Buscar:du art

Founded in the late 1960s by record store owner Seidou
Adissa, Albarika Store is one of the most important
independent record labels on the African continent. That
it was founded in the relatively small ex-French colony
of Benin (then still called Dahomey), is a testament to its
founder’s musical taste and vision for what the local
musical scene had to offer.
This September, Acid Jazz releases the first ever vinyl
and CD overview of the label and its music, compiled by
David Hill of The Soul Revivers and West African
musical expert Florent Mazzoleni, who also wrote the indepth notes.
The compilation provides a look into what was a
developing and then thriving post-colonial music scene.
It focuses on the label’s biggest and most prolific act
Orchestre Poly-Rhythmo and its founder Melome
Clement – who released under a variety of names often
spotlighting on the musicians’ key to their sound. It also
looks at the other established artists on the label such
as the incendiary Les Sympathics De Porto Novo and
Les Volcans. All of these artists create a unique mix of
Westernised Funk, Soul and Latin sounds crosspollinated with the traditional music of the region.

Rapping at the window / Crying through the lock / Bells and running water / Influence on dusk.

Re-release of Blue Chemise's debut LP, which originally appeared in 2017 as a limited private release of 105 copies. BAADM make this much sought-after record available again on both physical and digital format, with remastered sound by Christophe Albertijn and updated artwork, all true to the original intentions of, and in close collaboration with, the artist.

‘Influence On Dusk’ forms an idiosyncratic cycle of fourteen mysterious, sometimes uncanny electroacoustic compositions, a personal and subdued eruption of 'melancholy of the healthy kind’, suddenly here and suddenly gone…

This is the second release on B.A.A.D.M. by the Australian artist Mark Gomes, following his equally atmospheric but more romantic 'Flower Studies' from 2021.

Al Jarreau hat immer gesagt, dass er Al Jarreau-Musik singt, und er war wirklich einzigartig: Seine sechs Grammy-Awards und neunzehn Nominierungen als "Bester Sänger" decken nicht weniger als drei Kategorien ab – Jazz, Pop und R&B – mit anderen Worten, musikalische Genres interessierten ihn nicht wirklich. "Musik mag für andere Leute in Kategorien fallen, und ich verstehe das", sagte er, "aber für mich gilt: Wenn ich einen Song mag, muss ich ihn machen, und das war's. Wenn du zu meinen Konzerten kommst, setze ich mich auf deine Schulter und flüstere dir etwas ins Ohr. Ich öffne den Geist und gehe durch viele Türen." Diese Art von reichhaltigen, beschreibenden Bildern beschwört die Höhenflüge der stimmlichen Fantasie herauf, zu denen sein Gesang jederzeit fähig war. Er konnte einen Song plötzlich in neue und unerwartete Richtungen lenken. Er erklärte es immer so: "Wenn es ein Rückgrat für das gibt, was ich tue, dann ist es die Jazz-Umgangssprache."

Musik, Klänge und Rhythmus schienen ihn zu durchströmen, und das war kein Wunder. 1940 in eine musikalische Familie geboren, war er ein überdurchschnittlicher Student und schloss sein Studium mit einem Bachelor of Science in Psychologie und anschließend einem Master in beruflicher Rehabilitation ab. Und doch war die Musik nie weit von ihm entfernt. In den späten 1960er Jahren schloss er sich einem Trio an, das vom Pianisten George Duke geleitet wurde, und arbeitete daran, das Singen zu einer Vollzeitbeschäftigung in Los Angeles zu machen.

