quête:trus me no harm ep

'Find a Way' is the new album from Manchester-based pianist, composer, and producer Matt Wilde, released via his own imprint Hello World Records. The album serves as a reminder that creativity should be accessible and the importance of opening yourself to the unexpected as you 'Find a Way' through all endeavours. Digging into improvisation and jazz harmony on the LP, he crafts a sound that bridges jazz, hip hop, and electronic music, adding: "The creative act is not a matter of waiting for the perfect conditions, but of moving gently, insistently, through the imperfect".

Focus and title track "Find a Way" encapsulates this journey of process. Humans are known for adaptation and response when they face challenges, seeking solutions towards a better world. "Find a Way" leans into our instinctive reaction to improvise and reshape, taking the listener on an unexpected journey. The opening loop could as easily feel at home as part of an electronic soundscape, developing into a clock-like effect from the drums. This keeps time, allowing a duet between keys and trumpet to unfold, symbolising the individual, imperfect and non-linear paths we all carve out day to day.

The album was funded by Arts Council England and created in close collaboration with trumpeter and composer Aaron Wood, with the pair recording in Aaron's rural DIY studio in Huddersfield. Through improvising upright piano, Rhodes and trumpet over intricately programmed beats, the duo captured the spontaneity that makes jazz feel alive, but with the forward-facing touch of Ableton live production. "I actually had live drums recorded for this project and then deleted all of them and instead programmed intricate drums on Ableton live myself to create the kinds of drum sounds I could hear in my head," Matt adds, explaining the onerous process that truly made 'Find a Way' a labour of love.

Matt Wilde discovered jazz through an unconventional journey, and 'Find a Way' is an introspective map of this musical development. Starting out as a self-taught beatmaker, growing up Matt made tracks for friends in the grime scene before falling in love with jazz through the sample-heavy works of Madlib, J Dilla, and Pete Rock. Hints of this influence can be found on "Windup", driven by a deeper bass and a glitchy intensity not commonly associated with jazz. There are also nods to the weekly DJ residencies Matt had in his late teens, establishing a love for club music at iconic Manchester venues like Sankeys. "It's Ok, Feel it" incorporates pitched-up kicks and crisp, papery snares that pay tribute to UK dance culture and the foundation of connection in this world.

Guided by values of accessibility and creativity, Matt has become a key voice in the UK's boundary-pushing jazz and beats scene. His debut album 'Hello World' alongside EPs and single releases, have been championed by the likes of BBC Radio 1, Jamie Cullum and Soweto Kinch (BBC Radio 2), 'Round Midnight (BBC Radio 3), and across BBC 6Music, Jazz FM and Worldwide FM. He has performed headline shows at Band on the Wall (Manchester) and The Lower Third (London) and showcased his music at Brick Lane Jazz Festival and London's iconic Jazz Café.

A proud Mancunian with Polish roots, Matt's values-driven approach reflects his passion for community and empowering others through the arts. Matt founded the UK's first youth-led charity and is a trustee of Manchester music charity Brighter Sound. Driven by these values of equality and inclusion, Hello World Records strives to champion grassroots music with a backbone of fairness built into the business model. The imprint is named after Matt's debut album, released via Band on the Wall Recordings; simultaneously championing the music scene and global musical footprint of Manchester and highlighting the importance of artists reminding people: Hello World, I've made it. I'm still here.

- Martha Cleary, Glow Artists

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
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Paddan's Sigtryggur Baldursson and Birgir Mogensen are lifelong friends from Kópavogur, Iceland, who started as mates on the local football team, then graduated to making music together as teenagers, and even later as young men doing time in the experimental punk collective KUKL, from 1983 - 1986.
KUKL was populated by survivors of the post-punk scene in Iceland in the early 80s, which is well documented in the film Rock in Reykjavik from 1982. The band was released by the Crass collective in London and featured members, apart from Birgir and Sigtryggur, like Guðlaugur Óttarsson, Einar Melax, Björk and Einar Örn, some of whom would become better known later in outfits like the Sugarcubes and their respective solo work and other collaborations.
Sigtryggur has a long career in music, having worked with among others, Emiliana Torrini, Howie B, Les Negresses Vertes, Tomas R. Einarsson, Petur Ben, KK, Kaktus Einarsson, and many many others. He also produces an award-winning documentary music show for RUV called Hljómskálinn.
Birgir Mogensen is a classically trained classical guitarist and bass player who has worked through the years with artists ranging from KUKL to Killing Joke to Spilafifl and Inferno5.
Birgir and Sigtryggur formed Paddan during the 2010s, and are now preparing to release their EP Fluid Time, which has been inspired by their perception of time and space. Birgir Mogensen says, "As a duo, we trusted our musical intuition and were guided by allowing the first idea to remain unchanged during the recording process"Recorded, produced, and arranged by the pair, Sigtryggur and Birgir play basses and drums along with various other instruments.
All recordings are played on live instruments except a modular synth which is programmed in the background of two tracks The duo is joined by the great harmonica and lap steel player Gaukur Davidsson on "Vaguely" and "Bug," and trumpet player Eirikur Orri Ólafsson on "Splash," not to mention the mixing expertise of Vaccines bassist Arni Hjörvar Árnason on "Bug," "Splash," and "Kokka," and sound-mixer Albert Finnbogason on "Vaguely."

