quête:image of life

Fly Me To The Sun is a breathtaking German library gem from the hallowed Coloursound label. Originally out in 1983 it features two Polish composers, Andrzej Marko and André Mikola. If outré synth-funk is your thing, you need this record.

Almost blindingly luminous with positive vibes and radiant optimism, Fly Me to the Sun is a collection of funky, sun-dappled compositions for synthesizer and live instruments like drums, bass and guitar. A dope blend of beatbox driven future jazz and electro pop.

The wonderfully sleaze-adjacent opener "Dhamma" includes some grandiose piano chords amid floating ambient sounds a la Steve Hillage with slick drums entering the fray at a languid pace. "Circulation" sounds like Bowie ran into Chaz Jankel during an extended stay in Los Angeles, the Thin White Duke emerging out of a studio at 6am, bleary-eyed and clutching this filthy, bleepy instrumental of sonic smut. "Magic Scenery" is as delicate and astounding as the title suggests, a deep ambient movement conjuring halcyon images of rolling fields with abundant fauna and flora; acid-tinged visions of intense colour and natural beauty. Cool, slo-mo breaks adorn the strutting melancholy of “Longing for Tomorrow” and “Nocturnal Flowers” to close out Side A.

Skip the title track, which opens up Side B, and head straight to “Birth of a Butterfly” for a slice of creeping digi-dub-soul niceness. This should've been front and centre of that Personal Space compilation a decade ago. Raising both the tempo and the temperature, “Riding on a Sunbeam” continues in the mesmerising cosmic funk style before "Osmosis", one of the clear stand-outs, presents a fine vintage synth solo over a mellow funky rubberband beat. The closing track, "Solar Heating", warms things up with slapped bass and bold drum machine beats and the synth lends Sci-Fi vibes to the dark dub-funk-reggae rhythm.

As David Hollander, in Unusual Sounds: The Hidden History of Library Music, states, Coloursound was "founded in 1979 by composer, music lawyer, and vibraphonist Gunter Greffenius. A Munich-based library with a reputation for releasing innovative and ambitious music, it catered largely to the market for experimental sounds, its first release was 1980’s Biomechanoid, an abstract synthesizer excursion by Joel Vandroogenbroeck, of the pioneering kosmische band Brainticket. The record — complete with imposing, anonymous title and unearthly H.R. Giger cover art — set the tone for the label’s progressive leanings. The label’s catalogue stands as a tribute to the unfettered creative license that libraries were able to provide to forward-thinking musicians who, frustrated by the whims and constraints of the commercial scene, found complete freedom in the world of production music."

As with all our library music re-issues, the audio for Fly Me To The Sun comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. Richard Robinson has brought the original Coloursound sleeve back to life in all its metallic silver glory.

Within any creative expression about love there's a shared experience, a sentiment hard to articulate but understood through emotion. One of the defining examples of a song that holds such sincerity is 'My Heart Is Broken' by 'The Four Dudes'.

Charles 'Pooky' Russell, the lead singer of 'The Four Dudes' shares his story of a broken heart; his ambition to pursue a life immersed in music is what led Charles to leave his hometown of San Antonio for Houston and in doing so, leaving his lady. Charles' music career began whilst studying at Sam Houston High during the mid-60s. During choir is where he met Reginald Whitaker & Lawrence Alexander, and the trio would go on to establish their first vocal harmony group, 'The Three Dudes'. The Dudes, inspired by groups such as The Cadillacs & The Platters, would gain a strong local following that led to their first single 'Sad Little Boy' & 'I'm Beggin' You' produced & released in 1967 on E.J. Henke's 'Satin' label.

By 1969, 'The Three Dudes' had become 'The Four Dudes' with the addition of Kenneth Ball. The Dudes had made the decision to pursue a full time career with their music and the opportunities available Houston propelled the move. Within the first year 'The Four Dudes' had found themselves a manager, James Davis, whom pieced the vocal group with Houston's own 'The Heavy Accents Band'. The group were gaining notoriety around town, performing several times a week, which led Davis to bring the outfit into the studio to release a single on his independent label, 'Sivad-J'. It was when Davis heard 'My Heart Is Broken' for the first time that they decided this would be the single, and within the same year would be recorded at SugarHill Studios & released as a 7" single.

