quête:boom!

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Pittsburgh, PA-native Buscrates returns to Bastard Jazz with a synth-heavy 7" single, "Internal Dialogue." The two-tracker sees the artist take an easy-going approach to his signature funk-filled sound, with a slowed-down tempo and melodic key riffs. "Internal Dialogue" is a mellow boogie joint that combines plenty of Moog, rich ARP strings, and syncopated clavinet chord stabs; "Early Morning" is reminiscent of a late-90s neo-soul beat, with rich Rhodes chords, while a squelching bass line evokes 70s electro-funk. Both tracks are undeniably Buscrates and are sure to have your head bobbing.

Buscrates - aka Orlando Marshall - is a DJ, producer, and multi-instrumentalist based in Pittsburgh. He draws influences largely from 90s hip hop and early-mid 80s electronic funk, which is evident in the boomy, swinging drums and bubbly Minimoog bass lines heard throughout some of his productions. He works locally and sometimes internationally either behind a pair of turntables spinning 45s or working his trusty Roland SP-404SX sampler and various other little portable gadgets at one of his beat sets. Some of his production credits include Phonte & Eric Roberson, Wiz Khalifa, and the late great Mac Miller.

Limited Edition of 1500 copies. Includes a show flyer for the performance. Pressed on green colored vinyl. In the spring and summer of 1999, Satan's Pilgrims were awaiting the release of their self-titled fifth album. During that time, an in-store performance was recorded live at Jackpot Records on June 13, 1999 onto a mono cassette recorder. Since they were promoting a new album which was yet to be released, none of those songs had been performed in front of a live audience before. Both Jackpot Records and Satan's Pilgrims agreed that this lo-fi boombox recording should be released as is and sonically unaltered, since it really captures what it was like to be standing a few feet in front of the band vibrating the entire block. What could be more "Record Store Day" than an album recorded IN a record store? Mastered by Black Belt Mastering (The Germs, Green Day, Pearl Jam). Tracks: 1. Badge of Honor (cut) 2. Theme from the Arturan 3. Fra Diavolo 4. Tears and Gears 5. Casbah 6. All Day Party (All Night Party) 7. Mutha Fuzz 8. Frankenstomp 9. Super Stock 10. Black Marquis 11. Chi Chi 12. Jungle Room

Following on from last year’s acclaimed Sylva Sylvarum, the epic double LP from Ora Clementi (her collaborative project with James Rushford), crys cole returns to Black Truffle with Other Meetings. Originally commissioned and released on cassette by Boomkat Editions in 2021, Other Meetings is a major addition to the body of carefully hewn solo work cole has released over the last decade, offering up two side-long suites of her radically intimate approach to sound. After many years dominated by touring and travel, cole found herself in lockdown in her Berlin apartment, working in a limited space with minimal equipment. Digging through archives of recordings taken overseas and exploring the sonic potential hidden in the objects surrounding her (including a coffee pot and a vase of dying flowers), she crafted what in her liner notes she calls ‘an internal dérive, a journey that drifted through many places without a defining compass’. Totalling over 50 minutes, the two pieces unfold at an unhurried pace, each containing four individually titled subsections. Beginning with a sequence of the highly amplified small sounds characteristic of much of cole’s work, the opening moments of ‘The time between two durations of sleep’ are underpinned by a gentle rocking motion, weaving together contact mic crunch, metallic resonance, glimpses of bird song, and isolated drum machine hits, the sonic space expanding and contracting as focus moves between elements. Briefly side-lined by a tactile but unplaceable sizzling, this complex weave of voices then returns in a kind of dubbed-out ‘version’, the percussive accents echoing around the stereo space. In one of the record’s most beautiful and unexpected moments, these sounds are joined by a sparse melodic line performed on a broken 1980s digital synth, the vaguely New Age timbres being taken on a long, tonally ambiguous wander. Cole’s immersion in memories of travel comes to the fore in the final section of the first side, titled ‘Wat Paknam’ after a royal temple in Bangkok, where snatches of voices, ringing bells and distant waves of chanting blur together with synth tones into an increasingly abstracted wave of sound. The second side, ‘Slices of cake’, opens in a similarly hallucinatory outdoor space of echoing bird song and liquified traffic before abruptly zooming in on a microscopic world of subtly processed and highly amplified objects, explored with a starkness and quiet insistence that calls to mind the fringe not-quite-concrète of outsiders like Paul A.R. Timmermans or Knud Viktor, whose obsessive interrogation of dripping water might also serve as a point of reference for the following sub-section, the aptly titled ‘magischer Abfluss’ (magic drain).

