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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."

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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.

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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."

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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."

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"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."

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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.

To commemorate the songwriting, production and performing genius of Allen Toussaint (1938 - 2015) Charly are proud to present a limited edition 7-inch EP containing some of his most famous and well-loved songs. Issued on limited edition "whipped cream” white vinyl, the picture sleeve EP features the classics ‘Whipped Cream’ by The Stokes (later a worldwide hit performed by Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass), ‘Here Come The Girls’ by Ernie K. Doe, ‘Working In The Coal Mine’ by Lee Dorsey and ‘Fortune Teller’ by Benny Spellman, all written by the unique and irreplaceable Allen Toussaint. He will be missed...

London and Dublin based women-led independent label TULLE release
TUESDAY NOTHING EXISTS - the debut album from three-piece GRAVE
GOODS
Featuring current and former members of PINS, Girls Names and September
Girls, the Sartre-rock trio are based between Manchester, Belfast and Dublin. This
highly anticipated debut full-length TUESDAY. NOTHING EXISTS was recorded at
Invada studios, Bristol.
Amongst others they have opened for Beak>, HEALTH, and Jon Spencer & the
Hitmakers and have played various festivals in Ireland and the UK.

OVERVIEW: Lande Hekt’s natural state of being is in the writing of a song. Having crafted politically aware, heart-on-sleeve, punchy yet tender, punk-flecked songs with her band Muncie Girls, Lande turned her hand to an even more personal songwriting approach as she embarked on writing a solo record - 2021’s ‘Going to Hell’. The debut full-length documented her experience coming out as gay. It set out her stall as a solo artist with supreme storytelling abilities and a knack for understatedly luminous melodies. Lande’s music sits beautifully alongside such essential artists as The Wedding Present, The Sundays, The Replacements, Sleeper and Sharon Van Etten

Criminal Heart is not just another album from another Singer-Songwriter
According to Beth Nielsen-Chapman, "This is what killer songwriting sounds like"
Legendary guitarist Robben Ford describes it as "Absolutely beautiful."And Chris
Difford reckons it's the work of a "Fantastic and special singer-songwriter."This is
a 'coming of age' album from Hollie Rogers, who remains, by choice, completely
independent. Known already for the candid, confessional nature of her songs and
for live performances that make audiences laugh and cry, Hollie refers to the
album, which has been 5 years in the making, as her "baby." She says, "I'm not
having a human one. I'm proud to have nurtured this one instead; it's got a great
personality and there's absolutely no poop."
The album is the most impressive showcase to date of Hollie's songwriting
prowess, with each song framing insight into a cohesive story; one that reveals
itself more and more with each and every line of lyric. Love, lust and selfdiscovery are some of the key themes tightly bound together throughout, as an
added maturity reveals itself in the record's strong melodies, satisfying harmonic
structures, and hooky choruses. (Try listening to 'Sinner' or 'Love' without them
becoming earworms.)
Criminal Heart was produced at Masterlink Studios, Surrey - with a cast list of A
Grade players in the shape of Masterlink's House Band. Their CV's run like a
'who's who of music' - think Elton John to Herbie Hancock - and, much to Hollie's
particular delight… The Spice Girls. She admits, "Much as I may profess my
influences to be exclusively the likes of Joan Armatrading and Joni Mitchell, I
can't deny there's probably a smidge of Spicefluence hidden in there somewhere.
Girl Power!"
But spice aside; this is no 90s pop record. Indeed, US guitar legend Robben Ford
and UK chart- topper Jamie Lawson make guest appearances, as does a track
produced by 4- time Grammy- Nominated James McMillan. All serving to add
some particularly tasteful icing to a not- inconsiderable cake. (Or more likely, a
pasty - since Hollie is from Penzance, Cornwall. It's no coincidence that her name
rhymes with a famous Pirate Ship.)

Not content with a double 12” of acid drenched delinquency, Schrödinger’s Box have drafted in four 303 addicts to bring their own acrid fire to Hard Ton’s Bigger is Better.

