Buscar:j may

Angelo is an LP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist/singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy’s father and both of Stuart’s parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the

Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo’s sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, “to get us out of our grief and into our bodies,” says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal — a resourceful, collective answer to “what happens now?”

Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. “Such a bro-y, ‘80s dude car, it’s been super fun to drive around in a new town,” Murphy says. “He’s older than us, he’s a classic, he’s got a story.” It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, “Which Way To The Club.” The question is quickly resolved by “Take A Trip” as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip — the kind of

imagined space or chamber within one’s self capable of “shifting a fraction of who you are,” says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be “as free as we could be,” adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: ”What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room.”

Next is “Shy Guy,” a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: “We are in junior high, we’re on the dance floor, what’s going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?” The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. “Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too,” Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one — something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, “It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission.”

“Angelo” and “Ooo La La” deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean’s catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo’s dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude “Colors” drifting into “Where Do We Go?”, a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space.

It all culminates in “Caldwell’s Way,” a fond farewell to their Bay Area community — “a part of my life that I knew couldn’t come back,” says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There’s the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: “I’d rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars.” And the song’s namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. “I’m only miles away, maybe I’m just feeling lonely,” the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and “Nostalgia” runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

A lost MPB gem from rural Finland! We Jazz presents the first ever reissue of this rare 1990 local release by Brazilian duo Rosanna & Zelia. 7" EP with inside out 3mm spine sleeve. RIYL: Gilberto Gil, Joyce, Musica Popular Brasileira, bossa nova, bossa jazz

Liner notes by Mikko Mattlar:

"Rosanna & Zélia were a Brazilian duo of singers and musicians Rosanna Guimarães Tavares and Zélia Nogueira da Fonseca. They moved from Minas Gerais, Brazil to Europe in 1988, released five albums in Germany between 1993–2004 and featured vocals on an Ian Pooley house track Coração Tambor before Rosanna died of cancer in 2006. Zélia still continues her career in Germany, touring actively and releasing new music.

The duo's journey from Brazil to Germany also included two brief visits to Finland. In the years 1989–1990, they spent time in the small town of Seinäjoki in Ostrobothnia. Rosanna & Zélia performed Brazilian music in Finnish clubs and festivals and recorded a 7" EP for local label Maumau Music. The record was distributed mostly in the Seinäjoki area, but the three songs are well-performed and authentic Brazilian MPB, so the largely unknown record now gets its first reissue for a wider audience on We Jazz Records.

But how did two Brazilian women find their way to a small Finnish town to record an EP? The main reason for this was music journalist and promoter Risto Vuorinen, who was on a holiday in Albufeira, Portugal, where a friend of his lived. The streets were almost empty that evening, but Vuorinen and his friend heard fine guitar playing and singing from a bar. There were Rosanna and Zélia performing on a small stage, and the two Finnish men happened to be the only customers. When the artists ended their performance, Vuorinen's friend, who spoke Portuguese, went to talk to them. Rosanna and Zélia told him they had recently come from Brazil and are trying to gain ground in Europe with their music.

Because Rosanna and Zélia didn't know where they would head next, and because Vuorinen liked their music, he thought of bringing the duo to his hometown, Seinäjoki. They immediately liked the idea, and in the autumn of 1989 they arrived in Finland. The national Finnish jazz festival was held in Seinäjoki, and Vuorinen thought Rosanna & Zélia's Brazilian music would fit right in. They performed at the festival and in November 1989, also made recordings in a local studio with backing musicians from Seinäjoki.

Music enthusiast Pertti Hakala had a record shop and label Maumau Music in Seinäjoki releasing music from local artists. He released a three-track EP from the sessions. with two tracks written by Rosanna & Zelia themselves and their cover version of Extra (Brazilian Reggae), written and originally performed by Gilberto Gil in 1983. A small pressing was made for the Finnish market, and Hakala also sent a box of records to Brazil, but for some reason it was sent back.

After their first visit to Finland, Rosanna & Zélia headed back to central Europe, but Vuorinen decided to organize more performances for them for the next summer. Maybe he also wanted to show them the beautiful Finnish summer, as Rosanna and Zélia had so far seen the country only during the darkest autumn. The duo came back to Finland for the summer of 1990 and performed at the Womad world music festival organized as a part of local Provinssirock. They also played in Nummirock and Puistoblues, both respected music festivals, and performed on TV in Helsinki.