Zu diesem Zeitpunkt hörte ihn Siggi Loch, der damals ein hochkarätiger Manager bei Warner Brothers Records (WEA) war und später ACT Records gründete. "Ich sah Al Jarreau 1974 zum ersten Mal im Troubadour in Los Angeles und war sofort von seiner Stimme und seiner Bühnenpräsenz gefesselt", erinnert er sich. "Am nächsten Tag ging ich zu Mo Ostin, dem Präsidenten der WEA, um ihn davon zu überzeugen, ihn zu unterschreiben." Nach anfänglichen Widerständen erhielt Loch grünes Licht und 1975 erschien Jarreaus Debütalbum für WEA, "We Got By". "Ich habe Al nach Deutschland gebracht, bevor er in den USA Erfolg hatte", fährt Loch fort. "Al trat drei Nächte lang in Hamburg auf und ich schaffte es, Michael Naura, den Chef der Jazzabteilung des NDR, davon zu überzeugen, den dritten Abend für die Live-TV-Übertragung aufzunehmen." Diese Show machte Al über Nacht in Deutschland berühmt, und seitdem hat er immer einen besonderen Platz in den Herzen des deutschen Publikums. "We Got By" gewann den Preis der Deutschen Schallplattenkritik und seine erste Deutschlandtournee füllte große Konzertsäle.

Es folgte "Glow" (1976), das in Europa erneut gut ankam und einen zweiten Preis der Deutschen Schallplattenkritik gewann, in den USA aber nicht so gut ankam: "Das richtete sich an ein 'Smooth Jazz'-Publikum", so Loch. "Es hat Al nicht vor einem Live-Publikum eingefangen. Also bat ich darum, dass seine nächste Veröffentlichung ein Live-Album sein sollte. Mo Ostin stimmte widerwillig zu", und "Look to the Rainbow" wurde in Europa ein Riesenerfolg, "Als es in den USA veröffentlicht wurde, wurde es Al's Durchbruchsalbum und brachte ihm seinen ersten Grammy ein, also ist es wirklich richtig zu sagen, dass seine Karriere vor allem in Deutschland begann!", sagt Loch.

Jarreaus langjährige Zusammenarbeit mit dem NDR veranlasste Jörg Achim Keller, Chefdirigent der NDR Bigband, 2016 eine Zusammenarbeit mit dem Sänger vorzuschlagen: "Eine Produktion mit der Musik von Al und Ellington zu machen, war etwas, was ich schon seit Anfang der 2000er Jahre machen wollte", erinnert er sich. "Die Reaktion von Al war von Anfang an sehr positiv." Jörg bereitete eine Liste von einigen hundert Ellington-Titeln vor, und wie sich Jarreau später erinnerte: "Wir gingen einfach die Liste durch, und es war ein Fall von 'Oh, der funktioniert für mich' und 'Lass uns das als alten Darm-Blues machen – was für mich wichtig war, war, mich in der Musik wiederzufinden und vielleicht eine andere Art von Aussage über Ellington zu machen, damit die Leute die Musik auf eine andere Art und Weise hören konnten. alles, was sie vorher gehört hatten."

Beim Schreiben der Charts achtete Jörg darauf, Jarreaus Herangehensweise an das Material zu respektieren, indem er ihm Raum ließ. Tracks wie "I'm Beginning to See the Light" oder "I Got It Bad (and that Ain't Good)" geben den Solisten der Band ebenfalls Spielraum, um ihr Bestes zu geben. "Das sind hochentwickelte, intelligente Solisten, die mit jedem auf der Welt spielen können", sagte Jarreau. "Sie pushen mich, und ich liebe den Push, und sie lassen mich wie eine echte Sängerin klingen!"

Jarreau und die Band tourten in der zweiten Hälfte des Jahres 2016 mit der Musik, "Es gab immer noch einige Feinabstimmungen während der Tour, von Konzert zu Konzert", fügte Jörg mit einem Lächeln hinzu. "Er liebte es, diese Balladen zu singen – und jede hatte ein anderes Gefühl. "Am Sonntag" war ihm aber sehr wichtig. Diese Tabelle wurde zweimal überarbeitet, bevor er schließlich damit zufrieden war! Bei einigen Songs entschied er sich für einen reinen Balladenstil – 'I Got It Bad (and that Ain't Good)', einige Melodien wurden in eine Pop/R&B-Tasche gesteckt ('Lush Life', 'Come Sunday') und er liebte das 'Old Gutbucket Blues'-Feeling von 'I Ain't Got Nothing but the Blues'."

