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Felix Laband’s The Soft White Hand is the masterwork of an artist who expresses himself through musical and artistic collage acting together to reinterpret his sources and to express significant elements of his own personal story.

Released by Munich-based Compost Records, the 14-track album is Laband’s first full-length offering since the critically acclaimed Deaf Safari in 2015. It is heralded by the single “Derek and Me”, and is being pressed on vinyl for distribution globally.

In The Soft White Hand Laband works with source materials that will be familiar to those who know his previous four records – Thin Shoes in June (2001), 4/4 Down the Stairs (2002), Dark Days Exit (2005) and especially Deaf Safari which reached deep into the South Africa scene and its political culture to inspire its vocal and music sampling. However, the disengagement he felt from his homeland during his latest album’s creation – an abiding sense of untethered-ness to place and space, exquisitely rendered in tracks like “Death of a Migrant” – is perceptible in Laband’s desire to illuminate instead aspects of his own life.

“For this album, my source material became almost autobiographical as opposed to African statements I’ve worked with previously,” says the artist. “I have sampled a lot from documentaries from the 80s crack epidemic in impoverished African American communities and believe my work speaks unapologetically for the lost and marginalised, for those who are the forgotten casualties of the war on drugs. In the past, I have had my issues with substance abuse, and I know first-hand about the nightmares and fears, what it feels like to be isolated and abandoned.”

Few artists have managed to air these intimate aspects of their life so luminously as Laband does in tracks like “5 Seconds Ago”, “They Call Me Shorty” and in the strange and meditative “Dreams of Loneliness”. “I’ve been building this weird, autobiographical story using other people talking. It’s kind of humorous but it is also sad and beautiful,” says Laband.

Yet, as in all of Laband’s recorded output, the delineations between emotions are never starkly drawn and The Soft White Hand is also shot through with beauty. Nature appears in recordings made in his garden in the intimate early morning hours, whether as in the calls of the Hadada Ibis and other birdsong in “Prelude” or of the vertical-tail-cocking bird in “Derek and Me”. The last is a wonderful track with Derek Gripper, the South African experimental classical guitarist of international renown, whose 2020 song “Fanta and Felix” imagines a meeting between Fanta Sacko and Laband.

Laband’s eloquence in reinterpreting classical composers such as Beethoven in “We Know Major Tom’s a Junkie” is another thrilling aspect of the new record. “I’ve been properly exploring classical music on this album,” explains Laband, “taking melodies from classical compositions and reinterpreting them”. A fresh quality comes to his work through this sonic adventuring: the tender manipulation of the mundaneness of the computer’s AI voice to reimagine and reinvent iconic lyrics and melodies in strange and unexpected configurations.

The Soft White Hand is Laband’s most cohesive body of work to date. Yet it remains, in its sheer artistic scope, impossible to describe fully. Darkness abuts the gossamer light. A song that summons the sunrise and all the hope of a new day could also be about the final dipping down of the sun that portends a troubled night ahead. Interludes are invitations to expand outwards or shift inwards. Mistakes and “weird fuckups” in the sound are cherished as convincing statements against what Laband calls the “grossness” of perfect sound in modern music.

For this world-leading electronic artist, the boundaries are unfixed. He is inspired by the German Dada artist, Hannah Höch, who memorably declared: “I wish to blur the firm boundaries which we self-certain people tend to delineate around all we can achieve.” His music consequently reflects a primal artistic impulse that is also visible in Laband’s considerable visual art output as seen recently in several solo exhibitions such as that held in the No End Gallery in Johannesburg in 2019 and in the works he produced during his 2018 Nirox Foundation Artists Residency. “My music is always about collage, as is my art,’’ he affirms. “Everything I do is collage. It is a medium I find very interesting because you are taking history and distorting it and changing its meaning and turning it upside down and back to front.” In her book Recollections of My Non-Existence, Rebecca Solnit calls collage “literally a border art”; it is “an art of what happens when two things confront each other or spill onto each other”.

With The Soft White Hand, Laband is confirming his singular ability to achieve this in both art and music, melting the divisions between the two creative disciplines until they become one. He is also affirming his belief that an album of music should be more than a collection of unrelated tracks, but should unfold a fully integrated, cohesive story as in the song cycles of the great classical composers. In doing so, he claims his position as one of the most significant artists working today.

Artist Statement – Felix Laband – August 2022

When the Khmer Rouge took their captives for processing, they identified their class enemies by looking at their hands. If they were sunburned, rough and calloused, they were those of a peasant, a proletarian to be spared. But if they were soft and white, then they were those of a city-dweller, an intellectual or bourgeois, an adversary to be liquidated.

