Cerca:de lite

Sophomore album from Tenerife based trio, LAGOSS (Gonçalo F. Cardoso, Mladen Kurajica and Daniel García).

Moving away from their megamix vignette based first volume, the trio now experiments with a more song based approach whilst still keeping their trademark jam infused tropicalia and electronic freak outs with an offering to their 1970’s sci-fi masters – enter the lift to the stars.

First proposed by Russian rocket scientist Konstantin Tsiolkovsky and taken to mystical literary heights by Arthur C. Clark in his 1979 book Fountains of Paradise, the concept of a space lift takes a spiritual turn here, with LAGOSS chronicling its construction, right here and there on a near future version of their Island of Tenerife, in the Canary Archipelago.

The album moves freely through ideas and moods akin to the world imagined by Arthur C. Clarke. It conveys a new story by sonically imagining future civilizations in a faux ethnographical exercise whilst exploring current ideas of technology, religion and alternative history by creating its own particular insular sound world.

The album counts with the participation of dear friends such as a synth solo by Spencer Clark (Monopoly Child Star Searchers et all.) and a punchy, full blown remix by Muqata’a. Altogether creating a unique collection of eerie musical moments made of sub tropical moods and cyber exotica jams from a band that keeps growing and evolving into their very own personal sound.

Enter Tenerife in the late 21st Century, meet the Aquachachos and Guayechi, and ascend!

Never one to pull inventive punches, Left Coast electronic music producer Dave Aju reassembled this notorious cast of characters for a remarkably fitting album package made during one of the most strange times our world has ever faced in the throes of the COVID-19 pandemic. While things were essentially shutdown, reopened, cycle-repeat worldwide, and every other species in mother nature's kingdom temporarily rejoiced while humans remained still in their caves, Aju and The Invisible Art Trio, his formidable if not-seen-in-a-minute musical team behind such underground anthems as "Be Like the Sun", went to work in the final days of the glorious G-Son studios in Atwater Village LA to record this LP.

Indeed, the same four/five walls and vocal booth that saw the Beastie's iconic Check Your Head and Hello Nasty come to life, became the birthplace of Glossolalia, Aju's fifth studio album and appropriately impressive seven-song set. As always, myriad musical styles and influences are strung together and boldly combined here, to the degree that drawing comparisons or attempting genre references feels futile. There are, however, clear visceral expressions of political provocation, hope and anger, fear and joy laid over twisted yet dedicated grooves in a lockdown era where Aju's imaginary collective dance floor feels in the temporary absence thereof and bizarro sixth-world unification strategy of recording every song's lyrics in complete non-languages aka total gibberish, feels right at home. Even the vocal guests join in the literal chant here, granting us diverse spell-casting and sensual nonsensical lyrical lines over tech-funk mother lodes, before closing the otherworldly proceedings with a powerful grand finale tribute to the US of A's proud boys-in-blue in the wake of George Floyd's very public assassination.

Equal parts timely anti-establishment and uplifting call-to-action, Glossolalia serves as a decidedly coarse yet crucial reminder of the possibilities in collaborative and devoted noise-making, booty-shaking, and alternative world-building during greater global disarray - beyond stylistic, nationalistic, and linguistic dividing lines. An overtly universal and unifying message liberating us from any fixed cultural identities and thus differences, to instead just focus on how the music delivers and we physically respond, together, as the foundation. Perhaps also an inspired response to the talking heads in every corner of the world's media, spewing useless and politically-tainted mouth data at us amidst these turbulent times.

The roots of Leo Anibaldi's sound. “Pro Pop” (2023) is his first instrumental hip hop album, or an incredible mix of different musical genres, always among his favorite listens, as well as a constant source of inspiration during his 'early life' as an electronic producer. The 'second' starts now. Over the months of the pandemic, the historic Italian artist has literally centrifuged blues, funk, jazz, r 'n' b and, of course, hip hop sounds within eleven brand new songs. The idea behind the project entrusted to Neo Life Records is simple: create music that can be enjoyed by everyone and listened to in company in all circumstances. A choice that also coincides with an 'old school' recording technique with old 60s microphones and tape recorders in order to obtain an apparently 'dated' sound with a melancholy background. “Pro Pop” thus embodies a different style than the noisy glories of a rave past, revealing his desire to get back into the game once more and, above all, to continue experimenting. After branding the history of made in Italy techno, experimenting with acid, breakbeat and house sounds, here is a more intimate Leo Anibaldi and, as always, against the tide.

