quête:imagine this

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.

"Bastian Epple makes an eagerly anticipated return to marionette under his elusive MinaeMinae guise that imagines rich sonic architectures for the journeying spirit to voyage to. Räumlichkeit is Epple’s debut album and third release to date following Gestrüpp from 2020, venturing further into melodic electronic nostalgia and percussive beat oriented soundscapes.

Growing up in a small village in southern Germany, Bastian Epple was never interested in kitschy folk sounds, rather he took solace in the time he would spend meditating to repetitive and hypnotic patterns. His guitar strumming and what sounded to his mother like a young Philip Glass on a cheap Casio keyboard encouraged little Epple to tread on this self-taught path of developing his own musical language. This led him to start experimenting with a tape recorder and layering sounds with non-musical samples to eventually working with a DAW.

Bastian went on to study Media Art at the Center for Art and Media (ZKM) in Karlsruhe and graduated with a diploma in film and documentary media - where he now works as a freelance filmmaker and lecturer at Stuttgart Media University. However, this never stopped him from creating and playing with wide-eyed sounds, eventually amassing a vast collection of tunes and finally emerging from this anonymity.

Utilizing modular synth, self made tape echos, synthetic sounds, recordings of ethnic percussion and guitar, MinaeMinae understands musical material similar to documentary footage which he would splice, repitch, and rearrange intuitively into captivating worlds."

Somewhere in the Lower-Franconian vineyards lies a hidden and mostly unknown canyon, a place that often returns to the thoughts and dreams of Läuten der Seele’s Christian Schoppik. Though a much rarer occurrence now as a consequence of environmental change, chance encounters upon the area in the past would sometimes reveal small ponds amongst the reeds, teeming with life and populated by colonies of newts and the now endangered yellow bellied toad. The transience of the water and the wildlife it hosts, dependent on season or climate, lends the area an almost fantastical, dream-like quality. Was it ever even there at all? A secret place that may or may not be present holds vast appeal to some enquiring minds… Ertrunken Im Seichtesten Gewässer, the third Läuten der Seele album in two years, is inspired directly by these experiences. Translating as ‘drowned in the shallowest stretch of water’, a title as pregnant with dread as it is wonder, the themes present speak both to personal memories and a wider understanding of place and time, and how we might interpret our own position within an ever-changing, sometimes disappearing world.

The record is presented as two long-form pieces divided into four separate movements, each titled so as to reflect this natural environment and its intersection with imagination, relying on processes of collage that draw from myriad indeterminable samples, field recordings and various recorded instruments. Those familiar with Schoppik’s work, both as Läuten der Seele and with Brannten Schnüre, will find present many of his signature tropes - the way deeply layered collages render abstracted visions of the past alive in the present - though what is always significant about his approach is not so much aesthetic as the wider concepts it attempts to express and emote. Indeed, emotional response is key to the Läuten der Seele sound, how overlapping notions of nostalgia, memory and identity calibrate experience and understanding of who we are and the world around us, whether it’s a world that’s gone or another imagined into being. If you observe the artwork closely enough, you may find a clue as to the canyon’s location, though such specifics are besides the point. The music itself infers a wider sense of the impermanence that characterises hidden worlds, wherever they might be or whoever they might belong to.

Hailing from the seaside communities surrounding Enoshima, a small island located 50 km southwest of Tokyo, Maya Ongaku is a ragtag collective of local musicians whose brand of earthy psychedelia transcends widely beyond the roots of their inner souls. The name derives not from any kind of ancient civilization, but rather a neologism defined as the imagined view outside one’s field of vision. The band—currently a trio of Tsutomu Sonoda, Ryota Takano, and Shoei Ikeda—finds sanctuary at the Ace General Store, a beachy vintage shop and salon-like space just hidden from sight from the bustling, touristy riverside Subana Street. Between discussions on music and art, curating the vinyl section and manning the register, and chatting up with locals young and old, the members find time to jam and record their spontaneous ideas in the studio tucked away in the back. It’s in this unlikely setting where Maya Ongaku finds its origins, the culmination of what Sonoda describes as 自然発生 (shizen hassei), meaning spontaneous generation, or the supposed production of living organisms from nonliving matter.

Approach to Anima, the group’s debut album released on Guruguru Brain, finds Maya Ongaku building a foundational groove while tapping into their innermost psyche. Sonoda’s malleable guitar and vocals, Takano’s sinuous bass lines, Ikeda’s floating woodwinds, and a sprinkling of delicate percussion—all coalesce into an aural experience that’s assertive yet abstract, calm but unsettling. The slow building, sax-laden “Approach” serves as an introduction to Maya Ongaku’s world, while the appropriately-named “Water Dream” floats its way toward the gentle finale of “Pillow Song.” It’s a concise distillation of their many interests and influences, from Neo-Dada and Fluxus, to where contemporary art intersects with the development of modern recording technology in the ‘60s and ‘70s.

