Cerca:hiss

Re-release for the first time on vinyl for this album originally from 2004 on Daft Records. “Behind The Sun” marked the return of Dirk Ivens after five years focused on other projects (The Klinik and Sonar). This time in collaboration with the Spanish musician Rafael M. Espinosa (Geistform) and with production skills of Eric van Wonterghem (Monolith, Insekt). All gained experience by Dirk shapes this album in a perfect way and the Dive-typical sobriety is not long in coming on every track with a sense of electronic menace, shown through a blaze of squeaks, hisses and subliminal aggressiveness. “Behind The Sun” is a first class work and Mr. Ivens once again confirms his exceptional position in the EBM-industrial scene.

Limited edition of 500 numbered copies on double orange vinyl record, gatefold and printed inner sleeves. Includes all original album tracks plus a bunch of extras taken from the “Frozen” EP recorded together with Diskonnekted, the complete “Lies In Your Eyes” EP and the rare song “Lost Horizon”.

Originaire de Mongolie, The HU ne ressemble à aucun autre groupe de rock dans le monde. Depuis leur sortie, le groupe s'est hissé à la première place du Billboard World Albums Chart, à la première place du Top New Artist Albums, et au Top 5 mondial du Hard Rock Music Album Chart. Ils ont effectué de nombreuses tournées dans le monde avec des spectacles à guichets fermés en Europe, au Royaume-Uni et aux États-Unis. Après le succès de l'album The Gereg, qui a non seulement débuté à la première place, mais dont les succès rock viraux «Wolf Totem» et «Yuve Yuve Yu» ont atteint le Top 10 des radios rock. The Hu sont de retour avec un nouvel album, Rumble of Thunder. Cet album relie le monde à la culture mongole et à ses valeurs fondamentales uniques de préservation de la nature et de connexion spirituelle avec la terre.

In recent years, there has been a resurgence of interest in the incomparable 90’s band known as Brainiac. This is in part due to a 2019 full feature documentary about the band (Transmissions After Zero) plus the reemergence of surviving band members to celebrate their music in the last several years. In addition, a substantial pair of archival releases (Attic Tapes 2xLP, From Dayton Ohio 2xLP) were unearthed for release on Record Store Day 2021 by Touch and Go Records. Now, in 2023, comes the latest missive of the archive, harkening back to the band’s latter era - and their most prolific and confident period. The Predator Nominate EP is a celebration of what was to come before the tragic exit of ringleader/singer Timmy Taylor. Listen to these realized demos and imagine what only could have been the confident seed of what the group might be capable of in this future century versus the last one. The world will never truly know. BIO: Brainiac began in 1992 as the basement experiments of Dayton, OH natives Tim Taylor (vocals, synth), and Juan Monasterio (bass), who first met playing cello in fifth grade. Upon completing the lineup with Michelle Bodine (guitar) and Tyler Trent (drums), they released two full-lengths and toured vigorously, establishing themselves as the latest peg in Ohio’s diverse musical timeline. In 1994, Michelle left the band and was replaced by John Schmersal. In 1996, the band made their full-length debut on Touch and Go Records with the album Hissing Prigs in Static Couture. On May 23, 1997, only weeks after the release of Electroshock for President EP and the band’s return from a European tour supporting Beck, Tim lost his life in a car accident.

Red Vinyl
On his 2000 debut, Da Abtomatic Meisterzinger Mambo Chic , Megira channels the optimism of post-war America, narcoleptic surf, and the Twin Peaks soundtrack into a lo- fi lo-rider masterpiece all his own. Sung in both Hebrew and English, Mambo Chic moves at a deliberate pace, unconcerned by the traffic of the modern world and wrapped in a blanket of Tascam 4-track hiss. On "Tomorrow's Gone" Megira achieves the feat of being so far back in time that he's somehow living in the future and waiting for the rest of us to arrive. Hear our 2 favorite cuts in back- saving, crate-flavoring 7" format ripe and ready the dive bar soundsystem hosting your favorite BYOV night.

Earlier this year, Subwax Bcn made an important contribution to the electronic music community by having the timeless dub techno compilation Vibrant Forms II by Fluxion remastered and reissued. First released in the year 2000 on Chain Reaction, Earlier this year, Subwax Bcn made an important contribution to the electronic music community by having the timeless dub techno compilation Vibrant Forms II by Fluxion remastered and reissued. First released in the year 2000 on Chain Reaction, Vibrant Forms II is widely considered to be one of the greatest achievements in the genre. As it turned out, Vibrant Forms II became one of the last records to be released on Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald's classic label - a suitable swan song if there ever was one. And that's it, right

Well not quite.

