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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.

With his Arjunamusic label and a growing catalog of category-defying releases, Samuel Rohrer
continues to quietly, yet confidently, make a name for himself as a genuinely unique figure within
the European electronic music realm. Over the past decade he has assembled a repertoire of
music that fills a sadly neglected gap in the modern musical landscape. That is to say, he has
made a number of “electronically”-aided works that never seem to make “electronic-ism” the main
selling point or raison d'être. Rohrer understands that we inhabit a networked media landscape
that no longer sees a novelty value in every synthetic or technological sound, and by realizing
this, he makes a music that fully engages with the present without completely disregarding the
exciting speculative sensibility that has allowed electronic music to solidify into a tradition. His
latest solo album, Hungry Ghosts, again shows the high quality of sonic design that can be
achieved by conceptualizing musical passages as living, breathing entities rather than as
signposts to some still distant reality.
Maybe more so than any of Rohrer’s solo records to date, Hungry Ghosts is the one that
most unambiguously displays the artist as a kind of inspired sound “cultivator” or landscaper
rather than just a straightforward “producer”. The emphasis here seems to be biological growth
processes rendered in musical form, and in fact some track titles namechecking the biodiversity
of the external world (“Slow Fox”, “Ctenophora”) and neurochemistry (“Serotonin”) lend some
additional credence to this interpretation.
As with previous outings, Rohrer starts with his skills as a genre-resistant percussionist
and builds from there, with dense clusters of drum hits and icy cymbal exclamations leading the
way into a wide-open atmosphere full of fragmented phrases, marked with strange reversals or
compressions of time. The percussive portions and other ambiences merge together in such a
way that the latter seems like a kind of shifting, holographic camouflage for the former; an effect
which makes for a greater than usual number of shifts in mood. Rohrer’s already established
ambiguity and mystery are the moods that permeate throughout, to be sure, but there are also
surprising moments of humorous whimsy (the flourishes of cartoon mischief and teasing silences
on the tracks “Human Regression” and “Bodylanguage”), reverence (the optimistic organ swells
and steady sequencer guiding “Ceremonism”), and meditative focus (the slow-motion spectral
waltz of “Treehouse”). Also notable here are very brief etudes, such as “Window Pain,” whose
dark, lush ebb and flow actually seem tailored to repeated or looped listening.
It’s particularly remarkable that almost all of this material is recorded solo and in a “live /
no overdubs” mode, given how much it feels like well-rehearsed ensemble playing, and given the
impeccable timing involved in continually exchanging the sounds at the very forefront of the mix.
And here we come full circle to the idea of “electronic music” mentioned at the beginning here:
instead of making us feel that we are in the presence of some fully-realized form brought back
from “the future,” Rohrer invites us instead to witness fascinating processes of transition and
mutation, and to value them for what they are now as much as for where they are headed.

From 2008 comes 'Keys, Strings, Tambourines' - Kenny Larkin's fourth full length LP.

Yet another advanced, singular and funked out techno milestone that bears all of Larkin's idiosyncratic stylings and melodic touches. Once more he shows us how it's done, sounding like nothing you've heard from him previously, 'Keys, Strings, Tambourines' is a truly adventurous record that defies categorisation today. Quietly influencing producers and DJs since its release, it points to where techno can go and what it can be and is a truly and criminally overlooked modern Detroit techno classic. This is an essential purchase for all electronic machine-funk aficionados worldwide. This special expanded edition boasts a slightly reshuffled track order and some additional cuts that were only available on singles at the time, now giving the world 3 solid slabs of futurist techno sonics for the believers! Essential music from the motor city.

'Keys, Strings, Tambourines' has been legitimately reissued for 2022 on Kenny’s own Art Of Dance imprint. Remastered from DAT tapes and original sources by Curve Pusher. Artwork redesigned by Atelier Superplus.

Limited to 300 physical copies

Our label is back and it’s back with a bang! For the first time ever featuring 6 tracks on one release, we’re delighted to present Azemad’s “Afriki“ EP. Showcasing his broad scope of influences and massive talent for melodic arrangements, the Berlin-based Egyptian producer and vocalist offers a record that is as wide ranging in style as it is evocative and emotionally intelligent.

