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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Initially started as a a solo project until Deacon D. was joined by guitarist Åskväder in September 1999. After an hiatus HETROERTZEN resurfaced in Sweden in 2009 with the release of ‘Exaltation Of Wisdom’ issued on their own imprint Lamech Records. That album put forward the band’s early interest in the occult, Gnosticism and Illumination. 2016 saw the release of their critically acclaimed ' Uprising of the Fallen' previous album, HETROERTZEN are now releasing their brand new album entitled ' Phosphorus Vol 1' for a late Spring release on Listenable HETROERTZEN comment about ‘Phosphorus Vol 1' : " A new day has come to pass. A new ray pierces the veil of darkness and confusion. A new gem feeds the astonished sight and yet we walk through times of uncertainty before facing the switching Era… After five years of silence and lots of work, Hetroertzen finally give you the first Volume of ‘Phosphorus', which is the crown for our latest Opus or the new Sephira in our artistic/spiritual development. This is in fact a strong title, taken from the Vampiric-eucharistic ritual of the “Ecclesia Gnosticae” (Gnostic Church) which inspired the “Libation” passage in the Order of the Knight Templars; and even in the Catholic Mass later on. “Unless You Eat the Flesh of the Son of Man and Drink His Blood You Have No Life In You” The Royal Art or the Dragon’s Arts are present more or less in any occult teaching as Alchemy aims to conjoin separated ways into the quintessence of “Holy Marriage”. As one church focused on the feminine esoteric aspect of Communion and the other on the masculine; We use both sides unified as a more accurate representation of “unity” and “oneness”. (The One). 'Phosphorus Vol 1' consists of eight tracks plus one bonus track available on the CD version. They harvest the very soul of Wisdom and Salvation or Salvation through Wisdom as we see it. Each title encloses a key or “Clavicula” which reveals different passages to the Adept. Once more, the term “Eyes to see and Ears to hear” is fundamental when it comes to the listening experience to its fullest. As all of the previous works, this is a unique piece which complements our experimental / conceptual aura into its own mystic tree. Time will tell when the second volume faces the waves of turbulence. Certainly, it shall swallow the soul of the sleepers and haunt the dreams of those who knock at our door… Through plague and war, we survive the hand of destiny by the laws of cosmic thought and the bliss of this endless journey. Light of all Lights, blessed be ! "

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.

Big City - "Liquid Times". A Recurring Daydream on zero gasoline Pixelating to exaltation on a big city night cantaloupe runs hard in the dungeoun then car home at 6am. "Firestarter walk with me" you like saxophones I like the kinks a guitar virtuoso and a big bass bliss. 5 songs 45 RPM. BIg City is the love child of guitar mastermind Katayoon Yousefbigloo (Puzzlehead, Hotline TNT) and underground dance instigator Davey Biddle (Copyright Linda Fox).

On a balmy Brazilian night in February, 1981, a crowd gathered in Rio de Janeiro's Gávea neighbourhood under the iconic dome of the city's Planetário (Planetarium). Alongside musicians like Helio Delmiro and Milton Nascimento (who were in the audience that night), they were there to see the great "Bruxo" (sorcerer) Hermeto Pascoal live in concert, with his new band formation which would become known simply as "O Grupo" (The Group).

Growing up on a farm in Brazil's northeastern state of Alagoas, Hermeto has always been deeply in tune with, and inspired by nature. In his youth he would make his own flutes to play call and response with the birds and frogs. He would build scrap-metal instruments in his blacksmith grandfather's forge, and sit for hours by the lake listening to the sounds of nature. On the Planetário Da Gávea recordings though, Hermeto is cast as the "sorcerer" or the "cosmic emissary" (as the great Brazilian guitarist Guinga once called him), exhibiting an intuitive sense of harmony and melody beyond that of our own world.

"Tudo e Som" (All is Sound). It's a phrase Hermeto regularly returns to, and it points to the fact that not only can music be made from anything, but also alludes to something much more profound. It's an understanding of the universe as being in a state of constant movement, forever vibrating at the quantum level, like the string of a guitar, or a saxophone's reed. "Tudo e Som" is a declaration of the mystical and spiritual power of sound, as a fundamentally vibrational force.

