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The moment the instantly recognizable intertwined guitar passage on the title track to the Eagles' Hotel California begins, the record's genius becomes obvious all over again. Ranked the 118th Greatest Album of All Time by Rolling Stone, certified by RIAA as the third best-selling LP in history, and considered the foundation on which the Golden State's mid-‘70s music scene was built, the 1976 landmark is a music staple immune to shifts in trends, eras, and styles. Fearlessly addressing the chaos and consequences of American life, its songs remain strikingly prescient and gain creedence with each passing day.

Mastered from the original analogue master tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, and limited to 17,500 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP vinyl box set ensures you will want to permanently check into and never leave this particular Hotel California. Up to the herculean task of standing head and shoulders above all prior reissues, this collectible edition plays with extreme clarity, organic richness, tube-like warmth, massive dynamics, and microscopic levels of detail. You'll be able to practically smell the colitas and feel the breeze in your hair. Songs come across with an epic sweep and feature immersive, front-to-back soundstages that allow the music unprecedented air, roominess, and separation. As for the noise floor? It's basically as invisible as the spirits that waft in the corridors of the unforgettable title song.

Aesthetically, the premium packaging and presentation of the UD1S Hotel California pressing befit its esteemed status. Housed in a deluxe box, it features gorgeous foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendour of the recording. From every angle, this UD1S reissue exists as a curatorial artefact meant to be preserved, touched, and examined. It is made for discerning listeners that prize sound quality and production, and who desire to fully immerse themselves in the art – and everything involved with the album, from the renowned cover art to the meticulous finishes.

Indeed, the opportunity to zero in on all the particulars of the 26-million-selling Eagles record dubbed "a legitimate rock masterpiece" by vaunted Los Angeles Times scribe Robert Hilburn has never been better. A global phenomenon that marked the band debut of guitarist-singer Joe Walsh, Hotel California continues to resonate and connect with listeners of all generations taken by its narrative depth, stark directness, picturesque melodies, daring majesty, and ardent emotionalism. Adorned with a breathtaking exterior photograph of the Beverly Hills Hotel that serves as the simultaneously haunting and alluring cover art, and rounded out by a rear-cover shot of the Lido Hotel lobby that reinforces a notion that teeters between permanence and transience, Hotel California is brilliantly tied to a specific place that functions as a universally understood metaphor for the American Dream.

Confronting the darker undercurrents and oft-ignored constructs attached to that romantic notion, the record's songs revolve around a host of shared themes: excess, mobility, stability, illusion, fame, destruction, and idealism included. Notably, Hotel California appeared at a crucial junction in American history: During the country's bicentennial and amid escalating controversies related to the Vietnam War, energy crisis, and governmental corruption. That the Eagles manage to channel such cultural, social, and economical matters into a cohesive, stately, big-picture statement is alone a stupendous feat. That the album's reach, boldness, vitality, accessibility, and understated intensity have never waned make it a marvel.

Reflecting on Hotel California 40 years after its original release, and indirectly explaining its enduring appeal and increasing relevance, singer-songwriter Don Henley confirmed the record pertains to the "loss of innocence, the cost of naiveté...the difficulties of balancing loving relationships and work, trying to square the conflicting relationship between business and art; the corruption in politics, the fading away of the Sixties dream of ‘peace, love and understanding.'"

It can be argued that Henley and company squarely hit on and drove home those ideas in the surreal title track, chart-topping "Life in the Fast Lane," and grand "The Last Resort" alone. But that would miss the forest for the trees. Experienced as an unbroken whole, complete with the pristinely shot imagery and physical grooves, Hotel California unfolds like a geography-conscious saga by James Michener and plays like colour-saturated movie shot on 70mm film by Martin Scorsese. It's about our collective and individual decisions – and the shape of our past, present, and future. And, just like that conjured by our imaginations, Hotel California continues to take on a life of its own.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab's UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) technique bypasses generational losses inherent to the traditional three-step plating process by removing two steps: the production of father and mother plates, which are created to yield numerous stampers from each lacquer that is cut. For UD1S plating, stampers (also called "converts") are made directly from the lacquers. Since each lacquer yields only one stamper, multiple lacquers need to be cut. Mobile Fidelity's UD1S process produces a final LP with the lowest-possible noise floor. The removal of two steps of the plating process also reveals musical details and dynamics that would otherwise be lost due to the standard multi-step process. With UD1S, every aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the best-sounding vinyl album available today.

MoFi SuperVinyl
Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analogue lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world's quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label's engineers hear in the mastering lab.

Youth (original Italian title La Giovinezza) is a 2015 comedy-drama film written and directed by Paolo Sorrentino, starring Michael Caine and Harvey Keitel. Set in a luxurious Swiss Alps hotel, the story follows two lifelong friends: Fred Ballinger, a retired composer who has turned his back on performance, and Mick Boyle, an aging film director determined to finish what he hopes will be his final screenplay. While navigating the quirks of hotel life and revisiting the milestones of their own pasts, the film explores themes of nostalgia, personal legacy, affection, and mortality.

