Suche:blu farm

Suffocating, the hidden child of Plastikman, Farmer's Manual and Warp. The glitches could just as well be the disgusting sound system of the club crackling under the humidity as a rhythmic pan too well timed to be honest. From durations to sound grain, the gloves are removed. The standards are far behind, the pleasure vibrates from the ears to the lower abdomen. The listener manages to get lost on a straight line, the perfect labyrinth according to Borges, but the exits flash red for those who want to escape. Will Elvis leave the building?.

Liquor Talkin’ is the debut studio album from Texas-based country artist Don Louis. Born in Irving and raised on a 12-acre farm in Commerce, Texas, Don Louis learned the meaning of work early on. He grew up tending to livestock, singing along to George Strait and Al Green, and playing football. Done was an All-District defensive end for Commerce High School and played on scholarship at Ouachita Baptist and Southern Arkansas. He performed well at NFL combines, but an injury in 2020 changed everything and Don son found himself chasing his other childhood dream - being a professional singer. Don’s mix of Country, Rock, and Rhythm and Blues has been winning over loyal fans from the start. He’s shared the stage with acts such as Dylan Wheeler, and Don’s personality and gritty voice have also earned him a healthy following on Spotify and social media. Ask Don how he’s doing and he’ll often reply, "I'm blessed and highly favored!” That attitude says it all.

Born Xavier Amin Dphrepaulezz, by now much has been made of Fantastic Negrito's own unique story--his early years growing up in an orthodox Muslim household, the doomed major label deal that turned him off of the music industry altogether, the near-fatal car crash that permanently damaged his guitar playing hand--as well as the remarkable redemption arc that began in 2015, when he won the first ever NPR Tiny Desk Contest. In the years that followed, Negrito would go on to take home three consecutive GRAMMY Awards for Best Contemporary Blues Album, tour with everyone from Sturgill Simpson to Chris Cornell to Bruce Springsteen, collaborate in the studio with the likes of Sting and E-40, launch his own Storefront Records label, perform at Lollapalooza, WOMAD, Glastonbury, Newport Folk, Byron Bay Blues, and nearly every other major festival on the map, and found the Revolution Plantation, an urban farm aimed at youth education and empowerment. Son of a Broken Man sees Fantastic Negrito encapsulating the inimitable elements of his celebrated body of work to date, from hard-hitting distorted guitar riffs to melodic and expressive ballads, all fueled by the unexpected twists that have become his trademark. The album stands as perhaps Fantastic Negrito's most personal thus far, exploring family, deception, and the human desire to hide the true self as he dives deep into one of the oldest conflicts in human history, the struggle between father and son. Beginning at a young age, Negrito was served untruths by his father. A made-up last name, a fabricated ancestry, and a fake Somali accent. Why lie? Why create this false narrative? Those are the questions Negrito had to ask himself and the questions that lie at the heart of Son of a Broken Man.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Gerry Mulligan mit der Night Lights Band auf Europatournee 1959. Das großartige Quartett besteht aus Gerry Mulligan am Baritonsaxophon und Klavier, Art Farmer an der Trompete, Bill Crow am Bass und Dave Bailey am Schlagzeug. Die Band war auf dem Höhepunkt ihres Könnens, und diese atemberaubenden Aufnahmen trugen entscheidend dazu bei, Mulligans Band als eine der angesagtesten Bands jener Zeit zu bestätigen.

In Zusammenarbeit mit dem Swedish National Radio Archive und dem Gerry Mulligan Estate ist es uns gelungen, die Original-Masterbänder im Tresor von Sveriges Radio ausfindig zu machen und sie Kevin Gray zur Verfügung zu stellen, der mit seiner gewohnten Magie beim Mastering und Editing diesen bisher unveröffentlichten Aufnahmen eine unglaubliche klangliche Bandbreite verliehen hat. Das neu gestaltete Cover wurde von Two To Tango entworfen, die regelmäßig mit New Land zusammenarbeiten, und bietet einen großartigen modernistischen Look.