The series of concerts at the Planetário marked the birth of "O Grupo" which would last with the same line-up (apart from Zé Eduardo Nazário) for the next eleven years. Every member of O Grupo was a phenomenal musician in their own right. It was one of saxophonist/flautist Carlos Malta's first gigs with the group, and the concert unusually featured two drummers, Zé Eduardo Nazário and Marcio Bahia. Nazário, from São Paulo, had played with Hermeto during the mid-70s (as well as with Milton Nascimento, Egberto Gismonti and Toninho Horta, to name a few). Bahia though had just joined the group. Acclaimed keyboard player Jovino Santos Neto was on keyboards, piano and organ, and the great Itiberê Zwarg (who remains in Hermeto's band to this day), played bass. Rounding the group off was the percussionist Pernambuco. During this period (up until the early 90s) the group would rehearse for hours on end, virtually seven days a week, with a total dedication to music and Hermeto's musical vision.

Most of the compositions performed that night at the Planetário had never been recorded before, and many are unique to this album, including the wild 'Homônimo Sintróvio', the exaltant 'Samba Do Belaqua', 'Vou Pra Lá e Pra Cá' and 'Bombardino', which features Hermeto's wonderfully absurd call and response mouthpiece soliloquy. Then there's the stunning 7/4 Samba 'Jegue' which builds with inventive dissonance, before releasing yet another celestially colourful, celebratory refrain. The show also features the first recorded performances of 'Era Pra Ser e Não Foi' and 'Ilza na Feijoada' (inspired by Hermetos' wife Ilza's famed black bean and meat stew), which Hermeto later recorded on his 1984 studio album "Lagoa Da Canoa Município De Arapiraca".

Dubbed by Miles Davis as "one of the most important musicians on the planet", a Hermeto Pascoal live show was (and still is) an experience like no other. Across the recording of the Planetário concert, wild improvisation meets groovy, virtuosic vamping on progressive, extended psychedelic jams. The tracks are generally built around a beautiful, transcendent melody; instantly recognisable as being Hermeto's, and for the most part, the musicians then solo over extended two chord vamps. There's a plethora of powerfully delivered rhythms, wild solos and the performances are punctuated by Hermeto's unpredictable, at times comical sonic antics.

Over forty years since this historic happening, Far Out Recordings is overjoyed to release this magical recording of Hermeto Pascoal e Grupo Live at Planetário Da Gávea, on double vinyl LP, CD and digitally for a February 4th 2022 release.

Tracks by Cygnus, Umwelt, The Exaltics, D'Arcangelo, Vema-Diodes, Hermes 3, Noise&Noise and Andrea Benedetti. The Time Capsule project, also known as 808 Box, is a project created by Fundamental Records. The six boxes released in recent years include 56 records with over 300 tracks from artists from every corner of the world. Some warehouse copies have surfaced of the 5th 808 Box, and these will be available individually. These are new copies in perfect condition, with the original sleeves printed with the classic Roland TR-808.

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

2021 REPRESS! Robotic, atmosferic, dark electrotechno as we have come to expect from The Exaltics. Reminiscent of old B12, Transmat and Dopplereffekt releases.

Far Out Recordings presents the peerless and criminally undervalued Quartin catalogue, beginning with the reissue of Jose Mauro’s forgotten masterpiece Obnoxius. Over the course of the 60s, Roberto Quartin released more than 20 albums in Brazil on his label Forma, by artists including the likes of Eumir Deodato and Quateto Em Cy. Selling the rights of Forma to Polygram in 1969, Quartin struck out for pastures new at the dawn of the 1970s with the launch of his self-titled label. Significant works and high-water marks for Brazilian music overall followed in that decade’s first year, with Victor Assis Brasil Plays Antonio Carlos Jobim and the aforementioned Obnoxius. These singular gems in Brazilian music, difficult to categorise yet compellingly haunting, have for too long gone unheard.

Today, very little is known about Jose Mauro and as a result those searching for some kind of insight on the man behind the music must attempt to glean what they can from the music itself. One rumour claims he died in a car accident shortly before the album’s release, a fact that could have lent his brief musical career a touch of mythology were it not for how scant the details concerning any other aspects of his life are. The political turmoil from which the album emerged is significant also; recorded during an era of oppressive state censorship, the album, like all the Quartin catalogue, is the result of steadfast defiance in the face of a crushing military dictatorship. While many musicians of the era fled the country, preferring their prospects in the affluent, liberated USA, rebellious, young musicians like Mauro chose to stay and reflect their anger at the authorities through thinly veiled protest songs such as the stirring ‘Apocalipse’. Herein lies the basis for a more dramatic theory; that Mauro was in fact abducted by the military! Whatever the truth, the mystery remains unsolved, and all that remains is his bewitching music, all of which is composed by Mauro and Ana Maria Bahiana. Production on the record was cancelled after Mauro’s death and it was never sold commercially until its rerelease decades later. What appeal does Mauro’s music hold to today’s listeners, forty-something years removed from its conception? Simply put, there is very little else that sounds much like it all. Take the title track of ‘Obnoxius’. A wholly singular piece of music, blending string-drenched melancholia with orchestral pomp, sunny psychedelic strumming with propulsive percussion, topped off with Mauro’s yearning vocals. The result is indicative of Mauro’s unique blend of sounds from Latin Jazz and samba to psychedelic folk and baroque orchestration.

