quête:brothers in law

The UKs finest purveyors of dancefloor dynamite, Disclosure return with their fourth album, ‘Alchemy’, their first album in three years. The super duo, consisting of brothers Guy and Howard Lawrence, are one the world's most celebrated and well known electronic acts.

With a career spanning over a decade, they have collected Grammy, Ivor Novello and Mercury Prize nominations, repeatedly topped the UK charts, and soundtracked the lives of a generation. The album sees the duo produce the first Disclosure album with no features. A deeply personal album for Howard lyrically, ‘Alchemy’ also showcases Guy as a producer at the top of his game.

PRESSED ON FRUIT PUNCH COLORED VINYL WITH HAND NUMBERED OBILIMITED TO 2000 COPIES

The contemporary realm of hip hop music can be seen as polarized between two sides; mainstream versus underground, industry versus independent, at a base level boiled down to catchy sounds & infective hooks over higher quality lyrical content. These elements don’t need to be mutually exclusive, but these days it’s rare to find an act that can please all sides of the discussion. Clipse are one of the few groups that successfully and consistently caters to both sides of rap’s splintered psyche, simultaneously serving the scene with upbeat bangers that get the club poppin’ & subwoofers rattlin’ while crafting clever quotable compositions deserving of repeated headphone submersions. Though their preceding official albums Lord Willin’ (2002) & Hell Hath No Fury (2006) made bigger splashes commercially, 2009’s Til The Casket Drops is surely no slouch, a gem which deserves to be revisited with fresh ears – good thing Get On Down has given it the proper treatment it deserves with its first-ever vinyl pressing!
Til The Casket Drops was a departure from the duo of Malice & Pusha T’s previous works in that it was their first LP not completely produced by The Neptunes. However, the celebrated team who brought us ‘Grinding’ & ‘Mr. Me Too’ still helmed 8 of the album’s 13 tracks, thus dominating the soundscapes and aesthetic of the album anyway. With the remaining beats handled by Hitmen Sean C & LV (Jay-Z, Big Pun, Ghostface) and Aftermath’s DJ Khalil (Kendrick Lamar, Aloe Blacc, Eminem) clearly Clipse stock hadn’t lowered in the game. While boasting notable vocal features from Kanye West, Pharrell, Cam’ron, Keri Hilson, Yo Gotti & their Re-Up Gang affiliate Ab-Liva, Casket Drops leaves ample space for the core emcee duo of Pusha & Malice to shine in the spotlight, with verses revolving around each other succinctly in-synch and bonded by an exceptional creative rhythm only biological brothers could share.
Clipse have always delighted in dualities, juxtapositions and contradictions, unabashedly celebrating the capitalistic lifestyle and the grind as the kings of ‘coke-rap’, while taking hard looks at society’s mores and those of their own individual journeys. We hear Malice’s eventual transition to No Malice taking form on this album as he found religion, warning others who might follow in his path on ‘Footsteps’: “don’t let my wrongs give you the right of way/ to emulate my past escaping the law’s grasp” while refusing to be pinned down in one lane: “it weights on my conscience and I hate conscious rap”. Meanwhile Pusha T continues his lyrical ascent into the King Push persona with bars like “pompous motherfucker, look what them jewels made me/ I’m only finding comfort in knowing you can’t replace me/ What a thing to say, but what am I to do/ I’m role-playing a conscious nigga and true is true/ Cocaine aside, all of the bloggers behooved/ My critics finally have a verse of mine to jerk off to” decisively on album opener “Freedom”.
Since it dropped, the Clipse have stated that Casket… is their final album together while subsequently alluding to the possibility of an eventual reunion. Only time will tell, but until then it’s time to re-celebrate one of hip hop’s most dynamic duos by hearing Til The Casket Drops in a whole new light with its long-overdue, first time on vinyl pressing via Get On Down featuring all 13 original tracks on wax and cover art by the legendary KAWS! It’s kinda like a big deal…

Discover the history of Hip-Hop with this brand-new 3-vinyl box set! The Gems Of Hip-Hop Culture - FEAT. - THE PHARCYDE - AFRIKA BAMBAATAA - MOS DEF - GRAND MASTER FLASH - RZA - CAPONE-N-NOREAGA - MONIE LOVE - DIZZEE RASCAL - GRAND PUBA - BRAND NUBIAN - BIG L - 2PAC...

