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Polish jazz rebels sneaky jesus are back with their second studio album For Chaching Taphed.The highly imaginative quartet out of Wroclaw comprising Maciej Forreiter (Guitar), Matylda Gerber (Saxophones), Ben Łasiewick i(Bass) and Filip Baczyński (Drums) have won fans around the world for their restless, quirky brand of jazz which takes in breakbeats, twisting chord progressions and improvisation as well as a wealth of musical influences.

The band have been touring their asses off ever since they surprised the world with their debut album For Joseph Riddle in 2021. From out of nowhere their debut LP of 500 copies sold out in a month and they quickly went on to sell close to 1,000 CDs of the album. Fast-forward to 2023 and the band are sharing stages with artists such as Ill Considered and Theon Cross.

For Chaching Taphed was created in complete isolation. The group locked itself in a barn at the Museum of Agricultural Technology in Piotrowice Świdnickie. It worked on its sophomore output surrounded by machinery, trucks and carriages. These new compositions mirror the abstract conversations which the group frequently has just for fun. Contrary to For Joseph Riddle, this album is simple and does not rely on ongoing grooves. This enabled the group to be much more experimental. The band was joined by friends Flautist Mariya Mavko on Piękno Niemożliwe (Impossible Beauty) and her playing is sampled in Hipotetyczny Taras (Hypothetical Terrace). Pięciu Pszczelarzy (Five Beekeepers) closes the album featuring EABS' Jakub Kurek on trumpet. His fiery solo is one of the most intense moments of the album.

Spacer Po Nadodrzu (A walk around Nadodrze) opens the album and is inspired by one of the districts of Wrocław. It is a sonic story depicting a walk through Nadodrze late at night. A steady bass rhythm imitates a careful pace and the responding sax line is a spooky theme that might pop to oneʼs head in a moment of uncertainty.

The album's first single Krztusiec (Whooping Cough) finds the group diving head first into their most recent influences. The trackstarts with drum improvisation, rolling into a solid hip-hop backbeat provided by Ben Łasiewicki on Bass and Drummer Filip Baczyński. Sax and Guitar weave steady but dissonant lines, written by Maciej Forreiter after many hours spent listening to the Ethiopian jazz greats. The track takes off right after that. Matylda Gerber delivers a fiery Sax solo, while the group picks up the tempo and quickens the groove. The essence is the middle section, a dubby collective improvisation. Forreiter, Gerber and Baczyński take turns playing both classic dub phrases and fierce avant grade lines. Łasiewicki keeps everybody in check with a steady bassline. The energy slows down until Baczyński's drum solo, which explores phrasing detached from the rest of the tune.

Second single Chiński Sprzedawca Smażonych Kasztanów (Chinese roasted chestnut seller) is a fusion of breakbeats, energized songo rhythms and motifs inspired by South African melodies. Presenting the group with spacious and rhythmic horn lines, guitarist Maciej Forreiter wrote a chord progression while Beniamin Łasiewicki and Filip Baczyński took care of the rhythm section. This first part of the track suddenly drops out and explodes into the dramatic main motif which includes double sax and fierce guitar playing in harmony, plus the rhythm section playing more and more jungle-esque. Powerful guitar and sax solos feature before we return to the main theme with a completely different rhythmic backdrop.

W Klatce z Bykiem (In a cage with a Bull), starts like a race. The music plays with an incredible nerve and when the theme is right on edge it suddenly stops. It is followed by an animalistic growl on the saxophone and a doom metal-esque bash of downtuned, distorted guitars and heavy drums. In this heavy fashion it slowly approaches the finishing line hitting one final metallic clang.

Piękno Niemożliwe (Impossible Beauty) features wonderful flute playing of Mariya Mavko (Kadabra Dyskety Kusaje). Her work in the opening motif evokes sounds of Polish and Ukrainian folklore. This brief mellow moment serves as a contrast to the usual frantic sounds of sneaky jesus. It is an appreciation of thepolish jazz music of the past, intrinsically-linked to folklore. The band took this idea and reworked it into their own unique style.

Hipotetyczny Taras (Hypothetical Terrace) is built on top of a lengthy vamp in an unusual 7/8 time-signature. The bass anchors the quartet in a simple line, while the rest of the quartet share an emotional conversation. This track is the most open of the whole project and it ends accordingly. The final burst is a call back to the basics ofspiritual jazzand the whole band shows every emotion simultaneously and gracefully fades out.

Pięciu Pszczelarzy (Five Beekeepers) is For Chaching Taphed's conclusion and is a non stop assault of heavy horn lines, punk rhythms and noise. The band is joined by the extraordinary trumpeter Jakub Kurek from EABS, who blends in perfectly with sax and guitar. His exchange of solos with Maciej Forreiter is a combination of classic jazz phrasing and discordant clatter. In the same fierce manner the whole group works within the motif, switching up accents and breaks.

In the short space of two years, sneaky jesus has gone from ambitious upstart looking to break out from its home city playing spit and sawdust venues, to touring Europe as well as prestigious Jazz clubs such as Jassmine in Warsaw. In the process, it has delivered two full-length albums that don't stay in lane or pander to established jazz sub-genres as so many groups do. Some artists make the same record twice or even more than that, but not sneaky jesus. For Chaching Taphed shows the band as restless, experimental, fun, irreverent but purposeful as never before.