If one would search for Fluxion - Vibrant Forms III, Discogs would come up empty and Google would treat it as a misspelling. Until now.
Konstantinos Soublis, aka Fluxion, and Subwax Bcn have decided to pick up the banner and release Vibrant Forms III as a CD as well as four individual 12" records under 2016. It contains everything you could hope for and more: The massive, booming basses, the clicks and hisses, the atmospheric thunderstorms, the opium smoke-scented streaks of reverb and dub echoes. The warmth. Yes, above all else the warmth: Sometimes moist and dripping as in Safe Harbour, sometimes blisteringly dry as in Variant. It's no easy task, giving cold, dead machines warm breaths. And no-one quite does it like Fluxion.

The Reissue of Vibrant Forms II was an act of cultural preservation. It reminded us about the legacy of the Basic Channel label family, in which Chain Reaction played an important part. Without this legacy, the contemporary body of electronic music would look different and make very different sounds. With the Release of Vibrant Forms III, Subwax Bcn takes it one step further. Fluxion's Vibrant Forms III album remind us of the timelessness of truly great music, never mind the genre.

Florence Cats is a poet, visual artist, sound composer, performer and acupuncturist. Born in Vilvoorde (Belgium) in 1985, she is currently living and working where Brussels merges with the Sonian forest.

Florence Cats’ working process involves things about to appear or disappear, and echo one another : air, light, wind, tone, print, voice, water, color, dust, junk, rumor… She creates eclectic pieces related to travel, porosity, natural energies and celestial events. Each proposal is in tune to a context, a space, an environment.

Ys is a generous debut. Raw, courageous.

Sunken Cathedral is Florence interpreting Claude Debussy’s La Cathédrale Engloutie (trans. the Sunken Cathedral). The track reminds me of one of those fabled Charles Ives home recordings. Where he records himself on Speak-O-Phone - an old brand of recordable aluminium phonograph discs - while practicing and composing his music. But unlike Charles Ives treating these home recordings as personal sketches, Florence Cats shares her captured moments as compositions for the public.

Similar to the Speak-O-Phone recordings, we now meet the piano as a physical expression - not as an archetype. We are together with Florence in a room. The pedal. The keys. The hiss of the room. Learn, repeat.

Trough Florence’s hands and feet, La Cathédrale Engloutie is brought out of its pupa stage to become a presence. Instead of being grounded in luxurious concert halls or on high end recordings, the piece is now natural. Sunken Cathedral is a template, an affirmation for amateurs.

The piece was originally created for the group exhibition "Here Comes the Wave” at Project(ion) room, Brussels, February 2020.

In Fall Call, we find ourselves at QO2, a sound art initiative in Brussels. This piece was captured during a residency Florence took over the summer of 2022. We listen to the moment when a summer storm just washed the city.

Fall Call is a testament to Florence’s magical - humanistic way of playing her custom-made theremin. By pushing the controls of the instruments so high, her whole body starts to control the instrument - instead of just her hands. So when she walks around in the room, the instrument answers in full color.

And then, a phone-call. Giving it a bit of a Poulenc vibe.

For the last piece, Drop Out, we find ourselves in Florence’s apartment. When Florence opens the windows, the ambience of the surrounding Sonian Forest seeps in. This is an adorable moment. It predicts new beginnings. The smell of wet dirt and dripping leaves in the air. The poetry of rain.

Pianist, drummer, composer and producer Hamish Balfour presents jazz funk, soul and electronic music, bridging the gap from classic Blue Note to Warp via Sonar Kollektiv on Running Colours, his electrifying debut album for London's Shapes of Rhythm Records.

Praised by Jazzwise for hissolo flourishes and sidestepping harmonies, Hamish Balfour should be a recognisable face to jazz addicts. The go-to keys player has performed and recorded alongside American jazz drumming legend Harvey Mason, Tenderlonious, The Temptations, Odyssey, Faze Action, Yolanda Charles' Project PH, Bassically, Nim Quartet and Yam Who. Popping up not only in the credits of many sought-after albums, but also Channel 4, ITV and BBCprogrammes for his compositions on various shows.

