Suche:its not over

Ever since the late 1950s bossa-nova revolution, Brazil’s influence on French music has been undeniable. Pierre Barouh, Georges Moustaki and a vast array of lesser known artists, all made the Musica Popular Brasileira (MPB) an axis of promotion at the service of a cool and metaphysical, modern and mixed Brazilian lifestyle. Some were seduced by the poetic languors of the bossa, some were looking for fun, and others just loved the American hybridization of jazz-bossa, jazz-samba.



What is bossa nova? One of its creators, Joao Gilberto said: "Its style, cadence, everything is samba. At the very start, we didn't call it bossa nova, we sang a little samba made up of a single note - Samba de uma nota so .... The discussion around the origins of bossa nova is therefore useless”. It is nevertheless useful to remember that these magnificent Brazilian songs, which the guitarist describes as samba, were shifted and balanced around improbable chords. "I like things that lean, the in-betweens that limp with grace," said Pierre Barrouh, quoting Jean Cocteau.



With emotion, arrangements for violin and supple guitar licks, bossa nova rapidly changed. A transformation that can be heard in the Tchic, tchic, French Bossa Nova 1963-1974 compilation, the result of a cultural reappropriation, which traveled through the United States and supplemented itself in France.

A musical revolution that has remained significant, bossa nova was born in Rio. From 1956 to 1961, Brazil lived through its golden years. In five years, the country had invented its modernist style. Elected president in 1956, Juscelino Kubitschek de Oliveira, an elegant man with a broad forehead, brandished a promising slogan: "Fifty years of progress in five years". He quickly got to work. Not worried about increasing debt, he launched the project for a new federal capital, Brasilia, designed by the communist architect Oscar Niemeyer. Volkswagen opened state-of-the-art factories and created the “fusquinha”, the Beetle. In Rio, the Vespa made its first appearance. The Arpoador Surf Club crew run into the “girl” from Ipanema, Helô Pinheiro - the tanned garota ("chick"), between a flower and mermaid, who at 17 walked by the Veloso bar, where the fiery author and composer, Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes, were getting drunk on whiskey. From then on, bossa symbolized cool.

In 1958, Joao Gilberto recorded Chega de Saudade, which the directors of Philips denied, calling it "music for fagots". The marketing director, who believed in it, secretly pressed 3000 78-inch vinyls and distributed them at schools around Rio, creating a tidal wave.

American jazzmen then took over. In particular, trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie and guitarist Charlie Byrd. In November 1962, the Brazilian Ministry of Foreign Affairs funded a "Bossa-Nova" concert at Carnegie Hall in New York, inviting the genre’s pioneers. Unprepared, the show soon turned to disaster. But the troupe was invited to the White House by Jackie Kennedy. The first lady loved "the new beat" and in particular Maria Ninguem, a song by Carlos Lyra, later covered by Brigitte Bardot.

In Brazil, the 1964 military coup quickly ended this euphoria. The destructive atmosphere that ensued pushed many Brazilian musicians to leave, if not to exile. Thus, Tom Jobim, Sergio Mendes and Joao Gilberto arrived to the United States. In New York, Joao Gilberto met saxophonist Stan Getz. At the time, he was married to the Bahianese Astrud Weinert Gilberto, who had a German father. She had never sung before, but she knew how to speak English. Getz therefore asked her to replace her husband on The Girl From Ipanema. The Getz/Gilberto record with Tom Jobim on piano, was released in March 1964. Phil Ramone, the "pope of pop" was in charge of sound.

Bossa nova arrived in Paris through the classic “guitar-voice” channel (Pierre Barouh, Baden Powell, Moustaki…) But France loved jazz and Paris had already welcomed its American contributors. All these good people were to pass through Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The cabaret l'Escale became the Mecca of Latin American sound where one could find Pierre Barrouh and his friends, such as the Camara Trio, samba-jazz aces, whose only record was published by the Saravah label. With a band strangely called Les Masques (a band that included Nicole Croisille and Pierre Vassiliu, among others), the Camara Trio recorded an interesting Brazilian Sound, including the track Il faut tenir which is present on this tasty compilation of rarities.

Other enlightened musicians can also be found on the compilation, such as Jean-Pierre Sabar (songwriter for Hardy, Auffray, Leforestier ...) and the French pop rock organist Balthazar. In 1975, Sabar recorded Aurinkoinen Musiikkimatka on a Finnish label, which featured the crazy Vai, Vai, included on this record. We are now following the footsteps of Brazilian electronic musicians such as Sergio Mendes, Eumir Deodato or Marcos Valle who created funk and disco sounds on their keyboards and synthesizers. A style that influenced Véronique Sanson when she wrote Jusqu’à la Tombée de la nuit in 1969 for Isabelle de Funès, the niece of Louis and a great friend of Michel Berger - Sanson did end up singing this track on her 1992 Sans Regret record.


The pinnacle of exoticism and travel, Sylvia Fels’ Corto Maltese includes bongos, sea mist and ocean sounds. The title was taken from Jacky Chalard’s concept album written in 1974, Je suis vivant, mais j’ai peur (I am alive, but I am scared), based on Gilbert Deflez’s science fiction novel.


However, bossa nova extended the scope of popularity. "In the 1970s, I was a fan of Sergio Mendes, Getz / Gilberto. I fell in love with this music that I knew because I had been an orchestral singer, " explained Isabelle Aubret, who in 1971 delivered a composite record of covers by the very funky Jorge Ben, Orfeu Negro, Tom Jobim, Vinicius de Morais and Jean Ferrat. "I recorded this album for Meys Records in Paris, far from Brazil, with wonderful musicians, François Raubert, Roland Vincent, Alain Goraguer...". The latter wrote the arrangements for Casa Forte, a very percussive title borrowed from Edu Lobo, one of the initiators of the bossa who spent time in California. "Jazz and bossa came together and produced very rhythmic music. I love singing, it allows me to dream, to have fun, to feel a high on stage, and these songs brought me joy, made me swing, my singing felt like a dance.”


