Cerca:as if

"Dans cent ans" is not a record: it’s a talisman.
Flavien Berger doesn’t make music, he makes time machines.
In 2015, he released his first album, Leviathan, which he’d imagined like a moment suspended into the bowels of present time.
In 2018, Contre-Temps, his critically acclaimed second album, was narrated like a flashback.
Dans Cent Ans (“In 100 Years”) ends this trilogy and launches into the future with the grace of a poisonous serpent.
Flavien had just finished producing Pomme’s last album and was simultaneously scoring Céline Devaux’s feature film Tout le monde aime Jeanne, when he recorded this album, during six months of isolation.
In the garret of a Belgian house in construction, these 12 tracks were born, close to the sky, both direct and mysterious.
Because Flavien Berger knows how to make machines sound sensual (a key example is the pop song “D’ici là”) and dares to interweave electronics, chanson and art music, organic instruments and synthetic choirs, without ever falling into parodic territory.
Because his voice, more precise, unreverbed, and close-mic’d than ever, sings to our ears – using multisyllabic rhymes (“Trop ivres pour te plaire / Tropiques du cancer”) and surrealist imagery (“la neige restera rose” – “the snow will remain pink”) – stories that feel unknown yet obvious.
And like both previous albums ended with a long eponymous track like a breath of air, “Leviathan” and “Contre-temps”, so does “Dans Cent Ans”, a 15-minute long saga where vocals, wind instruments and machines converse, as if Debussy, Etienne Daho and a Sufi Dervish met in a dream.
After listening to this album, the vertigo of love and the collision of times are one and the same.
In one hundred years, music will survive us all, and its dangerous beauty will awaken other lives. In the meantime, Flavien Berger keeps stunning ours.

For a quarter of an hour, Zürich was the navel of the world. Let's look back: at New York's CBGB's, pre-punks were shredding away, Malcolm McLaren, as a man with a fine-tuned taste for the hip, imported the sound to London, where his sweetheart Vivienne Westwood dressed the test-tube band The Sex Pistols. A few pop magazines later (we are in an analog world!) punk bands sprouted everywhere, like shiny pimples on poorly fed teenagers. Contrary to legend, even back then, it was often those with a musical background who were the most successful. One such example, Henrich "Wüste" Zwahlen, who had learned the violin, attended a jazz school and went into prog-rock before joining the Nasal Boys, one of the first punk bands in Zürich. The scene included the female band Kleenex (cover: Fischli of art heroes Fischli/Weiss), whose minimalism was praised by the London music press, while the world's most important rock theorist, Greil Marcus, wrote an ode highlighting Zürich's role as the birthplace of Dadaism. A fertile ground for the militant youth movement that exploded in 1980 and stirred up the city of banks, protestantism and boredom with raw wit and expressive violence. Gathering at concerts of local bands and fueled by endogenous and artificial substances - they paid homage to exuberance and self-indulgence.
The mantra of "everything-is-possible" was driven forward on the musical front by progress in terms of means of production: analog electronic instruments were no longer reserved for hippie nerds, who sat in front of large plug-in boards like autistic-psychedelic switchboard operators connecting cables for their sound carpets. Now snazzy stage personnel elicited fast-paced sounds from handy devices often made in Japan. Kraftwerk was fashionable, the Zurich duo Yello experimented with new synthetic sounds, and the groundbreaking album "Alles Ist Gut" by the Düsseldorf based duo D.A.F. (Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft) was released, which chanted its program of provocation times danceability with lines such as "Tanz den Jesus Christus, tanz the Mussolini, tanz the Adolf Hitler." In England meanwhile, electronically backed New Romantic bands were replacing New Wave. The Human League, Heaven 17, Duran Duran, OMD, Depeche Mode or Visage stormed the charts.
In Zürich's underground, the duo Aboriginal Voices caused a stir at that time. A couple, good-looking, styled, looking cool into the cold neon light, with a danceable beat and sequenced electro sounds, to which Micheline gave a very unique touch when she sang in French and English. Micheline had a classical piano education, had left home early, worked as a lighting technician in a strip joint and at Booster, the hottest boutique in town (one of the relicts that still exists). Voilà: a musician who was as stylish as she was tough. She was already playing with Wüste in the band "Doobie Doos", a band where everyone played an instrument they didn't master. In 1980 the Aboriginal Voices were formed, initially with vocalist Magda Vogel (of later UnknownmiX fame), who was trained as a classical singer.

