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Stage Fright is the third studio album by Canadian American group the Band, released on August 17, 1970. Engineered by Todd Rundgren and Glyn Johns, it features two of the group's best-known songs, "The Shape I'm In" and "Stage Fright", both of which showcased inspired lead vocal performances (by Richard Manuel and Rick Danko, respectively) and became staples in the group's live shows.

* 5.1 surround and hi-res stereo mix of album (by Bob Clearmountain) + new bonus tracks + previously unreleased Royal Albert Hall (1970) performance on Blu-ray
* CD of new stereo mix album + new bonus tracks and unreleased Calgary hotel demo tracks
* CD of the Royal Albert Hall performance (stereo)
* LP of main album new stereo mix (180gram, 33rpm)
* 7" reproduction of original "Time To Kill" b/w "The Shape I'm In" Capitol single (Spanish pressing)
* Photo booklet with new notes by Robbie Robertson and a reprinting of the original 1970 Robert Hilburn Los Angeles Times album review
* Limited

Serious Beats Classics releases Robbie Tronco's legendary house track "Fright Train" on vinyl, now featuring a brand new remix by none other than DJ Ghost.

"Fright Train" was originally released in 1998 and has since become a true classic in the house scene. With its signature beat and rousing synths, the song revolutionized the clubs at the time and is still played by DJs around the globe to date.

With DJ Ghost's new remix, "Fright Train" gets a modern update while keeping the essence of the original, ready to rumble festival stages. Known for his catchy and energetic productions, the Belgian DJ and producer has once again proven why he belongs to the top.

The release of this new version of "Fright Train" is sure to send a wave of nostalgia among the older generation of house lovers, while also appealing to a new generation unfamiliar with the original.

New release from DeFeKT and Sunil Sharpe..

May 2026 marks the arrival of TYGAPAW (aka Dion McKenzie)’s first full-length album on Tresor Records, entitled Together You Gather All Power Applied Worldwide. An acronym of its creator’s name, TYGAPAW’s third studio album is a deeply personal collection of music building worlds where Black queer and trans siblings can thrive, while unifying dancefloors worldwide. A proposition that collective wisdom liberates us from the matrix of domination we live within. The album unfolds as the latest chapter in TYGAPAW’s ongoing techno opera opus, continuing to center the voices of Black women, which surface as layered incantations rather than lyrics - powerful, haunting, sensual, activating.
With the process of creating the album starting in 2023, as TYGAPAW (Dion McKenzie) was in the first year of their transition, the music reflects the intensity of that period, where they were experiencing deplatforming as a response to the shift in their physical appearance: Tracks like ‘M32 Riddim’ and ‘Helicopter hovers over my Crown Heights Apartment’ feature high-paced rhythms intersecting with intense siren-like synths to form demanding compositions echoing a heightened sense of alert. Yet throughout the album, relief comes in the form of TYGAPAW’s vocal features, co-conspirators, and chosen family, whose voices are treated with reverb and echo, a sonic fingerprint that leads back to the pioneers in the legendary studios of TYGAPAW’s native land, Jamaica, an important reminder that the past will always inform the future. It is an album for dancers first and foremost, where joy, defiance, and integration with the natural body coexist, and every drop feels less like a climax than a transformation. Expect a bass that permeates your soul and melodic synthesized sequenced phrases echoing the dancehall eras of TYGAPAW’s youth, reshaped into hypnotic melodies that glow over industrial kicks designed to command attention, reasserting Jamaica's pioneering yet often overlooked contribution to electronic music.
In the opening track, ‘Can I Live’, Precious Okoyomon’s words feel like the beginning of a ritual; setting the intentions for the rest of the proceedings. As McKenzie puts it, their “work is about regeneration, resetting, getting integrated into nature, and about rebirth. That’s the tone I wanted to set at the outset of the album.” Ms Carrie Stacks continues this thread of support in ‘Don’t Panic’ with heavily processed vocals on top of a beat that takes inspiration from another important ingredient in the antidote to the oppression of isolation: Ballroom culture. “ I feel like I found my queerness in Ballroom, that’s why this track is very important to me.”
Echoes of NYC Black queer nightlife scene also permeate in the energetic drums of ‘Exorcise the Language of Domination’, in which Julianna Huxtable’s spoken performance complements the various movements and tones of the music. “My producer brain thought this was the one that Juliana’s vocals would be best suited for. I hinted: ‘what do you think of this one?’ She just went into her notes and picked some passages to go with the first section of the track. From there, it was a year-long process of development. It required time and space for this thing to evolve, but I think it’s one of the most powerful tracks on the album.” London’s SUUTOO contributes the album’s only musical collaboration on ‘B2B’, a track that emerged from sessions in McKenzie’s New York studio where the real objective was to connect and have fun; a time out from the demands of life outside.
The album closes out with a double hit of emotion in the form of ‘Effects of Resistance and Black Trans Masculine Experience’. The former features South African scholar Khanyisile Mbongwa drawing connections that exist between Africa and the Black diaspora, whilst looking to the future and calling for a shared sense of community.
The latter piece, an instrumental version of the piece which featured on the IMMIGRANT E.P. of 2025 is a gentle and deeply affecting end to the record, a place of peace and acceptance. This end-of-cycle tone is mirrored in the sleeve photography, which also ties back to IMMIGRANT by finally revealing what was hidden: a portrait of the artist fully self-actualized; a step towards true inner liberation. TYGAPAW is sonically defiant across this album; bass frequencies feel tactile — less heard than inhabited — infectious lead synth melodies remain with you long after the track ends. An overall sound that leaves asserting an urgent need for connection. From Detroit to New York to Berlin to Jamaica, despite geographic distance, this album reminds us that we remain in solidarity, recognising that meaningful world-building requires collective input and action, both personal and communal, if we are to move toward liberation.

