quête:auto psy

A muffled cry into the technological darkness, Contemporary Movement slid into the world right as the MP3 was seeping out of college dorms. A 39-minute drift into the void, drenched in Cold War-era reverb and then submerged in four track hiss for good measure. Duster constructed a Brutalist masterpiece on the outskirts of a suburban mall, as if to say, “We were here.”

“Music for dark spaces and closed eyelids, deeply psychedelic but without sprawl, ambient music with a serrated edge of punk.”—The Ringer

“Warm, fuzzed-out sounds that hit home like a tight, melancholic embrace from your favorite person.”—Vice

Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy, x2 LPs of long-form, lyrical, groove-based free improv by acclaimed guitarist & composer Jeff Parker's ETA IVtet. Recorded live at ETA (referencing David Foster Wallace), a bar in LA’s Highland Park neighborhood with just enough space in the back for Parker, drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Anna Butterss, & alto saxophonist Josh Johnson to convene in extraordinarily depth-full & exploratory music making. Gleaned for the stoniest side-length cuts from 10+ hours of vivid two-track recordings made between 2019 & 2021 by Bryce Gonzales, Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy is a darkly glowing séance of an album, brimming over with the hypnotic, the melodic, & patience & grace in its own beautiful strangeness. Room-tone, electric fields, environment, ceiling echo, live recording, Mondays, Los Angeles. Jeff Parker's first double album & first live album, Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy belongs in the lineage of such canonical live double albums recorded on the West Coast as Lee Morgan’s Live at the Lighthouse, Miles Davis' In Person Friday & Saturday Night at the Blackhawk, San Francisco & Black Beauty, & John Coltrane's Live in Seattle.

While the IVtet sometimes plays standards &, including on this recording, original compositions, it is as previously stated largely a free improv group —just not in the genre meaning of the term. The music is more free composition than free improvisation, more blending than discordant. It’s tensile, yet spacious & relaxed. Clearly all four musicians have spent significant time in the planetary system known as jazz, but relationships to other musics, across many scenes & eras —dub & Dilla, primary source psychedelia, ambient & drone— suffuse the proceedings. Listening to playbacks Parker remarked, humorously & not, “we sound like the Byrds” (to certain ears, the Clarence White-era Byrds, who really stretched it).

A fundamental of all great ensembles, whether basketball teams or bands, is the ability of each member to move fluidly & fluently in & out of lead & supportive roles. Building on the communicative pathways they’ve established in Parker’s -The New Breed- project, Parker & Johnson maintain a constant dialogue of lead & support. Their sampled & looped phrases move continuously thru the music, layered & alive, adding depth & texture & pattern, evoking birds in formation, sea creatures drifting below the photic zone. Or, the two musicians simulate those processes by entwining their terse, clear-lined playing in real-time. The stop/start flow of Bellerose, too, simulates the sampler, recalling drum parts in Parker’s beat-driven projects. Mostly Bellerose's animated phraseologies deliver the inimitable instantaneous feel of live creative drumming. The range of tonal colors he conjures from his extremely vintage battery of drums & shakers —as distinctive a sonic signature as we have in contemporary acoustic drumming— bring almost folkloric qualities to the aesthetic currency of the IVtet's language. A wonderful revelation in this band is the playing of Anna Butterss. The strength, judiciousness & humility with which she navigates the bass position both ground & lift upward the egalitarian group sound. As the IVtet's grooves flow & clip, loop & repeat, the ensemble elements reconfigure, a terrarium of musical cultivation growing under controlled variables, a tight experiment of harmony & intuition, deep focus & freedom.

For all its varied sonic personality, Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy scans immediately & unmistakably as music coming from Jeff Parker‘s unique sound world. Generous in spirit, trenchant & disciplined in execution, Parker’s music has an earned respect for itself & for its place in history that transmutes through the musical event into the listener. Many moods & shapes of heart & mind will find utility & hope in a music that combines the autonomy & the community we collectively long to see take hold in our world, in substance & in staying power.

On the personal tip, this was always my favorite gig to hit, a lifeline of the eremite records Santa Barbara years. Mondays southbound on the 101, driving away from tasks & screens & illness, an hour later ordering a double tequila neat at the bar with the band three feet away, knowing i was in good hands, knowing it would be back around on another Monday. To encounter life at scales beyond the human body is the collective dance of music & the beholding of its beauty, together. – Michael Ehlers & Zac Brenner

Los Angeles' Zen 2000 returns with its third release, the third and final chapter in its kick-off string of 7-inches. For this episode, we once again dip into the deep and diverse well of local talent for a single from Tim Jones, a.k.a. Ex.Pontoon.

“Coming Back” is a slinky, off-kilter slow burn, a slinky vocal groove snaking through SoCal G-funk refashioned into a crackly reggae dub wobble. The other side is a delirious and psychedelic trip into the desert, the fiery sun scorching the earth below. Icy guitars and a cavernous arrangement turn the sonic horizon into a shimmering mirage. For the digital bonus, an instrumental version of the B-side, further revealing the nuanced and delicate composition of the piece.

Freedom is both an integral and multi-layered topic for improvised music, describing its mechanics, aesthetics, and values and often an underlying political dimension as well. In the case of free jazz specifically, the word carries additional weight given the music's deep connection to the black liberation movement of the 1960's and 70's.

The passionate and unclassifiable work of Calgary-based improviser Jairus Sharif embraces each of these definitions of freedom and others, albeit strictly on its own personal and idiosyncratic terms. Since early 2020, the 34 year-old autodidact has been generating a steady stream of homespun solo recordings that forge unprecedented connections between hip-hop abstraction, cosmic skronk, outsider jazz, and staunch post-punk DIY ethos.

Leading up to the pandemic, Sharif's immersion in spiritual and exploratory jazz had culminated in him deciding to purchase an alto saxophone. Unbeknownst to him this instrument would be a catalyst for him to discover his own ardently individualistic artistic voice.

Prior to that point, he had always been somewhat of a solitary musical traveler. In 2002, he acquired his first instrument—a pair of Technics 1200s — but struggled to find local collaborators that had equal investment in hip hop culture. Ultimately, Sharif picked up the guitar, turning to the resilient local punk community, that had also nurtured both of his mothers some time earlier.

