Cerca:janus

7 Inch Vinyl in Picture Sleeve

Jazz legend Grady Tate steps into silky soul territory on this essential two-sider. Both tracks — long sought-after by collectors and selling for over £300. The tracks showcase Tate’s smooth vocals and tight production, blending jazz sophistication with soul warmth. The A Side is a hyper rare version of Jon Lucien’s Lady Love, where the B Side is his version of Van Morrison’s Moondance - essential soul. Remastered and Redesigned labels and sleeve.

Best known as one half of KIASMOS alongside Ólafur Arnalds, the Faroe Islands born, Reykjavik based producer Janus Rasmussen has consistently refined an elegant sound that marries sonic precision with emotional depth. Over the past decade, he has built a wide-ranging body of work through collaborations across multiple genres as a producer, songwriter, musician, and mix engineer.

As a solo artist, Janus has crafted compositions that balance immersive sound design, subtle melodic shifts and rhythmic drive, drawing on his diverse musical appreciation and studio experimentation. These experiences have shaped a creative identity that now comes into sharp focus on his most ambitious solo project to date - Inert.

The album marks a bold step forward, thematically exploring the act of breaking free from inertia through embracing creative freedom. With his new work, Janus incorporates his own vocals more than ever, weaving them seamlessly around intricate electronics as he expands his sound into new territory, while retaining the subtle restraint that has defined his output. Drawing inspiration from the dance music spectrum, Inert reflects a renewed sense of momentum, vulnerability and adventurousness in his sound.

Returning to Iceland to focus on fresh material, Kiasmos will release new EP 'Blurred' through Erased Tapes on October 6th.
Janus Rasmussen explains: "To write new material felt like a new beginning for us after two years of touring. The plan was to write something a tad darker than our previous stuff. Spring in Reykjavík had other plans though, as this turned out to be our brightest release to date." Remixes on the EP come from Bonobo and Stimming, each taking Kiasmos' music in fresh directions

Limited 12" vinyl only release. Run of 500. 140g black vinyl. No repress, no digital.

Janus wurde 1971 in Krefeld, Deutschland, gegründet. Fünf englische Jungs, die dort lebten und arbeiteten. Das Debütalbum "Gravedigger" wurde in den EMI-Studios in Köln aufgenommen und auf dem inzwischen aufgelösten Harvest-Label veröffentlicht. 2013 hat EMI das Album als Doppel-CD mit Remixen und Bonustracks wiederveröffentlicht und die Band hat ihren einzigen Videoclip zu "I Wanna Scream" gedreht - 40 Jahre später! Da das Bedürfnis nach diesem psychedelischen und zeitlosen Stück Musik ungebrochen ist, wird das deutsche Label MIG das Album noch einmal veröffentlichen und zwar als LP. Die Titel: Zunächst entführt der Fan-Favorit "Red Sun" ins Weltall und darüber hinaus. Gefolgt von dem eindringlichen "Bubbles". Pop/Rock? "Watch Tryin" To Do" ist ein Stück, das man nicht wirklich beschreiben kann: seltsame Strophen, rückwärtsgewandtes Orchester und schnellerabgespielte Drums. Völlig originell. Seite A endet mit dem bereits erwähnten "I Wanna Scream", das Punk ist, bevor Punk erfunden wurde. Dann der eine Song auf Seite B (20+ Minuten), der das Album auf eine ganz andere Art und Weise abrundet. Im Grunde ein akustischer Song über einen Mann, der sein Leben am Strand beendet, begleitet von einem klassischen spanischen Gitarrensolo, anschwellendem Orchester, Möwen und rollenden Wellen. Ein wunderbarer Klangteppich. "Gravedigger" ist ein Muss für Liebhaber der psychedelischen Ära der 60er/70er Jahre

One record which has lately come to prominence is the brilliant "After Hours" by Charlie Mitchell aka Vic Marcel on an absolutely gorgeous slice of mellow Rare-Groove which recalls the Leon Ware vibe perfectly. Produced and arranged by seasoned veterans Tony Silvester and Bert DeCoteaux this incredibly hypnotic song was also written by top writers J.R. Bailey and Ken Williams. "After Hours" has grown in popularity particularly over the last few years with original copies now reaching the £200-£250 valuation.

The flip-side is another slice of beautiful mid-tempo soul from the same production stable. Only one copy currently available the last time we checked, such has been the demand over the last two years especially. Quite why this record has been underground for so long is open to debate. Vic Marcel was under contract to RCA at the time hence the Charlie Mitchell pseudonym. Janus were also suffering distribution problems at the time which explains why the original is so rare. We're proud to finally make this available again on the original Janus imprint. Another double-sided beauty.

