Buscar:bear bones

On the 19th of October 2021 Random Numbers invited Bear Bones, Lay Low and Polonius to play at the Circolo Dev. The show was recorded now here it is in a beautiful cassette edition (Limited copies available).

Side A is a shamanic potion cooked by improvisation artist Bear Bones, Lay Low. 45 minutes of slow brewing of hypnotic sounds originated from tapes, synths and various effects. A meditating process that slowly morphs into a tribal dance that ends with estatic liberation.

On side B 37 minutes of the magical improvisation of Polonius, that after a slow spelling brings you in to his world of samples and repetition, in a schizophrenic representation of modern world. A live composition on a laptop and a keyboard where every sample is played live.

in we go... the title track is lifted from the great 'Visions from Limbus' casette (2015), while Kraut pleaser, 'Welson', and the ultra doomy Etranglé Par Tes Limbes are more recent creations to flow from Ernesto González's psychadelic fingers....

Utter presents Marshall Jefferson's previously unreleased meditation opus 'Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation' alongside two remixes from French production maestro Joakim.

Marshall Jefferson: Chicago House music pioneer, creator of the anthemic ‘Move My Body’, an original collaborator of Adonis, Ce Ce Rogers and Roy Davis Jr., production mastermind of countless dancefloor classics such as Phuture’s ‘Acid Tracks’, Sterling Void’s ’It’s All Right’, Hercules’ ‘7 Ways’… and the soothing voice behind a 36 minute healing meditation guide. Yes, really.

But let’s rewind, slightly.

In 2017, Marshall was approached and encouraged by Ian ‘Snowy’ Snowball to write his autobiography and the pair set about putting Marshall’s account of the history of House music together. The book, ‘Marshall Jefferson: Diary of a DJ’ was published in 2019.

Following the book’s release, Ian and Marshall's collaboration continued and during the pandemic an outlandish idea arose to create a piece of music combining Ian's interest in meditation (he runs Club Chi specialising in Shibashi Qigong - a form of Tai Chi Qigong - which is a gentle form of movement therapy/exercise) and Marshall's willingness to experiment musically to see what might be possible.



The result is ‘Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation’, where Marshall vocalises Ian’s lyrics in his instantly recognisable voice. The keen-eared out there may also recognise aspects of the music itself as a stripped back, lengthened and far mellower version of Marshall’s 1985 obscurity ‘Vibe’:

“I would take tapes to the Music Box and Ron Hardy would play my music. ‘Vibe’ was one of those tracks. I recorded ‘Vibe’ in 1985, but it became one of my tracks that I just forgot about until some guy on Facebook sent me a recording of it that was taken from a club. The only person who I ever gave a recording of ‘Vibe’ to was Ron Hardy. The other people I know who had copies of the track were Gene Hunt and Emanuel Pippin (DJ Spookie).

"The original version of ‘Vibe’ was made using a Roland 707, Roland JX-8P keyboard and a Roland 727 drum machine. I was still working at the Post Office at the time, and this was pre-‘Move Your Body (The House Music Anthem)’. ‘Vibe’ has the building blocks for ‘Move Your Body’ because it was using the instruments on the track that I discovered what I could do with the bass sound, to make a track like ‘Move Your Body’.”



Still, Ian’s initial intention for ‘Yellow Meditation’ was function and it was designed to be a ‘Sequential Relaxation Exercise’ focusing on the Solar Plexus. Bearing this in mind, Marshall took a bare-bones and hypnotic approach to this particular re-recording of ‘Vibe’ so that the voice takes centre stage and listeners (hopefully) find themselves on a meditative journey. In fact, this long-form track was always intended as a private tool purely for meditation at Club Chi rather than released to the public - after all, Marshall had also created and released a more drum heavy, ’traditional’ club-focused 'Vibe Three' instrumental version for that very purpose - but a chance airing of the full 36 minute version changed its path.



Much like those 1985 ‘Vibe’ cassettes, Marshall had sent the track to a few close contacts, one of whom was Kieran at Phonica Records who aired it over the shop’s basement soundsystem. Its unorthodox nature caught the ear of colleague Alex (of Utter) and the seeds of a physical release were planted.

Eventually, with the full-version carefully whittled down to a vinyl friendly length of 24 minutes, full track parts in hand and a b-side to fill, Alex sought out one of his favourite producers to take up the remix reigns: Joakim. The Tigersushi co-founder and Crowdspacer boss has a long history of boundary-pushing remixes that straddle both dancefloor functionality and experimentation. This time the original material resulted in Joakim coming up with a number of ideas and he finally delivered two versions - one club focused (‘Vertical’), the other more introspective and meditative (‘Horizontal’), both of which appear on the final 12”.

The limited edition 12” also includes a download code giving buyers access to all of the vinyl tracks plus an 18 minute extended version of Joakim’s ‘Horizontal’ remix, its instrumental counterpart (for those who can live without Marshall's voice) and full 12 minute acapella (for those who can't!)


Alex

a A1. Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation (Edit) 24:00
b B1. Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation (Joakim's Vertical Remix) 9:09
9:05

We Release JAZZ is honored to announce the release Shoals, a magnificent full-length album from Earth and Bones, the duo consisting of Liran Donin and Idris Rahman of acclaimed jazz outfit Ill Considered. Their majestic offering is available in an ultra limited edition 180g vinyl LP housed in a heavyweight sleeve with an original artwork by Dutch artist Vincent de Boer.

Carried by Liran Donin on double bass and shakers, and Idris Rahman on bass clarinet, tenor sax, shell, and Tibetan singing bowl, the 5-track album is a deeply entrancing meditative-shamanistic-ambient-jazz journey. The members of Earth and Bones poured their heart and beliefs into the project:

"From shamanic cultures and forgotten traditions, we delved deeper searching our ancient healers, exploring who they heal, what they heal, and how they do it. We wanted to focus on the poisonous human attributes that affect our animal kingdom, as well as how we can heal ourselves by balancing darkness and light. We express our forever gratitude to our community, tribe and animal kingdom.

