Suche:j nat

Evelyn spreads her wings and prepares to fly. This is her first offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, 'Tremors' slams together a plethora of seemingly disparate rhythms, organic percussion, field samples, hypnotic chants and a relentless low end punch, that when in full-swing, works some seriously deep sorcery. Contrasting her pounding kick and rolling sub combo are a softer grouping of melodies, soft mallets and muted tones that lay subtly beneath the aggression, skillfully playing with a sense of spatial depth and room size. Its the kind of track that draws you in with meditative bars, concentric cycles that sit ever so slightly off-axis, inducing the mind and body to obsess and regulating its timing, and then drops you into a very intentionally arranged soundstage giving expansive space to explore. On the flip, 'Pregunta' continues this approach of natural versus industrial instrumentation. The consistent machine kick has a powerful but playful tone, the negative space between each stroke evoking a mighty gesture as its note bends in the decay. Set in 3/4, a community of live percussion successively adds and subtracts, each player’s imperfect attack accumulating into a mechanically smeared and addictive loop that toys with peaks a handful of times yet restrains any unnecessary climax for the betterment of a driving groove. Near the end, as the kick and various players mute and the base of the track is given a moment to breathe, its apparent just how layered the production was in the moments prior, as we’re suddenly at home, smitten with the wobbly and lopsided innocence of the foundational percussion. These two songs will push you headfirst into the light.

As it celebrates its 50th anniversary, Bill Withers' Still Bill remains true to its title – and stands as the greatest male-fronted soul album not made by a singer named Marvin, Al, Sam, James, or Ray. Though the saying "keeping it real" did not exist in popular parlance when Withers released his sophomore effort on Sussex Records, no words better capture the music's approach, mindset, and value. Every facet of Still Bill radiates honesty, truth, and emotion.

These characteristics – along with Withers' strong singing, hybrid arrangements, and deceptively simple songwriting – have allowed the album to endure to the point where it sounds as fresh today as in 1972.

After rising into the Top 5 of the Billboard Album charts and attaining gold status within a year of release, Still Bill has long been evaluated not by sales – but according to its merit, spirit, and agelessness. Included by The Guardian on its "1,000 Albums to Hear Before You Die" list (2007) as well as in Tom Moon's 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die book (2008), its contemporary standing as one of history's most venerated soul efforts eclipses the positive reception it enjoyed in the early ‘70s.

Still Bill walks the same hallowed ground as What's Going On, Call Me, Night Beat, and Genius + Soul = Jazz. Like those landmarks, Still Bill plays with a mix of consistency, effortlessness, and complexity that rewards repeat listening and transcends categorization.

In combining four of the era's predominant styles – Philly soul, sweaty funk, Southern-reared blues, acoustic-based folk – and melding them with standout production borrowed from both minimalist affairs and sophisticated singer-songwriter albums, Still Bill occupies a distinct universe.

Its rhythmic fare is equally laidback and invigorating; relaxing and rollicking; eloquent and muscular; soft and tough. Withers' calm, self-assured voice hovers above it all, doubling as a warm blanket that adds comfort and grace to lyrics steeped in maturity, perspective, and compassion.

Withers' balanced outlook on human desires, needs, and situations stem from his own existence as a former blue-collar employee who believed his time as a musician would soon end. That grounding forever separates Withers from other contemporary soul greats – and stamps Still Bill with a conversational nature and egoless approachability.

"I mean look, I'm really a factory worker," said Withers in 1972. "That's a real job." There's that word again: real. The songs on Still Bill are tethered to modesty and actuality, wedded to a belief in simplicity, and connected to universal truths that link us all – independent of our economic or social standing. No track better exemplifies those principles than "Lean on Me," a feel-good paean to brotherhood and community that hit No. 1 on the pop and R&B charts en route to becoming a mainstream staple.

Withers approaches the plainspoken insight on "Lonely Town, Lonely Street" and heartbreaking vulnerability of "I Don't Want You on My Mind" with similar sincerity and straightforwardness. His proclivity for authenticity extends to the record's other big hit: the sexual, funk-laden "Use Me," which reached No. 2 and reflects the singer's everyman persona. It's an identity couched in keeping it real, the very inclination that ultimately led Withers to retire in the mid-'80s rather than bend to industry pressures or risk credibility.

That commitment to truthfulness and realism helps make Still Bill feel as unaffected as the air we breathe. Looking back on "Lean on Me" years later, Withers said it seemed like "something that was there before I got here" – the kind of song that could be 100 or 10 years old, or one we encounter anew 10 years into the future. The same can be said for every note on Still Bill.

Two mavericks, out on the weekend, trying to make it pay...

"Maverick was the word that came to mind when I listened to this music. A slightly wayward independence of spirit and outlook. The word originally referred to an unbranded male calf that had become separated from the herd (because Texan rancher Sam Maverick was so negligent in his branding - ‘if it ain’t branded, it’s a Maverick’). But Sam’s grandson Maury Maverick gave it a different twist in his short but stormy Congressional career as the only liberal member of the Southern Democratic caucus. Maury was so out of step with his own folks that he not only voted in 1937 to make lynching a federal crime, he even addressed the House to condemn the practice as barbaric. His attempt to ban racist mob murder sadly failed, but it’s that refusal to march in step which distinguishes the two ‘mavericks’ who made this record.