Festive tribal drums meet moody rap verses, fat bouncy bass lines and dubbed out chords on this wonderful musical melting pot on wax. Whether you’re in a Mahragan or Mawal spirit, Azemad caters for all needs and occasions, last but not least with the friendly help and assistance of J.Wiltshire’s beautiful, aquatic bubbler of a remix on the flip.

AWK004 intends to surface on September 16th 2022, so keep your eyes and ears peeled. Thanks and much luv for the support as always!

A natural compendium to the 391 series, with a strong selection straight to vinyl. Spittle CDs series 391 is filling a void screaming out for revenge. We’re not actually talking about hard to find material, but properly unreleased songs and compositions locked for several decades in some virtual memory lane. A proper distillate from the ongoing series, which showed the hidden roots of the Italian new-wave (with all the possible links to art-rock, goth, post-punk and industrial). Creativity has never been lacking and sometimes complete with a burst of originality, what lacked was a good promotion and a more accessible way to the underground market.

Classic Black Vinyl, DL Card.
LA-based musician Marina Allen’s spectacular debut proper and follow up to last years acclaimed 18 minute mini-opus, ‘Candlepower’. ‘Centrifics’ is a joyful collection of observations and questions about the self, the world, and how they interact. Awe-inspiring reflections accompany mesmerizing melodies while Allen’s extraordinary range and depth of singing showcases a wide array of influences from Karen Carpenter to Karen Dalton, from Joanna Newsom to Fiona Apple, from Cate Le Bon to Waxahatchee, via Meredith Monk and the New York avant-garde. Produced, engineered and mixed by Chris Cohen. Co-engineered by Jonny Kosmo. “A songwriter of rare skill and intensity” Clash // “Exquisite melodies and cool, pure, dreamy delivery" Mojo // “Intensely personal and widely universal” Paste

On new record For The Birds, Atlanta-based Neighbor Lady expand the
boundaries of their country-kissed indie rock sound to encompass an
elegant style of lush and textural guitar pop sprinkled with, as songwriter
and vocalist Emily Braden puts it, with "reverb and magic
" Full of gorgeous top- line melodies, spirited rock hooks, and Braden's richly
emotive vocals (and plenty of twang), For The Birds takes a kaleidoscopic
approach to genre. The record features everything from catchy alternative
("Penny Pick It Up") and starry- eyed country ("I'm With You") to straightforward
indie rock ("Scared") and ambient- indebted otherworldly pop ("Haunted").
Neighbor Lady began as Braden's solo project, but is now a four-piece consisting
of Braden, guitarist Jack Blauvelt, bassist Payton Collier, and drummer Andrew
McFarland. The band recorded For The Birds with Jason Kingsland (Kaiser Chiefs,
Band of Horses, Belle & Sebastian) at Diamond Street Studios in Atlanta and it
was mixed by Noah Georgeson (Andy Shauf, Cate Le Bon, Devendra Banhart,
Joanna Newsom.) Though For The Birds is hallmarked by big sonic flourishes
and brave moments of experimentation, the overall feeling is one of intimacy —
four people in a room, making music together; fitting for a group of musicians
who say they feel less like a band and more like a family. "This record came out of
a lot of love and hard work and us caring so much about the music and each
other," says Braden. "And that's pretty much what we're about."

For the first time Nicolas Repac's album Swing-Swing, originally out in 2004, is released on vinyl LP!

He has a reputation as a musician's musician, a talented Jack-of-all-Trades as much at ease playing the guitar alongside his old accomplice, French songwriter Arthur H, as he is when tinkering with all kinds of machines by instinct, and creating made-to-measure contexts for instrumentalists like Michel Portal. Everyone knew he had a secret garden, the song' world of a composer and performer who was difficult to categorize, a world not only lyrical but also dark and full of tender melancholy, not to mention easily surrealist (his first record of songs, La vile', which was released on the Indigo label in 1997, has a sequel in preparation in the form of a new opus, Lovni'.) But, once again,
Nicolas Repac had a surprise in store, because he has turned up where no one was expecting him: Swing Swing is a record as magnificent as it is difficult to place, with electro ramblings around jazz (its subjects and virtues, its spirit and memory), wanderings that are playful, light, fluid in gesture and crammed with ideas, discoveries and intuition, they are at once naive and instinctive (Repac is an erudite amateur, the Ferdinand Cheval of the already-established world of electronic music), and extremely elaborate in their crushed samples, hallucinatory, rhythmic whirls and sensual, dreamlike atmospheres.

