The second part in A Walking Contradiction's Demi Monde series. The creative imprint from Basel, mostly known for its releases by Varuna, hereby welcomes the next pair of friends to complete their two-part Half World project. Helsinki AWC affiliate Lemont explores dense and icy deepness with two slow-rolling ambient trips. Where Hidden Hawaii / Nullpunkt boss Felix K appears as FLXK1 to go wild with two mind whirling 140 bpm techno steppers.
Originally released in 2014, 'For You The Wild' is Camilla Sparksss' first
studio album
Camilla Sparksss is an indie rock project carried by canadian- swiss singer
Barbara Lehnhoff. This LP is a ten- track dirty and distorted electronic storm
written without any rules, its central theme is the struggle between acting softly
and dancing like crazy. It's about life, wild life.
Combining disco pulse with Turkish/Kurdish music and the energy of Marseille"s multi-cultural hipness, Biensüre brings a cool edge to the musical landscape of the mediterranean city and the dancefloors of the world. The group"s music, inspired by the personal stories of its singer, Kurdish Hakan Toprak, speaks of impossible loves, friendship and exile and is wraped up in an unmistakable groove. The eponymous album is the group"s first release, written, composed and produced by the four musicians and it is composed of seven groove-infused tracks that will please all global music lovers. Marseille in one of the coolest cities in France: The cafés, the terraces, the clubs, the Mediterranean sea and the mountains not far, make for a perfect setting for the wildly creative rebellious youth to express their art in a world of perpetual change. This is the setting in which Biensüre was born. Biensüre"s influences are varied and transcend generations and borders. Ranging from the Anatolian pop scene of the 70s and 80s with key figures like Erkin Koray and Baris Manço to 70s Jazz, Disco and early electro, their music is at the intersection of several musical continents.
A unique longplayer by Germany's Funk champions The Mighty Mocambos: 'Scénarios' is a wild journey through iconic performances captured on 8-track tape, including celebrated versions of breakdance favourites like 'Axel F.' And 'Let The Music Play' as well as brand new original material composed especially for recordings in unusual settings.
Hamburg's deep funk chefs are known for their intuitive recordings that capture the energy of a live performance, and with this record they go all the way.
Just before the pandemic, the group recorded an in-store live session at legendary Hamburg record shop Groove City and taped an impromptu performance at JAM PDM! breakdance battle in Potsdam. Both were released on vinyl 45s, quickly sold out and became secret weapons for DJs. While most bands shifted their stage to the studio in 2020, producing an abundance of isolated lockdown-inspired material, the Mighty Mocambos – never shy of an antidote - took the mobile version of their recording studio on the road.
With no audience allowed at the Pitt Hopkins Music Session charity concert, the group used the occasion to compose meditative folk-soul instrumentals to be performed exclusively on stringed instruments. Sweaty funk does not work via video stream, but the format provided a welcome opportunity to create something entirely different. Even without electricity and drums, the cinematic "Four Two Three" and "Silent Heroes" are unmistakably recognizable as Mocambo themes.
When you follow Nina Simone's credo that an "artist's duty is to reflect the times", it became evident that once the world slowly started opening up again, further concerts would be captured on the group's portable Fostex R-8 tape machine. Luckily, restrictions fell on the very evening that the band hit the open air stage at the Import Export in Munich on September 11th 2021. The extended afrobeat-inspired jam on J.J. Cale's "Carry On" witnesses people celebrating and dancing together again for the first time after a year and the manic "Munich Psycholympics" unleashes all bottled-up energies that had being lying dormant.
The slightly kafka-esque "Ghost Walk" was taped during a soundcheck for a concert that was eventually called off for safety reasons, reflecting once more the uncertainty of the time. The last scénario sees the Mighty Mocambos returning to a packed indoor venue, playing "Let The Music Play" to a audience of b-boys and -girls – a testament to the sheer power of music. Featured as an encore here, an acoustic version of "Where Do We Go From Here?" (originally recorded with Lee Fields) closes the record and its restless voyage through unusual recording situations.
"Scénarios" differs drastically from other live albums as it does not seek to replicate existing material from studio albums. All songs were written or arranged especially for the live recordings in order to combine the group's DJ-friendly trademark sound with added vibes and momentum from the audience. Most of them were recorded while they were performed in public for the first time ever.
