Suche:tunnel kids

New Jersey based producer Jorge Velez returns to Echovolt under his brand new guise Bridge & Tunnel Kids with three tripped out, psychedelic journeys of the Detroit kind plus a remix by fellow 'outsider' Willie Burns!

DJ / Press Quotes
2012 was a prolific year for the New Jersey based producer Jorge Velez also know as Professor Genius. He recently spread even more his name with his 'MMT Tape Series' release on Rush Hour Recordings and the blinding sountrack-ish 'Hassan' album on the notorious L.I.E.S. from New York.

Jorge Velez and William Burnett joined their forces in 2009 and their collaboration tracks became the first release on the Echovolt label's catalog. Their debut EP came under the name 'PG&S - Motorik EP' and contained some freaky krautrock electronics.

After four years, Jorge Velez and William Burnett (aka Willie Burns) return to Echovolt. This time Jorge Velez delivers three tripped out, psychedelic journeys of the Detroit kind under his brand new guise Bridge & Tunnel Kids. This fresh Echovolt release is topped off by a remix by fellow 'outsider' Willie Burns with his unique sound signature!

**Includes double sided insert with liner notes and photos*

Al Mati was the pseudonym of eccentric Portuguese-born, Dutch-based artist Alberto Mesquita. The name translates to ‘Alberto Friend’, with ‘Al’ short for Alberto and ‘Mati’ meaning ‘friend’ in Surinamese.
Alberto’s story comes across like a mythical character from a European Kerouac novel, but instead of writing it down, he poured those adventures and characters into his record. The music and the comic-style artwork, drawn by his friend Bruno Scoriels, work as one, with Alberto himself becoming both the story and the character within it.

Raised under Salazar’s regime in Lisbon, where all men were conscripted to Africa, he refused, a pacifist. This put him at odds with his father, born in Angola and a prominent lawyer tied to the dictatorship. Unable to accept his son’s stance, the rift forced Alberto to flee Portugal as a deserter, leaving everything behind.

He sought a new life in Paris, where he met Bruno Scoriels. The pair busked to get by, and young and broke, set off on adventures across Europe. On one trip to Barcelona, they crossed the Pyrenees on foot through a five-kilometre train tunnel, not knowing if they would make it out alive. The train later featured on the cover of Some Shit, a nod to that hazardous journey and the strange turns of his life.

From there he moved to Belgium, where he met Jolanda, his future wife who also features on the album. They lived in The Netherlands, then back in Belgium where they married, before returning to Portugal under false pretences. The regime promised deserters immunity, but it proved untrue, and Alberto was forced to flee again — this time with a young family, using Bruno’s passport to escape to The Netherlands.

They settled in the Gliphoeve flats in Amsterdam’s Bijlmermeer, a vibrant immigrant community. This melting pot of cultures inspired Alberto musically. He started a studio in their flat where musicians from Suriname, Angola, the Antilles, Brazil, Mozambique and Portugal came and went, jamming, rehearsing, recording and forming bands including Albatros, Comoção and Mati Africa, performing internationally and at iconic Amsterdam venues like De Melkweg and Paradiso.

Being an immigrant was tough. Alberto was stateless for years, drifting across countries. Some songs voiced his frustration with the Portuguese regime, others were playful or simply love notes to his wife and kids. He passed away in the Netherlands in 2021, leaving Some Shit open to interpretation. But when you picture Europe in the 1970s — the politics, the upheaval, and his need to connect people across cultures — you can hear an artist shaped by contrast, who poured his experiences, feelings and love into music.

Various Color pressing
I spent a lot of time crossing the Detroit/Windsor boarder tunnel. - My family lives half in the US and half in Canada and my father crossed daily for for work and materials. My brother and I would sit on old paint cans in the back of his work truck. long trips to home depot in the hopes that we could get a rally’s banana milkshake before heading home. - I hated that work truck, but we loved the trips, no matter how mundane. We would spend hours crossing that boarder tunnel when it was busy, our bottoms would hurt from the metal paint cans. When i was in high school i would smuggle cigarettes to sell to the Canadian kids, it was a good business. The dark tunnel in disrepair built over 90 years ago felt like a relic of the past, its leaky walls and pale yellow tiles were always crumbling around you. It was claustrophobic and uncomfortable. But the tunnel made your mind wander with thoughts of what was above you, giant cargo ships or sea monsters. It was an anxious place, the uncertainty of its structure or the dreaded boarder patrol on the other side. Would be be pulled in and searched? would the carton of camels i hid under the seat be found? - It was a special place and a special time. These sounds are about traffic and the movement and time in this strange tunnel.

Following the commercial success of the 2021 album Unf*ckwitable and an overall banner year for the Detroit rapper, Babyface Ray comes with the aptly titled and highly anticipated album, FACE, which sees him stake his claim as “The Face of the City.” Production on the twenty-track album is largely handled by 808 Mafia, DJ Esco and others, and features appearances from Icewear Vezzo, Yung Lean, Pusha T, G Herbo, Wiz Khalifa, 42 Dugg & Landstrip Chip. With an already impressive list of cosigns from artists such as Future and Tyler, The Creator, Babyface Ray continues his all-out assault to put Motor City on the map and isn’t taking his foot off the gas anytime soon.