Hergestellt bei Pallas und gedruckt auf 180g Vinyl im Reverse-Board-Sleeve, ist dies eine wichtige Ergänzung für jede Sammlung. Der Baritonsaxophonist Gerry Mulligan war eine wahre Ikone des Jazz und von den 1950er Jahren bis zu seinem Tod 1996 eine der herausragenden Persönlichkeiten der Westcoast-Szene. Mulligan, der vom Downbeat Magazine 42 Jahre in Folge zur Nummer eins auf seinem Instrument gewählt wurde, war einer der wichtigsten Musiker seiner Zeit und ein Aushängeschild, das den Sound des Jazz mitgeprägt hat. Gerry Mulligan spielte sowohl in der Miles Davis Formation der Birth Of The Cool-Ära als auch im pianolosen Quartett mit Chet Baker und war immer an vorderster Front, wenn es darum ging, was in Amerikas einzig wahrer Kunstform angesagt war und ist.

(2018 Remix)

30. Juni 2022 – Im Januar 1977 veröffentlichten Pink Floyd ihr zehntes Studioalbum „Animals“. Das Werk eroberte Platz 1 der deutschen Charts, gilt als eines ihrer besten – und es wird nun, 45 Jahre später, als Deluxe Gatefold, CD, LP und Blu-ray wiederveröffentlicht. Zum ersten Mal überhaupt wird das Album in 5.1 Surround-Sound zu hören sein. Die einzelnen Versionen werden ab dem 16. September 2022 erhältlich sein, die Deluxe-Version folgt am 7. Oktober.

Pink Floyd – David Gilmour, Nick Mason, Roger Waters und Richard Wright – nahmen „Animals“ 1976 und Anfang 1977 in den bandeigenen Britannia Row Studios in London auf und produzierten auch selbst.

„Animals 2018 Remix“ wird als CD, LP (mit Klapphüllen-Artwork), Blu-Ray und als Deluxe-Gatefold-Format veröffentlicht. Die Deluxe-Gatefold-Version beinhaltet eine LP, CD, Audio-Blu-Ray, Audio-DVD und ein 32-seitiges Booklet. Die Audio-Blu-Ray und -DVD enthalten den Remix von 2018 in Stereo, in 5.1 Surround (beide von James Guthrie) und den ursprünglichen Stereo-Mix von 1977. Das 32-seitige Booklet gewährt mit selten gezeigten Fotos einen Blick hinter die Kulissen des Shootings für die Plattenhülle sowie Live-Bilder und Memorabilia. Das Album-Artwork wurde für diese Veröffentlichung mit einem zeitgemäßen Motiv neu interpretiert.

„Animals“ ist ein Konzeptalbum, das sich kritisch mit den sozialpolitischen Verhältnissen im Großbritannien der mittleren 1970er-Jahre auseinandersetzt und damit eine Abkehr vom Stil der früheren Arbeiten der Band markierte. Aus einer Ansammlung ursprünglich nicht miteinander zusammenhängender Songs entwickelten Pink Floyd ein Konzept, das den offenkundigen sozialen und moralischen Verfall der Gesellschaft beschreibt. Inspiriert von George Orwells „Farm der Tiere“, verbildlichen sie die menschliche Natur mit einer Analogie zum Tierreich und teilen die Menschen in drei Klassen von Tieren ein: Die Schweine stehen an der Spitze der sozialen Kette, die Schafe tun als hirnlose Herde, was man ihnen sagt, und die Hunde sind die Geschäftsbosse, die sich am Profit und ihrer Macht über andere schamlos bereichern. Seit 1977 ist viel Zeit vergangen – und dann wieder gar nicht, denn die Erzählung des Albums hat als Kommentar auf unsere gesellschaftliche und wirtschaftliche Situation nichts von ihrer Aktualität verloren.