In calling this album The Soft White Hand, I was reflecting on the Cambodian genocide and how it resonates in contemporary South Africa. The apartheid era is over, and gone with it is white political domination. Yet economic and social privilege is still held in soft white hands. But those who grasp it know just how tenuous is their hold, how it singles them out, and my music reflects their subconscious fears, the stress and guilt of clinging on to what others envy and desire.

The soft white hand of the title suggests to me a further image, one that relates to all of postcolonial Africa. In my mind’s eye, I see the soft, duplicitous handshake of the smooth representatives of the superpowers making deals and promising gifts that benefit only them, and not their African dupes.
Yet, soaring above the wailing of sirens sampled from the first day of the invasion of Ukraine, my music is also about love gained and passion lost. It is about the tender caress of a soft white hand that conducts you into a place of dreams to be enfolded by nocturnal melodies.

Re-mastered from the original master tapes.
180 gr vinyl pressed by Optimal in Germany using the Metal Mothers from Pallas.

Facsimile reissue using the original photo by Jean-Pierre Leloir.
Double insert using an original color photo by JP Leloir.
Each record has been visually checked to prevent defects.

Recorded October 22, 1958, Olympia hall, Paris.
Original LP issue: Brunswick 87 903.

“They’d been living in Europe for months. They’d appeared in Cannes and at Knokke (…) yet the only thing missing was the consecration that a great concert in Paris would bring. They won that last battle with astounding brio, in front of an audience of connoisseurs. There were many there who thought modern jazz had never been so well- served in Paris.” (Jazz Magazine). Hard bop had arrived! Hallelujah! On its first French appearance, in July ‘58 at the Cannes Festival – the first and only Cannes jazz festival – the Donald Byrd Quintet had brought the house down. Yet four of its five members were relatively unknown in France… The French knew that the leader had replaced Kenny Dorham in the Jazz Messengers, that Doug Watkins was the Messengers’ bassist, and that pianist Walter Davis Jr. was still only 18 when he’d played with Charlie Parker. As for Art Taylor, even if his name meant something to fans, it was still difficult for people to have a more precise idea of his musical qualities. Only Bobby Jaspar was well-known to Paris audiences, and the tour marked the return of the prodigal son, the musician who’d decided, after setting the Club St. Germain on fire, to try his luck in the States early in 1956 – J.J. Johnson had hired him, and then Miles Davis (for a short spell) before Donald Byrd brought him into the group he was taking to Europe. This new tour would climax at the Olympia theatre during one of the “Jazz Wednesdays” that were organised there, ever since the Jazz At Carnegie Hall” tour – Zoot Sims, JJ. Johnson, Lee Konitz, Phineas Newborn – had inaugurated the series a little earlier. Byrd and his band took pains not to disappoint a Paris audience they knew to be particularly fickle, and they astutely varied the public’s pleasures throughout the evening. The complicity that united the rhythm section – Walter Davis Jr., Doug Watkins and Art Taylor – was much in evidence on Ray’s Idea; mistrusting the traps of the spectacular at all costs, Donald Byrd, producing brilliant inventions on the trumpet, took the lion’s share of the honours on a theme that was then much in fashion, Dear Old Stockholm, adapted from a Swedish traditional song; on Flute Blues, Bobby Jaspar proved he was still a specialist on that instrument, and Paul’s Pal showed that, on tenor, the playing of Sonny Rollins hadn’t gone unnoticed. It must be said that it didn’t have much effect on the discreet lyricism underlying the choruses he played during his “St. Germain” period. The Olympia spectators weren’t sparing in their applause for the five musicians. How else could they have reacted, faced with the fire the band showed during a tune like The Blues Walk? It wouldn’t take much for us to applaud, too, even if it is fifty-five years later…
Text – Alain Tercinet

Widely-loved electronic maestro Gigi Masin returns with ‘Vahinè' – a mini album of beautiful and distinct music that is unmistakably his, sounding better than ever.

Masin always pours his heart into composing, but here it takes on a potent new level of heavy emotion – as it’s a tribute to his late wife, who sadly passed away last year.

“There is a Tahitian dance called ‘Aparima’. It consists of graceful, sinuous and fascinating movements, which tell you stories and legends about love or tradition. The ‘Vahinè' are now dancing, the Tahitian females, with smiles and gestures that could be symbolic or descriptive but are always gentle, harmonious, charming. I was watching this documentary, it was almost 4 in the morning, but I couldn't sleep; I was in front of the television for hours, my wife had passed away the day before, and I was watching hands and arms swaying.