As the title suggests, Approach to Anima is not intended to be a terminus; it’s merely the beginning of an exploration. The three childhood friends that comprise Maya Ongaku are always looking beyond the confines of the idyllic but rapidly gentrifying enclave of their beloved Enoshima. Feeding off of the energy that still radiates from the triumphant, decade-long journey of their label bosses’ band Kikagaku Moyo, who rose to global prominence from scrappy beginnings busking on the streets of Takadanobaba, they hope to go wherever inspiration takes them, to anywhere around the globe where their music can find a home.

Ultimately, Maya Ongaku’s uninhibited world-building will make it possible for us to see the unseen, expand the possibilities of the naked eye—all through the unbridled vibrancy of their music.

When Belgian Adolphe Sax invented the saxophone in the mid-19th century, he could not have imagined what he had set in motion with his invention. Neither in classical music nor in military music did his new woodwind instrument find much appreciation. It was only long after his death that it became the most important instrument in jazz music via swinging big bands. It would probably have amazed Mr. Sax if he had been able to witness a young trio from Germany playing loudly against climate change and the lack of political consequences with two noisy saxophones and a drum set on a stage in front of the Reichstag in Berlin in front of more than 50,000 people jumping up and down during the climate strike in September 2021: BRASS RIOT.

The trio around Constantin von Estorff (Sax), Simon Sasse (Drums) and Carl Weiß (Sax) have been a band since their school days in Lüneburg. What started there as street music became a permanent and sought-after formation through the proximity to political initiatives, above all the Fridays-For-Future movement, and appearances at countless demonstrations. The band's name is slightly misleading, as "brass" in music refers to brass instruments such as the trumpet or tuba, even though most brass bands always include a saxophone. Moreover, the word "brass" means something in the German language, which in turn fits perfectly with this young, energetic trio: Fury.

On the heels of their debut album "Matschsafari" (2018), their second studio album "The Never Acting Story" is now released on Fun In The Church. The album title, in critical allusion to the world-famous fantasy book by Michael Ende, sums up well what the music of BRASS RIOT is about at its core: the possibility to get a noisy outlet for all the fury about the failed politics of the last decades and the frustrations and fears that go with it, and to free oneself from it for a moment. That this path has produced the wildest live music on this crisis-ridden planet is an irony of history - and certainly not the first time it has happened. It's no different in the jazz of Charlie Parker than in the songs of Patti Smith, the raps of Little Simz or the Afro-beat of Fela Kuti.

Musically, BRASS RIOT move more in the area of the melodic ska-pop of Madness, the fake jazz of the Lounge Lizards and contemporary rave brass ensembles like MEUTE between house music and electro beats. The fact that they have managed to politicize their sound so strongly over the years, despite all the party that goes with it, and without any song lyrics at all, is truly phenomenal.

'Dream From The Deep Well' is the new album from celebrated Irish singer songwriter Brigid Mae Power. Recognised as a purveyor of dreamier pop with folky leanings, this new album is a departure; a unique marriage of traditional stylings and very modern melodies; a breath-taking soundtrack which underpins her gorgeous vocal. Filled with personal tales of offspring and grandparents, the lovelorn and the lost, it's the essence of re-imagined folk music, from the traditional intro and outro that act as bookends. It's folk music, but not as we know it. In these ever-confusing and often annoying times, Brigid brings us modern folk for modern folk, with her evocative vocal, doubling back on itself with strings, steel guitar, horns and mellotron adding to its baroque loveliness. It's waving back at her rootsy past, daubing new colours on a much-loved canvas. 'Dream From The Deep Well' is a new visionary beginning from a gifted songwriter. Elsewhere, there's the lovelorn longing of her version of Tim Buckley's 'I Must Have Been Blind', alongside a moving tribute to the late Ashling Murphy, a 23-year-old Irish primary school teacher and traditional Irish musician who was attacked and killed while jogging along the Grand Canal just outside Tullamore, County Offaly. It's a harrowing story, delivered with overwhelming compassion. In the best tradition of old school folk music, it opens up a pressing issue to a wider audience. It's an album that's politically primed and socially aware; a broadside for us all, this is Brigid Mae Power's most complete album yet. "Her haunting voice, an instrument that raises the everyday to a near-mystical realm." The Guardian. "The Irish singer-songwriter flits between past and present; between traditional and modern forms; between the heaven in her voice and the earthbound epiphanies of her words." Pitchfork

Images Of Goo is what Munich sound bricolageurs Leo Hopfinger aka LeRoy (head of Das Hobos, H, Spiritual Emojis and others) and Cico Beck aka Joasihno (active member of The Notwist, Aloa Input, Spirit Fest and others) call their first musical dialogue in album format.