The soundtrack of Youth is a blend of original score by David Lang, and a selection of other carefully chosen pieces, ranging from classical works to contemporary songs. The centerpiece, “Simple Song #3,” performed by soprano Sumi Jo, captures the film’s themes of beauty, loss, and reflection. Alongside Lang’s compositions, the music features “Can’t Rely on You” by Paloma Faith, the classical piece Debussy’s “Préludes: Des pas sur la neige”, and “Third and Seneca” by Sun Kil Moon, amongst others, creating a rich, genre-spanning soundtrack that blends contemporary, classical, and indie influences.

The soundtrack of Youth is available as a limited edition on transparent vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet with liner notes.

Agathe Plaisance, a self-taught visual artist and musician, creates a universe where the softness of folk origins gradually metamorphoses, giving way to sonic explorations that push the door open to other worlds. Her light-and-dark electronic pop plunges us into her inner world, with deeply intimate lyrics about illness, addiction, the relationship with oneself and with others. The Lynchian atmosphere created by the synth layers surround an ethereal voice, echoing the work of artists such as Cat Power and Mazzy Star. Through a live performance of continuous tension, the woman in the making explores herself and seeks to transcend her pain in order to reinvent herself. With this new album, Agathe Plaisance delivers an intense and introspective work, born from a period of deep depression. She explores with honesty her anger, losses, fears, and addictions, while also casting a clear-eyed gaze on those of others. Despite the darkness that runs through the record, glimpses of hope, love, and light begin to surface, offering a path toward healing. Deep Rest is more than just a title - it's a metaphor, a play of shadow and light at the heart of the project. The artist transforms pain into a tool for reinvention. Her folk beginnings gradually give way to more electronic and experimental sounds - a shift that mirrors her personal rebirth.

London-based vocal and electronic collective NYX have announced their long-anticipated eponymous debut album, to be released digitally and on vinyl on 28th March 2025 via their own label, NYX Collective Records.

Alongside today’s news, they’ve also shared the first single, “Daughters”: a hair-raising, untamed cry that surrenders to the intensity of the human experience. With the lead vocal recorded in a beach-side kitchen in New Zealand, cicadas bleed through the soaring chant and heavy, visceral drums. The track opens soft and earnest, expanding in their rage, resilience, and liberation, transforming pain into a re-wilding of the spirit, a celebration of their collective power.

NYX say of the track: "Daughters” is an initiation into the underworld - an invitation to come face to face with our losses. To look towards the shame, rage, and pain embedded in our bodies, and open through the fear that has closed down our throats. These are our wild voices that want to be heard and loved - by ourselves, by our pack."

NYX is the result of years of collaboration and transformation, reflecting the collective’s signature blend of experimental vocal techniques and electronic alchemy. NYX’s debut album pulses with primal energy and delicate introspection, weaving together the ancient and the futuristic. It’s a spellbinding journey through the human experience, crafted not just to be heard, but also deeply felt.

The album brings together the group's full evolution and experimentation, collaborators on the album include sound designer, composer and NYX string player Alicia Jane Turner, harpist Miriam Adefris, as well as additional drums and production by Memory Play and Sebastian Gainsbourgh (Vessel), artwork by NYX member Shireen Qureshi, co-produced by Marta Salogni and mastered by Heba Kadry.

NYX showcases the choir's far-reaching emotional breadth. The introduction, “Mother”, is inspired by the first chapter of the foundational work of Taoism, Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching. In this, NYX’s opening prayer, the listener finds themselves in a swelling crescendo of NYX’s all-encompassing vocals and synth drones. The album spirals through swirling loops of haunting voices and layered strings that come together like crashing waves, bursting through in feral upheaval. “Through Fire” and “Daughters” erupt into heart-wrenching post-apocalyptic chorus and pounding bass-heavy drums, then slip into a blissful sound bath, “Awe”, whose choir harmonies layered with lush harps radiate pure wonderment, and the closing track, a cover of Suicide’s 1979 “Dream Baby Dream”, dissolves into reverberating echoes. NYX leaves an indelible mark, reminding us of the radical potential of healing and love.

In Greek mythology, NYX is the primordial goddess of the night, born from chaos giving birth to light and day. Inspired by this duality, NYX’s music harnesses the voice as a limitless medium for profound emotion, capturing the vast spectrum of human experience with power and authenticity.

London-based vocal and electronic collective NYX have announced their long-anticipated eponymous debut album, to be released digitally and on vinyl on 28th March 2025 via their own label, NYX Collective Records.

Alongside today’s news, they’ve also shared the first single, “Daughters”: a hair-raising, untamed cry that surrenders to the intensity of the human experience. With the lead vocal recorded in a beach-side kitchen in New Zealand, cicadas bleed through the soaring chant and heavy, visceral drums. The track opens soft and earnest, expanding in their rage, resilience, and liberation, transforming pain into a re-wilding of the spirit, a celebration of their collective power.