To get the bitter ball rolling, Larionov opens. Known for his dark electro and EBM leanings, this reinterpretation of “Transcend Your Body” is a bruiser of throbbing pulses, lancing lines and stabbing synths to pierce the fog and strobe. Rude 66 follows with his beloved vocoder doing battle with Massimo Bastasi’s original vocals. The result is a duel of distant rhythms and shimmering wordplay. The flip sees Nightwave on the attack. Brawny beats elbow lyrics in this driving audio onslaught. Bulging rusted basslines crush speaker cones as a blistering remake takes hold, blasts of body bending brutalism turning Hard Ton’s original into an even sweatier brute. An artist born and raised on analogue squawk and squelch finishes. Posthuman, one of the infamous figures behind the I Love Acid nights, takes the tongue-in-cheek Brit Pop flashback of “Girls and Boys” and contorts it into a grimy Chicago jam.

South Street delve into the The Sound Of Detroit from one of its unsung heroes, reissuing Amp Fiddler's 'Motor City Booty' LP on Yellow & Blue vinyl respectively. Coming straight off the D Funk assembly line, it's a full on dance floor affair from Motown to P-Funk, Techno and Neo Soul.

This 12 track album produced by Amp Fiddler & Yam Who? includes the massive 'Soul Fly' sounding like a Mark Ronson production had he been hanging out with George Clinton's Parlet followed by the bonafide P-Funk anthem 'Steppin' both featuring the stunning vocals by the Dames Brown girls.

Amp Fiddler is credited for taking both a young J Dilla and also Q-Tip under his wing teaching them his Akai MPC techniques, setting the path for some of Hip Hop's finest recordings which have defined the shape of things to come.

His musical collaborations & current duties include: Moodymann's musical maestro, keyboard wizard for Theo Parrish's live band, a longstanding Funkadelic member, co-writer for Sly & Robbie, Prince, Maxwell, Jamiroquai & Seal to name a few.

Star Feminine Band: a 2020 debut, first journey and a 2022 return! Though not exactly a world music label, Born Bad took up the challenge and released Star Féminine Band's debut album in late 2020. Heaps of acclaims and praise and the whole shebang, then boom: the tour that was to materialize, live, all of the band and its entourage's hopes got cancelled due to Covid. After a long delay, the band finally managed to get to Europe, performing on the Transmusicales Festival, as well as for TV stations like Arte, TV5 and BBC to much acclaim. "Once they played, Born Bad and the band clearly had a "mission accomplished" feeling - that all the energy put into this was worth it, starting with the critics who abounded at the Transmusicales to weigh the phenomenon. They left convinced, just like the audience, enthralled by the direct, live formula. The sequel to the adventures of these new ambassadors for Unicef? They persist and sign with a feverish and energetic soundtrack in which nabo, peulh and waama are enlivened with drum lines and spiced up with more "modern" sounds, spreading words of tolerance and kindness. Simple and direct, they speak of their reality, of the ills of young women who don't always have a choice. Often out of school and destined to selling peanuts, bananas or gari on the roadside, most of the girls around there don't have a future. Forced marriage, precocious pregnancies_ "These kids are heroines!", continues Born Bads JB who, by welcoming them in a record studio, allowed for the formula to be sharpened into a sort of garage band with an afro twist. Thanks to the English lessons that their manager Jérémie Verdier has been providing every Sunday night for two years over videoconference, the girls even experimented with English lyrics in "We Are Star Feminine Band" and "Woman Stand Up". In Paris is the happy outcome of that challenge. Vinyl LP in printed under sleeve with French + UK linernotes + Download code * Digipak CD includes 12 pages booklet with French + UK linernotes.

Over recent years, there have been countless reissue of reggae-disco rarities and slept-on classics. Soul Jazz has, surprisingly given that they first dipped into the style 20 years ago on the now legendary Reggae Disco Hustle compilation, been surprisingly silent, so it's nice to see them joining the party in fine style. Disco Reggae Rockers is a fitting sequel to its illustrious predecessor, featuring as it does a wealth of killer covers of - and more adventurous 're-versions' inspired by - vintage soul, disco and funk tunes. The plentiful highlights include Devon Russell's inspired take on Curtis Mayfield's 'Move On Up', Risco Connection's super-sweet version of Diana Ross classic 'It's My House', Valerie Harrison's interpretation of Me'lissa Morgan's 'Fools Paradise' and Hortense Ellis re-frame of Candi Staton hit 'Young Hearts Run Free'.