The world tours of French singers and their desire for the tropics, often brought them to Rio with its hills, forests, caipirinhas and tanned bodies. There are surprises though, like this Iemenja (Iemenja is the goddess of the sea in the Afro-Brazilian candomblé religion). Not unlike the composer and musician Jean-Pierre Lang, based in Sao Paulo, Claire Chevalier taught Brazil to Brazil. In 1970, the singer and painter published a 45-inch vinyl, Mon mari et mes amants (My husband and my lovers), under the improbable pseudonym of Clarinha (little Claire). She was then living in Rio, with her husband, Joël Leibovitz, who founded a band called Azimuth, and who owned a record label specialized in "sambas enredos" songs for samba school parades.


For its B side, she asked Pierre Perret to come up with lyrics for a song composed by Carlos Imperial: "Oh goddess of the sea, o goddess Iemenja, I bring a white rose to adorn your long hair ..." . "Perret came to see us, and we had fun, remembers Joël Leibovitz. We wrote Lemenja for fun, we recorded it at the Havaí studio, behind the Central do Brasil the central station. Erlon Chaves, the arranger who worked with Elis Regina, joined us" adding his share of Afro-Brazilian percussions and funky brass to the mix.

There is a common misunderstanding in Franco-Brazilian history: that bossa, admittedly hedonistic, is perceived as funny, even though the poets who wrote the texts are often philosophizing on the human condition. Its French interpreters pull it towards a carnival inspired universe, far removed from its fundamental essence. Thus, Jean Constantin covered the famous Samba da minha terra, an ode to the art of samba written by the classic Bahian composer Dorival Caymmi, renaming it with the enticing title of Pas tant de tchi tchi pompon: "On your pier there is no tchi tchi / when you arch your back, you know everything is alright ”(lyrics by Gérard Calvi). This expedited bossa aims for the absurd, but retains a certain elegance.

Indeed, Jean Constantin was not an idiot, the rather large man had a huge mustache and liked fantasy, (Les pantoufles à papa, Le pacha, inspired by cha-cha-cha-cha, salsa and jazz) but he was also the lyricist of Mon manège à moi interpreted by Edith Piaf, the composer of Mon Truc en plume by Zizi Jeanmaire and the soundtrack of François Truffaut’s 400 Blows. Le Poulpe, published in 1970, from which this bossa is extract, was arranged by Jean-Claude Vannier, an accomplice of Serge Gainsbourg’s Melody Nelson. In short: "There is enough of samba / By looking at the parasol / Because my poor cabeza / Is going to die in the sun".

Even the American actress Marpessa Down, who was at the heart of the bossa nova revolution with her role as Euridyce in Marcel Camus’ film Orfeu Negro, winner of the 1959 Cannes Palme d'or, fed the clichée with Je voudrais parler au petit cuica - "Tell me how you manage to always make people want to dance / It's true, I must admit that I cannot resist your magic" - in consequence, once can hear the cuica, a little drum inherited from the Bantu.


But bossa nova had many angles. Societal, of course, pushing actresses who were symbols of women's liberation like Brigitte Bardot, Jeanne Moreau, or Sophia Loren to engage in the exercise of accelerated bossa. In February of 1963, Sophia Loren made a record in French in Rome, Je ne t'aime plus, featuring the song De jour en jour, a bossa written by two Italians, Armando Trovajoli and Tino Fornai, which was released a little later by Barclay. Bossa accompanied the 1960s, a decade of moral liberation. Ann Sorel, who interpreted La Poupée des favellas, caused a sensation with L’amour à plusieurs, a provocative song written by Frédéric Bottom and Jean-Claude Vannier. As for the actress Andrea Parisy, she displayed her bourgeois cheekiness in Marcel Carné's Les Tricheurs before interpreting Les mains qui font du bien. And Magalie Noël, the friend of Boris Vian, who sung Johnny fais-moi mal, was hired to sing Une énorme Samba, composed by Alain Goraguer (arranger to Gainsbourg, Bobby Lapointe and Jean Ferrat) with lyrics by Frédéric Botton.

But in the end, of what wood is bossa nova made of? The answer is given by Christianne Legrand, daughter of Raymond the conductor, and sister to Michel the composer: "With me, with jà" - jà means "immediately" in Portuguese. In 1972, the singer, an expert in vocal jazz and a member of the Double Six, published Le Brésil de Christianne Legrand. Two songs included on the Tchic Tchic compilation that demonstrate how bossa, jazz, funk, rock, etc. work like a swiss army knife: the music is used to denounce broken systems, or miracles, HLM et ciné roman, Cent mille poissons dans ton filet, two songs from the O Cafona soundtrack, a successful telenovela broadcast, at the time in black and white, on TV Globo. The first was adapted in French by the fighter and friend of the Legrand tribe, Agnès Varda. The second is content with a play on words, jostling them into a summer fun.



Véronique Mortaigne

180g Heavy double vinyl LP with liner notes by Tyran Grillo. Limited Japanese Obi for the first pressing. Original artwork by Russell Mills and photography by Jean-Baptiste Mondino.

The third Time Capsule is a body of dub reinterpretations by celebrated producer Bill Laswell of Ethiopian singer Gigi. Curated by Tokyo record collector, music researcher and seasoned reissue supervisor Ken Hidaka, it is the first time Illuminated Audio is pressed to vinyl after its CD release in 2003.