Over the course of eleven tracks, Balfour folds in and explores his influences, with a wide yet highly cohesive and strong palette of sounds, whilst interacting with high caliber guest vocalists such as spoken word artist and broken beat icon, Lyric L(Seiji,Nathan Haines), London Elektricity and Hospital Records' star vocalist Elsa Esmeralda, award-winning and chart-storming singer-songwriter Belle Humble (Freestylers, Paloma Faith) and soul and house mainstay Andre Espeut (Afriquoi,Simbad,Faze Action).

Responsible for all piano, synths, percussion and production on the album, Balfour's musicality shines through, a reminder of how overdue this debut album as leader is. However, in addition to the incredible vocalists, he's joined by some of the UK's finest jazz musicians: James Copus (trumpet), Pete Matin (bass), Laurie Lowe and Saleem Raman (drums) and Rob Updegraff (guitar).

Elsa Esmeralda implores us 'not to be afraid' on lead single and title track Running Colours. A perfect invitation to get stuck into this many layered album. Balfour compliments Esmeralda's soothing vocals with delicate piano intro before Lowe's bruk-easque drums and lead an irresistible groove bedded in warm synths and guitar licks.

Yes or No showcases Loose Lips legend Lyric L contemplating the uncertainty of love over a swinging mid-tempo jazz funk boogie groove propelled by tight drums and Hammond chords, closing with a flying trumpet solo from Copus, weaving around Balfour's nimble keys.

Wealth, featuring singer/songwriter Belle Humble, displays incredible depth and restraint. Humble delivers the enticing vocal with ease, as it slides over the intricate webs of jazz fusion and electronics.

Mogul is arguably Running Colours' curveball. An eastern-inspired whirlwind of all manner of synths and twisting drums which constantly morph throughout. Guitars and trumpets take turns to solo on a track that feels like a series of questions that we never quite get answers to.

Balfour's ability to merge free wheeling jazz and fusion with timeless electronic production and soulful compositions is also apparent on instrumental pieces such as Reflector 28. Here, we find the musicians upbeat, uplifting, progressive and playful, showcasing the keys whilst the bass underpins the groove.

South Of The Sun is Running Colours' laid-back moment with Roy Ayers-type vibrations as bass and drums sit in the pocket (at least to begin with), whilst a Rhodes weaves its magic. Like many of the album's tracks we take a few twists and turns before returning to our main feel-good motif.

Hamish's long awaited debut is sure to exceed the expectations of those who know him already, whilst introducing a whole new audience to his wealth of talent and originality.

Tape
Hailu Mergia & Dahlak Band's Wede Harer Guzo is the third release on Awesome Tapes From Africa for Ethiopian keyboard and accordion maestro. In the years since Shemonmuanaye, Mergia has revamped his touring career, playing festivals and clubs worldwide, including a recent tour supporting Beirut. By 1978, Addis Ababa's nightlife was facing challenges. The ruling Derg regime imposed curfews, banning citizens from the streets after midnight until 6:00 am. But that didn't stop some people from dancing and partying through the night. Bands would play from evening until daybreak and people would stay at the clubs until curfew was lifted in the morning. One key denizen of Addis' musical golden age, Hailu Mergia, was preparing a follow-up to his seminal Tche Belew LP with the famed Walias Band. It was the band's only full-length record and it had been a success. But his Hilton house band colleagues were a bit tied up recording cassettes with different vocalists. Still Mergia, amidst recording and gigs with the Walias, was also eager to make another recording of his instrumental-focused arrangements. So he went to the nearby Ghion Hotel, another upmarket outpost with a popular nightclub. Dahlak Band was the house band at Ghion at the time. Together they made this tape Wede Harer Guzo right there in the club during the band's afternoon rehearsal meetings, with sessions lasting three days. Dahlak Band catered to a slightly more youthful, local audience, while Mergia's main gig with the Walias at Addis' swankiest hotel had a mixed audience that included wealthy Ethiopians, foreign diplomats and older folks from abroad. Therefore, their sets featured lighter fare during dinnertime and a less rollicking selection of jazz and r&b. Meanwhile, Dahlak was known more for the mainly soul and Amharic jams they served up for hours two nights a week to a younger crowd. Mergia released Wede Harer Guzo ("Journey to Harer," a city in eastern Ethiopia) with Sheba Music Shop, which was located in the Piazza district but has long since shut down. His cassette copy is the only known source we could find. Jessica Thompson at Coast Mastering managed to restore the recording to clean up layers of hiss, flutter and distorted frequencies, made worse by years of storage. Although there are some remaining sonic artifacts of the era's recording and cassette duplicating quality, this reissue captures the band's inimitable vibe. Recalling the audience's positive reaction to Wede Harer Guzo's novel arrangements, he says it sold well and found many fans. However, as no trace of the tape can be found online, there's no indication as to why the cassette appears largely forgotten until now

Originally released in 2014, “Instruction Booklet N. 1232” marks the first cassette release on Dauw for Tatersall under his The Humble Bee moniker. Taking advantage of the format, each side on “Instruction Booklet N. 1232” is reserved for a single piece nearing the 20-minute mark.