As Black Lives Matter gained momentum in the wake of George Floyd's murder, Sharif was suddenly flooded with an acute awareness of his own identity. It compelled him to zealously plunge headlong into open-ended spontaneous solo creation. Water & Tools, his strange and stirring debut for Toronto's Telephone Explosion Records (home to full-lengths from the likes of Brodie West's Eucalyptus, Mas Aya, and Joseph Shabason), offers a glimpse into this ongoing hermetic journey.

As Sharif dedicated himself to uncovering his own deeper musical truths, he assembled a home studio in his basement, cobbling together a drum kit from bits his bandmate had left at his house pre-pandemic, chaining effects together and outfitting the entire space with microphones. Somewhere between the chaos of child's treehouse and the tidy import of a shrine, this space (pictured on the album's back cover) consecrated his own imagination. He laid it out to maximize access to any and every tool in his arsenal, providing him a freedom to explore that he had never permitted himself to consummate before.

Within this cozy private universe, his recent purchase—the saxophone—assumed new meaning. It furnished a tangible connection to the black radicalism that mobilized free jazz, but also something far more personal. From a technical standpoint, the instrument was completely unfamiliar to him, yet rather than this being a hindrance to Sharif, his inexperience opened fruitful path forward, unencumbered by preconceptions. Resolving to shirk formal training, convention, and build his own understanding of it from scratch, allowed him to access his most raw, fundamental creative impulses. The Saxophone's inseverable bond with breath compounded this effect, echoing revelatory discoveries he had been making about breathing through yoga, research, and psychotherapy. Of course, the parallels with BLM's harrowing rallying cry—“I can't breathe”—were not lost on him either.

Water & Tools is a dense, contradictory statement with a blustery surface that shelters a soulful heart. It's generous music, exuding profound vulnerability—grappling with the loss of one his mothers, Lisa—all the while brimming with electric wide-eyed wonder. Almost every one of the nine pieces seems to carry some semblance of a groove, while remaining completely untethered from pulse. For Sharif, this collection is an expression of newfound lucidity, however for the listener his sonic concoctions act as powerful psychotropics. At points, there's a timelessness that's conveyed through the music's processional, ritualistic tenor, and yet there's an endless amount of wild, futuristic detail waiting to unspool at any given moment. Similarly, while this recording emerges from Sharif's private pilgrimage and personal emancipation, he also leaves room for collaboration. Woven throughout Sharif's one-man-ensemble textures, one finds Maxmilian Turnbull (of Badge Epoque, U.S. Girls, and Cosmic Range infamy) providing sundry keyboards and treatments, as well as his mixing skills.

Whether conjuring effusive psychedelia or plumbing introspective depths, the music that Jairus Sharif produces is singular, visceral, and wondrously unpredictable. Water & Tools sketches a raw, firsthand account of his nascent explorations within his own unbridled imagination.

“I think it’s a mistake to equate ‘perfection’ with flawlessness. To be human is to be perfectly flawed,” Johanna Warren observes while describing the joys of analog recording. Her new LP Lessons for Mutants was tracked live with a band to two inch tape—a revelatory new way of working for Warren. “Tape forces you to commit to a performance, eccentricities and all. The little glitches and anomalies that we’re tempted to ‘correct’ are often what make a thing magical.”

Lessons for Mutants is the prolific songwriter’s sixth solo LP and her second for Wax Nine/Carpark Records. The album’s running theme of metamorphosis (the title of the closing track, “Involvulus,” is Latin for “caterpillar”) reflects major changes in Warren’s personal life: after a decade of relentless touring, as the world was closing its borders, the American multi-instrumentalist unexpectedly found herself quarantining in rural Wales, where she’s now permanently homesteading.

Though tracking for the new album began in New York in 2018 in tandem with the sessions for 2020’s Chaotic Good, the majority of Lessons for Mutants was recorded in the UK surrounded by sheep, cows and a forager’s paradise of wild edible plants—a far cry from the urban jungle of LA that Warren had most recently called home. The body of work that emerged from this dramatic about-face is Warren’s most dynamic to date, shapeshifting seamlessly from searing punk screams to sparkly psych-folk soundscapes, from the bootleg ambivalence of Dylan’s Basement Tapes to cosmic stoner grooves reminiscent of Black Sabbath’s acoustic moments.

“Sometimes I can relate to myself/ I disassociate more than I’d like to, but what can you do?” Warren croons in “Tooth for a Tooth,” a wistful piano ballad that conjures the grainy romance of some smoke-filled 1940s jazz club. This kind of to-the-bone lyrical honesty has always been one of Warren’s strong suits, but these latest reflections are especially unflinching. Being forced to stop touring brought no shortage of self-examination for Warren, who quickly came to view her history on the road as an addiction from which she’s been detoxing. This sentiment dances through opening track “I’d Be Orange,” a drum-driven indie rock number replete with Beatles-esque male backing vocals: “Thirst for power, hunger for fame/ Always was a junkie for pain,” Warren confesses. This exploration of masochistic ambition and artistic martyrdom overflows into grunge anthem “Piscean Lover”: “It’s alright, we’re not ok/ We burn out not to fade away.”

“There’s this unspoken rule in modern music—modern life, really—that everything needs to be Auto-Tuned and ‘on the grid,’” Warren concludes. “This record is an act of resistance against that. There’s beauty and power in our aberrations, if we can embrace them.”