Visceral yet inherently soulful, 'Hardly The Same Snake' is the sound of the Johannesburg-born, Doncaster-raised artist Doya Beardmore finally finding his voice – both literally and figuratively. In practical terms, that involved finding the courage to foreground his gravelly baritone in these gloriously genre-agnostic productions. But it also meant branching out beyond his safety net to figure out the artist he truly wanted to be. As Skinny puts it today, “This album is what I would have created the first time round had I rated my own voice.” The idea of forging your own path – and shedding skin, so to speak – is integral to 'Hardly The Same Snake'. Begun pre-pandemic and completed in the spring of 2021, it’s a defiantly outward-looking record contemplating family, religion and major life milestones, from parenthood to death. Where previously Skinny relied on dream diaries as his primary lyrical resource, this time he took notes at design exhibitions, using these unfiltered observations as a jumping off point for songs. If this superb second album proves anything, it’s that it doesn’t matter how much Skinny errs on the side of self-deprecation – he remains one of the UK’s most fearlessly original voices. Skinny Pelembe's second album 'Hardly The Same Snake' is out on April 28th on Partisan Records.

Lloyd Cole & The Commotions – Cole, Blair Cowan, Lawrence Donegan, Neil Clark and Stephen Irvine – were formed in Glasgow in 1982, where Buxton-born singer-songwriter Cole was studying Philosophy and English at the University of Glasgow -Their sound swam against the tide of shiny 80s synthesisers, offering intense, melodic, guitar-based pop, topped with droll words packed with literary references.

Given just how loved debut album Rattlesnakes was, it would have been hard for whatever followed to be received as warmly – yet Easy Pieces made a good first of it. It was to sell twice as many copies in its first two weeks as Rattlesnakes had to date, giving the group a Top 5 chart placing on its release in November 1985. Recorded with 80s super-producers Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley, its first two singles, the brooding, gospel influenced Brand New Friend and the forever-jaunty Lost Weekend reached the UK Top 20.

This re-issue faithfully replicates the original 1985 Polydor Records UK release with printed inner sleeve and is pressed onto high quality 180g vinyl.

It’s been a while since Toronto based Hi Bias Records and Crash Records left their indomitable mark on house music, and although not noted for being as musically productive as its North American counterparts of Chicago, Detroit, New York and Jersey, there is none the less a bubbling underground scene there, of which Brother Charles is at the vanguard of. Yogi literally stumbled across Charles on social media and called Roual up right away to make him aware of this prolific producer’s talent, and to explore the possibilities of a vehicle to drop Charles’ incredible, Afro, deep, soulful music on the street. Roual was in agreement with Yogi after viewing Charles’ numerous online videos, all of which feature Charles’ urban freestyle street dancing friends and his skater lovin’ crew too. Is it too early to compare Brother Charles’ deepness to the likes of Kerri Chandler, Larry Heard, Roland Clark, or Osunlade? We think not, and we believe that Toronto is ‘bout to be put back on the musical map, where it belongs.

Space Lady Recordings is a brand new label born out of an irrational musical passion harboured by two industry hardened cronies. Roual Galloway is the A&R man behind Cordial Recordings, was also one of the proprietors at Love Vinyl and he is a man with a wealth of knowledge in the vinyl and CD manufacturing business. Yogi Haughton has worked in A&R at several labels over the years, including one of the U.K.s first modern soul labels, Move Records, as well as numerous respected house labels. He is also one of the U.K.s most influential tastemaker DJs and a record producer, and a former scribbler at DJ Magazine (16 years).

Swing Family's Music Force is dramatic mid-80s synth-funk. From the maverick mind of Sauveur Mallia, it's a thrilling and uniquely brilliant album from start to finish. It's undoubtedly known and revered for its unbelievable standout track, "Mission Africa". Those that know, know. And if you don't know, get to know. It's the reason this record has been hugely sought-after for the best part of two decades. Originally released on Tele Music in France in 1985 but now tear-inducingly rare, this is the definition of "a welcome reissue."

