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'Where the Smoke Goes captures the conscious and unconscious of Johnny Coley in duet between 2020-2024 AD. Alabama-born, Marseille-based artist Turner Williams Jr. wraps a selection of his dear friend Johnny’s penultimate compositions in arresting tone poems.
'The music buzzes and hums with distant trains, trembling strings, and lapping water, haloing our protagonist in a humid glow as he considers whether horses can live to 70 years old, cigarettes potent enough to knock you on your ass, and orchids facing the wrath of winter storms.
'This work began in the first Covid spring, as Johnny's advancing multiple sclerosis gave way to a permanent domestic confinement and a final period of prolific creativity. Johnny braved the toxic gales of social media to share his thriving poetry and visual art practice and to keep in touch with friends like Turner, who had recently moved abroad. For the first time, Johnny recorded himself, sending Turner fresh poems, day and night.
'Taking cues from late era Coil and the operas of Robert Ashley, Turner approached these recordings both as language and pure sound, arranging accompanying mosaics that emerge as much from Johnny’s unseen text as his mercurial drawl. Tracks draw from Turner’s solo practice as well as sessions including Henry Birdsey of Old Saw, members of the French underground (Manoir Molle, Loto Retina, Mona Assayag) and close Birmingham collaborators (Jasper Lee, Jimmy Griffin, Ladonna Smith). The voice is parsed and played as an instrument and each poem becomes a score.
'There is Johnny’s poetry and Johnny’s voice. These are two independent yet interwoven instruments. For Turner, Johnny's vocabulary, cadence, and timbre carry all of the contradictions that he writes about. His work is a dialogue of rich contradictions. "He plays with Southern American vernacular speech in his poetry while embodying it with his speech, creating a zone of emotional frisson. He loved combining opposites. Rough yet soft was one of his favourite descriptors", Turner recalls, "That was Johnny. ” Upon hearing the completed record, Johnny likened it to "a beautiful wood box, that when you open it there are fabrics shot through with silk threads and sharp fall woods smells - supporting and decorating the poems that fall out of them. ”
'This record captures something unconscious, atmospheric, and gives it unexpected materiality. Smoke that you can feel like grass under your feet. Stars that you can touch like a lover. Meeting for the final time in the summer or 2025, the time for words had passed so they just held hands and listened to the album opener Stargazer in silence as Johnny drifted off to sleep.'

'As I Slip Into the Sky reflects a particularly small sliver of time compared to Where the Smoke Goes, with recordings taking place in early 2025, while Johnny was bed-bound in an assisted living facility with multiple sclerosis. Alabama born, Portland based artist Joel Nelson helms the nearly entirely electronic backdrop, posing a new canvas for Johnny, with Buchla Music Easel bubbling up between Johnny’s lines. This album captures Johnny in a remarkably tender and emotive form. Love and all its permutations. The tangled, but caring nature of familial love, (“But you and me, we can talk on the phone every day. I would never leave you behind”), to the anguish and euphoria of romantic connection. Johnny has a remarkable ability to pose questions, ("What is real love like?), and provide answers that reflect the truest of realities, absent cliche ("I don't know. His curly hair, short on his head, his smile, his smile, his smile...that is what real love is like").
'Joel Nelson's nimble work across a small array of analog synthesizers creates a flowing backdrop to Johnny's stream of consciousness. At times, Broadcast's fuzzed out ballads come to mind, while at others, early Oneohtrix Point Never's gauzy, distant drones anchor beneath Johnny's slippery syntax.
'Johnny recorded his poems while confined to a hospital bed, through an iPhone laid gently on his chest. Assisted by the caring presence of friends John Albea and Lauren Jones, we can hear through these recordings Johnny immersed in his world of words, taking in the world of sounds Joel had provided for him. We hear his breath, at times we hear the harsh sibilance captured by the iPhone microphone, but more than anything, we hear the tenderness and poetic resolve of his caring soul. He was incredibly grateful for the past years of connecting with the small cohort of Birmingham-affiliated musicians and artists who upheld him as the unofficial poet laureate of "The Magic City", Birmingham, AL. Perhaps most appropriately, Johnny closes the album out in a state of gratitude:'

"My funeral was perfect
I was buried wearing a very charming jacket
A very charming jacket I just happened to have on when i died
He was always the lucky one, Mary-Ellen said
I've been looking for a nice casual jacket like that I could wear to casual little outdoor parties and to my funeral all my life
But Johnny just had one
Probably someone left it in his car
He was so lucky
It doesn't even make sense
But its true
He really was that lucky"

Transcendental poetry meets Southern Nightmare Jazz on the third album by Alabama-based artist Johnny Coley Mister Sweet Whisper is the meeting of poet & artist Johnny Coley and the band Worst Spills, led by guitarist & arranger Joel Nelson. (Imagine "King Tubbys Meets Rockers Uptown," but more like "William Burroughs Meets Lounge Lizards in Ghost Swamp"). Joined by vibraphone player and recordist of the group, Jasper Lee, Mister Sweet Whisper centers Coley as a gifted writer and unique elder voice, supported by an eclectic cast of friends & collaborators. Tapping into French surrealism and transgressive American poets such as John Ashbery, the songs in Mister Sweet Whisper evolve, cinema-like, with Coley as an uninhibited, almost mystical, narrator. Textural, jazz-like playing complements Coley's decadent landscapes, which glide by like cigarette-inspired invocations. Echoing, and at times, dissonant notes of saxophone, crystalline tones of vibraphone, and jagged guitar arrangements punctuate Coley's dreamlike visions, populated by ballet dancers, haunting nightclubs, and ghostly car drivers. Wistful and expansive, the songs in Mister Sweet Whisper speak of Coley's talent and natural ability to channel his poetic world into songs. A remarkable follow-up to Coley's first two albums_Antique Sadness, from 2021, and Landscape Man, from 2022_which were praised as "exquisitely haunting, sublime, hilarious" and falling "somewhere between Robert Ashley, David Wojnarowicz, and Intersystems," Mister Sweet Whisper arrives in full form: unpredictable and brilliant. LP comes with a 4-page booklet featuring artwork and writing by Johnny. Pressed in black vinyl.

"Slime Wave 2" is the highly anticipated sequel to Hus Kingpin's 2019 album, immersing listeners into the gritty, yet hypnotic world of one of the waviest MC’s in underground hip-hop. Building upon the foundation laid by its predecessor, this album pushes boundaries, blending intricate lyricism with captivating production to create an auditory journey like no other.
Backed by an array of talented producers, the album's beats range from soulful and jazz-infused to hard-hitting and gritty, providing the perfect backdrop for Hus Kingpin's lyrical prowess. Each track is a sonic masterpiece, meticulously crafted to evoke a range of emotions and keep listeners captivated from start to finish.
"Slime Wave 2" features a killer lineup of guest appearances, adding layers of depth and diversity to the album's sonic landscape, with Bala No Judas, Shyheim, Supreme Cerebral, Skrilla and Tritty joingin Hus on this journey.
Behind the boards, a stellar lineup of producers brings their A-game to "Slime Wave 2," ensuring a diverse and immersive listening experience. From the legendary Madlib's signature soulful soundscapes to the gritty, boom-bap vibes of Macapella, Owltree, and Manny Megz, each producer leaves their indelible mark on the album, creating a rich tapestry of beats that perfectly complement Hus Kingpin's lavish lyricism.