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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."

=

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.

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”.

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.

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.

Sacred Bones celebrates its 15th year label anniversary with this pink vinyl repress of the critically acclaimed The Turning Wheel. "It's weird to think that every classic album was new once; that even Purple Rain had a release date. As hyperbolic as the sentiment may seem, taking The Turning Wheel for it's inaugural spin for the first time gave me the distrinct feeling of hearing a record that it's impossible to imagine the world without." - The Wire

“Rob wanted the world of The Northman to feel harsh and uncomfortable, and for everything to feel like it was caked in mud and dry blood, so it was crucial for the score to mirror that.” Composers Robin Carolan (Tri-Angle Records) and Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel) were given a task of epic proportions when director Rob Eggers (The VVitch, The Lighthouse) asked them to create the score for his ambitious and highly anticipated new film The Northman, releasing on April 22nd. They needed to make a score that both honored the immense research that had gone into the authenticity of this Viking era period piece and complimented the cinematic maximalism of the film for a modern audience. The artists stretched themselves to the depths of their creativity and the resulting album is a gorgeous sonic tableaux that places the listener right in the center of the film.

While arranging the score the composers consulted musician and ethnographer Poul Høxbro for inspiration and insight into the history of Viking music. Having backgrounds in left field electronic music, Robin and Sebastian felt liberated by the constraint of using a small selection of musical tools for this piece. “Electronic music has almost limitless potential when it comes to making sounds and that’s obviously an incredible thing, but you can also go down the wormhole and get lost in it sometimes. There’s no risk of that happening when you only have a few primary instruments to draw upon.” Robin remarked.

They utilized traditional instruments such as the tagelharpa, langspil, kravik lyre, and säckpip to build the cinematic world of The Northman but they also took creative freedoms in adding instruments likes drums, which some academics believe wouldn’t have played a big part in Viking musical culture, simply due to the lack of archaeological evidence of actual drums. “One of the pieces we wrote was intended to emulate the sound of a bullroarer; an ancient instrument used in sacred rituals or in battle to intimidate enemies. It makes a really disorienting roaring vibrato sound and low frequencies capable of traveling insane distances.” Robin says when asked about one of the more unique aspects of the score. Everyone involved put so much effort into both their research and their creativity and this richness is evident in every track. The album as a whole is a cinematic masterpiece of sound and ambiance, both gorgeous and disturbing, like the film it so beautifully accompanies.

“Rob wanted the world of The Northman to feel harsh and uncomfortable, and for everything to feel like it was caked in mud and dry blood, so it was crucial for the score to mirror that.” Composers Robin Carolan (Tri-Angle Records) and Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel) were given a task of epic proportions when director Rob Eggers (The VVitch, The Lighthouse) asked them to create the score for his ambitious and highly anticipated new film The Northman, releasing on April 22nd. They needed to make a score that both honored the immense research that had gone into the authenticity of this Viking era period piece and complimented the cinematic maximalism of the film for a modern audience. The artists stretched themselves to the depths of their creativity and the resulting album is a gorgeous sonic tableaux that places the listener right in the center of the film.

While arranging the score the composers consulted musician and ethnographer Poul Høxbro for inspiration and insight into the history of Viking music. Having backgrounds in left field electronic music, Robin and Sebastian felt liberated by the constraint of using a small selection of musical tools for this piece. “Electronic music has almost limitless potential when it comes to making sounds and that’s obviously an incredible thing, but you can also go down the wormhole and get lost in it sometimes. There’s no risk of that happening when you only have a few primary instruments to draw upon.” Robin remarked.

They utilized traditional instruments such as the tagelharpa, langspil, kravik lyre, and säckpip to build the cinematic world of The Northman but they also took creative freedoms in adding instruments likes drums, which some academics believe wouldn’t have played a big part in Viking musical culture, simply due to the lack of archaeological evidence of actual drums. “One of the pieces we wrote was intended to emulate the sound of a bullroarer; an ancient instrument used in sacred rituals or in battle to intimidate enemies. It makes a really disorienting roaring vibrato sound and low frequencies capable of traveling insane distances.” Robin says when asked about one of the more unique aspects of the score. Everyone involved put so much effort into both their research and their creativity and this richness is evident in every track. The album as a whole is a cinematic masterpiece of sound and ambiance, both gorgeous and disturbing, like the film it so beautifully accompanies.

