Buscar:habit

Intronaut from Los Angeles have for years been at the vanguard of progressive underground sludge metal. Their 2013 album Habitual Levitations has been sold out for years, and is now making a comeback as a limited-to-999 green double vinyl edition, wrapped in a gatefold jacket

A multicultural explosion of West African, French and Brighton sounds
Stranded Horse is a touring machine centered around composer, songwriter and
instrument maker Yann Tambour.Whilst he had developed his own kora playing
and teamed up with local player Boubacar Cissokho (cousin and protege of
erstwhile Tambour collaborator Ballake Sissoko) In terms of repertoire, there is
nothing to stop him from covering Joy Division, the Smiths or even Jackson C.
Frank and the moving "My Name is Carnival".Behind Yann Tambour and his band
Stranded Horse lies a faith in chance encounters, a belief that renewal is born out
of chaos. They strive to skirt conventions and labels and wed together
unexpected genres, rules and habits in an album of erratic wanderings, dance and
trance, at a time when more and more get walled off by reluctance and suspicion.
But a strange spell, it seems, was cast on our stranded horse since he chose to
hit the dancefloor for the first time the very year nobody could. Yann Tambour
was first known as Encre at the turn of the millennium. He was then whispering
and stacking orchestral samples into a kind of spoken word electronica with an
acoustic tinge. But in 2005, he decided to return to his early love for arpeggios
and dusted off his classical guitar, all the while growing a fascination for the kora,
an instrument symbolic of West-Africa.
But Stranded Horse doesn't forget to draw on the indie heritage that is still very
much present, as evidenced by "In A Sharper Fairway", which may remind the
most passionate folk fans of the folk- mindedness of Jackson C Franck. As for
the choice of English or French, it is a natural one, whether it is a question of
immersing oneself into the contemplative and poignant "Sparks Turn To Stone" or
entering the frenzied dance of the irresistible "Rumba du trépas", the richness of
the lyrics is reinforced by a voice stripped of all artifice, making each composition
sincere and authentic. The same is true when, with Youssou N'Dour's permission,
Stranded Horse adapts Star Band de Dakar's heady and vast "Thiely" from Wolof
to French.

A multicultural explosion of West African, French and Brighton sounds
Stranded Horse is a touring machine centered around composer, songwriter and
instrument maker Yann Tambour.Whilst he had developed his own kora playing
and teamed up with local player Boubacar Cissokho (cousin and protege of
erstwhile Tambour collaborator Ballake Sissoko) In terms of repertoire, there is
nothing to stop him from covering Joy Division, the Smiths or even Jackson C.
Frank and the moving "My Name is Carnival".Behind Yann Tambour and his band
Stranded Horse lies a faith in chance encounters, a belief that renewal is born out
of chaos. They strive to skirt conventions and labels and wed together
unexpected genres, rules and habits in an album of erratic wanderings, dance and
trance, at a time when more and more get walled off by reluctance and suspicion.
But a strange spell, it seems, was cast on our stranded horse since he chose to
hit the dancefloor for the first time the very year nobody could. Yann Tambour
was first known as Encre at the turn of the millennium. He was then whispering
and stacking orchestral samples into a kind of spoken word electronica with an
acoustic tinge. But in 2005, he decided to return to his early love for arpeggios
and dusted off his classical guitar, all the while growing a fascination for the kora,
an instrument symbolic of West-Africa.
But Stranded Horse doesn't forget to draw on the indie heritage that is still very
much present, as evidenced by "In A Sharper Fairway", which may remind the
most passionate folk fans of the folk- mindedness of Jackson C Franck. As for
the choice of English or French, it is a natural one, whether it is a question of
immersing oneself into the contemplative and poignant "Sparks Turn To Stone" or
entering the frenzied dance of the irresistible "Rumba du trépas", the richness of
the lyrics is reinforced by a voice stripped of all artifice, making each composition
sincere and authentic. The same is true when, with Youssou N'Dour's permission,
Stranded Horse adapts Star Band de Dakar's heady and vast "Thiely" from Wolof
to French.