Who would attempt to combine cunning ethnological forgery, Scottish folk songs, claw-hammer guitar, untutored horn-tootling, elastically relaxed drumming and garage electronic fuckery? Only Greg and Stefan, high on sea, sunshine and mis-judged micro-dosing – that’s who. ‘Don’t drown’ was offered as practical advice during the self-described ‘Yellow Submarine’ phase of making this record. And while they managed to avoid literally doing so (phew), they sound here like they got pretty ‘deep in’ to an Octopus’s sound world all their own. This surprisingly clear analogue recording has just enough Bikini Bottom grit to ensure traction. The tunes are inviting, and the sonic disruptions are too good-natured and goofy to upset even the most delicate digestion.

The sessions have had a couple of years to marinate, courtesy of some pandemic, and are here offered in that most Archducal of vinyl formats, the double ten inch. What are you waiting for, a side of Crabby Patties? Get your water-wings and dive in (unless you’re tripping)!" - Bruce Russell (The Dead C)


Pumice is the long-running, endlessly inventive project of New Zealand native Stefan Neville (1974), whose shambolic music is equally reminiscent of Kiwi pop groups such as The Clean and Tall Dwarfs as well as the country's experimental noise-rock bands like the Dead C. Largely recorded solo by himself on junky equipment, his songs typically feature blown-out guitars, wheezing chord organs, and vocals disguised by tape hiss and static.

Greg Malcolm (1965) is a guitarist from New Zealand who has played everywhere on the globe and with all most everyone, including Rosy Parlane, Toshimaru Nakamura, Tetuzi Akiyama and Bruce Russell, as well as solo releases on his own label, Corpus Hermeticum, Kraak and Celebrate Psi Phenomenon.

Intergenerational trio Dry Speed is one of the best-kept secrets of the Belgian free jazz and improvisation scene. Formed in the early 2000’s, trumpet player Joachim Devillé and saxophonist Thomas Olbrechts were in their twenties at that time, while drummer – their teacher at the art school in Brussels - Dirk Wauters was already in his fifties. Logically, twenty years later the first one are in their forties and the third one in his seventies. They only released a couple of CDs before “Indium” but never stopped to play, for themselves and for audiences, in concerts.

'Too often we describe music using classifications; genres like “jazz,” “experimental,” “avant- garde” are an easy shorthand to relay the rough parameters of the music to another person who may not have heard it. But these words are useful because they’re so vague, and they are most often used when the impression the music makes is equally vague. But when a group makes sounds that move the listener, these terms don’t hold up.

Dry Speed has released a record that is, at turns, futuristic and organic. It feels alien and new, like plastic or titanium, but at the same time as if it is shrouded in the natural, growing like moss or amplifying the sound of a great tree’s roots. ‘Indium’ gives the listener multiple entry points into the trio’s music: from a broad soundscape to a densely knitted series of minute and exacting musical gestures.'
- Nate Wooley

"We find ourselves venturing into the depths of a rugged terrain. In our hands, we hold stones and minerals, each possessing its own distinct texture, weight, and sonic potential. It is through the artistic touch and through the musical instruments that these earthly treasures, once dormant, are awaken to life." — Sara Oswald + Feldermelder

The 3rd collaboration of prolific cellist Sara Oswald and electronic musician Feldermelder evokes captivating sensations that oscillate between impending doom and hope. The albums' sonic journey is highly immersive, transporting the listener from one cerebral landscape to another. The transformative nature of metallic elements being integrated in sustained orchestral tones weaves the sonic tapestry, resulting in a captivating experience for the listeners. The organic sounding — reminiscent of minerals' timbres — brings a touch of brightness and a distinctive edge, while the orchestral harmonic structures lend a sense of grandeur and continuity. The origins of this music remain enigmatic, while the tracks of the album gradually unveil concealed aspects and the hidden truth.
One can step into a realm where melodies are reborn, as Sara Oswald's cello spins tales and emotions burst forth. Nature's eternal splendor intertwines with the essence of music, as she infuses harmonies with the soul of mountains. Vibrant hues come alive with delicate strokes, and cascading notes resonate with a select few. Feldermelder conjures profound echoes that swirl like ancient whispers of the earth's primordial past. He sculpts textures, from fragmented glitches to expansive atmospheres, that warp the fabric of reality. The two musicians merge together harmoniously, blending the acoustic and electronic worlds into a transcendent unity. This fusion of contrasting elements adds a unique and intriguing quality to the music. The cello's warmth merges with pulsating electronic beats, creating a symphony of contrasts and sonic upheaval. Each composition is woven in intricate layers, combining electroacoustic architecture with delicate precision. A subtle balance of chaos and control permeates the music as it meanders through the labyrinth of the mind. The soundscape unfolds like a grand tapestry, distant echoes murmuring like grains of sand.

