Buscar:apparition

”Soul Insight” wurde ursprünglich im Oktober 2015 veröffentlicht und ist das Debüt des jungen SingerSongwriters Marcus King. Das Album zeigt seine atemberaubende Beherrschung von Rock, Blues, Psychedelia, Funk, Soul und Improvisation - alles mit einem musikalischen Südstaaten-Akzent. Es war auch das Album, das den damals 19-Jährigen seinem musikalischen Schicksal einen Schritt näher brachte.

Es ist das erste Mal, dass ”Soul Insight” auf CD und Vinyl außerhalb der USA offiziell erscheint, und es ist das erste Mal, dass das Album vollständig als Doppel-Vinyl überhaupt veröffentlicht wird.
Ein Muss für alle Fans!

”Ich glaube, ich wusste, dass ich zum Gitarrenspielen geboren war, als ich sieben war”, sagt King. ”Damals bekam ich meine erste E-Gitarre, und während alle anderen Kinder draußen spielten, war ich drinnen an der Gitarre. Wenn ich in der Schule Ärger bekam, sagte mein Vater, ich könne wählen zwischen einer Tracht Prügel und dem Wegnehmen meiner Gitarre für eine Woche. Ich nahm die Tracht Prügel.”

Ware began as an experimental electronic duo back in the 1980s, when you had to know what you were doing. Comprising Sacha Galvagna, who went on to play with acts as diverse as Rosa Mota, Horsepower, Charles Atlas, Crown Estate, The Last King of England and Carta, and Andrew Wilson a producers’ producer, noise machine maker and DJ, who found underground acclaim for his Crossed Wires output, the band reconnected earlier this decade when they found themselves with some unexpected time on their hands. From across continents the pair took advantage of 21st century technology to resurrect a sketchpad of aural experimentation that would become the foundation of Star Catalogue, Ware’s long overdue long player set for release through Absent Music.

Setting out with the spectral cha-cha of title track Star Catalogue, Ware chart their passage through diaphanous arrangements that veer off mid-song into unexpected new spaces, melting into liminal vibrations that render large parts of the album as continuous pieces inherently connected by overtones and sentiment. Threading its gossamer sounds into a surprisingly unyielding whole, the album takes in the phantasmal glam of Nerve Agency, Sable Bay’s prismatic ache, the infinitesimal disquiet of Eigen State, and the nylon strung desire of New Model. As the pair impart the unhurried entreaties of The Splintered Woods, which gives way to the cabin fever of My Life as a Ghost and its switch up into ebullient arousal, the unexpected focus-pull of Frame, the shadowy elegy of Nepenthe, and the apparitional house of The Apprentice Pillar, Ware artfully draw the listener into a heady intimacy that is a striking contrast to the cookie cutter soul-bearing histrionics of modern pop music.

In an era in which the thrill of anticipation has been extinguished by the attention-free instant gratification of streaming’s ‘what you want when you want it’ model, Ware have delivered a piece of work that is greater than the sum of its exemplary parts. Painted in exquisitely fragile figures that lead inexorably onward through its 11 tracks, Star Catalogue won’t be so vulgar as to demand your attention, but it unquestionably deserves it.

Dismantling the acoustic to feed the electronic, Editions Mego presents Telepath, the new album by Material Object. Born out of a single improvised recording session with a lone Violinist, Telepath is a startling album of future electronic music, resulting in an LP of unique and timeless tracks that reimagine a classic sound for an endless future.

Boldly departing from his previous canon of largely 'ambient' work, Material Object's Telepath renders itself out as something much stranger, something more spacious, more subtle and gradual. Moments of bouncing minimalism meet moirés of delayed pure tones phasing in and out of resolution, giving way to a series of strobing foreground gestures arranged and offset in disorienting landscapes which scatter themselves asymmetrically amongst crystal pools of reverb.

Revelling in the creative dismemberment of the original source material, Material Object slowly and patiently induces the violin to undergo every category of torsion, pressure and rupture. Its vivid acoustic qualities pass over and across the event horizon of the digital domain. Shattering then crystallising into points and coordinates, intersections, disjunctions, planes and reverberant figures. An uncanny geometry perceived only between the ears, at once dissolving and reconstructing itself.

Not to be missed here is the essential, but bonus only, add-on (available with all Bandcamp purchases) "Auxiliary Apparition", a hallucinatory expanse that traverses the same liminal geography as the LP proper but as some refracted, ghostly counterpoint. More nocturnal, overpowering phantasms looming out of a droning noise floor before fading away. A hypnotic and time-dilated recapitulation of what's gone before as if looking back from beyond a mirror. When it finally resolves in the closing moments and returns you home, you realise you haven't really moved at all.

Equally abstract, haunting and daring, Material Object’s Telepath is a singular work that abandons all notions of genre. Erupting with a tension of opposites that unfolds as a truly unique story, told in four dimensions and draped in deafening colour.

Tehran-born, Manchester-based artist Parham Ghalamdar provides a suite of raw & candid amateur-performed Persian folk, pop songs and poetry - all pulled from the audio on his parents archive of homemade VHS recordings documenting intimate, joyous & illicit gatherings in turn-of-the-century Iran.

"Beautiful Apparitions is a collection of audio excerpts from digitized VHS tapes recorded by my parents in early-noughties Iran. The footage depicts the secret double lives of Iranians drinking, dancing, and singing to celebrate life when owning a VHS player was illegal in the Islamic Republic. The footage is an amateur performance of pop and folklore songs about love, loss and life. Although many Iranians must have recorded such vivid moments, they are rarely made available publicly. Such tapes would usually have been well hidden, lost, or purposefully destroyed."

— Parham Ghalamdar

The Local Moon (East Berlin 1987/88) The name The Local Moon originated from an intimation by the oriental jester Nasreddin that every city had its own moon. This idea did not go without a certain local colour in the bipolar frontline city of Berlin; from an astropolitical view, its divided sky never saw a full moon, the light conditions were ideologically broken. From the black light of those years emerged The Local Moon. René Le Doil and Ronald Lippok took wings like two crows from a pigeon’s nest when quite suddenly in 1987 light entertainment permeated East Berlin’s Offground and the two musicians were hired for the New Romantic revue New Affair. Before that, Le Doil had been involved in the Stattgespräch fashion spectacle and in Allerleirauh, the “thing of light, space, sound and leather”. Lippok had been the drummer for Rosa Extra, one of the earliest punk rock bands in East Berlin. Together with his brother Robert, who had already come into the picture with an avant-punk project named after the Jules Verne novel Fünf Wochen im Ballon (Five Weeks in a Balloon), Ronald Lippok then founded the post-punk commune Ornament & Verbre- chen, for whom Le Doil would occasionally guest as an... more credits released July 20, 2022 Tape (Side A, B, C – Track #1 - #16) Music by The Local Moon, recorded in April 1987 René Le Doil: accordion, bass, guitar, keyboards, piano, voice Ronald Lippok: acoustic guitar, keyboards, percussion, voice Produced by The Local Moon Single (Side D – Track #17 - #19) Music by The Local Moon, recorded in May 1988 René Le Doil: keyboard Ronald Lippok: keyboard, voice Charlotte Jansen: oboe, voice Alex Wolf: percussion Bo Kondren: emax, traktor Detelf Pegelow: guitar Robert Lippok: clarinet, ethno brass Produced by Bo Kondren Recorded at Gunther Krex Studio Vinyl published by Henryk Gericke Texts and liner notes by Henryk Gericke Remastered by Calyx/ Bo Kondren Digital distribution via aufnahmeundwiedergabe.de