Die Heavenly Remixes-Reihe präsentiert weiterhin die besten Remixe, Versionen, Meditationen, Re-Rubs und Dubs von Künstlern aus der ganzen Welt, die auf der Liste des aufregendsten Plattenlabels des Landes stehen. In den meisten Fällen handelt es sich bei den Alben um die erste physische Veröffentlichung eines Remixes, die sie von den Streaming-Playlisten in ihr rechtmäßiges, spirituelles Zuhause auf superschwerem Vinyl (oder glänzender, supergepackter Compact Disc) befördert.

Heavenly Remixes Volume 8 beginnt mit Space Afrikas üppiger, ambienter Neuinterpretation von BEAM/S der Orielles, bevor Justin Robertson Amber Arcades' Turning Light zu acht Minuten elektronischem Dub dehnt.

Heavenly Recordings release the next two volumes in their series of remixed classics and unreleased versions. ‘Heavenly Remixes 7 & 8’ sees the label going back into the archive, as well as picking off some more recent remixes, and both albums primarily feature either previously unreleased versions or re-workings available for the first time on vinyl and CD.

Heavenly have always seen immense value in the remix, a value way beyond what it might bring commercially. Since their first release in 1990 (where Andrew Weatherall overhauled a one-off single by club kids Sly and Lovechild) Heavenly remixes have been carefully curated and treated as a key part of the A&R process. It’s an opportunity to view an artist through a different prism, to play out a musical ‘what if’ scenario. It’s the kind of exploration that’s happened consistently through the thirty plus years the label has released music.

The ‘Heavenly remixes’ series continues to showcase the very best remixes, versions, meditations, re-rubs and dubs from all around the world of artists right across the roster of the country’s most exciting record label. In most cases, the albums offer the first physical release for a remix, elevating them from streaming playlists to their rightful, spiritual home on super heavy vinyl (or shiny, super-packed compact disc).

Heavenly remixes 7’ heads to Belfast, where David Holmes - a producer who first appeared on Heavenly in 1994 amping up the acid on Saint Etienne’s ‘Like A Motorway’ - appears as solo artist and as one third of Unloved, who get a lift right to the heart of a Vauxhall sweatbox by Horse Meat Disco. It draws a line between Amsterdam and Frankfurt as Ludwig A.F. amps up the electronics on Pip Blom’s ‘Keep It Together’. It stops off in a south London studio where super producer Dan Carey plays the desk with Toy, then relocates LA psych rock band Fever The Ghost to an Ibizan shoreline as the sun sets on the horizon. It cements Sheffield’s reputation as the home of modern British techno with the return of true originators Forgemasters. And it pitches up in front of a renegade soundsystem late night at Glastonbury as Erol Alkan’s mighty rework of Con Man gets its third rewind of the night.



‘Heavenly remixes 8’ opens with Space Afrika’s lush, ambient reimagining of the Orielles’ ‘BEAM/S’ before Justin Robertson stretches Amber Arcades’ ‘Turning Light’ into eight minutes of electronic dub. Elsewhere, Baxter Dury’s peerless ‘Miami’ becomes a string-laden electro skank in the hands of French producer Pilooski; Edinburgh’s bedroom techno genius Eyes of Others’ ‘Safehouse’ turns into an East End bathhouse courtesy of disco deviants Decius; Ashley Beedle’s Black Science Orchestra turns Unloved’s heartworn torch song into seven minutes of glimmering dreamlike percussive house and Katy J. Pearson’s freak flag is flown high thanks to The Umlauts’ throbbing filtered electro mix. It ends similarly to how it began as TONE takes

Fran Lobo’s ‘All I Want’ on a gorgeous slow motion spacewalk.

Celebrating his 70th year in show business, Pat Boone, legendary singer, actor, songwriter, and author is reconnecting with his Nashville roots with a milestone country music project, Country Jubilee

Included in the 25 tracks are 5 Pat Boone Top 100 Country recordings, Boone's recordings of classic hits by Country legends, plus a new recording of the classic duet and Billboard #1 'You and I' (with featured guest artist Crystal Gayle), and Pat's new song, 'Grits' (with featured guest artists Ray Stevens, The Gatlin Brothers, Lorrie Morgan, Deborah Allen and Dean Miller), tailor-made for the line dancing crowd.

The Commemorative Edition 2CD format includes a 56- page booklet with 'The Story Behind the Song' (compiled by hit Country songwriter Frank Myers), 'I Remember Red' (influence of father-in-law and Country music pioneer and Grand Ole Opry co- founder Red Foley), lyrics, and archival and behind- the- scenes photographs.

Indonesian City Sound: Panbers’ Psychedelic Rock and Funk 1971-1974

The Pandjaitan Brothers or Panbers came from the North Sumatra minority Christian group, the Bataks, whose ancestry traces back to an island at the center of Lake Toba. As a minority group within Indonesia's Muslim-dominated society, this ethnic minority has produced top military generals, celebrity lawyers, and a legion of pop and rock superstars.