“Exploding View” (aka Side A) swells into existence with a very grand sounding synth-driven melody. Of course the other thing that’s present is the decaying sound of the tape loop that’s working to bring that music to life. At first, the melody grows and grows, fairly undisturbed, but eventually the sound of so-much tape warble threatens the rising nature of the piece until it sounds as though it is one loop away from total decay and simply fluttering out of existence.

But of course that’s the point. There’s a tension between that grand melody that opens these moments and that warble. It’s a lesson in opposites: the mechanics of a tape loop, guaranteed to break down, placed in contrast with those signature Tatersall melodies, which somehow seem eternal. And just as that tension seems too much to bear — the melody dies to be replaced by something altogether new. What comes next is something much quieter, driven by a sub-aquatic bassline, some rhythmic tape hiss and some gentle piano.

It’s a very dramatic and sudden break. The technical elements of that could be attributed to Tattersall’s understanding of how far a melody can be pushed before it succumbs to the abuse of being processed out of existence — perhaps the tape had been looped and processed to its breaking point. Regardless of whether it was a technical or artistic choice, that hard break serves an important narrative function. Frequently in instrumental music, musicians play with opposites (quiet-loud, clean-distorted) to create a narrative to their work since they don’t have words/lyrics as a tool. In the case of The Humble Bee’s use of tape loops, one set of opposites in tension is always driven by the fragility of the melodies and the limitations of a machine guaranteed to inevitably decay the media it is designed to support. And where one thrives, the other takes a backseat. As side A winds down, the melodies are much more sparse — appropriate for en ending, yes; but it also gives more space for those hisses and crackles to claim their moment.

Side B is filled out by “Manual with Foot Pedal” and it begins as gently as its predecessor ended. Slowly eking outing it existence – it’s as if watching Tatersall set the board, showing his players on opposite sides of the table before really setting them in motion to do their thing. By the piece’s midpoint, melody has taken centre stage as a glitchy, piano-led rhythm marches its way forward, clearly carving out its space and claiming its territory. And almost immediately following that: the decay takes over again and those tape loops seem processed to near death — the melody almost barely decipherable as it flutters under the weight of the history of being looped/played ad nauseum. And in the very final moments, the melodies are sparse again, giving the tape hiss room to play its part — it’s as if Tatersall is giving both players enough space to take their final bows.

If you've been in the club scene for many years like David Dorad, you will one day face the big, essential, serious questions that each of us will ask ourselves sooner or later:

Are marmots pack animals?
Can marmots sign language?
Do marmots plan their lives according to European or Chinese zodiac signs?
Do marmots need a special passport, after all they don't have a thumb to turn the pages?
What happens when a marmot eats Coke and Mentos at the same time?

And with all those questions whistling, hissing and muttering in his head, David grabbed piano, baton and BioBassline to crochet his new EP.
This is called "Marble" and offers 6 different approaches to solve these big questions.
As a source of ideas, he has competent partners at his side in Roman Flügel, Mira, Christopher Schwarzwälder, Canson and Sascha Cawa.


A1 -
Murmeli - original
The marmot tribe awakens. Get up to brush your teeth. Gets your toes tapping. Makes you snap your fingers. Dare to roll your hips. Later rhythmically to turn. To look elegant at the same time. Eyes closed - eyes open.
Murmeli, the regular leader, sits at the piano.
Everyone is dancing, toothpaste in the corners of their mouths and a smile that takes the toothpaste by the hand.
A normal morning in marmot houses.

B1 -
Murmeli - Mira & Christoph Schwarzwald RMX
Mira and Christoph Schwarzwalder take over from Murmeli. They vary, combine and subtract. The first marmots raise their thumbless fists in the air - showing their passports, ready to take off.

B2 -
Murmeli - Canson RMX
Canson also sits next to Murmeli. Caress the theme, tickle the groove.
Murmeli has the best ideas early on: "Boy, let's try Mentos with Cola, we'll definitely take off."
Canon is in!


