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Culled from three 1985 gigs in the UK during a transitional and transcendent time in the band's story, Sonic Youth's `Walls Have Ears' appeared as a 2LP set in 1986, not just a live album but an artful tapestry full of live experimentation with songs, between-song tape segues, darkness, humor and audio verité on par with elements of side B of `Master Dik' to come later. With a bit of complexity to the situation of the release itself. But that's a different story. Deleted as quickly as it appeared then, it's now issued for the first time officially under the band's auspices. In this 2LP set brimming with primitive classics like "The Burning Spear", "I Love Her All The Time", "Death Valley 69" and "I'm Insane" (uncredited on sleeve), segues and live guitar changes ooze together threaded by Madonna tapes and vocal loops off the board. The first two sides of `Walls' are massive, cavernous, with newly-drafted drummer Steve Shelley in tow taking on past tunes and unveiling "Expressway To Yr Skull" in glorious form. They tear it up especially on one trash-fi excerpt of "Blood On Brighton Beach" (actually "Making the Nature Scene") from a legendary outdoor gig November 8th where Moore, Gordon and Ranaldo's guitars treble-blast dissonant shockwaves over the black-stoned beach of Quadrophenia fame. The record's second slab spotlights an April 1985 pre-Shelley gig supporting Nick Cave at London's Hammersmith Palais and was one of the final appearances live of Bob Bert, again featuring some molten takes on "Brother James", "Kill Yr Idols", "Flower" (Iisted as "The Word (E.V.O.L.)"), "Ghost Bitch" and others. The emergence of the Jesus and Mary Chain in the world gave Brit scribes a lazy and easy parallel, addressed here with a wink with the inclusion of "Speed JAMC", another offstage tape interlude playfully scrolling through one of that band's songs at fast-forward. This document remains an essential representation of some lean and mean years of the quartet's throttling march out into the world in the mid eighties. Coloured vinyl, one red, one yellow LP.

Pull the Rope, the new record by Ibibio Sound Machine, casts the Eno Williams and Max Grunhard-led outfit in a new light. The hope, joy, and sexiness of their music remain, but, further honing the edge of their acclaimed 2022 album Electricity, the connection they aim to foster has shifted venues from the sunny buoyancy of a sunlit festival to a sweat-soaked, all-night dance club. Williams and Grunhard attribute this shift to a matter of collaborators, recording Pull the Rope with Sheffield-based producer Ross Orton (Arctic Monkeys, M.I.A.) over the course of two weeks. The way the pair wrote songs changed significantly_rather than Eno penning lyrics to music generated by Max and company's jamming, Orton started with Eno and Max writing together before adding the band. With less time in the studio and a new way of considering how they built songs, the duo found making decisions about Pull the Rope's sound quicker and more instinctual than before. "Ross is from Sheffield, which has an edgier, more industrial vibe than London," Grunhard explains. "He hears things differently than us, is more grounded in rave and grungier sounds, and knew when to add drums or push the instrumentation more. It was very different for us, but it lends itself to where Ibibio Sound Machine is going." In melding their songwriting process, Grunhard and Williams have, impossibly, pulled the trick of making Ibibio Sound Machine a tighter band than ever before, building out from their core in a way that highlights the electrifying group of musicians they play with. Rather than recording with the full band in the room, Pull the Rope was sculpted, elements added and shaped by Grunhard, Williams, and Orton along the way. As a result, Pull the Rope is a nimble, sleek machine that's thrilling from the first note of the opening title track, Eno's otherworldly voice and PK Ambrose's throbbing bass driving through a kaleidoscopic array of house, post-punk, funk, Afrobeat and disco, bangers and ballads, making an argument for unity that begins on the dancefloor. "We are the places we grew up, the places we've been, and the people we've met along the way," Williams says. "Hopping around the globe, we've found that people are fundamentally the same_they're people. Opposing sides push and pull, but there is an alternative to war, violence, and suffering." Lead single "Got to Be Who U Are" literally globetrots, name checking locales across the world that would feel disparate were it not for how well-traveled they are. Eno growing up in the musical melting pot of the Ibibio region of Nigeria and Max being a conservatory-trained musician from Australia, one could call their meeting in London and formation of Ibibio Sound Machine predestined. "Mama Say" and "Let My Yes Be Yes" touch themes of female empowerment. They're indicative of the band's depth as they push further into the electronic; "Mama Say" hits notes of electropop while "Let My Yes Be Yes" fuses electro to Afrobeat. Ibibio Sound Machine have always imbued their music with political consciousness, and the light that shines through in Williams' vocals and voice has never felt more necessary. The sound of Pull the Rope, then, is hope in darkness, bliss in spite of bleakness. Once again, Ibibio Sound Machine are here to provide the soundtrack to the best night of your life, and the better world to come.