A legendary indie audio artist blurring his lifelong attachments, from spontaneous composition (in the late 70's with John Zorn) to experimental rock (with Bongwater and other bands in the 80's) alongside his recent inquiries into the intricacies of ambient-folk songcraft (with his most recent solo LP, "And The Wind Blew It All Away"), Kramer continues to explore the possibilities of shaping naturally occuring aural landscapes into intoxicatingly affecting music. Sound and language - not just melody and ambient textures - has been his raw material for decades. He nowjuggles them more deftly than ever on his newest ambient opus. In the ten compositions that comprise this new LP, mournful at times yet mysteriouslylife-affirming and generous in their scope, Kramer sees films where there arenone, and composes his accompanying ambient soundtracks in a state of interrupted grace. Words, text, complete screenplays, character arcs, shooting scripts and storyboards swirl through his head as he puts his imagery to sound, and the results evoke a world in which moths, drawn to the bright flickering lightsof Cinema and the low humming lights of Dreams, in Kramer's own words, "...might never die". The LP's nature reveals an interior dialogue between musician and choice. Each piece represents Kramer's encounter with the blank canvas of silence that greets him as a composer. Embracing sounds as objects and instruments of Truth, the end result of his process is as much about what is absent and what has been removed or edited away than what is left in its wake as artifacts of emotion. These pieces are the Spring frost of lost imaginings, vanitas to broken connections, visions nearly unrecordable by the human eye. Kramer envisions a music that functions to stoptime, as an event that always plays in the present and never needs a past to give it a reference point. It is music that communicates in the most intimate way possible, as intricately and as deeply as the way it blossoms and shifts and evades categorizationwhen exposed to thin air. Drawn toward the light of a multitude of influences, we hear echoes of the feverishly frozen dreams of composers Morton Feldman, Terry Riley, Brian Eno and Arvo Part, melting alongside the surreal cinemas of David Lynch and The Brothers Quay, all parts converging to evoke a time and place that does not exist outside of the mind's eye of the listener. These ten works are fluid adventures in fathomless landscapes, emotions distilled and offered as a paintless painting without a physical home. Each individual composition is an offering to a future memory, a chalice to be filled with the listener's own reactions to them. As a whole, the ten pieces form an image of ten circling planets in an expanding galaxy that colors itself anew with each subsequent listen. Movement, grace, and Peace.

What is there to say about this album that hasn’t been said before? Multiple words could be used to describe this album: Timeless. Essential. Masterpiece. Definitive. Sickening. Yes, even sickening falls into this category, because believe it or not, back in 1996 when Cryptopsy released “None So Vile,” it was unlike anything else at the time. From the first drum hits and guitar riffs of “Crown Of Horns,” it would have been obvious, and still is to this day, that Cryptopsy improved on themselves since “Blasphemy Made Flesh.” But then you combine some of the most technical and speedy Death Metal to date with the sickening screams, snarls, growls, and grunts of vocalist Lord Worm, and I’m sure that 1996 was the year Death Metal changed forever. “None So Vile” is a testament to the Death Metal formula, and the odd thing is is that not many have tried to emulate it. I don’t know why. Maybe it might be because of how difficult it would be to emulate an album of this calibur. Cryptopsy is a massive influence upon Death Metal. Many factors contribute to the influence Cryptopsy struck upon Death Metal. One of them is absurdly seen from Flo Mounier’s maniacal drumming. As far as I’m concerned, two words can sum up this man: Speed Demon. But just because he’s speedy doesn’t mean he loses any shed of technicality. But Flo is not alone in making Cryptopsy. With the duo of Jon Levasseur and Eric Langlois on guitar and bass respectively, Cryptopsy was noted for their technical music playing. Just look at songs like “Slit Your Guts,” “Graves Of The Fathers,” and “Phobophile” to see how this duo completely tore apart everything that may have been considered a standard for Death Metal at that time. These two remade the standard by bringing shredding guitar and audible, crushing, and technical bass playing into the mix. The playing by these two is a testament to technical playing. But what truly makes Cryptopsy, and many would agree, is Lord Worm. This man is down right beastly. No true word in the English vernacular could describe what this man brings to Cryptopsy and what he did for Death Metal on “None So Vile.” At this point in time, I don’t think anyone could have anticipated vocals like this. He is downright in-fucking-human. His screams are vicious, his gutteral growls are putrid, and the longevity at which he can perform and hold these vocals is insane. But not only did Lord Worm bring a sickening unnatural vocal style, he brings

