Search:all that we see or seem

The extroverted blend of attitude, energy, and ostentatiousness that spills from the New York Dolls’ self-titled debut can be seen in full view on the album cover. Depicting the quintet in its hallmark flash-and-trash apparel and in drag appearance, the 1973 album scared away a considerable amount of potential listeners while capturing the attention of a sizable audience that recognized the band for what it was: zeitgeist pioneers who helped develop the punk and glam rock movements.

Named by Rolling Stone the 301st Greatest Album of All Time and by Mojo the 49th greatest album of all time, New York Dolls receives long-overdue audiophile treatment on Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set. Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, this collectible version marks the first time the group’s career-making statement is available to be experienced in audiophile quality.

Far from harboring the crude elements that became associated with the punk scene, New York Dolls benefits from keen production overseen by none other than Todd Rundgren. Though more accustomed to working far higher-caliber musicians, Rundgren — taken by the New York Dolls’ charisma and cool, if not their instrumental approach — fully understood the ensemble’s aesthetic. He captured what went down at New York City’s Record Plant with an astute blend of live-on-the-floor feel, raw authenticity, and professional acumen.

On Mobile Fidelity’s definitive-sounding reissue, you can hear those facets as well as key details, dynamics, and textures with previously unimaginable insight. Rundgren preserved generous degrees of grit, grime, and grease while bestowing the raucous music with elevated levels of separation, solidity, and impact every landmark recording deserves. His vision extends to introducing choice accents — barroom piano notes, Moog synthesizer passages, Buddy Bowser’s honking saxophones — that add to the songs’ appeal without interfering with the primary architecture.

Afforded extra groove space on this pressing, the tenor, presentation, and attack of both vocalist David Johansen and now-iconic guitarists Johnny Thunders and Sylvain Sylvain come across with stunning vibrancy and vitality. The New York Dolls often seem headed off the rails and into the red, but somehow, the strut, swagger, and sloppiness — and the associated sleaze and scruff, scrape and snarl, frenzy and feverishness those characteristics entail — remain together as a whole that shakes its collective fist at the frustrations, isolation, disarray, and disillusionment of youth chaos and urban decay.

Kicking off its debut with “Personality Crisis,” cited by Rolling Stone as one of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, the band makes obvious its grasp of alienation, deviance, displacement, and suburban disaffection — as well as its capacity to play hanging-by-a-thread boogie, noisy rock ‘n’ roll, and Brill Building-inspired pop. The lipstick-kissed New York Dolls possesses traits many of its harsher predecessors would overlook: joyfulness and melody, topped with a knack for knowing how and where to take a song inside of three-and-a-half minutes.

Dive and dash with the belligerent “Looking for a Kiss”; stomp your feet and clap your hands to the big choruses of “Jet Boy”; surrender to the demands and provocations of the coded “Vietnamese Baby”; decide whether “Bad Girl” yearns to explode or implode. It’s one of several tunes here that allude to the world coming to end. Of course, that doesn’t mean there isn’t time for a fling before everything burns. “There’s no place I gotta go,” yowls Johansen. And he means it.

Adorned with tonal crunch, glitter, and gristle, New York Dolls takes pride in its brashness and brattiness. The rambunctious effort, which earned the band the distinction of being voted both “Best New Group of the Year” and “Worst New Group of the Year” in the pages of Creem, displays knowing reverence for the blues without calling attention to the style. The folk-laden “Lonely Planet Boy” is nothing if not a collision of heart-on-the-sleeve emotions and the desire in the face of challenges to maintain a tough-skinned exterior. An interpretation of Bo Diddley’s “Pills,” complete with shivering harmonica and clattering rhythms, announces there’s no cure for what infects this band. It’s that contagious. And how.

His deliveries gushing with campy fun, playful irreverence, and sheer decadence, Johansen doubles as the equivalent of an open fire hydrant that spouts at will. He’s at once tender and vicious, serious and tongue-in-cheek. On arguably his finest hour on the album, Johansen’s phrasing, passion, and lyrical ambiguity alone turn “Trash” into an insistent glam-rock gem whose echoing harmonies and girl-group references stamp it a pop classic.

Too much, too soon? Only for those averse to some of the finest rock ‘n’ roll ever put on tape.

Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP Set Plays with Authoritative Tonality, Airiness, and Clarity:
Pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl and Strictly Limited to
3,000 Numbered Copies
1/4” / 15 IPS Dolby A analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Joni Mitchell is the only artist who could’ve made Hejira. The legendary singer-songwriter said as much when discussing the album decades after its release. Yet that fact seemed obvious from the moment the gold-certified effort streeted in fall 1976. An adventurous travelogue, probing narrative, and offbeat homage to freedom, Hejira remains an inimitable entry in the catalog of recorded music — a spare, gorgeous, meditative series of sonic vignettes comprised of floating harmonic pop, cool jazz, soft rock, and sensitive vocal elements that beckon feelings of motion, discovery, and self-examination.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing on MoFi SuperVinyl, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents the record ranked the 133rd Greatest of All Time by Rolling Stone with definitive detail, richness, accuracy, and directness. Marking the first time the revered LP has received audiophile treatment, it's one of six iconic 1970s Mitchell records Mobile Fidelity is reissuing on vinyl and SACD.

Playing with a virtually nonexistent noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superior groove definition, this collectible reissue reproduces in enveloping fashion the tones, textures, and craftsmanship that help Hejira function as the equivalent of a liberating trip down an open road with nothing but blue sky, natural landscape, and fresh air in the immediate vicinity. Passages bloom, carry, decay as they do amid an acoustically optimized environment. Soundstages extend far, wide, and deep, with black backgrounds and pinpoint images adding to the realism.

The reference-grade immediacy, airiness, and presence put in transparent perspective Mitchell’s dense strings of words, stream-of-conscious-like phrasing, and unhurried albeit forward momentum. Likewise, the instrumental contributions of her A-list support musicians — a cast that includes L.A. Express members John Guerin, Max Bennett and Tom Scott, plus Neil Young, Victor Feldman, and Abe Most — emerges with breathtaking clarity and dimensionality.

While Mitchell, whose intimate vocals and abstract guitar parts center everything, Mobile Fidelity's restoration of Hejira further reveals the visionary breadth of guitarist Larry Carlton and bassist Jaco Pastorius. Though heard on only four tracks, Pastorius' fretless bass epitomizes the fluid, subtle, flexible, roomy, and shape-shifting characteristics of songs that often appear to transpire out of nowhere akin to the formation of a puffy cumulus cloud overhead. In sync with Mitchell’s voice, Pastorius’ fusion hovers and floats, suspended in a fog you want to deeply inhale. The "grace notes" Mitchell desired on Hejira can now be heard in full. Ditto the luxurious tapestries of alinear lines, fills, and supplements unreeled on Carlton’s six-string.

Visually, the packaging of this UD1S set complements its identity as the copy to own. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, the LPs come in foil-stamped jackets with faithful-to-the-original graphics. This version is for listeners who desire to become immersed in everything about Hejira, including the unforgettable album cover — a pastiche of 14 different photos Mitchell used a Camera Lucida to assemble into one image that’s anchored by a portrait of her in a stoic pose — and the interior shots of Mitchell skating on a frozen Wisconsin lake wearing a pair of black skates, black shirt, and fur cape.

The notion of skating, feeling an awakening wind whipping against your face, and losing yourself to the surroundings are extremely apt for Hejira, which Mitchell wrote after a sequence of trips and relationships prompted her to reflect on the complicated conflicts between independence and marriage, success and satisfaction, duty and desire — and, more specifically, “the cost of being a woman.” The Canadian native delved into such themes before. But never as she does on Hejira, whose liberating, running-away aura doubles as another of Mitchell’s rejections of tradition as well as a suggestion of a better alternative.

At once observational and personal, expansive and insular, cheerful and poignant, Hejira spans a sea of human conditions, emotions, and circumstances. It addresses drifting, isolation, pleasure, place, time, and surroundings with strikingly poetic discourse matched with music that, save for the crooned ballad “Blue Motel Room,” forgoes conventional structures and choruses.

The jazz-based arrangements, marked by scaled-down percussion and all manner of bent, rounded, and unsettled notes, hint that Mitchell has no exact destination in mind. Excursions such as the moody “Furry Sings the Blues,” funky “Coyote” and edgy “Black Crow” throw open previously locked doors to possibility and journey. They signal it’s time for a welcome departure from norms and the past, one that leads to a heightened sense of clarity and perspective. Or, as Mitchell said upon choosing the album title, it’s time for “leaving the dream, no blame.”

Bob Marley & The Wailers' Rastaman Vibration Analogue Productions' UHQR, the pinnacle of high-quality vinyl! 45 RPM 2LP Ultra High Quality Record release limited to 4,500 copies Mastered from the original tapes by Ryan K. Smith at Sterling Sound Pressed on 180-gram at Quality Record Pressings using Clarity Vinyl® Includes "12 x 12" 8-page booklet featuring new liner notes by musician and Marley biographer Leroy Jodie Pierson (APO Records Direct-To-Disc AAPO 005), plus exclusive photos by Kim-Gottlieb Walker Purest possible pressing and most visually stunning presentation and packaging!

When Rastaman Vibration was first released in America in 1976 it did what some in the music industry considered nearly impossible at the time. It took Bob Marley into the Top Ten alongside disco records and corporate rock, points out Rolling Stone, which rates the album 4 stars. Despite the good cheer of the title track and the upbeat "Roots, Rock, Reggae," Rastaman Vibration contains some of Marley's most intense images of oppression, paranoia and despair. Tracks such as "Who the Cap Fit," "Crazy Baldhead" and "War" are offered by the Wailers with dire urgency as Marley's brutal visions are echoed by his own church choir, the I-Threes.

More than four decades later, neither Marley's music nor his message has lost its sting. Now, Analogue Productions presents perfection — Rastaman Vibration cut at 45 RPM in UHQR format on 180-gram 2LP Clarity Vinyl. This Ultra High Quality Record release will be limited to 4,500 copies, with gold foil individually numbered jackets. For Bob Marley, 1975 was a triumphant year. The singer's Natty Dread album featured one of his strongest batches of original material (the first compiled after the departure of Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer) and delivered Top 40 hit "No Woman No Cry." The follow-up Live set, a document of Marley's appearance at London's Lyceum, found the singer conquering England as well. Upon completing the tour, Marley and his band returned to Jamaica, laying down the tracks for Rastaman Vibration (1976) at legendary studios run by Harry Johnson and Joe Gibbs.

At the mixing board for the sessions were Sylvan Morris and Errol Thompson, Jamaican engineers of the highest caliber. Of the material on Rastaman Vibration, "War," for one, remains one of the most stunning statements of the singer's career. Though it is essentially a straight reading of one of Haile Selassie's speeches, Marley phrases the text exquisitely to fit a musical setting, a quiet intensity lying just below the surface. Equally strong are the likes of "Rat Race,""'Crazy Baldhead," and "Want More."

These songs are tempered by buoyant, lighthearted material like "Cry to Me," "Night Shift," and "Positive Vibration." Not quite as strong as some of the love songs Marley would score hits with on subsequent albums, "Cry to Me" seems like an obvious choice for a single and remains underrated. This UHQR is remastered at 45 RPM by Sterling Sound's Ryan K. Smith from the original analog master tapes. Each UHQR will be pressed at Acoustic Sounds' industry-leading pressing plant Quality Record Pressings (QRP) using hand-selected Clarity Vinyl® with attention paid to every single detail. These records will feature the same flat profile that helped to make the original UHQR so desirable. From the lead-in groove to the run-out groove, there is no pitch to the profile, allowing the customer's stylus to play truly perpendicular to the grooves from edge to center.