I told myself that maybe it’s so, at the end of the road it’s possible to realize dreams, and I’m sure that she is finally able to dance like never before, and is able to move without any impediment, with no suffering, free to make all the movements that she couldn't make for so long, turning to me with a smile and a wink. So, in the clouds, you will discover and see an extraordinary 'Vahinè', because she will move and dance and smile until the end of time.”
Gigi Masin

A future-retro dreamscape where stripes of early evening sun pour through partially closed venetian blinds; kalimba, piano and steel pans meet on the incredibly evocative ‘Marilene (Somewhere in Texas)’.

The Balearic/Italo house heart of ‘Barumini’ throbs throughout a celestial epiphany, whilst ‘Shadye’ is a sun blinded ambient mirage where angelic voices and electric guitar intertwine, before more heavenly music ensues on the trance-like ‘Malvina’.

A heart-wrenchingly beautiful evocation of transitioning to the other side, ‘Valerie Crossing’ is Gigi’s compelling and inspirational take on death, with a vivid evocation of something spiritual, existential and metaphysical. His exemplary approach shows decease not as a cause for despair, but a philosophical and poetic exploration of where souls go, when they leave their earthly bodies.

Masin closes with ‘Vahinè' – a twitchy, levitational piece of sublime deep techno, which transmits high strength vibrations of powerful emotions. On both this track, and the album of the same name, there’ s no pseudo intellectual ambient posturing with cod academic angles tagged on; This is music of real substance, coming from a real place. It’s saturated with feelings, but turns mourning into affecting art, and even a beacon of hope.

On her debut album Alone at Last, Tasha celebrates the radical political act of being exquisitely gentle with yourself. For years, the Chicago songwriter has dreamed hard of a better world_she's worked with the local racial justice organization Black Youth Project 100 and has been on the front lines at protests around the city. But as she returned to the guitar, an instrument her mother first taught her to play when she was 15 years old, she began exploring the ways music can be a powerful force for healing. Across Alone at Last's seven tracks, Tasha sings mantras of hope and restoration over lush guitar lines inspired by the stylings of Nai Palm and Lianne La Havas_both artists who, like Tasha, opt for a sweetness in their playing over the masculinized bravado that often accompanies the electric guitar. Alone at Last is a powerful talisman in a demanding world, and a reminder that kindness toward the self can help unlock the way to a world a little more livable than this one.

Der Radiohead-Frontmann meldet sich solo zurück Thom Yorke veröffentlicht sein neues Album "ANIMA".
Passend zum Album hat der preisgekrönte Regisseur Paul Thomas Anderson einen Kurzfilm gleichen Namens gedreht, der am 27.06.19. um 21.00 seine Premiere bei Netflix feierte. Der 14-Minüter enthält drei Songs aus Thom Yorkes neuem Album. "ANIMA" wurde von Thom Yorke geschrieben und von Nigel Godrich produziert. Das Album beinhaltet 9 Tracks und auf der Vinly-Version einen exklusiven Bonustrack.

Würde ein anderer Musiker ein Album veröffentlichen, das so unmittelbar wie "Haavard" an ULVERs akustisches Meisterwerk "Kveldssanger" anknüpft und obendrein auch noch einen Track mit dem Titel "Kveldssang II" enthält, wäre es offensichtlich ein Plagiat. Doch Gitarrist und Sänger Håvard Jørgensen darf das natürlich, denn er ist der musikalische Kopf sowohl hinter "Kveldssanger" als auch "Haavard". Sein Debütalbum als Solokünstler lässt sich daher als legitimer Nachfolger von ULVERs Folk-lastigem Kultalbum verstehen. Jørgensen realisiert sein akustisches Projekt mithilfe zahlreicher exzellenter Gastmusiker - unter denen sich sogar ULVER-Frontmann Kristoffer "Garm" Rygg als Sänger befindet. Als HAAVARD bringt der Norweger die epischen und erhabenen Melodien, die tief in der Folklore seines Heimatlandes verwurzelt sind, erneut zum Strahlen. Durch die akustische und größtenteils instrumentale Umsetzung legt Jørgensen jene spektakulären Schichten einer cineastisch anmutenden Schönheit frei, die der norwegische Black Metal unter elektrischem Zorn verbirgt. In den 90er Jahren war Jørgensen ein fester Bestandteil von Oslos rasant wachsender schwarzen Metal-Szene. Nachdem er sich ECZEMA angeschlossen hatte und das Trio sich mit einem neuen Sänger unter dem Namen SATYRICON dem Black Metal zuwandte, wurde Jørgensen auch Teil von ULVER, der progressiven Speerspitze des Black Metal. Obwohl er sich eine Zeit lang vom harten Stil desillusioniert fühlte, trat Jørgensen dennoch mit verschiedenen Formationen auf. So steuerte er zum Beispiel Akustikgitarren zu MYRKURs "M" (2015) und deren Live-Album "Mausoleum" (2016) bei. Im Jahr 2019 gründete der Gitarrist zusammen mit Mitgliedern von DØDHEIMSGARD die neue Osloer Black-Metal-Band DOLD VORDE ENSD NAVN. Mit seiner neu entfachten Leidenschaft für die dunklere Seite der Musik beschloss Jørgensen, die losen Enden des wunderbaren musikalischen Fadens, den "Kveldssanger" hinterlassen hatte, mit seinem Soloprojekt HAAVARD wieder aufzunehmen. Jørgensen lässt seine langjährige Erfahrung hörbar einfließen und lädt uns erneut zu einer akustischen Reise ein, die direkt in das melodische Herz der dunklen nordischen Musik führt.

