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The now legendary turntablism festival 'National Phonographic' has been hosting some of the most prominent turntable wizards in between 2001-2005. The X-Ecutioners, Cutmaster Swift, Kid Koala, Grazzhoppa, the list goes on and on. Equally as legendary are the National Phonographic 'Turntablist Tackle' vinyl releases. They've been used during DJ battles and sampled by leading producers worldwide. Now, 16 years after the latest record, 'Tackle 3' will be released! Top notch producers Eni-Less, Mike Redman and DJ Optimus created an amazing tool for turntablists and producers alike. This volume, pressed on 7inch limited edition colored vinyl, contains exclusive sounds, phrases and beats. The record also includes a voucher with a unique download code. We're safe to say that 'Turntablist Tackle 3' is the best volume yet!

Hardcore Rap music is still here! Mike Redman is considered a cult legend known for his unorthodox music production in various genres. He's well known as an artist in the Jungle and Hardcore scene, as a renowned movie score composer and made a name for himself as organiser of the infamous 'Redrum Hip-Hop' events since the 90's which hosted international artists from Guru to Cannibal Ox, Public Enemy, Beatnuts and many more. He also set up Redrum Recordz, a pioneering independent record label focusing merely on anything musically unpolished. Even though Mike Redman (which is his name of birth by the way) was often linked to many Hip-Hop success stories and produced records for artists such as Public Enemy and Big Daddy Kane, Mike has just recently, after many years, decided to produce a solo record featuring the Rap artists he admires and form the foundation of his legacy. With great respect towards his mentors, in a non-profit manner, Mike now releases 'Redrum Relics' featuring Rap icons such as Kool Keith, Chuck D, Schoolly D, Sticky Fingaz, Young Zee, Chino XL, O.C. and many more. This album is truly exceptional and is not made with the intention to be commercially successful, but is a love-letter to a period in time where passion was the motivation. 'Redrum Relics' brings Rap music back to the golden era with a contemporary touch and keeps it unpolished and unyielding as ever. People that tend to say that Hip-Hop is dead might want to reconsider.

At the end of the project’s 20th anniversary celebrations, ROME tolls in the next era of the band with a fresh and visionary album: ‘The Tower’.  ROME’s new and ever more mature sound is informed by a radically minimalist folk approach, with nonetheless charmingly lush arrangements. ‘The Tower’ is an introspective and enigmatic work at whose centre stands nothing less than ROME’s raison d’etre: The Great Work and the sacrifices both necessary and essential on the demanding path to light. As an unreachable bulwark against the general decline of every value in life, the tower would have been erected long ago to defend the coast.

It would have been raised on a rocky platform resting on the sea floor. It would have been joined to the continent by a thin tongue of sand. It would have offered a heroic, magical point of view. A place for our claim to know and point out vaster horizons. It would have stood firm on the ramparts. This isolated tower would not have been just a refuge for more or less mystic escape, but also a post of resistance and combat.

The journey through French-speaking pop archives continues with this fifth volume, packed with fuzz, gimmicks, and dissent. Far from the charts, the selected tracks display a great creative freedom, often backed by corrosive humor. Welcome to the surprising, kaleidoscopic, and colorful world of the late sixties and early seventies, Wizzz!
Born in Montauban, Robert Pico stumbled into music by chance when he met René Vaneste, then artistic director at Pathé-Marconi. René brought him to Paris to record his first 45 RPM EP in 1964. A year later, Pierre Perret introduced him to Vogue, where he recorded his second album with Claude Nougaro’s orchestra. Sylvie Vartan then introduced him to RCA, where he recorded four singles, including the astonishing "Chien Fidèle," a track backed by a hair-rising fuzz guitar. Alongside his solo career, he also composed for other artists like Alain Delon (the song was recorded but remains unreleased), Magali Noël, Bourvil, and Georges Guétary. In the Paris of the sixties, he mingled with Mireille Darc, Elsa Martinelli, Marie Laforêt, France Gall, Françoise Hardy, Petula Clark, Régine, Dani, Serge Gainsbourg, Joe Dassin, Franck Fernandel, Charles Level, and Roland Vincent. Despite his efforts and winning a Grand Prix Sacem for his final record, Robert Pico didn’t achieve the expected success in show business and decided to leave Paris and return to the Southwest, where he devoted himself to writing. He is the author of 23 books (including Delon et Compagnie, Jean-Marc Savary Editions 2025, a memoir about his youth and his many encounters). Today, he is relieved to never have become a celebrity and devotes himself to his work with passion.
In 1969, the Franco-Italian movie Erotissimo was released, directed by Gérard Pirès (who later directed Taxi in 1998, written and produced by Luc Besson). This pop comedy features Annie Girardot, Jean Yanne, Francis Blanche, Serge Gainsbourg, Nicole Croisille, Jacques Martin, and Patrick Topaloff. The soundtrack was written by Michel Polnareff and William Sheller, with lyrics by Jean-Lou Dabadie. "La Femme Faux-cils," performed by Annie Girardot. It recounts the feelings of a rich CEO's wife who seeks to develop her sex appeal under the influence of advertisement and magazines. Groovy, sparkling and light, this track, with ITS lush arrangements humorously critiques consumer society and feminine beauty standards.
“Je suis l’Etat” (1967) is the flagship track of the first EP by singer-songwriter Spauv Georges, aka Georges Larriaga, better known as Jim Larriaga (1941-2022). Born into a family of bakers, the young man was initially planning to become a hairdresser when he discovered English-speaking music through Elvis Presley and the Beatles. After this revelation, he decided he would become a songwriter and gave himself five years to succeed. He recorded his first two EP’s independently for RCA under the pseudonym Spauv Georges; meaning “that poor George”, a nickname given to him by the mother of her friend Jean-Pierre Prévotat (future drummer of the Players, Triangle, or Johnny Hallyday). Portraying a depressed and eccentric young man, Spauv Georges created corrosive and amusing songs that didn’t reach a wide audience, despite a TV appearance with Jean-Christophe Averty.
Supported by his loyal friend and fellow songwriter Jean-Max Rivière, Georges Larriaga met the future singer Carlos in the early '70s, then Sylvie Vartan’s assistant. He wrote songs for Carlos, including the popular "La vie est belle," "Y’a des indiens partout," and "La cantine", which went onto become a huge hit in 1972. He also composed for Claude François (“Anne-Marie”, 1971), Charlotte Julian (“Fleur de province”, 1972), helped launch child singer Roméo (who sold 4 million records), and later wrote the hit "Pas besoin d’éducation sexuelle" (1975) for the young Julie Bataille. In 1971, Jim recorded an album for Disc'Az: “L’univers étrange et fou de Jim Larriaga”, which featured pop gems like “La maison de mon père”.
The story of the song "Zoé" began when Pierre Dorsay, artistic director at Vogue Records, asked Swiss singer and musician Pierre Alain to write a song for a new female singer. The inspiration came when he realized that Zoé (the artist's name) was also the name of France's first atomic battery, created in 1948, which consisted of uranium oxide immersed in heavy water! The lyrics reflect a bubbling energy that must be handled with caution, while the instrumentation echoes this atomic theme, notably with the use of a theremin.
Zoé’s career lasted only as long as a single 45 RPM, but it seems Christine Fontane was the vocalist behind this pseudonym, who is known for several EPs, a good "popcorn" album in 1964, and a handful of children’s singles in the '70s. Regardless, the photograph on the cover is of a different girl entirely.
Later, Pierre Alain continued his career, writing songs for himself, Marie Laforêt, Danièle Licari, Alice Dona, Arlette Zola (3rd place in Eurovision 1982), and achieving multiple gold and platinum records in Canada. Also an inventor with several patents, president of the Romande Academy, and head of the French Alliance in Geneva, he now composes atonal music, books, and poetry. Moreover, he is also the host of "Les Mardis de Pierre Alain" at "Le P'tit Music'Hohl" in Geneva.
Filled with oriental choruses and fuzz guitar, "Fou" is from Jacques Da Sylva's only EP released by Vogue in 1967. Despite the quality of this recording, all traces of this singer disappear after this first effort.
Valentin is a baroque pop singer born in Belgium. He is the songwriter and composer of most of the tracks on his three singles released in the late 60s in Canada. A legend says that he reincarnated himself as Jacky Valentin during the 1970s for a rock'n'roll revival career in Belgium, but his older brother sadly debunked this story. Valentin's first two singles were arranged by Claude Rogen, a Parisian session pianist who had come to Canada to promote the song “Mister A Gogo”, a cover of David Bowie’s “Laughing Gnome”, adapted by singer Delphine, his wife at the time. Far from his usual network, Claude Rogen arranged music for Polydor, including the arrangements for “Je suis un vagabond” in 1969, a jerk tune with string arrangements and a furious optimism.
Jacques Malia wrote, composed, and recorded his only 45 EP for Festival in 1966. “Histoire de gitan” is an incredible beat track with bohemian scat that tells the story of a gypsy musician who came to Paris to make it in the Music-Hall, to no avail. The hero of the song and its author probably shared a similar fate, as Jacques Malia faded into anonymity after this remarkable attempt.
Bernard Jamet recorded two EPs for Barclay in the late sixties and co-wrote several songs with Christine Pilzer, Pascal Danel, and prolific songwriters Michel Delancray and Mya Simile. The track “Raison Légale” (1968), his masterpiece, immerses the listener in a courtroom right when a murderer is being judged, with jerk rhythm and free arrangements. A unique, paranoid, judicial, and psychedelic oddity.
Jean-Pierre Lebrot-Millers started his career in show business in 1967 as a singer and songwriter for the Philips label. After three singles, he wrote several songs of a new kind with his friend Pierre Halioche, in the midst of the sexual liberation movement and the democratization of drugs. With provocative lyrics, “Les filles du hasard” and “Barbara au Chapeau Rose” were released on a Philips singles in 1968. The character of Barbara was inspired by a queen of Parisian nightlife during the psychedelic years: model Charlotte Martin, who dated Eric Clapton from 1965 to 1968, then Jimmy Page from 1970 to 1983. Jean-Claude Petit’s arrangements, with a table-filled intro, soul brass, and Hendrixian guitar, emphasize the flamboyance of a hedonistic and sexy character, whose dog is named Junkie because “Junkie est un nom exquis”! The track was recorded live in three takes with a full orchestra.
Upon its release, the record was censored by Europe 1 and RTL due to its references to drug use. Jean-Pierre Lebrot was then banned from the airwaves and later dismissed by his record label. He changed his artist name to Jean-Pierre Millers, while his companion Pierre Halioche became D. Dolby for a new dreamy composition, “Chilla”, which Jean-Pierre produced himself with arrangements by Jean Musy. Once again, the song was immediately censored everywhere. After this setback, he decided to stop singing and started taking on odd jobs to support his Swedish wife and their son until the day he met Jean-Pierre Martin, then production manager at Decca, who had worked with Manu Dibango. Martin offered Jean-Pierre Lebrot-Millers, then employed at Rank Xerox, the position of artistic director at Decca. He accepted and became, a year later, promotion director (radio, press, TV). He worked on Julio Iglesias’s first album for Decca, which became a massive hit and allowed him to meet Claude Carrère. The latter asked him to write new songs and find their performers, much like a “talent scout.” It’s through him that Jean-Pierre discovered Julie Pietri and Corinne Hermès. He composed “Ma Pompadour” for Ringo, Sheila’s husband, and took the microphone again for the syncope hit “Rendez-Vous” in 1982.
That same year, Jean-Pierre Lebrot-Millers tried to release a track for which he had heavily gone into debt: “Si la vie est un cadeau”. Having recorded it in London, he presented it to numerous professionals, all of whom refused to get involved. The same thing happened with Antenne 2 and the Sacem when he proposed the song as France’s entry for Eurovision. He then met Haïm Saban, who was producing cartoon soundtracks and had just launched the Goldorak theme song. Saban, having listened to the song, declared it had the potential to become a hit. He sent Jean-Pierre and Corinne Hermès to meet the CEO of the Luxembourg radio and television network. The latter received them, asked to hear a verse and chorus a cappella in his office, and immediately hired them to represent Luxembourg at Eurovision 1983. They reworked the arrangements and recorded a new version with Haïm Saban as co-producer. The song ended up winning Eurovision 1983, a great comeback for our hero. He continued producing and hung out with the band Nacash in Belgium when a couple came to introduce their daughter for an impromptu audition in a hotel room. The girl sang “Les démons de minuit” while dancing to a radio cassette. Impressed, he had her take singing lessons for a year and composed a song for her (for which he had the melody and title, but no lyrics). This required him to go on the hunt for a lyricist, who ended up being Guy Carlier. They recorded the song, which was initially a ballad, at Bernard Estardy’s CBE studio, and gave the singer a new name: Melody. They showed the song around their industry network without success. Later, Estardy called Jean-Pierre to suggest changing the rhythm and making it pop-rock. Orlando, Dalida’s brother, liked the result and decided to co-produce the track. “Y’a pas que les grands qui rêvent » became a classic hit. The song has since been covered by Juliette Armanet (as a ballad, like the original) and Valentina.