Clarity Vinyl allows for the purest possible pressing and the most visually stunning presentation. Every UHQR will be hand inspected upon pressing completion, and only the truly flawless will be allowed to go to market. Each UHQR will be packaged in a custom clamshell box and will include a booklet detailing the entire process of making a UHQR along with a hand-signed certificate of inspection. This will be a truly deluxe, collectible product. In addition to the UHQR booklet the package will contain a 8-page 12" x 12" booklet containing new liner notes by musican and Marley biographer Leroy Jodie Pierson as well as exclusive photos by Kim-Gottlieb Walker. Pierson is a past performer for Blues Masters at the Crossroads, the two-night historic blues festival at Blue Heaven Studios in Salina, Kansas. He's also recorded a Direct-To-Disc blues album for APO Records. (AAPO 005) Rastaman Vibration — now a landmark production on 180-gram 45 RPM Analogue Productions UHQR Clarity Vinyl!

Bebedera takes the style of Tarraxo to a heightened awareness of its sexual nature. Tight, wicked layers of percussion, a suggestive ID ("Drinking is his life"), a slow pace that's not only perceptively slow, it sounds charged with intent, even malice, dissolution. Letting go of morality may be the big attraction in the music, permission to get down, this time in a heavy, conspicuous manner instead of a spiritual, breezy floatation. One has to recognize the impulse in ourselves. Once at peace with this rough nature, there are sublime grooves to follow, mind-boggling arrangements, a freedom from judgement in connecting with what may seem to be at first a very masculine take on dancefloor sensuality but which is in fact only human. Just with less filters.

In other ways, an aural combination of metal and flesh produces this notion of a cyborg, a very expressive physical body making its weight known to everybody around, a sort of walking fortress as in the "Moderan" group of sci-fi short stories. A glorious rattle of lata percussion, scraps from the junkyard. A sense of unease, even slight danger starts a flow of adrenalin. According to DJ Marfox, it's not the only thing flowing, there's also a strong desire for intercourse when a Bebedera tarraxo is playing. His very distinctive style has been a cult favourite for years. Accordingly, it took years to make contact, to reach an agreement, and the result is a set of classics that stretch as far back as 2014. Still the same punch, still the feeling no one has really stepped into this territory with such force.

Flipping the construct on its head, there's two Bebedera house tracks, we'd say almost an oddity, an abrupt change from the previous density of atmosphere, though they retain all the percussive bounce. Sensual, sure, a different tempo also letting through a romantic disposition other than the sheer physical attraction. One of the titles sums up the aesthetical power at play: "I Will Beat The Top High". As in reaching further out, further up. Wanting to. Time freezes - 2014 and 2016 (production years of these two tracks), fold up and melt into the Present. Where it matters.

We all knew what was on the line before ever setting foot in the studio to record Gone For Good. “Grow or die” had become our mantra. We had endured a four year hiatus (2018 - 2022), reconciled our personal grievances, re-established the band to our original fanbase and beyond, and grew from a trio to a four-piece. It was clear to us that not only was change going to be a constant presence in our lives and careers, it was the fuel that kept the fire lit. To us, Gone For Good is a record from a band that finally arrived at who they wanted to become after 15 years of searching. In an ever evolving industry that seems to deliver countless new artists that are fully realized, perfectly sculpted, we cast a line of hope that there is still room for a band with a story of becoming.

The Last Revel's 5 previous studio albums give listeners a roadmap; hints and clues to who we are now. Gone For Good continues our story in the most powerful way. It's a challenging thing to do to be 15 years into a grassroots career of self-released music, self-promoted touring, and truly believe that we hadn’t written our best songs yet. That there was something deeper down in the well. Gone For Good is the manifestation of this belief and the songs reflect this with stories of sacrifice, courage, love, faith, and self-reflection. We called on Dave Simmonett of Trampled by Turtles to produce Gone For Good for two reasons: one being that Dave’s deeply personal and prolific songwriting career is a testament to the fact that a good song can move mountains.

Two being that we knew having someone involved that we admired so dearly would bring out the best in us. No one wanted to show up to the studio and show Dave a song they didn’t truly believe in. Working with Dave at Pachyderm Studios in Cannon Falls, Minnesota over the course of 4 days was a powerful experience. Dave encouraged us to record everything live, together, in one room. The result being a sound we were searching for throughout our entire careers. It's just us; no studio magic to hide who we are. As a band we are the most proud of this record because we earned it. The countless hours working on our craft, the years touring, the work it takes to go on, it all shows up on Gone For Good. Whatever happens next belongs to us.

Black Vinyl LP. The world has changed, we shouldn't try and pretend otherwise. While we were shut away in isolation our routines shifted, social patterns evolved, and our hopes and dreams were twisted into cobwebs we're still trying to wipe from our fingers. Ziúr tentatively approached this on her last album Antifate, an ambitious and complex hybrid pop fever dream that looked back to a Medieval escapist fantasy as the scent of revolution seemed to hum in the air. But when restrictions were eased, she found herself staring down a discombobulated society that had trapped itself in a spiral of microwaved nostalgia and detached, narcotic repetition. Eyeroll then is Ziúr's musical panacea, a tincture to wake us from our creative slumber and prompt external connection and reflection. It's a polyphonous hex that demands human interaction, and Ziúr's hand-picked alliance of collaborators - Elvin Brandhi, Abdullah Miniawy, Iceboy Violet, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef, and James Ginzburg - each provide distinct voices that together herald a bewildering sonic epoch. Ziúr's palette had to evolve to match the scope of the project, but it was pure necessity that informed the album's defining tone. Recording mostly at night, Ziúr was conscious of the noise she was making so developed a unique way to record organic percussion. Using a set of rototoms - low profile tunable drums - she scratched, scraped and gently tapped the skins to build up the undulating and unstable rhythmic backdrop for each track. It's the first sound we hear on the opener 'Eyeroll', rattling like lost marbles against Elvin Brandhi's primal croaks and screams. And when Brandhi's twisted articulations form words, Ziúr matches the energy with chaotic thuds and serrated blasts of saturated electronics. "I roll the shittiest cigarette," she squeals like she's about to start a mosh pit at Paris's GRM Studios. Without pause, Abdullah Miniawy takes over on 'Malikan', building on the promise of material with Simo Cell, Carl Gari and HVAD with corrosive trumpet blasts and charged, politically incendiary Arabic vocals. Inspired by pre-Islamic poetry and the Qu'ranic chanters he heard growing up in Saudi Arabia and Egypt, he spins labyrinthine stories that cross between the worlds, breaking down physical and spiritual borders simultaneously. Miniawy's scope is expanded even further on his second collaboration, 'If The City Burns I Will Not Run'. "If it rains and the city drowns," he utters over gaseous electronics, "I will not run away, but I will be anxious for the heart of one close to me." After a supple vocal turn from Manchester's Iceboy Violet on 'Move On' and a surreal interlude from poet- DJ-artist-theorist Juliana Huxtable on '99 Favor Taste', Brandhi returns with two more hyperactive collaborations: ,'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote'. On the former she slices into Ziúr's skeletal jazz eruptions, screaming and crooning interchangeably, fluxing between the rap battle and the cabaret. The latter is completely different meanwhile, with Brandhi settling into her role as front-woman and groaning dizzying improvised passages that sound like grunge crossed with psychedelic no-wave. Brandhi's spiky musical history has prepared her well for this collaboration; she's a prolific producer and has been using her voice spontaneously since debuting with father-daughter improv duo Yeah You in the mid 2020s. She's found an ideal foil in Ziúr, a producer who matches her restless energy and willingness to bend formality, and leaves an indelible mark on Eyeroll. But the album's most tender moments are from Ziúr herself, who winds the album down on 'Hasty Revisionism', growling over collapsible beats and cascading strings, and comes to an unexpected conclusion with country coda 'Lacrymaturity'. Its feverish amalgamation of country music and euphoric, experimental electronics might seem incongruous at first, but in context with the rest of the album is the only possible conclusion. With Eyeroll Ziúr is making a firm statement about togetherness, humanity, and the renewal of hope when all seems lost. By bringing together such a wide but philosophically harmonic team of collaborators, she's conducted a body of work that speaks to the creative fringe in no uncertain terms. Now's the time to throw away what you think you know, and build bridges you didn't think you need. Now's the time for action. She may have spent her entire career avoiding the solipsistic trappings of "queer art", but by assembling a communal statement that questions so many normative assumptions about music, politics, and beyond, Ziúr has chanced upon her queerest album yet. Cringe? Eyeroll.

Motel d'amour - A Lost Electro-Funk Gem from the NDW Era Resurfaces

When we first collaborated with Collage member Markus Kammann on the EP project "Mit den Puppen tanzen" at the end of last year, we never imagined what would follow: Kammann approached us with a completely unreleased full-length album by his former band. Upon receiving the first three preview tracks, we were floored. One of them was "Nachtcafé" - a track that kicks off with a funky bassline layered over the punchy rhythm of a Roland TR-808. Add shimmering synths and Katrin A. Kunze's sharp, distinctive vocals, and we instantly knew we were hearing something special.

For a label dedicated to rediscovering lost treasures, this was exactly what we'd been searching for. The next two tracks - "Rendezvous" and "Casanova" - were just as compelling. When Kammann sent us the full album, we realized we were holding an electro-funk grail from the late golden days of the German Neue Deutsche Welle (NDW). We were listening to "Motel d'amour".

"Motel d'amour" is a concept album, offering a sharp, vibrant perspective from a confident, intelligent, and radiant young woman eager to experience nightlife, love, and music. Kunze's lyrics paint vivid scenes of flirtation ("Nachtcafé", "Rendezvous"), encounters with men ("Casanova"), the pulse of nightlife ("Die Nacht ist noch jung"), love ("Rotes Licht für rote Liebe"), one-night stands ("Motel d'amour"), and more. Rarely has a German album from that era captured emotional nuance and social dynamics so insightfully. Without veering into the overly personal, Kunze's direct, daring lyrical style was groundbreaking at the time - and remains refreshingly bold today.

While German listeners will fully appreciate the lyrical depth, the music speaks volumes on its own. Kunze's words are masterfully complemented by the production of Markus Kammann and Jürgen Grah. As heard on the in-demand "Mit den Puppen tanzen", their creativity seemed boundless. Each track is tightly composed, catchy, and full of character. While many German bands at the time leaned into rock, Kammann drew from the deep grooves of Earth, Wind & Fire, The Isley Brothers, Brothers Johnson, The Commodores, and the electro-futurism of Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock" and "Looking for the Perfect Beat". The result: tracks with unmistakable electro-funk flair, powered by the classic 808 drum sound.

Though primarily rooted in funk and electro, the album retains flashes of NDW aesthetics - "Wir haben getanzt heut' Nacht" being a prime example. The instrumentation is a dream list for vintage gear lovers: Yamaha keyboards, Roland Juno-60, vocoder, Micromoog, Hohner D6 Clavinet, Fender bass, and a Telecaster guitar all feature prominently.
Recorded in 1985 at the high-profile Delta Studio by Richard Rossbach, the album attracted interest from Polydor. However, the label proposed using the compositions for a solo project with singer Inga Humpe (of Neonbabies), who was already signed to their roster. This would have required replacing Kunze as the vocalist, an idea the group firmly rejected. As a result, "Motel d'amour" was shelved, and Kammann, Grah, and Kunze moved on to form Cold End.
The album cover features a rare archival photo of Katrin A. Kunze - rediscovered by Kammann and now finally seeing the light of day, 40 years later.

