Suche:know how

Welcome to Soul4Real’s second album, a collection of originally unreleased tracks which feature a whole host of soul royalty.

First off are two songs from the inimitable Bobby Bland, both of which hail from his prolific period at Duke Records.

Sandwiched between two stunning Chicago recordings by Etta James is the later “I Never Meant To Love Him”, taken from a Philly session she recorded with Bobby Martin.

Fontella Bass brings this side to a close with a mysterious Chicago recording of which, to this day, hardly anything is known.

Side two transports us to Detroit, when Motown was at the peak of its output. 1966 was not a good year to secure the approval of quality control, as proven in the rejection of this wonderful Velvelettes´ version of “Your Heart Belongs To Me”.

It was in that same year that Ashford and Simpson arrived at Hitsville as both singers and songwriters. Their “Love Woke Me Up This Morning” was recorded by Brenda Holloway and produced by Norman Whitfield. Despite being overlooked at the time, its appeal was undeniable, and it later resurfaced on albums by Marvin & Tammi, Valerie Simpson, and the Temptations.

As an integral member of the Motown family for over 14 years, it is surprising that to date only three songs recorded by Johnny Bristol have surfaced. In collaboration with ‘Mickey’ Stevenson “Tell Me How To Forget A True Love” was completed in May 1964.

“One Lucky Day I Found You” was inexplicably not included in the ‘David’ project. Ruffin´s later work with Van McCoy is also featured on this album.

From almost the start of his career, Marvin Gaye had endeavored to project himself as a great balladeer, and nothing could illustrate this better than his rendition of “I Wish I Didn’t Love You So”, which brings this chapter to a perfect end.

"Don't DJ is back with his new album sampler to teach the imitators how it is done.

Leftfield tribalism at it's best, with a pinch of Martin Denny and Les Baxter exotica for some flavour and a little bit of Zoviet France fourth world voodoo for the 5am crew that wants to get hazy in the dance. Florian knows how to incorporate percussion sounds that at first you think that they wouldn't work but it always works and this is only a taste of what is gonna come with the release of his album (soon come).

Morgan Buckley of the mighty Wah Wah Wino crew, takes this deep and intense trip and he goes ballistic while he is playing a live Bodhran to invoke the ancient spirits of Ireland. If the essence of a remix is to keep the original vibe of the tune and add a different flavour to it then Morgan Buckley nailed it in a big way.

Two drum wizards at their best and it's an honour to have them together in one record."

Illustrations by Non Yung Hoon.
Design by NMR.

Back in 2011 when I was tentatively looking for a second release for my fledging record label Clay Pipe Music, I stumbled upon a mysterious MySpace page by a group called ‘Tyneham House’, the page was decorated with artwork by Rena Gardiner (who was unknown to me at that time) and the music was an otherworldly mix of field recordings, Mellotron and acoustic guitar. It turned out that Tyneham was promised to Glen Johnson’s Second Language label, so I offered to do the artwork, and in January 2012 the two labels co-released it on tape and CD in a cardboard box with a handmade booklet of my illustrations.

In 2016 Clay Pipe reissued it on 10” vinyl, in an edition of just 300, which has since become sort after. The new 2023 pressing is on blue and transparent marbled vinyl, with a reverse board cover and inner sleeve, and the booklet of illustrations has been given a complete redesign. Frances Castle 2023

The pastoral, wistful yet ineffably disquieting music of Tyneham House is made by artists who wish to remain anonymous here, save for their eponymous title. The musicians are happy, however, to let it be known that these recordings have been around for some years (many of them complied from old cassettes) and that they take inspiration from the 1960s/’70s/’80s work of the Children’s Film Foundation – a body who really ought to have made a film about this mysterious West Country curio. At least now we have its endlessly poignant soundtrack.

The small village of Tyneham, on the beautiful Isle of Purbeck, in Dorset, was once a thriving little community – that is until the British Government requisitioned it for training manoeuvres and other ‘strategic purposes’ in the run up to WWII. This was supposed to be a temporary measure, but the area remained in military possession long after hostilities had ceased, causing distress among former inhabitants, many of whom were farmed out to prefabs in nearby Wareham and Swanage.

