Buscar:close distance band

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Charlotte Leclerc talks loud and fast, she’s at full speed, at a heat of 10,000 degrees and gives off a very pleasant warmth - if you stay at the right distance. She’s like the sun: if you get too close, you’ll burn up straight away. Speaking of which, Charlotte has distanced herself, and not on purpose either. When coming home at night, instead of getting into the role of laboring musician, she chose instead to make music a bit like you’d smoke one last cigarette before bed. The story of this album began when I asked her if she made music by herself. I knew she played regularly with other people in bands, but nothing about any potential solo musical activity. She replied, “When I get home late at night, before going to bed, I like to switch on my old Vermona drum machine and my synths. I record stuff that isn’t songs, that I forget all about and don’t listen to again because it must be garbage.” It didn’t take more than that for me to really want to listen to it. After several months of enquiring, she accepted to send me all these “bits of music” as she calls them. I loved them straight away. Very loose and free tracks, a music made for no one in particular. No format, no structures, just creation sprinkled over daily life. Moments like these are often forgotten, lost in your head, which is overcrowded with day-to-day stuff. But in this case, she managed to save them, preserving them in time thanks to the record button. Style-wise, I’m not sure what Charlotte Leclerc’s “bits of music” are. Avant-exotica? Ambient-funk? Maybe. However, if you’re wondering if there’s any emotion in there, I’d answer as she would, “Yeah, loaaaads.”

Dark-folk songwriter Chantal Acda and beyond drums-percussion musician extraordinaire Eric Thielemans propose a new score for Koyaanisqatsi, re-actualising the incredibly beautiful, raw, rhythmic and touching images of this 80-ties cinematographic masterpiece. Slow deep electric waves, lonely synths in sonic desert landscapes, rhythmic pulses, transporting drums and bells, and deeply longing sounds and voices make up the audible fundamentals of this imagined, neo shamanic, ritualistic music to accompany the Earth as it keeps on supporting our post human frenetics even today. This release contains a selection of the musical material scored for a live performance together with the screening of the movie. The live performance premiered on Film Festival Gent and Vooruit in the fall of 2022.

Currently based in Belgium, Dutch-born Chantal Acda (b. 1978) has worked under the Sleepingdog moniker since 2006, making three acclaimed albums that closed on the 'With Our Heads in the Clouds and Our Hearts in the Fields' (2010) album for which she collaborated with Adam Wiltzie (Stars of the Lid, A Winged Victory For The Sullen). They toured the UK and Benelux with Low in 2011. After all this, it was time for her first real solo record. Playing in various formations (Isbells, True Bypass, Marble Sounds) had made her conscious of the patterns that we all, as humans, share in. So, she sought out kindred spirits with whom she might record an album filled with freedom and intensity, and who were conscious of the patterns we so often fall back on. Nils Frahm was the first of these to cross her path. The inventive German pianist and producer is an intense and adventurous performer and was a perfect match for it. Acda also experienced a direct bond with Peter Broderick, a multi-instrumentalist known from his solo work (on labels such as Bella Union and Erased Tapes) and from his work with, among others, Efterklang. Cellist extraordinaire Gyda Valtysdottir from Icelandic group Múm had previously worked with Chantal as a member of the Sleepingdog live band. And lastly, Shahzad Ismaily stumbled into this picture by chance, but when Acda and he found themselves in the same room they formed an instant rapport. After this first record, 3 other solorecords followed. Chantal kept on searching for a deeper connection with the outside world and recorded "The Sparkle In Our Flaws" (2015) and "Bounce Back" (2017). She also released some live recordings with her band and also Bill Frisell, a highly respected jazz guitarist.(2018). These records were released on the German label Glitterhouse. Chantal and her band toured with these records in Europe. In 2019 Chantal created her first music/theatre performance P_wawau for Oerol Festival, The Netherlands. She worked with Valgeir Sigurdson (Björk, Bonnie Prince Billy,...) and singers from Het Nederlands Kamerkoor. As a result of this, she released the recorded music: Puwawau (2019). In 2021 Chantal released her most recent album Saturday Moon. (2021) For this album she worked with her band (Eric Thielemans, Alan Gevaert, Gaetan Vandewoude and Niels Van Heertum) but also with Bill Frisell, Shahzad Ismaily and Mimi and Alan Sparhawk (Low). Saturday Moon was very well received, internationally, by the press.

Eric Thielemans is a drummer and percussionist. Travelling across music scenes and disciplines, Thielemans navigates by means of his own compass. Most known for his resonant solo works like a Snare is a Bell, Sprang, Aural Mist and Bata Baba Loka and many collaborations with musicians in the experimental music scene, as well as the Jazz scene, and indie folk/pop/rock scenes Thielemans keeps on pushing the borders and expanding conscious aural spaces and territories. Recently, Thielemans has collaborated with PVT - a trio together with Mika Vainio & Charlemagne Palestine (album released April 2020) , PAT - a new trio together with Oren Ambarchi and Charlemagne Palestine, A new duo together with Oren Ambarchi, Billy Hart ("Talking about the Weather"), Chantal Acda ("The Sparkle in our Flaws", "Bounce Back", "Puwawau", "Saturday Moon"), Marshall Allen (Sun Ra), Tape Cuts Tape, Distance Light & Sky, Jozef Dumoulin, Trevor Dunn, Shahzad Ismaily, Vaast Colson, Nico Dockx, and many more. Currently Thielemans is working on r-e-s-o-n-a-n-c-e , a culminative work that encompasses and brings to the surface the underlying currents within his life in and with music. Withing r-e-s-o-n-a-n-c-e he investigates the everyday magic through conversations, writing and score writing to invite as many souls as possible to experience and co create the magic in the everyday.