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.

The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.

Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.

The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.


‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Neither Timothy J. Fairplay, nor Norwell are strangers to the Dalmata Daniel family: both of them are trustworthy contributors to DD compilation albums of earlier years, plus Norwell has released his 'ODD' EP and 'Joint Spaceflights' EP back in 2017 and 2019 on the label. So this time, it's a return for Norwell, and a debut for Mr. Fairplay: their DDS09 split EP is here to present 4 tracks full of outer space lights, eerie vibes, mesmerizing beats and cosmic energies.

Timothy J. Fairplay's side A starts with the explicit kicks and ominous basslines of 'Caliber 9'. Slowly and steadily, the laser blasts and relentless drums all add up to define a world of space cadets on the run, where any odd-looking figure can turn out to be a malignant, speedy alien. 'TV Tower' takes us to another planet with an even higher rotation velocity. Fast percussion elements and squished lower frequencies take center stage in this intergalactic episode, but the whistle-like melodies and descending, bubbling robot signals make the journey complete.

Flip to side B, and enter the contemplating, otherworldly atmospheres of Norwell. 'Midnight Rituals' gives you the chills with its breath-like swooshes, grievous sirens and deadly asteroid belts. Yet, there is no need to worry: after an intense ride with your spaceship, eventually you end up in the same spot, where you started: in the stable and steady mid-tempo beats of an expertly-programmed drummachine. The orbital mission comes to an end with 'Natives', a dense and heroic hymn with emotive structures and well-crafted harmonics. The track starts with the bittersweet, lamenting synths of a solo voice, pouring their heart out in the spotlight, all alone on the stage. All of a sudden, a hard-hitting, rhythmic groove commences its last rush of dedicated cadences. It is full of breaks, it is full of 303s, completed with airy echoes and dreamy, light gestures. 'Natives' keeps on building its structure with elegant paces, providing a massive, yet delicate experience of Norwell's defined aesthetics. The track lets the last strokes of its gloomy synths roll out, along with the final round of looping drums, thus putting an end to DDS09.

Recorded by award-winning mastering engineer Kevin Gray's record label, Anthony Wilson's Hackensack West is Cohearent Records' follow-up to Kirsten Edkins' Shapes & Sound album. Produced by Joe Harley and recorded all-analogue/all-tube at Gray's studio, Cohearent Recording, the AAA vinyl release is pressed on 180-gram vinyl at RTI and housed in a deluxe tip-on gatefold jacket.

From the liner notes:

The week before these sessions in the summer of 2023, I sat down each morning with the goal of composing one new song by day's end. I knew I'd soon be in the room with my dear friends Gerald Clayton, John Clayton, and Jeff Hamilton, three musicians whom I trust the most, and with whom I've played the most over the last couple of decades. I tried to imagine themes that would feel natural to us, the kinds of songs we could simply dive into without much thinking. When we headed to Kevin Gray's studio to record, I brought seven new songs along with me. Five are included on this album.

"Daido" is dedicated to Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama, who became known in the late 1960s for his grainy, sometimes blurry, high-contrast black and white images made throughout Japan. I love his pictures taken on the streets of various Tokyo neighbourhoods such as Shinjuku. His portrait of a menacing stray dong, from his series "A Hunter," is the kind of picture that, seen just once, is unforgettable. These days Daido is still out on the street making pictures, at the ripe young age of 85.

"Verdesse" has a sinuous, chorinho-like melody and rhythmic feel. The tune seems to weave and bob playfully in a space of brightness the way a grapevine seems to curl towards the sunlight. So I named it after a wine grape native to the pre-Alpine region of Isère, near Grenoble in eastern France, that makes a particularly delicious and drinkable white wine.

I wrote "Sunday," well...on Sunday. It unfolds slowly, like a good Sunday does when there's nothing to do, you can sleep in, you've got your person beside you, and you just relax into the day.

"The Lands" is dedicated to a family very dear to my heart: that of tenor saxophonist Harold Land. My mother met Harold when they were both teenagers growing up in San Diego, California. The two of them became lifelong friends, and a little later, Harold enjoyed a fruitful musical association and close friendship with my father, Gerald Wilson. Harold, his lovely wife Lydia, and their son Harold Jr. were extended family for us; they looked after me with love and care. Some of my first gigs ever as a young guitarist were with Harold's incredible band that included Oscar Brashear, Billy Higgins, Richard Reid, and Harold Land Jr.

