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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2022 repress

Roma Zuckerman returns to with his debut EP, which emerges after 2 stand-out appearances on the label compilations in 2015 and 2016. 'That Present Terminal' blends murky textures and sinister vocals across 4 delusional tracks.Glitchy percussion and scuzzy frequencies march with intent whilst uncanny voices mumble to the beat of their own insanity. Unnerving tones test our limits whilst underlying grooves offer mild relief. 'That Present Terminal' condenses a broad sonic palette into 4 truly bizarre cuts that, once tested, are hard to put down.

"A melodic, harmony-driven slice of laid back, surfer indie-guitar." Louder Than War - "Teenage angst has paid off well, DIVES are now ready to have it all." Guitar Girl Mag - "Catchy, vigorous surf-pop." - Nothing But Hope & Passion - DIVES sind zurück! Die drei Wienerinnen präsentieren nach ihrem gefeierten Debut-Album "Teenage Years Are Over" mit dem sie in die letzten drei Jahren über 150 Shows in 13 Ländern gespielt haben ihren neuen Longplayer. Zum Herbst veröffentlichen Dora de Goederen, Viktoria Kirner und Tamara Leichtfried ihre neues Album und verlängern so ein wenig den Sommer mit einem den Soundtrack zum Draußensein, Rollschuhfahren oder Herumcruisen mit offenem Verdeck. Inklusive klugen Lyrics und Statements gegen gesellschaftlichen Bullshit, Selbstsucht und Narzissmus. DIVES sind Rock'n'Roll-Zeitreisende - spielen mal gechillten Surfpop, mal energievollen Garagerock wie aus dem 70er-Roadmovie oder der Venice Beach-Nostalgie, packen dazu aber wichtigste Messages aus dem Jetzt: gegen jegliche Diskriminierung und für Gleichberechtigung und Menschlichkeit. Klug und zugänglich, tanzbar und zeitlos. Dass man zwischenmenschliche Konflikte, Statements gegen das Patriarchat und gegen Machoattitüden in eingängige Rock'n'Roll-Songs mit Hooks und Finesse verpacken kann, haben DIVES schon in der Vergangenheit bewiesen, machen das auch nochmal eindringlich im zweiten Album "WANNA TAKE YOU THERE".

"A melodic, harmony-driven slice of laid back, surfer indie-guitar." Louder Than War - "Teenage angst has paid off well, DIVES are now ready to have it all." Guitar Girl Mag - "Catchy, vigorous surf-pop." - Nothing But Hope & Passion - DIVES sind zurück! Die drei Wienerinnen präsentieren nach ihrem gefeierten Debut-Album "Teenage Years Are Over" mit dem sie in die letzten drei Jahren über 150 Shows in 13 Ländern gespielt haben ihren neuen Longplayer. Zum Herbst veröffentlichen Dora de Goederen, Viktoria Kirner und Tamara Leichtfried ihre neues Album und verlängern so ein wenig den Sommer mit einem den Soundtrack zum Draußensein, Rollschuhfahren oder Herumcruisen mit offenem Verdeck. Inklusive klugen Lyrics und Statements gegen gesellschaftlichen Bullshit, Selbstsucht und Narzissmus. DIVES sind Rock'n'Roll-Zeitreisende - spielen mal gechillten Surfpop, mal energievollen Garagerock wie aus dem 70er-Roadmovie oder der Venice Beach-Nostalgie, packen dazu aber wichtigste Messages aus dem Jetzt: gegen jegliche Diskriminierung und für Gleichberechtigung und Menschlichkeit. Klug und zugänglich, tanzbar und zeitlos. Dass man zwischenmenschliche Konflikte, Statements gegen das Patriarchat und gegen Machoattitüden in eingängige Rock'n'Roll-Songs mit Hooks und Finesse verpacken kann, haben DIVES schon in der Vergangenheit bewiesen, machen das auch nochmal eindringlich im zweiten Album "WANNA TAKE YOU THERE".