Das neue Album "SPARK" stellt WHITNEY als zeitgemäßes Syndikat des klassischen Pops vor, dessen Dutzend fantasievoller und liebenswerter Tracks bezaubernde Melodien um Dilla-Beats im Paisley-Stil und üppige Electronic-Elemente wickeln. So überraschend es auch klingen mag - "SPARK" ist für WHITNEY weniger eine radikale Neuerfindung als vielmehr eine ehrliche Abrechnung damit, wie es sich anfühlt, wenn man aus der Vergangenheit in die Gegenwart aufbricht, wenn man die nächsten Schritte im Leben und in der Karriere auf einmal und ganz ohne Entschuldigung macht. "SPARK" behält dabei jedoch die Wärme und Leichtigkeit von WHITNEYs früheren Werken bei. Diese Songs glühen mit der Neuheit des Hier und Jetzt. Die Anfänge von "SPARK" gehen auf den Überraschungserfolg von WHITNEYs Debütalbum "Light Upon the Lake" aus dem Jahr 2016 zurück. Die sanft verzerrten Psych-Folk-Träume fanden schneller ein breites Publikum, als die beiden je erwartet hatten. Nach Jahren des ununterbrochenen Tourens fühlten sie sich gezwungen, denselben Sound auch für ihren Zweitling "Forever Turned Around" (2019) zu verwenden. Je weiter die Aufnahmesessions voranschritten, desto mühsamer wurden diese, da Julien und Max daran arbeiteten, Versionen von sich selbst zu sein, die sie nicht mehr waren; um Songs in einer Form zu schreiben, die einfach nicht mehr passte. Es fühlte sich nicht mehr wie ihre Musik an, sondern lediglich wie ein Überbleibsel ihrer anfänglichen Begeisterung. Sie hatten kaum genug Material oder Energie, um fertig zu werden. Max und Julien wussten, dass eine drastische Veränderung notwendig war, aber sie hätten nie gedacht, dass Lockdowns im Zuge der Pandemie dies erleichtern würden. Wochen nachdem Julien nach dem Ende einer jahrelangen Beziehung nach Portland gezogen war, um einen klaren Kopf zu bekommen, folgte ihm Max in der Hoffnung, mit seinem besten Freund und Co-Autor dem langen Winter in Chicago zu entkommen. Vier Tage später wurden die Flüge gestrichen. Anstehende Tourneen wurden abgesagt. In den nächsten 14 Monaten arbeitete die Band mit einem Eifer und einer Entschlossenheit, die an ihre Anfänge erinnerten, bevor der Erfolg die Erwartungen bestimmte. Aufgenommen in Texas mit den Produzenten Brad Cook und John Congleton ist "SPARK" ein inspirierendes Zeugnis für Durchhaltevermögen und Erneuerung geworden, für beste Freunde, die einander genug vertrauen, um sich gegenseitig auf die andere Seite zu tragen.

Das neue Album "SPARK" stellt WHITNEY als zeitgemäßes Syndikat des klassischen Pops vor, dessen Dutzend fantasievoller und liebenswerter Tracks bezaubernde Melodien um Dilla-Beats im Paisley-Stil und üppige Electronic-Elemente wickeln. So überraschend es auch klingen mag - "SPARK" ist für WHITNEY weniger eine radikale Neuerfindung als vielmehr eine ehrliche Abrechnung damit, wie es sich anfühlt, wenn man aus der Vergangenheit in die Gegenwart aufbricht, wenn man die nächsten Schritte im Leben und in der Karriere auf einmal und ganz ohne Entschuldigung macht. "SPARK" behält dabei jedoch die Wärme und Leichtigkeit von WHITNEYs früheren Werken bei. Diese Songs glühen mit der Neuheit des Hier und Jetzt. Die Anfänge von "SPARK" gehen auf den Überraschungserfolg von WHITNEYs Debütalbum "Light Upon the Lake" aus dem Jahr 2016 zurück. Die sanft verzerrten Psych-Folk-Träume fanden schneller ein breites Publikum, als die beiden je erwartet hatten. Nach Jahren des ununterbrochenen Tourens fühlten sie sich gezwungen, denselben Sound auch für ihren Zweitling "Forever Turned Around" (2019) zu verwenden. Je weiter die Aufnahmesessions voranschritten, desto mühsamer wurden diese, da Julien und Max daran arbeiteten, Versionen von sich selbst zu sein, die sie nicht mehr waren; um Songs in einer Form zu schreiben, die einfach nicht mehr passte. Es fühlte sich nicht mehr wie ihre Musik an, sondern lediglich wie ein Überbleibsel ihrer anfänglichen Begeisterung. Sie hatten kaum genug Material oder Energie, um fertig zu werden. Max und Julien wussten, dass eine drastische Veränderung notwendig war, aber sie hätten nie gedacht, dass Lockdowns im Zuge der Pandemie dies erleichtern würden. Wochen nachdem Julien nach dem Ende einer jahrelangen Beziehung nach Portland gezogen war, um einen klaren Kopf zu bekommen, folgte ihm Max in der Hoffnung, mit seinem besten Freund und Co-Autor dem langen Winter in Chicago zu entkommen. Vier Tage später wurden die Flüge gestrichen. Anstehende Tourneen wurden abgesagt. In den nächsten 14 Monaten arbeitete die Band mit einem Eifer und einer Entschlossenheit, die an ihre Anfänge erinnerten, bevor der Erfolg die Erwartungen bestimmte. Aufgenommen in Texas mit den Produzenten Brad Cook und John Congleton ist "SPARK" ein inspirierendes Zeugnis für Durchhaltevermögen und Erneuerung geworden, für beste Freunde, die einander genug vertrauen, um sich gegenseitig auf die andere Seite zu tragen.

Das neue Album "SPARK" stellt WHITNEY als zeitgemäßes Syndikat des klassischen Pops vor, dessen Dutzend fantasievoller und liebenswerter Tracks bezaubernde Melodien um Dilla-Beats im Paisley-Stil und üppige Electronic-Elemente wickeln. So überraschend es auch klingen mag - "SPARK" ist für WHITNEY weniger eine radikale Neuerfindung als vielmehr eine ehrliche Abrechnung damit, wie es sich anfühlt, wenn man aus der Vergangenheit in die Gegenwart aufbricht, wenn man die nächsten Schritte im Leben und in der Karriere auf einmal und ganz ohne Entschuldigung macht. "SPARK" behält dabei jedoch die Wärme und Leichtigkeit von WHITNEYs früheren Werken bei. Diese Songs glühen mit der Neuheit des Hier und Jetzt. Die Anfänge von "SPARK" gehen auf den Überraschungserfolg von WHITNEYs Debütalbum "Light Upon the Lake" aus dem Jahr 2016 zurück. Die sanft verzerrten Psych-Folk-Träume fanden schneller ein breites Publikum, als die beiden je erwartet hatten. Nach Jahren des ununterbrochenen Tourens fühlten sie sich gezwungen, denselben Sound auch für ihren Zweitling "Forever Turned Around" (2019) zu verwenden. Je weiter die Aufnahmesessions voranschritten, desto mühsamer wurden diese, da Julien und Max daran arbeiteten, Versionen von sich selbst zu sein, die sie nicht mehr waren; um Songs in einer Form zu schreiben, die einfach nicht mehr passte. Es fühlte sich nicht mehr wie ihre Musik an, sondern lediglich wie ein Überbleibsel ihrer anfänglichen Begeisterung. Sie hatten kaum genug Material oder Energie, um fertig zu werden. Max und Julien wussten, dass eine drastische Veränderung notwendig war, aber sie hätten nie gedacht, dass Lockdowns im Zuge der Pandemie dies erleichtern würden. Wochen nachdem Julien nach dem Ende einer jahrelangen Beziehung nach Portland gezogen war, um einen klaren Kopf zu bekommen, folgte ihm Max in der Hoffnung, mit seinem besten Freund und Co-Autor dem langen Winter in Chicago zu entkommen. Vier Tage später wurden die Flüge gestrichen. Anstehende Tourneen wurden abgesagt. In den nächsten 14 Monaten arbeitete die Band mit einem Eifer und einer Entschlossenheit, die an ihre Anfänge erinnerten, bevor der Erfolg die Erwartungen bestimmte. Aufgenommen in Texas mit den Produzenten Brad Cook und John Congleton ist "SPARK" ein inspirierendes Zeugnis für Durchhaltevermögen und Erneuerung geworden, für beste Freunde, die einander genug vertrauen, um sich gegenseitig auf die andere Seite zu tragen.