Merging the simple with the complex. Whereabouts will be the second release from Danish guitarist/composer Rasmus Oppenhagen Krogh and compared to Krogh's critically acclaimed debut album, Distill, from 2017, this album marks new artistic directions for Krogh, both in terms of exploring the spheric versus the rhythmic dimensions, in the meeting between organic and manipulated sound sources and through its special focus on percussion. Whereabouts explores the intersection between improvisation/composition and simplicity/complexity, the relation between time and space and the sonic qualities of the musicians gathered in unity. The group consists of some of the leading voices of the contemporary Danish jazz scene, who have all worked across genres and borders, and are known for their work with internationally acclaimed bands/artists such as Girls in Airports, Jakob Bro, Paul Motian and IRAH among others. Krogh's debut album Distill was released by Centrifuga/Gateway in 2017 to positive reviews. The album was selected as album of the week by Danish Radio P8 Jazz and was highlighted as one of the ten best Danish jazz releases that year by the acclaimed Danish jazz blog Jazznyt. Besides his work as a composer and as a bandleader, Krogh has worked, as a guitarist, with artists such as Takykardia, Kentaur, Guldimund, Schultz and Forever, Jesper Zeuthen and many more.

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."

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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.

Tarja Turunen ist seit 2005 auf Solopfaden unterwegs. Die ehemalige Sängerin der finnischen SymphonicRock-Formation Nightwish nennt sich seither nur noch Tarja und hat inzwischen zahlreiche Alben veröffentlicht.
Ob klassisch, live eingespielt oder farbenfroher Symphonic Rock, mit ihrem englischsprachigen Rockdebüt My Winter Storm” legte sie bereits 2007 den Grundstein für ihren späteren Soloerfolg.
Die stilistisch abwechslungsreiche Platte erreichte in Deutschland Platz 3 der Albumcharts und wurde mit
Gold ausgezeichnet. Im Zuge des Jubiläums wird der Album-Opener ”I Walk Alone” als limitierte 10-ZollSonderedition auf weißem Vinyl veröffentlicht.
Der fast meditative, von Metal-Gitarren und symphonischem Orchester untermalte Track zu Beginn gipfelt
in einem eingängigen und monumentalen Hardrock-Refrain, dem Tarja die funkelnde Gesangskrone aufsetzt.
Neben der ”Single Version” und der ”Artist Version” enthält die 10inch-Single drei weitere Mixversionen
des Songs: Den markanten ”In Extremo Remix” mit den typischen Sounds der deutschen Mittelalterband,
den stark elektronisch angehauchten ”The Tweaker Remix” und den wahrhaft düsteren ”The Darkroom
Mix” von Deviousnoise.
I Walk Alone” stammt übrigens aus der Feder des erfolgreichen schwedischen Songwriter-Teams Wollbeck/Lindblom/Sommerdahl (das u.a. auch für Tina Arena, den Jazzer Till Brönner oder Südkoreas Girls’
Generation arbeitete).

The Crystal Furs are a queer indie pop/rock band from Portland, OR. They write melodic, textured songs about anxiety, architecture, lesbians, and queer feels - loud music for quiet hearts. In Coastal Light is the band’s fifth album, following on from 2020 LP Beautiful and True, and hears them honing their blend of grungey riffs and 60s-girl-group vocals. As featured on: KEXP, WFMU, BBC Radio, Freeform Portland, KBOO Portland, Portland Radio Project, Chasing Infinity on WRUW, Get In Her Ears, Grrls Like Us “Had Portland’s (via Forth Worth) The Crystal Furs been around in the late 80s – early 90s there is a possibility they would have been signed to Sarah Records, home of OG jangle pop bands like The Field Mice and The Sea Urchins. Then again with their sunny, bright melodies, they might have found themselves riding the charts alongside The Bangles.” 50Thirdand3rd “It’s something of a well-worn expression, that adult life is about ‘finding oneself’, but it certainly seems for the Buchanans, and their band, that all of the changes in their life have enabled them to do just that. And what they’ve found are winning alt. indie-pop purveyors in the mould of Helen Love. Beautiful And True is an album whose title could not be clearer: it is what it says it is.” Get In Her Ears “Think of those jangly C86 tunes mixing genteel harmonies, spiraling keyboards, melodic guitar/ bass sounds and wistful vocals and you begin to get the drift here.” Into Creative “From the opening tones of the Farfisa organ on ‘Comeback Girls’ the lo-fi indie pop shines through, with jangly guitars, unassuming instrumental breaks and a naturalistic production that puts the Furs right there in the room with you.” Cambridge Music Review“Retro without being jaded, cute without being cliched what The Crystal Furs do so well – and demonstrate deeply on both tracks in this release – is as we’ve said pair light, sparkling and downright danceable melodies with dark-hearted lyrics emerging from shadowy inner worlds and harder lived experiences.” Popoptica 1. Winter Stars 2. Charlatan 3. Miss Hughes 4. California Misses You 5. Stay With Me 6. Mr Moses 7. Rose-Colored Glasses 8. We Never Sang 9. Please Fade Away10. Girl in the Background

