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As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Whether original or discovered, songs have always come into my life out
of need - I think every song in this record is about a beginning hidden in
an ending, hidden reclamations of ways I've disappointed myself
The record opens with Backup Plan… because I think being absolutely and freely
myself was always stupidly my back up plan. If I couldn't succeed at being the
person I was pretending to be, if I couldn't want the things I'd been pretending to
want, only then would I give myself permission to just be me. Then came Thérèse
and Mermaid Bar - Thérèse is about a misunderstood girl trapped in a painting
and Mermaid Bar is about a girl who tries to end her life by jumping into the
Hudson River and instead becomes a mermaid. Bloomed Into Blue was originally
a poem I had written with a friend in high school called the B-Word Muse. It was a
tribute to Ariel, to Eddie Sedgwick, Marie Thérèse, and so many more… Women
who were always the subject of art and not the creator. Worthy of being spoken
about but not worthy of being listened to. This record reckons with childhood in
Sweet Tooth and Driver, with regret in Luna Moth, Crazy Kid and Sticky Little
Words, with anger in South Elroy, Restless Moon and Over.Above all this record
wants to be about rebirth and acceptance.I'm crawling back to myself. Thank you
for watching- Maya Hawke
LP Translucent Orange Vinyl Tracks: Backup Plan / Bloomed Into Blue / Hiatus /
Sweet Tooth / Crazy Kid (featuring Will Graefe) / Luna Moth / South Elroy /
Thérèse / Sticky Little Words / Over / Restless Moon / Driver / Mermaid Bar

Garden Gaia is a part of Pantha du Prince’s ongoing exploration into the theme of ‘humans as nature’, a theme previously explored on his records Elements of Light (recorded with The Bell Laboratory) and 2020’s Conference of Trees.

Pantha du Prince on Garden Gaia: “There are scientists who say that we humans are ocean that’s been folded together. My music is about raising consciousness, about describing the reality of life and the lost paradise through the means of music. It’s about entering a free space and developing a maximum degree of openness and sensitivity to our bodies – to our mental states and the atmosphere that surrounds us. It’s about mindfulness and a high level of awareness towards what’s happening around and within us. I’ve poured all of these experiences into Garden Gaia as music. And that’s to be taken in the literal sense of ‘pouring,’ since we belong to a flowing process on this planet. A tree also flows into the air, just as it’s connected to other trees beneath the ground through currents of communication. Our lungs flow into our bodies. And as embryos, we were flowing beings. The question is: to what extent can we adult humans continue to flow?”

Anyone that cut their metal teeth with The Big Four, and then dug a little deeper into the indie scene, should receive a major endorphin rush when they discover that speed and thrash masters RAZOR are about to release their first studio offering in 25 years. The album, Cycle of Contempt, is a direct, cutthroat record that pulls no punches and takes no prisoners. From the catchy, concise riffs and insistent beats of album opener “Flames of Hatred” to the double-barreled assault, muted power chord chugging and combative gang vocal of album closer “King Shit,” Cycle of Contempt is a trenchant reminder of a time when clubs around the world were packed with long-haired bands that played as fast as they could and mosh pits that spun and tumbled like clothes in a short-circuiting dryer. As energetic and exciting as Evil Invaders and as urgent and powerful as RAZOR’s 1989 speed-fest Violent Restitution, Cycle of Contempt showcases a band that never stopped spewing venom. “I tried to write songs that everybody could listen to and say, “Yeah, I know a guy who's done that to me or done this, or I know that situation. I can relate to that,” band founder Dave Carlo says. “And I didn’t want to make everything specifically about me because when you do that, you exclude people. I wanted to include everyone that’s ever felt pissed off about anything.” An unrelenting slab of old-school thrash that showcases RAZOR's encyclopedic knowledge of the past along with Carlo’s growth as a songwriter, player, and lyricist, Cycle of Contempt is here to show that RAZOR are as dominating as ever.

