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Die legendäre belgische Band Vaya con Dios, mit über 10 Millionen verkauften Alben weltweit, kehrt mit einer Sammlung von Neuaufnahmen ihrer größten Songs, inklusive ihres Hits 'What’s A Woman', zurück. Die Songs werden nur von der Klavierbegleitung und der der Stimme der Sängerin Dani Klein getragen und zeichnen sich so durch eine ganz besondere Intimität aus.

Der 26-jährige Sänger Giveon wurde zu einem der aufstrebenden Stars der internationalen Hip-Hop-Szene, indem er mit seiner einzigartigen Baritonstimme Herz und Tiefe in seine Musik zurückbrachte. Diese Stimme ist es auch, die ihn regelmässig an die Spitze der Charts bringt. Zuerst in Drakes "Chicago Freestyle", dann in Justin Biebers "Peaches" und schließlich auch solo mit "Heartbreak Anniversary", das heute weltweit 670 Millionen Streams hat und in den USA mit Platin ausgezeichnet wurde (400 Millionen Streams). Sein Debütalbum "Give or Take" - mit den Singles "For Tonight" und "Lie Again" - ist eines der am meisten erwarteten internationalen Projekte.Cette année fut celle de l'ascension pour Giveon. Le jeune chanteur de 26 ans est devenu une des stars en devenir de la scène Hip-Hop internationale en ramenant du coeur et de la profondeur à sa musique grâce à une voix baryton unique. Cette voix est celle qui enchaîne les apparitions en haut des charts. D'abord sur le « Chicago Freestyle » de Drake puis sur « Peaches » de Justin Bieber tout en marquant le coup en solo avec « Heartbreak Anniversary » qui cumule aujourd'hui 670M de streams dans le monde et certifié platine aux USA (400M streams). « Give or Take », son tout premier album inclus les singles « For Tonight » et « Lie Again », est l'un des projets les plus attendus à l'international.

LTD Edition!

Anna Calvi hat den kompletten Soundtrack für die 6 Staffeln von BBC One's Peaky Blinders geschrieben und eingespielt, einer der größten TV-Momente der letzten Jahre für das Königreich. Auch hierzulande hat die Serie viele Fans. Am 6.5.2022 kündigte Anna Calvi nun ihre neue EP ‚Tommy‘ an, auf der vier neue Songs sind, eine Coverversion von "Red Right Hand" - dem Peaky Blinders-Titelsong von Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, eine Coverversion von Bob Dylans "All The Tired Horses" und zwei eigens für die Serie geschriebene Songs, "Ain't No Grave" und "Burning Down". "Ain't No Grave" wurde zum ersten Mal in der 5. Staffel von Peaky Blinders gespielt, ist aber der musikalische Dreh- und Angelpunkt der 6. Staffel, der in allen sechs Episoden auftaucht und mit seiner schwungvollen Präsenz das Drama auf dem Bildschirm unterstreicht. Kurz nachdem Calvi mit der Arbeit an der Musik zu Staffel 6 begonnen hatte, wurde sie mit ihrem ersten Kind schwanger. Aufgrund der anhaltenden Pandemie musste sie jedoch einen neuen Weg finden, um mit anderen Musikern unter strengen Auflagen in London aufzunehmen. Außerdem beschlß sie, ihren langjährigen Kollaborator Nick Launay, der ihr drittes Studioalbum ‚Hunter' sowie von Alben von Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Grinderman und IDLES produziert hatte, ins Boot zu holen. Anna arbeitete bis zur Nacht vor der Geburt ihres Sohnes Elio im November 2021 an die Komposition und machte sich auch danach schnell wieder an die Arbeit, um den Soundtrack fertigzustellen. Als die erste Folge der Staffel ausgestrahlt wurde, war sie noch in den ersten Zügen ihrer Mutterschaft und musste sich in ihr neues Leben erst hineinfinden. Die Fertigstellung der Filmmusik ist ein enormer Erfolg für Anna und zeigt, dass sie als Komponistin und Künstlerin immer noch dabei ist, ihr ganzes Können zu entfalten und zu zeigen.
Über den Prozess sagt Calvi: "Ich lebe nun schon seit Jahren in der Rolle des Tommy Shelby, nachdem ich die fünfte und letzte Staffel von Peaky Blinders vertont habe. Die einzige Möglichkeit, für diese Serie zu schreiben, besteht darin, sich in seinen Kopf hineinzuversetzen - ich habe monatelang jede Nacht von ihm geträumt, und wenn ich meine Gitarre in die Hand nehme, versuche ich, seine inneren Gedanken nachzuspielen. Meine Gitarre ist seine Wut und meine Stimme ist seine Hoffnung. Ich hatte immer das Gefühl, dass er einen Song haben sollte, der ihn auf den Punkt bringt - er ist der ultimative Antiheld - mörderisch, kalt, furchteinflößend, und doch hat er eine tiefe Liebe zu seiner Familie und eine naive, kindliche Hoffnung, dass er sich eines Tages über all das erheben wird. Ich wollte glauben, dass "Aint No Grave" der Song ist, der in seinem Kopf herumschwirrt, während er in Zeitlupe durch sein Leben geht. Ich glaube, Tommy wird für immer ein Teil von mir sein!"