Rückblickend auf diese Sessions und Tour sagt Jörg: "Es waren Al's Stil und Persönlichkeit, die alles zusammenhielten. Das Ganze war eine echte Kombination aus der musikalischen Meisterschaft von Jarreau und Ellington – es hat das Publikum in ganz Europa angesprochen, sie liebten das Programm." Dieses Gefühl teilt auch Siggi Loch, der Jarreau mit der NDR Bigband in Paris erwischte: "Es war offensichtlich, dass er es wirklich genoss, diese Musik aufzuführen, und er tat es mit so viel Energie und Emotion, es war eine Freude zu sehen und zu hören. Leider verstarb Al nur wenige Monate später."

In vielerlei Hinsicht schließt sich mit "Ellington" ein Kreis: Es fühlt sich sehr richtig an, dass Jarreaus letztes Album auf ACT veröffentlicht wird, dem Label, das von Siggi Loch gegründet wurde, dessen starkes und unerschütterliches Eintreten für den Sänger ihn ursprünglich auf den Weg zum Superstar brachte. Und die Tatsache, dass es vom NDR und seiner hauseigenen Bigband aufgezeichnet wurde, ist eine passende Erinnerung daran, dass es sich um eben jenen Sender handelte, dessen TV-Sendung Jarreau einst über Nacht in Deutschland berühmt gemacht hatte. Darüber hinaus wurde "Ellington", genau wie "Look to the Rainbow", das Jarreaus internationales Durchbruchsalbum war, auch live aufgenommen. Manchmal gibt es Verbindungsfäden zwischen Ereignissen, die auf den ersten Blick in keinem Zusammenhang zu stehen scheinen, und das Ergebnis erweist sich nicht nur als besonders und magisch, sondern auch bedeutungsvoll und tief berührend. Das ist hier auf jeden Fall der Fall.



Stuart Nicholson, Musikjournalist und Autor

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

We are thrilled to announce the release of "Sequoia" by Reptile on vinyl, a track that has made waves in the techno scene since its digital debut! This anthem, which has taken over dance floors and garnered support from key figures in the industry, now returns in a special edition: an exclusive vinyl release featuring the original track alongside four powerful remixes.

The remixes come from renowned artists Blasha & Allatt, JKS, Not A Headliner, and Mental Duality, each delivering their own unique take on "Sequoia." These reinterpretations bring fresh energy while maintaining the deep, driving essence that has made "Sequoia" a standout.

This release celebrates the impact "Sequoia" has had and serves as a tribute to the artists who have supported and elevated the track to new heights. Don't miss the chance to own this gem on vinyl!

The 24 songs on this double album are in some ways a completion. Together with Young Man Songs here are nearly all the songs Kerry Lee Crabbe and Daryl Runswick wrote (and Daryl sang) which are good enough to be issued. The subject matter here is wider ranging than on Young Man Songs:love songs, but also family, heroes and antiheroes, zen, celebration, nostalgia, philosophy, life and death.

Daryl Runswick writes: "I first set Kerry Lee Crabbe's words to music in 1967; for the last time in 2010. Our most prolific period was 1970-1980 during which time we had considerable success as a songwriting team, though we didn't have big hits. The pinnacle for us was when Cleo Laine recorded a whole album of our songs (One More Day: well worth looking out for on vinyl or CD). There are a number of reasons for our lack of hits: songwriting was for neither of us our main job - not 'the principal source of his revenue' as Paul Simon put it (One Trick Pony) - we did it in our spare time. Also, neither of us had any interest in being an entrepreneur, nor did we employ a manager to push the songs; also, perhaps we were snobs who disdained moneygrubbing; but perhaps the main reason was that these are art songs: art songs in the style of pop music, yes, but not aimed (other than tangentially) at the commercial market.