Following up on the Rock Sound and Kerrang! Radio supported album
'Amorphous', Icon For Hire introduced 'The Reckoning', with the bruising
single 'Ready For Combat'
Described by Rock Sound as "a bold and belligerent piece of hard rock chaos", the
track, alongside its high-powered music video, perfectly depict the harder-edged
sound and aesthetic of the upcoming album, in the band's own words; "grittier,
louder, larger". Talking about the album Icon For Hire say; "'The Reckoning' isn't
just about exploring all the dark and heavy pieces of ourselves, it's about
embracing and accepting those pieces, and using them as weapons against the
gatekeepers that hold us back, even when those gatekeepers are our own selfimposed limitations." Featuring collaborations with Keith Wallen of Breaking
Benjamin and mixing by Joe Rickard of In Flames and Red, the album boasts
Ariel's fiercest vocals to date, and Shawn's signature in-your-face guitar style.
Since forming in 2007, Icon For Hire - composed of singer Ariel Bloomer and
guitarist Shawn Jump - have quietly amassed a legion of fans. With 250 millions
global streams to date and nearly 1 million followers across social platforms,
Icon For Hire are no longer the sleeping giants of the modern rock scene. Having
sold over 120,000 albums to date through their completely independent set up,
they are one of the most successful direct to fans stories. Continuing to build
their legacy on their own terms, unapologetically forcing all to take note that they
aren't going anywhere any time soon, with 'The Reckoning' Icon For Hire are
embracing their self funded freedom.
Featuring collaborations with Keith Wallen (Breaking Benjamin) & mixed by Joe
Rickard (previously of In Flames & Red).
144M YouTube streams / 410K subscribers.
725K+ followers across social channels.

El Goodo guitarist and songwriter 'Pixy Jones' has announced that his debut album entitled 'Bits n Bobs' is due for release on 16th of September via Strangetown Records. 
After 4 albums with El Goodo, Welsh psych scene stalwart Pixy Jones has himself compiled a truly remarkable collection of tracks that fluctuate from 60's harmony-rich psych pop, to Alt-Country with ringing tremelo guitar. 

The swaggering 'I'm Not There' is the first single to be taken from 'Bits n Bobs' accompanied by a magical version of Beatles track 'And Your Bird Can Sing' as it's B SIde, which will be released digitally on Friday 1st of July.

Pixy had this to say about the release: 
The album was originally intended as a solo project under the pseudonym of “Wallace Russell”. I recorded it alongside the recording of Zombie (El Goodo) whenever I could get in the studio. There are some really old songs that have always been overlooked for 'El Goodo' albums for one reason or another, a few new ones which I wrote specifically for this, and a couple that would have probably ended up on the intended double album version of Zombie if we’d kept going with the double album idea. I’ve since ditched the 'Wallace Russell' name and gone back to 'Pixy Jones' as I figured there’s no need to have a pseudonym if nobody knows who you are in the first place. Even though I dropped the name I’ve kept the walrus mask for now as it is more photogenic than my actual face.
I had no recording budget so I had to fund it by quitting smoking and saving the money up to pay for studio time. It took, I think, two and a half years to record, which is by far the quickest I’ve ever recorded an album.

Originally I wanted it to just be a quickly recorded slap dash and get it out sort of thing but I had a year and a half during Covid to think about it a bit more and ended up taking more care to get it done properly. It was just me there so I played most of it myself apart from Stephen Black (Sweet Baboo) who played brass and woodwind on one song and Rhodri Brooks (AhGeeBe) plays some pedal steel on a couple. 

Elliott and Canny from 'El Goodo' played drums and bass on Wind Street during the ‘Zombie’ recording sessions. 

The album was recorded and mixed in Aerial Studios with Tim Lewis, (Thighpaulsandra), a couple of songs were finished in the house during the lockdowns.

A rediscovered untitled Mass by Adriaen Willaert "Missa Ippolito", a
hidden ode to the Cardinal of Ferrara, Willaert's patron.Adriaen Willaert
must have already been a prolific composer before he assumed the
position of kapellmeister at the Basilica of San Marco in Venice
After all, a second Mass of his was included in a large, illuminated choral
manuscript that was produced for the Illustrious Brotherhood of Our Blessed
Lady in 's- Hertogenbosch, the Netherlands (the first Mass in this manuscript,
Missa sex vocum super "Benedicta," can be found on the LP Adriano 2). The title
page of the Mass does not mention the name of the composition, only that of the
composer, Adrianus Willart. It was catalogued as a Missa sine nomine, a Mass
without a name. It is assumed that the work was composed between 1522 and
1527, at a time when Willaert was a member of the music chapel of Cardinal
Ippolito d'Este in Ferrara, Italy. At first glance, what's striking about this
composition is that one of the tenor voices sings a cantus firmus (a "given, fixed,
foundational voice" that provides the basis for each movement of the Mass, to
which the other voices are added) that always consists of the same 13 notes: mi
ut mi sol mi ut fa mi fa mi re mi.
In an article about the Mass, the musicologist Joshua Rifkin claims to have
discovered a sogetto cavato delle parole in this sequence of notes. This is a
compositional technique common for the time in which the notes of a melody, in
this case the cantus firmus, are derived from the vowels of certain words. The
notes used for the tone poetry are those of the Guidonian hexachord, a series of
the 6 notes ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la.
For example, the word Maria (Ma-ri-a) can be "translated" into the notes la mi la.
The cantus firmus of the Mass, according to Rifkin, fits the words "Primus
Ippolitus Cardinalis Estensis" (Ippolito I, Cardinal d'Este) perfectly. The Mass is
thus almost certainly (via a hidden message in the music) an ode to the Cardinal
of Ferrara who was Willaert's patron. This rediscovered untitled Mass by Adriaen
Willaert, which we have now sung as a world premiere, can therefore rightly bear
the name Missa Ippolito.

