Search:do not resist the beat

‘Confession' is an album of quiet upheaval. An album about closeness that arrives late and unexpectedly. About stability rubbing up against desire. About the way friendship can suddenly tilt into something charged — and how that charge unsettles everything around it. Where earlier work often observed from a distance, Confession turns inward. The voice is closer, warmer, less shielded. “This wasn’t the album I intended to make,” says Carla dal Forno. “I originally wanted something veiled and abstract, but I realised I couldn’t hide behind abstraction — the songs only worked when I leaned into emotional truth.”

This is dal Forno’s fourth LP, written and recorded over several years in a small country town, in a studio housed inside a partially abandoned hospital. Long corridors, humming lights, emptied rooms — a place built for care and waiting, now quiet enough for thoughts to echo. That stillness shapes the record: intimate, watchful, unadorned. “I live in a small country town that offers a stillness my life didn’t previously have,” she explains. “In that quiet, feelings I might’ve ignored in a busy city grew loud.” Dal Forno sings plainly and conversationally, with an emotional precision that sharpens the everyday into something quietly unsettling.

The album moves through paired states: going out and staying in, wanting and withholding, devotion and distraction. Domestic calm set against private unrest. A long-held relationship offers safety and routine, while a newer connection opens emotional fault lines — longing, jealousy, fantasy, self-exposure. “At the heart of the album is a friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way,” dal Forno says. “That shift brought daydreaming, jealousy, tenderness, confusion, self-awareness — and eventually acceptance.”

The drama here is internal, incremental, lived. Musically, Confession feels lighter on its feet than its subject matter suggests. Melodic basslines anchor the songs while guitars, harmonies, and gently off-kilter rhythms move around them. There’s a looseness, even a playfulness — “like the sensation of tension lifting once you finally admit something to yourself,” as dal Forno puts it. The album traces a subtle arc: attraction blooming where it shouldn’t; obsession quietly taking hold; fantasy overtaking reality; clarity arriving slowly, sometimes painfully. Visually and emotionally, Confession returns to modest spaces: backyards, beds, night streets, overgrown paths. “The record exists in that contrast,” dal Forno reflects. “Peaceful surroundings, unsettled interior.”

Like all of dal Forno’s work, Confession resists clean conclusions. It doesn’t moralise desire or romanticise restraint. Instead, it lingers in the in-between — where love is stable but not total, where yearning teaches as much as it hurts, where solitude becomes a form of care. Plain-spoken but emotionally complex. Rooted and restless. Held together by bass, breath, routine, weather. An album about admitting what you feel —and living with what that admission changes.

On the occasion of the 40th anniversary of the release of Remek Depo, the very first electronic record from the former Yugoslavia, the group Beograd has decided to unveil eight previously unreleased tracks in the context originally intended. The band initially planned to title their first album as Mrak ( eng. Dark). Recorded with Du Du A and other collaborators, this album serves as a manifesto of resistance—not only in Belgrade and Yugoslavia but everywhere else.

The A-side opens with the track 1984, named after George Orwell’s seminal novel. This piece was recorded in a single night in the same year, featuring Zoran Zagorcic (Du Du A) and one of the first Yamaha DX7 synthesizers. It encapsulates the dark and tense atmosphere of Belgrade during a period marked by economic crisis, characterized by shortages of essential products like coffee and oil, as well as electricity restrictions. This oppressive environment also impacted personal relationships, leading to unconventional expressions of passion and desire, as exemplified by the subsequent track from 1985, Mracni Predjet Zelja (eng: That Obscure Object of Desire). However, the primary source of frustration was political, stemming from the abuse of nationalism and the incitement of inter-ethnic conflicts within the complex Yugoslav society. This sentiment is vividly illustrated in the songs Hare Krishna and Belgrade Beat, recorded just before the country’s collapse in 1991. Remarkably, despite their protest, these songs convey messages of strong optimism and hope. In “Belgrade Beat Dejan Kostic (Du Du A) raps and Dejan Stanisavljevic sings. ”Od Studija B do Amerike, Beograd širi svoje talase, mi nismo sami u nama je svet, dolazi veliki preokret” (eng. “From Studio B to the USA, Belgrade spreads its waves, we are not alone, the whole world is with us, a great change comes!”). It is no surprise that this song was frequently broadcast on student Radio Index during the student and anti-war protests in 1992.

The B-side features contemporary songs produced by Beograd, which reflect protests against the current societal conditions in post-war Belgrade. Crafted with musical clarity and irony, these tracks satirize figures of repression, hitting their mark with an almost childlike purity, reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale, “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” The collaboration between Dejan Stanisavljevic, the leader of the Beograd and the Du Du A group not only influenced his musical expression but also laid the groundwork for the group’s socially engaged music in their later career.

As we remember the two late leaders of the Du Du A group, Dejan Kostic and Zoran Zagorcic, alongside the recently departed member of the Beograd, Milan Bubalo, this gramophone record stands as an important testament to the contributions of previous generations of artists in the fight for a fairer society. We hope it will inspire the younger generation in their current struggles, especially at a time when such inspiration is needed more than ever.