We'd have loved to have hits but that's not why we did it and we didn't bother overmuch flogging our wares around. Kerry and I were introduced to one another as undergraduates at Cambridge University. Kerry had written the book and lyrics for a musical (Someone is Squeaking) and I was instructed by Clive James, then President of the Footlights Club where I was Musical Director, to compose the songs. It was put on at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 1967 with Julie Covington in the lead role. Kerry directed and I was musical director, playing piano in the accompanying trio. After that summer I went down to London to be a jazz bass player while Kerry had a further year at Trinity College, Cambridge. After he came down, we got together again and continued making songs."

Robert Glasper’s holiday album In December was released last year as an Apple Music exclusive. We’re now able offer it widely available to physical retail and all DSPs!



Is there anything to be done with carols like “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and “Joy to the World” that hasn’t been done in the past 300 years? If there is, Grammy-winning pianist, composer, and producer Robert Glasper is the kind of artist to do it. “I like covering songs that people know well,” Glasper tells Apple Music. “That’s what I’ve done throughout my whole career.” It’s true: As a jazz pianist, he’s obviously learned his way around making classics his own, whether they were written by Mongo Santamaría or Kurt Cobain. But, he says, “The biggest challenge in making a holiday album was trying to do it in a way that feels festive but at the same time feels real and not corny.”



He succeeds on both fronts on In December, his holiday album that mixes classic carols with a set of originals, and which was recorded in Spatial Audio. Part of what keeps it credible is the fact that Glasper’s hiphop/R&B/jazz fusion is done on a compositional level instead of just a cosmetic one (no collages of sampled sax solos and drum loops here). The covers reveal a lot about his musical worldview: Sung by Tony winner Cynthia Erivo (The Color Purple), “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” is turned into dark, airy neo-soul, while “Joy to the World”—sung by Alex Isley—feels like a Stevie Wonder ballad. But the originals reveal even more. “The intention for this album was less about Christmas songs and more about songs that feel good during the holidays,” Glasper says. “I stayed away from thinking too much about Christmas and its traditional lingo, and concentrated on real things people go through during the holiday season.”

Duke Ellingtons Klassiker "Money Jungle", aufgenommen 1962 mit Charles Mingus am Kontrabass und Max Roach am Schlagzeug, gilt als Höhepunkt seines Schaffens, auf dem er traditionellen Jazz mit neuer Avantgarde kombinierte, ohne seinen unnachahmlichen Stil aufzugeben. Die LP erschien auf United Artists und wurde um die Jahrtausendwende von Blue Note als Remastered CD veröffentlicht. Die neue Ausgabe in der Vinyl-Story-Serie (Diggers Factory) erscheint mit einem farbenfroh illustrierten Comicheft samt Biografie von Alain Gerber (in engl. & franz. Sprache).

“Commencement/Mineral Blend” delivers a fusion of rough and ready dub-adjacent bass music compositions from the London based trio Damos Room. Also featured are eclectic remixes from artists Gonjasufi, Lewi Boome, Dome Zero, and Nudibranch residents Polyop.

The bulk of the EP came from a rare in-person collaboration at Elijah Minnelli’s loft. The Horse Militia laid belly to the ground, endlessly feeding an effects chain like a battery hen with noises from multiple contrasting sources. It was particularly hot that day and the windows were wide open, so if you listen closely you can hear the humid Selhurst skyline bleeding into the recordings. This long weekend was punctuated by visits to the local swamp and an outing to see Channel One Soundsystem.

"Commencement," the EP's inaugural offering, unfolds with a hypnotic, droning bass groove, providing the floor for a paranoid stream of consciousness.

"Mineral Blend" takes a lazier dancehall-esque approach. Littered with unloved sounds from previous sessions and repurposing the lyrics ("I want to be a vessel") from Damos Room's DR Viewings #2 release with Polyop, this track weaves in and out of consciousness without ever truly bubbling over.