For Thee Sacred Souls, the first time is often the charm. The band’s first club dates led to a record deal with the revered Daptone label; their first singles racked up more than ten million streams in a year and garnered attention from Billboard, Rolling Stone, and KCRW; and their first fans included the likes of Gary Clark Jr., The Black Pumas, Princess Nokia, and Timbaland. Now, the breakout San Diego trio is ready to deliver yet another landmark first with the release of their self-titled debut on Daptone Records.

“Every step of the way has just been so organic,” says drummer Alex Garcia. “Things just seem to happen naturally when the three of us get together.”

Indeed, there’s something inevitable about the sound of Thee Sacred Souls, as if Garcia and his bandmates—bassist Sal Samano and singer Josh Lane—have been playing together for a lifetime already. Produced by Bosco Mann (aka Daptone co-founder Gabriel Roth), Thee Sacred Souls is a warm and textured record, mixing the easygoing grace of sweet ’60s soul with the grit and groove of early ’70s R&B, and the performances are utterly intoxicating, with Lane’s weightless vocals anchored by the rhythm section’s deep pocket and infectious chemistry.

Hints of Chicano, Philly, Chicago, Memphis, and even Panama soul turn up here, and while it’s tempting to toss around labels like “retro” with a deliberately analog collection like this, there’s also something distinctly modern about the band that defies easy categorization, a rawness and a sincerity that transcends time and place.

Repressed , please note price increase, all orders have been cancelled, please re-order! Pre-Revolution Psychedelic Rock from Iran: 1972 - 1979

Now-Again Records is proud to present Back from the Brink, the only legitimately licensed collection of the godfather of Iranian psychedelic rock, Kourosh Yaghmaei. Known within the Iranian diaspora simply by his first name, Kourosh’s Pre-Revolution recordings were thought lost after Islamic fundamentalists took control of Iran. They weren’t: Kourosh had protected them – along with key ephemera from the 70’s. Their collection here - spread over two CDs, a 3-LP and a 4x7” box set - bolstered by Kourosh’s first person recollections of Iran’s 70s rock scene and its death after the Revolution, tells the story of an immensely talented artist’s desire to persevere in the face of terrible adversity.
Kourosh Yaghmaei and his brothers Kamran and Kambiz were amongst the few inspired Iranian musicians determined to change Tehran’s musical landscape in the late 60’s and early 70’s. The trio, armed with rented, second-hand instruments and records by The Ventures, The Kinks, The Doors, merged Western garage rock, psychedelia and Iranian folkloric music to create a sound unlike anything that came before them. Later, inspired by the unlikely duo of Elton John and James Taylor, Kourosh’s music took a sophisticated turn, and he churned out funky, progressive rock that is as imminently enjoyable as it is impossible to categorize.
His star on the rise was knocked off course by the Revolution, and its backdrop of Islamic fundamentalists burning record companies and harassing musicians. But while most Pre-Revolution musicians – including his brothers – fled Iran in 1979, Kourosh stayed, loyal to the country of his birth. He has suffered a performance and recording ban for twenty-two out of the last thirty-two years. Yet he remains stoic and resolved to continue bolstering Iranian musical tradition.
Kourosh still lives in Tehran and is pleased that his story – and his glorious 70s recordings – will finally spread the world over.