I've loved Todd Rundgren's "Marlene" since I first heard it on his epic double-album Something/Anything. With its tender, well-contoured melody buoyed by a few special harmonic surprises, it almost seems like something from the pen of Burt Bacharach. It tells such a complete musical story. Rundgren's recorded version has a beautiful endlessly repeating tag. So we played the melody simply, and used the tag as a small staging area for a bit of improvising.

Hackensack West is our alias for engineer Kevin Gray's studio Cohearent Recording, a place inspired by Rudy Van Gelder's first studio in Hackensack, New Jersey. Located inside Van Gelder's parents' home, the musicians played in the living room! It was there, in 1954, that Thelonious Monk recorded his classic tune "Hackensack," a "contrafact" melody over the chord changes to the Gershwins' "Oh, Lady Be Good!" In contrafact-like fashion, my own bebop-spirited melody "Hackensack West" seems to nod toward the changes of a few recognizable standards, without corresponding to any particular one.

Harm’s Way is Duck Ltd.’s most intuitive and organic album yet, the result of keen observation, self-possessed songwriting, and a collaborative spirit. Building on the successes of their previous releases, the deeply relatable album displays a band operating at a nuanced, lyrical and musical best.

Ducks Ltd. make inviting and frenetic guitar pop for when life feels overwhelming. While the band’s songs are ostensibly breezy, a palpable anxiety boils underneath that communicates something deeper about everyday existence. On their latest album Harm’s Way, the Toronto duo of Tom McGreevy and Evan Lewis hones in on interpersonal and societal collapses, urban decay, and the near-impossibility of keeping a level head when everything around you seems to be falling apart.

“They’re songs about struggling,” says singer and lyricist McGreevy (who also plays bass and rhythm guitar). “About watching people I care for suffer, and trying to figure out how to be there for them. And about the strain of living in the world when it feels like it's ready to collapse.” 

Even with its often dark subject matter, Harm’s Way is Ducks Ltd.’s most vividly rendered and collaborative collection yet. It’s an undeniable evolution for the band, not just in how these songs soar, but in their entire writing and recording processes. Composed on tour while supporting acts like Nation of Language, Illuminati Hotties, and Archers of Loaf, the album displays the band’s finely tuned songcraft and well-earned, road-tested confidence. “When we got signed, we had played maybe five or six shows ever. After last year, it’s in the hundreds. That experience can change your perception of your own music and songwriting,” says McGreevy. “In the past when we got stuck on a song we had a tendency to look at our favourite records to see how they tackled it. But now, instead of asking ‘what would Orange Juice do?’, we’d ask, ‘what would we do?’.” Lewis adds, “We have this really great thing where every decision with the band is filtered through both of us. Here especially, we really figured out how to make something that truly sounds like us.”

The band, fortified by this strong sense of sonic identity and a self-assurance in their new material—and in contrast to their critically acclaimed 2021 debut Modern Fiction and 2019 EP Get Bleak, both self-recorded and self-produced in a Toronto basement—wanted to bring Harm’s Way to life in a new city, with an outside producer, and with some of their favourite musicians. “We realised that so many of our favourite bands who are making guitar music right now are from Chicago,” says McGreevy. Working with producer Dave Vettraino (Dehd, Deeper, Lala Lala), they enlisted a marquee cast of Windy City collaborators to round out the tracks on Harm’s Way, including: Finom’s Macie Stewart (violin, string arrangements); Ratboys’ Marcus Nuccio (drums on most tracks); Dehd’s Jason Balla (who helped arrange the backing vocals, to which he also contributed); and backing vocals from Julia Steiner (Ratboys), Nathan O’Dell (Dummy), Margaret McCarthy (Moontype), Rui De Magalhaes (Lawn), and Lindsey-Paige McCloy (Patio). The band’s touring drummer, Jonathan Pappo, and bassist Julia Wittman also appear on the LP.

Ducks Ltd. are a band that already thrives on skirting the edges of buoyant jangle pop and driving power pop, and the duo credits these collaborators with helping to push their sound even further. “Historically our process has been really tightly controlled and insular. On this record, we worked with people who we trusted with a pretty wide range of musical backgrounds and they had approaches and ideas that helped open up the record's sonic palette,” explains McGreevy. “Jason thinks about backing vocals in a totally different way than I do and is super intuitive with melodic ideas. Julia and Margaret have a really deeo understanding of harmony. Macie and Dave were comfortable with the idea of improvising string parts which took some of those layers in some surprising directions. Dave also has an amazing ability to create atmosphere on a recording, and encouraged us to use a bunch of different techniques, tones, and processes to achieve that.”