While Other Meetings develops many aspects of cole’s previous work – the hyper-magnification of small gestures, the unsettling edits and fades partly inspired by hypnagogic states, the location recordings smeared into oneiric haze – it is almost as if these pieces are somehow songs, the remnants of an evaporated music of which nothing remains except isolated hits from a synthetic drum, a handful of notes, or simply a duration of emptied atmosphere. Radically reductive yet deeply musical, Other Meetings is a major work from an artist driven by an uncompromising and idiosyncratic vision.

Presented with an inner sleeve with photos and liner notes from the composer and remastered audio.

Betty Boo is a Brit and Ivor Novello Award winning singer/songwriter/producer from West London. After a chance meeting in McDonalds on Shepherds Bush Green, she ended up supporting Public Enemy on tour in the US with her Hip Hop trio The She Rockers. In 1989, she featured as guest vocalist on The Beatmasters Top 10 single - Hey DJ/I Can't Dance (To That Music You're Playing). Betty Boo released two albums - Boomania and GRRR! Its Betty Boo - and then mostly retired from the public eye. Earlier this year, she released the Human League sampling banger Get Me To The Weekend - her first solo music in three decades.
2022 sees the return of Betty Boo as a brand new album is set for release entitled Boomerang.

Betty Boo is a Brit and Ivor Novello Award winning singer/songwriter/producer from West London. After a chance meeting in McDonalds on Shepherds Bush Green, she ended up supporting Public Enemy on tour in the US with her Hip Hop trio The She Rockers. In 1989, she featured as guest vocalist on The Beatmasters Top 10 single - Hey DJ/I Can't Dance (To That Music You're Playing). Betty Boo released two albums - Boomania and GRRR! Its Betty Boo - and then mostly retired from the public eye. Earlier this year, she released the Human League sampling banger Get Me To The Weekend - her first solo music in three decades.
2022 sees the return of Betty Boo as a brand new album is set for release entitled Boomerang.

Clear Vinyl

Laila Sakini and Lucy Van’s sought after 2017 EP Figures resurfaces on a newly expanded and remastered edition, deploying taut poetry and creeping electro-pulses for an alchemical suite of slowly encroaching trip hop x dub-pop.

Long before releasing her slow-burn classic ‘Vivienne’ and last year’s compelling Princess Diana of Wales album, Laila Sakini was at work with acclaimed poet Lucy Van for an impromptu session for a local noise and spoken word night in Naarm, Australia. Those initial ideas marinated and eventually resulted in ‘Figures’ - an EP that was originally released on tape via Purely Physical Teeny Tapes, offseting Sakini’s minimal production against Van’s text, spoken in a carefully enunciated dialect lifted and wrapped around Sakini’s nocturnes. It’s the sort of thing that reminds us of Tin Man & Rashad Becker’s ‘Wasteland’ sessions, fused with the spirit of the contemporary Naarm/Melbourne scene.

For all those references, Sakini and Van’s songs are displaced from the contemporary wellspring too. The dusky blue waltz of opener ‘Those Who See’ comes off like a lighter Leslie Winer or melodic, early AFX, as Van dryly intones “...all my enemies in an orgy, of IQ to body ratio,” while ‘Deep End’ sees them nudge into more claustrophobic introspection, before shoring up a dank sort of trip hop sleaze with the title song, slithering with a similar energy to early 90’s Autechre as the narration echoes to a blur.

The three previously unreleased songs flesh out the release into the full album it always should have been, cut of equally rare, hand-spun fabric. With its post-Sleng Teng B-line and noctilucent chords, ‘What You Need’ feels like an Eski rhythmic bump accompanied by sub-aquatic synth bass, and the opalescent, gumtree-shaking shimmer ‘Rough Desires’ secretes its intimations with an absorbingly hypnagogic slow-burn that pools into the perfect curtain closer; ‘Trees Make Me High’.