As the tenth candle flickers atop the torta alla panna, Archeo Recordings play the Uno reverse card, breaking with tradition to give us a gift in celebration of its birthday: the first in a series of exquisite EPs on which the label's favourite contemporaries pay homage to past masters. Each re-polished gem is plucked either directly from the beatific back catalogue of the fine Florentine label or is at least Archeo-adjacent, perhaps a sign of future wonders to come. Like a musical version of Janus, who can be found at the heart of Bertoldo di Giovanni's frieze in the Medici villa, Archeo Recordings will continue to look forwards and backwards to provide sublime sounds for us all.
Pepe Maina officially joined the Archeo family in 2019 with the much-needed reissue of his 1979 masterpiece Scerizza (AR015), but his astounding music has been a constant companion to label head Manu for much longer. An inter-dimensional, multi-instrumental maverick, Maina weaves the frayed edges of prog rock, new age, organic jazz and global minimalism into a shimmering tapestry all of his own. The results are spread across fifty years and almost as many albums, largely self-released and always absolutely untarnished by commercial concerns.
Based in a small village in the hills of Brianza, just north of Milan, Maina translates the beauty of his surroundings into transformative tone poems, and the folkloric fusion of "The Infinite", originally released on his 2014 CD Tales From The Hill, is the perfect example of his practice. It opens with a recitation of Giacomo Leopardi's 1825s poem "L'Infinito" by famed Italian actor Vittorio Gassman. A leading figure in the romantic movement, Leopardi explores the idea of time and space within the natural world, and the peace that comes with an appreciation of the immensity of eternity. Manu, longtime digger and now a burgeoning producer, expands upon the original with tribal percussion, chirping electronics and a spheric bassline, folding Maina's elegant strings and gossamer pads into a new arrangement suited for a slow dance under the stars.
Unless you had a well-trained ear tuned to Italy's avant-jazz scene, chances are your first encounter with innovative flautist Roberto Aglieri came via the 2017 Archeo reissue of hisalmost untraceable LP Ragapadani (AR011). It's a true testament to Manu's digging credentials that he snatched this masterpiece out of the esoteric atmosphere and brought it attention it so richly deserved. A delicate union of digital synthesis and versatile flute - be it soft and silvery or
brilliant and clear - the 1987 album was a shapeshifting masterpiece, replaying scenes from Virgil, Verdi, Visconti and Pasolini with a neon glow. Quintessentially Italian, but uncanny and previously unimagined - Penthouse and Portico perhaps. Powered by a percolating prototechno sequence, cascading keys, hallucinogenic vocal snippets and a variety of tonal timbres from Roberto's reed, "Danza N. 1" long deserved the praise reserved for Jean-Luc Ponty's pinnacle, so many thanks to Manu for our collective introduction. The tall task of reinterpreting this particular paragon falls to Perugian polymath Daniele Tomassini AKA Feel Fly, whose peerless skills as both producer and musician have delighted DJs and dancers alike. Hot on the heels of his diverse and definitive remixes of Tony Esposito for AR027, Daniele delivers a radical rework of "Danza N. 1" perfect for both day rave sunshine and full moon party alike. Enhanced by snapping breaks and a rattling kick, the bassline gurgle emerges as a progressive powerhouse, laying the foundation for the trilling flute and circular keys to cast a psychedelic spell. As the slow-Goa revival picks up pace, this one is way ahead of the pack.
Archeo take us all the way back to the start of its story here - well almost. Though it bore the stamp AR001 (2015), this Radio Band reissue actually hit shelves months after Tony Esposito's "Je-Na' / Pagaia"; a false start perhaps but a true classic all the same. Radio Band were a group of DJs from Florence who all sailed the airways of Radio Fantasy in 1984 and whose one and only release was this super groovy slice of Italo-boogie. Following the example of Milanese DJs Band of Jocks but far surpassing their formulaic funk fizzle, Radio Band employed an intergalactic bassline, cosmic keys and that undeniably Italian style of rapping to deliver a sophisticated party-starter which even found its way to disco deity Ron Hardy. Back to the here and now, and if you've found yourself pumping an ecstatic fist to a supercharged Italian epic of late, chances are its from the mind of the mysterious Radiomarc. Operating on the ascendent Popcorn Groove imprint, this shadowy figure steers his country's lost classics into peaktime territories, finding a sweet spot between late Italo-disco, early Italo-house and contemporary cool. Pushing the tempo with a club-ready 4/4, setting the sequencer to stun and supplementing the original melodies with a series of synth riffs, the mystery producer send this one into orbit. Radio Band - Radio Rap - Radiomarc, the circle is complete.
Few have done more to develop cross-cultural musical exchange than Futuro Antico. A collaborative venture from musician, archeologist and ethnomusicologist Walter Maioli, keyboardist and tonal theoretician Riccardo Sinigaglia and multi-disciplinary artist and composer Gabin Dabiré, Futuro Antico formed in Milan in 1979, combining ancient international folkloric traditions with otherworldly electronics. The result is an arresting melange of Mediterranean, African and Asian instrumentation, mimicked by esoteric synth tones and hypnotic minimalism, which the group perfected on their acclaimed 1990 LP Dai Primitivi All'Elettronica. The meditative and transportive "Pan Tuning" belongs to their largely overlooked 2005 CD only release Intonazioni Archetipe, and has been amongst Manu's most loved tracks from the first moment he heard it. Who else is better placed to reshape this evocative opus into an immersive, transcendental dance floor journey than label favourites Mushrooms Project? The duo sows the original elements into a sprawling fifteen minute fusion of séance and science, at times propulsive with a ritualist rhythm of tuned percussion and crunching drum machine at others drifting off into ethereal ambience. Mushrooms Project continue to push the boundaries of the Afro-cosmic style, and this remix marks a new zenith.

