quête:corridor

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Somewhere in the middle of the first track, “Torres e Baldios”, there’s a sudden change of pace with percussion rhythms interfering with the trance-like sound of the first six minutes. It sounds like steps, people running away on a corridor bashing their feet. It dazzles you because of how unexpected it is, how unpredictable those sounds sound like and, most of all, how it makes perfect sense. It is a monstrous piece. And the beginning of a new age for Ondness, in the same year he defied his Serpente moniker to create an absolute classic, “Dias da Aranha”.

What makes “Oeste A.D.” so remarkable is the intangible idea of nostalgia. “Aqua Matrix Alternative Nation” recreates with a slowed down mentality the theme of one of the main events of the Expo 98 in Lisbon. It’s nowhere similar to the original, what it does is to mess around with the global ideas that were such a big part of that event. The Portuguese musicians that were invited to collaborate with Expo 98 were mesmerized by the ideas of union and globalization, creating overpriced music that sounds like shit today. “Aqua Matrix Alternative Nation” messes around with that vibe in a positive way. Think Mark Leckey playing around with his rave memories. Same thing, but in Portugal we had Expo 98.

Jokes aside, B Side is more futuristic with “Torres e Baldios II” and “Endless Domingo”, a nod to “Endless Summer”, by Fennesz, and “Endless Happiness” (from “Beaches And Canyons”), by Black Dice, mashing up – freely - both covers and reminding of how great 2001/2002 was for experimental music. Both tracks are full of sci-fi drama and this sickness of the future that has been travelling with Ondness since its early days. But the approach here is somehow different. Before “Oeste A.D.” the Ondness sound was fragmented, sparse and intensively reflexive. There was this uncertainty to it that made the previously releases so good. But “Oeste A.D.” is full of clarity, the phrases are straightforward, and the music moves in one direction, continuously. Before, there were loads of unanswered questions. The only doubt is when will the world start to care and listen to Bruno’s brilliant music. Now sounds like a good time.    

In the deepest corridors of your consciousness you will ear mythical echoes of the era long gone....bla bla bla.

Like it, Buy it and Bump it loud. Thats all.

Moundabout is a new folk project from Paddy Shine of Gnod and Phil Masterson of Los Langeros/Damp Howl/Bisect, but the words ‘new’ and ‘folk’ need to be treated with care here. Listening to ‘Flowers Rot, Bring Me Stones’ is like entering a trance state while staring at one of the Knowth spiral carvings at Brú na Bóinne in Ireland - the megalithic art in the neolithic “passage tombs” which also contain the oldest known representation of the moon made by man. As the album moves the listener, they are taken on a geographical and geological journey as well as psychological and spiritual, traveling inwards from the coast as well as down beneath the strata. And when you have been primed, it takes you all the way back to commune with older gods on the album’s epic centrepiece, ‘Dick Dalys Dance’, creating the kind of prehistoric drones and trance-inducing rhythms that the echoing, celestially aligned corridors of the Brú na Bóinne were built to amplify. This is not new music but the deep sensations it provokes will be new to most listeners. Imagine for a few minutes something as glorious as a Nurse With Wound List for the 21st Century - were I given such a formidable task as to organise such a collection of mind-bending music, Flowers Rot, Bring Me Stones by Moundabout would be one of the first records I would include.

