Introducing the first release from Italy's Ellito's Bakery label, a fresh EP packed with four electrifying tracks by Elliot P, tailored for the dance floor. With a keen focus on stirring emotions, these club-ready tunes are crafted to immerse listeners in a sonic journey. —White Label Hand stamped 12"
Yellow Coloured Vinyl[29,37 €]
Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?
You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.
On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.
The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.
Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.
So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:
I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”
Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.
Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,
“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”
And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.
Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.
Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?
You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.
On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.
The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.
Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.
So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:
I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”
Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.
Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,
“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”
And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.
Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.
Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?
You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.
On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.
The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.
Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.
So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:
I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”
Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.
Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,
“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”
And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.
Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.
Hot ‘n’ fresh outta the oven well, ok, the studio then comes
the second release on our §edgling imprint Bakery Dubs,
sister label to Neighbour Recordings. Mixing the ingredients
this time are Base Pilot, aka label co-owners and production
tag-team of Quantec and Birke TM. Both have form when it
comes to the craftier side of house and it shows here with
two tasty treats; Another Day, a cultured and organic cut that
teases and tempts with a deliciously infectious groove, while
Basement 97 is a heady brew of classic deep house infused
with a hefty pinch of Base Pilot §avourings.
REISSUE!
Multi-instrumentalist, composer, producer and DJ, Adam Gibbons (aka Lack of Afro) is back in considerable style with 'Hello Baby' - his fifth studio record and the first Lack of Afro album to be released on his own LOA Records imprint. 'Hello Baby' is a genre-bending colossus of an album that is packed full of Adam's trademark multi-instrumental goodness, heavy drums, percussion-packed production, and ear for a good tune.
Introducing 'A Drama on Richard Street' - an album born from a journey of rediscovery and creative challenge. Influenced by a yearning for simplicity and heartfelt melodies, this collection is a love letter to soulfulness. Dive into the soulful world of Menahan Street Band's 'The Crossing' and the rejuvenating energy of 17-year-old inspiration. Join us on this musical voyage, where we stepped away from complexity to embrace the beauty of simplicity. 'A Drama on Richard Street' is a testament to the power of soulful music and the joy of heartfelt melodies. Listen and let your soul groove to its rhythm.
Following his well-acclaimed previous EP ‘A Drama On Richard Street’, supported by TSF Jazz, Somewhere Soul, and BBC 6, Tremendous Aron introduces his new project ‘Carlos & Lola’, a 6-track EP. This latest endeavor, akin to "A Drama On Richard Street," reflects a pivotal moment in the German producer's musical journey. Feeling stagnant while studying music, he instinctively reverted to the music he cherished during his teenage years, ranging from the eclectic offerings of "Daptone Records" to artists like The Menahan Street Band. Inspired by the documentary "Summer of Soul," Tremendous Aron incorporates fragments from it into his compositions, alongside influences from Molly Lewis, The Altons, and Ruben Gonzales. This EP promises a captivating blend of soulful melodies and vibrant rhythms, showcasing Tremendous Aron's evolution as an artist.
While autumn is slowly getting its grip on the city of Vienna, the Luv Shack bakery hasn’t been sitting still, and now there’s a delicious new batch of Disco Biscuits!
This time with lots of surprising new flavors by Rising Seed (“Back For More” - Indian spice, extra Disco sprinkles!), B.Visible (“Suffering of KP” - bold and crispy with a bittersweet aftertaste!), Peletronic (“Drifting” - robust and very deep, good for late hours!) and Jon Gravy (“When You Leave”) - LOTS of sugar, 90s bubblegum!
Get yourself a biscuit, will ya?
"The Cream Tape" is a gritty yet stylish showcase from Toronto’s The 6th Letter and Buffalo’s Billie Essco, entirely produced by Raz Fresco and released through his BKRSCLB label. Raz's signature production, which layers vintage soul and jazz samples with dusty drums and atmospheric textures, provides a cinematic backdrop that suits both MCs’ lyrical swagger and contemplative tones.