It is equally a dialogue with the elements of their sonic repertoire of echo variations and sonic shadows from the percussive instrument box. In their sum, a Wunderkammer of a panaudic, which can be approached and departed in six tracks per side.

There we pass a fuzzy factory flow music of sound tiles and find ourselves in the next station in a game of pot banging and gong shower with firecrackers and other sound explosions. Tinpan tinkertoy and sparkler warehouse become an offbeat downbeat of sound loops, and already we imagine ourselves amid the hammering and pounding of a magic sound forge at the center of the earth, which may be the center of a distant galaxy.

On side two, we enter a dripstone cave boogaloo ("Let's start tripping") and it drips candle wax from a vocoder space-age melody, emoting and coagulating into a Morse-coding cumbia chant. Wax music this is - music that grows out of itself, even if by the means of tape and collage.

At the end there is a music snake, which, having become snake music itself, disappears in front of our ears with a swing. And maybe this is the beginning ...

Brian Jonestown Massacre, Velvet Underground, TOY. “Upon the highways of Freedom, where Evil is like a Ferrari… “ Unbeknownst to its members, Index For Working Musik was born on an evening in late 2019 amidst the discovery of a collection of faded b&w photocopies that had been marinating on the floor of a urine-alley in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. An assortment of sacred and profane imagery were crumpled amongst an essay on early Christian hermits, entitled Men Possessed by God, the meaning of which was enticingly vague. Received together, they planted the seeds for a new endeavour. Though Max Oscarnold and Nathalia Bruno were already engaged in a creative ping-pong of sorts, the results to this point had only totaled a 30 min long ½ inch tape containing one track and four interludes. They needed a page and they needed ink, and they needed a place and it needed energy. Suddenly by chance or divine intervention, their experimental venture had been given form and direction. Back home in London’s cursed smog, they moved themselves and their 8-track studio into a basement in E8, where the project’s gravitational pull gained strength, quickly developing into an unexpected collective with the incorporation of drummer Bobby Voltaire, double bass player E. Smith and guitarist J. Loftus. As the world shifted around them and the Plague Years followed, it became increasingly clear that they were not going to leave that small basement room. The scarcity of light or outer world presence was less a limitation, instead the main tool at hand, allowing the recording to stretch for boundaryless days in architectural isolation, and forcing them to make straight forward free guitar music, adopting a ‘first thought, best thought’ approach. 35 minutes of repeat phrased guitars, slow-clipped drums and dulcet vocals where the recurring landscape is the desert. Reel-to reel-loops of Afghan music compete with the found sound overlays of voices recorded at the queue of the pharmacy and drum machines borrowed from Spanish heroes, channelling both far-off climes and snippets from a closer reality. It’s a strange psychic brew, built of imagined mysticism and domestic realities, of fever dreams and days that stretched into weeks of months. What was sparked by that discovery in the Gothic Quarter was actually a realisation that what they were looking for was with them all the while, buried as it was in piles of voice memos and recorded guitar feedback. Men Possessed By God they may be not: it was self-possession that was to guide their way in the end. “Life, despite all its destructive changes, remains indestructibly powerful and joyful

Superb 45 featuring two Hammond-led instrumentals. The A-side is taken from The Guy HamperTrio's second long player due out on Hangman Records. The B-side is exclusive to this release. 'Man in the Mouth of a Cave' - I have painted St. Cuthbert's Cave, Northumberland on many occasions and decided that it was imperative that I write a great jazz /beat theme all about it. (Important info: After Viking raids monks from Lindisfarne wandered the north-east carrying the body of St. Cuthbert. Legend has it that they took refuge in 'St. Cuthbert's Cave.') I wrote the song with my friend Jamie Taylor in mind to have his way with it, which he does to thunderous applause - I should imagine. '107 Sleepless' is a tune I wrote in the early 1980s when me and Mick Hampshire would stay up the entire weekend writing songs for our group The Milkshakes. (We lived at 107 Rochester Street, Chatham.) About 3am Sunday morning we would be flagging and sitting there senseless. I would play this jazz riff over and over for some unknown reason. Meanwhile it should make a nice theme tune to some yet to be written HBO series and make me a millionaire - I should imagine. GUY HAMPER - APRIL 2023