Today, Obnoxius retains its strange, otherworldly appeal – A firm favourite amongst a small circle of deep diggers including Madlib, Gilles Peterson, Floating Points. Jose Mauro’s mournful and melancholic vocals create a dark, brooding atmosphere that stands in contrast to the usual joyfulness and high-spirited rhythm of the more prominent Brazilian music of the era. Despite this air of foreboding, Mauro’s confident baritones, chord patterns and sumptuous arrangements have the ability to induce in the listener an almost trance-like state of ecstasy. Mauro’s long hidden masterpiece, a complex and uniquely stunning work is being offered the chance to be heard by the wider audience it has always deserved. A second Jose Mauro release, A Viagem Des Horas, compiling more incredible tracks unreleased in Mauro’s lifetime, will follow, alongside other unreleased jewels from the Quartin catalogue, from the likes of Piri and Victor Assis Brasil…

2021 REPRESS! Robotic, atmosferic, dark electrotechno as we have come to expect from The Exaltics. This time with harder, more acidic tracks compared to part 1.

“One of the vital pieces in the jigsaw puzzle of ’90s British rock music.” Pat Gilbert, Mojo magazine While his own name has yet to grace an album front cover, for more than a twenty years Gem Archer has been a key contributor to some of the UK’s highest profile guitar bands, beginning with Oasis in 2000, Beady Eye in 2009 and the touring version of Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds since 2015.
Before all that there was Heavy Stereo, caught up in the mid ‘90s music maelstrom where their only album ‘Déjà Voodoo’ took its place alongside Paul Weller’s ‘Stanley Road’, The Charlatans’ ‘Telling Stories’, Super Furry Animals’ ‘Fuzzy Logic’, Supergrass’s ‘I Should Coco’, The Boo Radley’s ‘Giant Steps’, Ride’s ‘Carnival Of Light’ – and, of course, ‘Definitely Maybe’ and ‘(What’s The Story) Morning Glory?’ by Oasis. It is easy to understand why any album could get overlooked in such exalted company. ‘Déjà Voodoo’ and the four singles – ‘Sleep Freak’, ‘Smiler’, ‘Chinese Burn’ and ‘Mouse In A Hole’ – all display Gem’s deeply held affection for old-school rock’n’roll values. In 1994/95, the outside world came into sync with his fondness for The Jam, Sly Stone, Hendrix, The Beatles, the Stones, The Small Faces, Motown, Stax, glam rock, punk rock and all other points on the compass of rock’n’roll cool, which coalesced into what became known as Britpop. And while those influences are in ‘Déjà Voodoo’ for all to hear, the album is far from derivative; this is a collection of well-constructed pop songs that still retain their swagger and zest.
Unavailable since it was first released on Creation Records in 1996, this new 25th anniversary 180g clear vinyl edition is a faithful recreation of the original 12-track LP.

After a period of spending time in nature living in the Spanish coastal town of Dexo - producer Roi speaks of his experience of returning to city life on his second EP for Fanzine Records on Crunia EP. Set to drop this summer, Roi shares two tightly honed original tracks inviting Carl Finlow and The Exaltics to remix.

The EP is a counterpoint to Deixo EP - his 2019 EP on Fanzine that speaks from his opposite perspective of the self-knowledge born out of his isolation when he first moved to the coast out of the city. Crunia marks his time preparing the return to the jungle of the asphalt.

It's a new chapter moving from an introverted to extroverted existence and between nature and man's constructs in the city. Opening the EP Maianca works in deep breakbeats with shimmering synths with a jumping and uplifting feel. Carl Finlow's remix builds it into an ultra-funky electro boogie number that perfectly speaks of the carefree existence of living in nature.


Crunia takes the EP into a more frantic corner of urban life - to light up dark corners gritty warehouse dance floors. For their remix The Exaltics take's Roi's heavy handed lead and brings a heavily kicking version of Crunia to the mix ready to pump the city's sound systems.

Fanzine Records is part of Fanzine Project - promoters and educators based in A Coruna, Spain. They focus on developing and supporting local artists through Fanzine Records, Fanzine Fest and Fanzine School.

2021 Repress with basic artwork! The best, hardest and darkest exaltics so far, the last of the 1000 lights in the Sky trilogy. Atmospheric dark electro/techno, the best in the business!