First album by this duo, known separately for their work in Mouse on Mars
and Gastr del Sol.
 Two long-form pieces, utterly different from one another: one hyper-detailed
electronic music and sound poetry, and the other live-in-the-studio electric
guitar and laptop paint-peeling.
 The exciting first chapter in a long-anticipated collaboration
 David Grubbs and Jan St. Werner met in the mid-1990s when Grubbs was
playing with Gastr del Sol and The Red Krayola and St. Werner in Mouse on
Mars and Microstoria. After years of exchanging ideas, ‘Translation from
Unspecified’ marks their first time locking horns as a duo, and it’s clear this
deck-clearing collaboration was long overdue.
 In January 2020 Grubbs arrived at Mouse on Mars’ Berlin studio Paraverse
with a guitar and ‘Translation from Unspecified’, an open-ended, seemingly
self-generating poem suggesting AI, one of the themes in St. Werner’s recent
work. This became the side-length title track, a winding corridor of electronic
fanfares and spontaneous musical miniatures urging Grubbs’s slow and
steady recitation to grow wings and graduate into song.
 Who knows where this idiosyncratic mise-en-scène - day-glo, extrovert
electronics and task-oriented human - came from? Reference points - distant
ones - might include Robert Ashley and Paul De Marinis’s ‘In Sara, Mencken,
Christ and Beethoven...’ and the sound poetry of Anton Bruhin.
 Flip the record and you have ‘Soixante Ooze’, a live-in-the-studio duo for
guitar and computer more recognizably St. Wernerian and Grubbs-like that
reconfigures elements of the title track before finally morphing into needlepinning monoliths of sound.
 David Grubbs has released fourteen solo albums and appeared on more
than 200 releases. He was a member of the groups Gastr del Sol, Bastro,
and Squirrel Bait and has performed with Tony Conrad, Pauline Oliveros,
Luc Ferrari, Will Oldham, Loren Connors, the Red Krayola, Royal Trux, and
many others. His newest book is ‘Good night the pleasure was ours’ (Duke
University Press, 2022).
 Jan St. Werner is an artist and electronic music composer best known as
one half of the group Mouse on Mars. He has collaborated with Oval’s
Markus Popp as Microstoria and written music for installations and films by
visual artist Rosa Barba. In 2013, St. Werner released ‘Blaze Colour Burn’,
the first of a series of experimental recordings called ‘the Fiepblatter
Catalogue’. Recently his work has prioritized installation and interventions
with spatialized sound, including a number of collaborations under the name
Dynamische Akustische Forschung (DAF).

Bear’s Den have today announced the release of their eagerly anticipated fourth studio album, Blue Hours.

Set for release on May 13th via Communion Records, the album sees the much-loved folk-rock duo – made up of Andrew Davie and Kevin Jones – once again team up with producer Ian Grimble on what is one of their most personal records to date.

Speaking about the new album, Davie says: “Blue Hours is a kind of imaginary space you get into at night, a place where you process difficult things or where you try to figure everything out.”

Themes on the album include both self-reflection and mental health after both struggled with the latter in recent years. “It’s the main over-arching theme with this record,” Davie explains. The group, who have worked with mental health charity CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) previously added: “It probably speaks to our struggles and hopefully many other people’s too. Men are not very good at talking. We’re not really taught how to – men have no idea how to talk about this stuff, certainly to each other.”

The pair describe the conceptual blue hours headspace that gives the new album its title as being “somewhere between a hotel, a mental health hospital, a bar that stays open later than anywhere else, a paradise, a dream, a nightmare and an endless sea of corridors and staircases leading you to rooms that represent memories – good, bad, happy or difficult.”

Despite the album’s challenging themes, it’s an album drenched in hope too. “We wanted this to be a celebration of music,” Jones continues. “I think that informed some of the bolder decision making on this record. At a time when music was so distant, it felt important to make an album that sounded hopeful, celebratory, ambitious and beautiful in spite of the heavy subject matter in some of the songs.” Jones adds: “It was almost like we needed to shout louder than before because we felt that there were more barriers between the audience and us. We needed something to transcend that.”

Following on from the album’s lead single, ‘All That You Are’, which was released late last year, the group have also given a further taster of what to expect from the new album with the release today of their bold, electronic-driven latest single, ‘Spiders’. Stream the new single here.

Speaking about the song, Davie says: “I started writing ‘Spiders’ around the time we left London. In my head, I thought moving would solve lots of problems, like everything will be better – almost like this Neverland vibe,” he laughs. “‘Spiders’ is a song dealing with the fact that this absolutely wasn’t the case. I had this vision in my head that I’d be at one with nature, that I’d be calmer – but all the things that were rattling around in my brain before were still there after the move. The song is about the fact you can’t run away from the things that are bothering you.”

Adding, “While making the record we wanted to get across a kind of simmering intensity with the song and the idea of someone trying to keep their shit together while wrestling with these darker thoughts and feelings. We wanted to get across a sense of bravery & triumph in saying, “sometimes I can’t pull myself out” of these difficult situations. To celebrate the difficult moments because we all have them. They are a universally shared experience even if it feels sometimes like they’re not and you’re the only one who feels them.”

Melodically, the song is a gentle Wurlitzer and guitar-driven track filled with hope thanks to the electronic elements added by long-term producer, Ian Grimble. “This song maybe sparked a lot of detail that ended up coming out on other songs on the album,” Davie says. “The sound of this felt exciting to us both,” Jones adds.