Tyneham was characterised by its red telephone box, a tiny parade of shops – Post Office Row – and a grand country pile which stood about half a mile away from the village: Tyneham House. The army removed the building’s oak panelling and ornate decorative details and promptly set about using it for target practice. So great was the shame expressed locally about the damage inflicted upon one of Dorset’s grandest houses that the powers that be decided to grow a copse around the remains of the structure to give the impression that it was no longer there. Despite this, a substantial part of the structure remains intact, including its Saxon hall.

Land access around Tyneham was opened up in the 1970s, but admission to the house remains strictly verboten. Those who’ve been found around the premises, especially anyone wielding a camera, have felt the full weight of military trespass law. Tyneham today is regarded as a nature reserve by some – as a national embarrassment by others. It’s still a political hot potato, in Dorset at least.

The Belgian vibraphonist Guy Cabay has played with Toots Thielemans, Philip Caherine or Raoul Faisant. Composer, arranger, musicologist and singer, he also wrote and recorded two extraordinary albums in Liege Walloon. Tricatel is happy to make them available at last, 46 years after their publication.

"Gravity kills us. Perhaps that is the meaning of Adam's Fall. We are condemned to be Newton's apple, not the balloon carried away by the wind. But it happens nevertheless that, by the grace of music in particular, we escape gravity, that time escapes time, that another breath inflates our lungs, so much lighter than the one that usually suffocates us.

We don't take light music seriously, and that's good. Only serious music deserves to be treated so badly. Guy Cabay's music flows from a purer source and speaks to us in a more tender voice. One can obviously describe it as one labels export product. Origin: Belgium. Ingredients: jazz, bossa nova, tropicalism, song - proportions may vary. Calorific value: none.

Non-perishable product. But this would say as much about what this music really is as if, in. order to evoke what the foggy blue of a Norman sky inspires, one were to take note of the variations in the percentage of humidity in the atmosphere at Etretat and make a learned presentation on the laws of refraction.

Guy Cabay did pass through Brazil and still lives there a little, a Brazil that is not the one ofcartographers or travel agencies, a Brazil that is as real as the Far West in which Fenimore Cooper's child readers lived, as blurred and limpid as a dream. It is not the Amazon thatflows through this Brazil, but the Ourthe, a tributary of the Meuse, which makes it morefamiliar, stranger and even more poetic.

To let oneself be bathed in this melancholichappiness, to let oneself be carried by this river is sweet, as sweet as the fluid consonants of the Walloon language, this 'd' which becomes 'dj' in his mouth, as in Portuguese, by the way. To know how to create melodies that hold on a note like Jobim's samba, like a fildeferist above a waterfall of chords, is not given to everyone. It is a gift. Knowing how to lace others on dozens of points, as on Tot a-fet rote cou d'zeur cou d'zos, a poignant encounter between Randy Newman and Robert Wyatt, is another. These are not the only ones that the fairies offered to Guy Cabay and that, by an almost miracle, he offers us again today. Hearts up."

Bertrand Burgalat

“My mother” says HDSN “is my biggest idol to date. She gave me the roots to grow and the wings to fly and pretty much dedicated her life to my sister and i. She has been holding herself accountable day in day out for more than twenty years to raise two kids as a single mom. Although my dad couldn´t be there she always kept the cable long and so we lacked of nothing - she literally gave us all that she got. It´s been her strength, her humbleness and her relentless effort which has made me and my sister the beautiful human beings we are today. Most importantly it was her acknowledgement of my passion for music that saw me being able to pursue what i call my destiny today. She has been my biggest supporter since day one even she couldn’t understand at first. She oftentimes called my music too “esoteric” little did we know how many peoples hearts these songs would touch on the way. From the very beginning i wanted to dedicate a song to her but as she was pretty delicate when it comes to my tracks i knew i needed to find the right notes to hit the right spots. It´s been eight years now since i started out to make music and with very much excitement i can announce i finally been able to thrill her soul. It´s with little hesitation that i dedicated this song which i ended up calling “Stronger” to her. I come from a family full of fighters, there have been many ups and downs for all of us but we stood strong to the struggle and managed to keep our shine. This goes especially for my sister as life dealt her a couple of rough patches early on. She was fighting her own war marching through the valley of death from a very young age. She never gave up though, thrived out of darkness into light like a poppy seed and now eventually became a mother, too. Life kinda neglected us over the year. I had to leave my loved ones behind to live my dream but there has always been a part of me that tried to find his way back home, which i finally stopped denying. “No Place Like Home” is dedicated to most important women in my life, my mother, my sister and her newborn child. This record is an homage to my family and the beauty that lies within our tribe.”