Harm’s Way’s lush, melodic swagger is clear from the first notes of opener “Hollowed Out.” A song about living with decline (inspired by a Toronto sinkhole), its bright, indelible catchiness serves in contrast to its lyrical unease. Anchored by Lewis’ shimmering electric guitar, “The Main Thing” laments growing apart from a person whose views you once shared while managing to toss in references to both the unglamorous lives of middle relief baseball pitchers and the occult. Other songs split the difference between country and krautrock, like the rollicking “Train Full of Gasoline,” which uses the 2013 Lac-Mégantic rail disaster in Quebec as a metaphor for self-destructive patterns. Meanwhile, “Deleted Scenes” mourns the absence of someone no longer in your life (even if for very good reasons) and recalls The Cure at their most direct, and closer “Heavy Bag” employs enveloping, mournful strings to evoke a sense of how misery frequently loves company.

Sourced from the Original Master Tapes and Presented in Audiophile Sound for the First Time: Mobile Fidelity’s Numbered-Edition 180g SuperVinyl LP Plays with Riveting Detail
Three decades before he released The Philosophy of Modern Song — an insightful book devoted to 66 tunes that both impacted his career and the music world at large — Bob Dylan issued Good As I Been to You. The under-heralded 1992 album, Dylan’s first solo acoustic album in nearly 30 years and first all-covers effort in nearly 20 years, can be seen as a prophetic prelude to what has become the Nobel Laureate’s celebrated late-career arc. It’s also an absorbing continuation of the custom Dylan has embraced since he first picked up a guitar.


Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at RTI, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition 180g SuperVinyl LP of Good As I Been to You reveals the immediacy, detail, and stripped-down nature of recording sessions that took place in Dylan’s garage studio in California. Simple, raw, and unplugged, the record presents Dylan in peak form — and showcases a diversity of vocal phrasing, soulful chording, harmonica accents, and close-up ambience that on this reissue emerge like never before. As the first-ever audiophile edition of this almost-lost classic, this LP also benefits from SuperVinyl’s extraordinary properties: a nearly inaudible noise floor, superb groove definition, and dead-quiet surfaces among them.

Recorded and mixed by Micajah Ryan, and supervised by Debbie Gold, Good As I Been to You took shape at Dylan’s home shortly after the singer-songwriter completed sessions in Chicago with a full band. Unaccompanied, he again gravitated to existing works — in this case, traditional folk music — and, with Gold serving as a trusted advisor, performed the songs in multiple keys and tempos until he arrived at what he desired. That careful, determined albeit loose, organic approach emanates from this reissue, on which each note, movement, and space come across more directly, fully, and immediately than on the original formats. It helps draw a through-line to Another Side of Bob Dylan (1964) as well as the similarly themed follow-up, World Gone Wrong (1993) and immersive old-world storytelling of Tempest (2012) and Rough and Rowdy Ways (2020).

Well before Dylan made those renowned 21st century LPs, however, he needed to find a way out of a funk that — save for his 1989 collaboration with Daniel Lanois, Oh Mercy — followed him for years. As author Clinton Heylin reported Dylan admitting in 1997: “My influences have not changed — and any time they have done, the music goes off to a wrong place. That’s why I recorded two LPs of old songs, so I could personally get back to the music that’s true for me.”

Truth: Few, if any, concepts better encapsulate Good As I Been to You. It resonates with the same originality, honesty, resolve, and age- and time-defying relevance as the seminal Anthology of American Folk Music that fired Dylan’s imagination as a kid in small-town Minnesota and, later, per Greil Marcus’ That Old Weird America book, informed Dylan and the Band’s Basement Tapes sessions. This record also contains the type of music Dylan was playing during his acoustic sets at his period Never Ending Tour shows; within a year of the record’s release, Dylan would play half the album’s songs live.

As for those songs: Rife with strange mystery, common circumstance, and epic adventure, the stories appeal to our base instincts. Their themes — jealousy, temptation, sacrifice, love, revenge, identity, opportunity — operate on a fundamentally human level immune to trends, generations, or eras. They’re ancient and modern, serious and comical, open and disguised, simple and multi-layered. They talk of vengeance and justice (“Frankie & Albert”; “Jim Jones”), romance and tenderness (“Tomorrow Night,” “Froggie Went a Courtin’”), the troubled and trouble-free (“Hard Times,” “Sittin’ on Top of the World”). They lend voice to lovers scorned and freed (“Blackjack Davey”), the used and users (“Diamond Joe”), the powerful and powerless (“Arthur McBride,” “Canadee-I-O”), the followed and followers (“Little Maggie”). And akin to much of Dylan’s finest output, things are not always what they appear to be.