Der Schöpfer von Peaky Blinders, Steven Knight, fügt hinzu: "Eine neue Anna Calvi-Single ist immer ein Grund zum Feiern, und ich möchte mich in die Liste derer einreihen, die sie loben. Ich möchte Anna auch für die ganze Arbeit danken, die sie für den Soundtrack der sechsten Staffel von Peaky Blinders geleistet hat.“

RUBY THE HATCHET liefern mit "Fear Is a Cruel Master" genau das siedend heiße, eingängige und doch voller roher Energie steckende Killer-Album ab, das sein gefeierter Vorgänger "Planetary Space Child" (2017) versprochen hatte. Fünf lange Jahre hat sich die amerikanische Psych Rock Truppe aus New Jersey nach der Veröffentlichung ihrer letzten Scheibe Zeit gelassen, aber das sehnsüchtige Warten hat endlich ein Ende. RUBY THE HATCHET haben in ihrem kollektiven Songwriting einen neuen Gipfel erklommen. Dies hat sich die Ausnahmetruppe durch zahlreiche Opfer sowie einen eisernen Willen, sich erneut zu steigern, hart erkämpft. Der Albumtitel "Fear Is a Cruel Master" spiegelt die Stimmung der Zeit, in der die neuen Songs geschrieben wurden, perfekt wider. Sängerin Jill Taylor, Gitarrist Johnny Scarps, Schlagzeuger Owen Stewart, Bassist Lake Muir und Organist Sean Hur hatten sich längst daran gewöhnt, als Gruppe zusammenzuarbeiten. Doch während der Arbeit am neuen Album konnten sie nur wenig Zeit miteinander verbringen. "Ich habe während der Pandemie viel gelesen und bin dabei auf den Satz 'Angst ist ein grausamer Meister' "Fear Is a Cruel Master" gestoßen", erklärt Taylor. "In dieser Zeit wurde die Angst sichtbar und wie sie die Menschen zurückhielt. Der Titel hat einen Bezug zur Musikbranche, denn alle waren verunsichert - von den Bands über die Booking-Agenten bis hin zu den Clubs. Angst lag in der Luft". "Fear Is a Cruel Master" wurde zusammen mit Paul Ritchie (THE PARLOR MOB) im New Future in New Jersey aufgenommen und war nicht so akribisch durchgeplant wie RUBYs vorherige Alben. Die Band ließ bewusst mehr Spielraum für Spontaneität und magische Momente. Das Hauptthema von "Fear Is a Cruel Master" ist letztlich die Selbstreflexion. Obwohl die neuen Songs im Schmelztiegel einer weltumspannenden Pestilenz geschmiedet wurden, besitzen sie doch eine Zeitlosigkeit, die weit über den Moment ihrer Entstehung hinausreicht. Alles, was RUBY THE HATCHET zu einem so herausragenden und selbst bei ihren Kollegen äußersten beliebten Act macht, findet sich auf diesem Album - von Jills üppigem Gesang voll rauchigem Honig, über die psychedelischen, aber dennoch knackigen Gitarren, bis hin zum Spirit der Rock'n'Roll-Orgelhelden. "Fear Is a Cruel Master" ist definitiv ein Album, das von einer Band geschrieben wurde, die nach einem Jahrzehnt ohne Bedauern auf all die Momente zurückblickt, die sie gelebt oder nicht durchlebt hat. "Fear Is a Cruel Master" ist sowohl Ergebnis als auch Zeugnis dieser Reise. Es ist Zeit, sich auf den Weg zu machen, um RUBY THE HATCHET in ihrem ebenso beeindruckenden wie mächtigen klanglichen Kielwasser zu folgen.