To need, to be needed, in four corners. Sleep and privacy, gases come and gases go, and now you are the only one in the room you sit in, you are one with the room you sit in, as if there are no negatives and no positives--did you know that you are an extension of your apartment? Did you know that you are in a codependent relationship with your apartment? Did you know that your apartment knows and appreciates all of your secrets?--I feel safe, which is not a new need for human beings, but a very ancient one, almost the first one. It is enacted by the possibility of sound, humming or strumming something mostly. But the quiet apartment makes its own sounds: a single longing note of birdsong told to the beat of restful breathing, the angelic insistence of tinnitus, the neighbours. Sometimes I wonder if silence means nobody's home. How still I sit. Sometimes I return to silence and feel hugged by the cool lightness of its touch, like sleeping with just a sheet in summertime. Like turning the key. Like a visit from the cat next door. Like a somnambulant ray reaching across the room, asking if you'd like to step outside. Reste Envie is a desirous message to oneself, made from a place of lived solitude: the parameters of home. Roger 3000 is a painter and a musician from Brussels, Belgium. Rest En Vie follows his 2020 release on his own imprint Tundra Records, Fiftine. His first solo EP, UFO Love Letters, was released by JJ Funhouse in 2014, followed by a contribution to Ekster's 2017 compilation album EXO3. Roger 3000 frequently collaborates with other musicians and artists, most recently with Lawrence le Doux (with whom he released the EP Chou Chou on Lexi Disques in 2021); with Carole Louis as Ondine & Turbotin for the EP Club Solitude, as well as with Bitsy Knox, with whom he released the LP OM COLD BLOOD in 2018 on Tanuki Records. Text by Bitsy Knox

Recently created Guatemalan label Identidata is extremely proud to present Sacratávica, the very first collected survey of Joaquín Orellana’s compositions. With a career spanning over 50 years of activity across contemporary art, performance, theater and sound art, Orellana is a highly singular figure in Guatamalan culture. Often considered to be the sole avant-garde composer in the country, his work has a deeply interdisciplinary quality. Most of his music was created using an orchestra of his self-built instruments, also known as Útiles Sonoros. Sitting at the border of sculpture, sound installation and musical instrument, these Útiles Sonoros, which he’s been building and developing since the late ‘60s, are at the center of his artistic activity.

Aside the obvious formal aspect, his compositions also have a strong political message, while being deeply rooted in Guatemalan history, folklore and various identities, both indigenous and modern. Playful opener “Híbrido a presión” was one of the first of his compositions to be performed entirely using the Útiles Sonoros. However, due to its technical complexity the piece was seldom reproduced, except for a later staging that Orellana directed in Louisville, Kentucky. “Ramajes”(1984), initially titled “Evocación profunda y ramajes de una marimba” , tracks the many incarnations of the marimba across history, before reaching its final form as one of Orellana’s instruments by combining vibrational percussion with melody and poetry fragments.

The title track, ‘’Sacratávica’’, represents one of the most ambitious and emotionally charged pieces from the album. An expansive 22 minute composition mixing textures that mimick field recordings and multi-layered vocal melodies culminating in choral catharsis, ‘’Sacratávica’’ deals in baroque maximalism without ever feeling cluttered. For the casual listener, the track immediately stands out, not only because of the moving vocal layered harmonies, but also through its epic scale and strong sonic narrative. Dubbed “Las voces del Rio Negro”, the piece references the massacres that took place in Coban during a period where the army massacred numerous towns, throwing the bodies in the nearby Rio Negro (the Black River).