Marshall McLuhan’s famous edict ‘the medium is the message’ has never been more apt than with regard to modern remix culture. Although the idea of the remix goes way back to the Jamaican dub pioneers and New York disco remixers of the 1970s, the form didn’t truly come into its own until the acid house explosion of the 1980s, when remixers’ credentials often subsumed — and sometimes surpassed — the original source material. Some, among them our lost friend Andrew Weatherall, used remixing as a springboard into multiple other directions, and became auteurs in their own right.

Forged in the white-hot heat of post-acid house Britain, these Heavenly remixes are perfectly weighted with respect and irreverence, the remixer in each case carefully chosen to add heft to the song (as on Al Breadwinner’s dubwise reworking of Mattiel’s ’Guns of Brixton’— the pairing more a game of chess than a best-of-three arm wrestle).

Although Heavenly was founded in the wake of huge upheavals in electronic music, it was still imbued with its own curious parallel life. I’ve always thought of Heavenly as one of the UK’s alt-pop labels; a place where brilliant pop bands live and record, if the general public would only realise. Some of them have ended up in the real, actual charts (Saint Etienne, Doves), but that’s missing the point about Heavenly, who are, like Factory and Fast Product before them, pop music’s conscience.

There is no sense of order to this compilation and we make no apologies. It’s the Heavenly way. Think of it as a present from Loki, the Norse god of mischief. You’ll find a smattering of older tracks: album openers Saint Etienne are taken on a Poseidon Adventure with Underworld, who inject ‘Cool Kids of Death’ with typically manic energy. Elsewhere, ’90s Brum duo Mother add dancefloor pzazz to Espiritu’s innate glamour on an all-funked-up reworking of ‘Los Americanos’, and Mark Lusardi’s remix of Moonflowers’ ‘Get Higher’ is an early Heavenly classic.

On ‘Terracotta Warrior’, a perfect, psyched-out, Mancunian union is created betwixt Jimi Goodwin and Andy Votel, whilst Goodwin cohort Simon Aldred, in his Cherry Ghost guise, receives a proper Tamla-Motowning from Richard Norris (aka Time & Space Machine) on an inspired cover of Cece Peniston’s glam-house hit, ‘Finally’.

There are several of Heavenly’s current darlings here too. One of the most exciting young British prospects, Yorkshire’s Working Men’s Club, effectively remix themselves, as Minsky Rock — WMC’s Syd Minsky-Sargeant and producer Ross Orton — cleave ‘X’ into a riotous industrial racket. Jagwar Ma’s Jono Ma takes the Kraftwerkian leitmotif on ‘Automatic’ and drives the Australian jazz-funkers Mildlife down an electro-convulsive psychedelic tunnel (thankfully no-one was harmed during the making of this remix); Sheffield’s DJ Parrot and Jarvis Cocker deliver one of the outstanding remixes of 2018, turning Baxter Dury’s ‘Miami’ into a lovelorn minor opera; and, making its first appearance on vinyl, David Holmes’ Unloved project is taken on a panoramic Welsh waltz thanks to Gwenno.


There may well be no rhyme, nor reason, to how these compilations have been put together, beyond the fact that they are assembled with love, an innate understanding of the power of great pop music, and a skilled marriage of song and remixer — but does one really need anything more than that for an album to make sense? I’d suggest not.

Multidisciplinary NYC artist Gavilán Rayna Russom launches her own label Voluminous Arts, dedicated to highlight electronic and experimental artists whose work challenges fixed categories of genre and categorization. Her aim is to create a platform for multidisciplinary work and events. The inaugural release being her second solo album as Gavilán Rayna Russom 'Secret Passage', following up last years 'The Envoy, an homage to the East Side Rail Tunnel in Providence, Rhode Island, and the friendships she made there.

In Rayna’s words:
“I grew up in Providence, Rhode Island in the 1970’s and 80’s. The booming jewelry and textile industries of the previous decades had pulled out by that point. The Italian mob ran most details of the day to day operations of the city. As kids coming up in that environment, before the internet, me and the people I hung out with didn’t know anything else and we worked with what we had to entertain ourselves. We found places that had been forgotten by market interests and made them spaces of creative community building. One of the most special of these places was the East Side Rail Tunnel. Running for almost exactly one mile beneath the city’s streets, the tunnel and nearby Crook Point Bridge were unsupervised autonomous zones where I tasted the possibilities of a world without surveilance. The tunnel was particularly important in my creative development because not only was it a marginal zone apart from monetized spaces of creative consumption, but it also had specific experiential properties. It had a bend in it which meant that when you got to the middle of it you were in complete darkness, and I learned quickly that when you spend enough time in complete darkness you start to hallucinate, which I liked. The acoustics were also remarkable; long natural delays and harmonic-reinforcing reverberances. Making any sound in there added layers of acoustic effects which made noises physical and fluid and, combined with the complete darkness, absolutely dissolved boundaries between internal and external experience. I started hanging out there when I was 14 and continued to return there regularly until development, gentrification and policing eventually made it inaccessible. By the mid ‘90s it was sealed off with progressively more impenetrable barriers. Nowadays it looks very different. This music is about some of the significant experiences I had in this beautifully neglected place and the people I had them with.”