Das berühmte Cover von „Animals“ zeigt ein aufblasbares Schwein (heute bekannt als Algie), das in luftigen Höhen zwischen zwei Schornsteinen der Battersea Power Station in London schwebt. Die Idee für das Cover kam von Roger Waters, die Umsetzung übernahm der langjährigen Kreativpartner der Band, Storm Thorgerson von Hipgnosis Studios. Für die jetzige Neuveröffentlichung wurde das Artwork von Storms Hipgnosis-Partner Aubrey „Po“ Powell für die heutige Zeit neu gestaltet. Basierend auf neuen Aufnahmen des Gebäudes während der jüngsten Umgestaltungsarbeiten (das ehemalige Kraftwerk wird für die kulturelle und gewerbliche Nutzung umgebaut, gestaltet von Frank Gehry und Norman Foster), experimentierte Po mit neuen Blickwinkeln und erschuf einige beeindruckende neue Varianten des berühmten Originals. Po dazu: „Das Original-Albumcover von 1977 ist ikonisch und steht so sehr für sich, dass ich eine Menge Respekt davor hatte, ihm ein Update zu verpassen. Doch Hipgnosis nahm die Gelegenheit zum Anlass, das Motiv neu zu fotografieren und damit eine sich verändernde Welt widerzuspiegeln. Durch den Einsatz moderner digitaler Färbetechniken konnte ich Pink Floyds düstere Botschaft des moralischen Verfalls beibehalten, und auch die Orwellsche Tier-Analogie in Form des Schweins Algie lebt in dem neuen Artwork fort.“

Pink Floyds „Animals 2018 Remix” kann ab jetzt hier vorbestellt werden.

Within the quiet, cascading corners of Pittsburgh lies a community - essentially one large family - that spans neighborhoods and generations. Upon this foundation, Merce Lemon built her latest album: Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild. These are earnest songs, of belonging and longing, in which romantic and familial love rip into and out of themselves in a flurry of reckoning. There is a fierceness, a persistence in this vulnerability, that is matched by the wildness of her band. Merce took a step back from music in 2020, after releasing her debut album Moonth, to reassess. "Music was just something I'd always done, and I didn't want to lose the magic of that - but I was just having less fun." In this time of restless confusion, she got back to her roots. "I got dirty and slept outside most of the summer. I learned a lot about plants and farming, just writing for myself, and in that time I slowly accumulated songs." A creative hunger, supported by her community, had been newly fertilized. From this rediscovery, imbued with the vitality of earth's green magic, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild sprouted forth.

Limited Bubblegum Pink Vinyl. Within the quiet, cascading corners of Pittsburgh lies a community - essentially one large family - that spans neighborhoods and generations. Upon this foundation, Merce Lemon built her latest album: Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild. These are earnest songs, of belonging and longing, in which romantic and familial love rip into and out of themselves in a flurry of reckoning. There is a fierceness, a persistence in this vulnerability, that is matched by the wildness of her band. Merce took a step back from music in 2020, after releasing her debut album Moonth, to reassess. "Music was just something I'd always done, and I didn't want to lose the magic of that - but I was just having less fun." In this time of restless confusion, she got back to her roots. "I got dirty and slept outside most of the summer. I learned a lot about plants and farming, just writing for myself, and in that time I slowly accumulated songs." A creative hunger, supported by her community, had been newly fertilized. From this rediscovery, imbued with the vitality of earth's green magic, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild sprouted forth.

repress !

“Tubby did three original dub albums, ‘Dub From The Roots’. ‘The Roots of Dub’ and the third is ‘Brass Rockers’ with Tommy McCook ‘pon the flying cymbals. Where he mixed it with the horn going in and out in a dub way and one named ‘Shalom Dub’ you can call Tubby’s too because he mixed the versions as they were off forty fives’’
Bunny ‘Striker‘ Lee

King Tubby and Producer Bunny ‘Striker’ Lee are intertwined in the birth of Dub Music. After discovering a mistake that made a ‘serious joke’ ( more of which later...) they went on to release the first pressings of this new musical genre namely ‘Dub Music’. Tubby’s vast knowledge of electronics and Bunny’s vast catalogue of rhythms would lay the foundations of what today is taken as a standard... the Remix / Version cuts to an existing vocal tune.

Osbourne ‘King Tubby’ Ruddock was born in Kingston, Jamaica on 28th January 1941 and grew up in the High Holborn Street area of downtown Kingston. He studied electronics at Kingston’s National Technical College and also on two correspondence courses from the U.S.A... When he had qualified Tubby began repairing radios and other electrical appliances in a shack in the back yard of his mother’s home. His work in the early days included winding transformers and building amplifiers for Kingston’s Sound Systems. Tubby built his first Sound System in 1957 playing jazz and Rhythm & Blues at local weddings and birthday parties. His reputation as a man who knew and understood both electronics and music grew steadily and as the sixties drew to a close. Tubby purchased his own basic two track equipment. He installed this alongside his dub cutting machine, a home made mixing console and his impressive collection of Jazz albums in the back bedroom of his home at 18 Dromilly Avenue which he christened his music room.