Arguably among top ten best metal albums of 2015, no one member in Veil of Maya’s roster is overshadowed in this new direction. This time around, the entire band’s talent is showcased more evenly than in previous albums. Graduating from six string baritones to sevens and upping the ante with recently acquired vocalist Lukas Magyar, Veil of Maya’s Matriarch delivers a little less flash while still holding on to the thrashy-ness that fans have grown to love.

Though Magyar’s high screams, low growls, and clear vibrato are brought to the table on a glorious china plate encased in a catchy melody sandwich, the introduction of the first clean vocals since the band’s inception isn’t the most notable change from previous vocalist Brandon Butler, who left the band during Matriarch’s inception due to “creative differences.”

While Veil of Maya has always included little easter eggs in their track titles, such as the Game of Thrones headnod “Winter Is Coming Soon” from their 2012 album Eclipse, Martiarch goes further by being their first album to follow a female inspired theme. Guitarist Marc Okubo fit the album’s concept around strong female characters from different fictional genres. Limited vinyl version available on purple and baby blue vinyl with black splatter

BLACK Vinyl + DOWNLOAD
Emerging as one of the most vital producers from South America to Europe, Filmmaker is back on Veyl with the new album, Fictional Portrayals. Recorded in his home country in Envigado, Colombia, the
release delivers 8 tracks of raw, body pursuits proving yet again that he remains at the forefront of EBM, industrial, wave and beyond. While always carrying the producer’s soundtrack influenced sound, the LP kicks offwith the haunting 'All About That Pyramid' moving next to the title track’s driving energy while then shifting to the more cerebral programming of 'Possession' ft. Bad Faith Actor.
Things are just picking up with club decimators like 'Splitter' and 'Immune to Propaganda' while also switching moods with the more sinister 'Orphic Eggs' and the mesmerizing 'Continuity'. Rounding out
the release is the cold, emotional ride of 'Far From Prospect', leaving us with a sense of dread while simultaneously questioning just what is fact and what is fiction - something we never quite know in today’s multi-dimensional existence.

Limited to 500 copies worldwide.


Heavy as f-ck and deep as hell, this devastating split album gleefully corrupts and corrodes Dub’s sunshine reflections. Celebrating rhythm & noise in its dank echo chamber, these demolition dub tracks are built from obsessive studies in distortion, overdrive and seriously ruff textures, amongst an absolutely insane amount of sub-bass level.

‘Disintegration Dubs’ is a three way low end collision, between G36 (The Bug aka Kevin Martin/Gorgonn’s rig torturing beat project) and JK Flesh (Justin Broadrick of Godflesh/Jesu etc…). As the album title suggests, this instrumental pile up of floor crawling, sound system crushers, is a clearer sign than ever, that these three producers crave their dub cuts to be mutant and heavyweight, totally damaged and completely atomised. Dub as sonic obliteration

Anyone previously smitten by Techno Animal’s deeply psychedelic face off with Porter Ricks, on the long out of print ’Symbiotics’, or who worshipped Zonal’s recent rhythmic wreckage via Relapse records, will surely gorge greedily on Disintegration Dubs’. Likewise, newbies, who have snapped up this year’s ‘Fire’ by The Bug or ‘New flesh in dub’ by Godflesh, will find endless pleasure within these dread-tech, annihilated dubs and Industrial strength steppas rhythms. Echoes of Basic Channel, early Iration Steppas, Public Image Limited or even Andy Stott can be heard within this collection’s haunted atmospherics and bulldozing rumble. Yet, these three individual producers have obviously found their own recognisably original sound, within these monolithic grooves, and what makes this album so utterly refreshing, is just how well the three disparate sound manipulators complement each other fully, as they collectively set their sights on some shared, relentlessly futuristic sci-fi vision, for a new form of dub.

Obviously, Martin as The Bug, and Broadrick with his colossal dubs of Godflesh and his filthy back catalogue of JK Flesh releases, have both long since subscribed to the genre, aesthetic and fragmentation of Dub. Meanwhile relative newcomer, Gorgonn, is The Bug’s long time, live soundman, and former bandmate with DJ Scotch Egg in Devil Man, as well as having formed Dokkebi Q with Kiki Hitomi (ex-King Midas Sound), so he is no stranger to the art of deviant dubs either…

G36 dropped their appropriately titled debut EP ’Floor Weapons’, in 2018, on PRESSURE, as well as providing the backing riddim for the first ever release from Jamaican MC phenomena Nazamba, with his startling debut, ’Vexed’. Alternately, Justin has previously released seven albums solo, as JK Flesh, that systematically contorted, distorted and completely bastardised techno for labels such as Hospital Productions, Downwards and Speedy J’s Electric Deluxe… (Next year will also see a full JK Flesh album on PRESSURE too…!)