Remixers Lewi Boome and Dome Zero contribute imaginative 150bpm takes on both "Commencement" and "Mineral Blend” respectively, drawing inspiration from their backgrounds in bass, techno and experimental electronic music.

Polyop's remix of "Mineral Blend" leans further into dub techno stylings, infusing a refreshing and spacious perspective that echoes their acid roots.

The LA-based artist Gonjasufi transforms "Commencement" into a foggy and mysterious rendition, using his unique production techniques to transcend the dancefloor and immerse listeners in a misty sonic landscape.

2024 Reissue

The syndicate manifests its sonic potential in full glory. Giving rise to this collection of colossal heavyweights, Sentry demonstrates its spotless record of selecting certified heavyweights for the discography once again, twenty-fold. Stepping into the ring are some of the scene's most prolific artists alongside a plethora of promising, choice newcomers.

Boasting more than an hour of supercharged sound system pressure with names like Caspa, Truth, Bukez Finezt, Nomine and Youngsta himself on the controls - the subsequent inferno proves to be an authoritative display of quality bass music, that is sure to reach roaring stacks of speakers all around the globe for years to come."

"Vintage flavours transmute into fiery low-end excursions in 'Sun Ra' as Onhell reigns with fire and brimstone and makes way for what's to come. Rolling on, Taso lays waste with dimly lit half-time flows as we enter the smoke-filled mansion of Argo's meticulously crafted 'Since Then' - a prime cut of hip-hop infused breakbeats and bass.

Abstrakt Sonance & Substance set the heater into overdrive and blunts aflame as we proceed into the shelling of 207's 'Gypsy Dub' - then promptly being crunched to bits by 'Crocodile' - encapsulating Dayzero's cold-blooded dance floor armaments. Brace yourself for battle as we step to the drums of Caspa's tribal warfare, full-frontal assault engineered for the club.

Unrestrained power surges propelling us onwards in Coltcut & Ourman's decidedly high-grade collaboration as listeners march through Khiva's haunting sound system belter 'Teeth' and a zealous dosage of Dubstep as envisioned by Truth. Led through eerie alleys and pressure-ridden environments with LSN on the buttons, the onslaught proceeds with the relentlessly driving 'R U Broke' in Mr. K's signature style.

Opus merciless injects straight fury in an auditory form in the spiked 'Lime Pickle' - Bukez Finezt keeping pace with a murderous Cembalo-ridden thug anthem, lunacy! Minimal instrumentation to its fullest effect, Sukh Knight's 'Modulate' keeps it spicy - as does the claustrophobic sub-bass chiming by Leftlow. Thanom ignites what's left of the residual air in 'Tumble It' - dangerous goods.

The subsequent time bomb armed by A:Grade & Feonix, cast into the abyss that is Nomine's space-bending 'Judas' - big speaker business. The clock strikes its final hour - Youngsta & Cimm finish off the survivors with a no-holds-barred showdown, the 'Last Judgement' executing its massive verdict.

King Pari ist ein Duo aus Los Angeles und Minneapolis, das sich vom Sound von Prince und psychedelischem Dub inspirieren lässt, um so etwas wie 'Schlafzimmer-Funk' zu kreieren - ansteckende Lo-Fi-Songs voller Emotionen und funky Grooves.

Die Mitglieder von King Pari, Joe und Cameron, spielten in verschiedenen Bands in Minneapolis, unter anderem mit einigen von Princes engsten Vertrauten.

Der erste Auftritt von King Pari war als Vorgruppe von Kamasi Washington, und Joes vorherige Band wurde von Prince persönlich eingeladen, im Paisley Park zu spielen.

Standardmäßig in mandarinfarbenem Vinyl mit Artwork von Lou Beach (Yellow Magic Orchestra, Bill Withers, Weather Report).