Bear’s Den have today announced the release of their eagerly anticipated fourth studio album, Blue Hours.

Set for release on May 13th via Communion Records, the album sees the much-loved folk-rock duo – made up of Andrew Davie and Kevin Jones – once again team up with producer Ian Grimble on what is one of their most personal records to date.

Speaking about the new album, Davie says: “Blue Hours is a kind of imaginary space you get into at night, a place where you process difficult things or where you try to figure everything out.”

Themes on the album include both self-reflection and mental health after both struggled with the latter in recent years. “It’s the main over-arching theme with this record,” Davie explains. The group, who have worked with mental health charity CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) previously added: “It probably speaks to our struggles and hopefully many other people’s too. Men are not very good at talking. We’re not really taught how to – men have no idea how to talk about this stuff, certainly to each other.”

The pair describe the conceptual blue hours headspace that gives the new album its title as being “somewhere between a hotel, a mental health hospital, a bar that stays open later than anywhere else, a paradise, a dream, a nightmare and an endless sea of corridors and staircases leading you to rooms that represent memories – good, bad, happy or difficult.”

Despite the album’s challenging themes, it’s an album drenched in hope too. “We wanted this to be a celebration of music,” Jones continues. “I think that informed some of the bolder decision making on this record. At a time when music was so distant, it felt important to make an album that sounded hopeful, celebratory, ambitious and beautiful in spite of the heavy subject matter in some of the songs.” Jones adds: “It was almost like we needed to shout louder than before because we felt that there were more barriers between the audience and us. We needed something to transcend that.”

Following on from the album’s lead single, ‘All That You Are’, which was released late last year, the group have also given a further taster of what to expect from the new album with the release today of their bold, electronic-driven latest single, ‘Spiders’. Stream the new single here.

Speaking about the song, Davie says: “I started writing ‘Spiders’ around the time we left London. In my head, I thought moving would solve lots of problems, like everything will be better – almost like this Neverland vibe,” he laughs. “‘Spiders’ is a song dealing with the fact that this absolutely wasn’t the case. I had this vision in my head that I’d be at one with nature, that I’d be calmer – but all the things that were rattling around in my brain before were still there after the move. The song is about the fact you can’t run away from the things that are bothering you.”

Adding, “While making the record we wanted to get across a kind of simmering intensity with the song and the idea of someone trying to keep their shit together while wrestling with these darker thoughts and feelings. We wanted to get across a sense of bravery & triumph in saying, “sometimes I can’t pull myself out” of these difficult situations. To celebrate the difficult moments because we all have them. They are a universally shared experience even if it feels sometimes like they’re not and you’re the only one who feels them.”

Melodically, the song is a gentle Wurlitzer and guitar-driven track filled with hope thanks to the electronic elements added by long-term producer, Ian Grimble. “This song maybe sparked a lot of detail that ended up coming out on other songs on the album,” Davie says. “The sound of this felt exciting to us both,” Jones adds.

For their ninth iteration, Hamburg's The Press Group punches back in with the sizzling hot debut to a VA series bound to scout and shed a broader light on exciting artists from various territories and backgrounds.
Pulsating to the bone, "Future Prospects vol.1" showcases a quartet of heaters courtesy of Germany-based Robert Dietz and Aii PS on the A-side and Kyiv-based Vlad Stuparenko & Ghetto Sunrise plus Sasha Zlykh on the flip. Either sides of the
disc inbound for optimal and non-pareil impact on the dance floor. Dietz's "Salbung" paves the way old-school style, grinding everything from lethal breaks to rowdy drums, via lysergic synth flights straight out a wild sci-fi scenario.
Aii PS' bouncy and oneiric contribution "Donteven" is more of a low-slung affair with its mischievous fusion of filtered synths and acid-informed bass spurts painting the sky all shades of radioactive green.
Flip it over and Stuparenko/Ghetto Sunrise's stealth, aqueous weapon "Pine Water" ushers us in a corridor of groove-enslaved echolocation, delayed stabs and propulsive bleepin' n bloopin' from the depths. A further dusty, shuffling affair
blazing with clanky hats on a Chicagoan tip and futuristic electroid inflections, Zlykh's "Pidozepam" tops it all off in implacable fashion, casting a spell of exquisitely thrilling menace upon the ravers.