Sympathetic Magic is an ecstatic, delirious, and deeply touching piece of music; a towering new work in Kim Myhr’s increasingly substantial output as an artist and composer. Sympathetic Magic is the follow-up to Kim Myhr’s 2017 album You | me, which was widely praised and received an honorary mention at the 2018 Nordic Music Prize. While the immersive warmth of You | me is still present, Sympathetic Magic is more expansive than its predecessor. A band of eight musicians playing a wide variety of instruments including electric 12-string guitars, drum machines, vocals, synthesizers, organs and lots of drums and percussion, has created a work of a grander scale. The shimmering, oceanic waves of You | me has been traded for cosmic currents in Sympathetic Magic. Put simply, Sympathetic Magic is a collection of song-like structures that has expanded into symphonic proportions. “With You | me, I wanted to create an ocean of sound, where the listener is surrounded by a myriad of elements that has equal importance in the music. I wanted to challenge this a bit, to push certain elements forward. The result is a more song-like kind of music than what I’ve done before.” – Kim Myhr Just before starting working on Sympathetic Magic, Kim bought an old 70s Yamaha organ (the YC45d), after falling in love with the sound of it on different recordings. At first, he thought the organ would be a subtle element on the new record, but it ended up becoming a focal point: “It’s a brilliant in-your-face sound that brought an ecstatic quality to the music. Playing around with this instrument, along with an 80s Roland Juno synth and a new drum machine took the music in new directions.” – Kim Myhr. Thematically, Sympathetic Magic circles around a longing for collectivity and togetherness. While the world was locked down in 2021, thanks to a commission from Oslo Jazz Festival, Kim had the opportunity to delve deeply into this project, working with the members of the band, one at a time: “The music created a situation of unexpected positivity. It felt like a social project even if I spent most of the time on it alone. And all this positive, joyful energy felt quite magical, arriving like out of thin air in this otherwise grim situation. It all felt like a hallucination, which fed back into the music. Sympathetic Magic is like a dream within a dream.” – Kim Myhr The title of the record is a term coined by James Frazer in The Golden Bough. He writes: “things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed”. “In a closed down world where all our connections with the outside suddenly are remote or absent, the line between the real and imaginary is blurred. I felt that the term perfectly summed up the thoughts, processes and sentiments that went into the making of this record”, says Myhr. “Kim Myhr is a master of slow-morphing rhythms and sun-dappled textures that seem to glow from the inside”. The Guardian 1/And I Thought These Are My People 2/Gifting Senselessly In Endless Lavishness 3/Move The Rolling Sky 4/Iridescent 5/Up To The Sun Shall Go Your Heartache 6/I Wonder If I Shall Fall Right Through The Earth 7/Heart Streams

Three albums in the novelty has worn off, but Dengue Fever has smartly
chosen to keep evolving - Venus on Earth is at once the band's most
accessible and most varied release
A recap: when first heard from in 2003 on their self- titled debut, Dengue Fever
was like no other band, fronted by a Cambodian-born woman, Chhom Nimol, who
paid homage to that Asian nation's pre-Pol Pot cheesy psychedelic-cum-loungesurf-garage pop sound of the '60s/early '70s. For Venus on Earth, the mainstream
beckons, or comes as close to beckoning as it's ever going to for a band as nonmainstream as Dengue Fever. Nimol's vocals are as beguiling as ever, Ethan
Holtzman's Farfisa organ still swirls, Zac Holtzman's guitars still chime and chunk,
and Paul Dreux Smith's drums clang happily along. With horns provided by David
Ralicke and bass from Senon Gaius Williams, Dengue Fever has softened some
of the rougher edges, injected some serious soul, and added more swing to their
thing. "Oceans of Venus" could be an outtake from the first B-52's album, "Clipped
Wings" a lost Blondie tune, and "Woman in the Shoes" is just one of the most
cuddly pop songs in ages. The groovelicious Nimol- Zac Holtzman duet "Tiger
Phone Card," a tale of a long distance Phnom Penh- NYC romance, is the pop
smash Yoko Ono might have had in an alternate universe. Drenched in reverb,
soaked in sweat, marinated in some phantom historical moment yet tethered to
the now, Dengue Fever is more innovative and resourceful than 99-percent of the
bands that receive 99 times the publicity.

New album by pioneering German beatmaker FloFilz. On Close Distance, the lofiturned-hifi producer blends hip-hop inspired beats with contemporary jazz, alt r&b and a little rap. Featuring Alfa Mist, Blue Lab Beats, Jerome Thomas,

KeepVibesNear, Summers Sons & C.Tappin, Dal & Hunter Rose. Close Distance is his fourth album for Melting Pot Music. Since 2013, the self-taught bedroom producer and classically trained violinist has sold more than 10k LPs and gained 200 million streams.