Deux Filles was not, in fact, two girls despite what the group name and its elaborate hoax of a backstory suggest. No, they were not Gemini Forque and Claudine Coule, French women who met as teenagers under tragic circumstances and became fast friends, recording two albums together before disappearing into the ether. In reality, Deux Filles was Simon Fisher Turner and Colin Lloyd Tucker, a UK duo who first worked together in an early incarnation of The The.

Straddling the line between experimental and pop, Turner was an actor and teen singing star who later composed soundtracks for the iconic queer filmmaker Derek Jarman while Tucker’s career began as an engineer for the famed UK library music studio, De Wolfe, before forming experimental wave group The Gadgets. In Deux Filles, the duo found an outlet for their least commercial tendencies, combining lo-fi proto-dream-pop instrumentals with samples, tape experiments, ambient textures, and drum machines. Even in the vibrant, seemingly endless well of UK DIY, Deux Filles stand out.

Silence & Wisdom – the duo’s 1982 debut – is a series of musical vignettes, like the score of an unrealized arthouse film. Blending processed guitars, sheets of synthesizers, echoey pianos, and washed-out vocal snippets to surprisingly varied effect, the album is recommended for fans of Durutti Column and Virginia Astley’s From Gardens Where We Feel Secure.

It’s time to testify, brothers & sisters and it’s about time. It’s so about time to put this gem out on vinyl. Properly! It was released twice on small editions before, but – no offense – they both sounded terrible. Now the tapes been re-mastered by Jürgen Hendlmeier and put right on wax, brand new artwork included. In our eyes this is one of the best and most powerful and pure garage rock albums ever. You have to hear it to know what I’m talkin about. GET DOWN – OR GET OUT! …and listen to a fine collection of soulful, rocking collection of raw songs that make you move(, unless you’re dead). With this album the Sideburns became the Finnish leaders of the new wave of Scandinavian Rock’n’Roll (along with the Hellacopters from Sweden, Gleucifer & Turbonegro [both from Norway]). The Hellacopters covered „Ungrounded Confusion“ from this album! This collection of songs is well inspired by bands such as the Sonics or the Wailers. And in the 90s and early 2000s more than ever before, bands everywhere are claiming the MC5 as their primary influence. Most bands, however, don't really get the sound right, or somehow lose the spirit of the music in a '70s rock haze. What makes the Flaming Sideburns feel authentic is that they understand the grooves that make this type of music work, and there's a ton of real enthusiasm behind it all. Songs like "Testify" are obviously inspired by Tyner and Co. but have a fresh energy that makes this old sound worth listening to. The mid-fi production also keeps the music sounding exciting and hot, without getting too heavy. They reach back a little in time to the mid-'60s with covers of the Wailers' "Out Of Our Tree" and the Electras' "Action Woman." Also super rocking is the wild "Jaguar Girls" and the spasm inspiring "Rock N Roll Boogaloo." If you like Detroit-style rock'n'roll with an unpretentious '60s edge to it, the Flaming Sideburns are for you. Track listing: La Bruta; Crashing Down; Close To Disaster; Rock n’ Roll Boogaloo; Testify; Out Of Our Tree; The Witch; Jaguar Girls; Ungrounded Confusion; You Weren’t Using Your Head; Women; Sailin’ Thru Cloud Nine; Sugar Ain’t That Sweet; Action Woman

"Matasuna Records" returns to Mexico for a third time to dig for rare treasures. They got their hands on a special gem - two obscure Latin/Jazzfunk tunes by a band called "Colorado" from "Mexico City". The songs were released in 1976 on the Mexican label Peerless and the super rare original 7inch is virtually unavailable. Fortunately, the release is finally available for the first time as an official reissue in a remastered edition. An unjustly under-the-radar Latin jazzfunk highlight!

The song "Colorado", named after the band, opens the "A-side" of the single. The hypnotic fender rhodes puts the listener in the right mood right from the start, before the drums and percussion set the rhythm. The horns also add depth and melodiousness before the song takes a turn and reveals its funky side with guitars, synths and bass. A nice guitar solo also reveals the affinity for rock music without losing sight of the vibe of the song or tipping it a different direction. Definitely a fabulous song that comes up with a lot of ideas and inspirations, offering an unexpected richness in the under 3-minute running time.