Der Nachfolger ihres von allen Seiten gefeierten selbstbetitelten Debüts von 2014, das Minimal Techno mit orchestralen Schnörkeln und schwereloser Produktion neu interpretierte - ist endlich da. "II" ist lebendiger, aber es behält immer noch den charakteristischen Kiasmos-Stil des Übergangs von einer flüsternden, ruhigen Atmosphäre zu einem explosiven Dance-Beat, der aus den Socken haut. Kiasmos - sind weiterhin der isländische Komponist Olafur Arnalds und der färöische Musiker Janus Rasmussen - haben sich diesmal zehn Jahr Zeit genommen für ihr Nachfolgewer und die Entstehung von "II" war eine Bewährungsprobe für ihre Freundschaft, aber auch ein Beweis dafür, dass eine großartige musikalische Chemie immer noch genauso gut sein kann, wie sie einmal war. Kiasmos hatten schon immer ein beneidenswertes Gespür dafür, komplexe Emotionen und eindrucksvolle Bilder mit Instrumentalmusik zu vermitteln. Die gesammelte Erfahrung als Produzenten, auf die sie zurückgreifen können, die Filmmusikarbeiten von Olafur Arnalds als Grammy-nomminierter Komponist für Film und Fernsehen sorgen für ein reifes elektronisches Album. Sie verlagerten ihre Melodien subtil von Four-to-the-Floor auf die frenetischen gebrochenen Beats der britischen Tanzmusik, indem sie mehr mit BPMs experimentiert haben, was an Janus" Zeit als DJ in den großen Venues weltweit erinnert. Es gibt immer noch die schmerzenden Melodien, die die Fans kennen und lieben, aber sie sind auch eingängiger.

2023 was a breakthrough year for EABS in many ways. It was all thanks to the well received, fully self-produced album entitled In Search of a Better Tomorrow, recorded in collaboration with the Pakistani band Jaubi. EABS' forthcoming sixth album is a return to their roots – literally and figuratively. It is an in-depth study on rhythm, which materialised in the form of the album titled Reflections of Purple Sun.

The back to the roots part not only manifests itself in the lack of guest instrumentalists, but also in a renewed focus on the history of Polish jazz. The band's debut album Repetitions... was dedicated to Krzysztof Komeda. This time, the band picked up the entire Purple Sun album, which Tomasz Stańko recorded half a century ago. From the POV of Purple Sun fans, a hard-to-find and somewhat forgotten album, it may seem like a doomed undertaking. However, in order to pay tribute to one of the most iconic figures of Polish jazz, it was worth embarking on this mission and attempting to engage in a non-verbal conversation with the Slavic spirit that Master Tomasz Stańko undoubtedly was.

You can learn more about Reflections of Purple Sun through the comprehensive booklet accompanying the record. The cover art was created by the label's regular collaborator, Animisiewasz, whose design pays tribute to Pia Burri's original Purple Sun concept. Release date is 10 May 2024.

The moons of Saturn are the inspiration for this brooding, often soaring and searching odyssey of dark electronica.

The second largest planet in the solar system after Jupiter, and the sixth planet from the sun, Saturn is orbited by 53 confirmed moons, with another 29 that are unnamed and still being studied.

Saturnian is a suite of thirteen choral tracks taking their names from some of Saturn's known moons; Dione, Daphnis, Phoebe, Prometheus, Rhea, Janus, Titan, Enceladus, Tethys, Telesto, Mimas, Hyperion and Iapetus, all named after figures from Greek and Roman mythology, each loaded with their own turbulent back stories. It is the debut release by Holmes + atten Ash, written, recorded and produced remotely in Edinburgh and Bristol by the duo Simon Holmes and Paul Nash.

Their project began during the 2020 lockdown. For Simon, time was spent exploring the Pentland Hills south of Edinburgh. For Paul, the Mendip Hills, south of Bristol. Both would experience the darker side of our human impact on the environment. Simon observed the wilderness as a wasteland, finding discarded, rusting metal littering the Pentland Hills while Paul witnessed the decimation of the ancient woodland of the Mendips' King's Wood due to the destructive tree fungus ash dieback.

These field trips fuelled a desire to navigate not just the landscape, but the duo's emotional place within it. Their collaboration led to a concept album that explores the outer reaches of the solar system, while simultaneously grounding them in a specific place. Looking inwards as much as outwards, theycreated soundscapes based on deeply imagined and felt connections to their surroundings.

After Simon had created a choral piece to accompany Luke Jerram's enormous, world touring artwork Museum of the Moon, Saturnian was a natural progression. When Simon was sent an initial score for the ethereal track Enceladus, composed by Paul in Bristol, he added choral arrangements recorded in Edinburgh. Their shimmering, tense opus continued to evolve from there. Just as the discarded bed springs and abandoned car parts that Simon stumbled upon in the Pentland Hills seemed to him at once "horrible but also oddly beautiful", Saturnian melds together melancholy and levity, fusing moments of dark angst with a celestial calm.

Opening with the glistening, hopeful brightness of Dione, increasingly urgent rhythms give way to digital, otherworldly calls from what might be rainforest creatures chirping into life with robotic squawks and delicate keyboard lines on Phoebe, followed by slowed down, monastic song on Rhea. Tethys is a hypnotic blur of synthesiser and soft chanting, while Rhea is a mysterious, echoing chasm, lifted by melodic, gentle male vocals. Janus has a glowing, effervescent energy, swiftly followed by a sense of tension on Titan, which throbs with driving percussive unease.

The album artwork is a pencil drawing created by Edinburgh artist Simon Kirby. It was made by a robot drawing machine, using custom algorithms that bring to life recordings of the sound of magnetic waves near Saturn's icy moon, Enceladus. The lines in the centre of the drawing are distorted by sound captured by the Cassini spacecraft which studied Saturn for over a decade.