Nicole Wray aus Virginia hat alles, was eine großartige Musikerin ausmacht: einen ansteckenden Groove wie ein Mitglied der Jackson 5 und ein Stimmvolumen wie Aretha. Nicoles Kindheit in Gospelchören hat ihrer Stimme einen klaren, fast schmerzlindernden Klang verliehen, der ihr Missy Elliot als Mentorin beschert hat. Danach folgte eine Odyssee: Kämpfe mit dem Musikgeschäft, mit Labels und Bandkollegen. Doch diese Kämpfe haben die Künstlerin am Ende stärker gemacht. Aus dieser Stärke heraus veröffentlicht sie jetzt ihr ultimatives künstlerisches Statement. Über ,Queen Alone", ihr Solo-Album von 2016, sagte Nicole: "Die Platte ist ein Spiegel meiner Seele. Sie zeigt die Person, die ich heute bin". Das stimmt: Auf dem Album singt sie selbst geschriebene Songs über ihr Leben.

Clear Vinyl

"The Fire I Long For" ist das vierte Album der 2012 gegründeten Epic-Doom- und Rockband aus Stockholm.

Wer gehofft hatte, dass Avatarium sich gegenüber ihrem letzten Album weiter steigern würden, wird an "The Fire I Long For" seine Freude haben. Diese Band strotzt nur so vor Talent und Potenzial und scheint jetzt zu ihrem Recht zu kommen. Wer stimmungsvollen 70er-Jahre-Rock mit Doom-Einschlag mag, wird sich an einem bitterkalten Wintertag an einem lodernden Lagerfeuer wärmen können.

Das erste Weihnachts-Album der GRAMMY Award Gewinnerin Joss Stone erscheint.

Die mit einer enorm kraftvollen Stimme ausgestattete Joss Stone ist besonders für ihren sehr auf klassischem
Soul basierenden Sound bekannt. Bereits seit ihres Karrierestarts als Teenager hat sie anhaltend Fans
weltweit mit ihrer Musik begeistert. Die britische Sängerin hat sich zunächst mit ihren Neuinterpretationen
klassischer Soul-Songs ein treues Publikum im In- und Ausland erspielt, das sie mit ihrem Können als
Songwriterin und ihrer Fähigkeit, Stile zu erforschen, die weit vom klassischen R&B, ihrer ersten Liebe,
entfernt sind, erweitert hat. Ihr anstehendes Weihnachtsalbum schließt an die zuletzt zusammen mit Dave
Stewart aufgenommenen Soloalben an.
„Merry Christmas, Love“ ist ein Album, gefüllt mit Festtags-Klassikern wie „Winter Wonderland“, „Silent
Night“, „The Christmas Song“ und vielen mehr!
Das Album ist als Jewel Case CD und Vinyl erhältlich sein.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Auf ”Complete Collapse”, dem sechsten Studioalbum der Band, verarbeiten Sleeping With Sirens das Leben in der heutigen Zeit und bringen es perfekt auf den Punkt. ”Wir finden uns mit der neuen Realität ab, in der wir leben”, erklärt Quinn. ”Die Dinge haben sich so schnell verändert, und wir tun alle unser Bestes, um das zu verarbeiten. Die Platte hat eine gewisse Schwere an sich, sowohl was den Sound als auch die Emotionen angeht. Wir versuchen herauszufinden, was los ist und wo wir hinwollen. Wir haben so viel
Stagnation erlebt, aber auch eine Menge Veränderungen, die nicht unbedingt zum Besseren waren. Wir merken jetzt, dass unsere Stimme und das, was wir sagen können oder sagen sollten, durch die Musik kommen muss. Es geht nicht darum, was man auf Instagram oder Twitter sagen kann, es geht darum, was man durch seine Arbeit sagt.”

Italian duo Agents Of Time have been incredibly busy over the past few years, from releasing a string of classic singles – including their recent single for Afterlife, “The Mirage”, which earned more than five million views on Instagram – to remixing The Weeknd’s “Take My Breath”, which appeared on his recent Dawn FM (Alternative World). But the biggest news is here now – their second album, Universo, is ready. Elevating their trademark melodic techno with an exquisite pop-ness, Universo has found its ideal home with Kompakt, following their Music Made Paradise 2020 debut EP for the label. It’s a meeting of minds that makes perfect sense.

Andrea Di Ceglie and Luigi Tutolo, the two members of Agents Of Time, used their time during the pandemic to work on Universo, an album loosely conceptualised around their ‘personal universo’, a manifestation of the world Di Ceglie and Tutolo built both within and around their studio. This accounts for the sparkle and brightness of Universo – it’s full of personality, vim and vigour, the duo experimenting with their music, exploring its furthest corners. If you come to Universo expecting just another album of melodic techno, get ready to be pleasantly surprised – there’s a whole lot more going on here, and it’s all equally compelling.