Swing Family is basically a supergroup of French Funk royalty. Led by French disco lord and Arpadys maestro Sauveur Mallia, they were augmented by trombonist Alex Perdigon from legendary French funk rock collective Godchild, trumpeter Kako Bessot from funky fusion group Synthesis and saxophonist Pierre Holassian, a member of Giant, Janko Nilovic's French jazz orchestra. So, about as heavyweight as it gets for funky French goodness. Mallia handles, of course, bass duties throughout, as well as utilising his arsenal of synths including his E-mu, Yamaha Dx7, Roland MSQ 700, Mini Moog and Oberheimm.

The maximalist disco fusion of "Exorcistor" is perhaps a bit too 80s French cheese for most tastes, so either linger on its singular style or head straight to the soundtracky typo-funk of "Greewich Boulevard". A deep, swaggering powerhouse, it comes on like mid-80s Chic jamming on the set of Beverly Hills Cop with Kashif. Yes, *that* good. It's followed by the vital "Music Force", a synthy, sleazy instrumental full of sax and flute and those 80s drum fills. Just the right side of acceptable.

OR! You can even choose to forget all the rest and just stick "Mission Africa" straight on. A rumbling, strutting, afro-cosmic low-profile banger. The slick drums hit hard, the synth strings warm things up, overlapping horns add swagger whilst electric guitar flourishes and a chanted refrain sit in the mix quite perfectly. A track that's almost impossible to describe and do justice to. You just need to hear it. Preferably as you saunter into your favourite after-hours club, after spotting all your friends at once, as you cut a swathe to the bubbling dance floor. A track quite like no other, it makes you sit up within its first bars and, to us at least, sound like something you'd have heard on a Print Thomas mix from the mid 00s. Basically, it's cosmo-galactic.

The B Side opens with "Musical Stars", an oh-so-80s funk-lite track which, at times, sounds like something Daft Punk may have left on the cutting room floor during their Discovery sessions. Another unimpeachable favourite of ours is the druggy brilliance of "Gentleman & Musician". You can almost hear the white powder through the speakers, as soaring, acidy synths, slick, heavy beats and the irresistible interplay of the primo horn players create a real sleazy wonder. "Film Action" follows, a galloping horn-heavy synth romp with moments of extreme bass breakdown brilliance before the drama-synths of "Episode Double" take things up another notch as it oscillates between gorgeous funky horns and urgent bleepy magic. Super tense, super funky and super stylish. Just ace. The elctro-tinged horn workout "Fatal Lady" closes things out majestically.

The audio for Music Force has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring the punch of Sauveur's bass and those sick drums come through to the fullest. Pete Norman’s expert skills has made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original and iconic sleeve - complete with perky Liberty Belle - has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

Spatial & Co is a synth-drizzled, spaced-out bass-heavy discoid-funk masterpiece from French disco lord and Arpadys maestro Sauveur Mallia. Recorded for French library label Tele Music, in 1979, it's by turns cosmic funk and creeping crime funk, bursting with low slung, k-i-l-l-e-r basslines, loping drum breaks and sparkling percussion. It's so funky it hurts.

Confidently swaggering out the gate is "Future Vision", with its loping yet dextrous bassline across strutting beats setting the scene. "Cosmic News", with its live crowd noises over killer bass work is reminiscent of Bernard & Nile's "Chic Cheer". The bass vs synth workout "Baby Bass" increases the propulsion whilst the dark and mysterious vibes of "Star Odyssey" serve as cosmic respite from being overpowered by funk. The temperature and tempo are raised with the bouncing sophisticated funk of "Meteor One", a slinky interstellar instrumental of the highest order before the sultry, melodic "Bass For Love" offers some attractive slow-mo sleaze to close out the first side.

Opening up Side B, the menacing, beatless "Space Alert" sounds like all those sci-fi theme tunes from your childhood, synthesised into one glorious (black) whole. "Galaxy Wars" is next, another majestic cosmic gem, sans drums. The ultra-percussive flex of "All The Bass" sees the return of the frenetic funky bass and neck-snapping drums. The stretched out funk of "O.V.N.I. Telex" is irresistible and cavernous in scope whilst the swirling, dramatic "Galactics" is an ominous yet melodic wonder. The throwaway funk-lite "Animals Bass" is a bit of a daft way to close out this otherwise flawless set but, hey, flirting with perfection is probably always more fun than actually achieving it.