Ejigayehu Shibabaw was born in 1974 in Chagni, northwestern Ethiopia and by pursuing a career as a singer, went against her father’s strict, traditional gender roles. As Gigi, she embraced the same musical freedom she had strived for in her personal life, incorporating the Ethiopian church, funk, hip-hop, West and South African music into her work. She first settled in Nairobi, then Addis Ababa, where she quickly established herself as one of the city’s leading singers. A move to San Francisco in 1998 led to a long and fruitful creative partnership with bassist and producer Bill Laswell.

Around the same time, Chris Blackwell had stepped away from Island Records to start the art house film company and label Palm Pictures. He took an interest in Gigi and together with Laswell, pulled together an all-star cast of musicians for her self-titled US debut album, including Herbie Hancock, Pharoah Sanders and Wayne Shorter. It won international critical acclaim, not just for its musicianship but for making Gigi a “defining voice for the Ethiopian expatriate community”, as journalist Tyran Grillo praises in his Time Capsule liner notes. From the nation-defining 1896 victory over Italian invaders to the quiet revolutionaries who wear simple shemma garments, Grillo believes the themes in Gigi make it “a shower of sunlight on her homeland for those ignorant of its struggles.”

After its success, Blackwell encouraged them to go back into the studio to rethink the album and Illuminated Audio was born. “Anyone can make a voice sound worldly”, Grillo remarks, “but rare are those who can make one sound inner-worldly.” Gigi was clear with Laswell to give her vocals a minor role “because it’s already been done.” Instead her Amharic verse is fleeting, exhaling through the textures like ghostly fragments; soaring yet muted. Yet the album is still titled under her name, an assertion by Laswell of her central role in the album’s creation. Not only was it a fully endorsed project by Gigi, but she would be present throughout its development, giving feedback on half-finished ideas as Laswell played them back in the studio. “It works perfectly”, she reflected after the album’s release. “We wanted to capture the whole spirit of each track, and Bill’s remixes create a different music language that really puts you in a pleasant place”.

This new vocabulary takes its lead from a technical approach that Laswell had been perfecting during a furtive creative period at the turn of the millennium. Much like his ambient interpretations of Miles Davis (Panthalassa, 1998), Bob Marley (Dreams of Freedom, 1997), and Carlos Santana (Divine Light, 2001), Laswell approached Illuminated Audio by returning to the original multitrack masters. Gigi wasn’t just reworked, but recomposed into an expansive lattice of instruments, submerged in a watery ambience of dub and trance undercurrents.

Sonically, this new language that Gigi refers to, is manifested by the original album’s more understated parts being pushed to the fore. Explaining his contrasting methods, Laswell saw Gigi as being “put together in a way that fits”. Contrastingly, in Illuminated Audio, “a lot of things that I featured in the remix weren’t as audible in the original.” Instrumentation laying near-dormant, deep in the mix, are brought to the fore: the acid rock guitar and Wayne Shorter’s saxophone on ‘Tew Ante Sew’, Graham Haynes’ flugelhorn on ‘Nafekeñ’, Laswell’s bass on ‘Kahn’, the melodica in Mengedegna or the floating synths and talking drums in ‘Gud Fella’.

Brought to his attention by mentor DJ Nori, Hidaka describes Illuminated Audio as a “masterful sonic exploration into ethereal ambience and dub” and made sure this reissue also contained a full remaster to give its “deep musicality” much better dynamics and density in the overall sound. Hidaka admits that Laswell's music “is sometimes so out-there, it is often misunderstood” and, indeed, to dub album non-believers this might seem like a prolific producer imposing himself on another artist’s work; eternally developing rearrangements that never quite get to its destination. But that’s missing its true power and triumph. This is more than the reissue of a remix, but “a wholly unique musical entity”, as Hidaka describes. Illuminated Audio refers to the illuminated manuscripts that comprise the major part of Ethiopian art and its new compositions stand in proud solitude as a rare body of reworks that both informs and enhances their originals.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.

With Dispersion, Loom & Thread return to the volatile architecture of the expanded piano trio - and quietly fracture it from within.

Daniel Klein (drums), Tobias Fröhlich (double bass) and Tom Schneider (keys, sampler) remain the sole agents on stage and in the final recording. The triangle holds. And yet, the field has expanded. For their second studio album, the trio fed their improvisations with the timbral signatures of guest saxophone and vibraphone players - not just as additional voices to be featured, but also as material to be absorbed, atomized and redistributed. The result is not augmentation but thorough refraction.

Where the debut album explored the recursive labyrinth of Schneider's live sampling of his own piano, Dispersion introduces an external grain into the feedback system. Breath and metal. Reed turbulence and struck resonance. The trio sampled extended improvisations by saxophone and vibes players: Victor Fox, Asger Nissen, Volker Heuken, and L&T's own Daniel Klein; dissected their attacks, overtones and decay curves, and integrated these fragments into the trio's internal circuitry. What emerges is a play of presences without bodies - instrumental ghosts circulating through the dense weave of rhythm and keys.

At first, one might hear the familiar relational tension: Klein's polyrhythmic elasticity interlocking with Fröhlich's tensile double bass figurations, Schneider poised at the hinge between tonal field and percussive impulse. But soon, the surface splinters - again. A vibraphone shimmer appears, yet no mallets are visible. A reed multiphonic surges through the texture, bending space between bass and drums. These events are neither quotations nor overlays; they are redistributed energies, dispersed across the trio's grammar. A digital multidimensional interplay ensues.

If the first album unfolded as a two-tiered game - live phrase and sampled reflection - Dispersion adds a further axis. The sampled materials from other improvisers are stripped of their erstwhile two-way interaction and reconstituted as malleable particles. Signifier detached from origin, resonance detached from gesture. The trio navigates a constantly shifting topology in which acoustic memory and electronic manipulation are indistinguishable.