After a typically poetic opening gesture – the swirling, synaesthetic, self-titled intro track – expectations are immediately blindsided with the two-step pop of “Fallin’”, sung with gentle clarity by guest Audrey Janssens, a dream of a song that harks back to the glory days of early ‘00s UK garage. “Interstellar Cowboy” is a confident, lithe, disco-fied strut; the gentle minor-key piano of “Liquid Fantasy” spirals into a gorgeously melancholy techno-pop epic, Vicky Who?’s voice rich with yearning. Janssens also reappears on the electro-swirl of “Poison”; “Dream Vision” revisits their single “The Mirage”, soft with sweeping strings, loaded with drama; “Part Of Life” sashays into view with a schaffel-stomp.

This rich variety throws the more dancefloor-focused tracks, like “Ciao”, into even starker relief – they’re more decisive, streamlined, yet rich with detail, chugging, Moroder-esque bass meeting strobe-lit synths that fire melodies out into the firmament. Universo feels texturally dense, but it still breathes, its sounds so tactile you want to reach out and grab them, its tunes so seductive you can’t get them out of your head. Universo is a fiercely beautiful album, brave in its spirit, a perfectly poised meeting-point of pop melody and stylish, lush techno: Agents Of Time in excelsis.

Das italienische Duo Agents Of Time war in den letzten Jahren unglaublich fleißig, von der Veröffentlichung einer Reihe klassischer Singles - darunter ihre jüngster Beitrag für Afterlife, "The Mirage", der mehr als fünf Millionen Aufrufe auf Instagram erhielt - bis hin zum Remix von The Weeknds "Take My Breath", der auf dessen aktuellen Album “Dawn FM (Alternative World)” erschien. Aber die bahnbrechendeste Neuigkeit ist erst jetzt endlich da - ihr zweites Album "Universo" ist fertig! “Universo" verbindet ihr Markenzeichen, melodischen Techno, mit einer besonderen Pop-Haltung und findet nach der EP "Music Made Paradise 2020" sein ideales Zuhause bei Kompakt. Eine Seelenverwandtschaft, die absolut Sinn macht.

Andrea Di Ceglie und Luigi Tutolo, die beiden Mitglieder von Agents Of Time, nutzten die Zeit während der Pandemie, um an "Universo" zu arbeiten, einem Album, das lose um ihr "persönliches Universum" herum konzipiert ist, eine Manifestation der Welt, die Di Ceglie und Tutolo in und um ihr Studio herum aufgebaut haben. Das macht den besonderen Glanz und die strahlende Helligkeit von "Universo" aus - es strotzt nur so von Persönlichkeit, Elan und Kraft, das Duo experimentiert mit Musik und erkundet auch noch deren entfernteste Ecken. Wer bei "Universo" nur ein weiteres Album mit melodischem Techno erwartet, wird angenehm überrascht sein - hier ist viel mehr los, und alles ist gleichermaßen spannend.

Nach einer poetischen Eröffnungsgeste - dem wirbelnden, synästhetischen, selbstbetitelten Intro-Track - werden mit dem 2-Step-Pop von “Fallin” alle Erwartungen sofort über den Haufen geworfen. Mit sanfter Klarheit von Gastsängerin Audrey Janssens gesungen, ist “Fallin” ein Traum von einem Song, der an die großen Zeiten von UK-Garage in den frühen 00er Jahre erinnert. "Interstellar Cowboy" ist ein selbstbewusstes, geschmeidig über den Laufsteg stolzierender Disco-Track; das sanfte Moll-Klavier von "Liquid Fantasy" entwickelt sich zu einem wunderbar melancholischen Techno-Pop-Epos, mit Vicky Who?’s Stimme voller Sehnsucht . Danach taucht auch Janssens Gesang auf dem Elektro-Wirbel von "Poison" wieder auf; "Dream Vision" greift die Single "The Mirage" auf, sanft und mit schwungvollen Streichern, voller Dramatik; "Part Of Life" dagegen ist ein echter Schaffel-Stomp.