Born into an aristocratic Breton family, Hervé Mettais-Cartier worked as a DJ at Queen Kiss, a nightclub in Poitiers, where he formed the band Les Concentrés with Michel (an actor) and Christian (a radio technician). Together, they created a repertoire of whimsical songs (“Ma bique est morte”, “J’suis un salaud”, “Fils de dégénéré”...) that they performed on stage dressed in white (in homage to “concentrated milk”). They performed at Bliboquet and Olympia in 1968 for the 10th edition of the “Relais de la chanson Française” organized by L’Humanité-Dimanche and Nous les Garçons et les Filles, sponsored by Pepsi Cola. Winners in the author-composer category, alongside Danish singer Dorte, their visibility allowed them to record a 45, and appear on television in Jean-Christophe Averty’s show. The A-side of the disc features Bruno le ravageur, a casatchok dedicated to Bruno Caquatrix, the director of Olympia, nicknamed in the song “Coq Atroce” or “croque-actrices”. The B-side is dedicated to “Fils de dégénéré”, a quirky tribute to Hervé's aristocratic roots, mixing absurdity with sophisticated vocal harmonies.
After Les Concentrés, Hervé Mettais-Cartier formed the duo La Paire et sa Bêtise with his friend Olivier Robert. They performed in Parisian cabarets and toured with Pierre Vassiliu. In the late 1970s, Hervé began a solo career. He recorded two albums for the Motors label in 1978 and 1979, which did not achieve their anticipated success due to lack of promotion. In 1980, he met Bernadette, with whom he started a family and created a “Chansons à voir” (songs to see) show that he performed until his death at the end of 2024.

Publicité comes from the final EP by the Missiles (Ducretet Thomson, 1966), a disc that also includes “La (nouvelle) guerre de cent ans”, featured on Volume 4 of our Wizzz! series. Please refer to the booklet for the story of the band.

“He’s 1.82 meters tall, 28 years old, weighs 135 kg, is black and Belgian”: this is the description of singer Hegesippe on the back of his sole single (Decca, 1967). He appears on the album cover wearing a Greek toga, like a hippie gag – we are at the end of the year 1967. In “Le crédo d’Hegesippe”, this former bodyguard of Antoine and the Charlots plays the delightful card of the thick brute converted to Flower-Power and non-violence, with arrangements by Jean-Daniel Mercier, aka Paul Mille.
“Ethéro-disco” was released on a promotional record for clients of the Maréchal company (Liège, Belgium) for the New Year 1979. Over a funky rhythm, celebrity impersonations (Brigitte Bardot, Jacques Dutronc, Fernandel…) deliver an enigmatic text about pharmaceutical products like ether, bismuth, and aspartate. The track was composed by Dan Sarravah (responsible for Joanna's “Hold-up inusité” featured on Wizzz! Volume 3) and Tony Talado, who was also a singer (one 45 in 1967), songwriter (with over a dozen credits between 1964 and 1985 in various styles from surf music to disco), author (Devenez Végétarien, Dricot Editions, 1985), ad designer, and psychologist.

Décollez-les is on the A-side of Mamlouk's only single, a pseudonym for Marsel Hurten, who is known for his work on several EPs in the late sixties, as well as composing music for Hervé Vilard’s “Capri, c’est fini”, Claude Channes' “La Haine”, Annie Philippe’s “On m’a toujours dit”, and Nancy Holloway’s “Panne de Cœur”.
This strange song, with Afrobeat horns and absurd dialogues between a chef and his kitchen staff, is the result of a collaboration between Marsel Hurten and one of his neighbors, a photographer from Pavillon-sous-Bois (93), where the musician settled after returning from the Algerian War. A music video was shot to promote the record.
Marsel Hurten was born in Tourcoing (59) into a musical family. At a young age, he joined the brass band founded by his grandfather, playing the piston before studying trumpet at the conservatory, as well as teaching himself how to play the guitar. As an orchestra musician, he toured in France, Belgium, Germany, and England. He released a series of solo 45’s between 1965 and 1968 for the DMF and Az labels before stopping recording to focus on working for other artists (Gilles Olivier, Noëlle Cordier…).
“L’amour nu” (Vogue, 1971) is the work of the short-lived Belgian band Mozaïque. The track, written by singer Jacques Albin, closely resembles another of his compositions, “Carré Blanc”, which he recorded in 1969 for Disc’AZ.
Represented by the Lumi Son micro-label based in Marignane (Côte d'Azur), Jean-Marc Garrigues released two 45 RPMs in the late sixties, defending the French jerk sound. The song “Je dis Non” is a short, joyful ode to youth, pop music, and rebellion.
Songwriter and performer Jacques Penuel released three singles. The first one, “Astronef 328” (Fontana, 1969), features a dizzying series of chords punctuated by sound effects, a sci-fi story, and arrangements by Jean-Claude Vannier.

We would like to sincerely thank Pierre Alain, Moon Blaha, Marsel Hurten, Bastien Larriaga, Jean-Pierre Lebrot-Millers, Bernadette Mettais-Cartier, Robert Pico, Olivier Robert, Claude Rogen, Micky Segura.

"This is brilliant" - Gilles Peterson

Azymuth bassist Alex Malheiros doesn't remember recording this single. It's understandable—the sessions happened over forty years ago, and at the time, Malheiros, Ivan Conti and José Roberto Bertrami were backing countless MPB artists throughout the genre's golden age. As one of Brazil’s most influential groups, Azymuth's story is well known. Vocalist Luisa, however, remains something of an enigma. She recorded this, her one and only single, in 1981 for Carlos Lemos' Piramide Label.

With Luisa’s powerful yet understated vocal, Bertrami's futuristic synths and José Carlos Bigorna's brow-raising tenor sax licks, the stirring early-80s pop ballad "Romantica" should have been a radio hit. On B-side, "Lenha na Fogueira", Azymuth lock into an exceptional samba-funk groove with legendary guitarist Paulinho Guitarra. The record also features backing vocals from the lesser-known vocal group Arco Iris.

Luisa will be reissued for the first time on 7" vinyl and digital on September 5th, 2025, via Far Out Recordings.

Tough Love brings to vinyl for the first time April Magazine's Sunday Music For An Overpass, a nine track collection originally issued on cassette in vanishingly small number by Paisley Shirt in 2021. The kind of mythical recording you might have once needed to know the band to own. Alas, no longer... Can the universe have two centres? Because if it's not Gothenburg it's San Francisco... It's impossible for me to think about what's going on in that particular part of the west coast right now without immediately being drawn to April Magazine, a comparatively loosely assembled three (sometimes four) piece centred around artist/musician Peter Hurley, who seem to simultaneously operate at both the heart and the margins of the current Bay Area underground. On the one hand they share members with many other bands, their guitarist/singer runs a gallery that functions as some kind of focal point/social space, and Cindy even have a song named after them. On the other hand, their music is resolutely lo-fi and invariably couched in a mysterious haze, the live footage available online seems to suggest that they sound slightly different each time they play, and there are reports they have dozens of songs (possibly albums?) that have not and may never be released, hidden inside their own private universe. On its initial release, Sunday Music For An Overpass was an early attempt to drag the group a little closer into the light, yet inevitably made them feel as endearingly enigmatic as ever. Typically, this vinyl reissue some four years later only goes part way in clearing that alluring fog. April Magazine channel the greats - Spacemen 3, The Pastels, early B&S, Mary Chain, Rainy Day/Opal/Mazzy et al - but submerge their obvious melodic capabilities within seemingly infinite spray can hiss, as if the songs are being pulled backwards through some vortex to the past. Half of these tracks are instrumentals, and it's in those moments that the band are perhaps at their most expressive, suggesting a very inviting melancholy that can't quite be figured out. Though the LP remasters the original recordings and is a little cleaner sounding as a result, no secret is being given away. The appeal is that the more you hear from them, the less you really know, and all the better for it. Maybe, then, it's that April Magazine are here to show there is no centre to the universe, that instead it's always just off to the side...

Hardcore Rap music is still here! Mike Redman is considered a cult legend known for his unorthodox music production in various genres. He's well known as an artist in the Jungle and Hardcore scene, as a renowned movie score composer and made a name for himself as organiser of the infamous 'Redrum Hip-Hop' events since the 90's which hosted international artists from Guru to Cannibal Ox, Public Enemy, Beatnuts and many more. He also set up Redrum Recordz, a pioneering independent record label focusing merely on anything musically unpolished. Even though Mike Redman (which is his name of birth by the way) was often linked to many Hip-Hop success stories and produced records for artists such as Public Enemy and Big Daddy Kane, Mike has just recently, after many years, decided to produce a solo record featuring the Rap artists he admires and form the foundation of his legacy. With great respect towards his mentors, in a non-profit manner, Mike now releases 'Redrum Relics' featuring Rap icons such as Kool Keith, Chuck D, Schoolly D, Sticky Fingaz, Young Zee, Chino XL, O.C. and many more. This album is truly exceptional and is not made with the intention to be commercially successful, but is a love-letter to a period in time where passion was the motivation. 'Redrum Relics' brings Rap music back to the golden era with a contemporary touch and keeps it unpolished and unyielding as ever. People that tend to say that Hip-Hop is dead might want to reconsider.