Four years and one pandemic after his latest Dreams Of A Dark Building EP, the herald of dungeon synth pop is finally back from his shallow grave.

Life has not been gentle with Seattle-based solo producer Parker Lautenschlager over the past few years, imposing its unpredictability and forcing him to channel all the feelings that come with it into Profit Prison’s music.

It’s no surprise that his first full-length album Gilt marks one futher step towards the dark corners of italo / hi-nrg body music. Typical Profit Prison’s vocals and melodies, reminiscent of OG synth masters Kraftwerk, Giorgio Moroder and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, are still here, buried in the mix and waiting to haunt the listeners and drag them down in one sulfurous dancing spiral.

Lead single Sophia juxtaposes some weirdly camouflaged vocals with one heavenly chorus that seems willing to revive your fortunes while instead it literally sings “But I lost it all”. A Matter Of Tact displays pop escapism over some throbbing minimal synth tension, Seven Words sounds like a throwback to 70’s italo filtered through the eyes of a 21st century punk rocker. Katalina has a rampant synth à la Carpenter climbing over a story of loss and Katalina, An Ascetic is a solo ramble reaching for the inner light on a carpet of cold keys.

What’s more, tracks got longer in Parker’s recent songwriting, with most of the songs being now five minute long and reaching peaks of seven minutes with the closing, almost progressive disco jam of A.R.P. (Amphetamine Research Project), nothing short of a lucid dream on the floor of Studio 54.

Last but not least, the artwork by French artist Robin Roche delivers medieval-yet-punk graphic vibes to match just perfectly the sounds on this record.

James’ longevity – with over 25 million albums sold over their 42-year career and their celebrated reunion period since 2007 earning them more Top 20 album placings and faster ticket sales than their whirlwind initial run from 1982 to 2001 - is miraculous itself, but with simple cause. James, you see, are more than a band; they’re sonic belongingYummy – the band’s 18th studio album – is a quintessential James record: comforting yet adventurous, electronic yet human, dark yet life-affirming, experimental yet familiar, heart-warming yet deeply introspective on both the personal and human scale. “This record is really uplifting and joyful, but a lot of that comes from the music,” says singer Tim Booth of a career-high album that confronts ageism, conspiracy theory, AI control, the mental health pandemic, ecological apocalypse, mortality and modern love in all its shades. “Some of the lyrics are pretty hard-nosed.” UK Arena tour with special guests Razorlight in June 2024. 'Yummy' has already received 4/5 in MOJO, 4.5/5 in Classic Pop Magazine and 7/10 in Uncut

Four years and one pandemic after his latest Dreams Of A Dark Building EP, the herald of dungeon synth pop is finally back from his shallow grave.

Life has not been gentle with Seattle-based solo producer Parker Lautenschlager over the past few years, imposing its unpredictability and forcing him to channel all the feelings that come with it into Profit Prison’s music.

It’s no surprise that his first full-length album Gilt marks one futher step towards the dark corners of italo / hi-nrg body music. Typical Profit Prison’s vocals and melodies, reminiscent of OG synth masters Kraftwerk, Giorgio Moroder and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, are still here, buried in the mix and waiting to haunt the listeners and drag them down in one sulfurous dancing spiral.

Lead single Sophia juxtaposes some weirdly camouflaged vocals with one heavenly chorus that seems willing to revive your fortunes while instead it literally sings “But I lost it all”. A Matter Of Tact displays pop escapism over some throbbing minimal synth tension, Seven Words sounds like a throwback to 70’s italo filtered through the eyes of a 21st century punk rocker. Katalina has a rampant synth à la Carpenter climbing over a story of loss and Katalina, An Ascetic is a solo ramble reaching for the inner light on a carpet of cold keys.