This album is Mastered by Stefan Betke aka POLE, at Scape Mastering.

Hanoi Rocks legend Jan Stenfors aka Nasty Suicide makes a triumphant comeback with a brand-new studio album. With his new band, aptly named Stenfors, the man shows and proves his creative prowess are at their peak. Family Album isa long-player filled with timeless classic and blues rock, with catchy hooks and top-notch musicianship. This is a true gem for all for all fans of Hanoi and rock n’ roll.

Eighteen sacred psychedelic suppositories from the laboratory of mad scientist and scalpel-happy pop mutilator Jean-Pierre Massiera. Includes
the rarest and most sought after fuzz funk, spooked surf and
interplanetary prog from ‘The French Joe Meek’ and all his schizoid splitpersonalities and freakish friends - The Maledictus Sound, Chico
Magnetic Band, Visitors, Human Egg, The Pirhana Sound and Jesus
himself.

 Let Finders Keepers introduce you to some old friends of theirs - Charlie Mike Sierra, Jean-Pierre Areisam, JPM and Co. Erik, The Horrific Child, Jesus, Les Maledictus Sound, Human Egg... This might sound like they’re flicking through the imaginary LP racks in the record shop from ‘A Clockwork Orange’ or perhaps congratulating the runners up in a
Halloween fancy dress competition but for the previously uninitiated you
have just been ordained into the congregation of the many split
personalities of one Mr. Jean-Pierre Bernard Massiera. Bow down to the
nine-headed monster as he mutates and shape-shifts back through time
to his humble beginnings in a Buenos Aires province ravaging and
pillaging the music of the European people for his own twisted
benediction along the way.

 This might, as intended, sound a little bit dramatic but if there is one
single ingredient that gives the eccentric Jean-Pierre Massiera his
distinct flavour it’s a large dollop of drama. Add sprinklings of
schizophrenia, shock, myth and macabre and you are on the way to a Bmovie broth with an acquired taste that has, like all the best cheese,
taken over thirty years to mature to perfection. Like all the best monsters,
his split personality is the key to his infamy and the secret of his blood
sucking success.

 This is why Jean-Pierre Massiera is (un)commonly known for two key
periods in his career which, like a worm, can be split down the middle to
thrive and flourish independently. To cut a long story short, Massiera is,
above all, a lover and purveyor of musique fantastique, and is willing and
able to hijack whichever stylistic vehicle that passes him buy in order to
do feed his lust. In the earlier part of his career he honed his sordid craft
amongst psychedelic circles in Nice and Quebec. From late 1972
onwards he moved to Antibes and started a disco revolution and
became an in demand cosmic record producer. For years, prog rock
obsessives and disco aficionados have wondered if there was two
unrelated freak merchants called Jean-Pierre Massiera but, in this rare
instance, exploito-maniacs from both sides of the cosmic coin are united
by the work of this singular, single-handed monstrous music
manufactory.

 Remastered and available once again on deluxe black vinyl since the
initial Finders Keepers limited edition 2009 pressing

The trance blues stylings of Otha Turner and his Rising
Star Fife And Drum Band should be a music classification
unto itself, a whole new primitive take on drum and
bass. This music is the oldest still-practiced post-colonial
American music, and Turner was one of its greatest artists
of the 20th century. Blowing the cane fife with a band
of drummers as back up, The Rising Star Fife And Drum
band was legendary in the hills of Tate County, Mississippi,
where they would perform during the yearly goat picnics
on Turner’s farm. These tracks were recorded by Luther
Dickinson during such picnics and released when Turner
was ninety years old. Everybody Hollerin’ Goat shows
first hand the hypnotic and rhythmic style of fife and drum
music at its best—raw and beautiful.
It is every bit as essential a document of America’s folkmusic
heritage as anything Harry Smith or Alan Lomax ever
offered up for posterity. Turner’s band included some of his
children and grandchildren that have gone on to continue
the fife and drum tradition since his death in 2003.
This first ever vinyl release of Everybody Hollerin’ Goat
contains a whole side of unreleased recordings from one
night of the picnic and is intended to bring the experience
of hollerin’ for goat in Senatobia, Mississippi to the living
room. Dancing around the plants is recommended (but
don’t eat the pickled eggs). The entire album is remastered
by legend Gary Hobish.