Tubby and Striker were at Treasure Isle Studio’s one day while Ruddy from Spanish Town was working with the engineer Byron Smith....

“Tubby and myself was talking when Ruddy was cutting some dub but Smithy (engineer) made a mistake through we were talking and forgot to put in the voice. It was two track recording in those days. Ruddy said ‘No Man! Make it stay! and so they cut the rhythm. When I went over to Ruddy’s that Saturday night a dance was in progress and when they played the vocal to the tune... then he said we’re going to play ‘Part Two’. They never called it ‘Version’..and then he played the rhythm track. The song was a catchy song and everybody started to sing along and the deejay started to toast so everything went down well. On Monday morning I went up and I said ‘Tubbs the mistake we made was a serious joke.It mash up Spanish Town! The people went wild. So you have to start to do that now ‘cause when the man put on the ‘Part Two’ everyone start singing this song. It played about twenty times. I said you try Tubbs!’...Well the next Saturday night now when Tubby strung up down the farm U Roy said he’s going to play ‘Part Two’ but Tubby did it different now. He started with the voice then dropped it out and let the rhythm run and then he brought in the voice in the middle and from there Tubby started to get really popular.’’
Bunny ‘Striker’ Lee

Dynamic Sounds upgraded to sixteen track recording in 1972 and Tubby purchased, again with the help of a deal brokered by Bunny Lee. The old four track equipment and the MCI console from their Studio B. The four tracks now gave him far wider scope to work with and he began to create a new musical form where the bass and drum parts were brought up while the faders allowed Tubby to ease the vocal and rhythm in and out of the mix. It was only a matter of time before Tubby’s dub plate experiments began to make it on to vinyl and the first ever long playing King Tubby releases would feature a collection of his mixes to a selection of Strikers rhythms. So please sit back and enjoy this historic set of sounds. Lovingly restored and with a few extra gems added to the CD Editions. These releases were the first to carry the name of King Tubby and the first to credit the great musicians that contributed so much to the rhythms that made these albums possible.

The music of Will Griffith's The Great Dying is a mix he likes to call dark country. He grew up in Cleveland, Mississippi, where D.I.Y. punk house shows hooked him, and his early bands played The Farmhouse and legendary delta juke joint Po' Monkey's. Songs from The Great Dying's new album, A Constant Goodbye, were born from playing hundreds of shows supporting Bloody Noses & Roses (Dial Back Sound 2018), and it continues where the debut left off. The ballads are still sweet and menaced, the rockers are still hair-raisers, but the new record pushes in new directions, infusing sounds of classic country with faint traces of The Replacements and what was once called "alternative rock." The tracks are layered and varied: wall-of-sound arrangements grind against flange-bass and fiddle, with Griffith's barebones acoustic guitar and vocals at the root, and heartbreak all over. Coming from another artist, this blend of influences would tank, but somehow it suits The Great Dying just fine. Pick any number on the new album-it's a winner.

From 2019 to 2023 Lindsay Reamer worked as a field scientist. With a guitar and a bag of books in tow, she would leave her home in Philadelphia for the postcard scenes of the American landscape to gather data on visitation in National Parks. She counted cars and RVs, surveyed visitors, and made a temporary home for a few weeks at a time wherever she landed. All the while, she collected her own observations like specimens and slowly weaved the songs that would form her debut full-length, `Natural Science.' Recorded throughout 2023 by Lucas Knapp, `Natural Science' paints with a full spectrum. Humor rubs elbows with heartbreak. Acoustic guitars brush up against synthesizers, cradling Reamer as she sings about the American Chestnut tree extinction, employee gossip at a Day's Inn, fishing beside a power plant, turf grass farms, and waking up next to day-old take-out. The indifferent beauty of nature is held up next to the everyday as Reamer does her very best to find clues for navigating the latter by musing upon both. Following the release of her self-produced EP `Lucky' (Dear Life Records) in 2021, Reamer assembled a band with musicians from Philadelphia's vibrant music community and began working her once solo-acoustic songs into full band arrangements. After a brief flirtation with dance music which led to 2022's viral single "Touch Tank," Reamer settled into a sound that lies somewhere in the folkrock-pop matrix, explored with the humor and lightness of songwriters like Sheryl Crow or Melanie. Reamer reflects: "When I heard the songs with the band, I knew it was time to make the record. It felt like something I had been working towards my whole life. I grew up around musicians but I never thought I was good enough to be in a band or even to make my own music. My grandmother Joan gave me voice lessons after school, my mom was an opera singer, and my dad a guitar player. But it wasn't until a few years ago that I realized I could do it. It didn't matter if I could shred on the guitar or something. It was like some illusion shattered." Reamer is a sincere storyteller. The self-doubt and heartbreak expressed in songs like "Spring Song," "Sugar," or "Red Flowers" give way to the triumphant moments of self-acceptance and love in "Lucky," "Necessary," and "Figs and Peaches." `Natural Science' chronicles a path to confidence, an honest reflection of someone with the capacity to hold a deep well of emotion who also makes sure to not take it all too seriously. "Gardens on the land / Castles on the beaches / I trust my hand and / Pluck my figs and peaches," Reamer sings, as she works to reconcile the strange difficulty we have at finding happiness despite the obvious beauty all around us.

