Поиск:click far

KOU is the new project by Apolline Schöser (half of Nina Harker) & Thomas Coquelet.

Apolline & Thomas have been performing since 2022 under the KOU guise with 24 electronic harmoniums. Producing dense layers of tones & overtones. On their debut album KOU steers in another direction. The harmonium appears occasionally, but more prominent are delicate guitar pluckings, distant vocal effects, synths, flutes, piano strokes, a touch of musical magic and Apolline’s jazz not jazz vocals.

As soon as the needle drops it’s clear we are jump-cutting straight to the other side of the mirror. Cats purr, a woman sings as if asleep, drum machines stutter and warp and Alvin Lucier is not 'sitting in a room that is not different to the one you are not in now’. If you’re already confused, join the club. But, it’s the good kind of confused, a bewildering experience akin to the first time hearing the Faust Tapes or watching Inland Empire. Wait though, as pigeons coo and the tape machine clunk-clicks a gorgeous weirdo version of Roger's and Hart’s Blue Moon emerges to let you know this isn’t just dada splurge, there’s a genius pop sensibility at work here too. Side two takes us further into the murk with mournful detuned brass, stoned Joan La Barbara-esque vocalese and a droning Farfisa hymn, before ending with another too-tempting snatch of DIY pop. Some of the references are recognisable. All kinds of 70s/80s European art prog - think early Battiato, Pierot Lunaire’s Gudrun, Lucia Bosè and Gregorio Paniagua's Io Pomodoro etc etc. There’s a strong whiff of 90s us goof-off surrealism too- Bongwater, Siltbreeze, Royal Trux’s Twin infinitives, the damaged folkier side of Alastair Galbraith, Half-Japanese, early Beck even all feel relevant.

Like an oddball group of friends you might meet by chance and end up weirding-out with for days, the minds behind this deliciously odd music allow you to stay for a while in their strange subcultural world. You might not want to live here forever but a short trip, while it lasts, rewires your brain for the better.

The last twelve months have been a whirlwind for Henry Counsell and Louis Curran, the men who make up Joy (Anonymous). Having established themselves during the Covid-19 era by playing impromptu meet-ups on London’s South Bank, they have graduated to bigger venues, travelled to far-flung locales and recorded their second album, Cult Classics, while maintaining the spontaneous energy and irrepressible joy that made their name. Their music revels in the euphoria of being alive and all the feelings, good or bad, that come with it. It invites us into a community, draws us close and promises the night of our lives.

Recorded over the course of a year, the blueprint for Cult Classics was laid down over a two-week span at Imogen Heap’s Round House in east London. Joy (Anonymous) invited friends old and new to visit - they’d record live instruments in jam sessions upstairs and then retreat to a second room to flip and loop and generally mess with the sounds, moulding them into sizzling dance tracks. “Loads of people were coming up to me like ‘I thought this was going to be a dance record?’” Louis says, remembering the quietly beautiful music they’d be recording. “I’d be like, don’t worry about that, just keep playing.” He’d send it back to people later and they’d be floored - “That was my bit and you’ve made it... jungle!”

It was an organic and creatively fulfilling approach, one that didn’t allow any of the music to get stale or stagnate. As they built the tracks from the sounds they’d collected, Joy (Anonymous) would weave the new songs into their famously improvised live sets, testing them, refining them, taking note of the audiences’ reactions. In a year punctuated by a lot of travel, they’d also incorporate the voices of people they met along the way - “Beazley’s Poem”, which opens the record, features the words of a man who was working security at a Fred Again show at New York’s Terminal Five. “He was basically doing the opposite of his job and being a hype man, climbing on the fence and ramping up the crowd - we ended up hanging out with him - like, who’s this legend?” Louis explains. “He just speaks really amazingly about his life, all these amazing thoughts and opinions - he started jumping on the mic when we were playing, preaching these amazing messages to the crowd, like that we all need to be nicer to each other. The first time we played the record in its entirety, he introduced us and that’s the recording we’ve used.”

Joy (Anonymous) remain dedicated to the spirit of spontaneity. They shut a street down with a surprise waterside party in New York. On a trip to Copenhagen they played an impromptu set in a cafe, which turned into a house party and a night-long good time. In Lithuania, they ended up playing in a decommissioned prison. It’s harder, perhaps, to keep that spirit alive now that they are operating more within the confines of the music industry but they will keep lugging their kit to wherever the party calls for as long as they can. “I think if we lose that, we’ve kind of lost what makes us us,” Henry says.

Bursting with multi-genre reference points and disparate influences, Cult Classics is very much a dance album. The samples we made ourselves or we took from music that is quite different to dance music, but we definitely wanted to shout out a lot of the dance influences that we love,” Henry says. They listened to a lot of Daft Punk and Basement Jaxx as well as The Prodigy (“more rage stuff”), taking songwriting tips from their dance forebears, but also recording bits that felt more like jazz and motown (see: A Place I Belong and the lovely album closer, You’re In Or You’re Out). Emir Taha’s gentle classical guitar runs like a thread throughout Cult Classics, washing into the undertones of the record, tying it all together.

The album follows the beat of a night out, from frenetic, sweaty movement to the gentler winding down as the dawn breaks. At times it is euphoric, celebratory and pure, whirling fun, at others it seeks the joy in the darker emotions that life throws our way. 404 is designed to encapsulate everything about the Joy (Anonymous) journey so far. Skittering beats and ghostly vocals give way to vibrating house chords: sirens blare as we approach a dubstep drop. It’s dramatic and wild, ratcheting up, seeming to settle then hitting you with an intense and frantic breakdown before the ghostly vocal returns to lull us back into the world. It has the feel of a hungry cat playing with a mouse, toying with it before letting it get away.

What sounds like someone playing the spoons on playful, housey How We End Up Here is actually Louis’ restless habit of clicking his rings on everything, one of a myriad of calling cards and easter eggs that day one fans will recognise. They rework Miley Cyrus and Swae Lee’s Party Up The Street into a French-electro-inspired future classic, adding a note of melancholy to a tune that you can imagine hearing blaring from every car on a summer drive. The lyrics on Cult Classic are generally reassuring, inspirational, originally drawn from Henry in stream-of-consciousness freestyles. You’re fine the way you are, they seem to say - the repeated “No need to try” of A Place I Belong, the assurance that “It’s in me all the time” on In Me All The Time. Even the summery but regretful Did You Wrong hints at the growth that is possible from less than ideal behaviour. For Joy (Anonymous), joy isn’t about just being “happy” all the time - it’s about relishing every element of your being.