We believe Motel d'amour deserves recognition alongside cult German classics like P!OFF?, 1. Futurologischer Congress' "Wer spricht?", Ami Marie's "Verrückt nach Glück", the funkier cuts of Cosa Rosa, or Piet Klocke's groove classic "Heute ist nicht sonst". It's a record that fits into adventurous DJ sets but also rewards a full, start-to-finish listen.

A note on audio quality: Sadly, the original master tapes were lost. The tracks were restored from a vintage TDK cassette. Thanks to modern digital tools, we were able to remaster them to a high standard - but in some songs light distortions remain. We appreciate your understanding and hope you enjoy this lost and undiscovered gem.

Motel d'amour - A Lost Electro-Funk Gem from the NDW Era Resurfaces

When we first collaborated with Collage member Markus Kammann on the EP project "Mit den Puppen tanzen" at the end of last year, we never imagined what would follow: Kammann approached us with a completely unreleased full-length album by his former band. Upon receiving the first three preview tracks, we were floored. One of them was "Nachtcafé" - a track that kicks off with a funky bassline layered over the punchy rhythm of a Roland TR-808. Add shimmering synths and Katrin A. Kunze's sharp, distinctive vocals, and we instantly knew we were hearing something special.

For a label dedicated to rediscovering lost treasures, this was exactly what we'd been searching for. The next two tracks - "Rendezvous" and "Casanova" - were just as compelling. When Kammann sent us the full album, we realized we were holding an electro-funk grail from the late golden days of the German Neue Deutsche Welle (NDW). We were listening to "Motel d'amour".

"Motel d'amour" is a concept album, offering a sharp, vibrant perspective from a confident, intelligent, and radiant young woman eager to experience nightlife, love, and music. Kunze's lyrics paint vivid scenes of flirtation ("Nachtcafé", "Rendezvous"), encounters with men ("Casanova"), the pulse of nightlife ("Die Nacht ist noch jung"), love ("Rotes Licht für rote Liebe"), one-night stands ("Motel d'amour"), and more. Rarely has a German album from that era captured emotional nuance and social dynamics so insightfully. Without veering into the overly personal, Kunze's direct, daring lyrical style was groundbreaking at the time - and remains refreshingly bold today.

While German listeners will fully appreciate the lyrical depth, the music speaks volumes on its own. Kunze's words are masterfully complemented by the production of Markus Kammann and Jürgen Grah. As heard on the in-demand "Mit den Puppen tanzen", their creativity seemed boundless. Each track is tightly composed, catchy, and full of character. While many German bands at the time leaned into rock, Kammann drew from the deep grooves of Earth, Wind & Fire, The Isley Brothers, Brothers Johnson, The Commodores, and the electro-futurism of Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock" and "Looking for the Perfect Beat". The result: tracks with unmistakable electro-funk flair, powered by the classic 808 drum sound.

Though primarily rooted in funk and electro, the album retains flashes of NDW aesthetics - "Wir haben getanzt heut' Nacht" being a prime example. The instrumentation is a dream list for vintage gear lovers: Yamaha keyboards, Roland Juno-60, vocoder, Micromoog, Hohner D6 Clavinet, Fender bass, and a Telecaster guitar all feature prominently.
Recorded in 1985 at the high-profile Delta Studio by Richard Rossbach, the album attracted interest from Polydor. However, the label proposed using the compositions for a solo project with singer Inga Humpe (of Neonbabies), who was already signed to their roster. This would have required replacing Kunze as the vocalist, an idea the group firmly rejected. As a result, "Motel d'amour" was shelved, and Kammann, Grah, and Kunze moved on to form Cold End.
The album cover features a rare archival photo of Katrin A. Kunze - rediscovered by Kammann and now finally seeing the light of day, 40 years later.

We believe Motel d'amour deserves recognition alongside cult German classics like P!OFF?, 1. Futurologischer Congress' "Wer spricht?", Ami Marie's "Verrückt nach Glück", the funkier cuts of Cosa Rosa, or Piet Klocke's groove classic "Heute ist nicht sonst". It's a record that fits into adventurous DJ sets but also rewards a full, start-to-finish listen.

A note on audio quality: Sadly, the original master tapes were lost. The tracks were restored from a vintage TDK cassette. Thanks to modern digital tools, we were able to remaster them to a high standard - but in some songs light distortions remain. We appreciate your understanding and hope you enjoy this lost and undiscovered gem.

Repress!

The funky, atmospheric, evocative and sometimes downright weird output of companies such as DeWolfe, Cavendish, Burton and the ubiquitous KPM have always been a guiding inspiration for ATA Records, as evidenced in the spooky soundtrack works of The Sorcerers, the big band brass of The Yorkshire Film & Television Orchestra and even in the soul-jazz of The Lewis Express ('Theme From The Watcher').

It only seemed natural for the team at ATA Records to scratch their own Library itch and so last year's "The Library Archive Vol. 1" was born. Recorded over a series of sessions in the Alladins cave of vintage recording equipment that is ATA studios, it featured many of the stalwart musicians from the label who can also be found recording with The Sorcerers, Work Money Death and The Lewis Express.

Garnering praise from Library aficionado Shawn Lee("Holy F*$K this sounds great! ATA really smash the classic British Library sound. 10 out of 10") and the Don of British Library Music himsel fAlan Hawkshaw, "The Library Archive Vol. 1" was very well received and so a follow up was inevitable. Recorded during the Autumn of 2020, "The Library Archive Vol. 2" still has the golden age of European Library music squarely in it's sights, but this time the focus is drawn more to the wonky organ work of Italian quartet I Marc 4.

Each track has been lovingly crafted with a keen ear for authenticity and the same eye for detail shown on 'The Library Archive Vol. 1', recorded on the same instruments and equipment and with the same techniques as the music that inspired it.

The Library Archive is a labour of love for the label with more volumes planned.

Facta and K-LONE’s Wisdom Teeth imprint returns to the V/A format with ‘Pattern Gardening’: a new collaborative project that leans head-first into the label’s love of minimal-, micro- and tech-house, carving out the label’s distinct, contemporary take on the sound - one that swims between warm, bleepy, rolling, dubby, psychedelic and bass-heavy channels across its duration. The vinyl sampler brings together 6 highlights from the wider 22 track digital project. Wisdom Teeth heads Facta and K-LONE appear alongside longtime label associate Lurka and new signees Polygonia, rRoxymore, Sub Basics and Jichael Mackson.

By now, Wisdom Teeth and its founders are well known for their unabashed love of minimal and tech house, which - alongside ambient, UK club music, experimental electronics and a broad palette of other influences - makes up a key cornerstone of their distinctive sound. The duo’s DJ sets often see them mixing ‘00s gems from labels like Perlon, Mosaic, Minibar and a:rpia:r with more contemporary club sounds, creating a hybrid style that sits somewhere between Balearic terraces and dark UK club basements. Likewise, the label has become known as a go-to outlet for artists occupying a similar crossover space, with names like Jorg Kuning, Parris, Steevio, Duckett, Leif and LUXE all known for pushing house and techno into experimental and refreshing new territories.

‘Pattern Gardening’ follows loosely on from the label’s previous V/A releases ‘To Illustrate’ (2021) and ‘Club Moss’ (2023), which explored downtempo (100bpm) and uptempo (150-170bpm) styles respectively. Here, the focus is fixed on lush, groovy, quirky 4x4 jams, joining the dots between a global spread of producers that bring new energy and perspective to these well-explored frameworks.

As is always the case with Wisdom Teeth’s output, the results fit somewhere between the club and a more contemplative, home-listening headspace, with texture, melody and mood afforded as much significance as rhythm and functionality.

The artwork features photography by Hong Kong-based photographer Jimi Chiu, who captures seemingly ordinary corners of city life in glossy, cinematic detail.

Repress!

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.



Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.



Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytumcomosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”



But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.



The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.



“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.



Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.



Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’snew renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

Mexican enfant extraordinaire Iñigo Vontier is rolling in with his debut EP for Feines Tier and it’s a match made in heaven. Just judging on the name alone, as he seems to be from some kind of royal Tier family descent. But enough with the mind-numbingly bad puns and on to some brain-meltingly good music.
Rolling. Everything’s rolling. Zongato is rolling. We don’t know who or what a Zongato is (a Google search just led to a Twitch streamer with that name and 0 followers), but they are definitely rolling. It’s got this special combination of straight and uncompromising beat and bass paired with psychedelic synth sirens floating around your head that somehow only the Mexicans really know how to nail.
Astrolo is rolling. Like a well-oiled machine. Well, maybe like a not so well-oiled machine, one that’s shrieking and creaking, but has been running since forever and reliably will do so until we’re all gone from this Earth.
If you ask Google Translate, Mucha Onda means „very cool“ in English, „molto bello“ in Italian or „valde frigidus“ in Latin and there is nothing more to add to that.
The psychedelics are back (were they ever gone?) and kick in in full swing on Hedonist Lizard. A dangerous cocktail of high-proof alcoholic drum and bass patterns paired with some sugary spicy herbals of unknown origin, better not down it in one go. You were warned.
On The Sounds Are Good, the sounds are good indeed! And rolling.

REPRESS

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

Santana Bridges the Divide Between Live and Studio Material on Moonflower: 1977 Double Album Features Extraordinary Performances, Soulful Vibes, and Dynamic Mix of Latin, Rock, Funk, and Blues
Sourced from the Original Master Tapes and Strictly Limited to 3,000 Numbered Copies: Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM 2LP Set Plays with Audiophile-Quality Detail, Balance, and Imaging
1/4” / 15 IPS original analogue non-Dolby master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe



Though it may seem strange now, Moonflower stood for nearly 15 years as Santana’s first and only live record released in the United States. This despite the fact that roughly half of the double album consists of new studio songs, including a zesty cover of the Zombies classic “She’s Not There” that reached the Top 30 of the singles charts.

However unconventional, the “split” strategy went over like gangbusters. Moonflower reached the Top 10 of the Billboard Top 200 and achieved double-platinum status — feats the group would not again replicate for 22 years. These, and the beautiful quality of the program itself, are among the reasons why the 1977 effort remains viewed by critics and fans alike as must-have Santana.

Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, housed in a Stoughton jacket, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM 2LP set of Moonflower presents the record in audiophile sound for the first time on a domestic reissue. Part of the MoFi’s Santana catalog restoration series, this collectible version features quiet surfaces and black backgrounds that expose the critical details, liquid tones, and dynamic interplay central to Santana’s music.

The enhanced sonics extend not only to Carlos Santana’s six-string wizardry, but to the rhythmic, melodic, and vocal elements that course throughout both the studio and live cuts on Moonflower. The grip and depth of the bass lines; the wash of the organ; the scope and carry of the vocals; the extension and weight of the low-end frequencies; the rich textures of the guitars, percussive devices, and keyboards: all appear amid wide, balanced soundstages and image with right-sized dimensionality.

Significantly rooted in the styles and approaches that inform the group’s first three records, Moonflower captures the final appearances of iconic percussionist Jose “Chepito” Areas and go-to keyboardist Tom Coster on a Santana album. As he did during the preceding five-year stretch, Coster inhabits a large role here, sharing songwriting credits on a majority of the new cuts and helping steer the arrangements toward spiritually minded albeit concise directions that encompass vibrant Latin, rock, and blues themes that began to escape the ensemble shortly after his departure.

Close your eyes and feel the warmth of the sun on the R&B-kissed “I’ll Be Waiting,” anchored by Carlos Santana’s gliding fretwork and Greg Walker’s creamy vocals. Enter the cosmic universe of “Zulu,” on which Coster’s nimble phrasing opens the gate to polyrhythmic beats, knotty grooves, and interlocking funk. Grab the album cover and drift off to paradise amid the equally evocative “Flor d’Luna (Moonflower),” a romantic slow dance that Carlos Santana ensures tiptoes en route to its blissful destination. Channeling a different spirit animal, the guitarist later lets loose on the hard-hitting “El Morocco,” on which he seemingly engages in a shootout with himself and wades into the rippling psychedelia that elevated the band’s early material.