Suffice to say, some of the biggest names in the country's pop history were Bataks. Panbers fit the bill perfectly.

The band's strong Christianity belief looms heavily in the music they produce. The prominent use of the Hammond organ in their early materials is evocative of church music the band members have been around in their whole life. Bandleader Benny Pandjaitan's fills his characteristic wail with existential dread, with many utterances of the word "mengapa" (why).

Guilt is another central theme Pandjaitan repeatedly comes back to in his lyrics. But they balance it with joy, on songs such as "Come on You Dance" "Let's Dance Together" or "Haai" (a play on the word high), where references to recreational substances are plentiful.

Although they modeled themselves after the era's rock bands Beatles and fellow countrymen Koes Plus, Panbers had a unique aversion to the electric guitar. In "Jakarta City Sound," a fiery three-note guitar solo is laid so far down in the mix that they are barely audible. In "Haai" they modify the guitar to sound like a jungle instrument playing traditional North Sumatran music. In "Rock and the Sea," arguably their most well-known song globally, they decided to ditch electric guitar altogether and replace it with a sitar.

In the absence of an electric guitar, Panbers had to rely on Doan's inventive bass playing and Asido's drum works to do the heavy lifting - and boy, do they deliver (Their 1971 debut "Volume 1" saw plenty of drum breaks). In this compilation, listeners will hear recordings from Panbers' fertile four-year period - a time that produced in some of the grooviest and hardest-sounding psychedelic music in Indonesia's rock history.

For those uninitiated on the glory Panbers, consider this compilation an introduction to some of earliest and heaviest rock sound to come out of Indonesia.

3 Feet High and Rising is the debut studio album by hip hop trio De La Soul and was released on March 3, 1989

It marked the first of three full- length collaborations with producer Prince Paul, which would become the critical and commercial peak of both parties. Critically, as well as commercially, the album was a success. It contains the singles, "Me Myself and I", "The Magic Number", "Buddy", and "Eye Know".

The album title came from the Johnny Cash song "Five Feet High and Rising". It is listed on Rolling Stone's 200 Essential Rock Records and The Source's 100 Best Rap Albums. When Village Voice held its annual Pazz & Jop Critics Poll for 1989, 3 Feet High and Rising was ranked #1. It was also listed on the Rolling Stone's

The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. Released amid the 1989 boom in gangsta rap, which gravitated towards hardcore, confrontational, violent lyrics, De La Soul's uniquely positive style made them an oddity beginning with the first single, "Me, Myself and I". Their positivity meant many observers labeled them a 'hippie' group, based on their declaration of the 'D.A.I.S.Y. Age' (Da. Inner. Soul. Yall).

Sampling artists as diverse as Hall & Oates, Steely Dan and The Turtles, 3 Feet High and Rising is often viewed as the stylistic beginning of 1990s alternative hip hop (and especially jazz rap).

Ghost Producer aka Badawi (aka Raz Mesinai aka Bilal ibn Yakub al-Badawi) is a prolific producer and artist who has been on the forefront of underground experimental jazz and electronic music scenes around the world for over thirty years, with a catalog of albums on labels as ROIR, Asphodel and Tzadik under various monikers dating back to the late 1980s.

Ghost Producer released his first albums starting in the late 80’s under the monikers Psy Co. and Ruff Riddim Productions, selling his cassette tapes in NYC. He produced, on average, at least one album per week since 1988 until today. One of the twenty or so monikers was Badawi, later being signed to ROIR Records and releasing the seminal experimental dub, punk albums »Bedouin Sound Clash« and later »The Heretic of Ether« on Asphodel. Spending time as a child between Occupied Jerusalem, the West Bank (Balata) and New York City (Rock Steady Park) during the height of the B-Boy era in the 70s and 80s informed Ghost Producer’s singular sound of heavy driving Sufi rhythms, sonic experiments, percussion, piano playing and sound design which has connected him to a wide variety of artists ranging from Maryanne Amacher to John Zorn, to added elements of darkness to music by such artists as Hanz Zimmer (Black Hawk Down) and rappers Danny Brown (Pneumonia) and Skepta and Double D (Don) among many others.