Dengue Fever on Vinyl! This Deluxe Reissue contains 5 bonus tracks not
availble on the original release / w download
Fronted by amazing vocalist Chhom Nimol, Dengue Fever has surprisingly
universal appeal - Chhom herself is already quite accustomed to seizing the
hearts of listeners (including the King and Queen of Cambodia), as she comes
from a family best considered as a Cambodia pop music dynasty– not unlike a
Cambodian version of the Jacksons. The rest of the band is no flake-fest either,
consisting of Zac Holtzman (Dieselhed) and his brother Ethan on Farfisa organ,
Senon Williams (Radar Brothers), David Ralicke (Beck) and seasoned drummer/
engineer Paul Smith. Their covers stay remarkably true to the crazy party music
spirit of the '60s- and '70s-era originals. But there are also original songs, some of
which veer off into the darkened corridors of lost love and ghostly noir
romanticism, dissolving sometimes into spaces of genuine bleakness and
tragedy — all in the Khmer tongue. Far from mere novelty or cheap Orientophile
thrill, Dengue Fever keeps listeners on their toes, dancing to their way-out tones.
The Deluxe Reissue contains 5 bonus tracks not availble on the original release.

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The Psychedelic Romance experience is birthed, combining future-facing electronic music, art and healing. The venture is a collaboration between former Trouw & De School resident JP Enfant, energy practitioner & artist Cuevawolf and artist & label manager Maren Monika Brombeiss. It will offer an immersive sensory experience to its audience via an event series and label, with music produced at 432hz, a frequency known to uplift emotional wellbeing.

The trio linked in Amsterdam last year. JP had been previously running Psychedelic Romance events at the legendary Trouw, an opportunity he used to explore the musical terrain linking techno, UK bass and ambient. Over the years, the cream of the underground scene was invited to play, from Pearson Sound to boundary-pushing dubstep/bass producer 2562. He met Cuevawolf by chance mid-way through 2020, after fate would have the Mexican artist “stuck” in the Dutch capital during the pandemic. The click was instantaneous. Seasoned music industry professional and yoga practitioner Maren Monika completed the triangle. Together they seek to combine their passion for cutting-edge electronic music with consciousness-raising events and healing.
The label strand of Psychedelic Romance comes to life via JP Enfant’s ‘Somewhere Else EP’, a veritable musical Rubik’s Cube encompassing techno, ambient and bass. The five-track work includes a remix of lead track ‘Muzieklokaal’ from Bristol’s acclaimed experimental producer LCY, who reworks the playful original into a dynamic pastiche of industrial breaks and techno.

Dubbed a “local legend” of the Amsterdam scene by RA, JP Enfant has built up a credible reputation with gigs across Europe including Berghain, Melt Festival and fabric. His nuanced approach to techno has seen releases on Planet X, a.r.t.less and DGTL Records.

The conscious ethos of the project runs through every thread of Psychedelic Romance. Alongside the music being produced at 432hz, a frequency believed to support a calm body and mind, at upcoming Psychedelic Romance events, Cuevawolf will play the crystal singing bowls, which will transition the night from an uplifting sound healing session into an immersive electronic rave experience, led by JP. “Our goal is to create purposeful healing frequencies through music and art that ultimately raises and harmonizes our audience’s vibration,” Cuevawolf explains. “The idea is to marry electronic music and spirituality providing a safe space for transcendental and self-healing experiences that evolve onto a dancefloor.”

Psychedelic Romance hosted an intimate family and friends gathering during ADE week at Amsterdam’s Pamela, with music led by JP and emerging Amsterdam selector DJ Corridor. On the label front, other artists slated for appearances on Psychedelic Romance include Dutch techno artist Mary Lake and ascendant Austrian talent Arthur Robert.

Ursprünglich 1996 veröffentlicht, ist 'Soundtracks for the Blind' das finale Swans-Album, bevor die Band um Frontmann Michael Gira sich 1997 zwischenzeitlich auflöste und erst 2010 wieder zusammenfand. Die 26 Tracks darauf zementieren den ikonischen Status der ersten 15 Swans-Jahre, in denen die Band nach und nach größeren Einfluss auf unzählige folgende Post- und Experimental-Rock-Bands nahm.