Sauveur Mallia is a crucial figure in the history of electronic and dance music and a hugely underrated French library bass player and composer from the Arpadys / Voyage crew. This is just the beginning of Be With's Mallia - Tele Music reissue campaign!

The audio for Spatial & Co Vol. 1 has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring the punch of Sauveur's bass and those sick drums come through to the fullest. Pete Norman’s expert skills has made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original and iconic sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

Of all the things that can and should and will be said of Sam Wilkes’ & Jacob Mann’s Perform the Compositions of Sam Wilkes & Jacob Mann, let’s begin at the beginning and acknowledge that it is an aptly named record indeed. An ideal collaborative effort (which is to say, greater than the sum of its parts), here we have two longtime friends, two luminaries of the New Weird Los Angeles — the experimental, genre-encompassing underground—who have, at last, devoted a full-length record to their signature musical admixture.

Since their meeting as USC music students (Wilkes studied bass, and Mann, jazz/piano), the two have, with a kind of ceaseless abandon, chased the music to the ends the earth — oftentimes quite literally; travel is a recurrent theme in Compositions’ track titles (Pre-board, Soft Landing, and Around the Horn), and the record’s second track, Jakarta, was sketched out in a hotel room in the city of the same name, where Wilkes and Mann were performing at a jazz festival in 2019. Having initially bonded over a mutual and abiding appreciation for the Soulquarians, the two have spent over a decade playing and traveling, together and separately, their styles coevolving all the while.

Across its thirteen tracks, Compositions captures the relaxed creative flow of two consummate musicians. Most of the record’s sessions (“four-to-five-day summits” in an apartment studio, occasioned by “blasts of inspiration”) began with casual improvisation, and, indeed, roughly half of the final material was composed in this manner: Wilkes and Mann squaring off, a Yamaha DX7 facing a Roland Juno 106, alternating leads, two co-pilots with no set course. And though the songs are polished to a shine, there are artifacts of the intimacy of these sessions. Yes It Is concludes with a snippet of just-intelligible studio chatter: “…A flat minor, then A major.” A figuring-it-out-as-we-go moment that briefly renders explicit the warmth, friendship, and creative freedom that is the album’s heart.

Brainticket was an obscure Krautrock band born out of a 60's jazz group featuring Belgian born keyboardist Joel Van Droogenbroeck, based in Switzerland. The leader went for a fortunate solo career after the former group disbanded, reaching a cult status especially in Italy with a series of sought after libraries. Released in 1978 on Cenacolo, Images Of Flute In Nature is pure magic translated in music. Conceived by Joel with a little help from vocalist Carole Muriel (an American performer already involved in Brainticket and Drum Circus), the album is literally a deep connection between kosmische music, ambient and ethno-global rhythms.

Beautiful, soulful jazz record by Jimetta Rose and The Voices of Creation, a Los Angeles-based community choir, a mainstay of the local scene. Highly recommended!!

The Voices of Creation are a community-based choir led by vocalist, songwriter, arranger, producer and mainstay of the Los Angeles scene Jimetta Rose. Made up of a multigenerational group of mainly non-professional singers backed by some of the city’s finest musicians,their music marries hip strains of gospel with layers of jazz, soul and funk. While aspects of their music might recall Kamasi Washington, The Staple Singers or Sly Stone, Jimetta’s unique vision has resulted in new spiritually-charged forms of music whose whole-hearted embrace of love, joy and peace act as sonic healing balms for the soul.

For Jimetta - whose resume includes collaborations with Miguel Atwood Ferguson, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Sa-Ra Creative Partners, Angel Bat Dawid, Shafiq Husayn, MED and Blu - the very act of creation was part of a healing process: “I was very low at the time and I wrote most of the songs going through hardship. But I found comfort in the songs and a way to adjust my mindset to where things got better. So I thought ‘if this music works for me, maybe it will work for other people’ I believe that every person has their own voice and their own note and that we can use our voices to heal ourselves. That’s the intention behind creating the project.”