Der Titel von Leon Thomas' drittem Album für Bob Thieles Flying Dutchman-Label bezog sich auf Oliver Nelsons klassische LP "The Blues and the Abstract Truth" von 1961. "Blues And The Soulful Truth" wurde im Original 1972 veröffentlicht und enthielt eine All-Star-Band, zu der Pretty Purdie (Schlagzeug), Stanley Clarke (Bass), Cecil Payne (Baritonsaxophon) und Neal Creque (Keyboards) gehörten. Es ist ein Soul meets Jazz meets Blues-Meisterwerk mit Arrangements von Ex-James Brown Hornist Pee Wee Ellis.

Der Klassiker enthält das außergewöhnliche 'Shape Your Mind To Die', 'L-O-V-E', eine fesselnde Gesangsversion von Gabor Szabos 'Gypsy Queen', das fesselnde 'Love Each Other', das klagende 'China Doll' und eine treibende Version von John Lee Hookers 'Boom-Boom-Boom'.
Gatefold 180 Gr.-Vinyl in klassischem Schwarz mit dem Flying Dutchman-Layout als Nachbildung!

Anthology introducing the first of a series of albums based on the concept of Aquapelago.

‘’ Since the earliest days of the planet there has been a rhythm of tides that creates coastal interzones where humans have foraged and pursued various livelihoods. Developing boats to fish from and technologies that enabled them to immerse themselves deep underwater, the aquatic realm has been one explored, experienced and imagined in various ways. In an effort to express the vitality and richness of this environment I coined the term aquapelago in 2012. The wordplay was deliberate. The neologism was designed to distinguish the liquid inbetweenness of this space from the dry, scattered, lands of archipelagos.

The concept of the aquapelago coalesced around themes taken from various places. Epeli Hau’ofa’s idea of an Oceanic “sea of islands’” was formative but a number of songs were also inspirational. Torres Strait islander Seaman Dan captivated me with his experiences of pearl diving in the Darnley Deeps in his song ‘Forty Fathoms’ and Norfolk Islander singer Kath King imaged how sea-turtles might have experienced ecological change in her song ‘Tech me how fer lew’. Other reflections on watery realms also appealed. Debussy’s solo piano piece ‘La cathédrale engloutie’ soundtracked me as I researched myths of lost Lyonesse while Mike Cooper’s Kiribati, an ambient exoticist album about the imperilled archipelago (recently re-released on Discrepant), caused me to reflect on the social and cultural impact of sea level rise before that topic became a high-profile concern.

This compilation album takes the concept of the aquapelago into new depths and breaches it on fresh shores. The tracks are soaked with the aquatic. Bassy sonorities boom as if heard deep underwater. Bubbly textures breach the surface, water drips and seabirds soar high above waves. Sugai Kei samples fragments of text concerning the Ningen, a fantastic humanoid/whale that reflects the ‘aquapelagic imaginary’ of modern Japan and its preoccupation with industrial whaling. Andrew Pekler continues the orientation of his Phantom Islands project - a sonic atlas of imaginary places - with a soundscape as if heard by a swimmer just offshore, mixing sounds of the island and the sea together. Mike Cooper’s sonic reflection on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island is similar, combining the island’s ubiquitous barking dogs with the slurp of waves on rocky shores, conjuring a languorous time before Chinese crackdowns on the territory.

Taking another tack, the Dead Mauriacs gleefully water-ski through collage of tropical island exoticisms, replete with glitchy orientalism, while Babau combines skittering idiophone melodies with resonant glissandi. Vica Pacheco moves between dense and airy sounds, as if crossing between surf lines and the space above. Yannkick Dauby’s track is also imbued with in-betweenness, evoking ambient sounds heard through a ship’s hull. Sculpture’s ‘Froth Surfer’ realises its title, with bubbling sounds and rhythms that evoke Hawaiian surfing filtered through layers of time and distance. Reminding us of the shore necessary for aquapelagic spaces, Franceso Cavaliere and Tomoko Sauvage’s composition anchors the album, centred around shaken rhythms and resonant ringing tones and drones.