At age 14, Ghost Producer was discovered by visionary jazz and rock musician, Juma Sultan (Jimi Hendrix) whom later trusted Ghost Producer with producing the archive of over 2000 hours from recordings from »Studio We« and the Free Jazz Loft Movement in NYC in the 60s and 70s. As a composer, he has worked with Kronos Quartet and has had premiers at Carnegie Hall (Cross Fader, The Echo of Decay) and Lincoln Center (String Quartet For Four Turntables). In addition, Ghost Producer has released several albums on John Zorn’s Tzadik label, where he explored producing to the books of Franz Kafka (Before The Law, Resurrections for Goat Skin, Cyborg Acoustics)

As a composer for film, he coined the term »score design» to describe his work in conceiving and producing scores for films with particularly demanding needs, working on such films as A Late Quartet (director Yaron Zilberman composer: Angelo Badalamenti), The Fountain, Black Swan and The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky/Clint Mansel), Black Hawk Down (Ridley Scott/Hans Zimmer) and many more. In 2014, he was awarded as a fellow in the Sundance Composers Lab.

In 2015, Ghost Producer formed the Underground Producers Alliance, a unique program for developing producers, performers and composers, with co-founders Scotty Hard (Wu Tang Clan, Medeski Martin and Wood, De La Soul), HPrizm aka High Priest (Anti Pop Consortium), Honeychild Coleman (the 1865, The Slits) and Prince Paul (Jungle Brothers, De La Soul), where Ghost Producer produces entire albums with student participation in his master course.

This album, »The Book of Jinn«, is one of many productions done within the course, featuring players/mentors Juma Sultan (percussion), Chandenie (voice) and Shahzad Ismaily (electric bass), with additional student participation from Adam Culbert and Jonah Sollins (aka Goodnight 1500) on synths and percussion as well, then all remixed and rearranged by Badawi into what you hear here, The Book of Jinn.

3 Feet High and Rising is the debut studio album by hip hop trio De La Soul and was released on March 3, 1989

It marked the first of three full- length collaborations with producer Prince Paul, which would become the critical and commercial peak of both parties. Critically, as well as commercially, the album was a success. It contains the singles, "Me Myself and I", "The Magic Number", "Buddy", and "Eye Know".

The album title came from the Johnny Cash song "Five Feet High and Rising". It is listed on Rolling Stone's 200 Essential Rock Records and The Source's 100 Best Rap Albums. When Village Voice held its annual Pazz & Jop Critics Poll for 1989, 3 Feet High and Rising was ranked #1. It was also listed on the Rolling Stone's

The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. Released amid the 1989 boom in gangsta rap, which gravitated towards hardcore, confrontational, violent lyrics, De La Soul's uniquely positive style made them an oddity beginning with the first single, "Me, Myself and I". Their positivity meant many observers labeled them a 'hippie' group, based on their declaration of the 'D.A.I.S.Y. Age' (Da. Inner. Soul. Yall).

Sampling artists as diverse as Hall & Oates, Steely Dan and The Turtles, 3 Feet High and Rising is often viewed as the stylistic beginning of 1990s alternative hip hop (and especially jazz rap).

3 Feet High and Rising is the debut studio album by hip hop trio De La Soul and was released on March 3, 1989

It marked the first of three full- length collaborations with producer Prince Paul, which would become the critical and commercial peak of both parties. Critically, as well as commercially, the album was a success. It contains the singles, "Me Myself and I", "The Magic Number", "Buddy", and "Eye Know".

The album title came from the Johnny Cash song "Five Feet High and Rising". It is listed on Rolling Stone's 200 Essential Rock Records and The Source's 100 Best Rap Albums. When Village Voice held its annual Pazz & Jop Critics Poll for 1989, 3 Feet High and Rising was ranked #1. It was also listed on the Rolling Stone's

The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. Released amid the 1989 boom in gangsta rap, which gravitated towards hardcore, confrontational, violent lyrics, De La Soul's uniquely positive style made them an oddity beginning with the first single, "Me, Myself and I". Their positivity meant many observers labeled them a 'hippie' group, based on their declaration of the 'D.A.I.S.Y. Age' (Da. Inner. Soul. Yall).

Sampling artists as diverse as Hall & Oates, Steely Dan and The Turtles, 3 Feet High and Rising is often viewed as the stylistic beginning of 1990s alternative hip hop (and especially jazz rap).

With its name indicative of the music's boundary-testing diversity and Southwestern inspiration, On the Border finds the Eagles leaving everything on the table and embracing a harder edge that takes the band out of more relaxed territory and establishes it as a group that knows how – and wants – to rock. Glenn Frey, Don Henley, new member Don Felder, and company immediately announce their intent on the defiant album-opening hit "Already Gone" and never look back, crafting a gem of a record that from start to finish is arguably their most consistent and balanced effort.

