves, handing the reproduction duties over to Richard Robinson, the current custodian of KPM's
brand identity.

- Black and Purple vinyl versions.-LP includes download.
-Son of Blue Note legend Bruce Lundvall.
-12 years since his last record to feature vocals.
Dais Records is proud to unveil the new dark pop masterpiece from artist and composer Tor Lundvall. His first vocal album since 2009's Sleeping and Hiding, and following the release of two instrumental albums and three CD box sets since that time, Tor returns with an album of beautifully intricate sadness and reflection: A Dark Place.Born in 1968 in Wyckoff, NJ, Tor Lundvall is a painter and ambient composer.
The son of Blue Note Records legend Bruce Lundvall, Tor was exposed to artwork, music, and creativity from a young age, and began his professional painting and music output in the late 80s. Widely known for his dark imagery and thoughtful, provocative soundscapes, Tor Lundvall's artwork is all-encompassing. His music, when paired with his paintings, creates a world within which one could easily disappear. An intensely private individual, Tor Lundvall eschews the gallery circuit and live performances for his private studio in Eastern Long Island, NY, preferring to show his artwork privately and focus on studio production and writing without the pressures of the audience and all it encompasses.
Dais Records is honored to provide another glimpse into his world through his recordings. We hope you find it as special and as unforgettable as we do. Artist Statement:It's been twelve years since I recorded my last vocal album, "Sleeping and Hiding" (released in 2009, but recorded in 2005). After completing those sessions, I felt that I had said just about everything I wanted to say lyrically. I wasn't sure if another vocal album would ever materialize, but slowly and surely, new lyrics came with new songs to accompany them. Finding the words to describe this album is almost as difficult as the past couple of years. There is a lot of pain, fear and sadness wrapped into these eight songs. More so than usual, I think. The loss of my father in 2015 and coping with his absence certainly hangs heavily here. I recorded this album at night while I stared out from my bedroom window into the shadows of the garden and the neighbor's house next door. The reflections of the flower lights encircling my bedroom window looked like distant, golden constellations through the glass while I worked. A nice memory. A few of the melodies were inspired by, or constructed around some of my earliest riffs and abandoned sketches, one dating all the way back to 1985. The lyrics to the final track, "The Next World", came to me while swimming alone in the bay one clear October afternoon about five years ago. I originally envisioned a lighter, more optimistic song to accompany my first draft of lyrics, but the piece evolved into a song about final reflections, lost dreams and the terrible sadness of the passing of time.