Der 26-jährige Sänger Giveon wurde zu einem der aufstrebenden Stars der internationalen Hip-Hop-Szene, indem er mit seiner einzigartigen Baritonstimme Herz und Tiefe in seine Musik zurückbrachte. Diese Stimme ist es auch, die ihn regelmässig an die Spitze der Charts bringt. Zuerst in Drakes "Chicago Freestyle", dann in Justin Biebers "Peaches" und schließlich auch solo mit "Heartbreak Anniversary", das heute weltweit 670 Millionen Streams hat und in den USA mit Platin ausgezeichnet wurde (400 Millionen Streams). Sein Debütalbum "Give or Take" - mit den Singles "For Tonight" und "Lie Again" - ist eines der am meisten erwarteten internationalen Projekte.Cette année fut celle de l'ascension pour Giveon. Le jeune chanteur de 26 ans est devenu une des stars en devenir de la scène Hip-Hop internationale en ramenant du coeur et de la profondeur à sa musique grâce à une voix baryton unique. Cette voix est celle qui enchaîne les apparitions en haut des charts. D'abord sur le « Chicago Freestyle » de Drake puis sur « Peaches » de Justin Bieber tout en marquant le coup en solo avec « Heartbreak Anniversary » qui cumule aujourd'hui 670M de streams dans le monde et certifié platine aux USA (400M streams). « Give or Take », son tout premier album inclus les singles « For Tonight » et « Lie Again », est l'un des projets les plus attendus à l'international.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As on Under A Burning Eclipse, between each song on Sacred Rites & Black Magick is an intricately positioned interlude building the ambiance and steering the thematic intensity of the album. Beginning with echoing, clean dual acoustic guitars, introductory interlude “Hymns Of The Slumbering Race” begins the procession of grand ascension and hair raising riffage to come. “Internal Fulmination Of The Grand Deceivers” flashes STORMRULER’s brand of Imperial Black Metal Warfare, shining with heavy bass and blastbeats before cascading into icy atmosphere topped by smoke-cloaked vocals. Entrancing guitars match an ebb and flow of carefully paced interludes and merciless, speeding fury, showcasing standout leads and a blazing solo. Similar epic songwriting, lush lyricism and skillful dynamics can be witnessed on tracks such as the brooding “Entranced Within The Moon Presence”, intricate “In The Shaded Vlasian Forest” and introspective, glistening “Along The Appian Way”. “To Bear The Twin Faces Of The Dragon” stages some of the most menacing sonic escapades and memorable leads of the 20-track offering, combining chants of sorcery with searing screams and waves of crushing melody, while tracks such as “Upon Frozen Shores” weave a sonic tale of occult doom atop triumphant soundscapes, breakneck rhythms and ghostly melodic passages. Standout title offering “Sacred Rites & Black Magick” sets the supreme lyrical and musical mood of the album itself, depicting just how deftly STORMRULER conjure lucid black metal as they inject energetic, unforgettable grooves and riffs into their scorching delivery – succeeding in convincing even the newest of genre converts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Following « Le Cut-Up Populaire », Pascal Comelade announce sthe release on September 9 of his new album “Le Non-Sens Du Rythme » .

From Pacific City Discs, to you the listener, this summer, a DJ mix of fantasy and splash-energy is coming to you in a small edition of vinyl.  Fantasy writer/recording artist, Francesco Cavaliere, while visiting his seaside childhood vacation location, was extended an impromptu invitation, to DJ an 80s swimming club. He had this to say about his experience:

“I was at Shangri-La and a boy and girl from the bathhouse in silver swimsuits and sand-colored streaks waved me over with a drink and asked me if I would like to DJ the next day during my lesson on the beach at Tana del Pirata! I then and there I laughed but then I accepted (I had nothing at home just my mp3 player and a Nokia with music inside) The next day there was a little wind on the beach and the umbrellas swayed to the left. From the heat they could catch fire, white flames, instead the sea was rough and that wind with very long wrists cheered us up, blowing gaseous clouds in our faces. Perfect for the day ahead. After the first few pieces, I began to see that a group of kids jumped into the adjacent pool trying flips bombs and candle dives. Someone at the bar was playing Altered Beast .. so sipping a drink with ice I imagined DJ werewolf repeating catchy pieces while a kite half cobra half skyscraper inflated above us.”

This Impromptu Disc is fresh now, for you to frolic with this summer, while entertaining a daydream in the midst of entering a body of water while witnessing an apparition in the sky.

Selected and compiled by Francisco Cavaliere
Artwork by Spencer Clark

Hailing from Adelaide, Australia's CHARNEL ALTAR formed in late 2018. Not long after, the band's self-titled debut demo followed in January 2019. Originally self-released digitally, a cassette version was soon released by Desert Wastelands Productions and a 12" vinyl version by Seed of Doom Records and Impure Sounds; a tape re-release then came in mid-2020 via Blood Moon Productions. With this underground momentum building, CHARNEL ALTAR released a split EP with fellow Aussies CARCINOID, which was released on tape by Headsplit Records and on 10" vinyl once again by Seed of Doom. During all this, CHARNEL ALTAR became a prolific force on the live front. Their first show was supporting Uada, and they went on to play with the likes of Incantation, Krisiun, Integrity, Primitive Man, Faceless Burial, Gutless, Ignivomous, and Vile Apparition. A tour with CARCINOID was planned for 2020, but was unfortunately cancelled due to the Coronavirus pandemic. Nevertheless, CHARNEL ALTAR make their full-length debut with the slimy 'n' stultifying Abatement of the Sun. Horrific and harrowing, churning and gestating with utter dread and doom, CHARNEL ALTAR's death metal is like a slo-mo melting of mind and matter. One could arguably qualify it as death-doom, but the band's version of such evades easy categorization and aims more for hovering tension and paradoxically spacious density - indeed, like old(er)-school death metal dragged through tar but trudging forward like a tank. That all three members previously played together in the cult Tombsealer - who toured nationally in support of Mournful Congregation and played with such acts as Dead Congregation, Portal, Fetid, Windhand, Cough, Inverloch, and Nocturnal Graves to name a few - shows in their seemingly effortless execution, that these dreadful 'n' doomed-out ruminations have been simmering in their hearts for time eternal. Or, put another way, Abatement of the Sun is all-too-perfectly titled: the end is not just nigh; it's NULL.

It seems now that Ian Daniel Kehoe has been hiding in plain sight
A classic songwriter pulling from a seemingly endless supply of hooks, dancing
through his debut video in silver face paint and an assortment of wide shouldered
sports jackets, Kehoe appears somewhat like an apparition, an emissary from a
better world. Yes Very, Kehoe’s latest under his own name, is an entirely self
assured record, confident, immaculate pop songs, drenched in analog synth and
punchily articulate in their pursuit of love, beauty and rhythm. Recorded and
performed entirely by Kehoe himself.