The name ‘Joy (Anonymous)’ is taken from the work Henry did with Alcoholics Anonymous groups: it is a way to build a community around sharing joy. Their impromptu live sets are known as ‘meetings’; they encourage fans to share moments of joy to their website. They care deeply about the scene they’ve come up in and are determined not to leave it behind. Every show is another chance to reach out and connect with people who love to come together and revel in music as loud as it can go.

Support slots for Fred Again and The Streets, wild B2Bs with Fred and Skrillex, and a set at Four Tet’s Finsbury Park all-dayer this summer have given the duo the opportunity to live out childhood dreams and introduced their infectious live shows to new audiences at huge venues.

With an album as assured and joyful as Cult Classics on the horizon (and a killer collab with The Blessed Madonna coming up), they’re only going to reach higher heights. But the essence of Joy (Anonymous) remains on the South Bank. Between shows at Ally Pally in September, they dragged their camping chairs and gear back down to the banks of the Thames: and it just felt right.

If there’s anything that defines SUDS, it’s friendship. Meeting through their love of the DIY scene currently emerging in Norwich, the band quickly found themselves gravitating towards writing songs together, and by Autumn 2021, Jack Ames (drums/vocals) joined Maisie Cater (vocals/guitar) and Dan Godfrey (guitar/vocals) to form a line-up that felt inherently natural. Stepping in on bass duties came Harry Mitchell, and things seemed to click instantaneously. Driven to keep the spark going they all upped sticks from their far flung edges of the county, pooled together to get a touring van and set to work. Just like their 2022 debut EP, In The Undergrowth, SUDS ventured down to Kent to record with producer Ian Sadler (Roam, Anavae), ready to explore the next chapter of their story. Step forth debut album The Great Overgrowth, a record brimming with addictive melodies and gorgeous moments of optimism. Their evocative and sometimes literary approach to lyrics takes inspiration from midwest emo and the 1960s Greenwich Village folk scene - Cater and Ames would regularly distract themselves while writing, gazing between the pages of books by Woody Guthrie, Allen Ginsberg, Bob Dylan and Brontez Purnell - which appears across their songwriting and would quickly become the foundation for their sound. Finding a delicate balance of sensitive lyricism dripping in warmth and killer guitar hooks, The Great Overgrowth follows on from the EP, telling the next part of the tale, as a tight knit group of twenty-something year old friends struggling and floating through life, to becoming more confident in their everyday lives and friendships while embracing change. The band are already off to a flying start, conquering sets at 2000 Trees Festival, The Great Escape and Truck Festival, as well as sold out shows with Spanish Love Songs, Pool Kids and Martha. Their talent for achingly intelligent, relatable lyricism and a heft for devil-may-care creative output already puts them heads above the rest. SUDS might be fresh faced but have the maturity and drive to become one of the most exciting emerging artists of 2023.

A kind of hush pervades throughout Standards Vol VI, the latest release by The National Jazz Trio of Scotland, the ironically named project helmed by Falkirk’s musical polymath, Bill Wells, that is neither a trio, nor a jazz band. If this collection of ten covers probably comes closest to the latter in its late night renditions of actual standards, the presence of long-term NJToS member and collaborator Aby Vulliamy as the record’s lone vocalist adds to its solitary air. This follows Standards Vol IV (2018), which featured fellow NJToS co-founder Kate Sugden as primary vocalist, while Gerard Black, a member of the group since 2016, took centre stage in similar fashion on Standards Vol V (2019). Wells has long been a fan of Vulliamy, both of her work as a viola player with numerous collaborators, and as a singer.

Vulliamy played viola on Everything’s Getting Older, Wells’ 2011 collaboration with Arab Strap vocalist Aidan Moffat. Wells went on to play melodica on Vulliamy’s solo record, Spin Cycle, released on Karaoke Kalk in 2018. With the intent of producing the saddest heartbreak record ever made, Wells sourced a back catalogue of miniature epics, reinterpreting each tale of everyday yearning to make a canon of melancholy loungecore designed for nights in alone, if not always lonely. Beyond the concept of isolation behind Standards Vol VI, practical concerns added to the affair, with Wells recording backing tracks at home in Glasgow, while Vulliamy added her voice from her home in Yorkshire. The result on Standards Vol VI is a thing of quiet beauty that sees Wells and Vulliamy reimagine a panoply of pop classics in their own aloof sounding image.

Shades of Margo Guryan and Claudine Longet abound in Vulliamy’s delivery over Wells’ woozy, low-slung guitar and piano, with samples culled from a session with Teenage Fanclub’s Norman Blake. Little electronic percussive clicks and hisses lend things an even more otherworldly air on a record bookended by opener, Donovan’s proto hippy classic, Catch the Wind, and Dixieland miniature, Careless Love. The eight points in between take in a first half led by The Beatles’ normally jaunty We Can Work it Out, flipping the loveable mop-tops’ perky optimism for something more soul searching. This is followed by I Wish You Love, Albert Beach’s English language version of French songwriter Charles Trenet’s evergreen, Que reste-t-il de nos amours. The Bee Gees lost classic, To Love Somebody, is up next, with more impossible to answer questions coming in Why Can’t I?

The latter is a Rodgers and Hart composition that first appeared in the duo’s 1930 Broadway musical, Spring is Here, in which the show’s two heroines commiserate each other over their shared loneliness. Wells stumbled on the song in a tatty Rodgers and Hart songbook, which, like its subjects, had been left on the shelf before he and Vulliamy brought it in from the cold. The second half of Standards Vol VI leads with Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick’s much covered evocation of a pre dating app era from their 1964 hit musical, Fiddler on the Roof. This is followed by Billy Rose and Dave Dreyer’s showbiz staple (with Al Jolson also taking a credit), Me and My Shadow. While made famous by showbiz double acts ranging from Frank and Sammy to Robbie and Jonathan, here it flies decidedly solo. Johnny Mercer and Hoagy Carmichael’s Skylark comes next, a song inspired by Mercer’s yearning for Judy Garland. We hear ya, bub. The most downbeat take on Bacharach and David’s The Look of Love you’re ever likely to hear comes next, ushering in the short farewell of Careless Love, before the lights are turned out forever. Yeah, well. Whatever gets you through the night…

Umse is back und größer! "Wachstum"

"Warum wie Tausende Deppen ganz plötzlich aufhören zu rappen // die Leute hängen doch an den Scheiben so wie Autovignetten."
"Wachstum"

Umse macht das Rap-Ding nicht erst seit gestern. Shows zwischen Flensburg und Luzern, youtube-Videos mit 300.000+ Clicks, 2 Alben und 2 EPs Alles dagewesen. Trotzdem ist für ihn die Zeit nicht stehen geblieben. Der Titel seines Debütalbums auf Jakarta Records ist Programm: "Wachstum".