Frustrated by organizational friction and constant hassles with band lineups, Wüste and Misch decided to do everything as a twosome: self-mixed, self-styled, self-produced. With the top-of-the-line Linn drum machine clocking the beat, Wüste's guitar and Micheline on the Yamaha synthesizer created a unique sound of danceable electronic music. Whereby the Aboriginal Voices acted as a kind of proto-influencer, receiving the latest equipment to try out, especially since they made it a point not to work with tapes, but to design everything for live shows. They had an interface built for the legendary Roland MC-4B, who sequenced the modular Roland System 100M but where one output controlled a light show synchronized with the sound. A pioneering act that fit well into the DIY spirit of punk, with its self-distributed tapes and fuck-you attitude towards the cretins of the music industry. Consequently only two cassettes and an EP were released. There was something futuristic about the sound, the vestiary style and the electronics, while the attitude remained rebellious. Of course something so deeped in the Zeitgeist wasn't meant to last. Wüste moved to New York, Micheline stayed in Zurich, both still active in the music scene to this day.

Sven Regener, head of the band Element of Crime and one of Germany's most successful pop writer said a few years ago when asked if he knew of any Swiss music: "Of course! In 1983, a Swiss band called Aboriginal Voices played with us at a festival in Zurich. Great, avant-garde electro-pop. That was my first encounter."

If you ever saw them live, you never forgot them, and so over the years you belonged to a teeny-tiny circle of insiders, happy to be joined after all these years by new aficionados who appreciate the sound of that quarter-hour, when Zurich was ravishing, creative and exciting.

- Thomas Haemmerli

repressed !

***Taken from Leaked Whatsapp messages between DJ Absolutely Shit and Il Bosco***

Yo cousin Bosco...how's ya raisin widge?

Nice one for that last lot of dough i'm starting to well buzz off all this music industry bollocks now you know...mad what you can do with a catchy DJ name and pure absolutely mega tunes wot are miles better than anyone elses init?

Anyway i've been diggin' me fuckin' 'ed off ant I recently and got some more well primo gear for yas here...done 8 this time - was thinking if i'm managing to sort me life out banging out EPs for yas - if I do and album or two i'll be mega wedged in no time deffo init.

Yeah i'm thinking fuck this i need to get out this rank shit-hole quicktime... spotted this sick 3 bed thatched cottage gaff in Cadishead the other day, well smart. Detached n everything G, so can deffo get a proper grow on in there piece of piss. Gran's doin me ed in n all here G, big style the old slapper. She keeps robbin' me cash!
Turn me back for 5 mins and she's fuckin chonged it all the little turd... fuckin fuming ta fuck g cant wait to do one from that shitty flat...and if she thinks she's keeping me dodgy sky box she suck me widge haha.

Anyway shout me soon init. fuck knows what to call this album g. ask Pharaoh to come up with a name for it the turd. i can't be arsed thinkin... Seen him the other day actually bumped into him and that Crispy Duck guy who does those sick comics. They was outside some posh coffee gaff in Ancoats with a few other chumps lobbing bricks at a pile of other bricks down near the canal drinking pink hooch the turds. Get em to do the artwork for it n all g. if they want paying or owt tell 'em to suck me widge haha.

Nice one

Tartelet Records is thrilled to present the debut album from Doc Sleep – 10 tracks of exquisitely rendered melodies and rhythms shaped with grit and beauty in equal measure. Birds (in my mind anyway) is a widescreen vision of electronica as a medium to express your personal situation and respond to your environment – a rave adjacent art form free from the perceived rules of the dancefloor. To date, Melissa Maristuen known as Doc Sleep has established herself in the context of the club – first engaging with the culture in San Francisco before moving to Berlin. She helps run the Room 4 Resistance party, DJs on Refuge Worldwide, co- owns the Jacktone label and has released on Detour, Dark Entries and her own label. But in making Birds (in my mind anyway) she set herself an ultimatum.

“At the time of recording this album, my life, all my routines and priorities had to change – music was no exception. I decided if I couldn't be happy making an album free of the dancefloor, I was finally going to be done with music. Instead, I found a musical voice free of tempo and textural restriction. Eventually, I had a sound, and once I had the sound, the album came pretty quickly. It was a very different process writing music for no one...except myself.”

If the impression given is one of a consistent style across the album, think again. Doc Sleep moves freely between tempos and themes, even if there are some recurring qualities binding the music together. She weaves fluttering arps with poise, lending them an almost choral quality which gives the album a very human touch. But they’re equally emotionally ambiguous or pockmarked with sonic interference – reflections of the collisions and conflicts
that typify the human experience.

Every inch of the album is a personal touch – the title was pulled from Doc Sleep’s mother’s response to hearing the album, while her friend Kiernan Laveaux offered a beautiful text which appears on the back. Those closest to her all fed into the artwork process, which captures the curious dichotomy between urban brutalism and botanical finery often found in the parks of Berlin – a vital place of respite when she was making the album.

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.

A limited edition 7' release by Francisco Aguabella, both tracks taken from the rare Hard Hitting album released 1970 on EPSILON records. These two have never been on 7' before, includes wonderful re-production cover of the original sleeve

Track A1 - 'Desire' - Amazing vocal club classic which has stood the test of time always in demand. Never before pressed and released as 45. A massive dancer and a must have release.
Track B2 - 'Casa fuerte' - if you like Latin jazz dancers this is for you - top class banger.