After their celestial Arcturian Corridors opened proceedings on Quindi, London-based brothers Clive and Mark Ives are back with a new record. When Woo first began recording at home in the early 70s, Clive and Mark were the embodiment of furtive genius. Since re-emerging in 2013, they've released scores of albums, collaborated with Seahawks, and have now struck up a productive relationship with Quindi.

On Paradise In Pimlico, you're hearing a very different sound to the one gently creaked out on early classics like Into The Heart Of Love. This is fulsome, contemporary production rich in detail and artful sound design, but crucially, Clive and Mark's gorgeously melodic approach remains open and inquisitive, even with the sheen and shimmer of modern studio techniques.

Woo sound more confident than ever in their composition, too. The crystalline, fragile tones of 'Cadenza D'Innocenza' glide through key changes that spell out an engrossing narrative, while the cascading melodies on 'Moment To Moment' pirouette across the space between notes with masterful poise. 'Paradise In Pimlico' is an illustrious suite of orchestral composition played out with the lightest touch, framed by the slightest of synthesized fauna and topped off with tender sax and flute. Album closer 'In Case Love Fails' takes on a subtly cinematic urgency with its undercurrents of walking bass and the strike of the string section (synthetic or otherwise).

There's space for markedly new approaches, too. The rhythm section on 'The Motorik Mirror' clunks and pops with a tactile, high-definition quality which teeters between electronic sculpture and clockwork, organic machination. The deft, lightly-brushed drums coursing through 'Even More Notes' see Clive and Mark step into a different mood, celebrating the beat as another fluid, tonally-rich texture in the mix and adding a smoky, jazzy hue to the Woo repertoire.

It's far from a drum-focused exercise though. At every turn, you're confronted with aching beauty and timbral surprises. If there's one constant throughout Paradise In Pimlico, it's the omnipresent chimes. These twinkling drops of light scattered throughout are something of a hallmark of Woo, ensuring the lilting, lullaby-like magic of their music persists whichever direction they head in.

Cie has been on an exciting musical journey since the foundation of the Form & Terra Records label and the first record "Auf Los" and now delivers further highlights with "Adventures". Together with a remix by Oliver Hess, the record has four driving tracks that will be released exclusively on vinyl.
The “Löwenburg” first appears on the horizon, and the closer you get to it, the more powerful it appears. Arriving at the gates, the lion extends his claws and with his pounding, multi-faceted beat and bubbling, lively sounds pulls every dance-loving clubber into the castle with full force.
Oliver Hess waits here with his musical tools and refines the masonry of the "Löwenburg" with crisp percussions and incredibly driving beats in his inimitable way. With a hammer and chisel, he sharpens the original in his remix and opens up new sound paths to the castle's secret locations.
Through the dark corridors of the castle we get to the "Bergfried", the first track on the B-side. Hypnotic synth runs and pulsating basses demand everything from every wall, no matter how thick, and enjoy testing it for stability.
Finally, it goes deeper into the underground with "Der Stollen". Wherever digging deep, fascinating things come to light in the club night: brilliant flashes of sound briefly sparkle like precious stones, and rattling, tirelessly driving beats ensure that you lose yourself in the depths of the sound of the
„Stollen“. Four exciting tracks that are ready for any club adventure. Vinyl only.

German electro producer Martin Matiske has recently breathed new life into his Blackploid alias. The project's revival continues to bear fruit with the Strange Stars EP, Matiske's third Blackploid release of 2021 and second for Central Processing Unit after issuing March's Cosmic Traveler EP through the Sheffield label.

Blackploid's two CPU drops have more in common than just stargazing titles. Those who enjoyed Cosmic Traveler will find plenty to like again in these four tracks, with Matiske serving up another quartet of snappy machine-funk joints this time around. However, while there is certainly a throughline between Cosmic Traveler and Strange Stars, this EP also finds Blackploid pushing the envelope at points by taking risks with his synth tones which thrill and enliven the record.

In keeping with the cosmic theme of Blackploid's recent output, Strange Stars kicks off with 'Star Patrol'. While this opening cut is full of the same needle-gun basslines and dinky synths that characterised Cosmic Traveler, the drum programming eschews the broken beats favoured by many in the scene for a straight house/techno snap. It makes for a very groovy jam, one with Drexciya, Computer World-era Kraftwerk and a pinch of Space Dimension Controller in its mix.