“Still Lives” is the third solo full length by the Finnish composer Marja Ahti, following a pair of releases on the Hallow Ground imprint. As a collection, it may be seen as a series of studies on the liminality of the listening act and an investigation into the physicality of sound. Ahti forges vivid electroacoustic environments from field recordings, analog synthesizers, acoustic feedback, magnetic tape and digital processing, resulting in a set of articulate, prickly, and surprising compositions. In the artist’s words, “These pieces could be conceived of as vanitas paintings of a kind – selections of mundane or archetypal objects, sounds that have their own distinct qualities, but exist only by virtue of being temporary events. From another angle, one could think of them as shrines – objects assembled and set in a particular relationship to each other, charging each other in their given constellations.” Marja Ahti (b. 1981) is a musician and composer based in Turku, Finland. Originally from Sweden, Ahti has been a part of the Finnish experimental music scene for more than ten years in different constellations. She is currently active in the duo Ahti & Ahti with her partner and as a member of the Himera artist/organizer collective.

"Rob wollte, dass sich die Welt von The Northman rau und ungemütlich anfühlt, als wäre es mit Schlamm und getrocknetem Blut bedeckt, also war es wichtig, dass die Musik dies widerspiegelt." Die Komponisten Robin Carolan (Tri-Angle Records) und Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel) wurden vor eine Aufgabe epischen Ausmaßes gestellt, als Regisseur Rob Eggers (The VVitch, The Lighthouse) sie bat, die Filmmusik für seinen ehrgeizigen Film The Northman zu schreiben. Sie mussten eine Filmmusik schaffen, die sowohl die immensen Recherchen zur Authentizität dieses historischen Stücks aus der Wikingerzeit würdigte; als auch den filmischen Maximalismus des Films für ein modernes Publikum ergänzte. Die Künstler gingen bis an die Grenzen ihrer Kreativität und das Ergebnis ist ein wunderschönes Klangbild, das den Hörer mitten in den Film versetzt. Beim Arrangieren der Partitur zogen die Komponisten den Musiker und Ethnographen Poul Hoxbro zu Rate, um sich inspirieren zu lassen und einen Einblick in die Geschichte der Wikingermusik zu erhalten. Da Robin und Sebastian aus dem Bereich der elektronischen Musik kommen, waren sie keinerlei Beschränkung auf eine kleine Auswahl von Musikinstrumenten unterworfen, nutzten diese aber als Ausgangsbasis. "Elektronische Musik hat ein fast grenzenloses Potenzial, wenn es darum geht, Klänge zu erzeugen, und das ist natürlich eine unglaubliche Sache, aber man kann auch in ein Wurmloch geraten und sich darin manchmal verlieren. Diese Gefahr besteht nicht, wenn man nur ein paar Hauptinstrumente hat, auf die man zurückgreifen kann" so Robin Carolan. Sie benutzten traditionelle Instrumente wie die Tagelharpa, die Langspil, die Kravik-Lyra und die Säckpip, um die filmische Welt von The Northman zu erschaffen, aber sie nahmen sich auch kreative Freiheiten, indem sie Instrumente wie Trommeln hinzufügten, von denen einige Wissenschaftler glauben, dass sie in der Musikkultur der Wikinger keine große Rolle gespielt hätten, einfach weil es keine archäologischen Beweise für echte Trommeln gibt. "Eines der Stücke sollte den Klang eines Bullroarers nachahmen; ein uraltes Instrument, das in heiligen Ritualen oder in der Schlacht zur Einschüchterung von Feinden eingesetzt wird. Es erzeugt einen wirklich verwirrenden, röhrenden Vibrato-Sound und tiefe Frequenzen, die wahnsinnige Entfernungen zurücklegen können." sagt Robin auf die Frage nach einem der einzigartigeren Aspekte der Partitur. Alle Beteiligten haben so viel Mühe in ihre Recherchen und ihre Kreativität gesteckt, und dieser Reichtum ist in jedem Stück offensichtlich. Das Album als Ganzes ist ein cineastisches Meisterwerk aus Klang und Atmosphäre, wunderschön und verstörend zugleich, genau wie der Film, den es so wunderbar begleitet.