Comes in gatefold sleeve & includes download voucher.
d 04: Theme from Beverly Hills Cop (Axel F) Live
Press play on Lanois’ captivating new instrumental collection, Player, Piano, and you’ll be transported, too. Each song here is a portal, an invitation to lose yourself in the moment and disappear into a world of imagination and memory. Lanois recorded the entire collection himself, capturing a series of gentle, exotic piano performances at his studio in Toronto with the help of co-producer Dangerous Wayne Lorenz, and the results are both intimate and expansive all at once. Melodies unfold slowly with patience and grace; ethereal arrangements drift around them like fog rolling through the mountains. More than just an album, Player, Piano is a gateway into a cinematic sonic universe full of mystery and wonder, a place where the lines between reality and fantasy blur and deep truths and desires reveal themselves in profound and unexpected ways.
“Making this record transported me,” says Daniel Lanois. “I got to travel to Cuba and Mexico and Jamaica. I got to visit with the ghosts of Erik Satie and Oscar Peterson and Harold Budd. I got to go back in time to my work with Brian Eno and Kate Bush and Emmylou Harris. And I did it all without ever leaving my studio.”
What Are People For? make the perfect kind of dystopic dance music for our times. Born from a collaboration between artist Anna McCarthy and musician/producer Manuela Rzytki, the band could be the illicit lovechild of Tom Tom Club and Throbbing Gristle, displaying the ideal balance of hip shaking vibes and dark provocative content.
On their collaborative debut, McCarthy and Rzytki share songwriting duties. The album was produced by Rzytki herself. They are joined by Paulina Nolte on backing vocals and Tom Wu on drums, while Keith Tenniswood mastered the record.
The whole project stems from a publication and exhibition by McCarthy laying the foundations for the content and lyrics of the album, which is humorous, poetic and political. As a lyricist, McCarthy uses her storytelling ability to explore anxieties and desires, digging into free surreal word associations reminiscent of Su Tissues’ tongue in cheek experiments with Suburban Lawns, but also explosive and gripping like a Kae Tempest rap.
Rzytki’s precise sonic palette and talent at penning structured bangers perfectly complement McCarthy’s playful and subversive language manipulations. Rzytki's beats are rooted in old school Hiphop loop principles and an authentic love for the analog. Her use of an array of synthesizers and other "real" instruments adds to WAPF's depth, soul and sincerity.
The album opens with a joyful anthem, full of energy and melodic hooks. The audience is confronted with the quintessential titular question What Are People For? and told that they are just a mere disposable commodity. Throughout the album, lyrical themes revolve around underground aspects of society, violence, political ideologies, sexuality and mysticism. The content is deep but the album is as danceable as it is biting.
73, with its drum machine hysteria and hypnotic synth basses is a a text collage written on the 73 bus through London, consisting of situations and conversation snippets encountered along the way. Drones indulges in the narrator’s paranoia as they feel they are being watched by cigarette machines, whilst the haunting choir is half spoken, half sung, ending on the orgasmic chanting of the word “mummy”. Nursery Rhyme brings more soothing incantations. There is definitely an affinity for fairytales, albeit adult ones and especially the anarchistic ones such as The Moomins, who were a consistent influence on the band. The artwork for the record, created by McCarthy, is a beautiful children's book-style painting of the group in a forest, seemingly about to engage in a magical encounter to which we are invited.
WAPF? have absorbed and digested a variety of influences. Trip hop, Punk and Techno are rubbing shoulders on Party Time. 1977 was coined “Summer of Hate” in the UK and unsurprisingly in WAPF?’s Summer of War, ethereal singing alternates with a powerful marching Garage/Grime chorus reminiscent of street protests and UK culture.
Mz. Lazy starts like an invitation to meditation and references Gertrude Stein’s book Ida in which she develops the idea that publicity is a new religion and people are now famous for being famous. Repressed anger explodes into violence and freedom at the end of the song as our heroine eventually grabs an axe to destroy her oppressors.
Fantasize, on its part, is raw, sexual and liberating while the closing track Bring Back the Dirt is a welcome hymn into a world that is becoming more and more sanitised.