Limited to 10,000 numbered copies, pressed on dead-quiet MoFi SuperVinyl at RTI, and mastered from the original analogue master tapes, Mobile Fidelity's ultra-hi-fi UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP collector's edition pays tribute to the record's significance and enhances the experience for generations to come. Playing with reference sonics that elevate an effort revered by audiophiles, it provides a lively, dynamic, transparent, and intimate view of a release whose contemporary importance continues to grow. The opportunity to zero in on the particulars of the Eagles' golden harmonies, distinct vocal timbres, and cohesive interplay has never been better.

Visually, the premium packaging and gorgeous presentation of the UD1S On the Border pressing befit its select status. Housed in a deluxe box, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. No expense has been spared. From every angle, this UD1S reissue exists as a curatorial artefact meant to be preserved, touched, and examined. It is made for discerning listeners that prize sound quality and production, and who desire to fully immerse themselves in the art – and everything involved with the album, from the iconic Navajo cover painting to the meticulous finishes.

And with On the Border, there's plenty to take in and soak up. Declared by famed critic Robert Christgau as "the Eagles' best album," the 1974 set claims a rich backstory. Initially recorded amid tumultuous sessions with producer Glyn Johns in London shortly after the release of the group's sophomore Desperado set, On the Border took a new turn after the band elected to scrap most of the prior work, return to its native California, and team with producer Bill Szymczyk to give the material less of a smooth, polished sheen and more toughness. Szymczyk also afforded the Eagles more input and freedom in the arrangements, and suggested adding another guitarist to play on "Good Day in Hell." Felder got the call, and so won over the Eagles with his skills, he quickly became the fifth member of the band.

While the late-arriving Felder only plays on one other album cut, "Already Gone," his mates more than prove their muster on the remainder of a double-platinum affair that established the Eagles as a force whose range transcended the calmer country-leaning style it perfected on their first two LPs. Primarily written by Jackson Browne and shelved during the Desperado sessions due to its higher-energy nature, the throttle-twisting "James Dean" ricochets with barbed riffs and rebellious swagger. Listen without limits to how Szymczyk's raw production stamps the song with a leather-and-jeans cool befitting its protagonist. Similarly rugged, the slide-guitar-fueled "Good Day in Hell" boasts its own mean streak. And the funk-laced, boot-stomping title track cautions "don't you tell me 'bout your law and order." Throughout On the Border, the Eagles are in no mood to mess around.

Not that the band skirts sentimental territory. On one of the era's finest covers, the Eagles nail the bittersweet feelings and bring high-definition detail to the vivid scenery of Tom Waits' "Ol' '55," a song the group makes its own. The rustic ballad "My Man" serves as a tribute to the recently deceased Gram Parsons, with singer-guitarist Bernie Leadon taking the lead on the microphone as he pours his heart out to his former Flying Burrito Brothers mate. And when it comes to romance, is it possible to top "Best of My Love"? Graced with Henley's honey-dipped vocals, refined wordless group harmonies, brushed drums, and the gentle strum of acoustic guitars, the Johns-produced cut soared to Number One and set the stage for what would soon be the Eagles' reality: global dominance.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Instead of utilizing the industry-standard three-step lacquer process, Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab's new UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) uses only one step, bypassing two processes of generational loss. While three-step processing is designed for optimum yield and efficiency, UD1S is created for the ultimate in sound quality. Just as Mobile Fidelity pioneered the UHQR (Ultra High-Quality Record) with JVC in the 1980s, UD1S again represents another state-of-the-art advance in the record-manufacturing process. MFSL engineers begin with the original master recordings, painstakingly transfer them to DSD 256, and meticulously cut a set of lacquers. These lacquers are used to create a very fragile, pristine UD1S stamper called a "convert." Delicate "converts" are then formed into the actual record stampers, producing a final product that literally and figuratively brings you closer to the music. By skipping the additional steps of pulling another positive and an additional negative, as done in the three-step process used in standard pressings, UD1S produces a final LP with the lowest noise floor possible today. The removal of the additional two steps of generational loss in the plating process reveals tremendous amounts of extra musical detail and dynamics, which are otherwise lost due to the standard copying process. The exclusive nature of these very limited pressings guarantees that every UD1S pressing serves as an immaculate replica of the lacquer sourced directly from the original master recording. Every conceivable aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the most perfect record album available today.