“A lot of over-hyped improv / jazz projects out there at the moment and Sneaky Jesus are genuinely excellent and out on their own. Drawing on the expansive atmospherics of a barn as the recording's setting, the album immediately pulls you in with the unsettling 'Spacer Po Nadodrzu' and lifts off on 'Krztusiec', effortlessly moving from angular, abrasive jazz to trippy dub and cinematic intrigue. Tempos shift and intensities shift naturally. The whole set warrants a deep listen from start to finish and watch out for two great guest features from flautist Mariya Mavko and Jakub Kurek bringing some mad fuzz licks to the boisterous closer. Brilliant album.”
Quinton Scott — Strut Records

Have you heard of the Nurse With Wound List? If you are a fan of creative-experimental-unlikely music, certainly. You would therefore be aware that amongst the recommendations that Steven Stapleton slipped into the first album of his group Nurse With Wound, were to be found a few restless frogs: Jef Gilson, Luc Ferrari, Jacques Thollot, Urban Sax, Horde Catalytique and last but not least Jean-Jacques Birgé and Francis Gorgé. Stapleton admired their album Défense de. The two Frenchmen just had to conceive of a fabulous precursor to the channel tunnel (check out the inside of the record, you’ll see) to enable Stapleton to come to France in 1980. The Englishman was looking for contributions to a compilation to be released on his United Dairies label that he had created with John Fothergill, and he naturally called on Birgé and Gorgé, who were then playing with Bernard Vitet in ‘Un drame musical instantané’.

It was a done deal and the compilation would be named In Fractured Silence. Alongside Nurse With Wound and Un drame musical instantané, could be heard Hélène Sage (whom Birgé introduced to Stapleton) and Sema, a project from the experimental British musician Robert Haigh who had participated in key records in the Nurse With Wound discography, such as Homotopy to Marie and Spiral Insana.

The curtain is raised and it is Un drame musical instantané who start the ball rolling. Mystery abounds; synthesisers lurk, percussion clatters and the sounds (creaks, whistles, vocal insertions...) fire in all directions. For the piano, it’s a debacle, the Drame won, Hélène Sage can take over. Heading up a quintette including Gorgé and Vitet, she creates a cushioned chamber music with strings and many silences.

On the B side, it’s the other side of the channel. Sema’s piano first off, which dares everything, even melody, before spilling out its darkest ideas in a raucous requiem. Finally, Stapleton appears, delving into his collection of female voices to devote himself to an iconoclastic transformation and concoct a song which collapses under the assault like Marianne at Agincourt. After having listened to In Fractured Silence, you will simply have to choose sides.

Have you heard of the Nurse With Wound List? If you are a fan of creative-experimental-unlikely music, certainly. You would therefore be aware that amongst the recommendations that Steven Stapleton slipped into the first album of his group Nurse With Wound, were to be found a few restless frogs: Jef Gilson, Luc Ferrari, Jacques Thollot, Urban Sax, Horde Catalytique and last but not least Jean-Jacques Birgé and Francis Gorgé. Stapleton admired their album Défense de. The two Frenchmen just had to conceive of a fabulous precursor to the channel tunnel (check out the inside of the record, you’ll see) to enable Stapleton to come to France in 1980. The Englishman was looking for contributions to a compilation to be released on his United Dairies label that he had created with John Fothergill, and he naturally called on Birgé and Gorgé, who were then playing with Bernard Vitet in ‘Un drame musical instantané’.

It was a done deal and the compilation would be named In Fractured Silence. Alongside Nurse With Wound and Un drame musical instantané, could be heard Hélène Sage (whom Birgé introduced to Stapleton) and Sema, a project from the experimental British musician Robert Haigh who had participated in key records in the Nurse With Wound discography, such as Homotopy to Marie and Spiral Insana.

The curtain is raised and it is Un drame musical instantané who start the ball rolling. Mystery abounds; synthesisers lurk, percussion clatters and the sounds (creaks, whistles, vocal insertions...) fire in all directions. For the piano, it’s a debacle, the Drame won, Hélène Sage can take over. Heading up a quintette including Gorgé and Vitet, she creates a cushioned chamber music with strings and many silences.

On the B side, it’s the other side of the channel. Sema’s piano first off, which dares everything, even melody, before spilling out its darkest ideas in a raucous requiem. Finally, Stapleton appears, delving into his collection of female voices to devote himself to an iconoclastic transformation and concoct a song which collapses under the assault like Marianne at Agincourt. After having listened to In Fractured Silence, you will simply have to choose sides.

"If you can imagine a love child between MAC DEMARCO and SPAR-KLEHORSE, then this would be what you're left with." - SO YOUNG MAGA-ZINE
Raised in North Queensland, Australia, Jarrod Mahon is not one to shy away from bold new endeavors. Once parting ways with his previous record label in 2019, Mahon chose to go fully independent, relocating to Berlin in 2019 (where he still resides), despite having no contacts at all in the country. What’s more, having recorded/performed under the pseudonym Emerson Snowe for over a decade - during which time he home-recorded five albums and 13 EP’s, toured with the likes of King Krule or Ariel Pink, played showcases SXSW and the Great Escape, the works - Mahon took that brave, most uncommercial decision to release under his own name and start almost totally anew.
“There was never really a concept to that name Emerson Snowe other than having some kind of separation from who I was as a person,” Mahon explains, “using a moniker gave me that confidence to push myself further mentally and to give myself some kind of a freedom”. And through the process of creating what would become his debut album, Mahon saw that he had outgrown the need for this protective persona. ‘Everything Has A Life’ was meant to be the debut Snowe album”, he admits, “but after I finished mixing it with Syd Kemp, co-producer I realized that I had actually grown a lot and was much more comfort-able with who I am and what my personal beliefs are.”
The choice of ‘Everything Has A Life’ as the album title, pulled from beauteous opening track ‘All I Know’, neatly summarizes this new outlook: moving on from ‘self-pity’ of the past-self by becoming present for the loved ones around you, improving understanding of one’s own self, via the wider world at large.
That track marks the first written during a lockdown stint in LA where Mahon wrote and recorded every day for 2 months, produced nigh on 250 demos and birthed the bulk of the record. It also brought Mahon back to his all-time favorite, Sufjan Stevens’ Ilinois and its blend of widescreen orchestral landscapes and more candid, naked acoustic-leaning variations - an important influence for the album's stylistic contrasts. Another key inspiration for the record too brought Mahon back to his roots - those full-bloom strains of his Mum’s Beloved Neil Diamond, an annual Christmas irritant to Mahon as a child, yet an artist he’s come to respect in adulthood. “Whatever the reason, with age I came to love the big show band sounds,” he says, “the idea of a performer on stage with a mas-sive orchestra with strings was amazing to me.”
With the help of producer Syd Kemp (Ulrika Spacek, Vanishing Twin), such grand designs could be met. - “When we first met, he asked me if I would like real strings on it. I said of course.” Enter Magda Mclean on violin (Caroline/the Umlauts), and Gamaliel Rendle Traynor on Cello (Sweat, Fat White Family), whose strings helped lift the record to romantic new heights.
He continues: “I said to Syd that the only thing I wanted to achieve with this rec-ord was that I wanted it to make me cry at one point. And we got there eventual-ly.” The final culmination of all these strands, ’Everything Has A Life’ is indeed a treasure trove of emotive riches. Locking into that bittersweet, quintessentially ‘pop’ combination of triumphant rhythms and confessional, stream-of-consciousness lyrics plucked straight from the heart, Mahon faces up to years of substance abuse with a series of gorgeous, blushing melodies: “I was using, I was drinking, I was lying to my friends, I was messing up again, I was hiding from myself”, he joyously chants on ‘The Growing’.
A banquet fit for an indie king, Everything Has A Life is loaded with psych-pop lusciousness (‘All I Know’) and anthemic glam fuzz (‘Death Of The Ladies Man’, ‘Deadstar’, or ‘Sonny is my Best Friend’); recalling that foundational Sufjan Ste-vens influence too with shambling flecks of country (‘Charly (Romantic Heart)’). There’s also those lo-fi crepitations of ‘My Man’ and ‘I can’t’ harking back home-recorded demos that lie at the core of Mahon’s creative process.

