Cerca:evidence

Nonesuch releases Sorry I Haven’t Called, the new album by Vagabon, the moniker of Lætitia Tamko. Co-produced by Tamko and Rostam (Vampire Weekend, Haim, Clairo), it finds Tamko reinventing herself once again and features the most playful and adventurous music of her career, as evidenced by its lead track and opening song ‘Can I Talk My Shit?’. Vagabon has also announced an autumn tour that includes a headline run in the US, as well as European dates with Weyes Blood.



“I didn’t feel like being introspective,” says Tamko of her new album. “I just wanted to have fun.” Following her intimate 2017 debut Infinite Worlds, the New York artist favoured expansive and evocative electronic textures in her breakthrough 2019 self-titled follow-up. But her latest album feels like a wholly new era for Tamko, one that’s transformational and uncompromising. Across 12 vibrant tracks she wrote and produced primarily in Germany, she channels dance music and effervescent pop through her own confident sensibilities. These conversational songs are alive and unselfconscious, a document of an artist fully embracing her vision and reclaiming her joy.



The first words she sings on the album are, “Can I talk my shit? / I got way too high for this.” It’s a statement of purpose for the rest of the album that this is an unapologetic artist. “This whole record is how I talk to my friends and how to talk to my lovers,” says Tamko. “I think honesty and conversational songwriting can become poetry. There’s beauty in plainly speaking without metaphors and without flowery imagery.”



The story of Sorry I Haven’t Called started in grief after Tamko’s best friend died in 2021. This devastating and unexpected loss unmoored Tamko but also gave her a newfound clarity. “The things that I thought I cared about, I no longer cared about,” she says. “I had a realization that I need to make sure to feel everything that comes my way.” She decided to sell her things and move to a small lakeside village a few hours north of Hamburg in northern Germany to process everything. “There's no linear path to grief, and everyone handles it differently, but uprooting my life just felt like exactly what I had to do,” says Tamko. “I needed a place to think and go through my discomfort privately but to also explore the newness and urgency I was feeling in my life.” In the village, her phone didn’t work and there were no close grocery stores or restaurants, so she spent her time alone working on music.



Despite the palpable absence in her life, her new songs were her most disarming and ebullient yet. The first one she wrote was ‘Carpenter’, a mesmerizing track anchored by a tangible bass groove, where she sings, “I wasn’t ready to move on out / but I'm more ready now.” It’s a fully-realised track and feels like the culmination of her catalogue so far. “A lot of the music that I was making there had nothing to do with my grief at all,” says Tamko. “Once I gave myself permission to make a record that's full of life and energy, I realized that’s the point of this album. In the midst of going through all of these tough things, it became a record because of the vitality that these songs had.” For Tamko, there’s power in pursuing happiness.



While writing in Germany, Tamko nurtured her love for dance music and let it seep into her new songs. “The only things that were giving me access to a feeling were dance music and going to a rave in an extremely dark club where if I wanted to cry, I could do it and be around other people,” she says.



After a few months in Germany that included marathon writing sessions and a whirlwind romance, Tamko decided to stay with friends in Los Angeles and finish her record. She enlisted co-producer Rostam to help her unify her vision.



Sorry I Haven’t Called is a warm and resilient album about embracing the ecstatic moments wherever you can by knowing how you love and how you mourn. It’s an album born of both communal dancefloor revelations and the clarifying peace from solitude, an emotional rebirth as well as an artistic one. “This record feels like what I've been working towards,” says Tamko. “When I think of this album, I think of playfulness. It's completely euphoric. It's because things were dark that this record is so full of life and energy. It’s a reaction to what I was experiencing at the time, not a document of it.”