'Tense from the first note and decisively uncompromising ‘GHSTING’ is the debut collaboration by Polish artists Alex Freiheit and Aleksandra Słyż, an incredibly unique piece of work that mixes fiction, spoken word poetry, theatrical antics, dense synthesis, acoustic ensemble and dark landscapes all set within the backdrop of a sinister Eastern Europe hotel. The resulting sound is menacing, humorous, harmonious, tumultuous, and at times quietly erotic.

Alex Freiheit, a poet and vocalist, is widely recognized for her captivating work with the SIKSA duo. Over the past decade, she has delved into the realms of personal feminist storytelling, postmodern fairy tales, and queer legends, crafting unique and thought-provoking narratives. In this groundbreaking collaboration with talented composer Aleksandra Słyż, they are now delving into the herstory of lies and exaggerations, extracting the raw essence of these tales filled with stench, stains, secretions, and torn organs. Eyeless Freiheit haunts the hotel guests while dressed in a binder and holding a bottle filled with a corrosive substance. She shares compelling stories about the hidden activities and other secrets that unfold within the walls of hotels when no one is watching. Her gripping narrative is complemented by equally haunting and eerie music. Słyż divides the text into four chapters, skillfully intertwining synthetic and acoustic elements. She combines the sounds of synthesizers, woodwind and percussive instruments with vocals, creating a tense, dynamic soundscape. Freiheit’s voice possesses an earnest quality, where a frightening cadence suspiciously flips into a meditative cycle.

Together, Freiheit and Słyż have crafted a bold and suggestive story that feels like the mesmerizing soundtrack to a contemporary Eastern European horror film, captivating an essence that is hard to pinpoint but instantly recognizable. This is abstractly powerful music that pushes listeners into a kaleidoscopic spiral that channels ecstatic over loss.

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS in conspiracy with DE PANKRAKER RECORDS is proud to present SHEWOLFF’s highly anticipated debut mini-album, We’re All Gonna Fukking Die, on CD and 12” vinyl formats. Hailing from Belgium, SHEWOLFF emerged from the underground as a solo-project of K. Von Shewolff, which eventually formed into the solid three-piece band it is today. They find their origins in raw, punk-driven blackness galore, faithfully returning to the old-school spirit of making music by modest and primitive means. A five-song digital-only demo was released in 2023 - songs which contain absolute fury towards the known and long-overdue established order, existential live-or-die sentiment, and a small tribute paid to the old-school believers who came before them. Now, SHEWOLFF blend all that together on the debut mini-album We’re All Gonna Fukking Die.

With six new tracks pushing towards a final and inevitable end, this bleakly titled record is actually invigorating and inspiring: railing against the dying of the light with a paradoxically dark metalpunk sound, familiar in its stomping swagger but exuding cantankerous charisma that’s all their own. The aesthetic signposts are planted firmly in the ground – think Hellhammer, pre-Viking Bathory, Darkthrone’s record-nerd era, early Midnight, the almighty Venom, or even labelmates like KARLOFF, HELLCRASH, and Germany’s LUCIFUGE – but SHEWOLFF manage to stir some diabolical little twists into the bubbling brew, with K. Von Shewolff’s vocals in particular imparting a femininity that’s fierce, frightening, and fucking going for the throat.