All der Abwechslungsreichtum lässt eher tanzflächenorientierte Tracks wie "Ciao" noch deutlicher hervortreten - sie wirken noch entschlossener, stromlinienförmiger und dennoch reich an Details, pluckernde, Moroder-eske Bässe treffen auf stroboskopisch blitzende Synths, von denen aus die Melodien ins Firmament schießen. “Universo” fühlt sich textlich dicht an, aber es atmet trotzdem, seine Klänge sind so greifbar, dass man sie anfassen möchte, seine Melodien so verführerisch, dass man sie nicht mehr aus dem Kopf bekommt. “Universo” ist ein wunderschönes, mutiges Album, ein perfekter Treffpunkt von Pop-Melodien und stilvollem Techno: Agents Of Time in excelsis.

Coming off the back of covers on CRACK and PERFECT Magazine cktrl announces his highly anticipated new EP Zero. The producer and multi-instrumentalist shares his latest blend of contemporary-classical and electronic R&B that features a collaboration with GRAMMY Award-nominated singer, songwriter 'Mereba' with artwork captured by multi-award winning Campbell Addy. The follow-up to last year’s critically acclaimed EP ‘robyn’ which charted a journey from heartbreak to optimism, ‘zero’ is a tender exploration into love. As a genre-spanning artist whose music waives between R&B, jazz and neo-classical, cktrl’s latest record builds on his emotive sound whilst leaning towards a more electronic-tinged style of production with stunning featured vocals. On the project, cktrl says: "ZERO allowed me to explore my journeys in knowing love. And as a result I now know that I need to allow myself to let my relationships be what they're meant (to manifest organically) free of expectations and without dreams of an idea of someone. Past hurt definitely informed my decisions but it was so crucial for me to grieve those feelings from ROBYN and learn how to be gentle with myself. Just to be able to feel something new, loving again is always different and exciting, once you can open up. ZERO is that journey of ending up back where you started but different, loved and willing to give." The EP opens with the touching ‘mazes’ - initially released back in May via a beautifully crafted video courtesy of Yasser Abubeker. On this cut cktrl’s skills as a saxophonist immediately shine through as he portrays the complexities of loving someone through all its twists and turns. On title track ‘zero’ cktrl links with Ethiopian-American musician Mereba for a forward-thinking yet delicate collaboration that effortlessly meanders between cktrl’s various musical influences, before ‘felt’ provides a luscious display of soulful soundscapes. Accompanied by the angelic vocals from rising artists Anaiis, Annahstasia & Anajah, it’s a blissful celebration of love. The project closes out with ‘safe’, a contemporary R&B banger backed by a bass-driven beat and rich vocals, framing ‘zero’ as a stimulating collection of tracks that expand cktrl’s impressive repertoire of talent.

Die Musik von Surprise Chef basiert auf dem Hervorrufen von Stimmungen; ihre lebendigen Arrangements nutzen Zeit und Raum, um Klanglandschaften zu schaffen, die den Zuhörer in ihre Welt einladen. Der unverwechselbare Sound des Quintetts speist sich aus der Filmmusik der 70er Jahre, der funkigeren Seite des Jazz und den Samples, die die Grundlage des Hip-Hop bilden. Sie verschieben die Grenzen des instrumentalen Soul und Funk mit ihrem eigenen Ansatz, der durch unzählige Stunden im Studio, das Studium der Meister und - vielleicht am wichtigsten - durch die "Tyrannei der Distanz", die ihrer Musik eine einzigartige Perspektive diktiert, verfeinert wurde. Mit ihren ersten beiden Alben All News Is Good News und Daylight Savings haben sich die aus der Nähe von Melbourne, Australien, stammenden Musiker eine eingefleischte Fangemeinde erspielt und ihren Sound von ihrem Heimstudio aus in alle Ecken der Welt gebracht. Die Band ist nun bei Big Crown Records unter Vertrag und reiht sich damit in eine Reihe zeitgenössischer und klassischer Sounds ein, die die Musik von Surprise Chef seit ihrer Gründung im Jahr 2017 beeinflusst haben. Surprise Chef besteht aus Lachlan Stuckey (Gitarre), Jethro Curtin (Keyboards), Carl Lindeberg (Bass), Andrew Congues (Schlagzeug) und Hudson Whitlock - das jüngste Mitglied, das von der Percussion über das Komponieren bis zum Produzieren alles macht. Die selbsternannten "moody shades of instrumental jazz-funk" haben von allem etwas: druckvolle Drums, mitreißende Keys, eine Rhythmusgitarre, die man auf einer Studio One-Platte hören könnte, und Flötenlinien, die von einer Blue Note-Session stammen könnten. Aber wenn man einen Schritt zurücktritt und sich die Gesamtheit ihres Sounds und ihrer Herangehensweise anschaut, dann hört und sieht man eine Gruppe, die mehr ist als die Summe ihrer Teile. In vielerlei Hinsicht verkörpert Surprise Chef die Redewendung "the benefits of limits". Ihre Möglichkeiten waren insofern begrenzt, als es in Südost-Australien nicht viele Leute gab, die instrumentalen Jazz/Soul/Funk machten oder darüber sprachen, geschweige denn Platten herausbrachten. So mussten sie ihren Sound und ihre Herangehensweise in einer Art kreativer Isolation entwickeln, in der sich ein kleiner Kreis von Freunden und gleichgesinnten Musikern gegenseitig befruchtete. "Da wir in Australien so weit weg sind, bekommen wir nur flüchtige Einblicke in die Ursprünge dieser Musik", sagt Stuckey. "Aber als wir ein Label wie Big Crown hörten, wurde uns zum ersten Mal bewusst, dass man frische, neue Soulmusik machen kann, die nicht super retro oder einfach nur nostalgisch ist." Dieser Ansatz ist auf ihrem neuen Album Education & Recreation deutlich zu hören. Tracks wie "Velodrome" verbinden klobige Drums mit einer ohrwurmverdächtigen Synthie-Linie, die so klingt, als würde sie auf einer Ultimate Breaks & Beats-Compilation zu finden sein, während Nummern wie "Iconoclasts" zeigen, dass sie ein Händchen für die geschmackvolle Nutzung von Raum haben. Vom erdrückenden Intro von "Suburban Breeze" bis zum schwebenden, sanften Bop von "Spring's Theme" haben Surprise Chef ein Album zusammengestellt, das dich durch Höhen und Tiefen der Emotionen führt. Ein lebendiger, die Fantasie beflügelnder Sound! Dem weiten Spektrum dieser Instrumentalmusiksparte wird mit diesem neuen Album ein modernen Klassiker hinzugefügt.