After putting out a call on social media for people interested in joining her choir she was met with a sea of replies. Members were chosen in less-than conventional fashion: “I recruited people based on their interest in healing themselves and others, not necessarily on their musical experience or being seasoned performers” she says. Among those accepted into the ever-evolving collective, which was begun initially as a community choir, were the likes of Sly Stone’s daughter Novena Carmel, better known as a radio DJ for KCRW’s flagship breakfast show. Jimetta’s upbringing in the Pentecostal church, where she was a youth choir director, fed into her otherwise intuitive teachings of her songs and arrangements to the inexperienced members with help from the group’s seasoned organ player/co-musical director Jack Maeby.

Produced by Mario Caldato Jr. (Beastie Boys, Seu Jorge) and his wife Samantha Caldato the results show the incredible sense of togetherness and communal spirit that the group had built up over time in the rehearsal sessions. The six tracks of their debut album, a mixture of originals and rearranged covers, are performed in a wide-eyed mix of styles that reflect Jimetta’s vision for borderless music: “It’s new black classical music,” she explains. “It’s all the hodgepodge of being an African American but also with creativity and vision for the future. It has a taste of what is to come and what we can do. What we have gone through and who we are now.”

The group’s propensity for warm and buoyant sonics finds representation on album opener Let The Sunshine In, a sparkling rework of the Sons and Daughters of Lite’s deep jazz classic. Their version finds the group’s dynamic group harmonies offset with Allakoi Peete’s nimble afro-percussive touches and plenty of soul- drenched keys courtesy of pianist Quran Shaheed and organ player Jack Maeby. A similarly uplifting take on Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s choral jazz classic Spirits Up Above follows, with Maeby’s groove-laden organ lines inspiring some gorgeous group harmonies as well as prime solo turns from the likes of Kellye Hawkins, Zavier Wise, Tamara Blue, and Khalila Gardner.

Another Sons and Daughters of Lite cover follows as Jimetta leads the choir in the groove-drenched ode to self-affirmation Operation Feed Yourself. Written as a series of mantras for everyday living, the Jimetta-penned composition How Good It Is harnesses the full transformative power of music to generate a stirring and joyful ode to positivity - it’s chanted declarations bringing out some of the group’s most deeply-felt and affecting vocal performances over some superlative piano and organ accompaniment with a surprise feature vocal from Novena Carmel.

Jimetta’s talent for re-imagining songs in her own light is highlighted in Answer The Call, her vivid re-telling of Funkadelic’s Cosmic Slop: “When I listened to the original song, the Mom in the story was really going through it. I thought of how I could turn this into a song that can encompass the glorification of all mothers and I thought of the Egyptian cosmic goddess Nut. To that mother we’re all the seeds planted in the garden. Answering the call in your life is literally that. Finding out exactly what you’re here for through your heart.”

The album finishes with the standout original gospel number Ain’t Life Grand. Over swaying organs and clapped percussion Jimetta’s lyrical mantras serve to emphasise the good feelings that come to those with a grateful heart. Good feeling is an apt descriptor for the mood of the album as a whole. Its shining positivity provides a welcome ray of light in an increasingly dark world. “It’s a shortcut if you will to the better feelings” Jimetta says. “The hope that we need to keep pressing forward. We are saturated and inundated with images of chaos and destruction, death and hatred. There’s so much we can witness. So, I want to make sure that there is a representation sonically of the other parts that are still there to witness so that we can continue to build those things. So that the systems we support actually reflect what we want to experience. So it’s like: “Don’t give up and Let The Sunshine Into You” and then find out what your purpose is and answer the call.”

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Tape

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Belgian junk jazz trio schroothoop (which translates as 'junk yard') bring together multi-instrumentalists Rik Staelens (wind & string instruments), Timo Vantyghem (bass & thumb piano) and Margo Maex (percussion). Their new album called 'MACADAM' will be out April 7 via Sdban Records, home of many strongholds in the lively contemporary Belgian jazz and groove scene.

In 2020, schroothoop first emerged with their much-acclaimed and infectious debut album Klein Gevaarlijk Afval (Small Hazardous Waste). "Music on homemade instruments with a surprisingly good result" (De Standaard). "Schroothoop show that material limitation can be liberating and that sometimes the source of new sounds is just old junk."(Written in music). "We assure you that this "scrap heap" is worth gold!" (Le Grigri).