While exploring deep subject matters throughout their album, WAPF? manage to remain satirical, exciting and funny. Each and everyone of their songs have a cathartic quality.
The visual identity of the band is intrinsic to their appeal. Live, they are eccentric, wild and unapologetic, wearing see-through costumes, bright miniskirts and intricate headpieces while delivering their songs with sharp intensity. Their performances radiate queer sexiness and transcend B52's thrift store aesthetics, creating a space for collective dreaming.
WAPF? is a rare combination of contemporary punk energy, irresistible groove, absurdist dry humour and astounding depth of field. They have the mighty power to create a party with their music and soon you will find yourself lifting your arms as if controlled by an external force, to chant: WAPF? WAPF? WAPF?
– Marie Merlet (Malphino, Little Trouble Girls, London)
Die lang erwartete erste Wiederveröffentlichung eines Klassikers, dessen (einzige) Originalpressung innerhalb weniger Wochen nach der Veröffentlichung am 15. Oktober 2001 ausverkauft und seitdem nicht mehr erhältlich war.
Vielleicht das dynamischste und abenteuerlichste Album, das die Montrealer Szene der frühen Nullerjahre um Godspeed you black emperor! hervorgebracht hat.
Aufgenommen über einen Zeitraum von fünf Tagen, handelt es sich bei dem beeindruckenden Debütalbum des 13-köpfigen Kollektivs aus Montreal, dem auch Mitglieder von Godspeed you black emperor!, A Silver Mt Zion und Fly Pan Am angehören, laut TimeOut um 'eines der grüblerischsten, dramatischsten, emotionalsten und eindringlichsten Alben, die jemals an deiner Seele gekratzt haben.' Auch Pitchfork zeigte sich beeindruckt und attestierte: 'ein wunderbar einfallsreiches und kraftvolles Album.'
Remastered bei Dubplates & Mastering.
Vinyl LP[23,49 €]
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."
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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.
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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."
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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."
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"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."
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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.
Over the course of his six-decade-long career, Dr. John embodied a near-mythic multitude of musical identities: global ambassador of New Orleans funk and jazz and R&B, visionary bluesman, rock and roll innovator, one-time top 10 hitmaker, self-anointed and massively revered high priest of psychedelic voodoo. On Things Happen That Way, the six-time Grammy-winning Rock & Roll Hall of Famer otherwise known as Malcolm John “Mac” Rebennack Jr. reveals yet another dimension of his cosmically vast musicality: a lifelong affinity for classic country & western, whose songs he first encountered via the 78 rpm records frequently spun at his father’s electronics shop. Things Happen That Way arrives as the latest and final studio album from an artist who remained wholly unpredictable, alchemizing the charmed simplicity of traditional country into a wildly enchanting body of work.
Things Happen That Way marks the fulfillment of a longtime goal of the legendary singer/songwriter/pianist, who first began plotting a country inspired album decades ago. In bringing his album’s songs to life, Dr. John drew on a lineup of musicians befitting of a universally beloved luminary who worked with the likes of Van Morrison, the Rolling Stones, B.B. King, Etta James, and artists as diverse as Aretha Franklin, Ringo Starr, and Eric Clapton. Along with an elite cadre of New Orleans session players, the album’s personnel include icons Willie Nelson and Aaron Neville, as well as label mate singer/songwriter Katie Pruitt and country-rock powerhouse Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real. True to an artist whose music “transcended race and cultural divides”—as Black Keys frontman Dan Auerbach proclaimed in presenting Dr. John his lifetime achievement award at the Americana Music Association Honors and Awards in 2013—Things Happen That Way reflects both a rich sense of history and a boundless passion for defying expectation.
After the boundary breaking, experimental excursions of recent album 'In The Wild,' Brooklyn- based FaltyDL was hungry to return to the dancefloor music that made his name. That hunger shines through on his 'Rich Prick Poor Dick' single - a sleek, stripped back duo of dancefloor stalkers.- Recommended for fans of Floating Points, Four Tet, Machinedrum, Martyn.
- Heavyweight 180g 12' vinyl in a 3mm spined sleeve.
2022 Repress !!
2x12" 180g Vinyl LP w/ Download Card.