May 2026 marks the arrival of TYGAPAW (aka Dion McKenzie)’s first full-length album on Tresor Records, entitled Together You Gather All Power Applied Worldwide. An acronym of its creator’s name, TYGAPAW’s third studio album is a deeply personal collection of music building worlds where Black queer and trans siblings can thrive, while unifying dancefloors worldwide. A proposition that collective wisdom liberates us from the matrix of domination we live within. The album unfolds as the latest chapter in TYGAPAW’s ongoing techno opera opus, continuing to center the voices of Black women, which surface as layered incantations rather than lyrics - powerful, haunting, sensual, activating.
With the process of creating the album starting in 2023, as TYGAPAW (Dion McKenzie) was in the first year of their transition, the music reflects the intensity of that period, where they were experiencing deplatforming as a response to the shift in their physical appearance: Tracks like ‘M32 Riddim’ and ‘Helicopter hovers over my Crown Heights Apartment’ feature high-paced rhythms intersecting with intense siren-like synths to form demanding compositions echoing a heightened sense of alert. Yet throughout the album, relief comes in the form of TYGAPAW’s vocal features, co-conspirators, and chosen family, whose voices are treated with reverb and echo, a sonic fingerprint that leads back to the pioneers in the legendary studios of TYGAPAW’s native land, Jamaica, an important reminder that the past will always inform the future. It is an album for dancers first and foremost, where joy, defiance, and integration with the natural body coexist, and every drop feels less like a climax than a transformation. Expect a bass that permeates your soul and melodic synthesized sequenced phrases echoing the dancehall eras of TYGAPAW’s youth, reshaped into hypnotic melodies that glow over industrial kicks designed to command attention, reasserting Jamaica's pioneering yet often overlooked contribution to electronic music.
In the opening track, ‘Can I Live’, Precious Okoyomon’s words feel like the beginning of a ritual; setting the intentions for the rest of the proceedings. As McKenzie puts it, their “work is about regeneration, resetting, getting integrated into nature, and about rebirth. That’s the tone I wanted to set at the outset of the album.” Ms Carrie Stacks continues this thread of support in ‘Don’t Panic’ with heavily processed vocals on top of a beat that takes inspiration from another important ingredient in the antidote to the oppression of isolation: Ballroom culture. “ I feel like I found my queerness in Ballroom, that’s why this track is very important to me.”
Echoes of NYC Black queer nightlife scene also permeate in the energetic drums of ‘Exorcise the Language of Domination’, in which Julianna Huxtable’s spoken performance complements the various movements and tones of the music. “My producer brain thought this was the one that Juliana’s vocals would be best suited for. I hinted: ‘what do you think of this one?’ She just went into her notes and picked some passages to go with the first section of the track. From there, it was a year-long process of development. It required time and space for this thing to evolve, but I think it’s one of the most powerful tracks on the album.” London’s SUUTOO contributes the album’s only musical collaboration on ‘B2B’, a track that emerged from sessions in McKenzie’s New York studio where the real objective was to connect and have fun; a time out from the demands of life outside.
The album closes out with a double hit of emotion in the form of ‘Effects of Resistance and Black Trans Masculine Experience’. The former features South African scholar Khanyisile Mbongwa drawing connections that exist between Africa and the Black diaspora, whilst looking to the future and calling for a shared sense of community.
The latter piece, an instrumental version of the piece which featured on the IMMIGRANT E.P. of 2025 is a gentle and deeply affecting end to the record, a place of peace and acceptance. This end-of-cycle tone is mirrored in the sleeve photography, which also ties back to IMMIGRANT by finally revealing what was hidden: a portrait of the artist fully self-actualized; a step towards true inner liberation. TYGAPAW is sonically defiant across this album; bass frequencies feel tactile — less heard than inhabited — infectious lead synth melodies remain with you long after the track ends. An overall sound that leaves asserting an urgent need for connection. From Detroit to New York to Berlin to Jamaica, despite geographic distance, this album reminds us that we remain in solidarity, recognising that meaningful world-building requires collective input and action, both personal and communal, if we are to move toward liberation.

Ayô Dele — which means "joy comes to me" in Yoruba — is neither a slogan nor a promised miracle. It is a breath of fresh air. That of an album born in the interstices, where the word find their way between shadow and light, between the disorder of the worldand the impulse to be .
At the heart of the project, Julien Gervaix and Damien Tesson, multi-instrumentalist beatmakers, share a groove language that is both dense and airy, where every detail breathes and finds its place.
With background in Afrobeat, Dub, Funk, Soul, Roots Reggae, and Electronic Music, they treat the studio to be their playground. Their music is a hybrid groove that speaks to the body: round or bouncing basslines, brass oscillating between melodic warmth and funk energy, textured guitars, arpeggios, enveloping Rhodes, clavinet that slides, presses, and embraces. Everything comes together with precision and flexibility, in an inventive and warm composition. The meeting of their experiences and sensibilities gives rise to open, generous music, made for dancing and vibration.
With Ayô Dele , Ireke is embarking on a new chapter: the duo is refining its style,allowing the voices to breathe. The groove remains the driving force but opens up to intimacy. This intimacy is carried by two unique female voices: Nayel Hoxo, a Beninese-Nigerian singer/rapper, and Agnès Hélène, who has already made a name for herself on Tropikadelic with "Petit a Petit". They don't sing side-by-side; they coexist, respond to each other, and sometimes intersect. But each follows her own path: Nayel, with the power of her words in Yoruba, offers songs of elevation, healing, and resistance — a light born in the cracks Agnès explores these cracks themselves: what wavers within us, what reinvents itself in bonds, glances, and gestures.
For one track, Olivya (Dowdelin) joins this dialogue in Martinican Creole. Her sunny soul sketches the contours of gentle resistance and celebrates rediscovered light.
Ayô Dele embodies a quiet yet radical determination: to smooth nothing over, to let plurality, contradictory emotions, and mixed heritage live. An album that moves forward through vibrations, that speaks of emancipation without slogans, love without clichés, anger without uproar.
Two women, two inner worlds: a sensitive complicity, a shared breath. Music that seeks not effect, but echo, weaving a living soundscape between reinvented traditions and contemporary textures. An alchemy faithful to the spirit of Underdog Records, where music unites and brings people together. Ayô Dele : "joy comes to me." A lucid joy, crossed by shadows, patiently regained. Music that welcomes, releases, gives, and in doing so, makes us feel good.
In a saturated world, Ayô Dele chooses nuance: transmission without emphasis, joy without naivety. An album that vibrates more than it demonstrates, that connects more than it imposes, and which, in its quiet clarity, resonates with a deep desire to be fully alive.

After the acclaimed Bar Mediterraneo, Massimo Di Lena and Lucio Aquilina return with a new album that broadens the scope of their sound even further, sailing beyond the Pillars of Hercules into a constellation of gravity-defying creative freedom.

People Of The Moon is not an imagined cosmic species, but a dimension within us all. Deeply personal yet universally shared. An alternative way of thinking that lays dormant until we find the courage to untether it, helping us experience life more fully. It is that precious sphere of the soul that slips away from everyday life. A form of self-expression free from the social pressures that weigh on each, at every latitude on the planet.

Under the moonlight, these songs trace anxieties and aspirations, guided by the international language of groove and rhythmic motion, articulated in Neapolitan, Arabic, English, Spanish, and Portuguese. It speaks with equal clarity through the Afro-Cuban influences of Celavì (“That’s Life”), with its circular rhythmic energy, and through the Anatolian zurna of Ma Tu Che Bbuò (“What Do You Want?” in Neapolitan), moving from highlife guitars to the mandolins that have become a Nu Genea signature. New idioms and rhythms, filtered through an Italian perspective.

The first single Sciallà (“Go Away” in Neapolitan), released in the summer of 2025, already hinted at what was taking shape in the Nu Genea workshop - a radiant guide to embracing difficulty and finding relief in dance. Not so much an escape, but a form of catharsis. Looking up at the giant mirror ball orbiting above us, we catch a glimpse of our best selves reflected back, and appreciate that the People Of The Moon invoked in the title track are more familiar than we first realised.