The sincerity of the song is what serenaded Houston across the airwaves in 69', a staple for George 'Boogaloo' Frazier on his show for KYOK 1590 AM amongst many others. The single became a local hit however, due to the lack of distribution and small pressing, the single barely made it out the city limits. 'The Four Dudes' continued to perform in Houston for 3/4 more years before heading to Philadelphia and forming a group called 'Image'.

For the first time since its 1969 release, 'The Four Dudes' single is once again available through Symphonical Records as a limited 7" pressing. Licensed directly through the Davis family with the approval of Charles Russell.

Limited Loser edition on dark green vinyl. There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

Tape

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

Eva Louise Goodman’s Nighttime project locates itself on a musical tree planted on the British Isles, perched atop the branch of folk leaning into sixties rock. Her upstate New York environs don’t stray far from that image. With tempered percussion, floating mellotron, and singing that evokes Bleecker & MacDougal on a fervent Saturday afternoon, her new album Keeper Is The Heart reaches deep into the essence of musicians such as Vashti Bunyan, Sibylle Baier and Pentangle, breaking down the decades into a sound thoroughly and bizarrely modern.

Through her years performing with Mutual Benefit, Goodman fell in love with life on the road and the collaborative energy of a band. In this third Nighttime album, she channels these experiences into her own music. The creative journey from writing to recording to mixing drove her deeper into a sense of self while expanding her sound. In the process, she put aside lo-fi origins and challenged herself to achieve the same intimacy with a bigger production.

Like most paths of self-discovery, the journey started with displacement. In October 2019, Goodman set out to record the album on her own, while cat-sitting at a friend’s empty Brooklyn apartment. Rather than recording, she was drawn to the overgrown garden, where she spent her days listening to music and reading old journals. Charlie Megira, The Incredible String Band and Roy Montgomery invoked the spirit of the album, as she realized that a new, more collaborative approach would be necessary to bring the songs to life.

In March 2021, after a pandemic year immersed in sound experimentation and writing, she entered the upstate New York studio of recording engineer Rick Spataro (Florist). Together, Spataro and Goodman dove into creating the album, recording one song a day, letting the spark and excitement of spontaneity be their guide. “I've always been fascinated with ‘automatic’ arts,” Goodman says, “where things are created intuitively and without premeditation, from the subconscious.” In this light, they worked with abandon–pushing through the heaviness of songs written years earlier with the same energy as songs which were not yet fully developed. Taking chances, improvising, they sought to strip away pretense, and elude perfectionism at all cost.

Among their experiments, the duo manipulated tape speeds–slowing or speeding up different instrument tracks, imbuing passages with altered perspectives. Improvisation was the key in track five, ‘The Way,’ a song about “the magical act of carving out a path through life, amidst all possibility.” After a long day of recording, the song was feeling heavy and uninspired. As night fell, Spataro picked up the Stratocaster and, in one take, laid down a rolling, roiling guitar line that defined the track.

This spirit of surrender weaves through the album. “Break free from time, and sink in the pool of the mind,” begins ‘Garden of Delight’, an energetic highlight, propelled by 60’s-era organ and Jefferson Airplane-esque vocals. The song was accidentally deleted after the first day of recording. By luck or fate, the one surviving file captured the song’s loose and free-wheeling essence. Inspired, Goodman encouraged her circle of collaborators to work similarly: “I gave everyone trust and total freedom to contribute as they felt called to, encouraging an intuitive approach of simply improvising, playing through the song a few times and then sending over the results.” Synth, cello, violin, saxophone and flute all appear, but often in unconventional ways.

Keeper Is the Heart reflects Goodman’s process towards greater creative freedom. The first words she sings: “Lift the veil of all of this hate/To see the fear at its base.” Her last lines: “We’ll follow the fates across the great expanse of time/To the source of the light within our mind.” In between is a work of art awash in personal awakenings that revel in the freedom of intuition, the lifting of veils, and the beauty of transformation. As Goodman states, “What is it you find when you look inward to see beyond, past your fears, to your heart's true desires?”