TOWNES VAN ZANDT STUDIO SESSIONS FROM 1974 AVAILABLE ON VINYL FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER In 1974, Townes Van Zandt recorded what would have been his seventh album, ‘Seven Come Eleven’. Business issues prevented its release until the recordings surfaced two decades later as ‘The Nashville Sessions’. To commemorate the 50th anniversary of the beginning of Van Zandt’s turbulent musical career and launch of a major catalogue reissue programme, Charly has restored and re-mastered ‘The Nashville Sessions’ to present a stunning document of the folk-blues master at his absolute peak. “These are songs that tap into the timeless myth of the American troubadour, a place where wandering souls tramp the byways of their homeland...” Restored and mastered to vinyl from the original tapes provided by producer and manager Kevin Eggers. Full colour LP sleeve with original Milton Glaser portrait cover. Fully illustrated inner with detailed sleeve notes by Uncut magazine journalist Rob Hughes. Part of Charly’s 50th anniversary programme celebrating the start of Van Zandt’s career. All original Poppy and Tomato albums which Townes Van Zandt recorded at the peak of his career will be newly re- mastered, restored and lavishly repackaged and available on CD & limited edition 180g heavyweight vinyl. The death of Townes Van Zandt in 1997 at age 52 robbed the world of a troubled genius as well as one of America’s finest songwriters. His reputation and popularity has grown greater by the year inspiring books, a documentary and renewed interest from the media, passionately loyal fans and contemporaries such as Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and Emmylou Harris who have covered his songs to the upper-reaches of the American charts. “From Neil Young and Willie Nelson, Bono and Bob Dylan (who reportedly once said that Townes was “in some ways the better writer”) to Tindersticks and Mudhoney, songwriters and musicians speak of Townes with reverence.” MOJO MAGAZINE “He was the best songwriter and most riveting solo performer I’ve ever seen.” STEVE EARLE “An effortless masterclass in emotionally effecting Americana”.

The Deer have built a devoted audience for their uninhibited, cosmic indie folk the old-fashioned way: playing their hearts out, night after night. In addition to extensive headlining, they’ve shared stages with the likes of Big Thief and The Head and The Heart. Their label debut Do No Harm, released in 2019, marked a set of career breakthroughs, topping the KUTX chart and earning a nomination for the Austin Music Awards’ Album of the Year. When live music took global pause, The Deer had momentum to sort. The five musicians took the energy reserved for tour and brought it into the studio, a pressure cooker not only for creativity but newly, for existential reflection. The result is two full albums, the first of which, The Beautiful Undead, will be released September 9, 2022, on tastemaking indie Keeled Scales. It’s an uninhibited collection of cosmic indie-folk reflecting upon what it means to lose your sense of purpose. The Deer, amidst turbulent assessment, transformed a paralyzing void into an empowering surrender of ego a rollicking submission to the immense unpredictability of existing. It's a free-spirited album fueled by hard-earned revelation. The rich are getting richer, the poor are getting poorer, the planet is getting warmer, and human extinction looms likely. The Deer handle their devastated call for change with an artful subtlety, an infectious sense of play, and a projection of internal learning onto the external world. Their genius is in creating palpable, emotional urgency not with boisterousness, but fact. Throughout The Beautiful Undead, The Deer radiate an intensity fit for the times, but not at the cost of dancing. Also Available From The Deer: Do No Harm LP / CD. Track listing: SIDE A: 1. Bellwether 2. I Wouldn’t Recognize Me 3. Baby Green 4. Columns 5. Lilacs SIDE B: 6. The Lion Or The Bear 7. Six-Pointed Star 8. Golden Broken Record 9. Up I Presume 10. Bowl