NYX say of the track: "Daughters” is an initiation into the underworld - an invitation to come face to face with our losses. To look towards the shame, rage, and pain embedded in our bodies, and open through the fear that has closed down our throats. These are our wild voices that want to be heard and loved - by ourselves, by our pack."

NYX is the result of years of collaboration and transformation, reflecting the collective’s signature blend of experimental vocal techniques and electronic alchemy. NYX’s debut album pulses with primal energy and delicate introspection, weaving together the ancient and the futuristic. It’s a spellbinding journey through the human experience, crafted not just to be heard, but also deeply felt.

The album brings together the group's full evolution and experimentation, collaborators on the album include sound designer, composer and NYX string player Alicia Jane Turner, harpist Miriam Adefris, as well as additional drums and production by Memory Play and Sebastian Gainsbourgh (Vessel), artwork by NYX member Shireen Qureshi, co-produced by Marta Salogni and mastered by Heba Kadry.

NYX showcases the choir's far-reaching emotional breadth. The introduction, “Mother”, is inspired by the first chapter of the foundational work of Taoism, Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching. In this, NYX’s opening prayer, the listener finds themselves in a swelling crescendo of NYX’s all-encompassing vocals and synth drones. The album spirals through swirling loops of haunting voices and layered strings that come together like crashing waves, bursting through in feral upheaval. “Through Fire” and “Daughters” erupt into heart-wrenching post-apocalyptic chorus and pounding bass-heavy drums, then slip into a blissful sound bath, “Awe”, whose choir harmonies layered with lush harps radiate pure wonderment, and the closing track, a cover of Suicide’s 1979 “Dream Baby Dream”, dissolves into reverberating echoes. NYX leaves an indelible mark, reminding us of the radical potential of healing and love.

In Greek mythology, NYX is the primordial goddess of the night, born from chaos giving birth to light and day. Inspired by this duality, NYX’s music harnesses the voice as a limitless medium for profound emotion, capturing the vast spectrum of human experience with power and authenticity.

The two separate double vinyl sets are now available that correlate to the triple CD released earlier this year. TMTCH stumbled into existence onstage at the Alternative Country Festival, Electric Ballroom, Camden on Easter Sunday in 1984; after a long afternoon busking and drinking in a Hammersmith subway. They knew three chords and a hundred songs all of which sounded a bit the same, a frenzied skiffle that was exciting to jump around and drink snakebite to. If they thought about longevity at all, a lifespan of 40 days seemed most likely. It's forty years later and they are still running. Since those early days, and without much of a game plan other than always stepping onward, TMTCH have released around 20 albums plus many side projects, bootlegs, curios and an unknown number of T shirts. They've toured constantly, whether in dingy pub backrooms or Grand Ballrooms and Festival Stages. From Cairo to Reykjavik and all points in between, the TMTCH roadshow has shambled and thrilled through the decades, always passionate, always literate, occasionally dishevelled. Forty years of recording has spawned a vast back catalogue, well represented here by songs from each album, style and era; a tapestry of human stories and vibrant characters. So there are the fast sprints like early folk hoedown 'Ironmasters', the frantic shanty 'Raising Hell' and the amphetamine punk blues of 'Going Back to Coventry'. Then there are the waltzing folk ballads, from their impassioned version of the anti war standard 'Green Fields Of France' to the bitter regret of 'The Bells' and the righteous testimony of 'Our Day'. Elsewhere there are anthems galore; 'The Crest' a swirling gaelic chant, 'Rosettes', a fast marching assault of drums, fiddles and mandolins; historical epics such as 'Ghosts Of Cable Street', 'Shirt of Blue' and 'The Colours'; romantic ballads like the wistful 'Parted From You' and 'Island in The Rain'. All the eras are here; from the wiry lo fi of the first album, through the eighties into full blown MTV ready multi trackers with vast charging drums; the initial simplicity of their recipe deepening and darkening. And then on through the nineties, noughties and tens; always the double pronged vocals drifting between harmony and unison, always the celtic, folk and country tones vying for attention, the emotive fiddle, the top end mandolin above the thundering rhythm section. On through bouffant hair, spiky hair, dyed hair, thin hair and hats; on through Grunge, Baggy, Madchester, Rave, Britpop. On through the Miner's Strike, Poll Tax, New Labour, Iraq and Brexit. On through marriage, children, loss and revival. Forty years at the working end of rock and roll is a feat achieved by very few bands. It requires tremendous chemistry, a deep catalogue; both panoramic and miniature, a vital and irrepressible energy, all of which is on resplendent display in this sprawling 3 disc compilation. But most of all it requires an intense resilience, something that TMTCH possess in spades. Forty years on the run; was ever a band so aptly named?