Unidisc 40th anniversary continues with a Saturday Night Band classic featuring brand new Dave Lee remixes!

"Come On Dance, Dance" is a disco funk track by the Saturday Night Band, originally released in 1978. The song features an upbeat tempo and groovy bassline, with brass and string sections adding to the lively and energetic vibe. The catchy chorus invites listeners to join in the dancefloor, with the lead singer's soulful vocals urging everyone to let loose and have a good time. The song is a quintessential disco anthem, with its infectious rhythm and joyous spirit capturing the essence of the era's dance music. "Come On Dance, Dance" has become a classic of its genre and continues to be a popular choice for parties and events.

Dave Lee, also known by his stage names Joey Negro and Jakatta, is a British DJ, remixer, and producer known for his contributions to the house, disco, and dance music scenes. Lee has been active in the music industry since the late 1980s and has released numerous singles and albums under his various aliases.

Throughout his career, Lee has been a champion of disco and funk music, often incorporating these genres into his productions and remixes. He is also known for his expertise in crate-digging and his extensive record collection, which he has used to source samples and inspiration for his music.

Whitney did more than turn Whitney Houston into a pioneering sensation known around the world by her first name. Originally released in June 1987, the singer's blockbuster sophomore record became the first album by a female artist to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart — a position it claimed for a total of 11 weeks en route to selling more than 10 million copies in the U.S. The Diamond platinum effort also contains four No. 1 Hot 100 hits that, when combined with the three chart toppers from her 1985 debut, gave her seven consecutive No. 1 singles — an accomplishment that no other artist has accomplished. Commercially and creatively, Whitney stands on hallowed ground — especially now that the record plays with a sound that puts into perspective just how extraordinary, engaging, and vital Houston's music remains.


Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl at RTI, Mobile Fidelity's 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP of Whitney invites listeners to experience the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee's pivotal album in audiophile quality for the very first time. Free of the dynamic limitations and tonal flatness prevalent on prior vinyl and CD pressings, it lets the music breathe and reveals the copious detail, nuance, and texture within the immaculately produced songs. MoFi's SuperVinyl profile offers further advantages in the forms of a nearly inaudible noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superb groove definition.

In addition to featuring extreme clarity and immediacy, this numbered-edition reissue does wonders for the attribute that inspired more than 20 million people around the globe to add Whitney to their record collections: that inimitable voice. Houston's trademark mezzo-soprano — an acrobatic instrument equally capable of taking off on fantastic flights and unwinding for hushed meditations — benefits from the fantastic airiness and transparency afforded by this meticulously restored edition. Whitney has never sounded or looked better. The crossover landmark deserves nothing less.

Issued just two years after Houston's breakthrough debut, Whitney immediately signalled the genre-defying singer's intent to continue to push ahead and expand her palette. Shot by photographer Richard Avedon, the album cover depicts an iconic image of Houston — captured with a gleaming smile, bright eyes, teased-out afro, toned arms, and a right hand that appears to wave a friendly hello — whose active, athletic profile stands in contrast to the extremely formal sit-down shot of her that graces her '85 record. The change is telling: Whitney overflows with unfettered joy, rhythmic vibes, and deep-seated emotions that forever endeared her to the hearts and minds of countless listeners — and which set the standard for the wave after wave of divas that followed in her footsteps.

It's no coincidence that the first track on Whitney is the declarative "I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)." Like Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" and Madonna's "Material Girl," the feel-good smash is one of the quintessential '80s gems — a lithe, melodic, celebratory release of pent-up energy and loneliness that glides across club floors, shouts to the rooftops, and shrugs off any concerns about vulnerability or embarrassment. Houston's swooping voice moves in sync with the sleek beats and dipping-and-diving synths. She practically takes her fellow musicians by their hand and leads them in a blissful dance that nobody would dare sidestep. Focusing on Houston's singing — a task made challenging only because of the impossible-to-ignore hooks and grooves — showcases the virtuosic facets of not only her register but her control, discipline, smoothness, and warmth.