Final track, “Fantoidea”, a glistening, metallic ambient improvisation, was a reimagining of Disney’s Fantasia using Paul Dukas’s “The Sorcerer's Apprentice” as inspiration.

Despite his work being presented in numerous exhibitions and concerts in various prestigious museums and theaters across the world, very few quality recordings exist to date. The only previously available recordings so far or either of very poor quality or did not receive enough attention. This is why, although The compositions presented not being previously unheard, having them all together in a high quality audio object represents a key moment In Guatemalan and Latin American culture.

Recorded on August 31st 2016 during a historical concert attended by over 1000 people at the Centro Cultural Miguel Angel Asturias, designed by Efrain Recinos, one of Guatemala’s leading contemporary artist from the last century, the four pieces were performed by a selection of over 90 musicians (including 60 vocalists) who were already familiar with Orellana’s instruments, cherry-picked from the Guatemalan Conservatory.

For the people behind Identidata, it has been a long and arduous process to put together these pieces. Trying to offer a panoramic view of Orellana’s work, the curators have selected pieces ranging from different decades and artistic periods. Sacratávica is a portrait of a singular artist whose work speaks not only to his culture, but carries strong aesthetic sensibilities that resonate universally.

*MILKY CLEAR VINYL - 300 COPIES ONLY FOR WORLD!!* Technology + Teamwork’s fizzling synths, interweaving textures and punchy rhythms are beguiling on their long-awaited debut album We Used To Be Friends. However, at the heart of it all it’s the connection between the group’s two members, Anthony Silvester and Sarah Jones, the friendship the much-travelled duo have managed to maintain for nearly 15 years and a showcase of the slow-burning construction of the electronic world that they’ve surrounded themselves with. We Used To Be Friends is ultimately the tale of two storied artists in their own right, holding onto each other through personal and career twists and turns, relocations and broader movements through respective phases of their lives. Silvester and Jones first met and then collaborated as part of biting post-punk five-piece XX Teens in 2008, eventually breaking off to forge their own path together even as the latter’s demand as a drummer grew. Performing with everyone from Hot Chip, Harry Styles and Bloc Party among many others, Jones has been a constant percussive presence across the sphere of alternative UK pop music – she’s also found time for her own solo project Pillow Person and played on records by the likes of Puscifer and Kurt Vile. Silvester meanwhile has performed in art galleries across Europe including: Fridericianum in Kassel, Kölnischer Kunstverein in Cologne, and Vleeshal in Middelburg, as well as providing sound design and composing work for several art films. Technology + Teamwork is the constant throughout all of that though. “Technology + Teamwork's name perfectly describes how we work” Silvester explains. “Sometimes the teamwork is between each other and sometimes it’s between us and the technology.” Although going by the name Technology + Teamwork as far back as 2014, two events conspired that pulled the project into focus for the pair of them: firstly, Silvester spent a year constructing a soundproof studio shed on the border of London and Essex where he lives. Secondly, inevitably, the pandemic brought the globe-trotting Jones back home to just seven miles away from her long-time collaborator and friend. “We probably hung out more than we had for a few years” says Silvester. “Also, after all her Pillow Person releases Sarah had gotten really good with recording vocals and knowing what did and didn’t work and had a really good home studio set up. We still worked separately though, exchanging ideas via email and WhatsApp.” As with many artists through 2020 and early 2021, working separately was a new necessity that they were forced to adapt to. However, it became clear that there were creative benefits to it. “It really changed our sound and our sounds became a lot more focused as a result” Jones says. “I wanted to use the same ideas of improvisation that I might use while playing the drums for myself and apply that to melodies and lyrics.” The album bristles with hyperpop modernity. You can hear it in the manipulated vocals most prominently on Big Blue’s disco strut and on Moving Too’s heady mix of pitched up voice and burrowing sub bass. However, the pair also looked to San Francisco and the West Coast synthesis movement of the 60s, Silvester inspired by the likes of Suzanne