Speaking of the past, Moonflower triumphs on that level as well. In more ways than one, the live selections — and the caliber of the performances — chosen for inclusion represent an abbreviated greatest-hits survey of the band up to that point. And, at the very least, a convincing argument about why Santana had progressed into one of the most formidable bands you could hope to see on a stage in the mid ‘70s.

Simultaneously representative and illustrative of the group’s breadth, tracks stem from the collective’s eponymous debut, Abraxas, and Santana III as well as the then-more recent Amigos and Festival. Whether you fall for the sidewinding spell of a spicy rendition of “Black Magic Woman/Gypsy Queen,” lose your head to the positively epic momentum of “Soul Sacrifice/Head, Hands & Feet,” or keep dropping the needle on the savory grace of the brilliant reading of “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile),” this pressing of Moonflower puts you — and Santana’s first-chapter legacy — in good hands.

New Traditions is a collection of pipe music, electronic music, mouth music and folk music from five emerging and prominent Scottish artists.

It started in Sutherland with a recording of The Waters of Kylesku. “Do you learn any Gaelic at the school?” asks Hamish Henderson of Christine Stewart. “No,” she answers. “That’s a shame,” he responds, “Isn’t it?” she says. Then she sings. Her voice is of the peat itself, grown from the earth as the language was. It soars raptor-like above drenched ground and scoured pink rock.

Next, to Nancy Dorian, a linguistic missionary of sorts, who came from America to watch a language die. She charted the decline of Gaelic in a cluster of Sutherland villages from 1963 to 2020 when the terminal native speaker passed. Gaelic has origins in nature, with each letter of the alphabet named after a tree. It seems significant that the land of the north is now all-but devoid of forest.

Enter Alan Lomax, who travelled the world documenting indigenous music. Material from his archives feature on (fucking) Moby’s platinum selling Play. Despite the record’s worldwide commercial success we know very little of the music he essentially exploited.

Then musician Martyn Bennett, who built tracks around Lomax recordings of Scots and Gaelic voices, and did so with love that shared his blood with the cancer that killed him. His records both popularised and preserved obscure indigenous Scottish music.

This collection of tunes has similar intent: to consolidate ephemeral words in physical grooves - real as the rigs that still scar the earth - but also a desire to interpret. These versions have the greatest reverence for the originals at heart, but like the architecture of a great gallery, serve to protect and elevate.

Enemy Of The Music Business is their tenth LP released in 2000, concerning their departure from the record company for all of their previous albums, Earache Records. While the last few albums from Napalm Death were just as heavy as their others, they weren't exactly departures or highlights of the band's discography. This album is a powerful return to their awesome speed and amazing guitarwork that seemed a bit difficult to attain on their former records.

When the trio of Sontag Shogun gathered at Laura Naukkarinen's home on the Finnish island of Kimitoön in the summer of 2019, they had not the slightest inkling that the world was about to change irretrievably with the onset of a long-predicted pandemic the following year. By the time their collaborative album, Valo Siroutuu ("The Light Scatters"), was released nearly two years later, the intimate and reflective nature of the work they had created together had taken on new meaning, resonating powerfully (and quietly) with a world in which the proverbial cracks in the wall only seem to be widening. 



Päiväkahvit completes the story that began with Valo Siroutuu, featuring 9 songs from the original sessions as well as 4 interpretive reworks courtesy of Amulets, Fadi Tabbal, Post-Dukes, and Jeremy Young. Available digitally and in a one-time vinyl pressing of 300 copies, the album flows seamlessly from beginning to end, incorporating field recordings, tape, sublime vocal melodies, and a host of acoustic and electronic instruments. Richly textured and immersive, Päiväkahvit positively crackles with warmth and a sense of creative embrace.



"We invite the listener into the sauna, out to the garden and onto the trampoline, to sit by the water’s edge and to take a coffee in the waning afternoon light, and to stay as long as they like." – Jesse Perlstein

Lau Nau, aka Laura Naukkarinen, is a Finnish composer whose music is imbued with an idiosyncratic, finely honed sound world. Her palette consists of acoustic instruments, singing voice, modular synthesisers, reel-to-reel tape recorders and field recordings. To date Lau Nau has released ten albums on record labels in Europe, the USA and Japan and a large number of collaborative releases. Lau Nau is known for her music to films and multi channel sound installations. She was awarded the Finnish State Prize for the Performing Arts 2021 as a sound designer. She has toured abroad for over 20 years, playing in venues such as Super Deluxe in Tokyo, the Lab & Castro Theatre in San Francisco and Blank Forms & Issue Project Room in New York.

Sontag Shogun is a collaborative trio that makes use of analog sound treatments and nostalgic solo piano compositions in harmony to depict abstract places in our memory. Textures built from organic materials such as sand, slate, boiling water, brush and dried leaves, both produced live in performance and recorded to weathered 1/4" tape warm up the space between lush piano themes. All of which is abstracted coolly in the reflective digital space of treated vocals and a live-processed feed from the piano. Bringing us back, like a faded passing scent or any natural emotive trigger, but to where? The wordless journey there will inevitably be more revealing than the destination itself.


José James just can’t leave the ’70s alone. Or maybe it’s the other way around. The singer, songwriter, bandleader, and producer was born in 1978, after all, but over his past 17 years of fundamentally forward-looking, blessedly mercurial music, he keeps getting pulled back in. His 2013 Blue Note breakthrough No Beginning No End revisited the hooky, funky, jazz-streaked songcraft of the time through a modern crate-digger’s ears. On 2020’s No Beginning No End 2 — James’ debut on his own Rainbow Blonde Records — he went back through the portal with a small army of fellow celebrated eclecticists. Just last year, there was the album 1978, a richly layered love letter to said year that felt deep, luxe, and cool. It’s as if — vested with the restless fluidity of jazz, the tuned-in sensitivity of soul, and the revisionist grit of hip-hop — he is trying to play his way into the exact moment when, culturally speaking, everything was about to change.

“I'm still so fascinated by the tension in that era of all these seemingly clashing things happening at once,” says James. “The loft scene, the jazz scene, Elton and Billy, Bob Marley, the Isleys, Funkadelic, disco being this behemoth in a way I don't think we even understand today… And then there’s where everybody went from there — into hip-hop, into punk rock, exploding jazz. It's like a summation of the ’70s, and it's about to transform. It's the peak of the rollercoaster.”

Literally breaking into history is impossible, of course, but James’ new LP, 1978: Revenge of the Dragon, does feel like breaking through or bursting out. In loving contrast to its predecessor, the fresh set plays hot, like a Friday night out at the Mudd Club in its prime. Though he’s dreamt up albums with collaborator counts approaching the dozens, James gathered a tight crew for this one. Himself and Taali on vocals. BIGYUKI on keys and analog synth. Jharis Yokley on drums. Bass split between David Ginyard (Blood Orange, Terence Blanchard) and Kyle Miles (Michelle Ndgeocello, Nick Hakim). And an all-star brass lineup: Takuya Kuroda on trumpet, young lion Ebban Dorsey on alto sax, and genre-spanning ronin Ben Wendel on tenor sax. They set up in Dreamland Studios near Woodstock, a restored 19th century church, and recorded live to tape, two tracks, drums pushed to the max — “a small homage to the rise of punk,” says James.

In that place out of time, the band laid down a handful of choice covers and some wild originals, like the single “They Sleep, We Grind (for Badu),” a decades-collapsing cut powered by an ugly groove. Steeped in dub, funk, and sampledelia, James chants an artists’ mantra (“They sleep, we grind / Man, f--- your nine to five”), makes lyrical callouts to Marley and Nas, and channels everything from George Clinton to J Dilla, not to mention the earthy mysticism of Erykah Badu. In 2023, James released and toured his Badu covers LP, On & On. “Living in her musical house for a year was transformative,” he says. “This is my summary of everything I learned through her, tying it to this idea that artists move differently. We are in society but we are outside, too, looking out and in at the same time. Our hours are different, our schedules are different.”

To that point, James and co. actually began each day in the woods, filming the album’s visual companion piece, Revenge of the Dragon, an honest-to-God kung-fu short complete with bad overdubs, training montages, camera tricks, and plot twists. The film pays tribute not only to the genre’s greatest year (1978, of course), but also its cinematic exchange with Blaxploitation, plus James’ own recent Shaolin training and admiration for Bruce Lee as a culture-bridging force (the LP’s cover recreates an iconic shot of Lee). On top of that, says James, “We had this immediacy in the studio. Live, one take, no overdubbing. I feel like that's where the martial arts piece comes in, where it's about being relaxed but also aware, and there's immediacy in your movements.”

Across the project, tribute takes that refracted, multifaceted form. From his personal late-’70s playlist, James chose four covers reflecting the era’s disco-fied churn: the MJ-meets-Quincy dancefloor masterpiece “Rock With You”; Herbie Hancock’s prescient vocoder fever dream, “I Thought It Was You”; and a pair of Black-radio hits from two bands whose fans typically wouldn’t have been caught dead in the same stadium: “Miss You” by the Rolling Stones and the Bee Gees’ “Inside and Out.” All of it gets filtered through a contemporary Black (and beyond) lens, coming out loud, free, funky, and buzzing — dynamic, yes, but also of a joyous piece.

1978: Revenge of the Dragon transports you to a crowded room where all this is playing out in real time. That feeling is helped out by opener “Tokyo Daydream,” a bass-driven swan dive into a neverending night of boutique bar-hopping and neon revelry. Later, “Rise of the Tiger” finds James bringing rare braggadocio to a propulsive track with growling synth lines and a hunger for whatever comes next. And then there’s the closer, “Last Call at the Mudd Club,” which with its upbeat energy and string of Stevie-inspired pickup lines, evokes the sort of unabashedly elated track the DJ throws on at 3:56 a.m. before everyone is kicked out. “I wanted to leave the album on that note,” says James. “If this was a night out in New York, this would be the last thing you hear before you get in that taxi and go back to your apartment.” Or, perhaps, back to 2025.

Divine Dances. In plural form.
The fourth album from DjeuhDjoah & Lieutenant Nicholson couldn't have a more explicit title.


Masters of emotions and feelings, the duo has always known how to express melancholy and nostalgia with precision. Yet this time, all their efforts have concentrated on a single goal: taking listeners by the hand—no, by the ear, obviously!—to bring everyone back to the dance floor and explore a variety of atmospheres together.


And naturally, a variety of styles. Funk, ndombolo, electro, hip hop or zouk, each new vibration discovered carries away the previous one to form a dancefloor where all eventually come together.
Divinely light.


The body, surrendered to this call to dance in all its forms, has been so caught up in the whirlwind of groove that the mind has fallen in behind it to continue as one. Words explode into syllables that metamorphose into notes, then perfectly align with those from the score.


One second. A bit of attention. Caught by an irrepressible groove, then comes the moment to slalom through melodies to discover, at the turn of a rhyme, a new meaning. Approached head-on, certain overly serious themes would empty the room and bring the atmosphere down to lead levels. The diagonal approach, humor, and apparent nonchalance of the two men are the best weapons at their disposal. Their Trojan horse to put substance into their form(s). To evoke transidentity, consent, economic malaise as well as the spiritual, or to tell little stories of frustrated loves, seemingly insoluble but which will end well.