Demian Sky is a meticulous beatmaker, experienced musician, committed record store
manager, passionate DJ as well as excessive record collector and music enthusiast. His instrumental hip-hop debut »A Kraut Tale« is a narrative sound journey on 18 tracks. The song structures, the musical concept and the overall atmosphere of the record show very clearly that his influences are not only in hip-hop, but also in psychedelic and prog rock of the 60s and 70s. There are also some references to works of DJ Shadow, Dan The Automator, Cut Chemist, Gaslamp Killer and such. It is all the more astonishing that, contrary to possible expectations, all samples come from old German Schlager and Folk music records. The result is not a loose collection of individual pieces of music, but rather a coherent album with its own dramaturgy in two chapters.

(Ricardo Villalobos, Ada & Tolouse Low Trax Remixes)

This EP is more than your usual remix package—»Remixed« is a meeting of kindred, idiosyncratic spirits. Ricardo Villalobos, Ada, and Tolouse Low Trax each give a new spin to one track from »You're Super In Diagonal«, the latest album by Ant Orange. Their versions of »Monogome«, »Flutter«, and »Cracker« are complemented by the brand-new track by the elusive artist, »FFF«.

Villalobos keeps it short and sweet—at least by his standards. His rendition of »Monogome« translates the mutant jungle vibes of the original into an entirely different dialect while maintaining its psychedelic qualities. The chugging, nine-minute-long »Siebhouse Remix« is at once rhythmically intricate and positively disorientating. Ada proves to be as imaginative as ever with her first remix in three years. Her take on the album opener »Flutter« extracts the track’s warmth and transplants it into a laid-back downbeat track. She also incorporates the vocals from »Monogome«, but gives it a very different spin and adds a healthy dose of autotune to it in the process. Dreamy, hazy, blissful.

On the flipside, Detlef Weinrich approaches things very differently. His »Bo Bo Zy Remix« of »Cracker« offers industrial at its most inebriated, dub riddims after a bottle of hard liquor instead of a spliff. Ant Orange’s »FFF« then seems to mediate between those three very different approaches: danceable yet melancholic, challenging yet restrained, it picks up on the underlying concept of »You're Super In Diagonal«, combining IDM’s penchant for complex rhythmic structures and a directness inherent to hip-hop music since the early days of the genre up until the age of UK drill.

Bis ins Jahr 1973 reicht die Historie von Mass zurück, als Günther V. Radny (das V. steht für Viktor) mit Sänger Josef Hartl, Gitarrist Walter Speck und dem Schweizer Drummer Charles Frey (heute als Akron bekannter Autor) die Formation Black Mass startete. Nachdem Speck wegen psychischer Probleme mit tödlichen Folgen ausfiel, ersetzte ihn der Saarbrücker Gitarrist Gerd Schneider, der zuvor mit ScorpionsSchlagzeuger Hermann Erbel alias Herman Rarebell bei RS Rindfleisch gespielt hatte. Schneider musste allerdings nach einem Jahr wegen massiver Drogenprobleme wieder gehen und wurde durch den englischen Gitarristen Mick Thackeray (The Merseys), der in der Schweiz mit den Slaves und Countdowns, und in München mit Abi Ofarim spielte, ersetzt. Zur gleichen Zeit ersetzte Johannes Eder, von der englischen Band I Drive kommend, Drummer Frey, der sich laut Radny „auf den Büchertrip“ begeben hatte. Zudem wurde der Bandname auf Mass verkürzt. In dieser Besetzung nahm MASS im April 1975 im Studio 7o in München mit Dave Siddle am Mischpult,
der unter anderem mit den Beatles, Jimy Hendrix, Jeff Beck, Animals und Deep Purple arbeitete ein Album auf. Aufgrund der Drogenprobleme von Sänger Josef Hartl wurde dieses Album nie veröffentlicht. Leider sind diese Bänder bis heute verschollen. Doch damit nicht genug der unruhigen Zeiten: Ein Jahr später mussten Hartl (Drogenprobleme, verstorben 1998) und Thackeray (übermäßiger Alkoholkonsum), gehen. Mit dem aus Berlin gekommenen Detlef „Dave“ Schreiber als neuem Gitarristen war die Formation als Trio 1976 erst einmal stabilisiert. 1977 entstand das Album „Back To The Music“, welches bei United Artists Records (Hawkwind, ELO, Don
McLean) erschien.

In Folge wurden Mass als teils boogieorientierte Hardrockgruppe, anschließend als Heavy Metal Band bekannt und genießen heute ähnlich wie Accept, Scorpions, Trance oder Fargo Pionierstatus. Nach einer zeitweisen Umbenennung in Monsters kehrte Bandboss Günther V Radny kürzlich mit Mass zurück und lieferte eine gefeierte Reunion-CD. Die Band wurde auch kürzlich von Golden Core/ZYX geehrt, da je ein Track von Mass und Monsters auf der Compilation „Sound & ActionGerman Hardrock & Heavy Metal Rarities Vol. 1“ zu finden ist. Im Zuge dieses Kontaktes kam es zu der längst überfälligen Idee, das Debütalbum von Mass erstmals auf CD (und erneut auf Vinyl) zu bieten.