'In `All This and So Much More' Tasha is an artist flung open. For Tasha, the last few years have been propulsive, dynamic, bursting at the seams. They've included painful encounters with grief; a sudden break up; new flirtation; new hair; the glitter of world travel and not least, a role in Tony-nominated Broadway musical `Illinoise' which adapts Sufjan Steven's `Illinois' for the stage. If `Tell Me What You Miss The Most' was an introspective meditation on love with a few moments of glancing toward what's next, `All this and So Much More' is Tasha turned outward, flourishing, telling us what it's like to take life by the chin and look it in the eye. Take, for example "Eric Song." This was the first song to be written on the album, penned while Tasha grappled with the sudden, tragic death of Eric Littman, the co-producer of her last album. Though the instrumentation is a familiar 3/4 guitar strum, lulling us into a comforting waltz, Tasha's voice is breathy with grief, adding depth and dimension to the hushed sound. "No, I'm not alone after all / You must be near / Facing this soaring sprawl," she sings, transforming the experience of loss into a talisman of love and courage meant to help usher in a new self. Said a different way, `All This and So Much More' is a full-throated ode to all of the ups and downs of becoming. In the opening track, "Pretend," when Tasha sings about "feelings outgrowing this little life," we get the sense, both lyrically and sonically, of someone in the throes of growth. This is an album crafted with a big, ambitious sound (in part, thanks to the production of Gregory Uhlmann)_cinematic droning, orchestral woodwinds, dazzling arrays of jangling guitar, all lining up to capture a sweeping moment in Tasha's life. Written over the course of 2022 and 2023, right on the cusp of Tasha being cast in Illinoise, the songs in this album invoke friendship, heart ache, flirtation, doubt. From the social anxiety of "Party" ("Do they think I'm funny? / Did they like my jokes last night?") to the questing for meaning in "So Much More," Tasha brings us along on a journey of finding out that the person you wanted to be was inside of yourself, just waiting to bloom all along. She sums it up neatly in her final track, "Love's Changing," charging us with a brilliant, sweeping vision of the future, singing: "Suddenly the world is bigger than it ever felt before / Feel the weight of my future sinking in / See the joy I'm running toward." In `All This and So Much More,' Tasha asks us to consider abundance in its truest form. Our lives, a deluge of possible experience if only we will surrender to it, all the way from the citric ache of heartbreak to the chest bloom of new adventure.

'In `All This and So Much More' Tasha is an artist flung open. For Tasha, the last few years have been propulsive, dynamic, bursting at the seams. They've included painful encounters with grief; a sudden break up; new flirtation; new hair; the glitter of world travel and not least, a role in Tony-nominated Broadway musical `Illinoise' which adapts Sufjan Steven's `Illinois' for the stage. If `Tell Me What You Miss The Most' was an introspective meditation on love with a few moments of glancing toward what's next, `All this and So Much More' is Tasha turned outward, flourishing, telling us what it's like to take life by the chin and look it in the eye. Take, for example "Eric Song." This was the first song to be written on the album, penned while Tasha grappled with the sudden, tragic death of Eric Littman, the co-producer of her last album. Though the instrumentation is a familiar 3/4 guitar strum, lulling us into a comforting waltz, Tasha's voice is breathy with grief, adding depth and dimension to the hushed sound. "No, I'm not alone after all / You must be near / Facing this soaring sprawl," she sings, transforming the experience of loss into a talisman of love and courage meant to help usher in a new self. Said a different way, `All This and So Much More' is a full-throated ode to all of the ups and downs of becoming. In the opening track, "Pretend," when Tasha sings about "feelings outgrowing this little life," we get the sense, both lyrically and sonically, of someone in the throes of growth. This is an album crafted with a big, ambitious sound (in part, thanks to the production of Gregory Uhlmann)_cinematic droning, orchestral woodwinds, dazzling arrays of jangling guitar, all lining up to capture a sweeping moment in Tasha's life. Written over the course of 2022 and 2023, right on the cusp of Tasha being cast in Illinoise, the songs in this album invoke friendship, heart ache, flirtation, doubt. From the social anxiety of "Party" ("Do they think I'm funny? / Did they like my jokes last night?") to the questing for meaning in "So Much More," Tasha brings us along on a journey of finding out that the person you wanted to be was inside of yourself, just waiting to bloom all along. She sums it up neatly in her final track, "Love's Changing," charging us with a brilliant, sweeping vision of the future, singing: "Suddenly the world is bigger than it ever felt before / Feel the weight of my future sinking in / See the joy I'm running toward." In `All This and So Much More,' Tasha asks us to consider abundance in its truest form. Our lives, a deluge of possible experience if only we will surrender to it, all the way from the citric ache of heartbreak to the chest bloom of new adventure.