Hailed by Pitchfork for his “ambient, intimate…songs that blossom gently with intricate musical details and enigmatic lyrics,” Conner Youngblood gained early acclaim with a series of self-released singles and EPs before breaking out internationally with his 2018 full-length debut, Cheyenne, which fused electronic and analog elements into a lush mix of bedroom pop and chamber folk. Youngblood toured the record heavily until 2020, when the pandemic forced him off the road and, hungry for fresh inspiration, he began enrolling in Russian, Danish, Spanish, and Japanese language lessons. He didn’t realize it at the time, but those classes weren’t just expanding his vocabulary, they were laying the groundwork for his most ambitious, experimental album yet: Cascades, Cascading, Cascadingly.
 
Written and recorded at home in Nashville, the collection is a dreamy series of meditations steeped in desire and yearning, loneliness and loss, exhilaration and escape. The lyrics blur the lines between fact and fiction, toying with magical realism and outright abstraction in various languages, and the arrangements are surreal and cinematic to match, hinting at everything from Cocteau Twins to Atoms For Peace. In addition to producing and engineering, Youngblood played every instrument on the album himself, and the result is a pure, unfiltered journey deep into the subconscious of a relentlessly curious artist, one with a boundless imagination and an insatiable appetite for sonic exploration. 

Do Your Own Dance! VARIOUS ARTISTS
Chic’s Nile Rogers is lauded as an international star and the recently departed Patrick Adams is acknowledged as one of the most important pioneers of disco music, but behind them were an army of lesser-known musicians, producers, and arrangers including one of the founding-fathers of New York Dance, the enigma Lonnie Johnson.
Scorpgemi Records and Lonnie Johnson, the man behind the label, will be unknown to most, but he was an important figure at the birth of dance music. His label featured work by several leading voices of the New York scene and provided one of New York’s most instantly recognisable dance music records— “Keep In Touch (Body To Body)”—one of the greatest club cuts ever.. But Johnson himself leaves hardly a trace, a behind-the-scenes person, and a friend of Patrick Adams who is only known to those who study the small print on record labels.
So, Lonnie Joel Johnson proves to be both highly influential, and almost completely elusive. A backroom person, who created an anthem across the Atlantic from his home base in New York. A man who was instrumental in the development of Patrick Adams’ career from producer of vocal groups to the go-to producer for dancefloor gold. Yet, for all this there are no biographical details, no interviews and almost nothing left behind except for a small but fantastic catalogue of music.
The first ever curated works of the Broadway based Scorpgemi label Produced by Lonnie Johnson, one of the founding-fathers of New York Dance Dancefloor Gold from the enigma that is Lonnie Joel Johnson, the man behind the career of the legendary Patrick Adams.

Flame is Slow collects together three acclaimed seven-inch EPs (originally released on the Noisebox label in 1996 and 1997) by the mysterious, mercurial Navigator. The post-Loveless UK underground of the early 1990s was a vibrant place, despite what music biographies may tell you. What might now be lumped together as “post-rock” was in fact a varied and forward-thinking group of artists creating inquisitive music in the wake of the grunge goldrush. Contemporaries such as Hood, Flying Saucer Attack, Movietone and – of course – Mogwai and Arab Strap are rightfully seen as timeless nearly thirty years on but they’re really just the tip of the iceberg. Navigator might get mentioned less but their story is every bit as intriguing as any of their peers. Navigator formed in Norwich in 1994. Their music was consistently introspective and melancholic, but their brief existence of five years saw them move rapidly from traditional song structures towards noise, found sound, free improvisation, electronics, primitive instrument building and – ultimately - silence. They were an enigma back then and they remain so now. They released four seven inches before a solitary album Nostalgie (1997, Swarf Finger Records). Each release felt different to the last but always intimate and peculiar. Their use of sound and space is nothing short of magical. Rough and unsettling textures rub against each other, selected and mixed instinctively. Another band’s discarded mistake becomes a key element in their hands. The band received much acclaim and some genuine commercial success when single When the Wires Fall ended up in the indie charts. They shared stages with Low, David Thomas, Aerial M, Stars Of The Lid and Labradford and toured with Mogwai and Arab Strap culminating in the now-notorious, equipment-levelling performance at The Garage in London. The original version of the group played live for the last time in 1999 before quietly disappearing. It was perhaps inevitable that a band so committed to exploring and refining their sound should end by removing themselves from it entirely. Aside from a brief (and excellent) reformation in 2006 and a CDR compilation of those early seven inches, Navigator have been quiet for over 20 years until now. Flame is Slow assembles the blue, red and green Noisebox EPs into one cohesive album-length collection, remastered with care and reassembled by the band. It rightfully places Navigator where they belong – as one of the most curious, adventurous, and beautiful groups this island has ever produced. “Whenever I think of bands that more people should’ve heard than did, I always think about Navigator. It’s great that the music they made is going to be available again as it is truly special and deserves to be heard by more people” – Stuart Braithwaite

mindSET is the ninth album from enigmatic producer SW., directly following this summer’s excursion into his trademark techno, IDM and bleep soundscapes, on the myDEFINITIONS Vol II album. But with his mindSET album SW. takes a left turn, as pioneers often do, and we find ourselves on the lesser traveled side roads of electronic music history. Or in SW.’s own words: “the more abstract leftfield elements.”
It’s in these less-defined areas that SW. finds his sweet spot, building dancefloor soundtracks that defied definition. And with mindSET the sounds and the machines might have changed, the methodology remains the same.
“It draws from what was more generally seen in leftfield as a term for the slightly off-kilter house and broken beats that didn’t fit neatly into classic genres, whether that was Chicago house, French garage, drum and bass, or broken beat. It’s more about those in-between sounds that never really took off, only appearing briefly in the early to mid-90s and then quickly disappearing. There was a certain magic in that moment, which I wanted to capture. Also, the entire album was produced using classic analog equipment, with old machines that were used during that era. That’s the approach I’ve taken.”
The eight tracks on mindSET are shaped out of de-tuned techno pop synths and heavy, syncopated drums, grooving along chopped-up polymeters to create an eerie mood, as if orbiting an undiscovered planet for the first time. The harmonic movements are often bent out of shape, sometimes veering towards Gherkin Jerks or Cristian Vogel territory. But in the end, the sounds are less important than the atmosphere, and the tracks represent an attitude or an approach - to creating the music as well as experiencing it. mindSET is a nod to those dancers sharing an oddball moment, and for those of us on the same wavelength, it's a vibe we can all get inside.

2024 Repress

180 Gram, Tip On Sleeve RSD version of this classic. One of the rarer records of the mythical Strata East albums is finally reissued for the first time on Heavenly Sweetness!
The recording of Earth Blossom, the John Betsch Societys one and only album, seems something of an enigma nowadays. For even though Nashville is clearly one of the towns in the US with the highest number of recording studios, who would have thought that the capital of country music would give birth to one of the forgotten masterpieces of 1970s spiritual jazz. The path leading to the album starts in 1963 when John Betsch, originally from Jacksonville in Florida, arrives in Nashville to study at Frisk University. He is a young drummer and joins Bob Holmes trio. Holmes is one of the towns major jazz organists and pianists; he becomes Betschs mentor and, over the space of two years, John will play alternately with him and with the trumpeter Louis Smiths group. However, in 1965, John leaves town to go to the prestigious Berkeley University in Boston and do a two-year course along with his fellow debutants with names like John Abercrombie, Ernie Watts and Alan Broadbent. Two years later, he is invited by a pianist friend, Billy Chilf, to join the legendary singer/songwriter Tim Hardins group. Just after Woodstock, John Betsch and Tim record a psychedelic album Columbia will never release together with the members of the future group Oregon: Colin Walcott, Glen Moore, Paul McCandles and his friend Billy Chilf. But he soon leaves this group to return to Nashville where he hooks up again with his friend Bob Holmes. Two years later, he is accepted on Archie Shepp and Max Roachs famous course at the University of Massachusetts Amherst (UMASS) and for the next four years he participates in this collective of intellectuals and musicians under the aegis of the two masters.
During this period he returns to Nashville to form his Society whose music is obviously influenced by the Afrocentric ideas of the UMASS student and political movement. However, the album, recorded in one day and in one take, also bears the hallmark of their generations psychedelic experiences, and in the themes and playing of the musicians we can hear a less violent form of music than the radical free jazz of New York or Chicago. Nature and environmental themes are the inspiration behind tracks touched by the spirit of Coltrane but also of Flower Power.

After Amherst, John Betsch joins Marion Browns group in 1976, leaves Tennessee for good and makes his home in New York over the next ten years or so. He plays and records with Dollar Brand, Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre and many others, before heading off to France. He has lived in Paris for the last twenty years and played in Steve Lacy, Mal Waldron and Archie Shepp bands, as well as forming groups of his own. He now lives in Paris and plays with many musicians/bands.

- 10TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF TESS PARKS DEBUT ALBUM.
- GOLD VINYL, GATEFOLD SLEEVE, HANDWRITTEN LYRIC BOOKLET.
A native of Toronto, Tess Parks moved to London, England at the age of seventeen where she briefly studied photography before deciding to focus on music.
Tess made an impression on industry legend Alan McGee, founder of Creation Records, albeit the timing of their meeting could hardly have been less ideal; McGee was no longer involved in music and Tess was due to move back to Toronto. After moving back to her hometown in 2012, Tess formed a band on the advice of McGee and less than a year after their meeting, he returned to music with his new label, 359 Music.
Tess became one of his first signings and released her debut record ‘Blood Hot’ in November 2013 to excellent reviews. One reviewer described her as “Patti Smith on Quaaludes”. Others have mentioned her “gauzy psychedelic sound” and“smouldering voice”.
Alan McGee himself said: “She’s only 24 and is already an amazing songwriter... she just doesn’t quite know she is yet ... her most beautiful quality is her lack of ego. Tess is an amazing lady”.
‘Blood Hot’ is inimitably confident. It’s slow and psychedelic at times, while being loud and ready to fill a stadium at others. There isn’t a moment on the album that isn’t relatable or that doesn’t ring to the tune of a timeless classic to be talked about for years to come (the same way people discuss The Velvet Underground or My Bloody Valentine records today).
Her cult-like following has turned into a movement. And Tess is gladly leading us all back into that space within ourselves, both deeply personal and entirely universal. Incredibly relevant yet timeless.Cool and anti-cool. An enigma that doesn’t need solving. Tess Parks is as she’s always been. Her best work is already out there. And her best yet is still to come.