Dean Lewis veröffentlicht sein neues Album „The Hardest Love“

Das zweite Studioalbum des Australiers, der mit „Be Alright“, „Waves“ und „Half A Man“ auf echte Streaming Hits verweisen kann, enthält neben „Hurtless“ und „Looks Like Me“ mit der aktuellen Single „How Do I Say Goodbye“ einen aufstrebenden Hit. In „How Do I Say Goodbye“ beschäftigt sich Dean Lewis mit dem anstehenden Tod seines todkranken Vaters und scheint hier mit seinen Lyrics vielen Menschen aus dem Herzen zu sprechen. Die Reaktionen auf den Social Media Plattformen sind außerordentlich. Auch in den weiteren Albumtracks beschäftigt sich der selbsternannte Sad Boi selbstverständlich mit emotionalen Themen und bewegenden Motiven.

All das gepaart mit der gewohnt beeindruckenden Stimme des ARIA-Award-Gewinners ergibt ein Gänsehauterzeugendes Hörerlebnis.
The Hardest Love erscheint auf CD, Vinyl und digital.

Rot-marmoriertes Doppelvinyl (140g) in Gatefold Sleeve inklusive Downloadcode. Photography by Nicole Ngai. Design by Jade Ping.

TSHA kehrt mit ihrem lang erwarteten Debütalbum, „Capricorn Sun“, zu Ninja Tune zurück. Das Album wurde in den letzten zwei Jahren aufgenommen und löst das Versprechen ihrer vorherigen EPs und Singles mit zwölf Tracks ein, die perfekt die gefühlvolle Mischung aus Underground-Elektronik und intelligenter Pop-Sensibilität verkörpern und die sie zu einer der meistdiskutierten neuen Künstler*innen der letzten Jahre gemacht hat. TSHA zierte die Titelseiten von renommierten Magazinen, war auf zahlreichen Plakatwänden zu sehen, wurde in die wichtigsten Playlists und Programmen mehrerer Streaming-Dienste aufgenommen und stand auf zahllosen Jahresend- und Talent-Listen, neben dem Lob der Musikpresse und des Radios - und 2022 wird ihr Jahr.

Das Album folgt auf ihre jüngste Compilation für die renommierte „fabric presents“-Reihe und einem immensen Tourneeplan, auf dem sie über 100 Shows in den Jahren 2021/22 spielt, unter anderem als Support-Act bei Disclosure bei deren zwei Shows im Alexandra Palace, oder für Bob Moses, wo sie vor 40.000 Fans an der amerikanischen Westküste gespielt hat. Sie spielte auch eine Reihe nordamerikanischer Shows mit Flume - einschließlich eines Gigs im imposanten Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado -, absolvierte eine Festivaltournee mit einem Auftritt beim diesjährigen Glastonbury und hat eine laufende Residency im DC-10 auf Ibiza für Circoloco, um nur einige zu nennen.