Crucially, the album never abandons the physical urgency of three musicians reacting in real time. The additional timbral layers do not thicken the texture into opacity; rather, they introduce stark points and arrows of diffraction. Density opens into prismatic clarity. Lines splinter and regroup. What seems like a quartet or quintet collapses back into three bodies negotiating an expanded field.

Dispersion is not about addition but about distribution - of agency, of timbre, of temporal perspective. It is an album in which the trio setting becomes a site of multiplicity without surrendering its immediacy. A dissolution not only of the divide between present experience and memory, but between inside and outside, self and other.

Three musicians. Countless vectors. A music that fractures in order to cohere.

CREDITS:
Tom Schneider: piano & sampler
Tobi Fröhlich: double bass
Daniel Klein: drums & percussion

sample sources:
Victor Fox: tenor saxophone
Asger Nissen: alto saxophone
Volker Heuken: vibes
Daniel Klein: vibes

Recorded by Martin Dressler at Bauer Studios, Ludwigsburg.
Mixed & mastered by Martin Ruch.
Artwork by Viet Hoa Le.

Death Is Not The End collaborate with Uzbek label Maqom Soul to deliver an LP counterpart to last year's mixtape of the same title, compiling specially picked & fully licensed individual belters from the ex-soviet studios of Central Asian republics between 1978 and 1989 - incl. Uzbek, Tajik, Kurdish & Uyghur artists pulling traditional folk motifs together with pop & rock and psych elements.

"These recordings do not form a smooth or coherent history. They feel more like a sequence of discoveries made at different moments and in different circumstances. Songs and instrumental pieces that once lived inside specific contexts radio broadcasts, philharmonic programs, touring routes now sit side by side, revealing hidden connections as well as clear fractures between them.

Nasiba Abdullaeva appears here as a voice from the end of an era. Trained within a conservatory system, she worked inside the format of the Soviet pop song while filling it with melodic logic that did not come from Moscow or Leningrad. Her voice is soft and sustained, shaped by Eastern melisma, and it never functions as decoration. Even in tightly structured songs there is a sense of resistance, an effort to preserve a musical language rooted in Uzbek tradition rather than fully adapted to an all Union standard.

The ensemble Sintez, later renamed Navo, represents a different path. Beginning as a student rock group, the band was gradually absorbed into the official VIA system with all its limitations and compromises. Yet it was precisely within those boundaries that Sintez and Navo developed a recognizable sound. Electric guitars and jazz rock harmonies do not overpower the folk material but remain in tension with it. Their recordings feel like negotiations between what the musicians wanted to play and what they were allowed to perform.

The Tajik ensemble Gulshan reflects an institutional approach carried to a high professional level. Formed under television and radio structures, the group treated folk material almost as a written score. Carefully constructed arrangements, close attention to orchestration, and restrained use of pop techniques define their sound. There is less spontaneity here, but a strong sense of discipline and structure, where national melody becomes part of a carefully controlled sonic framework.

Koma Wetan occupies a very different space. Formed in the 1970s, this Kurdish rock group approached poetry and folklore as tools of cultural assertion. Their psychedelic rock never feels like a stylistic borrowing. Instead it functions as a contemporary vessel for language and themes that might otherwise have remained unheard. Even today these recordings sound fragile and stubborn at the same time.

The Uyghur ensemble Yashlik, closely connected to a musical drama theatre, operated somewhere between stage performance and popular music. Their songs are built on folk melodies but shaped for wide audiences. What emerges is a constant attempt to preserve the recognizability of Uyghur musical identity without freezing it in a folkloric frame. Yashlik's music exists in a state of balance between representation and development.

Digging Central Asia does not attempt to establish hierarchies or offer a single wayof listening. Names and dates matter less than the sound itself. Tape noise, abrupt transitions, and unexpected timbres remain part of the material rather than flaws to be corrected. This music existed at the crossroads of multiple routes geographic, cultural, and ideological. Heard today in a new context, it no longer feels peripheral. Instead it stands as a reminder that the history of popular music is far more fragmented, layered, and polyphonic than it is usually allowed to be."

A guitar stands alone in Wedding, that metropolitan biotope in the western center of Berlin, caught in constant transformation between idyll and abyss. It lets its gaze wander, unsettled, almost shy, until it encounters a trumpet, with which it begins a cautious, then ever more intimate pas de deux.
Welcome to the second studio album by the Berlin-based band Conic Rose.
The album title Wedding is no coincidence. The story of Conic Rose is closely intertwined with the Berlin neighborhood that gives the record its name. The band's studio is located here, and both studio albums were created in the immediate vicinity of the small river Panke. This place settles over the music like a warming patina. The album feels as though the musicians and the neighborhood have invited one another to get to know each other. Not least because Wedding also means marriage. These marriages between a band and an urban landscape, a fading past and an emerging future, fear and hope - unfold in every single song on Wedding.
For their second album, Conic Rose repositioned themselves completely. Not in terms of personnel, but in the question of how to move forward. Conic Rose still sound like Conic Rose; their distinctive blend of cinematic jazz, ambient textures and guitar-led contemporary music remains untouched. And yet Wedding is, in many ways, the conceptual counterpart to their debut album Heller Tag. Where the debut documented movement within an urban setting, Wedding describes a state of being. Behind every piece seems to hover a large question mark.The group opens up its palette, allowing more influences, becoming at once more subtle, more profound, more filigree. It is less about definition than about the spaces in between. The most immediately striking difference from the previous album is the strong presence of the guitar. In Bertram Burkert's playing, many voices seem to converge. His yearning openness forms an equal counterpoint to Döben's trumpet and flugelhorn. Blurred and layered sounds occasionally make the ground seem to slip away beneath one's feet, while Döben's gliding lines create both closeness and distance. Together, the band express in a deeply subtle way a sense of life that corresponds precisely to our time. Something lurks in the background, omnipresent yet still unnameable. Conic Rose need no words to convey this feeling of uncertainty with remarkable eloquence. Perhaps this has something to do with Wedding being a place of confrontational introspection, but Conic Rose confront the escape from escape itself. With the recording and release of Wedding, this process is far from complete. The seed only begins to grow in the listener's ear. With every listen and the echo it leaves behind in memory, the studio bud continues to bloom. The album is merely the point of departure. What ultimately matters is what it sets in motion within those who encounter it.