Landmark albums deserve to be released on Glorious Vinyl, and that's why Lovemonk is presenting the first ever vinyl edition of Martín Buscaglia's 2006 corker, El Evangelio Según Mi Jardinero.

"Brain, brain, thanks for being in my head and not in my knee, if not, I wouldn't be able to kneel down to pray or keep that promise I cannot reveal". Those are the first words (translated from Spanish) of 'Cerebro, Orgasmo, Envidia y Sofía', the song that kicks off El Evangelio Según Mi Jardinero, the fourth album by Uruguayan pop genius Martín Buscaglia and his second on Lovemonk.

El Evangelio is a wonderful collection of deliciously cheeky and brutally honest songs composed by a man who was lucky enough to grow up in a home where several of his home country's cultural greats (Eduardo Mateo, Urbano Moraes, Rubén Rada, all three of legendary candombe innovators El Kinto, and Hugo Fattoruso, of Opa) would drop by to chat, write and hang out. They, and other heroes like Marvin Gaye, Tom Waits, Stevie Wonder, and Jorge Ben, have had a lasting influence on Martín's music, and it's no different on El Evangelio. Martín wrote most of the songs and plays all kinds of instruments, conventional and not so conventional (the ravanahatha - an ancient bowed, stringed instrument used in South Asia, different toys such as the Simon device and a carousel), and there are cameos by the likes of Arnaldo Antunes, Nicolás Ibarburu and Juana Molina.

El Evangelio Según Mi Jardinero is a dazzling piece of work that will make you dance your ass of and take you to place you haven't visited since childhood. Even 12 years on, the at times complex songs actually sound deceptively simple and stunningly fresh.

"El Pasaje del Aumento" is a collection of syncopated rhythms for hypnotic slow dance. An accident of oppressive atmospheres with a humorous sense of rhythm and composition, which moves between downtempo, African rhythms and dub. With a certain oriental softness, it introduces you into a state of enchantment, spell... a hypnotic and mysterious restlessness, almost uncomfortable. Sentuhlà squeezes his Yamaha Rm1x on this second album, creating rhythms that you would never believe possible with a single synthesizer. He spins, twists and strangles it to the limit, til getting the last drop of frequency and oscillation.

Without too obvious references, it recalls the rhythms of Toulouse Low Trax or Wolf Müller, the experimentation of Muslimgauze, the repetition of Huerco S... But if you ask Sentuhlà himself, he will also mention Fela Kuti, Sun Ra, Can, Cabaret Voltaire, Tom Zé or Lee Scratch Perry...

Sentuhlà is one of the many aliases of musical jack of all trades José Guerrero, a long-standing figure in the already rich underground scene of Valencia. In this solo excursion, he explores the vast possibilities of mechanical repetition, the machine funk of dirtbag rhythms, and proper boogie DIY synth music, sculpting a syncopated sound that is both modern and atavistic. Coming from a deep knowledge and ability to communicate very diverse sounds, slow jams unfold into dance music for clear-eyed lounge lizards for whom sleaze comes not dizzy but focused. Whitened African rhythms beat up no-wave disco pleasure points, managing the hard task of being very cool and nonchalant, but also hot and dedicated.

Time to welcome Session Victim back to Delusions Of Grandeur following some heavyweight releases on Toytonics and Rhythm Section International. The German duo show absolutely no signs of slowing down continuing to impress with their unique sound which combines organic live elements, fat, floor-filling beats and a deep, musical approach. Here on The Intangibles EP we’re treated to three original tracks spanning high energy jazz disco meets techno, soulful uplifting house and downtempo blunted beats.

Opener Motivation features spoken word from Ras Stimulant backed by urgent looping Rhodes stabs and an uptempo disco groove. An instant Session Victim dance-floor shaker if ever there was one, the energy cranked up to the maximum without losing sight of that all important groove.

Next up we have Dromedary Twist which keeps up the pace but goes deeper on the jazzy organ chords and lays down a heavy syncopated bass- line which ensures the funk factor remains present and correct.

Rounding out the EP in fine style, Green Run drops the BPM’s as we head into lazy, hazy, blissed-out jazzed-up beats territory. Lush strings and layers of analogue synths come together on this simple yet enchanting little tune which compliments the other tracks perfectly and will appeal to fans of SV’s more home-listening output from their 2020 LP Needledrop.