On their second album, to be released on April 7, schroothoop explore the vast sounds of discarded objects found on the macadam streets of Brussels. Wooden crates turn into guitars and lyres. Scrap metal becomes a thumb piano, a cimbalom, or percussion bells. Their compelling collection of semi-improvised songs is born out of several fruitful residencies and live performances during which Margo Maex, Rik Staelens and Timo Vantyghem dive deeper into the possibilities and unique timbres of their DIY instruments.

The junk jazz trio find inspiration in traditional Afro-Cuban and North-African rhythms, New Orleans second line grooves, and Arabic Hijaz scales. On Macadam, the band also explore the realms of electronic music, not shunning hints of drum and bass, dub riddims and ambient soundscapes, using pitch shifting delays or gauzy reverbs. The album delivers a mesmerizing trip through the most diverse capital of Europe, mixed and post-produced by none other than sound wizard Dijf Sanders.

The trio originally met in the Brussels street orchestra scene. One night they found themselves jamming on trash cans, buckets and other illegally dumped materials. Soon after, they started building their own DIY instruments from street trash. Imagine flutes made out of pvc pipes, a scrap metal drum kit, thumb pianos made out of old kitchen knives, a tin can violin, worn-out cutting discs as gongs, and a washtub bass. Delivering their own brand of "junk jazz", Schroothoop literally gives junk a second life by immortalizing a whole range of lost and found objects through music. The Brussels-based group effortlessly incorporates jazz, Northern African music, and Afro-Cuban rhythms, resulting in a danceable and hypnotic trip through the city's melting pot.

Belgian junk jazz trio schroothoop (which translates as 'junk yard') bring together multi-instrumentalists Rik Staelens (wind & string instruments), Timo Vantyghem (bass & thumb piano) and Margo Maex (percussion). Their new album called 'MACADAM' will be out April 7 via Sdban Records, home of many strongholds in the lively contemporary Belgian jazz and groove scene.

In 2020, schroothoop first emerged with their much-acclaimed and infectious debut album Klein Gevaarlijk Afval (Small Hazardous Waste). "Music on homemade instruments with a surprisingly good result" (De Standaard). "Schroothoop show that material limitation can be liberating and that sometimes the source of new sounds is just old junk."(Written in music). "We assure you that this "scrap heap" is worth gold!" (Le Grigri).

On their second album, to be released on April 7, schroothoop explore the vast sounds of discarded objects found on the macadam streets of Brussels. Wooden crates turn into guitars and lyres. Scrap metal becomes a thumb piano, a cimbalom, or percussion bells. Their compelling collection of semi-improvised songs is born out of several fruitful residencies and live performances during which Margo Maex, Rik Staelens and Timo Vantyghem dive deeper into the possibilities and unique timbres of their DIY instruments.

The junk jazz trio find inspiration in traditional Afro-Cuban and North-African rhythms, New Orleans second line grooves, and Arabic Hijaz scales. On Macadam, the band also explore the realms of electronic music, not shunning hints of drum and bass, dub riddims and ambient soundscapes, using pitch shifting delays or gauzy reverbs. The album delivers a mesmerizing trip through the most diverse capital of Europe, mixed and post-produced by none other than sound wizard Dijf Sanders.

The trio originally met in the Brussels street orchestra scene. One night they found themselves jamming on trash cans, buckets and other illegally dumped materials. Soon after, they started building their own DIY instruments from street trash. Imagine flutes made out of pvc pipes, a scrap metal drum kit, thumb pianos made out of old kitchen knives, a tin can violin, worn-out cutting discs as gongs, and a washtub bass. Delivering their own brand of "junk jazz", Schroothoop literally gives junk a second life by immortalizing a whole range of lost and found objects through music. The Brussels-based group effortlessly incorporates jazz, Northern African music, and Afro-Cuban rhythms, resulting in a danceable and hypnotic trip through the city's melting pot.

Platform 23 again explores to the dense voids, this time with a touch of the funk, with a reissue of Dutch experimentalists De Fabriek and two tracks from their "Music For" cassette series, this time calling all Hippies.