Recorded in 1995 and 1996, mostly in John Fahey"s room at a Salem, Oregon boardinghouse, the performances on Proofs and Refutations prefigure the ornery turn of the page that marked Fahey"s final years, drawing another enigmatic rabbit from his seemingly bottomless musical hat. Cloaked in the language of dogma - what is he proving? refuting? - this is Fahey dancing a jig in the Duchampian gap, jester cap bells a-jingling. True believers? He"s got something for you: an uncompromising vision that you can sneer at ("guy can"t play anymore and refuses to concede!") or embrace as evidence of his genius ("the reinventor does it again!"). Skeptics? He"s there with you, too: sending up the fallacy of certitudes altogether. Institutions, systems, accepted wisdoms. Heroes. Alternative facts, indeed. Right out of the gate, Fahey re-materializes before us, somewhere between Oracle of Delphi and Clown Prince at Olympus. Mounting a thundering dialectic from on high, "All the Rains" resembles nothing else in his extensive discography - betraying roots in everything from Dada to Episcopal liturgical chant - and contains nary a plucked guitar note. You can"t fool him! When the lap steel of yore appears on "F for Fake," it serves more as soundbed for an extended sequence of vocal improvisations, running the gamut from wordless Bashoian caterwauling to free-form (but decidedly fake) Tuvan, even revealing a burnished falsetto in the process. Fahey takes on a different kind of provocation in the two acoustic guitar-based tracks closing Side 1 - "Morning" parts 1 and 2 - the first of 4 recordings in this session that have him wrestling with the ghost of Skip James, perhaps Fahey"s effort to wrench the "bitter, hateful old creep" (his words) back into the grave. Anchoring Side 2 is the two-part "Evening, Not Night," the second half of his extended cathexis on James (and the latter"s avowed castration complex - another story for another day, perhaps). Bit of a chill in the air - where"s the impish Fahey from earlier? Unmistakably working through some psychic wounds here, we might think: the unheimlich rendered in glistening viscera. Or is he playing with our notions of authenticity, of his reputation as troubadour of raw emotional states, a pilgrim of the ominous, the simmering unconscious? These cards are kept decidedly close to the vest. The opening and closing pieces again feature Fahey"s guitar as drone soundbed - employing distortion, oscillation, and an altogether absurd quotient of reverb to create texture and harmonics that are - if we wanna go there - not dissimilar to the sustained tonic clusters of Tibetan singing bowls, the hurdy gurdy, Hindustani classical music, or La Monte freaking Young. Portions of this material appeared on obscure late "90s vinyl in the 7" or double-78 rpm format, but as a "session" it has lain dormant more than a quarter century now. Taken together, we can now see these tracks as secret blueprints to latter-day Fahey provocations, several years prior to records like 1997"s City of Refuge and Womblife.

Phil Upchurch is the kind of guitarist who makes a strong point by what he chooses not to play. There are speedier chopsmeisters, players who undertake more daring intervallic leaps, those who navigate trickier lines, but it would be hard to imagine a more soulful guitarist than Upchurch. From his laidback phrasing on Nat Adderley's bluesy boogaloo "Jive Samba" to his buttery-smooth vocal inflections on Steely Dan's "Jack of Speed" and on the bluesy title track, Upchurch's understated approach on Tell the Truth! is more about pure feeling than technique. And yet he's holding in that department too, as he so capably demonstrates on Roland Vasquez's "Long Gone Bird" and on his own stunning arrangement of Paul Desmonds' "Take Five," done up in a similar fashion to his arrangement for that tune on George Benson's crossover smash hit from 1976, Breezin'. His unaccompanied rendition of "St. Louis Blues" is another guitaristic highlight, showcasing what Upchurch calls his stride guitar technique: incorporating bass, chords and melody lines simultaneously, a la Joe Pass. The prolific studio guitarist covers a lot of basses and blows his own horn in fine style on his Evidence debut.

Thelonious Monk could walk from his flat to New York’s famous Philharmonic Hall on the corner of 64th Street and Broadway when he made his very first appearance there with his Big Band in December 1963. And the other musicians could get there on the underground: Phil Woods, Steve Lacy, Thad Jones – all of them were members of Monk’s closest circle of collaborators.

It is no wonder then that the well-known themes were highly agreeable and harmonious. "I Mean You", "Four In One" and "Epistrophy" resounded through the auditorium, the audience was thrilled, Thelonious laughed and danced and a short while later fans could listen to parts of the concert on a recording released by Columbia Records. In a break for a smoke, Monk sat himself down at the piano and played "Darkness On The Delta" – nocturnal atmosphere pure.