With sharp verses from Raz Fresco himself on select tracks, the album has a distinct cohesion that blends lyrical dexterity with refined production, and also featurwes Jae Skeese, a rising force from Conway The Machine's Drumwork crew, adding a potent Buffalo flavor.
The artwork by Harvey Dentist perfectly complements the album’s vibe, referencing the bold aesthetics of streetwear and modern art, with nods to BAPE and KAWS that echo the album's sense of style and substance. A project that brings together the best of both cities, "The Cream Tape" fuses grimy lyricism with artful production, creating a polished yet raw addition to the hip-hop landscape.
Lost Tapes Showcase; released on 6th October 2023, was short in the making, when Marcus I visited the Bakery Studio, Manchester for 1 week in June 2017 to voice the album. The album was then lost to the Bakery vaults for a long 6 years! It is a international collaboration with Marcus I hailing from Spain, bringing his lyrics and vocal styles to the UK with additional over-dubs (backing vocals and Kette drum) laid down at Golden Hen Studios in Madrid. Working together before the visit, Marcus I sent Al Breadwinner 4 acoustic guitar demos which he then built into rhythm tracks ready for voicing. The other 2 tracks were preexisting rhythm tracks from the Breadwinners archive that just seemed to fit the lyrics Marcus I had written.
Hi-Dynamic Instrumental & Dub is the latest release from Breadwinners records released on 2nd May 2025. With 11 tracks in total, it has been manufactured in the UK at Press On Vinyl. After a series of vocal-led albums on Breadwinners records, this is first full length instrumental based dub album in a number of years. Featuring the legendary Vin Gordon on Trombone and two of the finest saxophonists in the north west of England in Nat Birchall and Stally. Drawing on rhythm tracks created over the last few years by Al Breadwinner at his analogue Bakery Studio in Manchester, the album utilises various vintage outboard effects and lost dub techniques to create this “Hi-dynamic” sound.
Following releases on Sähkö Recordings and The Trilogy Tapes, "Fever of the World" is the Soda Gong debut by Memotone, the nom de plume of UK-based multi-instrumentalist Will Yates. As a collection, it is both intimate and expansive, like the feeling of gathering one's thoughts before setting off on a long journey or committing to an irrevocable course of action. Throughout, Yates' talents as both player and sound designer are on full display, as are the sonic signatures that have come to characterize the Memotone catalog: low-lit, ECM-inflected noir; evasive and evolving loop-based accretions; and mellifluous mosaics of keys, guitar, reeds, and percussion. It is patient and focused music, built around production techniques and compositional ideas that have been perfected both in studio and in live performance over a period of several years. "Catherine, On Fire" sets the scene, one of two languid, longform selections, and develops slowly from a spare, harmonic-laden guitar loop into a bed of rippling textural ambience and woozy clarinet filigree. Later, "The Bus" and "When the Bakery Has What You Want and It's Cheap" conjure images of rain-streaked windows, fanciful baked confections, and grey skies broken finally by sunlight. Warm, generous, and comfortable in its own skin, this is music that reminds us that when it feels easy to resign ourselves to world weariness, we should pause for a moment and listen to the rustle of the leaves. The wind knows not to linger.
A holy grail for fans of French boogie, early hip hop, Arabic funk and Balearic bops,"Ettika" has been seriously sought after since Vidal Benjamin found it in the 1€ bin back in 2006. Teasing the ears of the underground via Vidal's 'Balearic Nightmare' mix for Noncollective, copies of the original were soon snapped up completely, and the later adopters were sated by a Blackdisco edit from Alexis Le-Tan (himself gifted Vidal's second copy), which is now also rare as hen's teeth. The fervour for the track is easy to understand. Underpinned by an endlessly buoyant bass groove, chanted female vocals dart out the speakers like a post- modern mantra while synth vamps flare in stuttering stereo.