Gatefold-2LP (schwarzes Vinyl) inkl. 4-stg. Beileger, Ätzung auf der D-Seite und Schutzhülle

Deron Miller gives his life to the riff. Unrestrained by industry expectations and genre limitations, the boundlessly prolific guitarist and voice behind multiple beloved projects is best known as the founder, frontman, and songwriter in CKY. His authentic and effortlessly hooky heavy rock obsession returns with 96 BITTER BEINGS. Reinvigorated and ready to rumble all over again, Miller roars back with the same reverence for riffage that made underground hits out of CKY anthems like “Flesh Into Gear,” “Escape from Hellview,” and “Disengage the Simulator” from 1998 till 2011.

The familiar warmth, feel, groove, and unapologetic honesty which drove the song “96 Quite Bitter Beings” to 54 million streams (on Spotify alone) permeates the pair of albums unleashed by 96BB.

A successful crowdfunding campaign saw Miller, guitarist Kenneth Hunter, bassist Shaun Luera and Shaun’s brother, drummer Tim, conjure up 2018’s Camp Pain in limited release. North American and European touring followed, wrapping up shortly before the COVID-19 shutdowns.

“After CKY and a short break, I decided to continue, without changing the sound,” Miller explains. “Because that’s what I do. It’s what I love to do and what people say I do well. All of the guys who got in the band with me are great musicians. And each of them is hungry. They have priorities and ambitions about being in a rock band, no matter the grim state of pop music out there. If we can bring rock and metal back to the mainstream, in some way, that’s the dream.”

In 2022, 96 BITTER BEINGS unleash the long-awaited Synergy Restored, 11 songs of relentless power and vibe. Four-on-the-floor, fuzzy and visceral, proper rock n’ roll made by an actual band, rather than a bunch of overprocessed samples and otherwise stale shenanigans. Songs like “Vaudeville’s Revenge,” “90 Car Pile-Up,” and “Wish Me Dead” offer vivid reminders of the truth-telling prowess of guitars, bass, and drums. Miller is on fire, weaponizing the same knack for memorable musical epiphanies behind projects like Foreign Objects, World Under Blood, and CKY.
Miller co-founded Foreign Objects and later Camp Kill Yourself (a name born of his love of VHS slasher classics) in West Chester, Pennsylvania, in the ‘90s. Written by Miller, 1999’s Volume 1 appealed to metalheads, skaters, stoners, and punks. The album led to a stint on Warped Tour and a deal with Island Def Jam Music Group, which issued Infiltrate•Destroy•Rebuild• in 2002. Axl Rose chose CKY to support the ill-fated Chinese Democracy tour, and they also played with Metallica.
An Answer Can Be Found followed in 2005, producing the Billboard Mainstream Rock Top 40 single “Familiar Realm.” Extensive touring with Avenged Sevenfold and the like-minded Clutch followed. Carver City, in 2009, would prove to be Miller’s last album with the group he created and led. Across the four albums, Miller indulged his love of everything from ‘80s thrash metal to doom, as CKY blended high-octane ruckus with occasional bursts of Moog synths and cinematic storytelling.
Miller never stopped creating, with a handful of full albums written and released, a foray into horror movies, and parenting three children with his wife, scream queen actress Felissa Rose. Like Galactic Prey, the most recent Foreign Objects album, the 96BB records were recorded and produced by Miller and Hunter at Manifest Productions. Camp Pain was explicitly made for diehard fans who supported the creation of both albums through 96BB’s Indiegogo campaign. Synergy Restored was always intended for wider release, which it sees now via Nuclear Blast.
“I want my work taken seriously. I thank God every day that I was never overexposed, or even exposed enough commercially, to where I’m resigned to a specific moment,” Miller says. “I would rather have my self-respect, the respect of the audience, and a dedicated cult following.”