That she replicates those feats for the entirety of the nearly 53-minute-long album makes Whitney that much more special. Houston reaches back and channels her childhood gospel training on the R&B-flared "So Emotional"; effortlessly slips into Quiet Storm mode on the duet with her mother, gospel great Cissy Houston, on "I Know Him So Well"; flirts with smooth jazz and collaborates with tenor saxophonist Kenny G on the lush "Just the Lonely Talking Again"; conjures dreamscapes and shadow-boxes with supple funk on a romantic cover of the Isley Brothers' "For the Love of You"; and, for the majestic power ballad "Didn't We Almost Have It All," displays the sky-scraping reach of her vocals amid a grand arrangement made even bigger by Houston's sweeping performance and triumphant finish.

Houston's once-in-a-generation talents weren't lost on the adoring public, radio deejays, or industry experts. In addition to harbouring four No. 1 hits and receiving nominations for four Grammy Awards, Whitney generated another Top 10 success in the guise of the Afro-Cuban-leaning "Love Will Save the Day." The album also netted Houston four American Music Awards; two Billboard Music Awards; back-to-back People's Choice Awards; a Soul Train Award; and various other accolades. It all makes the crux of the Washington Post's July '87 review of the album appear prophetic: "Her voice sounds stronger still and the songs are varied but so consistent she could garner 10 Top 10s out of a field of 11."


That claim still holds true. A brilliant fusion of pop, R&B, smooth jazz, and soul, Whitney is a showstopper – and one of the key reasons Houston is the most-awarded female artist of all time.

Dance music has always been grounded in a sense of place. Chicago, Detroit, London, Berlin—a zip code can tell you as much about the music as the year it was made.

But beyond the nuts and bolts of the here and now lies a netherzone where some of the best electronic music floats, impossible to pin down. Swayzak’s Snowboarding in Argentina is one such record.

The title hints at its uncanny placelessness. The music has nothing outwardly to do with Argentina, for one thing. The work of UK producers David Nicholas Brown and James S. Taylor, it was recorded in a number of locations—mostly bedrooms—around London. Yet there is little that is quintessentially British about the music.

Instead, Brown and Taylor drew much of their inspiration from, on the one hand, the luminous chords and silky heft of Detroit techno, and on the other, the staccato drums and clipped textures that were then beginning to bubble out of Berlin and Cologne.

That brings us to the question of time. For if Snowboarding in Argentina belongs to nowhere, it is equally a product of nowhen.

On a practical level, the music took shape in the mid to late 1990s, although it took nearly 10 years for it to come to fruition. Brown and Taylor began jamming on instruments, then machines, in the late 1980s. Then, after Brown suffered a serious car accident, the two musicians began working together more seriously. Trial and error yielded a promising single with a downtempo vibe that a hired-gun studio producer promptly ruined; Swayzak retreated to their bedrooms.

They learned about Chain Reaction from a radio show, found new ways to burrow into the circuitry of their machines, and by 1996 they had hit upon their sound. brought 10 copies of the first to Berlin’s Hard Wax, sold them directly to the shop for a fistful of Deutschmarks, and turned around and spent the money on records; that’s how DIY electronic music worked in those days.) The album itself appeared in 1998 on London’s Pagan label and quickly built a cult following. It was clear that the music was in conversation with its contemporaries: Heard from the right angle, it was possible to imagine it as a halfway point between the proto progressive house of Underworld and the monochromatic minimalism of Kompakt. But it also didn’t quite sound like anything else around; it was a dispatch from an unknown territory that needed no special understanding to decipher.

A quarter century later, Snowboarding in Argentina sounds simply eternal. Certain hallmarks of ’90s production are available—the music’s almost murky warmth is a reminder of what electronic music sounded like before software swallowed everything into its digital maw—but there’s nothing dated about it. The exploratory nature of these tracks, as the result of experimenting with their machines’ limitations, never eclipses their musical or emotional essence.

Long since been deemed a classic, Snowboarding in Argentina remains an underdog in the annals of electronic music. Its semi-obscurity was surely not helped by the decision to publish nine of its original 12 tracks on the CD, and seven on the vinyl, with only four appearing on both formats. Twenty-five years after its original release, Lapsus’ Perennial Series edition unites, for the first time, all the album’s tracks as a single triple-vinyl package, rounding out the 12 original songs with previously unreleased material. Working off the original DAT premasters, Swayzak have created new edits of all the tracks. The result might be considered the definitive edition of the album as it was meant to be, after a 25-year journey. It seems fitting that an album so timeless would continue morphing throughout its lifespan. For fans, it’s the chance to hear a beloved album as never before. And for newcomers, it’s the perfect introduction to a record that, in its own quiet way, reshaped the sound of electronic music, opening up new frontiers unbound by cartography or calendars.

The core of Snowboarding in Argentina appeared on a series of three two-track singles in 1997. (Taylor brought 10 copies of the first to Berlin’s Hard Wax, sold them directly to the shop for a fistful of Deutschmarks, and turned around and spent the money on records; that’s how DIY electronic music worked in those days.) The album itself appeared in 1998 on London’s Pagan label and quickly built a cult following. It was clear that the music was in conversation with its contemporaries: Heard from the right angle, it was possible to imagine it as a halfway point between the proto progressive house of Underworld and the monochromatic minimalism of Kompakt. But it also didn’t quite sound like anything else around; it was a dispatch from an unknown territory that needed no special understanding to decipher.

A quarter century later, Snowboarding in Argentina sounds simply eternal. Certain hallmarks of ’90s production are available—the music’s almost murky warmth is a reminder of what electronic music sounded like before software swallowed everything into its digital maw—but there’s nothing dated about it. The exploratory nature of these tracks, as the result of experimenting with their machines’ limitations, never eclipses their musical or emotional essence.