Évariste is one of the rare specimens of artist-cum-scientists. Among his kind stand others like Pierre Schaeffer, a Polytechnique graduate (an engineer but also the father of musique concrète) and the eccentric Boby Lapointe (graduate of the École centrale and inventor of the Bibi-binaire system, patented in 1968). Évariste's songwriting, joyful and full of energy (albeit extremely critical), shrouds an original tragedy: born in 1943 among résistants, Joël Sternheimer (aka Évariste) grew up without a father, lost to Auschwitz. Although he makes little reference to Jewish culture in his music, his origins leave their mark: in 1974, he sings a Hebrew song on television. In 1966, the young Joël sports Princeton's colourful paraphernalia - that's because he's freshly returning from the US, where he was sent to pursue his research on "particle mass and the interpretation of observed regularities, such as the effects of a wave" (will understand who may). When he gets there the country's in the midst of the Vietnam War. With McNamara keen to find an alternative to the nuclear weapon and calling upon the country's biggest brains to undertake the task, there's a "fund shift" within the university - a diplomatic way to give notice to whoever may not be disposed to follow the government's scheme. Joël, who's under the supervision of a rebellious physician, is dismissed. He regardless keeps following the prestigious seminaries of the Institute for Advanced Study, chaired by Oppenheimer, inventor of the atomic bomb. Likely inspired by the hippie movement and music, Joël buys a guitar and starts playing in Washington Square - after all, Bob Dylan himself started there. He blithely skips Oppenheimer and receives a warm (though surprised) welcome from a crowd thoroughly unfamiliar with French. When the ageing physicist questions him about his decreasing attendance, Joël explains how drawn he is to music, and how he thinks it could help him in self-financing his research. Évariste recalls seeing the sickened man, his face torn by remorse, lighten up to his words and say: "What's keeping you - go for it! If I was still young that's exactly what I'd do." The student takes these words as a testimony from his professor - and it's enough to convince him . And so he takes the leap during the Christmas vacations he spends in Paris. A journalist friend he often sees around the Sorbonne introduces him to the artistic director of Disques AZ. The latter passes the tapes on to the label's boss, Lucien Morisse, also program manager on Europe N°1. Morisse is blown away - and signs him onto the label right away. Michel Colombier, arranger for Serge Gainsbourg and co-author of "Psyché Rock", with Pierre Henry, contributes some of his original ideas to the 7 inch "E=mc2": Évariste's preoccupation with the percussion sound on the track "Le calcul intégral" is that it goes "poom poom" and not "tock tock" - Colombier is aware of the issue and records Évariste's guitar like a percussion in an isolated booth. The organist Eddy Louis, who is to participate, in 1969, to the success of Claude Nougaro's "Paris mai", also appears on the record. It's 1966 and the Antoine phenomenon (signed on Vogue) storms through France. The two singers share similarities: Antoine is an engineer of the École centrale, gifted with a great originality in his song-writing. A godsend for the two labels who turn this resemblance into a commercial strategy, setting them out as rivals. To this day though, Évariste still denies what was little more than slushy tabloïd gossip. Success comes around swiftly and in 1967 Évariste launches into a second 7 inch, "Wo I nee", again arranged by Michel Colombier. Quantum mechanics fans finally get their anthem with "La Chasse Au Boson Intermédiaire" (or the "Intermediary Boson Pursuit"). To sum up what's a boson, say he's a close pal of the meson, photon and other gluons. A few months later, it's May 68 and everything's turned upside down. Évariste writes a series of songs inspired by the events, which he immediately submits to Lucien Morisse. When the man behind "Salut les copains", once married to Dalida, hears the song "La révolution" - a father and son dialogue - he can't take any more: AZ simply cannot release this. But there and then Lucien Morisse makes a gesture which will remain engraved in French music's history: sorry to be unable to officially stand by the singer, he encourages him to self-produce the record, but with his tacit support. He calls the pressing factory and asks they apply the same rate for Évariste as they would for AZ. The singer and his musicians use the same studio as for the previous record, all of them playing for free awaiting a return on investment. Évariste keeps singing at the Sorbonne with "Jussieu's gang" and "the young Renaud" he nicknames "le p'tit gavroche" (or "street urchin"). Renaud volunteers to type the lyrics of the song "La révolution" so that the chorus can be sung and recorded. A boy in the group is related to Wolinski and introduces them. The two get along so well that Wolinski ends up drawing the cover for the record "La révolution", for free. The self-released 7 inch "La révolution / La faute à Nanterre" is sold under the table and door-to-door for half the price of a standard record, on and around the boulevard Saint-Michel; and it runs out fast. In the end, there will be 6 releases of the record, and 25000 copies sold. When the theatre director Claude Confortès decides to adapt Wolinski's drawing series titled "Je ne veux pas mourir idiot" ("I don't want to die a fool"), he asks Évariste to write the original soundtrack. His friend, now cartoonist for Hara-Kiri Hebdo, often promotes him in accordance with a principle dear to him by virtue of which he gives a special place to his friends. Dominique Grange (writer of the song "Nous sommes les nouveaux partisans") soon joins the team. After 150 performances, Évariste leaves his place to Dominique Maurin (brother of Patrick Dewaere). Évariste composes the songs for Claude Confortès' next play, "Je ne pense qu'à ça" ("That's all I think about"), co-wrote with Wolinski in 1969. The comedians of the play record the songs on a 7 inch, with a cover signed, again, by Wolinski. In 1971, French television produces the documentary "Évariste et les 7 dimensions", but doesn't air it. Indeed, the scientific sub-comity of the programming comity (sic) censors the show. The given justification is that "Évariste dangerously mixed science with science-fiction, numerology and other non-scientific disciplines". The underlying motive might have been a will to censor the singer-mathematician's political discourse. In the documentary and among other things, Évariste discusses hierarchy, alienation and revolution. Half a century later the documentary remains invisible, though some excerpts resurfaced in 1992 in the cult show "L'oeil du cyclone", on Canal +. Though flourishing, Évariste's career is nearing its end. 1970 is the beginning of a decade in the course of which he is to make a decisive discovery in the musical and scientific domains. Following this breakthrough, he moves away from self-produced music and gaucho magazines to focus on science. He keeps Oppenheimer's encouraging words in mind, now freely pursuing his research thanks to the sales of his records. Joël realises that when decoding protein sequences, one finds musical sequences recognisable to humans. He names them "proteodies". If, when listening to a proteody, one responds by being so sensitive as to finding it beautiful, then it reveals a deficiency of the related protein - and this peculiar music may be the cure. We could trace back the music history in light of proteins lacking in a given artist, or within a public's majority. You always thought these hysterical groupies who'd throw their underwear with passion and faint in the pit had miraculously appeared because they had never heard anything as wonderful as the Beatles? Make no mistake! For Évariste, it all boils down to an intro's protein content. Indeed, the beginning of their first hit "Love Me Do" corresponds to dopamine, the neurotransmitter linked to compulsive buying. An intro like this could only unleash the fervour of groupies, victims of fashion and biology. Évariste's success is such that the income from his sales gives him the autonomy to which he had aspired when confiding to Oppenheimer. It made it possible for him to pursue his research without any institutional constraints. He now devotes himself to his proteodies, sat in the offices of the European University for Research, just around the corner from the Sorbonne he knew so well. Évariste is no more. Joël regained control of this strange and comical beast.