Close to five years on from their last transmission, Ulrika Spacek resurface from self-imposed exile with their third album, Compact Trauma, a collection of songs that function as a chance treatise of sorts for our current collective condition. With a title like that arriving at this point in time, it's tempting to interpret the record solely in the context of the global events of the past few years, but the roots of these ten songs arc back much further in time, charged with their own personalised internal damage. Trauma, in its myriad forms, is often hard to qualify, even harder to rationalise. When something begins to go wrong, how do you gain perspective? What is a temporary roadblock, and what is unmitigated disaster? In its first phase of life, Compact Trauma was a document of a band striving to perfect an idea while the universe around them seemed to want to shut down. And then, at an impasse of sorts and with a record halfway complete, it suddenly did. If Ulrika Spacek were a band in need of the breaks applying, it was the force of a global pandemic that made it happen. As the world stood still, Compact Trauma was filed away, unfinished and unheard by the wider world, possibly to remain that way forever. And yet, there was to be a second act. If mutability is our tragedy, it's also our hope, clearer days slowly began to emerge as the bad slipped away. The wound, as the saying goes, is the place where the light enters you. The prolonged break enforced by myriad lockdowns may have separated the group but it also afforded the five time to reflect on what had already been committed to tape.. As the lights came back on and the shutters up, they found themselves drawn back towards Compact Trauma. What they rediscovered was a record that seemed to preempt the shared grief of a global pandemic. Even if the specifics were different, the themes were uncannily similar. Addressing existential freak out, displacement, substance reliance and encroaching self-doubt, these highly personalised songs suddenly took on a wider significance, speaking in part to a bigger narrative. They could have left it alone, but in coming back to what they knew, Ulrika Spacek found their best work yet. RIYL: Mercury Rev, Sonic Youth, My Bloody Valentine, Radiohead, Deerhunter, Atlas Sound, Stereolab.

Dooley-O commands you to STICK YOURSELF! But not before stocking his new 45 please. Bankrupt Europeans (who have previously produced for RA The rugged Man, Roc Marciano, Chill Rob G, Chubb Rock, AG, Phill Most Chill, Rise and MC Juice) started a back&forth with 90s legend and Stezo cohort Dooley-O a few years ago, even recorded a couple of demos but it wasn't until 2021 that we all had a chance to do this properly! Hands down two of the hardest and snappiest Bankrupt Europeans beats to complement Dooley-O's incredible punchlines and murderous flow. Dooley-O shows that not only has he not lost a step since the days of releases on Stones Throw and Lewis Recordings, but if anything his skills have sharpened over the years!

The A-Side is Stick Yourself and sees Bankrupt Europeans bring this absolute head nodder of a beat, heavy but very funky and laced with modular synth sounds and cuts from DJ Grazzhoppa throughout. Dooley-O’s tongue-in-cheek rap style is sharper than Rambo’s knife as he proceeds to encourage you to Stick Yourself or risk being taken out by himself. There is this comedic bravado here that has Dooley-O displaying just how good his rap style is, while between the lines he saying ‘I’m that good, I shouldn’t have to take you out, that’s your job But, If I have to do it, it ain’t gonna be pretty.’ Flipping it to the B-Side for track 2 we have Death Blow that hits hard with a brooding intro before the heavy bass and eastern sounds inject more adrenaline into your veins! Dooley-O continues the lyrical assault he began in Stick Yourself. Here he delivers a cold and calculated volley of witty punchlines with ease. His plan here is plain and simple, which is to deliver a brutal Death Blow to all those suckers left walking and talking

Available in black wax in 250 hand numbered copies in a company sleeve with a sticker.

With his new album, Gecko Turner confirms that he is a standout artist in the global groove scene, a must for the outernational sounds aficionados.

Somebody From Badajoz is the fifth studio album in his much lauded discography and his first in seven years, eagerly anticipated by both his fans and himself: "this business of dedicating yourself to music and making songs... it's a long game."

With the release of his first two, remarkable, albums, Guapapasea! (2003) and Chandalismo Ilustrado (2006), Gecko started cultivating what one astute journalist defined as Afro-maduran soul—the "maduran" bit referencing Extremadura, a region in central-western Spain.

Badajoz, Gecko's birthplace, is the biggest city in the area, on the border with Portugal, by the Guadiana River. It is a place that oozes history, where there is constant movement at the border, and people's character is friendly and open-minded with foreign habits.

Gecko's Afro-maduran soul isbuilt on Afro-American music and drenched in Brazilian, African, Latin American and Jamaican sounds. There are also echoes of a youth marked in equal parts by our man's admiration for the Beatles and the flamenco that could be heard everywhere in Badajoz in the seventies. It makes for a singular sound and a musical language of its own—spicy, succulent, full of nuances, but with a very personal flavour.

The album opens with the Nigerian talking drums of Twenty-twenty Vision, (neo) soul in a magical falsetto, carried by a sumptuous orchestral arrangement with a cinematic flavour: "I'd been thinking about doing something called 'Twenty-twenty Vision' for some time, making a play on words with the vision we have of the world after the year 2020 and the medical expression, which, in ophthalmological terms, means 'normal or complete vision.' Beyond that particular song, I think that's the mood of the album: a look at society in the twenties of the 21st century and the feelings and demons it produces."