Spanning country, folk, sea shanty, bluegrass, and blues motifs, Good As I Been to You re-confirms Dylan’s position as an elite interpreter and sculptor — not of just structure but emotion. Dylan delivers the tunes as if he’s known them forever. He plays with a subtle sense of mischievousness and retains a largely upbeat demeanour; his eyes seemingly twinkle as he sings and picks. His guitar serves as the guidepost for shuffles, boogies, ballads, and mess-arounds while his innate feel for each specific arrangement and melody helps inform pacing, tone, attack.

Like a great author, he understands the importance of adhering to concision, luring an audience, holding their attention, and maximizing the impact of details, actions, and unexpected turns. Though already coarse and ragged, his voice feels ideal for the subject matter and his phrasing — from the clever ways he stretches syllables to underline meanings on the surprise twists of “Canadee-I-O” to the sheer delight he gets from singing “rowdy-dow-dow” on the protest song “Arthur McBride” — outstanding.

Lewis II was the follow up to Lewis Taylor's epochal, self-titled debut album. It was initially released in 2000 and this double LP release, its first ever vinyl edition, has been heavily anticipated for nearly a quarter of a century. It's often years before most listeners catch up with an album's breathtaking vision and devastating execution, and so it has proved with Lewis II; it stands up exceptionally well today.

After Island rejected Lewis Taylor's second release (later released as The Lost Album), he returned to the studio to record Lewis II. Less esoteric than Lewis Taylor, Lewis II is a more polished, sophisticated funk and mature uptempo soul than the dark psych-soul of his debut. The production, whilst slicker, is a bit tougher, with more crisp, R&B-flavoured grooves and head-nod beats and more bass pumping up his voice. The vocal intensity present on album number one doesn't abate. Indeed, as Lewis himself noted, "my voice is better on Lewis II and the vocals are high in the mix."

The moody funk of "Party" sounds like a mad blend of Riot-era Sly Stone and Brian Wilson. It rides a stuttering drum machine groove with acapella harmony vocals arriving halfway through to stay for the duration. "My Aching Heart", with its clean, slick, late 90s R&B drums, could surely have been a single. Perhaps Lewis's idiosyncratic melodies would've been too challenging for the charts. Lewis *had hoped* "You Make Me Wanna" would be a single but the dank, organ-drenched groove, coupled with the growling eroticism of Lewis's vocals would've, again, made this beyond the pale for most mainstream music fans. Somewhat incongruous acidic synths and bleeps give way to a laconic summertime groove on breezy highlight "The Way You Done Me", all funky acoustic guitars and stunning, good-time vocals. Sumptuous ballad "Satisfied", a real fan favourite, marries unusual instrumentation with classic soul-ballad structure and closes with a monster guitar solo which almost out-Princes Prince in its gritty melodicism, set against sweeping strings of real majesty. Prog-Funk-Rock!

The dubbed-out, spaced-out "Never Gonna Be My Woman" is the closest the album comes to classic D’Angeloesque neo-soul, with echoes of the esoteric funk featured across Maxwell's contemporaneous Embrya. But what follows is on some next level business. As Lewis's biggest fan, Geoffrey Scull, noted, "the "I'm On The Floor" / "Lewis II" / "Into You" song cycle stacks up against any other consecutive 15 minutes of recorded music, ever!" And who are we to argue with that? These could've been hits for Justin Timberlake during his fascinating Timbaland-collaborating days, such is the sonic and textural pop experimentation at play here. The extraordinary title track sounds like an outtake from Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man and spends its last third as a searingly dark piano-led psychedelic-guitar-crunching soul instrumental. Just astounding. And then. AND THEN! The way it segues into, er, "Into You" is just straight up genius. Goosebumps galore on this one, no words can describe its celestial brilliance. Just kick back and be beguiled by the "Let me come on over again" refrain that ornately adorns its sensational coda. Phew.

The swoonsome, lovelorn ballad "Blue Eyes", apparently written in the spirit of Marvin’s "Vulnerable", is a lush, slow swinger with some gorgeous noir touches. To close, Lewis completely retools Jeff Buckley’s beloved, beautiful "Everybody Here Wants You" and, while talking some liberties, even manages to surpass the original. Yes, really! With soaring, fiery vocals set against icy piano and psychedelic guitars, Lewis recasts Buckley's effort as dramatic, ethereal soul.

When it came to translating the original CD booklet into a 12 inch LP sleeve, thanks to some suggestions from Cally Callomon (head of Island’s art department, who designed all the sleeves for Lewis’s two Island albums and their singles) and his trusting us with his “Lewis Taylor” folder full of various negatives, test prints and whatever else he was able to salvage from the old Island art department, we’ve gotten pretty close to what the original LP sleeve would’ve looked like if it existed. Simon Francis’s vinyl mastering, presents the eleven tracks over a double LP so, as ever, the record sounds outstandingly good. The records have been cut by Cicely Balston at Air Studios and pressed at Record Industry.