The first live release from the There’s Something About Mary star, recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon Co-Produced by Beserkley Records founder Matthew King Kauffman and pop-legend and Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Famer, Kenny Laguna Available CD & LP, with an exclusive yellow colour variant for Independent Retail While the U.S. might not have caught on to the magic of Jonathan Richman, the U.K. certainly did. Recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon, ‘Live’features Jonathan and the Modern Lovers performing classics from their first two releases to an enthusiastic crowd. (The eight-minute version of “Ice Cream Man” should inform that!) The set includes the recent Top 5 single “Egyptian Reggae,” as well as tracks from the Modern Lovers’ previously releases and new tracks. Captured on tape by Beserkley founder Matthew King Kauffman and Kenny Laguna (whose rock pedigree runs from Buddah Records through Joan Jett’s biggest hits)‘Live’ is a true, time and place document of the magic that is Jonathan Richman. The performer who The Farrelly Brothers chose to include in their classic 1198 film There’s Something About Mary, rather than simple licensing his music. A pivotal release in Richman’s catalog, ‘Live’ spotlights how captivating a performer he was, and continues to be. His original releases return on CD and LP, with a unique coloured yellow vinyl variant available for independent retail His true, Beserkley catalog is available once again. The way Jonathan intended.

Completely unknown album by Salah Ragab's Cairo Jazz Band vocalist Maha, recorded in Cairo in 1979. Features productions by Hany Shenoda of Al Massrieen. Maha’s “Orkos,” originally released on cassette, is one of these standout musical diamonds that combines Jazz and Egyptian vocal traditions with Funk, Latin and Soul. Out via Habibi Funk October 10th.

Maha’s “Orkos” immediately catches your ear as a unique album. A strong and energetic voice, equally grounded in jazz as well as Egyptian vocal traditions, Maha sings over instrumentals that offer a wide palette of influences, sonically emblematic of the cultural changes that were occurring in the country. The album features rich compositions and productions by renown Egyptian musician Hany Shenoda, who’s group, Al Massrieen, Habibi Funk worked with in 2017 (the release led to sync placements in Hulu’s “Ramy” TV Series).

At the time of its release, however, the “Orkos” cassette quickly faded away among the growing number of releases populating the Egyptian musical soundscape. For more than 40 years, it sat in near obscurity before being given new life in the form of a properly licensed vinyl release. Habibi Funk and Disco Arabesquo are honored to play a part in sharing Maha’s story. Below is a bit more context around the release as well as the campaign schedule.

The arrival of the cassette brought a seismic shift in how music was produced and consumed around the world. Smaller bands and labels were able to release music without the logistical and financial barrier present in vinyl manufacturing. At the same time, in Egypt, a new crop of musicians and composers made their way into the scene, seeking to bring something fresh to what was perceived as the widely monophonic musical traditions of Egypt. Hany Shenoda, Mohamed Mounir, Magdy El Hossainy, Omar Korshid, Salah Ragab and Hamid El Shaeri are some names that come to mind. Many built their sounds combining their own musical upbringing with influences coming from the outside. The success of these projects varied widely, but for each there were numerous lesser-known bands and singers. Many of these often-short-lived projects would release their music on cassettes on tiny labels only to fade into the musical ether.

Maha’s “Orkos” album fits this category. Put out in a small run of cassettes, it’s fair to say that the singer’s sole recording outing was not a financial success when it was originally released by Egyptian label Sout El Hob in 1979. While it may not have found an engaged and open-eared audience upon its release, the first few bars of the album indicate this is a special, timeless album that transcends the musical boundaries that many artists were seeking to break through at the time.

From the funk sounds of “Law Laffeina El Ard” (Single 1, out September 1 with Pre-Order announcement); the moody, mellow sounds of “Kabl Ma Nessallem We Nemshy” (Single 2, out September 23) or “We Mesheet;” to excursions into Latin sounds in the title track “Orkos,” and disco with “Ana Gaya” (Album Focus Track, out October 10) the album is an amalgamation of genres that stands out from the immense creativity present in Egypt at the time.