“Every time I go out, I see Nirvana, Metallica, and Misfits t-shirts. These kids may not know the music, but at least they are displaying a visual interest,” he adds. “Corporations spend millions of dollars promoting certain styles of music, but history proves that true rock will always sneak in.”

SJT and Aaty are still running street acid / rave project Teknobuskers.
After a long covid isolation, finally we came back on the street of Berlin.
Since last year, Robotron (Drums) and MCRD (Mic.) got a part of this project
We are now 4 people bringing up own gears on the street and playing them together to generate street acid music.

This acid improvisation was recorded directly to Tascam Portastudio 414 in front of S-Bahn Warschauerstrasse on 21.08.21.

It will be released on cassette tape w/ digi download code by end of October.

ARCHITECTS have delivered their 10th studio album; an arena-ready
opus entitled, the classic symptoms of a broken spirit , the follow up to
their 2021 breakout album For Those That Wish To Exist, which hit #1 on
the UK sales chart.Finding yourself with a UK Number One album and
selling out arenas is enough for some to repeat a winning formula
Architects however, are forever moving forward. "It was definitely validating and
felt really cool for like a day," recalls drummer, producer and songwriter Dan
Searle of hitting the top spot with For Those That Wish To Exist."For a lot of the
bucket list things you reach in any career, there's a momentary gratification then
you're like, 'What next?' You just move on. By the time the album came out, my
head was already in the mindset of 'broken spirit'. That was where I was at."
Searle notes how it was their albums Lost Forever/ Lost Together, All Our Gods
Have Abandoned Us, and Holy Hell that really "cemented what the band was
about" and "took them to a new level" as a rock powerhouse and leaders of the
UK's metalcore scene – making it all the more "daunting" to reinvent themselves
on the records that would follow. "I wanted to make this album with a different
aesthetic. We were enjoying working with the synths and doing stuff that we
hadn't done before."
As a band who never stop writing, the kernels of the songs that make up the
classic symptoms of a broken spirit were already in progress before the ink had
time to dry on the artwork of their last record. Architects were on a creative roll,
and the record was born of that creative freedom. Produced by Dan Searle and
guitarist Josh Middleton, with additional production from frontman Sam Carter at
Decon's Middle Farm Studios and their own Brighton Electric Studios before being
mixed by Zakk Cervini, the band were buoyed by finally being back in a room
together after their last album was made mostly remotely due to COVID
restrictions. The result was something altogether more "free, play - ful and
spontaneous," Searle explains.
Carter agrees: "This one feels more live, more exciting and more fun – it has that
energy. We wanted it to be a lot more industrial and electronic. That was the main
mission. They can sit side-by-side: Mr. Electronic and Mr. Organic."

London 4 piece Crows’ second album, ‘Beware Believers’ conjures a dark and visceral post-punk that’s been hardened by years of notoriously rowdy live shows, Crows have amassed a legion of die-hard fans since they formed back in 2015 and cultivated a singular, much-adored presence in the British alternative music scene. Equal parts ferocious and hedonistic, the incoming ‘Beware Believers’ LP arrived off the back of their critically acclaimed 2019 debut ‘Silver Tongues’, international touring and festival appearances, and shared stages with the likes of IDLES, Wolf Alice, Girl Band, Metz, Slaves and Protomartyr. Following the release of their long-awaited debut album on the IDLES-run Balley Records back in 2019, Crows immediately set to work on its follow-up and by January 2020 they were already back in the studio tracking what would become the ‘Beware Believers’ LP and then Covid hit. “Once we knew Covid was here to stay, we took the first break we’ve taken since we released our first single ‘Pray’ in 2015. Being locked down for three months unable to finish the last bits of the record was very frustrating but it did mean we could come back to the album with fresh ears and make sure it sounded like it should: a true representation of Crows.” Loud, cathartic and abrasive a quintessential Crows record it certainly is. “Beware Believers has felt like a marathon, a real endurance test that’s been a long, winding road filled with highs and lows and plenty of twists and turns”, frontman James Cox says: “The majority of the themes on the album came from what was going on in the world around Summer 2019 when we started writing the album. Covid wasn't in our lives and the biggest impact was Brexit and the madness our government were putting us through. I was reading a lot of J.G. Ballard and Kurt Vonnegut, mad dystopian novels, whilst all this craziness was going on around us and it was a weird headspace to get into.” Tracklist: 1) Closer Still 2) Garden of England 3) Only Time 4) Slowly Separate 5) Moderation 6) Healing 7) Room 156 8) Meanwhile 9) Wild Eyed And Loathsome 10) The Servant 11) Sad Lad