Taken together, the album sketches the contours of the aquapelago as it might be imagined and conjured in sound – an endless oceanic realm that laps on to beaches and crashes against cliffs. The performers navigate this space under alternately starry and cloudy skies, orientating themselves with sounds, textures and sonic samples of their terrestrial homes while we float with them. ‘’
Philip Hayward December 2021

Musicking is Old Time Relijun's tenth studio album.The record pounces fierce with the protest anthem "Break Through". Arrington De Dionyso's voice has gained some grit and even more gravitas. Like an overloaded speaker, he booms the words into the stratosphere. "Break through the wickedness, break through the lies, Break through the glass; don't stand in my way!" The band hits the groove and the vibe moves through the eleven songs swiftly - like Panther Juice and Rum. It does not stop, it does not let up, it does not let you sleep.Musicking is the latest example of the Old Time Relijun push and pull. They are the rarest breed of musical combo - - - insatiable, living raw, always on the margins, consistent as hell. You know what to expect, and yet haven't a clue what's coming next. Old Time Relijun conduct sweaty, compulsively danceable performances that never fail to inflame. Their songs are simple, but no one in the world could imitate them. Their albums are packed with sing-along hits mixed with sonic experiments and cosmic jests. The loose swagger belies years of practice, fastidious arrangements and a gut-level understanding of musical how and why.

DNO hits double figures as Denver’s Trisicloplox & Sectra return with more industrial-strength electro-sludge.

Sectra sets the tone with ‘Mail Theft’, a hulking mass of sand-blasting static, insectoid jitter and low-end boom. It’s an intimidating, uneasy listen, like tuning through the haunting emptiness of post-apocalyptic broadcast frequencies, only to be interrupted by sudden bursts of unseen filth and gore.

Trisicloplox follows with a brace of tracks. ‘Bruised’ does exactly what it says on the tin, gargantuan kicks pummelling layer upon layer of dense sound into an impenetrable wall of noise. Ritualistic rhythms and gluttonous amounts of overdrive swarm over distant wails, sending everything into a spiral into despair.On ‘Megastructure’, doom metal meets hip-hop, as rough-hewn drums crunch above a bassline that takes its cues from the Super Hans School of Electronic Music: “The longer the note, the more dread.”

And finishing up the vinyl offerings is ‘Dead On Arrival’. Coming courtesy of Sectra, the most traditionally ‘club-focused’ effort of the lot sees a serrated breakbeat and venomous acid lick sparring over dissonant pads.

As always, digital listeners are offered a little bonus, this time the only full collab: ‘The Dead InTheir Shrouds’. Shunted along by a systematic kick, the track’s jackhammer subs become all-consuming, seemingly sucking all the air from the room and hurling it back out of the bassbins in a violent frenzy.

A bold release that’s not for the faint of heart, the ‘Dead Structure’ EP further cements Trisicloplox & Sectra as truly original talents and DNO as an outlet that can never be pigeonholed.

Rhythms of postmodern realism at the very bottom of the DNO.

Limited edition picture disc in full colour printed sleeve

Covered In Stars featuring members of Luna, Spacemen 3, Slowdive, Spectrum, Add N To (X), The Vacant Lots, Spiritualized, Slipstream and more.

This is a wonderfully colourful, beautiful fun and powerfully transcendent album by Fuxa, Featuring driving drum machines, gritty fuzz bitten guitars on The Sun Is Shining and Mary, 80's neon midnight post-punk disco grooves on Shadazz and perfectly blissed out floating in space vibes (Help Me Please and Cluster Fuxa). The synths shimmer and elevate, guitars attack and sparkle and the vocals deliver dark romanticism which evoke often David Cronenberg inspired fantasies such as photographs of car crashes, crushes on perfect strangers and unknown futures. 
 - Simon Scott (Slowdive)


Fuxa returns in 2022 with a new album  'Covered In Stars'
 
Eight new songs and several years in the making, of what can best be described as a full on sonic explosion. Mixing space-rock elements, krautrock rhythms, punchy beats and swirling electronic sweeps and beeps that would make for a perfect soundtrack for any warp speed travelling cosmonauts with phasers set to fun!!
 