C1 -
Murmelot - Original
The sun goes down in Murmelhausen too. Then Murmelot is ready. Gives his advanced Pilates class, which the whole tribe takes. The village wants to remain mobile.
Murmelot's motto is "Why not stretch while walking?"
And so shall it be. He sets the rhythm on his wooden Fairtrade 303 and our furry friends shave shaky and obscene messages down each other's backs while impatiently hopping for the drop.

D1 -
Murmelot - Roman Flügel Remix
Roman Flügel and Murmelot are old buddies. Struck while carving the 303.
Roman happily takes over the Pilates class, the dancing crowd. Enchanted until the razor's batteries are empty and only dancing remains, only dancing is important.

D2 -
Murmelot - Sascha Cawa RMX
Sascha Cawa takes his trunk by the hand, wants to motivate her again shortly before the second sunset of the day. Whispers little obscene Pilates positions in their ears. That motivates. Murmelot switched from piano to percussion.
The marmots' sweat feeds the golden orchids in the clearing for the next six months.

Over the last two years, the Innate and We’re Going Deep labels – run by friends Owain K and Placid respectively – have become must-check imprints for those seeking brand-new, timeless-sounding electro, deep house, acid and techno. Now the pair are joining forces on a new collaborative venture that looks to the past for inspiration: InnDeep.

Focused on unearthing and showcasing slept-on gems from across the deep spectrum, the reissue-focused label will have an emphasis on UK producers and imprints whose work in the ‘90s and 2000s has arguably been criminally overlooked.

To kick things off, they’re taking a deep dive into the back catalogue of Headspace Recordings and Emoticon co-founder Tom Churchill, a Welsh producer whose trademark take on deep house achieved cult status in the late 1990s and early 2000s.

The Personal Interpretation EP was first released on Headspace way back in 1997, and dates back to a time when Tom was the very definition of a bedroom producer. He created the EP’s three tracks while still a teenager and mixed them down using the same pair of headphones he used for DJing.

Now painstakingly remastered, the EP sounds every bit as immersive and intergalactic as it did at the tail end of the last millennium. On the EP-opening title track, Churchill builds a sturdy, chunky groove out of clicking, hissing and metallic percussive elements and a wonderfully deep, tactile bassline, over which gorgeous chords, melodic motifs and eyes-closed vocal snippets stretch out as if reclining in the afternoon sun.

Churchill opts for a deeper, Detroit-influenced sound on ‘First Principles’, with undulating electronics and a raw analogue bassline working in unison with ghostly chords and deep space melodies, while ‘Crossed Wires’ is a tispy, off-kilter epic – all breathless drum machine rhythms, pots-and-pans percussion, woozy chords and weighty sub-bass. It provides a fittingly energetic, out-there end to a long-overlooked EP that remains as fresh now as it did back in 1997.

Tape

Dur-Dur Band emerged in the 1980s, during a time when Somalia's contribution to the creative culture in the Horn of Africa was visible and abundant. Seeking inspiration outside the impressive array of Somali traditional music that was encouraged at the time, everyone from Michael Jackson and Phil Collins to Bob Marley and Santana were fair game. This recording, which was remastered from a cassette copy source, is a document of Dur-Dur Band after establishing itself as one of the most popular bands in Mogadishu. The challenge of locating a complete long-player from this era is evidenced bythe fidelity of this recording. However, the complex, soulful music penetrates the hiss. In a country that has been disrupted by civil war, heated clan divisions and security concerns, music and the arts has suffered from stagnation in recent years. Incidentally, more than ten years after Volume 5 (1987) was recorded at Radio Mogadishu, the state-run broadcaster was the only station in Somalia to resist the ban on music briefly enacted by Al-Shabab. Dur-Dur Band is a powerful and illustrative lens through which to appreciate the incredible sounds in Somalia before the country's stability took a turn.