Drei Jahre hat Umse an seinem neuen Album zusammen mit Hausproduzent Deckah geschraubt, aber "es brauch halt seine Zeit bis die Soundästehtik reift", denn etwas "zu verfassen was bleibt heißt eben ackern und schaffen". Das heißt nicht, dass Umse alles anders macht als in den vergangenen Jahren. Es gibt weiterhin "kein Strassendrama mit Handschusswaffen", kein Hipsterrap, keine Dubstepremixe, "keine Sandys und Mandys für den Chorus". Stattdessen besinnt sich Umse auf insgesamt 14 Tracks auf das was ihm "einfach so liegt: Nice Rhymes auf en Beat": zeitlose Musik ohne Redundanz, dafür gewohnt frisches, intelligentes Wortspiel - zugleich aber auch kein "90ties Revival sondern ein Style Überbleibsel".

Das Album wird auf allen Formaten erscheinen, die ersten 150 Kopien der Vinylausgabe auf farbigem Vinyl.

Sasu Ripatti presents the third volume in his "Dancefloor Classics" series with five 10" releases coming throughout 2023. Music for imaginary dancefloors, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

--
”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” click, click, click.

He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?

He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.

”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”

New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.

She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”

”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” click, click.

--

”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” *click, click, click.

He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?

He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.

”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”

New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.

She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”

”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” *click, click.

MILK GREY VINYL

100% GALCHER was by all accounts a game-changer when it landed in 2013 as an hour of original music from a relatively unknown producer ushered in by the beloved mix series Blowing Up The Workshop. Galcher Lustwerk's signature sound _ a smoky stream-of-consciousness baritone shadow-boxing with beats, informed by funk, rap, rhythm, and blues _ felt like an epiphany, impossibly hypnotic and complete. Resident Advisor writes, "100% GALCHER laid out a louche, lysergic and resolutely black take on deep house." Pitchfork remembers the music's immediate impact: "It's the sort of gem you felt inclined to pass around" _ and by year-end list time, word-of-mouth intensified. It was Resident Advisor and Juno's mix of the year, and earned a top-ten placement in FACT Magazine's albums list, as well as Philip Sherburne's personal rundown for Spin." Since then, select songs from 100% GALCHER have seen small-run pressings, while the album has lived primarily on SoundCloud and YouTube as a low-key cult legend. The gateway into Lustwerk's now well-established catalog, known for its reliability as a late-night listen and its prophetic vision for the near future of underground dance music. RA would later name it a mix of the decade, citing its influence and imagination: "Original in every sense _ unknown, unheard and unbelievably good." In late 2022, marking ten years since he first recorded the material, Lustwerk returns to Ghostly International to release 100% GALCHER as a remastered limited-edition double LP. Lustwerk is a product of the Midwest. Growing up in Cleveland, he'd tape over his parents' cassettes and spend hours at his family computer recording loops and designing artwork for the jewel cases of burned CDs. In high school, he turned to Ableton Live and absorbed every electronic music magazine he could find at the local Borders Books store. As a college student at RISD, he played in noise bands, plugged into Providence's DIY scene via Myspace, and started DJing weeknights at bars downtown. There he connected with Young Male and DJ Richard, who would go on to found White Material Records and offer their third release to Galcher Lustwerk, an alias realized via CAPTCHA test, a perfect artifact of its internet age. By 2012, Lustwerk had drifted to New York City and settled into a graphic design job, quickly growing disenfranchised by office culture. "Some days I felt like a token, other days I felt invisible." At night, he and his friends were carving out their own space, throwing parties in small basements, office buildings, and off-beat karaoke bars in Manhattan, influenced by series such as Mr. Sunday in Gowanus and The Bunker at Public Assembly. The lifestyle started to bleed into Lustwerk's musical vision. He remembers the night it clicked in Providence, partying and listening to tunes with Morgan Louis and Alvin Aronson. He went back to New York and pieced together his bedroom setup: a Dave Smith Tempest drum machine, a Waldorf Blofeld synthesizer, and a TEAC cassette recorder. Early snippets went straight to SoundCloud, where Lustwerk tested the crowd. Comments and messages offered instant feedback. One DM proved to be the greenlight: from Matthew Kent, an invitation to his burgeoning mix series Blowing Up The Workshop. 100% GALCHER traveled fast and far. A phenomenon he could only enjoy for a short period before discovering that nearly all the masters of the tracks got wiped by water damage to his computer. "The only copies were now on the 192kbs mp3 mix I sent Matt." Until now, after Lustwerk revived the lost tracks and handed them to Josh Bonati for remastering. "The original mix was never mastered so I hope older fans can find something new here." Hearing the enhanced set for the first time delineated by tracklist reveals this was a proper album all along. Sly synth interludes (all titled "Stem") clear the air for raspy house anthems like "Fifty" and "Parlay," the set's original breakout. Themes present across Lustwerk's catalog first materialize in this iconic run _ the link between the meditative state of Midwest driving and the solitary comedowns of nightlife. Lust- werk, the narrator, is an elusive character, a secret agent of the club, embodied by the hooks: "One minute I'm on / next minute I'm gone," he reminds us on cult-favor- ite "Put On." These narcotic, one-line refrains stick with you; look no further than the original YouTube upload of "Kaint" to know that fans can't let these phrases go. While recorded alone, 100% GALCHER was a collective moment. A decade later, Lustwerk sees the legacy as shared: "Making music can be an alienating experience, especially for DJs who travel a lot, it's all super isolating. It's easy to express lone- liness in the music itself, but when it comes down to getting things done, putting music out, you def should go on that journey w other people, friends, or maybe just a group of people online, build things with your friends then they can build to help you."

For most of us, life is a series of human interactions; some good, some bad, some happy, some sad. But what would life be without those peripheral characters who plant themselves into our worlds through the sheer force of their presence? Whether we speak to them or not, those vibrant contrasts to the everyday tide of ordinary people are a magical part of the human experience. Oddballs and misfits, flamboyant instigators or low-key game changers, we all clock them on our own hectic journeys, and they make the day a little brighter. Everyone has their favourite people.