Despite how governments and multinational corporations try to isolate us from one another, we can't make it alone without our shoal. To truly have a shoal, we need to accept each other for what we are."

Their friend, Vincent de Boer, delivers the visual side of Shoals:

"The living world and all its particular (eco)systems s increasingly a source of inspiration for my art process. When Idris and Liran showed me the new recording and the thoughts behind it, it immediately fell onto good grounds. A school of fish is eminently a metaphor for collective improvisation, something we are all engaged in on an artistic level. The group decisions go beyond causality, the energies provide a simultaneous awareness for choices of direction. The space between the entities thus form a new entity. Non-matter becomes matter and vice versa: an area where music and visual art meet.

I drew a school of fish and tried to make it look like a fixed entity, so that multiple lives become one collective. As a bird and perhaps as a rock or cave: outside becomes inside becomes outside: so that all domains of the living world are linked: the swimming, the crawling, the flying and the playing. The spiritual connection with the music of Idris and Liran is grand, the places it takes me are at once very distant and extremely close. From otherworldly to within the body: the opposites as well as the harmonies are of shamanistic proportions."

Points of interests

For fans of ambient-jazz, meditative music, shamanistic rituals, improvisational process, deep vibes, Ill Considered, Vincent de Boer, heartful connections, healers and healing, the body, the otherworld, life within and outside.

.Super limited edition vinyl of Earth and Bones' debut !

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Auf dem vierten Album von Chrystia Cabral als SPELLLING verwandelt die Künstlerin aus der Bay Area ihr gefeiertes Avant-Pop-Projekt in einen Spiegel. Cabrals Texte auf „Portrait of My Heart“ befassen sich mit Liebe, Intimität, Angst und Entfremdung und tauschen den allegorischen Ansatz vieler ihrer früheren Werke gegen einen Blick in ihr menschliches Herz. Die thematische Unverblümtheit des Albums spiegelt sich in den Arrangements wider und macht es zum bisher schärfsten und direktesten SPELLLING-Album. Vom düsteren Minimalismus ihrer frühesten Musik über den üppig orchestrierten Prog-Pop von „The Turning Wheel“ aus dem Jahr 2021 bis hin zu diesem neuen energiegeladenen Ausdruck ihres kreativen Geistes hat Cabral immer wieder bewiesen, dass SPELLLING alles sein kann, was sie braucht. Der Titeltrack mit seinem treibenden Drum-Groove und dem hymnischen Refrain von „I don't belong here“ ist die stärkste Verkörperung der Hinwendung des Albums zu emotionaler Direktheit. Sobald sich die Hauptmelodie herauskristallisiert hatte, nutzte Cabral den Song als Werkzeug, um ihre Ängste als Performerin zu verarbeiten, und entschied sich für eine straffere, rockigere Komposition. Diese Transformation spiegelt die allgemeine Verlagerung des Albums in Richtung Energie und Unmittelbarkeit wider, die von der Kernband Wyatt Overson (Gitarre), Patrick Shelley (Schlagzeug) und Giulio Xavier Cetto (Bass) vorangetrieben wird, deren Zusammenarbeit neue Konturen des SPELLLING-Sounds offenbart. Cabral schreibt und demontiert immer noch alleine, aber die Präsentation der Songs für „Portrait of My Heart“ vor ihren Bandkollegen hat ihr geholfen, die späteren lebendigen, organischen Formen zu entdecken. Das gilt auch für die Zusammenarbeit mit einem Produzententrio: Drew Vandenberg, der Tontechniker von „The Turning Wheel“, Rob Bisel, der mit SZA zusammenarbeitet, und Psymun, der Produzent von Yves Tumor. Wichtige Gastbeiträge prägen das Album zusätzlich. Chaz Bear (Toro y Moi) liefert SPELLLINGs erstes Duett auf „Mount Analogue“, Turnstile-Gitarrist Pat McCrory verwandelt Cabrals ursprüngliches Piano-Demo für „Alibi“ in die knackige, rifflastige Version, die auf dem Album zu hören ist, während Braxton Marcellous von Zulu „Drain“ seine schlammige Wucht verleiht. Diese Teile fügen sich nicht nur nahtlos in das Album ein, sie fühlen sich wie ein integraler Bestandteil seines Universums an. Letztendlich ist Portrait of My Heart jedoch niemandes Platte, sondern die von Cabral. Sie zieht furchtlos den Vorhang über Teile ihrer selbst zurück, die sie in SPELLLING noch nie gezeigt hat - ihre Gefühle als Außenseiterin, ihre übermäßig vorsichtige Art, die Art und Weise, wie sie sich rücksichtslos in intime Beziehungen stürzen kann, um sie dann genauso schnell wieder abzubrechen. „Es ist wie ein offenes Tagebuch all dieser Empfindungen“, sagt sie.

Repress!