...And I Mean It is an amalgam of girl group, new wave, blues, pop, and folk-rock by Genya Ravan. To hear her exquisite voice on "Night Owl" soaring above her own backing vocals is intense, imagine Etta James backed by the Sex Pistols doing a rock version of "Earth Angel." Of all Ravan's work, ...And I Mean It is possibly the most concise and picture-perfect statement of what the woman is musically about. A girl group pioneer who worked with Richard Perry prior to his finding the Pointer Sisters groove, there is no doubt Ravan influenced that major producer, and his work did the same for her. "Pedal to the Medal" is high-end treble rock before it came into vogue. This is the other side of Siren, the album Genya produced for Ronnie Spector, with more emphasis on a good-time rocking party. "I'm Wired, Wired, Wired" is a rock & roll anthem for people who burn the candle at both ends, while "I Won't Sleep on the Wet Spot" embodies the unbridled sexuality of this album. The music crunches while Ravan uses her voice, her production skills, and her legacy to create something far removed from her days in Ten Wheel Drive. The horns are replaced by searing guitars and Charlie Giordano's magical piano work. The sound of the keyboard and its erratic splashes really are key to "I Won't Sleep on the Wet Spot," while the guitar and bass battle it out. "Steve...," on the other hand, is Goldie & the Gingerbreads ten years after. This Ravan/Conrad Taylor composition was the 45 from the album, and it has "hit" written all over it. 20th Century just didn't have the right mechanisms in place to get some of the great music they put out on radio, such a pity as Harriet Schock, Randy Edelman, and the fake soundtrack for All This and World War II (a Beatles tribute album) contained songs that should have been big hits. What did hit off this album, on FM radio as an album track, is the brilliant duet by Ian Hunter and Ravan, the subtle and folky "Junkman." Released on Hunter's excellent Once Bitten Twice Shy CD on Legacy in 2000, the song and the performance are timeless. Ravan once said: "I was asleep with the tv on, and was saying to myself...that's my voice...that's my song...that's me! I woke up to find "Junkman" on TV in a film." The song got placed in a cable movie without the producer's knowledge! "Junkman" was a sound not heard on FM radio prior to its release, much like MTV's "unplugged" versions of songs, but it is more unplugged than most of this material -- take the rocked-out version of Motown that is the cover of Marvin Gaye's "Stubborn Kinda Girl," or the Springsteen-style blast that is "It's Me," a tune Springsteen should cover.

...And I Mean It is an amalgam of girl group, new wave, blues, pop, and folk-rock by Genya Ravan. To hear her exquisite voice on "Night Owl" soaring above her own backing vocals is intense, imagine Etta James backed by the Sex Pistols doing a rock version of "Earth Angel." Of all Ravan's work, ...And I Mean It is possibly the most concise and picture-perfect statement of what the woman is musically about. A girl group pioneer who worked with Richard Perry prior to his finding the Pointer Sisters groove, there is no doubt Ravan influenced that major producer, and his work did the same for her. "Pedal to the Medal" is high-end treble rock before it came into vogue. This is the other side of Siren, the album Genya produced for Ronnie Spector, with more emphasis on a good-time rocking party. "I'm Wired, Wired, Wired" is a rock & roll anthem for people who burn the candle at both ends, while "I Won't Sleep on the Wet Spot" embodies the unbridled sexuality of this album. The music crunches while Ravan uses her voice, her production skills, and her legacy to create something far removed from her days in Ten Wheel Drive. The horns are replaced by searing guitars and Charlie Giordano's magical piano work. The sound of the keyboard and its erratic splashes really are key to "I Won't Sleep on the Wet Spot," while the guitar and bass battle it out. "Steve...," on the other hand, is Goldie & the Gingerbreads ten years after. This Ravan/Conrad Taylor composition was the 45 from the album, and it has "hit" written all over it. 20th Century just didn't have the right mechanisms in place to get some of the great music they put out on radio, such a pity as Harriet Schock, Randy Edelman, and the fake soundtrack for All This and World War II (a Beatles tribute album) contained songs that should have been big hits. What did hit off this album, on FM radio as an album track, is the brilliant duet by Ian Hunter and Ravan, the subtle and folky "Junkman." Released on Hunter's excellent Once Bitten Twice Shy CD on Legacy in 2000, the song and the performance are timeless. Ravan once said: "I was asleep with the tv on, and was saying to myself...that's my voice...that's my song...that's me! I woke up to find "Junkman" on TV in a film." The song got placed in a cable movie without the producer's knowledge! "Junkman" was a sound not heard on FM radio prior to its release, much like MTV's "unplugged" versions of songs, but it is more unplugged than most of this material -- take the rocked-out version of Motown that is the cover of Marvin Gaye's "Stubborn Kinda Girl," or the Springsteen-style blast that is "It's Me," a tune Springsteen should cover.