Following the runaway success of their first one-shot single in 2020, Favourite People reconvene for a full-length of blues-tinged cuts stemming from sessions at Selva Studios in Brooklyn. The project’s roots predate the studio, from scattered jams and sweaty nights in New York nightspots to impromptu recordings on cruise ships, but the flashpoint of inspiration that truly set the album in motion was the arrival of a blonde 1960s Fender Telecaster. From there, the motley crew of sharp-shooting string slingers and sticks men set about crafting paeans to those striking souls who make the world a more colourful place.

The emphasis here is on the kind of forward-facing, electrically charged mix you felt (whether you realised it or not) hearing early Sabbath or Priest for the first time. With their undeniable bias towards vintage soul, Favourite People are far from heavy metal, but the same lineage of blues and by extension jazz informs the music, while the tonal crunch of that 70s era guides the sound. Feasting on tasteful overdrive and leaning on the unmistakable flavour of tape for much of the recording, the deal was sealed on this purposeful exercise in vibe thanks to the near-mythical texture of Guy Davie’s EMI Nigeria console at Electric Mastering.

Across the album there are mellow shades and bursts of good-time get-down exuberance, but the lead singles capture the essence of the band in no uncertain terms.

‘Promise Of Nibbles’ brings the Favourite People MO into sharp relief with a low-slung, hard swinging blues confection full of overheating organ and duelling guitars in pursuit of Southern-stewed boogie (im)perfection.

‘We’ll Be Late To The Party’ turns up the tempo and dials in the fuzz, striking an anthemic note which lands somewhere between urgent highway escapism and euphoric communal revelation.

‘Mass and Mustiness’ leans in on the funk dimension of the group’s sound with the sweetest licks and chops on that fabled telecaster backed up by an acutely angled beat and the slinkiest of b-lines.

These are but three of the vibrant vignettes laid down by this quietly unassuming collective of heads down jammers, loose groovers and vintage sound freaks –heavy grooving instrumentals pulled from their own moments of pure musical magic and captured on disc for your listening, dancing, living, loving pleasure.

Wonky noir specialist, Kercha, is back with five spun-out cuts, merging dubstep, jazz, garage, techno and a whole lot of weird.

‘Disarray’ is as discombobulating as its title suggests, a slinky beat hidden among umpteen odds and ends from Kercha’s cabinet of curiosities. A subby wiggle here, a far-off siren there, the warm tinkling of a Fender Rhodes, and was that someone falling down the stairs? Our only constant allies are a vaguely disturbing vocal and a bass clarinet that’s definitely up to no good.

‘Witness’ employs a similar palette but switches tactics, stripping back to the basics as faint whispers and the ever-growing presence of a whirring alarm suggest something dangerous might be lurking around the corner.

‘Conjugate’ is more direct, the percussion elevated from its usual backseat as thudding kicks and taught snares make their presence felt among the digi-dub wobbles — a theme repeated on digital bonus track ‘New World’, though there, jagged mid-bass lines provide an extra dollop of screwface-inciting muck.

And bringing this leg of DNO’s journey to a close is ‘Long Way’, which rumbles along like a lonely night train, its chugging bassline matched with eerie engine whistles, the rhythmic clink of a cowbell and, somewhere deep in the mix, the familiar clickety-clack of tracks.

Weaving together disparate worlds like some interdimensional architect, Kercha simultaneously places us among the inebriated haze and freewheeling expression of a basement jazz club, and the 10-tonne rhythms that have fuelled DNO’s parent party The Mine for the past decade, and will continue to do so into the future.

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

For most of us, life is a series of human interactions; some good, some bad, some happy, some sad. But what would life be without those peripheral characters who plant themselves into our worlds through the sheer force of their presence? Whether we speak to them or not, those vibrant contrasts to the everyday tide of ordinary people are a magical part of the human experience. Oddballs and misfits, flamboyant instigators or low-key game changers, we all clock them on our own hectic journeys, and they make the day a little brighter. Everyone has their favourite people.

Following the runaway success of their first one-shot single in 2020, Favourite People reconvene for a full-length of blues-tinged cuts stemming from sessions at Selva Studios in Brooklyn. The project’s roots predate the studio, from scattered jams and sweaty nights in New York nightspots to impromptu recordings on cruise ships, but the flashpoint of inspiration that truly set the album in motion was the arrival of a blonde 1960s Fender Telecaster. From there, the motley crew of sharp-shooting string slingers and sticks men set about crafting paeans to those striking souls who make the world a more colourful place.

The emphasis here is on the kind of forward-facing, electrically charged mix you felt (whether you realised it or not) hearing early Sabbath or Priest for the first time. With their undeniable bias towards vintage soul, Favourite People are far from heavy metal, but the same lineage of blues and by extension jazz informs the music, while the tonal crunch of that 70s era guides the sound. Feasting on tasteful overdrive and leaning on the unmistakable flavour of tape for much of the recording, the deal was sealed on this purposeful exercise in vibe thanks to the near-mythical texture of Guy Davie’s EMI Nigeria console at Electric Mastering.

Across the album there are mellow shades and bursts of good-time get-down exuberance, but the lead singles capture the essence of the band in no uncertain terms.

‘Promise Of Nibbles’ brings the Favourite People MO into sharp relief with a low-slung, hard swinging blues confection full of overheating organ and duelling guitars in pursuit of Southern-stewed boogie (im)perfection.

‘We’ll Be Late To The Party’ turns up the tempo and dials in the fuzz, striking an anthemic note which lands somewhere between urgent highway escapism and euphoric communal revelation.

‘Mass and Mustiness’ leans in on the funk dimension of the group’s sound with the sweetest licks and chops on that fabled telecaster backed up by an acutely angled beat and the slinkiest of b-lines.

These are but three of the vibrant vignettes laid down by this quietly unassuming collective of heads down jammers, loose groovers and vintage sound freaks –heavy grooving instrumentals pulled from their own moments of pure musical magic and captured on disc for your listening, dancing, living, loving pleasure.