Lightning Bolt redefines what it means to be DIY. An utterly singular band in every way, unbridled creativity and energy propel them well past most categorical boundaries, least of which is the boundary between band and audience. Theirs is an immersive experience - a sound so huge it can swallow us all. Oblivion Hunter is a monster. Not a compilation, not concept album and more than the sum of its parts, the record is a peek into the band"s inner world on their home turf (the Hilarious Attic in Providence), collecting deep explorations into distortion, bass manipulation and its intersection with rhythm. A Limited release in 2012 sold out almost immediately. This first re-issue is a deluxe one coming with 4 different covers each matched with it"s own color vinyl. Re mastered by Josh Bonati, you can now immerse yourself in this pivotal Lightning Bolt album"s sonic oblivion and YOU are now the Oblivion Hunter. A cathartic listening experience, Oblivon Hunter finds blast-beats colliding with distorted vocals and all shapes and sizes of guitar noises, even some metallic riffage on the album closer and aptly named "World Wobbly Wide." Throughout, the sound is amped-up and free with an ear on the railroad tracks to the big sounds of industry and clamor. Bass sounds jump out of the speaker cones that conjure up ears in alien propulsion systems, nights in faraway wind tunnels. Experience this pivotal album in Lightning Bolt"s catalog like never before.

Lightning Bolt redefines what it means to be DIY. An utterly singular band in every way, unbridled creativity and energy propel them well past most categorical boundaries, least of which is the boundary between band and audience. Theirs is an immersive experience - a sound so huge it can swallow us all. Oblivion Hunter is a monster. Not a compilation, not concept album and more than the sum of its parts, the record is a peek into the band"s inner world on their home turf (the Hilarious Attic in Providence), collecting deep explorations into distortion, bass manipulation and its intersection with rhythm. A Limited release in 2012 sold out almost immediately. This first re-issue is a deluxe one coming with 4 different covers each matched with it"s own color vinyl. Re mastered by Josh Bonati, you can now immerse yourself in this pivotal Lightning Bolt album"s sonic oblivion and YOU are now the Oblivion Hunter. A cathartic listening experience, Oblivon Hunter finds blast-beats colliding with distorted vocals and all shapes and sizes of guitar noises, even some metallic riffage on the album closer and aptly named "World Wobbly Wide." Throughout, the sound is amped-up and free with an ear on the railroad tracks to the big sounds of industry and clamor. Bass sounds jump out of the speaker cones that conjure up ears in alien propulsion systems, nights in faraway wind tunnels. Experience this pivotal album in Lightning Bolt"s catalog like never before.

Salt Mines welcomes newcomer Zara to the family with an EP inspired by the sounds, colours and textures of festivals in the Australian bush. With this record Zara debuts a musical style that is dened in its identity yet dees categorisation.

Originally released in 2020

In a time of made up genres and increasingly entwined music, Marcoca is not even trying to put themselves in to a specific category.

Generally they consist of four individual musicians with various tastes and backgrounds, that enjoy their differences and don't worry too much about the outcome.

Inspired by the ups and downs of everyday life, they underlay their words with a soothing combination of Jazz, Surf, Funk and Psychedelic. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

Their first project resulted of highly uncoordinated recording sessions over the course of almost two years. While some of the songs had been previously arranged, some instrumental parts developed during the recording process in order to preserve the natural flow of the music. They don't try to improve the world but hope to make it bit more bearable. And they are from Germany, in case you’re dying to know…

With a back catalogue that spans half a dozen studio LPs as Boom Bip,
plus another two as one half of electronic pop duo Neon Neon, Bryan
Hollon has already made a name for himself as a Mercury prizenominated producer and multi-instrumentalist
Equally impressive are the credits to Warpaint drummer Stella Mozgawa's name;
she's contributed percussion to albums by Kurt Vile, Cate le Bon, Courtney
Barnett, Sharon Van Etten, and Kim Gordon, among others. But as improvisational
techno duo Belief, the pair make music that harkens back to '90s acts like LFO
and 808 State – artists that indelibly, but near-anonymously, altered club and rave
culture, mostly identifiable by clean, bold logos on 12" sleeves. Without being
derivative of the era, they add their own instincts and experiences to grace the
musical universe with new answers to the question: What Would Mark Bell Do?
Hollon met Mozgawa just after she joined Warpaint, when Boom Bip shared a
rehearsal space in Echo Park with the band. The two quickly bonded over a love
of early Warp Records, drum breaks, acid house, and Y2K- era rave flyers. They
swapped playlists and ideas when Mozgawa played drums for Neon Neon's 2013
West Coast tour, but due to busy schedules, it would be another three years
before they packed every piece of gear they collectively owned into Eric
Wareheim's Absolutely Studios for an initial jam session. Instinctively playing to
each other's strengths and whims – and recording the session to build on later –
allowed Mozgawa to explore a style of music she'd long considered a dark art,
and pushed Hollon, known for his meticulous planning in previous work, to be
more spontaneous.
It was all in good fun – early shows billed the pair as 'Beef' with a comedic wink
to its pulsating minimalism. But as the two began committing themselves to
finalizing and recording more soulful, enigmatic tracks, the reverent nature of
what they were doing began to emerge: while Belief pays homage to the pioneers
of techno, the project is born out of an oddly divine foresight Mozgawa and
Hollon share, the synergy of two devout tastemakers building a shrine to inner
peace and outward pleasure