Lucky Brown is the alias and stage persona of American composer Joel Ricci, who conducts myriad combinations of musicians drawn from his Seattle Washington based Westsound Recording Collective in dynamic and spiritual public and private happenings. Via his dozens of self-produced experimental deep funk vinyl singles released by Tramp Records over the past 13 years, he has been hailed by music mavens worldwide as a deep funk pioneer.

Deep Blues EP Some Kinda Blues by the Mosquito Hawks is the fruit of a one-off early morning session in a practice room at the Seattle Drum School in 2010 featuring luminaries from the Seattle funk community including fiery guitar phenom Jabrille "Jimmy James" Williams of Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio renown, versatile drummer Jens Gunnoe and dynamic bass player Bob Lovelace. Rounding out the horn section is longtime friend and collaborator Thomas Deakin, who's singular tenor tone will be familiar to owners of the Space Dream and Mystery Road records. A tantalizing glimpse of the session was released by Tramp as a single under the name T.D. & The Jimmy James 3 on the extremely limited edition Mosquitohawk imprint, but this EP offers us time to appreciate the transformative alchemy of the session in its entirety. The new EP makes room for highlights that just couldn't have been contained on one 45, such as the remaining 7 minutes of brutal jamming of Mosquito Eater, the New Orleans street party shout of Hydrangea and the exalted kind of blues of Some Kinda Blues.

On this album, Ricci proves once again that he has developed his own trademark production and sound whose depth and honesty form a basis from which his work will ever remain timeless. Although this is just a 5-track EP we truly hope that the Mosquito Hawks gets at least as much attention as all of Ricci's other marvelous projects he did for Tramp during the past 15 years.

“Osondi owendi. What is cherished by some is despised by others. One man’s meat is another man’s poison. Different strokes for different folks. To each their own. Osondi owendi.

It’s a conventional aphorism in the Igbo language but if you utter the word “osondi owendi” in Nigeria today, the first thing that comes to anybody’s mind is the cucumber-cool highlife music maestro Chief Stephen Osita Osadebe and his legendary album that takes its name from the adage. Released in 1984, Osondi Owendi was instantly received as Osadebe’s magnum opus, the crowning event of an exalted career stretching back to the early years of highlife’s emergence as Nigeria’s predominant popular music.

Stephen Osadebe first appeared on the music scene in 1958 as a spry, twenty-two year-old vocalist in the Empire Rhythm Skies Orchestra, directed by bandleader Steven Amechi. With his dapper suits, urbane Nat King Cole-influenced vocal stylings and jaunty, uptempo, calypso-scented dance tunes, he personified the frisky spirit and anxious aspirations of a young, educated generation that had come of age in the wake of the Second World War, in a Nigeria that was rapidly shaking off British colonization and marching towards an independent future. 1959 would be the year that he truly made his mark in the business with his debut solo single “Lagos Life Na So So Enjoyment.” A giddy exhortation of the music, sex, fun and freedom availed by life in the big city, the song became a sensation and an anthem, and Stephen Osadebe became the leader of his own popular dance band, the Nigerian Sound Makers.

Osadebe would ride this wave of acclaim through most of the nineteen sixties, but a change in direction would be called for at the dawn of the seventies. As Nigeria emerged from a devastating civil war, so did a new generation of youth inspired by rock and funk, confrontational sounds reflective of a more violent, less idealistic era. All of the sudden, the idioms of the post-WWII dance orchestras that nurtured Osadebe’s cohort seemed quaint, the stuff of nostalgia. Osadebe needed to evolve to respond to the new tumultuous, turned-up times.

His response? He cooled it down.

Abetted by a new crop of fire-blooded young players, Osadebe slowed his music to a mellow, meditative tempo, brought forward the lumbering, Afro Cuban-accented bass and percussion, from the rockers he borrowed searing lead lines on the electric guitar. Over this musical bedrock, doesn’t so much as sing as he dreamily muses, coos, sighs aphorisms, words of wisdom and inspiration. “When one listens to my music, all I say appears meaningful,” Osadebe explained his lyrical approach, “at times they are in the form of proverbs which provoke much thought afterwards.” The result is a blend that is both rollicking and soothingly languid. Osadebe christened the style Oyolima—a tranquil, otherworldly state of total relaxation and pleasure. Osondi Owendi represents oyolima at its finest, and possibly Nigerian highlife in epitome.

Osondi owendi. What is cherished by some is despised by others. In some way, the album’s title constitutes a paradox. Because Osondi Owendi is a record that it’s almost impossible to imagine being despised by anybody."