When I first heard Natalie Rose LeBrecht's time-suspending, air-ionizing music, more than twenty years ago, I thought "this kid is on to something." She's been proving that thought right ever since. Her recordings, from the teenage 4-track tapes she made as Greenpot Bluepot to the recent albums under her own name, have been fascinating dispatches from her progressively deeper dives into her gorgeous, weird, wildly idiomatic aesthetic. Holy Prana Open Game is a jewel of intensely personal cosmic music, created through a remarkable process of openness, craftiness, addition and subtraction. It belongs to a tradition of albums that document a rich, meditative sound as it rises up to join the world outside its creators' minds: Alice Coltrane's Universal Consciousness, Harmonia's Musik von Harmonia, Philip Glass's North Star, Talk Talk's Laughing Stock.

"Meditative" is specifically the idea here: Holy Prana Open Game had its origins in the fourteen days LeBrecht spent silently meditating in her home's small music room in the summer of 2019. "I came out of that bursting with the will to create new music," she says, and she created it sound-first. LeBrecht taught herself to program an analog synthesizer's timbres from scratch, and built a new set of glacial, heady compositions out of them, eventually singing to accompany the keyboard parts she was playing.

Then she closed her eyes at her computer, "let my mind be clear and open, imagined light pouring down through me, and began auto-writing to my memory of the music playing through my mind. Most of the lyrics emerged this way, and then I used my conscious mind to refine them a bit at the end." One other song came along with LeBrecht's new pieces, a cover that seems wildly unlikely from the outside and makes total sense in its context: it's a version of Atoms for Peace's "Amok" (which had been created by improvisation and editing, too), mutated into her own idiolect.

In early March of 2020, LeBrecht recorded Holy Prana Open Game's analog synth parts with Martin Bisi at his studio in Brooklyn--and then the world shut down. As you may have gathered, LeBrecht is very much a spiritual, head-in-the-stars type. She is also extremely hardcore, and if making the art she wants to make means doing things the hard way, she cracks her knuckles and gets down to it. Within weeks, she had taught herself how to record, mix and edit with a digital audio workstation. She recorded her vocal parts (sometimes multi-tracked into a radiant choir) at home, assembled a rough mix of the album, and sent it off to her collaborators.

LeBrecht spent some years studying with and assisting La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela at their legendary sound-and-light installation, the Dream House. As with their work, her singular, precisely focused vision is shored up by its openness to artistic voices beyond her own. For Holy Prana Open Game, she worked with the Australian guitarist Mick Turner and drummer Jim White (both of Dirty Three, the Tren Brothers and innumerable other projects), as well as woodwind player David Lackner, a longtime presence on her recordings.

Turner and White have been playing together in one context or another since 1985; in the summer of 2020, they were only blocks from each other in Melbourne, Australia, whose strict lockdown meant they couldn't meet up to record together. So both of them, as well as Lackner, recorded their improvisational additions to LeBrecht's rough mixes individually, often without hearing each other's contributions. "I had asked them to play as much as they could on each track," she says, "and told them that I would edit it all down in post, so I had a lot of source material of theirs to work with."

LeBrecht arranged and edited the recordings from all four of their homes to flow together like breath across the duration of her suite. Prana, one of the album's central conceits, is in fact the Sanskrit word for breath, with the connotation of the breath of life. Like LeBrecht's music, prana flows at its own pace, and demands stillness to take in fully--but it's also subtly playful and surprising, a force that can be as light as air or as immersive as the atmosphere itself.