Close Distance literally means “near in space or time” (or “nah dran”, as we say in German). The 16 songs on Close Distance came to life over the past two years. Many sketches were birthed at FloFilz's old home studio in Aachen. Some songs were made from scratch in London, where Flo did sessions with UK jazz supremos Alfa Mist and Blue Lab Beats at their studios. One was recorded in a kitchen in Streatham, where rap duo Summers Sons and pianist C.Tappin reside.
More sessions were already in planning when lockdown kicked in and travelling was no longer an option. Around the same time, Flo was about to move from Aachen to Berlin which he eventually did in November 2020. Once installed, he started sharing beats and files out of his makeshift studio in Moabit. Beat folders were sent to
London where two of our favourite new alt R&B vocalists – Jerome Thomas and KeepVibesNear – live. Another one went to Dartmoor where the jazz/hip-hop trio Dal added their magic touch while Hunter Rose processed her sultry vocals in Cape Town - 12 flying hours away from Berlin.

The album artwork has been created by Indonesian illustrator Fatchurofi, who caught FloFilz's attention through his work for everybody’s favourite band Khruangbin. Taking influences from Japanese Ukiyo-e art, Fatchurofi is adding a zen-like clarity (and tranquility) that resonates very well with the album.

It is no exaggeration to say that FloFilz has not only created another inspiring album with Close Distance but one that demonstrates how music can close the distance which we all have experienced (and still do) in a beautiful way.

From its earliest utterances, experimental music has been particularly disposed to transnational and cross-cultural collaboration. Seeking the answer for a fundamental problem - how to transcend the boundaries of difference, distance, and time - it presents a means to find common ground and communicate through the elemental form of sound. Over the last 5 years, this precisely what the duo of Félicia Atkinson & Jefre Cantu-Ledesma has achieved, intertwining sublime sonorities across the geographic expanses between their respective homes in France and the United States. Their third album for Shelter Press, ‘Un hiver en plein été’ (‘A winter in the middle of summer’) - the first to have been largely recorded by Atkinson and Cantu-Ledesma together in the same space - distills a mesmerizing pallet of acoustic and electronic sources into an open discourse of radically poetic forms, offering glimpses of warmth and intimacy waiting in the post-covid world to come.

Both veteran experimentalists with celebrated bodies of solo work behind them - each traversing the challenges of electroacoustic practice in their own singular ways - prior to their first recorded outing in 2016, Félicia Atkinson and Jefre Cantu-Ledesma had only crossed paths in person once, initially meeting in San Fransisco during 2009. The mutual bond formed during that brief encounter flowered into their first LP, ‘Comme Un Seul Narcisse’, followed two years later by 2018’s ‘Limpid As The Solitudes’. Both recorded remotely - sending files back and forth, fortified by conversations on a vast range of subjects - these two albums were guided by impassioned conceptual nods to Guy Debord, Baudelaire, Brion Gysin and Sylvia Plath, while seeking resolutions for the challenges and unique possibilities that working at a distance provoked.

Where the triumphs of its predecessors rose from the bridging of disparate moments and divergent spaces, ‘Un hiver en plein été’ culminates as a celebration of closeness, a result of Atkinson and Cantu-Ledesma working together in the studio, responsively in real time, for the first time. Recorded in Brooklyn during August of 2019 - a handful of months before the pandemic would impose chasmic distances across the globe - its six discrete works, carefully crafted and finalized over the ensuing year, evolve seamlessly across the album’s two sides, weaving a sprawling tapestry of sonority, within which both artists retaining their own voices and visions, while drawing each other towards uncharted ground.

Atkinson likens the recording of ‘Un hiver en plein été’ to have been akin to “a playground”, each artist “hungry for each sound, a bit like the rush in the Louvre in Godard’s Bande à part”, to which Cantu-Ledesma adds that the process seemed to have had “a mind of its own”, with both “along for the ride”. This organic sense of entropy and enthusiasm - a joyous exploration of the unknown - guides the momentum of the album’s evolving arc, as unfolding chasms of ambient space ripple with humanity, life, and fleeting glimpses of the actions that led to its material core.

Crafted from deconstructed melodic elements and drifting long-tones - laden with subtle nods to Indian classical ragas and free jazz - searching patterns of speech, textural elements captured within the studio and the outside world, and searching tonal and percussive interventions, ‘Un hiver en plein été’ coheres as a multi-faceted series of electroacoustic dialogues; nesting conversations between two artists working at the juncture of abstraction and narration, field recording and harmony, and the philosophical and phenomenological, in search for the meaning of friendship, and its manifestation in pure sound.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Live Hubris, documenting the hypnotic and electrifying live performance of Oren Ambarchi’s 2016 LP Hubris by a fifteen-strong band at London’s Café Oto. Over three days in May 2019, Oto toasted Oren Ambarchi at 50/Black Truffle at 10 with Ambarchi and a large group of close friends and collaborators in a series of performances that interspersed existing projects with new collective endeavours, culminating with this: fourteen members of the extended Black Truffle family together on stage, joined by one special virtual guest, to translate the intricately studio-constructed layers of Hubris into a muscular live band workout.

Operating with only the bare minimum of pre-gig preparation after the planned afternoon rehearsal had to be wrapped up prematurely due to noise complaints, the gargantuan group lurches into motion with a 21-minute rendition of ‘Hubris Part 1’, powered by the pulsating electronics of Konrad Sprenger (the ‘ringmaster’ at the ensemble’s core) and no less than seven electric guitars spinning a web of intricately interlocking palm-muted polyrhythms. The layers of closely related but metrically distinct lines create ripples of shifting accents, flickering changes in emphasis that ricochet along the endless central pulse. Gradually building in density, this motorik continuum becomes the backdrop for the haunting tones of Eiko Ishibashi’s processed flute and an extended feature from long-distance guest Jim O’Rourke on guitar synth.