The Crystal Furs are a queer indie pop/rock band from Portland, OR. They write melodic, textured songs about anxiety, architecture, lesbians, and queer feels - loud music for quiet hearts. In Coastal Light is the band’s fifth album, following on from 2020 LP Beautiful and True, and hears them honing their blend of grungey riffs and 60s-girl-group vocals. As featured on: KEXP, WFMU, BBC Radio, Freeform Portland, KBOO Portland, Portland Radio Project, Chasing Infinity on WRUW, Get In Her Ears, Grrls Like Us “Had Portland’s (via Forth Worth) The Crystal Furs been around in the late 80s – early 90s there is a possibility they would have been signed to Sarah Records, home of OG jangle pop bands like The Field Mice and The Sea Urchins. Then again with their sunny, bright melodies, they might have found themselves riding the charts alongside The Bangles.” 50Thirdand3rd “It’s something of a well-worn expression, that adult life is about ‘finding oneself’, but it certainly seems for the Buchanans, and their band, that all of the changes in their life have enabled them to do just that. And what they’ve found are winning alt. indie-pop purveyors in the mould of Helen Love. Beautiful And True is an album whose title could not be clearer: it is what it says it is.” Get In Her Ears “Think of those jangly C86 tunes mixing genteel harmonies, spiraling keyboards, melodic guitar/ bass sounds and wistful vocals and you begin to get the drift here.” Into Creative “From the opening tones of the Farfisa organ on ‘Comeback Girls’ the lo-fi indie pop shines through, with jangly guitars, unassuming instrumental breaks and a naturalistic production that puts the Furs right there in the room with you.” Cambridge Music Review“Retro without being jaded, cute without being cliched what The Crystal Furs do so well – and demonstrate deeply on both tracks in this release – is as we’ve said pair light, sparkling and downright danceable melodies with dark-hearted lyrics emerging from shadowy inner worlds and harder lived experiences.” Popoptica 1. Winter Stars 2. Charlatan 3. Miss Hughes 4. California Misses You 5. Stay With Me 6. Mr Moses 7. Rose-Colored Glasses 8. We Never Sang 9. Please Fade Away10. Girl in the Background

3rd volume in Luaka Bop’s critically acclaimed World
Spirituality Classics series, illuminating the relationship between
music and belief following Alice Coltrane and “Time For Peace Is
Now”

Alhaji Waziri Oshomah begins his sermon before a dancing crowd. His
lyrics warn about the vice of jealousy but the congregation is here to get down. We’re in a small part of Edo State in southern Nigeria called
Afenmailand, which is known for being a harmonious region where Muslims and Christians live and dance together. The atmosphere is one of enjoyment, excitement, and pleasure, because to see Waziri perform is to be addressed, body and soul. He’s the creator of a unique dance music that’s fused with local folk styles, highlife, and Western pop, and imbued with Islamic values— and he’s the greatest entertainer in all of Edo State.

They call him the Etsako Super Star.

Exklusive Neuauflage des Entombed-Klassikers aus 2001! Hier nun die lang erwartete Wiederveröffentlichung des siebten Entombed Longplayers 'Morning Star'! Neu remastered von Magnus Lindberg (Hellacopters, Alcest, Cult of Luna, Imperial State Electric, Misery loves Co, Lucifer, Dool, Refused u.v.a.) in den Redmount Studios.