What’s more, tracks got longer in Parker’s recent songwriting, with most of the songs being now five minute long and reaching peaks of seven minutes with the closing, almost progressive disco jam of A.R.P. (Amphetamine Research Project), nothing short of a lucid dream on the floor of Studio 54.

Last but not least, the artwork by French artist Robin Roche delivers medieval-yet-punk graphic vibes to match just perfectly the sounds on this record.

Some of us love PIC vinyl but some don't. NWW do loves PIC vinyl, but please take note - that picture “vinyl” is no audiophile format, it’s a collectible format. Especially for music like NWW with its wide stereo spread, swirling high frequencies, and deep droning basses. The more stereo and bass, the wider and deeper the grooves have to be, to provide all information to the needle. But picture discs have only a very thin plastic foil over the pictures, it’s no vinyl, just plastic, similar to pet bottles. On picture “vinyl” can not be pressed so deep and wide grooves, that it would sound as well as a real vinyl. That’s the same for ALL picture LPs, not only NWW.

General conclusion:
Of course, our picture LP editions are enjoyable to listen to! But to get the best sound quality, you should choose the 2CD version, those sound best. For your collection just buy whatever you think looks best.

Includes digital pre-order of Thunder Perfect Mind. You get 6 tracks now (streaming via the free Bandcamp app and also available as a high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more), plus the complete album the moment it’s released.

Falling somewhere between Soulside, Ignition, and The Chocolate Watchband, Vile Cherubs were a short-lived and puzzling band that for a brief window in 1986-88 managed to captivate, confuse, and annoy the D.C. punk scene. Consisting of high school classmates Tim Green, Jesse Quitlsund, and Ben Wides—along with Green’s childhood friend Seth Lorinczi—the Vile Cherubs were more focused on the then-forgotten sounds of ‘60s garage rock and psychedelia than on Minor Threat. Being minors themselves, they likely would’ve remained trapped in the school-dance circuit were it not for Geoff Turner (Gray Matter / 3), who took an interest in the band and recorded their two demos. That first tape caught the ear of d.c. space booker Cynthia Connolly, who despite her initial skepticism paired them with Didjits, Cynics, and other noteworthy bands. Rumors of a potential Dischord album built all through 1987, ending with mysterious suddenness after label co-owner Jeff Nelson dropped in on a rehearsal to find a miasma of LSD, alcohol, feedback, and vomit. Though the band released a posthumous LP in 1988, the original Geoff Turner demos explain why the D.C. scene briefly lost its shit over these teen ne’er-do-wells. Lovingly and exhaustively resuscitated by audio maestro Tim Green from the original multitrack tapes, “Lysergic Lamentations” is the Vile Cherubs at the height of their brief existence.

2x7"
Not so long ago Marlena Shaw was a forgotten figure. The talented vocalist had made several LPs for respected labels such as Cadet and Blue Note, and she'd performed regularly throughout the '60s and '70s. But she hardly had what you might call diva status. Falling into the unfortunate category that slips uneasily between soul and jazz, she was accepted - but not especially admired - by aficionados of either genre. Then came the '90s, and an open-minded enthusiasm for soul and jazz - and more importantly - everything in between - soon changed that. Marlena Shaw became an icon, and the diva status soon blossomed amongst her new-found soul-jazz fans.

Respect is a word that means much to any singer. The artist who stands up in the bright lights before an audience that has handed over their hard-earned cash has only their physical presence and naked voice to rely on. There is no hiding when you're on stage, you're the focus of attention and everybody is gawping at you. The singer yearns to communicate and entertain, and in return not only asks for appreciation and acceptance, but respect. To this end Marlena Shaw has endured decades of singing in the shadows, and she has only recently finally found her niche.

On Disc One we have 'California Soul', probably the most enduring and well-known of her many songs, but just a few seconds listening will tell you that it is much more than that. It's already a classic amongst those who have already seen the light and have danced and swayed to its timeless swing. Upon hearing it all lovers of soul, jazz – or any other kind of good music - will feel an aural glow as warm as the Californian sun. The song 'Liberation Conversation' on the flip was only ever available on her highly revered 1969 LP 'The Spice of Life'. This is where the 'Blues ain't nothing but a good woman gone bad' launches into an irresistible, relentless uptempo funk groove.