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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

On Chrystia Cabral's fourth album as SPELLLING, the Bay Area artist transforms her acclaimed avant-pop project into a mirror. Cabral's lyrics for Portrait of My Heart tackle love, intimacy, anxiety, and alienation, trading the allegorical approach of much of her previous work for something pointed into her human heart. The album's thematic forthrightness is echoed in its arrangements, making it the sharpest, most direct SPELLLING album to date. From the dark minimalism of her earliest music to the lavishly orchestrated prog-pop of 2021's The Turning Wheel to this newly energetic expression of her creative spirit, Cabral has proved again and again that SPELLLING can be whatever she needs it to be. The title track, with its propulsive drum groove and anthemic chorus of "I don't belong here," is the most potent embodiment of the album's turn toward emotional directness. Once the main melody emerged, Cabral used the song as a tool to process her anxiety as a performer and opted for a tighter, more rock-oriented composition. This transformation mirrors the album's broader shift toward energy and immediacy, driven by the core band of Wyatt Overson (guitar), Patrick Shelley (drums), and Giulio Xavier Cetto (bass), whose collaboration uncovers new contours of the SPELLLING sound. Cabral still writes and demos in isolation, but presenting the songs for Portrait of My Heart to her bandmates helped her discover their eventual lively, organic forms. So did working with a trio of producers_The Turning Wheel mixing engineer Drew Vandenberg, SZA collaborator Rob Bisel, and Yves Tumor producer Psymun. Key guest contributions further shape the album. Chaz Bear (Toro y Moi) delivers SPELLLING's first duet on "Mount Analogue," Turnstile guitarist Pat McCrory turns Cabral's original piano demo for "Alibi" into the crunchy, riff-y version that appears on the record, while Zulu's Braxton Marcellous gives "Drain" its sludgy heft. These parts aren't just incorporated seamlessly into the album; they feel like an integral part of its universe. Ultimately, though, Portrait of My Heart is nobody's record but Cabral's. She fearlessly draws the curtain back on parts of herself that she's never included in SPELLLING before_her feelings of being an outsider, her overly guarded nature, the way she can throw herself recklessly into intimate relationships and then cool on them just as quickly. "It's very much an open diary of all those sensations," she says.

Auf dem vierten Album von Chrystia Cabral als SPELLLING verwandelt die Künstlerin aus der Bay Area ihr gefeiertes Avant-Pop-Projekt in einen Spiegel. Cabrals Texte auf „Portrait of My Heart“ befassen sich mit Liebe, Intimität, Angst und Entfremdung und tauschen den allegorischen Ansatz vieler ihrer früheren Werke gegen einen Blick in ihr menschliches Herz. Die thematische Unverblümtheit des Albums spiegelt sich in den Arrangements wider und macht es zum bisher schärfsten und direktesten SPELLLING-Album. Vom düsteren Minimalismus ihrer frühesten Musik über den üppig orchestrierten Prog-Pop von „The Turning Wheel“ aus dem Jahr 2021 bis hin zu diesem neuen energiegeladenen Ausdruck ihres kreativen Geistes hat Cabral immer wieder bewiesen, dass SPELLLING alles sein kann, was sie braucht. Der Titeltrack mit seinem treibenden Drum-Groove und dem hymnischen Refrain von „I don't belong here“ ist die stärkste Verkörperung der Hinwendung des Albums zu emotionaler Direktheit. Sobald sich die Hauptmelodie herauskristallisiert hatte, nutzte Cabral den Song als Werkzeug, um ihre Ängste als Performerin zu verarbeiten, und entschied sich für eine straffere, rockigere Komposition. Diese Transformation spiegelt die allgemeine Verlagerung des Albums in Richtung Energie und Unmittelbarkeit wider, die von der Kernband Wyatt Overson (Gitarre), Patrick Shelley (Schlagzeug) und Giulio Xavier Cetto (Bass) vorangetrieben wird, deren Zusammenarbeit neue Konturen des SPELLLING-Sounds offenbart. Cabral schreibt und demontiert immer noch alleine, aber die Präsentation der Songs für „Portrait of My Heart“ vor ihren Bandkollegen hat ihr geholfen, die späteren lebendigen, organischen Formen zu entdecken. Das gilt auch für die Zusammenarbeit mit einem Produzententrio: Drew Vandenberg, der Tontechniker von „The Turning Wheel“, Rob Bisel, der mit SZA zusammenarbeitet, und Psymun, der Produzent von Yves Tumor. Wichtige Gastbeiträge prägen das Album zusätzlich. Chaz Bear (Toro y Moi) liefert SPELLLINGs erstes Duett auf „Mount Analogue“, Turnstile-Gitarrist Pat McCrory verwandelt Cabrals ursprüngliches Piano-Demo für „Alibi“ in die knackige, rifflastige Version, die auf dem Album zu hören ist, während Braxton Marcellous von Zulu „Drain“ seine schlammige Wucht verleiht. Diese Teile fügen sich nicht nur nahtlos in das Album ein, sie fühlen sich wie ein integraler Bestandteil seines Universums an. Letztendlich ist Portrait of My Heart jedoch niemandes Platte, sondern die von Cabral. Sie zieht furchtlos den Vorhang über Teile ihrer selbst zurück, die sie in SPELLLING noch nie gezeigt hat - ihre Gefühle als Außenseiterin, ihre übermäßig vorsichtige Art, die Art und Weise, wie sie sich rücksichtslos in intime Beziehungen stürzen kann, um sie dann genauso schnell wieder abzubrechen. „Es ist wie ein offenes Tagebuch all dieser Empfindungen“, sagt sie.