"Animist Pools" was released July 1, 2016 in a cassette limited edition on Human Pitch records. Originally released as "Hippies Wearing Muzzles", pseudonym of Lee Evans. "A shifting center in a stream of rippling analog tones, the music of Hippies Wearing Muzzles is orchestrated to transfix, echoing sounds heard in nature with modular synthesizers and the powerful element of chance. Evoking the Fourth World Music of Jon Hassel or the kosmische innovations of Cluster, Animist Pools marks its composer, Lee Evans’ first full-length release for Human Pitch. Accompanied its popping, glyphic art design and video, the project’s hypnotic aptitude is heightened to full-effect. Citing his background in painting as a chief influence on his musical approach and thought process, Evans composes with a strong sense of space––each sound an event in a slowly expanding landscape, zooming out to reveal a world of scale in which depth and contrast take precedent over rhythm and melody. Embracing the generative compositional nature of working with the modular synthesizer, Evans himself is the final filter through which all sounds pass. The boundary between programmed repetition and human choice is subtle, but detectable, highlighting Evans’ careful, nuanced guidance of his auto-compositions. The result is ultimately an improvised structure––a living, breathing, musical creature, acting on a mixture of impulse and memory. Animist Pools is a functional body of music for everyday human applications, with the implied invitation to tune out and back in at one’s discretion. The cleanly organized musical space of Animist Pools encourages a tidying up of the mind. On a psychoacoustic level it is one, breathing life into the dusty corners of one’s headspace. Animist Pools is an immersive, meditative, and therapeutic experience."

Who controls the mind controls the body. After three years of experimentation in isolation, Dopplereffekt have emerged with Neurotelepathy, an oracular narrative of cerebral entanglement and advancement. The sleek mathematical models of 2017’s Cellular Automata have evolved into these synaptic interpretations, transferences and modifications, rejecting binary expectations to meditate on the possibilities and pitfalls of what’s to come. With their second LP and fifth release in total on Leisure System, the duo of Rudolf Klorzeiger and To-Nhan have themselves achieved a near-telepathic capacity for collaborative thought and mechanical construction. They continue to use live appearances to present experimental trials of theoretical models, and that effort is heard in the sizzle and swing of the percussive highlights here, programmed with a serious depth and wriggle that reflect both an extension of and return to form. Considerations of the machine-human interface, neurological realities and physical probabilities dominate. But these tracks are economical and precise, glittering with emotional depth and cinematic effects. The album's core, a three-act movement of symphonic uncertainty and revelation, marks one of the pair's most evocative compositions in a career full of them. Territory is monitored, traced and scanned, resulting in unexpected modulations. Underlying systems are questioned, competing mindsets animated and mutated: brain-to-brain, brain-to-machine and beyond. Neurotelepathy processes these transformative mental, psychological and transgenerational states both traumatic and triumphant.

On their third album »Constant Connection«, West Australian-based Erasers create hypnotic compositions of synth, guitar and voice, evoking the vast expanse of their native landscape and the shrouded emotions behind the senses. Comprising of vocalist, synth player Rebecca Orchard and Rupert Thomas on guitar and synths, Erasers have developed their earthly kosmische music into an open language based on drone, variation in repetition and minimal song structures. Based in Perth, regarded one of the most isolated cities in the world, Orchard and Thomas’s music has brewed in the city’s vibrant DIY/Outsider community and evolved into a meditation on landscape, power, the shadow-world of human emotions and stream of consciousness. »Constant Connection«, with its waves of sound and chant-like vocals evokes a trance that suggests an infinity just beyond the senses.

At the heart of each Erasers composition is the interplay between the instrumentation, played with stoic restraint and recorded directly with minimal effects and the transcendental states induced in the listener. It’s a magic that is performed in plain sight and all the more powerful for it. The recognisable vibrato of Fender Rhodes keyboards and simple drum machine loops, the subtle strands of analog synth melodies that snake in and out of the ear, above all the towering encantations of Rebecca Orchard’s undeniably Australian-accented hymns; all of this is presented with minimal ostentation and yet it instantly engenders a dream state, hints at an infinity beyond the material.

Shades of John Cale’s 70s work with Nico, early 70s German synthesists Kluster and even fellow Australians Fabulous Diamonds can be seen as stylistic touchstones for Constant Connection. Where Nico hinted at the macabre and gothic, Rebecca Orchard’s similarly gliding vocal is more zoned in to a kind of oceanic openness, with words becoming chants and spells that suggested themselves to the singer during recording sessions. It’s this hidden hand of improvisatory, automatic writing that lends a sense of expanse to the music. On opener I Understand, while the lyrics might hint at discontent the emotional spectrum it opens up is far more rich and complex, as layered as the waves of droning chords that are the bedrock of each Erasers track. The title track talks of flow, continuum and balance, the protagonist in the song seemingly weightless, gently pulled through a walking reality that borders on dream. In Erasers’ world, it seems, the borders between reality and dream, consciousness and sub-consciousness are blurred and eroded.

On Constant Connection, Erasers’ music might be deeply evocative of landscape but it’s never clear which one. The vast, open terrain that surrounds Perth is dusty, burned by the sun into desert and Constant Connection feels like the product of the heat and relative isolation, the altered states these elements can create. But it’s these altered states of mind that appear to be the real landscape described by Erasers. It’s a landscape that’s hazy, in-and-out of focus, with emotional undertows pushing and pulling you into a weightlessness. On album closer Easy To See the band dispense with percussion all together, field recordings of the water at the edge of their native city ushering in two duetting synths. Orchard’s vocal undulates with the flow, viewing both the geographical and psychological landscape from the perspective of a consciousness not bound by bodies and from a timescale measured in millennia. The album ends as it begins, with field recordings of the real world that the music seeps out from, temporarily, before regressing back into the other realm it feels like it belongs to.