"Rob wollte, dass sich die Welt von The Northman rau und ungemütlich anfühlt, als wäre es mit Schlamm und getrocknetem Blut bedeckt, also war es wichtig, dass die Musik dies widerspiegelt." Die Komponisten Robin Carolan (Tri-Angle Records) und Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel) wurden vor eine Aufgabe epischen Ausmaßes gestellt, als Regisseur Rob Eggers (The VVitch, The Lighthouse) sie bat, die Filmmusik für seinen ehrgeizigen Film The Northman zu schreiben. Sie mussten eine Filmmusik schaffen, die sowohl die immensen Recherchen zur Authentizität dieses historischen Stücks aus der Wikingerzeit würdigte; als auch den filmischen Maximalismus des Films für ein modernes Publikum ergänzte. Die Künstler gingen bis an die Grenzen ihrer Kreativität und das Ergebnis ist ein wunderschönes Klangbild, das den Hörer mitten in den Film versetzt. Beim Arrangieren der Partitur zogen die Komponisten den Musiker und Ethnographen Poul Hoxbro zu Rate, um sich inspirieren zu lassen und einen Einblick in die Geschichte der Wikingermusik zu erhalten. Da Robin und Sebastian aus dem Bereich der elektronischen Musik kommen, waren sie keinerlei Beschränkung auf eine kleine Auswahl von Musikinstrumenten unterworfen, nutzten diese aber als Ausgangsbasis. "Elektronische Musik hat ein fast grenzenloses Potenzial, wenn es darum geht, Klänge zu erzeugen, und das ist natürlich eine unglaubliche Sache, aber man kann auch in ein Wurmloch geraten und sich darin manchmal verlieren. Diese Gefahr besteht nicht, wenn man nur ein paar Hauptinstrumente hat, auf die man zurückgreifen kann" so Robin Carolan. Sie benutzten traditionelle Instrumente wie die Tagelharpa, die Langspil, die Kravik-Lyra und die Säckpip, um die filmische Welt von The Northman zu erschaffen, aber sie nahmen sich auch kreative Freiheiten, indem sie Instrumente wie Trommeln hinzufügten, von denen einige Wissenschaftler glauben, dass sie in der Musikkultur der Wikinger keine große Rolle gespielt hätten, einfach weil es keine archäologischen Beweise für echte Trommeln gibt. "Eines der Stücke sollte den Klang eines Bullroarers nachahmen; ein uraltes Instrument, das in heiligen Ritualen oder in der Schlacht zur Einschüchterung von Feinden eingesetzt wird. Es erzeugt einen wirklich verwirrenden, röhrenden Vibrato-Sound und tiefe Frequenzen, die wahnsinnige Entfernungen zurücklegen können." sagt Robin auf die Frage nach einem der einzigartigeren Aspekte der Partitur. Alle Beteiligten haben so viel Mühe in ihre Recherchen und ihre Kreativität gesteckt, und dieser Reichtum ist in jedem Stück offensichtlich. Das Album als Ganzes ist ein cineastisches Meisterwerk aus Klang und Atmosphäre, wunderschön und verstörend zugleich, genau wie der Film, den es so wunderbar begleitet.