There’s a kind of resilience in these voices that isn’t loud or triumphant, but persistent and rooted in the simple act of continuing. The imagery of high-speed motion is central to Onenon (“On and On”), where British singer and multi-instrumentalist Tom Misch helps conjure a Mediterranean brit-funk reminiscent of Pino D’Angiò’s basslines.

The voice in Acelera (“Speed Up” in Spanish) summons the strength to chase the moon as if it were an unattainable ideal, in this Andalusian-tinged track featuring María José Llergo, who also lends her voice to Celavì. Both tracks are among the more languorous arrangements, with flamenco palmas introducing an original fusion into the Nu Genea groove.
With its driving momentum, Puleza (“Clean Up” in Neapolitan) recalls the spirit of Nuova Napoli, albeit with vintage synth textures and wild, unrestrained delays. The track’s protagonist, performed by Fabiana Martone, is another of our lunar dwellers.

Yet even when it leans into forward motion, People Of The Moon doesn’t pulse at a frantic pace, moving instead through shifting states of speed, orbit, and suspension. In fact, the Levantine bossa nova Shway Shway (“Slowly, Slowly” in Arabic), sung by Celinatique, captures the orbital motion of the entire record. Not exactly slow, but measured. Rich in color, and marked by a rhythmic complexity that was also heard on the duo’s rare access to foundational afrobeat on The Tony Allen Experiments.
All the while, the album remains deeply attuned to melody - a Nu Genea hallmark - as heard in the effervescent hook of Carè (“Falling” in Neapolitan). In the lunar microgravity of these ten tracks, falling and flying become interchangeable with dancing as ways of following the beat, suspended yet compelled to move. That compulsion is also invoked by Brazilian percussionist Gabriel Prado, making his vocal debut on Ondas Do Mar (“Waves Of The Sea” in Portuguese). The pull of the waves, a constant interplay of motion and return, steady as a lunar phase, is impossible to resist. One might as well lean into the blue, not to dissolve but to rebuild. “Você vai ver que dentro de nós / vai rolar”: you’ll see that something will happen within us.

Incl. Remixes by Red Axes, Roman Flügel & Abe Duque

What does it mean to exist in sound?

It does not begin with a beat, but with a choice. With the moment when someone decides not merely to inhabit the space, but to shape it – and in doing so, makes themselves visible.

Roman Flügel stands as a constant in the background. Not as an authority, but as a collective consciousness. Since the 1990s, he has moved through club music like a seeker, never content with the first answer. House, techno, experimentation – these are not genres, but states of being. His remix thinks, hesitates, opens, strikes like a surging acid wave, warping reality and demanding true presence.

New York taught him that club music is never neutral. It is body, friction, attitude. Abe Duque’s remix carries a strangely enchanting relentlessness, a resistance to smoothness – as if the dancefloor were a place where freedom is not claimed, but fought for.

Red Axes do not enter this space; they conjure it. Their sound is raw, repetitive, circular, as if deliberately refusing linearity. House, dub, and acid elements become material for a movement that is more trance than structure. Their remix does not ask where it is going; it asks why one should ever stand still.

And then there is Tim Paris. Not at the center, but as a narrator. As someone who knows that the voice is an attitude. “That Boy” is not a pose, but a mirror, ironic, direct, vulnerable. Paris moves between new wave house and club, always aware that identity is never fixed, but formed in the moment.

This remix record is not a gathering of names. It is a situation, four perspectives on the same question:

What does it mean to exist in sound?

Yet sound alone does not tell the full story: like music, the visual is a space to be shaped, felt, and deciphered. The cover of Tim Paris feat. Foremost Poets – That Boy, created by Konstantin Fürchtegott Kipfmüller, a visual artist at the Hochschule für Gestaltung in Offenbach under Heiner Blum, embodies this principle. Drawing inspiration from the urban environment, Kipfmüller transforms traces of decay, weather, and time into abstract narratives that, like the music of Tim Paris, Roman Flügel, Abe Duque and Red Axes, unfold meaning layer by layer. The result is no mere adornment, but a mirror of the sonic landscape: every line, every surface an echo of the question of what it means to exist – fully, in the moment, in sound.

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 is a compilation bringing together the early 2000s works of Marco Passarani under his Analog Fingerprints alias, collecting key tracks originally released on Rome’s Plasmek and Pigna labels.

For Numbers, the story starts long before the label itself. In their formative years, digging in Glasgow’s Rubadub, Passarani’s records felt like dispatches from a future city. Releases on his own Nature Records and on labels such as Generator and Interr-Ference Communications were mind blowing: rooted in Detroit techno, Chicago house and electro, yet pushing somewhere new. Much like fellow travellers Autechre, who would remix him in 2001, Passarani’s music balanced machine funk with restless experimentation.

Information was scarce, and you would hear these records first on the dancefloor or at listening stations in shops like Rubadub. Print fanzines like Ear and early web outposts such as Forcefield offered only fragments. But there was a palpable axis forming between Detroit techno and a new European wave of record labels including Skam, Rephlex, Clone, Viewlexx and Nature itself. It was the sound that defined Saturday nights at Rubadub’s ‘69’ parties in Paisley, just outside of Glasgow.

Passarani’s records, in particular, were instrumental in bringing together the future Numbers co-founders. Richard had already booked him pre-Numbers; meanwhile Calum (Spencer) and Jack (Jackmaster), then 16/17 year olds working alternate Saturdays in Rubadub, were so enamoured with the Roman sound that they travelled to Rome for the Bitz Festival in 2003 to seek out Passarani and Lory D at their source.

The first Analog Fingerprints release landed as a 12” on Plasmek in 2001, following the fractured, IDM-leaning 6 Katun material. For Passarani, the project marked a recalibration. A DJ first and foremost, he had moved into production via early computer setups, from a Commodore Amiga through primitive PC audio, Cubase and Logic, later experimenting with Ableton. The IDM scene had offered a playground for trial and error, but there was always a tension between abstraction and the dancefloor. Analog Fingerprints became the bridge: still intelligent, but with more dance than distance. After years of broken beats and complex arrangements, he wanted directness without surrendering identity.

Working closely with Francesco de Bellis and Mario Pierro in the Pigneto district, the trio formed Pigna as a vehicle for reclaiming a more accessible dance sound, deliberately steering away from the minimal wave beginning to dominate Europe. Sessions were fast, instinctive, often stretching late into the night with friends dropping by. It was a studio as social space, production as collective energy.