Anthony Hilaire for Creole words, Sarah Solo for hip-swiveling soukous, Patrick Bebey for pygmy flute notes, and Grégoire Mahé to bring electricity to DjeuhDjoah & Lieutenant Nicholson's songs; styles blend in a musicality worked into its smallest interstices.


Gathered on this dance floor illuminated with 80s disco brilliance, you observe brassy notes slithering under the electronic veneer, synthesizer keys splashed by furious hip movements. To raise your eyes to connect with the spiritual is to watch the sky become constellated with crystalline Fender Rhodes notes, destined to fall like rain on the heavy bass of afrobeat groove.
Smiles attached to faces, no one should think they can get through the ten tracks of Divine Dances while remaining seated : he's doomed to fail.


OUT MAY 2025 DELUXE WHITE VINYL 180 G /CD / DIGITAL

Following the success of his ‘Love Dub So’ EP, Nick Barber’s Doof project returns to Mysticisms, delving back to his earliest recordings of his ground-breaking Trance project, presenting tracks from his previously cassette only release ‘The Love Mixes’.

A youth that had captured the psychedelia of Pink Floyd, Gong, Hawkwind and on to Psychic TV, as a self-taught guitarist, his first trip to India and Thailand in 1989 and witnessing the early electronic dance music at the Full Moon parties, had seemed rudimentary in nature compared to musicality of psychedelic rock.

Returning to England, the electronic / rock crossover of The Shamen’s ‘Progeny’ parties – featuring DJs like Paul Oakenfold and Mixmaster Morris with the live acts of Orbital and Ramjac Corporation – offered something new that turned his head, before finally finding his crew in the legendary squat / underground Pagan parties. There, residents Lol and Yaz first played the new electronic Trance sound, introducing Barber to the music of Eye-Q, Dance To Trance and the hugely influential Pete Namlook.

Recorded between 1990 – 1991, while living in Cambridge to study Philosophy, these are the first versions of tracks that formed the basis of his debut EP on Novamute, in 1993. Working with minimal equipment – an Akai sampler, Roland monosynth, Yamaha delay pedal, all sequenced on an Atari black and white PC and single MIDI output and then recorded straight to an 8-track Tascam cassette multitrack – the exuberance and rawness of the music are full of the excitement and naivety of youth.

Never intended for public release or initially even as a demo, Barber would play the music off the Tascam multitrack for friends at after parties. Dubbing a handful of cassettes himself and personally drawing the covers, around a dozen cassettes were handed out to mates. Eventually one copy found its way to Mute Records, who were looking to launch their dance offshoot, Novamute. Re-edited mixes of Gift Of The Gods and The Nagual appeared on his debut EP and history was made, before Doof went on to release for luminaries like TIP Records and Dragonfly and a career touring the globe was launched.

Remastered from the original tapes, this EP offers a snapshot of that time, the energy and joy of these early recordings is clear and overwhelming. Where Ambient, House and Techno met the birth of electronic Trance that truly stand up some 30 years later as originals then and now.

Trance The Mystery.

Welcome to the second edition of Era Specific Noise! This release sees the debut of three talented new artists to the label - there's nothing better than a good VA. With an audible sonic influence and shared appreciation for the originality and love poured into old-school techno, ESPN002 has something for every drum machine lover out there.

We kick things off with Toecruncher's track "Turnstyle", the first of two driving pieces of dancefloor-friendly techno that make up the A side. A classic 16th note bassline, strong percussion, and just the right amount of ear candy and ephemeral pads - this work practically mixes itself into your DJ set. The next output by label head Richardson "Situational Awareness" builds off this style and adds a growling, modulated synthline, a uniqueness which ensures its memorability and slot in your bag.

The clarity in production of B1 "Occhio per occhio" by Alfa Cornae is hard to put into words. There's a mountain of percussion in this hardgroove-inspired piece and yet, everything seems to have its own place - and those squelchy breakdowns don't hurt either. Rounding off the release is "Kintsugi" - a slamming, industrial yet ethereal piece by Andrea Crestani. We personally enjoy a release that tells a story, and this track has all the hallmarks and melancholy of an EP closer.

We hope you enjoy your stay with Era Specific Noise - New school old school.

What We Have Now is a love-letter to New York City, written by a breaking heart weathering the deep indigo night of a soul realizing dawn will release it from the dried tears of youth. There is no brighter or harsher wasteland of self-discovery than the one in which we see that childhood is a dream and the now is something we will have to fabricate alone, from those broken mirror shards of memories in service to a world that does not seem to know how to care for us any longer. Full of feeling and shepherded by Clara's intensely honest vocals, these songs transcend place and time to share a universe of wonders beneath the hard-wrought questioning of the deeply human condition we are all living within. Clara Joy is a songwriter full of melody and vision. These home recordings were made by Clara in NYC between 2020 and 2024. The songs were then arranged, mixed & mastered by Kramer in December 2024 in his studio in the mountains of North Carolina. Clara is at the dawn of her career and Shimmy-Disc is proud to bring this amazing work to the world. This creation is a beacon on the murky horizon of this Pyrocene age landscape we find ourselves traversing.

What We Have Now is a love-letter to New York City, written by a breaking heart weathering the deep indigo night of a soul realizing dawn will release it
from the dried tears of youth. There is no brighter or harsher wasteland of self-discovery than the one in which we see that childhood is a dream and
the now is something we will have to fabricate alone, from those broken mirror shards of memories in service to a world that does not seem to know
how to care for us any longer.
Full of feeling and shepherded by Clara’s intensely honest vocals, these songs transcend place and time to share a universe of wonders beneath the
hard-wrought questioning of the deeply human condition we are all living within.
Clara Joy is a songwriter full of melody and vision. These home recordings were made by Clara in NYC between 2020 and 2024. The songs were then
arranged, mixed & mastered by Kramer in December 2024 in his studio in the mountains of North Carolina.
Clara is at the dawn of her career and Shimmy-Disc is proud to bring this amazing work to the world. This creation is a beacon on the murky horizon of
this Pyrocene age landscape we find ourselves traversing.

wetdogg was born in a grotto in Detroit, Michigan with a mission to information to the masses. Through sonic awakening, wetdoggs mission is to enlighten the subconscious and shine light on the deepest crevices of the human psyche. Allowing pathways back into animalistic intuition and away from the technocracy, dig a hole, plant a seed, run in circles and free your mind.

Coming out of Detroit based label Hold Me Records started by Detroit Techno aficionado MGUN and Underground don of all dons Ryan Spencer, wetdogg releases her first Album pssssssp…

From the artist:
"When a dog runs into a river and comes out and shakes itself dry, there is no data collected, technology does not aim to control those that it cannot. Numbers are definite and infinite, a linear path to doomsday. With every move we make, we are tracked and traced and categorized in order to sell ourselves into data hell. Intimacy used to have meaning, the present moment, truth and love but so much of it has been taken captive by technology that seeks to psychologically manipulate and control. A dog runs into the water because that is what dogs do, but it seems these days we are starved from our natural instincts, instead relying on someone else's answer that we of course seek online. "

Using the primitive technology of the password journal (often marketed to little girls to keep their secrets) wetdogg uses the idea of the password journal to imagine a utopia free of the surveillance state in her upcoming album pssssssp…

Founded in 2022, Hold Me Recordings is an independent record label based in southwest Detroit, MI. It is run by Manuel Gonzales (MGUN) & Ryan Spencer, who with a deep-rooted connection to the city's musical history, showcase innovative sounds that challenge the status quo and push the boundaries of contemporary electronic music. Focused on promoting both emerging and established artists, Hold Me is releasing genre-defying tracks that blend unconventional productions with the sincerity of Detroit's legacy. From experimental techno, to downtempo and ambient, Hold Me is committed to offering music that sounds fresh, exciting, and unlike anything you've heard before.

A fully licensed, analogue reissue -- sure, on cassette and not on vinyl, that's a
long story -- of the first Index LP, originally released in 1967
The "Black Album" is one of the all-time holy grails of psychedelia, with originals going
for more than $4,000. It is an album "with a really druggie sound, full of feedback and
fuzzy guitars. The vocals, when present, are not easily heard. The cover of 'Eight Miles
High' is very good, probably one of the best cover versions I have ever heard. The
original songs all follow a similar pattern as the covers, with hazy guitar riffs and loud
rhythms. The last track is particularly noisy and unstructured. Hidden in amongst the
echoing canyons of sound there's some really snotty punk attitude wrapped up in
trippy velvet fuzz."
This record is magnificent-- bizarre, atmospheric, amateurish (in the best of all
possible ways). It has a wonderful bleak sound, both droning and murky... the atonal
sound of 1960's rock that would leave the most lasting impression on what would
become future punk, post-punk and indie rock artists.
"Much has been written about this incredible band. Much of it isn't true. Index was
formed in the early spring of 1967 in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. I was 18 years old
when I met a chain-smoking 16-year-old named Gary Francis. Our conversation soon
got around to rock and roll. He told me that he and his friend, John Ford, were forming
a band. I told him that I played drums and we arranged a jam session at John's home
on Lakeshore Drive. Our first meeting was incredible. Our sound was full and
powerful. John's lead guitar techniques were fresh and innovative. After our first
sessions we knew we had something special. Index was born. Soon we hit the local
'sock hop' circuit, playing at high schools and teen clubs in the area. We poured our
unique sound out at The Hideout, Undercroft and G.P. War Memorial every weekend.
One afternoon John pulled out a new album he had been listening to. It was a new
band with a mind-shattering sound called 'The Jimi Hendrix Experience.' John played
some songs he had written inspired by this 'psychedelic' sound. Over the next few
days, 'Fire Eyes,' 'Shock Wave' and 'Feedback' were written. This album was recorded
in December of 1967 at the Ford estate. It is recorded in mono with literally one
microphone and with all instruments and vocals recorded at the same time. The cover
photo is of founders of a singing group John joined at Yale. The stiff, board- like
figures seem to characterize the exact opposite of this musical collection. This
reissue is taken from the original recordings. Nothing has been added and all songs
are in their original length. Over the years various bootleg copies of this album have
surfaced but this is the original work." --Jim Valice

Teal’s debut LP, Original Watercolour, is an album that feels like a canvas come to life. A sonic blend of street-soul, digi-dub, and downtempo. Original Watercolour explores the complexities of love, oneness, and intuition — themes that resonate deeply within the context of the history women have shared with what was once known as the “ladies’ medium.”

The bi-coastal family trio—Ashleigh and Melissa Ball, better known as the Ball Sisters, alongside producer N1_SOUND—bring a fresh, genre-defying sound to the table with their latest 6-track album. Running just under 30 minutes, this immersive collection weaves together skipping beats, addictive bass lines, three-dimensional flute textures & emotional vocal melodies. This musical portrait is as ethereal as it is powerful, inviting the listener to get lost in its depths while celebrating the beauty of self-expression.

The opening track, “Original Watercolour,” takes you on a psychedelic trip-hop journey. From the first reverberous snare hit, you’re whisked away to a sonic wetland — lush and euphoric. The soft yet poignant soundscapes set the tone for the album, inviting us into a world where the boundaries between earth and music, reality and imagination, automatically seem to blur.

“Locked In 2 Love” offers a boogie-fueled bassline that pushes Teal into dance-floor territory with soaring flutes and rhythmic intricacies that make it impossible not to move — it’s a track that exemplifies the magic of Teal’s ability to craft both intimate and expansive musical landscapes. And then, there’s the hypnotic flow of “One In The Same,” where stacked vocal harmonies and mantra-esque lyrics transport you to a place that could easily be mistaken for a lost Soulquarians demo. It’s gentle yet unrelenting in its depth.