"Rob wollte, dass sich die Welt von The Northman rau und ungemütlich anfühlt, als wäre es mit Schlamm und getrocknetem Blut bedeckt, also war es wichtig, dass die Musik dies widerspiegelt." Die Komponisten Robin Carolan (Tri-Angle Records) und Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel) wurden vor eine Aufgabe epischen Ausmaßes gestellt, als Regisseur Rob Eggers (The VVitch, The Lighthouse) sie bat, die Filmmusik für seinen ehrgeizigen Film The Northman zu schreiben. Sie mussten eine Filmmusik schaffen, die sowohl die immensen Recherchen zur Authentizität dieses historischen Stücks aus der Wikingerzeit würdigte; als auch den filmischen Maximalismus des Films für ein modernes Publikum ergänzte. Die Künstler gingen bis an die Grenzen ihrer Kreativität und das Ergebnis ist ein wunderschönes Klangbild, das den Hörer mitten in den Film versetzt. Beim Arrangieren der Partitur zogen die Komponisten den Musiker und Ethnographen Poul Hoxbro zu Rate, um sich inspirieren zu lassen und einen Einblick in die Geschichte der Wikingermusik zu erhalten. Da Robin und Sebastian aus dem Bereich der elektronischen Musik kommen, waren sie keinerlei Beschränkung auf eine kleine Auswahl von Musikinstrumenten unterworfen, nutzten diese aber als Ausgangsbasis. "Elektronische Musik hat ein fast grenzenloses Potenzial, wenn es darum geht, Klänge zu erzeugen, und das ist natürlich eine unglaubliche Sache, aber man kann auch in ein Wurmloch geraten und sich darin manchmal verlieren. Diese Gefahr besteht nicht, wenn man nur ein paar Hauptinstrumente hat, auf die man zurückgreifen kann" so Robin Carolan. Sie benutzten traditionelle Instrumente wie die Tagelharpa, die Langspil, die Kravik-Lyra und die Säckpip, um die filmische Welt von The Northman zu erschaffen, aber sie nahmen sich auch kreative Freiheiten, indem sie Instrumente wie Trommeln hinzufügten, von denen einige Wissenschaftler glauben, dass sie in der Musikkultur der Wikinger keine große Rolle gespielt hätten, einfach weil es keine archäologischen Beweise für echte Trommeln gibt. "Eines der Stücke sollte den Klang eines Bullroarers nachahmen; ein uraltes Instrument, das in heiligen Ritualen oder in der Schlacht zur Einschüchterung von Feinden eingesetzt wird. Es erzeugt einen wirklich verwirrenden, röhrenden Vibrato-Sound und tiefe Frequenzen, die wahnsinnige Entfernungen zurücklegen können." sagt Robin auf die Frage nach einem der einzigartigeren Aspekte der Partitur. Alle Beteiligten haben so viel Mühe in ihre Recherchen und ihre Kreativität gesteckt, und dieser Reichtum ist in jedem Stück offensichtlich. Das Album als Ganzes ist ein cineastisches Meisterwerk aus Klang und Atmosphäre, wunderschön und verstörend zugleich, genau wie der Film, den es so wunderbar begleitet.

Cardiff alternative rock duo James and the Cold Gun are pleased to announce the details of their debut EP False Start, set for release on April 29th 2022 through Gallows' label Venn Records and Seattle-based label Loosegroove Records, owned by Stone Gossard (Pearl Jam) & Regan Hagar (Malfunkshun, Brad, Satchel). False Start is available to digitally pre-order now, with a vinyl release scheduled for the summer: https://orcd.co/falsestartep Speaking of the new partnership between the band and Loosegroove Records, the influential indie label that was founded back in 1994, which has issued records from acts such as Critters Buggin, Malfunkshun, Weapon of Choice and Devilhead, and was the launching point for Queens of the Stone Age’s debut album in 1998, Stone Gossard said: “I heard James and The Cold Gun’s ‘Long Way Home’ on KEXP last year and thought this band fricken rocks! Who are these upstarts?! "This new track, ‘It's Mutual’ takes it to another level. Totally unhinged and letting it all hang out. Loosegroove Records is thrilled to be working with James and the Cold Gun on this new EP with a future full-length coming soon.” On 'It's Mutual', James Joseph said: "It's a song that embodies the feeling that you get when you hit a stalemate in a relationship, that feeling when you're both sat together but neither person is able to speak. We've all had those awkward silent car journeys where there has been an argument or something isn't right but we can't even chat about it. Next time you have an awkward car journey, grab the aux and chuck some Cold Gun on." James Biss adds, "We wrote these songs for False Start in our flat in 2020 during the pandemic and our first time playing them live as a band was to record them. It was pretty mad recording live around our drummer, hearing the songs played loud with real drums for the first time after months of being stuck inside writing them on the computer. Recording with Adrian Bushby was a dream though, he was bopping around the control room and egging us on to play louder and harder, he's technically the first person we ever played in front of." Taken from the EP, lead single 'It's Mutual' is out now: https://orcd.co/itsmutual The band have rapidly been building support from some of rock’s most respected taste-makers, including Kerrang! Magazine, Rock Sound, Punktastic, Dead Press, Running Punks, BBC Introducing Wales, Deezer’s Hot New Rock playlist, Triple J’s Short Fast Loud, Apple Music’s New In Rock, Beez at Mosh Talks on Twitch, Alex Baker at Kerrang! Radio, John Kennedy at Radio X, and Daniel P Carter on the BBC Radio One Rock Show.