“In that constant search for balance, Analog Fingerprints was my way of expressing something closer to the classic dance floor. The track 'Tribute' - a tribute to my favourite early Detroit techno track of all time, 'First Bass' by Separate Minds - came after I realised I had almost lost my connection with the dance floor. The simplest step was to take inspiration from early Chicago and Detroit and twist it in our Roman ‘Pigna’ way. My goal was to create more accessible dancefloor tracks by mixing my unconscious Italo roots with my teenage love for that early US sound, ensuring the result was as far as possible from the minimal sound that was starting to dominate everywhere.” - Marco Passarani

Technically, the Analog Fingerprints tracks span a transitional era: Roland TR-909, SH-101 and Alpha Juno hardware met early software experiments. A Novation Drumstation rack stood in for the unattainable TR-808, syncing with TB-303 and TR-606. Yet the true secret weapon was Jeskola Buzz, a tracker-style modular environment that allowed step-by-step parameter control and strange melodic constructions, later exported into the audio sequencer. Even the lead on ‘Tribute’ came from an early PPG Wave-style plugin. It was hybrid thinking at a moment when digital tools still felt unstable but full of possibility for technologists like Passarani.

Behind the music sat Finalfrontier, a loose Roman collective orbiting Nature and Plasmek. Distribution and production were intertwined; importing obscure records into Italy built connections with like-minded outsiders across Europe and the US. Expensive phone bills and fax machines forged an “electronix network” that linked Rome to Clone, Viewlexx, Skam, Rephlex, Rubadub and Detroit’s Underground Resistance. There was a shared sense of survival and resistance, of operating against commercial systems.

Passarani recalls “The first time I found a sheet of paper inside an Underground Resistance 12” with info about upcoming releases... and a huge picture of Spock on the back. Imagine that: you love the music, you love Star Trek, and there’s someone on the other side of the ocean sharing those same values and sounds. It was the perfect match. We even gave our original company the suffix ‘Finalfrontier’: that says it all.”

Feedback in that era arrived physically: distributor faxes, conversations with visiting DJs, the experience of playing abroad and meeting kids who had connected with the records. Glasgow became a key node in a scattered outlier network. Passarani personally brought the first two Nature releases to Fat Cat in London, playing them in-store. Shortly after, a fax arrived from Rubadub in Glasgow requesting copies.

“I still remember that phone buzz and the fax paper slowly sliding out, with someone I didn’t know saying they wanted 75 copies of Nature 001. Or like the time we got a fax from the Rephlex crew just saying, “Hello Nature Records, Keep up the good work.” That was how we knew the message was getting through. It was a fantastic feeling; just one piece of thermal fax paper as an analog notification - the mood for the entire week would change.” - Passarani

The connection to Glasgow has since stretched across generations. As Passarani reflects, links often fracture as scenes renew themselves, but in Glasgow something different happened. New and old mixed seamlessly. There was a visible trust in what came before, and a willingness to carry it forward rather than discard it. Observed from Rome, it was deeply encouraging.

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 captures that moment of exchange: Rome to Glasgow, Detroit to Europe, experiment to dancefloor. It documents an artist recalibrating his sound and a network of scenes discovering one another in real time, connected by vinyl, faxes and shared intent.

In 2025, Roger 23 makes his return to Night Defined Recordings. Following his 2022 album “Bounds of a Moral Principle and Established Standard Behavior”, the unmistakable Saarländer revisits his teenage memories of the Saarbrücken-Leicester connection through a collaboration with his UK kindred spirit, Tom Dicicco. In just two months, the duo has created a collection of ten tracks rich in sonic depth, embodying their dedication to and belief in the power of exploration.

In a world where it’s easy to point fingers or resist change, Tom Dicicco and Roger 23 choose a different path. They see creativity not just as self-expression but as a way to inspire future generations. Their mission is to challenge norms, trust the process, and create with purpose.

This album is more than just a musical project — it’s a statement that true innovation arises from freedom and risk-taking. The journey has taught them more than music production — it has reinforced the importance of conviction and trusting their vision. Their work serves as a reminder that leadership is about breaking new ground and inspiring others to do the same.

WE CANNOT COMPLAIN, IF WE DON’T DO IT BETTER

for UK: please contact Rubadub

BBE, the iconic force behind the techno trance sensation, is making a powerful return with not one, but two electrifying new tracks: Hurricane and Sturm der Liebe. "Hurricane" sweeps listeners away with its nostalgic, heart-stirring melody and smooth, captivating vocals, creating a wave of emotion that’s impossible to resist. "Sturm der Liebe" is a masterfully crafted DJ tool that builds and swells, effortlessly blending ethereal, trance-like elements into an exhilarating journey of sound. With these two tracks, BBE proves once again that they are at the forefront of creating truly unforgettable, genre-defining music. On the b-side the new collaboration between At The Villa People & Fred Hush is all about techno, trance and acid influences mixed with dreamy vocal details, "Indian Summer" is a peak killer that will definitely make your dance floor explode. Not to be missed.

As most of us now live in a world saturated with information, this album feels like a reflection of how the modern world might sound if it were to process its own chaos through a unified scream. Hailing from the highlands of Bandung, West Java, a city where tradition and modernization intertwine in the rhythm of daily life, Xin Lie unpretentiously translates this cultural fusion into a sonically rich and rhythmically bold debut LP.

The artist’s roots in the hardcore and punk scenes reverberate throughout the album, though they’ve been reshaped and refined for the club. There’s an undeniable pleasure in experiencing the chaos Xin Lie channels—irregular beats, dynamic frequencies, and disjointed grooves collide and expand, each track laced with a sense of unpredictable energy. Yet even in its most chaotic moments, the music feels deliberate, its edges softened by a sense of compositional care.

The album reveals a strange duality: tracks that seem to beckon you to the dance floor but never quite let you settle there. Frequencies flicker and fluctuate in patterns that feel just slightly off-grid, as though resisting traditional structures. Yet, amidst the digital textures, Xin Lie weaves in organic sounds—snippets of native conversations or environmental noise—creating layers that feel both intimate and expansive.It’s fair to say this album extends far beyond the boundaries of today’s club music.

Picture this: you’re moving through your daily routines—mundane, repetitive—and suddenly, the music shifts your perspective. It reframes the ordinary as something surreal, as though it’s deconstructing itself in real-time, breaking into fragments or conjuring entirely new forms. Perhaps it’s best imagined as the soundtrack to a multi-sensory art installation or a performance staged not in a gallery but in an unassuming house down your street. Who’s to say where it might take you?