Nonesuch Records releases an album of songs written and performed by Caroline Shaw and Sō Percussion, Let the Soil Play Its Simple Part. The musicians, who have known each other since their student days, were presented with three days of gratis studio time and decided to experiment with ideas they had begun putting to tape during the sessions for their January 2021 Nonesuch release Narrow Sea. With Shaw on vocals and Sō – Eric Cha-Beach, Josh Quillen, Adam Sliwinski, and Jason Treuting – filling out this new band, they developed songs in the studio, with lyrics inspired by their own wide-ranging interests: James Joyce, the Sacred Harp hymn book, a poem by Anne Carson, the Bible’s Book of Ruth, the American roots tune ‘I’ll Fly Away’, and the pop perfection of ABBA, among others. The album is co-produced by Shaw, Sō Percussion, and the Grammy Award–winning engineer Jonathan Low (The National, Taylor Swift).

Shaw, who won a Pulitzer Prize for her vocal composition Partita for 8 Voices, written for and performed with Roomful of Teeth, makes her solo vocal debut with Let the Soil Play Its Simple Part. The album’s first track, ‘To the Sky’, from the Sacred Harp, takes its lyrics from Anne Steele. “I love the songs about death, and going home, and looking toward a time that is better or brighter, which, if there’s one thing to think about in the world, maybe that’s the thing,” Shaw says. “This one I love in particular. There’s a line, ‘Frail solace of an hour / So soon our transient comforts fly / And pleasure blooms to die.’ It’s meditation on the ephemeral, and I love it.”

“I hadn’t written very many songs, but I have certainly loved many in my life. I’ve been thinking of making a solo album for seven or eight years, but it takes having the right friends and community in the room,” Shaw says. “The prompt for all of us was: What would we make in the room together with no one person in charge, like a band writes in the studio?”

Cha-Beach recalls of the early test run during the Narrow Sea session: “It had that capturing-lightning-in-a bottle feeling.” When the opportunity to have three days in their friends’ studio, Guilford Sound, came up, the five musicians decamped for Vermont with engineer/co-producer Jonathan Low. “Jon is an amazing editor,” Cha-Beach says. “He is so helpful in thinking about: ‘We have these ideas: how do we shrink those and make them come across on an album?’”

One such idea was for Shaw to do a duet with each member of Sō. She sings with Josh Quillen on steel drums on the title track, which she wrote in under an hour in a “free-writing zone, very inspired by James Joyce, taking on that brain space,” she says. Lyrically, the song is “related to some math bits that I love, but also memory, and love songs of somebody who’s gone or passed away, or that you’re no longer with: what is the sound of that kind of devastation or confusion or love?” They recorded the song only twice, and the first take is on the album. “It’s very spare. The playing is very Josh; it’s so sensitive,” Shaw says.

Adam Sliwinski’s marimba duet with Shaw is an interpretation of the ABBA song ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’. She explains, “It’s really a Bach chorale. Also, the idea of someone singing ‘Don’t go wasting your emotion / Lay all your love on me / Don’t go sharing your devotion / Lay all your love on me,’ over and over again very slowly, there’s a certain tragedy in it. And then Adam did some absolutely exquisite layering that built this stunning world from the marimba.”

Jason Treuting on the drum kit joined Shaw for ‘Long Ago We Counted’. She suggested, “Why don’t we start with the voice and the kit having a weird conversation, sort of like two babies talking to each other? And then we built this loop, and we go from this place that’s totally uncomfortable and nonsensical to something that’s rich and rolling and satisfying.” For ‘Some Bright Morning’, the duet with Cha-Beach – who here plays electronics, piano, and Hammond organ – Shaw drew upon a twelfth century liturgical hymn she had sung regularly in church during her college years: ‘Salve Regina’.

“Some songs on Let the Soil… were very specifically composed by Caroline,” Cha-Beach says. “But others were this assemblage of ideas: finding words, an idea for how a melody could work, a harmony, and then tossing it in a blender and trusting each other.” Shaw adds, “What I love about Sō is the curiosity about how objects make sounds and how they speak to each other. There was an underlying thread of thinking about what goes into soil, how we take care of it, how we allow it to be itself, how we contain it, and what can come out of it if you cultivate the right environment, which for me is always this wonderful metaphor for creativity and collaboration: let people be themselves and see what happens,” she concludes.