Much like Saturn and its frozen, rocky moons, this debut album from Holmes + atten Ash is mysterious and beguiling, with a hint of foreboding in the depths of its powerful beauty and epic scale.

Through a sleet storm of bunkered kicks and arpeggiation arrives the rushing EP 'No Rest Among Angels' from Free The ID. Best recognised as Internazionale, and for directing the label Janushoved, the principal transmission under this new sign presents a collection of tracks as spartan as they are romantic, contorting the noisiest impulses into a sleek toolset.

After dropping several tracks and performing at select festivals throughout the years, Ólafur Arnalds and Janus Rasmussen dedicated the year 2014 to explore the area in-between Ólafur's more acoustic, piano-based solo work and Janus's synth-heavy electro pop, with their collaborative electronic project Kiasmos.

By focusing solely on their self-titled debut album, Ólafur and Janus have been able to combine and further develop their unique sound aesthetics to complete an album driven by their mutual love for electronic music. Made in Ólafur's newly build studio in Reykjavík, Iceland, a majority of the album was recorded using acoustic instruments next to a variety of synthesisers, drum machines and tape delays. It features a live drummer, string quartet and Ólafur performing on the grand piano, producing an ambient, textured sound, which makes it a perfect home listen and equally danceable record. If you listen closely, you can spot them record the thumb piano, finger snapping and even the sound of the metal grinder of a lighter slowly to replace the usual electronic hi-hat sounds, giving the album a far more intimate and unique atmosphere.

We decided to start almost completely over with this record, so most of the material is written this year with the idea of making a record that can stand as one piece rather than a collection of songs. I am very excited to get a proper record out exploring a different territory than I am used to. I touch a lot on electronic genres in my own music but never have the opportunity to go full out electronic like we do here.' - Ólafur Arnalds

The Kiasmos project has been around since 2007, but because of all our other projects we never really got the time to sit down and write all the tracks we always wanted to. So when we early this year finally found the time to sit down and make a full length album there was so much we wanted to try out. The result surprised us a bit, it's deeper and more emotional than we imagined it to be, but that's the beauty of being able to make an album.' - Janus Rasmussen

Long-term Erased Tapes graphics collaborator Torsten Posselt at Feld Studios in Berlin created the cover artwork. Feld Studios was a natural choice for Kiasmos, seeing he also designed the cover for their Thrown EP, released previously.

Kiasmos is made up of Icelandic BAFTA-winning composer Ólafur Arnalds, known for his unique blend of minimal piano and string compositions with electronic sounds, and Janus Rasmussen from the Faroe Islands, known as the mastermind of the electro-pop outfit Bloodgroup. Based in Reykjavík, Arnalds used to work as a sound engineer, often for Rasmussen's other projects, where the two musicians discovered their common love for minimal, experimental music. They eventually became best friends, often hanging out in their studio, exploring electronic sounds.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

Melancholische Gitarrenakkorde, ein introspektiver Gesang, und immer wieder bedrohliche und energische Ausbrüche mit Percussions und Stakkato. Zwischen intimem Songwriting und Soundtrack-inspiriertem Pathos bewegt sich Jerome Reuter, der nun, 2025, das zweite Jahrzehnt seiner Band ROME feiert.

Zwei Dekaden begleitet das Luxemburgische Bandprojekt ROME nun also die Europäische Tragödie. Und während sich die Alben der ersten zehn Jahre noch vor allem historischen Themen widmeten, treten in der nicht mindert produktiven Ära zwischen 2016 und 2025, die auf dieser neuen "Anthologie" dokumentiert wird, auch aktuelle und grundsätzliche philosophische Fragestellungen ins Zentrum. ROME orientierte sich immer am großen Bild. Im Songwriting deutlich inspiriert vom französischen Chanson, dem späten Johnny Cash und Nick Cave, wurden von Beginn an auch literarische Quellen verarbeitet, und werden sie nicht namentlich genannt (wie bei "The Secret Germany" Paul Celan), so schwingen sie doch zwischen den Zeilen mit, die Denker - nicht nur - des 20. Jahrhunderts. Philosophische und gar okkulte Aspekte werden auf den Alben reflektiert ("The Hyperion Machine", "Hall of Thatch", "The Lone Furrow", "Le Ceneri di Heliodoro"), doch immer wieder wird es konkret, sei es mit Blick auf die russische Invasion in der Ukraine ("Gates of Europe", "World in Flames") und grundlegende Konflikte, die mythisch gelesen werden ("Coriolan", "Hegemonikon"). Wiederkehrend ist das mythische Motiv der Sonne, so auch auf dem jüngsten Werk "Civitas Solis".

Mal als volles Band-Line-Up, mal als Singer-Songwriter, und immer wieder im Austausch mit anderen Musikern (etwa Nergal von Behemoth oder der schwedischen Punklegende Thåström), Jerome Reuter erfindet sich beständig neu, und arbeitet kontinuierlich an einer singulären Stimme in der gegenwärtigen Popkultur. Wie ein Januskopf zurückgewandt in die Zukunft blickend.

Here we go with the 10th release of Gabberhead Records

It's another 45 Rocafort treatment!

"If There's a Will, There's a Way" was written by Don Covay and Donny Hathaway and released in 1972 on the American Janus Records label. Covay, a key figure in the 1960s and 1970s soul scene, was known for his gritty voice and songwriting for artists like Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett. Hathaway, on the other hand, was an influential soul singer, composer, and pianist often celebrated for his collaborations with Roberta Flack. This song blends both of their distinct styles: Covay's raw, Southern soul vibe and Hathaway's sophisticated, jazz-influenced arrangements. Like Donny Hathaway's live album released that same year in 1972, this track grabs you from the very first notes. A classic soul groove, with a powerful vocal delivery!