The latest offering from French shape-shifter Maxime Primault (High Wolf, Black Zone Myth Chant, etc.) is both a distillation and deepening of psychedelic soundsystem strategies honed across a decade plus of production and performance, in crisscrossing trenches of vibrational exploration. The four cuts comprising IN D EV IL were born of bass and syrup, designed as anthems for baser desires: “I just wanted to make bangers really.” Alien squelches and insectoid chatter pulse above thick swells of low end, intercut with sirens, screwed voices, and seasick wobble, alternately pummeling and prismatic. Masterfully disorienting, flickering with FX, drops, and narcotic murmuring, at the threshold of dissociative and dubstep.

Recent years spent performing in clubs influenced Primault’s listening habits, both in taste and production methods, skewing towards a starker contrast of highs and lows. IN D EV IL encapsulates this evolution, hallucinatory but urgent, like DJ tools for an underworld afterhours: tight, tripped, and lightless. The EP’s tracks vary in energy and density but share Primault’s premise of “tunes that sound fat and heavy.” Club music as dimensional gateway, booming and liminal, rippling with tremors, texture, and undertow. Whether deployed in public or private, these designs manifest vividly altered states, testament to their creator’s omnivorous vision of rhythm and sound.

There is a way a voice can cut through the fascia of reality, cleaving through habit into the raw nerve of experience. Nika Roza Danilova, the singer, songwriter, and producer who since 2009 has released music as Zola Jesus, wields a voice that does that. When you hear it, it is like you are being summoned to a place that’s already wrapped inside you but obscured from conscious experience. This place has been buried because it tends to hold pain, but it’s also a gift, because once it’s opened, once you’re inside of it, it can show you the truth. Zola Jesus’s new album, Arkhon, finds new ways of loosing this submerged, stalled pain.

There is a way a voice can cut through the fascia of reality, cleaving through habit into the raw nerve of experience. Nika Roza Danilova, the singer, songwriter, and producer who since 2009 has released music as Zola Jesus, wields a voice that does that. When you hear it, it is like you are being summoned to a place that’s already wrapped inside you but obscured from conscious experience. This place has been buried because it tends to hold pain, but it’s also a gift, because once it’s opened, once you’re inside of it, it can show you the truth. Zola Jesus’s new album, Arkhon, finds new ways of loosing this submerged, stalled pain.

Back in 1968, a pair of Germanic behind-the-scenes sound
librarians called Horst Ackermann and Heribert Thusek left a
tiny but indelible pinprick on the history of German Pop in the
misshaped form of a sexy horror cash-in concept album called
‘Dracula’s Music Cabinet’. Shelved at a micro-cosmic axis
where Krautrock meets lesbian vampire Horrortica and easy
listening meets psychedelia, the delayed reaction of this mutant
concoction eventually exploded in the mid-1990s in the hands of
a generation of ‘record diggers’ sending currency-crushing
tremors through the wallets of mods, rockers, hip hoppers and
psych nuts around the plastic-pillaging planet. The vinyl junkies
had resurrected a monster but, like addicts do, they ravenously
sucked it dry and moved on looking for the next fix to feed their
habit.

Luckily for some, Ackermann and Thusek were also creatures
of habit. And it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that they
were holding the next dose, but by the turn of the millennium
the mad scientists had been given a thirty-five-year head start
on the pop archaeologists and their mythical sequel was literally
light-years ahead of their previous draconian instalment.
Encouragingly, the unclosed cabinet left a shiny white clue in
the form of its closing track ‘Frankenstein Meets Alpha 7’.

The Ackermann and Thusek duo were far from dynamic. They
were undercover agents hiding behind user-friendly mock-rock
monikers and, like most B-Musicians, the only way to sniff them
out would be to read the small print. But when an unidentified
record on an unknown label with a title like ‘Science Fiction
Dance Party’ crops up in the Eins Deutschmark crates it’s not
exactly rocket science - although the track titles might suggest
otherwise. ‘The End Of A Robot’, ‘Monster On Saturn 1’,
‘Galactic Adventures Of The Outer Space Fleet’, ‘The Whistling
Astronauts’, ‘Death Rays Out Of The Universe’… The tell-tale
signs are all there and if that doesn’t clench the deal then what
will?

Even rarer than its horror counterpart, this ultra-rare record
regularly reaches sums in excess of €400 plus online.

