Buscar:eye one

Annie A, the one-off collaborative project between Félicia Atkinson, Time is Away, Christina Petrie and Maxine Funke, arrives on A Colourful Storm with an inquisitive, exploratory composition evoking questions of inconstancy and reconciliation, vastness and finitude and the sometimes cruel deception of human perception. Who will conduct our dreams if we never wake?

It is a geographically diverse yet like-minded ensemble whose seeds were sown during an A Colourful Storm show in London, where time on stage was shared by Atkinson, Time is Away and Petrie. Atkinson had previously found solace in Time is Away's Ballads (ACOLOUR041), Funke's Seance (ACOLOUR035) and particularly the voice of poet Petrie, whose delivery drifts from a wide-eyed stream of consciousness to crystalline sensory expression. It is the perfect accompaniment to Atkinson's hushed tones, spoken sensitively like a mother to a resting child.

Atkinson's evocative sonic landscapes are formed from keyboard, voice and organic materials collected from life on the dramatic coast of Normandy, as well as field recordings from places far and wide. She breathes life into liminal spaces, the sound of wind, whispers and the distant clatter of rocks conjuring visions of places both beautiful and eerily familiar. Time is Away delicately arranges the field of sounds, their weaving and layering likened to the assembly of an Anni Albers textile. The spirit of Albers guides the piece, Petrie's recounting of her loom and thread a symbol of her endurance, vitality and seeking wonder in intricacies. The piece also features an exclusive concluding track by Maxine Funke, whose meditation on vulnerability confronts and surrenders herself to the enchanting natural world.

Rilo Kiley was born from hunger, from the insatiable desire to write one’s own story. The band’s origins can be traced back to Los Angeles in the late 1990s, when Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett discovered a shared songwriting obsession and began performing together. After some starts and stops, a band was formed with Pierre “Duke” de Reeder playing bass. They called themselves Rilo Kiley, borrowing a name that came to Sennett in a dream.

For their second record, Rilo Kiley headed to Nebraska to record with Bright Eyes’ Mike Mogis alongside new drummer Jason Boesel. Here, Lewis truly becomes a generational songwriter, spinning interior mysteries regarding romance, depression, trauma, hope, and isolation into cathartic revelations. The Execution of All Things was a triumphant arrival.

Originally released in 2002, the celebrated and beloved album The Execution of All Things is a hallmark of indie rock. Hailed by fans and critics alike as an essential component to any record collection.

Danny Ward’s 30-year career has been far from predictable. While best known for the musical eclecticism of his Dubble D project, the dance floor-focused nous of his work as Moodymanc and as a member of the groundbreaking 20:20 Soundsystem, Ward’s bulging CV also includes stints drumming for artists as diverse as Fila Brazillia, Rae & Christian, and The Pharcyde, to Jazz luminaries Mat Halsall and Nat Birchall, alongside countless collaborations (Flora Purim and Nightmares on Wax to name but a couple) and numerous evenings spent adding live percussion to DJ sets at iconic Leeds club night Back To Basics.

Now the long-serving Manchester musician and producer has a new project to share via NuNorthern Soul: Balaphonic. Inspired by a mixture of lockdown-era studio experiments, online collaborations, his long-held love for Afro-Cuban and Afro-Brazilian rhythms and a desire to do things differently, Resolution Revolutions is a gorgeously sonically detailed and immersive album that takes Ward’s musical output to a whole new level.

Like many musicians, Ward used the forced lockdowns of the global COVID-19 pandemic to retreat to his basement studio and make music. Focusing on utilising all of the acoustic and electronic tools at his disposal – not least his beloved percussion instruments – Ward took the opportunity not only to draw on a wide range of musical influences and ideas, but also rhythms, grooves and time signatures. As well as composing new tracks from scratch, he also revisited older compositions with fresh eyes and ears.

The results are simply stunning. Ward sets his stall out via the exotic, slow-burn Balearic warmth of ‘Sunflowers in Dub (Deep Summer Mix)’, where echoing whistles, harmonica motifs, sitar sounds, and cascading piano motifs rise above dub-wise bass and seductive, soft-focus beats. The heady, eyes closed vibe continues on the sunrise-ready awakening of ‘Disorganics (All Strings Mix)’, a samba-soaked summer shuffle rich in sparkling acoustic guitars and infectious Latin percussion, and the fretless bass-sporting Afro-Cuban yearning of ‘Six Fingers’.