In the 1980s, Michael Morley helped to push the jangly New Zealand music scene towards rougher, more exploratory realms, as a member of Wreck Small Speakers on Expensive Stereos, The Weeds, and the almighty Dead C. His gnarled, distorted guitar tone and aggressively moan-based vocal style are both as distinctive as they are secretly beautiful. Morley has released dozens of solo recordings—starting in the late 1980s as Gate, then more recently under his own name, and as the Righteous Yeah. He’s also unafraid to tackle entirely new genres and sounds, and to move into interactive installation-based music as well. Birdman is beyond excited to present the first vinyl release of this archival Gate release. “...I think it is classic Gate material. The idea of the palette is fascinating as I think I did approach it with a set of limited instrumentation and the desire to make something again that could sound like rock music. There is certainly a direct line from Wreck Small Speakers On Expensive Stereos, through the Dead C, and to Gate. I think I was also inspired by listening to infamous and tragically short-lived early 1980s band the Double Happys, and remembering their performances as a duo with the drum machine. There was such utter chaos and anarchy during their sets, with a desire to represent punk rock at its nascent truth, I wanted to see if it was possible to re- imagine that feeling. I was possibly also listening to the Stooges and MC5. —Michael Morley

In the five years since Creep Show’s acclaimed Mr Dynamite album was released it’s fair to say that we’ve all been through a fair bit. Sitting here, in 2023, things don’t seem to be getting any better. There’s the cost of living crisis and political meltdowns; we're in deep water with global warming and to top it all there’s a war on our doorstep.

Back in 2018 everything seemed less complicated. Sure, there was stuff to get riled about, but we knew nothing about what was to come. Mr Dynamite was a fairground ride into the dark corners of a world that was on the brink of being blitzed in a blender. It was a record teetering on the edge. Five years down the line you’d expect the follow-up, Yawning Abyss, would double-down and bring the white-knuckled, teeth-gritted fury of the last five years to the boil. And yet….

A quick recap? No problem. Wrangler + John Grant = Creep Show. And Creep Show? “A band of musical misfits who have found a voice or two”, says Wrangler’s Ben “Benge” Edwards, whose Bond villain studio on the edge of a moorland is Creep Show Grand Central as well as home to an analogue synth arsenal that could sink ships.

Wrangler have known each other for a while. Tunng’s electronics wizard Phil Winter and Cabaret Voltaire’s trailblazing, pioneering frontman Stephen Mallinder go way back, while Phil and Benge crossed paths in the 21st century when they seemed to be increasingly in the same venues at the same times. Meanwhile, Mal had been living in Australia since the mid-90s and when, in 2007, he returned to the UK his old pal Phil suggested he meet Benge and the three of them immediately began working together.

Wrangler collectively bumped into Grant at their soundcheck for Sheffield’s Sensoria Festival in 2014 where they were playing with Carter Tutti. A friendship blossomed and when they were invited to perform together for Rough Trade’s 40th anniversary show at London’s Barbican in 2016, well, they jumped at the chance... and Creep Show was born.

Let’s talk about the new album... What is the ‘Yawning Abyss’? You might well ask. According to Mal, it’s “a cosmic event horizon that I can see from my attic window when stand on a chair”. Yeah. Thanks.

“On this album”, offers Benge, feet firmly on the floor, “Wrangler wrangled some vintage synths, mostly Roland, Moog, and the ‘Crystal Machine’ - then John Grant joined in the fun at Memetune Studios where lots of musical experiments were carried out. Then Mal and John ran off to Iceland with the master tapes and recorded a load of madcap vocals. Back at Memetune, me and Phil were left to try and make sense of it all. Which wasn’t hard because what they did in Iceland was totally magnificent.”

Which kind of brings us back to where we began. You’d imagine ‘Yawning Abyss’ would be blowing steam out of its furious ears. Mr Dynamite but kicking a wasps nest. Repeatedly. And yet…

Opener ‘The Bellows’ comes on like a modular ‘Radio Ga Ga’, the singalong ‘Moneyback’ (“You want your money back? / I didn’t think so”) sounds like Godley & Creme’s ‘Snack Attack’ meets Prince Charles And The City Beat Band (“Pennies, pounds, dollar bills, signed agreements, death wills”). ‘Yahtzee!’ is an unhinged electro breakdance party in four minutes and nine seconds.

Where Mr Dynamite was menace, a mélange of mangled voices, with Grant and Mallinder being heavily treated, pitched up or down, rendering their contributions largely indistinguishable, Yawning Abyss takes a more direct approach. You hesitate to say feelgood, but there’s a skip in the step here for sure.

The title track plays John Grant’s vocal straight. Completely. It’s good, so very good. Like ‘Axel F’ covered by Vangelis. The delicious shimmering synths of ‘Bungalow’ also plays those Grant pipes with a straight bat. ‘Matinee’ delves into darker, very funky territory. With Mal upfront it comes on like ‘The Crackdown’. Choice lyric: “You are starting to breakdown / And it’s so fun for me to see / You should have thought of that / You should have come prepared / You can see what’s happening and you look a little scared”.