First thought, best thought. Until the next thought: a guiding principle for No Age in the 16ish years they've been around. Constantly responding to their own streams of consciousness with reductive flexibility, they've taken the basic duo of guitar and drums with vocals WAY farther than anyone listening in halcyon Weirdo Rippers days could have guessed. Expounding on those larval possibilities, they've zig-zagged in serpentine precision, in and out of the teeth of the wringer - ranging outside and back in again, as befits the present thought. And now, six albums into it, these principles have led them to make People Helping People. Composed in their studio of ten years in the "pre pandemic" times, then an eviction from said space, and finished deep in the midst at their new basecamp: Randy's Garage. It starts with an instrumental, too. First counter-intuition, best counter intuition! Nearly five minutes prelude Dean's debut vocal interjection - a zoom in from the upper atmosphere, Randy's guitar clouds pulsing with radiation, paced by spare, percussive accents. When the first song with singing ("Compact Flashes") bounces in on an insane synthetic beat, the only recognizable sound of No Age is a sputtering of enchanted clicks and creaks - muted guitar strings and drumkit rattlings that cycle for a full minute before voice song and snare fall into place. This is the sound of People Helping People: No Age, deep in the lab, scraping available nuclii together to see what new compound they find next. Erasing the starting points, reordering the pieces and beginning anew. It's an everyday mindset - and as the first No Age album recorded entirely by No Agee, People Helping People is a broadcast of entirely lived-in proportions. Side one ricochets expertly back and forth between magisterial instrumentals and sing-song forms cut up on the mixing desk, as with the undeniable hitness of "Plastic (You Want It)", winningly rewired to MIDI-mangled beat squelches. They don't really land on a straight up punk-style riff until it's almost time to flip the side, and even once they've got off on a run of rockers on side B, their aesthetic choices continuously reframe the norms, enhancing their inherent power. People Helping People finds their disparate desires operating in perfect sync; prolegomenic weirdness fused immaculately to classic rock propulsion, transforming the energy pouring out from their hands and feet with electronics. Dean's lyrics are like pieces taken off the belt at the factory and put together into a John Chamberlin-esque sculpture, meant to sit out in the rain. Randy's guitars, collaged into arrangements that reflect, again, boundless curiosity and exquisite restraint. This is People Helping People: unpretentious, suspicious, inviting, confident, left field. The most accurate display of the No Age ethos put to record. Yet!

Very limited pressing of 300 units only. Following on from the two sold out records together, Freschard and Stanley Brinks come together for 12 brand new tracks. Lion Heart is an irresistibly charming collection of late night tales, woozy ballads and uptempo sing-alongs. Clemence Freschard’s beautiful vocal tones lend this a rich, French indiepop/chanteuse vibe, complemented by Stan’s wistful timbre and characteristic warm instrumentation. Stanley Brinks is renowned for his unique anti-folk style: both playful and suggestive, insightful and entertaining. Brinks was born in Paris, France, in 1973. He studied a bit of biology and worked as a nurse for a while. Half Swedish, half Moroccan, strongly inclined to travel the world, he soon began spending most of his life on the road and developed a strong relationship with New York. By the late 90s he’d become a full time singer-songwriter – André Herman Düne – as part of three piece indie-rock band, Herman Düne. Several albums and Peel sessions later and after a decade of touring Europe, mostly with American songwriters such as Jeffrey Lewis, Calvin Johnson and early Arcade Fire he settled in Berlin. The early carnival music of Trinidad became a passion, and in the early 21st century he became the unquestioned master of European calypso, changing his name to Stanley Brinks. Under this moniker he has recorded more than 100 albums, collaborated with the New York Antifolk scene on several occasions, recorded and toured with traditional Norwegian musicians, and played a lot with The Wave Pictures. Freschard grew up in a farm in French Burgundy. Aged 18 she moved to Paris, where she baked pies and cakes in a cafe. There, a local musician and regular customer called Stanley Brinks wrote a few songs for her to sing. Homeless in Paris, she saved up just enough money to get herself a ticket to New York. There she found an old electric guitar and started writing her own songs. In 2004 she moved to Berlin, where she recorded her first LP, "Alien Duck". Her second album, "Click Click", recorded in 2006, features electric guitar by Stanley Brinks. On her third album, she plays the drums herself. On her fourth “Shh...” she also plays the flute, and she breaks out the washboard on her fifth “Boom Biddy Boom”. On Midnight Tequila, Freschard brings it back to just drums and vocals // “an absolute joy.” Q // “...a set that’s as wistful and charming as it is playful and self-concious.” Uncut // “quietly charming” Pitchfork

On textstar+ Jan Jelinek brings together the material from the CMYK series, four EPs he released between 1999 and 2002 under the pseudonym farben (the German word for both colours and paints), on a vinyl double LP for the first time. The selection of tracks has been remastered from the original tapes, joined by two additional pieces that appeared on compilations during the same period.

A Polaroid. Still life with tangled leads and consumer electronics, late twentieth century. Black and various shades of dirty white are the dominant non-colours. The image’s spatial depth remains diffuse, the links between its elements speculative. A note stuck to the wall (a legend, perhaps, or an all-explaining blueprint in text form?) is impossible to decipher. You can’t see what connects the picture’s signs. You have to hear it.

farben says: Every sound is a text. A bearer of meaning in search of a reader. Hoping the ideas inscribed in its autonomous existence will be understood as intended. While its beauty lies precisely in misunderstanding, in reading the coded message a new way every time. A thousand colours of sound, a thousand different ways to hear, to see, to understand.

On textstar+ Jan Jelinek brings together the material from the CMYK series, four EPs he released between 1999 and 2002 under the pseudonym farben (the German word for both colours and paints), on a vinyl double LP for the first time. The selection of tracks has been remastered from the original tapes, joined by two additional pieces that appeared on compilations during the same period. Another new element is the Polaroid, showing the origins of a world: Jelinek’s home studio in Berlin at the time.

farben says: Move your body! The project has its roots in Jelinek’s love of house as a reductionist vision of soul. Of four to the floor as a proposition that can be accessed anywhere. Of electronic dance music as a realm of possibility that can be continually expanded. farben was written as contemporary house music. As a text about excitement and euphoria. The arrangements were made directly while recording to DAT, on a twelve-channel mixing desk. Several track titles suggest a link to live concerts, coupled with the context of machine music and bedroom recording. Others affirm pop music’s most extravagant stock phrases about various states of love.

Jelinek produced the tracks with the aim of making music for dancefloors. An idea that failed very productively. In the locations to which it was originally addressed, the project barely figured. But people did listen, and they listened all the more closely to this music that opened up new acoustic and associative scope for house. farben is the opposite of genre: a music spawning new terms (clicks & cuts, micro-house) that never manage to fully capture it.

farben says: Signifiers. The four CMYK EPs are designed as a network of references that cannot be missed but that can also never be precisely deciphered. The vectors of sound, word and image point to Isaac Hayes and Ornette Coleman, to Detroit and the first generation of the Red Army Faction, to Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. So multifarious that they are distorted to the point of recognition. Overall we hear sonic docufictions whose appealing vagueness derives precisely from this oscillation between clarity and ambiguity, which is also the source of their poetry: the lyricism of the pure circulation of signs.