“Still Lives” is the third solo full length by the Finnish composer Marja Ahti, following a pair of releases on the Hallow Ground imprint. As a collection, it may be seen as a series of studies on the liminality of the listening act and an investigation into the physicality of sound. Ahti forges vivid electroacoustic environments from field recordings, analog synthesizers, acoustic feedback, magnetic tape and digital processing, resulting in a set of articulate, prickly, and surprising compositions. In the artist’s words, “These pieces could be conceived of as vanitas paintings of a kind – selections of mundane or archetypal objects, sounds that have their own distinct qualities, but exist only by virtue of being temporary events. From another angle, one could think of them as shrines – objects assembled and set in a particular relationship to each other, charging each other in their given constellations.” Marja Ahti (b. 1981) is a musician and composer based in Turku, Finland. Originally from Sweden, Ahti has been a part of the Finnish experimental music scene for more than ten years in different constellations. She is currently active in the duo Ahti & Ahti with her partner and as a member of the Himera artist/organizer collective.

Philadelphia’s DEVIL MASTER’s roots in ritual magick have never been more prominent than on their highly anticipated new album Ecstasies Of Never Ending Night. Recorded live to analog tape by Pete DeBoer (Blood Incantation, Spectral Voice), Ecstasies expands on the warped riffing and dark atmospheres that have already propelled DEVIL MASTER as one of the underground’s most unique and unfettered bands. From the band’s blackened punk maelstrom of “Acid Black Mass” to the spiraling death rock of “Abyss In Vision” and the layers of refined atmosphere on the closer “Never Ending Night”, lead guitarist Darkest Prince of All Rebellion shines across a collection of fiery, tumultuous riffs - Lyrically, vocalist Disembody Through Unparalleled Pleasure laces Ecstasies with life-affirming blasphemy and existential dread. Ecstasies of Never Ending Night witnesses DEVIL MASTER at its core. Vocalist Disembody Through Unparalleled Pleasure has assumed the role of bassist, strengthening the songwriting alongside Darkest Prince and founding member/rhythm guitarist Infernal Moonlight Apparition. Fresh blood was required and found in drummer/keyboardist Festering Terror in Deepest Catacomb (a.k.a. Chris Ulsh of Power Trip and Iron Age). Ecstasies of Never Ending Night proves to be a crucial addition to the pantheon of evil satanic metal. In the end, magick reigns!

"The exquisite corpse shall drink the new wine", wrote the French Surrealists almost 100 years ago, and from this missive stems the parlor game in which we partake here. Through obscuring the tower itself, they cobble together meandering staircases in which to ascend with absent-minded haste; spontaneous line-weaving amasses figures and phrases into new planes of thought, therefore holding captive the illusion of creative reciprocity. Although housed in unrecognizable quarters, dull rain now tallies itself upon your window panes just as it once kept count on theirs. Apparitions unknown sound instruments of winding origin in celebration of the ink dry in the well. A graffito of tea leaves stains the porcelain cup.

This cloven tall-tale traces an epistolary journey between id and consciousness upon a page that has been adorned and wiped clean again and again and again. The wet meadow expands and contracts within a breath, moving through the windpipe to expel upon the glistening dew. From this dew rises anthills of diminishing complexity, and busying themselves within insanity, the occupants labor to hold fast against the unseen wave of oblivion.

An exercise in aleatoric sentence-finishing between two aligned performers, The Exquisite Corpse Shall Drink the New Wine mimics the economics of unconscious beauty-making to such a degree that light will neither pass through it nor divert its path. Draw upon it what you will, and ready yourself for the unrelenting ataraxy.

Height/Dismay were the M Squared studio-as-instrument duo of Patrick Gibson and Dru Jones. A member of Systematics and Scattered Order, Gibson was an integral part of the M Squared label and studio, where he met Jones. With an unapologetic misuse of instruments and ample time, the two sonic explorers scraped guitar strings, manipulated clarinets, and contact mic’d woks to layer their echo chamber apparitions.

Collating three 1981 recordings, the then-shelved ‘Blood Pressure In The Sand’ joins ‘Dusk’, their con-tribution to archetypal cassette-zine Fast Forward. Also unreleased, ‘The Tinning Test’ rejects formal lyrics in favour of a deadpan reading from the Australian Standard for tinned copper wire. The outsid-ers of the outside, these mutual minds’ productions have long been overlooked as crucial pieces of the Australian DIY music puzzle.

Height/Dismay is pressed in an edition of 300 hand stamped white labels, wrapped in white ink print-ed coloured card.

Grey Vinyl

Polymorphism Records continue their intercultural and cross-genre work with their third release E Source. Female vocals return to the label with four original tracks by Russian artist Sestrica, who brings in her characteristic emotional narrative. A remix by Konx Om Pax and
a rework by Antwood make up the crew boarding on a galactic grey/silver vinyl.

PM003 takes off with electro-to-techno beats fuelled by a mild, wrapping acid melody in Today We Meet, where the uplifting countdown to launch can be felt. Sentimental Value gets
us deeper into the spatial trip. Darker samples and a heavier bassline give extra gravity to the anthem of the journey across sonic galaxies. Floating to slow, surrounding sounds and loops we land on a calmer planet called Intention. Its tidal sensation is created by an
orchestral combination of meditative vocals and other layers of composition. New Era enters an orbit of elegant syncopation within a rotating reverb stardust. Ancestral beeps subtly acknowledge legacy to be taken forward to the next odyssey.

Musician and graphical artist Konx Om Pax from Glasgow beautifully introduces nostalgia to New Era with playful breaks and scratches, getting us back to our roots in this excursion visiting alien territoires. Sestrica’s vocals from her original track are drawn into the remix as
echoing words rendering a mysterious aura, travelling through a deep trance of diverse yet harmonic rhythms and effects. A journey within a journey.

Canadian producer Antwood’s rework of side A jumps into an epic vortex of more experimental, unexpected sounds. The album-closer builds up towards absolute chaos, to then create a vacuum to emptiness. A supermassive (tribute to black holes intended) drop
leads to the last minutes of the EP: up tempo cyber-influenced sounds that bring us to a bright futuristic landscape ironically far from a dystopian prophecy.

Purely coincidental fact: the last track of PM002’s originals being Crisis Apparition and its homologue in PM003 New Era, hope seems to be peeking through current times to send an accidental message with this first series of the label.

Mind the overuse of Space metaphors; in this year 2021 where humans are going farther and further in exploring new places out there, it is a tribute and celebration to discover new musical journeys like this out here, on Earth.