Notably, this track was later sampled by Pete Rock in his remix of "Lots of Lovin'" with C.L. Smooth, bringing the soulful essence of the original into the realm of 90s hip-hop.

On the b-side, another track from the fantastic Janus Records catalogue. Harvey Mandel's "Baby Batter," originally released in 1971 is a blend of funky blues and psychedelic rock vibes representing another popular genre from the early 70's in the USA. Mandel's signature guitar work shines throughout the track and the drum break in the introduction will please the hip-hop heads and 45 DJs out there.

Entering Phase II, we welcome back a familiar face with another mega electro release. Just as the previous Janus Gate EP, but now we get to focus solely on the unique sounds of Cyphon!

Limited 12" vinyl only release. Run of 400. No repress, no digital.

The Peace Chant compilation series is a Temple, a reliquary of sacred harmonious statements made by enlightened artists throughout time. With Tramp Records' latest offerings, "Peace Chant, Raw Deep and Spiritual Jazz volumes 5 & 6, deeper, darker, and even more remote chambers of this already exalted temple are brought to light. The team at Tramp, with their torch of love and with reverence for those builders who came before, have returned from their quest with musical treasures unfathomable. Indeed, some of these tracks sound as if they may have literally been plucked from the ancient hands of some towering golden idol. But this quest was no looting effort, no. The Gods, as well as the artists and their families were fairly compensated through Tramp Records' rigorous and historically conscious licensing efforts.

Volume 6 ululates with a rich flute and Fender Rhodes-rich microtonal fusion called "Cataracts" by Musica Orbis that even comes with some sparkling Afro-harping moments ala Dorothy Ashby; a 5/4 dreamscape conjured by the Fredric Rabold Crew called "Januschka" with enraptured wailing soprano; and a very interesting and likely heretofore unheard version of a tune that, in Dizzy's words, "... has withstood the vicissitudes of the contingent world and rocketed in an odyssey into the realm of the metaphysical...", A Night in Tunisia, with rich vocals and scatting.

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

"Mrs. Ladyships and the Cleanerhouse Boys" are your new favorite MOD heart throbs. Is there REALLY a new Merseybeat Revolution? How many times can you really REALLY watch The Blow-Up alone in your room? Why don't you venture out the front door and take a bite of the real thing? The Smashing Times are a mainstay in the indie pop underground. The group mistrals the new modern life perfectly, the sharper world. collaged with 12 string guitar and mallet on the floor tom. 14 tracks 33RPM.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

On their third full-length album, 'The Signal', the Compact Disk Dummies keep a few interesting balls in the air. They play with the opinions and expectations of the outside world, while also confronting their own desires and doubts. This is aptly depicted on the cover with a table, a bell, two brothers and an impatient crowd: who is waiting for whom? The album is as diverse as its cover is surprising. In a mix of styles and influences ranging from retro house to funk, Lennert and Janus Coorevits demonstrate their versatility. Following their scintillating performances at Rock Werchter and Pukkelpop, and the success of the radio hits 'There's No Sex Without You' and 'fomo', 'The Signal' marks the start of a new era for the Dummies.

Lennert notes, "Pfff, I would think about everything indefinitely. And I'm not the only one, I notice. Stuck in a kind of limbo, a state of uncertainty, surrounded by signals, but still feeling a certain fear of following the signal."

On 'The Signal', 'fomo' dissects human desire, reaching for the unattainable. 'Where We Go (Calypso)' is like the shipwreck no one wants. And in the title track, the female lead character finds herself in a toxic relationship, the signs of which are obvious, at least to the outside world. While the content of 'The Signal' revolves around doubt, contemplation and acting or not acting, the musical interpretation is in direct opposition to that. The Compact Disk Dummies do not doubt; they hold their heads up and their chests out. With certainty, they mix everything that excites them musically into the blender, without grinding the identity of the Dummies themselves; actually enriching it instead. The retro house of 'Solàr' (a song about Louis the Fourteenth? Why not) flows into the rampant funk of 'Ballet Dancer' before expanding into 'Underwater'. In every track, you sense the long road the Coorevits brothers have travelled since their breakthrough - and their then angular electro-punk. This third album is Lennert and Janus' most sophisticated work in the expanding universe of the Compact Disk Dummies.

In addition to being a mix of styles, 'The Signal' is also a mix of collaborations. There is the French touch of mixer Michael Declerck and mastering engineer Alex Gopher. There is the Dutch input of Wieger Hoogendorp (Goldband) and Jens Van Der Meij (Froukje). Beautiful string sections are provided by Wietse Meys and Reinhard Vanbergen, bass licks by Boris Van Overschee and backing vocals by Isolde Lasoen and Judith Okon, among others. Producer Jasper Maekelberg always kept an eye on things. And again, for the third album in a row, after 'Mess With Us' (2013) and 'Neon Fever Dream' (2020), artist Athos Burez also provided the artwork for 'The Signal'.

But however international the music sounds, however great the contributions from other top artists, 'The Signal' remains largely the work of the Dummies, with Lennert as vocalist, lyricist and multi-instrumentalist, and Janus as engineer, producer and all-around tech wizard. The album was not made in New York, Tokyo or Berlin, but in Desselgem. Studio 87, the Coorevits family's garage converted into a studio, remains Ali Baba's cave for the Compact Disk Dummies. In their studio crammed with synths, percussion and guitars, Lennert and Janus could not ignore the signal: time to smash it!