The Talented Italian Producer, Known for His Enigmatic Project Hill and Recognized for His Previous Ep Collaboration With the Detroit Legend Javonntte on Skylax Records, Is Making a Much-Anticipated Return Under His Real Name, Alessio Collina. an Ardent Aficionado of Authentic House Music, Collina, Hailing From Italy, Gifts Us a Remarkable Lesson in His Latest Offering, the "Pieces of Life Ep." Collina's Dedication to the Origins of House Music Is Evident Throughout This Ep, and It's a Refreshing Reminder of the Genre's Timeless Roots. Italy, a Country With a Deep Appreciation for House Music, Once Again Serves as the Source of Inspiration for This Artist. the "Pieces of Life Ep" Pays a Heartfelt Tribute to the High-Energy and Groove-Laden House Tunes of the 90s, Echoing the Sounds of Iconic Figures Like Dj Duke, Marshall Jefferson, and Labels Like Strictly Rhythm. With Each Track, Collina Effortlessly Transports Us Back to That Golden Era, Capturing the Very Essence and Spirit of That Unforgettable Time. the Ep Kicks Off With the Electrifying "All of That," an Absolute Masterstroke That Sets the Tone for What Follows. Its Pulsating Beats and Infectious Melodies Are Reminiscent of the Fervent Dance Floors of Yesteryears, Evoking a Sense of Nostalgia While Remaining Incredibly Fresh and Contemporary. the Ep's Three Other Titles, "Humble Groove," "Lost World," and "Mid Season," Continue to Captivate and Immerse Listeners in Collina's World of Evocative, Groove-Filled House Music. Each Track Showcases His Meticulous Attention to Detail and His Ability to Create an Authentic Atmosphere That's True to the Genre's Roots. Collina's "Pieces of Life Ep" Is More Than Just a Musical Collection; It's a Genuine Homage to the Spirited House Music of the 90s. His Dedication to Preserving the Essence of the Genre While Infusing It With His Unique Creativity Shines Through in Every Beat and melody.

This Ep Not Only Reinforces Italy's Profound Connection to the House Music Legacy but Also Solidifies Alessio Collina's Place Among Contemporary Artists Who Honor the Past While Paving the Way for the Future. as Skylax Records Prepares to Release This Exceptional 12-Inch, It's Clear That "Pieces of Life" Is a Treasure Trove for Any House Music Enthusiast, Inviting Them to Rediscover the Magic of the 90s With a Fresh Perspective....

Enid Valu normally relies on lenses and light to express herself. Known to create stunning visuals, to capture sonic worlds with her preferred instrument (the camera), the US-born, Munich-based photographer and video artist has been working with various bands, shooting concerts, creating music videos, visualizing what she hears. However, now that she’s become an indispensable part of the local scene, she for once ditches the cam and steps up to the mic instead – appearing as featured vocalist on two of the four brand-new covers Hochzeitskapelle recorded for the forthcoming EP entitled “We Dance.”

“It’s later than you think,” she reminds us, just like Stephen Malkmus once did in Pavement’s “We Dance” – beautifully rearranged and reworked some three decades later. Also musing about “Stockholm Syndrome,” just like Yo La Tengo’s bass player James McNews did back then, this new Hochzeitskapelle interpretation is obviously less reminiscent of Neil Young, if compared to the original take. Instead, their Yo La Tengo cover feels almost like a song recorded by The Notwist – which, interestingly enough, is not because two of The Notwist’s core members also play in Hochzeitskapelle. Nope, it’s the vibe of Enid Valu’s guest vocals that somehow points in that direction.

As for the two remaining cover choices, it’s all-instrumental business as usual. For Low’s classic “Silver Rider,” it’s the banjo that does Alan Sparhawk’s vocal part, whereas the trombone soon joins in, contributing Mimi Parker’s second vocal layer as the tune unfolds. Eventually adding a German song to the mix – Wir Sind Helden’s “Elefant” –, it’s an EP that comprises four beautiful half-forgotten indie classics that Hochzeitskapelle reworks, adding the group’s unique, charmingly handmade/oddball “Rumpeljazz” trademark. One can immediately tell how much they love the original tracks: these are recordings, done by fans and admirers who aren’t even trying to sound much like the musicians who wrote them. However, the new versions are so compelling in their own right, they make you want to revisit the original tracks as well… (Dirk Wagner)

Felix Machtelinckx is a singer, composer, producer and lyricist from Belgium. Featuring an array of film scores, dance soundtracks, pop, folk and electronic music, Felix's music resonates with a familiar, almost nostalgic patina, applied with a distinctly crooked touch. Through artistic collaboration, coaching and production, Felix has cut a dash in the pop and indie cult scenes of Belgium, especially with his band Tin Fingers, who are feted as one of the most promising indie acts of the moment. Night Scenes, Felix’s solo debut is, in contrast to his other work, more humble and less traditional, roughly hewn from a series of ambient soundscapes, earthy textures and playful structures. Felix’s voice, normally the flagship of his music, becomes more of a distant memory, an indistinct emotion feathered throughout the music. Many lyrics are improvised, sometimes unintelligible, conjuring haunted, uncertain undertones. Similarly, the album is innately peripatetic to the core, being created, written and recorded in Lithuania, Belgium, France, mastered in the US, and finally released in the UK. In the first instance, some of the tracks were created for the contemporary dance piece Doggy Rugburn by Brandon Lagaert of Kaiho and Peeping Tom; others were created enigmatically for a film that never surfaced; while the remainder are the product of more personal work and research. As Felix began to collect and review these disparate parts, the concept of a unified album began to evolve. With 'night' featuring as a suitably dark leitmotif, or backdrop to a series of emotionally fraught 'scenes', each track depicts a form of trauma, locked within the confines of the mind. Felix observes: "Imagine yourself in a dusty old room unable to sleep. Emotions, fears and other demons haunt your mind. This in-between state makes your mind reach for other worlds. This is Night Scenes." For the most part, Night Scenes was created using a variety of old, and rare, analogue equipment. With almost no digital editing, the record was primarily mixed through a vintage cassette desk, giving it a nostalgic character with a noisy undertone. Felix fully embraced the synergy of his emotional themes and retrograde gear, enthusing: "A lot of textures were created on an old Soviet synthesizer that causes a blackout when you hit the lowest note on the keyboard. The dysfunctionality of the synths was often used to create rhythm and texture." This unnerving ability Night Scenes has to comfort and confound the listener is summed up by Jordan Hudson, House Of Media producer, and music podcaster, when he concludes: "Some songs on the album have this sort of fleeting comfort and tonality, which dissolves into a subtle rhythmic/structural or modulated disarray the moment I settle into them - this really fits with my experience of the night .. This record is a winner, and will be something I'll listen to a lot from here on

“I like to work with a variety of instruments and set ups,” says Mark Van Hoen, sometimes known as Locust or Autocreation but here working under his own name on the excellent Plan For A Miracle, his first physical release of solo music since 2018’s Invisible Threads. ”Sometimes it’s literally in my studio, with all the hardware electronics available. Sometimes the laptop, using software instruments. Some of the tracks on this record were recorded in the desert (Joshua Tree) using a 4-track tape machine and small modular synthesiser set up. Each track was recorded in different location using different instruments, which accounts for the distinction between each piece. It’s also about my own reaction to my environment, and what’s going on in my life at the time.”

The Croydon-born Van Hoen started musical life in the early 1990s, signing for R&S records in 1993 but developing his own, myriad and distinctive style across a range of releases on Touch, Editions Mego and other labels, using a battery of instruments, including analogue synthesizers and taking a number of different approaches to recording, rather than ploughing a single sonic furrow. He has worked on a number of collaborations, including with Nick Holton and Neil Halstead of Slowdive, under the moniker of Black Hearted Brother - their Stars Are Our Home was released in 2013. “I have known Neil Halstead since 1992,” says Van Hoen. “He shared a house with me for a couple of years, and the music I was making and listening to along with clubs I was attending had an influence particularly on Pygmalion, the final Slowdive album on Creation.”

Each track on Plan For A Miracle does indeed sound like a world unto itself, a mini-environment, a weather condition, an ecosystem created for the moment. It’s a collection of tracks recorded over the past few years, released on Bandcamp - despite his apparent absence, Van Hoen works constantly. Opener “Climates”, in its exquisite limpidity, feels like a homage to Brian Eno, one of his most formative influences in his teen years, commencing with Music For Films, which he bought in 1979. “This Is For Them”, feels like a ghostlike throwback to early drum & bass or electronica, reminiscent of his own, earliest outings. “There have been a number of requests from labels to make some more music like my very early releases on R&S,” says Van Hoen. “This is part of ‘letting go’ and realising that there’s nothing less creative about going back to those styles again.”

“Pencil Of Spheres” is something else again, a magnificent, imaginary glass structure, shimmering, refracting, without visible means of suspension, a thing of impossible beauty. “Electric Lights” evokes an abandoned fairground, its lights still pulsating, its music lingering. “The Underpass”, meanwhile, insofar as it reminds of anything at all, is faintly reminiscent of Cluster or Neu’s! West German ambience, the urban mundane rendered magical, the sodium lights, the whitewashed walls. The reverberant, faintly oriental chimes of “Insight” transport us yet again, burgeoning and intensifying.

The landscapes, the skyscapes rendered on Plan For A Miracle feel unpopulated as a rule - but when he does introduce vocal elements, Van Hoen has a history of doing so to spectacular effect - think of “Real Love” from 1998’s Playing With Time, the seductive intonation of its title recurring throughout like a series of massive holograms, echoing, stuttering, breaking up, surging. Here, there are just the faintest of vocals, barely distinct, disquieting. “There’s been a bit of a game changer in recent times,” explains Van Hoen. “AI software that enables you to extract vocals and instrument parts from virtually any recording. That means sampling individual parts from existing sources is no longer limited to the original mix exposing certain parts soloed. The vocal parts I use are from multiple sources and often pitch shifted altered rhythmically and melodically.“ There’s further vocal chatter on “I Really Do”, proceeding at a faster pace as if giving chase, or being pursued - distant, enigmatic. “The Music”, meanwhile, its beat tolling, lost in its own fog of static, features a curious intonation, like the ghost of a lost Walker Brother.

Sadly, the album’s title is in reference to a personal tragedy on Van Hoen’s part - the loss of his wife. Titles such as “I Won’t Give Up”, which faintly reminds of another Eno masterpiece, Another Green World, in its nautical hurly-bury, or the pastoral strains of “Mrs Who”, heavily clouded with sadness, seem to allude to this. “In fact the record was recorded entirely before she passed away,” says Van Hoen, “most of it before she even became very ill. The title was given to the album when it started to look like she wasn’t going to make it beyond a few months. It was something Osho said - “plan for a miracle” - so it was a statement of hope. Unfortunately it was not to be.” Although the album is non-thematic, non-specific in its atmospheres, sound paintings, elegant structures it most certainly stands as a magnificent monument to Osho’s memory.

-David Stubbs.

Sdban Records, the renowned independent groove & jazz label behind Funky Chicken, Hip Holland Hip, and Discophilia Belgica, is thrilled to announce the upcoming release of its latest compilation album, "The Belgian Soundtrack: A Musical Connection of Belgium with Cinema." Packed with the finest soundtracks boasting an unmistakable Belgian connection, this compilation takes listeners on a captivating journey through a collection of cinematic hidden gems from the early sixties to the late seventies.