New York’s very own JW Francis announces his brand new album ‘Dream House’ – his third with London based label Sunday Best Recordings. Coinciding with the announcement is the gloriously up-beat new single ‘Casino,’ which offers a glimpse into what to expect on his forthcoming feel-good LP. When JW isn’t writing songs about his own life or surreal imagery, he writes about other people – most notably around the month of February when he writes valentines songs on his fans’ behalf. ‘Dream House’ encapsulates all of this and forms a collection of glorious tracks written for other people: “Every year, about 6 weeks before Valentine’s Day, I make the following post on social media: “If you send me the name of your Valentine, and the reason you love them, I’ll write a song for them on your behalf.” That is how Dream House was born, 3 years ago. Over the past three years, I have received over 300 requests from fans to write songs for their loved ones. All of the songs on Dream House come from this project, some of them have been reworked to speak more to the artist’s life, others have remained exactly as they were first written. Ultimately, this is an album about caring for others, and the way we express it.” Written and recorded at the start of 2021 in NYC, ‘Dream House’ is slightly reminiscent of The Strokes and even has hints of Lou Reed, however the project is still quintessential JW Francis with its blissful melodies and dreamy instrumentation; perfectly fitting given the album’s title. Along with the announcement comes ‘Casino’, a track about pursuing your dreams, as JW explains, “This song is about taking a gamble on myself as a musician, quitting my job, and living the life I want to be living. The video explores the two lives I was living before I got the opportunity to follow my dreams and doing music full time.” ‘Dream House’ follows the hugely well received ‘WANDERKID’ and ‘We Share a Similar Joy’ and once again proves why JW is the king of laid-back and effortlessly cool song-making.

New York’s very own JW Francis announces his brand new album ‘Dream House’ – his third with London based label Sunday Best Recordings. Coinciding with the announcement is the gloriously up-beat new single ‘Casino,’ which offers a glimpse into what to expect on his forthcoming feel-good LP. When JW isn’t writing songs about his own life or surreal imagery, he writes about other people – most notably around the month of February when he writes valentines songs on his fans’ behalf. ‘Dream House’ encapsulates all of this and forms a collection of glorious tracks written for other people: “Every year, about 6 weeks before Valentine’s Day, I make the following post on social media: “If you send me the name of your Valentine, and the reason you love them, I’ll write a song for them on your behalf.” That is how Dream House was born, 3 years ago. Over the past three years, I have received over 300 requests from fans to write songs for their loved ones. All of the songs on Dream House come from this project, some of them have been reworked to speak more to the artist’s life, others have remained exactly as they were first written. Ultimately, this is an album about caring for others, and the way we express it.” Written and recorded at the start of 2021 in NYC, ‘Dream House’ is slightly reminiscent of The Strokes and even has hints of Lou Reed, however the project is still quintessential JW Francis with its blissful melodies and dreamy instrumentation; perfectly fitting given the album’s title. Along with the announcement comes ‘Casino’, a track about pursuing your dreams, as JW explains, “This song is about taking a gamble on myself as a musician, quitting my job, and living the life I want to be living. The video explores the two lives I was living before I got the opportunity to follow my dreams and doing music full time.” ‘Dream House’ follows the hugely well received ‘WANDERKID’ and ‘We Share a Similar Joy’ and once again proves why JW is the king of laid-back and effortlessly cool song-making.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

Orange Viny

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire’s new album Every Acre grapples with those themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In “New View,” McEntire cites poets “Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds” fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire’s voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: “Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me I’ll take more of you.” Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, “Shadows” develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how “to make room.” How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, “Rows of Clover” is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a “steadfast hound.” The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers–esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being “down on your knees, clawing at the garden” the only explicit mention of a person in the song. “It ain’t the easy kind of healing,” sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing takes time, time takes time truths that linger painfully. “Dovetail” is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire’s gentle, trembling vibrato harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre explores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