Long since been deemed a classic, Snowboarding in Argentina remains an underdog in the annals of electronic music. Its semi-obscurity was surely not helped by the decision to publishnine of its original 12 tracks on the CD, and seven on the vinyl, with only four appearing on both formats. Twenty-five years after its original release, Lapsus’ Perennial Series edition unites, for the first time, all the album’s tracks as a single triple-vinyl package, rounding out the 12 original songs with previously unreleased material. Working off the original DAT premasters, Swayzak have created new edits of all the tracks. The result might be considered the definitive edition of the album as it was meant to be, after a 25-year journey. It seems fitting that an album so timeless would continue morphing throughout its lifespan. For fans, it’s the chance to hear a beloved album as never before. And for newcomers, it’s the perfect introduction to a record that, in its own quiet way, reshaped the sound of electronic music, opening up new frontiers unbound by cartography or calendars.

Lost private press gem "The Swimmer" by Florida native Danny Morgan, is a cool and breezy, beguiling easy glide from 1987. It should've been huge. It still could be. It's a mellow marina masterpiece and quintessentially Balearic. Over the past few years, it's gathered a cult following yet the album from which it derives is virtually impossible to come by.

Finally available on a standalone, fully remastered 12", it's been backed by an instant classic "Seahawks Swimming Through Space Remix", courtesy of those beloved cats Jon Tye and Pete Fowler.

These won't be around for long, limited to just 500 copies for the world, so don't drown in procrastination.

One listen and you'll want to dive in.

Fans of the deeply entrancing, nautically and narcotically-enhanced cuts of Dennis Wilson or Michael Nesmith’s The Prison will be instantly mesmerised by the sheer beauty of "The Swimmer". After tracking Danny down, we wanted to know more. How does something so magical come about? The man himself answered thusly:

"At the time I was running many miles on the Sanibel Island beach and doing a bit of swimming in the Gulf Of Mexico. Keeping my mind busy on a long run, I imagined a “what if” movie scene. Almost every run or swim someone is sitting there on the beach watching what goes by. Back at my desk I started finger picking some chords and the picture in my head showed up. I punched in a rhythm loop and the song was on its way.

Adrian Belew and I had the same manager Stan Hertzman so I was listening to some of Adrian’s work. I was a huge fan of Joni Mitchel and the unusual chord changes and melodies in some of her songs. All of this influenced the sound on “The Swimmer”

I had a support band at the time living in my house on Sanibel Island so we practiced a lot. We came up with an arrangement of the song and we took across the bridge to John McLane’s Important Studios and recorded it. I played finger picking acoustic guitar and sang, Tim Miller played drums, Jeff Holck played fretless bass, Dave Dust played lead guitar and John McLane played keyboards and sang harmony."

Our deep thanks must go out to Jon Tye (MLO / Seahawks / Ocean Moon) for first hipping Be With to this stunner. We returned the favour by giving him the keys to the stems and requesting a strung out remix to go on the flip - he returned having conspired with Pete Fowler to conjure a cosmically copacetic rerub with the subtropical chug of the "Seahawks Swimming Through Space Remix".

Putting together the artwork for this 12" release was an enjoyable process. It was nice to be able to flip the original sleeve for the Beach Life album by using previously unseen photos, sent to us by Danny. We wanted to create something that looks like it would've gone with the LP sleeve. We think we've cracked it. Simon Francis remastered Danny's original audio and Cicely Balston's precise cut for Alchemy at AIR Studios ensures this 12" sounds appropriately outstanding. The immaculate Record Industry pressing will ensure this previously lost masterpiece stays forever found.

From Elvis in Memphis retains the distinction of being the most cohesive, passionate, mature, and emotionally invested record Elvis Presley ever made. Named one of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time by Rolling Stone, the white-soul landmark features backing by "The "Memphis Boys" and teems with rhythm-heavy country, gospel, R&B, and blues. Lauded for its natural, open sonics, the 1969 set now comes across with remarkable clarity, presence, and warmth courtesy of a premium restoration befitting a king.

Mastered from the original master tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl at RTI, and strictly limited to 10,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP box set of From Elvis in Memphis unearths the ravishing inner detail, sticky rhythms, and brilliant arrangements of Chips Moman's inspired production. In short, this unparalleled reissue unlocks the spirit and gestalt of the recording and takes you inside American Sound Studio. It also brings you up close and personal with Presley's singing – widely considered by many to represent the finest of his career – located dead-centre amidst the instrumental hurricane. Equally impressive are the contributions of the aforementioned Boys, and how their Southern-brewed playing – a balance of leisure with swiftness, grandiosity with concision, freedom with control – dovetails with Presley's vernacular.

The lavish packaging and gorgeous presentation of the UD1S From Elvis in Memphis pressing befit its extremely select status. Housed in a deluxe box, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. No expense has been spared. Aurally and visually, this UD1S reissue exists as a curatorial artifact meant to be preserved, pored over, 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 images to the finishes.

Sharing much in common with the full, rich, orchestrated Stax Records sound, From Elvis in Memphis oozes with choice nuances and distinctive flourishes that on this ultra-hi-fi edition not only arise with previously unheard transparency and sharpness, but complement and serve the whole. Take the specific tonalities and blending of violas, cellos, and horns that communicate mood and serve as counterpoints. Or lively performances of the backing quintet, and how the piano and Hammond organ trace the lines of the melodies and Presley's lead. Listen to the uplifting support provided by the cadre of backing vocalists (more than a dozen credited), unrivalled in Presley's canon and a precursor to the approach he'd soon adopt in Las Vegas.

Of course, From Elvis in Memphis precedes the icon's transition into his glitzy jumpsuit phase – and follows his merciful move away from the hoary soundtrack work that consumed nearly a decade of his creative life and prompted a rebirth that began in 1968. As the bridge between eras, the record seizes on Presley's rejuvenated attitude and commitment to quality, facets that drip from the fervency with which he delivers every word. For the same reasons, and for the fact it traces back to Presley's original roots and hip-shaking guise, the album further remains a cornerstone of American music history.