Eleventh album consisting of eleven songs, Pink Air, by Elysian Fields, cult New York band led by Jennifer Charles and Oren Bloedow, was released in September 2018. Recorded in the mountains around Woodstock, Pink Air was finalized in Thomas Bartlett's studio (The National, Sufjan Stevens) in Manhattan. A single rock wave unites the tracks with its cavernous reverberation, as if shrouded in the darkness of a night club or pinned to the shadow of a modern nightmare. Pink Air is a post-apocalyptic rock'n roll getaway. The album tackles themes as varied as the ecological threat, the regime of a potential narcissist dictator, white supremacy, censorship, the erasure of history, the social drama of families ... as well as meditations on time, friendship, loss, death. Despite the biting tone, the words never sound too heavy, lightened by many touches of humor. Jennifer Charles's vocals are at their highest, infusing each song with its legendary languid charisma, in a lyrical breath whose spellbinding power has remained intact. By portraying the landscape of the present day with her precise, often caustic lyrics, Jennifer sets her special veil on the intimate, the spiritual, brushing her characters, friends and lovers, in a pure novelist style. All against a background of fear of our time, of its social and political drifts. With Elysian Fields, the angelic singer and her acolytes have always been carried by the highest currents of the sky. For Pink Air, they fold their wings, land on the ground, and roam the scorched lands of America, animated by the rock'n roll spirit of the animal. The feathers turned into so many spiky hairs

A humanity-reminding suite of miracle moments, Someone Like Me unites a geographically unbound cast of real people in pursuit of a meaningful connection. Taping their lived experience in economic studios in quiet English counties, Pacific Northwest woodland retreats and the big city bustle of Sydney and Los Angeles, these kindred spirits rendered sheer beauty in the process. Custom pressed folk songs of love, loss and the lord saviour.

Illuminating minor works from seasoned players such as former Syndicate Of Sound chart-topper Sharkey and late-era Canned Heat lynchpin James Thornbury, the collection simultaneously honours the fleeting amateurism of hobby musicians. With their one shot at tangible vinyl, freshman Lynne Ann Kingan realised her loose bubblegum rocker on campus time, while U.S. Navy recruit Fred Potts cut his unconditionally serene ballad remotely stationed on a Spanish naval base. Spartan production continues to reign with Jon Betmead’s hair-raising gospel, howling into infinite space, and Goldrust’s stripped back garden hymn.

Throughout the hour-long reflection, faith has an intermittent yet revelatory presence, most overtly with the divine choral soul of Seventh-day Adventist quartet Remnant. More subtly, Gary Ramey and Jim Kennedy both turned to song in their spiritual quests, offering their all to a universal power. An irrefutable compilation cornerstone, the National Office For Black Catholics showcased Charles Murphy’s lionhearted account of the Black experience at a 1971 concert. Five years earlier, high school seniors The Superwomen would use their hauntingly angelic harmonies to address racial inequity with a breathless take on ‘Lowlands’.

Reaching the furthest corners, Someone Like Me secures the inaugural licence of three homespun masterpieces. Discovered by fluke in the digital haystacks of Youtube and Soundcloud, Jim Huxley’s bedroom pop earworm melds peacefully into Charlie Webster’s synthesized reverie. Meanwhile, Hollywood’s John Agostino introduces us to the bizarre world of tax scam records, with the artist only now learning that his tender psych-folk demos were leaked via a 1977 bootleg.

Compiled and lovingly restored by armchair digger Mikey Young (Eddy Current Suppression Ring/The Green Child), Someone Like Me pays due service to seventeen rarefied journals of truth and devotion. Adorned with visual artist Chris Fallon’s figure and flora dream extractions, the uniting songbook is further detailed by expansive track-by-track liner notes and a forward from San Franciscan poet Rod Roland.

Remastered for its 10th Anniversary, the newly cut vinyl edition of Ripely Pine features the bonus track “Up In The Rafters,” long a live favorite that really should have been on the album in the first place. More than anything, Aly Spaltro has 20,000 second-hand DVDs to thank for her first album. Despite being recorded at a proper studio in her recently adopted home of Brooklyn, Ripely Pine showcases songs conceived during her tenure at Bart’s & Greg’s DVD Explosion in Brunswick, Maine. Little did customers know, the same store they’d drop off their Transformers movies was providing the ideal four-year cocoon for the development of a major musical talent. Spaltro worked the 3:00 PM to 11:00 PM shift. Each night, after locking up, she’d walk past Drama and Horror, pull out her music gear from behind a wall of movies, and write and record songs until morning broke. She did this every day, drawing strength from the monotony of her routine and testing out multiple techniques, approaches and instrumentation. Anger, confusion, love, happiness and sadness reigned, and the songs ran rampant, with little form or structure. Isolated for those many hours, Spaltro let melodies morph together, break apart and pair up. This is how she taught herself to write music and sing. Taking the name Lady Lamb the Beekeeper, Spaltro became one of the most beloved musicians in Portland. Her live shows were unhinged, as melodies followed an internal logic only apparent to Spaltro herself. She sang and played guitar, and the songs offered a vivid yet brief snapshot of her expansive world. At 23, with years of writing and performing music already under her belt, she ventured to the next milestone—recording an album. This would be the first time she did so in a professional studio and the first time she shared the process with anyone else. Luckily, she met Nadim Issa at Let ’Em Music in Brooklyn. He was taken enough by her abilities to dedicate nine full months toward the recording of Ripely Pine, and she with his producing abilities to ease comfortably into making him a part of her recording process. She wrote everything—all the songs, all the arrangements. And the two of them assembled an album that finally fit what existed in Spaltro’s mind. Keeping the songs’ stark rawness, the record is a pure representation of her sound. Ripely Pine shouts the introduction of a new talent from every groove. These recordings come as close as possible to conveying the intense majesty of her live shows, and, much like those performances, a narrative breathes through the record’s progression. The album opens with urgency and anger, settles into reconciliation and reciprocation, and ultimately reaches toward resolution, realizing infatuation leads to a loss of self; instead, embracing one’s own strengths is the most powerful thing of all.