Having toured the world and delivered one of the pandemic’s most legendary live streams – including bodybuilders and furniture smashing at the old American embassy in Oslo, Aiming for Enrike started working on new music in 2020. Now ready with their fifth album Empty Airports, the tunes flourish further through atmospheric expressions, into floating, minimalistic, electronic, and ambient soundscapes. Empty Airports was composed and recorded in reflection of the quiet Covid19 life during the patience testing lockdown months of 2020 and 2021. Not only is this the duo's longest album ever, but it's also their first double album. The songs are inspired by and belong somewhere between Thom Yorke, Ashra, Nils Frahm, King Crimson in the 80s, Jon Hopkins and Steve Reich. The cover art for Empty Airports is the finishing touch that elevates the album to a complete piece of art. Thor Merlin's unique artwork is a generatively designed collage consisting of clippings from 19 digital paintings and 10 images created with shader programming in Sakuhin: an open-source program that Merlin also uses for live coding of visuals for Aiming for Enrike. The album cover's individual images will be available NFTs. Guitarist Simen Følstad Nilsen says: "Minimalism, which has always been an important part of our expression, is now cultivated to a much greater extent. When the rush to fulfill musical expectations is abounded, it gives the music more space to become more hypnotic and mesmerizing than before." Empty Airports is another fantastic release from the forward-leaning duo, which justifies that Aiming for Enrike lives entirely in their own universe.

For nearly 60 years, John Cale has been reimagining how his music is made, sounds, and even works. MERCY, Cale’s first full album in a decade, moves through true dark-night-of-the-soul electronic torment toward vulnerable love songs and hopeful considerations for the future with the help of some of music’s most curious young minds. Cale has always searched for new ways to explore old ideas of alienation, hurt, and joy; MERCY is the latest transfixing find of this unsatisfied mind.

John Cale announces MERCY, his first new album of original songs in a decade, out January 20th via Double Six / Domino. For nearly 60 years, or at least since he was a young Welshman who moved to New York and formed The Velvet Underground, Cale has been reinventing his music with dazzling and inspiring regularity. There was the bewitching chamber folk of Paris 1919 followed instantly by the gnarled rock of Fear, the provocative and spare song cycle Music for a New Society followed more than 30 years later by mighty and unabashed electronic updates. Once again, here is Cale, reimagining how his music is made, sounds, and even works. His engrossing 12-track MERCY moves through true dark-night-of-the-soul electronics toward vulnerable love songs and hopeful considerations for the future.

On MERCY, Cale enlists some of music’s most curious young minds: Animal Collective, Sylvan Esso, Laurel Halo, Tei Shi, Actress. They’re only some of the astounding cast here, brilliant musicians who climb inside Cale’s consummate vision of the world and help him redecorate there. Cale turned 80 in March, and he’s watched as many peers have passed away, particularly during the last decade. MERCY is the continuation of a long career’s work with wonder. Cale has always searched for new ways to explore old ideas of alienation, hurt, and joy; MERCY is the latest transfixing find of this unsatisfied mind.



The writings and recordings that shaped MERCY piled up for years, as Cale watched society totter at the brink of dystopia. Trump and Brexit, Covid and climate change, civil rights and right-wing extremism—Cale let the bad news of the day filter into his lines, whether that meant contemplating the sovereignty and legal status of sea ice melting near the poles or the unhinged arming of Americans. Lessons from a life (still being) richly lived floated to the fore, too, nodded to on the previously released “NIGHT CRAWLING.” If we’re always regretting our past, aren’t we conscripting ourselves to permanent disappointment?

During “STORY OF BLOOD,” after the piano prelude gives way to a frame-rattling beat and synthesizers that feel like sunshine splashed across a snowfield, the voices of Cale and Weyes Blood’s Natalie Mering slide past one another, two phantoms trying to find a partner amid the modern din. “Swing your soul,” they both sing in aspiration. In the final verse, Cale remembers this existence is not just about himself. “I’m going back to get them, my friends in the morning. Bring them with me into the light.” The accompanying video by Emmy-winning director Jethro Waters is a mix of disturbing and serene featuring both Cale and Weyes Blood. Its deep tones and religious images emphasize the track’s dark, spiritual mood.