- Ltd. Col. LP: (Tangerine Orange Vinyl)

Anadol and Marie Klock have teamed up for a joint album, La Grande Accumulation. They met two years ago at a festival in England crowded with violent seagulls and outsider musicians. Klock being prone to barking on stage and Anadol not laughing at jokes she doesn’t find funny, they straight away had the intuition that they would meet again. And so they did, a few months later, at Anadol’s studio in Istanbul.

Today, the two Pingipung artists present the fruit of this musical friendship. La Grande Accumulation was born out of the peculiar atmosphere of the studio neighbourhood in Büyükada, an island where thousands of cats run free and humans randomly destroy things during apocalyptic times when parts of Turkey had just been turned into dust by terrible earthquakes. The French lyrics are inspired by hours of conversations, the music is consequently drenched in absurdity, overflowing with a strong urge to live and enjoy. According to the LP sticker, this album has been certified “Best handshake of 2024”, and stickers never lie.

La Grande Accumulation brings together Marie Klock's mysterious metaphors and Anadol's intriguing radiophonic psych-pop. Stretching forms beyond common sense to see how long they can resist is probably their favourite game. The result are six highly imaginative tracks that challenge the sub-3-minutes standards of Spotify pop.

Gözen Atila aka Anadol is well known to the Pingipung audience, with three solo LPs on the label. Her music follows a kind of collage logic, she interweaves countless styles, combining field and studio recordings with obscure quotation marks here and there. "I hope no one will come and explain this music to me, because it's the most beautiful music there is", says Kristoffer Cornils about her solo album Felicita.

Marie Klock is a French writer and musician who produces songs oscillating between synthpop and neo-folk, full of anarchic humour and existential dread. Her recent solo LP on Pingipung was a captivating tribute to the recently deceased poet Damien Schultz entitled Damien est vivant.

Marie Klock delivers her lyrics in song or spoken word, stream-of-consciousness musings on strange human adventures, and her rich keyboard melodies culminate in a nonchalant dialogue with the bass trombone (La Reine des Bordels). In the opulent opening piece (La Grande Accumulation), a woman is cursed to take home everything she kicks in the street; a bit later, we stumble upon a ghoul hiding in the gutter (Sirop amer), Mona Lisa loses her teeth (Sonate au Jambon) and a warthog struggles to climb the stairs of a silver tower (Sabots triviaux).

La Grande Accumulation was mixed and mastered by Jonas Romann at Chaos Compressor Club in Hamburg and cut to vinyl by Kassian Troyer at D&M in Berlin. It's an audiophile LP that invites to focus on every detail in this heap of musical ideas.

Now on our sixth release & going strong, Brooklyn Sway returns with a heady combination of local producers, further-afield figures and scene-setting interludes to get that real Bucktown mood, accompanied by bold new artwork from NYC "Grafstract" muralist Fumero.

After words of wisdom from originator David Morales, St. Xose, patron saint of afterhours, re-rubs his own entry from BKS-01 into an electro flip with a forceful but smooth strut, Nathan Nothing's ephemeral vocals vanishing in spaces between steady bass pulses and broken beats. Those looking for late-night addresses check Noha's 'Madison Street 932', where the PanickPanick! label head proves his local cred with a funky, vocal sample-driven house jam equally at home on its eponymous street corner or somewhere later, darker, and preferably inside.

Label regulars DeWinter & Emma return with 'Unity', the spoken word Spanish vocals interweaving with choppy snare patterns and a room-filling reverberating bass roar that hits paydirt when English vox and a kick hit late in its second half. C&K are local legends Connie & Karina, and while that may not be some punters' first guess for their moniker's meaning, the track is an exercise in restraint and class, jaunty house swathed in dub echoes and hand drums that positively sways when the trombone lead swings in to carry the tune.