‘Nothing Iz Sacred’ is a statement, a collection of tracks that resist the pull of the fleeting, throwaway nature of today’s music scene. In an age where everything is often stripped down, consumed, and discarded, this 8-track LP stands as both a nudge and a reminder—a poke at the culture that surrounds it - it isn’t here to blend quietly into the background, nor to satisfy the urge for quick hits and shallow thrills.

Each track on the LP is woven with the sounds and textures Workforce has become known for, yet there’s a rawness here—a willingness to push boundaries, to blur the edges of genre and style. The LP is a blend of the familiar and the experimental, where thoughtful moments meet jagged beats, and where soulful undertones collide with darker layers. It’s a space that resists easy categorization, daring listeners to explore without expectation, to find meaning in the spaces between the sounds. This isn’t a record designed for the disposable playlists of tomorrow; it’s for those who know that music can mean more, and who understand that it is meant to live with us, to grow, and to shape the communities around it. This record isn’t about the chase for the next hit or the endless scroll; it’s for the ones who value artistry, who find culture in the smallest details, who want something real to hold onto.

‘Nothing Iz Sacred’ is brought to life with the voices and musicality of some incredible collaborators. Tyler Daley’s unmistakable warmth, Bobbie Johnson’s sharp lyricism, Tamara Blessa’s haunting soul, Leroy Horns’ textured brass, and Ed Zuccollo’s nuanced piano work all carve their own paths through the record. Together, they amplify the album's heartbeat, adding layers of richness and depth.

Unrecognisable” is a story about a city where buildings are used as weapons in a war between the government and the people. The initial chapter, “Eiffel Shard”, was published as an online graphic novel with an interactive soundtrack. It depicts a phone call between Paris Hell and Geneva Heat, two members of the resistance group Unrecognisable. During the call, Paris informs Geneva that a deadly building, The Shard, is now under the authorities’ control. What’s worse — the government also got hold of a secret building transformation plan developed by the resistance. Paris tells Geneva that the Unrecognisables decided to abandon the plan due to the number of civilian casualties it would inevitably cause. A series of intricate explosions would force the building’s glass surface to rip through the surrounding areas, destroying everything in its path and leaving only a pointed metal structure standing: an Eiffel Shard.

The second chapter, “Paris’ Dream”, was performed by Lolina as an improvised gig. Samples from the soundtrack to chapter one accompanied a video showing the protagonist sneaking into The Shard at night. The narrative continues with Paris’ anxiety dream of her time working on the Eiffel Shard project alongside another Unrecognisables member who she fears has betrayed them by handing over their dangerous plan to the government.

The third chapter is now being released as an album of new music. In a declining city, Paris and Geneva are tour guides to be followed at your own risk. Lies and petty crimes, mistrust, betrayal and, inevitably, war are the setting in which they seek to devise a plan for resistance. As members of a secret group, they hide their identities and meet after dark. Under dim lights of city streets and closed-down clubs, it’s hard to tell a dodgy detective from an eager philosophy student, friends are enemies in disguise, and it’s advised to park your car sideways for a fast getaway.

On this concept album, Lolina performs the role of both characters, her own voice often made unrecognisable by pitch-shifts and distortion. It was recorded almost exclusively on a Casio SK-200 sampling keyboard boasting 1.62 seconds total sampling time. No beat preset (total of 20) is left untouched, unchopped or unlooped. Not one of the 49 mini keys is idle. Retains samples when turned off.

Daje Funk Records is back with Vol. 4 of the legendary ‘Slam Dunk’ series of EPs, this time featuring Souldynamic - Musta - Les Inferno - Groovemasta !!!

On the A-side, the supremely talented Souldynamic kicks things off with ‘Tales From Q.J.’ - a delicious chunk of late summer grooves bathing in sun-drenched keys and strings. The rolling bassline acts as the hook, and what follows is a gloriously constructed melodic masterpiece sprinkled with heavenly vocals. Fall in love with this, you will.

A2 sees Italian maestro Musta crack open the deep reggae vibes with ’Soup’. You’ll find it hard to resist this bubbling broth of twisted, rhythmic precision bass, ‘one drop’ beats and tight, short skanking guitar riffs. With ‘Soup’, Musta demonstrates his complete understanding of this genre. Darkened room or bar sun terrace - you decide.

On the B-side, label co-owner Les Inferno spices things up several notches with the aptly titled ‘Hot Burn’. And boy, does this track sizzle. A hustling rhythm that takes over your dance nodes from the get go, Les Inferno lovingly sprinkles Latino and Afro vibes all over this searingly hot dish. It’s furious, intense and relentless - and the brass breakdown acts as the tabasco sauce. Drink water. Plenty of water.

Closing Vol. 4 out on B2 is Groovemasta with ‘That Funk’. A track that treats its funky beats and chunky bass like royalty, this 118bpm monster wastes no time in demanding ‘Gimme that funk’. And you’re gonna hand it over. The swirling, gyrating sexiness of ‘That Funk’ can’t be understated - impossible not to lose yourself in this guaranteed dance floor time bomb.

Slam Dunk Vol. 4 seriously raises the bar for this already excellent series, and has to be in any self-respecting vinyl junky’s record box. Grab it while you can!

It’s not normal to take 31 years to release a follow up album. But then Network was never a normal sort of record label, and often opted for the quirky rather than the quick buck. The logo was launched in 1990 and that year, along with a slew of startlingly good singles, created and issued two bio-rhythm compilations, each of which showcased cutting edge USA techno rubbing shoulders alongside its’ sparse UK bleep counterpart.

At the time the words quality and dance music compilations were not phrases shared that much. bio-rhythm 1 and it’s almost instant follow up bio-rhythm 2 bucked the trend with groundbreaking exclusive tracks, iconic minimal artwork and surreal sleeve notes.

Each of the albums have been hailed by many as piece de resistance primers to electronica music.

As well as capturing the zitgeist of a blurry everything of that moment experimental time, they have endured to be acclaimed as all time iconic classics. So why was there no follow up? One reason was that things were moving so bewilderingly fast at the time for Network that the emphasis was always on the next thing, not regurgitating repetitive beat ideas.

Another was that the opportunity arose to direct the acumen gained from the bio-rhythm experience at the release of two (now equally acclaimed) compilations from Frank and Karen Mendez’s cult Nu-Groove label.