Curated by the passionate duo Robin Broos and Tom 'Pélé' Peeters, known for their profound appreciation of obscure soundtracks, "The Belgian Soundtrack" showcases the exceptional talents of both local and internationally acclaimed composers and musicians. From obscure finds composed by lesser-known artists to Hollywood scores performed by world-renowned musicians, this compilation offers a vibrant blend of tracks, including the occasional contribution from renowned international artists who have lent their musical prowess to Belgian films.

"The Belgian Soundtrack" came into being as a serendipitous adventure. Former film journalist Jan Temmerman reached out to us one day, offering a treasure trove of vintage soundtrack albums discovered in his attic," recounts Robin Broos. "With 650 long players, mostly unheard of titles, we embarked on an extraordinary quest-to listen to every single one of them, totaling a staggering 29,250 minutes. It was like watching the original Star Wars trilogy 78 times!"

What started as a quest soon evolved into an intriguing investigation fueled by curiosity. Along the way, Broos and Peeters unearthed dozens of treasures, delved into the backgrounds of obscure composers and musicians, and witnessed an array of enigmatic films. "We encountered an abundance of (un)necessary nudity that we never could have imagined existed," Tom Peeters laughs. The outcome of their explorations is "The Belgian Soundtrack," a meticulously curated collection of funky, melodic, and uplifting tracks, each crafted exclusively for the silver screen and boasting an unexpected Belgian connection.

Sign Libra's third album Hidden Beauty is an intimate voyage through feminine nature, guided by the arts of subtext, musical collage, and mysterious allusions. Elegantly arranged, enigmatic, and mischievous, Hidden Beauty seeks to "release the invisible and bring fragility to the surface." From the rainforests of Closer to the Equator (Sounds of the Dawn, 2016 / Antinote, 2018) to the surreal lunar landscape of Sea to Sea (RVNG Intl., 2020), Agata Melnikova, the Latvian musician behind the Sign Libra symbol, has developed a signature blend of evocative composition with lyricless, ethereal vocalizing. Hidden Beauty attends to a closer space than her first two albums, a playfully layered pastiche of refined references, drawing musical inspiration from the assortment of Erik Satie, the early work of Mylène Farmer and Laurent Boutonnat, and 90s R&B. The first inklings of Hidden Beauty arrived in 2019, with the basic contours of the album sculpted in 2020 and early 2021. Like Sea to Sea, Hidden Beauty was invented as a solitary creative effort, but this time under uniquely hermetic impositions. Tethered to the world only by screen, the artist sought inspiration from an unlikely array of activities: new, unorthodox approaches at composing, learning French, a virtual pedagogical practice, and plenty of jubilant dancing in her flat, sunglasses on, to 90s dance music. Hidden Beauty moves inward from the distant spaciousness of Sea to Sea in favor of a "chamber-like" sound, reflecting the intimate environs of its creation. Balancing the New Age balletic resonance of Closer to the Equator and the cosmic-dancerly tracks of Sea to Sea, Hidden Beauty combines deft, postmodern arrangements with popular, contemporary suggestions. The reverb drenching her previous recordings is sponged up in the songs of Hidden Beauty, giving the exercises contained within a feeling of presence, and closeness. And always Agata's crystalline vocal furnishings, less a lead vocal than a first instrument, the ever-returning counterpoint in a beatific swirl. The other hidden elements of this work are plenty, and perhaps best left concealed for the listener's enjoyment. Or perhaps they are hidden in plain sight and sound, depending on what the puzzle pieces reveal to your imagination. Sign Libra's Hidden Beauty will be released in vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on November 3, 2023. A portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Coral Guardian, a non-governmental organization working internationally and with local communities to protect coral ecosystems.

Repress!

Amsterdam's The North Quarter releases an EP by enigmatic artist LIN000 who delivers a stripped back, Techno inspired four-tracker; LIN001-004.

Exploring minimal and experimental dance music, LIN001-004 was approached with a “less is more” ethos – and without conforming to current trends. Just 4 DJ-tools, each based around strong motifs, with depth and texture, and each with a strong individual identity.

After making his mark on TWDIG01, the enigmatic artist Noamm from Northern Greece makes his return on Tiger Weeds with a solo 6-track EP. Featuring stripped-down, back-to-basics sound, which truly showcases his mastery of minimalism. Each track has been thoughtfully composed to emphasize the raw and unadulterated essence of electro. In today's complex world, Noamm's music embraces the 'less-is-more' aesthetic.

Man With A Gun is the debut long player from Singaporean prog and funk group Funkgus. It has a famously enigmatic toxic blue jacket that lurks you in and musically it is no less intriguing. As well as a passionate cover of King Curtis's 'Memphis Soul Stew' there are plenty of supremely psychedelic sounds. The opener is steeped in funky bass riffs with rock-tinged drum breaks and plenty of raw vocals and from there the grooves come thick and fast, often with plenty of texture and charismatic vocals such as on 'Spill The Wine' and the leggy, expressive sounds of 'Everyday People' with its twisted wah wah guitars.

No shortage of colorful characters emerged from Cameroon’s bikutsi scene in the 1980’s and early 90’s. Gibraltar Drakus is one of the most enduring and enigmatic of the artists who helped transform bikutsi into a beautifully endless fabric of triplet rhythms that eventually reached ears around the world.

Following the advent of Cameroon Radio Television in 1987, bikutsi began to supplant makossa and soukous for domination of the local airwaves and the attention of cosmopolitan, thrill-seeking residents of Cameroon’s capital Yaoundé and beyond. Biktusi perfectly fused Beti traditional music and increasingly electronic, highly rhythmic guitarbased bikutsi. Mimicking the sound of village-based xylophone music by rigging a mute to electric guitar strings, bikutsi artists provided a relentlessly energetic dance format for those with a taste for music steeped in their hometown sensibility (countering the popular makossa that many felt sounded less indigenous).

By the early 1990’s, Les Tetes Brûlées were indisputably the most famous and influential artists in bikutsi, due in part to the innovations of their incendiary guitarist Théodore Zanzibar Epeme. Following their first European tour in 1987, the band blew up internationally but Zanzibar tragically, and mysteriously, passed away, which nearly brought an end to the band completely. In hindsight, the consensus among most Cameroonians is Zanzibar’s contributions to biktusi were transformational and immeasurable.

“Zanzibar is the one who taught me how to compose a song, and I learned a lot from Zanzibar musically. We spent whole nights working on methods and other approaches to compose beautiful songs. I owe half of everything I have today to Zanzibar!”

Swept up in all this was Gibraltar Drakus, who was the youngest member of Les Têtes Brûlées and was also the protégé of his biggest supporter, Zanzibar. So it was fitting that he dedicate his 1989 debut to their groundbreaking late guitarist who had meant so much to him. Drakus literally exploded from his first album Hommage A Zanzibar (1989), which sold over 100,000 copies despite rampant piracy. For the recording, Drakus made sure he engaged prolific producer Mystic Jim to record and mix the album. The innovation musically rests both within the guitar interplay and the discipline in the orchestration, which result in a mind-bending clockwork of cross-rhythmic harmony.

Bingo Harry sprang out of nowhere a few years back, when Martin Bramah of Blue Orchids was shocked by their opening set for his band, Blue Orchids. Bramah's enthusiasm went so far as to lead Blue Orchids to recording a then-unreleased Bingo Harry composition, "If They Ever Lay A Finger On Us", a subtle yet unusually powerful and enigmatic revolutionary song of caution to oppressors. The original recording was later released on Bingo Harry's self-titled debut, which sold well, and merited more studio sessions. These days, Bingo Harry is more a often solo vehicle for songwriter Benny Jones than a band. Currently living on a houseboat in northern England (which somehow manages to contain his home studio as well), Benny spent the past few years recording dozens of songs before winnowing them down to fit on Bingo Harry's second album, "Where Do We Go?", not to mention constructing the collage of the album cover. The cosmic inheritor of a certain Marc Bolan-esque knack for simple yet spiritual and thrilling tunes, Benny's songs span seemingly glam-induced groovers to a handful of gentle-but-trippy epics which would be overwrought in lesser hands, but here manage to capture a beautiful bit of the cosmos alongside their relevance to the wearying state of the world today. "Shine If You Can", the album's final track, works as well for an anthem of the times as anything you'll hear in the next few years. Tracks: Gullible / Fearsome Tannoy / Melted / Evolution / Rope Over The Wall / Where Do We Go? / Safe In Human Form / Weapon Against The Dark / Rabbit Hole / Did You Hear That? / Shine If You Can

Dressed in a powder blue suit with the frilly shirt to match, DJ Yoda invites you to be his +1 for ‘Prom Nite’, his new album promising retro Americana full of daydreaming reverie, international megastar guests, trip hop acknowledging the likes of Morcheeba and Nightmares on Wax, and the turntable extraordinaire’s bread and butter of cuts, beats and rhymes.

Certainly no stranger to retro sounds having famously peppered his DJ and AV sets with the unexpected the world over, and his ‘How to Cut n Paste’ mix series going all the way back to the 30s, Yoda’s harp-laden puppy love vibe spreads from the sweet and mellow sound of 2019’s ‘Home Cooking’, an album described as ‘boundary-breaking’ by Mojo upon slotting nicely into the UK’s blooming jazz canon. Think deliciously harmonised doo-wop murmuring ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ with an eye for dreamboats en route to Makeout Point – on ‘My Energy’, Eva Lazarus takes the form of an earth angel, with Yoda on jukebox cut-ups, taking it back to starry-eyed, clean cut days of wonder (or more recently, Little Mix’s ‘Love Me Like You’).

Beginning enigmatically with the assistance of Hollywood A-lister (and former next-door neighbour) Lily James, ‘Breathe’ demonstrate Yoda’s continued evolution as a musician (not to mention shrewd decision maker), with James’ vocal confidence - a little Lana del Rey to her breathiness - returning on the velvet-smooth ‘Airplane Mode’. It’s a smartly executed soundclash accentuated by LA rapper Choosey, the star of the album’s straightest hip-hop shooter ‘Harder I Rock’. Homeboy Sandman adds some kick to the prom punch with typical wordplay sent down ‘Coconut Grove’, and Liam Bailey is perfectly cast for the darkly cinematic sway of ‘Don’t Even Try It’.

On an album of many talking points, the LP’s crowning glory is opening single ‘Feel Like Home’: featuring the vocal comforts of the House Gospel Choir, it’s your go–to pick-me-up when the chips are down, targeting the hairs on the backs of necks like a softer focus version of Jamie xx’s ‘Loud Places’. Extended into an alternative, equally uplifting form by Beardyman’s ‘Don’t Mean Thing’, summer festival season already has its homecoming anthem.

With tongues wagging, the twists and turns step away from Heartbreak Ridge when O Love tucks into the mouthwatering shopping list funk of ‘Way Home’; and ‘Lesson 1956’, featuring Jamie Cullum and DJ Woody, jauntily pays homage to classic Cut Chemist alchemy, Yoda’s celebrated turntable tomfoolery back in full effect and extending the flavours found in ‘Home Cooking’.

