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Following on from the success of 2020's deluxe reissue of 'Vienna',
Chrysalis Records are proud to release a 40th Anniversary of the bands
second album with Midge Ure, 'Rage In Eden'
Originally released in October 1981 and like the bands previous two albums, it
was produced by Conny Plank (Kraftwerk, Can, Neu!), this time recorded at
Conny's studio in Cologne during the summer of '81.
This new 6 Disc box set contains 52 tracks, with 22 previously unreleased
recordings. CD's 1 to 5 contain the original 1981 album production master, a new
stereo mix by Steven Wilson, A-sides, B-sides & live tracks along with previously
unreleased cassette rehearsals and a newly mixed concert recorded at
Hammersmith Odeon in October 1981. The DVD (Audio Only) contains a new 5.1
Surround Sound Mix of the Album/B-sides by Steven Wilson along with 24/96 HiRes audio of the new mixes and the original 1980 Master/B-sides.
The set is packaged in a 12"x12" Rigid Slipcase and contains a 20 page 12"
square booklet featuring contributions from the band, unseen photos from Midge
Ure's and Chris Cross' personal collection, reproduction of the Rage In Eden tour
programme, 6 discs in card wallets housed in two 12" gatefold album sleeves.

Following on from the success of 2020's deluxe reissue of 'Vienna',
Chrysalis Records are proud to release a 40th Anniversary of the bands
second album with Midge Ure, 'Rage In Eden'
Originally released in October 1981 and like the bands previous two albums, it
was produced by Conny Plank (Kraftwerk, Can, Neu!), this time recorded at
Conny's studio in Cologne during the summer of '81.
This new 6 Disc box set contains 52 tracks, with 22 previously unreleased
recordings. CD's 1 to 5 contain the original 1981 album production master, a new
stereo mix by Steven Wilson, A-sides, B-sides & live tracks along with previously
unreleased cassette rehearsals and a newly mixed concert recorded at
Hammersmith Odeon in October 1981. The DVD (Audio Only) contains a new 5.1
Surround Sound Mix of the Album/B-sides by Steven Wilson along with 24/96 HiRes audio of the new mixes and the original 1980 Master/B-sides.
The set is packaged in a 12"x12" Rigid Slipcase and contains a 20 page 12"
square booklet featuring contributions from the band, unseen photos from Midge
Ure's and Chris Cross' personal collection, reproduction of the Rage In Eden tour
programme, 6 discs in card wallets housed in two 12" gatefold album sleeves.

George is Lord is a celebration of all things George Harrison - What began
as an exercise inlearning to play the drums, became a band - Anna
Pomerantz quit her job as Interior Designer to the stars and called upon
old friend Lindsay Glover, to teach her to play the drums
Lindsay, who has played in local LA favorites, Whiskey Biscuit and Future Pigeon,
began by teaching Anna the fundamentals and quickly it turned into learning
songs. "One of the first songs we learned was 'Something.' I've actually spent
most of my life hating the Beatles, but hearing them again for the first time
through the drums, made me fall completely in love, especially with George and
Ringo" recalls Anna. "I began teaching Lindsay the guitar and we started playing
together." The duo went on to learn a number of songs like, "Long, Long, Long," "All
Things Must Pass," and "Give me Love" when they realized they were ready to play
with other people. Lindsay asked friend Cody Porter of Pearl Harbor and Puro
Instinct to come play bass. "In our lessons, Lindsay had taught me how to sing
while playing the drums to keep my place in songs. I didn't think I was going to be
a singer in a band, it just happened." The missing ingredient was a lead guitar
player, and the trio invited Sam Blasucci of the popular LA folk duo Mapache if
he'd be willing to jam with us. He brought his magic and completed George Is
Lord. George is Lord recorded their first album of covers with producer Jason
Quever (Beach House, Cass McCombs). Dean Wareham (Luna, Galaxie 500)
appears as a guest. The ten song record includes a variety of George favorites
from the Beatles catalogue and throughout George's solo career.