Disc Two showcases 'Wade in the Water', an ancient song rumoured to have been developed and popularised by slaves in the American south. The message is to pass on the notion that by fleeing in a bid for freedom through streams and rivers, the scent that bloodhounds use to follow their victims will be obscured. Marlena's version has long been a favourite dancefloor filler since its 45-only release back in 1966.

'Woman of the Ghetto' is one of her best-known songs and ends the set on the other side. The opening number from 'The Spice of Life', it's since been recognised for the classic it is, and as such has been afforded anthemic status. We release the original 45 version here, as used to promote the LP back in the day.

This special 2x7" product from Jazzman is dedicated to the memory of Marlena Shaw, b. 22 September 1939, d. 19 January 2024.

Full of Hell Coagulated Bliss bio Full of Hell burst forth with incredible force from the small, dagger-shaped city of Ocean City, Maryland, 15 years ago. Over five full-lengths, five collaborative full-lengths, and countless splits, EPs, singles, and noise compilations, they’ve evolved at extraordinary speed, their music becoming more complicated and technical without ever slowing down or losing its soul. Everything on a Full of Hell album feels like a blur: smears of guitar, harsh noise shaken like gravel in a bag, singer Dylan Walker’s snarl and bite carrying him into outer space or into the core of the earth. They’re coiled, interlocking, impossible to penetrate, and they move with alarming speed. They have now reached terminal velocity. Having created their own context, they’re now able to walk around within it, to survey its terrain, to visit far corners and see who’s nearby. Coagulated Bliss sounds like Full of Hell, but it’s nothing like any Full of Hell record that’s come before it. These songs are trimmer, less freighted with anxiety, more interested in opening up than speeding away. Its bile is sometimes funneled into traditional song structures. It never shies away from the extreme harsh noise, unrelenting spirit, and pitch-black sadness of previous Full of Hell records; if anything, the leanness of these songs makes them feel even heavier. Nevertheless, there are tracks here you might find yourself whistling hours after listening. It’s an extraordinary and unexpected evolution in sound for a band who made their name on rapid metamorphosis, and it’s the logical endpoint of everything Full of Hell has covered so far..

Ever since their auspicious beginnings, more than a decade ago, Laughing Bastards have giddily delighted in impurity. Initially a reeds-guitar-bass trio modeled after the classic Jimmy Giuffre 3, the band has remained truthful to its original spirit. Saxophone player Michel Mast and guitarist Jan-Sebastiaan Degeyter have remained its core, but the band went through several permutations, first welcoming Eline Duerinck (cello) and Marcos Della Rocha (for Unanimal in 2019) and solidifying its present-day line-up with bassist Cyrille Obermüller.

Bastards. It's kind of a rude word to throw around carelessly, but there has always been that element of being irregular, being too stubborn to comply with what is expected, that has set them apart. This is nowhere more evident than in the material contributed by Degeyter, who wrote more than half of the album's compositions. A talented illustrator and designer (he created a few of their striking album covers) as well as a versatile guitarist, Degeyter always manages to add a strong visual component to his material. In combination with his knack for pulling exotic influences into the band's overall sound, it leads to a playful, cinematic eccentricity.

"Tigraman" and "Black Spoon" are examples of this. Both are infused with an Ethiopian-tinged sound, but while the first one develops the catchy throbbing of a trance-like soul/rock tune, the second exudes the lush cadence of Golden Age Ethio jazz, the kind that gets under your skin with those sensual, irrepressible rhythms. They are a nice match with the increasing drama of the Slavic-tinged "Red Lemon", the slow, dreamy flow of the Jamaican dance hall-inspired "Sand", a strong feature for Duerinck, and "Dosi", that shows Obermüller's knack for propulsive melody.

The synesthete in Degeyter gets free reign in "Calliope", chamber jazz in which sweeping sax and cello are kept grounded by guitar, bass and drums. Mast's odd meter-song "Fetish" is another showcase for the band's effortless dancing and some gorgeous tenor schmooze. Della Rocha's "Turquoise" starts off in brooding, contemplative way and keeps simmering on a low, glowing fire. To top it off, there are a few covers that remind you of the band's origins. A new take on Giuffre's rootsy "The Train and the River" stresses their loose flexibility with an Americana style somewhat reminiscent of Charlie Haden, while Carla Bley's evergreen "Vashkar" gets a carefully constructed makeover to close out the album with grace.