It's followed by De Balde, a very special song born from a posthumously discovered lyric by the great writer Carlos Lencero, a regular collaborator of Camarón, Pata Negra, and Remedios Amaya, and also from Badajoz. While conceived as a fandango, Gecko has moulded it into his sound in such a seamless way it now seems as if the words could only have been written to be embraced by the percussion, brass, and backing vocals heard on the album. It's the only lyric on Somebody From Badajoz not written by Turner, still it sits rather comfortably with the rest, sharing the same emotivity and sensitivity, as well as the trademark humour and irony.

Other tracks see more protagonism for the rhythm.The beat-driven Ain't No Fun Preachin' to the Choir features Gecko's vocals walking the thin line between singing and talking over a phenomenal afro-disco-funk-infused trailblazer. In Am I Sad? it's impossible to not bob your head to the queen of Papatosina's mongrel rhythm, as close to the banks of the Guadiana river as it is to the shores of the Mississippi. Qué Siesta Tan Buena, He Babeao Y To! is an ode to the snooze in true Afro-Maduran fashion. And in Come And Try, the Caribbean influence is evident—lovers' rock that invites you to dance in good company.

In these songs, and throughout the album, for that matter, the musicians accompanying Gecko, who himself plays many of the instruments as well, shine brightly. All hailing from Extremadura, Javi Mojave (percussion), Álvaro Fdez 'Dr. Robelto' (bass), and Rafa Prieto (guitar) have been carrying him with delicate forcefulness since he started out as a solo artist. At the same time, the wonderful and essential voices of Deborah Ayo, Astrid Jones, Fani Ela Nsue, and Miriam Solís give the album a sunny variety of colours. And there are many more—a sensational group of musicians contributes dazzling harmonic bursts to many of the songs. The palette of sounds is very diverse and rich in textures and nuances, including, for example, the ngoni, bells, and various repurposed kitchen utensils.

The groove is always around, moving between the magical border sound of Everybody Knows Somebody From Badajoz and Little Dose, the silky soul of The Sibariteo Appreciation Society, and the exultant celebration of End Of The World (which surprisingly sees Gecko turning to the occasional use of autotune), a piece that could be used for the final credits of a Monty Python film and, in fact, closes the album.

Gecko Turner has done it again with Somebody From Badajoz, looking to the future without losing sight of the roots. In times of upheaval all over the globe, when people are looking for purity, he delivers a formidable piece of work: risky, optimistic in spite of everything, and with a decidedly bastard sound. Let's rejoice.

»Love As Projection« is the new album by Frankie Rose, her fifth studio LP and second for Night School following the reissue of her interpretation of The Cure’s »Seventeen Seconds«. Frankie Rose has forged an enviable musical legacy, from playing with bands like Crystal Stilts and The Vivian Girls but on »Love As Projection« she takes a bold step into electronic pop production. A sumptuous recorded statement, it dances in ecstasy and broods on the tumult of the western world’s decay in equal proportion. At the heart of the album is glowing, confident songwriting, resplendent in hooks and choruses but still touched with an optimism undimmed.

After spending nearly two decades establishing herself across New York and Los Angeles independent music circles, Rose re-emerges after six years with a fresh form, aesthetic, and ethos. Celebrated over the years for her expansive approach to songwriting, lush atmospherics, and transcendent vocal melodies and harmonies, »Love As Projection« is a reintroduction of her established style through the lens of contemporary electronic pop. Recorded with producer Brandt Gassman and mixed with long-term collaborator Jorge Elbrecht this is the album Frankie Rose has been building up to her entire career.

More than a rebirth, a refinement, a resurgence, »Love As Projection« boasts a widescreen scope: a long- form project heavily considered for half of a decade, culminating in the most personal and accessible collection of art-pop that Frankie has ever written. When Rose aims for the pop jugular as in first lead track »Anything«, the result is unstoppable. A majestic pop song built for radio, it erupts into an irresistible chorus that marries classic epic 80s American pop with the cult effervescence of Strawberry Switchblade »It’s like a prom scene in a John Hughes movie. It’s a hopeful song about abandoning fear even if the world is quite literally on fire.. In the end, at least we have each other,« says Rose. »Sixteen Ways« further boasts a propulsive, massive chorus, though tempered by a cynicism built in global post-truth, global malaise. »It’s about getting your hopes up, but simultaneously making lists in your head about how it will never work out in your favour.«

The big anthems don’t let up there. On »DOA« some massive, rolling drums lathered in big mid-80s gated reverb dovetail with a syncopated baseline for the ages as Rose’s vocal sails effortlessly above. The effect isn’t unlike ethereal vocalists Clannad circa Howard’s Way or Enya jamming with Simple Minds in their stadium-conquering heyday. Rose tempers the adrenalin with heart-tugging bittersweet tones and there are plenty of them. »Sleeping Night And Day« takes its time with an off-the-cuff chorus, swirling around in harmony and chorus-bass. »Saltwater Girl« picks up the balladeering baton with another nod to album track-mode Switchblade, deep space opening up in the mid-tempo drum track and soupy, digital atmospherics. Album closer »Song For A Horse«, reimagines modern Pop production a-la-PC Music but shorn of the meta-atmosphere. Pianos, swelling synths, minor keys cut through with major. These moments, also seen in Feel Light offer ballast to the soaring pop choruses. Moments like these are big oceans of emotion to fall into before being led out by Rose into a bright new day.