Environmental sustainability and social justice are core values of Polymorphism Records. Following their strong interest in contributing to a good cause, shown from the early days, all Bandcamp digital sales are donated to projects such as Team Trees or The Ocean Cleanup.meet f B3 E Source side A (Antwood rework)

Mathieu Harlaut has always had the audacity to push his curiosity to its logical conclusion, conjuring up unique sonic spectres. Verging on strange, these apparitions aggregate a myriad of influences and approaches combining DIY, scholarly appropriation and pop arrangements. Chamberlain, his alias, embodies the project, where classical, jazz, electro and soundtracks merge to form innovative musical compositions. Chamberlain’s vision emerges as he takes these diverse territories to create completely new landscapes. Evocative postcards of journeys to come. A present where influences and inspirations offer up the ideal framework for creating new horizons.

With his characteristic attention to detail, Chamberlain is a skilled craftsman and an alchemist in turns. With him there is no apparent "timeline". No welded joints. No stiches. The overall impression of Chamberlain's music is enveloping, finding just the right points of balance and energy to evoke a particular atmosphere. But it doesn’t diffuse atmosphere, it’s more like an ambient perfume. Chamberlain's tracks are like the many notes of a fine fragrance, infusions that elicit subtle and contrasting emotions. Be it the music lover's indulgent solitude or the sensory exultation of a shared club experience.

Revolutionary in its time, ‘The Firebird’ is a story in musical textures and dynamics perfectly suited to the Mercury technique. Dorati and The LSO present each nuance in perfect scale and balance. Recorded in Watford Town Hall, near London UK, June 7 and 9, 1959 with three Schoeps M201 microphones.

Revolutionary in its time, ‘The Firebird’ is a story in musical textures and dynamics perfectly suited to the Mercury technique. Dorati and The LSO present each nuance in perfect scale and balance. Recorded in Watford Town Hall, near London UK, June 7 and 9, 1959 with three Schoeps M201 microphones.

There are records with empathy, records which are your friends and then there's the others... There might be little difference between them, a certain "je ne sais quoi", an "almost nothing but still something" which makes the difference between almost pointless and vital records. Despite, or rather thanks to his cynical despair, Matt Elliott's music never holds up a moralizing mirror to us - on the contrary, it creates a compassionate dialogue with listeners like the rhythm of two steps that synchronize to become as one. In 2016, Matt Elliot brought out his seventh solo album The Calm Before whose obscure title is neither exactly threatening nor comforting... the calm before what? Before the storm for sure but maybe also before the great record, the immediate classic we felt might be coming for a long time in the dual discography of the Bristol-born artist working under his own name and his electronic alias Third Eye Foundation. The elegant details and perspectives of Little Lost Soul (2000) already hinted at the upcoming masterpiece from the English singer-songwriter. The Mess We Made (2003) was Matt Elliott's first solo album and portrayed a universe in a kind of flight towards Balkan horizons made up of visceral despair. With the Songs trilogy, he put aside the electronic side of his work to continue working with a minimalist, stark and lucid style of writing. The Broken Man (2012) was full of tears and long laments sometimes carried by Katia Labèque's piano on a record which painted new shades of grey. On this record Matt began working with the producer, arranger and multi-instrumentalist David Chalmin (La Terre Invisible) who has kept on collaborating with the Bristol-born singer since then. Their partnership continued on Only Myocardial Infection Can Break Your Heart (2013) and The Calm Before (2016). Stéphane Grégoire is the head of the Ici D'Ailleurs label which has accompanied Matt Elliott since 2005 and perhaps he describes this album the best: "This new record by Matt is without a doubt his best album to date, a record that takes him into another dimension where he fully asserts himself as a songwriter and singer of the calibre of artists like Bill Callahan, Leonard Cohen or Johnny Cash." Matt Elliott's other records all seemed like empathic links between each other. Farewell To All We Know is an instant classic based on the sensitive piano and superb arrangements of David Chalmin, the sensitive cello of Gaspar Claus, the subtle bass of Jeff Hallam (who has also played with Dominique A and John Parish). There is a clear form of alchemy in all of this and still we find Matt Elliott's usual atmospheres and scenery, the same Eastern European folk music, long songs that take time to settle over time. Everything is the same but also is transfigured. By making his music stark and purifying and redefining the subject matter, Matt Elliott's work became so much more delicate. However this work is never frail nor really turned in on himself and thus becomes like a vital tune that vibrates and unfolds. The opening song Farewell To All We Know seems torn between the fear of what tomorrow may bring, inevitability and hope for the future in a permanent and progressive dramatic tension expressed by his Spanish guitar, the impressionist style piano and Matt's voice teetering on the edge of whispers. A funereal tribute to endless twilights and the dawns we all dream of seeing. There are touches of Leonard Cohen from Songs from a Room or Thanks For The Dance in The Day After That with Gaspar Claus's counterpoint cello. There is no spirit of resignation in Matt Elliott's work - life's path has to be followed against all odds. We have to follow the river's flow to reach the immense ocean and its infinite freedom. The haunted instrumental Guidance Is Internal harks back to the atmospheres of Howling Songs (2008) with its guitar parts full of scansions and muted threats. The music is transcendental but never seems afraid of the risk of falling. This is also what Bye Now tells us with its quasi-obsolete simplicity and sunburst melancholy reminiscent of the work of Luiz Bonfá, Bill Evans on Peace Piece or laidback crooners of the 50s. In Farewell To All We Know, Matt Elliott incessantly alternates between the dual desires to face up to the world or to protect himself from it. Hating The Player, Hating The Game is a lucid statement about the dullness of our daily lives sometimes, our right to get out of the game and no longer want to be part of it. Matt Elliott is tender but spares no one, particularly himself. Aboulia speaks of the tiredness of living and of looming death while Crisis Apparition says that there is always a time for reconstruction after chaos. This is like initially wearying wandering in the ruins of Aleppo with the slow dilution of the melody into a hallucinated drone. However the smell of great fires always fades and the earth always regenerates. Matt Elliott seems to suggest that the survival instinct is stronger than any cold winds could ever be. Matt Elliott never sings of certainties and prefers possibilities. Possibly the worst is over? Maybe... Maybe the storm has passed and devastated everything, now we just have to rebuild and live again. Farewell To All We Know shows us the distance that still needs to be walked and he walks next to you - right next to you, he is the friend who doesn't spare you the truth like all true friends really do.

Shovel Knight began as a modest, yet highly promising Kickstarter project in March 2013. Billed as “a groundbreaking love letter to 8 bits!” by Indie developer Yacht Club Games, this 2D side-scrolling platform game released in June 2014 to universal praise and accolades.

Fans and industry professionals praised Shovel Knight for its charming retro-2D visuals, humorous story, fun characters and strong gameplay design, which all came together to offer a game that is nostalgic yet very modern. The efforts of Yacht Club Games paid off when Shovel Knight was won the prestigious “Best Independent Game” award at The Game Awards 2014. The game’s chiptune soundtrack, composed by Jake Kaufman and Manami Matsumae, is integral to the game’s modern-retro identity and has been similarly praised for its outstanding arrangements, memorable melodies and strong technical composition. This definitive soundtrack contains all music from the original Shovel Knight game released in June 2014, with a vinyl tracklist crafted by Jake Kaufman himself. The package cover and inner-gatefold have been designed exclusively for the soundtrack by Hitoshi Ariga; an interview with co-composer Manami Matsumae; and character artwork from the game.