Chronophage’s third LP is a scarcely anticipated revelation full of poise and delicacy. Tough,tender, precise and unconstrained, it concentrates the tragic ingredients of the past two yearsinto ten songs. Each one is a decisive, well-cut crystal: sharp, clear, weighted. Can you envisiona midpoint between Big Star and the Homosexuals? Imagine Nick Lowe constructing defiantrejections of the civil structure? Chronophage’s unconstrained melodies and gleefullyimaginative structures enact such original, liberatory music.Chronophage began five years ago in Austin, Texas. Stout participants in the transgressive DIYpunk community patchworked throughout the world, the band have released two LPs and ahandful of cassettes, always demonstrating a kind of risk-taking that feels both gleeful and dire.It’s clear that they delight in making hard, unexpected decisions, but there’s a colder sense thattheir existence depends on this daring.Defying the band’s scratchy, 4-track history, ‘Chronophage’ blooms, distilling the warmest, mostcompelling, most vulnerable qualities of their music. It’s a product of their unhurried approach torecording this album, a six-week process of tinkering and clarifying. It’s also a product of thematerial conditions of their songwriting phase—”the pandemic making it where we just saw eachother all the time and were less influenced by scenes,” as explained by guitarist/singer ParkerAllen. Undoubtedly their most immediate record, but without sacrificing the mortalconsequences or thrills of their past. The danger and vigor remains, the spring is wound eventighter. It’s evidence of the band’s growing confidence, but speaks most clearly to the strength ofthe songs. Producer Craig Ross articulated this strength through his own experience of workingon ‘Chronophage’: "When I would run into a block, in terms of arrangement, the narrative of therecord told me exactly what to do. I realized I just had to stick to the record, it has all theanswers."‘Chronophage’ is released simultaneously by Post Present Medium (US) and Bruit Direct(Europe). TRACKLIST: A1 Love torn in a dream A2 after a storm A3 swimmer A4 summer to fall A5 cop in psyche B1 spirit armor B2 old city back again B3 black clouds B4 burst the shell B5 fear + agony Dooms horn

New one by Montreal singer-songwriter Deb Edison, working once again as The Submissives and willfully unchanged from 2016's Do You Really Love Me? cassette (Fixture). Six years into the most tumultuous period in global history since WWII – a pandemic, right-wing infiltration, attempts at government overthrow, climate catastrophe looming, a near-complete loss of the moral compass, conspiracies lording over facts natural resources running out – and Deb's still here, staring a hole through the floor/your head. "No one ever changes," she coos on "In a Pinch," and these songs are a textbook example of that sentiment, and her artistic embodiment of psychosexual desire, ready to shatter some lives and walk away looking for the next one. "I'm waiting for your signal/I'm several years older," she drones on "Sick Kinda Love," further reinforcing a long-held stance that the obsession, internalization of feelings, and the human power dynamic of The Submissives are on the menu once again. You'll find whatever it is you want to find in here, just dig in. Deb might even be talking about you, though there's a good chance she's not, and if you don't have the goods you can be sure she's gonna be doing all she can to passively drive you away. "Chirp Like a Bird" reads as Deb's bottom-looking-up retort to Whitehouse's "Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel," and might even be more severe, because she doesn't need microphonic feedback and screaming to intimidate. If you're in for surface thrills, scrape up the Shaggs-esque rock stumble, swooping viola, and behind-the-beat bash tapping out each of these eleven tracks. This is how it is; you get what you get, and you might be upset, but that's all on you. You'll never get to the bottom of this sketch. TRACKLIST: A1 Wanna be your thing A2 When it was all new A3 In a pinch A4 Sick kinda love A5 Chirp like a bird A6 I'm a mirror B1 Goodbye Betty B2 Four five B3 Isn't you B4 Think of me B5 Sweetly

Reissued for the first time on one 12", three sought-after John Kpiaye productions recorded between 1978-1982; Brown Sugar’s cover of Deniece Williams ‘Free’, Jean Barrett’s cover of Isley Brothers ‘For The Love Of You’, and the 1982 remake version of ’Love Me Sweeter Tonight’ by Cassandra. Available here A1 Brown Sugar - Free A2 Cassandra - Love Me Sweeter Tonight (1982 version) B1 Jean Barrett - For The Love Of You (Full length 7-minute version issued for the first time)