As Resolution Revolutions progresses, Ward’s deep love of club-adjacent and dancefloor-focused rhythms subtly comes to the fore. There’s ‘Udders’, a hybrid – and hypnotising – fusion of chopped-up South American percussion, marimba-style melodic motifs, looped bass and spacey electronics, and Ocean Waves Brasil collaboration ‘Oxum’, a mid-tempo Afro-Brazilian deep house number wrapped in deliciously dreamy chords and gentle acid lines.

Similarly impressive and inspired is closing cut ‘Bloco Manco’, where Ward peppers a delay-laden Latin beat and a deep, weighty, dancehall style bassline in waves of echoing hand percussion and restless timbales patterns. Stripped-back, raw and seriously sub-heavy, it provides a jaw-dropping conclusion to one of Ward’s most perfectly formed albums yet.

a A1: Sunflowers In Dub Deep Summer Mix
[b] A2: Disorganics [All Strings Mix]

Rhiannon Giddens reunites with her former Carolina Chocolate Drops bandmate Justin Robinson on What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow, an album of North Carolina fiddle and banjo music. Produced by Giddens and Joseph "joebass" DeJarnette, the album features Giddens on banjo and Robinson on fiddle, with the duo playing eighteen of their favourite North Carolina tunes: a mix of instrumentals and tunes with words.

Many were learned from their late mentor, the legendary North Carolina Piedmont musician Joe Thompson; one is from another musical hero, the late Etta Baker, from whom they also learned by listening to recordings of her playing. Giddens and Robinson recorded the album outdoors and on location at Thompson’s and Baker’s North Carolina homes, as well as the former plantation Mill Prong House. They were accompanied by the sounds of nature, including two different broods of cicadas, which had not emerged simultaneously since 1803, creating a true once-in-a-lifetime soundscape. The duo, along with four other string musicians including the multi-instrumentalist Dirk Powell, will embark on the Rhiannon Giddens & The Old-Time Revue North America tour in April.

“With the assaults on reality going on in the world today, we wanted to offer another kind of record, like walking back onto a gravel or dirt road while a stampede goes the other way,” Giddens says. “With the cicada choir, this record could’ve only happened at a certain time in the last 120 years. We doubled down on place, time, realness, and old-fashioned front porch music. It’s a reminder that another way exists, with music made for your community’s enjoyment and for dancing–not solely for commercial purposes.

“What is the role of music in our society?” she wonders. “How do we de-couple it from unfettered capitalism, where music is a product and musicians are incidental? How do we use the tools and system that we have been bequeathed in a way that reminds us of other ways of being?” Robinson adds, "Recording this album felt like being back in the saddle. Just this time Joe is not here, and his fiddle is under my chin. The album is about home, the cicadas, the storms, the music, and the people who make it feel like home."

Thompson was one of the last musicians of his era and his community to carry on the southern Black string band tradition. He played a crucial role in the lives of Giddens and Robinson, who, along with their Carolina Chocolate Drops bandmate Dom Flemons, spent their formative years learning from Thompson in traditional apprentice/mentor relationships. His influence has guided all of their artistic journeys as well as their mission to keep the legacy of the Black string band tradition alive.

In further tribute to Giddens’ North Carolina roots, What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow will arrive just a week before Biscuits & Banjos, the inaugural edition of her first festival, which highlights the deep roots and enduring legacy of Black music, art, and culture while fostering community and storytelling. The sold-out festival will feature a much-anticipated Carolina Chocolate Drops reunion, their first performance together in more than a decade.