The "B-side" also continues musically energetic in the same way with "Para Ti". Here, too, you can feel and hear the playfulness and experimentation of these extraordinary musicians. Atmospherically dense passages alternate with quieter phases and solo parts, before the tension rises again and literally explodes. As in the song "Colorado", rhodes, brass, guitars & bass offer a great and varied interplay. The secret highlight, however, might be the drum and percussion parts in the middle of the track, which will surely enchant not only the B-Boys and B-Girls.

Artist info:

The internet, a source of almost endless knowledge, offers no information about the band Colorado. All the more fortunate that one of the band's founding members, "Emilio Espinosa Becerra", provides detailed info for the reissue.

In 1968 the three brothers "Luis", "Francisco" and "Emilio Espinosa Becerra" from Mexico City started to rehearse together to play wellknown rock & pop songs at friends or family parties. At first, they played on Japanese guitars and a Teisco bass borrowed from a school friend. They saved up money to then buy guitar & bass amps and a microphone, which they always had to rent until then. However, the budget was only enough for Mexican replicas of the legendary Fender Bassman and the Fender Super Reverb. Original equipment was simply unaffordable.

Shortly thereafter, more members joined the band. Three musicians from the school band "Tepeyac": "Marco Nieto Bermudez" (trumpet), "Raymundo Mier Garza" (tenor saxophone) and "Alfonso Romero" (trombone). Another classmate named "Carlos Mauricio Fernández Ordóñez", who studied piano, also joined the group. His father had a chemical factory in the United States and helped bring equipment (amplifiers and a Farfisa Fast 5 organ) - hidden in the back of a truck - to Mexico. In the time that followed, more instruments were acquired, including bass and guitars (from Gibson, Rickenbacher and Fender) and microphones (from Shure) for vocals and horns.

With a larger band and new equipment, they played many parties in their district of "Lindavista" in "Mexico City" and neighboring areas from 1970 to 1973, as well as gigs at various festivals and school events. The group's band name at the time was "Sound Core Brass". However, more and more often people with turntables and speakers showed up at parties, which were also able to heat up. The so-called "Sonideros", a sound system culture that was emerging in the 1960s, charged less than a multi-piece live band, so the band's performances declined.

During those years, three other "Espinosa Becerra" family members joined the band: "Jorge Rafael" (trombone), "Sergio Alejandro" (tenor saxophone) and "Felipe de Jesus" (drums and percussion).

A brother of the musicians, "Carlos Espinosa Becerra", studied electrical engineering at the University. Together with another fellow student, he designed and built a 10-channel console with a variety of functions and features that far surpassed the devices available at the time. They also went to the US again to buy JBL speakers & tweeters to build their own sound system. On another trip to Los Angeles, they bought Phase Linear amplifiers, which offered enormous power by the standards of the time and had an extremely low distortion factor. With this equipment they could turn up the volume really loud and noise-free.

This was also the time when they stopped playing music from English bands & youth groups and changed their repertoire completely. They played mambos, chachachas, pasodobles and tangos on special occasions in big ballrooms and halls. Also, every now and then they hired a string quartet of well-known Mexican violinists to provide the musical entertainment at dinner events.

During those years, classmate "Pablo Rached Diaz" joined the band, playing tenor saxophone. Pablo was very active and organized many parties. He was also the one who helped the band to record on the Mexican label "Peerless". So in 1975 they were asked by Peerles Records to record their own songs. They had recorded a total of 12 songs - six of these songs were released on three vinyl singles (45rpm). Most of the songs were composed by "Gustavo Ruiz de Chavez Sr.". The band was asked to adopt a more commercial name, and so they had chosen the band name "Colorado". In the course of the releases, the band made some promotional tours and appeared in shows on "Televisa", the most important television station in Mexico in those years.

Later, several members of "Colorado" graduated and began to pursue regular professions. They didn't stop playing at events, but priority was given to more formal duties and the band was no longer as active as it had been in its heyday.

About 8 years ago, the band got back together to play again. The next generation of musicians also joined the band: two sons, a nephew and a brother-in-law of the original band members. Currently, they are back playing at friends' parties and family gatherings in Mexico City.

Repress of the the debut album of synth-pop pioneers La Roux.