The current Network reconstruction meant an opportunity to re-indulge and finally release bio-rhythm 3. Matt Anniss’s splendid sleeve notes are reproduced below and tell you all you need to know about the carefully selected (and mostly exclusive to this collection) tracks on 2 x 12 vinyl for increased sonic joy. Network. We continue.

Caiphus Semenya, AKA Mr Letta Mbulu, is a South African legend and Streams Today… Rivers Tomorrow, his second solo LP, is perfect. A ten out-of ten album if ever we heard one. It’s also incredibly rare, especially in good condition, so Be With is delighted to present this reissue.

Now a revered composer, musician, and arranger, Caiphus left apartheid South Africa in the 60s for self-imposed exile in Southern California together with his wife, Letta Mbulu. Settling in Los Angeles he started working with the likes of Hugh Masekela and Miriam Makeba and other exiled and semi-exiled South african artists, as well as, of course, his wife Letta.

Caiphus also found himself working with and composing for a broad range of jazz and pop artists, including Lou Rawls, Nina Simone and Cannonball Adderley. His facility with both jazz and African forms served him well. His LA stay also the beginning of an ongoing collaboration with Quincy Jones, the fruits of which can be tasted in Caiphus’s African compositions for the scores to Roots and Spielberg’s adaptation of The Color Purple.

Originally released in 1984, Streams Today… Rivers Tomorrow is not just a musical masterpiece, it is also the soundtrack to the life of many South Africans - both then and now. Fusing the US-heavy sounds of boogie, disco and funk with Afrobeat and traditional African elements, it’s truly a spectacular listen. Jabu Nkosi handles keyboards on the album, with synths by Caiphus and Craig Harris. Sipho Gumede is on bass and Condry Ziqubu is on guitars.

The Afro-Cuban grooves of “Mamase” open the record. Continuing where Listen To The Wind left off, this is another horn-heavy call-and-response ode to a positive life. Life as an invitation to party, to take part, to “get involved”. But only if you’re willing to let in the transcendent power of music. “There’s gonna be a Mardi Gras, there’s gonna be a carnival; there’s gonna be a jamboree, there’s gonna be a bacchanal”. Who can resist that? Vibrations everywhere.

It’s followed by the joy of “Aida”. Gleeful, dayglow keys and synths *just* on the right side of mid-80s sleaze are accompanied by a killer bassline, slick, skipping drums and proud horns. Infectious funk.

The tempo is taken down a few notches for the powerful “Nomalanga” and the lamentations of a heartbroken man who must leave his wife Nomalanga and their children to join the fight against apartheid. It’s an emotional song, no question, but it doesn’t bring you down. The uplifting music and optimistic vocal delivery from Caiphus and his backing singers in the second half offer hope.

Breezy drums and contemplative keys act as a backdrop for the stunning backing vocal harmonies in the intro of “Moshanyana”. This gives way to stuttering beats, a bassline to die for and Caiphus giving it his all, over guitars, marimba and synth strings. Another slo-mo winner.

Side two opens with “Dial Your Number”, an uptempo English-language boogie-funk workout, complete with mid-song cutaway to a random telephone call. Whether or not this propels the song into “key track” status, we’ll let you decide.

What’s not up for debate is the brilliance of “Matswale”. This was a hit in South Africa in the mid-80s and you can still hear why. It might just be our favourite Caiphus hit. Wow. This is some damn fine breezy, beautiful, emotional pop. The restrained playing, the guitar licks and the gentle keys are out of this world. The beats? Thundering, direct and slick. The singing? It’ll give you goosebumps. As for the sentiment? This is Caiphus singing to his in-laws about their daughter’s adultery, begging them to intervene and help him save his marriage. Not your typical pop single story-telling!

The ferocious “Ndi-Kulindile” closes the set with a nod to the coming sound of the States. The hard-edged, electro-influenced drum patterns and bouncing, elastic bassline are something of a departure from the album’s predominant sound, yet one wonderful constant, Caiphus’s exceptional delivery and his sparring with his backing vocalists, is satisfyingly present and warmly deployed.

With Simon Francis handling the mastering of this Be With edition, you know it sounds as fantastic as ever. The stunning sleeve has been restored, with its painting of a dream-like cosmic vista, as a lone figure takes in a scene that’s part distant planet, part urban sprawl. One listen and you’ll be transported.


Caiphus Semenya, AKA Mr Letta Mbulu, is a South African legend and Streams Today… Rivers Tomorrow, his second solo LP, is perfect. A ten out-of ten album if ever we heard one. It’s also incredibly rare, especially in good condition, so Be With is delighted to present this reissue.

Originally released in 1984, Streams Today… Rivers Tomorrow is not just a musical masterpiece, it is also the soundtrack to the life of many South Africans - both then and now. Fusing the US-heavy sounds of boogie, disco and funk with Afrobeat and traditional African elements, it’s truly a spectacular listen. Jabu Nkosi handles keyboards on the album, with synths by Caiphus and Craig Harris. Sipho Gumede is on bass and Condry Ziqubu is on guitars.

One listen and you’ll be transported.