On October 15th, Mac Miller's cult favourite mixtape Faces will be available on all streaming services for the first time since its initial release. The project, which originally debuted on Mother's Day 2014, is a vital release in Mac's catalogue that followed-up his critically-acclaimed sophomore album Watching Movies With The Sound Off. Upon its arrival, the mixtape served as the high water mark for Mac's technical prowess and cemented a creative actualization that would continue through his career; reinventing himself with each new project. Reviewing the project following its release, critic Craig Jenkins succinctly described it as "the best work of his career.
"In addition to being made available on streaming services, Faces will be available on vinyl for the first time on October 15th. .

The announcement of the mixtape’s release on streaming services next month arrives alongside a new music video for Faces highlight "Colours and Shapes." Its director Sam Mason speaks on the work: “The track felt very visual to me—like it had its own world. This atmospheric night time place that was sometimes dangerous, sometimes comforting, then I saw a picture of Ralph and a story emerged. To build it out I asked Malcolm’s family to send me bits and pieces from his childhood, scenes from the town where he grew up, objects, toys from his room—little pieces of his life that I extrapolated outwards and used to inspire the story. In the abstract, it’s meant to be a video about childhood—growing up as an artist and the highs and lows of that experience. It’s sort of a look at the emotional and difficult and perilous but noble path of an artist. ”Stay tuned for more Mac Miller and Faces news soon.

FULL OF HELL return with their highly anticipated new album, Garden Of Burning Apparitions. The new album, a genre-bending blitzkrieg of hardcore, grind and death metal, sees the band expand upon the very elements that have propelled them to the forefront of extreme music over the last decade. Produced by Seth Manchester, Garden of Burning Apparitions also sees FULL OF HELL adding new dimensions to their warp-speed hellscape. Guitarist Spencer Hazard and bassist Sam DiGristine's monstrous riffs now have an added noise-rock influence, while drummer Dave Bland commands the rhythm section at blazing speeds.
Lyrically, Garden of Burning Apparitions sees vocalist Dylan Walker exploring (anti)religion, life's impermanence and the fear that comes with knowing death is inescapable. "Industrial Messiah Complex” grinds organized religion to a pulp in under 90 seconds, while Walker contemplates the commodification of spirituality seen in America’s vast network of garish mega-churches and how these practices are at odds with true spirituality. Meanwhile, “Reeking Tunnels” rides a strident noise rock riff down into the sewer. It’s a metaphor for the physical and mental space we become trapped in when we live in a perpetual state of fear and hate. Elsewhere, justifiable ochlophobia propels the guttural death metal blast of “Eroding Shell.” Lyrically, the song seeks to capture our fear of the violent, ignorant mob—a scene glimpsed far too often in this volatile era.
In the end, FULL OF HELL’s boundary smashing has paid off again. “I think it’s good that we tried not to pigeonhole ourselves early on,” Walker reflects. “Because now, 10 years in, we have the opportunity to make whatever record we want, within reason, and people will follow along.”

What started as an underground techno label in the early 90's, Juice Records typified the head in the clouds ambition of the techno generation by both sound and action. Anything was possible and similar minds would be reached through the vinyl medium. By the mid 90's, Juice Records established itself as a southern beacon to the techno and house music movement.

… but many people would have little knowledge of where the label sits in todays music sphere. Juice Records, wether by choice or default have remained free from the uber industry of dance music but continue to represent with our Adelaide based music activities.

What started as casual discussions about Antony's studio activities with label owner, Donato, soon progressed to talk of an album. A couple of years and many iterations would follow till the vision was clear. Juice 020 highlights the musical existence that Antony commits too. It goes beyond the drum machine and synthesiser sounds the label would be known for and embraces a wider spectrum with use of a Yamaha baby grand, Fender Rhodes, Washburn bass and Yamaha Electone E-75.

With a definitive genre hard to pin on the album, Juice 020 remains very much a traditional Juice Record. It is a clear example of what Adelaide happenings have been missed by the global industry while it plays with a techno formula that goes beyond our underground imaginings.

After the exploration of snowy mountains of Alpestres, released on Hands in the Dark in 2018, French composer Matthias Puech ventures into new territories, sketching a cartography of the invisible where the journey, in chiaroscuro, is announced as a rite of passage. A Geography of Absence, as introspective as unpredictable, immerses the listener into a unique sensory whirlwind where organic matter becomes almost palpable. A researcher in theoretical computer science and an engineer at GRM, Matthias Puech constructs a dialog between synthetic music and field recording, capturing sounds that surround him and creating his own sonic language with the help of synthesizers he designs and develops; notably the Oscillator Ensemble and the Tapographic Delay, made by the American company 4ms.

Composed during a moment marked by ordeal and mourning, A Geography of Absence retraces an inner journey where the physicality of sound leads the listener into an initiatory tunnel filled with apparitions, ghosts, visions. With sound oscillations as a navigational map, we progress, step by step, through the meanders of an unknown world, dazzled by the prospect of a new synthetic horizon, an electronic biotope teeming with life and incarnations. Playing with time, space and matter in an approach similar to that of musique concrète, Matthias Puech combines ambient and noise, floating sounds and electroacoustic experimentations, thus shaking up our listening perspective, which finds itself walking through a parallel universe, strata after strata, sequence after sequence.

The trip begins with “Hollow”, as if on board a night train travelling at full speed through ghost towns. Or is it a spaceship? Removed from their original habitat, sounds – picked up during walks or moduled by synths – are free to be interpreted differently by everyone, according to the memories that shape us. Granular and metallic, this first piece takes us to an elsewhere in orbit. "Work Song" is built around the pulsation of the void, of space, where strange creatures and liquid emanations abound. We become fetus, cocoon coiled in the placenta, heart beating to the rhythm of the gooey choreography of the human body. "Chrysalis" awakens the racket that lies dormant in us, when the skin changes, when the transition takes place. One seems to recognize certain sounds stemming from nature but they could also be mirages, imitating reality to render the barely perceptible engulfing. “Tunnel Vision” brings out a herd of haunted bells, slowly swelling in a pastoral maelstrom, ending in a deafening buzz. Further on, the chirping of an animatronic bird mixes with the hooting of an owl: "A Faint Beacon" invokes a nocturnal vigil that mixes the crackling of a fire and icy gusts of wind blowing everything away. Like an epic, sucking the listener into the breach of a black hole in the center of the Milky Way, it's up to "Homeostasis" to conclude in the high spheres and contemplative vapors, where the balance of dawn announces a rebirth.

A Geography of Absence is a meticulous and sensitive piece that constructs a delicate symphony of extremes, between introspection and desire for the unknown. Accompanied by the ink work of the artist Léa Neuville, whose folds of prints sketch this imaginary atlas, Matthias Puech becomes a narrator of mental adventures. And succeeds once again in transcending reality to dig a path to the unspeakable.