New Hampshire born, New Brunswick based, singer-songwriter Jason
Anderson has spent the last five years making Canada home, landing first
in Toronto before settling in Fredericton - The idea of home the places we
come from, the places we return to is a powerful theme throughout his
epic new record First Light
First Light is a compelling, cathartic listen, as Anderson's poetic lyrics and
anthemic melodies make for an inspired fit with producer Thomas Wincek.
Drawing on his All Tiny Creatues project as well as his work with Justin Vernon's
Volcano Choir, Wincek has created a huge sonic backdrop here. Anderson's
expansive narratives and sing-along hooks weave through explosive rockers like
Caps Ridge Line and Still Life, pastoral mood pieces like Looking Glass and
Streetlamps , and haunting ballads like the pensive "Tower in the Fog and
gorgeous closer Halloween. The whole thing feels a bit like indie- folk stadium
rock, as if The Weakerthans were fronted by fellow Canadian Bryan Adams. As
Anderson puts it, € What started as a text exchange between me and Tom about
Joni Mitchell in the 80s turned into something strange and awesome. What's
perhaps most awesome about the project is hearing a bedroom singer-songwriter
pushing themselves in such a fun and unexpected way. First Light is a really
special record.

Das erste neue Junior Boys Album seit "Big Black Coat" aus 2016 und Junior Boys feiern ihr 20-jähriges Bestehen diesen Herbst/Winter!

Ein sehr ruhiges Album in lauten Zeiten - am 28. Oktober 2022 veröffentlicht das kanadische Duo Junior Boys sein sechstes Album 'Waiting Game' bei City Slang. Sechs Jahre sind seit ihrem letzten Album, "Big Black Coat" von 2016, vergangen. Waiting Game" zeigt die Produzenten Jeremy Greenspan und Matt Didemus in einer zärtlichen und kontemplativen Stimmung; eine Abwechslung zu ihren druckvollen, R&B-lastigen Dance-Melodien. Die zusätzlichen Musiker des Albums sind ebenfalls Kanadier: Caribou-Kollaborateur Colin Fisher spielt durchgehend Saxophon und Bonjay-Frontfrau Alanna Stuart singt neben Greenspan im Song "Yes 2". Damit haben die Junior Boys ein Album geschaffen, das die stille Schönheit der Welt widerspiegelt - vorausgesetzt, man ist bereit, wirklich zuzuhören.

The Others (Lustmord Deconstructed) is a celebration of the fearless attitude of being different and the expression of unique ideas which have never existed before. Over 13 years after the release of O T H E R , Pelagic Records has gathered 16 bands and solo artists to record their own unique takes on tracks from the Other-sessions. The result is an album that is more than a compilation, and more than the sum of its parts; covering a wide range of musical niches and directions, but sharing the same underlying mood and vibe defined by Lustmord's timeless soundscapes: from the ambient solo performances provided by IHSAHN, ENSLAVED or JONAS RENKSE to the subdued voice of ZOLA JESUS woven into Lustmord's sombre fabric to the industrial carnage that is GODFLESH's version of `Ashen'. LUSTMORD is the artistic moniker of Brian Williams. Born in North Wales, he started his musical career in 1980 and soon became a pioneer in the early industrial music scene in the UK. He was a former member of SPK during arguably their most crucial era, and went on to work with THROBBING GRISTLE members Chris & Cosey as well as appearing on early albums by CURRENT 93, NURSE WITH WOUND and others. After relocating to Los Angeles in 1993, Williams worked on dozens of motion picture soundtracks including The Crow, Underworld and Paul Schrader's First Reformed. Additionally he created several video game soundtracks, television scores and solo albums, as well as collaborating with artists as varied as THE MELVINS, CLOCK DVA, JARBOE, John Balance of COIL, Paul Haslinger (TANGERINE DREAM), PUSCIFER, Wes Borland and more, including Grammy Award-winners TOOL on their much acclaimed effort Fear Inoculum. To this day, Lustmord is actively recording and releasing music, his latest release being the collaborative album Alter with Karin Park of A°RABROT, and he is considered to be the founding father of the dark ambient music genre. The original O T H E R was released by independent record label Hydra Head Records, founded by ISIS frontman Aaron Turner and former home of bands such as CONVERGE, PELICAN, JESU, SUN O))) or BORIS. As one journalist put it at the time, O T H E R is a "grim example of a consummate artist who is working frmly within the parameters that he has laid out for himself over the years." This album shows Lustmord at his most characteristic, and the icy, ominous guitar playing of Jones, Turner and Ozborne resonates perfectly within the deep soundscapes that make up this frightening yet inspiring journey. What demonstrates the profound influence of Lustmord on this contemporary music underground showcased here is that artists from disparate ends of the sonic spectrum all feel inspired to explore the essence of his idiosyncratic sounds within their own realm: experimental electronica icons ULVER excel on a stunning, hazy rendition of `Godeater', while Japanese post-rock act MONO deliver a crushing version of `Er Eb Os', and THE OCEAN take us on a cathartically heavy mindtrip back to our `Primal State of Being'. In the end, each of these 16 artists delivers an interpretation that pays the deepest respect to this pivotal artist, while also standing out as a new track of its own.