Auf "What's This?" liefern CS Cleaners 11 Tracks verzerrten, neonfarbenen Art-Punk, der gegen die Absurdität des modernen Lebens wettert. Die Band ist beeinflusst von der Downtown-Musik New Yorks von der ersten vielfältigen Welle des CBGB über die Mutationen und Dekonstruktionen des No-Wave. Doch auch wenn der Sound von CS Cleaners in einer Musik verwurzelt ist, die manchmal ziemlich hart sein kann, nehmen sie sich selbst keineswegs ernst: "What's This?" ist in erster Linie Tanzmusik, wenn auch in einer Form, die wild genug für diese extremen Zeiten ist. Die Charaktere, die auf What's This?" porträtiert werden, sind oft in Momenten der Selbstzweifel und Panik gefangen. Wie der narzisstische Musiker auf der Vorab-Single "Come & Go", der total ausflippt, weil er befürchtet, das Rampenlicht zu verlieren. Ben Petrosor vermittelt Pathos in Zeilen wie "if I swallow my pride, I'll split in two", die Mitgefühl für einen unsympathischen Charakter in einer nachvollziehbaren Situation wecken. Wir erleben eine Vielzahl solcher Panikattacken auf "What's This?". Sie entspringen dem Überwachungsstaat der sozialen Medien, dem Druck, in einer zunehmend feindseligen Stadt zu leben, und natürlich der Überlastung.

It’s happening – finally! The second pressing of Das ist das Ja. This time, Play Boy Joe and Celli G Hustle join forces to share a record, each taking one side with their own productions. Born in the SoundCloud bubble under the alias Wrank Fright, DIDV002 marks the fourth EP in a growing
catalogue of collab releases from the duo. The „Hustle and Play EP“ is not a direct collab – it’s two visions of club music meeting on one record. Side A by Celli, Side B by Play Boy Joe. Different flavors, same spirit. You can hear how six-plus years of shared grind shaped their sound – raw, playful, and unapologetically underground.

Now on Activ-Analog from Waveshaper: Paul D's ambient alter ego presents this drone ambient sound sculpture with 4 tracks of both beautiful and at the same instant, frightening music. We hope you find it interesting and useful.

This release is part of a limited run of these superb early releases from Hyper-On Experience! All gloriously remastered, with brand new artwork - unmissable for any serious old skool raver or junglist...

‘Absurd Matter’ is a labyrinthine sonic conundrum that spirals around the two poles of extreme noise and hiphop. It's Berlin-based Italian producer Shapednoise's first album in four years and confidently advances his narrative into the next chapter, building on the groundwork of his prior abstractions to emerge with a coherent genre-warped fusion of urgent rap, crushing bass weight and idiosyncratic sound design. After spending years scrupulously deconstructing club music, Nino Pedone has rebuilt it brick by brick in his image.

The album is the first release on Pedone's brand new imprint WEIGHT LOOMING, a multidisciplinary label platform that's set to explore the depths of bass music, textured noise and abrasive transcendence. It follows a slew of acclaimed releases for Numbers,
Opal Tapes, Type and his own Cosmo Rhythmatic label, and forward thinking collaborations with Kenyan beat alchemist Slikback and Hyperdub-signed Angolan producer Nazar. Pedone's most ambitious project to date, ‘Absurd Matter’ taps into kinetic energy from a hand-picked selection of collaborators, including New York rap duo Armand
Hammer, French DJ/producer Brodinski, Bruiser Brigade's ZelooperZ and vanguard Philly poet, musician, and activist Moor Mother.


On ‘Family’, Billy Woods and Elucid weave a dismal, apocalyptic landscape with their razor-sharp anecdotes. The duo’s macabre imagery is given artificial life by Pedone's industrial scrapes and rattles that curl around their worlds like thick smoke. It's still rap, just about, but lodges itself in the back room of a factory, machines running themselves to an early death. Pairing with techno-rap trailblazer Brodinski, Pedone edges further towards the sound system, spatializing rhythms in four dimensions around Detroit rapper
ZelooperZ's playful expressions. This is the Italian producer's sci-fi tinged liquefaction of radio echoes, a way to fire familiarity into the void and sublime the human voice into weightless mist. When Moor Mother arrives shouting "me me me" on the aptly-titled 'Poetry', it sounds as if all of Pedone's loose threads are being tightened into a knot. His misshapen neo-grime beats sound like a broken jet engine, but smartly cede power to Moor Mother's resonant rhymes. "You can't cancel me" she assures. ‘Absurd Matter’ is a defining personal development for Pedone that not only appraises his career so far, but diverts its logic into frighteningly new sonic territory. From great loss, the producer has determined his work's cardinal themes, and sounds more strident and far heavier than ever before.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

Temporize focuses on putting out diverse and leftfield electronic music with no real boundaries. The label is based in Palermo, Italy and is run by Scottish native Maiú DJ. Mastering: Martin Maischein Artwork painting: Janne Räisänen Photography: Jussi Jääskeläinen Design: Juha Puuperä Gruth: Black arts, misanthropy & abhorrence KuJo: Original violin, cello and kantele recordings Igor Souza: Throat singing on track 6

The word Datasal paints inner pictures for most people growing up in Sweden during the 1990’s. The datasal (a classroom for computers) was an ordinary classroom with few changes to fit the school’s 10 newly leased computers. The room represented the change of times in Sweden during this period: the fixed institutions and the awaiting digital flood wave.