"Die Band hatte sich eine Woche in einem Chalet in den Schweizer bergen eingeschlossen und dieses album geschrieben .. Doom Blues und Nasty No-Future-Wave und Synth Folk Trash - REVEREND BEAT-MAN & THE UNDERGROUND ist eine Kollaboration Arbeit zwischen dem PALP Festifal und Reverend Beat-Man, eine Woche Aufenthalt in Bruson (wallis, Westschweiz) mit Weisswein und Raclette und Musik kreieren, ich hab dann meine Lieblings Musiker kontaktiert: Milan Slick an den Tasten, er und ich haben bereits das Synth-Punk-Duo-Projekt Entartete Musik dann die Unglaublichen Beats von Beatrice Graf von Ester Poly. Benjamin Glaus von Skinny Jim Tennessee ist einer der meist unterschätzten Rockabilly-Performer Berns, und K.Lou aus Athen kümmerte sich um unser Catering und präsentierte uns die ganze Woche über neue Musik aus ihrer Schatztruhe. was du auf diese Platte hörst ist ein Prozess, ein finden einer Musik u.a. eine Doom Blues Version vom 'Jesus Christ Twist' oder die verliebte Kuschelrock Nummer 'It's a matter of time'. Die meisten Songs wurden im Lockdown geschrieben wo ich und Benjamin Glaus akustische Musik spielte ,slave to the phone' oder 'banned from the internet' sind 2 von denen. Unser schlecht beheizter Übungsraum war über einer Schaffarm wo wir den ganzen tag probten und alles aufnahmen, dies sind alles 1 Take aufnahmen.. keine Overdubs.. ist alles live eingespielt.. und ein paar Wochen später von Matteo Bordin im Ouside inside Studio abgemischt, dies ist Doom Blues oder No-Wave Rock'n'Roll von den Schweizer bergen" Die Band: Reverend Beat-Man (vocals, guitar), Beatrice Graf (drums), Milan Slick (keys), Benjamin Glaus (lead guitar) 12" LP: + Free Download Card + Inlayposter Booklet + Rotes Vinyl (limited 1000 copies) + Free Brainfuck CD: comes in double gatefold jacket incl 12 side booklett (no plastic exept the CD)

Adopting a collaborative approach for the recording of their third album, Death Bells have returned Between Here & Everywhere, an effort that captures the cross-section of Southern California's shadowy hidden interzones, outside of the lights and luxury. The record features nine new songs that represent Will Canning and Remy Veselis' continual growth, as well as accompaniment by an experienced cast of contributors on keys, strings, piano, and operatic backup vocals. Recorded with Colin Knight at Paradise Studios, and mixed by Mike Kriebel at Golden Beat, Between Here & Everywhere bristles with immediacy and emotion, with every element tactile, balanced, and elevated. Between Here & Everywhere sets out to map the potent mess of Los Angeles. Canning cites the "vastness" of the band's adopted home as a constant muse, and much like the city itself, the album ebbs gradually from harrowing to hopeful over its 35-minute runtime. The lyrics are categorized as "narrative, but not autobiographical," born of intrigue, intimacy, and a sense of "looking outward." From the highly-strung blast of "Hysteria", to the hypnotic rhythms of "Lifespring", and the staunchly resonant hope displayed in "Last Days", "Space Without A Name" and "Eternity Street", Between Here & Everywhere encompasses Death Bells' most captivating work to date.