We connected Maha in late 2021 and she was clearly surprised to have someone call about music she recorded more than 40 years ago. She also seemed interested in the idea in bringing her music back to people’s attention. A few weeks later we were speaking with our friend Moataz, who runs the Disco Arabesquo project and showed him this great new album we found and to our surprise he knew the album, having found a copy of it a year or two before, in Cairo. It was then obvious to team up for a collaboration for this project. You can find Moataz’s story about Maha and her music, as well as extensive interviews with Maha herself, in the booklet accompanying the release.

As always, both vinyl and CD come with an extensive booklet featuring interviews with Maha as well as unseen photos.

2022 Repress

Feel Fly is the alter ego of Daniele Tomassini: DJ and producer, composer of sound for theater and cinema, member of multiple hybrid projects, both live and studio. Based in Perugia (IT), the co-founder of the monthly party Afro Templum, has been for years an active organizer of musical and cultural events in the underground city scene. Raised between the walls of the historical and transversal Norman Club, he is currently a resident of the Tangram and Numbers parties at Perugia’s Urban Club, which led him to share the console with many important national and international artists. An avid collector of synths, keyboards and any noisy toy he can lay his hand on, after appearances on on “Roots Underground” and his own"Too Romantic” it’s now time for his first full length release “Syrius” on “Internasjonal” co-produced and mixed by Prins Thomas. “In the mystical crescendo of soft cosmic-melodic carpets and expansive Balearic pulses, Feel Fly tinges his sounds with Neo Disco, House, Synth-pop and Italo incursions. A slow pilgrimage permeated by immersive and dreamy beats that envelop you .” Prins Thomas , April 2019

Repressed !

The Rare Groove collection is an exploration of the meeting of the funk and the world music thanks to a vintage collection of 70's and 80's tracks. The African Rare Groove and the Oriental Rare Groove album welcome you to the music world of groovy from Ethiopia, Nigeria, Burkina Faso and Libya, Lebanon or Egypt...

France is the trio of Jeremie Sauvage on electric bass, Mathieu Tilly on drums and Yann Gourdon on amplified hurdy-gurdy. They play one note / one rhythm producing energetic performances reminiscent of the early collaborations between Faust and Tony Conrad. Creativly recycled influences result in intense shows with pounding overtones and repetitive pulsing rhythms. Loud straight and trance-inducing.

The pertinency of the recordings only slowly appear On Occitanie" in the mass of sound, the rhythmic repetition and the elongated drones. The hurdy-gurdy forces you deeper, highlighting points of microtonal flux, cracking open the single note, the nodding rhythm, to imply the presence of every note, every sound, inside it. The insensible evolution, lurks in a corner of noise and finally imposes itself slowly on careful listening.

The band members of France perform in various other projects: Tanz Mein Herz, Toad and Jérico, all are member of the collective La Novià, an organisation based in Haute-Loire which brings together professional musicians and is a place for reflection and experimentation around traditional and / or experimental music.

In 2009, France was invited to play in Pau, a city far south-west of France, next to spain, by the people running Pagans Musica, a like-minded traditionnal-oriented group of people, also bent on educational issues concerning the local music and dialect: Occitan and on fusioning traditional musics and rock related sounds and instruments. They had set up a show for France and their band Artus and originaly wanted to have Acid Mother's Temple join the bill. The japanese band had done versions of songs coming from their village (eg. "La Nòvia") but weren't touring near France so instead they invited Duo Ancelin Rouzier as the third act, a band both Artus and France were also very fond of.

Pagans had everything set-up for the concert to be recorded and as France had plenty of time for sound-check, they went on to record the Pau" album in the afternoon, taking a thirty seconds pause in the middle of the session so as to mark both sides of the vinyl. The Occitanie Lp is the recording of the live set later that night, with no cut and a longer, more savage performance.