Lewis Taylor's legendary magnum opus: The Lost Album. "Now you're talking. That's my favourite LT album. Unlike all of the others, there isn't anything about it that embarrasses me." Straight from the genius's mouth. What can we say about this? Well, it's the most requested record ever at Be With Towers. The Lost Album was the intended follow-up to his first album but Island rejected it for fear of "confusing" the marketplace and its conception of Lewis as a soul artist. Their loss. It's a breezy sunset masterpiece.

The genesis of this incredible record needs unpicking a bit. Lewis stopped promoting the first album after a year and went home to record a completely different record that was the most un-R&B album you could probably ever hear: "I pushed in such an extreme direction the other way with what eventually became The Lost Album. It was a knee-jerk reaction to a perceived ‘trapped in R&B’ feeling I was going through at the time. Some people around me were in favour of it and others weren’t. In the end I think I lost confidence in it and did Lewis II instead." We did at least get Lewis II, which is a remarkable album, and he kept Island happy...for a bit. Not long after, Lewis was dropped. And what was to become The Lost Album could've been...er...lost. Forever.

Thankfully, however, Lewis and longtime partner Sabina Smyth revisited those scrapped demo tracks in 2003. They decided to re-arrange, re-record and then self-release them. So it was that the brand new version of The Lost Album finally dropped in late 2004. It's sheer perfection, and we don't say that lightly. The Lost Album was a fully 50/50 collaboration between Lewis and Smyth. As well as production, Sabina did a lot more writing on it, from the melody to "Listen Here" to the chord sequence for "Let's Hope Nobody Finds Us." Thankfully, Sabina is credited this time around.

No, it's not straight up "soul music" in the vein of his previous work. Yet, in its perfectly formed suite of one dozen songs, The Lost Album is dripping in soul. It's so warm, so effervescent and so alive with possibilities. It features deep, fresh imprints on well-loved, accessible sounds. It's a proper 70s style double album. Just one listen and the musical influences on The Lost Album are fairly self-explanatory, as Lewis recently told us, but it's always nice to hear that, in case we were in any doubt, he was definitely channeling Love, Yes, Brian Wilson, CSN, Laura Nyro and, of course, Todd Rundgren. The influences don't end there: "I’m particularly fond of my bass playing on that album, there’s a lot of Chris Squire going on which is cool."

Deep orchestral opener "Lost" is a sublime, harp-laced, string drenched gem, a cinematic, melancholic Axelrod-esque mini-epic that simply beguiles. Written by Smyth, it evokes Donny Hathaway's celestial "I Love The Lord, He Heard My Cry" from Extensions Of A Man. The only problem is the brief 90 seconds running time. It segues into the classic Brian Wilson-meets-power-pop-rock splendour of "Listen Here" which, with its outstanding extended harp-licked beatless intro, sounds like the younger cousin to Boston's "More Than A Feeling". We then drift into the ringing guitars of classic 70s rock anthem "Hide Your Heart Away". It's Lewis's personal favourite, "especially the multi-tracked guitar solo – I was listening to Boston at the time, which was fun." A-ha!

A new version of the heart-stopping, shoulda-been-a-massive-pop-hit "Send Me An Angel" opens Side B before the arrival of, in Lewis's completely correct words, "the clear standout, "Leader of the Band"; the perfect distillation of everything that album was trying to achieve." Soaring, piano-led Rundgren-esque power pop that makes the hairs on the back of your next stand on end. Truly, otherworldly. This is pure pop for now (and then) people. The simple jangly brilliance meets experimental prog-rock of "Yeah" sounds like simultaneously like prime CSNY and late 90s Radiohead (if they'd had a slightly more accessible bent and could write better tunes).

Oh, you wish The Beach Boys had continued writing amazing songs beyond Holland? Well, allow us to point you in the direction of the downlifting stunner "Please Help Me If You Can" and the warm textures and brilliant atmospherics of goosebump-inducer "Let’s Hope Nobody Finds Us". Words can't really describe the sheer beauty of these songs. So we'll stop trying. Just listen. Listen, listen, listen. Closing out this remarkable side of music, the accidentally Balearic "New Morning" should be blasting out at every sunrise set in Ibiza, this summer and forevermore.

The final side opens with the vaguely Beatlesey "Say I Love You". It's just classic, soaring pop-rock songwriting and should strictly be canonical. It's that good. The sassy, Stonesy swagger of "See My Way" injects enough rock'n'roll attitude to compensate for the rest of record's peace-loving, AOR sun-dappled vibe whilst album closer, "One More Mystery", emerging out of the rubble of the previous track, comes on initially like a Baroque-Pop George Harrison before piling crunching drums and screeching guitar solos atop the dreamy harmonies til close.