On their latest album, Laughing Bastards prove they are a quintessential Belgian band - soaking up sounds and influences from all over the place while maintaining a tight unity - with an international appeal. Combining jazz and chamber music with ideas from pop music and multi-colored strains does not only give their music an iridescent edge, but also keeps the interplay fresh and inspired, something to return to while waiting to see them live on stage.

"All our dreamers lose to the light" - from "Angels Go Home" When the pandemic began, and the world shut down, so did the process of creating for Iron & Wine's Sam Beam. In its place was a domesticity that the singer hadn't felt in a long time, and although it was filled with many rewards, making music was not one of them. Reflecting on that time, Beam notes: "I feel blessed and grateful that I and most of my friends and family made it through the pandemic relatively unscathed compared to so many others, but it completely paralyzed the songwriter in me. The last thing I wanted to write about was COVID, and yet every moment I sat with my pen, it lingered around the edges and wouldn't leave. This lasted for over two years." The journey back began with a recording session in Memphis to record a handful of Lori McKenna tracks for the EP Lori with friend and producer Matt Ross-Spang. The cathartic experience reconnected Beam with his love for making music, and soon enough the paralysis had passed, and he was finishing lyrics and booking studio time for what would become Light Verse. Light Verse was recorded with engineer and mixer Dave Way at his studio Waystation high up in Laurel Canyon (with an additional session at Silent Zoo Studio with a 24-piece orchestra), with a host of talented musicians joining Beam: Tyler Chester, Sebastian Steinberg, David Garza, Griffin Goldsmith, Beth Goodfellow, Kyle Crane, and Paul Cartwright. And, Fiona Apple joined Beam on vocals for the duet "All In Good Time." Beam lyrically once again takes focus on a series of both fictional and personal insights, filled with desperate characters and wide-eyed optimists, offering promise and a dose of heartache, tears and laughter, life and love. Taking stock in the album's title, he jokes, "Light verse is a form of poetry about playful themes that often uses nonsense and wordplay, and it's my first official Iron & Wine comedy album!_. Just kidding_." While true this may be Iron & Wine's most playful record, Beam says the title mostly reflects the way the songs were born with joy after the heaviness and anxiety of the pandemic. Where recent records like Beast Epic or Weed Garden gave air to the disquiet of middle-aged frailty and brokenness, these songs trade that for the focus acceptance can bring. Moment by moment, they delight in being pointed or silly (or both) and attempt beauty over prettiness. Light Verse arrives April 26th, and it's Iron & Wine's seventh full-length overall and fifth for Sub Pop Records. Fashioned as an album that should be taken as a whole, it sounds lovingly handmade and self-assured as a secret handshake. Track by track, its equal parts elegy, kaleidoscope, truth, and dare.

New Heaven, INTER ARMA’s latest album, is a compelling testament to perseverance, top to bottom. Its thicket of ever-dense layers of doom, death, and black metal occasionally let bits of light slip in, fleeting reminders to keep going amid the tumult. New Heaven marks a sharp turn for the band, showcasing some of the most extreme and angular songwriting INTER ARMA has ever laid bare. Known for their cinematic take on sludgy, extremely cavernous, and borderline psychedelic Metal, the Richmond band broadens their dynamics by seesawing between piledriving momentum and swirling oblivion. New Heaven crushers and conquers, and illustrates what INTER ARMA can truly be. Take the title track, with its hair-raising lead riff stemming from drummer/songwriter TJ Childers’ challenge to himself to write a nonsensically dissonant part that he ended up loving. The song spirals upward into a punishing Death-Metal march, Meanwhile, vocalist Mike Paparo’s stentorian bellows the bludgeon, above an impossibly complicated web of riffs and rhythms. From the get go, New Heaven and the opening title track eschews any restraint - INTER ARMA is completely unchained. Paparo’s keen and empathetic lyrics about innocent victims of war, addiction, and social apathy affirm that feeling, as a survivor grimaces at the carnage behind him and presses ahead best he can. “You stared into the brutish jaws of strife’s heartless device,” he growls into a chthonic blitz during “The Children the Bombs Overlooked,” a late-album powerhouse. “And you turned your back to hell.” That forward march out of madness is New Heaven in an armor-plated nutshell. Though this is indeed another INTER ARMA triumph, it is not a triumphant album, meant to offer some glib or naïve assurance that everything will be fine. What evidence is there for that, really, either on a record where friends are forced into submission, addiction, suicide, or retreat to a world where suffering remains the lingua franca? No, INTER ARMA and New Heaven are too realistic and experienced for that. This is, instead, a record about enduring brambles and curses and lasting long enough to make something profound, honest, and even affirming about it all every now and again—exactly as INTER ARMA has on New Heaven. FFO: Amenra, Neurosis, Full of Hell, Cult of Luna, Yob, Primitive Man, Thou, Ulcerate, Mastodon, The Body, Panopticon