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“

Nachdem er 2022 "The Consistent Brutal Bullshit Gong" schrieb, hat sich Nate Mendelsohn immer mehr in seiner Musikgemeinde in Brooklyn, NY, verwurzelt. Er produzierte die letzten FRANKIE COSMOS- und DOUGIE POOLE-Alben, trat bei VAGABON und SAM EVIAN auf und machte Aufnahmen mit YAEJI und LADY LAMB. Diese Erfahrungen mit abenteuerlichen Künstler*innen sind in Mendelsohns Songwriting eingeflossen und haben, zusätzlich zu seinen frühen Jahren in der Jazz- und Avantgarde-Welt, ein Album hervorgebracht, das so manchem wahrscheinlich den Kopf verdrehen wird, wenn man Alben namens "Pet Sounds", "Fantasma", "Insignificance", "Blonde" oder "XO" mag. Wie auf einigen der genannten Alben verschmilzt auch auf "Well I Asked You A Question" das Physische mit dem Synthetischen: gesampelte Orchester duellieren sich mit echten Orchestern ("Fantasy"), die gesprochenen Worte eines Roboters duettieren sich mit einem menschlichen Chor ("Around"), und Geräuschexplosionen üben sich in Soli über traditionelle Rockinstrumente ("Rachel's Getting Married"). Obwohl viele der Sounds auf dem Album erweitert und gebrochen sind, arbeitete Mendelsohn mit der vollen MARKET-Band - Stephen Becker, Natasha Bergman und Duncan Standish - zusammen, um die Songs zu entwickeln. Er wollte "musikalische Unfälle mit ausgefransten Rändern - immer noch eine Gruppe von Leuten, die in einem Raum sind und Songs spielen". Neben der Kernband leisteten Katie von Schleicher, Mike Haldeman (MOSES SUMNEY, ALTO PALO), Justin Felton (L'RAIN, BIG THIEF), Rose Droll (FEIST, ART FEYNMAN) und Helen Newby mit der Technik von Adam Hirsch (Sam Amidon, Stephen Steinbrink) weltumspannende Beiträge.

Collapsing new rhythms and industrial visions meet restless melodic vocals on Gateway, the debut album from San Francisco duo YANTRA on Swiss label Subject To Restrictions Discs. This isn’t dance music, but you will dance to it. It isn’t ritual music, but it will channel spirits.

The dreamer is still asleep. She awakens to heed the call. Curious downtempo drums, spartan and potent, animate the body. Running through the city, shadows dance on walls, and alluring voices, whispered, sung, and soaring, possess the mind. At the end of the path, gazing at the mirror’s edge, she finds the source of the voice—and realizes it’s her own.

YANTRA are artist-producer Yaniv de Ridder, also known by the alias YNV, and lyricist-vocalist-instrumentalist Janina Angel Bath. The pair have worked together for some time, beginning with YNV’s 2021 LP Golden Hour Ritual. On Western Paradox, a YNV EP released last year on Subject To Restrictions Discs, Bath contributed vocals—and so YANTRA, the project and the concept, was born. Working together, the pair craft new forms of transcendent sound, timeless and familiar all at once

SYML—Welsh for “simple”—makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Brian Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. This May marked the fifth anniversary of his self-titled debut album, which included the platinum-selling song “Where’s My Love” and the Gold Record fan favorite, “Girl,” and one year since his sophomore album, The Day My Father Died, which was recorded and produced with fellow Seattle-native Phil Ek (Band of Horses, Father John Misty, Fleet Foxes) and features Elbow’s Guy Garvey, Lucius, Sara Watkins of Nickel Creek, and Charlotte Lawrence. In the last year, he was also featured on Lana Del Rey’s song, “Paris, TX,” from her Grammy-nominated album Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd, and realized several other notable collaborations including UK-electronic artist George Fitzgerald, Latin Grammy-nominated Colombian artist Elsa Y Elmar. In February 2024, he launched his imprint, FIN. Recordings, a new venture in collaboration with his label, Nettwerk Music Group, and management team, Good Harbor Music. Says Fennell about Infinity, “Sometimes, songs are wandering souls with no home, and it’s not until enough of them are written that the home is realized. I have a proud obsession with all things apocalyptic and the doom and wonder of an ever-expanding universe. This group of songs is an ode to the absurdity of human existence and my fondness for it. My inspirations were very cinematic ranging from big blaring soundscapes to more gentle, dusty settings like Ennio Morricone was so gifted in painting. I am fascinated by what humans are capable of, especially the stories we tell ourselves to explain our world and the space around it. Importantly, I am thankful for the creative space to make art without rules or expectation.