Mario Rusca is most probably the biggest living Italian jazzman. His major influences are Duke Ellingtons composing abilities and Hampton Hawes' brilliant sound. He immersed himself in the harmonic inventions of the incredible pianists of the 60s and 70s: from Bud Powell to Bobby Timmons, Wynton Kelly and Bill Evans. Mario Rusca has been the house pianist of Capolinea, the most important Italian jazz club of the 70s and 80s. He went on to perform in important national and international settings-representing Italy in the "Piano Solo'' category of the "International Festival of Varsavia" and participating with his quintet at the "International Festival of Montreal". He has collaborated with a multitude of prestigious names: Chet Baker, Tony Scott, Curtis Fuller, Gerry Mulligan, Lou Donaldson, Art Farmer, Bob Berg, Lee Konitz, Dusko Gojkovic, Al Gray, Kay Winding, as well as Stefano Bagnoli, Enrico Rava, Tullio De Piscopo, Kenny Clarke, Stan Getz, Jimmy Owens, Toots Thielemans, Gianni Basso, Pepper Adams, Steve Lacy, Steve Grossman, Franco Ambrosetti, Woody Shaw, and Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis. With Gerry Mulligan, in particular, he toured in 1976 and with Lee Konitz, he recorded Wheres The Blues? at the end of the 90s. In this regard, Suspension in 1975 with Tullio De Piscopo and Recreations in 1976 with the phenomenal Larry Nocella playing saxophone are still very beautiful and modern recordings. As Mario says, "In jazz, you choose the companions that you can dialogue the most with.there needs to be an interplay, there needs a...a way of feeling, which is why you choose musicians because they feel like you, or, if nothing else, they follow you". The chemistry between the three of them is perfectly aligned, synergistic. Tonys drums and Riccardos bass create a soft and essential rhythmic tapestry that never hinder the creative prowess of the band leader. Here Mario Rusca is interpreting the most dynamic jazz standards. Blues for Gwen by McCoy Tyner, Blues Walk by Lou Donaldson, Blue Minor by Sonny Clark, Turnaround by Ornette Coleman, Bass Blues by John Coltrane or even Super Jet by Tadd Dameron. You cant help but imagine yourself on top of a convertible, smiling and carefree, while they travel through the soloist progressions of Turnaround and Super Jet. We need to underline the four originals included in this recording: Blue Dream (for Allerim), Tempo Blues, Double Horn e Monochrome Blues, extremely suggestive compositions, rich of intuitions and which well exhibit Mario Rusca composition skills and his ability to play the blues. MONOCHROME BLUES is a winning trio album which will deeply please the most demanding jazz hears. The musicians Mario Rusca (piano) Riccardo Fioravanti (bass) Tony Arco (drums)

Beginning in the mid-1960s as a covers band, the group that came to be Unicorn soon determined that original material was the way to go, and after being inspired by a Crosby, Stills and Nash album, their particular brand of enlightened folk rock tinged with country shades yielded a contract with Transatlantic for their 1971 debut. Fast forward to 1974 and Blue Pine Trees finds the band at their finest with sweeping harmonies and bluegrass tinges, and with Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour in the producer’s chair, all of their glorious potential is realised on this lost gem of an album that is fully ripe for rediscovery. A truly great work!