„Capricorn Sun“ ist sowohl ein Statement, wo sie als Künstlerin und Produzentin gerade steht, als auch eine Reflexion über die Zeit, die sie mit dem Schreiben und Aufnehmen des Albums verbracht hat, und die Auswirkungen globaler Ereignisse, familiärer Umwälzungen und persönlicher Kämpfe während dieser Zeit. Dieser Wechsel zwischen den Stimmungen und Emotionen wird deutlich, wenn man sich durch die zwölf Tracks des Albums bewegt.

Terence Etc., besser bekannt unter seinem Vornamen Terence Nance veröffentlicht sein Debütalbum "V O R T E X", am 19. August auf Brainfeeder. Terence, der sich an der Schwelle zur künstlerischen Form bewegt, ist vielleicht am besten für seine mit dem Peabody Award ausgezeichnete experimentelle Comedy-Sketch-Serie auf HBO bekannt: "Random Acts of Flyness". Aber er ist wirklich multidisziplinär. Er zeichnet. Er schreibt. Er singt. Er spielt Gitarre. Er baut Dinge. Er beherbergt in sich eine Vielzahl von Möglichkeiten, eine Vielzahl von Realitäten, die umherschwirren und nach Ausdruck und Gleichgewicht suchen. Und es ist dieser Wunsch nach Gleichgewicht - Gleichgewicht des Lebens, Gleichgewicht der Emotionen, Gleichgewicht der inneren Energien -, der sein Debütalbum "V O R T E X" hervorgebracht hat.

Das Album entzieht sich einer einfachen Kategorisierung, ist aber vom gleichen Experimentier- und Abenteuergeist geprägt wie Terence' Helden und Zeitgenossen, Künstler wie André 3000, Solange, Serpentwithfeet, Nelson Bandela, Standing on the Corner, Earl Sweatshirt, Nick Hakim und Moses Sumney und sogar der illustre Gründer von Brainfeeder, Flying Lotus. V O R T E X bezieht sich auch auf die Literatur von Louise Erdrich und Toni Morrison sowie auf die Zeichnungen von Ruby Amanze, deren Stimme auf dem Album zu hören ist.

Auf Naked Truth ist Avishai Cohens Trompetenspiel von einer rauen Schönheit und Verletzlichkeit gezeichnet, die seiner bis dato improvisationsreichsten Aufnahme für ECM eine ergreifende Note einhaucht.

Eine Musik des Augenblicks, die während einer Aufnahme-Session in Südfrankreich entstanden ist und die Form einer ausgedehnten Suite annimmt. Für den Großteil des Albums gibt der israelische Trompeter den Ton an, dicht gefolgt von seinen langjährigen Weggefährten – Pianist Yonathan Avishai, Bassist Barak Mori und Schlagzeuger Ziv Ravitz – , die ein intuitives Verständnis für die vorsichtig auf und ab wogenden Bögen der Musik gemein haben. Zum Schluss trägt Cohen ”Departure”, ein Gedicht von Zelda Schneurson Mishkovsky, vor. Dessen thematische Schwerpunkte – Verzicht, Akzeptanz und Loslassen – spiegeln sich auf eindringliche Weise in der Stimmung der Musik wider. Naked Truth wurde im September 2021 in den
Studios La Buissonne, Pernes-les-Fontaines aufgenommen und von Manfred Eicher produziert.

Der niederländische Singer-Songwriter remme hat in den letzten zwei Jahren seiner Karriere sein Songwriting zu einem tiefgründigen Geschichtenerzählen entwickelt. Die warme, sanfte Stimme ist immer noch da. Die Songs handeln von der Liebe und den polarisierenden Momenten des Lebens, aber remme klingt mehr denn je angekommen in seinem Sound zwischen Powerballaden und Pop-Hymnen, die man laut mitsingen und noch lauter mitfühlen möchte.

Nathan Fake's fourth album, Providence, crafted in the wake of a crippling two year spell of writer's block. Is his most personal and profoundly emotional work to date.
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Providence sees the British producer collaborate with vocalists for the first time, joining forces with Prurient (aka Vatican Shadow / founder of Hospital Productions) and Raphaelle Standell-Preston from Braids. Both arose from chance meetings in Geneva and Osaka as their tour schedules crossed. Prurient contributed the heavily distorted vocal to 'DEGREELESSNESS' - I was a huge fan of Dominic's (Prurient) music before we met and I love the way he situates his vocals in his productions. I really like how you can't make out what he's saying at all...' - whilst Raphaelle, who lends her voice to 'RVK', was introduced to Nathan by their mutual friend Jon Hopkins. I deliberately kept the first half of the track instrumental and I love the way her vocal lands,' he says. It's quite unexpected when she starts singing.'