When asked what it means to have these records available on vinyl for the first time, Lewis is in no doubt: "It’s great and it’s really nice to be able to offer fans a different listening experience. There’s a whole other dimension with vinyl that taps into that whole nostalgia thing, well for me anyway. Something about the physical aspect of pulling it out of the sleeve and putting it on, it does tend to make you feel like you’re more engaged."

Lewis was adamant that he wanted all new artwork for The Lost Album vinyl sleeve and his brief was just the sort of classic tropical-beach-at-sunset you’d want to see on the front of a record that sounds like this. On the finished sleeve, the beach at sunset is just where we start out, before heading up through the painterly clouds and heading out into the stars. And yes, the lettering is a definite subtle nod to all those in-between-period Beach Boys bootlegs we all love. Simon Francis's sensitive mastering combines with Cicely Balston's precise cut for Alchemy at AIR Studios so the album sounds appropriately outstanding. The immaculate Record Industry double LP pressing will ensure this previously lost masterpiece stays forever found.

Sophomore album from the singer who NPR are calling "the Next Queen Of Americana Folk." Boomerang Town marks a bold step forward for this country-folk-leaning singer-songwriter. It is an arresting, ambitious song-cycle that explores the generational arc of family, the stranglehold of addiction, and the fragile ties that bind us together as Americans. This is a record that understands that love and grief are two sides of the same coin. Jaimee Harris turned 30 during the pandemic. It’s a milestone that is a rite of passage even during normal times. But for this Texas-born singer-songwriter, it came in the midst of one of the strangest and most tumultuous periods in American history. When the world stopped during lockdown, Harris, like many others, found herself gazing back into the past, ruminating on the nature of her hometown and family origins, and reckoning with their imprint on her. The term ‘nostalgia’ derives from the Greek words nostos (return) and algos (pain), and if Harris’s Boomerang Town can be regarded as a nostalgic album, it is only nostalgic in the sense that the longing for home is a desire to return to the past and heal old wounds. For Harris, the album began gestating around 2016, a time of great loss for many in the Americana community, with the songwriter losing several musicians close to her. The shift in the nation’s political landscape had ushered in a new level of polarization that saw whole swaths of cultural life being demonized. For someone who grew up in a small town outside of Waco, Harris believed the values instilled in her by her parents were not entirely in line with how many on the left were viewing — and vilifying — Christians, citing them as responsible for the new change in leadership. As a person in recovery, Harris has had to re-evaluate her own connection to faith and find strength in a higher power (“Though he’s not necessarily a blue-eyed Jesus,” she laughs), though she certainly knows what it’s like to “be told how to vote” in a Southern church setting. It was from the intersection of these social, personal, and political currents the album was born. And while much of the material on Boomerang Town was inspired by personal experience, the songs on this collection are far from autobiographical xeroxed copies. More than anything, they come from a place of emotional truth. “My goal is to just write the best possible song I can write,” Harris says, “and I wanted to have ten songs that made sense together sonically.

Caroline No’s 3rd album was built around a set of songs I was writing in the summer of 2019. I built the songs around real events, but looped these narratives into stories from song histories. The result is like an intersection of Brill building characters such as Carole King and Neil Sedaka with the bedroom fanaticism of historical music projects like Virgin Insanity.

After a year of playing the songs live in various formations, we aimed to record in the Australian summer. We knew Jim was going to be in Melbourne, and soon after he arrived in Australia, we met at Mick’s studio. Nick and Mick engineered, with Ian on bass, Jim on drums, Mick, Dee and me on guitars, and Dee and me singing. The sense of intuitive knowledge and performance was exhilarating as we played. We spent two days in the studio, and when we listened back later, it seemed a compelling representation of what had happened, captured live.

The band on this album are artists I grew up with. We were friends first, and engaging with the material, there was no formal structure to follow. Our interpretive approach meant the songs grew from simple structural frames and narrative poetics into full sonic landscapes, engaging across pop, folk, psychedelia and improvisation. Caroline No became - for this iteration - a shifting sonic space tied to intimacy, musical conversation and relationship, expressed in an open improvisatory way. The sound of the record is the result of trust, responsiveness and mutual knowledge.

The name Caroline No was an imaginary character through much of the work, arising from the Beach Boys’ melancholic paen to encountering a past lover who has cut her hair off. My idea was for Caroline No to become the locus for an ongoing composition project where I would write back into songs' history the perspective of patriarchal song’s subjects.

This is a recuperative project of easeful making; attempting reclamations of lost narratives, exploring love, loss and the psychedelic of the everyday.

Caroline Kennedy, January 2022, London

Songs touch on loss, flaws, hiding places, love. Deep connections to the Bay Area, and
the North Coast, with its unique moods of solitude, beauty, and isolation—a place described and transformed by the chaos and power of river-mouth, wild maritime storms, columns of mist that rise up unexpectedly on the road at night. Portions were recorded on Mount
Tamalpais during a self-made residency years back, other pieces made longer ago in Portland, while the rest were tracked during more recent sessions in Astoria.
Throughout, Harris threads a hidden radiant language of voice, disquiet, and guitar, framed by open space and the sense of being far away.
Echoing a lighthouse, burying the faults of being human / Into things that we project upon the sky at night.