For the past 25 years Fuxa front man Randall Nieman has no doubt been on a cosmic journey in sound and space. from his early beginnings a part of Detroit locals Windy and Carl as a guitarist/synth player, running and releasing close to 100 releases on his own label Mind Expansion, to later joining Sonic Boom's (Spacemen 3) group Spectrum for close to a decade. Performing the songs that Spacemen taught him touring across North America and Europe as well as recording and releasing several releases with Sonic under the Spectrum moniker. 
Randall has since worked with and released numerous amounts of material with the likes of Martin Rev (Suicide), The Telescopes and Dean and Britta (Luna) to name a few.
 
It is no surprise that Randall would once again build this new album with friends that he became close to over the years musically and there's certainly no shortage of indie royalty star power on this album
 
Produced by Randall Nieman, Richard Formby and Stefan Persson.
Mastered by Simon Scott (Slowdive)
This album features guest appearances from Britta Phillips and Dean Wareham (Luna), Ann Shenton (Add N to (X)), Mark Refoy and Jonny Mattock (Spiritualized, Slipstream), Roger Brogan (Spectrum/Dean Wareham), Jared Artaud (Vacant Lots) and more! Each adding an unmistakable and timeless element that Fuxa's core members have created. 
It would be hard not to notice the sheer aesthetic glory of this release as once again Randall has chosen the amazing James Marsh (most would remember him as the phenomenal artist responsible for all the Talk Talk albums over the years. His artwork is not only featured on the jacket but on both sides of the limited edition picture disc vinyl.
Covered in stars is a celebration of 25 years of music and friendships made along the way. 

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Fuxa! 

Star Feminine Band: a 2020 debut, first journey and a 2022 return! Though not exactly a world music label, Born Bad took up the challenge and released Star Féminine Band's debut album in late 2020. Heaps of acclaims and praise and the whole shebang, then boom: the tour that was to materialize, live, all of the band and its entourage's hopes got cancelled due to Covid. After a long delay, the band finally managed to get to Europe, performing on the Transmusicales Festival, as well as for TV stations like Arte, TV5 and BBC to much acclaim. "Once they played, Born Bad and the band clearly had a "mission accomplished" feeling - that all the energy put into this was worth it, starting with the critics who abounded at the Transmusicales to weigh the phenomenon. They left convinced, just like the audience, enthralled by the direct, live formula. The sequel to the adventures of these new ambassadors for Unicef? They persist and sign with a feverish and energetic soundtrack in which nabo, peulh and waama are enlivened with drum lines and spiced up with more "modern" sounds, spreading words of tolerance and kindness. Simple and direct, they speak of their reality, of the ills of young women who don't always have a choice. Often out of school and destined to selling peanuts, bananas or gari on the roadside, most of the girls around there don't have a future. Forced marriage, precocious pregnancies_ "These kids are heroines!", continues Born Bads JB who, by welcoming them in a record studio, allowed for the formula to be sharpened into a sort of garage band with an afro twist. Thanks to the English lessons that their manager Jérémie Verdier has been providing every Sunday night for two years over videoconference, the girls even experimented with English lyrics in "We Are Star Feminine Band" and "Woman Stand Up". In Paris is the happy outcome of that challenge. Vinyl LP in printed under sleeve with French + UK linernotes + Download code * Digipak CD includes 12 pages booklet with French + UK linernotes.