• 180 GRAM AUDIOPHILE VINYL
• GATEFOLD SLEEVE
• INCLUDING INSERT WITH LINER NOTES
• FEATURING JILL SCOTT, WYCLEF JEAN, GARY BARTZ, JAMILA WOODS, KASSA OVERALL, TEEDRA MOSES A.O.
• BRAND NEW 2022 ALBUM BY GRAMMY NOMINATED
JAZZ MUSICIAN THEO CROKER
• LIMITED EDITION OF 1000 INDIVIDUALLY NUMBERED COPIES ON SOLID GOLD COLOURED VINYL

Love Quantum is the seventh studio album by Grammy Award nominee Theo Croker since his 2007 debut. The album finds Croker making his first-ever foray into the concept of love, once again inviting listeners on a genre-defying journey across time and space in discovery of the self and our shared human experience. Of the album, Croker says, “It's a love story. It's a tribute to all the different levels of love that can exist - love of a friend, love of a partner, love of a parent, love of yourself and a love of life. It's really about the journey of love, the experience of it, and how powerful that energy is for us as human beings.”

Joining Croker across the album's 11 tracks are Jill Scott, Jamila Woods, Wyclef Jean, Ego Ella May, Teedra Moses, Chris Dave, Gary Bartz, James Tillman and Kassa Overall.

Love Quantum is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on solid gold coloured vinyl. The album is housed in a gatefold sleeve and includes an insert with liner notes.

2x LTD CLEAR VINYL
Limitiertes, durchsichtiges Doppelvinyl inklusive Downloadcode!

Grammygewinner RAC veröffentlicht sein lang erwartetes neues Album auf Counter Records!

Aufgenommen in Anjos' Heimstudio in Portland und bei Sessions in L.A., finden sich auf RAC's neuem Album Kollaborationen mit u.a. Rivers Cuomo von Weezer, Vampire Weekends Rostam, MNDR, ST. Lucia, KNA und Joywave. - EGO ist Anjos ambitioniertestes, geschlossenstes und persönlichstes Werk und zeigt deutlich seine organische Weiterentwicklung als Künstler auf. Geboren und aufgewachsen in Portugal, lernte Anjos in seiner Jugend Klavier und Gitarre und spielte in lokalen Bands. Später zog er in die USA, um Musikbusiness am Greenville College in Illinois zu studieren, bevor er sich in Portland, Oregon, niederließ. Anjos gründete RAC im Schlafzimmer seines Studentenwohnheims und gewann fortan ein stetig wachsendes Publikum für sich, wodurch offizielle Remix-Aufträge für u.a. Lana del Rey, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Ellie Goulding, Foster The People, Phoenix, Imagine Dragons, Two Door Cinema Club und The Shins enstanden. Seine erste Grammy-Nominierung erhielt Anjos schon 2016 für seinen Remix von ODESZAs - Say My Name und bei den diesjährigen Verleihungen gewann er mit seinem Remix für Bob Moses' - Tearing Me Up .

Mit seinem ersten Song, - Hollywood , begann RAC 2012 eigenes Material zu veröffentlichen und unterstrich mit seinem Debütalbum - Strangers von 2014 seinen Qualitäten als Songwriter. Darauf enthalten waren die Singles - Let Go mit Kele von Bloc Party und MNDR sowie - Cheap Sunglasses mit Matthew Koma. Außerdem absolvierte er bereits gefeierte Auftritte auf den weltbekannten Festivals Coachella, Electric Zoo und Lollapalooza.