Middle-Eastern motifs add an air of mystery, but this truly belongs in a dance floor utopia. That the track was the product of a 'back-to-work' scheme aimed at unemployed immigrant youth in Rouen only adds to the appeal. Led by teacher Bernard Guégan, a quartet of students delivered lyrics in French and Arabic inspired by their rejection letters, serving a little social commentary and a lot of funk. If you're mad on Ahmed Fakroun and Shams Dinn, or even those folks in the Bush of Ghosts, then this is a must have for you.
Archeology isn't just about excavation, there should be interpretation too, and in this case it comes from Italian duo Hear & Now and Leeds' The Veteran Delinquents. The former furnish the 12" with two radical takes, the dreamy downtempo stroll of their French Remix - all unhurried percussion, Gilmour-riffing and coastal élan - and the peaktime pump of their Arab Remix, which transports the original vocal into a land of desert new beat and Balearic trance with a little space left for some frazzled fretwork. If you've followed their work with Claremont you know the quality on show.
The Veteran Delinquents, the collaborative vehicle of Leeds stalwarts Craig Christon and Tim Hutton, condense a lifetime of club experiences into their remix, establishing the infectious groove of the original before subverting with chugging bass and winking acid, all augmented with their own slick synth work. The original was an all time classic at Craig's Joe's Bakery nights way back when, and this new interpretation is both respectful and revolutionary.
A holy grail for fans of French boogie, early hip hop, Arabic funk and Balearic bops,"Ettika" has been seriously sought after since Vidal Benjamin found it in the 1€ bin back in 2006. Teasing the ears of the underground via Vidal's 'Balearic Nightmare' mix for Noncollective, copies of the original were soon snapped up completely, and the later adopters were sated by a Blackdisco edit from Alexis Le-Tan (himself gifted Vidal's second copy), which is now also rare as hen's teeth. The fervour for the track is easy to understand. Underpinned by an endlessly buoyant bass groove, chanted female vocals dart out the speakers like a post- modern mantra while synth vamps flare in stuttering stereo.
Middle-Eastern motifs add an air of mystery, but this truly belongs in a dance floor utopia. That the track was the product of a 'back-to-work' scheme aimed at unemployed immigrant youth in Rouen only adds to the appeal. Led by teacher Bernard Guégan, a quartet of students delivered lyrics in French and Arabic inspired by their rejection letters, serving a little social commentary and a lot of funk. If you're mad on Ahmed Fakroun and Shams Dinn, or even those folks in the Bush of Ghosts, then this is a must have for you.
Archeology isn't just about excavation, there should be interpretation too, and in this case it comes from Italian duo Hear & Now and Leeds' The Veteran Delinquents. The former furnish the 12" with two radical takes, the dreamy downtempo stroll of their French Remix - all unhurried percussion, Gilmour-riffing and coastal élan - and the peaktime pump of their Arab Remix, which transports the original vocal into a land of desert new beat and Balearic trance with a little space left for some frazzled fretwork. If you've followed their work with Claremont you know the quality on show.
The Veteran Delinquents, the collaborative vehicle of Leeds stalwarts Craig Christon and Tim Hutton, condense a lifetime of club experiences into their remix, establishing the infectious groove of the original before subverting with chugging bass and winking acid, all augmented with their own slick synth work. The original was an all time classic at Craig's Joe's Bakery nights way back when, and this new interpretation is both respectful and revolutionary.
Argentina artist Ignacio Sandoval - aka YOTO - presents his debut release on Kit Records. 'Levure' is a love letter to Sandoval's favourite childhood bakery.
Primarily a singer and drummer, YOTO takes cues from South American folk music legends Violeta Parra and Atahualpa Yupanqui. His music is built around crunchily harmonic choir-like vocals, perforated with tumbling guitar and percussion lines.
Like fellow Buenos Aires boundary-pushers Aylu and Vic Bang, YOTO's view zips with an ever shifting focus. These wry gear changes, fermented samples and knee-wiggling tempos evoke a microbiome of ecstatic activity.
Recommended if you like Elysia Crampton, The Residents, Panda Bear.