Indeed, the only track on Strange Stars which skips along on a broken beat is second entry 'The Signal'. 'The Signal' also features some of Blackploid's most impressive electronics programming to date, announcing itself with a brilliantly unusual synth that sounds like an old video game unit which has just gained sentience. When this alien tone is combined with another precision-engineered bassline the track invokes the grizzly bangers of the L.I.E.S. label, though the keyboard stabs which enter periodically also hint to the funkier electro of, say, Egyptian Lover.

'The Unseen', the first B-side of Strange Stars, finds Blackploid bringing together many of the things which made the two previous tunes such standouts. A steady four-on-the-floor and a slightly haunted feel to the synth choices casts back to 'Star Patrol', but much like 'The Signal' this joint also features some rather weird tones which are a hair's breadth away from machine malfunction. It's a feeling which runs through to closing cut 'Light Corridor', a number where melodies and anti-melodies zip around an array of gurgling electronic cells.

Martin Matiske's fine run of Blackploid EPs continues with the intergalactic electro stylings of Strange Stars.

RIYL: Drexciya, Cardopusher, Legowelt, Beau Wanzer, Jensen Interceptor

The French electro genius returns to New Flesh Records. Author of a remarkable "Moving Corridors" contribution on the mighty "Elektro Diktators Vol.1 - The French Dissidents" compilation (New Flesh 15) back in 2015, dynArec delivers today on Umwelt's imprint four raw and dystopian slaughters calibrated for maximum impact on the dancefloor.

The title track signs a no nonsense aquatic electro/techno tune a la Drexciya, tinted with melancholic strings and heading Speak n' Spell samples. Pure madness! Cyberpunk "Correlation" goes harder, offering a pounding 4/4 song enhanced by appealing vocoder lyrics and deep synth flights while syncopated "Influoncers" coming next focuses on a more robotic, experimental yet unhealthy approach. Final cut "Clean It Up" concludes the EP on a machine funk note characterised by insane female vocals, distorted chords, relentless bassline and futuristic touch throughout.

Magnetic and emotional, forward thinking "Disenchanted EP" alternates in a minute between very melodic moments and epic hard techno sequences. With roots from both Germany and Detroit, this electro masterpiece sees dynArec in full effect, showing his unique sense of the dancefloor thanks to an incredible use of bass, rhythm and pads that makes the tracks effective and advanced at the same!

After the successful ‘Dawn of the Dead’ live soundtrack performance in 2017 and subsequent live LP release by Claudio Simonetti’s Goblin, Svart Records are proud to present another foray into the world of classic Italian horror soundtracks.
This time, Claudio Simonetti’s Goblin were invited to Finland to perform a Dario Argento two movie set, opening with a live accompaniment to Profondo Rosso and finishing the night with a striking rendition Suspiria. Recorded on May 19th 2019 and mixed and mastered by Claudio Simonetti himself in his studio in Rome, Svart are proud to release limited vinyl editions of the Live Soundtrack Experience.
These exclusive jewels come wrapped in gatefold jackets with sumptuous new artwork by the master Eric Adrian Lee, including new lobby card designs of shots from the performance as taken by the photographer Marco Manzi. Both LPs are available on limited black and even more limited red vinyl. Get closer to the creepy mystique and jarring horror of this quintessential Simonetti’s Goblin soundtrack, live and in the flesh!

Fake Laugh & Tarquin first became acquainted a very long time ago, before they were either Fake Laugh or Tarquin. Two humans in their late teens with a keen interest in sound, they would indulge each other in whatever conversation they could muster while loitering in the corridors of their sixth-form college. Their place of learning existed in a sleepy Sussex town where once a year, the skies are filled with explosions, while burning effigies are carried through the cobbled streets by inebriated locals. The two did not suspect that much would become of their light friendship - but in good time that would all change…

In the years that followed, the two young artists moved to London and embarked upon their own totally distinct musical journeys - Fake Laugh was playing in venues with ‘rock bands’, while Tarquin was carving out a niche for himself in the bubbling, lava-like instrumental grime scene, which brought a new kind of heat to the clubs of the city. His vibrant, unapologetically obtuse (and at times absurd) brand of club-music delighted the ears of listeners, the feet of dance-floor dwellers and the brains of music theorists - all in one fell swoop. Having released with Mr. Mitch’s crucial Gobstopper imprint as well as big-guns Rinse, Tarquin has become a household name in the homes of those that know. All the while, Fake Laugh was in his bedroom writing scores of songs and occasionally releasing collections of the strongest cuts on a variety of indie labels who believed in his talent for timeless melody, focussed through his own rose-misted, yet modern lens.