Does it bear the patina of times long past? Absolutely not! Thelonious Monk is as red-hot as he ever was.

Coke Bottle Clear Vinyl. High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

UK artist David Duncan recorded only one EP as Ability II but it is one of those which has become an utter cult classic and much sought-after 12". The story goes that the bassline on this one was so deep the mastering engineer had a problem cutting it.

There is no evidence of it on this reissue though - that bassline powers the tune perfectly as the plunging kick drums and dancing synths get you moving your body. Perfectly deployed vocals bring heart-aching soul as this most warm and dubby cut drowns you in timeless deep techno. Next to the gorgeous original mix is an extended dub for even more drawn-out late-night dance floor pleasures.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic travelling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviours are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behaviour has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behaviour and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic traveling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviors are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behavior has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behavior and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

This little pearl brings a double LP with a superb tribal bassline program : Dancefloor rules thanks to the musical skillz of Extralucide...

I'm not gonna lie to you... this guy majkes music wirth another name elsewhere. But this name change means a lot... Remember Dilamn and Asystematik...

Anyway enjoy the sound and this crazy project ! We all need crazy project !

A native of Los Angeles, Henry Franklin came of age while the city was producing a crop of exciting jazz talent. Frankin’s lasting impact on jazz can be evidenced by the long list of legends who sought him out for tours and recording sessions, Stevie Wonder, Bobby Humphrey, Freddy Hubbard, & Pharaoh Sanders to name a few. Franklin’s solo output is best remembered for his two solo outings with the Black Jazz label- “The Skipper” & “The Skipper At Home”. Together, they form one of the most compelling diptychs in the entire post-bop canon. Recognised by his peers and contemporaries, Franklin’s entry for Jazz Is Dead gives the living legend his flowers and recognises the contributions The Skipper has made as one of jazz’s most influential heartbeats.

Back Of The Bus is always where the cool kids hung out and on the evidence of this first release that will be true of this label too. It comes with fresh and characterful artwork and minimal house beats packed with charm. Manchester-based producer Pach is the man behind them and he opens up with the bouncy 'Double Trouble' before cutting up a more tough-edged groove with '7am Start.' 'Hassle In The Castle' has a nice percolating bassline that never lets up as narcotic pads drift and smear all around and 'Stairway To Heaven' gets all trippy and late night. This is a high-quality first EP.

Lucky For You is Bully's most close-to-the-bone album yet. It's an album that's searing and unmistakably marked by its creator's experiences, while still retaining the massive sound that Alicia Bognanno has become known for over the last decade. Her fourth album draws from personal pain and the universal struggle that is existing, learning, and moving on-and it's all soundtracked by Bognanno's rock-solid melodic sensibilities and a widescreen sound that's impossible to pin down when it comes to the textures explored. These ten songs are simply the most irresistible Bognanno's put to tape yet, making Lucky For You her greatest triumph to date in a career already packed with them. Work on Lucky For You began last year, when Bognanno brought some in-progress demos to producer J.T. Daly in his Nashville studio to see if they could strike creative kismet. "Authenticity is always on my mind, without even knowing it," she explains while discussing their recording process together. "It was great with J.T., because I could tell he was a genuine fan who wanted to emphasize what's actually good about my writing instead of changing it. I could tell how much he cared about the project, and it meant alot to me." The album came together over the course of seven months, the longest gestation process for a Bully record to date, but that time allowed inspiration to emerge in new ways. The result is a kaleidoscopic rock record spanning punk's grit, the crunchy bliss of shoegaze, explosive Britpop, and the type of classic anthems Bully has been known for. Lucky For You's thematic focus zooms in on grief and loss: The record is largely inspired by Bognanno's dog and best friend Mezzi passing away, at a time when her life already felt as if in metamorphosis. The oceanic first single "Days Move Slow" was written shortly after Mezzi's passing, reflecting the persistence of Bognanno's incisive wit in the face of adversity. "There was nothing I could do except sit down and write it, and it felt so good." And then there's the passionate opening track "All I Do," which kicks in the door with huge riffs atop her lyrical reflections on three years of sobriety. "Once I stopped drinking, I felt like I was still haunted by mistakes and things that had happened when I was drinking, and it's still taking me a long time to forget about that while existing in this house. How do I shed the skin from a path I've moved on from?" In that vein, Lucky For You is a document of perseverance in the face of the big and the small stuff. "I'm so overly emotional and sensitive, it's a blessing and a curse" she says with a laugh, but there's no downside to her expressions of vulnerability on this record; it's the latest bit of evidence that nothing can hold Bognanno back.