Originally released in very limited quantities on vinyl in 2009, the album, La Roux, contains the UK No. 1 single Bulletproof as well as Top 3 smash In For The Kill. La Roux was shortlisted for the 2009 Mercury Prize and won Best Electronic/Dance Album at the 53rd Annual Grammy Awards in 2011.

La Roux was a refreshing addition to the world of pop. Brixton-born Elly Jackson was inspired more by the music of Nick Drake and Neil Young than synth pop, and when Ben Langmaid first heard her, she was playing her songs on an acoustic guitar. Together, they updated the template for the synth duo, Langmaid resolutely in the background, while Jackson became the face and mouthpiece for the group.

Their debut single, Quicksand, was released on Kitsune Records in December 2008, and soon after Polydor signed them, and amid a flurry of press attention, In For The Kill came out in March 2009, rising to No. 2 in the UK. In June that year, Bulletproof topped the charts, paving the way for the album, which was received warmly in the UK and made huge inroads into the US charts.

Jackson's androgyny and the duo's musical style evoked the 80s, yet this was no mere pastiche. The songs had heart and soul and were delivered with matchless panache. "People don't just want R&B girls thrusting their groins at them," she told The Guardian. "It gave me hope. People bought the record even though it was fronted by this odd boy-looking ginger girl."

La Roux is presented with scrupulous attention to the detail of the original UK first pressing and available in audiophile 180gm vinyl. Whether replacing a much-loved original copy, or adding to a collection afresh, this is a superior way to enjoy such enduring and influential music.

Kill the Moonlight is the fourth album by American Rock Band Spoon released on August 20, 2002. The Album features a stripped-down, minimal sound that incorporates various different instruments such as tambourines and pianos along with an idiosyncratic production style. The Album together with the Single "The Way we Get By" ist regard as Spoons Opus Magnum.

Following the »Minna Miteru« compilation, released in 2020, Morr Music announces a sequel, dedicated to Japanese indie music, overflowing with surprises and welcome discoveries. Like its predecessor, »Minna Miteru 2« is compiled by Saya of Tenniscoats, with the support of Markus Acher (The Notwist). It’s also another part of the Minna Miteru universe, alongside retrospective albums by The Andersens (»There Is A Sound«, 2020) and yumbo (»The Fruit Of Errata«, 2021). Taken together, these albums suggest a scene in rude health, sharing a unique vibration.

If its predecessor circled around Tenniscoats and their close friends, the second volume, though featuring a collaboration between Tenniscoats and Deerhoof as oneone, reaches far further afield, drawing from music old and new, far and wide. Consistent across »Minna Miteru 2« is a sense of wonder and a cheerful unpredictability: you never quite know what you’ll hear next. There are some gorgeous indie pop songs here, like Yuko Kono’s »Ginger« or HOSE’s »Baseball«, but there are other sounds too, like Kariu Kenji’s blue-hued electro-pop, or the wheezing pipe-organ ambient of FUJI||||||||||TA: »Minna Miteru 2« hints at new kinds of beauty.

Some of the more widely known names here contribute typically gorgeous melodies – Kama Aina’s »Wedding Song«, from 2005’s »Hawaii Hawaii« CD, is a reflective tune that combines a country-ish lilt with hints of slack-key guitar. Shugo Tokumaru’s »5 A.M.« is a delirious psychedelic pop mantra, drawn from his excellent 2005 album, »L.S.T.«. Many of the revelations, though, come from artists and groups relatively unknown outside Japan. The lovely, disorienting glitch-folk of Wasurerogusa features Aki Tsuyuko, perhaps best known for her albums on Thrill Jockey and Jim O’Rourke’s Moikai label, collaborating with psych-folk legends Eddie Marcon.

There’s also the delightful synth-pop of Jonathan Conditioner; the electronic dreamscape of Chaplin, whose opening »Out Cont« runs along several parallel paths at once; the twinkling, acoustic jangle at the heart of mmm’s luscious »Blue«; and a curious collection of miniatures, from acts like tenshinkun, Daisuke Tanabe and NNMIE, that embrace a childlike curiosity, essaying a kind of toytown pop-tronica.

The twenty-six songs on »Minna Miteru 2« repeatedly catch you unawares, upending your expectations and signaling both the breadth and depth of the Japanese indie underground. It’s a compilation of play and pleasure, but also of bold experiment smuggled into the everyday through pop music’s welcoming moods, magically creating a new world for the listener, spun out of the air and woven in between your ears.