* Emika releases a remix EP of her 6th studio album ‘Falling In Love With Sadness’, (Originally released on World Mental Health Day Oct 2018)
* The remix EP explores 4 sound worlds in electronic music today. Experimental bass music, hypnotic & dark techno, and electro.
About the remixers:
* Pinch, a pioneer of UK bass-driven music, is considered to be one of the most groundbreaking, explorative producers to emerge from the UK dubstep scene.
* Rising techno star Julia Govor is an artist doing things differently, paving her own way with her own label, receiving recognition from the global dance music scene.
* Rebekah needs no introduction, pioneering her own intense sound, now entering her 20th year in the business, she is a serious artist with some seriously heavy vibes.
* Underground Berlin talent Headless Horseman, all though shrouded in mystery, is in high demand world-wide to perform his unique live sets at some of the biggest clubs and festivals.
* Emika produced original album material with cult electro icon The Exaltics.
* Solid remixes from solid underground artists.
About the remixes:
* Pinch creates a seductive environment for a scene from which could have been from David Fincher's Fight Club, one which threatens to overload at any given time, but retains tension until the end.
* Julia’s mix transports us into the next part of our journey, beyond conflict and tension, she gives us the chance to breathe, open up, be free and to dance.
* Rebekah's remix brings us hurtling back down to Earth at a tremendous pace, with crystal clear drums that wake up the soul and synths that energize the mind, this version is more than a dark techno track, it has the spirit of a self-confident grown woman running through it.
* Headless Horseman brings Emika’s original into a beautiful new song space, revoicing the harmony and finding completely fresh chords and backing.

* The artwork hits the mark with a message important for Emika: Equality. With 3 female artists and 3 male artists all featured on the cover, this is a way in which Emika highlights her love for collaboration and sharing of the spot-light.
* Green coloured vinyl (1st edition) 500 copies pressed..

‘’We are moving into a new century where collaboration is going to bring music forwards and exclusivity is going to become a thing of the past.’’ - Emika

History of Heat is an eroto-intellectual retelling of a love story. It is the scholarship of heat, and the sources of its production in the body: desire, exaltation, anticipation, fear, rage and mourning . It is a fable circulating through the nerves, pumped and distributed by its own mythologies. Through different chapters, we follow the heroine of our story from the initial desire to love, the sensual pull which oscillates between the grotesque and sacred longing of the flesh (‘L’Enfer en pleine lumière’ translates to ‘Hell in plain sight’)...to the sudden ghostlike appearance of the Other (Apparition) as a projection of the dream. We enter into the spiritual, the seeing visions and the blindness of love. ‘Animal’ speaks of instinct, the smell of the beloved, already the deconstruction of the divine back into the realm of the physical. The title track ‘History of heat’ sings the hesitation of love, the precipice of openness and the invitation of the contract: Dance with me... (This is where the metaphoric marriage is forged). In ‘Perfection’, the pressure which keeps the relationship on the pedestal of the absolute stunts and paralyses love. Unrealistic expectations of the self and the other person creates the push and pull of the not wanting what one wants and the fear to get what one has been asking for. ‘Tiny engine’ speaks of mechanical attachment, attachment to the lover as habit, as a second nature, and the call to the other person as a magnet. In ‘Ditectrice’, the madness and the folly of separation spawns war and confusion. It is the violent refusal to live without the other... the pleading with god. ‘Feed him’ follows with resignation and exhaustion. Love has become the beast of burden who eats away at itself insatiably. ‘War text’ brings forth the devastation, the peace treaty and finally the metaphysical Divorce. In ‘Guttermoon’, the vita contemplativa begins, the blood starts to cool, the scene is a ghost town. ‘Wrong god’ similarly winds down as an ode to remorse and mourning. Finally, ‘Cinema Verité’ closes out the album with a mistrust of ‘reality’: the heroine becomes a philosopher, she becomes an artist... did the relationship ever exist or was it a projection “In front of a movie screen” ?

History of Heat is an experimental narrative and cinematic pastiche of all original and self recorded material. A chaotic mix of sounds both analog and digitally produced recalls a warlike interpersonal breakdown. The mood established by the lyrical content of the piece is meant to be demanding, enclosing the listener within a unique and compelling cocoon of otherworldly sound. the Album is framed within a discursive love story which reflects larger relational problematics and interpersonal traumas. looped vocals act as incantations woven in and out of lyrical singing and spoken word. The instrumentals embrace chaos and intensity. Improvised violin and broken down beats compliment and balance the melancholic overtones which flutter above off the grid rhythms in this charged ficto-personal account.

Hailing from the heartland of British techno, Sheffield’s John Shima is one of the leading lights of UK electronics. His beautifully crafted sounds have graced a host of imprints including Distant Worlds, Exalt Records and, of course, FireScope. It is to the latter that Shima returns with his long awaiting debut album, The Lonely Machine.