»Love As Projection« is released in the USA by Slumberland.

CLEAR BLUE VINYL

`Oh Me Oh My' is both elegant and ferocious. It is stirring in one moment and a balm the next. It details histories both global and personal. Lonnie Holley's harrowing youth and young manhood in the Jim Crow South are well-told at this point _ his sale into a different home as a child for just a bottle of whiskey; his abuse at the infamous Mount Meigs correctional facility for boys; the destruction of his art environment by the Birmingham airport expansion. But Holley's music is less a performance of pain endured and more a display of perseverance, of relentless hope. Intricately and lovingly produced by LA's Jacknife Lee (The Cure, REM, Modest Mouse), there is both kinetic, shortwave funk that call to mind Brian Eno's `My Life in the Bush of Ghosts' and the deep space satellite sounds of Eno's ambient works. But it's a tremendous achievement in sonics all its own. It's also an achievement in the refinement of Holley's impressionistic, stream-of-consciousness lyrics. On the title track which deals with mutual human understanding", Holley is able to make a profound point as ever in far fewer phrases: "The deeper we go, the more chances there are, for us to understand the oh-me's and understand the oh-my's." Illustrious collaborators like Michael Stipe, Sharon Van Etten, Moor Mother and Justin Vernon of Bon Iver serve as not only as choirs of angels and co-pilots to give Lonnie's message flight but as proof of Lonnie Holley as a galvanizing, iconoclastic force across the music community.

"And we"re coming out of dreams / And we"re coming back to dreams" is the first thing you hear Bill say as you remake your acquaintance on YTILAER. Right out the gate, he"s standing in two places at once: meeting up with old friends behind the scenes and encountering them on the record, finding himself coming round the bend and then again as someone else on down the line. Like the character actor he played on Gold Record, writing stories about other people, telling jokes about everyone, and in singing them, becoming the songs. "You do what you"ve got to do / To see the picture" Bill"s got a full band sound going on this one, with him and Matt Kinsey on guitars, Emmett Kelly on bass and backing vocals, Sarah Ann Phillips on B3, piano and backing vocals and Jim White on drums. Jim and Matt sing on one song, too, and some other singers come in, too. Bill plays some synth here and there, and Carl Smith drifts in and out of the picture with his contra alto clarinet, as do Mike St. Clair and Derek Phelps on brass. Somehow in between them all, you might think you hear the distant sound of a steel guitar. And you might - but you might not, too. In this company, Bill continues his journey, tunneling underneath the weathered exterior of what seems to be and into the more nuanced life everything takes on in the dark. With Bill"s voice making the extraordinary leaps and bounds that measure the lives of the songs, the band follow him through passages that seem to invent themselves; other times playing with deeply soulful grooves and/or desperate intensity, as these moments come and go. There"s nothing they can"t do. "I wrote this song in five and forever / I"m writing it right now" Bill sings on "Natural Information" - an admission of the everyday alchemy he"s forever trafficking in. Time passes, triangulating the encounters that went into any one record with two out of any three others, all of it made flesh, new constitution, in our stereo speakers. If every album is its own life, it stands to reason that they"re invariably passing in the night. Cascading images flowing from the stream of consciousness. Turning like pages from the journal, unspeakably personal, then suddenly become tall tales, like a book pulled off the shelf, completely unbound. Headlines flow through. Mirror images, mirthful ones. Bill"s lyrics strain at the lines on the page, not content to separate the printing of the fact from the myth or be confined to ink on paper. They want to fly free. And they do. "I realize now that dreams are real" On YTILAER"s inner sleeve, alongside his lyrics, Bill celebrates the "exhilaration and dread" of cover artist Paul Ryan"s paintings. Paul"s another one met up with again down the road, his indelible cover imagery on Apocalypse and Dream River now an axis of meaning in the Callahanian world - and in the bright colors found in these new images, a parallel to Bill"s recognitions here. "A breath of exquisite air as we come up from drowning", sounds like the desired hope for those hearing the songs of YTILAER.