The music of Datasal sounds captures the feeling of printing a downloaded picture of your favorite hockey player or music artist or the expectations building up as you wait for the modem to log in to interact with the thousands of users of the internet in 1995. The tracks this release manifests the excitement but also the bit of fright you felt connecting to the world in the mid 90’s - a time when the internet still was fun.

The sound is built around repetitive sequencer loops and programmed beats where electric bass, electric guitar and flute improvise around a theme, creating a sound that is best described as cosmic flute house. Datasal is an harmonic reminder of a time where digital progress seemed less harmful than today.

Killer Groove Records proudly presents "Keep Your Step", the explosive comeback by Italian rock steady & early reggae ambassadors The Appetizers, a soulful celebration of reggae's timeless spirit.


"Keep Your Step" marks the band's much-awaited return, landing April 10th on limited edition LP, CD digipack and digital format featuring two exclusive bonus tracks.

The Appetizers deliver a masterclass in roots reggae music with their highly anticipated second studio album, bridging Jamaica's golden age with contemporary relevance. "Keep Your Step" is a heartfelt sonic journey where the band blends rocksteady and early reggae with funk and soul influences to create a sound that's both genuine and refreshingly modern.

The fourteen tracks move fluidly between infectious dancefloor fillers and socially conscious lyrics. From the laid-back swing of "Feel Like Dancing" to the hypnotic rhythm of "Thicker Than Water", the band demonstrates their versatility while remaining true to the roots of Jamaican sound. "A Message from The Meters" pays tribute to the legendary funk pioneers, while the instrumental "Catch This" and "Make It Reggay" highlight the band's musical prowess and the deep connections between reggae and funk.

Meanwhile, tracks like "Fussy Girl" and "Behind My Shoulders" explore love's complexities with humor and soul. The album's heart lies in its social consciousness. "Cool and Deadly", "The Life", "Stormy Weather" and the album title track "Keep Your Step" tell stories of perseverance through life's struggles.

With the hopeful anthem "We Shall Overcome," The Appetizers deliver a timely message about genuine human connection in a social media-dominated era. The digital edition closes with "Get Some Rollin'" and "Swing and Sway," rounding out the journey with two additional gems.

"Keep Your Step" pays homage to Jamaican music legends, from Jackie Mittoo and Tommy McCook to Toots & the Maytals, while carving out The Appetizers' own distinctive sound. This is a groove made for both the dance floor and the soul, proving that reggae's power to inspire, unite, and uplift remains as vital as ever.

The production stays true to The Appetizers' signature sound: organic tones, deep groove, and that live-room vibe you only get when real musicians are locked in together. Luca Monza and Claudio Mambrini, the band's core members, handled the artistic production. Mastering came courtesy of the great JJ Golden (Black Pumas, Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, Jr. Thomas & The Volcanos, The Frightnrs) at Golden Mastering in Ventura, California. JJ is one of the most trusted engineers working in this sound, ensuring every ounce of warmth and authenticity came through.

The Appetizers are a rocksteady and early reggae band formed in Milan in 2020 by musicians deeply embedded in the Italian and international reggae scene. Musicians from different paths united by a shared vision: recreating that vintage Caribbean and American sound with authenticity, respect and a forward-thinking edge.

Drawing inspiration from Jamaica's golden era and channeling the soul of Delroy Wilson, Alton Ellis, the early Wailers, and The Upsetters, The Appetizers carry forward the essence of bass culture with a pure, fully organic approach.

Their debut album Listen Up! (2022), released via Belgian imprint Badasonic Records (home to The Slackers, The Aggrolites, David Hillyard & Victor Rice), featured ten original tracks and a dub cut by Victor Rice. Distributed across Europe, the UK, the US, and Japan, it quickly earned international recognition among reggae connoisseurs and selectors worldwide.

Following extensive touring, including shows with The Slackers, Black Uhuru, Skip Marley, and more, the band returned to the studio to record "Keep Your Step", their second album produced by Killer Groove Records. Here the band expands its musical language, weaving together the spirit of historic Jamaican labels like Studio One and Treasure Isle with '60s funk, arriving at a warm, organic, and timeless sound: soul, Jamaican roots, and modern sensibility in perfect balance. Their lyrics explore heartbreak, social issues, and reflections on life and music, performed with dedication and respect for tradition while always pushing forward.


If you're into The Skatalites, The Ethiopians, and those classic Caribbean rhythms, this one's for you.

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!