John Shima is a master melody weaver, with this first LP attesting to his deftness of touch. Celestial chords and star gazing synthwork permeate this ten track odyssey. The musical heritage of Shima’s hometown, the elegance, majesty and subtlety of British electronics, is invoked from the needle drop. A range of influences come to the fore in this 2LP. Skirting around the edges of astral ambience and tonal texture are nods to industrial history, the rasp and resonance of rhythms in “Empires”, with the inspiration of Detroit surfacing in the future funk of “Phase Distortion” and “Linear.” Dreamscapes are painted in delicate hues, the fragile movements of “Accepting”, with brooding works adopting thicker basslines and ruffled notes as with “Distrust.” Nevertheless, it is the incandescent brightness of Lonely Machine that truly shines. Radiant pieces of elating electronics, complex and joyful compositions that chime with unbridled hope and open-hearted optimism.

Vinyl limited edition, includes lyrics booklet, white vinyl, silver layer printed on cover art, % donated to charity.

To be released on World Mental Health Day, part of the album's proceeds will be donated to a UK-based mental health charity. 'I often wonder how sadness moves through people,' Emika says, 'through time, through stories and history, and if it's something that becomes us rather than coming from us.'
% of album sales will be donated to charity Help Musicians UK
emikarecords. com Invites fans to anonymously share their experiences of depression and create a waterfall of comments inspired by the song Wash It All Away
Studio video promoting the album via Soundcloud, Autumn
Live / DJ video, promoting the album with Beatport, Autumn
Live streaming of the album from Emika's studio via FB, Insta, YT, September.
Bookings by Christopher at Melt Bookings. Team chose to give fans time to listen to the album first, shows starting early 2019, special album show with live band and dome visuals planned in the Berlin Planetarium Feb 2019. A few promo shows summer / fall 2018.
Boiler Room live show as part of Open Dance Floor series tbc
* Given its years of manifestation behind the scenes of other projects, Falling In Love With Sadness reflects a renewed understanding of Emika's own genealogy, kindred lineage and its connection to modernity. Marking a drastic departure from the menacing, stripped-down qualities of albums past, Dva and Drei, Emika has surfaced with a new upwelling of sound gracing the bittersweet, melancholic and sanguine.

* With the interplay of myriad genres both rhythmically and melodically intertwining between spacey, dub tinged Promises, lush synth pop hooks on Escape and the title track's soulful electro, a full spectrum of musicology remains primary to the ever-evolving chroma of Emika's umbrous sound.

* Further characterised by the breathy sibilance and sultry tones of Emika's noirish, vocal aesthetic, the album navigates through the morose and trappings of misanthropy by illuminating a narrative of emotional resilience and recovery.

* Co-produced with Robert Witschakowski of The Exaltics, and continuing her collaboration with guitarist Chris Lockington (as heard on Drei and Dva), Falling In Love With Sadness provides a fifth solo album for Emika, but moreover, defines itself as an overture for her future works.

To be released on World Mental Health Day, part of the album's proceeds will be donated to a UK-based mental health charity. 'I often wonder how sadness moves through people,' Emika says, 'through time, through stories and history, and if it's something that becomes us rather than coming from us.'
% of album sales will be donated to charity Help Musicians UK
emikarecords. com Invites fans to anonymously share their experiences of depression and create a waterfall of comments inspired by the song Wash It All Away
Studio video promoting the album via Soundcloud, Autumn
Live / DJ video, promoting the album with Beatport, Autumn
Live streaming of the album from Emika's studio via FB, Insta, YT, September.
Bookings by Christopher at Melt Bookings. Team chose to give fans time to listen to the album first, shows starting early 2019, special album show with live band and dome visuals planned in the Berlin Planetarium Feb 2019. A few promo shows summer / fall 2018.
Boiler Room live show as part of Open Dance Floor series tbc
* Given its years of manifestation behind the scenes of other projects, Falling In Love With Sadness reflects a renewed understanding of Emika's own genealogy, kindred lineage and its connection to modernity. Marking a drastic departure from the menacing, stripped-down qualities of albums past, Dva and Drei, Emika has surfaced with a new upwelling of sound gracing the bittersweet, melancholic and sanguine.

* With the interplay of myriad genres both rhythmically and melodically intertwining between spacey, dub tinged Promises, lush synth pop hooks on Escape and the title track's soulful electro, a full spectrum of musicology remains primary to the ever-evolving chroma of Emika's umbrous sound.

* Further characterised by the breathy sibilance and sultry tones of Emika's noirish, vocal aesthetic, the album navigates through the morose and trappings of misanthropy by illuminating a narrative of emotional resilience and recovery.