The artwork is based on photographs of former Red Army Faction members, broken down into the four colours of the CMYK model. The motifs dissolve into individual dots of a single colour, so close to the faces that their expressions are only hinted at. Taken together, the individual colours compose a new whole out of fragmentary material, defying definition and thus maintaining their vibrancy. The same occurs on the level of sound. The sampler Jelinek used for these tracks had to be fed with floppy disks, imposing a memory limit of 1.44 megabytes per audio quotation from soul or jazz records. As a necessary consequence of this, the individual references, like the dots of colour, are dissolved into details and abstractions. They appear as splinters that recombine in new ways to create new meanings. The joy of collapsing metaphors.

farben says: New departures. Even two decades after its original release, textstar+ does not come across as an epitaph to the modern era. Instead, it appears as a euphoric affirmation of the utopias of the twentieth century, translated into new sound texts via the aesthetic strategies of abstraction, collage, networking and speculation. 1.44 megabytes of history, one thousand signifiers, one album. From “Live ...” to “... Love”.

Arno Raffeiner, 2021

The Nonesuch debut of Hurray for the Riff Raff (aka Alynda Segarra), LIFE ON EARTH, is a departure for the Bronx-born, New Orleans-based singer/songwriter. Its eleven new “nature punk” tracks on the theme of survival are music for a world in flux – songs about thriving, not just surviving, while disaster is happening. Hurray for the Riff Raff tours North America this spring, beginning March 19 in Atlanta and continuing through April 20 in Nashville, with stops in Austin, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York, among others. International tour dates will be announced shortly.

For her eighth full-length album, Segarra (they/she) drew inspiration from The Clash, Beverly Glenn-Copeland, Bad Bunny, and the author of Emergent Strategy, adrienne maree brown. Recorded during the pandemic, Life on Earth was produced by Brad Cook (Waxahatchee, Bon Iver, Kevin Morby).

Life on Earth’s first single, ‘RHODODENDRON’, is about “finding rebellion in plant life. Being called by the natural world and seeing the life that surrounds you in a way you never have. A mind expansion. A psychedelic trip. A spiritual breakthrough. Learning to adapt, and being open to the wisdom of your landscape. Being called to fix things in your own backyard, your own community,” says Segarra.

Of the ‘Rhododendron’ video, which was directed by New Orleans-based artist Lucia Honey, Segarra says: “It is really far out and fun. I got this bodysuit that just looks like the inside of the human body. It looks like you’re skinless. It’s in a scene where I’m playing to an audience of plants. Just really absurd, but I put that suit on and I was like man, this feels really good. It feels like, ‘This is who I am. Let’s just take the skin off.’

“It reminds me a little bit of Kids in the Hall,” they continue. “With this ‘Rhododendron’ shoot, something clicked in me where I was like, ‘All I have to do is be myself.’ I had been thinking that I had to be something bigger than myself. I felt like I was just never quite making the mark and then something clicked where I was like, ‘I just gotta be me. I could do that. I could show up and be me. And if people don’t like it, then I don’t know what to fucking tell them.’ It was like a brain shift of, ‘Oh, this can be fun. It doesn’t have to be suffering.’ With so many videos and photo shoots before, it really felt like suffering. I felt so uncomfortable being perceived. I didn’t know who I was.”

Honey adds: “We wanted to create something surreal, playful, and saturated that indulged heavily in the aesthetic of the early ‘90s. Alynda and I had many overlapping visual and philosophical references which sparked the initial collaboration. We wanted to make this video an homage to Gregg Araki’s Teenage Apocalypse trilogy but as a nature documentary crossover. I came across Araki’s work as a queer teenager, and he’s always been a big inspiration. Sex, blood, punk rock, camp, etc.

“We live in a moment where the future is bleaker and more unknown than ever, so there becomes a deep comfort in nostalgia and reliving the past. Through our talks, I realised Alynda’s new album touches on many of these same subjects, but perhaps in reverse; running from a past that is always haunting you. Shifting into a more refined self/identity through confronting one’s trauma and baggage. It was easy to reach collaborative synergy for this video project because we’re both interested in tackling similar issues.”

Alynda Segarra was born and raised in the Bronx, which they left at the age of seventeen, running away from everything and everyone they knew, hopping freight trains or hitchhiking across the country in the company of a band of street urchins. Segarra moved to New Orleans in 2007 and formed two bands: Dead Man’s Street Orchestra and Hurray for the Riff Raff. In 2015, Segarra decamped to Nashville, then to New York, to make her most recent album, 2016’s critically praised The Navigator, an ambitious and fully realized concept album that was her quest to reclaim her Puerto Rican identity. Segarra’s previous records as Hurray for the Riff Raff are Crossing the Rubicon (EP, 2007), It Don’t Mean I Don’t Love You (2008), Young Blood Blues (2010), Hurray for the Riff Raff (2011), Look Out Mama (2012), My Dearest Darkest Neighbor (2013), and Small Town Heroes (2014).