Rindert Lammers' debut album is a heartfelt exploration of gratitude, blending personal narratives with cinematic imagery in a serene and soulful ambient jazz style. Inspired by Japanese cinema and the raw authenticity of YouTube confessions, the album captures a mood of introspection and appreciation. Central to the album is the track "Thank You, Kirin Kiki," which draws from a powerful scene in the film Shopliers. Lammers explains "It's one of my favorites. The Japanese actress Kirin Kiki plays the grandmother of a ‘chosen family’, all of whom have fled or lost their own families in some way. In this scene, one of her last scenes before her (real) death, Kirin Kiki (the grandmother) looks at her family and says, 'Thank You!' twice towards the children and the sea. Kirin Kiki improvised these words on the spot, and it's such a poignant moment in the film, but also indicative of her impending death. I found the gratitude so moving it fit perfectly with the gratitude I found in the voice clip from "Thank You Hiroshi Yoshimura. "The fourth song, "Thank You Hiroshi Yoshimura," opens with a voice clip that acts almost as the protagonist of a film, reflecting on a turbulent time of sleeping in parks and on the streets. This voiceover was inspired by a comment on a Hiroshi Yoshimura video on YouTube that began, “This album reminds me of...” Lammers noticed the deeply personal responses le on these videos, so he recorded various similar YouTube comments from people around the world, initially intending to set them to music. Though much of this idea evolved, this particular voice clip remained a central influence, ultimately inspiring a cinematic journey within the album. "Summer in Shibuya" sets the scene as a trailer, "Opening Credits" introduces the narrative, and "Closing Credits" gently brings it to a close. While there’s a Japanese and Tokyo theme running through the tracks, Lammers doesn’t view the album as a tribute to Japan or Tokyo specifically—he’s never visited and admits to knowing only fragments of the culture. Yet he's drawn to Japanese environmental music and is an avid Murakami reader, seeing Japan as a powerful, visual inspiration in his mind’s eye. In a way, the album is also his “thank you” to the beautiful art that Japan has shared with the world.

Mint Green Vinyl. Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. "Everywhere your eye lands, there's another curio to marvel over," noted Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson's recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his "strikingly original" 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that's universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn't help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.

Boxset w/ 12" + 7" + Tape + Magazine, Posters

Embryo Issue 5 - Interviews and Mix series Exome
Quiet Husband
Jim KirkwoodSvartvit
Trenchfoot
Necropolis Festival White Centipede Noise Cryptworm Hyperdonitia
Crawl of Time
Night Terror Records Disengagement
Snet
Ineffable Slime
Marie Queau
Personal Hell

Natural Sciences Recs started in 2015 before mutating into the Embryo magazine series. Flesh Renewed marks ten years of the label with the fifth issue of Embryo. A light into the gutter of the fringe underground, through new tracks from the labels catalogue, 100 pages of interviews by labels and artists kicking against the grain and ties forged from the 80’s tape network. We invite you to witness the next stage of the evolution.





e A1. Osiris - Starlight Scorpio 1989 - 7"
f B1. SEEMEN - Floating Gently 1989 - 7"

Priori’s hit EP Pareidolia gets a well deserved remix treatment. The relation between Priori and Midgar started early 2023 with the release of his Pareidolia EP, where a remix for Keplrr followed quickly the year after. Now, early 2025, a group of close friends and admired artists were invited to rework the Pareidolia’s originals. Midgar affiliate Forest Drive West uses the opportunity to present not one but two remixes.
Presenting one half-time 85 bpm twist of Hazard and another slowpaced murky techno groover. Originally from Montreal, Maara forms the Canadian connection and she turns Memory Palace into a beautiful bouncy dub-techno floater. Sound experimentalist Notte Infinita takes his turn on Pareidolia’s title track and creates some magnificent eyesclosed drum & bass hypnotism. At last, Amsterdam’s upsammy brings back the light with her iconic playful approach. She flips the steady groove of Glass Shards into a jumpy interplay of rhythms and joy