Cale elaborates: “I’d been listening to Weyes Blood’s latest record and remembered Natalie’s puritanical vocals. I thought if I could get her to come and sing with me on the ‘Swing your soul’ section, and a few other harmonies, it would be beautiful. What I got from her was something else! Once I understood the versatility in her voice, it was as if I’d written the song with her in mind all along. Her range and fearless approach to tonality was an unexpected surprise. There’s even a little passage in there where she’s a dead-ringer for Nico.”

Barely heard in his lifetime (1961-2002) but hailed as an outsider hero of ur-punk since 2009’s ‘Cosmic Lightning’ compilation, J.T. IV strikes back!

15 unheard-of tracks found on an obscure cassette tape make the schizo split in his music - rabid rock & roll fantasy and cold-eyed acoustic introspection - an epic. ‘The Future’ is J.T. IV’s mad magnum opus.

The 2009 comp LP, ‘Cosmic Lightning’, cast his tragic silhouette up on the big screen
for all to see: the lost boy, alone in the world, standing before the mic and releasing
his inner star with glee and vengeance, his antisocial visions flying high atop a raging
funnel of distorted guitars and blunt rhythms. Or couched, childlike, within a heart
breaking billow of acoustic guitars - a schizophrenic split that only magnifies the
display of his deep emotions.
‘The Future’ goes even further, excavating fifteen recordings from a previously
unheard-of cassette entitled ‘The Best Of Johnny Zhivago Retrospective 1979–1993’,
and adding four more uncollected tracks from his slim (and impossible to find
anyway) discography.
Of these nineteen tracks, eight are covers - and J.T. IV’s picks, from Velvets to Mott
the Hoople, Roxy Music, Lee Hazlewood, The Kinks, Eno and Stephen Sondheim,
sharpen our image of the misfit adrift; on the outside looking in, but maybe just a few
steps away from his goal.
‘The Future’ unfolds like an epic, as both sides of J.T.’s persona - the street-smart,
damaged rocker and the heart struck poet of the scene - live on together in the best
performances of his short career.
A punk of the old order, John Henry Timmis IV was born in 1961 into a dysfunctional,
abusive and eventually broken family. By the mid-70s, he was desperate to get out,
running away from his mother’s home several times while still a teenager living in the
greater Chicagoland area. At wit’s end, she had him committed to the Menninger
Clinic for a year or so. Released on his own reconnaissance, he began his meteoric
ascent to the mythic level of self-aggrandizement in which he appears here. Inspired
by the underground, proto-punk sounds in the air (the likes of which any sharp-eyed
young thing might chance upon in the back pages of Creem, Crawdaddy, Trouser
Press, etc.) and desperate to be heard himself, J.T. presented like the scabby
younger brother of Bangs and Laughner: born only to rock, his musical conception a
rabid personality crisis of proselyte elitism and nihilist excess.
Now, 20 years on from his passing, ‘The Future’ is ever farther away from the world
in which he struggled so mightily - but his stinging iconoclasm, whether screamed
from Marshall amps or mic-ed up close, feels ever more powerfully infused with his
unique breadth of illness and essence.
These songs represent the two sides of J.T. - and while they emanate from the 80s,
they find themselves potently renewed in the polarized world of today, making ‘The
Future’ a worthwhile destination for everyone who ever had a heart touched by the
transgression and freedom promised by rock & roll.

Led by the exuberant melodies of cross-tapping guitarist Marcos Mena,
the duo named standards make ebullient instrumental math-rock whose
effervescent riffs teem with enthusiasm for life and music
On the band's debut full- length, Fruit Island, standards deftly retool math- rock's
sinister and challenging tendencies into a style that is at once danceable yet still
compositionally profound.
In spite of the band's technical and precise stylings, the strictly instrumental
compositions are always catchy and singable, inviting listeners to join the band's
dancing fruit mascots whose colorful personalities reflect the music's upbeat
nature. Fruit Island's second single, "May," perfectly captures the duo's fruity
alternate universe, conjuring images of anthropomorphic melons and berries
bobbing along to pleasantly angular riffs and chop-heavy drums.