'Electronic lullabies and folk songs from Ethiopia! A landmark recording from Ethiopia’s vibrant cassette era of the 1980s, Resonance of Time features pioneering composer Wesenyeleh Mebreku reimagining Ethiopian folk melodies through the humble circuitry of an early Casiotone keyboard.
'Historically, the works featured on Resonance of Time (የጊዜ ቃና Yegizie Kana) stand as quiet documents of Ethiopian musical memory. Many of the original songs included in this release emerged during important moments in Ethiopian history when music carried the collective emotion of the nation - love, loss, resistance, dignity, and hope. By arranging these pieces from Ethiopia’s musical heritage instrumentally, Wesenyeleh Mebreku aimed to preserve their essence while protecting them from being confined to a single era or performance style. In doing so, his preservation of Ethiopia’s musical heritage became a contribution to his country’s musical legacy itself, as Resonance of Time serves as an important musical milestone of this composer’s innovative recordings and musical developments in the prolific era of Ethiopia’s 1980s cassette tape culture.
'On Resonance of Time, Wesenyeleh made use of the first Casio electronic keyboard - the Casiotone CT-201 - to arrange and perform Ethiopian folk songs in his own unique style. Implementing the soulful, lo-fi character of the keyboard, Wesenyeleh’s interpretations of these works take on a life of their own. Charming analog tones interpret swirling sounds of organ and piano in kignit modality to the beat of a nostalgic rhythm machine while twinkling synthesizer sounds carry the melodies drifting out of time. The recordings reflect a watershed moment in Ethiopian musical history - when traditional melodies started being interpreted on electronic keyboards, and the advent of cassette tape recording allowed for music to be transmitted more accessibly than centuries-old oral traditions. During this time, Ethiopian musical modes were syncretized with new technology and budding musical experimentation, and Wesenyeleh’s interpretations on Resonance of Time are a landmark recording of this era, following in the tradition of reflecting upon and re-interpreting historical Ethiopian music for a new generation.
'Featured on the release are timeless Amharic folk songs and lullabies, Tigrinya love songs, Gurage and Oromifa popular songs, and even works closely associated with performers from Ethiopia’s 1970s popular music era such as Tiz Alegne Yetintu (ትዝ አለኝ የጥንቱ) which was famously performed by Tilahun Gessesse. Each piece, thoughtfully chosen by Wesenyeleh, is beautifully transformed into instrumental music of his own style - allowing these worlds of song to echo into the future while they are synthesized with the electronic innovations of the 1980s and Wesenyeleh’s own musical history.
'Wesenyeleh says this about his musical approach - ”Instrumental music, for me, is a space of reflection. Without words, the listener is invited to remember, imagine, and feel freely. In Resonance of Time, I hear my own musical philosophy: respect for Ethiopian kignit, careful dialogue with Western harmony, and a deep trust in melody as a storyteller.”
'Each piece performed on Resonance of Time speaks to a time when Ethiopian music was shaped by oral transmission through live performance and communal listening. In today’s fast-moving musical environment, revisiting these works is an act of cultural responsibility. These works remind us that melody once traveled slowly, settling deeply in the listener’s heart. The instrumental format allows these works to cross linguistic and generational boundaries, making them accessible to audiences who may not know the original lyrics but can still feel their spirit.
'Resonance of Time also reflects a broader historical dialogue: the meeting of tradition and adaptation. Ethiopian music has always evolved while holding onto its core identity. These arrangements affirm that evolution does not mean abandonment. Instead, it can be a form of safeguarding - ensuring that the musical wisdom of the past continues to resonate in the present and inspire the future.
'In this sense, the album is both personal and collective. It carries Wesenyeleh Mebreku’s own musical fingerprint, shaped by decades of practice, but it ultimately belongs to a wider cultural continuum. It is the artist’s contribution to keeping time audible so that memory, history, and sound may continue to speak to one another.'

Ever since the late 1950s bossa-nova revolution, Brazil’s influence on French music has been undeniable. Pierre Barouh, Georges Moustaki and a vast array of lesser known artists, all made the Musica Popular Brasileira (MPB) an axis of promotion at the service of a cool and metaphysical, modern and mixed Brazilian lifestyle. Some were seduced by the poetic languors of the bossa, some were looking for fun, and others just loved the American hybridization of jazz-bossa, jazz-samba.



What is bossa nova? One of its creators, Joao Gilberto said: "Its style, cadence, everything is samba. At the very start, we didn't call it bossa nova, we sang a little samba made up of a single note - Samba de uma nota so .... The discussion around the origins of bossa nova is therefore useless”. It is nevertheless useful to remember that these magnificent Brazilian songs, which the guitarist describes as samba, were shifted and balanced around improbable chords. "I like things that lean, the in-betweens that limp with grace," said Pierre Barrouh, quoting Jean Cocteau.



With emotion, arrangements for violin and supple guitar licks, bossa nova rapidly changed. A transformation that can be heard in the Tchic, tchic, French Bossa Nova 1963-1974 compilation, the result of a cultural reappropriation, which traveled through the United States and supplemented itself in France.

A musical revolution that has remained significant, bossa nova was born in Rio. From 1956 to 1961, Brazil lived through its golden years. In five years, the country had invented its modernist style. Elected president in 1956, Juscelino Kubitschek de Oliveira, an elegant man with a broad forehead, brandished a promising slogan: "Fifty years of progress in five years". He quickly got to work. Not worried about increasing debt, he launched the project for a new federal capital, Brasilia, designed by the communist architect Oscar Niemeyer. Volkswagen opened state-of-the-art factories and created the “fusquinha”, the Beetle. In Rio, the Vespa made its first appearance. The Arpoador Surf Club crew run into the “girl” from Ipanema, Helô Pinheiro - the tanned garota ("chick"), between a flower and mermaid, who at 17 walked by the Veloso bar, where the fiery author and composer, Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes, were getting drunk on whiskey. From then on, bossa symbolized cool.

In 1958, Joao Gilberto recorded Chega de Saudade, which the directors of Philips denied, calling it "music for fagots". The marketing director, who believed in it, secretly pressed 3000 78-inch vinyls and distributed them at schools around Rio, creating a tidal wave.

American jazzmen then took over. In particular, trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie and guitarist Charlie Byrd. In November 1962, the Brazilian Ministry of Foreign Affairs funded a "Bossa-Nova" concert at Carnegie Hall in New York, inviting the genre’s pioneers. Unprepared, the show soon turned to disaster. But the troupe was invited to the White House by Jackie Kennedy. The first lady loved "the new beat" and in particular Maria Ninguem, a song by Carlos Lyra, later covered by Brigitte Bardot.

In Brazil, the 1964 military coup quickly ended this euphoria. The destructive atmosphere that ensued pushed many Brazilian musicians to leave, if not to exile. Thus, Tom Jobim, Sergio Mendes and Joao Gilberto arrived to the United States. In New York, Joao Gilberto met saxophonist Stan Getz. At the time, he was married to the Bahianese Astrud Weinert Gilberto, who had a German father. She had never sung before, but she knew how to speak English. Getz therefore asked her to replace her husband on The Girl From Ipanema. The Getz/Gilberto record with Tom Jobim on piano, was released in March 1964. Phil Ramone, the "pope of pop" was in charge of sound.

Bossa nova arrived in Paris through the classic “guitar-voice” channel (Pierre Barouh, Baden Powell, Moustaki…) But France loved jazz and Paris had already welcomed its American contributors. All these good people were to pass through Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The cabaret l'Escale became the Mecca of Latin American sound where one could find Pierre Barrouh and his friends, such as the Camara Trio, samba-jazz aces, whose only record was published by the Saravah label. With a band strangely called Les Masques (a band that included Nicole Croisille and Pierre Vassiliu, among others), the Camara Trio recorded an interesting Brazilian Sound, including the track Il faut tenir which is present on this tasty compilation of rarities.