Spandau20, an imprint named after the Western Berlin district and focused on artists from the area, delivers techno in all diverse forms - from warehouse and electronic peak time beats to breaks and IDM, balancing the old and new school sounds flawlessly. With a focus on vinyl releases, for the collectors, Spandau20 has lately also focused on its label nights, with showcases at Fabric, Bassiani and many others. The label's 10th release features 10 tracks that epitomise the musical diversity of Spandau20 and the progressive musical mindset of its roster, calling on the label favourites and Spandau natives to deliver brand new and exciting music. This special release even features one track that all artists have worked on together: 'Come Closer', a swarming, slithering beginning featured as the VA's opener. Its barely coherent female vocal echoing amidst a cacophony of demon-like effects. The chilling ambience captured at the offset transcends into the first full length track by Elli Acula, 'Floating Eyes', a cur characterised by an authoritative, pounding bass featuring calculated percussive rolls and metallic overtones to make for a face-scrunching opener to this devilish collection of works. FJAAK follow for the first of twin cameo appearances, partnering up with fellow live supremo and hardware aficionado KiNK. On 'Overbridge' the trio deliver a cavernous, rolling number driven by a deep thrumming bass in addition to a razor-edged lead synth, and pulsating technopattern. Dajusch is known for incorporating his years of classical study in with his immersive musical style - and with his VA effort the Berlin native neatly showcases this. Easing the energy slightly, 'Move' escalates from its warm, melodic intro into rumbling goliath of a beat comprising a looping, slew of gassy harmonics. The momentum of the release shifts considerably with the introduction of acutely versatile producer, DJ and sound artist Claus. The artist from Spandau leans his track 'Bloomscroll' towards sparse, dubby sonics in which he intricately ties together to form churning, burgeoning soundscape. FJAAK jolt proceedings back into the techno groove with their signature blend of arresting sub-bass and reverberating rhythms, which come thick, fast and heavy on 'Jackfruit'. The abstract wonder of Anna Z's broken-beat like stylings is fully explored on 'Icy Liq'. It's outlandish and amorphous in its execution, causing a clattering percussive chaos that's choicely pieced together by the modular-extraordinaire. Nikk stealthy moves into breaks territory with his track 'Down In The Shadows', packing a trap-like snare with an acid-flecked melody and dawn-breaking, dream-like textures. The penultimate track on the VA is 'Tufted'. J.Manuel expertly employs a chorus of robot-like sonics that course through a short-circuiting low-end to produce a pacy, inescapable journey via a whirling, merciless beat. He is joined by the legendary producer Tobi Neumann for their menacingly ambient number titled 'Fennec.' In parts a nod to UK dubstep, the duo concocts a fierce admixture of styles bolstering tribal-like components with industrialised overtones and methodically crafted drum-fills.

The seventh and penultimate season of the fantasy drama television series Game of Thrones premiered on HBO in 2017.

The penultimate season focuses on the convergence of the show's main plots in preparation for the final season. Daenerys Targaryen arrives in Westeros with her army and three large dragons and begins to wage war against the Lannisters, who have defeated her allies in the south and west of Westeros. Jon Snow leaves Sansa in charge of Winterfell and visits Daenerys to secure her help to defeat the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead. He mines the dragonglass at Dragonstone and begins a romance with Daenerys. Arya and Bran (now the Three-Eyed Raven) return home to Winterfell; the Starks execute the treacherous Littlefinger. Tyrion persuades Daenerys not to destroy King's Landing, reminding her that she does not want to be simply a queen of ashes. Instead, Jon goes north of the wall to capture a wight to prove to Cersei that the fearsome army of the dead exist and are coming; in doing so, his group is pinned down and nearly killed. Daenerys rescues them with her dragons but the Night King kills one of her dragons and makes it part of his army. The undead dragon later destroys part of the Wall and the dead march through. Bran learns that Jon is really his cousin, Aegon Targaryen, the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne.

Game of Thrones Season 7 received 22 nominations for the Primetime Emmy Awards and won for Outstanding Drama Series and Dinklage won for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series. The score by Ramin Djawadi was also nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Score Soundtrack for Visual Media.

Game Of Thrones Season 7 is available as a limited edition of 750 numbered copies on silver coloured vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet.

This collaboration captures Holiday's emotive vocals alongside Getz's tenor saxophone, offering a unique blend of their styles. The performances are noted for their intimate club atmosphere, providing listeners with a glimpse into the live jazz scene of the early 1950s. A legendary recordings when one of the most important jazz saxophonists meet one of the greatest American blues and jazz singers.

Leng Records’ first album of the year release comes courtesy of two contrasting legends of Italian dance music, Afro-Cosmic pioneer Danielle Baldelli and sometime FPI Project member Marco Fratty (real name Marco Frattini).