The result of blood, sweat, tears, and introspection that have allowed for Stalley
to become a fully realized artist. At one point on "Bear Trap," Stalley evokes a car
ride bumping the Gorillaz and the Bobby Womack, and his latest feels like a
perfect hip-hop middle ground between the two. Pressed on Six Spoke Blue and
White color vinyl.
Die Musik von Surprise Chef basiert auf dem Hervorrufen von Stimmungen; ihre lebendigen Arrangements nutzen Zeit und Raum, um Klanglandschaften zu schaffen, die den Zuhörer in ihre Welt einladen. Der unverwechselbare Sound des Quintetts speist sich aus der Filmmusik der 70er Jahre, der funkigeren Seite des Jazz und den Samples, die die Grundlage des Hip-Hop bilden. Sie verschieben die Grenzen des instrumentalen Soul und Funk mit ihrem eigenen Ansatz, der durch unzählige Stunden im Studio, das Studium der Meister und - vielleicht am wichtigsten - durch die "Tyrannei der Distanz", die ihrer Musik eine einzigartige Perspektive diktiert, verfeinert wurde. Mit ihren ersten beiden Alben All News Is Good News und Daylight Savings haben sich die aus der Nähe von Melbourne, Australien, stammenden Musiker eine eingefleischte Fangemeinde erspielt und ihren Sound von ihrem Heimstudio aus in alle Ecken der Welt gebracht. Die Band ist nun bei Big Crown Records unter Vertrag und reiht sich damit in eine Reihe zeitgenössischer und klassischer Sounds ein, die die Musik von Surprise Chef seit ihrer Gründung im Jahr 2017 beeinflusst haben. Surprise Chef besteht aus Lachlan Stuckey (Gitarre), Jethro Curtin (Keyboards), Carl Lindeberg (Bass), Andrew Congues (Schlagzeug) und Hudson Whitlock - das jüngste Mitglied, das von der Percussion über das Komponieren bis zum Produzieren alles macht. Die selbsternannten "moody shades of instrumental jazz-funk" haben von allem etwas: druckvolle Drums, mitreißende Keys, eine Rhythmusgitarre, die man auf einer Studio One-Platte hören könnte, und Flötenlinien, die von einer Blue Note-Session stammen könnten. Aber wenn man einen Schritt zurücktritt und sich die Gesamtheit ihres Sounds und ihrer Herangehensweise anschaut, dann hört und sieht man eine Gruppe, die mehr ist als die Summe ihrer Teile. In vielerlei Hinsicht verkörpert Surprise Chef die Redewendung "the benefits of limits". Ihre Möglichkeiten waren insofern begrenzt, als es in Südost-Australien nicht viele Leute gab, die instrumentalen Jazz/Soul/Funk machten oder darüber sprachen, geschweige denn Platten herausbrachten. So mussten sie ihren Sound und ihre Herangehensweise in einer Art kreativer Isolation entwickeln, in der sich ein kleiner Kreis von Freunden und gleichgesinnten Musikern gegenseitig befruchtete. "Da wir in Australien so weit weg sind, bekommen wir nur flüchtige Einblicke in die Ursprünge dieser Musik", sagt Stuckey. "Aber als wir ein Label wie Big Crown hörten, wurde uns zum ersten Mal bewusst, dass man frische, neue Soulmusik machen kann, die nicht super retro oder einfach nur nostalgisch ist." Dieser Ansatz ist auf ihrem neuen Album Education & Recreation deutlich zu hören. Tracks wie "Velodrome" verbinden klobige Drums mit einer ohrwurmverdächtigen Synthie-Linie, die so klingt, als würde sie auf einer Ultimate Breaks & Beats-Compilation zu finden sein, während Nummern wie "Iconoclasts" zeigen, dass sie ein Händchen für die geschmackvolle Nutzung von Raum haben. Vom erdrückenden Intro von "Suburban Breeze" bis zum schwebenden, sanften Bop von "Spring's Theme" haben Surprise Chef ein Album zusammengestellt, das dich durch Höhen und Tiefen der Emotionen führt. Ein lebendiger, die Fantasie beflügelnder Sound! Dem weiten Spektrum dieser Instrumentalmusiksparte wird mit diesem neuen Album ein modernen Klassiker hinzugefügt.