Lucky For You is Bully's most close-to-the-bone album yet. It's an album that's searing and unmistakably marked by its creator's experiences, while still retaining the massive sound that Alicia Bognanno has become known for over the last decade. Her fourth album draws from personal pain and the universal struggle that is existing, learning, and moving on-and it's all soundtracked by Bognanno's rock-solid melodic sensibilities and a widescreen sound that's impossible to pin down when it comes to the textures explored. These ten songs are simply the most irresistible Bognanno's put to tape yet, making Lucky For You her greatest triumph to date in a career already packed with them. Work on Lucky For You began last year, when Bognanno brought some in-progress demos to producer J.T. Daly in his Nashville studio to see if they could strike creative kismet. "Authenticity is always on my mind, without even knowing it," she explains while discussing their recording process together. "It was great with J.T., because I could tell he was a genuine fan who wanted to emphasize what's actually good about my writing instead of changing it. I could tell how much he cared about the project, and it meant alot to me." The album came together over the course of seven months, the longest gestation process for a Bully record to date, but that time allowed inspiration to emerge in new ways. The result is a kaleidoscopic rock record spanning punk's grit, the crunchy bliss of shoegaze, explosive Britpop, and the type of classic anthems Bully has been known for. Lucky For You's thematic focus zooms in on grief and loss: The record is largely inspired by Bognanno's dog and best friend Mezzi passing away, at a time when her life already felt as if in metamorphosis. The oceanic first single "Days Move Slow" was written shortly after Mezzi's passing, reflecting the persistence of Bognanno's incisive wit in the face of adversity. "There was nothing I could do except sit down and write it, and it felt so good." And then there's the passionate opening track "All I Do," which kicks in the door with huge riffs atop her lyrical reflections on three years of sobriety. "Once I stopped drinking, I felt like I was still haunted by mistakes and things that had happened when I was drinking, and it's still taking me a long time to forget about that while existing in this house. How do I shed the skin from a path I've moved on from?" In that vein, Lucky For You is a document of perseverance in the face of the big and the small stuff. "I'm so overly emotional and sensitive, it's a blessing and a curse" she says with a laugh, but there's no downside to her expressions of vulnerability on this record; it's the latest bit of evidence that nothing can hold Bognanno back.

Lucky For You is Bully's most close-to-the-bone album yet. It's an album that's searing and unmistakably marked by its creator's experiences, while still retaining the massive sound that Alicia Bognanno has become known for over the last decade. Her fourth album draws from personal pain and the universal struggle that is existing, learning, and moving on-and it's all soundtracked by Bognanno's rock-solid melodic sensibilities and a widescreen sound that's impossible to pin down when it comes to the textures explored. These ten songs are simply the most irresistible Bognanno's put to tape yet, making Lucky For You her greatest triumph to date in a career already packed with them. Work on Lucky For You began last year, when Bognanno brought some in-progress demos to producer J.T. Daly in his Nashville studio to see if they could strike creative kismet. "Authenticity is always on my mind, without even knowing it," she explains while discussing their recording process together. "It was great with J.T., because I could tell he was a genuine fan who wanted to emphasize what's actually good about my writing instead of changing it. I could tell how much he cared about the project, and it meant alot to me." The album came together over the course of seven months, the longest gestation process for a Bully record to date, but that time allowed inspiration to emerge in new ways. The result is a kaleidoscopic rock record spanning punk's grit, the crunchy bliss of shoegaze, explosive Britpop, and the type of classic anthems Bully has been known for. Lucky For You's thematic focus zooms in on grief and loss: The record is largely inspired by Bognanno's dog and best friend Mezzi passing away, at a time when her life already felt as if in metamorphosis. The oceanic first single "Days Move Slow" was written shortly after Mezzi's passing, reflecting the persistence of Bognanno's incisive wit in the face of adversity. "There was nothing I could do except sit down and write it, and it felt so good." And then there's the passionate opening track "All I Do," which kicks in the door with huge riffs atop her lyrical reflections on three years of sobriety. "Once I stopped drinking, I felt like I was still haunted by mistakes and things that had happened when I was drinking, and it's still taking me a long time to forget about that while existing in this house. How do I shed the skin from a path I've moved on from?" In that vein, Lucky For You is a document of perseverance in the face of the big and the small stuff. "I'm so overly emotional and sensitive, it's a blessing and a curse" she says with a laugh, but there's no downside to her expressions of vulnerability on this record; it's the latest bit of evidence that nothing can hold Bognanno back.