Alhaji Waziri Oshomah begins his sermon before a dancing crowd. His lyrics warn about the vice of jealousy but the congregation is here to get down. We're in a small part of Edo State in southern Nigeria called Afenmailand, which is known for being a harmonious region where Muslims and Christians live and dance together. The atmosphere is one of enjoyment, excitement, and pleasure, because to see Waziri perform is to be addressed, body and soul. He's the creator of a unique dance music that's fused with local folk styles, highlife, and Western pop, and imbued with Islamic values - and he's the greatest entertainer in all of Edo State. They call him the Etsako Super Star.

Musician and sound/video installation artist Steve Batespresents a solo ambient/noise album ofmelodic smear, radiostatic blur, panoramic noise clouds and dissolving tones. Made primarilyunder the self-imposed 'limitation' of a Casio SK-1, this is his first entirely solo full-length albumin almost a decade. All The Things That Happen showcases the more deliberate, intensive, noise-clustered side of Bates' wide-ranging sonic sensibilities and practices. An isolation record (like so many), itcombines an ineffable melancholy with claustrophobictension and simmering political rage.Powerfully composed from layers of glistening distortion-drenched melody, pulsing and droningoscillation, bursts of blown-out chords, sweeps of static and sheets of crackling hiss, Bates hasmade an impressively dynamic, ardent and iridescent noise album of real depth and underlyingdevastation."This was supposed to be an ambient record; quiet, minimal and sad. These tracks all startedoff that way but I kept reaching for more texture and noise. Somehow the noisier the record got,the less sad it was also. I was listening to, and loving, a lot of music by Andrew Chalk and I hadfinished a year-long run of listening to Eno's 1 and 4. I preferOn LandtoMusic for Airportsalthough I love both.On Landjust has a darkness and uncertainty that appeals to me. Addingmore noise also got me excited about ways this material could be played live even though italso felt like that could never happen again.In 2022, I opened for Godspeed You! BlackEmperor in Saskatoon to give it a try and waspleasantly pleased to hear it all live and loud."A fixture of Winnipeg's burgeoning punk and social justice community in the 80s-90s, Batesplayed in hardcore and indie rock bands (Pull My Daisy, Bulletproof Nothing) prior to foundingthe Send + Receivefestival in 1998. A crucial development in putting Winnipeg on the map foravant music and sound art, Bates helmed Send + Receive for seven years, then moved toTiohti:áke/Montréal, became Sound Coordinator at Hexagram (Concordia University), releasedsolowork on Oral and two albums with his Black Seas Ensemble on Dim Coast, and pursuedmyriad other ongoing audio research, installation and collaborative projects. Relocating toTreaty 6/Saskatoon the year before pandemic,All The Things That Happenis Bates' mostrecent purposive and purely 'recorded' work.Thanks for listening.

Lindenberg Support is the man behind 'Ode To Gallantry', a complex and emotional tale of mistaken identity, trust and honor.

The story begins with the beggar Shi Po Tian, aka the Bastard, stealing a bun which contains the Black Iron Token, created by skilled pugilist Xie Yanke, which grants the holder one wish. 'C20/25' and its pounding and pacy rhythmics, carrying pads and heavy hitting vibe, perfectly set the journey's energetic and warm tone.

Xie appears yearly, demanding that the clans repay in blood for any heinous act they committed throughout the year. The only way that a rude clan can avoid the cull is for the clan's leader to sacrifice himself for them. With 'SKS (101)' and its soothing and floating pads carrying the gentle lo-fi drums, the story heats up and evolves to a deeper intricacy.

Fearing that Bastard might make him promise to stop his annual harvest of death, Xie spirits him away and trains him in martial arts so powerful that he is certain it will kill him, but instead, it makes him strong and resilient. The uplifting pads in 'Gate', supported by a reckless broken beat and pinging vocals, create a celestial vibe that pushes Bastard to his limits.

He is rescued by the Chang Lo Clan that mistakes him for their villainous leader Shi Zhongyu and then treats him as their boss. With each case of mistaken identity, he becomes drawn into a number of heated conflicts between several rival schools and gangs - a dilemma that he just isn't prepared to deal with. The dreamy ambiance of 'Kinda Weak' and its well-wrought drum pattern slowly shroud the memories of his old life.