Auf dem vierten Album von Chrystia Cabral als SPELLLING verwandelt die Künstlerin aus der Bay Area ihr gefeiertes Avant-Pop-Projekt in einen Spiegel. Cabrals Texte auf „Portrait of My Heart“ befassen sich mit Liebe, Intimität, Angst und Entfremdung und tauschen den allegorischen Ansatz vieler ihrer früheren Werke gegen einen Blick in ihr menschliches Herz. Die thematische Unverblümtheit des Albums spiegelt sich in den Arrangements wider und macht es zum bisher schärfsten und direktesten SPELLLING-Album. Vom düsteren Minimalismus ihrer frühesten Musik über den üppig orchestrierten Prog-Pop von „The Turning Wheel“ aus dem Jahr 2021 bis hin zu diesem neuen energiegeladenen Ausdruck ihres kreativen Geistes hat Cabral immer wieder bewiesen, dass SPELLLING alles sein kann, was sie braucht. Der Titeltrack mit seinem treibenden Drum-Groove und dem hymnischen Refrain von „I don't belong here“ ist die stärkste Verkörperung der Hinwendung des Albums zu emotionaler Direktheit. Sobald sich die Hauptmelodie herauskristallisiert hatte, nutzte Cabral den Song als Werkzeug, um ihre Ängste als Performerin zu verarbeiten, und entschied sich für eine straffere, rockigere Komposition. Diese Transformation spiegelt die allgemeine Verlagerung des Albums in Richtung Energie und Unmittelbarkeit wider, die von der Kernband Wyatt Overson (Gitarre), Patrick Shelley (Schlagzeug) und Giulio Xavier Cetto (Bass) vorangetrieben wird, deren Zusammenarbeit neue Konturen des SPELLLING-Sounds offenbart. Cabral schreibt und demontiert immer noch alleine, aber die Präsentation der Songs für „Portrait of My Heart“ vor ihren Bandkollegen hat ihr geholfen, die späteren lebendigen, organischen Formen zu entdecken. Das gilt auch für die Zusammenarbeit mit einem Produzententrio: Drew Vandenberg, der Tontechniker von „The Turning Wheel“, Rob Bisel, der mit SZA zusammenarbeitet, und Psymun, der Produzent von Yves Tumor. Wichtige Gastbeiträge prägen das Album zusätzlich. Chaz Bear (Toro y Moi) liefert SPELLLINGs erstes Duett auf „Mount Analogue“, Turnstile-Gitarrist Pat McCrory verwandelt Cabrals ursprüngliches Piano-Demo für „Alibi“ in die knackige, rifflastige Version, die auf dem Album zu hören ist, während Braxton Marcellous von Zulu „Drain“ seine schlammige Wucht verleiht. Diese Teile fügen sich nicht nur nahtlos in das Album ein, sie fühlen sich wie ein integraler Bestandteil seines Universums an. Letztendlich ist Portrait of My Heart jedoch niemandes Platte, sondern die von Cabral. Sie zieht furchtlos den Vorhang über Teile ihrer selbst zurück, die sie in SPELLLING noch nie gezeigt hat - ihre Gefühle als Außenseiterin, ihre übermäßig vorsichtige Art, die Art und Weise, wie sie sich rücksichtslos in intime Beziehungen stürzen kann, um sie dann genauso schnell wieder abzubrechen. „Es ist wie ein offenes Tagebuch all dieser Empfindungen“, sagt sie.

Lamina is the moniker of multi-disciplinary French artist Clarice Calvo-Pinsolle. 'Olas Curativas' is Calvo-Pinsolle's first vinyl release. Taking influence from the natural world, works of hydrofeminism, and experiences with hypnotism, Calvo-Pinsolle prolifically performs and records her own refreshing take on ambient music alongside working as an established installation artist. She has previously released two full-length albums on Orila Records & Complex Holidays, as well as a joint LP with Kitchen Cynics, and a collaboration project with Bear Bones Lay Low under the moniker XAXI. Her discography is fleshed out by various contributions to compilations, including the opening track 'Soupire' on Twin System's 'Tendrils Lurched Purple In The Slush' tape series. Radio play of Laminas music includes Graham Dunning / NTS, Emil Mirzoev/ Kiosk Radio, Laura de Diaz / CAMPO BASE, xYsse / Radio Vacarme, Melina Despretz / Kiosk Radio, Chris Penty Alvarez / Noods Radio, Leoni Leoni / Radio Alhara, Laura Connant / Ola Radio, Bravo Tounky / Rootradio. Performances of material from 'Olas Curativas' include shows at Cafe Oto / London, Cosmos / Lisboa, TV Control Center / Athens, Iklektic / London, Braille Satellite / Lithuania, Slug Gallery / Leipzig, Spazio X / Treviso, Krut Festival / Ghent, Schiev Festival / Brussels, Woodblocks Festival / Brussels.


'Olas Curativas' was developed and written in 2022, with these pieces first heard as live jams at shows mainly around Brussels and Portugal, before being honed into this mesmeric full-length LP. Calvo-Pinsolle's effective use of manipulated field recordings and tape loops provide a backdrop for harmony that leans towards the mystical, brimming with melodies equal parts haunting and enchanting. Alongside harvesting a sound library over the past several years, Calvo-Pinsolle has developed an approach to composition using field recordings that informs both her musical and sculptural work. These recordings are transformed much like the ceramics seen in the record artwork; shaped, chiseled, and transformed. These ceramics were crafted and painted by Calvo-Pinsolle herself, and hints at this bridge between her two disciplines of music and sculpture. Although an expansive realm, throughout Calvo-Pinsolle's output there are consistent moods and qualities that are absolutely distinctive to this artist's creative worldview, and of which 'Olas Curativas' is a perfect encapsulation.

Craig Clouse has devoted the past several decades to exploring a wide range of avant-garde avenues for his brainchild Shit & Shine. The monolithic riffs of raw and powerful psych'n'roll hysteria, the freeform dance miasma, sub-heavy electronica and the blissful stupidity crafted for ecstatic ascension: all perfectly-placed in the idiosyncratic world of Shit & Shine. There's also fertile soil for twisted noises in their lowest form, often obscured by groovier comrades in S&S releases yet vitally important for the substance of Clouse's compositional carcass and OOH-sounds has given him the required space to stretch out his longtime interest in developing loose structures and crackling landscapes to transcend his rhythmic comfort zone.

Making an enthusiastic transgression into noisy tones, "Joy Of Joys" has a friendly way of presenting difficult material. The rough and ready cheapo electronics sparkle in full electrifying mode, welding an ascetic gamut of aural hypnotics with a wormhole of uncompromising loop brut. Clanks, bangs, twangs and creeping, ragged globs of sound bloom on the bones of repetition to focus on the swinging stream of dirty anarchy. Stepping out of any context and genre disciplines, S&S finds new sonic trajectories in "Joy Of Joys" which perfectly sit in-between a wobbly cabal of international sub-underground acts: the idiot-avant strategies of LAFMS, early Mego bad digitalia, no-brow enthusiasm of Wolf Eyes family, micro-DIY ethos of Chocolate Monk and the sheer hellish nonsense of US noise circa '00s.