Sounding simultaneously from the past, the present, and the future, the debut album 'MLDE' by Marxist Love Disco Ensemble seeks to eradicate both the trite from disco and the sobriety from political music. Half poetic, half tongue-in-cheek, this stunning compact eight-track album is influenced by Eastern European and Mediterranean 70s disco records. In the words of band member Paolo, ''it was written in response to hearing 'I love America' by Patrick Juvet. The song prompted the question: why does disco, a genre originally created by oppressed minorities, eventually become synonymous with American capitalist excess?" MLDE seeks to break this connection.

Merging disco, post-disco 80s pop, and boogie into the fold, 'MLDE' was recorded using only analogue instruments, giving it warmth and space. Recorded on cassette, ¼ and ½ inch tape, this gives moments of lo-fi abstraction between the beats of an aggressive, tight drum kit. Instruments used for this recording range from saxophone, trumpet, harpsichord, guitar, and rare analogue synthesisers. The bass sound is shaped by early 80s boogie records, whilst the influence of artists such as Hamlet Minassian can be heard in some of MLDE's more driving-disco outings, such as 'Hues of Red'. In the tradition of Soviet vocal group records, which the band has studied, some songs are sung by a vocal quartet in homage to this tradition.

Tracks such as '1905' and 'Brumaire' have a greater pop aesthetic, with Paolo's vocal style on these more pop-driven songs evoking early 80s bands such as Orange Juice and Chas Jankel.

The format and message of pop and disco are commonly viewed just to entertain and move bodies around a dancefloor; however, lyrically, the subjects range from dialectical and historical materialism, class struggle, Marxist theory and praxis, as well as the concept of Marxist disco music.

Adding the icing to the cake, mastering don Joker aka Liam McLean dusted the album with his magic, giving the songs space where the room is needed, as well as the kick and punch demanded by the modern dancefloor.

Yes, this is a press release, and they are always full of hype, but we were blown away when we heard this album, and we hope it enriches you too.

A huge, booming sound prevails across these ten songs, riddled with hooks and accessible in its own odd way: you might catch shards of WIPERS,INSTITUTE"Philadelphia death rock/dungeon punk band Poison Ruïn consolidate their two EPs into one ten-song, self-titled album. Brained, fleshed, and recorded by Mac Kennedy, this effort is one of a personal nature. The sonic nature of the album has a human looseness, apparent like a cassette tape warbling from being wound and rewound. At times the songs sound thin and brittle, as though they are breaking apart simply by being played. The lyrics walk the same path and describe a world of cosmic horrors and environmental disaster. With their soft, eerie, medieval-hall introductions, each song transports the listener to a world of runes and swords, but staves off dorkiness with the relevance of a chewy post-punk center. Rife with sweetly stark guitar hooks and drums that flail like a death march, this self-titled LP gives off black metal at first glance. On further inspection, there is a gradation of inspirations ranging from pond-hopping blues guitar solos, heavy-handed punk drumming, gothic ambiance, and progressive song structures."

TRACKLIST: 1.Carrion 2.Crucifix 3.Demon Wind 4.Sacorsanct 5.Fog of War 6.Paladin's Wrath 7.Doppelganger 8.Morning Star 9.Exiles/ Hell Hounds