Concert at Prades-le-Lez marks the origins of the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. In 1974, François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre, Jo Maka, Adolf Winkler and Guem), in the spirit of Don Cherry or Chris McGregor, playfully dismantle all borders and all styles of creative music.

On this first volume, the Intercommunal takes its audience from New Orleans to Brittany and on to North Africa. The journey was bold, without a doubt—and its memory remains unforgettable.

“The music that we make is primarily meant to be listened to live,” warned a leaflet from the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. This is precisely why the (restored!) reissue of the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez, recorded on January 25 and 26, 1974 by François Tusques and his comrades, is such an important event.

In 1971, after recording a series of albums that would leave a lasting mark on French jazz (Free Jazz, of course, with Michel Portal, François Jeanneau, Bernard Vitet, Beb Guérin and Charles Saudrais, but also Le Nouveau Jazz with Barney Wilen, or the solo Piano Dazibao), François Tusques founded the Intercommunal—a grouping whose very name called for the fraternization of the various communities making up the country: Our music will help, we hope, to resolve the contradictions that exist between workers be longing to different communities, by breaking down various forms of national chauvinism, and more particularly the chauvinism of certain French people toward the cultures of Third World countries… Long live the friendship between the peoples of the whole world!

Among the great records made by the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra, the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez come first, before L’Inter Communal, Vol. 4, Le Musichien, and Après la marée noire (four titles already reissued by Souffle Continu). François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre and Jo Maka on saxophones, Adolf Winkler on trombone, and Guem on percussion) performed on January 25 and 26, 1974 at the Moulin de Prades-le-Lez, a few kilometers from Montpellier. It was thus in the southern region of Occitanie that the first echoes of this musical vision of a borderless brotherhood were recorded.

“We’re not among the Colonels,” the Intercommunal reassures us right away, performing a stride piano tune carried by African winds that the audience cannot resist for long. The energy is already striking and it never lets up throughout these two recordings, from start to finish: jazz, blues, traditional music, minimalism, even funk… The musicians of the Intercommunal have heard a lot of great music and now delight in reinventing it by mixing it all together.

“We want the song form to take its place as a weapon in the struggle against capitalist exploitation and all those who oppress us morally and materially,” declared an Intercommunal leaflet, quoting Jean-Baptiste Clément, author of the lyrics to “Le Temps des cerises.” The struggle was therefore serious—but it did not prevent François Tusques and his group from waging it in a festive spirit: each piece on Concert at Prades-le- Lez sends out a call for love and fraternity. Fifty years later, the message remains as relevant as ever—and once again, it is François Tusques who makes it heard.

GALA announce Ten Years of GALA – a compilation marking a decade of independent culture

Ten Years of GALA is both an archive and a horizon: a reflection on where GALA has come from, and a signal of what lies ahead.

Founded in 2016 as a one-day gathering in South London, GALA has grown into a global point of reference for dancers, artists and collectives drawn together by a shared commitment to independence, collaboration and underground music culture. Rather than charting success through scale alone, the festival has consistently prioritised integrity, community and musical curiosity – values that underpin this release.

Spanning fifteen tracks, Ten Years of GALA unfolds as a considered journey. It opens with an intimate spoken contribution from Charlie Dark, grounding the compilation firmly in GALA’s home of Peckham before gradually expanding outward into fuller, club-focused terrain. From there, the record moves between moods and tempos, tracing a path from reflective moments into the physical language of the dancefloor.

The compilation brings together longtime friends of the festival alongside newer voices drawn into its orbit in recent years. Each artist contributes a distinct perspective, but collectively the tracks form a coherent portrait – not of a single sound, but of a shared ethos shaped over ten years of gatherings, collaborations and days spent dancing together.

Rather than a retrospective in the conventional sense, Ten Years of GALA functions as a living document. It captures fragments of past editions, scenes and relationships, while remaining firmly oriented toward the future. These are not museum pieces, but records designed to be played, shared and folded back into the spaces from which they came.

Together, the compilation holds a piece of GALA’s first decade – not as a closed chapter, but as a foundation for what comes next.

The recordings on Volume II were captured in Copenhagen, Denmark on January 18, 2020. Guided as much by human instinct as by musical intention, the ensemble moved through the evening with a shared sensitivity…listening, responding, and trusting the moment as it unfolded. Though Morten McCoy admits to having felt quite ill that evening, nothing in the music suggests restraint. Instead, what remains is a vivid, playful exchange, where McCoy and Johannes Wamberg carry both Part I and Part II as a flowing conversation, speaking through sound rather than words.

Part I begins abruptly, almost throwing the listener back in time to the exact moment the improvisation was born. Jonathan Bremer steps to the forefront, providing a solid, melodic bassline as Kristoffer and Eliel, perfectly in sync, lay down a steady foundation for whichever voice chooses to rise above the rhythm.

This is also one of the few I Am An Instrument recordings to feature two guitarists. Johannes Wamberg leads the way, shaping the harmonic direction, while Steven Jess Borth II adds subtle rhythmic textures through muted palm work, deepening the groove without ever stepping into the foreground.