“There are lots of outstanding Joe McPhee LPs. Nation Time being chief among them, but there’s also Pieces Of Light, Oleo and Topology. The Poughkeepsie, New York-based multi-instrumentalist, by now an international star of free music, has amassed a daunting discography, no doubt. If you want to peer deeply into the soul of Joe McPhee, however, there’s no way around it, you need to spend some quality time with Tenor. “Tenor is McPhee’s first solo record. He did not set out to make it. It was an afterthought, quite literally, born of a gathering of friends at the Swiss farmhouse of cellist Michael Overhage. A beautiful meal, some drinks, warm conversation, and ... why not, an impromptu recital. Hat Hut producer Werner X. Uehlinger was there and a year later issued it as McPhee’s third LP for the label (Hat Hut C in their famed letter series). “The existential blues ‘Knox’ sets the stage, indicating that this will not just be a toss-off postprandial singalong. ‘Good-Bye Tom B.’ carries on with aching melancholy, through burred notes and hushed harmonics. The relatively jaunty ‘Sweet Dragon’ is also emotionally loaded with Ayler-esque vibrato, slurs, wipes, and blasts of tone. The side-long title track comes without a theme, as a kind of pure investigation of the horn, its potential, its limits, its expressive capacity. There have been few solo sessions as comprehensive and devastating as this spontaneous after-dinner diversion in rural Switzerland in 1976. We’re very lucky someone pressed record.” —John Corbett (excerpt from the liner notes)

Reissue of late-’80s release by lovably manly Australian punk rock trio! Sometime in the winter of 1989-90, I wandered into New York City’s Midnight Records, a store famous for its deep catalog of ’60s garage and psychedelic music, as well as a strong selection of classic punk rock and a cantankerous French owner with ridiculous hair. On this visit, instead of hearing a puny French bootleg of The Standells or the Seeds, as I opened the door I was enveloped in the massive opening chords to the first song on the Cosmic Psychos’ then-new album Go the Hack. “She’s a lost cause / She’s a lost, lost cause!” blasted into the air at maximum volume. In a perfect cinematic moment, the drums announced my entry, the bass dictated my walk, the air became thick with guitar fuzz and wah-wah, and snarled vocals described perfectly a girl’s descent into a cause which was lost. Instead of record shopping, I felt like I’d stepped into a biker movie and was motoring down a long, straight Outback road on a Harley. This was my introduction to the Cosmic Psychos, and I was hooked. I loved that a band could be so powerful, sound so big and unapologetically simple, and incorporate so much of what I loved about music—well, basically the attitudes and sounds of The Stooges and Ramones: setting up songs with a good title or idea, matching it with a massive riff, then running it out with squeals of wah-wah and manly disregard for cleverness or adornment. And they called themselves the Cosmic Psychos! They obviously had no regard for “makin’ it” in those days, when an alternative rock band at least had a chance to sell some records. I was an instant fan. Earlier records proved to be the same formula with even less refinement, and that was definitely a good thing. These were lovably manly Aussies singing about what they knew best: farm equipment, lusting after Elle Macpherson, wishing they were in Van Halen (for the ladies), drinking at the pub, and even more drinking at the pub. Trivia question: In what indie rock song does the lead singer bellow “I love my tractor!”? Answer: None! No scarves or looking like Stevie Nicks straight out of the hairstylist’s for these fellows. They were the real deal before the deal was dealt. And they couldn’t care less. The Psychos enjoyed a long run through the ’80s and ’90s on such Australian labels as What Goes On, Mr Spaceman, Survival and Rattlesnake, as well as American stalwarts Sub Pop and Amphetamine Reptile. Many bands from that era no longer seem vital today, lost in a murk of crisp drums, loud guitars, flannel shirts and shallow aspirations. These first Cosmic Psychos releases are as timeless and necessary as ever—still a bullshit bulldozer, a blurry loud night at the bar, a rollicking time hanging with the guys. The time has come for a new generation to be uplifted by these initial blasts from the Cosmic Psychos. Goner is proud to partner with Melbourne’s esteemed Aarght! Records to bring these platters of primal perfection back into a world that definitely needs them. — Eric Friedl, Oblivians / Goner Records 40th Anniversary tour about to hit UK / EU! Go the Hack!! Essential!!