Both producers have a wealth of experience. Baldelli first to rose to fame as resident DJ at the near mythical Cosmic Club in the early 1980's, before moving into music production two decades ago. Since then, he’s collaborated with heaps of producers – most notably DJ Rocca, Marco Dionigi and Dario Piana – but “Oil Painting” marks his first collaboration with Frattini, an experienced producer whose bustling discography stretches right back to the Italian house explosion of the late 1980's and early ’90s.

The pair’s debut collaborative release is bold, bubbly, vibrant and funky, with the storied Italian veterans making extensive use of live instrumentation, vintage synthesizers and chugging, floor-friendly grooves. As you’d expect from a Baldelli-related project, the influences are obvious – think funk, dub-disco, cosmic rock, Italo-disco and nu-disco – but the resulting colourful cuts refuse to settle on one specific style.

Firmly focused on the dancefloor, “Oil Painting” is a gleeful, celebratory and excitable as anything either producer has released to date. For proof, check the surging arpeggio style synth-bass, kaleidoscopic synthesizer lines and eyes-closed rock guitar solos of “Automatic Amplitude”, the flute-laden dub disco shuffle of “Jasmine Flavour”, the organ-laden cosmic funk chug of “Oil Painting” and the lolloping disco-funk exuberance of “Steam Engine”, where crunchy guitar licks and Meters style organ stabs wrap themselves around a vintage disco bassline and head-nodding, toe-tapping drums.

The highlights don’t step there, either. Check the percussion and delay-laden Afro-Cosmic funk fusion of “Slinky Funk”, a veritably tropical excursion that repurposes the bassline and incessant cowbells from Cymande classic “Bra”, and the Clavinet-heavy stomp of “Positive Flow”, whose snaking, constantly-changing saxophone solo and flash-fried guitar riffs help create a thrillingly excitable mood.

From start to finish, “Oil Painting” is an album full to bursting with musical joy and umpteen giddy calls towards the dancefloor. From producers of Baledlli and Frattini’s experience, we’d expect nothing less.

Cult musician Paddy Hanna announces his forthcoming album Oylegate with the release of his new song ‘Oylegate Station’, out Wednesday, 29th January via Strange Brew Records.

In celebration of Oylegate, which arrives on Friday, 11th April, Hanna plays Whelans on Thursday, 17th April. Tickets are €21.95 + fees and can be purchased here.

After his fourth album, Imagine I’m Hoping, arrived to critical acclaim but not the mainstream success needed for him to continue on as a musician, Hanna found himself at a personal and artistic low point. However, thanks to support from the Arts Council and the encouragement of his family, ‘Oylegate Station’ sees Hanna returning as the intrepid captain of his own ship; he may not know the destination, but he’ll see us along the journey with his graceful pop sensibilities.

Speaking about the new track, Hanna’s cryptic explanation could be confused for a missive from a lonely cosmonaut: “Low rent fuel, caffeine of all shapes, the midpoint of hope and despair, engine still running at Oylegate Station.”
Elation and exhaustion. Love and terror. The weight of responsibility and the strange, disorienting beauty of watching life unfold before your eyes. OLYEGATE, the latest album from Paddy Hanna, is a journey through the euphoric highs and crushing lows of parenthood, delivered with his signature blend of melancholic wit and lush, off-kilter charm.

Determined to sidestep the usual sentimental trappings of writing about having a child, Hanna found an unlikely creative companion in grim Soviet-era cinema. As he wrote, films like Solaris flickered in the background—bleak, meditative landscapes that mirrored the depths of sleep deprivation and the existential wonder of bringing a new life into the world. This contrast of warmth and detachment, of intimate revelation and surreal detour, courses through the album’s DNA.

Despite its moments of cold introspection, OLYEGATE is sonically rich and enveloping—an effect captured in a single request to producer Daniel Fox: "sweet, sweet caramel." Hanna wanted the music to feel like satin lining the listener’s ears, wrapping them in warmth even when the themes tilt towards darkness.

True to form, OLYEGATE marks yet another creative leap for an artist who refuses to be boxed in. "One advantage of being an ‘artist’s artist’ is that you never have to worry about being creatively different between albums. There's real freedom in doing whatever you want and not being judged for it. And even if you are judged, who gives a shit?"