* Co-produced with Robert Witschakowski of The Exaltics, and continuing her collaboration with guitarist Chris Lockington (as heard on Drei and Dva), Falling In Love With Sadness provides a fifth solo album for Emika, but moreover, defines itself as an overture for her future works.

Das Heise Experiment 2" marks the 6th album of The Exaltics. Lovely presented on double 10" vinyl with full cover artwork from non other than the mighty Godspill, who also designed the pre release of this album with an amazing looking shape picture disc. To hold things special the guys from SolarOneMusic put a full comic with the story of "Das Heise Experiment" in each record. The music ranges from dark experimental techno, electro, ambient and soundtrackish nightmares which goes perfect with the story of the comic. Also Drexciya's Gerald Donald collaborates with The Exaltics for one track , which is one of the highlights of the album. This music is nothing for the club its much more, a complete story to feel. Turn your headphones on and dive into the world of aliens, scientists and distant gallaxies. All records come with a comic book!!!

"Luz da Joaca" is a track taken from S-Tone Inc. latest full-length "Onda", here retreated by the magic touch of Maestro Gerardo Frisina with his unique taste. A musical journey in two different movements, both in a Batucada style: the A-side exalts the original melody sung by Toco, while the B-side is a dub rhythm-focused version especially made for a DJ use. Once again Mr. Frisina gives us a sample of his skills as an affirmed producer and longtime collaborator of Schema Records!

After more than 5 years releasing exclusively their own material on their own label and with 12 EP released since nowadays there, NX1 use now the cultivated experience through this years to launch Nexe Records, a new platform with which they open to release other related artists and collaborations that will rule the label.

To get started, Nexe Records opens with a 3 EP vinyl pack which contains 12 artists remixing released tracks from NX1. The first three records are involving names such as AnD, Orphx, Blush Response, Ontal, Samot, P.E.A.R.L., Scalameriya, Go Hiyama, Surit, Lucindo, RE_P and The Exaltics, a wide sort list that define the borders and possibilities of the sound that the duo purposes for this new label.

The third EP opens with a classy electro remix from one of the most reputed names from the genre, The Exaltics. Following on the A side we also find Samot, half of the NX1 duo and who delivers a broken hard twisted remix that works perfectly for any serious techno set. The B side starts with an overwhelming raw acid version from the modular industrial artist Blush Response showing his unmistakable convoluted style. Last track of the record is done by the spanish P.E.A.R.L, serving a serious driving techno track that keeps you mesmerized with deep pads and a strong punching kick.

After more than 5 years releasing exclusively their own material on their own label and with 12 EP released since nowadays there, NX1 use now the cultivated experience through this years to launch Nexe Records, a new platform with which they open to release other related artists and collaborations that will rule the label.

To get started, Nexe Records opens with a 3 EP vinyl pack which contains 12 artists remixing released tracks from NX1. The first three records are involving names such as AnD, Orphx, Blush Response, Ontal, Samot, P.E.A.R.L., Scalameriya, Go Hiyama, Surit, Lucindo, RE_P and The Exaltics, a wide sort list that define the borders and possibilities of the sound that the duo purposes for this new label.

In the first EP we find the italian RE_P opening the record, a rough version from an original melodic track solved with class. The veteran Japanese Artist Go Hiyama is following with a playful remix that hooks you from the beginning and shows the new direction of his sound. On the other side we find the industrial guys from Serbia, Ontal, which deliver an experimental strong heavy track that breaks any conventionalism in a brilliant way. AnD are delivering the last track of the EP, an old school techno style track at his best as the British duo likes, a peak time track to end perfectly this first record of remixes.

Stirred up from deep within, from an abstract spiral of sound and movement, from a sensation of time and space absolving and converging at once, the Black Flower musicians have molded a tangible matter: the album Artifacts. Their second full album sounds international and ageless. Eastern influences, Ethiodub and jazz effortlessly merge. Fantasy and reality seem to fuse. In a word: nourishment for body and soul.

"Psyche-delicious and accessible 20th century Ethiodubjazz. As if John Zorn put on Fela Kuti's shoes and imbibed Mulatu Astatke's whirls."

Piloted by saxophonist /flutist /composer Nathan Daems (Ragini Trio, Dijf Sanders, Antwerp Gipsy-Ska Orkestra), this instrumental band aims for originality. Fellow musicians and 'brothers down the road' are Jon Birdsong (dEUS, Beck, Calexico) on cornet, Simon Segers (Absynthe Minded, De Beren Gieren, Stadt) at the drums, Filip Vandebril (Lady Linn, The Valerie Solanas, Antwerp Gipsy-Ska Orkestra) at the bass and Wouter Haest (Los Callejeros, Voodoo Boogie) playing keys.