Gold Vinyl

No binaries, no simple opposition. Either/or is subsumed by infinite relations and dizzying possibilities, by the perpetual crest of and/and. Freedom is the key to bring about all complex and incongruous multiplicities. Embodied, embedded, relational freedom is the key.
Mue is a duo based in Tiohtià:ke/Montréal composed of Catherine Debard and Léon Lo. Formed in the Spring of 2020, the electronic musical project merges two distinct practices and explores the way they interact with each other. Drawing on early-IDM, illbient, minimalism, and natural phenomena, the resulting real-time hardware improvisations weave asymmetric patterns, create spaces, and digest various sounds.

Recorded in 2020, Les vasières explores unsynchronized hardware electronic impro-visations where individual sonic elements come to life by creating new and complex layers and organizational logics — melodically and rhythmically modulating each other.
The French album title translates to “The mudflats.” Sounds from disparate sources form an aural silt that is brought to life by waxing and waning cycles, each improvi-sation presenting a new, different mudflat scenario.
Mue asked visual artist Katherine Melançon to create the album’s artwork, which was the artist’s first dive into compost as source material. The resulting image—an otherworldly organic smear, both intimate and alien — was incorporated into graphic designer Haley Parker’s montage, hard frames recalling the flatbed scanner used by Melançon, and branch-like typography nodding to the organic concerns of all the artists involved.

Although Los Hermanos Ballumbrosio are one of the most emblematic groups of Afro-Peruvian music, no single recording has been able to portray the essence of the group... Until now. "Homenaje a El Carmen" ("Homage to El Carmen"), their debut album for Buh Records, sets the record straight: it captures the true spirit of the musical tradition of El Carmen, a city located a few miles to the south of Lima that is home to the largest black community in Peru. Songs based on percussion and zapateo bring back the memories and experiences of a culture that has produced one of the greatest treasures of Peruvian music. "Homage to El Carmen", the third volume of the series "Perspectives on Afro-Peruvian Music", signals the return of the group to the recording studio, and also to the sources of rhythms such as festejo and panalivio, which they interpret with cajón, quijada (jawbone), congas, bongo and batá. The result is a distillation and a testimony of the memories and experiences that portray the cultural universe of El Carmen. We have access to a selection of traditional songs that are heard during the festivities, such as "Guanchivalito", which is played during the Yunza Negra, a ceremony in which a willow tree is cut to bring benefits to the community. "Panalivio " and "Serrana Vieja" are two traditional Christmas carols that are played in the "Hatajo de Negritos" and which reflect the syncretic character of the Afro-Peruvian culture. These songs speak of the difficulties of rural life, but they also serve as a vehicle to demonstrate the Ballumbrosio brother's mastery in the art of zapateo, a dance that is accompanied by violin and bells. The classic "La Esquina de El Carmen" is perhaps the song that best expresses the erotic character of festejo, also known as baile de cintura (waist dance). "Homage to El Carmen" is the highly anticipated return of the Ballumbrosio brothers to the recording studio. They have become indisputable references of Afro-Peruvian music and have displayed their sound and dances around the world. It was time for an album that portrays the essence of the group: a collective spirit, where the tutelary image of Amador Ballumbrosio always shines, and which traces a history from Africa to El Carmen. This album is published in vinyl format in a limited edition of 300 copies. Include 8 full-page booklet with liner notes in Spanish and English. Produced by Manongo Mujica and Daniel Mujica. Cover by Yerko Zlatar.