Again maximising the experience and enjoyment gained from recording live instruments and prioritising songs over beats, Yoda continues to progress with a mixture of risk-taking, elite musicianship, nostalgia brought bang up to date, and ultimately, good clean fun capable of stirring your soul, making ‘Prom Nite’ a date to remember.

Magpie artwork supplied by London’s ENDLESS, whose signature style has tagged Liberty and Lagerfeld as but two high profile clients, Yoda again maximises the experience and enjoyment gained from recording live instruments and prioritising songs over beats. His continued progress mixes risk-taking, elite musicianship, nostalgia brought bang up to date, and ultimately, good clean fun capable of stirring your soul, making ‘Prom Nite’ a date to remember.

Featured 7” Vinyl singles:
Feel Like Home (feat. The House Gospel Choir)/ Don’t Mean A Thing (feat. Beardyman)
My Energy (feat. Eva Lazarus)/Lesson 1956 (feat. Jamie Cullum & DJ Woody)

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.

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.

Within the last ten years the resurgence of sixties Gallic Pop, once known as Ye-Ye music, has escalated beyond an inter-stellar dizzy height. What might have been a waning, embarrassing genre destined for a shelf life/death gathering dust amongst the Eurovisions of yesteryear, the ‘jerk-beat’ psychsploitation records of the latter day French-Disco had soon found new floor space in some of the most credible nightspots in London and Japan.

Without a shadow of doubt, the flagship LP with best odds on becoming a discerning household object was “Histoire de Melody Nelson” by one Serge Gainsbourg. An inimitable, 45-minute concept LP handcrafted by a bass-driven psychedelic rock group and a heaven sent, 1001 piece orchestral and choral symphony. The album left hip hop producers alongside progressive rock aficionados crying out for more and more for years to come. This LP was in a league of its very own… or was it?

The seldom-sung musical arranger for Melody Nelson has become one of the most enigmatic names in French-funk; lorded by many as the “French David Axelrod” Jean-Claude Vannier’s name is the lesser-spotted, tell-tale seal of sample-friendly quality when it comes to crate-digging ‘en Francais’. Suitably, when rumours amongst French record dealers claiming “the band who played Melody Nelson recorded a follow-up lp” became a legend of psychedelic folk-lore. Another unconfirmed rumour about JCV taking the remaining out-takes of the beloved Melody Nelson to create a promo-only experimental rock LP left sample hungry producers and DJs in turmoil…

For those in the know the answers to these mysteries lay flat between the anonymous gatefold sleeve of an undiscovered conceptual album bizarrely entitled “L’Enfant Assassin des Mouches” by a custom-built avant-rock entourage called Insolitudes. The rocking-horse manure treasure hunt began.

So here we have it. The mythical teen-tonic for all those suffering from Melody Nelson withdrawal symptoms. For record collectors looking for that special something, this LP contains the extra-special EVERYTHING. Peruse the following genres: Psychedelic, Classical, Soundtracks, Jazz, Hip Hop, Samples, Avant Garde, Funk. Then place a copy of “L’Enfant Assassin des Mouches” in each section.

History denotes that when ‘our man in Paris’ Msr. Gainsbourg first heard the initial bones of this LP he took his poetic pencil to paper providing bizarre liner notes, thus consummating the most extraordinary concept album of all time. The story “The Child Assassin Of The Flies” was to be included as the only information to grace the LPs highly collectible, concertina gatefold sleeve. The story in full is reproduced in its native-tongue on this very special re-release package. The CD also includes the bonus track “Je M’ Appelle Geraldine”, a beat heavy John Barry-esque track taken from Vannier’s super-rare 7? EP “Point D’Interrogation”.

DJs and Producers such as Jim O’Rourke, Stereolab’s Tim Gane and David Holmes have spent sleepless nights in perusal of original copies of this perfect release and now regard it as ‘One Of The Best’. Recent copies on eBay have commanded ridiculous price-tags, and is now one of the most sought-after articles amongst the vinyl hungry hip-hop community.

"Kontakt Audio and Infinite Fog Productions proudly present the 25-th anniversary reissue of the one of most unique albums on avantgarde/neoclassic music – Ihor Tsymbrovsky – Come, Angel.

Recorded in 1995 in Ukraine and released in 1996 just as a small run on cassette on Polish label Koka Records, the album without any promotion little by little became legendary and madly wanted by many fans all around the world. And from the first seconds, you can hear why it is so. Pretty hard to explain what songs play Ihor, moreover that would be senseless. “Come, Angel” is one of those albums which are so unique that takes you in a vacuum of verbal forms in an attempt to describe the record. In a few words, this is definitely very intimate and deeply emotional music with an absolutely incredible voice. The first associations could forward you to Antony Hegarty from Antony And The Johnsons, Marc Almond, Arthur Russell, Baby Dee, Bjork. Experienced listener familiar with these great artist knows that all of them are inimitable and Ihor Tsymbrovsky is totally inimitable as well.

In 2016 well-known German label Offen Music published 3 tracks from the album “Come, Angel” which brought a lot of attention to Ihor’s music. This time we’re excited to announce the first full album reissue on CD, Double vinyl, and tapes. Beside the full version of the album, you’ll find an exclusive bonus song from the cult compilation “Music The World Does Not See” – Nefryt Records 2000.

~

“For me, music is a certain way of cultural survival. Here I do not set myself theoretical problems or experiments.
The connotations of life are important: rhythms, melodies, their connection with language, poetry, real life, virtual or imaginary space. It is very important to me how the recitation of work sounds, how consonant and vowel sounds dissolve in singing, how they combine musically. I understand sound space as a field of my interpretations, preferences, priorities, and I do not use direct imitation. If I hear a melody or a musical phrase, and it is fixed in my memory, later I extract it in my own interpretation, as already formed by this field. In art, the goal is in the work itself, not outside it. For me, the expression “To be is to create a new reality” is another winged reality.” – Ihor Tsymbrovsky

~~

“Tsymbrovsky – an architect, musician, a poet, an artist; one of the most underestimated musicians in Ukraine’s artistic world. Many critics pulled their hair out trying to get to the bottom of Tsymbrovsky’s music. It has been inspired by jazz, minimal, modern, ethnic, and meditation music. Tsymbrovsky is not a virtuoso, however, he creates whole worlds with his astonishing falsetto. Although Cymbrovsky’s music is simple it is made of many elements. Filled with magic and unusual sensitivity and warmth it can be therapeutic for the listener. This is that kind of music, which can be listened to many times – in a different way each time.” – Koka Records.

~~~

“Igor Tsymbrovsky’s only album “Come Angel” (1995) still remains perhaps the most bizarre phenomenon in Ukrainian music since independence. The story of its author is a vivid example of cultural amnesia. In the pre-Internet era, Tsymbrovsky was a prominent figure in the Ukrainian underground, performed on the “Red Route”, went on tour in Germany. However, he left a minimum of evidence of his activity and became a silent legend for a few. We talked to Igor to find out where he came from and where he was going.

The album “Come Angel” is eight compositions performed with a falsetto to the accompaniment of a piano. (Tsymbrovsky’s falsetto is a legacy of the Lviv Dudaryk choir, where he sang as a child.) It would seem that it could be easier. But, despite such ascetic tools, Tsymbrovsky managed to create a phenomenon unique to Ukrainian culture. Some people compare him to Benjamin Clementine and Anthony Hegarty, but no comparison will be exhaustive. The lyrics of the songs attract special attention: two of them were written by Tsymbrovsky himself, the others demonstrate his remarkable literary knowledge. Here and Guillaume Apollinaire, and Mikhaijl Semenko, and even less obvious poets, such as Mykola Vorobyov or Jozsef Attila.

The young performer’s first performance took place in 1987 in the club of the Forestry Institute. It is quite symbolic that this room used to be a Jesuit church because such a chamber environment suits his songs about angels much better than the noise of big festivals. However, there were also many festivals in Tsymbrovsky’s career: in 1989, Chorna Rada and Chervona Ruta, in 1991, Kharkiv’s Nova Scena and Ukrainian Nights in Gdansk, Alternativa in Lviv. Ihor calls his first performances musical performances and notes that they sounded completely different. Unfortunately, we will never know exactly how.” – Amnesia

~~~~

“The magicians at Dusseldorf’s Offen Music pluck a madly beguiling pearl of late-night songcraft by Ukraine’s Ihor Tsymbrovsky to follow their vital releases by Toresch and Rex Ilusivii. Come Angel was first recorded in Lviv, Ukraine, in 1995, and issued on cassette by Poland’s Koka Records in 1996. There appears to be no prior mention of the release or artist on the internet and quite how it came into of Offen Music possession is not disclosed, and that only ratchets the record’s enigma to astonishing degrees once you’ve heard the music. In a quivering, high register, androgynous trill, Ihor Tsymbrovsky beckons heavenly beings in the remarkable A-side Come, Angel against a swirling backdrop of phasing, subtly delayed organ. It was recorded in one take (this is the 2nd version), and, if we’re not mistaken, you can hear the keys being pressed rhythmically in the background, which seems to be the song’s only tangible connection to this mortal world as Ihor vaults octaves high and close-in-the-mix with the sort of alien, dreamlike vocal that requires pinching oneself to make sure you’re awake. Spellbinding is definitely the word. On the other side he (we’re assured it is a ‘he’ in the promo text) sets two poems by Mykola Vorobyov and Mykhal Semenko, respectively, to emphatic piano keys, this time more shy of FX save for some delay, placing that willowing, avian vocal at a dreamy arms reach in Roses for the Poet, and with a sort of liturgical dark jazz feel, sorta like Lewis repenting his sins as a castrato monk, in the spare atmosphere in By the Sea. This is gold-seal business, we tell ya. Clock the clips and clear some swooning room.” – Boomkat

credits:
Music By – Ihor Tsymbrovsky
Lyrics By: Ihor Tsymbrovsky (tracks: C2, D1)
Atilla Joszef (tracks: B1)
Mychajl Semenko (tracks: B2, C1,C3, D2)
Mykoła Worobjow (tracks: A1,A2)
Engineer – Edward Hryhorjew
Remastering – Ihor Tsymbrovsky"

Eric Dolphy's final studio album is hailed as one of the finest examples of mid-'60s post bop. Its reputation is purely one of backwards significance. Dolphy, having recorded the album in February 1964, was in Europe less than six weeks later and his all-too-brief life ended less than two months after that. Though likely he never held a copy in his hands or heard any critical opinion of it, it marked his last flurry of original compositions and is considered his apex. It is fascinating to consider whether he would had moved past or away from the album in 1965, had he lived.