Featuring both original and reinterpretations from modern-day heads, Dunkeltier and Khidja, this double-pack is something of an oddity, showcasing the bands' expansive range, moving away from the noise, drone and industrial soundscape releases they had become known for and crafting here, free flowing, groovy longform jams.

Active since the late 70s to today, De Fabriek (The Factory) have never considered themselves a real band - being also a label too - with an evolving and irregular line up centred around Richard van Dellen, they present their music and output as a kind of work-union.

With literally four decades and dozens of releases across all formats, 1988's cassette release, 'Music For Hippies', has become something of a cult curio, with the long improvisational tracks, Lullabye and Coming Down eschewing the rougher, industrial experience for something completely different.

In opener Lullabye, we go full leftfield P-Funk meets Motorik undertones. An incessant beat is laid from the start and doesn't cease for over 10 minutes, while spoken vocals call closer to the Krautrock realms of Can and hark to Liebezeit's stylised grooving best.

Analog, echo washed, with touches of glam and wrapped in simple effects pedal work, the secrets are passed to Dresden / Berlin inhabitant Dunkeltier aka Sneaker DJ aka Thomas Smorek. His darker moniker, appearing on obscure edits for Macadam Mambo and the much-missed Bahnsteig 23, his 'Hey Robot' mix adds bass, percussion, strings and synth to remold Lullabye into a late night, red light, basement denzien. This is followed by an additional, bonus reimagining, creating an all-new time piece, an ear worm of the best kind with Tik Tok Goes The Clock.

The second slab presents in Come Down, a more resembling De Fabriek werk. Edited to fit, the darkness is entered as snapshot vocal quips, oscillations and synthesised mutations are laid over a lazy, relentless ostinato rhythm where cymbals crash on the bar. Inviting, calling, De Fabriek's aptly titled downer is in fact, a joyous journey.

To complete, label affiliates, Khidja take a break from finalising their debut album to unfold their 'Psychebabble Mix', a dozen plus minutes of warped, twisted, cassette machinations that suck the listener further along the trip. Added bass propels their edit suddenly to a new direction, a hook for mind and for the open willed, the body. De Fabriek's "coming down lullabye" arriving on vinyl for the first time, with a twist and shake, calling deeper to acceptance.

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Lloyd Cole & The Commotions – Cole, Blair Cowan, Lawrence Donegan, Neil Clark and Stephen Irvine – were formed in Glasgow in 1982, where Buxton-born singer-songwriter Cole was studying Philosophy and English at the University of Glasgow -Their sound swam against the tide of shiny 80s synthesisers, offering intense, melodic, guitar-based pop, topped with droll words packed with literary references.

Given just how loved debut album Rattlesnakes was, it would have been hard for whatever followed to be received as warmly – yet Easy Pieces made a good first of it. It was to sell twice as many copies in its first two weeks as Rattlesnakes had to date, giving the group a Top 5 chart placing on its release in November 1985. Recorded with 80s super-producers Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley, its first two singles, the brooding, gospel influenced Brand New Friend and the forever-jaunty Lost Weekend reached the UK Top 20.

This re-issue faithfully replicates the original 1985 Polydor Records UK release with printed inner sleeve and is pressed onto high quality 180g vinyl.

Angel numbers: a series of recurring numerical patterns or sequences which those who believe in such things invest with cosmic significance.

Also, the name of the forthcoming album by Hamish Hawk – an apt title for an artist who bounces between scepticism and wonder, who alchemises the quotidian, who is engaged in a constant quest to outwit and outflank the ordinary. With the release of Heavy Elevator in September 2021, Edinburgh-based Hawk established himself as a writer of heartfelt, headstrong, unashamedly literate songs to stimulate both pulse and psyche. Heavy Elevator offered words to savour and tunes to relish. The songs were filmic and romantic, blending wit, wisdom, resignation and beauty with a kind of sceptical joie de vivre, delivered in a rich baritone that has drawn comparisons to everyone from Jarvis Cocker to Scott Walker. A singer of style and guile peddling accessible intelligence: what’s

not to love? Heavy Elevator established a powerful artistic imprimatur which nonetheless felt neither defining nor confining. While the album has been justly lauded, Hawk’s next steps have moved the story considerably further forward. Angel Numbers meets growing expectations head on, with panache and aplomb.