Punk pioneers Crass continue their vinyl reissue series, re-pressing their limited releases by adjacent artists through Crass Records, in association with One Little Independent. The series, including over twenty bands and solo artists recorded at the legendary Southern Studios and produced by Penny Rimbaud, continues with two more historic pieces from the Crass Records catalogue; The "Grey" EP by North London post-punks Lack of Knowledge, and "Beware" by US anarchists Sleeping Dogs. Sleeping Dogs were one of only two American bands to release on Crass Records and in 1982 their sardonic and sludgy, but politically sharp, hardcore made up the "Beware" EP. They were first formed under the moniker Arsenal by the late artist, and designer of the iconic Crass logo, David King. "Beware" showed the originality and potential of Sleeping Dogs, even as Rimbaud and Crass guitarist Phil Free augmented the band"s sound for the studio session. The front cover of the single featured its own striking image, courtesy of King. Sleeping Dogs disbanded shortly after, re-emerging briefly under the new guise of Brain Rust a few years later. Distorted, biting, and beat-driven, the collection is a well-researched and poignant expose of Western imperialism. First released on 7" vinyl, limiting the sound, the new series has been remastered for 12" by Alex Gordon at Abbey Road Studios, allowing them to be heard as never before. This, plus enlarged replicas of the original covers, brings new gusto to their already radical sound. Penny Rimbaud notes that "Our (Crass") interest was never in personalities, profits or power, and neither did we have time for reformist liberals. Our position was solidly revolutionary; we took no prisoners. Talking the talk was never enough for us, no, we demanded that we also walk the walk. Ours wasn"t a show, it was a battle, not a living, but a lifestyle, a lifestyle with a difference - rather than looking only to ourselves, we sought to share our gains. I feel that this willingness added great strength to the form of anarchism that we practiced both on stage and out on the street."

In 2009, following the death of Jhonn Balance four years earlier, This Immortal Coil's "The Dark Age Of Love" appeared as a tribute to the superb work of the British band Coil over two decades.Formed by musicians from all walks of life, the album was praised by critics but also, and most importantly, by Peter Christopherson himself! 13 years have passed and this passion for the band has never wavered. Following the death of Peter Christopherson in 2010 on the one hand, and meetings with musicians such as David Chalmin or Massimo Pupillo from Zü who in turn wanted to pay tribute to this gigantic band, on the other hand, Stéphane Grégoire's desire to make a new opus took shape in 2017 with a first recording of the title "Where Are You". Just like the first one, more than 5 years will be necessary to realize this new album so that it is at the height of Coil's genius. The Ici d'Ailleurs team is very proud to unveil This Immortal Coil's second album 'The World Ended A Long Time Ago'.That will be available on December 09, 2022 in several formats that will be revealed very soon. The artists this time are Coil lovers but without the album being a "lovers" cover, that would be the opposite of Coil's image. Many, many thanks to Shannon Wright, David Chalmin, Matt Elliott, Christine Ott, Aho Ssan, Gaspar Claus, Aidan Baker, Ulver (Kristoffer Rygg, Ole Alexander Halstensgard, Stian Westerhus), Massimo Pupillo, Mattia Cipolli, Elisa Bognetti, Stefano Michelotti, Francesco Bolognini, Marton Csokas, Ivan Chiossone and Eric Aldéa who make this project a reality.

In 2009, following the death of Jhonn Balance four years earlier, This Immortal Coil's "The Dark Age Of Love" appeared as a tribute to the superb work of the British band Coil over two decades.Formed by musicians from all walks of life, the album was praised by critics but also, and most importantly, by Peter Christopherson himself! 13 years have passed and this passion for the band has never wavered. Following the death of Peter Christopherson in 2010 on the one hand, and meetings with musicians such as David Chalmin or Massimo Pupillo from Zü who in turn wanted to pay tribute to this gigantic band, on the other hand, Stéphane Grégoire's desire to make a new opus took shape in 2017 with a first recording of the title "Where Are You". Just like the first one, more than 5 years will be necessary to realize this new album so that it is at the height of Coil's genius. The Ici d'Ailleurs team is very proud to unveil This Immortal Coil's second album 'The World Ended A Long Time Ago'.That will be available on December 09, 2022 in several formats that will be revealed very soon. The artists this time are Coil lovers but without the album being a "lovers" cover, that would be the opposite of Coil's image. Many, many thanks to Shannon Wright, David Chalmin, Matt Elliott, Christine Ott, Aho Ssan, Gaspar Claus, Aidan Baker, Ulver (Kristoffer Rygg, Ole Alexander Halstensgard, Stian Westerhus), Massimo Pupillo, Mattia Cipolli, Elisa Bognetti, Stefano Michelotti, Francesco Bolognini, Marton Csokas, Ivan Chiossone and Eric Aldéa who make this project a reality.