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.

Red Vinyl

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.

Pigeons Playing Ping Pong, a veritable tour de force known for turning heads coast-to-coast with their high-octane live concerts, not only grabs life by the horns, but they harness its energy within their hypnotic hybrid of funk, rock and psychedelic groove.With a devout fanbase and trail of sold-out tours behind them, the Maryland quartet takes a major step forward on their seventh full-length offering, Day In Time.Guitarist Jeremy Schon says, "This album is the most cohesive group of songs we've ever had in the studio"."This record is a snapshot of our band as a group and as individuals at this exact moment." says Greg Ormont (vocals, guitar). "The title serves as a reminder that life moves fast, so we better make the most of each day, make each second count."

There are one million ways to approach love, one million ways to experience love, one million ways in which love shapes both the course of our lives and how we choose to navigate that course. On her second album, Bnny’s Jessica Viscius looks love square in its many eyes and describes, with self-awareness and humor, not only what she sees, but what it makes her feel. Deep romantic love, breathy lust, generous self-love—and their opposites, self-loathing, resentment, disappointment—all make appearances. Like a sheet being draped over a clothesline, channeling Mazzy Star and mimicking the soft, gauzy, fresh feeling of realizing you’re able to begin it all again with a new person. Recorded in Asheville at Drop of Sun and produced by Viscius alongside Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, Snail Mail), One Million Love Songs is Bnny’s revelatory second album. Out April 2024 on Fire Talk

There are one million ways to approach love, one million ways to experience love, one million ways in which love shapes both the course of our lives and how we choose to navigate that course. On her second album, Bnny’s Jessica Viscius looks love square in its many eyes and describes, with self-awareness and humor, not only what she sees, but what it makes her feel. Deep romantic love, breathy lust, generous self-love—and their opposites, self-loathing, resentment, disappointment—all make appearances. Like a sheet being draped over a clothesline, channeling Mazzy Star and mimicking the soft, gauzy, fresh feeling of realizing you’re able to begin it all again with a new person. Recorded in Asheville at Drop of Sun and produced by Viscius alongside Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, Snail Mail), One Million Love Songs is Bnny’s revelatory second album. Out April 2024 on Fire Talk

"Nothing and no one can extinguish this flame within you," sings Emilie Simon from the opening title of Polaris, her first true album in ten years. An apparent long eclipse that the French singer, musician, and producer has nevertheless used to explore new territories, open uncharted paths, and reinvent her musical vocabulary and narrative threads. Like Ariane in a dreamlike world, she stretches these threads along her journey, inviting us to blindly follow.

After composing music for the film "The Jesus Roll" with John Turturro, and a musical journey between Earth and Mars through a series of singles, in 2023, Emilie Simon chose to revisit her debut album, both in the studio and on stage, to definitively close a chapter begun twenty years earlier. She also published "Phoenix," a gothic tale with a "vampiric" theme, sung and spoken in alexandrines. The central character, Lily Mercier, is the same one found at the heart of the Polaris adventure. Clearly, Lily is a projection of Emilie, on a quest for the North Star that symbolizes the never-extinguished desire to find her way. The dazzlement too, when one is a musician always eager to ignite again for the infinite mysteries of sound and to translate its shivers into songs.

This album, sung in both French and English, succeeds in combining the clarity of melodies with the demands of production. It immediately captivates (the irresistible burn of the Sun) and enchants over repeated listens, like a lasting iridescence of a thousand sonic fragments. Recorded in New York (where Emilie lived for a long time), Los Angeles, Montreal, Rome, and Paris (where she returned to settle), Polaris has its own cartography. Its universe is the standard scale, its pulsation inspired by cosmic rhythms, and its unique poetry both disturbs and captivates. A sign that nothing and no one can extinguish this flame within her.