Repress in soon, note new price. RIYL Steve Gunn, Hiss Golden Messenger, Ryley Walker, Itasca, Bill Callahan, Kurt Vile, Angel Olsen. “Timeless ... Measured, perceptive storytelling. A singer with an unmistakable and communicative voice, able to convey hope and hurt with equal clarity.” Pitchfork / “She writes literate songs with unusual precision and sings them in an understated, open-hearted way that lends good poetry the directness of conversation.” Uncut / On her fourth album as The Weather Station, Tamara Lindeman reinvents, and more deeply roots, her extraordinary, acclaimed songcraft, framing her precisely detailed, exquisitely wrought prose-poem narratives in bolder and more cinematic musical settings. The result is her most sonically direct and emotionally candid statement to date. The Weather Station is her most direct and candid record, and the first one to include tracks one might characterize as pop songs. Throughout, the record grapples with some of the darkest material Lindeman has yet approached: it is, according to her, the first album on which she touches on her personal experiences of mental illness. And yet the gesture inherent to the record is one of unflinching embrace. Despite it all, the characters “fall down laughing, effervescent, and all over nothing, all over nothing.” “Well, I guess I got the hang of it” she sings wryly, “the impossible.” By saying more than ever before, The Weather Station seeks to reveal the unnamable, the unsayable void that lies beneath language and relationships. It’s willfully messy and ardent and hungry. Tracks : A1 Free A2 Thirty A3 You and I (on the Other Side of the World) A4 Kept It All to Myself A5 Impossible B1 Power B2 Complicit B3 Black Flies B4 I Don’t Know What to Say B5 In an Hour B6 The Most Dangerous Thing About You

A muffled cry into the technological darkness, Contemporary Movement slid into the world right as the MP3 was seeping out of college dorms. A 39-minute drift into the void, drenched in Cold War-era reverb and then submerged in four track hiss for good measure. Duster constructed a Brutalist masterpiece on the outskirts of a suburban mall, as if to say, “We were here.”

“Music for dark spaces and closed eyelids, deeply psychedelic but without sprawl, ambient music with a serrated edge of punk.”—The Ringer

“Warm, fuzzed-out sounds that hit home like a tight, melancholic embrace from your favorite person.”—Vice

A muffled cry into the technological darkness, Contemporary Movement slid into the world right as the MP3 was seeping out of college dorms. A 39-minute drift into the void, drenched in Cold War-era reverb and then submerged in four track hiss for good measure. Duster constructed a Brutalist masterpiece on the outskirts of a suburban mall, as if to say, “We were here.”

“Music for dark spaces and closed eyelids, deeply psychedelic but without sprawl, ambient music with a serrated edge of punk.”—The Ringer

“Warm, fuzzed-out sounds that hit home like a tight, melancholic embrace from your favorite person.”—Vice

Chile-born and now Germany-based scourging black metal plague Vel'Har joins Sentient Ruin for a much awaited and long anticipated vinyl release of its 2020 light-consuming debut MLP "Letanía I". On the wretched offering cryptic mastermind H.S.V.H. unfolds two monstrous black metal blades adorned by three interludes to invoke an unholy sonic siege upon the ridicule of life and the purity of christendom. Baptized under the pentagram and spewn from the unholy jaws of oblivion, these five tracks sprawl and hiss like a horrifying morass of snakes, consuming reality and devouring everything in the wake of a monstrous tide of venom. The rawness and violence of these riffs is evident, but so is the ritualistic and esoteric majesty emanating from its death-scarred aura; an infernal force summoned as a liturgy or rite of passage toward a higher meaning and other form of existence. And that form is Satan's triumph, the zenith toward which every moving part of this wretched crucible converges. His glory as beacon and conduit of pestilent krafts conceived with the malefic design of insulting life and transporting the listener deep inside twisted and inverted dimensions of infinite dissolution and complete insanity.

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.

Fifth Anniversary reissue of William The
Conqueror’s debut album, ‘Proud Disturber of the
Peace’, featuring all-new mixes by Joseph Lorge
(Hiss Golden Messenger, Blake Mills, Phoebe
Bridgers et al) and new artwork by Australian
design studio Headjam.
The album includes fan favourites ‘Tend to the
Thorns’, ‘Cold Ontario’ and ‘Sunny is the Style’,
delivered with bluesy, alt-rock swagger and wry,
cerebral lyrics that find the band in the same lane
as Built to Spill, Spoon and Pavement.
Tourdates - October 12 Southampton Joiners, 13
Tunbridge Wells Forum, 14 Cambridge Portland Arms, 16
Liverpool Jimmy’s, 17 Manchester Night & Day, 18
Glasgow Attic, 19 Todmorden The Golden Lion, 20 Stoke
Sugarmill, 21 Sunderland Pop Records, 22 Scunthorpe
Café Indie, 23 London The Lexington, 25 Ashford The
Glass House, 26 Bristol Thekla, 28 Falmouth The Cornish
Bank.

Re-Issue "Fuck Content" is an audio-video release composed of a performance of ten live songs off of the "Child Soldier: Creator of God" album, as well as five new studio tracks. The video release contains the footage of the live performance, footage from the recording of the new songs, as well as behind-the-scenes footage from both the studio and the live performance.