SECOND TITLE IN THE LOCKDOWN TRILOGY 'CLAUSTROPHOBIC
UNIVERSE' NOW AVAILABLE ON VINYL.In 2020, Polish Prog multiinstrumentalist Mariusz Duda (Riverside, Lunatic Soul) decided to
conduct an experiment
He set out to create a third music world, independent of his band 'Riverside' &
solo project, Lunatic Soul. A world which would differ stylistically from the
previous two & underline the first steps he took in music.
30 years ago, a certain shy boy fascinated by the works of Jean Michel Jarre,
Vangelis & Tangerine Dream, locked himself up in his room & started to think up
his original music stories. He recorded them on cassette tapes, created covers
for them & arranged them on the shelf next to those of his masters. 30 years
later, when the world was taken over by a pandemic & an international lockdown,
Mariusz was beamed back to his childhood bedroom, where he was reading &
drawing comic books, playing games, listening to lots of music from cassette
tapes... & recording his own electronic sounds. "Why not do it again?" he thought
to himself, feeling inspired. "Why not create a new project where I will play only
the keyboards? And why not sing it just like I used to when I was a kid? Simply
'Mariusz Duda'".
And that's exactly what he did. Between 2020 & 2021, he recorded & released
online three electronic albums that make up the "Lockdown Trilogy".
'Claustrophobic Universe' is not an album inspired by books about astronomy &
astrophysics. It's an album about a journey into our mind. The universe here is a
metaphor for our escape from reality, escape to the place where we soothe our
response to stimuli.
MARIUSZ DUDA'S SECOND IN THE TRILOGY IS OUT VIA KSCOPE

Planet Uthboar is a conceptual album that takes the listener on a journey to the fictive planet of Uthboar, where two heroes are on a quest to stop the supervillain Art from exterminating every living being on the planet. The album is inspired by old comics and 70’s sci-fi animation movies, so think of a kind of H.G. Wells dark sci-fi style mixed with lofi house and electro - all recorded straight to an old dusty cassette recorder!

Planet Uthboar is the first release on the new Copenhagen-based label Uthboar run by C.M. Art



Key dj support:

Vladimir Ivkovic - Salon Des Amateurs: Cassette culture indeed. Nice, enjoyable one. Thank you!

Bill Brewster - Late Night Tales, Home Taping Is Killing Music: Art is super gloopy Chicago-style electrosoul.

Sean Johnston - Hardway Bros, A Love From Outer Space: Great EP!

Massimiliano Pagliara - Panorama Bar, Ostgut Ton, Live at Robert: nice tunes!

Mr Ties - HOMOPATIC: chicago from the future

Diego Cortez Salas - Correspondant, Live At Robert Johnson: love it!

Richard Sen - Firehouse, Emotional Response, D-Edge Re: Art is the sound of late 80s Chi-tow

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.

Revenge Techniques presents the vinyl reissue of TAFKAMP's magnum opus 'INDRUKKEN'. Originally released on cassette tape back in 2018, the album features some of the artist's deeper and dreamy productions to date, an exciting trip through the musical impressions of the artist mostly known as techno/rave producer 'Stranger'. TAFKAMP showcases a selection of music ranging from slow melancholic breakbeat to euphoric uptempo electro and everything in between.

‘Amorpha’, a side-long shower of synthetic bells and bass, as
patterns interlock and repeat and the beat within the bar lines
shifts constantly, forms a new, latest miniature of infinity. You flip
it, and ‘Geomancy’ resets you, starting anew, with heavy drift and
drone leading into a space of shorter broken lines and Middle
Eastern tonalities, that roll back into ether again - new spaces, but
mysteriously consonant with the vibe.
 ‘Bajascillators’ arrives almost five years since their last official fulllength, 2017’s ‘Bajas Fresh’. In the eight years prior to ‘Bajas
Fresh’, Bitchin Bajas issued seven albums, plus cassettes, EPs,
singles… wave after wave of analogue synth tones and zones
extending into a stratospheric arc. Each release its own
headspace, shape and timbre, each one sliding naturally into their
implacable, eternal gene pool.
 Following the flow, always, the Bajas went ever-deeper-and-higher
on these records, whether making soundtracks or collaborating
with Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, using only fortune cookie fortunes as a
libretto. Plus engagement, with a steady stream of shows and
tours around the world; live re-airings and expansions of the space
captured in their records as they continued to grow and flow - all
the way through, really, to the present moment.
 Plus, there have been releases since 2017 - a split 12”, a 7”
single, digital track release and two ‘Cuts’ cassettes, plus the allcovers cassette release ‘Switched On Ra’. But the overall number
of releases, plus the five years between long players, implies a
potential distance between phases, a new line in the sand. The
sound of Bajascillators bear this out. How couldn’t it? Compared to
2017, this is a different world.
 Mastered directly from half-inch analogue tape, ‘Bajascillators’
floats transparently from the speakers, its expansive grooves
gathering resonance and building momentum over the four sides,
from genesis to re-conclusion, cascading ecstatically. The elastic
magic of time at its brightest. As the world keeps turning, so too do
Bitchin Bajas, in the same unknowable way. You can’t explain it -
just keep turning.