Part II unfolds with Morten McCoy on his Moog One, delivering a beautiful, expansive solo. Using a carefully chosen patch, the sound pulses through the rhythm, moving with the groove rather than above it, riding the beat like a wave through the ocean.
Shaped by trust, presence, and collective improvisation, Volume II captures a group deeply attuned to one another, allowing intuition and momentum to guide the unfolding form.
——
Volume III was recorded in Copenhagen on March 5, 2020. Little did anyone know that only days later, the world would be placed on pause for years. Captured just before that moment of global stillness, this session carries a heightened sense of presence, a final gathering before silence reshaped everything. Recorded in a space more commonly associated with a club atmosphere, the music draws on a different kind of energy and immediacy. With Eliel Lazo unable to attend, the group invited Victor Dybbroe of Girls In Airports to join on percussion, subtly reshaping the ensemble while preserving its core spirit. Part I opens with Steven Jess Borth II calling out on tenor saxophone, answered by Morten McCoy on Wurlitzer electric piano. The piece gradually unfolds into a meditative groove, patient and expansive, carrying the listener through an eight-minute journey of layered rhythm and restraint.

Part II begins with Jonathan Bremer on stand up bass, slowly joined by the rest of the ensemble as each voice enters with intention. Midway through, an unexpected vocal melody from Borth emerges, drenched in reverb and delay, later reappearing as a melodic line on the tenor saxophone.

Part III is led by Morten McCoy on Wurlitzer electric piano. His signature melodic language sets the direction, guiding the ensemble while leaving ample space for the music to breathe and evolve through collective improvisation. Reprise returns to the closing moments of Part II, its title reflecting its origin. The familiar groove reappears, transformed into a distinctly Jamaican-influenced rhythm, over which Borth delivers a final tenor saxophone solo, bringing the conversation to rest.

Any questions about any of these products feel free to get in touch and we'll help you out!

[a] a1. Part I [Vol.2]
[b] a2. Part II [Vol.2]
[c] a3. Part I [Vol.3]
[d] b1. Part II [Vol.3]
[e] b2. Part III [Vol.3]
[f] b3. Reprise [Vol.3]

“Onomatopeikoa II” follows on from Irazoki's 2017 Gitarra Onomatopeikoa release, and that album's sense of untethered, questing curiosity is not only carried over but expanded upon even further here. Combining a fully committed approach to the guitar with an almost egoless lightness of touch, this album builds upon the already impressively scopious range of Gitarra Onomatopeikoa to dizzying effect.

Irazoki makes full use of an impressively broad palette. Yet nothing feels forced, nothing is for show – there’s just a sense of open-hearted generosity.

In lesser hands such a whirlwind tour of style and form might risk failing to get its hooks in deep enough, yet not only does Irazoki have the imaginative scope to tackle these varying approaches to the instrument, he has the technical chops to pull it off. Each composition seems to have an openness of intent that is utterly disarming; all cards are on the table and nothing is held back, resulting in a creative tour de force that builds, piece by piece, to a unifying cohesiveness that makes the whole far greater than the sum of its parts.

Featuring contributions from long-time OTO favourites Rhodri Davies and Raphael Roginski,

“Onomatopeikoa II” is nevertheless unmistakably a work of singular craft and vision.

FFO: Jeff Parker, Loren Connors, Keiji Haino

Limited edition vinyl of 250 copies

presented by Hegoa with a cover designed by Pablo Mirón.

'Double Seven, released by Trojan in late 1973, was the last album Lee 'Scratch' Perry would release on the label for some considerable time, and it was essentially the final album project he put together before establishing his own Black Ark studio. Opening track 'Kentucky Skank' sets the tone with a slow creeper whose frying sounds underscore its role as a praise song to the Colonel's KFC recipes; the cosmic Moog blips come courtesy of Ken Elliott at Camden's Chalk Farm studio, also prominently featured on U-Roy's double-tracked, stereo-panned gambling ode 'Double Six.' David Isaacs' 'Just Enough' was cut a few years prior, which makes it slightly out of phase with the rest of the set, though the enigmatic 'In The Iaah' sounds mightily fresh, with its uncredited chorus said to come courtesy of the Wailers. Perry's own 'Jungle Lion' has hilarious roars from the maestro at the start, strangely grafted atop a reggae re-make of Al Green's 'Love and Happiness.'

'Overall, Double Seven melds the soul, funk, reggae and dub elements that were constant in Perry's work during this phase. His enhanced audio spectrum and endless reference points would keep his music continually apart from that made by his peers.'
—David Katz (excerpt from the liner notes)

Even in these most turbulent of times, dub musician and fatigued onlooker Elijah Minnelli remains an inexplicable stalwart on the lower rungs of the Breadminster County Council.

His latest record ‘Clams As A Main Meal’ continues his astute siphoning of council funds, this time with help from the Breadminster Board of Abstinence. As a further mark of respect, the original head of the Board, Dr. K'houldoux, graces the cover art in his infamous ‘Looming Moon of Desire’ guise.*

As fine a backdrop as any for Minneli’s off-brand dub experiments, and ‘Clams...’ is the truest representation of his varied wheelhouse yet...

We find vocal appearances from dub goliath Dennis Bovell and Welsh-language singer Carwyn Ellis. A pair of tracks which build on 2024’s acclaimed ‘Perpetual Musket’, a collection of folk songs reworked alongside reggae vocalists, released by FatCat Records. It garnered glowing reviews, with nods from The Guardian and The Quietus concluding with prominent appearances on their respective yearly round-up lists.

Elsewhere, the album finds Minnelli in a more experimental mode, all wheezing contraptions and cockeyed bass, creaking with the weight of creation, a satisfying tactility laid seam-side up.

As well as ‘Perpetual Musket’, the new album follows years of sold out 7" singles, handmade and self-released. Online, the tracks have amassed global streams numbering in the millions. His tracks have found play across an eclectic range of radio mixes and dance floors, most notably the likes of Andrew Weatherall, Batu, Optimo and Zakia Sewell (BBC6Music).