Last October, when Bernard Allison returned to his old haunt of Bessie Blue Studios, Tennessee, to be greeted by fabled producer and career- long collaborator Jim Gaines, it felt like coming home. And when Allison fired up the amps, counted in the band and embarked upon his latest studio album, Highs And Lows, everything felt right with the world. “Just to be able to create music again after the pandemic,” he says of that long-awaited rebirth, “was incredible.”
For 56 years, music has been Bernard Allison’s essence. As the youngest son of the much- missed Chicago bandleader Luther Allison, he was a bluesman from birth. One week after graduating high school, Bernard cut his teeth on the road with Koko Taylor’s Blues Machine lineup – and ended up staying for most of the ’80s. By the close of the decade, however, he assumed a twin identity, leading and
writing for his father’s band, while forging a solo career that exploded in Europe off the back of early albums like The Next Generation (1990), No Mercy (1994) and Funkifino (1995).Now, released in February 2022 on Ruf Records, Highs And Lows sees Bernard acknowledge his lineage through two classic songs by his
father – Gave It All and Now You Got It – while offering nine originals. Try the irresistible groove of Hustler: a funk gem written by Bernard with Andrew Thomas, whose horn-and-harp groove evokes the strut of the title character. Or the masterful Last Night, which shifts tempo from an upbeat chop to a weeping slow- blues, capturing the changing moods of a man chasing his runaround woman. As for the title track, Bernard says it speaks for anyone left bemused by life’s rollercoaster: “It’s a part of life, the ups and downs that everyone deals with.”Right now, with a new album of stellar material to take out on his New Year tour, Bernard Allison is back in the ascendency – and the man can’t wait to return to his natural habitat. “The song So Excited is basically about the excitement of being able to be back on the road again,” he says. “I think everyone can relate to that.”

Tape

Quiet Rituals draws inspiration from the seemingly mundane tasks and habits in our daily lives which serve to keep us grounded in uncertain times.

Synthesizers, samplers, tape loops, and field recordings by Scott Campbell.
Recorded and mixed 2021 in New Orleans, LA.
Polaroid SX-70 photo by Scott Campbell.

“I like it when music builds itself up in an organic fashion,” says Duncan Marquiss. “When it just seems to emerge and almost writes itself.”
This natural, intuitive and free flowing approach is evident all across the debut solo album from the multi-disciplinary artist. From tender yet sweeping acoustic moments to experimental electronic guitar manipulations, the album feels like a ceaselessly sprawling exploration of texture and tone. Despite veering into what sounds like electronic ambient soundscapes, the entire album is rooted in the guitars. “I enjoy trying to stretch the guitar as an instrument,” says Marquiss. “That reflects my playing style, always trying to make the guitar sound different, or create non-guitar like sounds.”
Marrying earthy, textural acoustic instrumentals that feel rooted in open landscapes, with those that capture the pulse and hum of a populated metropolis (Marquiss resides in Glasgow). The album was recorded in Aberdeenshire in Marquiss’ parents' garage. “Apart from the wind and the swallows nesting in the eaves there’s not many distractions around,” he says. This is a solo record that goes right to the very essence of Marquiss as an artist. The expansive yet intimate sounds he’s created here stem from the same peaceful isolation of where it all began.
There’s a cosmic touch tracing back to 1970s Germany (Michael Rother solo, Cluster, Harmonia, Popul Vuh soundtracks) that infiltrates much of the album, alongside some of its more pastoral textures, with Marquiss citing a wide range of listening habits. These include Bruce Langhorne's The Hired Hand, Jim O Rouke's Bad Timing, Arthur Russell and Laurie Spiegel.
Despite containing no lyrics, the album feels rooted in narrative and development. As the album unfolds the acoustic guitar becomes more prominent over the electric, almost as if nature is slowly taking back and growing over abandoned human-made structures. A record that, despite being experimental in tone and essence, retains a very human and natural touch throughout.

Der in Berlin lebende Rapper und Produzent hat für Künstler unterschiedlicher Genres wie Samy Deluxe, Wallis Bird und Hundreds produziert. Erste eigene Bekanntheit erlangte LLUCID mit dem Release zweier EP's zusammen mit MADANII, einer deutsch-iranischen Sängerin, die alternative Popmusik mit Elementen aus R&B & Hip-Hop kombiniert. Nach den ersten beiden Solo-Singles 'Fooled' und 'Habits'" erscheint nun seine erste 6-Track-Solo-EP 'Getting In Touch'.