That spirit of fearless exploration—of finding joy in the unknown, the absurd, and the deeply personal—defines OLYEGATE. An odyssey of tenderness and turbulence, it’s the sound of an artist embracing life’s messiest, most beautiful contradictions.

The new live album from Enemy, marking their fourth release, captures a decade of fearless exploration and deep musicalconnection between pianist Kit Downes, bassist Petter Eldh, and drummer James Maddren. Reuniting with Edition Records after three albums that spanned Edition, ECM, and We Jazz, this album was recorded over a two-day residency at Bird’s Eye in Basel.

It’s an ambitious retrospective and forward-looking statement, covering pieces from each record while presenting new material that reflects how Enemy’s sound has evolved—balancing intensity with a striking, refined subtlety. Known for their masterful use of poly rhythms, Enemy’s live performance pushes their collective improvisation to new heights, with the trio freely transitioning between themes and compositions without a set list. Signature tracks like “Faster than Light” showcase an evolving interplay, where intensity meets lightness and bursts of colour emerge from unexpected places.

This album also nods to the spirit of 90s studio jazz, with layered tunes and a playful yet sophisticated approach that challenges the boundaries of thepiano trio.

Kit Downes’ remarkable profile growth has only enriched the trio’s dynamic, bringing an ever-expanding lyricism to Enemy’s sound. Petter Eldh and James Maddren, both with deep ties to Edition through Eldh’s Project Drums and Maddren’s many Edition collaborations, add their own layers of innovation and depth to this release.

Together, they create an electrifying conversation thatis both intricate and instinctive—this is Enemy at their most potent, capturing a decade of artistic synergy and setting the stage for the next chapter.

*180g virgin leaded vinyl in a deluxe textured heavy gatefold cover, with paste-on artwork and special anti-static innersleeve.* Note: The pressing is absolute on point!!!!

Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon with a beautifully recorded suite of songs and instrumentals.

" More than two decades since he blew minds with a suite of brilliant releases on Warp, Vincent Gallo returns to the world of music at long last in Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon, with the project’s full-length debut, “The Music of Butterfly”. A gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, while interweaving fascinating flirtations with minimalism and experimentalism, it’s a truly captivating piece of work that’s hard to get off the turntable after the first needle drop.

In the arts, the lines between genius and madness, as well as fact and fiction, often blur. Such, it seems, has always been the life of the artist, filmmaker, actor, musician, and composer Vincent Gallo. A cult figure and a member of various creative undergrounds for the better part of half a century, Gallo has courted controversy, ruffled feathers, and made some of the most singular statements to flirt at the outer edges of popular culture that can be called to mind. Arguably most well known for his work in film, during the late '90s and early 2000s - notably with his soundtrack for “Buffalo 66” and a suite of releases on Warp - Gallo became something of a sensation in the world of independent music for a visionary, incredibly unique and sensitive approach to sonority. For a time, the world was abuzz, waiting on bated breath for more, and yet time passed. Bar a few fragments, appearing here and there, almost nothing has been heard from Gallo, within the world of music, for more than 20 years. That is, until now, with the release of “The Music of Butterfly”, the debut full-length of Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon: beautifully produced and issued by Family Friend Records - Gallo’s own label, founded in 1981 - in a deluxe edition that simply left us speechless: 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve. More or less picking up from where we last encountered him, spinning captivating melodies and gentle song-craft within the quieter temperaments of DIY, left-field pop, once again, and at long last, Vincent Gallo, encountered in an incredibly successful collaboration with Harper Simon as Butterfly, reminds us that he’s as much a force within the realm of music as he is within film. Not to be missed. This one isn’t going to sit around for long.

Vincent Gallo’s biography reads like the stuff of blaring beauty: a figure of moderate fame in his own right, who has remained at the centre of cultural ferment as the decades have rolled by. Born in 1961, in Buffalo, New York, as the story goes he ran away to New York City at the age of 16 and fell into the brewing counterculture of the Downtown scene, William Burroughs and John Giorno, in addition to the cream of his own peers, and began making paintings, music, and experimenting with film. In addition to being a member of the now legendary band Gray, with the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the filmmaker, Michael Holman, Gallo appeared in the cult 1981 film “Downtown 81”, before slowly beginning a career as an actor and catching the eye of Claire Denis, who brought his talents into the broader cultural gaze. Catapulted into the public by his own subsequent career as a filmmaker with “Buffalo '66” (1998) and “The Brown Bunny” (2003), both of which were marked by controversy and praise, Gallo further captivated the public with a partially brilliant, if not relatively brief, flurry of activity in the realms of music.