The Isley Brothers “Knowledge is power. I’m a witness to that. Our parents wanted us to have a complete musical education. They exposed us to everything, classical to country, standards, show tunes.” Ronald Isley, Mojo Magazine, 2000 The Isley Brothers have delighted audiences since the 1950’s and are celebrating their eighth decade in show business. Morphing from their roots in gospel and doo-wop through funk, rock and then, finally, into slow-jam R&B, the Isley Brothers remain one of the most fascinating groups of all time.
This album contains some of the most life-affirming music ever recorded: Ronald Isley’s keening yelp offering strength and sensitivity as it is supported by brothers Rudolph and O’Kelly. Our collection picks up their story in 1969. By this time, they had been recording for 12 years for many legendary labels, from RCA, to Atlantic, to Motown.
The brothers decided to go it alone on their own label, T-Neck. The repurposed Isleys broke onto the scene with the US R&B No.1/Hot 100 No. 2, ‘It’s Your Thing’. The album of the same name was a Top 30 smash and the group’s decision was vindicated. ‘It’s Your Thing’ marked a meeting point of influences: Sly Stone, James Brown, gospel and one-time group member Jimi Hendrix, laying the template for the Isleys’ next decade, from the gritty rock covers of Givin’ It Back to the era-defining ‘3 + 3’ (with the formal addition of the two younger Isleys, Ernie and Marvin, plus brother-in-law Chris Jasper).
After the 1972 release of ‘Brother, Brother, Brother’ (featuring the classic ‘Work To Do’) T-Neck moved to CBS leading to their first Platinum-selling album (1973’s ‘3+3’). Produced with Malcolm Cecil and Robert Margouleff, ‘3+3’ was practically prescribed to every soul boy in the UK (witness Wham’s cover of ‘If You Were There’). For the Isleys to take their old R&B hit, ‘Who’s That Lady’ and turn it into hard-rocking psychedelic soul was a blazing statement of their
intent. Their version of Seals and Croft’s pretty ‘Summer Breeze’ became one of their biggest hits, with Ronald and Ernie stamping their authority on the ballad. A period of phenomenal success followed. For every standout ballad (‘For The Love Of You’, or ‘The Highways Of My Life’), there was strident, take-no-prisoners political funk - as typified by ‘Fight The Power’, a US R&B No. 1 in 1975.
It was written by Ernie on the same day as another of their greatest moments, ‘Harvest For The World’.
This collection is a beautiful overview to the group, a most fabulous re-introduction to old friends. This era is affectionately known by the Isleys as the ‘gold and platinum years’ - one listen and you will understand why.

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."

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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.

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.

"Matasuna Records" returns to Mexico for a third time to dig for rare treasures. They got their hands on a special gem - two obscure Latin/Jazzfunk tunes by a band called "Colorado" from "Mexico City". The songs were released in 1976 on the Mexican label Peerless and the super rare original 7inch is virtually unavailable. Fortunately, the release is finally available for the first time as an official reissue in a remastered edition. An unjustly under-the-radar Latin jazzfunk highlight!

The song "Colorado", named after the band, opens the "A-side" of the single. The hypnotic fender rhodes puts the listener in the right mood right from the start, before the drums and percussion set the rhythm. The horns also add depth and melodiousness before the song takes a turn and reveals its funky side with guitars, synths and bass. A nice guitar solo also reveals the affinity for rock music without losing sight of the vibe of the song or tipping it a different direction. Definitely a fabulous song that comes up with a lot of ideas and inspirations, offering an unexpected richness in the under 3-minute running time.

The "B-side" also continues musically energetic in the same way with "Para Ti". Here, too, you can feel and hear the playfulness and experimentation of these extraordinary musicians. Atmospherically dense passages alternate with quieter phases and solo parts, before the tension rises again and literally explodes. As in the song "Colorado", rhodes, brass, guitars & bass offer a great and varied interplay. The secret highlight, however, might be the drum and percussion parts in the middle of the track, which will surely enchant not only the B-Boys and B-Girls.

Artist info:

The internet, a source of almost endless knowledge, offers no information about the band Colorado. All the more fortunate that one of the band's founding members, "Emilio Espinosa Becerra", provides detailed info for the reissue.

In 1968 the three brothers "Luis", "Francisco" and "Emilio Espinosa Becerra" from Mexico City started to rehearse together to play wellknown rock & pop songs at friends or family parties. At first, they played on Japanese guitars and a Teisco bass borrowed from a school friend. They saved up money to then buy guitar & bass amps and a microphone, which they always had to rent until then. However, the budget was only enough for Mexican replicas of the legendary Fender Bassman and the Fender Super Reverb. Original equipment was simply unaffordable.