Tape

Foam and Sand is the ambient soundscape and visual project of award-winning composer and conceptual artist, Robot Koch. Inspired by the composer’s daily habit of meditation, ideas for the project started to take shape during the lockdown of 2020, growing organically under the radar until Foam and Sand was officially announced in 2021. Using tape recordings of slowed-down pianos, modular synths, and other sonic sources, »Full Circle« is a collection of 16 warm and organic ambient tracks. The signature sound is created with loops that magnify the irregularities and imperfections of cassette recordings and that are then shaped by the artist into hazy meditative journeys. Through the process, the grainy subtleties of sound give way to vast and lush atmospheric soundscapes, making audible the complex interplay of micro and macro and highlighting the interconnectedness of these two spheres in life.

“I started meditating 7 years ago. It’s interesting that meditation and medicine have the same root syllable. Meditating before working on my music resets my brain and helps me access ideas that are layers deeper than my conscious mind. Foam and Sand started as a self-soothing project which I now share with the intention of providing healing and inspiration to others.” - Robot Koch

Tape

Foam and Sand is the ambient soundscape and visual project of award-winning composer and conceptual artist, Robot Koch. Inspired by the composer’s daily habit of meditation, ideas for the project started to take shape during the lockdown of 2020. Using tape recordings of slowed-down pianos, modular synths, and other sonic sources, »Full Circle« is a collection of 16 warm and organic ambient tracks.

»Full Circle Reworks« comes with an international selection of some of the most interesting and upcoming names in the ambient/electronic/modern classical community: Midori Hirano, Hainbach, Slow Meadow, Alaskan Tapes, Tom Ashbrook, Arms and Sleepers, Birds Of The West, Julien Marchal and Six Missing.

Pink Vinyl

Drifting on oceans of thunderous stillness, carried away by endless currents, whipped up by waves of darkness devouring you until you see the light. The first album from Platoo, a collaboration between Michelle Samba and Phil Mills, has an unrelenting cadence that grabs you and refuses to let go. A distinctive combination of calming soundscapes and highly-charged energy fitting any occasion, from dancing like lost souls in the empty halls of ancient barracks to ecstatically tripping on a distant desert planet.

To Phil and Michelle creating Platoo was about being given a sense of freedom and exploration, at once shaking off habits and rediscovering forgotten values. Phil's love of the mesh of ''real'' sounds and electronics, and quest to establish a balance where both would feed off each other saw him abandon convention and standard structures, deviate from the beaten path and let things come to life. Michelle's quest to create, to inspire and be inspired, to draw her conclusions from serendipitous events allowed her to break things open and be at ease with letting herself go to create the breathing space needed for this new sound.

What makes their symbiosis fruitful is a common yearning for the unknown, a search for what works without exactly fathoming why it works. The result is something that indeed meets those needs, a strange and beautiful musical exploration.

Pompeii, Cate Le Bon’s sixth full-length studio album and the follow up to 2019’s Mercury-nominated Reward, bears a storied title summoning apocalypse, but the metaphor eclipses any “dissection of immediacy,” says Le Bon. Not to downplay her nod to disorientation induced by double catastrophe — global pandemic plus climate emergency’s colliding eco-traumas resonate all too eerily. “What would be your last gesture?” she asks. But just as Vesuvius remains active, Pompeii reaches past the current crises to tap into what Le Bon calls “an economy of time warp” where life roils, bubbles, wrinkles, melts, hardens, and reconfigures unpredictably, like lava—or sound, rather. Like she says in the opener, “Dirt on the Bed,” Sound doesn’t go away / In habitual silence / It reinvents the surface / Of everything you touch. Pompeii is sonically minimal in parts, and its lyrics jog between self-reflection and direct address. Vulnerability, although “obscured,” challenges Le Bon’s tendencies towards irony. Written primarily on bass and composed entirely alone in an “uninterrupted vacuum,” Le Bon plays every instrument (except drums and saxophones) and recorded the album largely by herself with long-term collaborator and co-producer Samur Khouja in Cardiff, Wales. Enforced time and space pushed boundaries, leading to an even more extreme version of Le Bon's studio process – as exits were sealed, she granted herself “permission to annihilate identity.” “Assumptions were destroyed, and nothing was rejected” as her punk assessments of existence emerged. Enter Le Bon’s signature aesthetic paradox: songs built for Now miraculously germinate from her interests in antiquity, philosophy, architecture, and divinity’s modalities. Unhinged opulence rests in sonic deconstruction that finds coherence in pop structures, and her narrativity favors slippage away from meaning.