Die Musik von Surprise Chef basiert auf dem Hervorrufen von Stimmungen; ihre lebendigen Arrangements nutzen Zeit und Raum, um Klanglandschaften zu schaffen, die den Zuhörer in ihre Welt einladen. Der unverwechselbare Sound des Quintetts speist sich aus der Filmmusik der 70er Jahre, der funkigeren Seite des Jazz und den Samples, die die Grundlage des Hip-Hop bilden. Sie verschieben die Grenzen des instrumentalen Soul und Funk mit ihrem eigenen Ansatz, der durch unzählige Stunden im Studio, das Studium der Meister und - vielleicht am wichtigsten - durch die "Tyrannei der Distanz", die ihrer Musik eine einzigartige Perspektive diktiert, verfeinert wurde. Mit ihren ersten beiden Alben All News Is Good News und Daylight Savings haben sich die aus der Nähe von Melbourne, Australien, stammenden Musiker eine eingefleischte Fangemeinde erspielt und ihren Sound von ihrem Heimstudio aus in alle Ecken der Welt gebracht. Die Band ist nun bei Big Crown Records unter Vertrag und reiht sich damit in eine Reihe zeitgenössischer und klassischer Sounds ein, die die Musik von Surprise Chef seit ihrer Gründung im Jahr 2017 beeinflusst haben. Surprise Chef besteht aus Lachlan Stuckey (Gitarre), Jethro Curtin (Keyboards), Carl Lindeberg (Bass), Andrew Congues (Schlagzeug) und Hudson Whitlock - das jüngste Mitglied, das von der Percussion über das Komponieren bis zum Produzieren alles macht. Die selbsternannten "moody shades of instrumental jazz-funk" haben von allem etwas: druckvolle Drums, mitreißende Keys, eine Rhythmusgitarre, die man auf einer Studio One-Platte hören könnte, und Flötenlinien, die von einer Blue Note-Session stammen könnten. Aber wenn man einen Schritt zurücktritt und sich die Gesamtheit ihres Sounds und ihrer Herangehensweise anschaut, dann hört und sieht man eine Gruppe, die mehr ist als die Summe ihrer Teile. In vielerlei Hinsicht verkörpert Surprise Chef die Redewendung "the benefits of limits". Ihre Möglichkeiten waren insofern begrenzt, als es in Südost-Australien nicht viele Leute gab, die instrumentalen Jazz/Soul/Funk machten oder darüber sprachen, geschweige denn Platten herausbrachten. So mussten sie ihren Sound und ihre Herangehensweise in einer Art kreativer Isolation entwickeln, in der sich ein kleiner Kreis von Freunden und gleichgesinnten Musikern gegenseitig befruchtete. "Da wir in Australien so weit weg sind, bekommen wir nur flüchtige Einblicke in die Ursprünge dieser Musik", sagt Stuckey. "Aber als wir ein Label wie Big Crown hörten, wurde uns zum ersten Mal bewusst, dass man frische, neue Soulmusik machen kann, die nicht super retro oder einfach nur nostalgisch ist." Dieser Ansatz ist auf ihrem neuen Album Education & Recreation deutlich zu hören. Tracks wie "Velodrome" verbinden klobige Drums mit einer ohrwurmverdächtigen Synthie-Linie, die so klingt, als würde sie auf einer Ultimate Breaks & Beats-Compilation zu finden sein, während Nummern wie "Iconoclasts" zeigen, dass sie ein Händchen für die geschmackvolle Nutzung von Raum haben. Vom erdrückenden Intro von "Suburban Breeze" bis zum schwebenden, sanften Bop von "Spring's Theme" haben Surprise Chef ein Album zusammengestellt, das dich durch Höhen und Tiefen der Emotionen führt. Ein lebendiger, die Fantasie beflügelnder Sound! Dem weiten Spektrum dieser Instrumentalmusiksparte wird mit diesem neuen Album ein modernen Klassiker hinzugefügt.