Freedom – the debut album from Leah Weller – a modern soul soundtrack to her head spinning twenties turning into empowered, contented thirties. Completed last year, Weller’s first complete album follows a decade-long career on catwalks, in front of cameras and making dancefloors shake, constantly on the move and with music as a constant companion. Finding the escape route out of anxiety-inducing mix-and-match career moves with the stability of love, the slowdown of repeated lockdowns and, finally, motherhood, Weller’s race is now to be run at her own pace with a collection of songs set perfectly to her flow.



Gathering nine, finely-tailored songs together with a drum beat of support from producer and collaborator, Steve Craddock, the collection speaks, much rather than screams, of finding the sweet spot between the need for hope, however naïve, and the truths that only experience can spell out.

Freedom – the debut album from Leah Weller – a modern soul soundtrack to her head spinning twenties turning into empowered, contented thirties. Completed last year, Weller’s first complete album follows a decade-long career on catwalks, in front of cameras and making dancefloors shake, constantly on the move and with music as a constant companion. Finding the escape route out of anxiety-inducing mix-and-match career moves with the stability of love, the slowdown of repeated lockdowns and, finally, motherhood, Weller’s race is now to be run at her own pace with a collection of songs set perfectly to her flow.



Gathering nine, finely-tailored songs together with a drum beat of support from producer and collaborator, Steve Craddock, the collection speaks, much rather than screams, of finding the sweet spot between the need for hope, however naïve, and the truths that only experience can spell out.

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."

=

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.

=

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."

=

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."

=

"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."

=

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.

Hand Stamped, Hand numbered, Limited press, with insert.

An oddly familiar/familiarly odd entity floating about the relatively cohesive surface of contemporary electronic music, Belgium-via-Italy based duo Front De Cadeau has been knocking genres askew and blowing overused terminologies out of the water with unrelenting panache over the past decade. Championing a sound unmoored by vanishing trends and cross-pollinating approaches, F2C punch back in on Antinote with their anticipated debut album, “We Slowly Riot”, an 8-track mishmash of tunes previously released and not.

Bastardizing tried-and-tested rave tropes by slowing the tempo down to barely recognizable shapes and contours, Hugo Sanchez and Maurizio Ferrara dish out a new high in their ever expanding discography. Free-falling down the K-hole with no parachute on, “La Ketamine” burns slow but steady. A practically immersive dub filled with processed minutiae and vibrational drums out a mystic forest, it’s a helluva trippy post-industrial joint that unfolds, heady and empyreumatic to the bone. “We Slowly Rot” puts on offer a buggy script-like swing, adorned with F2C’s trademark blend of spoken word and jacuzzi-warm vibes, whereas “There is Something Wrong” steers us into further sizzling, syncopated groove territories through a fevered meshwork of sliced-and-diced vox samples, overheated machine talk and primitive percussions on a African Headcharge tip.

Draped in eerie, 8-bit-infused layers and Arabian Nights ambiences, “Slam is Slam” treats us to a spookily fun Oriental mix of hot-tempered darbukkahs and FX-soaked riffs. The outrageously sensual “Ouvre Ta Bouche” is a tactile invitation to get down in some dark alcove of sorts and more if you hit it off. A steely dub primed for post-party divagations, “Climate Change” slowly veers off into verbed-out industrial jazz as bars run by, while “Legal Illegal” cuts a path of acid-dipped dancehall from outer-space across the club. Last but not least, Jewish clarinets quietly move along waves of sedated bass on “Casa Gaza”, rounding it all off on a dreamy, cinematic note that serenely phases into a liquid-like roller over one solidly deeper-than-deep home stretch.