Two bodies dancing hot in the New York City winter before being pushed inside for the rest of 2020. Two hearts that, in the span of 6 months, faced the loss of both of their mothers, the matriarchs that bore them to this planet full of wonder. They held on tight to the beauty of living, together. With this shared language and the confines of quarantine they lost and loved even harder. Battling packed boxes and lost jobs, the two celebrated their tragic journey with broad shoulders forcing power chords and the harmonized chants of utter release. They huddled together for the future while leaking their hearts into pop melodies that collide effortlessly with both a shared melancholy and simultaneous hope. MAN ON MAN (also M.O.M.) is a new gay lover band made up of Joey Holman (HOLMAN) and Roddy Bottum (Faith No More, Imperial Teen, CRICKETS, Nastie Band). Their upcoming self-titled record, MAN ON MAN, is infused with indie-rock distortion and soaked in gay pop confidence while still maintaining the dry acerbic sense of humor they both share. M.O.M.'s music videos take their magical collaboration to another level with otherworldly cinematographic dimension, and of course, the subversive playfulness of two gay lovers unmistakably flirting with their audience and each other. Upon the release of their debut single, “Daddy”, their video (chock full of the pair dancing seductively in their white briefs) was removed from YouTube for violating their “sex and nudity policy.” At this moment, the band solidified their political visibility as queer artists who are not ok with being silenced or removed from history because of their age or size. Bottum told Rolling Stone, “There’s enough representation in the gay community of young, hairless pretty men." Roddy and Joey’s love for each other and their own bodies, histories, and truths are what make this project so tender and lovable. MAN ON MAN’s music transcends both genre or decade, creating a timeless appeal for so many kinds of listening. The varied influences and textures of the record are a meditation on the myriad of emotions of lockdown, as well as this particular moment in their own lives, collectively and independently. The shoegaze whirlpools of “Stohner” transition into the square wave synths of “1983” with ease, while tracks like “It’s So Fun (To Be Gay)” open us up to a new type of queer anthem for the 2020s.

The Tipping Scale is a gorgeously sung cycle of songs that mix deeply personal lyrics with universal themes; Kinlaw is a smart, conceptual writer, one not afraid to explore deep emotions like loss, regret, and confusion, alongside strength, identity, and change. She explains that The Tipping Scale is an ideal metaphor for the record, the idea of an ever-present slipping in and out of change, and an acceptance of this kind of change. On it, she unravels intimate memories and tries to learn from them. As you listen to her songs and decode her words, you realize she's not just building songs, she's also creating a home_where painful thoughts of the past can exist within the present_as well as an entirely new, unflinching universe. This universe she created is not metaphorical_it's, in fact, very real. Kinlaw, who often works with gesture and movement as a writing tool, found The Tipping Scale unifying her multidisciplinary practice. She found it by building a real world. As she wrote, with the goal of finding human entry points for storytelling that felt authentic and honest to her practice, she often saw the music relating to motion. "I would start with a gesture and let it build into something until a memory attached itself to it," She explains. "The memory would become a story and the story would reveal itself as something important that needed to be expressed in this album." This works, too, for the lyrical process, where harder and less smooth gestures would represent consonants, and smooth, flowing movements would become vowels. She found the same thing happening with melodic lines and key changes. This is a record that jolts between the corporeal and the psychological, drawn from a flailing body, anchored by inconvenient truths. RIYL: Choir Boy, Jenny Hval, Kate Bush, Boy Harsher, Caroline Polachek, Black marble, Julia Holter, Grouper

**LP + Download - Bonus track 'Three Tears' on download***Natalie Mering, the being behind Weyes Blood, embeds her sublime song in a harmonic gauze of arpeggiated piano, acoustic guitar, druggy horns, & outer space electronics. Propulsive, spare drums carry us across the album's course. There is a faded California beauty to Front Row. A gentle honesty that recalls the finest folk music made on the West Coast of the '70s. The hue hangs in the sweet-spooky harmonies, the pulsing sway of the vibrato & the ecstatic chord resolves. But this beauty is scratched with shadow, with dark foreboding, alienation, & acceptance of change. Love & loss balance together in suspended alchemy, as the earthiness of the singer-songwriter tradition wears digital sounds like feathers in its hair. Mering, together with co-producer Chris Cohen contrasts live band intimacy with the post-modern electric sheen of A.M. radio atmospherics. The experimental flourishes sparkle amid the succinct, thoughtful arrangements.The closeness of this record - how personal, alone, & frank it feels - conceals its aspirations to the outside, to the "Earth" of its title. Weyes Blood harbors devastating weight while also universalizing the strange ways of identity & relationships. These are not typical love songs or protest songs -- they are painful, poignant riddles that celebrate the ambiguity of love & affirm the conflict of harmonious life within a disharmonic world.