Writing about the work's 40th anniversary for Rolling Stone, James Hunter correctly observed: "From Elvis in Memphis represented the full-on immersion in the Memphis idea of Elvis Presley, the American singer second only to Frank Sinatra for the ability to conjure a particular sonic universe with his merest vocal utterance. And from the album's first song, in which a bluesy Elvis espies a woman 'Wearin' That Loved On Look,' to its last, in which a more straight-up-pop Elvis regrets the injustices of life 'In the Ghetto,' his fully engaged, newly energized voice finds its most logical album setting in years."

Incredibly, Presley and company completed more than two dozen cuts for From Elvis in Memphis. One, "Suspicious Minds," turned into the vocalist's final chart-topping single and lingers as one of his most beloved rock n' roll numbers. Even though it never formally appeared on the record, the non-album song is included here as a bonus track and attains newfound depth, energy, and swagger. Coupled with the other dozen tracks – including the sultry "Power of My Love," balladic take of Dallas Frazier's "True Love Travels on a Gravel Road," and driving cover of Hank Snow's I'm Moving On" – it makes for the finest Elvis listening experience available.

Dennis Quin returns to his own self-titled imprint with the ‘Temptation’ EP, comprised of four sturdy original House cuts from the Dutch producer and DJ.

Throughout the past decade, Dutch artist Dennis Quin has amassed widespread support from many leading figures in the underground house scene through material on the likes of PIV, Cecille, Defected, Jerome Sydenham’s Iconic Ibadan and Kaoz Theory, as well as collaborating with the latter label’s founder, Kerri Chandler, and yet another icon of House, Todd Terry amongst others. Here though, Dennis tips the focus towards his own label to deliver more of his raw grooves, crisp beats, and bouncy bass lines.

Title-track ‘Temptation’ leads and lays down a choppy bass line, euphoric piano keys, classic rave stabs and a hooky vocal lick alongside his signature swinging, robust drum style. ‘Ascending’ follows next and sees Quin lean towards a more percussive led feel via heavily shuffled drums, dubbed out vocal chants and twitchy stab sequences.

Opening the flip side of the EP is ‘Odessey’, this time bringing a wavey, elongated bass line into the limelight, subtly nuanced throughout for hypnotic effect while a bouncy drum workout carries the groove throughout. ‘Love Fiyaa’ then rounds out the EP on a raw and reduced tip, fusing ethereal pad swells and murky bass flutters with a stripped-back and sporadic dub vocals.


DJ Support:

Enzo Siragusa
Archie Hamilton
Chrissy
Okain
Freedom
Severino
Jimpster
Mr. V

Assured UK house producer Andy Ash takes care of the next EP on SAFTX while the equally esteemed Mark E steps up to remix.

For well over a decade now, Andy Ash has been turning out high-quality house music on a range of labels. Last year he served up a tasteful full-length on Quintessentials, the year before he dropped a double 12" on Still Music and he is also a regular at the likes of Delusions Of Grandeur. From deep and dusty to disco-tinged and dynamic, he has a stylish sound that is well-versed in the classics but always his own twist. He shows that again here with four fresh tunes which cannot fail to make you feel good.

Opener 'You:Me' features Faber and os brilliantly warm house groove. The drums and hi-hats are prefectly designed, the vamping chords bring a playful funk and swirling pads add diffuse late-night energy. It's timeless cut with nods to the US midwest and subtle vocal sounds.

Remixer and Merc label boss Mark E has a rich history of edits and originals on the likes of Running Back, Delusions Of Grandeur and Studio Barnhus. On this version, he lays down hazy, heavy kicks for a beatdown workout that comes alive with gorgeous synt work akin to all the best Detroit dons.

Ash's 'Momentary Days' is a slow and roomy, dubbed-out house swinger. Well-placed samples - vocal coos, guitar riffs, jazzy chords - all peel off the loose drums and can't fail to get you moving. 'Reach' is another humid house cut for cosy back rooms and basements. The Scruffy drums have frayed edges while dreamy melodies loop up top. It's a heartfelt sound that slowly turns you to deep inward reflection.

Last of all is 'Rico! Rico!', a downtempo jazz-funk jam with crisp broken beats, keys that take you to the Riviera and strings so lush you can almost feel the sun on your face.

This deep house music as it should be - raw, expressive and full of human soul.

Warehouse find!

Teenage Fanclub have announced news of their tenth studio album, Endless Arcade, released 5th March. Even if we weren’t living through extraordinarily troubling times, there is nothing quite like a Teenage Fanclub album to assuage the mind, body and soul, and to reaffirm that all is not lost in this world.

Endless Arcade follows the band’s ninth album “Here”, released in 2016 to universal acclaim and notably their first Top 10 album since 1997; a mark of how much they’re treasured. The new record is quintessential TFC: melodies are equal parts heart-warming and heart-aching; guitars chime and distort; keyboard lines mesh and spiral; harmony-coated choruses burst out like sun on a stormy day.

In the 1990s, the band crafted a magnetically heavy yet harmony-rich sound on classic albums such as “Bandwagonesque” and “Grand Prix”. This century, albums such as “Shadows” and “Here” have documented a more relaxed, less ‘teenage’ Fanclub, reflecting the band’s stage in life and state of mind, which Endless Arcade slots perfectly alongside. The album walks a beautifully poised line between melancholic and uplifting, infused with simple truths. The importance of home, community and hope is entwined with more bittersweet, sometimes darker thoughts - insecurity, anxiety, loss.

Such is life. But the title track suggests, “Don’t be afraid of this endless arcade that is life.”

A preview from the album came in February 2019 with Raymond’s ‘Everything Is Falling Apart’, an online single released at the outset of a six-month tour and a highlight of Endless Arcade.