After the brief interlude of the second part, where Albert Marcoeur-esque guitar arpeggios accompany a halting attempt at phone conversation, the full ensemble gears up for the epic side-long rendition of ‘Hubris Part 3’. Now joined by the astonishing triple drum line-up of Joe Talia, Will Guthrie and Andreas Werliin, the layered pulse of the opening piece becomes a burning funk-fusion groove. Beginning on a medium simmer, the ensemble initially stick to its pulsating one-note mantra, over which Ambarchi unfurls a beautiful example of his signature shimmering Leslie-toned guitar harmonics, eventually joined by Ishibashi’s flute and some brooding, distorted dissonance from Julia Reidy’s guitar. Building steadily for the first nine minutes, the heat then rises dramatically with a first, gloriously loose chord change: with the all drummers now rolling and tumbling like a twice-cloned Jack DeJohnette circa 1970, Mats Gustafsson enters on baritone, his tortured roars and shrieks driving the band to peaks of insane intensity. Finally, the exhausted ensemble drops out, leaving only the jagged, skittering fuzz of Ambarchi’s guitar, brought to an abrupt conclusion at the command of crys cole. Arriving on hot pink vinyl with artwork by Lasse Marhaug and an extensive selection of live photos by Ivan Weiss and Fabio Lugaro, Live Hubris brings this ambitious and outrageous evening of music to the safety of the home stereo.

In 1994 Come responded to the difficult-second-album stereotype with the hypnotic, intense and emotional masterpiece 'Don't Ask Don't Tell'. Featuring the original line-up of Thalia Zedek, Chris Brokaw, Sean O' Brien and Arthur Johnson, the Boston band broadened their sound by slowing down the tempos and creating a dense urban stream of consciousness that mixes noise, city blues and_ catharsis. The album hits you immediately as one of the greatest dissident records ever made. Lovingly remastered, this expanded edition includes 'Wrong Sides', an additional albums worth of b-sides and unreleased tracks, including the band's very first single 'Car' and their last recorded song, 'Cimarron', featuring this core line-up. These gems showcase the rawness and incredible growth of a band completely in command of their songwriting and at the same time paying homage to some of their punk roots with beautiful renditions of Swell Maps 'Loin Of The Surf' and X's 'Adult Books'. Also Includes new artwork with unearthed photos and fresh liner notes by the band. Dissident from traditional rock this is a band playing music that thematically and structurally seems to pull from old Europa, from Eastern folk and modernist classical music as much as US and UK rock. Dissident from traditional ideas about singing and songwriting Thalia's (ex of Live Skull) presence on songs like 'Yr Reign' and the astonishing closer 'Arrive' isn't the pushy self-aggrandizement of a lead singer but the internal voice of the eternal migrant, someone who knows about survival, hiding, how living between multiple worlds can become its own refuge of distance, its own sanctuary of unbelonging Don't Ask Don't Tell emerged from a period of cohesion, a break from the tight and hectic touring schedule Come had been plunged into after the acclaim accorded 11:11, and you can hear that increased focus in every moment the layers of guitars and feedback are even more precise, the structuring of songs takes on a new openness and ambition, and the whole narrative arc of the record from 'Finish Line' to 'Arrive' is more exquisitely realised and sequenced. "The songs on Don't Ask Don't Tell . . . had a kind of magic we didn't necessarily control ourselves." Chris Brokaw - interview with Neil Kulkarni, 2013. "Devastating, with slow, burning songs that shudder and wince" NY Times

Cindy is a band built around the singing and guitar playing of Karina Gill. She became a musician only recently, having sat on the sidelines while ex-partners and friends made their stabs at it. Gill describes a chance encounter with an abandoned Squire Strat left in the basement by a previous tenant, “mummified in electrical tape with the remnants of a burrito on the head stock”, that led her to begin carefully strumming her way through simple chords and making her own songs. After one interesting self-released LP, still finding their footing, the band made the masterful and buzzed-about Free Advice, which went from a limited cassette on local SF label Paisley Shirt to vinyl pressings on Tough Love (UK) and Mt St Mtn (USA).

Cindy’s third LP arrives in quick succession, the quietly devastating 1:2. Jesse Jackson on bass, Simon Phillips on drums and Aaron Diko on keyboards weave the perfectly thin web behind Gill’s slow Velvety strums and murmured melodies. The rhythm section brings the crude flow, while the keys add subtle and surreal counterpoint to the withering world Gill depicts in her lyrics. “Songs tie together seemingly disparate things by the logic of mood,” Gill tries to explain. This isn’t dream-pop sunshine bliss; half-closed black drapes hang on the window where the narrator stares into the middle distance. “Sometimes you say you’re feeling small/You plan all day for your own funeral”, she intones in Party Store. Gill has a way of halting her phrasing that makes it feel like her thoughts are gently tumbling into the abyss. It’s this unsettling quality mixed with the hazy atmosphere that makes Cindy’s new LP 100% addicting and the perfect antidote to comfort listening. Glenn Donaldson, 2021

The anticipation is there in Elizabeth Stokes’ solo guitar riff under the opening lines of “I’m Not Getting Excited”: a frenetic, driving force daring a packed Auckland Town Hall to do exactly the opposite of what the track title suggests.

As the opener of The Beths’ Auckland, New Zealand, 2020 expands to include the full band, the crowd screeches and bellows. It’s a collective exhalation, in one of the few countries where live music is still possible.