Though Dolphy should not be considered an avant-garde musician by the term's most common definitions, most interpretations of Out To Lunch have been done by players working squarely in that area. So it is with this album, the most ambitious in its recreation of the five-tune disc (with one original added to the final "Straight Up and Down, extending the piece to almost thirty minutes). All five compositions from the original quintet LP are revisited in the same order, the record sleeve even duplicates the old album jacket, down to the typeface and black-and-blue color scheme, although a photo taken by Daidō Moriyama inside Tokyo's massive (and massively busy) Shinjuku railway station replaces the Dolphy's album's enigmatic "Will Be Back" sign, whose clock hands indicated no conventional time of expected return.

Otomo Yoshihide first came to international prominence in the 1990s as the leader of the experimental rock group Ground Zero, and has since worked in a variety of contexts, ranging from free improvisation to noise, jazz, avant-garde and contemporary classical. The always surprising and sometimes confounding turntablist, sound artist, onkyo improviser and now avant jazzer heading up a 15-piece aggregation of Japanese and European experimentalists. Who better to grapple with Dolphy's legacy -- so idiosyncratic in its day and yet so influential to creative improvisers who followed -- than a musician with his own singular take on how sounds can be organized in the jazz realm over 40 years later and half a world away? In other words don't expect the conventional from Otomo any more than you would from Dolphy himself. That's not to say that recognizable themes ("Hat and Beard," "Out to Lunch," "Straight Up and Down") don't appear, or that individual players -- including Alfred Harth on bass clarinet bursting into the mix and leaping across the instrument's tonal range in a way that recalls the master himself -- don't carry forward echoes from the past in the spirit of a sincere and heartfelt homage.

However, a good deal of the time all bets are off; in addition to the usual brass, reeds, bass, and drums (and of course a bit of vibraphone, here played by Takara Kumiko in far less prominent role than that of Bobby Hutcherson) are such sonic paraphernalia as sine waves, contact mike, no-input mixing board, and, of course, "computer." (Otomo himself plays skronky electric guitar.) From composition to composition and even during episodes within compositions, the band takes radically different approaches. There are blasts of free jazz energy not too far removed from the Peter Brötzmann Tentet, an impression reinforced by the presence of spluttering wildman Mats Gustafsson on baritone sax. Not surprisingly and often in contrast with the Dolphy original, the music is dense and filled to overflowing with sounds -- sometimes due to fundamental reworkings in structure rather than just the larger size of the ensemble. The middle section of "Something Sweet, Something Tender" somewhat belies the original's title with elongated howls and cries from the horns over slo-mo bass, drums, and electronic noise poised somewhere between dirge and drone, and the sudden explosion of punk-ish rock energy in the following "Gazzelloni" is a startling contrast.

At times, the feeling is that of listening to the original Out To Lunch while a séance is going on to contact Dolphy's ghost, with supernatural sounds swirling around the stereo. The effect is disconcerting, as is the post-apocalyptic cloud hanging over the arrangements, but it makes the effort more than an unnecessary tribute album. Instead, Dolphy is transported into the 21st Century and allowed to romp through modern developments in music. An inspiring concept and an album that will stretch the boundaries of anyone who comes into contact with it.

After Dinner’s Paradise of Replica is a concise nugget of tomfoolery that occupies a whimsical no man’s land between art pop, Japanese folk music and full-assed Art Zoydian avant proggery. Gentle, arcane and covertly sweeping, it typifies that friendly strain of experimentalism that Eastern music seems so predisposed towards and which curious minds find such great delight in.

Assembled by the enigmatic chanteuse and composer known simply as Haco, After Dinner was less a band and more of a loose art collective that utilized a plurality of different musical disciplines stapled together through free improvisation sessions. And some of this does come through on Paradise of Replica—the record is a scrapbook of bells, strings and koto humming under Haco’s ethereal vocals, and the effect, while perfectly tuneful, does come off more as a musical project than a conventional album.

But Paradise of Replica is far from an impenetrable scholastic endeavor—in fact, there’s something of an Elephant 6-like quality in its ability to warp conventions while still coming off more or less like pop music. Counter to the ramshackle hostility of much improvised music, After Dinner’s choices are melodious and feel deliberately sequenced. Even crescendos don’t tend to rise above a murmur, and there are even apparent hooks on tracks like “A Walnut” and “Ironclad Mermaid.”

Ultimately, there’s not much to be said about Paradise of Replica that can elucidate more than actually hearing it will be able to. Proggy, playful and lush, it’s a brief glimpse into something in the vicinity of genius, and just outside the realm of commercial music. It’s a quietly bold project that shows a softer side of the avant-garde, and makes a perfect companion to Stereolab and Magma at once.

One of the last great albums of the first wave of Peruvian rock, originally released in 1974, linking psych-tinged rock with Afro-Latin American beats and folk pop. This first record by (former Traffic Sound and Los Nuevos Shain's member) Zulu was also his last and one of the most enigmatic albums released in Peru in the '70s, as the artist vanished into the religious path, making sure his music got as unnoticed as possible... Reissued for the first time with the collaboration of Zulu, including extensive liner notes and one extra track. DESCRIPTION: The first record by Zulu was also his last. Shortly after releasing it in 1974, the artist withdrew from the music scene and never returned. 46 years later, his music still sounds out of time. His musical eclecticism heralded a different era and linked rock with Afro-Latin American beats and pop. His debut and only LP is one of the last great albums of the first wave of Peruvian rock. No other original records of this type were released in Peru until the early 80s. In the 70s, in Peru, most rock groups sang in English. For his LP, Zulu chose to sing in his own language and focus on his own emotions and experiences. In the early days of his career he became member of Los Shain's, for less than a year. Then he was invited to join Traffic Sound playing bass guitar and keyboards and record the band's third album "Lux". An offer to start a solo career would follow and 'Como una escalera ', 'Alegría' and 'Cariño grande' 45s were released. The expectations that his first solo singles generated were met by the release of the LP Zulu in 1974, boasting an eclectic and innovative sound. Andean folk, Afro-Latin beats, psych-tinged prog rock scents, moog glides, choir arrangements spread across the entire album creating a truly unique piece of music. A few demos were also recorded for the next album but this never saw the light. In December 1974, a few months after the LP was released, the artist decided to disappear. At this point of his life, he started to become aware of the need to define spirituality. After exploring and comparing countless religious, philosophical, psychological texts and trying transcendental meditation and yoga, he concluded that the Bible was the most profound and clearest text. While this was going on, his public figure grew thanks to the success of his album. At the end of 1974, Zulu surprised the manager of IEMPSA, Augusto Sarria, by communicating his decision to leave show business. The artist vanished into the religious path, making sure his music got as unnoticed as possible... This is the first ever reissue of Zulú's 1974 album. It has been supervised by the artist himself and includes extensive notes and the extra track 'Haces mal, pobre chico', B side to his first single that never made it into the album.

For their Drag City debut, the enigmatic duo expand into eight-armed wonder; all the better to reach ever-deeper into their bag o' tricks. Slinky and sliding elegantly, the kids forge tunes with a harmony of ambiguity and nostalgia, effortless yet precise, and rounded with thick bottom - a dancing clash of cognition and dissonance! Since 2015, Kamikaze Palm Tree have been a relative mystery. Now, in times no less mysterious, Drag City welcomes them, celebrating the energy of their second LP, where KPT play their offbeat strain of 21st century rock. Making MINT CHIP, Dylan Hadley and Cole Berliner reach deeper into their bag of tricks than ever before, dialoguing with an absurd shared intent they haven't yet paused to question. The off-center pieces gathered together for Good Boy have given way to pulsing aquatic compositions on MINT CHIP. Cole's guitar tones, wire thin, bell-like, bluesily downtuned, slinky and sliding elegantly, arc purposeful around their peripherals. Dylan's kit work, effortless yet precise, grounded with heavy bottom, drives and interacts organically with all the emerging structure, nailing down finely detailed frames and canvases to backdrop her singing and the unremitting landing of melodies and songs. With the addition of Josh Puklavetz, things that didn't make sense before - like bass - are now on the beach, fully lotioned, essence to essence. Violin and clarinet (Laena Myers Ionita and Brad Caulkins, respectively) round out the tonal spectrum. All strung together in the foothills of Altadena's Wiggle World Studios with Hartling back in the engineer's seat and Tim Presley producing the proceedings!

For their Drag City debut, the enigmatic duo expand into eight-armed wonder; all the better to reach ever-deeper into their bag o' tricks. Slinky and sliding elegantly, the kids forge tunes with a harmony of ambiguity and nostalgia, effortless yet precise, and rounded with thick bottom - a dancing clash of cognition and dissonance! Since 2015, Kamikaze Palm Tree have been a relative mystery. Now, in times no less mysterious, Drag City welcomes them, celebrating the energy of their second LP, where KPT play their offbeat strain of 21st century rock. Making MINT CHIP, Dylan Hadley and Cole Berliner reach deeper into their bag of tricks than ever before, dialoguing with an absurd shared intent they haven't yet paused to question. The off-center pieces gathered together for Good Boy have given way to pulsing aquatic compositions on MINT CHIP. Cole's guitar tones, wire thin, bell-like, bluesily downtuned, slinky and sliding elegantly, arc purposeful around their peripherals. Dylan's kit work, effortless yet precise, grounded with heavy bottom, drives and interacts organically with all the emerging structure, nailing down finely detailed frames and canvases to backdrop her singing and the unremitting landing of melodies and songs. With the addition of Josh Puklavetz, things that didn't make sense before - like bass - are now on the beach, fully lotioned, essence to essence. Violin and clarinet (Laena Myers Ionita and Brad Caulkins, respectively) round out the tonal spectrum. All strung together in the foothills of Altadena's Wiggle World Studios with Hartling back in the engineer's seat and Tim Presley producing the proceedings!

For an artist whose career is flush with enigma, myth, and disguise, Nashville Skyline still surprises more than almost any other Bob Dylan move more than four decades after its original release. Distinguished from every other Dylan album by virtue of the smooth vocal performances and simple ease, the 1969 record witnesses the icon's full-on foray into country and trailblazing of the country-rock movement that followed. Cozy, charming, and warm, the rustic set remains for many hardcore fans the Bard's most enjoyable effort. And most inimitable. The result of quitting smoking, Dylan's voice is in pristine shape, nearly unidentifiable from the nasal wheeze and folk accents displayed on prior records.

Mastered on our world-renowned mastering system and pressed at RTI, this restored 45RPM analog version zeroes in on the shocking purity and never-again-replicated croon of Dylan's vocals. Enhanced, too, are the images associated with the calmly strummed and picked acoustic guitars and decay connected to the fading notes. The dimensions and ambience of the Columbia studio translate via subtle echoes and natural blend of instruments melding with one another, akin to honey integrating with tea. Providing comparably soothing effects, relaxing vibes pour forth from this reissue, which affords this masterpiece the fidelity it's always deserved. Wider grooves mean more information reaches your ears.

"Is it rolling, Bob?," Dylan famously queries producer Bob Johnston at the beginning of "To Be Alone With You," indicating the laissez-faire feelings that surrounded the sessions and helped yield the laidback, convivial music defining the album – arguably the most unique in the artist's vast catalog. While he dipped his toes into country waters on the preceding John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline throws its collective arms around the style in bear-hug fashion and drops any obvious folk references. Everything from the songs' moods to the amicable arrangements reacts against the era's turmoil and popular sounds.