Everything is falling apart? Well, yes, but the song was written long before COVID-19 arrived. Neither was Raymond’s inspiration political or social, but more, “the entropy in the universe, the knowledge that everything eventually decays,” he explains. But Raymond says relax. Or rather, “Relax, find love, hold on to the hand of a friend”.

Fortunately, Endless Arcade was virtually finished by the time lockdown was announced, bar the odd tinker under the engine hood. It seems timely, given how everyone had to initially stay home under lockdown, that the album starts with Norman’s ‘Home’, though it was chosen in part because of its opening line: “Every morning, I open my eyes...” The album’s longest track (at seven minutes) typifies TFC’s relaxed groove, culminating in Raymond’s peach of a guitar solo.

Norman’s search for ‘home’ could be literal: after all, he’s been living in Canada for the last 10 years. But it’s also figurative. Like Norman’s other Endless Arcade songs – The Sun Won’t Shine On Me’, ‘Warm Embrace’, ‘I’m More Inclined’, ‘Back In The Day’ and ‘Living With You’ – his words on ‘Home’ are etched by loss and yearning. “Without going into too much detail, the last eighteen months have been challenging for me on an emotional level,” he admits. “But it’s been cathartic channelling some of these feelings and emotions into song.”

In contrast, Raymond’s songs – he’s also responsible for ‘Come With Me’, ‘In Our Dreams’, ‘The Future’ and ‘Silent Song’ – are philosophical and questing. As he sings in ‘The Future’: “It’s hard to walk into the future when your shoes are made of lead”, but he’s still going to try, “and see sights we’ve never seen.”

In the band’s own near future, they’re already planning another new album given they can’t yet tour the one they’re releasing now. Welcome back, Teenage Fanclub, unafraid of this endless arcade that is life.

Warehouse find!

Teenage Fanclub have announced news of their tenth studio album, Endless Arcade, released 5th March. Even if we weren’t living through extraordinarily troubling times, there is nothing quite like a Teenage Fanclub album to assuage the mind, body and soul, and to reaffirm that all is not lost in this world.

Endless Arcade follows the band’s ninth album “Here”, released in 2016 to universal acclaim and notably their first Top 10 album since 1997; a mark of how much they’re treasured. The new record is quintessential TFC: melodies are equal parts heart-warming and heart-aching; guitars chime and distort; keyboard lines mesh and spiral; harmony-coated choruses burst out like sun on a stormy day.

In the 1990s, the band crafted a magnetically heavy yet harmony-rich sound on classic albums such as “Bandwagonesque” and “Grand Prix”. This century, albums such as “Shadows” and “Here” have documented a more relaxed, less ‘teenage’ Fanclub, reflecting the band’s stage in life and state of mind, which Endless Arcade slots perfectly alongside. The album walks a beautifully poised line between melancholic and uplifting, infused with simple truths. The importance of home, community and hope is entwined with more bittersweet, sometimes darker thoughts - insecurity, anxiety, loss.

Such is life. But the title track suggests, “Don’t be afraid of this endless arcade that is life.”

A preview from the album came in February 2019 with Raymond’s ‘Everything Is Falling Apart’, an online single released at the outset of a six-month tour and a highlight of Endless Arcade.

Everything is falling apart? Well, yes, but the song was written long before COVID-19 arrived. Neither was Raymond’s inspiration political or social, but more, “the entropy in the universe, the knowledge that everything eventually decays,” he explains. But Raymond says relax. Or rather, “Relax, find love, hold on to the hand of a friend”.

Fortunately, Endless Arcade was virtually finished by the time lockdown was announced, bar the odd tinker under the engine hood. It seems timely, given how everyone had to initially stay home under lockdown, that the album starts with Norman’s ‘Home’, though it was chosen in part because of its opening line: “Every morning, I open my eyes...” The album’s longest track (at seven minutes) typifies TFC’s relaxed groove, culminating in Raymond’s peach of a guitar solo.

Norman’s search for ‘home’ could be literal: after all, he’s been living in Canada for the last 10 years. But it’s also figurative. Like Norman’s other Endless Arcade songs – The Sun Won’t Shine On Me’, ‘Warm Embrace’, ‘I’m More Inclined’, ‘Back In The Day’ and ‘Living With You’ – his words on ‘Home’ are etched by loss and yearning. “Without going into too much detail, the last eighteen months have been challenging for me on an emotional level,” he admits. “But it’s been cathartic channelling some of these feelings and emotions into song.”

In contrast, Raymond’s songs – he’s also responsible for ‘Come With Me’, ‘In Our Dreams’, ‘The Future’ and ‘Silent Song’ – are philosophical and questing. As he sings in ‘The Future’: “It’s hard to walk into the future when your shoes are made of lead”, but he’s still going to try, “and see sights we’ve never seen.”

In the band’s own near future, they’re already planning another new album given they can’t yet tour the one they’re releasing now. Welcome back, Teenage Fanclub, unafraid of this endless arcade that is life.

How does one properly introduce an epochal record? Perhaps by unequivocally stating that it is the best-selling jazz album in history. Or by affirming that, every year, it sells tens of thousands of copies more than five decades after its original release. There's also the matter of its status as the most-referenced, and arguably, most important, jazz recording of all-time. And the Dream Team line-up of Miles Davis, Cannonball Adderley, John Coltrane, Bill Evans, Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb. Yes, Kind of Blue is utterly inimitable.

In its three-decade-plus history, Mobile Fidelity has never been prouder to have the honour of handling efforts as important as Davis' key recordings. It's why the our engineers took every available measure to transport listeners to the March and April 1959 sessions that parlayed modal jazz into mainstream language. The blueprint for melodic improvisation and vamping, Kind of Blue simplifies tonal organization and chordal progression into an eminently beautiful, introspective tapestry stitched with swinging poetry, mellifluous soloing, compositional lyricism, transcendental harmonies, and group interplay of the highest calibre.