So, you know, not all feelgood. But it does feel good. It’s probably best to draw your own conclusions... This is Creep Show after all.

epressed! Proto-punk and garage Zamrock: the celebrated guitarist Paul
Ngozi’s essential debut album. Featuring Chrissy Zebby Tembo

Guitarist/vocalist Paul Ngozi’s debut album – under the name Ngozi Family - is an important record: not just in the Zamrock genre,
but in the global rock canon. Day of Judgement is an introduction to the most intense, raw and inimitable golden era Zamrock
recorded, as it paved the way for a dozen Paul Ngozi and Ngozi Family releases (the most famous being drummer Chrissy Zebby
Tembo’s My Ancestors) that straddled the line between funk and punk, of driving hard rock and Zambian folk melodies and rhythms.
Day of Judgement was released in 1976, the same year as other, now famous, Zamrock albums, from WITCH’s Lazy Bones!! to Rikki
Ililonga’s Zambia. But it sounds like none of its counterparts. Part of that stems from its frenzied primitivism, the Ngozi Family’s
attempt to overcome a lack of musical acumen with sheer force of will.
That will allowed Paul Ngozi to overcome a humble upbringing to become the most unlikely combination: Zamrock’s most beloved
star in its brief but now-well chronicled arc; the only musician to maintain his fame and recording prowess in the dark ages of the
’80s; an inspiration to not only aging but young Zambians — and now others, beyond Zambia’s borders.
But one cannot imagine Paul Ngozi without this album, a full-on aural assault that sounds as wild nearly forty years after its release
as it must have sounded in the developing Zamrock landscape from which it emerged. We listen to this anachronistic yet prescient
album now as a wholly original, completely unpredictable album in line with those from mavericks from across the world – from the
Ramones to the Sex Pistols to Death. And, though it’s been over two decades since Paul Ngozi’s passing, his voice and vision still
seem exciting, powerful, unique, unvarnished, new.

In the digital age, words are no longer just symbols of communication, but a powerful tool that gives rise to meaningful interconnections between different universes.

Words have the power to transcend time and space, connecting two souls destined to meet.

Il Significato delle Parole (the meaning of words) is Adiel's new effort on her DanzaTribale, a crossover of two minds, generated together with musician Flavio Accorinti: techno sounds like the restless soul that pervades our days, deconstructed atmospheres like shattered generational dreams. The fusion of two cosmic currents, two ways of thinking and creating, characterized by an immanent power, pushing us to imagine new urban primitivism. Two creative processes, transcending individual boundaries to connect into a single overarching vision, to explore new forms of art and storytelling.

The EP, mixed by Donato Dozzy and mastered at Rome's Enisslab Studio by Giuseppe Tillieci, starts with Nulla Resta, a defragmented, dreamlike, ascending climax markedly cyberpunk: dense with references to 90s Progressive Dream, Nulla Resta, with its dulcet melodies, transports us to an artificial reality, a spiritual reality albeit dominated by technology. A reality suspended between fantasy and materialism.
Suspended, like the second track (Sospesa): dark trip-hop's echoes adorned by the voice of Jordie Devlin Mcmorrow. "Shadows on the walls orchestrate our downfall." Dystopian futures intertwine with mysteriously dreamy pasts in a fatal spiral of redemption.
But words remain the catalysing element of this EP.
Parole(words) represents a communicative rare faction that embraces tribes near and far. Black drums echo in the distance in an intimate ballad, in an epic ride, in an ethereal metaphysical journey to the dissolution of the boundary between time and space, between memory and perception.
Notturna, on the other hand, is the epilogue we all deserve; a solemn twilight, a lysergic, dragging escape from the objectivity of the real world.

The images of life do not simply exist in a vacuum. They are defined by the energy that surrounds them, and it is the explanation behind each of these words that we must find if weare to truly understand them. Thanks to the meaning of words, sooner or later, we will be all united again.

More recently best regarded as soundtrack composer, Ben Frost here follows work with interdisciplinary sound artist Francesco Fabris on the »Dark« OST with a plunge into purest rock music, as in the actual sound of molten material rising to the surface and solidifying. With an impressionistic-artistic license also found in work by Chris Watson, Jana Winderen or Giuseppe Ielasi, the duo uncompromisingly revel in the sounds of nature’s biting point, using various production methods to make audible the sound of the earth beneath our feet in the process of creation, on location at Fagradalsfjall, Reykjanes Peninsula Iceland.