Ciani and Don Buchla. The plaintive lo-fi and melancholy of Amsterdam incorporates Mutable Instrument’s Marbles by Émilie Gillet which – inspired by Buchla’s own synthesis work – outputs random voltages to give the track an air of unpredictability. It’s something that occurs throughout the album, the duo revelling in the happy accidents that disrupt the flow of their hook-laden pop. “The ‘Buchlian’ ideas of music having randomness and uncertainty, completely freed us up” Silvester explains. “It felt a bit like having more members in the band, machines that didn't do what you expected or intended.” Perhaps more subtly, is the influence of 17th and 18th century Baroque music, with Silvester drawing a line between it and the 90’s R’n’B he and Jones both love – exemplified perhaps best on K+B’s percussive claps and sultry grooves. The portentous juddering synthpop of the title track, meanwhile, alludes specifically to Handel’s Sarabande. It’s typical of an album that only needs a scratch of its seemingly glossy surface to unearth a myriad of contorted touchstones and reference points that’ve fermented beneath it. Thematically there’s an anxious sense to the record, with tracks often balancing above a quiet sense of unerring tension even at their most bombastic. Moving Too is the result of an existential doubt that hit Silvester while out cycling, with the outro refrain "it's not enough to die you also have to be forgotten" a take on something Samuel Beckett once said. These worries are echoed on the album’s closing track What A Year, which borrows a lot of lines from the late drag performer and fashion designer Dorian Corey including the grimly defiant "you're gonna leave your mark somewhere in this world just by getting through it”. Those clouds offer a counter point to We Used To Be Friends, but then isn’t that what great pop albums do? Technology + Teamwork undoubtedly love the craft of the hook and the song, but they always position themselves left of centre, prepared to scuff things up, pull something out of shape or manipulate something to leave it sounding warped. Much like their friendship, nothing here is particularly linear – and it’s all the better for it. Bio: Anthony Silvester & Sarah Jones first collaborated as part of biting post-punk five piece XX Teens in 2008, eventually breaking off to forge their own path together even as the latter's demand as a drummer grew. Performing with everyone from Hot Chip, Bat for Lashes, Harry Styles and Bloc Party (among many others), Jones has been a constant percussive presence across the sphere of alternative UK pop music - she's also found time for her own solo project Pillow Person and played on records by the likes of Puscifer and Kurt Vile. Silvester meanwhile has performed in art galleries across Europe including Fridericianum in Kassel, Kölnischer Kunstverein in Cologne, and Wleeshal in Middelburg, as well as providing sound design and composing work for several art films. Technology & Teamwork is the constant throughout all of that though. "We Used To Be Friends" proves that Technology & Teamwork undoubtedly love the craft of the hook and the song, but they always position themselves left of centre, prepared to scuff things up, pull something out of shape or manipulate something to leave it sounding warped. Much like their friendship, nothing hear is particularly linear - and it's all the better for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A royal refugee turned Soul survivor. On his debut album Free Me, Burundian-born JP Bimeni astonishes with a voice that recalls Otis Redding in his prime whilst resonating with the soul of Africa. A refugee who's been living in London since the early 2000s, Bimeni sings songs of love and loss, hope and fear, with a conviction that comes from the extraordinary experiences life has thrown at him.

A descendant of the Burundian royal family, Bimeni fled Burundi aged 15 during the 1993 civil war. Following three attempts on his life - at school he watched as his schoolmates were murdered, he was then chased by motorcycle militia-men and finally poisoned by doctors in hospital - he was given refugee status and fled to the UK where he's remained ever since. Music has provided the solace that Bimeni has needed to move forward with his life: 'If I didn't have music I don´t know how I would have survived everything', he says. With it's classic 60s-sounding Motown and Stax-inspired grooves the album was written by musical director Eduardo Martiìnez and songwriter Marc Ibarz and Bimeni imbues these tales of love and loss with his tragic experiences making 'Free Me' a deep soul soundtrack to his pained life: 'When I sing I feel like I'm cleansing myself: music is a way for me to forget'.