Purple Vinyl

Even if you're well-acquainted with composer and multi-instrumentalist Colin Fisher's richly varied output, his gentle fifth solo album, Refections of the Invisible World may come as a surprise. Psychedelic lyricism has always been a fundamental aspect of his sonic signature, but his second collaboration with producer Jeremy Greenspan (Junior Boys, Jessy Lanza, Morgan Geist) finds the Toronto native luxuriating in expansive atmospherics for its full duration.
That's not to downplay the eclecticism he finds within this ethereal landscape. Each track tills its own discrete sonic acreage, and while every one emanates from a clear focal point, the spontaneous impulse that drives Fisher's more audibly improvisational music always remains close at hand. Some pieces unfold rippling aquatic vistas or delight in prismatic guitar arpeggiation, elsewhere his plaintive, blues- infected tenor saxophone wafts like some strange jazz apparition, or becomes a chorus of cosmic murmurs. The presence of electronics is undeniable, but equally irrefutable is the organic instrumental sources of these disparate hues. In fact he's discovered a rare balance: no matter how effects-saturated, every gesture on the record feels palpably sculpted by Fisher's hands and breath. As such, Refections of the Invisible World carries a sense of intimacy at the heart of its diffuse, dream-like sonics.
Fisher has a been a major presence in Canada's music community for more than twenty years—particularly in more experimental and improvisational circles. Nothing short of a guitar virtuoso, he also wields saxophone, drums, and various other instruments with similarly refined musicality, vivid textural imagination, and sometimes feral abandon. His one-man-band tape Garden of Unknowning for Manchester's Tombed Visions, showcase all of this as he spars with different iterations of himself. The Quietus' cassette critic Tristan Bath extolled it as "miraculous," adding that "it’s a visceral experience soaking up this record, and it’s all down to Fisher’s utterly innate sense of musicality." He subsequently cited it in his 2018 contributor's year-end chart for the Wire.
In 2014 his partnership with Nick Millevoi's trio Many Arms on Suspended Defnition (Tzadik) prompted Spin's Brad Cohan to remark "Many Arms have dug even deeper into math-metal wizardry, bolstering their already imposing lineup with gale-force blowing guest saxophonist Colin Fisher, thus blasting their outré sonic blitz into a fire-breathing free jazz otherworld." Fisher later engaged the band's bassist, Johnny DeBlase, to team up with him and Kid Millions (Oneida, Man Forever) as Monas. As an ongoing collaborator to introspective dance music auteur Caribou, Fisher frst appeared in offshoot project Caribou Vibration Ensemble, and subsequently on acclaimed albums Swim and Suddenly. He's also made two duo albums with celebrated Nova Scotian jaw harp innovator chik white for Dylan and Lisa Nyoukis' Chocolate Monk label. In addition to performing alongside the likes of Jaime Branch, Joe McPhee, William Parker, Laraaji, Gerry Hemmingway, and Fred Frith, he has contributed to recordings by the Constantines (Sub Pop), Bernice (Arts & Crafts), Rhys Chatham (Table of the Elements), Born Ruffans (Warp), Anthony Braxton and AIMToronto Orchestra (Spool), and many more.

Marcus Schmickler's music is designed for multi-channel sound projections and references German electronic music tradition, spectral music, experimentalism as well as 1990s club music. His artistic practice explores avant-garde trajectories in electronic music composition, formal systems, sonification and psychoacoustics. EMEGO 296 features two new major works from this audacious sound explorer.

Sky Dice / Mapping the Studio premiered at Donaueschinger Tage fur Neue Musik 10.20.2018 having being commissioned by SWR and realized at the Experimentalstudio (EXP) in Freiburg. This is a work for ARP 2500, Publison DHM89B, Publison Infernal Machine and Computer. Taking cues from Bruce Nauman's Mapping the Studio I (Fat Chance John Cage) (2001) the piece draws a fragmented acoustic map of the SWR facility itself; the studio serves as a source-model for the sonic display of historical signal flow graphs. Various acoustic and psychoacoustic effects come into play including the Larsen effect, as well as Style Transfer and Topological Sonification. The result is a daring and dizzying display of disorientating audio. Sound moves in most unusual ways, rising and falling simultaneously, appearing and disappearing like apparitions, nothing here behaves in expected ways. To paraphrase Albert Einstein's now famous quote regarding quantum mechanics, this is spooky audio at a distance.

Fortuna Ribbon is a selection of sonic material that emerged from a research based on how DPOAEs (Distortion Product Otoacoustic Emission) can be designed in the context of musical frameworks, augmenting the compositional pallets in regard to spatial hearing. In this manifestation, the materials are presented without context. The resulting emissions from the ear that are excited in varying ways from the 6 examples on display here. Playback in undisturbed acoustic environments is recommended at >82 dB/A.

Schmickler's ongoing investigation of sound matter conjures impossible audio that delight's in the extremity of form and resulting effects on the listener. Schmickler's audio invocations explore the capabilities of contemporary technology resulting in dizzying new worlds of sound.

Thanks to the Experimentalstudio crew, Detlef Heusinger, Björn Gottstein, Julian Rohrhuber and Peter Rehberg.

Flat Worms on 45! These two tracks charge forth in perfect accord with the increased speed of the format. Culled from their sessions at Electrical Audio for the just-released ‘Antarctica’, this is the upper-cut to follow the album’s gut-punch, a classic knockout move.
The dance called ‘The Guest’ is a bit like The Twist but with more writhing involved. There’s horror there so it’s earned writhing on your part. For this song, Flat Worms take a DEVO-esque view, looking passively upon the actions of the real people. It’s pretty scary.
‘Circle’ belongs to that tradition of 45 tracks that may or may not allude to the 45 itself. “Find the circle! Find the center!” might serve as both timely
polemic and shameless self-promotion. Or maybe not. One thing that’s not ambiguous is the acidglazed lead guitar that hovers like a neon apparition above the thrashing rhythm section. It’s
definitively eerie.
‘Antarctica’ was a life sentence. This double-A-side
45 is the emphatic exclamation point that follows.