“Pure psychotropic madness.” A screaming head on fire penetrated my chest, jolting me from the universal plane back to earth.” Guitarist/Singer/Sonic Alchemist Dave W’s vivid fever dream ignited The Revenge of Heads on Fire, WHITE HILLS’ latest release, which harnesses the energy of ferocious, hedonistic rock with blissful passages of dark ambience. Exploring themes of mortality, transformation and rebirth, the band reveals a spiritual depth unparalleled in previous works. The roar of fire, swirling of oceans and hallucinogenic visions can be heard throughout the 75-minute journey. From the intrepid prelude “The Instrumental Head” to the closing punk blaze of “Eternity”, the album ebbs and flows, smouldering and seething in the middle with the 21- minute mammoth opus “Don’t Be Afraid”. “’Don't Be Afraid’ alone makes this an essential listen for fans of contemporary psychedelia.” -All Music The Revenge of Heads on Fire consummates Dave W’s prototype for the 2007 release on Rocket Recordings, Heads on Fire, later picked up by Thrill Jockey. Six rediscovered songs accompany re-mixed versions of the original material, fulfilling the master arch of the pyre lit long ago. Recorded during the band’s tumultuous early years, the music vibrates with the energy and volatility of a sonic boom. The album will be released on Heads on Fire Industries, distributed worldwide via Cargo Records.

Die Jazzkantine hatte nie Berührungsängste beim Manövrieren zwischen den Genres, das neue Studioalbum "Discotheque" stellt dies eindrucksvoll unter Beweis. Gründer und Bandleader Christian Eitner hat es geschafft, die vielköpfige Charaktertruppe im Kern seit fast 30 Jahren zusammenzuhalten. Gestählt durch unzählige Gigs in kleinen schmuddeligen Clubs, aber auch in piekfeinen Theatern und in riesigen Arenen. Die Jazzkantine hat bis dato um die 1.500 Konzerte gespielt, das Schönste und Schlimmste, Aufregendste und Außergewöhnlichste aus allen Musikwelten erlebt. Und sie hat noch lange nicht genug. Wir müssen wieder tanzen. Wir müssen wieder singen. Und so taucht die Jazzkantine ein in die Welt der "Discomusik", die in ihren Ursprüngen vor 50 Jahren im Milieu des New Yorker Undergrounds viel diverser und innovativer ist, als man vermutet. Eine Melange aus ersten DJ-Techniken und neuen bombastischen Sound-Systemen bietet auf privat organisierten House Partys viel Raum zur Entfaltung der LGBT-Community. Noch heute erinnert alljährlich der Christopher Street Day an die Stonewall-Riots und somit an eine Zeit, als noch gleichgeschlechtlicher Tanz verboten ist. Vor allem David Mancusos "Loft" ist Anfang der 70er eine Keimzelle für den Disco-Sound, der erst viel später mit Hits wie "Stayin' Alive" und "Le Freak" zum internationalen Boom wächst - auch die Rolling Stones, Abba und Kiss springen bekanntlich später auf den Zug auf. Parallel verbinden aber auch Jazzgrößen wie Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis und Chick Corea die Raffinesse des Jazz mit der rhythmischen Intensität des Funks zu "Fusion". Und Fred Wesley sagt: "Discomusic ist Funk mit einer Krawatte". Wie es sich für die experimentierfreudige Jazzkantine gehört, entsteht auf "Discotheque" ein Sound, den man "Disco Jazz" nennen könnte - alles im gewohnten Mix aus Funk, Soul und Rap. Songs, die Lust machen, die neun Musiker endlich wieder live auf der Clubbühne zu erleben.