It wasn’t until the fabled summer of 2019 that Fake Laugh & Tarquin would make music together in the same room. The first session resulted in album opener Slow, a song which for the previous two years, lay dormant in an acoustic form on a dusty Fake Laugh hard-drive. Fake Laugh had the idea that perhaps the song could be transformed into something far bigger and better in the hands of Tarquin - a theory which was proven correct.

Throughout Fake Laugh & Tarquin the pair continuously confound the listener, fusing sharp and glacial synthetic elements with warm organic tones and heartfelt vocal performances. Money was written at the start of the global pandemic, a time in which people had more financial concerns than usual. Rejecting total doom and gloom, Fake Laugh & Tarquin turn this dystopian angst on its head and create a one-of-a-kind club mover that pulls inspiration from the super-slick grooves of early noughties stalwarts Moloko and Groove Armada. The album twists, turns, morphs and mutates until it’s peaceful conclusion in the form of existential piano-ballad Meaningless Thin

Back in print ! Spittle Records present an expanded reissue of Massacre's Killing Time, originally released in 1981. Following the breakup of Cambridge's avant-rock legends, Henry Cow, guitarist Fred Frith moved to NYC in 1979, and soon found himself deep in the heart of the city's robust post-punk and free-jazz scenes. He performed with Bill Laswell and Fred Maher, from the group Material, as a power trio of sorts under the moniker of Massacre. The group quickly garnered a reputation around town, and around the world for that matter, as a heavy and heady band that experimented greatly with rhythm, time signatures, and tone. As Frith himself put it, "the group was a direct response to New York. It was a very aggressive group, kind of my reaction to the whole New York rock club scene." Massacre released one album, Killing Time, before disbanding for nearly 20 years. Their first wave as a group crashed fast and furiously and this one album, recorded in part live in Paris, and in part at Brooklyn's OAO Studio, is a perfect encapsulation of early '80s NYC. In addition to the original album, first released on Celluloid in 1981, this deluxe three-sided double LP includes eight bonus tracks recorded live between '80 and '81 at The Stone in San Francisco, and Inroads and CBGB in NYC. Avant-jazz-post-punk-noise of the highest order from several legends and one of the most important projects Frith and Laswell were ever involved in.

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DDS catch enduringly absorbing sonic alchemist Jim O’Rourke at his knottiest and most ingenious in a wormholing suite of amorphous rhythm and psychedelic electronics - a massive RIYL Autechre, Roland Kayn, Bernard Parmegiani, NYZ, Keith Fullerton Whitman.
Playing up to and into DDS’ freeform aesthetics, O’Rourke renders 40 minutes shearing hyaline synth tones and ruptured rhythm generated at his Steamroom facilities in Tokyo, a modular outzone trawling that harks back to his iconic Mego releases and some of the more recent Steamroom experiments. It’s an ideal addition to the ever expanding DDS cosmos, following Demdike’s recent ‘Drum Machine’ expo with a slice of purist and screwed modular magick that transcends early
electronics and modern styles in pursuit of musical sensations that defy stylistic brackets.
‘Too Compliment’ was assembled using a bespoke Hordijk modular system, a rare West Coast-style setup hand made by Dutch engineer Rob Hordijk. O’Rourke focuses on the frequency shifter here, using it to coax out fluxing tone thickets, haphazard frequencies and elongated drone corridors.
It’s transportive stuff, harking back to the early days of private press academic synth music but also sitting on edge alongside Autechre’s recent long-form work, as well as O’Rourke’s classic “I’m Happy, And I’m Singing, And A 1, 2, 3, 4” In O’Rourke’s hands, the mass of electronics takes on throbbing, organic dimensions, congealing
grey matter and purplish veins of fluid in viscous transitions that glisten and spark with invention as they form new tissue. What comes out is as unearthly as the earliest electronic music, but also
blessed with a psychedelc spirit in a way that’s long kept O’Rourke right out on his own, teetering between paradigms yet never settling into any single style. If you’ve always been keen on finding a way into that sprawling soundworld, ‘Too Compliment’ is a perfect entry point into a highly rewarding creative macrocosm.