The dub master Radikal Guru returns to the trusted Moonshine Recordings to deliver his third album, which highlights his refreshing take on the beloved, dub sound of 2016. A selected few of the cuts involve exciting collaborations that are not to be missed.
Similar to King Yoof's recent album endeavour called 'Homage To The King', Radikal Guru exerts his speciality in various tempo ranges with the 'Dub Mentalist' LP. The result is just as exciting as his existing back catalogue; all mastered to meet the requirements of the true Moonshine vibration.
The polish producer once again shows appreciation to both the dancefloor fans and the more meditating listeners. Fusing his compelling sound in dub, reggae and dubstep with timeless, old school samples makes every release a reminiscing journey. The amount of dread and energy will most definitely spark a riot across the globe.
Radikal Guru executes his mix-up of dub by incorporating a dose of happiness and psychedelics. The effects take over the mixes in wild fashion; delays spin off the tasty spring reverberation tails, delivering a comfortable setting. Radikal's horns, including the trumpet, saxophone and trombone joined the Radikal Guru's live melodica to complement each other in rhythm and sound.
The collaborations featuring Moonshine familiars Jay Spaker, Echo Ranks, Solo Banton, Violinbwoy and Earl 16 bless the righteous sound waves, as the bassweight, immersive vocals and tight arrangements speak for themselves. Whether it is the bass weight, vocal parts or simply the rhythms, you know exactly when Radikal Guru's music is being played on a true sound system.
The contribution of the polish dub genius, to the healing of the nations and to global dub culture trembles, as he immediately reveals why his 'Dub Mentalist' LP forms an important chapter in our history of Moonshine Recordings material.
“I think it’s a mistake to equate ‘perfection’ with flawlessness. To be human is to be perfectly flawed,” Johanna Warren observes while describing the joys of analog recording. Her new LP Lessons for Mutants was tracked live with a band to two inch tape—a revelatory new way of working for Warren. “Tape forces you to commit to a performance, eccentricities and all. The little glitches and anomalies that we’re tempted to ‘correct’ are often what make a thing magical.”
Lessons for Mutants is the prolific songwriter’s sixth solo LP and her second for Wax Nine/Carpark Records. The album’s running theme of metamorphosis (the title of the closing track, “Involvulus,” is Latin for “caterpillar”) reflects major changes in Warren’s personal life: after a decade of relentless touring, as the world was closing its borders, the American multi-instrumentalist unexpectedly found herself quarantining in rural Wales, where she’s now permanently homesteading.
Though tracking for the new album began in New York in 2018 in tandem with the sessions for 2020’s Chaotic Good, the majority of Lessons for Mutants was recorded in the UK surrounded by sheep, cows and a forager’s paradise of wild edible plants—a far cry from the urban jungle of LA that Warren had most recently called home. The body of work that emerged from this dramatic about-face is Warren’s most dynamic to date, shapeshifting seamlessly from searing punk screams to sparkly psych-folk soundscapes, from the bootleg ambivalence of Dylan’s Basement Tapes to cosmic stoner grooves reminiscent of Black Sabbath’s acoustic moments.
“Sometimes I can relate to myself/ I disassociate more than I’d like to, but what can you do?” Warren croons in “Tooth for a Tooth,” a wistful piano ballad that conjures the grainy romance of some smoke-filled 1940s jazz club. This kind of to-the-bone lyrical honesty has always been one of Warren’s strong suits, but these latest reflections are especially unflinching. Being forced to stop touring brought no shortage of self-examination for Warren, who quickly came to view her history on the road as an addiction from which she’s been detoxing. This sentiment dances through opening track “I’d Be Orange,” a drum-driven indie rock number replete with Beatles-esque male backing vocals: “Thirst for power, hunger for fame/ Always was a junkie for pain,” Warren confesses. This exploration of masochistic ambition and artistic martyrdom overflows into grunge anthem “Piscean Lover”: “It’s alright, we’re not ok/ We burn out not to fade away.”
“There’s this unspoken rule in modern music—modern life, really—that everything needs to be Auto-Tuned and ‘on the grid,’” Warren concludes. “This record is an act of resistance against that. There’s beauty and power in our aberrations, if we can embrace them.”