Clouse was already established as a landscape painter with a series of faux naïf paintings charmingly accompanying his releases. With his heart full of passion for abstract minimalism, he continued these narrative forms but was always in search of the confidence to paint non-figurative art. The first step into the chaotic abyss is coming from his sonic side by abandoning the beat and riff layers of his previous works to complete nakedness and reductionist courage. At once Clouse makes an evolutionary lurch into extremes as well as taking us back to basic forms in "Joy Of Joys". He creates an entire new parallel world to Shit & Shine with his maverick imagination presenting us with one of the most mutant releases to bear his name. Arthur Kuzmin

Repress!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LP includes Poster.

When Sacred Bones first began their Mort Garson reissue project in 2019 with a proper reissue of Plantasia, the Garson-naissance began in earnest. Soon after, you could hear Mort Garson and his Moogs bubbling up on TV shows, documentaries, podcasts, hip-hop tracks, or anywhere else, the man a cultural phenomenon once more.

Like a perennial that returns with each new spring, the Mort Garson archives have brought to bear yet another awe-inspiring bloom.

Journey to the Moon and Beyond finds even more new facets to the man's sound. There's the soundtrack to the 1974 blaxploitation film Black Eye (starring Fred Williamson) alongside some newly unearthed music for advertising. Just as regal is "Zoos of the World," where Garson soundtracks the wild, preening, slumbering animals from a 1970 National Geographic special of the same name.

The mind reels at just what project would have yielded a scintillating title like "Western Dragon," but these three selections were found on tapes in the archive with no further information. The crown jewel of the set is no doubt Garson's soundtrack to the live broadcast of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, as first heard on CBS News. That's one small step for man, one giant leap for Moogkind. But for decades, this audio was presumed lost, the only trace of it appearing to be from an old YouTube clip. Thankfully, diligent audio archivist Andy Zax came across a copy of the master tape while going through the massive Rod McKuen archive.

So now we get to hear it in all its glory. Across six minutes, Garson conjures broad fantasias, whirring mooncraft sounds, zero-gravity squelches, and twinkling études. It showcases Mort's many moods: sweet, exploratory, whimsical, a little bit corny, weaving it all together in a glorious whole.

Maybe at the time it scanned as crass and opportunistic for Garson to apply his keyboards to subjects like astrological signs, the occult, hippiedom, houseplants, or the moon landing. But more than most other electronic music pioneers of his ilk, Garson foresaw the integration of such electronics into our daily lives, how they would allow us to engage with the world.

LP includes Poster.

When Sacred Bones first began their Mort Garson reissue project in 2019 with a proper reissue of Plantasia, the Garson-naissance began in earnest. Soon after, you could hear Mort Garson and his Moogs bubbling up on TV shows, documentaries, podcasts, hip-hop tracks, or anywhere else, the man a cultural phenomenon once more.

Like a perennial that returns with each new spring, the Mort Garson archives have brought to bear yet another awe-inspiring bloom.

Journey to the Moon and Beyond finds even more new facets to the man's sound. There's the soundtrack to the 1974 blaxploitation film Black Eye (starring Fred Williamson) alongside some newly unearthed music for advertising. Just as regal is "Zoos of the World," where Garson soundtracks the wild, preening, slumbering animals from a 1970 National Geographic special of the same name.

The mind reels at just what project would have yielded a scintillating title like "Western Dragon," but these three selections were found on tapes in the archive with no further information. The crown jewel of the set is no doubt Garson's soundtrack to the live broadcast of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, as first heard on CBS News. That's one small step for man, one giant leap for Moogkind. But for decades, this audio was presumed lost, the only trace of it appearing to be from an old YouTube clip. Thankfully, diligent audio archivist Andy Zax came across a copy of the master tape while going through the massive Rod McKuen archive.

So now we get to hear it in all its glory. Across six minutes, Garson conjures broad fantasias, whirring mooncraft sounds, zero-gravity squelches, and twinkling études. It showcases Mort's many moods: sweet, exploratory, whimsical, a little bit corny, weaving it all together in a glorious whole.

Maybe at the time it scanned as crass and opportunistic for Garson to apply his keyboards to subjects like astrological signs, the occult, hippiedom, houseplants, or the moon landing. But more than most other electronic music pioneers of his ilk, Garson foresaw the integration of such electronics into our daily lives, how they would allow us to engage with the world.

Laurel Premo's latest solo work presents original and traditional music
voiced on finger-style electric guitar and lap steel
Perhaps by its most honest classification "roots guitar," the sonic vocabulary of
'Golden Loam' is informed by guitar's antecedents in American traditions - fiddle
and banjo, the rhythms, melody and intonation therein, as well as that music's
relationship to movement. Glowing, droning, tugging, scraping, revolving, Premo
bears renewed electric dirt, the golden loam layered by centuries of folk.
Following 'The Iron Trios' (2019), Premo's sophomore release builds on the dark
roots world she arranged, with seeking, untethered delivery and a masterful use
of space, on a dynamic wave of warm, gritty sustain. Laurel's vocals on two
pieces "Hop High" and "I Am A Pilgrim" are traditional calls beaconing the guitar's
response, and fold in timberly like additional instrumental lines sustaining the
drone. 'Golden Loam' was self produced and recorded during the pandemic
lockdown of summer/fall 2020. The majority of the record is solo performance,
but two featured collaborators are woven in to this embodied rhythmic collection.
Percussive dancer Nic Gareiss (Michigan) appears on tracks 5 & 9, and bones
player Eric Breton (Quebec) on track 3. Laurel Premo is a Michigan-based artist
who has been writing, arranging music and touring since 2009 with vocal and
instrumental roots acts. She is internationally known from her duo Red Tail Ring.