Rosanna and Zélia lived in a small apartment in Seinäjoki and played two to three gigs per week all summer. Because there were only two of them, even small pubs could afford to book them, and in 1990 the economic situation in Finland was good. It was before a major economic depression hit the country. The duo travelled by bus or train, and because they were an acoustic duo, they could easily carry their instruments in public transport. Vuorinen got excellent feedback from organizers. Rosanna and Zélia were good performers, but also really nice people.

With the income from their summer gigs, Rosanna and Zélia could buy a PA mixer and other musical equipment. When the summer 1990 turned to autumn, they continued their journey from Seinäjoki to Germany where they settled down."

One of the greatest soul voices working in the US today, Billy Valentine's latest release, first plotted out in the summer of 2020, sees the artist responding to the chaos of a global pandemic and the seismic impact of George Floyd's murder via legendary works from Curtis Mayfield, Gil Scot Heron and Pharaoh Sanders. In collaboration with acclaimed producer and songwriter, Bob Thiele Jr. (son of Flying Dutchman founder, Bob Thiele), Valentine's rich, velvety vocals breathe new life into these already-powerful tracks, bringing them into the contemporary political context with renewed urgency. Released on Acid Jazz in partnership with renowned US label Flying Dutchman, Valentine's latest output marks the first new music from the label since the '70s - a momentous return for a keystone tastemaker of the American jazz world.

ENARCHY is the debut album by Leipzig-based producer and singer Maria die Ruhe. It is the result of a deep and thorough look the
artist took into both her own inner workings and the world around her. In 14 tracks, she explores different types of energy,
oscillating between head and heart. Final destination of this sometimes painful process of self- exploration is the embodiment of
her own power and creativity; the realization, that she manifests her role as catalyst, healer, and fighter for freedom and equality
by reporting on her experiences. These songs are about nothing less than that. And you can also dance to them.
In a musical sense, Maria surpasses herself compared to previous releases. She is bolder, more explorative and dissolves genre
boundaries. Acoustic instruments like the cello and the piano unite playfully with electronic beats. Her expressive voice speaks and
sings from the lowest lows to the loftiest heights. Her self-disclosing lyrics communicate the deepest messages of the soul. One can
tell right away: something is at stake here, this is about a real human living through something real, and now reporting from the
front lines of the human experience.
With lines like „Things are changing all the fucking time“ (ENARCHY) she posts a reminder for the current zeitgeist and the resulting
global uncertainty. „Some things need to be destroyed before they can heal“ is a demand for openness towards change, even if it is
challenging, requires energy, and leaves behind some scars.
In ART IS THE ONLY REAL TRANSLATION OF LIVING FOR ME, Maria uses sentences like „I’ve been trying to please you, I got headaches
and I still don’t fit“ to express her desperation with existing structures of injustice and the lack of livability of the artist lifestyle.
„Ah, you’re an artist - and what do you do professionally?“ Everyone loves music and art! When, o when, will the understanding
follow that there need to be people who make this art as a central part of their lives?
Frustration takes turns with hope and a growing acceptance of the self. In EQUALISTA, Maria discusses antiquated conditions like the
inequality between the sexes in a kind of manifesto, with a simple proposal for solution: „Let’s both be selfish and raise our
energies, to create a whole world with all the things we need.“
In WE BELONG TO NEVER, Maria sings about the everyday horror of toxic relationships. Lines like „Disengagement and rage, I’ve become such a slave.“ express the despair of the emptiness that results from a lack of affection. She also describes treacherous
narcissistic manipulation: „You cut me small just to feel tall.“
In SKIN, she confesses: „I’m not as enough as everyone else.“ and describes the long and painful way from rejecting her own body
to loving herself unconditionally. „I hate what I feel, while I pretend to be free“ means she doesn’t want to be reduced down to
her body, doesn’t want to be seen as an instagrammable, thoroughly designed product; she wants to be acknowledged as an
individual.
In LOST, she poses a question that many are currently forced to ask themselves: „What do we do with all this solitude?“ Maybe
making use of the reclusion by exploring the shadow self. „Can you cope with the truth?“
The conclusion: energy is being freed up through the means of self-experience and living through the personal darkness -
ENARCHY. The realization: every human being is self-determined and should simply do what they feel. It is everyone’s right to
choose their own life’s path. Here, intuition serves as a signpost. This is both feminine and strong.
ENARCHY celebrates an embodied anarchy by working through the personal shadow and the genuine, healthy integration of the
struggle survived - not as a destructive rebellion, but as a testament of shameless, joyful self-empowerment.
„In the end, I want to be alive, because in reality, I’m free.“