"“The New Backwards” was conceived by Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson in 2007, revisiting stray tracks which hadn’t seemed to gel with the material he had chosen for the more somber “Ape of Naples” from 2005, COIL’s initial posthumous release, a sort of requiem and a kiss-goodbye to his then recently deceased partner John Balance.
Significantly different to its sister release, this album collects the brilliantly chaotic and outrageously rhythmic material from the original sessions for the album that was begun as early as 1993 and had originally been conceptualised as the follow-up to “Love’s Secret Domain”. These songs are as diverse and wild as the places they originated from, partly infamously spawned in Sharon Tate’s former home in the Hollywood Hills, the Nine Inch Nails home base in New Orleans and London’s Swanyard, remixed and restructured with the help of long-term friend Danny Hyde in Thailand, this collection has its own unique flow and an atmosphere not found on any other COIL release.
Both “AYOR” and “Backwards” had by the time the album was first released already become favourites in COIL’s manic live performances. Some of the other tracks had only leaked in demo versions and are here presented updated and polished as Christopherson and Hyde intended them to be heard. It is interesting to consider Balance’s vocal contributions, too. Whilst on the albums COIL did release at the time this material was first put aside (“Black Light District” and “ElpH”) his voice is all but absent, his vocal performances and his lyric writing here are arguably more closely indebted to the previous “Love’s Secret Domain” era, especially the epic “Copacaballa” is noteworthy in that respect.
The New Backwards” effectively became the final official COIL studio release of all new material whilst Peter was still alive and is here presented for the first time fully supervised by Danny Hyde, its co-creator.
The stunning cover uses a detail from artist Ian Johnstone’s “Cubic Raven” painting, licensed from the estate of IJ..
It is high time to rediscover this timeless album with the Infinite Fog release boasting eight further tracks of previously unheard material from the same sessions, rough working stages and surprising remixes which will surely delight the dedicated COIL archaeologists, as they shine yet another light on the creative process and on what could have been.
Recorded at Swanyard, London and at Nothing Studios, New Orleans, 1996.
Thanks to everyone there, especially Trent Reznor who made it all possible.
Written & Produced by Coil & Danny Hyde.
Remixed by Peter Christopherson & Danny Hyde, Bangkok 2007.
For that session Coil were: Peter Christopherson, Jhonn Balance & Drew McDowall.
Mastered by Jessica Thompson.
Front artwork by Ian Johnstone.
Artwork licensed from The Estate of Ian Johnstone.
Layout Cold Graves and Oleg Galay."
UK label Expel Your Demons is not slowing down. The entire first division of techno still hasn't tired of extremely playable Rian Wood recent release and they just striked with another standout intensive techno vinyl to keep dancefloors burning. Non Reversible - Change of Tendency EP EXPELVNL02 resemble a failed intergalactic journey that must continue. The direction of the extreme high-speed flight will be determined by repetitive disturbing sounds, distinctive alarms, fading vocals and wildly hypnotic melodies, while your body will be battered by powerful kicks. Futuristic industrial sweat squeezer with a touch of old-school 90's techno style. Pure mad ride through the perseids.
In the discography Berlin based Non Reversible has grown with standout he released on the legendary and highly influential labels like Soma, ARTS, EarToGround Records. In 2019 he has started his own Imprint Non Reversible Structures to pushing forward his vision and signature sound. With upcoming "Change of Tendency EP EXPELVNL02" vinyl release Non Reversible proves once again that he deserves for a place among the bests producers.
Sublime unreleased soundtrack by Ron Geesin, to one of the most important and controversial films in British cinema history.
Standard black vinyl (750 Copies) with sleeve art taken from the 1971 film poster. Cool as fuck.
Side One is the score for Sunday Bloody Sunday, the controversial 1971 drama directed by John Schlesinger. Starring Peter Finch, Glenda Jackson and Murray Head, it tells the story of an open love triangle between a gay Jewish doctor, a divorced woman and a bisexual young male artist who makes glass fountains. Daniel Day Lewis also makes his uncredited screen debut as a yobbo scratching up posh cars. The films significance at the time of release lay in the depiction of a mature gay man who was both successful, well adjusted and at peace with his sexuality.