In the late 90’s and early aughts, internet video capabilities like Real Video and Quicktime were expanding, proving the early prophecy that ‘anyone would be able to have their own television channel on the internet’ was indeed coming true. After the critical success of Mulholland Drive, director David Lynch doubled down on the medium, funneling virtually all of his time into personally animating, filming, and scoring content for his own internet destination: davidlynch.cm. It was fertile and limitless ground for a creative like Lynch, allowing him to return to the days of his experimental film roots, where it was actually possible for him to have his hands on every element of the process.

It was out of this newfound digital freedom that the early seeds of Inland Empire were born, evolving and fissuring from an internet-bound experiment itself, into something much more expansive. The film collated a variety of ideas and working methods that the recent web paradigm had nurtured in Lynch, one of which was an increased frequency of his own solo music productions. Having finished constructing his own personal recording studio in 1998, he was no longer tethered to the scheduling and high premiums of rented studio time and was free to accelerate his musical experimentation without constraint. As a direct result of this was a unique shift in Lynch’s musical trajectory; a shift that would eventually bear multiple albums and a short film featuring a lounge-crooning monkey. In the first weeks of 2005, Lynch would record a blues instrumental and instead of getting someone else to sing on the song, he would sing, via a formant and pitch-altering piece of equipment known as the Boss VT-1. It was because of the davidlynch animated series “Dumbland” that the director had discovered the device that would enable him to be ‘any character he needed.’ With “Ghost of Love,” Lynch was experimenting with bringing those ‘characters’ into his own musical compositions. Intrue Lynch fashion, it’s difficult to know which inspired which: did “Ghost of Love” birth a scene in Inland Empire, or did the film’s ideas birth the song? Just as “In Heaven” had served to encapsulate Eraserhead, “Ghost of Love” managed to encapsulate Inland Empire allowing its listener to close their eyes and immediately channel the film’s images and mood onto the screen of the mind.

“Ghost of Love” is backed with “Imaginary Girl,” originally released via CD single in 2006 are now finally seeing their vinyl and digital release for the first time in celebration of Inland Empire’s 2022 theatrical re-release. Both are signature cinematic Lynchian classics that feature Lynch on guitar and vocals, accompanied by his long-time collaborator and Sacred Bones staple Dean Hurley on bass.

Repress !

Where We're Calling From
The Liminal Zone: Reflections on Duval Timothy’s Sen Am
Lamin Fofana

Sen Am is an enduring and tender album, rich and beguiling and generous in a quiet way. Over the last few years, I find myself returning to it, listening and absorbing, reflecting on the voices and working through the multiple layers of feelings and themes it announces with confidence and equanimity. Notions of care and contradiction, expressions of joy and desire and the underlying feeling of unease and turmoil; there is an urgent appeal to the listener for generosity, to strengthen our capacity to hear multiple voices simultaneously, to exist in multiple places at once.

Duval Timothy’s music was dropped into our world from another realm sometime in the spring of 2017. We received the call and we answered it. The rhythm and spirit was transmitted via London’s NTS Radio on the Do!! You!!! Breakfast Show with Charlie Bones and a short while later we were listening to the first vinyl edition of Sen Am in our living room in Berlin. The record got a lot of plays (at home and at some shows, before and after performances). It was like sunlight filtering through a cracked window and remaining there for a moment, dancing. Blue music emanating from a liminal zone, an in-between space, somewhere on the outskirts of Freetown, or rural Sierra Leone, or the outer edges of South London, or Bath, UK, or some undisclosed orbit, unfixed location. The music is soaked in diasporic experiences. It refuses to settle but still invites us to enter and stay awhile in that zone, where multiple forms exist (all) together with jazz, hip-hop, various strands of expressive electronics and experimental music all breathing together and moving around. It is a portal to a place of possibilities, a space for building and repairing possible and lost connections. But life in that liminal zone is precarious; it is life under duress; under pressure – not merely the pressure to produce a presentable, categorizable, and salable body of work, but the pressure that compels us to experiment and create new concepts and things that will help us imagine a different existence, a way out of the turbulence.

Freetown is a marvellous and sometimes sad place. It is one of those unmistakable locations inscribed diasporic memory; a place that touches you, a place that holds you and demands you bear witness: witness to pain, poverty, joy and desire. You remember the voices and the eyes of people even in momentary encounters. In Sen Am, you hear not only Duval’s recollections and sounds of Freetown, you hear family and friendship, people coming together and forming bonds, creating surrogate families. Forging community wherever you go is a practice, and community is at the core of this music. It’s in all the voices, from Emmerson and 6pac to Aminata and Aruna. It opens up a space for Black voices, for Sierra Leonean voices, and those voices extend through the succeeding projects, the 2 Sim EP and the album Help, and all that radiates from Duval’s Carrying Colour imprint.

Thank you for the invitation to write about the album Sen Am, on the occasion of its re-release which also coincides with the release of the exquisite double 7” Smɔl Smɔl with cktrl — a wonderful piece which calls on the listener to play both records at the same time to hear the music or play them separately and hear different versions. Duval is strengthening us, encouraging us to feel comfortable with discomfort, with incompleteness, with the hard-to-understand. This is a beautiful thing.

People On Sunday is an original soundtrack to the 1930 silent film variously known as Menschen am Sonntag, Les Hommes le Dimanche and People On Sunday. The film is a key work of interwar German cinema, based on a screenplay by Billy Wilder.