Hella Love, the Hardly Art debut from Marinero, is an album about closing a chapter. It’s Jess Sylvester’s grand farewell, and love letter to his hometown and the place he grew up, The San Francisco Bay Area, before relocating to Los Angeles after finishing his debut release. Using the moniker Marinero (which means “sailor” in Spanish), Jess Sylvester was drawn to this name as a means to honor his parent’s stories -- his father, a sailor, and mother, a Mexican-American who grew up in San Francisco. This record blends many worlds from beginning to end, and as you go deeper it hits harder. It’s his goodbye to The Bay. Pulling sonic influences from classic Latin American groups and international composers from the 60’s & 70’s: Los Terricolas, Ennio Morricone, Esquivel, Carole King and, Serge Gainsbourg Hella Love finds Sylvester fusing classical arrangements with a variety of different genres, evoking a sonic nostalgia blended with other contemporary artists like Chicano Batman, Connan Mockasin, and Chris Cohen. The album was written, played, and produced by Jess Sylvester with help from Bay Area engineer Jason Kick (Mild High Club’s Skiptracing) at Tunnel Vision and Santo Recording in Oakland, California. On the standout single “Nuestra Victoria,” Sylvester shares “It’s my way of talking about gentrification in SF, or specifically the Mission where my mom and family grew up. The song is about a bakery, or panaderia called La Victoria, and was a place where my mother and tias went growing up, a place I also went to that is no longer there.” It was one of the oldest Mexican-American businesses in SF and I wanted to honor it”. “Through the Fog” highlights Sylvester’s exploration of his influences from the Tropicalia movement, weaving bossa rhythms with lush percussion and orchestration. Using SF’s infamous fog as a metaphor for “tough times”, Sylvester expands that it is a dedication to his friends and family who have helped him get through substance abuse issues, heartbreak, and other painful experiences. “There are a few easter eggs in the lyrics for Bay Area folks or people who have followed my music in the past but it’s mostly about getting through something difficult with the love and support from the homies and fam.” The album’s title track, “Hella Love,” summarizes both of his parent’s stories of how they ended up in the bay. The first verse is about his father’s voyage out west as a sailor during the late ’60s while the second verse follows his mother’s experience moving to The Mission District when she was a young girl.
It’s difficult to classify or generalize about Marinero’s music or identity. To him, it’s important to let his music do the talking. “I’m Chicanx, a bay native, biracial, and I’ve luckily gotten to travel and spend time in Mexico and I feel like my personality and specific musical tastes come through on this album. More than these generalizations we often make, I’m just a human who can both fear and love, and I’m just hoping to connect with others to share optimism and experience joy and laughter, even if for a moment.” Lean your ear to the ground because Jess Sylvester has been many things and will continue to share his journey. It is clear this gifted creator has more to say.
-Luz Elena Mendoza
Mic Mills, "Global Skywatch" boss dog, friend and family man gives us "ILIO002 - Variety Boy". Mic Mills, originally established with the now infamous "Untzz 12 Inch" and "Big Doint" labels, brings us an EP that is as versatile as the title suggests. Take a plunge with us through dubs, drums, synths and acid lines. Joined by long time amigo "Furious Frank" on the A1, Variety Boy then ebbs and flows from start to finish with low end subs, catchy hi's, addictive percussion and lots of "love" to keep you dancing until the cows come home.
Don't snooze, grow wings and take flight.
Limited to 300 copies - ILIO
This is the first release on secret operations by Seba since his album in march 2013. It's a four track EP available as part 1&2 on two separate vinyls or as a four track digital download.
The EP includes "Mesmerism", played by Doc Scott on three separate Future Beats sessions, and "Life is" which was the climax of Seba's set at Sun&Bass set in 2013. "Science Fiction" and "Physickl" are both brand new techno inspired tracks straight fresh from the secret operations bakery!