Between these two recorded hints of reality, Erasers manifest a deeply sensual dreamscape that constantly feels like it’s dissolving at its seams. A desert psychedelia emanating from a real world that might not be that real in the first place.

Clear Vinyl Repress!!!

The landmark hundredth single on Phantasy, Erol Alkan’s ‘Automatic’ accompanied with two remixes that further take the London DJ and producer’s psychedelic club vision in distinct directions. The original 12" pressing, limited to 100 and hand-numbered, sold out in less than an hour.

Palms Trax builds on the sensual reverie of Alkan’s production with an electrifying rework full of touches both French and personal. Throwing out a gloriously chic bassline, the Berlin-based producer sprinkles carefully considered sweeps, stabs and filters on a trip to timeless house euphoria.

Mirroring the first ever artist to release on Phantasy in 2007 where Alkan remixed 'Engine', LA Priest proves a perfect candidate to reconstruct the label’s centenary single, a task he approaches with typically esoteric nous. Coaxing a heavenly aura from the original’s glorious loops, Sam Eastgate’s collection of reengineered and self-made analogue equipment soon progresses to melt Automatic’s rhythm into sticky cosmic bliss.

Brand new album by the legendary Swamp Dogg.In 1954, 12 year old
Jerry Williams, then performing under the name Little Jerry Williams,
made his first recording for Mechanic Records, a blues stomp with a
shockingly mature vocal performance - Through the 60"s Williams' career
developed with a number of successful singles, including 'I'm the Lover
Man' and 'Baby You're My Everything', as well as writing and producing
hits for Dee Dee Warwick, Doris Duke, and Patti LaBelle and the Blue
Belles. It was in 1970, however, that the full extent of Williams' eccentric
creative genius was unleashed on the world for the first time, with the
birth of his musical alter-ego, Swamp Dogg
Created to 'occupy the body while the search party was out looking for Jerry
Williams, who was mentally missing in action due to certain pressures, maltreatments and failure to get paid royalties on over fifty single records,' the
Swamp Dogg alias, still in use today, allowed Williams to create music that was
bolder, raunchier, and more honest to his creative instincts. The Dogg's cult
classic debut 'Total Destruction to Your Mind' struck a powerful blend of Williams
classic soulful sensibilities and the blooming psychedelia of the time. Infused in
the swirling brew is Swamp's blink- and- you'll- miss- it humor, a number of acid
odes, and a heavy dose of sharp political insight. Though the psychedelic
strangeness alienated R&B fans of the time, and the authentic R&B infrastructure
prevented it from clicking with hippie audiences, it has retroactively received
legendary status in cult music circles.Now, 50 years after Total Destruction
introduced Swamp Dogg to an unprepared world, and nearly 70 since Little Jerry
Williams went into the studio for Mechanic, Williams brings us I Need A Job' So I
Can Buy More Autotune. A spiritual successor to 2018"s hit Love, Loss and
Autotune, this album continues to push Swamp's sonic exploration of the effect
as one of his many creative weapons. In the extended tradition of Total
Destruction, Swamp Dogg's 2021 LP neatly balances sleek modern production
techniques with that classic Dogg sound that has anchored William's music since
the 70s. Subtle yet soulful drumming, skin- tight horn grooves and meandering
funk guitar leads create a sonic landscape fitting Swamp Dogg's iconic croon,
occasionally drenched in the titular autotune. At 78, Swamp Dogg is as sharp of a
singer and songwriter as ever. His raunchy yet charismatic sense of humor takes
a more forward role on I Need a Job' So I Can Buy More Autotune, with earnestly
delivered lyrics about all day sex and an entire song dedicated to the perils of
'Cheating in the Daylight.' Many of the record's most charming moments emerge
from the juxtaposition of Swamp's left field humor with genuine messages of
love, such as 'She Got That Fire', which weaves descriptions of imagined sex acts,
including but not limited to an encounter involving edible underwear, in between
relatively wholesome proclamations like 'she must be an angel on earth,' and
'when she looks at you, it's like sunshine from her eyes'. I Need a Job does more
than prove that Swamp's still got it, it proves he's still getting better.

"The core of confusion and upheaval that drove some of the band's most fiery earlier work, however, is replaced by a more stabilized undercurrent, a mentality that's reflected in songs not afraid to try new things and honestly explore uncomfortable feelings. When combined with exciting production and songwriting choices, that mindset helps make Feels So Good // Feels So Bad one of the Shivas' best albums.” - AllMusic "Portland, Oregon-hailing psych-surf band The Shivas accomplish another time-traveling, reverb-ridden sound that refuses to get boring. Jared Molyneux’s guitar work knows when to be bright or bashful at the right times, breaking into guitar solos that possess a late-’60s groove… The Shivas seem to blissfully flourish” - Paste "a consistent treat for the ears” - The Vinyl District "Though the psych-tinged guitar riff that drives 'Feels So Bad' was written while The Shivas were still on the road, its lyrics didn’t fall into place until the band was well into lockdown, unsure of when they’d be able to return to their most imperative true love: Live shows... Accordingly, 'Feels So Bad' permeates with a sense of urgent desperation, building off a chugging prog-rock instrumental.” - Consequence (on “Feels So Bad”) "They hooked the audience with their throwback rock sounds. The guitar strums and rhythmic drum beats were layered atop smooth and hallucinogenic vocals. The eyes can tell the take at times and there was a sparkle there that said that the band members just love doing live performances." - California Rocker "This single layers on the fuzz but keeps it dreamy, with an especially sticky guitar riff sure to lodge itself in your brain with minimal effort." - Portland Monthly (on “If I Could Choose”) “'My Baby Don’t' translates the genuine vibrant joy