Caroline Shaw is a New York–based musician – vocalist, violinist, composer, and producer – who performs in solo and collaborative projects. She was the youngest recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2013 for Partita for 8 Voices, written for the Grammy–winning Roomful of Teeth, of which she is a member. Shaw’s film scores include Erica Fae’s To Keep the Light and Josephine Decker’s Madeline’s Madeline as well as the upcoming short 8th Year of the Emergency by Maureen Towey. Hailed for ‘astonishing both the pop and classical music worlds’ (Guardian), she has produced for Kanye West (The Life of Pablo; Ye) and Nas (NASIR), and has contributed to records by The National and by Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry. Shaw currently teaches at NYU and is a Creative Associate at The Juilliard School. Her 2019 Nonesuch/New Amsterdam album Orange won a Grammy Award.

Through its interpretations of modern classics, innovative multi-genre original productions, and ‘exhilarating blend of precision and anarchy, rigor and bedlam’ (New Yorker), Sō Percussion has redefined the scope and role of the modern percussion ensemble. Sō’s repertoire ranges from twentieth century works by John Cage, Steve Reich, and Iannis Xenakis, to commissioning and advocating works by contemporary composers such as David Lang, Julia Wolfe, and Steven Mackey, to collaborations with artists who work outside the classical concert hall, including Shara Nova, choreographer Susan Marshall, The National, Bryce Dessner, and many others. Sō has recorded more than twenty albums, including a performance of Reich’s Mallet Quartet on the Nonesuch record WTC 9/11; appeared at Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, Walt Disney Hall, the Barbican, the Eaux Claires Festival, MassMoCA, and TED 2016; and performed with Jad Abumrad, JACK Quartet, the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra, and the LA Phil and Gustavo Dudamel, among others.

The three players in Chicago’s Moontype orbited each other for years before they came in phase. Bodies of Water, their debut album for local label Born Yesterday, documents travel, insecurity, friendship, and the titular element—all of which are representative of the band members’ strong connection to place and to one another. “Being rooted in the landscape became important to me while studying geology, which completely changed how I think about the world,” offers songwriter, vocalist and bassist Margaret McCarthy of the album’s central themes. The arrangements themselves feel like open-hearted negotiations; sparse fingerpicking gives way to saturated tube-screaming as naturally as the changing of tides. Over twelve tracks, Moontype revels in the woozy concoction of its many influences, but always lands on punchy hooks, shifting between arrangements both spacious and mystifying without abandoning their conversational warmth.

Conservatory students at Oberlin College’s prestigious music program, each member focused on exploring different sounds. Guitarist Ben Cruz, who came up on classic rock shredding and migrated into jazz performance, admired the indie pop of Fountains of Wayne, the groundbreaking composition work of pianist Vijay Iyer, and the genre-morphing folk of heavy hitters like Neil Young and Joni Mitchell. He played in several projects alongside Emerson Hunton, who’d drummed from age six and entrenched himself in the Twin Cities improvised music scene before even heading to college. Margaret—who grew up outside of Boston playing piano, singing in choirs and writing on guitar—spent her time creating knotty, riot grrrl-and-hyperpop inspired songs for bass and voice, as well as noise soundtracks for art installations. Inspired by artists like Adrianne Lenker and Gillian Welch, she recorded the EP bass tunes at home in an apartment over the town’s optician, releasing it upon graduation. A week later she migrated even farther west to Chicago, where Ben and Emerson had already enmeshed themselves in several projects, from avant garde ensembles to a country group.

Ben was instantly impressed by Margaret’s songs, at once “challenging and unlike anything I had played before.” The duo decided to try performing together, but knew this special music would be even better fortified with drums. Emerson was the obvious choice—as Ben puts it, “He’s our great friend and also the best drummer we know. Who else do you call?” Moontype-as-trio gigged around town, eventually embarking on a first fall tour in Emerson’s Prius. On that trip, they felt the music morph into something living, and the care and trust between them intensified. They decided to put together songs for a record, recorded at the end of 2019 with Jamdek Recording Studio’s Doug Malone, a dependable collaborator whose patient process perfectly captured the magic of their newfound familiarity. While Margaret’s skeletal demos still informed the bulk of Moontype’s full-band debut (some of which are re-recordings of bass tunes cuts), the resulting arrangements are songs reborn and strengthened by the three musicians’ absorption of one another’s ideas.

On Bodies of Water, Margaret’s soothing, unadorned alto is often peppered by the gliding, eerie harmonies of her bandmates. “We love the act of singing together,” explains Ben, who describes it as “connecting and grounding and wholesome.” The push-pull search for common ground characterizes the instrumentals as well. Round basslines occupy higher octaves, trading space with guitars chugging in lower registers, and all the while drums break apart and glue back together in idiosyncratic grooves that never lose the pocket. Of the complicated rhythms that sometimes result: “Any mathy moments are based on how the lyrics fall naturally, which feels like it frees us up from having to stay in one time signature,” says Emerson. “Rhythmic elements never feel like they’re being added in, more like they’re already there and we just float on through.”