What if Japanese city pop met no wave? Neither in your wildest dream such occurrence could be real, but let’s make things clear. Frank Chickens could have been possibly forerunners for several famous alternative bands, Cibo Matto on top of all, but sure had a development on their own. Our history began in London, early eighties, art duo Frank Chickens is the original creation of Japanese performers Kazuko Hohki and Kazumi Taguchi. All of a sudden the band debuts with a pair of singles and a full length on Kaz Records, it’s 1984, but could have been easily 1994. Backed by the likes of Steve Beresford (Alterations, The Slits, General Strike, London Improvisers Orchestra), Annie Whitehead (Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Robert Wyatt), Lol Coxhill, Tony Coe and Clive Bell (the top of the cream of the English avantgarde) the band soon became a case in history. Now we have the pleasure – 37 years after its original release – to reissue their second album: Get Chickenized!

The record came out in 1987 on the british label Flying Lecords and showed a different side of the project, with a major focus on the so-called synth wave counterculture, still maintaining a certain avant feel. With original conspirator Steve Beresford still on board, the band was propelled in the studio by another key figure of the London underground: journalist, composer and producer David Toop. Being John Peel’s favorite for a while, the band built a cult following retaining some absurd live performances, well known for their idiosyncratic choreography. Later revamped in the year 2000 - thanks to cult label Ninja Tune – the band enjoyed a second wave of success, with a remix album featuring the likes of Pizzicato 5, Fink and Neotropic. With a cover embellished by the labor of Pere Ubu David Thomas, this second influential album is finally available for your listening pleasure. Here’s your chance to dive deep into this exotic pop extravaganza.

Alan-Parsons-Fans dürfen sich 2021 gleich über zwei besondere Reissues freuen: Der britische Musiker, Tontechniker und Produzent legt seine Alben »On Air« und »The Time Machine« noch einmal auf, und zwar auf CD und LP. Die beiden Vinyl-Versionen kommen auf Translucent Blue Vinyl bzw. Transparant Vinyl, sind nummeriert und auf jeweils 1500 Exemplare limitiert.

»The Time Machine« erschien 1999 und ist das dritte Soloalbum von Alan Parsons. Es handelt von Zeitreisen und von der Erinnerung an die Vergangenheit.

Der Gesang auf dem Konzeptalbum stammt unter anderem von Tony Hadley (Spandau Ballet), Colin Blunstone, Maire Brennan (Clannad), Beverly Craven und Neil Lockwood (ELO).

»The Time Machine« klingt wie eine Kombination aus dem Alan Parsons Project der 1970er-Jahre mit einer Prise Pink Floyd und ist ein Klangerlebnis, das Fans von Parsons, New Age und Electronica begeistern wird.

Das Album beginnt mit dem Instrumental »The Time Machine (Part 1)«, geschrieben von Cockney-Rebel-Schlagzeuger/Komponist Stuart Elliott (später Al Stewart und Kate Bush u. a.), das der Art und Weise ähnelt, wie das Project sein Album zu eröffnen pflegte. Es gibt den sanften Song »Out Of The Blue«, mit Leadgesang von Tony Hadley von Spandau Ballet. »Ignorance Is Bliss« ist einer der schönsten Songs mit dem Gesang des ehemaligen Zombies-Leadsängers Colin Blunstone.