The second side of the album opens with “Sleep on It,” a track that immediately grabs attention with its dancehall-driven rhythm. Ashleigh Ball's vocals set the stage for a song that’s both introspective and emotionally charged, yet unmistakably rooted in groove. The phased-out bassline creates an almost hypnotic atmosphere. Pulling the listener into a mood of contemplation—matching the restless, sleepless night that Ball describes. As the song progresses, this groove builds in intensity, culminating in an explosive ending that mirrors the emotional release of a long-held frustration.

Original Watercolour is more than just an album — it’s a meditation on the interconnectedness of life and art. “Frog Kingdom,” the longest and only instrumental track creates a contemplative space that builds upon the themes introduced earlier. It feels like a sequel to their earlier work, Frog Legacy from their debut Bluish Green 2024 12”, expanding on the familiar sound with even more complex layers.

Yet the real emotional power of the record lies in its closing track, “Can’t Shake the Feeling.” Simple in structure but profound in impact, this song captures a deep yearning and understanding — that everything, from the ecosystems we inhabit to the relationships we nurture and the art we create, is fundamentally interconnected. As the track crescendos in a falsetto peak, it becomes clear that the album is a reflection of both the world around us and the personal journey each member of the band has embarked upon to get to this point.

Just as the medium of watercolor has been traditionally linked to women artists, Teal carries this legacy into the modern musical landscape, blending the richness of history with a unique forward-thinking perspective. The album feels like both a celebration of the past and a bold declaration of a path forward — one that welcomes anyone ready to join in and shape the future of the art form.

The beauty of Teal’s work is that it feels familiar, while simultaneously offering something new and refreshing. Original Watercolour doesn’t just push musical boundaries; it redefines them, offering a lush and textured soundtrack for those willing to listen closely.

In a world that often feels over-saturated, Original Watercolour stands as a reminder of the power of simplicity, intuition, and connection. Teal’s debut album invites you to experience something both deeply personal and universally understood. The landscapes they create are vivid, yet soft, grounding yet expansive. With each track, Teal’s music reflects the interconnectedness of all things — a truly unique piece of work in the world of experimental soul and dub adjacent electronic music.

Rising and falling. We all live in the same pond. Peace to all.

Previously unreleased; four track 12" with two different vocal takes, each w/ dub. Comes in Bond Export company sleeve.

Another cold case solved! One of DKR's early victories was finding a tape of the drum & bass cut of the legendary dubplate 'Rocks & Mountains.' Rumor had said the artist was the Mighty Travellers, but this didn't really add up chronologically or audibly. More astute listeners mostly agreed the artist was likely the Majesterians, a little recorded group who had made a couple other records for Taxi circa 1980. When we first issued the song on a 10" back in 2011, even Sly himself couldn't recall for sure who sang the tune. Like with other 'mystery' projects which we eventually came to realize, we never gave up digging on this one. There were two mysteries at work here - one, confirming the identity of the group, and two - finding the other cut of the tune, which features fuller instrumentation and a different vocal take. Both cuts were around on dubplate circa '80/'81, and the latter cut can be heard ever so briefly in the infamous UK "Sound Business" documentary film from '81. In the course of a mere 13 years, both questions came to be solved - we obtained a pretty clean plate cut of the fuller mix, and we confirmed the identity of the group. The Majesterians were a vocal trio consisting of Everton Dacres, Roderick Perkins and Paul Mitchell. While the latter two gentlemen don't seem to have done much otherwise, we are sure the roots heads and hopefully all DKR followers know Everton Dacres, who made some fine roots music in the 1970s prior to fronting the Majesterians. We spoke to Everton and he confirmed 'Rocks & Mountains' was their tune, cut in Channel 1 at a Taxi session featuring a host of other artists. Indeed, these were the heady days of 1980 with Channel 1 booked round the clock for locked-in sessions, with the Taxi Gang and the Roots Radics laying down future classic after future classic. All that said, we're happy to re-present this tune now with not only proper accreditation, but also both known mixes and the drum & bass mix in improved fidelity over its previous issue.

Berlin-based French-Irish multimedia artist Zoe Mc Pherson levels up on their third full-length "Pitch Blender", mangling years of experience DJing and performing live into a tight set of cybernetic soundsystem experiments that flicker between the rave and the art space.

Cast your mind back to February 2020 for a moment, when Mc Pherson released their last album "States of Fugue". The world seemed less tangled somehow, and yet Mc Pherson's precision-engineered fusion of exploratory sound design and visceral club pressure seemed to hint at a cataclysmic event none of us were really expecting. Only a few weeks after its release the world changed forever, and the majority of us were grounded - forced to consider our lives and the movement (or lack thereof) surrounding us. The philosophy of this extended time period is welded into the bones of "Pitch Blender", Mc Pherson's supple third album. They have learned plenty in the last two years, and infuse all of that anxiety and spiky emotionality into a spread of tracks that sound as powerful in headphones as they do over a well-tweaked soundsystem, soldering vocals, environmental recordings and instrumental flourishes to unpredictably pneumatic, cybernetic beats.

Anyone that's caught one of Mc Pherson's energetic live performances over the last few months will have an idea of what "Pitch Blender" is made of. They're an artist who's somehow able to match the raw energy of post-punk and no-wave music with the brain-altering potential of the best experimental club tracks, vocalizing an incongruous post-lockdown reality over beats that sound as if they're in a permanent state of flux. 'On Fire' splutters to life in a frenetic patter of drums that blur into oddly soothing hoover sounds, snaking lysergically towards a drop that's teased constantly, and never comes. We're forced to wait until 'The Spark' for that, fighting through choppy, pitch-mangled guitar and rolling beats until a gruesome kick drum forces its way through the psilocybin mists and heaving Bristol-inspired bass clonks. Backed up with just the inverted traces of recognizable breaks, this vigorous pulse lies at the heart of "Pitch Blender", the driving force that powers Mc Pherson's sound even when it's only hinted at.

'Blender' is the moment where Mc Pherson show their full hand, using crackling sound effects, ghost vocals and uneven rhythms to build a textural landscape that's so evocative you can almost taste it. Squealing modular synth effects sound like gameshow buzzers being triggered in another dimension and propel the track forward - it's club music, just about, but Mc Pherson's motivation is world-building, and their world is colorful, abstract, and dizzyingly surreal. "Obsolete user," their voice echoes over driving airlock kicks. But they take a swift left turn with 'Lamella', reducing the kinetic club rhythms to a longing simmer and letting loose with powerful vocals, intoning with robotic, gender-fluxed intensity. On 'Wait', New York City's clacking crosswalk signal - already an effective club track on its own - is transformed into a reminder to slow down, juxtaposed with booming sub-heavy kicks, acidic synths and effervescent percussion that rattles in time with the vibrations. It's foley rave, built for pure psychedelic intensity to blur the line between real life and sonic fiction.

One of the album's most galvanic tracks, 'Power Dynamics' curves a double-time rhythm around breathless HQ sound design squiggles until it hits a polyrhythmic crescendo, striking a queasy balance between rave hedonism and ritualistic hand drum energy. It all builds towards eerie closing track 'Outside' that acts as an important wind down, spotlighting Mc Pherson's ability to operate outside of the rhythmic spectrum, using cinematic scrapes and flickering neon synths to create music that's tense but never terrifying. The track feels like the end credits of a particularly bewildering movie - something between the cyberpunk dystopia of "Ghost in the Shell" and the vivid, sky-scraping beauty of "Koyaanisqatsi". Mc Pherson has managed something special with "Pitch Blender": mashing together genres with rare focus, and sharpening their engineering skills to a fine point, they've concocted an antidote to contemporary malaise - a wakeup call that's begging us to loosen our limbs and move.

A Chaos Of Flowers is an album that builds on their ferocious 2023 album nature morte. BIG|BRAVE"s music has been described as massive minimalism. Their fusillades of textural distortion and feedback emphasize their music"s frayed edges as much as its all-encompassing weight. The potency of the trio"s work is their singular artistry combining elements of traditional folk techniques and a modern deconstruction of guitar music. Gain, feedback, and amplitude are essential. For A Chaos Of Flowers guitarist/vocalist Robin Wattie drew heavily on the poems of artists whom Wattie found kinship in, their words resonant with experiences of those often sidelined by cultural norms. "I discovered that most poems from folk traditions or in the public domain seem to be by men - to which I could not quite relate. In my search, I rediscovered some of my favorite works and poets," says Wattie. Guitarist Mathieu Ball and drummer Tasy Hudson help Wattie shape poetry into pieces as dense and impenetrable as they are vulnerable. BIG|BRAVE achieve their colossal sound through minimalist approaches, a deft understanding of dynamics and an inventive employment of percussion and distortion. The trio reconceptualize what it is to be heavy or minimal, challenging perceptions with their illumination of painfully overlooked perspectives. Guest guitarist Marisa Anderson lends earthen, blues-inflected atmospheres to the album, where guitarist Tashi Dorji and saxophonist Patrick Shiroishi amplify the squall. Working closely with frequent collaborator and producer/engineer Seth Manchester, the internal tumult of Wattie"s voice rings out in warbles, haunting echoes, and unearthly harmonies across bold immense walls of distortion. BIG|BRAVE have collaborated with metal monsters The Body on a previous Thrill Jockey release, Leaving None But Small Birds, and have toured internationally with bands like SUMAC, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, SUNN O))), and Lingua Ignota. As they continue to ascend in their journey as pioneers in the contemporary metal scene, it"s safe to say that BIG|BRAVE are here to stay.

The Crippled Flower was a post-punk band from Düsseldorf - and they arrived late. However, unlike many young, unsuspecting, hairsprayed hopefuls from that time, in 1985 they could sense that the end of their era was approaching. They knew too much to want to take the world by storm. They were four individualists searching their own way. Each of the band members only found their calling after the time that they had spent together – but that's exactly what makes The Crippled Flower still seem really interesting today, this static energy that does not discharge, but is simply there.

Searching dreamers should sound like that and that's what they were. Singer Phil Elston, for example, had brought his love of Kraftwerk from England to Düsseldorf. Even his bandmates found this strange, but they were also entangled in their own longings. This is because the times were still so crazy and these searchers were "on fire". A fire that glows in the band's recordings.

Listening to the songs today, The Crippled Flower sound like they are hugely at the height of their game; think of Wire, Felt, Scritti Politti or Minimal Compact. The variety of musical themes, as well as different soundscapes, which the band created can only be listened to in amazement. Often, it is only Phil Elston's Sprechgesang that confirms that this is really the same band. However, it was back in 1985 when, importantly, the catalyst that brought the musicians together - the short lived eclectic record store "Heartbeat" in Düsseldorf Bilk - occured. It was there where post-industrial and pop, melodic minimal music and sound attacks awaited those who wanted to discover music by artists and bands they did not yet know.

Cassette releases. All recorded on 4-Track. The Crippled Flower succeeded in this medium. Firstly, with a cassette just entited The Crippled Flower, working from project-like studio recorded sketches. Four more tracks from the short-lived band appeared in 1986 on "A Heartbeat Rendezvous“. A demo tape submitted to Les Disques du Crépuscule, however, did not lead to a worldwide career and so, unfortunately, it was soon over.