This beautiful and beautifully executed effort might stand as Dylan's most effective protest ever, even if many missed the point upon original release. Advocating peace, love, and old-world allure without calling attention to any characteristic in an overly forward manner, Dylan frames the songs as ballads, rags, lullabies, and gentle honky-tonk dances. He adheres to expeditious brevity, keeping the arrangements tight and free of any filler, thus allowing the melodies to immediately work their magic and place hummable memories inside listeners' heads.

Indeed, if any Dylan masterpiece is overlooked, it's Nashville Skyline. In addition to his superb singing and infallible songs, Dylan enjoys backing from a crackerjack assembly of Nashville session musicians including Charlie Daniels, Marshall Grant, W.S. Holland, Charlie McCoy, Ken Buttrey, and Norman Blake. Country pros, and their respective performances, don't come any better.

As much as on any of his records, Dylan resides in a good place, mentally and emotionally. The idyllic, warmhearted environs of Nashville Skyline stand apart now just as they did in the late 1960s. The sincerity conveyed on the inviting "Lay Lady Lay," relief sighed on the romantic "Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You," and unlimited promise expressed on the jittery "To Be Alone With You" parallel the lessons-learned yearning and genuine desire found on "One More Night," bracing "I Threw It All Away," and eternal "Girl From the North Country," performed to perfection with Johnny Cash.

Giallo is the fourth in a series of five double vinyl releases that bring together some of Ennio Morricone’s greatest soundtrack music. Each collection centres on a different movie genre, together they allow the listener to rediscover the unmatched genius of the greatest movie composer of all time. The Maestro. This collection was announced before Ennio Morricone passed away on July 6, 2020. We’ll continue to release the series to honour this great composer.

When we think of 1960’s Italian pulp cinema, the spaghetti western is the genre that comes to mind. However, Italy was responsible for another classic cinematic exploitation movement around the same time, one that is equally as compelling, but less widely recognised. Giallo…

Giallo, meaning ‘yellow’, is the Italian term for crime fiction, it was named after the bright yellow colours of early pulp fiction paperbacks. Film audiences adopted it as the name for a peculiarly Italian sub-genre of thriller cinema that had its heyday in the 1970’s - just as the Spaghetti Western movement was waning. The Giallo can be difficult to define, but essentially it is an Italian crime film that draws from a pool of common themes: stylized murders, amateur sleuths, sleazy glamour, psychological crimes, enigmatic titles and all these themes are underpinned by creepily atmospheric Ennio Morricone music scores. Starting 70 years ago as an arranger for the piece Mamma Bianca, Ennio Morricone is the emperor of scores and soundtracks. Morricone has always been a huge influence for the likes of Hans Zimmer, Danger Mouse, Muse, Metallica and many more musicians. He was one of the most successful composers of all-time, selling over 70 million records and winning dozens of awards.

Giallo is available as a limited edition of 3000 individually numbered copies on “giallo and black marbled” (clear, yellow and black mixed) vinyl. The package includes a 4-page insert with liner notes written by Claudio Fuiano. The gatefold sleeve contains a silver foil spot varnish on the outside and images of iconic movie posters on the inside.

Following the precursor singles of 2021, Formality Jerne-Site’s unveiling is finally cast upon her already-growing fanbase. Trained classically as a composer and completing a masters at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, Jura introduces a highly-anticipated playground of carefully sculpted characters, plots and lessons - sometimes charming, sometimes nefarious, always absolute and sincere. A fictional land opens its doors and roof to us. A trio of trans kids run amok in rural suburbia. Various sorcerers of the wild future enter the scene on some songs; on others, the mind is cast to sun-drenched drives and journeys of yesteryear. At the heart is a pop sensibility: yearning, reflections, vanity, guesswork, hope. Jura is adamant about practice and precision. Dead seriously she offers, about making music: ‘Nothing should be half-hearted or an accident.’ There’s a maturity and elegance to her compositions, arrangements that - although at first sound seem abstract - lean away from experimental, somehow. She sing-speaks in English, and somehow not typically theatrically for such a play of a record. The theatrics are all real. It’s a fantasy land for sure, but it's based on hard facts. Like academia subdivided into poetry. It’s that weird-ass specificity she mentioned. Opener ‘Someone’s Lifework’ introduces less a choir of voices, than a choir of personalities. The art of storytelling is at the center of the musical expression. A protagonist relinquishes control of chaos that’s bigger than them on a perilous journey on some vessel: they comfort their co-passengers. There’s a sense that the hero - or anti-hero - might be more canny and cunning than the sweetness they first sell to fellow players. 'Is this our getaway chance?’ sings fellow Copenhagener Ydegirl amongst swelling synths and reverb that become so definitely Jerne-Site as the quest continues. The search? For intimacy, perhaps. ‘Same late Age (dIcK bIfFeReNcE)’ imbibes at once, some further disorientation, perhaps a little hallucinatory feeling which may come over the listener. Through a synthesizing of political themes that work across time ‘Same Late Age (dIcK bIfFeReNcE)’ bears reminiscences of the musical expressions of anti-capitalism in the 1980es, although in a new body and context. “I have a feeling that music reconjures societal morals and ideas from the time in which it was written when we press play or hear a live performance. From the moment at a concert when the symphonic orchestra starts tuning in, the time traveling begins. So I imagined how it would be to be trans sitting there playing the first violin, having the job of producing that first tone that all the other musicians around me tune in ona, ” Jura explains. The listener yearns for more; and subsequent tracks deliver. On ‘How Intimate It Gets,’ Jura meditates on the futility of closeness, begging the audience to enter the blood and guts of their own entanglements, the blueprints of focusing entering. Jura sings richly about fingers being lines, pointing or bending, and we’re reminded of their own wicked ways we can’t control. A history of singing in choirs informs the harmony of myriad inner voices heard across the album. At once prophetic and enigmatic, some of the songs rearrange historical events out of pop musical language. The enormously entertaining ‘Pinot-Botticelli Toast to European Users’ conjures scenes of Cold-War world leaders stuck on a cruise in the Transatlantic vacuum, and the protagonist watches a devastating heartbreaker careen on into the picture, led by his own hips on ‘The Lasceaux Associate’. Finally, on title track ‘Formality Jerne-Site’, American English rises to the occasion like a verdict around the narrative of three trans teenagers in rural Colorado: language turns into something sensual and haptic, playing with the snare and sizzle of syllables. The words twist and bend, while the music follows its own synaesthetic logic: “around us pop culture made a vow to a normative desire, drawing in like water color percussion”. Anyines is a site of play and documentation, with a canon so far quite nice. Their future is one that envisions supporting the galaxies their dear friends embody, be it music, performance, video games or beyond. Highlights from their discerning back catalogue include myriad formats: live and digital, plus releases binded to physical artefacts that enhance the live experience such as sculptures and scents. Their history also includes disappearing time-sensitive shadow-tracked material and cross-disciplinary opportunities that reflect deep professionalism and a totally non-schooled semblance of sound and drama. Recent releases include a dance-theatre soundtrack, a traditional shiny pop record, and the acclaimed ML Buch sophomore, Skinned.

"Don’t be afraid, old son, it’s only me,
though not as I’ve appeared before,
on the battlements of your signature,
or margin of a book you can’t throw out"
~ Michael Donaghy

Whytwo is a young, enigmatic artist from Scotland, UK. A talented multi-instrumentalist and performer with an extraordinarily broad range.
First coming to Blu Mar Ten's attention after entering their 2017 remix competition, Whytwo created a wildly different take on their track 'Titans', bending it into a skittering, menacing groove while somehow maintaining a playful edge.

Fast-forward a little and we've now arrived at Whytwo's debut LP, 'Ghost', an exhilarating and elasticated take on Drum & Bass that exists in the hinterland between elation, melancholy and longing.

Mirroring Whytwo's music, the album's title, 'Ghost', is richly layered word, meaning, in different places and at different times; a memory of something or someone; to disappear without communication; to move quietly and quickly; to secretly do work for another; and, of course, a being caught between worlds.
From the old English, 'Gast', meaning 'breath' or 'spirit', the word eventually transformed into 'Ghost' coming to describe "a slight suggestion, mere shadow or semblance". All of these definitions relate, in some way, to the album now before us.

In conversations with Whytwo, he describes how his Jazz musician Grandfather was the person responsible for first giving him music-making software, and whose clarinet features on some of the album tracks. At the same time that 'Ghost' was being created, Whytwo was looking after a young child and some of the drums on 'Ghost' are recordings of the child hitting things. Whytwo describes the feeling of existing between these two extreme states, young & old, naive & experienced, primitive & advanced, and taking the role of a medium 'caught between worlds' whose task was to stitch together this generational fabric.

The result is nothing less than spectacular. Despite having its roots in Drum & Bass, the rules and conventions of the style are ruthlessly disobeyed resulting in glittering cascades of melody, harmony and rhythm that somehow burst with both sadness and joy, hope & loss, memory and anticipation. The music swoops and dips, briefly casting shadows before blasting them away with sunlight, evoking memories both personal and collective. This is 'Lost Soul Music' that manages to speak to all of us.

Despite being deceptively listenable, Whytwo insists this is not relaxing background music. Listeners should fully engage with the music beyond its attractive surface and absorb it at the same deep human level where it was created. 'Ghost's production levels are astoundingly high but focussing on those would be a mistake. They only serve to carry the spiritual content of the music across to the audience and unlock the valves of feeling. The beauty here is not the machine, but the ghost in the machine.

So you thought U-TRAX was all about fancy, state-of-the-art, absolutely undanceable, hard-to-understand, semi-intelligent techno Well, you're absolutely right, but this U-TRAX-release is just not!

Produced by German Heinrich Tillack, these TICK TRAX VOLUME 1 are just the good old way of making techno. Raw & uncomplicated, in the tradition of the Chicago underground.

Heinrich is a bit of an enigma. Having released some 12"s on Detroit's Plus 8 Records (as Sysex), Force Inc. Music Works (as Absolute) and Disko B (as Festival) and his own label Jakpot (both as Festival, as well as Co-Jack, together with Olivier Bondzio aka Hardfloor), he more or less disappeared from the face of the earth. It is said that he is a developer of children's apps for mobile phones nowadays.

The 5 tracks on this 12" are centered mostly around the 909 drum machine and the 303 bassline synthesizer. While two bulky techno tracks feature on side A, the flipside is completely dominated by acid tracks, most of them receiving high praise when they hit the dance floors in the mid 90s.

More recent techno heroes also know how to appreciate these vintage tracks, like Dutchman Danny Wolfers, aka Legowelt, who had this to say about 'Pump Track' on his Facebook page: "Such a fun track, how it stops and starts, almost falls apart. It's mentally challenged simplicity with a giant hall rave vibe... total dance floor control track. On the super cult U-TRAX, one of the coolest Dutch labels from the 90s!"

Original release date: Fall 1994.