Their masterpiece? With breaks for dayyyyyys and an almost ambient, heavy jazz atmosphere throughout, *this* is the apex of British jazz-rock fusion. We'll Talk About It Later was first released on Vertigo in 1971 and original copies are now very tricky to score. Like all the Nucleus records, it’s aged ridiculously well and this Be With re-issue, re-mastered from the original analogue tapes, shows off just why this deserves to be back in press.

Genius trumpeter and visionary composer Ian Carr was one of the most respected British musicians of his era. He was a true pioneer and saw the potential in fusing the worlds of jazz with rock, just as Miles Davis and The Tony Williams Lifetime did in the US. In late 1969, following the demise of the Rendell-Carr quintet, and tiring of British jazz, Carr assembled the legendary Nucleus. Regarding music as a continuous process, Nucleus refused to “recognise rigid boundaries” and worked on delivering what they saw as a “total musical experience”. We can get behind that.

Under bandleader Carr, Nucleus existed as a fluid line-up of inventive, skilled musicians. This constant evolution and revolution was all part of the continuous musical exploration and discovery that took jazz to new levels. And the music has kept relevant. To steal a line from a review of our re-issue of Roots, when it comes to anything Nucleus “it’s basically already hip-hop”.

We'll Talk About It Later is arguably Nucleus's best album. Not only that, it's in the top 5 of all fusion albums. By the time Nucleus entered Trident Studios in September 1970 to record Elastic Rock's successor, they had already won a best group award at the Montreux Jazz Festival. Once again presented in a Roger Dean designed die-cut gatefold sleeve it continued to demonstrate the chemistry and interplay that worked so brilliantly on Elastic Rock; Carr's sumptuous trumpet and flügelhorn lines, Karl Jenkins's funk-filled electric keyboards, Chris Spedding's wah-wah guitar, Brian Smith's sax and the rhythmic foundation of drummer John Marshall and bassist Jeff Clyne.

The group work and insane musicianship Nucleus were famed for is in evidence from the off. The intensely funky "Song for the Bearded Lady" is absolute FIRE, blasting out the speakers to leave listeners floored. Counterpoint riffing segues into a spacious groove and a Carr trumpet solo demonstrating the influence of electric Miles from the period. The stop-start funk of "Sun Child" would appeal to Soft Machine devotees whilst the genuinely touching "Lullaby for a Lonely Child" is a lovely downtempo ballad. Featuring an understated, reflective horn line from Carr and Smith and atmospheric, shimmering bouzouki from Spedding, there's an exotic flavour which contributes to the bliss. The ominous, sleazy title track retains a swaggering menace and is not the only track to lend a sort of heavy stoner rock atmosphere. The guitars and bass are deep and low throughout, conjuring heavy psych moments to go with the actual jazz and even funk. To say this album was in conversation with Bitches Brew would not be overstating the sheer brain-frying brilliance.

The Weather Report-adjacent "Oasis" opens Side B, a colossal track featuring nearly 10 minutes of steadily building melodic horns, keys and choppy guitar riffs. So ace, it could easily go on for another 10. Mesmeric. Spedding adds unique vocals to the undeniable groove of "Ballad of Joe Pimp" whilst saxophonist Smith's duet with drummer Marshall at the conclusion of "Easter 1916" - inspired by the Yeats poem about the Irish nationalist uprising in Dublin - adopts the wildness of the most incendiary free jazz.