The album title, and film of the same name, deliberately include the date and location, lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce says. “That’s the sensational part of what we actually did.” In a mid-pandemic world, playing to a heaving, enraptured home crowd feels miraculous.

In March 2020, everything seemed on track for another huge year for The Beths. Home after an 18-month northern hemisphere tour, they had just finished recording sophomore album Jump Rope Gazers and were primed for more extensive touring. But within days, New Zealand’s lockdown split the band between three separate houses. All touring was cancelled.

“It was existentially bad,” Stokes says. As well as worrying about economic survival, they lost something crucial to the band’s identity: live performance. “It's a huge part of how we see ourselves... What does it mean, if we can't play live?”

The band found an outlet through live-streaming, returning to the do-it-yourself mentality of their early days to connect with a global audience. The album and film have their genesis in that urge to share the now-rare experience of a live show, as widely as possible.

The fuzzy-round-the-edges live-streams pointed the way aesthetically. Native birds, wonkily crafted by the band from tissue paper and wire, festoon the venue’s cavernous ceiling while house plants soften and disguise the imposing pipes of an organ. The presence of the film crew isn’t disguised: much of the camerawork is handheld; full of fast zooms and pans.

With much of the material still fresh, the band was less focused on re-invention than playing “a good, fast rock show”, Pearce says. The tempo is up on crowd favourites “Whatever” and “Future Me Hates Me” (released as a live single on its third anniversary) as both band and audience feed off the mutual energy in the room.

Certain songs have taken on special resonance post-Covid. Pearce has found “Out Of Sight”, a tender rumination on long-distance relationships, hits particularly hard with live audiences.

Album closer “River Run” visibly brings Stokes to tears as a mix of achievement and relief kicks in. “You can finally relax at that point … You play the last note, breathe out a sigh and look up - and you’re in a giant room full of people happy and smiling.”

In the most literal sense, globally renowned whistler Molly Lewis makes her gorgeous
and curious compositions out of thin air.
New entrees into the Exotica canon; sprawling, would-be Spaghetti Western scores;
and a dash of Old Hollywood glamour - the whistle-led songs on her debut EP ‘The
Forgotten Edge’ are as complex, delicate and indelible as anything performed with
viola or piano.
“Whistling is like a human theremin,” said Lewis, an Australian native who’s spent the
last several years in LA and whose performances there and around the world are
changing any preconceived notions of whistling by the room-full.
That’s not to say Lewis is all serious and snooty about the craft. Quite the contrary.
Her sense of humour is witty, self-deprecating and zany. She’s as likely to reference
the slapstick Leslie Nielsen film series ‘Naked Gun’ for music video concepts as she
is a classic piece of noir cinema.
Look no further than the equatorial and breezy opening cut ‘Oceanic Feeling’, a
lovely walk across the flotsam-sprinkled sands in the rum-pumping vein of Les
Baxter. Meanwhile, the title track - and really, the entire collection here - is a loving,
albeit rather haunting, salute to one of Lewis’s heroes, the Italian composer and
musician Alessandro Alessandroni, whose whistle and guitar you hear on the title
theme of Ennio Morricone’s ‘A Fistful of Dollars’. Lewis and her ensemble create
classic cinema for your mind.
Her own love for the artform began when, around the age of twelve she was given
the CD ‘Steve ‘The Whistler’ Herbst Whistles Broadway’. Something contained in it
clicked. “It wasn’t that I was immediately obsessed, but I knew it was something I
could do well,” Lewis said.
The daughter of a musician mother and a documentary filmmaker father who often
focused his films on niche communities and topics, Lewis recalls watching a
television documentary with her parents about The International Whistlers
Convention in Louisburg, North Carolina. “My dad said, ‘If you ever make it into the
competition, I’ll take you there’,” Lewis said. Turns out, there was no bar to entry, just
a small fee. And so, several years later, she and her father travelled to the
convention. New to the form, Lewis didn’t take home one of the bigger prizes but they
were awarded the prize for Whistler Who Traveled The Greatest Distance. “We really
just used the trip to drive around the United States,” she said.
After studying film in Australia, Lewis moved to Los Angeles to be close to the film
industry. There, her circle of artist friends grew naturally and with providence - her
unique talent drawing more and more recognition. And over the last few years,
Lewis’s Café Molly events at LA spots like Zebulon, Non Plus Ultra and The Natural
History Museum have become fabled, elegant happenings with appearances from
guests like John C. Reilly, Karen O and Mac DeMarco.
Recorded with a crack team of friends and musicians during 2020’s quarantine, ‘The
Forgotten Edge’ is rife with incredible performances from Thomas Brenneck (Sharon
Jones & The Dap-Kings / Budos Band), Joe Harrison (Charles Bradley, Lee Fields),
Eric Hagstrom (Brainstory), Abe Rounds (Meshell Ndegeocello, Andrew Bird, Blake
Mills), Leon Michels (El Michels Affair), Gabriel Rowland and Dave Guy.

Tonnon produced the album with longtime collaborator, and The Beths’ guitarist and producer, Jonathan Pearce. Tonnon wrote the bulk of the songs during an extensive period of touring after the release of Successor - a period where Tonnon performed with Nadia Reid in Europe, The Veils in the USA, and The Chills, The Phoenix Foundation and Don McGlashan in New Zealand. The pair workshopped songs between tours, often recording new parts as the live versions developed.