Shortly thereafter, more members joined the band. Three musicians from the school band "Tepeyac": "Marco Nieto Bermudez" (trumpet), "Raymundo Mier Garza" (tenor saxophone) and "Alfonso Romero" (trombone). Another classmate named "Carlos Mauricio Fernández Ordóñez", who studied piano, also joined the group. His father had a chemical factory in the United States and helped bring equipment (amplifiers and a Farfisa Fast 5 organ) - hidden in the back of a truck - to Mexico. In the time that followed, more instruments were acquired, including bass and guitars (from Gibson, Rickenbacher and Fender) and microphones (from Shure) for vocals and horns.

With a larger band and new equipment, they played many parties in their district of "Lindavista" in "Mexico City" and neighboring areas from 1970 to 1973, as well as gigs at various festivals and school events. The group's band name at the time was "Sound Core Brass". However, more and more often people with turntables and speakers showed up at parties, which were also able to heat up. The so-called "Sonideros", a sound system culture that was emerging in the 1960s, charged less than a multi-piece live band, so the band's performances declined.

During those years, three other "Espinosa Becerra" family members joined the band: "Jorge Rafael" (trombone), "Sergio Alejandro" (tenor saxophone) and "Felipe de Jesus" (drums and percussion).

A brother of the musicians, "Carlos Espinosa Becerra", studied electrical engineering at the University. Together with another fellow student, he designed and built a 10-channel console with a variety of functions and features that far surpassed the devices available at the time. They also went to the US again to buy JBL speakers & tweeters to build their own sound system. On another trip to Los Angeles, they bought Phase Linear amplifiers, which offered enormous power by the standards of the time and had an extremely low distortion factor. With this equipment they could turn up the volume really loud and noise-free.

This was also the time when they stopped playing music from English bands & youth groups and changed their repertoire completely. They played mambos, chachachas, pasodobles and tangos on special occasions in big ballrooms and halls. Also, every now and then they hired a string quartet of well-known Mexican violinists to provide the musical entertainment at dinner events.

During those years, classmate "Pablo Rached Diaz" joined the band, playing tenor saxophone. Pablo was very active and organized many parties. He was also the one who helped the band to record on the Mexican label "Peerless". So in 1975 they were asked by Peerles Records to record their own songs. They had recorded a total of 12 songs - six of these songs were released on three vinyl singles (45rpm). Most of the songs were composed by "Gustavo Ruiz de Chavez Sr.". The band was asked to adopt a more commercial name, and so they had chosen the band name "Colorado". In the course of the releases, the band made some promotional tours and appeared in shows on "Televisa", the most important television station in Mexico in those years.

Later, several members of "Colorado" graduated and began to pursue regular professions. They didn't stop playing at events, but priority was given to more formal duties and the band was no longer as active as it had been in its heyday.

About 8 years ago, the band got back together to play again. The next generation of musicians also joined the band: two sons, a nephew and a brother-in-law of the original band members. Currently, they are back playing at friends' parties and family gatherings in Mexico City.

Demon Music is proud to bring together a selection of popular and exciting classic Northern Soul Anthems on a new 2LP thirty-three track collection. These are the original recordings by some familiar names and one or two that may have passed you by.

As the Sixties came to a close and the initial success of labels like Atlantic and Motown began to wane, there remained a dedicated fanbase of Soul devotees who would rather be out on the floor than wearing flowers in their hair. They continued to seek out new and previously overlooked releases, many on small labels that had never enjoyed chart success, making surprise hits of a few in the process.

Northern Soul could easily have passed into music history as a fad, something on the fringes of mainstream popular music; instead its popularity has remained and even grown. It is no longer the preserve of venues in the north of England (who had always attracted coachloads of devotees from across the nation), with Soul clubs opening in Europe, Asia, Australia and even - in perhaps the ultimate example of "coals to Newcastle" – America

Every few years Northern Soul enjoys a resurgence in popularity and welcomes a new generation of younger fans, keepers of the faith. This collection is for those with a passing interest and fans both old and
new - music fashions may change but the quality, the infectious excitement and the urge to get up and dance has endured in these fantastic records.