It's the quickest album I've written and because of that it's got a close thread running throughout,' says Nathan of his creative process. It also has a distinct sonic signature as a result of the producer refreshing his set-up. I was feeling nostalgic and bought a cheap Korg Prophecy on a whim and it ended up being the backbone of the album,' he explains. I remember reading an article in Sound On Sound back in 1995-96 and I didn't really know much about music production then, but I remember thinking that it must be AMAZING. As it turns out, it's actually quite crap really... It's very hard to program, looks unimpressive, doesn't sound great (laughs), but I recorded it through loads of different pre-amps and tape and mixers and roughed it up. I'm always intrigued by low-end gear, I like the challenge and the limitations it poses.'

Norfolk born and bred, Nathan's first encounters with electronic music came via the radio (hearing the likes of Aphex Twin and Orbital) and reading about the equipment that they used in magazines. This was the stimulus for him to buy some gear and begin his own sonic experiments and, linking with James Holden in 2003, Nathan's early output came via his fledgling Border Community label. His debut album Drowning In A Sea Of Love' (2006) was a triumphant record, drawing a rapturous reception from the likes of Pitchfork, The Guardian and Mixmag (who hailed it among the best of the year). Recording two further albums for Border Community, Hard Islands' (2009) and Steam Days' (2012), Nathan found himself in frantic touring mode for two years and, in this nomadic state, found it impossible to write any new music. On his return, events in his personal life intertwined with, and exacerbated, this creative block. I didn't write any music at all for about two years,' Nathan explains. Overall there was roughly a three year break from writing.'

Emerging from this extended period of inactivity with renewed vigour and lust for life, Providence was recorded during the first six months of 2016 in Nathan's home studio / living room. The meaning behind the title is two-pronged: on the one hand it's a nod to the aforementioned Korg Prophecy synth that features so heavily on the record. But on a deeper level it means guidance or divine guidance' - not necessarily in a religious sense but more to be guided by a higher power - or more specifically to Nathan, music as therapy and a path out of a dark period in his life.

While so many follow the status quo, Mat Zo has always danced to the beat of his own drum. From his days topping both the drum & bass and trance charts simultaneously (releasing on Hospital Records as MRSA), to his current status as a big room innovator, collaborating with Public Enemy's Chuck D and dropping genre-blurring 70-track contributions to BBC Radio 1's Essential Mix, the precocious talent is destined to play by his own rules.

Supported by DJs as diverse as Skrillex, Madeon, Pete Tong, Above & Beyond, Steve Aoki and A-Trak, the LA-living producer's much anticipated debut LP 'Damage Control' is a bold, brilliantly diverse statement of intent from one of the scene's most unique talents. In a world of EDM sound a likes, this is electronic dance music with integrity and ambition. The release of the album will coincide with an extensive upcoming world headline tour, which sees Zo playing renowned dance music hubs such as Ministry of Sound in London, Light in Las Vegas, Create/Avalon in Los Angeles, Miami's LIV nightclub, Toronto's Guvernment and New York City's famed Pacha. (See full list of dates below).

The product of nearly three years dedicated work, 'Damage Control' represents a star of the future coming of age. Including his Beatport No.1 smash 'Easy' (feat. Porter Robinson) and recent hook-up with hip-hop legend Chuck D (Public Enemy) on 'Pyramid Scheme', Zo's 14-track LP also features the sun-soaked melodies of his innovative future single 'Lucid Dreams' - another track that perfectly embodies his uniquely quirky take on big room sounds.

What really sets the album apart from the pack are its diversions away from the dancefloor. 'Damage Control' takes in everything from electro-charged French house ('Only For You' feat. Rachel K. Collier), classy trance vibes ('The Sky' feat. Linnea Schossow) and big room progressive, through to wonky, trap-styled beats ('Caller ID' and 'Little Damage'), UK garage updates ('EZ') and hip-hop ('Moderate Stimulation').

Retaining a cohesive thread throughout thanks to Zo's unmistakable sense of fun and infectious grasp of melody, 'Damage Control' is tipped as one of the most forward-thinking debut artist albums of 2013.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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