Somehow Klasse Wrecks has made it to 50 official releases, not bad for a label that wears its ignorance for others and 'the norm' proudly on its dirty sleeve. Over the years the label has released a multitude of various sounds, spanning bleep, rave, deep house, down tempo and the 50th release does well to encapsulate that free spirit and openess. Without much planning and totally by way of coincidence the responsibility lies with label co-owner Luca Lozano and its sonically a typical mixed bag as to be expected. Kicking off with restless acid stomping, the title track barges through the door...knocks over a few drinks before blossoming into a breakdown that propels the 303 deep into space and back again. On the A2, Lozano shows off his love for creaky breakbeats and DX donks on a track called 'Re-Mix'...which as far as we know isnt a remix of anything at all. The flip contains more raving beauties, 'Save Me From The Rave' might be a desperate plea but by the sounds of it he's still enjoying the madness, the producer makes an epic breakdown that might well signify the end of all Trance homages. Then the final track of the EP sounds like it could be played in a field in Glastonbury in 1993, its haunting vocal harmonies signify the sun is coming up soon and likely that we're about to start Chapter 2 of the Wrecks Wrebellion. The special edition sleeve artwork features examples of previous artwork from the last 50 records, overlaid in a typically chaotic manner by the label's designer

Bite Down, the Merge Records debut of Rosali, finds acclaimed songwriter and guitarist Rosali Middleman in the midst of transition. Written after moving to North Carolina from her longtime home of Philadelphia, Bite Down is a searching, hungry record by an artist who is resolved to bite down on life, in all its horror and joy. She is joined here by Mowed Sound_David Nance (bass, guitar), James Schroeder (guitar, synth), Kevin Donahue (drums, percussion)_and in studio by Destroyer collaborator Ted Bois (keys). Bite Down is Rosali's second album working with Mowed Sound, and there is urgency and ambition in their collaboration_a band pushing each other not just to expand on what they've already done together, but to break through into altogether new territory. Among those joining Rosali and her band there is Dan Bejar of Destroyer, who waxes poetically on where she's been, where she's going, and how thrilling Bite Down is to experience: It's hard to talk about Rosali's music. Songs that reach outward like this, but then constantly disarm with their intimacy. What do you call such inner searching that is hellbent on rollicking? Songs that long for a sense of peace and songs that want romance, all on equal footing in the same plot of earth? Performed wild, but always centered around the incredible lyrical calm that is Rosali's voice. Bite Down makes me think about singers and bands that throw themselves hard into the storm, the way the Rosali quartet does. (Jim captures the tone of this perfectly, again!) The calm of her voice over top of the band's raging_it is the emblem of songs that live to put themselves in harm's way. But it's not harm. It's just that you have to play hard to get at these goods. The calm of Rosali's voice, the straight talk of her inner search vs. the wildness of the band, the sonic storm she rides in on. That's their sound. The Mowed Sound. It's hard to talk about these last couple Rosali albums without talking about them. They play free and wild and relentlessly melodious. They rip and create space and fill it up with what seems like reckless abandon, but listen carefully or listen for a while and you'll find them paying real close attention to each other and exactly what the song demands. Maybe Fairport did this, maybe VU. It's a strange telepathic brew. Breezier songs like "On Tonight" and "Rewind" sound like they've fought their way to get to that sense of ease. Maybe that's the Mowed Sound "sound"_hard-won ease. Then add to that Ted Bois' patented Rhodes sleaze (see sinuous title track "Bite Down") steering the record into late-night corners; the incredible "Hills on Fire" (maybe the centerpiece of the album), the guitar-ripping and the singing taking turns in reaching new levels of intimacy. It feels listened-in on, exposed and invented on the spot. It is also simply a staggeringly beautiful song. There are a few of those on the album. In contrast, "My Kind" is a raucous, hand-delivered classic; the band throws tables over. For the most part, this is a moodier record than No Medium. It has the same sound of "I've traveled through fire to deliver you these songs," but it is also quieter, more nocturnal. The quiet dread of staring down an open road, and the excitement of that. By the final track, "May It Be on Offer," it is the prayer uttered as you hand yourself over to the world.