Surrender is the debut full length from DJ, producer, and songwriter Endgame. Stepping out for the first time as a vocalist, and lyricist, Surrender is his most ambitious and vulnerable work to date; a striking statement of intent, with moments of beauty and brutality. Endgame has carved an iconoclastic niche in club culture. Breaking into the scene as co-founder of the legendary collective Bala Club, and resident of the radical club-night Endless. Whilst continuing almost a decade hosting his infamous NTS radio show (and now label) Precious Metals, he has forged a path against the tide of formulaic club music. A visionary DJ and producer, Surrender sees Endgame continue this trajectory, with a project that both amplifies the ferocious club constructions he's known for, whilst making space to open up wounded memories and with sombre unfeigned requiems. Having previously released records on Hyperdub, PTP, Golden Mist and Infinite Machine, Endgame's first release on his own Precious Metals imprint, is him at his most reflective. Surrender is a deeply personal record, about loss and finding meaning in despair. Death is a prevailing theme, with the passing of his father a totemic subject. The recollection of his father's torturous final moments leaves him to mournfully contemplate temporality. Using this sense of anguish, he blurs reality-creating a world where angels and demons are among us in a decaying cityscape; akin to the work of Todd McFarlane. The opener Faithless, propels us into this world, with the slow build of industrial precision amidst the sombre build of harsh melodic synths. We descend deeper into this vision with Barbed Heart, featuring a defining vocal from scene staple and long time collaborator Yayoyanoh, as 808's and skittering hi hats ricochet off one another beneath his bass driven vocal. No Heroes continues our journey into the unknown with a chaotic rush of acidic riffs, pounding percussion, and a reference to the brutalist anthem from hardcore punk band Converge (where the track borrows its name). Requiem acts as the turning point of the record as Endgame steps into the foreground as a vocalist. As the name suggests, this lament is a sombre reflection of grief; its minimalist instrumental allows Endgame's haunted verse to rise into the foreground, like an apparition amidst the smoke in the depths of a dimly lit club. The dark clouds fade into the distance in Exhumed, as the elegant melancholic vocal of Bala Club affiliate and gifted vocalist Organ Tapes reflects off Endgame's sanguine verses bringing hope into the heartfelt instrumental filled with melodic flourishes and bass-bin rattling subs. The thematic haze thickens in Abyss, as the pulsating and doom laden instrumental interweaves with Endgame's sepulchral vocal. Like a message from the void, his words act as an agnostic hymn that pulls apart his sense of self. The contrast of his plaintive verse with the intensity of the instrumental creates a contrast that is symbolic of the record itself, a duality that presents moments of soft reflection against a severe sonic palette to create moments of transcendence.

Oz Echoes peels away another layer of Australia's '80s DIY hive mind. The Oz Waves successor exposes a deeper circuit of micro-run cassettes, community radio archives and irrationally abandoned studio sessions, as Steele Bonus sequences a 10-track compendium of drone pop, psyche-electronics and agitated tape cut-ups.

From the Sydney cassette network, The Horse He's Sick returns with an industrial car crash, alongside Wrong Kind of Stone Age's pagan cacophony and primal riddims. M Squared dynamo Patrick Gibson appears in both Height/Dismay and Mr Knott, his respective studio-as-an-instrument collaborations with Dru Jones (Scattered Order) and ex-Slugfucker Gordon Renouf - the former's worn out apparition hails from an instantly deleted 1981 7", while Mr Knott entrust one of the compilation's five previously unreleased tracks.

Matt Mawson represents Brisbane music media-printed matter collective ZIP, as Adelaide's Three D Radio grants access to their vaults of live-to-air recordings and aspiring demo submissions, rescuing the slap-happy punk-funk of The Frenzied Bricks and Jandy Rainbow's prodigious beginnings in Les Trois Etrangers and Aeroplane Footsteps. Synchronously in Melbourne, Ash Wednesday (Karen Marks, The Metronomes) leads Modern Jazz' improvised proto-techno and EBM pioneers Shanghai Au Go-Go home record their sardonic synth-wave.

A cherry-picked cast of unusual suspects, Oz Echoes' unfamed artist and non-band narratives are detailed by track-by-track liner notes with rarely published archival visions and artwork from Video Synth, prompting further rabbit hole ventures into this golden era of creative risk-taking and instant action.

La Morte Viene Dallo Spazio (Death Comes From Space)’s name is taken from an a late 50s Italian sci-fi b-movie, and this ensemble’s cinematic odyssey of sound is like Argento, Fulci and Bava taking acid with Magma and Jodorowsky. A solid departure from anything you will be listening to right now, La Morte Viene Dallo Spazio’s free-form journeys leave you in unknown astral territory and bake your brain. Composed of an open gathering of players, the Italian quintet combines flavours of Middle Eastern scales, droning theremin and guitars. Their flute-player’s frantic, progressive and abstract elements tear open the cosmic gates like Jethro Tull in a Giallo nightmare. The first album, ‘Sky Over Giza’, released in 2018, was a synth laden soundscape full of ancient mysticism and alien apparitions which gained them a rabid following in their home country of Italy and beyond. La Morte Viene Dallo Spazio’s second album on Svart Records; ‘Trivial Visions’, is a wholly unique experience. An enthralling listen in a confluence of sound and ritual atmospheres that craft a both vibrant and hypnotic effect with nods to black metal and extreme ends of the sound spectrum. This vivid, dreamy and cosmic material will transfer the listener to vast sonic dimensions where one could easily lose the way back to reality. Is this Jazz, Stoner-Rock, Psych-Rock or Progressive Rock? This is La Morte DalloS pazio and they’re in a universe of their own. Start receiving your deathly visions when the new album drops via Svart Records on the 26th of March 2021.

Angel Tears in Sunlight is Pauline Anna Strom's first album in over thirty years; an assemblage of music that refracts the expansiveness, and minutiae, of imagined realms while embracing the kaleidoscopic echoes of our distant epochs. The capacity to collapse time might elucidate the enigma of Pauline Anna Strom. A mystic force in music, emerging during the dawn of new age as the Trans-Millenia Consort, the pioneering synthesist channelled primordial energies into future-facing sound through a series of full-length releases between 1982 and 1988. Little was known about her, except by a constellation of devoted followers who saw a unique legacy forming amidst the (mostly male) synthesist canon of the time. Following the 2017 release of Trans-Millenia Music, an anthology revitalizing the most evocative parts of Strom's catalog, the Bay Area visionary sensed the universe telling her to return to music. As with her work in the 80s, Angel Tears in Sunlight was composed and recorded in the same San Francisco apartment where Strom has lived for almost four decades in synthesis with her machines and "dinosaurs." Populated by a compact array of modern instruments that streamline the sound of her analog past and her beloved iguanas, Little Soulstice and Ms Huff, the terrarium of her home forms an intimate yet limitless ecosystem that defies the constraints of the outside world. Within this sanctuary, Strom becomes lost in time, drawing on the ancient energies of her inner visions. Her hardware forms the crux of translating these ideas into sound. "It's the only way this stuff can be pulled out of myself, the universe, Little Soulstice, an ammonite_," Strom notes. "It couldn't be done without this machinery, because there's no other way to draw and capture these frequencies into sonic interpretation." Strom's process of recording transient live-takes enriches the mystery of her work. She renders the machinery a composer itself, a cohabitation with a living other. "Many musicians wouldn't go that far because of ego," Strom muses. "The equipment has to become part of you and your creativity. That's how I think it all comes together." Music-making becomes a harmonic language of intuition with an instrument, where Strom cultivates sound for a harvest that defies season. Shaped by circadian contours, Angel Tears in Sunlight is a celestial observatory of earthborn phonic mosaics. Strom uncovers a symbiosis between hardware frequencies and apparitions of nature in the record's arena of organic tones, emulating the melodic pulses of primeval terrain. The album transcends both shadow and light, falling to hushed stretches of sound as if not to awaken antediluvian animals, before soaring through the treetops where ancient skies peer over reptilian traffic and unsparing rains.