Like Domenique Dumont’s earlier albums, Comme Ça and Miniatures De Auto Rhythm, People On Sunday evokes a more innocent, carefree time conjured by wistful electronics full of warmth and melody. Touching on the hazy exotica that made those two records so alluring, here Dumont draws on his love of classical music, library music and early electronic experimentation to create a timeless, optimistic sound. If his past productions possessed a certain Mediterranean quality, across these 13 new pieces Dumont’s shimmering synth-pop has an enchanting simplicity.

Part documentary, part fiction, the film People On Sunday follows a group of characters going about their business in Weimar-era Berlin over one weekend and shows normal life in Germany before dictatorship.

“The film shows people and their surroundings shortly before all of it was destroyed,” says Dumont. “Ironically, watching this movie with the eyes of today, it looks more surreal than documentary. And I can’t help but think and reflect about the times we are living in now. We might have similar desires people had a hundred years ago, but we now have a completely different approach to life.”

*People On Sunday is the third album by Domenique Dumont.
*Freshly signed to The Leaf Label, having previously released two albums on Parisian electronic/dance label Antinote.
*It follows on from the cult success of synth-pop exotica albums Comme Ça (2015) and Miniatures de Auto Rhythm (2018)The album was originally conceived as a soundtrack to the classic 1930 German silent film known variously as Menschen am Sonntag, Les Hommes le Dimanche and People on Sunday.
*It was originally performed at Les Arcs Film Festival, with plans for further film festival concerts when regulations allow.
*Watch the video for first single ‘People On Sunday’ featuring excerpts from the film.
*Artwork and design by artist Edward Carvalho-Monaghan.
*Support from Pitchfork, Resident Advisor, FACT Magazine, Gorilla vs Bear, KEXP, BBC 6 Music’s Tom Ravenscroft, Mary Anne Hobbs and NTS Radio’s Charlie Bones, among others.
*Dumont recently remixed Domino’s Jaakko Eino Kalevi, and has also reworked tracks by Cola Boyy and Mark Barrott.
*Festival appearances include Mutek Montreal, Dekmantel, Nuits Sonores, Milhões de Festa and the Venice Biennale.

Mort Garson’s road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades’ long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (i.e., your great-grandparents’ record collection) to arrive at Music from Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold.

Music from Patch Cord Productions shows that Garson’s knack was to exist in both worlds, super-commercial and waaay out. He cut delirious minute-long blasts for commercials (as to whether or not they were actually ever aired remains unknown) and spacecraft-hovering études. Were there really account managers out there in the early ’70s that gave the greenlight to these commercial compositions which seemed to anticipate everyone from John Carpenter to Suicide? What were these campaigns actually for, Soylent Green? Regardless, Mort’s jingle work laid the groundwork for the future. As Robert Moog himself noted: “The jingles were important because they domesticated the sound.” Via Garson’s wizardry, the synthesizer transcended novelty to ubiquity and dominance.

Other curios and questions abound. How did Garson’s arrangement work for Arthur Prysock’s satiny body worship album This Is My Beloved transmogrify into the body-snatcher pulses of “This is My Beloved”? Are the two pieces even related? What is the IATA code for the airport of “Realizations of an Aeropolis”? What denomination is the “Cathedral of Pleasure”? If “Son of Blob” sounds like a hallucinatory melted ice cream truck theme, what on earth does Blob’s father sound like? Every sound wrangled out of that Moog by Garson pushes things further and further out.

Of course, these are all questions that may never get answers, as Garson wasn’t the most organized modern day composer, busy as he was conjuring strange new realms with his circuit boards and synths. He worked and wrote right up until his death in 2008, his daughter and Sacred Bones still going through all of the material left behind. He wouldn’t live to see it, but his renaissance was just around the corner, the seeds that had been scattered in record bins around the world suddenly coming to bear fruit. Take a bite!

Mort Garson’s road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades’ long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (i.e., your great-grandparents’ record collection) to arrive at Music from Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold.

Music from Patch Cord Productions shows that Garson’s knack was to exist in both worlds, super-commercial and waaay out. He cut delirious minute-long blasts for commercials (as to whether or not they were actually ever aired remains unknown) and spacecraft-hovering études. Were there really account managers out there in the early ’70s that gave the greenlight to these commercial compositions which seemed to anticipate everyone from John Carpenter to Suicide? What were these campaigns actually for, Soylent Green? Regardless, Mort’s jingle work laid the groundwork for the future. As Robert Moog himself noted: “The jingles were important because they domesticated the sound.” Via Garson’s wizardry, the synthesizer transcended novelty to ubiquity and dominance.

Other curios and questions abound. How did Garson’s arrangement work for Arthur Prysock’s satiny body worship album This Is My Beloved transmogrify into the body-snatcher pulses of “This is My Beloved”? Are the two pieces even related? What is the IATA code for the airport of “Realizations of an Aeropolis”? What denomination is the “Cathedral of Pleasure”? If “Son of Blob” sounds like a hallucinatory melted ice cream truck theme, what on earth does Blob’s father sound like? Every sound wrangled out of that Moog by Garson pushes things further and further out.

Of course, these are all questions that may never get answers, as Garson wasn’t the most organized modern day composer, busy as he was conjuring strange new realms with his circuit boards and synths. He worked and wrote right up until his death in 2008, his daughter and Sacred Bones still going through all of the material left behind. He wouldn’t live to see it, but his renaissance was just around the corner, the seeds that had been scattered in record bins around the world suddenly coming to bear fruit. Take a bite!

Sludge machine music slapped through the infinite mixing desk by SRS - the combined mind of Sunun and Robin Stewart. At any pointData Fossil'sgiddy industrial riddims could collapse under their own weight. There are Sunun inputs and there are Robin Stewart inputs - but everything is offered up to their machines gladly for an output of nu-human-beat. Voices drift through the mix in hushed Italian and Robin's gruff roboticized drawl, floating dub chords left hanging for cavernous subs and rattled bones, distant harps and arps, a sudden blast of trills. 'Spit Fossil' itself is a clipped noise-pop wonder - the aural equivalent of a lights-on Avon dancefloor with only the weirdest left standing.