An’archives announce the release of Ricshari, the first LP from Japanese free improvising duo MAI MAO. Consisting of Shizuo Uchida of Hasegawa-Shizuo, Albedo Gravitas, Archeus, Kito Muzukumi Rouber, TERROR SHIT, UH, etc. on bass, and Kyosuke Terada, of HUH (who have their own release due on An’archives soon), TERROR SHIT, Bay City Rolaz, Praymate, The Obey Unit, etc. on guitar, they’ve previously released two wild cassettes, Curvature Improvement Plan (Haang Niap, 2020) and Folk Dope Rally (2021), both documenting one-take improvisations from live gigs. Ricshari was recorded by Nobuki Nishiyama in January 2021, and is proof, if any was needed, that this duo is one of the most fiercely unique, out -there units currently extant – in Japan, or anywhere, for that matter.

The music of MAI MAO seems to proceed by opposites and juxtaposition, shifting from frantic, hectic runs of splattering note spray to moments of granular stasis, where Uchida and Terada coax their instruments into and out of deep wells of silence, or rest, temporarily, in a lagoon of fermenting fuzz. Spiralling kinetics are largely the order of the day, though – the opener, “Chew a flying flash prayer”, skitters here and there, guitar and bass jumping over one another in games of leapfrog and Twis ter, finding new ways to perplex and puzzle the listener, and perhaps each other in the process, Uchida and Terada fully committed to the short -circuiting spirit of the moment.

The energy here is hyperactive, but it also speaks of a curious and committed attention to improvisatory responsiveness, one that’s just as likely to fork off into different directions in a split second – it’s real edge-of-the-seat stuff, as though the hands are moving too fast for the mind to follow. That’s all the better, then, to let the gush of genuinely free-thinking, devoted duo improvisation to fly at its most playful and intelligent. File next to the likes of Davey Williams & LaDonna Smith and their TransMuseq companions, or th e wickedly perplexing bass-synth/trombone duets of Dave Dove Paul Duo, and you’ve some idea of what’s going on here, provisionally at least, ‘cos this one’s an enthralling, yet welcoming, head-scratcher of the highest calibre.

Gylden on the album: "Tuned to the bells, buoys, and ocean sounds surrounding a small island off the coast of Maine where I spend most of my time. Contra alto clarinet, Elektron Digitone, and cassette tape were used to convey the feeling of loneliness and comfort it provides me. »Island Friend« is dedicated to my father who passed away at this time last year."

Past Inside The Present co-founder Isaac Helsen - a multi-disciplinary artist from Michigan, creating photography and paintings as well as music - in action on this double cassette alone after a string of collaborations with labelmate 36 and fellow label co-founder zake. Helsen's sound works on a grand (electronically) orchestral scale at times, the proverbial cathedrals of sound coming to mind, at others (see 'Duniskwalgunyi') understated and intimate. On first listen, it's the simpler moments like 'Whisper At A Party' that grab you, but the 17 track selection slowly reveals itself to be quite special on repeated rotations.

Over the 15 years since Loren Connors' Airs was first published, it has drawn a thick circle of fans. Gently recorded to cassette tape in 1999, (with wonderfully subtle multi-tracking). Airs is comprised of a series of brief electronic guitar poems. Intimately composed with the patience and purposeful hesitation we have reverently come to expect from Connors. Lyrical melodies recur in different forms throughout the LP, as shifting figures in a dream. Shadowy and sunken, the tone evokes an overcast landscape. The album feels singular; woven along as one flowing piece