Sniffany & The Nits are a deranged, genuinely troubling punk band
from London featuring members of Joanna Gruesome, Ex-Void and
The Tubs. Their debut album, ‘The Unscratchable Itch’, is released
via PRAH Recordings.
Drawing a through line between the British post-punk of The Fall and
the new wave of insolent hardcore typified by bands like Lumpy &
The Dumpers, The Nits have developed a knack for writing unhinged
punk earworms.
But it’s Sister Sniffany, and her singular lyrical and performance style,
who elevates the band beyond the sum of their influences. Her lyrics
inhabit the same world as her “macabre, visceral” (It’s Nice That)
cartoons - a world of hidden humiliations, girl abjection, crumpled
lager cans, clam chowder and lumpy, over-stuffed dollies.
Over the course of ‘The Unscratchable Itch’, Sniffany ventriloquises a
cast of pathetic, unbalanced characters: A secretarial administer tails
her Casanova husband to a suburban swingers party: “I can smell
him from here: a mix of Vaseline, foot cream and Stella beer.” A poor
old grandmother’s glasses fog up as she chastises her
granddaughter: “You self-entitled selfish little twat! / Left me to die in a
popcorn-walled flat! / Spotty little smelly little prick! / Making your poor
grandmother sick!”
But these characters aren’t detached, impersonal creations. As
Sniffany explains: “In Sniffany & The Nits I like to exorcise and exhibit
the deeply shameful parts of myself that I see as the toxic aspects of
my own femininity.” These are confessional songs about love
addiction, jealousy, possession, self-loathing and “egg smashingfury.” Though occasionally they are literally just about Sex & The City,
red-pilled incels or grandmothers.
O Williams (drums), Max ‘Wozza’ Warren (bass) and Matt Green
(guitar) have been entrenched in the UK DIY scene for years, having
played in the aforementio ned bands, as well as countless others.
Warren also runs the influential left-field label Gob Nation - a home
for ‘egg punks’ across the country. As such, the band veer between
atonal no-wave guitar assault, straight-up hardcore, goth/anarcho or
whatever takes their fancy, while remaining identifiably Nit-like.
Always grounded by a pounding, pogo-ing rhythm section, The Nits
provide the perfect backdrop for Sister Sniffany’s wild, relentless live
performances. See them live at 2022’s End of the Road Festival.
Cream vinyl LP.

'Ella & Louis Again' pressed on limited edition 180g premium vinyl for
super fidelity and presented in a deluxe gatefold sleeve
This was the second album pairing Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong produced
by Norman Granz for his Verve label. After recording a series of duets in the late
1940s for Decca, Ella and Louis were invited by Granz in 1956 to make a series of
sessions which would result in the memorable 'Ella and Louis'. Such was the
commercial success of the LP, the formula was repeated the following year with
the making of 'Ella and Louis Again'. Like its predecessor, it received both critical
acclaim and commercial success.

On the brink of releasing his eighth album, Example is beginning a new chapter. Having spent well over a decade in the game, the UK mainstay has crafted a career drenched in accolades: Platinum albums, chart-topping singles, headline festivals slots, and a lengthy stint releasing inescapable anthems that bridge the gap between electronic, rap and pop. Still, Example isn't ready to hang up his boots just yet; rather, he's preparing for the most important release of his career.

Raised somewhere between Ministry Of Sound’s ‘The Annual’ and early music message boards, Kolya’s taste still extends from obscure tape-only releases to turn-of-the-millennium trance anthems.

As a DJ, it’s taken the South Londoner from Bugged Out! to Berlin – at home supporting Demdike Stare with coldwave, spinning runway house alongside MikeQ while a House Of Trax resident, or unleashing noughties fidget at the closing of Camden’s infamous Lock Tavern. All of which is to say, his debut EP for Ecstasy Garage Disco arrives steeped in musical history.

Recorded during lockdown, it draws on perhaps his greatest love, deep (deep, deep) house. A soaring synth work out, opener ‘Stick Together’ is a case in point, standing on the shoulders of giants like Peter Daou, but with a life-affirming exuberance all of its own. ‘Miss Honey Prancin’ In The Twilite’, meanwhile, is a tribute to Moi Rene, as well as a love letter to Project X Records in general, her vocal recast over a groove that alternates between outer space iciness and snare-rolling high drama.

On the flip, ‘Crying Over Spilt Poppers’ blends the flavour of amyl-soaked Gherkin with the emotional nuance of Nu Groove, joyous and reflective in equal measure. And ‘Jamais Vu’ signs off, its bumping kick pattern and intertwining melodic layers connecting glimmering 90s electronica and contemporary, future-facing house.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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