Produced by Jonathan Wilson (Dawes, Father John Misty, Conor Oberst), Erin Rae's highly anticipated new album Lighten Up is a timeless amalgam of classic pop, cosmic country and indie rock, recorded earlier this year in California’s Topanga Canyon. Three years have passed since the release of her critically acclaimed debut Putting On Airs, which drew high praise from publications from Rolling Stone to NPR Music. She mostly spent her time on the road, performing at Newport Folk and Red Rocks, sharing stages with Iron & Wine, Jason Isbell, Jenny Lewis, Hiss Golden Messenger and Father John Misty, before her touring came to a sharp halt at the start of the pandemic. The solitude of the road and then the pandemic created space for Rae to undergo a sonic and philosophical shift where she found personal catharsis in creating an album that reflected on her newfound lessons of self acceptance, alongside finding the confidence to offer social commentary on the environment, gender identity and equality. “My last record was a lot of self-assessment and criticism, and trying to kick old habits and ways of relating and not relating to people,” Rae acknowledges. “This one is about blossoming, opening up, and living a little more in the present moment. Fully experiencing what it is to be human.” With a renewed sense of agency, Rae also took a more active role in creating the kaleidoscopic soundscape that became Lighten Up, setting out to reflect a sound she calls, “an emotional pallet, I could get lost in.” Alongside Erin and Jonathan Wilson, who contributed various instruments, the album also features guest appearances from fellow rising star singer songwriters, Meg Duffy, Ny Oh, and Kevin Morby.

Lake Havasu is a community of winding hillside roads, launched in the 1960s alongside a brick-for-brick rebuild of the original London Bridge. “It’s this very synthetic, gimmicky place set in this soulful, desolate landscape,” laughs Pedro the Lion’s David Bazan, who moved to the Arizona city for one year in seventh grade. Bazan collected his earliest childhood experiences for 2019’s Phoenix, the prolific artist’s celebrated return to the Pedro moniker and the first in a planned series of five records chronicling his past homes. To write its sequel, Bazan traveled to Havasu four times over several years, driving past his junior high campus, a magical skating rink, and other nostalgic locations that evoked feelings long suppressed. “An intersection I hadn’t remembered for 30 years would trigger a flood of hidden memories,” he says. “I was there to soak in it as much as possible.” Driving the inscrutable loops of Havasu’s lakeside, Bazan listened through an audiobook of Tom Petty’s biography, eventually dialoguing with Petty’s voice in his mind. A revelation from the book—that Petty subconsciously wrote the song “Wildflowers” as an act of kindness toward himself—inspired Bazan to approach his own work with radical generosity toward his young self. “I wanted to be there for that kid,” he offers. “That twelve year old still needs parenting, and still needs to process.” To revisit his past with openness, Bazan modified harmful work habits he’d accepted as necessary. That meant doing away with deadlines, and accumulating moments of play as he felt moved to—“Rather than squeezing stones every single time. I’m on a slow journey away from that,” he clarifies. As he worked through the music that became Havasu, flexibility and curiosity informed the arrangements. Bazan began writing on a simple synthesizer and drum machine setup. He detoured to a more elaborate assortment of analog electronic equipment, then woodshed his original two-handed keyboard arrangements on fingerpicked acoustic guitar. Concurrently relearning his catalog for a weekly series of livestream concerts also renewed his gratitude toward songwriting. “I was trying to evaluate what I have to show for 20 years of kicking my own ass,” Bazan quips about the strenuousness of full-time touring. “But the garden of my songs is what I’ve been building. It doesn’t have to be an ego test.”