The final point is set with 'Pol-1 (For Stefan)' - an emotive and profound ambient piece to close the story. He's sure to learn some valuable lessons about brotherhood and honor, but at what price?

turntable warrior Paul Sitter is back with another bout of cut-up grooves to give the nimble-fingered plenty to get busy with. This is all about bad-ass 45s to rock the party by pasting together all manner of iconic licks. 'Paul's Mood' is a midtempo strutter which revolves around the 'Funky Drummer' break and slips plenty more samples into every bar. 'How You Feeling?' pulls up a rave MC call-out you might well have heard from the likes of The Prodigy in the early days, although here the sample gets planted into some classic funk. Given the spectrum of sounds across each track, this 7" feels built for those who like to pick their favourite bits and juggle them to kingdom come.

"The whole point of this record was to share every emotion that I feel," sagt THE SOFT MOON aka Luis Vasquez. "No two songs are the same. It's about existing in the world as a human being and experiencing many emotions and experiences throughout life." Daher auch der Titel "Exister", ein Album, das von den ekstatischen Freuden und lähmenden Tiefen des Lebens handelt und davon, dass das Durchhalten und die Existenz manchmal alles ist, was wir haben. Der Grund, warum das Album für Vasquez so persönlich ist, liegt darin, dass sich sein Leben während der Entstehung des Albums stark verändert hat. Er verließ Berlin, sein langjähriges Zuhause, und zog in den Joshua Tree, um während des Lockdowns musikalisch und persönlich etwas Freiraum zu finden. Es fühlt sich wie eine Art musikalischer Neustart für Vasquez an. Das Cover des Albums zeigt ein Foto von Vasquez als Kind und steht stellvertretend für eine Platte, bei der es darum ging, sich wieder mit seinem jüngeren Ich zu verbinden, wobei eine Mutter-Sohn-Beziehung im Mittelpunkt des Albums steht. "It's my child self that you hear all over it," sagt er. "I was reminiscing and hurting a lot during the writing process. This is possibly my most vulnerable record yet." Doch trotz des Schmerzes, der Wut, der Verletzlichkeit und des Schmerzes, die im Kern dieser Platte zu finden sind, gibt es auch ein tiefes Gefühl von Hoffnung und Schönheit. Auf dem abschließenden Titel-Song "Exister" scheint das Album einen Ort des Friedens und des Trostes zu erreichen und endet mit einem ruhigen, nachdenklichen und ergreifenden Moment, der ein Gefühl des Optimismus nach einer Zeit des Umbruchs einfängt.

"The whole point of this record was to share every emotion that I feel," sagt THE SOFT MOON aka Luis Vasquez. "No two songs are the same. It's about existing in the world as a human being and experiencing many emotions and experiences throughout life." Daher auch der Titel "Exister", ein Album, das von den ekstatischen Freuden und lähmenden Tiefen des Lebens handelt und davon, dass das Durchhalten und die Existenz manchmal alles ist, was wir haben. Der Grund, warum das Album für Vasquez so persönlich ist, liegt darin, dass sich sein Leben während der Entstehung des Albums stark verändert hat. Er verließ Berlin, sein langjähriges Zuhause, und zog in den Joshua Tree, um während des Lockdowns musikalisch und persönlich etwas Freiraum zu finden. Es fühlt sich wie eine Art musikalischer Neustart für Vasquez an. Das Cover des Albums zeigt ein Foto von Vasquez als Kind und steht stellvertretend für eine Platte, bei der es darum ging, sich wieder mit seinem jüngeren Ich zu verbinden, wobei eine Mutter-Sohn-Beziehung im Mittelpunkt des Albums steht. "It's my child self that you hear all over it," sagt er. "I was reminiscing and hurting a lot during the writing process. This is possibly my most vulnerable record yet." Doch trotz des Schmerzes, der Wut, der Verletzlichkeit und des Schmerzes, die im Kern dieser Platte zu finden sind, gibt es auch ein tiefes Gefühl von Hoffnung und Schönheit. Auf dem abschließenden Titel-Song "Exister" scheint das Album einen Ort des Friedens und des Trostes zu erreichen und endet mit einem ruhigen, nachdenklichen und ergreifenden Moment, der ein Gefühl des Optimismus nach einer Zeit des Umbruchs einfängt.

Grey Marbled Vinyl

Talented in being able to get people rising high for a physical or mental holiday this acid freak from Malta is about to take you on a trip. Neil Hales aka Acidulant owns a serious collection of both classic and modern hardware and knows how to use it to create some of the best Acid House around. With multiple singles and eps on different labels, this time Zodiak Commune Records has the honor to welcome this multitalented producer with a specially tailored tasty acid techno release!