Nous'klaer audio presents Oceanic's debut album Choral Feeling. A rhythmically diverse electronic album full of sonic explorations and beautiful moments, all bound together by a sense of colour. The album touches on the core of what music can be for: a sense of togetherness, finding meaning in moments, a way to cope with loss and soundtracking dreams about a different future. The music on this album reflects that in the most personal way. Each track consists almost entirely of his friends' voices, recorded and transformed into the sounds you'll hear. No, you can But how Just think of anything How can it just be anything Why does it need to be more Because they're afraid of it. They're not afraid of the words Then what are they afraid of The power behind the words How can words have power If you say something, only you, maybe I can hear it. Perhaps someone sitting over near that tree can hear it too. If we say it together, maybe we can reach past that tree and reach that rock. But if us and a million others say them same thing, all at the same time. Then every tree and every rock everywhere will hear us. Trees and rocks don't have ears. No they don't but they do. Why don't they just cover their ears Because then they need to do that every time we use our voice. And use them we did and use them again we shall. They got tired of covering their ears, so they decided to cover our mouths. Won't they hear us now? We're safe here. For how long will we be safe? For now. Perhaps until later. Just try. Read the words like I've written, but do so like the birds in the trees. You are my sunshine A little louder You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy When skies are grey You'll never know dear How much I love you Please don't take my sunshine away Beautiful. Shall we go teach the others When will we have enough to free ourselves We'll always have more than they do. We only need to not forget I'll never forget Sing it again. Artwork by Bob Verhoeven. Text by Gregory Markus.

Franco Esse is the moniker of Francesco Semproni, who in the late 60s began working as a music and recording assistant in major recording studios in Rome, Italy. He started out at Dirmaphone (then located in Via Pola) under sound engineer Gianni Fornari, before following him to the Emmequattro studios in Viale Mazzini, which at the time were the headquarters of Edipan, the record label founded by composer and conductor Bruno Nicolai after parting ways with friend and fellow composer Ennio Morricone.

Semproni tried to become a singer-songwriter in the early 80s, when he recorded a number of demos with the session musicians who gravitated around the studios. None of these demos was ever released though, for reasons that are still unclear today – his thorny and stubborn personality may have been a factor, since it apparently made him reluctant to compromise with the major record labels of the time.

The unsuccessful efforts to launch his solo artist career led to a personal crisis, and Franco Esse eventually quit music to go to work as a sales assistant in a toyshop in Rome's Prati neighbourhood.

Today he seems to have vanished without a trace, but after extensive research, we managed to dig some of his demos out of an abandoned archive and miraculously bring back to life two semi-instrumental tracks he recorded in 1983.

Both of them reveal Franco Esse as a refined musician with a reserved personality, an almost minimalist approach to lyric-writing, and a strongly cinematic synth-pop style that is in line with the musical trends of the time and gives a nod to the soundtracks of Fabio Liberatori, falling somewhere in between slow-wave and new-romantic.

These two ballads would have been the perfect soundtrack to cold winter nights in the early 80s, with snowflakes floating down on ski slopes, people clad in puffy down jackets, and music pouring into headphones from walkmans kept in back jean pockets.

18 track compilation of cult '80s French rock band Les Calamités,
includes their biggest hit "Vélomoteur" and tracks with the bands the
Dogs and The Barracudas Available as a digipak CD with 36-page booklet and vinyl with 8 page booklet and download code, with liner notes in French and English. Wouldn't it do them justice to rid Les Calamités (literally "the calamities") of the embarrassing phrase "girl band", durably stuck to their skins and plaited skirts? It's nothing but a pink puffy cloud obscuring their true importance as a "band" full stop, as well as their fleeting though mind-bending trajectory. In just a few months after going on stage with a handful of original songs recorded here and there, they became, from Dijon to Rouen, Paris to Toulouse, Bordeaux to Strasbourg, the darlings of an uncompromising rockers' demanding scene. Tolerated by some, maybe, they were also consecrated, certainly (should they have needed the accolade). The trade-off was a succession of quick and distinctive verse-choruses for which the adjectives "fresh" and "light" seemed to have been invented again.

They delivered just as many covers, which gave an idea of the origins of their songwriting: one foot in the fifties (on the dancefloor), the other in the sixties (in the garage). All of this leading to their final hit, a successful incursion in the top sales with a popular song for everyone to hum at ease, from seaside campsites to the cool kids of the capital.
Everything the Calamités touched, with their classy, rigorous, casual ways - plus just enough amused detachment - turned into gold.