Touring’s restlessness informed these songs, but so did the DIY scene that welcomed Moontype to Chicago—including, according to Margaret, the “wild harmonies” of Ohmme, the “deadpan explanatory rock” of Ratboys, and the “luxe math rock pattern music” of The Knees. Working at beloved venue Sleeping Village inspired Margaret’s observational vignettes; “We are sitting at the desk and you are mixing all the bands,” she reports in the middle of the dextrous folk hammer-ons of “3 Weeks,” gently admitting, “I am trying to have fun and I am trying to get paid” in a world of bikes, trucks, and velvet. “About You,” a robust power-popper written about a post-gig romp around Richmond with artist Bebé Machete, opens with a Phair-ian quip: “Looking at you with my fuck me eyes / Do you wanna get inside of mine?” Meanwhile, the spectre of lost camaraderie looms over “Ferry,” an atmospheric and anthemic standout that questions, “If I’m not your best friend / then who am I to anyone?” Alongside water, this preoccupation with friendship is a focal concern lyrically, but the palpable love between Moontype’s players is essential in communicating that desire for connection, and all three members are dedicated to exploring sound and meaning organically and together. Care and generosity are at the core of Moontype, and Bodies of Water is a clever album full of insightful music, as cosily enveloping as it is incisively honest.

For Another Michael, it all boils down to trust. In mid-2017, the critically acclaimed indie three-piece packed their bags and collectively relocated from Albany, NY to a shared house in West Philadelphia. This move signaled not only the start of a new chapter for the trio, but also a deepening of the bonds that would come to define their captivating debut LP, `New Music and Big Pop.' "It's hard for a group of people to get closer than living together," says bassist and producer Nick Sebastiano. "The stronger our connection grew, the more it shaped the music we found ourselves making." It should come as little surprise, then, that `New Music and Big Pop' is Another Michael's most collaborative work yet. Recorded in a small A-frame house-turned-makeshift studio outside Ferndale, NY, the record finds the trio pushing their sound in a dreamier, more folk-influenced direction, building songs around vulnerable, intimate performances using an ethereal palette of breezy guitars, subtle keyboards, and layered harmonies. As on the band's early EPs, singer and songwriter Michael Doherty's mesmerizing voice is front and center here, calling to mind Robin Pecknold or Ben Bridwell in its reedy, crystalline timbre, but it feels more at home than ever before amidst the album's lush, Technicolor landscape, which the band partnered with producer and fellow housemate Scoops Dardaris to create. The result is a masterfully understated record that belies its status as a full-length debut, a thoughtful, poetic, collection all about growth and change, hope and faith, endings and beginnings, delivered by a band that's only just begun to scratch the surface of their story.

After A Long Night The Sun ¡nally Rises As Our High Leader And
Big Boss Filburt ¡nally Blesses O*rs With His Very ¡rst Full
Artist Ep. The Emotive Three-tracker ‚unnoticed Love' Comes
Along With Two Originals Accompanied By A Remix Of None Other Than Charles Webster. As The Title Track's Relentless Groove Goes On And On Pianos Emerge And The Track Reaches Full Effect When The Vocoder-heavy Vocals Hit, Taking You To A Higher Place Of Emotional Consciousness. Trust Us, You Wanna Go There. ‚it's All About You' With It's Combination Of Harmonic Bleeps, Big Pads, Steel Drums And An Unique Arrangement Sounds Like That Sunrise We Mentioned Earlier. It Is Advised By Authorities To Sit Back, Relax And Take A Long Bath In It. And Then There Is This Charles Webster Remix Which Moves Through A Foggy Territory
Where The Best Kind Deephouse Grows. While There Charles
Plants Some Tribal Seeds Before Going Even Deeper With A
Bassline Richer Than The Sauce Your Granny Made For Christmas Dinner. Limited Edition Of 200, Handstamped+

Farron continues the course of Shaw Cuts with his 'Legend Of The Bat' EP, following in the footsteps of Chu Liu Hsiang: the journey to Bat Island.
The voyage begins with 'C.I.T.G', its relentless break-beat fundament combined with coarse synth lunacy to wipe out the first dark shapes - moonlit slaughter.
Joining forces with rivals, Chu Liu Hsiang is no longer alone as he advances on Bat Island. 'Semi-Final Thoughts' accompanies the newly-formed crew to the mysterious ground - a melody of warm synth and light churned by industrious oldschool drums. But who to trust
The fleeting harmony ends when several combatants unveil their guise and true motives. Loyalties revealed, massacre ensues. 'Unlimited Mind' pulsates, its bassline and sharp percussions decapitating those who dare to deceive.
'Derby' epitomizes the tension of the final showdown with low rolling tones, echoing chords and heavy percussion weaving the air like the rival in pursuit. With teamed forces and clever combat the traitor is annihilated from head to toe - bloodbath and game over...