RIYL: David Byrne, Guy Clark, Bob Dylan, The Flatlanders, Randy Newman, John Prine, Lucinda Williams, Townes Van Zandt. The first-ever vinyl reissue of Allen’s manifold, moving fourth album, remastered from the original analog tapes. Deluxe LP edition features 140g virgin vinyl; a gatefold jacket, inner sleeve with restored, new, and alternate art and photos by Terry and Jo Harvey Allen and friends, insert with lyrics and original notes & DL. Deluxe CD edition features a trifold jacket & inner sleeve. On his manifold fourth album, acclaimed songwriter and visual artist Terry Allen contemplates kinship the ways sex and violence stitch and sever the ties of family, faith, and society with skewering satire and affection alike. Bloodlines compiles thematically related but disparate recordings from miscellaneous sources both theatrical and historical: two songs written for plays; two full-band reprises of selections from Juarez; the irreverent hellfire-hitchhiker-on-highway ballad “Gimme a Ride to Heaven Boy” (featuring Joe Ely); and the poignant eponymous ode to the arteries of ancestry and landscape (the debut recording of eight year-old Natalie Maines, later covered by Lucinda Williams). Since 1970, when they met in Allen’s studio in his hometown of Lubbock, Texas, one of songwriter and visual artist Terry Allen’s great foils and friends was the sometimes cantankerous but always brilliant art critic and writer Dave Hickey, with whom he sparred on topics musical, visual, and beyond (and to whom this reissue is dedicated in memoriam, in the wake of his passing in 2021.) Hickey, a fellow Texan paddling against the currents of the hermetic New York centric art world, was an accomplished songwriter in his own right, and he and Terry pushed each other to refine their respective practices. In 1983, the two were thick as thieves brothers in blood and Hickey’s wry but big-hearted presence haunts the history and periphery of Bloodlines, the album Terry released in June of that year. Hickey’s commercial doubts notwithstanding, critical recognition was not in short demand. In a 1984 review of Bloodlines, the L.A. Herald Examiner called Allen “one of the most compelling American songwriters working today … making the most unique art-pop of our time,” elsewhere comparing him not only to Moon Mullican and Jerry Lee Lewis, but also to the Velvet Underground and Philip Glass (probably the first time that unlikely quartet ever appeared together in one sentence). In 1983, against all odds, such sentiments were growing in underground prominence, as Allen’s records gained a fanatical word-of-mouth following they weren’t easy to find in those days. Recorded piecemeal at Caldwell Studios in Lubbock, in sessions spanning August 1982 through January 1983, Terry self-released it, like all his previous records, on his own Fate Records imprint. Despite his frustration with the protracted timeline and some anxiety about the correspondingly higher budget, the production on Bloodlines courtesy, once again, of master guitarist Lloyd Maines is slicker, cleaner, and more dynamic than prior efforts, and it reached a broader audience than ever before. UK label Making Waves reissued it in 1985, facilitating semi-reliable European distribution for the first time as well as a 1986 UK tour, on which the great BJ Cole filled in for Lloyd on pedal steel. No veteran country songwriter sounds more attuned to the national mood. His songs still feel like little guidebooks for staring down a harsh universe. – The Washington Post // It has always been a fool’s errand to frame Allen in terms of other artists there was nobody like him before he showed up, and the subsequent 40 years have been equally light on plausible peers. Uncut

- 2x LP Compilations featuring iconic tracks from the legendary US label Holland-Dozier-Holland (HDH)

- The trio behind HDH helped define the Motown sound and split from the label in 1967

- 20 tracks guaranteed to fill a dancefloor with hits from;.

- Freda Payne's 'Band of Gold', Chairmen of the Board 'Give Me Just A little More Time', The Honey Cone, Parliament, Barrino Brothers and more

- Featuring tracks sampled by Fat Boy Slim, The Avalanches, 2Pac, DJ Shadow

As pieces of musical curation go, Kenny Dope’s reimagining and reediting of the Wild Style breakbeats is outstanding. While the music from the ‘Wild Style’ OST is truly seminal, the story behind it is even more fascinating.

Underneath the voices of important rappers from hip-hop’s first wave – Cold Crush Brothers, Double Trouble, Rammellzee, Busy Bee and more – were a selection of backing beats that have underpinned and influenced a whole lot of hip-hop ever since.

It would be easy to mistake them for genuine breakbeats dug out of crates, but they’re not. Overseen by hip-hop impresario Freddie Braithwaite – better known as Fab 5 Freddy – in collaboration with Blondie’s Chris Stein – the songs from the Wild Style soundtrack are all unique creations intended as a homage to the early breakbeats.

Drummer Lenny Ferrari – who had played for Aretha Franklin before emerging on the punk scene – and bassist David Harper played many of the iconic grooves, two somewhat forgotten participants in shaping a legendary sound. They – and Chris Stein – weren’t even in the same studio at the same time.

Kenny Dope, a long-time fan of the music, later acquired the original reel-to-reel tapes from Charlie Ahearn, the film’s director. Using the Wild Style breakbeats – many just a minute or so long – he transformed them into longer edits that give them more room to breathe. ‘Down by Law’ and ‘Subway Beat’ are two of the most famous, breakdance classics that summon up visions of graffiti’d trains speeding through the South Bronx.