Recorded on the rooftop of a housing project called Camelot in 2018, the two Bristol locals debuted the live / unplanned collaboration in an inflatable arena called 'Toldo' in the Brunswick Club ballroom (RIP). Then again at Young Echo at the Cube Microplex - a night where it's said anything is possible (Sunun even dubbed Guest's live human heartbeat there recently….). IfData Fossilis hard to describe - it's just the sound of the musical freedom of a city that will never run dry.



It's a high Bokeh honour to welcome Sunun back after we helped release her 2018 debut,Ooid EP. Her live show continues to be the most inspiring re-use of dub principles we've witnessed (again and again). Time only grows her music outwards causing the Young Echo collective to demand she join them. SinceOoid,she's released a 12" of MPC wonders with close Bristol pals Cold Light.


Recently bearing his dub-side to all that didn't know on Trilogy Tapes'Time Travel EP, Robin Stewart is half of world conquering techno-cult Giant Swan. Also a veteran of Rwdfwd stable of imprints (Fuckpunk and NoCorner) - his music DNA is equal parts shoegaze and steppas. In 2020 he was officially recognised for having the largest collection of Bokeh t shirts.

Alexander Pletnev started an entirely new journey under his own name two years ago. Release after release on forward thinking and respected labels like Media Fury, KUMP, Fleeting Wax, SZE and Hard Fist, he has built a solid discography of incredible diversity - from percussive DJ tools to viscous synthetic EBM to dreamy weirdness.

His latest EP titled Voranto Bros is a long awaited return to Le Temps Perdu and the prime example of refined musical storytelling. Title track is a cinematic tale, a sound novel about two migrant brothers hitting the shores of USA in the dawn of XXth century to became vicious gangsters, broken souls ruling the night of NYC. Dusty tape hiss, off kilter percussions and melodies all alternate to later sink under the weight of heavy drums. While Hope They Wont Come Back is a severe instrumental ballad with low drums, talking bass lines and noisy guitar riffs - five minutes inside confused man's mind.

On a remix front, Cocktail D'Amore's head honchos Discodromo strip Voranto Bros down to bear bones to deliver EBM style dance floor burner. And Harold Boué aka Abstraxion aka Lion's Drums of Biologic Records fame delivers menacing remix for Hope They Won't Come Back, a dark & mystic journey, which unwinds slowly and builds up to unexpected climax.

The Brussels-based trio of Virginia Genta, David Vanzan and Ernesto González (Bear Bones, Lay Low) have been playing as Yader for some years already. Bagigi Dub and WW Dub sees them run two tracks from their 8 track tape through effects for more spaced-out versions of their sound, under the name Jahder. This 7", also with cover design by Virginia, features two cuts of prime dubbed-out drum machines, loping bass lines and widescreen delays for expansive listening.

Das technisch versierte Naturtalent Leafcutter John (Planet Mu, Staubgold)präsentiert sich mit seinem siebten Album auf Border Community in Höchstform. "Yes! Come Parade With Us" ist ein kleines, perfektes, freudiges, utopisches Folk-Electronica-Kunstwerk, erstellt aus mehrschichtigen, gefühlvoll-modularen Synths, gelegentlichen Drum-Features (von Tom Skinner/Hello Skinny und Sebastian Rochford/Polar Bear) und Field Recordings, aufgenommen im Sommer 2017 auf einem 60-Meilen-Spaziergang entlang der Norfolk-Küste. Limitierte Formate.

Bear Bones, Lay Low links up with Pizza Noise Mafia's Carrageenan and comes with a monster of a miniLP. BIG TIP!
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Matthieu Levet (Carrageenan / Pizza Noise Mafia) and Ernesto González (Bear Bones, Lay Low / Tav Exotic / Maitres Fous ...) are two musicians based in Brussels who have cut their teeth in the city's freeform underground for well over a decade. Having spent time at numerous shows and parties together, they solidified a friendship after a two week tour around Europe with fellow electronic explorer , Accou, in April 2017.

It was shortly after this moment that the label Random Numbers approached the two with the initial intention of releasing a split cassette with music from their respective solo projects. Several exchanges later, the plan quickly changed into realizing a full-fledged collaboration between both musicians who, while having deep respect and interest for each other's music since they first met, had never found the opportunity to create something together.

The result is the CARCASS IDENTITY EP: a combination of Levet's raw and dub-infused electronics with González's kosmische psychedelic touch. This is music meant for strange parties: the kind where dancing and laying down are equally accepted and ncouraged, where there might be more silence than talking between participants, where small gestures and events reveal their transcendental meaning...

Love Not Sex is the second Stubb 12" from Paper Recordings' Ben Davis.

The original is a melancholic slice of sunshine that draws inspiration from MOR and blue-eyed soul with a hefty dose of Balearica.
Acoustic guitars, Rhodes, live drums and strings plus Crazy P's Tim Davis on bass provide the perfect cinematic backdrop for the plaintive vocals of Huw Costin (Torn Sail) and Rachel Foster.

Japanese edit hero Mori Ra delivers his first ever remix and its a doozy. Keeping the bones of the original track, he takes it in to dark psychedelic waters with the help of former_airline's tripped out guitar.
A spoken vocal tips it in to full balearic wonkiness that will have the likes of DJ Harvey and Bjorn Torske getting hot under their disco beards.

Bergen's Leca employs his trademark stripped back crisp production for a warm, dreamy remix. Steel guitar, clicks, whirrs and a Nordic playfulness make for a cosmic journey in to the Northern Lights.
The 12's will be a limited run of 300, screen printed in West Yorkshire by The Egg Factory with artwork by artist Rachel Johns in a project that celebrates community and collectivism.