Tape / Cassette
Spite Cathedral is an S+M regular but the music found on his releases speaks for an artist that is constantly challenging his own creative boundaries. With equal ease Spite Cathedral delves in micro sounds, multilayered noisescapes or more conventional yet daring musical form and structure. ‘The Human Touchʼ is not an exception of this creative modus operandi and certainly takes things further. Dan Mortazaviʼs teams up with his long term partner Karsten Svendsen on his latest album as Spite Cathedral which is a 13-track sonic shapeshifter that will take you all the way from the clinical minimalist sub-tech realms of opener ‘Wake Up Darling Iʼm Spitting Bloodʼ to the industrial- influenced and raw vocal-driven ‘In Godʼs Cornerʼ, the microscopic sound bits and muted angst of “Without a Soundʼ, to the freeform drifting ambiance of ‘Spellcasterʼ. While these pieces might be a guideline of sorts between them there definitely lies more. While it is indeed impressive that Spite Cathedral can speak to us through a plethora of electronic sub-genres itʼs more fascinating how all his different ways are not only not clashing but are always somehow working together in a hypnotizing unison.

For PM002, Antechamber ’s tectonic plate shifting grooves are carved into slabs of deep-dyed ochre vinyl. Four new tracks bring uncompromising sounds for the mature palette. Antechamber’s sound
blends opposing feelings of claustrophobia with a bold transporting musicality that reveals 25 years of perfecting a craft.


The opener, Archaic Idol, is a rude awaking in a foreign land - and alludes to the iconoclasm evident in the shattered panes of the cover artwork by Alcarcia. Track two, Ossolstone lays down the foundations for the new reality. Sparse, rich reverb, allowing the blocks to fall into place as the listener discovers and becomes acclimatized to the new sonic reality. Opening with an exquisitely dense and profound synth we are plunged into a landscape where Antechamber has free reign to show off skills.

Bordering on regimented syncopation, yet with enough space to allow the track to breathe. Susurrus pulses in an organic sense, tapping into a primordial vision. Remix duties are handled by Lemna (Japan) and Lakker (Ireland). Lemna’s take on Archaic Idol opens up the sound. The emotional heart of the original is maintained but with an unexpected direction that rewards the listener with lavish full range
mesmerizing intention.

Concluding the release, Lakker stamp their unmistakable mark on Ossolstone. A haunting circular bass competes with high-end percussion.

The Story Itself

On the 12th of April 1961, Yuri Gagarin was launched into orbit for the first and - so they tell us - the last time. Upon returning to Earth, Yuri became a global hero, travelling the world to tell of his adventure.

Secretly, he was plagued by strange hallucinations and a persistent glow around his vision; a cornucopia of colour in a constant corona. In 1964 - following a silent coup by Leonid Brezhnev - Yuri was banned from embarking on further manned missions into space. At first fearing madness, the cosmonaut came to see these apparitions as a signal, an invitation, a welcoming beacon from a distant lighthouse blinking across the cosmic void.

On the 27th of March 1968, aided by trusted friends within the space program, Yuri Gagarin swapped places with another cosmonaut on a secret test flight and was once more blasted into outer space. Knocked unconscious by the extreme velocity of his experimental craft, Yuri awoke a mere 15 minutes later in view not of the rapidly shrinking Earth, but an entirely alien vista; he was elsewhere...

About Tony Neptune

Tony Neptune is a multi-media persona created by the Leeds-based artist and producer Sam Jefferies who, inspired by the narrative and musical legacies of early Detroit techno culture, aims to tell a complete story for the senses through a combination of image, sound and text. Asa member of the DimensionsDJ Directory three years running, some know Jefferies for his notorious DJ sets—whether he’s playing new wave or booty bass; as Tony Neptune or Yuri; solo or alongside Mark ‘Turbo’ Turner in another peak time marathon b2b, it doesn’t take long for crowds to catch on to his deep knowledge of all things riddled with Hi-Tech Funk and Soul. But this isn’t the only storm he’s cooking up: in his visual work, Jefferies uses oil paint to unveil the surreal and celestial adventures of the original cosmonaut and space pioneer, Yuri Gagarin, capturing every aspect of their dream-like surroundings with an eye devoted to detail and depth. This painting lies at the heart of his debut EP, Reflections on a Daring

LIMITED EDITION 300 ONLY WHITE VINYL

There was a terrible egregious shift in vibration the day the transmission arrived. It came to me in a dream, as was natural for these particular occurrences, and left no time for preparation. The sound was unmistakable, a low baritone that echoed wildly and reeked of ancient fumes. A deeply monumental and monolithic apparition stood before what appeared to be a crowd of hexagonal beings. The vibrations worked through them in an apparent communicatory way, though would be impossible to translate in any logical linguistic fashion. I don’t know how but I knew they were aware of me, though their disposition was imminent of their consciousness as being collective, rather than individual; and were largely unbothered by my presence.
 
Once the transmission had finished it was clear that there had been a tamper. The kind of which Id seen  before, and had resulted in definite yet undefinable change in the fabric of reality.
 
I initially stumbled upon the odd and highly dangerous musical practices of Perhaps while on an assignment in Bermuda. There had been rumors of a local tribesman partaking in occult practices, of which I knew was native strictly to the Goat Bleeding Bad Men of the Congolese jungle. These rumors intrigued my journalistic nature, so I took the afternoon off in the hopes to possibly glean something that would be an easy pitch to a tabloid back home.
 
Upon arrival it was clear there was a strange foreign intervention within the community of the tribe, which was largely uninhabited upon first glance. Much of the surrounding foliage had been strung with the entrails of various animals and there were several disturbing fixtures composed of bones and various organs lining the commune. I managed to track down the tribesman, who appeared to be in some deep trance and was entirely unable to communicate, though seemed to be fixated on a single task: the drawing of a peculiar symbol. My researching the symbol resulted in only one hit, a piece of musical literature by a band Perhaps, who I later found to be recording in the area just weeks before.
 
It didn’t take long for me to become fully fixated on Perhaps, who were anything but coy about their whereabouts and metaphysical practices. Wherever they went a small commune followed, which was typically composed of deranged acid freaks, occultists, and Norweigian dairy farmers who had sold all their assets to follow the band after “hearing their music speak from the mountains”. After managing to crack into one of their camps that was stationed in an abandoned motel, I spoke with Jim Haney of Perhaps regarding their cultish practices, who gave little in way of detail but claimed to be working towards a deconstruction of reality through a linguistic utilization of vibration.
 
My stint with the cosmic beings through the telekinetic transmission had lead to one conclusion; that Perhaps have been in the works on something new. It seems as if they may have landed on the result which Haney had mentioned years ago. Through my continued interest I’ve procured the names of other members of this current project, which include: Sean Mcdermott, Tom Weeks, Ricky Petraglia, David Khoshtinat, Ben Talmi, Makoto Kawabata, Lucas Brode, Isiah Mitchell, Olivia Kieffer, Tyler Skoglund, Chang Chang. Though I can’t say exactly what is to come, it seems as if the ideas that were proposed during my initial meet may have been surpassed. Perhaps’ plans have begun to surface, and we are all at risk, for whatever that means. The great column and the vibrational prismic beings have shifted their attention to earthly matters, it would be foolhardy to not heed their warning. Though, self-preservation may be an impossibility.
 
Sam Hailstone Dec 24/ 2019