Exzellente, Karriere umspannende Werkschau zum 80-jährigen Geburtstag des französischen Modern-Jazz-Vertreters Frederic Rabold, der seit Ende der 1960er bis heute aktiv ist, mit Avantgarde-Musikern wie Gunter Hampel, Leszek Zadlo und Lester Bowie arbeitete und neben Albert Mangelsdorff, Klaus Doldinger und Dave Pike auf der Bühne stand. Limitierte Deluxe-Auflage auf schwarzem Bio-Doppelvinyl im Gatefold mit ausführlichen Linernotes (dt. & engl.), bislang ungesehenen Fotos und Download-Code. 17 Tracks.

Death and the Maiden’s Uneven Ground draws back the velvet curtain on the trio’s crepuscular dreamworld with nine songs of their distinctive shadowy slow-motion fusion of underground electronic dance music and post-punk guitars washed through with psychic unease. The trio’s name is taken from that of a nineteenth century engraving by Edvard Munch: an artwork steeped in mythology, exploring the dark boundaries between love and death, strength and frailty, beauty and decay. Their three albums to date each reinforce the symbolism of the name, and Uneven Ground’s title could apply as much to their own journey in the years since Wisteria, their previous album, as to the times in which we live. Bassist and vocalist Lucinda King is the bedrock, guide and storyteller. Guitarist Hope Robertson weaves swooping, soaring motifs and sometimes deconstructed layers of noise to build analogue atmosphere for these alternate worlds. Danny Brady’s beats mix old-school drum machines with electronic tones and distortion, while his synth arrangements blend elements of psy-trance and acid house with more amniotic ambient and industrial textures. While Uneven Ground may be the most overtly “pop”-sounding album in their catalogue, it also ratchets up the ominous atmosphere, noise and experimentation. Once again King’s evocative lyrics appear as cryptic stories, built from events, memories, dreams, moments, warnings, regrets; where questions raised are left unanswered, and possibilities remain open.

Through X Scroll Era, Gabo Barranco, aka AAAA, conducts a rigorous overhaul of the aesthetics and statements of low-profile IDM, trance, and progressive-acid music typical of the early 2000’s. In addition to this inherent and undeniable veneration for the era, the pieces on this album — which originated from recordings and experimental exercises with gear and accidentally became an album — serve also as a kind of retrospective inspection of Mexico City's suburbs (Lomas de Sotelo), with landscapes full of indiscriminate concrete, highways of two and three levels, factories, and parking lots that have supplanted nature with their own detached beauty. It is a sound memory, a specific melancholy that praises skate squads of the area, friends from the past, parties, and substances. It reviews the decline of rave culture but also its resilience and capacity for transformation. What AAAA offers us with X Scroll Era is an almost multigenerational soundtrack, a memory that feels collective and recollects euphoria, ecstasy, and nostalgia.

After several LPs and EPs (Acid Test, Omnidisc, Janushoved) and several years active in the dance and contemplative electronic music circuit (MUTEK, BERGHAIN, iii Points, RBMA), X Scroll Era is the first album by Gabo Barranco, aka AAAA, published on the Mexican label Umor Rex.

DDS presents the debut EP from unknown entity NZO, whomever she may be, dancing in the gaps between amapiano, Afrobeats, broken beat and R&B with a rare guile and flavour.

The 4th in the DDS 12” series, NZO helps stake the label’s 15th year of operations with a typically Janus-faced approach to classic >< contemporary club ruffage. Tune to tune, she decimates and distills familiar tropes in singular, whirring syncopations designed to prompt bodies to move in fresh new ways. It’s all primed for proper animist magick, bound to snag rhythm fiends with its shape-cutting manoeuvres.

Working deep in the hardcore ’nuum’s 30 odd year tradition of concrète sampler chicanery, the four tracks find fractured vocals and echoes of club classics revitalised and reset with advanced drum ingenuity. 160BPM opener ‘Concentrate’ appears like Hessle Audio’s Joe stripped for parts, whilst ‘Mallet’ swivels like SND remodelling Afrobeats’ palette of tuned percussions, next to what could almost be a lost Various Production edit in the sublime tension of syrupy R&B and frothing drums on ‘Come Alive’.

The EP ends with its standout, ‘Body & Soul’, an undulating ama simmer punctuated by dub chords like some lost Basic Channel production re-cast for the lovers.

Combining elements of post-rock, trip-hop, and industrial music, HAAL have quickly become cult favourites in the UK live scene. Their psychotropic blend of samples, DIY pedals, and monolithic instrumentation, has seen the band play and tour alongside the likes of Kyoto Kyoto, WEB, Deliluh, Treeboy & Arc, Katy J Pearson, and Gurriers, as well as appearing at festivals such as ArcTanGent, Dot To Dot and more. Coming off the heels of their recent singles “Janus” and “Judy” (and subsequent remixes by Water From My Eyes and Crimewave), the new EP “Back To Shilmarine” arrives as a blistering snapshot of the band’s protean dynamism.