The music on Side Two comes from two different sources: tracks one to four are from the 1985 Channel Four documentary about Viv Richards. Simply called “Viv” it was directed by Greg Lanning, with words and narration by Darcus Howe. It was (and still is) a fascinating film recounting Richards’ rise from young talented Antiguan to global cricket superstar. It also explored the long history of West Indian players through the English game. Howe later recalled how seeing Viv Richards walking out to bat at the Oval (just down the road from where Howe lived in Brixton) without a helmet on no matter how fast the bowler was - and wearing his Rasta sweatbands of gold, green and red, was inspirational. The documentary was later re-titled ‘Viv Richards - King Of Cricket’ for the video market, and let’s face it, that’s a more commercial title. I’d strongly recommend trying to track it down to spend an hour or so in the company of Viv and Darcus. As I write this it’s still up on a popular online streaming site for free.
The last six cues of Side Two are from a 1970 BBC Omnibus film ‘Shapes In A Wilderness’. Directed by Tristram Powell this was a documentary about the importance and influence of art therapy in mental hospitals, tracing its origins from a painting hut in a wartime military hospital to its successful and widespread incorporation in institutions. It featured fascinating medical insights, disturbing imagery and Ron’s finely tuned accompaniment. On its original transmission John Schlesinger saw it and was heard to say “I must have that composer for my new film!”. And he got his way.
I could spend another paragraph analysing the music and stuff like that but you can listen and work all that out for yourself. But I will say that all the music just confirms the fact that Ron Geesin is one of the most underrated, inventive and versatile composers (and musicians) we have.
'Hypnotise' is the spellbinding new single from sampler slayers, The Allergies. Who, once again, build funky new worlds out of dope beats and loops from their wild and wonderful record collections.
Here, the Bristol-based duo break new ground, sampling the incredible Deli Sosimi and heading out on the housier side of things, working a deadly dancefloor 4/4 around their signature soulful stylings.
Pulsing kicks and playful percussion keep the pace, as euphoric Afrobeat horns and insistent vocal lines build the energy in the room.
It's a captivating cut, made for discerning DJs and discos. But, as soon as you let the infectious double bass-led groove hit you, you'll mesmerised by the music.
'Vamonos' on the flip laces old school boogaloo and salsa samples with sizzling hi-hats, claps, and club-ready breaks. It's an anthem for beach bodies, holiday heroes, and sun-seekers, hell bent on escaping the rat race.
This album marks the debut recording for Venezuela's Velvet label by pianist Ray Pérez and his trombone-led salsa band Los Dementes. Heavy dance numbers and the distinctive vocals of Perucho Torcat make this historic 1967 rarity a sought-after collector's item. Now the LP has been lovingly restored, mastered from the original tapes, with its original artwork intact, preserving the legacy of Los Dementes for today's generation of salsa lovers everywhere. First time reissue. Salsa pianist, vocalist, composer and arranger Ray Pérez, acquired his nickname "Loco" by being a free, independent spirit, an innovator and iconoclast who was initially branded as "crazy" for the freshness and audacity of his sound. Amazingly, he is not that well known in the US, where he spent some time in the late 1960s and salsa was king during the 1970s. Yet he was quite popular in his home country from the beginning, especially amongst the working class of Caracas and Maracaibo, who adopted Cuban music played by New York Puerto Ricans as their own and called it "salsa" years before the term was employed by US labels like Fania as a marketing tool. Pérez is revered in Venezuela, as well as in Mexico and Colombia, and his storied career, which spans seven decades and thousands of concerts, has yielded more than 35 albums recorded by his various bands, including Los Dementes, Los Kenya, and Los Calvos, all of which are collector's items today. At the start of 1967 Pérez debuted Los Dementes, with vocalists Claudio Zerpa and Perucho Torcat backed by an ace band featuring only trombones in the brass section. Titled "¡Alerta mundo! Llegaron los 'The Crazy Men'" the record was released on the small Venezuelan label Prodansa. Soon after, Prodansa folded and Los Dementes were left without representation or much compensation for their efforts, being paid only in records. In the end of February of that year, Pérez returned to Caracas from a stint in Maracaibo in order to finish his first LP with