Stefan Krausen moved on to the follow-up project Deux Baleines Blanches with Stefan Schneider, which, in 1994, gave rise to the band Kreidler. Krausen was already drumming with the I-Burnettes on AtaTak and much later he studied painting in Munich. Nina Ahlers moved from Düsseldorf to Paris to study art, because in the 80s it was still the case that Paris was the destination of choice for those really wanting to become an artist – and that's what she did. Her work is characterized by a non-academic minimalism focusing on everyday objects. Stefan Schneider remained connected to music. Only Phil Elston, who helped sabotage fox hunts in England and wrote these observant lyrics about environmental destruction and time travel, seems to have escaped the social-media world. Whether he found Kraftwerk-fulfilment in Düsseldorf or moved on disillusioned remains a mystery to us. And somehow this also fits in with that peculiar, special band. - Oliver Tepel, Köln 2025 (Translation by Philipp Elston)

“Music is the weed that keeps popping out of the concrete in my life. It just seems to want to come out.” –Jeff Bridges

Extensive booklet including liner notes by Sam Sweet, new interviews with Jeff Bridges, and never-before-seen archival photos.

Featuring Burgess Meredith (Rocky, Batman), members of Oingo Boingo, and assorted characters from the West Los Angeles art and music underground
Culled from a single decaying cassette tape labeled “July 1978,” these recordings are a window into the secret musical life of the Dude. Even after becoming one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, Bridges spent all his free time jamming and recording with a trusted circle of musicians composed of childhood friends, artists, and assorted L.A. oddballs.

Imagine The Band playing at CBGB with The Exploding Plastic Inevitable. Or Arthur Russell and the Talking Heads collaborating on a suite of mutant disco. Though Bridges and his friends were brought up around the movie industry, they decided to create their own private musical universe, where they could be as weird as they wanted.

Their music opens a portal to a hidden world of outlandish creativity and camaraderie in 1970s Los Angeles. It’s the missing piece of his musical evolution, revealed here for the first time in all its joyful abandon.

Dateline: April 10, 1970. Setting: The storied Fillmore West in San Francisco, CA. Context: Miles Davis, three days removed from his first session for Jack Johnson and, with newly recruited soprano saxophonist Steve Grossman in tow, opening shows for countercultural heroes the Grateful Dead on the latter’s home turf. Result: The initial rumblings of a thrilling era in which Davis and his cohorts would again upend jazz and popular conceptions of the genre with music steeped in groove, improvisation, and hang-on-for-your-life adventurousness. All captured on Black Beauty: Miles Davis at Fillmore West.

Mastered at MoFi’s California studio, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition 180g 33RPM 2LP set helps bring what went down that spring evening in Bill Graham’s venue to your listening room with exceptional clarity, balance, and presence. Originally only released in Japan in 1973 and unavailable in the United States until the late ‘90s on compact disc, this marks the first time Black Beauty has been issued on domestic vinyl. The wait is worth it.

Benefitting from quiet surfaces and excellent definition, these LPs present the band’s livewire energy and torrential storm of notes with captivating dynamics, pacing, and fullness. At its core, this audiophile reissue takes you into the walls of sound erected by a band learning on-the-fly the sheer power, will, and breadth of the electric jazz Davis was orchestrating and realizing, on the spot, would reach rock audiences that until that point had only a faint awareness of his mad-scientist experimentation. The sense of release and reach conveyed by these carefully restored records make it clear the veteran bandleader was in the process of a permanent shift that he’d chase for the next five years.

Given Davis was only a few months away from releasing the pioneering double album Bitches Brew, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that much of the fare here adheres to similar explorative approaches. Turbulent rhythms, provocative trumpet passages, and rich, saturated tonal colors that seemingly splash against a blank canvas take precedence over any traditional attempts at organization and melody. Davis and Co. intentionally play everything on a line with the bandleader signaling changes with his horn via coded phrases. The group speaks a common language — with each member having gone to achieve iconic status for their career contributions and technical prowess.

In the company of Grossman, Chick Corea (piano), Dave Holland (bass), Jack DeJohnette (drums), and Airto Moreira (percussion), Davis constructs themes around “Directions,” “Miles Runs the Voodoo Down,” “It’s About That Time,” the title track to Bitches Brew, and more from his then most-recent studio works and the in-progress Jack Johnson. His farewell to the popular standards that for nearly two decades remained a part of his repertoire arrive via a brief dalliance with “I Fall in Love Too Easily,” a shortened albeit aggressive “Masqualero,” and the “Theme” finale of “Spanish Key.” Initially, Black Beauty lacked specific track listings due to Davis’ increasing frustration with listeners over-analyzing his music.

In retrospect, it’s difficult to blame anyone for wanting to view what’s on display here with the aural equivalent of a magnifying glass. Leaning in rock directions, yet maintaining an ear for spaciousness and solos, Black Beauty survives as a snapshot of a thrilling moment amid a transitory period in which evolution came fast and furious. Just two months later, Davis would add another instrumentalist to the lineup in the form of organist Keith Jarrett, and the perpetually restless visionary would blast off to a more atmospheric and arguably more chaotic universe.

Consider, then, this live document a bridge to that galaxy and a breathtaking example of the possibilities of jazz itself.

"The album was created in this back and forth of snapshots - we made most of the decisions impulsively without much questioning. That takes a lot of trust." — Violeta García & Hora Lunga

"I'll Wait For You In The Car Park", the first full length collaboration between Argentinian cellist, improviser and composer Violeta García and Swiss musician and composer Hora Lunga, is a work of extremes. Drawing from the realities of life on two continents, and embodying moods ranging from stoic desire to violent bursts, the album enciphers so-called ordinary moments from everyday life into an alluring collection of musical scenes. Seemingly inconspicuous moments are condensed into a tale of synchronicity: colliding time zones and seasons, metropolitan rhythms raining down onto a glacier's ice field, exploring places through street view, the serendipity of loitering at a kiosk. As such, "I'll Wait For You In The Car Park" brings documentary film essays to mind that carefully observe the private and everyday occurrences.
Violeta García and Hora Lunga crossed paths by chance in 2023 and began discussing and sharing music shortly afterwards. What started as a loose exchange of ideas, sending back and forth sketches and demos between South America and Europe, grew into several studio sessions in 2024. Being sucked into a "quite extraordinary flow", the two musicians recorded, arranged and intervened on a level playing field, using the studio as a playground to record musical layers and interweave them with field recordings and audio notes gathered over the course of a year. Speaking a kindred musical language, they quickly realized how their ideas clung to each other like two familiar souls, complementing, intertwining and merging. From gauzy and eerie textures, musical miniatures floating through time, howling and screaming strings, to tumbling and thundering basses – the sound of the ordinary shapes a body that vibrates, writhes and breathes.

Violeta García is a cellist, improviser and composer from Buenos Aires, Argentina. Based in Spain, she tours a lot with her band Blanco Teta. She is a performer in many art forms, including free improvisation, contemporary and trans-media experimental repertoire in violoncello and electronics and collaborations with dancers, film makers and visual artists. After years of studying classical and popular music on violoncello and, later, contemporary composition and improvisation, Violeta has developed her own musical voice needed to emerge beyond outside specific genres.

Throughout Swiss composer and musician Hora Lunga's work, the focus lies is on exploring boundaries, both musically and in terms of performance and content. Above all, genre designations lose all meaning, as the music always takes place within a dramaturgically conceived overall framework. In recent years, his projects have ranged from pop music productions to experimental works and sound performances, as well astheatre and film productions. His ensemble WIRREN consists of up to fifteen performers.

Legendary New Zealand-born experimental composer and sound art pioneer Annea Lockwood returns to Black Truffle with On Fractured Ground / Skin Resonance, her third release for the label. Having recently celebrated her 85th birthday, Lockwood shows no sign of slowing down in her exploration of new sound sources and collaborations with an ever-growing intergenerational pool of performers – here with Vanessa Tomlinson. Her creative vibrancy is alive as ever on the two recent works presented here, which demonstrate both her engagement with the social dimensions of sound and the deeply reflective, meditative aspect of her art.

On Fractured Ground derives from material recorded with Pedro Rebelo and Georgios Varoutsos for the soundtrack of Maria Fusco and Margaret Salmon’s opera-film, History of the Present (2023). Working together in Belfast, Lockwood, Rebelo and Varoutsos made extensive recordings of the city’s ‘peace lines’, the dozens of walls erected since the beginning of the Troubles in the late 1960s to separate Catholic and Protestant areas of the city. Struck by the immensity of these barriers, ‘the brutal way they sever neighbourhoods’, Lockwood and her collaborators focused not on the sound environment of the city, but on the walls themselves, playing them as gigantic resonant instruments, using their hands and objects such as stones and leaves. Continuing to work in her studio with the material collected for the soundtrack after its completion, Lockwood composed the work presented here, occupying a space somewhere between her own extended-technique percussion music and the Cagean tradition of hyper-amplified small sounds. From deep, gong-like metallic tolling to dry scrapes and uneasy groans, the piece’s sustained attention to single sounds derived from unorthodox sources draws a line all the way back to Lockwood’s classic Glass World (1967-1970). Its spaciousness and delicacy are at odds with the dark historical background of the Troubles, creating a moving listening experience somehow haunted by the shadow of violence and conflict.

Skin Resonance is a collaboration with Australian composer and percussionist Vanessa Tomlinson. Developed through conversations in which the two discussed the idea of ‘sonic attraction’, the piece focuses on Tomlinson’s relationship to the bass drum, reflecting on the complex web of connections embodied in this seemingly simply instrument, which is at once ‘animal, wood, and metal’. Approaching the instrument in a suitably elemental fashion, Tomlinson’s performance strips away conventional technique to explore the resonance and timbral properties of skin, drum, and metal hardware, producing overlapping waves of texture that at times seem closer to wind swishing through leaves or the ocean than anything usually associated with a drum. Emphasising the symbiotic relationship between performer and instrument, Tomlinson’s voice is heard at times, exploring the field of associations and connections the bass drum suggests to her: ‘Maybe the bass drum skin is an ear as well?’

Accompanied by insightful liner notes on both pieces and photographs documenting the recording of On Fractured Ground and a performance of Skin Resonance, this LP is a moving testament to the engagement, generosity, and openness that sustain Annea Lockwood’s work, still finding new directions after more than fifty years of activity.

Looking behind the obvious, forming an orchestra out of everyday surroundings.

Finding the essence in the trivial, clarity in the complex, poetry in simplicity. All of this is part of the goal, meaning and character of Oh No Noh, the project of Leipzig-based guitarist, robot programmer, magnetic tape crumpler and composer Markus Rom. All of this floats and shines through "As Late As Possible", the third Oh No Noh album, which will be released on April 4th, 2025.

The focus of this album, as the title "As Late As Possible" suggests, was patience. A creative lingering, the selfimposed principle of letting ideas mature, consciously leaving them lying and looking at them again in order to discover and refine new things. Always looking for new ways of producing musical sounds, Markus Rom has been blurring the boundaries between LoFi, Indietronica, Postrock, Kraut and Pop with his solo project for several years. His main instruments for this are electric guitar, MIDI robots, tapes and samples. For “As Late As Possible”, Rom expands his setup with a new sound sources (acoustic guitar, banjo, organ) and musical guests: Damian Dalla Torre (Squama) on bass clarinet and Andi Haberl (the Notwist, Sun) on drums.

“As Late As Possible” continues the signature of past releases and adds new facets. Rom's distinctive looping in and over each other is particularly evident in the tracks “Missing the Point”, “Orb” and “Almost Everywhere”. With "Loot", a straightforward and folk-pop piece finds its way onto the album and coexists with math-trained tracks like "Dog Years" or "Dot", which conjure up associations with Weilheim bands like COUCH. The tracks "Bliss of Disconnect" and "Fawn" were created in collaboration with the featured guests Liz Kosack and KMRU. The confidently unplanned is one of the principles around which Oh No Noh itself is also continuously evolving. Part of this development: the radio series "Oh No Noh Radioh", which has so far consisted of over 40 parts, for which Rom invites a guest in each episode to research music together along roughly defined concepts, ideas and inspirations. Together with technology composer Hainbach, free jazz artist Limpe Fuchs and sound artist Elsa M’Bala, for example, encounters were created whose patient search and find and whose controlled coincidences also characterize “As Late As Possible” – but here concentrated, concise, and with all the love of sound and experimentation always committed to the song. With this will to create a song-like narrative, to move, to develop, “As Late As Possible” remains suspended and searching. Its concentration seems light-footed, its happy accidents well-placed, the melancholic beauty of outdated technologies, forgotten musical toys and broken noise sources always forward-looking. Music like the one that comes about when someone programs an entire robot band, which then becomes just a friendly part of the whole.