»As stable as we might choose to think it is, this planet is anything but that. A paper thin crust, the zone in which we find ourselves, and mostly concern ourselves with, exists as a modest veil cloaking a dynamic seismic turbulence that is as powerful as it is unknowable. There are moments though where ruptures occur. The pressure from within carves its way to, and through, the surface of the planet simultaneously delivering destruction and virgin landscapes, as primordial as any we might care to imagine. It is here, in these places, where we can literally see the living planet, that geologic time is condensed and world building is made visible, and audible to us, in an unrestrained and provocative detail.

These volcanic ruptures, such as those captured on Vakning by Francesco Fabris and Ben Frost, speak to the very living geology of Earth. These recordings, captured at close range, exist at a nexus where liquid rock becomes solid. They capture moments of transformation, of obliteration and of creation, often all at once. These are recordings of a living, material planet, dynamic and unrestrained«. (Lawrence English)

Dear friends, music is more than just the sum of its individual parts. It also has a metaphysical character, which is particularly determined by its sociality. Kerrier Collective, a group of friends from Cornwall in England, lives this social aspect by making music together and ¦nding relaxation from their stressful everyday lives. With their worldbuilding
"dreams of the sea" Ep, the collective presents us with dance music not often heard like this. It is inspired by classic folk, pop, jazz, UK garage, latin, disco, house and techno. Imagine The whitest boy alive together with Giorgio Moroder interpreting Dylan songs with musical means of the hardcore continuum in a South American bar - Ok, take that with a wink, but you know what is meant. The title track is a sound journey into the depths of the ocean, where we encounter an
underwater party. A fat Reese bass forms the foundation of this piece, which is complemented by a rich arrangement of shimmering bells, guitar plucking, strings and female vocals.

This breathtaking mood leads into a driving beat accompanied by acid arpeggios. It's all so deep that you think you can hear the call of a whale from somewhere. "Paddington Express" is a slow march accompanied by heavy bass. All around you, a piano ghosts up and down and mysterious vocal snippets create a perfect symbiosis with an acid line. Should you be accompanied "On your last day" by this eponymous track, it will be a good day - a day that may begin with a gloomy, heavy foreboding, but will dissolve into a joyful, peaceful lightness. The guitar lick of this track issimply irresistible. On your last day, you will de¦nitely dance!

The record closes with "Friday afternoon". The name says it all. We all know how it feels. Let this euphoric disco tune carry you into the weekend! P.S.: Physical release comes with handcrafted, screen printed artwork by fabulous graphic artist Zatina Kessl.

What would have happened if Michael Dudikoff had gone missing in action, say – in Poland in 1987 – during the harshest freezing spell of the century? Would he have coped under these conditions like John Rambo has in the town of Hope? We shall never find out, but the soundtrack is already there. Latarnik and Cancer G (members of EABS and Błoto) would call this film Zima Stulecia: Minus 30°C.

When Twin Peaks debuted on Polish National Television with its oneiric music by Angelo Badalamenti, Poland could feel as eerie as the series. Seemingly nothing quite matched, but on the other hand, no one was surprised. Growing up in the 1990s inevitably brings back memories of stalls selling a variety of products. You could buy there cleaning products from Germany, some underwear, Haribo jellies and Jacobs coffee, and have access to the "latest" cultural releases, which would be arriving late in Poland. This is where one could obtain pirated copies of cassette tapes and VHS, the labels of which had typewritten film titles that transported kids' fantasies to another world. With such content distribution, many of these kids got their first glimpse of Predator, Terminator, Robocop, as well as Van Damme's stunts in Bloodsport and a plethora of other B action movies, which to this day - like American Ninja - are rerun on TV over and over again. The afterimages of these soundtracks nestled in the heads of Marcin Rak and Marek Pędziwiatr for years and found expression on their debut album.

The music of Zima Stulecia is difficult to label in terms of genre. It oscillates towards melancholic electronic music. For some it will be techno, others will hear elements of house, all accompanied by improvised synth and percussion music.

Zima Stulecia is a duo that was not supposed to have any chance of success. Many years ago, back in 2006, when they were still budding musicians they met for the first time at a jazz workshop. When they found out where they both came from and that they were separated by almost 800 kilometers, despite having great chemistry in playing, they
jokingly said goodbye with the sentence: "it was fun playing together!". They figured they would never meet again. At the time, none of them imagined that in a few years' time in Wrocław they will form one of the most interesting contemporary jazz bands in Poland: EABS and Błoto. On top of that, they were both born in January 1987. The last of the historic "winters of the century" (eng. for "zima stulecia") occurred at that time in Poland, which ultimately determined their name as a band. Minus 30°C album is a recording of the non-verbal workings of these soulmates, and a fruit of a musical collaboration that has lasted for 16 years.