Trained in baroque cello and advocating improvised music, Sara Oswald is the perfect match for sound artist and electronic musician Feldermelder. She plays solo, composes for film and theatre and collaborates with musicians like The Young Gods, Pascal Auberson, Sophie Hunger and Julian Sartorius. Feldermelder is a polymathic creative whose artistry spans composition, sound design, installation and code. He is co-founders of -OUS and part of Encor.studio, a collective of artists who specialise in creating immersive audio-visual installations. Through his work, he explores the idea of secrecy and its impact on our lives, using music and sound to create a thought-provoking and immersive experience for his audience.

The life of the solo electronic artist is equal parts privilege and loneliness. You hurtle across the sky to spend a few hours in a dark club, behind the decks or on stage at the microphone. A brief grasp at transcendence, then the lights are on. Afterwards, you chat with friends you made last month, last year, or an hour ago. Back on the train, the plane. A couple weeks of this, then home. Repeat. It was against this backdrop that Ana Roxanne and DJ Python (Brian Piñeyro) struck up a singular friendship and collaboration, culminating in the shared musical language of their new project, Natural Wonder Beauty Concept. Brian and Ana met in New York City in the winter of 2020. They’d respectively put out critically acclaimed albums but due to extenuating global circumstances, the real-world implications of those records were yet to be seen. Ana’s debut LP, Because of a Flower, released in fall 2020, trades in both ethereality and directness, stretching timeless pop and R&B forms into shimmering ambient magic. When the Bay Area-born, Mills-trained artist sings, on record or live, time slows down and we enter a languorous yet ecstatic present. The second album from Queens-based deep reggaeton innovator DJ Python, Mas Amable, also subverts easy temporality. Released in spring 2020, Mas Amable floats in liminal space—not quite a dance record, a downtempo record, nor an ambient record—unfurling at a wistful pace, naturally suited for a strange period when each day felt the same yet wildly different.

Martinesque started his nighttime adventures with tasteful house records towards the tail end of the nineties. Inspired by the deep explorations of Chicago and New York stalwarts, he’s found pleasure in playing out low-slung grooves and stripped-back entries from all corners of electronic music. Since, the Basel native has honed his craft in clubs around the country and beyond. Methodically stitching together records from his vaults, Martinesque escalates from meditative rhythm workouts to subdued dancefloor drama in a controlled fashion.

He’s developed his artistic vision through residencies in some of Switzerland’s most cherished spaces, but nowadays found his spot as Elysia’s head of bookings, where he’s since showcased a full-spectrum analysis of contemporary dance music.

His most recent endeavour is Adam’s Bite, a cross-disciplinary cooperation zoning in on oblique music and visual arts, further cementing his position as a driving figure in a thriving scene.

Janaka Stucky is a poet, performer, and author of two poetry collections published by Third Man Books & Records. Janaka’s poems are at once incantatory, mystic, and epigrammatic.

His esoteric & occult influences, combined with a mesmeric approach to performance, create an almost ecstatic presence on stage. Of his live shows, VICE writes, “Janaka Stucky performs poetry readings like he's part fire-and-brimstone preacher, part doom-metal frontman … For him, lighting incense, dropping acid, and creating some of the most ecstatic lines of verse you’ve ever read is just another day at the office.”

Praised by Jimmy Page as “riveting,” Janaka Stucky’s book length poem, Ascend Ascend, published by Jack White’s Third Man Books in 2019, gets a mesmerizing treatment on this album by the same name, accompanied by experimental cellist Lori Goldston. Goldston, known for her work with a number of acts—including Nirvana, Cat Power, and Earth—provides otherworldly layers of distortion and natural reverb over Stucky’s dirge-like vocal performance.
Recorded at the All Pilgrims Church in Seattle while Stucky was on a 7-city tour produced by Atlas Obscura in 2019, the performance is served well by the room’s ambiance and was recorded, mixed, and mastered by Mell Dettmer—who has engineered albums for acts such as Earth, Sunn O))), Master Musicians of Bukkake, and Wolves in the Throne Room.

Aptly named, Tranquilizer is a potent, six track EP from Brazilian producer Felix. As part of Piratao Records; a label that merges everything from baile funk, to electro and techno, Mutual Pleasure is a fitting home for the electric nature of Felix’s sound; something that is fully exercised in this EP.

Tranquilizer is a mind-expanding selection of dynamic tracks. Unrelenting, with a deeply contagious energy that acts as the engine to this project. It is entirely soaked with acid, and layered with a plethora of squelching basslines, manipulated Brazilian Vocals and trance-infused synths and melodies.

Felix coordinates a masterful blend of dark, gruelling tones, with funk-fuelled flavours of his native Brazil: an electrifying and devastating marriage that sets this Ep in motion. While tracks like Alpha Helix bring forward a more trance-ladened side to his sound, the devious breakbeat and infectious vocals of Ta Pegando Fogo bring a cutting edge to his undefinable sound.

Within this searing melting pot of genres and influences, Felix traverses from dark dubstep, to four-to-the-floor techno, and everywhere in between. It is a suitably devilish project, and a statement of his ever-evolving musical personality.