The first progressive girl group of the French Occitan language
pop scene bring you folk funk, sun-baked bossa, Coltrane jazz and
their own brand of punky ‘Dizco Rural’ against an untouched
French Balearic backdrop spanning the late 70s and 80s.
If even the most assiduous of European record collectors consider
the Occitan language music scene to be France’s best-kept secret
then it’s as fair to say that the incredible multifaceted recordings of
langue d’oc prog girl group Lei Chapacans have spent the last four
decades hiding in plain sight. In all fairness this overlooked
treasure chest of minority language excursions into folk funk,
Balearic, bossa, John Coltrane-penned jazz, baroque psych,
Palestinian poetry, comedic synth skits (and even the rawest form
of femme-fronted multilingual punky disco) has been stowed away
in inconspicuous photographic record sleeves, falsely evoking
something closer to contemporary C&W while oft-misplaced in
record shop cassette racks alongside ‘traditional’ spoken-word and
scholastic albums.
So, for the uninitiated, don’t be too hard on yourself. The fun starts
here. For those who are familiar with the rare and sought-after
one-off solo album by Occitan singer Miquela and have craved for
more, then you’ve come to exactly the right place. Lei Chapacans
(a name that roughly translates to The Vagabonds) is the all-girl
vocal group assembled by Miquela herself just two years after her
debut release, having toured the word and snubbed major label
record deal offers with a steadfast allegiance to the protection of
the Occitan language in which this album is primarily penned and
performed (minus a small amount of German and sarcastic
English in one rebellious instance).
For European collectors with a penchant for French savoir faire,
but have further yearnings for folkloric femme funk, then it’s time
to look towards the Occitan sunset where you will meet Lolo,
Miquela, Sophie, Irena and Denise.
These amazing, and undeniably culturally important recordings
might have taken some time to find a wider audience, but for
music lovers, crate diggers and vinyl vultures alike there are still a
lot of tasty morsels out there to be scavenged and devoured, ask
any self-respecting Chapacan and they’ll concur wholeheartedly.

Finnish Disco and Electronic Music from Private Pressings and Unreleased Tapes 1980–1991

Hot on the sold-out heels of the three previous Svart-issued early 80’s synth pop and underground electronic music compilations (Satan in Love, Dance For Your Life, Cold War On The Rocks comes the last part of the quadrilogy: Black Hole, that reaches the final frontier of collectable cult synth disco music: privately released and completely unreleased music from 40 years ago. Black Hole has been again compiled by Mikko Mattlar, whose encyclopedic knowledge in the field of Finnish electronic music produces 20 cuts of electro-cult has helped him dig up 20 cuts of rare groove from obscure regional compilation records, seven inches of which only a test pressing exists, demo tapes and privately financed singles. Stylistically the compilation moves from 1979 disco funk as performed by Peak Funktion on their unreleased record to homebrewed synth visions by late 80’s bedroom wizards. Interesting curiosities among the 20 tracks include the riveting dance number by Jarkko Väljä, who received some fame back in the day as a Michael Jackson impersonator, and released one 7” single, that has become an expensive rarity. Another thing you wouldn’t believe existed at all if it wasn’t included here is “Israel Is Real” by We, a short-lived gospel vocal quartet, accompanied here by a drum machine and a synthesizer, which makes for an unforgettable and surprisingly catchy four minute piece of underground gospel disco from 1983. The compilation Black Hole – Finnish Disco and Electronic Music From Private Pressings and Unreleased Tapes 1979-1991 will be released by Svart Records on double vinyl and CD on October 14th.

As this album represents a spiritual return to a foundational past, sonically this record is likewise about going back to our fundamentals and our roots; when Eon and I were two kids with guitars in a bedroom figuring out some songs. Our last album, Mass, featured so many parts. We recorded it in New Orleans at Preservation Hall with a thirteen-piece horn section, percussionists, strings, etc. For the most part, it’s tough to find any guitar on the record. So we decided to simplify and reconnect with what inspired us. We kept the ingredients limited, the palate simple. We went back to our beginnings and rediscovered the joy of just playing on an acoustic, and a bass through a small amp, with a vocal. We spent our days like we used to when we were younger. We hung out and talked about music. If it was sunny we went to the beach. We played some tennis. Then in the afternoon we might play through some ideas. If it sounded good in the front room of the house, we took it to the studio.