"With a unique trademark sound that is instantly recognizable even through a massive block of ice, Finnish melodic power metal overlords Sonata Arctica never fail to enthrall their audience with captivating hymns of Nordic splendor and magic. Graced by the aurora borealis, they’ve released ten studio albums thus far, taking us into their world since the majestic tunes of their long-fabled debut, “Ecliptica.” Now, however, the band is about to start a whole new chapter. Aptly titled “Acoustic Adventures – Volume One,” Sonata Arctica carefully strip their sound of all things metal only to reveal precious, stunningly beautiful acoustic songs that still capture the heart, spirit and very essence of this band. After Sonata Arctica hit the road in 2016 to premiere their marvelously crafted acoustic set to a stunned audience and then again in 2019, the idea was born to immortalize these intimate, pure, and heartfelt renditions of their iconic catalog on two acoustic albums, the second of which will follow in close succession. “The fans truly seemed to enjoy this side of the band quite much so there was clearly a demand to record these versions of our music.” Having said that, such a release was only a matter of time, anyway: At the very heart of every Sonata Arctica song lies a sublime melody, wreathed in melancholy. “We originally planned to record these songs in Los Angeles at a friends’ studio but since most of our touring seized we decided to do the recordings a bit sooner,” remembers Henrik “Henkka” Klingenberg. “Acoustic Adventures – Volume One” was recorded during summer 2020, with mixing and mastering following suite. Even though the songwriting material is so strong in this band -- you could hear it played on a triangle or a saxophone and still get goosebumps -- some songs proved to be trickier than others. “Not all of the stuff we tried worked out which is why some songs were not recorded,” Henkka says. “Luckily we have quite a large collection to choose from so there’s really no shortage of material.” It’s no exaggeration. The band has over one-hundred songs to choose from, which is a rather fortunate situation. What’s typically Sonata Arctica about all this is that they not only replaced electric with acoustic guitars. Instead, they didn’t shy away from writing whole new arrangements. “Thus, a lot of the songs sound quite different from the original versions.” Starting with the songs they already performed during the “Acoustic Adventures” tours, they added some personal favorites or gems to the mix after that and recorded the whole bunch live! Opening with the mesmerizing “The Rest Of The Sun Belongs To Me” and going via the banjo and organ infused (!) “A Little Less Understanding” to the heartbreaking ballad “Tonight I Dance Alone,” it becomes clear that Sonata Arctica have found solace and a home in these tender versions. One song especially proved to be a challenge for Henkka. “‘Wolf & Raven’ was quite the thing to play on acoustic piano,” he laughs, “but the whole session was a big challenge for everyone. On top of doing it all live, we also didn’t use a click track or metronome so you had to be really alert and make sure the songs stayed in tempo. I think ‘For The Sake Of Revenge’ is still is my favorite. It turned out really special and so different from the original. We also didn’t play the acoustic version live so nobody has heard it.” Yet, he means. The next acoustic tour is around the corner. Singles & Videos: 03.12 „The Rest Of The Sun Belongs To Me“ Sigle & Lyric Video 14.01 „For The Sake Of Revenge“ Single & Video // Focus Track"

"With a unique trademark sound that is instantly recognizable even through a massive block of ice, Finnish melodic power metal overlords Sonata Arctica never fail to enthrall their audience with captivating hymns of Nordic splendor and magic. Graced by the aurora borealis, they’ve released ten studio albums thus far, taking us into their world since the majestic tunes of their long-fabled debut, “Ecliptica.” Now, however, the band is about to start a whole new chapter. Aptly titled “Acoustic Adventures – Volume One,” Sonata Arctica carefully strip their sound of all things metal only to reveal precious, stunningly beautiful acoustic songs that still capture the heart, spirit and very essence of this band. After Sonata Arctica hit the road in 2016 to premiere their marvelously crafted acoustic set to a stunned audience and then again in 2019, the idea was born to immortalize these intimate, pure, and heartfelt renditions of their iconic catalog on two acoustic albums, the second of which will follow in close succession. “The fans truly seemed to enjoy this side of the band quite much so there was clearly a demand to record these versions of our music.” Having said that, such a release was only a matter of time, anyway: At the very heart of every Sonata Arctica song lies a sublime melody, wreathed in melancholy. “We originally planned to record these songs in Los Angeles at a friends’ studio but since most of our touring seized we decided to do the recordings a bit sooner,” remembers Henrik “Henkka” Klingenberg. “Acoustic Adventures – Volume One” was recorded during summer 2020, with mixing and mastering following suite. Even though the songwriting material is so strong in this band -- you could hear it played on a triangle or a saxophone and still get goosebumps -- some songs proved to be trickier than others. “Not all of the stuff we tried worked out which is why some songs were not recorded,” Henkka says. “Luckily we have quite a large collection to choose from so there’s really no shortage of material.” It’s no exaggeration. The band has over one-hundred songs to choose from, which is a rather fortunate situation. What’s typically Sonata Arctica about all this is that they not only replaced electric with acoustic guitars. Instead, they didn’t shy away from writing whole new arrangements. “Thus, a lot of the songs sound quite different from the original versions.” Starting with the songs they already performed during the “Acoustic Adventures” tours, they added some personal favorites or gems to the mix after that and recorded the whole bunch live! Opening with the mesmerizing “The Rest Of The Sun Belongs To Me” and going via the banjo and organ infused (!) “A Little Less Understanding” to the heartbreaking ballad “Tonight I Dance Alone,” it becomes clear that Sonata Arctica have found solace and a home in these tender versions. One song especially proved to be a challenge for Henkka. “‘Wolf & Raven’ was quite the thing to play on acoustic piano,” he laughs, “but the whole session was a big challenge for everyone. On top of doing it all live, we also didn’t use a click track or metronome so you had to be really alert and make sure the songs stayed in tempo. I think ‘For The Sake Of Revenge’ is still is my favorite. It turned out really special and so different from the original. We also didn’t play the acoustic version live so nobody has heard it.” Yet, he means. The next acoustic tour is around the corner. Singles & Videos: 03.12 „The Rest Of The Sun Belongs To Me“ Sigle & Lyric Video 14.01 „For The Sake Of Revenge“ Single & Video // Focus Track"

"With a unique trademark sound that is instantly recognizable even through a massive block of ice, Finnish melodic power metal overlords Sonata Arctica never fail to enthrall their audience with captivating hymns of Nordic splendor and magic. Graced by the aurora borealis, they’ve released ten studio albums thus far, taking us into their world since the majestic tunes of their long-fabled debut, “Ecliptica.” Now, however, the band is about to start a whole new chapter. Aptly titled “Acoustic Adventures – Volume One,” Sonata Arctica carefully strip their sound of all things metal only to reveal precious, stunningly beautiful acoustic songs that still capture the heart, spirit and very essence of this band. After Sonata Arctica hit the road in 2016 to premiere their marvelously crafted acoustic set to a stunned audience and then again in 2019, the idea was born to immortalize these intimate, pure, and heartfelt renditions of their iconic catalog on two acoustic albums, the second of which will follow in close succession. “The fans truly seemed to enjoy this side of the band quite much so there was clearly a demand to record these versions of our music.” Having said that, such a release was only a matter of time, anyway: At the very heart of every Sonata Arctica song lies a sublime melody, wreathed in melancholy. “We originally planned to record these songs in Los Angeles at a friends’ studio but since most of our touring seized we decided to do the recordings a bit sooner,” remembers Henrik “Henkka” Klingenberg. “Acoustic Adventures – Volume One” was recorded during summer 2020, with mixing and mastering following suite. Even though the songwriting material is so strong in this band -- you could hear it played on a triangle or a saxophone and still get goosebumps -- some songs proved to be trickier than others. “Not all of the stuff we tried worked out which is why some songs were not recorded,” Henkka says. “Luckily we have quite a large collection to choose from so there’s really no shortage of material.” It’s no exaggeration. The band has over one-hundred songs to choose from, which is a rather fortunate situation. What’s typically Sonata Arctica about all this is that they not only replaced electric with acoustic guitars. Instead, they didn’t shy away from writing whole new arrangements. “Thus, a lot of the songs sound quite different from the original versions.” Starting with the songs they already performed during the “Acoustic Adventures” tours, they added some personal favorites or gems to the mix after that and recorded the whole bunch live! Opening with the mesmerizing “The Rest Of The Sun Belongs To Me” and going via the banjo and organ infused (!) “A Little Less Understanding” to the heartbreaking ballad “Tonight I Dance Alone,” it becomes clear that Sonata Arctica have found solace and a home in these tender versions. One song especially proved to be a challenge for Henkka. “‘Wolf & Raven’ was quite the thing to play on acoustic piano,” he laughs, “but the whole session was a big challenge for everyone. On top of doing it all live, we also didn’t use a click track or metronome so you had to be really alert and make sure the songs stayed in tempo. I think ‘For The Sake Of Revenge’ is still is my favorite. It turned out really special and so different from the original. We also didn’t play the acoustic version live so nobody has heard it.” Yet, he means. The next acoustic tour is around the corner. Singles & Videos: 03.12 „The Rest Of The Sun Belongs To Me“ Sigle & Lyric Video 14.01 „For The Sake Of Revenge“ Single & Video // Focus Track"