the well-established and larger Velvet label, entitled "Manicomio a locha". In the first quarter of 1967, Velvet unleashed a trilogy of salsa records in order to compete with rival label Palacio and their recent success with Federico y su Combo Latino: "Porfi '67 Salsa & Boogaloo" by Porfi Jiménez y su Orquesta, "Guasancó" by Sexteto Juventud and lastly "Manicomio a locha". The LP begins appropriately with the boisterous title track, written by the band's conguero Carlos "Nené" Quintero, who would become a legend in coming years. Torcat describes a jam session in mental institution and introduces the band, with tasty solos by trombonist Rufo García followed by Ray on piano. Already you can hear something was different about Ray and his "Crazy Men"-a sound as wild and innovative as what was happening in New York with Eddie Palmieri, but with a more unhinged, raw feeling in line with Willie Colón and other younger Nuyorican bands. Next up is an intriguing track sung in a mix of Italian, English, Spanish and Papiamento by Pérez himself, performed in the complicated rhythm of the mozambique, an Afro-Cuban carnival beat developed in the early 1960s. This is followed by the heavy dancer 'Rico guaguancó', penned by Angelito Pérez, which changes from the guaguancó to the mozambique rhythm mid-way through, proving that Los Dementes were "different from the rest" as the lyrics say. 'Puerto Libre', sung by Torcat, is dedicated to the Venezuelan island of Margarita in the Oriente region, and the independent spirit of its working people. The rhythm changes from guaguancó to guajira and back again but remains danceable all the way through. The side closes out with a "3 in 1" medley inspired by the popular formula of the mosaicos of Billo's Caracas Boys, seamlessly knitting together several different tempos, rhythms, moods and compositions. Side two starts strong with the fierce yet satirical 'Corte e' patas', then 'Alma Cumanesa', a typical folk song refashioned as a guaguancó. This is followed by the funky 'Guajira con Boogaloo'. The tune echoes the sound of young Latin New York, pointing out the connection between Cuban and African American soul music. The pace picks up again with 'Fiesta de trombones', a hot descarga and then the album closes with another medley. Though this marks the end of a rather short album, it also signaled the emerging success of Los Dementes and their involvement with the salsa boom in Venezuela, quickly selling out of its initial run of 1000 records and making for a memorable debut on the Velvet label. Now this rare and sought-after LP has been lovingly restored, mastered from the original tapes, with its original artwork intact, preserving the legacy of Los Dementes for today's generation of salsa lovers everywhere.
Los Cotopla Boyz: Millennial Cumbia For The End Of The World. The newest psychedelic space ranger Cumbia band from Bogotá's infamous DIY scene have been sent to earth to save the party! Los Cotopla Boyz make the walls sweat, they set fire to your feet on the dance floor. It all started in Bogotá, which you might say is the tropicanibal venue par excellence, a place that has brought life to acts like Frente Cumbiero, Los Meridian Brothers, Romperayo, Chúpame el dedo, Dub de Gaita, Los Pirañas, Onda trópica and León Pardo, among other eccentricities that have taken the world and stand out not only for their virtuosity but also the connection that lives between that salvaging of traditional folklore and lysergic futurism that expands hypnotically around the world. From this musical hotbed that emerged in the second decade of the new millennium, there is now a new generation to continue the tropicanibal scene, with groups such as La Sonora Mazurén, La Tromba Bacalao, Los Yoryis, El Conjunto Media Luna and, of course, Los Cotopla Boyz, a five-piece that formed in Bogotá in 2018 but inhabit a post-pandemic dystopian multiverse where their mission is to save the party. So their live performances have that illusion of frantic Power Rangers singing about their adventures, as if these were epic chants, except instead of heroic feats they sing with humor about their everyday lives, like the drama “N’sync” about that chat where they leave you on read, or “Me Malviajé con las Ganlletas” about the hallucinogenic experimentation of ingesting cannabis and flipping out. These experiences also lead to songs like the clumsy love lost of “Dama tu Wasap,” the cathartic “Tren de Cotopla” and the ode to excess that is “Raspafiestas,” that moment in your life when the night seems eternal and you only want to go from one party to the next until the world ends. These songs, together with “Plankton (Abanico Sanyo)” and “El Peruanito” are part of Mamarron, Vol. 1, a compilation of seven millennial cannon shots inspired