The band celebrate their late-90s / early-00s influences in a caustic yet melodic blend of tracks that nod as much to the output of labels such as Dischord, Touch & Go, and Nothing Records, as they do their contemporaries in the UK scene such as SCALER, Famous, deathcrash, and LICE. The EP sees them bring all these touchstones together to create a unique and uninhibited maelstrom of sound that spans everything from intricate math-inflected guitar lines and pensive vocals to propulsive drumming, totemic riffing, and warped synths.

Arguably some of HAAL’s heaviest material to date, “Platform 1, 18:19” offers the first look into this new material melding motorik rhythms and hypnotic riffs with sudden explosions of noise and power. However, as ever with HAAL, there is more than meets the eye – the track also features samples completely abstracted from their sources, for instance, the drone that begins the song is taken from a video of frontman Alfie Hay and his friends beating Bop It.

Elsewhere on the EP, the lyrics explore themes of cosmic existentialism, absurdism, meaning, transhumanism, inner reflection, science, history, and general philosophy. “All the lyrics are musings or verses that I wrote at very different times in my life” says Hay. “I then had to fit them around the music, despite being written at wildly different periods.” The record was once again recorded with long-time collaborator Alfie Tyson Brown (Katy J Pearson, LICE, Lazarus Kane) at The Louisiana in Bristol. The band have a tight knit collaborative circle around them, this is particularly notable around the band’s imagery

Five albums, sixty tracks and still counting. Cool Million are back with a new album!

Ten years ago the euro soul duo Cool Million released their first album 'Going Out Tonight' on UK soul label Expansion Records. The album took the soul crowd by surprise, cause who were these guys that out of the blue, could recreated the soulful sound of the 80's hey day like no other?

The answer to that question is; Rob Hardt and Frank Ryle. One a super musician from Germany with skills you can only dream of. The other a Dj/musicfreak from Denmark with a masterplan – both of them with tons of dedication and passion for thier craft.

Thier passion and ambition have kept them in the came for a decade and they have worked with a long list of artists, some known some not, some forgotten some on their way up! The list include names such as: Jean Carne, Keni Burke, Shirley Jones, Eugene Wilde, Meli'sa Morgan, Rena Scott, Leroy Burgess, Peggi Blu, Yvonne Gage, Marc Evans, Alton McClain, Kenny Thomas, Lisa Stansfield, Tom Moulton, Joey Negro, Dimitri From Paris and John Morales, Glenn Jones, Marc Sadane, Tim Owens, Gavin Christopher, Michael Jeffries.

Cool Million tells that they feel privileged and humble when they look at the list of names they have worked with over the ten years. Futhermore they add; 'Who would have thought that two dudes from northern Europe would be able to create music with people that talented, we hope we could do it, when we started but that we actually done it, is amazing and wonderful'.

Reflecting on the first decade of Cool Million it's fair to say that Rob & Frank are two determined and ambitious gentlemen with extraordinary talent.

So what can Cool Million tell us abouth their new album? 'It's a classic Cool Million album where we work/collaborate with various artists, staying true to our original concept both in terms of genre and how we think a album works best. Having say that we think that our fans will be a little surprised with the fact that this is our slowest album to date. We believe we have more variety than ever and it's a fact that the music on the new album is slowed down in terms of more ballads and mid-tempo songs compared to our other albums'.

'The reason for this development is that we wanted to try something that was a little out of our comfort zone. Also we felt that we wanted to prove that we can do quality slow jams aswell. You could also argue that is's beause we both turned fifty this year.. haha'.

Jesse James returns to the Soul Junction roster with a new 45 that features his own unique interpretation of a classic song that is backed with one of the more popular songs from his 1990 “Looking Back” album now brought to you for the first time as a 45 release.

Beginning with the A-side, “Everybody’s Talking At Me” which is Jesse’s unique cover of the folk rock singer Fred Neil’s penned song “Everybody’s Talkin’”. Which although recorded by Neil originally, was made internationally famous by Harry Nilsson when used as part of the theme score for the acclaimed United Artists 1969 film “Midnight Cowboy”. The song has been much covered in the style of a ballad but Jesse’s version recorded under the production skills of close friend Willie Hoskins (Wilhos Productions and Boola Boola Records) is a great up-tempo piano driven version of the song. “Everybody’s Talking At Me” is yet another find from the unissued tapes from the self- financed sessions that Jesse recorded at the Searra Sound Studios in Berkley C.A during 1971 that also has brought us SJ543 “(The Girl In) Clinton Park” and SJ544 “If A Man Ever Loved A Woman (Baby I Love You)”.

While the b-side, features the much, admired modern soul favourite “You’re More Than A Friend Of Mine” which first gained a release on the 1990 ‘Looking Back’ album (Gunsmoke Records). “You’re More Than A Friend Of Mine” was up to that point a previously unissued mid 70’s recording produced by the late song writer /producer Ron Carson. Carson the original owner of the San Francisco Soul Clock Records label remains highly respected for his work with the hit group, ‘The Whispers’ (both on Soul Clock and some of their later Janus recordings). Carson had produced and co-wrote Jesse’s 1975, 20th Century Records release “If You Want A Love Affair/I Never Meant To Love Her” now regarded worldwide as Jesse’s signature song. Carson had a follow up release in the can, which never came to fruition due to Jesse and 20th Century parting company for the second time. Carson by then had moved on and was heavily involved in the production of the Janus distributed blackploitation album “Black Fist” for Happy Fox records. “Black Fist” was a various artists compilation which also featured the Jesse James composition “The Same Thing Happens (Part1 & 2)”. The shelved, proposed 20th Century follow up release would have been “Your More Than A Friend of Mine/I Don’t Want It To End” recorded during 1976. Carson had pitched the idea of a song in a similar vein to the Jackson Sisters 1973 Prophesy Records release “(Why Can’t We Be) More Than Friends” to the songs original songwriting team William Peele Jr and Warren Sams. They duly obliged, coming up with the aforementioned “Your More Than A Friend Of Mine”. Warren Sams along with his half-sister Christine Adams Tripp and their friend Rachel Sanders were none other than the respected vocal trio “Water & Power” who recorded the acclaimed 1975 album of the same name for Fantasy Records and a solitary 45 “Mr Weatherman/If You Don’t Want Me”.