This Be With edition of We'll Talk About It Later has been re-mastered from the original Vertigo master tapes, Simon Francis’ mastering working together with Cicely Balston's cut at AIR Studios to weave their usual magic with these wonderful recordings. The stunning die-cut sleeve has been restored with the original gatefold window pane depicting the Irish uprising in 1916. Incredible, timeless, guaranteed spine-chills.

Elements of breakcore, shoegaze, and obtuse slacker rock find home on An Insult, at times with no bridge at all between the disparate styles. In TAGABOWs.

The Brazil, a stop-on-a-dime is the only thing that separates hazy slowcore and adventurous drum n bass, unambiguous evidence of the bands penchant for iconoclast composition. A Country Westerns side of the split entertains similar stylistic mashups, opening with the atmospheric jungle of Lung before lurching into the alt- rock Keeping up with the Joneses, whose fuzzed- out lead riff calls back to bygone eras. On paper, the combination of styles may read as cacophonous or incompatible, but the end result is instead a measured contrast
of sounds, a reflection of the inescapable influence of our chaotic time and the groups environments.

It's a cohesive song cycle purpose-built for pit stops at points beyond along the California country corridor. Sonically, Stay In It feels equally at home in 2022 as it might in 1972, evidenced by nods to "After The Gold Rush"- era Neil Young, Jonathan Wilson,and The War on Drugs.
The singer-songwriter trucked Jerry Garcia's old console to the desert to embrace the analog. The kind where if you want to rip a guitar solo at 3am with the windows open, you go for it, cowboy. A flurry of calls reverberated back and forth until Eric and his producer Damien Lewis (Kevin Parker, JamesBay), crash-landed in the tiny high desert outpost of Landers, California...in August.

"Stay In It" is a way of saying be present, it's "Be Here Now" says Silverman, an accomplished veteran of the Bay Area live music scene (with appearances at festivals such as Outside Lands and Noise Pop under his belt). "So the record is really about just finding that moment where it all locks in and flows. Get there and stay there."

This is music that picks up influences and imagery and shapes and colors as it encounters them on Interstate 62, before dropping them off as they turn into specks of dust on the horizon. There's the two-step lilt of "Better Days", where we start awash in melancholy synths but end up hopeful for possibility. There's the synthesizer summoning courtesy of first- call session keyboardist Adam MacDougall (Black Crowes, Circles Around The Sun) on "All In My Head" where
things get fully cosmic.

But no matter the track, there's something bigger happening here.

Old style, Tip-On Jacket, and 8pp heavy insert featuring a treasure trove of newly discovered photos, and a 6,000 word essay by Kris Needs.

In 1962, Karen summoned Richard Tucker to join her in Colorado, extolling the healthier lifestyle, and plentiful gigs at Boulder folk club The Attic. Upon his arrival, the pair solidified their personal and professional relationship, riding horses in the mountains, and performing as a duo at parties and venues throughout Denver and Boulder. Stories of the spell they conjured - and rumours of tapes! - have circulated among friends and musicians who witnessed them, but until now, no recorded evidence had turned up.

Shuckin' Sugar is the glorious result of three reel to reel tapes that miraculously found their way to us in November, 2018; which featured two complete shows from The Attic in January '63, and a benefit concert for The Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) recorded the following February. Their gigs would often include brief solo sets from Karen and Richard, in addition to the duets, and all seven solo songs of Karen's found on the three reels are included here, as well as five duets, sequenced as close to how it all went down as humanly possible. To describe the record would take a poet, but all I can say is that unveiling a missing chapter in the Karen Dalton story - with six songs we've never heard her sing before - is cause for celebration in Delmore's world.

"From her opening, jaw-dropping lift-off with early blues standard "Trouble In Mind," the unique
otherworld Karen conjured springs into vivid life. Playing to audiences inevitably bound to the era's formalities and traditions, Karen instinctively pushed the envelope, straying into uncharted territory beyond the established borders. She must have bewildered many who came to see her in those winsome Peter, Paul and Mary times." From the liner notes by Kris Needs