Die Jazzkantine hatte nie Berührungsängste beim Manövrieren zwischen den Genres, das neue Studioalbum "Discotheque" stellt dies eindrucksvoll unter Beweis. Gründer und Bandleader Christian Eitner hat es geschafft, die vielköpfige Charaktertruppe im Kern seit fast 30 Jahren zusammenzuhalten. Gestählt durch unzählige Gigs in kleinen schmuddeligen Clubs, aber auch in piekfeinen Theatern und in riesigen Arenen. Die Jazzkantine hat bis dato um die 1.500 Konzerte gespielt, das Schönste und Schlimmste, Aufregendste und Außergewöhnlichste aus allen Musikwelten erlebt. Und sie hat noch lange nicht genug. Wir müssen wieder tanzen. Wir müssen wieder singen. Und so taucht die Jazzkantine ein in die Welt der "Discomusik", die in ihren Ursprüngen vor 50 Jahren im Milieu des New Yorker Undergrounds viel diverser und innovativer ist, als man vermutet. Eine Melange aus ersten DJ-Techniken und neuen bombastischen Sound-Systemen bietet auf privat organisierten House Partys viel Raum zur Entfaltung der LGBT-Community. Noch heute erinnert alljährlich der Christopher Street Day an die Stonewall-Riots und somit an eine Zeit, als noch gleichgeschlechtlicher Tanz verboten ist. Vor allem David Mancusos "Loft" ist Anfang der 70er eine Keimzelle für den Disco-Sound, der erst viel später mit Hits wie "Stayin' Alive" und "Le Freak" zum internationalen Boom wächst - auch die Rolling Stones, Abba und Kiss springen bekanntlich später auf den Zug auf. Parallel verbinden aber auch Jazzgrößen wie Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis und Chick Corea die Raffinesse des Jazz mit der rhythmischen Intensität des Funks zu "Fusion". Und Fred Wesley sagt: "Discomusic ist Funk mit einer Krawatte". Wie es sich für die experimentierfreudige Jazzkantine gehört, entsteht auf "Discotheque" ein Sound, den man "Disco Jazz" nennen könnte - alles im gewohnten Mix aus Funk, Soul und Rap. Songs, die Lust machen, die neun Musiker endlich wieder live auf der Clubbühne zu erleben.

Dans Dans is back (already), with their most unfiltered, most spantenous, most 'punk' album to date. Three musicians, three days in the studio, one burst of energy.

April 23th, 2021. Breaking a five year silence, purveyors in ambiguous jazz-rock hybrids Dans Dans drop a new, fifth album. Throughout the media, Zink is hailed as another triumph for the Antwerp based trio. 'A bold and thrilling noise trip', according to Humo. 'The best live band of the Western hemisphere is back', celebrated OOR, while De Morgen hailed the 'organic but cleverly constructed jams'. The following summer, the band made the best of a temporary easing of local Covid restrictions, and played some rapturous shows, such as during Jazz Middelheim in their hometown and an Unday Records label night during the Boomtown festival in Ghent. A string of dates in Eastern Europe followed, but, alas, the remainder of a national and international tour in autumn was cancelled. Third wave, fourth wave, who was still counting?

At the tail end of 2021, Bert Dockx, Frederic Lyenn Jacques, and Steven Cassiers, the unholy trinity that make up Dans Dans since 2012 - yep, that's a ten year anniversary! - decided to turn setbacks into sound blasts, grief into grooves. Rehearsals were planned. New music was made. And before you know, a studio was booked. This is how an instrumental corona-album happened. Not one of contemplation through isolation or new found domestic bliss, not your usual, subdued track record of socially distant, monotonous times. '6' might be a reaction to all of that, but it's definitely more than that.

Dans Dans is back (already), with their most unfiltered, most spantenous, most 'punk' album to date. Three musicians, three days in the studio, one burst of energy.

April 23th, 2021. Breaking a five year silence, purveyors in ambiguous jazz-rock hybrids Dans Dans drop a new, fifth album. Throughout the media, Zink is hailed as another triumph for the Antwerp based trio. 'A bold and thrilling noise trip', according to Humo. 'The best live band of the Western hemisphere is back', celebrated OOR, while De Morgen hailed the 'organic but cleverly constructed jams'. The following summer, the band made the best of a temporary easing of local Covid restrictions, and played some rapturous shows, such as during Jazz Middelheim in their hometown and an Unday Records label night during the Boomtown festival in Ghent. A string of dates in Eastern Europe followed, but, alas, the remainder of a national and international tour in autumn was cancelled. Third wave, fourth wave, who was still counting?

At the tail end of 2021, Bert Dockx, Frederic Lyenn Jacques, and Steven Cassiers, the unholy trinity that make up Dans Dans since 2012 - yep, that's a ten year anniversary! - decided to turn setbacks into sound blasts, grief into grooves. Rehearsals were planned. New music was made. And before you know, a studio was booked. This is how an instrumental corona-album happened. Not one of contemplation through isolation or new found domestic bliss, not your usual, subdued track record of socially distant, monotonous times. '6' might be a reaction to all of that, but it's definitely more than that.