of the live experience into the studio, bringing the band’s ‘60s garage rock roots, sharp pop vocal harmonies, and fervent performances along for the ride." - Under The Radar "Perfectly straddling the line between a solid-head bopping track and an introspective deep cut, The Shivas’ 'Undone' is a rock & roll gem. The track sounds straight out of the late 60s and fits seamlessly in the Portland band’s electrifying catalog." - The Luna Collective "The first time I clicked play on this track, I knew it was a yes for me." - Ear To The Ground Music (on “If I Could Choose”) "The harmonies would make the “Happy Together” Turtles blush, but the unsettling guitar doesn’t shy away from the woollier implications of the ’60s." - Willamette Week (on “If I Could Choose”) "'Undone' is just the perfect song for the good days and the bad ones." - GlamGlare "another hit" - Austin Town Hall (on “Undone”) "one of the best forthcoming albums of the year" - Austin Town Hall RADIO: #3 Most Added @ NACC - 50 official adds BIO Every working musician has had their life turned upside down by Covid-19. For The Shivas, who had recently released a new LP and normally keep a rigorous touring schedule, it was a particularly screeching halt. “We were about to go to SXSW, the following weekend was Treefort in Boise, and then we were going to open for our friends’ band on tour in the US before going to Europe,” Jared Molyneux remembers. Then everything just stopped. They were faced with a dilemma. “It forced us to adapt or just quit,” Molyneux says. “The reality is that shows are our job.” In truth, live shows aren’t just The Shivas job: they are the band’s greatest love. Shivas shows are bombastic, explosive and thoroughly communal live rock and roll experiences where barriers between the performers and their audience seem to dissolve into the sweat and sound. The stage—or the basement, or the living room—that’s The Shivas’ true element. It’s their raison d’etre. It’s their religion. The band’s live urgency may have been born in 2006, when the band’s young members—who began booking West Coast tours while still in high school—waited without fanfare on sidewalks or in parking lots, before being rushed onstage for their sets at 21-and-up clubs. Maybe it developed a little later, as The Shivas blasted their way through Portland’s storied and unsanctioned mid-aughts house show scene. Whatever the origin of their famously kinetic live experience, it’s the show that keeps them coming back after over 1,000 performances spread over 25 countries in 15 years. In those 15 years, The Shivas have grown tight-knit as a group. Guitarist/singer Jared Molyneux, bassist Eric Shanafelt and drummer/singer Kristin Leonard have all been with the band since its earliest days; guitarist Jeff City, another high school friend, joined in 2017. Together they’ve learned to thread a seemingly impossible needle: They’ve honed and tightened their performances without sacrificing the element of surprise that makes each show special. And despite touring and recording for most of their lives, they speak about their project with humility, in the DIY vernacular of their Pacific Northwest upbringing. They talk up their own favorite bands, play all-ages shows as much as possible, and bring a sort of blue-collar humanism to the live performances they relish so much. “We just want to make people feel good,” Molyneux says. “We want them to forget they have to work tomorrow.” Kristin Leonard elaborates, “The live show is all about that feeling of catharsis—in ourselves and in everyone who comes out. We’re creating this safe space where we can all let go. Where we can exhale. And it feels really good when we are able to facilitate that.” So when Covid hit, the band knew it was time for transformation. After a settling realization that live music would be grounded for the foreseeable future, The Shivas booked significant studio time with Cameron Spies, who also produced the 2019 Dark Thoughts LP. They also transformed their lives: three of the band’s four members found work with a local nonprofit serving unhoused Portland residents. They became engaged in protests and fundraisers for social justice. They spent a whole summer actually living in Portland, settling into the city they had always called home, but that sometimes felt like a temporary stop between tours. “We got into a more community-minded headspace,” Leonard says. “And that did give us some purpose. It felt cool to see everybody come together to stick up for what they believe in. It feels like an incredibly formative last twelve months.” The album that emerged from this new moment finds The Shivas reborn as a band that seems seasoned and perfectly at home with itself. There is a calm, even a hopefulness, to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad that sounds new. The Shivas didn’t write or record the album with a particular theme in mind, but one seems to have emerged: where Dark Thoughts was about confronting your demons with fearless self-examination, much of Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is about what happens once you find that peace: how being honest with yourself changes your relationships and your priorities. “I do think it’s about acceptance,” Leonard says. “There’s a weird relaxation that comes with being at peace with things you can’t control or have regrets about.” Maybe that’s why the squealing, riff-laden break-up song opener, “Feels So Bad,” is such a shock to the system. But it’s more of an exorcism than a melodrama: more a song about not being able to do the thing you love (in


this case, playing live shows) than splitting with a partner. “It’s like part of you goes to sleep,” Leonard says. As bandmates who are also in a long-term relationship, Molyneux and Leonard know that their songs might be seen as glimpses into their personal lives, but their songwriting is rarely autobiography. Leonard compares their process to something more akin to screenwriting. “There’s bound to be some autobiographical material in there,” she says. “But the common denominator is the exploration of universal feelings: ones that everyone experiences or can relate to.” The goal is to use the music to drill down into something genuine and sincere, beyond genre or stylistic affectation. That’s where The Shivas have arrived. Whatever growth led the band to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad, plenty of their fascinations remain. They’re still turning love songs into psychedelic, transcendent epics. “Tell Me That You Love Me” subverts doo-wop extravagance and dabbles in Flamenco rhythms. “Rock Me Baby” is a bubblegum anthem soaked in so much reverb that we might just be hearing it from the stadium nosebleeds. “Sometimes” is almost impossibly huge, like a witchy outtake from the Brill Building era. Those songs feel like logical expansions from a band that has always excelled at a timeless sort of rock and roll that tinkers with and explodes elements from every era. But on the towering and mournful “You Wanna Be My Man,” a slow-burning six-minute shoegaze prayer for a higher sort of love, there is a level of emotional nuance that feels like something altogether revolutionary. It’s there again in the stripped-down vulnerability of the album-closing elegy “Please Don’t Go.” Yes, Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is an album about acceptance. Sometimes that acceptance feels enlightened and sometimes it feels like the end result of a lot of kicking and screaming. The Shivas have adapted in both of those ways. With new tours scheduled and a new album on the way, they’re still hoping--like all of us--for a new era of vibrant, cathartic live music. The lessons they learned from having their normal upended, though, have only helped them grow

Dark cineastic soundscapes meet african Jazz at times reminicent of Mulatu.
Ahmed Malek was one of the most important musicians of the Algerian scene of the 1970s. His sountrack works that were composed for various Algerian movies of the time fuse Arabic influences with jazz, psych and funk influences Original copies of his vinyl releases have been sold for enormous amounts. For this release we combined the strongest tracks from his releases with a selection of unreleased material straight from the families archive. The vinyl edition comes with a 8 page 12' size booklet, the cd version with a 16 page booklet with lot of unseen photos, an interview with the artist from 1978 and an introduction to Algerian cinema.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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