Tonnon and Pearce recorded between 2017 and 2020, and in that time, Tonnon’s practise evolved heavily. He incorporated new technology into his set, including the Wellington-designed Synthstrom Deluge, which allowed him to adapt his set for new performance environments;Art Galleries, Museums, even New Zealand Fashion Week. He took that technology further when he collaborated with the Otago Museum on the immersive show for Planetariums, A Synthesized Universe, which travelled to Arts Festivals around New Zealand in 2019.

Creating a music video for ‘Old Images,’ which explored a lost passenger train network, Tonnon came to the idea for a new experience-based show called Rail Land. It took audiences on railways to reach distant community halls around Aotearoa. The show saw Tonnon combine historical research and spoken word narrative, with the immersive lighting and musical technology he developed for A Synthesized Universe. In March, Rail Land finished a three-night run at Auckland Arts Festival, cementing Tonnon’s move to the concept show.

Over time, Tonnon and Pearce’s production moved further from the traditional rhythm sections that powered songs like Successor’s ‘Water Underground.’ In their place came off kilter electronic rhythms, like the beat in ‘Two Free Hands,’ and textures that blur lines between organic and synthesized sound. Guitars are set against synthesizers, and drums against drum machines in ‘Entertainment’ and ‘Peacetime Orders,’ which Tonnon also used in his soundtrack for RNZ’s 80s spy-themed podcast The Service. In ‘Leave Love Out Of This,’ a ballad starts with a piano and a string quartet, but ends in a wall of electronic sound.

The constant has been Tonnon’s lyrics. Whether singing about evolution and the future of work in ‘Two Free Hands,’ the television industry in ‘Entertainment,’ or environmental disaster and regulatory failure in ‘Mataura Paper Mill,’ Tonnon has followed a distinct approach to subject matter, description and phrasing that have seen him longlisted for the APRA Silver Scroll three times.

Tonnon’s explorations of local government and civic infrastructure in his work - an unusual preoccupation for a songwriter, have taken new meaning in his adopted home of Whanganui, where last year, he was elected by councillors as Whanganui District Council’s representative for public transport.

After Tonnon moved to Whanganui, and Pearce toured almost constantly after the success of The Beths’ first album, the pair conducted their collaboration over distance, but with key sessions at Pearce’s Karangahape Road studio, including drums and bass with long time band members Stuart Harwood and David Flyger, a string quartet led by Charmian Keay and arranged by Matthew Bodman, and additional drums with The Beths’ Tristan Deck.

As Leave Love Out Of This is released, Tonnon and Pearce find themselves in very different places to where they started, working on Auckland’s Karangahape Road, close to the venues like Wine Cellar and Whammy Bar where they regularly performed. Back in New Zealand since Covid, Pearce has had to adjust to being in one of Aotearoa’s best-known bands, while Tonnon, when not working on conceptual shows, wrestles with how to restore civic infrastructure to a post industrial city in the regions.

Created over a life-altering period of, Leave Love Out Of This is the culmination of years of experimentation and development - with new technology, new sounds, and new ways of creating, and performing music.

fter a hiatus of over eight years Fuzzy Lights are making a welcome return. Burials is the follow-up to the critically acclaimed album Rule of Twelfths, and the fourth album from the Cambridge-based post-folk collective. 

Their sound has been stripped back to its component parts, deconstructed and rebuilt under less obvious influences. There’s a bedrock of folk-rock - predecessors like Trees and Fairport Convention - but this is then built upon through multiple layers, from the stillness of Talk Talk to the orchestral chaos of Godspeed You! Black Emperor. With Burials Fuzzy Lights have cultivated these sounds and influences into something new and fresh that distances the album from the rest of the folk-rock crowd.

The most striking element of these songs is how intimate they are. Lyricist Rachel Watkins has revealed a lot about herself in these seven songs, which have been written from a very personal perspective. Raw experiences have been distilled into each piece, her translucent vocals often betraying the content of the songs themselves. The album is bookended with the most personal of these. Opener ‘The Maidens Call’ reveals her loss from suffering a miscarriage, whilst album closer, ‘The Gathering Storm’ frames the rallying cry of women’s rights around how individuals must work together now, and in future generations, to destroy prejudice. There is also engagement with humanity’s immediate surroundings and the environment. ‘Under The Waves’ deals with devastation of coral reefs, ocean resources and our natural world, and ‘The Graveyard Song’ imagines the perception of time from the juxtaposed views of a yew tree and a young woman.

As scenarios, paths, and outcomes shift around us, Burials’ amalgam of glowering, intense instrumentation, timeless, weightless melody, and exactingly revealing lyricism carves a very particular path through the world. This is music that tears us away from the everyday not just as a form of escapism, but as a means of self-reflection on hardship and the strategies we develop to overcome it.  It is the band’s rawest yet most accomplished statement to date.

Sub Pop release ‘Indian Yard’, the debut record
from Sitka, Alaska project Ya Tseen.
Band founder, Nicholas Galanin is one of the most
vital voices in contemporary art. His work spans
sculpture, video, installation, photography,
jewellery and music; advocating for Indigenous
sovereignty, racial, social and environmental
justice, for present and future generations.
‘Indian Yard’ is a compelling document of humanity
centred in an Indigenous perspective. Created by
one of the world’s foremost Indigenous artists, the
irrepressible album is an intense illumination of
feeling and interconnectedness.
On the track ‘Close the Distance’ Galanin reflects
on the universal need for connection and the
expression of desire across distances. The official
video, directed by Stephan Gray (Shabazz
Palaces ‘Dawn In Luxor’, ‘Deesse Du Sang’),
extends beyond human experience to consider
physical expressions of desire in biological,
mechanical, and celestial forms.