The artwork for “As Late As Possible” was created by Leipzig comic artist Anna Haifisch. The album was mixed by Adam Lenox and mastered by Frida Claeson Johannsson.

LP 1 is Original Reissue, LP 2 is the Instrumentals. This album, originally released in 2019, was highly lauded with esteemed praise, topping many Album Of The Year lists inlcuding NPR, Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, Time Magazine. This vinyl has been out of print and in high demand, repress is restricted to limited quantities and will be out of print again in under a year. Now includes a 2nd LP featuring the never before available Hiding Places instrumentals from Kenny Segal. Fully produced by Kenny Segal, (Project Blowed, Kenstrumentals beat tape Series, Happy Little Trees). LP has unique gatefold artwork by Myra Musgrove and features custom “oakwood” coloured vinyls. Hiding Places is a collaborative album from Brooklyn-based rapper billy woods and Los Angeles beat scene veteran Kenny Segal. As a label, we at Backwoodz take a lot of pride in our physical products; in creating original artwork that will stand the test of time, and in issuing limited-pressings that stay limited. We had always resisted repressing a piece of vinyl and even when the demand for Hiding Places built to a fever pitch during 2019, we stuck to our guns. Still, by the end of the year, as the AOTY nominations kept rolling in, we knew that we needed to do something. But we also were determined not to sacrifice the uniqueness of that first pressing. So we decided to commission all-new artwork, and press up the instrumentals as well and put it all together as a GATEFOLD 2XLP. So, on top of the best album of 2019, you get Kenny’s incredible instrumentals, available on wax for the first time! On its face, it seemed an unlikely pairing; woods who moonlights as ½ of dissonant rap duo Armand Hammer is a chaotic force, the warped relic of an NY indie-rap wave that never happened. Meanwhile, Segal has been in L.A. for twenty years; from paying dues with Project Blowed to pushing the culture forward with Busdriver and Milo. All the while, his soulful, dreamlike production precariously tethered to earth by the right drums or rumbling bass. But look closer and it makes more sense. After all, Segal lent his production to a couple of songs on Paraffin, Armand Hammer’s critically-acclaimed opus, and the two artists have more than a few shared collaborators: Open Mike Eagle, ELUCID, and Hemlock Ernst amongst them. Hiding Places finds both artists deep in the labyrinth. Segal’s lush soundscapes have a new edge, woods’ writing is, paradoxically, at its most direct. Hiding Places is a child’s game: funny and cruel, as brutal as a fairy tale. The album features familiar names from both artists’ well of collaborators with ELUCID, Self-Jupiter, Blockhead and MOTHERMARY making contributions.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

*180g virgin leaded vinyl in a deluxe textured heavy gatefold cover, with paste-on artwork and special anti-static innersleeve.* Note: The pressing is absolute on point!!!!

Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon with a beautifully recorded suite of songs and instrumentals.

" More than two decades since he blew minds with a suite of brilliant releases on Warp, Vincent Gallo returns to the world of music at long last in Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon, with the project’s full-length debut, “The Music of Butterfly”. A gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, while interweaving fascinating flirtations with minimalism and experimentalism, it’s a truly captivating piece of work that’s hard to get off the turntable after the first needle drop.

In the arts, the lines between genius and madness, as well as fact and fiction, often blur. Such, it seems, has always been the life of the artist, filmmaker, actor, musician, and composer Vincent Gallo. A cult figure and a member of various creative undergrounds for the better part of half a century, Gallo has courted controversy, ruffled feathers, and made some of the most singular statements to flirt at the outer edges of popular culture that can be called to mind. Arguably most well known for his work in film, during the late '90s and early 2000s - notably with his soundtrack for “Buffalo 66” and a suite of releases on Warp - Gallo became something of a sensation in the world of independent music for a visionary, incredibly unique and sensitive approach to sonority. For a time, the world was abuzz, waiting on bated breath for more, and yet time passed. Bar a few fragments, appearing here and there, almost nothing has been heard from Gallo, within the world of music, for more than 20 years. That is, until now, with the release of “The Music of Butterfly”, the debut full-length of Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon: beautifully produced and issued by Family Friend Records - Gallo’s own label, founded in 1981 - in a deluxe edition that simply left us speechless: 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve. More or less picking up from where we last encountered him, spinning captivating melodies and gentle song-craft within the quieter temperaments of DIY, left-field pop, once again, and at long last, Vincent Gallo, encountered in an incredibly successful collaboration with Harper Simon as Butterfly, reminds us that he’s as much a force within the realm of music as he is within film. Not to be missed. This one isn’t going to sit around for long.

Vincent Gallo’s biography reads like the stuff of blaring beauty: a figure of moderate fame in his own right, who has remained at the centre of cultural ferment as the decades have rolled by. Born in 1961, in Buffalo, New York, as the story goes he ran away to New York City at the age of 16 and fell into the brewing counterculture of the Downtown scene, William Burroughs and John Giorno, in addition to the cream of his own peers, and began making paintings, music, and experimenting with film. In addition to being a member of the now legendary band Gray, with the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the filmmaker, Michael Holman, Gallo appeared in the cult 1981 film “Downtown 81”, before slowly beginning a career as an actor and catching the eye of Claire Denis, who brought his talents into the broader cultural gaze. Catapulted into the public by his own subsequent career as a filmmaker with “Buffalo '66” (1998) and “The Brown Bunny” (2003), both of which were marked by controversy and praise, Gallo further captivated the public with a partially brilliant, if not relatively brief, flurry of activity in the realms of music.

While Gallo had already been making music for roughly two decades at the time of his release of the “Brown Bunny” soundtrack, and the four release issued by Warp in rapid succession between 2001 and 2002 - “When”, “Honey Bunny”, “So Sad”, and “Recordings of Music for Film” - the almost fanatical fandom reached a fever pitch at the moment, allowing him, for some, to be regarded as much, if not more, as a musical artist than an actor and filmmaker. Anyway you cut it, in a few short years, he proved himself to be a polymath of rare talent. Somewhere along the way, while both were working as members of Yoko Ono's Plastic One Band, Gallo met the New York based, highly regarded singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Harper Simon, who also happens to be the son of Paul Simon. The pair fell into an incredibly fruitful duo collaboration, which came to be called Butterfly, and “The Music of Butterfly” being their debut full-length release.

Written, performed, and recorded by Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon in New York City between the winter of 2018 and the spring of 2019, the ten tracks comprising “The Music of Butterfly” are cumulatively a gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, making one feel like barely a moment had passed since we’d encountered his graceful hand at song-craft. Stripped back and raw, while retaining a sense of warmth and intimacy, across the length of “The Music of Butterfly” the duo of Gallo and Simon weave something completely captivating at the juncture of minimalism, experimentalism, and pop: meandering moments of texture and tone, slowly forming toward flirtations of melody that flower into song and back again. Somehow playful and light, while also remarkably emotive and personal, it’s almost as though each of these tracks crystallised out the air, unlabored and exactly as they should be without a note or beat more.

An engrossing immersion into both Gallo and Simon’s remarkably accomplished minds, having followed the path toward one another after radically different experiences and careers, “The Music of Butterfly” is one of those records that’ll be hard to get off the turntable after that first needle drop, and rarely leave the listening pile for some time to come. Issued by Family Friend Records in a beautiful deluxe edition that is unmatched even among the most stunning recent productions we can call to mind - 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve - it’s lovely to have Gallo back in the musical mix after so many years. "

Entering its 26th year of activity, the morphing, Los Angeles based experimental outfit, Sissy Spacek, joins Shelter Press with Entrance, among the project's most captivating outings to date. Encountering the duo of John Wiese and Charlie Mumma joined in various configurations by an incredible cast of collaborators - Tim Barnes, Marco Fusinato, Aaron Hemphill, Brad Laner, Katsura Mouri, Ralf Wehowsky, and C Spencer Yeh - collectively transformed into a series a deeply intimate and delicate gestures of musique concrète, Entrance radically repositions the possibilities presented by group improvisation outside of time and place. Founded at the end of the last millennium, the Los Angeles based project, Sissy Spacek, initially emerged from the knotted, fiery context 1990s American noise and grindcore, producing sheets of visceral sonority that quickly set the scene on its head. Going through numerous evolutions, before eventually settling as a duo of John Wiese and Charlie Mumma - joined by a rotating and often recurring cast collaborators - over the last 25 years the band has continuously entered states of evolution that have defied the expectations of its own context, seeding the sonic extremes noise with subtle and sophisticated approaches to free improvisation and musique concrète. Fiercely positioning its efforts within the outer reaches of contemporary experimental music, while resisting the constraints of a singular sound or proximity, Wiese regards Sissy Spacek as being primarily centred around the practice of musique concrète and the pursuit of extremes. From its earliest releases - collage treatments of material gathered from the band's full throttle practice sessions - the project's conceptual framework has continuously evolved within a deeply engaged process of experimentation, not only reworking tactical approaches, but also definitions and perception regarding the location and action of their work. In recent years, this has led to an increasingly varied and diverse output. Percolating within, is a thread marked by a striking sense of delicacy and intimacy, driving forward while doubling as an unexpected challenge, in real time, to perceptions connected to the band's past. Entrance is the most recent of these. Embarking upon the four compositions that comprise the finalized four sides of Entrance, Wiese and Mumma enlisted longstanding collaborators, Tim Barnes, Marco Fusinato, Aaron Hemphill, Brad Laner, Katsura Mouri, and C Spencer Yeh, as well as new initiate, Ralf Wehowsky (of the seminal German electronic noise collective P16.D4), requesting a contribution of sounds from each, determined by a general set guidelines that dictated certain qualities the given sonorities, while allowing for the expression of each player's distinct creative voice. The sets of resulting recordings were then chopped, harvested, manipulated, and reassembled as the four tape compositions that make up the album - Web Of Unfolding Appearance, Figure Of Reflected Light, Trancher And The Inheritors, True Dimension (From The Opaque - Spike) - each blurring the lines of authorship and clear creative proximity in remarkable ways. Where historical gestures of musique concrète tend to draw upon non-instrumental sound sources - regarding its sonorous material as raw elements, unburdened by inherent meaning or association, to be transformed and imbued with musicality - Sissy Spacek turns this position on its head. Entrance comprises works of musique concrète that not only draw upon instrumental sound sources, with all their possible meanings or associations, but also individual characters and personalities of their players, crediting each resulting piece to its respective configuration of contributors. As such, Entrance is an effort of sound collage defined by a rare sense of intimacy and humanity: four pieces that often take on the resemblance of group improvisation, but have, in fact, been assembled outside of time and place. Bent under the ever-present hand of Wiese's tape treatments and manipulation, each of the album's four compositions unfurl startling states of sonic abstraction and percolating texture, marked by a striking sense of hard-shifting structure, that culminate as tense, driven manifestations of ambient music: scrapes, squeals, rattles feedback, rolling drums, bouncing tones, whispers, bent electronics, electric artefacts, and seemingly everything else under the sun, configured into immersive, sublime mediations in sound from the most improbable events.