It is perhaps worth mentioning that this everbuilding interest in his work is at great odds with the growing suspicions amongst his fellow townsfolk, who see his Breadminster County Council Music Initiative as nothing more than an empty cash-grab.

Further Reading on the Breadminster Board of Abstinence

In the late 70s, Breadminster was awash with the last vestiges of the hippy era. Though the flared silhouette of the lower leg remained, the utopian ideals that had once flowed merrily around the youth's shaded ankles had begun to wane. LSD and free love had led to a sharp spike in population and a generation of children raised by air-headed psychonauts unprepared for the bleary-eyed strictures of parenthood.

Aware of the crisis, the County Council entrusted Dr. Paulinque K'houldoux to spearhead a pushback, and it was his pro-abstinence movement - a mixture of education initiatives and radical renutrition campaigns - that came to impact Breadminster's census deep into the new millennium.

Being a pseudo-archipelago Breadminster has fundamentally limited resources, however deep-seated ties to distant coastal villages meant that oysters were a regular part of the local diet. K'houldoux pinpointed this as a factor in the town's overpopulation, and believed that simply replacing these with clams (a “lesser mollusk”) would help lower the erotic urges of the people. It was his “anti-aphrodesia” movement that first championed the idea of “Clams As A Main Meal,” and the slogan “Consider Abstinence” carried the message yet further.

The Breadminster Board of Abstinence soon became involved in all cultural happenings in the area, with K'houldoux MCing at prominent festivals and performances, sometimes dressed as the “Looming Moon of Desire” - an idea of his relating to the tide, seafood, menstrual cycles, and his privately held celestial predilections.

It was in 1981 that it was revealed Dr. K'houldoux had never fully qualified as a doctor and was seeking exile in Breadminster due to a series of botched bracelet heists in which he had previously been involved. K'houldoux was subsequently extradited to Basingstoke, where he served 3 of a 12-year sentence, owing to the lunar-oriented prisoner health campaigns he helped implement.

It has been a strange twist of bureaucratic fate that the Breadminster Board of Abstinence has never stopped receiving public funding, despite its lack of clear utility. And while its roots are tied to a rose-tinted past, the Board continues to sponsor cultural events and projects to this day.

An extract from: Eugeniq Schooner's article in Sydney Parishioner: “Clams, Breadminster and Countercultural Abstinence Trends” (2008)

Siren Selector launches its mixtape series with a companion release to Remy Solar’s - ‘Heavy Terrain’ cassette.

“Jamaican music grows in rings like an old tree. From a core of early riddims, the genius of Studio One, versions of original basslines and melodies evolve over time New releases of the same tune follow each other through the 70s, 80s, 90s, into this millennium. Generations of the same family. And then there’s the unreleased versions, the frontier dubs built strictly for sound systems, held close by those who got them and only gradually circulated into the wider audience of selectors and collectors. These are the ones where the bass is heavier, the echoes more mind- bending, the effects wilder and the drums harder. Older sound followers tell stories of how these dubs defined dances, flattened opponents in clashes, inspired a dozen rewinds. Younger followers remember these tales and pass them down. These dubs are folklore.

Who knows how many such versions there are in the vast worldwide archives of Jamaican music? Not me. But as a little taster of a lifetime’s musical journey you can open your ears right now to a few moments: Lacksley’s Castell’s “Unkind”, transported from the sprightly riddim which underpinned it on his Princess Lady album and reengineered into a thunderous version of Ras Michael’s None A Jah Jah Children; “Deceivers” by the Heptones, stripped back into something simultaneously ethereal and bathyspheric; Keith Hudson’s “I’m No Fool” emerging from a pressure cooker of bass and drum; Jah Lloyd’s “Black Moses”, busting down walls with its epic echo and siren opening.

I started collecting these dubs in the late 90s. We were going to Shaka at the Rocket, Aba Shanti in the Arches, then Imperial Gardens. Entebbe somewhere off Mare Street. Iration Steppas in Kingsland Road, Jah Tubby’s in the Rec. We were doing our own parties at the time in east London, Bohemia Place, then Trenz, Dungeons, the old social services office by London Fields. Building up a sound, taking it on the road, crew sitting on the speaker boxes in the back of a Mercedes 508. Under the stars or in warehouses with sweat dripping from the ceiling, lugging crates and amps across fields or up flights of stairs, stringing up boxes under bridges, in car parks or on roundabouts. Waiting for the moment to drop the dubs.

This tape is dedicated to my crew and all the music providers and anyone who also knew or wants to know these moments.“

Fifty Physical Copies - 60 mins - No digital

DJ Ron's forgotten classic 21st Century finally gets the release it deserves, arriving on 12" black vinyl alongside a brand-new Bladerunner remix Originally recorded for DJ Ron's debut album Quintessence back in 1997, Hospital Records proudly welcomes it back into the world in style. The A side carries the original in all its glory. 21st Century is a timeless and futurefacing weapon - analogue at heart, hand-controlled automation and carefully curated sounds take you centre stage, giving it a unique, personal texture and depth that has lost nothing with age. Flip it over and Bladerunner steps in with an equally powerful B side remix, bringing his own vision to a track that was always ahead of its time. Born and bred (and still resident) in Hackney, career-long Rinse/Kool FM DJ, the first jungle/ D&B artist to record an Essential Mix for BBC Radio 1, host of the London Something podcast and more, DJ Ron is a multi-faceted creative and an uncontested foundational figure within jungle and drum & bass. This 12" is long overdue. The first time that DJ Ron's '21st Century,' taken from his unsung debut album, will be available digitally & physically alongside a fresh remix from Bladerunner. One for the heads - this one is all about flying the flag for DJ Ron, one of the foundational figures of jungle and drum & bass.