While Gallo had already been making music for roughly two decades at the time of his release of the “Brown Bunny” soundtrack, and the four release issued by Warp in rapid succession between 2001 and 2002 - “When”, “Honey Bunny”, “So Sad”, and “Recordings of Music for Film” - the almost fanatical fandom reached a fever pitch at the moment, allowing him, for some, to be regarded as much, if not more, as a musical artist than an actor and filmmaker. Anyway you cut it, in a few short years, he proved himself to be a polymath of rare talent. Somewhere along the way, while both were working as members of Yoko Ono's Plastic One Band, Gallo met the New York based, highly regarded singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Harper Simon, who also happens to be the son of Paul Simon. The pair fell into an incredibly fruitful duo collaboration, which came to be called Butterfly, and “The Music of Butterfly” being their debut full-length release.

Written, performed, and recorded by Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon in New York City between the winter of 2018 and the spring of 2019, the ten tracks comprising “The Music of Butterfly” are cumulatively a gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, making one feel like barely a moment had passed since we’d encountered his graceful hand at song-craft. Stripped back and raw, while retaining a sense of warmth and intimacy, across the length of “The Music of Butterfly” the duo of Gallo and Simon weave something completely captivating at the juncture of minimalism, experimentalism, and pop: meandering moments of texture and tone, slowly forming toward flirtations of melody that flower into song and back again. Somehow playful and light, while also remarkably emotive and personal, it’s almost as though each of these tracks crystallised out the air, unlabored and exactly as they should be without a note or beat more.

An engrossing immersion into both Gallo and Simon’s remarkably accomplished minds, having followed the path toward one another after radically different experiences and careers, “The Music of Butterfly” is one of those records that’ll be hard to get off the turntable after that first needle drop, and rarely leave the listening pile for some time to come. Issued by Family Friend Records in a beautiful deluxe edition that is unmatched even among the most stunning recent productions we can call to mind - 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve - it’s lovely to have Gallo back in the musical mix after so many years. "

Long and intermittent running duo of Discrepant head honcho Gonçalo F Cardoso and Angela Valid's Alex Jones, with sometime collaborator Phil Laney aka Kenny Hosepipe joining in somewhere along the way, Hair & Treasure crossover from Sucata Tapes to Discrepant wax via 'Disc Rot'. Described by the duo, in their cryptic and scatological fashion, as "a fetid spread from the buttery catacombs of Hair & Treasure", one can only speculate on the mindset, if not for the scenario, for these file swap recording sessions. As if decaying throughout this back & forth process, the synthscapes, field recordings, voices from who knows where? and subliminal pulses assembled in these 11 pieces all coalesce into this out-there murk where invocations of "a" real are mangled into unhinged, squinting eyes moments of near- consciousness.

Compared to previous Hair & Treasure ventures like 'Two Fucking Tapes' or 'Forked Piss Blues', 'Disc Rot' forgoes side-long tapestries by focusing on shorter and clearer transmissions from the netherworld. Still, the feeling of pieces of discarded hardware and sound hubris lying around and turned music of the duo remains unscathed, filtered through a newfound precision. After the opening feverish threat of 'Warm Night', the suspended synth pads and working machinery of 'Byzantine Turd Skirt' actually comes as a relief, pulling away (a bit) of the dread to resurface with the Texas Chainsaw Massacre OST ambience of 'Amateur Depravity' and 2004-ish Midwest noise stylings of 'Busy Hubby's Flight to Gstaad' and 'Tit Ale'. 'Roads Gonad Today' and 'Just Jerkers' are not that far removed from a lower fidelity take on Black Dice circa 'Creature Comforts', while -'Professional Babies' goes back a couple of years to their collabs with Wolf Eyes, bust mostly, all of this sounds like nothing but Hair & Treasure themselves. If you know, you know.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.