While no one has ever completely identified the magic behind the record's allure – the otherworldly nature is part of its inherent charm – much of the success lies with the band members. Davis intentionally hand-picked these musicians to comprise this particular cast, with everyone from former foil Evans to blues maestro Kelly to percussive genius Cobb interacting and reacting with peerless skill.

An audiophile favourite from the day it was issued, Kind of Blue takes on nirvanic sonic proportions via Mobile Fidelity's reissue. The expressive warmth, imaging clarity, frequency extension, and window-on-the-world breadth afforded by this new edition places music lovers right in the studio with the sextet. Close your eyes and, no matter how many times you may have heard it before, your experience will parallel that of the players that recorded these gems. Everyone shares in the excitement of not knowing what will happen and, as the music begins to lie out in front of you, you'll feel as if you've been whisked away to a jazz holy land. Quintessential.

Their masterpiece? With breaks for dayyyyyys and an almost ambient, heavy jazz atmosphere throughout, *this* is the apex of British jazz-rock fusion. We'll Talk About It Later was first released on Vertigo in 1971 and original copies are now very tricky to score. Like all the Nucleus records, it’s aged ridiculously well and this Be With re-issue, re-mastered from the original analogue tapes, shows off just why this deserves to be back in press.

Genius trumpeter and visionary composer Ian Carr was one of the most respected British musicians of his era. He was a true pioneer and saw the potential in fusing the worlds of jazz with rock, just as Miles Davis and The Tony Williams Lifetime did in the US. In late 1969, following the demise of the Rendell-Carr quintet, and tiring of British jazz, Carr assembled the legendary Nucleus. Regarding music as a continuous process, Nucleus refused to “recognise rigid boundaries” and worked on delivering what they saw as a “total musical experience”. We can get behind that.

Under bandleader Carr, Nucleus existed as a fluid line-up of inventive, skilled musicians. This constant evolution and revolution was all part of the continuous musical exploration and discovery that took jazz to new levels. And the music has kept relevant. To steal a line from a review of our re-issue of Roots, when it comes to anything Nucleus “it’s basically already hip-hop”.

We'll Talk About It Later is arguably Nucleus's best album. Not only that, it's in the top 5 of all fusion albums. By the time Nucleus entered Trident Studios in September 1970 to record Elastic Rock's successor, they had already won a best group award at the Montreux Jazz Festival. Once again presented in a Roger Dean designed die-cut gatefold sleeve it continued to demonstrate the chemistry and interplay that worked so brilliantly on Elastic Rock; Carr's sumptuous trumpet and flügelhorn lines, Karl Jenkins's funk-filled electric keyboards, Chris Spedding's wah-wah guitar, Brian Smith's sax and the rhythmic foundation of drummer John Marshall and bassist Jeff Clyne.

The group work and insane musicianship Nucleus were famed for is in evidence from the off. The intensely funky "Song for the Bearded Lady" is absolute FIRE, blasting out the speakers to leave listeners floored. Counterpoint riffing segues into a spacious groove and a Carr trumpet solo demonstrating the influence of electric Miles from the period. The stop-start funk of "Sun Child" would appeal to Soft Machine devotees whilst the genuinely touching "Lullaby for a Lonely Child" is a lovely downtempo ballad. Featuring an understated, reflective horn line from Carr and Smith and atmospheric, shimmering bouzouki from Spedding, there's an exotic flavour which contributes to the bliss. The ominous, sleazy title track retains a swaggering menace and is not the only track to lend a sort of heavy stoner rock atmosphere. The guitars and bass are deep and low throughout, conjuring heavy psych moments to go with the actual jazz and even funk. To say this album was in conversation with Bitches Brew would not be overstating the sheer brain-frying brilliance.

The Weather Report-adjacent "Oasis" opens Side B, a colossal track featuring nearly 10 minutes of steadily building melodic horns, keys and choppy guitar riffs. So ace, it could easily go on for another 10. Mesmeric. Spedding adds unique vocals to the undeniable groove of "Ballad of Joe Pimp" whilst saxophonist Smith's duet with drummer Marshall at the conclusion of "Easter 1916" - inspired by the Yeats poem about the Irish nationalist uprising in Dublin - adopts the wildness of the most incendiary free jazz.

This Be With edition of We'll Talk About It Later has been re-mastered from the original Vertigo master tapes, Simon Francis’ mastering working together with Cicely Balston's cut at AIR Studios to weave their usual magic with these wonderful recordings. The stunning die-cut sleeve has been restored with the original gatefold window pane depicting the Irish uprising in 1916. Incredible, timeless, guaranteed spine-chills.

Yves Tumor - Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds)

"Yves Tumor redefines Rock Stardom." - The New York Times

"Tumor's idiosyncratic and even intimidating aesthetic choices are precisely what gives the work its glowing modernity." - The Nation

"The quintessential performer, Tumor exudes Prince's androgyny flare, D’Angelo’s tender masculinity, Iggy Pop's freakazoid mania, and Grace Jones' magnetic mystique." - The Austin Chronicle

Yves Tumor - Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds)

"Yves Tumor redefines Rock Stardom." - The New York Times

"Tumor's idiosyncratic and even intimidating aesthetic choices are precisely what gives the work its glowing modernity." - The Nation

"The quintessential performer, Tumor exudes Prince's androgyny flare, D’Angelo’s tender masculinity, Iggy Pop's freakazoid mania, and Grace Jones' magnetic mystique." - The Austin Chronicle

Yellow Vinyl

Yves Tumor - Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds)

"Yves Tumor redefines Rock Stardom." - The New York Times

"Tumor's idiosyncratic and even intimidating aesthetic choices are precisely what gives the work its glowing modernity." - The Nation

"The quintessential performer, Tumor exudes Prince's androgyny flare, D’Angelo’s tender masculinity, Iggy Pop's freakazoid mania, and Grace Jones' magnetic mystique." - The Austin Chronicle

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Tape

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.