Isasa’s fourth LP is a guitar excursion from a skillful, humble guide. Minimal, contemplative songs, rich in atmosphere and warm in spirit.

Some musicians give their name to their first album, signifying introduction. Some hold it in reserve — it took Wire 39 years to get around to calling an LP Wire. But whenever they do so, they are making a statement. For Conrado Isasa, an acoustic guitarist from Madrid, Spain, the decision to call his fourth album Isasa reflects the fact that his music’s relationship to his own identity has evolved. Isasa presents an artist whose work reflects that he knows and accepts where he comes from.
Between 1993 and 2003, he played electric guitar in the hardcore metal band Down For The Count and the post rock combo, A Room With A View. These were collective statements, communications between small groups and a select underground community. After the latter group’s demise, Isasa stepped back from recording, and for a while from guitar playing as well. He spent some time learning to play the trumpet, but was inspired to return to the guitar in 2007 after he heard Geoff Farina play a Mississippi John Hurt song for the encore of a Glorytellers gig. Then came another period of learning, during which he studied the playing of Hurt, John Fahey, Jack Rose, and Glenn Jones.
Performing as Isasa, he made three records, each of which can be heard as confrontation with an artistic challenge. Las Cosas (2015) is between the man and his acoustic guitar; what could he do with his fingers, a slide, six steel strings, and a box of wood? Los Días (2016) faces the broader issue of how to deal with the requirements of the American Primitive guitar style. Like Fahey, Rose, and Jones, Isasa sought to make an album that used a cohesive sequence of guitar and banjo instrumentals to express personal experiences. With its references to the sights, sounds, and tastes one might encounter in Madrid, it is like a poetic diary written with the distance that comes from having mastered a second language. After making that record, Isasa toured parts of the United States, and played at The Thousand Incarnations Of The Rose, a festival that gathered representatives of American Primitive guitar’s past, present, and future in Takoma Park, the town where the style’s original synthesist, John Fahey, was born. Insilio (2019) began to look beyond that style, dealing with Hindustani raga forms and adding other instrumental textures.
And now comes Isasa. The name suggests something very personal, and it’s true that it draws upon Isasa’s closest relationships. Two compositions are either named for or feature the voices of his children, but their presence helps this music to transcend the purely personal. For what could be more universally shared than the joy and love one feels for children? Others invoke concepts — absence, liberty, love, reunion. They may mean one thing to Isasa, and another thing to you, but by sharing his reactions to them, he invites you to recognize yours. Isasa isn’t just using his experiences to tell you about his life; he is using what he knows about life to help us know a little more about ours.

“What to do with a spud like you?” Melbourne post-punk wags Terry return this summer with their new EP ‘Who’s Terry?’. You can just make him out in his hobnail boots, peering from behind the sandwich board, wink, wink. Following on from last year’s huge-sounding ‘I’m Terry’ album, this third EP from the band brings you right up to date with their wobbly politico-pop.

‘Spud’ is a class A toe-tapper that sees the band don fatigues and set their sights on the enemy. The rough and the tough, wrestled wrists and fools with crooked smiles all make an appearance as Terry sing as one over snare snaps and keyboard croaks. ‘Bizzo and Tophat’ follows with a stride across the underbelly, a thick slice of bop-heavy observation that gives way to one of Terry’s most elegiac refrains… “holding on and going forth”! Their gang vocal approach never sounding more resolute. ’Eggs’ then picks up the pace, a sure-footed romp that skips alongside prods of saxophone to join the parade.

‘Drawn for Days’ pulls the EP to a close, a sedate, melodic ponderance of strummy guitar, jangling bells and Amy and Xanthe’s soft-sung vocals. “Haunted by the big and small, hunted hanging for the fancy fall”.  “I can’t stand up” the band decry in unison as the track scales its peak and gives way to warping synth noise. ‘Who’s Terry’ encapsulates what Terry does best, the queasy marriage of the upbeat and traumatic, the catchy instant and the nagging distance. Their alliterative lyrics always sharp as tacks, their sense of melody and beat sunk deep in the heart of now.

Remember how badly we wanted to join them and be part of those sea-faring adventures: Jack London’s The Sea-Wolf, classic TV shows based on his novel The Road, on Radu Toduran’s novels... back then, a couple decades ago, the titles of these shows alone were enough to trigger some strong gusts in our hearts, salty squalls perfect for imaginary downwind journeys we dreamed of with billowing sails. We wanted to cruise alongside albatrosses, seagulls, and fellow sailors. Floating high above a three-masted vessel, we watched our own adventures unfold far below, an imagined movie scene complete with a whole crew that worked the rigging, and all the rest. Cutting waves. Amidst the storm and stress of sounds hitting our eardrums far out in the ocean. Combined with the sounds of rotors, of tropics crossed, of marimbas and cabin wood pounded, of strange music spotted in the distance. And even though it was merely for an hour or two that we were rescued by that seal-hunting ship “Ghost,” as Jack London had it, plus, even worse, often found ourselves surrounded by villains: it was a great escape, for we’d successfully set sails – to new and exciting places.