First time reissue of a legendary and undeservedly obscure salsa collector’s album from 1969. Led by rebel accordionist Alfredo Gutiérrez and featuring singer Lucho Pérez of Sonora Dinamita fame, “Así es… Con salsa!” is just that: raw, heavy duty NYC salsa performed through a Colombian “Costeño” tropical filter, with trombone, accordion and deep bass. Contains three hot bonus tracks in the same style and insert with liner notes. “¡Así es… Con salsa!”, by Colombia’s Alfredo Gutiérrez y Los Caporales del Magdalena, is a legendary collector’s album, yet still undeservedly obscure (and perhaps sonically surprising) for the uninitiated. It’s an experimental mash-up of seemingly disparate genres from different origins that on paper would seem to be at cross purposes. Yet at the same time the release is a masterpiece of raw pan-Latin fusion from the dawn of Colombian salsa that holds its own as a bonafide heavy duty pioneering record of the genre, despite its outsider status. Probably the most shocking musical element is Alfredo Gutiérrez’s fiery accordion, an unexpected instrument in the idiom of salsa, as it’s usually associated with the tropical music of Gutiérrez’s Caribbean home region of Sucre. Gutiérrez has always been a provocateur, never shying away from the controversial or outlandish, which has earned him the richly deserved sobriquet, “El Rebelde Del Acordeón” (The Rebel of The Accordion). Gutiérrez started Los Caporales in 1968 as a rival to Discos Fuentes supergroup Los Corraleros de Majagual, and the band had made three popular albums prior to “¡Así es… Con salsa!”, yet most of the repertoire on those records consisted of typical Colombian tropical and coastal rhythms and genres, none were purposely devoted to the newly minted genre of salsa. From the start, Gutiérrez lays down a salsa manifesto when the album kicks off with ‘Guadelupe no va’, a four-minute workout with pile-driving force that demonstrates the uncompromising power of this 14 piece orchestra. The listener is instantly hooked by the rawness of the sound, the bouncy energy, heavy brass and piano arrangements and the looseness of the improvisational sections. Gutiérrez was given the green light by Codiscos A&R head Humberto Moreno to dedicate an album to New York style salsa, giving more prominence to the voice and compositions of Lucho Pérez, an already proven expert in Cuban genres who previously had been only one among many vocalists in the band. Several tunes on the record are remakes of older compositions by Lucho Pérez from his early tenure with Discos Fuentes group La Sonora Dinamita, the new versions are much more raw and menacing, as if put through a Bronx filter. The band was made up of Codiscos’ regular stable of ace studio musicians from Medellín for the recording date. The album was both a success and also not abnormal in its mixing of salsa and costeño Colombian sounds, as there were several other similar hybrid records by other artists at the time. Both the desperation of the lyrics (about not being able to afford anything) and Lucho Pérez’ forceful delivery leave an indelible impression of street wise authenticity, which is backed up by the fact that both band members grew up poor

If there is a space in this place for a voice of this age, it’s still sealed in wax. Above the din of the noise a vocal appears, in calm
reflection, it delivers a message of hope in a time of despair. Ivan Ave is back. A lot has transpired since we last heard him on a
full-length project, there's a lot to ponder as we get into his latest LP, All Season Gear.
On his 4th solo album, Ivan offers a glimpse into the various seasons he and his friends went through in the last three years. All
Season Gear was recorded on highs and lows through a pandemic, through healing, falling in love and observing the chaos that
is the hyper-textual information age. Lyrically an all-weather-proof record, breaking even with with a joie de vivre, backed by
production from the likes of Sasac, Mndsgn, Like, DJ Harrison and Ivan Ave himself.
The Norwegian rapper’s sixth solo release percolates between desperation and buoyancy, through a tide of beats, as Ivan taps
into his signature observations. His lyrics are an astute surveillance that exploit the mundane in a pensive exploration, touching
on hedonistic heights, with a constant focus on the beauty of the everyday.
The Mutual Intentions mouthpiece breezes through a record of wistful sonorities brought together by the larger Mutual intentions
collaboration. Keys swell and bass undulates, as the production convene on vintage aesthetics, repurposed for air-pod traveling.
It extends the sonic palette of his last LP, Double Goodbyes, and plunges the sound deeper than ever before.
Ivan Ave reinforces our vision of him as a voice for our time. A philosopher’s touch-stone in a world where the incongruous prevails over the sincere.

Brigid O'Neill's new album The Truth & Other Stories, recorded at Skinny Elephant Studios in Nashville with Neilson Hubbard in the producer's chair, cannot help but be influenced by the times which informed it, 'very few people escaped being affected by the pandemic, writers included.

Somehow the experiences of it seeped through onto our work and I feel The Truth and Other Stories is no exception in that regard.'
That said, this is not specifically an album about Covid or the pandemic, 'I was fascinated by the concept of 'truth' and intrigued by the concept of everyone having a different version of their truth....a personal viewpoint, their own narrative, their own story. The title plays a bit with shades of meaning - a 'counter positioning' if you like. The 'other stories' may challenge the truth, but 'the truth'
retains that sense of the absolute. In the songs I hope to present the realities of different characters through short stories. As I moved through the pandemic however, different stories came to light and sometimes the focus would shift.