The composer behind one of the most sensational breakthroughs in Danish music invites you on a crackling, ever-changing and deeply personal journey. His third album Atmospherics drops after a decade in which Mike Sheridan has searched deeply to find and capture his inner sound.
Films, theatres and art museums have benefited from Mike Sheridan‘s sense of sound and melody for the past 10 years. An album has been a long time coming because, in the wake of his breakthrough at the age of 16, he needed to listen extra closely to his inner sounds.
With Atmospherics, he unfolds the music in a meeting between who he once was and who he is today.
Three years ago, he began to create what is now the album Atmospherics. The term refers to electrical disturbances in the atmosphere, such as during a thunderstorm, which can interact with and distort wireless signals. Here, the title refers to both the sound of the album itself, where computer collages, classical instruments crystal clear melodies and heavy rhythms collide, and to the electronic processing and reworking. But really, he thought it would be a quiet release, almost devoid of melodies. Themes and music slide in and out of each other on the album. There are moments of dub, techno, pop and modern compositional music.
There are sounds and beats that crackle, dissolve, replace each other, or connect with each other in new ways.In this way, Atmospherics can be listened to as a long exhalation from an artist who has dared to hold his breath longer than most.
Atmospherics features both Danish and international guests such as Agnes Aldén (a singer, songwriter and producer from Falun, Sweden), Indra Rios-Moore (a singer, songwriter and arranger, from the Lower East Side of Manhattan), BYLJA and Janus Rasmussen - as well as a host of Sheridan‘s regular musicians.
The artwork for Atmospherics is created by visual artist Nicolai Howalt.

-Domino is a spooky, bittersweet collection of cinematic soul cuts influenced by 1970’s ‘Giallo’ film scores layered with luminous vocals.
-Ella Thompson's first solo LP release since Janus (2015).
-Ella is the vocalist from the electro duo GL and formerly frontwoman of The Bamboos.
-Music by Karate Boogaloo aka The Frollen Music Library.
-She will be opening for Lee Fields on his Australian dates in December.
-For fans of Kadhja Bonet, Cleo Sol, Nancy Sinatra, Lady Wray.
Ella Thompson’s Domino is a spooky, bittersweet collection of cinematic soul cuts influenced by 1970s Italian 'Giallo' film scores, with luminous vocals that draw a line between 60s icons like Nancy Sinatra and contemporary soul artists like Kadhja Bonet. Ella’s effortless singing and haunting lyrics paint angular pictures in the moody darkness.
The sparse production is intentionally cinematic, deeply influenced by the music of Italian ‘Giallo’ film scores of the 1970s, particularly by composers like Piero Piccioni but comparable to current artists like Adrian Younge or Bad Bad Not Good in a meditative mood. Minimal but propulsive bass and drums know when to hang back, as they do in the title track and when to step forward as they do in the chugging, deep and funky rhythm section work on the single Never Fight The Way You Feel.
All the instrumentation used in Domino was created by Frollen Music Library, a library music project by the musicians behind Karate Boogaloo, Henry Jenkins, Hudson Whitlock and Darvid Thor, all long-term collaborators and friends of Ella’s.
Ella returned to making music under her own name in 2023 after years of releasing music with her electro-pop duo GL and cult indie band Dorsal Fins. One of Australia’s truly accomplished singers, Ella’s range ranges from art music to cinematic soul, jazz, and pop. In addition to her solo project and bands, she has been a featured artist for numerous acts, most notably deep funk pioneers The Bamboos and Mark Ronson.

C75 Cassette Tape


‘Speaking Things’, the new album from Isabassi, is a collection of highly detailed industrial music examining her singular perspective on rhythm and texture. Through brittle percussion, supernatural atmospheres and astonishing bass power, the Brazilian composer and artist explores a conversational narrative on the first full length Super Hexagon release.

About Isabassi:

Isabassi is a Brazilian electronic music composer and DJ based in Berlin. Highly influenced by industrial and rough sounds from the surroundings of Sao Paulo and the German capital, her musicality translates this aggressive environment through harsh and erratic drummings and dark textures. Aiming a sort of ritualistic experience, she explores different rhythms patterns to move body and soul, letting visceral impulses come to the surface.

During his long and fruitful career, multifaceted singer-songwriter Don Covay recorded in a variety of styles, including gospel, doo-wop, soul, rock, and blues, and his enviable skills as a songwriter were responsible for the likes of Chubby Checker’s ‘Pony Time,’ as well as Aretha Franklin’s ‘See Saw’ and ‘Chain Of Fools.’ Following his departure from Atlantic, Different Strokes For Different Folks was cut for the small Janus label at the esteemed Swampers HQ in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, the resultant groove irresistibly mixing funk, soul, gospel, and rock, all the while working in plenty of Covay’s individual humour.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

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Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

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Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

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Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

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"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

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Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.