Both around their own Weilheim shores and elsewhere, brothers Markus and Micha Acher have launched various musical vessels, bands and free-floating constellations over the past three decades – and yet: amid all these other speedboats and unlikely sonic barges, The Notwist has always remained the mother ship. This new album documents the latest live incarnation of this very band, which also features Andi Haberl, Max Punktezahl, Karl Ivar Refseth, and Cico Beck. Recorded on December 16, 2015 on the second of three consecutive, sold-out nights at UT Connewitz in Leipzig, Germany, "Superheroes, Ghost-Villains & Stuff" indeed feels like a first-hand live experience caught on triple vinyl. That’s why it’s the definitive album of The Notwist’s career.

Although there is one song that points to the early, “louder years” of The Notwist – “One Dark Love Poem” off the album Nook –, the rest of the night’s set sees the band perform all the major hits off Neon Golden, The Devil, You + Me, and Close To The Glass. However, these are different, organically enhanced versions, new interpretations and combinations that feel much more alive; thanks to Olaf Opal’s incredible mix, they sometimes even outshine the original studio recordings. Listening to "Superheroes, Ghost-Villains & Stuff" feels like watching these songs evolve and change, moving from one frame to the next, much like a baroque triptych.

What starts out like ‘wimmelbook’ imagery, the music soon folds and unfolds like a Moebius strip: Sans bottom or top, sans inside or outside, the inside becomes the outside and vice versa. It’s all about sonic interconnection, about music as entanglement, music as reconciliation. The rather majestic, cinematic (indie) pop and experimental, kraut- infused jazz, the spirit of the enlightenment and baroque playfulness, the traces of modernism and minimal music, dub leanings, hip-hop lessons, and even hints of house music: here is where they all come together, reconciled in a sound that’s both melancholy and romantic. And ultimately, the spirit of these songs is set free – and the band has released itself, is free at last.

As for the album title, it’s lifted from the song “Kong,” and encapsulates Markus Acher’s motto. Throughout the track, the water theme first appears as a dangerous threat: a force that’s strong enough to wash away an entire house; and yet the fluid state keeps transforming and eventually releases that sense of threat into something rather hopeful, a new musical beginning, a melodic departure that ultimately leads to euphoria and a renewed spirit of adventure. These are the strong gusts mentioned above, it’s the spirit of discovery, the urge to set sail together. The crew’s back at it, working the instruments, the rigging, with sails a- billow, launching the next voyage of discovery, assuming the East in the West and vice versa. And thus the adventure saga continues.

Pico Be (Das Weiße Pferd)

Something is looming on the horizon, a flickering presence, a sparkle in the twilight, hardly visible at first, then slowly taking shape and finally coming into view: "I will depart/I see, I will, I won't go far," Stefanie Boehm (Couch) sings on "Sirens", one of 10 tracks Ms. John Soda have recorded for "Loom", their first album in eight years – and it's true: It's a return that often feels like yet another departure, like it's time to say farewell once again, one last hug and off it goes into the valley, where life is already waiting.

A lot has changed since Ms. John Soda released the first 7" back in 1998, since Micha Acher (The Notwist, Tied & Tickled Trio, Alien Ensemble) joined Stefanie Boehm and completed the creative nucleus of this band around the turn of the millennium; day-to-day life indeed feels different some 16 years later (and half as many since the release of their sophomore album, "Notes and the Like"), but the basic chemistry, the intricate balance of electronic and analog molecules that orbit this nucleus – and thus, the resulting mood and vibe -, they're still recognizable, still undeniably Ms. John Soda: Whether it's the dense, intensely rushing soundscapes of "Hero Whales", numerous layers pushing and taking off into the same direction, the propelled clatter of "Sirens", a track like "Millions" that blows off more and more steam, a glistening, wheezing sort of madness even (though there is a tender side to it as well), the perpetual, magic lantern-like motions of "Name It" (think Trish Keenan and Broadcast) or the gradually descending melodies of opening track "In My Arms" – they're all lined with a certain tension, underpinned by a certain atmosphere, a unique brand of melancholy that never quite gives in, keeps searching for new outlets and answers.

The album title Ms. John Soda have chosen for their third full-length, "Loom", obviously hints at this feeling of re-emergence, gathering and looming, but according to the singer, it also refers to a weaving loom: It's about "weaving and combining a vast number of influences, ideas, instruments, melodies, rhythms, and layers to create a whole," says Boehm, whose vocals span these new tracks like thick, reliable ropes that glow with marine luminescence. "It's about weaving individuals into a group ('Millions'), weaving and merging former ideals and hopes with reality ('The Light'), combining 'hi' and 'bye', beginning and end ('Hi Fool'), interweaving opposite or contradicting concepts, such as pushing forward vs. being pushed ('In My Arms')." And while the weaving, just like life itself, can easily get out of hands, "because you lose track, and yet life goes on ('Name It')," a lot of these songs – e.g. "Hero Whales", the billowing "Sodawaltz", "Fall Away" – revolve around a shimmering sense of something we can't quite grasp or put a finger on just yet: "Intuitions, hopes, dreams, wishes, affinities, distances, temptations…"

Whereas Cico Beck aka Joasihno (drums, electronics), also part of Aloa Input and the latest addition to Ms. John Soda's live band, and drummer Thomas Geltinger helped out on various tracks they recorded with Oliver Zülch in Weilheim, Boehm and Acher were also joined by Karl-Ivar Refseth (percussions) and Matthias Götz (trombone). Together, they keep feeding the loom with countless spools of yarn, until epic piano closer "Fall Away" seems to offer a temporary respite: "find your way/take the dry suit off/for a night". Time to rest, to take a deep breath. Or is it already the first rays of dawn looming on the horizon?