Other enlightened musicians can also be found on the compilation, such as Jean-Pierre Sabar (songwriter for Hardy, Auffray, Leforestier ...) and the French pop rock organist Balthazar. In 1975, Sabar recorded Aurinkoinen Musiikkimatka on a Finnish label, which featured the crazy Vai, Vai, included on this record. We are now following the footsteps of Brazilian electronic musicians such as Sergio Mendes, Eumir Deodato or Marcos Valle who created funk and disco sounds on their keyboards and synthesizers. A style that influenced Véronique Sanson when she wrote Jusqu’à la Tombée de la nuit in 1969 for Isabelle de Funès, the niece of Louis and a great friend of Michel Berger - Sanson did end up singing this track on her 1992 Sans Regret record.


The pinnacle of exoticism and travel, Sylvia Fels’ Corto Maltese includes bongos, sea mist and ocean sounds. The title was taken from Jacky Chalard’s concept album written in 1974, Je suis vivant, mais j’ai peur (I am alive, but I am scared), based on Gilbert Deflez’s science fiction novel.


However, bossa nova extended the scope of popularity. "In the 1970s, I was a fan of Sergio Mendes, Getz / Gilberto. I fell in love with this music that I knew because I had been an orchestral singer, " explained Isabelle Aubret, who in 1971 delivered a composite record of covers by the very funky Jorge Ben, Orfeu Negro, Tom Jobim, Vinicius de Morais and Jean Ferrat. "I recorded this album for Meys Records in Paris, far from Brazil, with wonderful musicians, François Raubert, Roland Vincent, Alain Goraguer...". The latter wrote the arrangements for Casa Forte, a very percussive title borrowed from Edu Lobo, one of the initiators of the bossa who spent time in California. "Jazz and bossa came together and produced very rhythmic music. I love singing, it allows me to dream, to have fun, to feel a high on stage, and these songs brought me joy, made me swing, my singing felt like a dance.”


The world tours of French singers and their desire for the tropics, often brought them to Rio with its hills, forests, caipirinhas and tanned bodies. There are surprises though, like this Iemenja (Iemenja is the goddess of the sea in the Afro-Brazilian candomblé religion). Not unlike the composer and musician Jean-Pierre Lang, based in Sao Paulo, Claire Chevalier taught Brazil to Brazil. In 1970, the singer and painter published a 45-inch vinyl, Mon mari et mes amants (My husband and my lovers), under the improbable pseudonym of Clarinha (little Claire). She was then living in Rio, with her husband, Joël Leibovitz, who founded a band called Azimuth, and who owned a record label specialized in "sambas enredos" songs for samba school parades.


For its B side, she asked Pierre Perret to come up with lyrics for a song composed by Carlos Imperial: "Oh goddess of the sea, o goddess Iemenja, I bring a white rose to adorn your long hair ..." . "Perret came to see us, and we had fun, remembers Joël Leibovitz. We wrote Lemenja for fun, we recorded it at the Havaí studio, behind the Central do Brasil the central station. Erlon Chaves, the arranger who worked with Elis Regina, joined us" adding his share of Afro-Brazilian percussions and funky brass to the mix.

There is a common misunderstanding in Franco-Brazilian history: that bossa, admittedly hedonistic, is perceived as funny, even though the poets who wrote the texts are often philosophizing on the human condition. Its French interpreters pull it towards a carnival inspired universe, far removed from its fundamental essence. Thus, Jean Constantin covered the famous Samba da minha terra, an ode to the art of samba written by the classic Bahian composer Dorival Caymmi, renaming it with the enticing title of Pas tant de tchi tchi pompon: "On your pier there is no tchi tchi / when you arch your back, you know everything is alright ”(lyrics by Gérard Calvi). This expedited bossa aims for the absurd, but retains a certain elegance.

Indeed, Jean Constantin was not an idiot, the rather large man had a huge mustache and liked fantasy, (Les pantoufles à papa, Le pacha, inspired by cha-cha-cha-cha, salsa and jazz) but he was also the lyricist of Mon manège à moi interpreted by Edith Piaf, the composer of Mon Truc en plume by Zizi Jeanmaire and the soundtrack of François Truffaut’s 400 Blows. Le Poulpe, published in 1970, from which this bossa is extract, was arranged by Jean-Claude Vannier, an accomplice of Serge Gainsbourg’s Melody Nelson. In short: "There is enough of samba / By looking at the parasol / Because my poor cabeza / Is going to die in the sun".

Even the American actress Marpessa Down, who was at the heart of the bossa nova revolution with her role as Euridyce in Marcel Camus’ film Orfeu Negro, winner of the 1959 Cannes Palme d'or, fed the clichée with Je voudrais parler au petit cuica - "Tell me how you manage to always make people want to dance / It's true, I must admit that I cannot resist your magic" - in consequence, once can hear the cuica, a little drum inherited from the Bantu.


But bossa nova had many angles. Societal, of course, pushing actresses who were symbols of women's liberation like Brigitte Bardot, Jeanne Moreau, or Sophia Loren to engage in the exercise of accelerated bossa. In February of 1963, Sophia Loren made a record in French in Rome, Je ne t'aime plus, featuring the song De jour en jour, a bossa written by two Italians, Armando Trovajoli and Tino Fornai, which was released a little later by Barclay. Bossa accompanied the 1960s, a decade of moral liberation. Ann Sorel, who interpreted La Poupée des favellas, caused a sensation with L’amour à plusieurs, a provocative song written by Frédéric Bottom and Jean-Claude Vannier. As for the actress Andrea Parisy, she displayed her bourgeois cheekiness in Marcel Carné's Les Tricheurs before interpreting Les mains qui font du bien. And Magalie Noël, the friend of Boris Vian, who sung Johnny fais-moi mal, was hired to sing Une énorme Samba, composed by Alain Goraguer (arranger to Gainsbourg, Bobby Lapointe and Jean Ferrat) with lyrics by Frédéric Botton.

But in the end, of what wood is bossa nova made of? The answer is given by Christianne Legrand, daughter of Raymond the conductor, and sister to Michel the composer: "With me, with jà" - jà means "immediately" in Portuguese. In 1972, the singer, an expert in vocal jazz and a member of the Double Six, published Le Brésil de Christianne Legrand. Two songs included on the Tchic Tchic compilation that demonstrate how bossa, jazz, funk, rock, etc. work like a swiss army knife: the music is used to denounce broken systems, or miracles, HLM et ciné roman, Cent mille poissons dans ton filet, two songs from the O Cafona soundtrack, a successful telenovela broadcast, at the time in black and white, on TV Globo. The first was adapted in French by the fighter and friend of the Legrand tribe, Agnès Varda. The second is content with a play on words, jostling them into a summer fun.



Véronique Mortaigne