by Los Mirlos, Los Hechizeros Band, Anan, Wendy Sulca, La Sonora Cordobesa, Bad Bunny, Yandel and Los Corraleros de Majagual, tracks laid down on their debut record that saw the light in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and will be re-released in 2022 by AYA records (ZZK Records imprint.) As well as being pressed on vinyl the album will include the bonus track “El Peruanito” remixed by Colombian producer Santiago Navas and taken from Mamarrón, Vol. 2, their album of remixes by figures such as Frente Cumbiero, Cerrero, Prendida, Sonido Confirmación, DJ Rata Piano and Felipe Orjuela, local producers and musicians with a global scope and vision who expand the raspafiesta universe to the limits of the world. Los Cotopla Boyz are a sweaty, schizophrenic cumbia experience that has been witnessed by emerging Bogotá clubs like Matik-Matik, Boogaloop, El Chamán, Tejo Turmequé, Videoclub and the festival Hermoso Ruido, providing nights of wild abandon to the beat of an outrageous big cumbia sound, a ritual of release giving those present a maximum catharsis that has no compare, not even the most animalistic moves of any metaller shaking his powerful mane. Los Cotopla make the walls sweat, they set fire to your feet on the dancefloor, drawing amorphous moves from their fans on exquisite nights. Tracks SIDE A: 1. Plankton (Abanico Sanyo) 2. El Peruanito 3. Dame tu Wasap 4. N’sync SIDE B: 1. Tren de Cotopla 2. Me Malviaje con Ganlletas 3. Raspafiestas 4. El Peruanito (Santiago Navas Remix)
Cassette[11,72 €]
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."
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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.
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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."
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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."
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"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."
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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.
Spanish producer Divorce From New York (AKA Alvaro Granda) returns with his brand new LP ‘Sausalito’ on London’s High Praise. With his previous full-length 2021 offering ‘This Ain’t Jazz No More’ having gained support from Tom Ravenscroft (BBC 6 Music), Jamz Supernova (BBC Radio 1Xtra), Worldwide FM, BBC Radio 1, Errol (Touching Bass), DJ Mag & many more - the stage is set for this heady and potent sophomore release.
Known for his work as one half of San Sebastian based production duo Reykjavik606 (who have previously collaborated with the likes of Tenderlonious and Ishmael Ensemble) Granda creates a rich web of broken beat flavours, uplifting sonics and syncopated rhythms - melding elements of jungle, house and bruk with jazz sensibilities.
Featuring seven brand-new and flavour-packed tracks, ‘Sausalito’ is an uplifting and joyous listen from start to finish. Immersing himself in his extensive collection of Jazz, Soul and Disco vinyl, Alvaro channels golden sunshine-injected influences into a wonderfully cohesive and infectious record. First single ‘Last Ray Of Sunset’ sees Alvaro join forces with long-term collaborator Piek. As its classic disco sounds meet jaunty, MPC- driven drums, and an irresistible bassline - leaving us dreaming of hazy summer terraces, and those last fleeting moments of daytime as evening takes hold.
‘Holly Grove’ evokes a sense of mystery and intrigue with it’s celestial rhodes and flute flourishes, before being joined by syncopated bruk-beats and the alluring vocals of Sarah Zoyaya, who’s tones entwine with some wild synth playing and twisting polyrhythms. Final single ‘I Haven’t Recovered From Last Night With You’ entrances the listener with it’s hypnotic saturated percussion, swirling vocals and reverb-laced key stabs. Creating visions of endless and vast expanses, it shows Alvaro’s ability to weave textures and melody to incredible effect.
With this record, Divorce From New York solidifies his position as one of Europe’s most authentic and original beatmakers. With a range of styles and influences ‘Sausalito’ takes us on a dancefloor leaning journey from sun drenched rhythms through to detroit-techno esque programming. With extensive live performances scheduled for Summer 22 (including a performance at Kala Festival) you can expect to hear this one doing damage on the world’s dancefloors.
Captained by Hugo Mari and Josh Byrne, High Praise is a london-based record label and party. A vessel for uplifting music, made with good energy - they have released music from Yadava, EVM128, Lay-Far, Partner Music & more.
Divorce From New York will release ‘Sausalito’ on 2nd September ‘22 via High Praise.