For many of us, the Ethiopian aspect once made known to the world by Mulatu Astatke will stand out. Still, Black Flower further adds oriental scales, Afrobeat à la Fela Kuti, jazz in a John Zorn way and varied western music traditions such as rock and dub. The resulting melting pot is undoubtedly inspired by Nathan's distant travels and the multifariously colorful city of Brussels.

...Pretty legit if you ask me - LeFto, Studio Brussel

After their well-received debut album Abyssinia Afterlife (2014, W.E.R.F. / Zephyrus Records) that created an atmosphere of mythical figures and psychedelia, Black Flower now reflects on ancient and modern cultures. The album title Artifacts refers to centuries-old fragile objects or tools that empowered the development of human culture. The world today would look entirely different without those artifacts. The seemingly brittle suddenly becomes a powerful welding cornerstone. Add the musicians' personal musical backgrounds and the result is an album with an ageless mystique. Artifacts is the synthesis of different cultures, of the past and present, and personal and collective memories. It is the soundtrack to modern reality, based on the elements that connect us.

Brilliant - Gilles Peterson, BBC Radio 6

One of Belgium's Best Bands of these past years (...) Black Flower does not simply play a tune, they always groove! - Kurt Overbergh, Ancienne Belgique

Uncomplicated originality, plenty of space for fantasy and an organic tone: those are the ingredients for Black Flower to lay claim to an age-old human ritual: dancing! Still, Black Flower also stands out in various other settings. Their audience at a jazz club will have felt exalted, their audience at a late-night show will not have resisted dancing. The band wields influence over their surroundings in a way only heart-and-soul musicians can. This mastery has repeatedly taken them to United Kingdom, France, the Netherlands and Germany.

* Following on from successfully funding her How To Make A Symphony Kickstarter project, Emika returns with a new four-track EP that sees her chart yet more new territory.

* Lead track Flashbacks is a typically haunting affair whose deeply personal lyrics are a heartening example of how art can turn feelings of trauma into something beautiful

* Her velvety voice belies the deep subject matter while the sounds gracefully tread the line between the brooding and the ethereal, with pulsing, filtered synth delays, low register piano bass octaves and a stuttering slo-mo beat produced with The Exaltics, building an engrossing atmosphere

* Restless Wings goes into more experimental territory - both in terms of composition and concept. 'It's about creating a new personality which lives in the internet - something we all know

* Total features the silver-toned soprano star of How To Make A Symphony, Michaela Srumova, and tackles the complicated relationship between a mother and her daughter

* French musician Franck Vigroux provides a stark, shuddering remix of Flashbacks to complete the EP, driven by gnarled blasts of wildly distorted synths and bass grunts, rising to an intense, mesmeric crescendo

* This EP brings together the classical and electronic extremes of the Emika sound, proving that her signature is like no other and continues to evolve.

Prolific electronica polymath Emika found acclaim once again this year with new studio album 'DREI', an opus that picked up Ibiza Spotlight's 'Album Of The Week' accolade and was called a fascinating album' by Rolling Stone. With six new remixes on this EP, further life has been breathed into her latest LP - with stunning results.
UK techno legends The Black Dog provide a foreboding rework of Battles, all brooding pads, electro glitchery and stomping breakbeats.
Kamikaze Space Programme's version is more dramatic still, returning the favour after Emika appeared on his own 'Choke' recently.
CNCPT (Brenda, Natch Records) kicks off the remixes of What's The Cure with an industrious slab of dubbed-out, reverb-heavy techno, doing away with Emika's vocals entirely and instead making use of her sound design expertise with subtle finesse.
Mysterious German Clone and Bunker affiliates The Exaltics tap into their electro roots on their rework with a thick, rubbery bassline working its way under a simple, atmospheric arrangement that allows Emika's honeyed delivery to take centre stage.
Borai (Tasteful Nudes) teams up with Emika herself to provide a stripped-back, heavily-swung, stomping take on the track, boiling it down to its melodic and textural essence.
Eomac rounds off the package with his stunning string-laden instrumental interpretation.

The Descent of Man EP is the third and last part of a trilogy on vinyl dedicated to Charles Darwin studies. This final chapter is focused on the darkest side of electronic music and his impact on human psychology. As Charles Darwin studied the evolution of physical and mental traits, we want to show how obscure, trembling and aggressive sounds generate an increasing sense of agitation and loss while mild and gloomy atmospheres can relieve the body and brain, achieving a peaceful state of mind.
Don't be afraid to move into a shady space. This is not the end even if it could be.