Ultimately though, I have been living with these stories and these characters for some time now.'
Neilson Hubbard as producer was an obvious choice for O'Neill. A growing relationship with Nashville had seen her writing, playing and developing relationships with the many truly great musicians available across Music City.

"Being in Nashville with a producer like Neilson who has such an intuitive feel for that music, and with access to musicians who simply live and breathe it, seemed like a good idea. I'd met Neilson a few times through our mutual friend and musician Ben Glover, and it was quickly clear we would get along and had a similar attitude to the music production process. When choosing a music
producer, listening to their catalogue of works is crucial, but so too I think is that 'gut feeling' and knowledge that you can connect. When I sent Neilson my music, I knew he 'got it' and I knew I was in safe hands." Recent years have seen Brigid O'Neill gaining a deserved reputation as one of Ireland's finest songwriters. Reviews of her critically acclaimed latest releases
have reaffirmed that the gifted artist is one of the most versatile, unique and fearless storytellers on the island. Her genre-spanning music appeals to multiple generations, effortlessly weaving elements of folk, country and jazz into relatable tales of happiness, heartbreak and the human condition.

By now a regular and esteemed presence among the Discrepant sprawling household via releases with projects such as Alförjs or Jibóia, Mestre André "resurrects" his O Morto alias (bad pun somewhat intended) after 2016 'The Forest, The People And The Spirits'. With a diaristic approach where field recordings function as remnants of his surrounding reality and subsequent memories to be processed and recontextualized into an expressionist whole, O Morto expands that previous Discrepant release sonic palette unto uncharted cartographies. 

Based on a number of field recordings taken during a life-changing trip to Morocco that felt like a fever dream, 'Dans La Gorge D'un Monstre' reenacts that hazy and hallucinatory mindframe through five tracks where no vivid recollection persists, tainted by the extrasensory feeling of not being quite there. A sonic fiction that goes from the processed cymbals and pummelling drums of 'The Gorge' with Andrés' mates in Jibóia, through moroccan Gimbri player Ayoub El Ayady and Khalid Boulhaman’s rattling Krakebs on 'Lila' and the slowed down Eccojams vibes of 'Out of the Atlas' to the dreamy aquatic soundscapes and arpeggios of the appropriately titled ‘Princesas Batráquio'. Comprising the whole of the B side, 'A Desert of Rain' is a slow evolving wonder where gong-like tones drift beneath scrambled transmissions of unknown origin, eventually giving way to synapse inducing drone motifs and scraps of realities collapsing among themselves - fire into water, a jetstream into steps, maybe none of this. 

Along with the LP, the release comes with a companion piece tape titled 'Iffrits Habitent', a more impressionistic and unadulterated account of the same travel that could well be this side of the mirror. Then again, maybe he never made it from the other side. Who's to know?

It's hard not to see the hype around BRUIT= as the next big thing in post-rock. While their 2018 EP Monolith provided a promising indication of their son- ic ambition, it was their debut LP The Machine is Burning and Now Everyone Knows It Could Happen Again which really set off the trig- ger. Receiving rave reviews around the globe and selling out the first vinyl pressing of 3.000 copies within less than a year, BRUIT= have no need to prove themselves beyond what they have already achieved so far. Consisting of three musical meditations, Apologie du Temps Perdu Eng. apology for time wasted sees BRUIT= cut down on their massive sound in favour of a more subtle contem- plation. In contrast with their recent streaming single «Parasite (The Boycott Manifesto)» with its direct message for Spotify CEO Daniel Ek and his listeners, the band have seemingly forgone their activist agenda paring back the grand thematic gestures and poignant spoken-word excerpts. Instead, BRUIT= let the music do the talking, reaching an activism which is more visceral, but all the more personal. "This ambient EP is conceived as a comma between our first album and the next one," explains bass player & violinist Cle'ment Libes about the purpose of this record. "It is an invitation to lose time, a parenthesis in the frantic race of our society." Existing somewhere between the grand genius of soundtrack composers like Hans Zim- mer and Ramin Djawadi, and the experimental prowess of fringe pop artists like Radio- head and Darkside, Apologie du Temps Perdu reveals the hidden power of film scores. We all know that moment in which we cease to be conscious of the musical accompani- ment and we become truly absorbed in the story. The music becomes part of scenery, and in this moment we lose track of time. Talking of his own work Ramin Djawadi (Game of Thrones, Westworld) notes: "If you were to turn the picture off, there is a story there and a connection to the characters and the plots." In the same way, through the sweeping strings of «La Sagesse de Nos Ai"eux», the ethereal tape loops of «Re^veur Lucide» and the undu- lating synths of «Les Temps Perdus», worlds are created to get lost in, and we experience the full power of music with our eyes and ears open. RIYL Hans Zimmer, Nils Frahm, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Balmorhea, Max Richter, Olafur Arnalds, A Silver Mount Zion, Boards Of Canada