London-based record label Wisdom Teeth kicks off 2021 with something close to home: Blush - the playful, dynamic debut LP by label co-founder, Facta. Recorded unusually quickly over a short stint in early 2020, the record is the product of a period of refreshed and unfussy creativity. It’s an innovative and distinctly contemporary album that moves a good few steps beyond the artist’s work to date - loosely rooted in UK dance music but taking added influence from ambient, modern classical, dreampop, Balearic, folk music and beyond. The result is a lush, ornate record populated by aqueous pads, bleeping arps, wandering melodies and sparse broken rhythms; acoustic instruments that play out alongside FM synths, all processed with a pristine UV sheen inherited from modern pop music. The record opens with ‘Sistine (Plucks)’ - a crystalline synth piece with a stumbling, shifting metre revolving around an odd-ended MIDI harp loop, coloured through with washed-out pads and snatches of found sound. This breezy mood follows through to ‘On Deck’, where an FM vibraphone rings out on top of woozy, warping chords and a subby soca groove. Moving forward the record moves cohesively through a range of shifting moods and hues. The machine jazz of ‘Brushes’ is tense and coiled, with nods towards Burnt Friedman, Photek and Eli Keszler. ‘Iso Stream’ sees a rich, colourful sprawl of arpeggiated synths and dissociated vocal chops unspool slowly to form pooling, lowlit melodies. Title track ‘Blush’ is a forlorn Autonomic love song built from clicks-n-cuts - like dBridge & Instra:mental reduced and reinterpreted by SND. Throughout, bold, broad melodies take centre stage, and the tracks build like compositions rather than loops or club tools. There are echoes of the dancefloor - particularly in the slo-mo bruk of ‘Verge’ and the glacial subs underpinning ‘Diving Birds’ (a collaboration with friend and Trilogy Tapes regular Parris) - however the end results find us somewhere far off. ‘Blush’ is the second long-form release to come from Wisdom Teeth following K-LONE’s 2020 debut album, ‘Cape Cira’, which was widely ranked as one the best LPs of 2020.

Spoken word recordings from Gregory Corso, Tina May Hall, Sam Lipsyte, Christine Schutt, Gary Lutz, Allen Ginsberg, Dawn Raffel, Jason Schwartz, Kathryn Scanlan, Scott McClanahan, & Terry Southern. About 40 years ago, in a record shop on Long Island during a weekend visit there to see my parents, i found a double-LP that looked like something i should definitely buy. It was called "BIG EGO", by the The DIAL-a-POEM POETS. On the cover was a picture of John Giorno (a great poet Ed Sanders had turned me on to) on a NYC rooftop with Philip Glass, Meredith Monk, and two kids. It cost $2. I bought it and rushed back to my parents house, where i still had my old turntable in the basement, not far from my Jimi Hendrix and Zappa Crappa posters, and my framed portrait of John Cage. My copy of Eno's "Discreet Music" was still on the turntable, having been left there years before, when i'd fled Long Island for good. I lifted it from the platter, gently slid it back into its sleeve, like a priceless religious artifact, and put Side A of the Dial-a-Poem LP on. I almost lost my mind while listening to it. The next day i went back to the same record shop looking for more DIAL-A-POEM LP's. i found two. One had a long list of names on the back, some famous, and some i'd never heard of before. I bought both LP's, and an hour later, for the first time in my life, i was exposed to the art of Laurie Anderson, whom i'd never heard of before. This was 1978. Her contribution was a piece called "Time To Go". It changed my life. Or at least, that’s how I remember it. I was just a kid, so there were a lot of moments like that, around then. Nowadays, these moments can be had in seconds, with a click of the cursor. That evening, as i sat alone by my imaginary campfire (ie; that record player in my parents basement), i promised myself that someday, somehow, i would embark upon a WORDS & MUSIC project that might move people the same way i was moved when i first heard Laurie, and Robert Wilson & Christopher Knowles, and Burroughs, and Ginsberg, and Corso, and Anne Waldman, and John Ashbery, and the great Charles Olson, and so many others. Words, for the very first time, had wielded the same power as music. And it was visceral. Just like music. It ran deep. It was a FEELING. John Giorno died in 2019, but he kept poetry alive like nobody's business. I was lucky enough to have spent some time with him in the early 1980's, when i was briefly a member of The Fugs, and often found myself surrounded by those Ginsberg called, "...the greatest minds of my generation". Ed Sanders (who'd ushered me into that scene) once told me that when he came to NYC, it was easy to go to a cafe, or to St Marks Church, and hear Burroughs, Corso, Ginsberg, and all the greats, reading their poetry. He said that even if you were just a bum on the street, you could just walk right up to them, and start a conversation. They were totally accessible, if they were in the right mood at that particular moment. So i was shocked when Sanders told me he didn't approach any of them, not even once, til he'd been going to their readings for nearly ten years. "For almost a decade, I went to every reading, every lecture, every panel discussion. But I never went near them. Never approached them. Not even once", Sanders told me. "For ten years, all I did, was listen." It took me four decades, but ... better late than never. I finally made WORDS & MUSIC, Book One.