Oslo's Ultima Festival for contemporary music in 2014. The idea was to give revered Norwegian experimental electronic musician Helge Sten, aka Deathprod, access to seminal avant-garde composer Harry Partch's self-designed, custom-made, specialized, invented instruments - an orchestra tuned to just intonation, using up to 43 intervals instead of the standard 12 for the most commonly used Western equal temperament. An artist with a 30+ year career and an uncompromising reputation that reflects the emotional specificity of his uneasy, yet compelling sound, maintained throughout his expansive discography, Sten was an intriguing choice for such a project. Although he attended art school, training in electronic music and sound art, he had little experience with acoustic instruments and can neither read nor write music notation. Yet he's been engaged with Partch's music, and outsider art more generally, since he was a teenager. His resulting piece/composition for the project was originally intended only for performance by Cologne-based Ensemble Musikfabrik, for a series of concerts in five European cities between 2015 and 2018. It's Musikfabrik that undertook the painstaking, expensive process of building an entire set of the composer's creations - the second only to the originals built by Partch himself. They are the professional musicians and virtuosic instrumentalists that had to re-train and re-educate on these unknown and experimental sound sculptures in non-standard tunings. And they house this large, gorgeous physical instrumentarium and deal with the enormous logistics of working with it, sometimes shipping the fragile pieces to other locales via semi-trucks or ships. Because of such monumental efforts, Musikfabrik are notoriously guarded with recordings of the instruments. And rightly so. They're the only ones allowed to perform on them, too. But Sow Your Gold isn't Musikfabrik playing. Instead, Sten spent days and nights alone with the instrumentarium in Cologne. He played the instruments himself while recording, layering the recordings and editing without effects to compose an `audio score' for Musikfabrik to work from in order for the ensemble to perform the piece. (Partch also regularly worked this way, although he would transcribe afterwards. Likewise, Sten worked with a professional arranger to create a detailed score, too.) So, that makes Sow Your Gold an even less likely rarity - partly why its release comes seven years after its creation. If you ask Sten about the album's title, he'll point you to the text he borrowed it from - Michael Maier's Atalanta Fugiens by H.M.E. De Jong, a 1969 study of a 1617 book of alchemical emblems - and notable passages dealing with alchemy, chemistry, and agriculture, all transformative processes. And while that may sound complicated, his takeaway is simple: "You have to break something down to create something new," - a lesson he felt related strongly to his own musical process, especially in this project. So, while Sow Your Gold in the White Foliated Earth is a piece written for specific, oddly tuned, extremely rare and unusual instruments, and for a certain ensemble - namely, some of the finest contemporary musicians in Europe - Sten grew fond of the audio score, recognizing it as coming directly from the creative process in its purest, most natural form. And so from a foliated earth, where obscure tradition, treasured scarcity, immense effort, and patient certainty layer and criss-cross, comes rugged gold, polished to shining by one outsider for another.

Black White Splatter Vinyl

When two musicians intensively work together for a period of time, at some point the whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts. If Paul Boex and Dave Miller hadn't already reached that status under their Abstract Division moniker, they certainly have now, with the release of Midnight Ensemble, their first full length album.

Those who have followed the duo since their early days of playing dj-sets together, know that it's hard to define their style anywhere beyond techno or even electronic music, as it is ever evolving and always dependent on the time of the day or night. When listening to this album, the resemblance between their unpredictable selection behind the decks and the eclectic range of subgenres on this album is more obvious than ever before. Midnight Ensemble could be interpreted as an ode to nightlife; a reminiscence of all that happens between dusk and dawn, captured and compressed into about one hour of music. An hour in which they so delicately time their changing of styles and tempos, always reading the room and always being one step ahead of the crowd.

This album is a reflection of that skill, starting its journey with soothing, moodsetting ambient, followed by timeless pieces of Detroit and dubtechno. A daring electro cut providing a refreshing break from the four to the floor tradition, only to be followed by the stripped down sound the duo is so comfortable with.

The final minutes consist of experimental breaks, one last banger to pull out the last bits of energy that is left and a beautiful outro, which concludes the allnighter vibe. There are no open endings, it doesn't make you want to stay in the dark forever. Rather it makes you want to close your eyes one last time before walking outside to see the sun come up again before going home, overwhelmed and satisfied.