NOSUCHKEY makes a bold debut on the Art of Memory label with a deadly four track EP of masterfully reduced but stylish and evocative minimal techno. NOSUCHKEY is actually a side project from Nico Purman. He served up the first two releases on the label and this new alias is focused on straight forward techno. Over more than a decade Purman has established himself on Vakant, Crosstown Rebels and Curle, and now heads in an exciting new direction designed to make a huge impact on the floor. Opener 'Stages' is post minimal techno with a focus on mind melting melodic riffs that ripple over the rooted drums. It is sci-fi in style with a hint of Detroit greats like Jeff Mills and really takes you into the future. The excellent 'FMFMFM' is another fluid bit of deep techno that is wired up with languid synths constantly wrapping and warping round the drums. Keeping up the pressure is 'Lunch', with a stripped back but impactful techno style built on rubbery kicks and with modulated synth lines constantly shapeshifting throughout the mix. Direct but dynamic, it is excellently timeless techno that leads on to closer 'ACD RDFN'. There is urgency, paranoia and cyber tension in this one that really keeps you locked as it journeys deep into a blackened yet cinematic cosmic abyss. NOSUCHKEY is a false address, a lack of a word, a character or sign that makes a whole code unable to find its final path: The Specified Key does not exist.

PRESIDENT are an anonymous UK-based collective operating at the intersection of heavy music, electronic experimentation, and cinematic atmosphere. Refusing to conform to the traditional structures of genre or identity, PRESIDENT prioritise intent over image—shifting the spotlight away from individuals and firmly onto the work itself.





Musically, they create a hybrid sound rooted in alternative and post-rock, layered with industrial textures, programmed beats, and dynamic arrangements that lean into tension, release, and emotional weight. Their material moves with precision—considered, deliberate, and always atmospheric. Every element serves the wider vision. Having launched without fanfare and operating without personal profiles or commentary, PRESIDENT has cultivated intrigue through minimalism and control. Their visual and sonic identity is cohesive and considered—every release, image, and post feeds into a tightly held narrative. There is no chaos here. There is no guesswork. Built to exist outside the noise, PRESIDENT are not here to chase attention. They are building something that invites deeper investment—designed to be discovered, not sold. After 3 months of cryptic teasing, anonymous UK-based band PRESIDENT are taking the Rock scene by storm. Post one of the most talked about performances of Download, PRESIDENT unveiled their debut EP, King Of Terrors.

Concert at Prades-le-Lez marks the origins of the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. In 1974, François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre, Jo Maka, Adolf Winkler and Guem), in the spirit of Don Cherry or Chris McGregor, playfully dismantle all borders and all styles of creative music.

On this second volume, the Intercommunal builds unprecedented soundscapes around a song of revolt, a dance tune, or a burst of dissonance. The journey is unforgettable, no question about it. On repeat listening, it even becomes… lunar!

“The music that we make is primarily meant to be listened to live,” warned a leaflet from the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. This is precisely why the (restored!) reissue of the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez, recorded on January 25 and 26, 1974 by François Tusques and his comrades, is such an important event.

In 1971, after recording a series of albums that would leave a lasting mark on French jazz (Free Jazz, of course, with Michel Portal, François Jeanneau, Bernard Vitet, Beb Guérin and Charles Saudrais, but also Le Nouveau Jazz with Barney Wilen, or the solo Piano Dazibao), François Tusques founded the Intercommunal—a grouping whose very name called for the fraternization of the various communities making up the country: Our music will help, we hope, to resolve the contradictions that exist between workers be longing to different communities, by breaking down various forms of national chauvinism, and more particularly the chauvinism of certain French people toward the cultures of Third World countries… Long live the friendship between the peoples of the whole world!

Among the great records made by the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra, the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez come first, before L’Inter Communal, Vol. 4, Le Musichien, and Après la marée noire (four titles already reissued by Souffle Continu). François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre and Jo Maka on saxophones, Adolf Winkler on trombone, and Guem on percussion) performed on January 25 and 26, 1974 at the Moulin de Prades-le-Lez, a few kilometers from Montpellier. It was thus in the southern region of Occitanie that the first echoes of this musical vision of a borderless brotherhood were recorded.

“We’re not among the Colonels,” the Intercommunal reassures us right away, performing a stride piano tune carried by African winds that the audience cannot resist for long. The energy is already striking and it never lets up throughout these two recordings, from start to finish: jazz, blues, traditional music, minimalism, even funk… The musicians of the Intercommunal have heard a lot of great music and now delight in reinventing it by mixing it all together.

“We want the song form to take its place as a weapon in the struggle against capitalist exploitation and all those who oppress us morally and materially,” declared an Intercommunal leaflet, quoting Jean-Baptiste Clément, author of the lyrics to “Le Temps des cerises.” The struggle was therefore serious—but it did not prevent François Tusques and his group from waging it in a festive spirit: each piece on Concert at Prades-le- Lez sends out a call for love and fraternity. Fifty years later, the message remains as relevant as ever—and once again, it is François Tusques who makes it heard.

Formed in 1992, Boris boldly explores their own vision of heavy music, where words like "explosive" and "thunderous" barely do justice. Using overpowering soundscapes embellished with copious amounts of lighting and billow smoke, Boris has shared with audiences across the planet an experience for all five senses in their concerts, earning legions of zealous fans along the way. This is the first-ever and particularly-anticipated official vinyl release of Boris's essential 2000 album, Flood. The album was originally released in Japan, only on CD. Delivered in four equally important movements, Flood is simultaneously delicate, dense, undulating, devastating, emancipating, hypnotic and triumphant. Each season of the album has its own sense of place, best revealed listen-by-listen. With the album, Boris broaden their vision of musical possibility, with a notable and imaginative influence from visionary American minimalist Steve Reich, weaving in prog, drone and slowcore into a multifaceted symphony. There simply has never been another piece of music like Flood.