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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.

Deeply ingrained into the fabric of the British electronic music landscape, Luke Vibert shows no sign of slowing down, after an illustrious career spanning three decades (to date!). Vibert returns to Hypercolour after 2020’s hugely successful trilogy series (Amen Andrews/Modern Rave/Rave Hop) with his 18th album (not counting albums released under his other monikers Kerrier District, Plug, Wagon Christ et al).

‘GRIT.’ finds Vibert in playful mode (and, let’s face it, whenever isn’t he!), as twelve tracks of acidic and squelching drum machine tracks come rolling out to play. Bouncy and hypnotising 303 jams of the highest order are served up here, with rhythms pulled from the electro, garage and house pools, all delivered in Vibert’s inimitable style.

Tape

The third LP from the New Zealand quartet houses 12 jewels of tight, guitar-heavy songs that worm their way into your head, an incandescent collision of power-pop and skuzz. With Expert, The Beths wanted to make an album meant to be experienced live, for both the listeners and themselves. They wanted it to be fun -- to hear, to play -- in spite of the prickling anxiety throughout the lyrics, the fear of change and struggle to cope.

Most of Expert was recorded at guitarist Jonathan Pearce’s studio on Karangahape Road in Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (Auckland, New Zealand) -- and sometimes in the building's cavernous stairwell at 1am -- toward the end of 2021, until they were interrupted by a four-month national lockdown. They traded notes remotely for months, songwriting from afar and fleshing out the arrangements alone, the first time they’d written together in such a way. The following February, The Beths left the country for the first time in more than two years to tour across the US, and simultaneously finish mixing the album on the road. That latter half felt more collaborative, with everyone on-hand to trade notes in real time, until it all culminated in a chaotic three-day studio mad-dash in Los Angeles. There, Expert finally became the record they were hearing in their heads.

Expert is an extension of the same skuzzy palette the band has built across their catalog, pop hooks embedded in incisive indie rock. The album’s title track “Expert In A Dying Field” introduces the thesis for the record: “How does it feel to be an expert in a dying field? How do you know it’s over when you can’t let go?” Stokes asks. “Love is learned over time ‘til you’re an expert in a dying field.”

The rest is a capsule of The Beths’ most electrifying and exciting output, a sonic spectrum: “Your Side” is a forlorn and sincere love song, emotive; while “Silence is Golden,” with its propulsive drum line and stop-start staccato of a guitar line winding up and down, is one of the band’s sharpest and most driving. “When You Know You Know” skews a bit groovier, pure pop and a natural addition to the band’s live set. “Knees Deep” was written last minute, but yields one of the best guitar lines on Expert. There’s a certain chaos across the 12 tracks, the palpable joy of playing music with long-time friends colliding with the raw nerves of pain.

Stokes strings it all together through her singular songwriting lens, earnest and self-effacing, zeroing in on the granules of doubt and how they snowball. Did I do the wrong thing? Or did you? And are we still good people at the end of it? She isn’t interested in villains, but instead interested in just telling the story. That insecurity and thoughtfulness, translated into universality and understanding, has been the guiding light of The Beths’ output since 2016. In the face of pain, there’s no dwelling on internal anguish - instead, through The Beths’ musi

"What took you so long?" might be a valid question concerning the ten year gap between Zanshin's new album "In Any Case By Any Chance" and his first album "Rain Are In Clouds".

Of course it is a question that the Viennese musician has asked himself quite startled in his usual self-critical manner, just to realize at a closer look that it has not been a lack of creativity or laziness at least. He used the Zanshin moniker on four EP releases and several remixes, plus a game soundtrack. Not to forget all his output as one half of producer duo Ogris Debris (the album "Constant Spring" from 2016 and roughly two dozen singles and remixes) and the many, partly award-winning audiovisual installations and performances with Leonhard Lass as DEPART (depart.at). Furthermore he has also built two sound installations in 2021, "I Gong" at Elevate Festival and "Cymatic Sands" at Ars Electronica. In addition, Zanshin performs with the Max-Brand-Synthesizer from time to time as part of the compositions by Elisabeth Schimana, and together with label mate Dorian Concept he has also composed and performed the piece "Half Chance/Music for Moogtonium" for this unique instrument, built by Bob Moog himself.

Not spared by certain global developments of recent years, but rather invigorated by exploring his own resilience, Zanshin had a talk with Affine Records Operator Jamal in the beginning of 2021, speaking of future ideas and releases. And what was initially a single release spawned into a whole album in seemingly no time. An old skit ("Polar Polychrome") on the Roland MC-505 groove-box that had never really been forgotten, but was rather waiting patiently somewhere in the back of his mind, suddenly proved to be the initial spark for the album.

The term "Zanshin", roughly translated as un-focussed attention, is in fact more than just a pseudonym but rather a directive in the artists life. Zanshin really likes to go in several directions at once, kind of according to Wittgenstein's claim that "The world is everything that is the case.", to find out where his love for music might lead him this time. He also somehow went back to his roots with this album. Not necessarily in the sense of certain musical influences or genres, because then the album would be even more eclectic than it already is. More like a focus on the core values in the fabrication process of the music itself, the freedom to rather follow the structures and sounds than to shape them in a completely predetermined way. Somebody once called it, "to weave what the music demands."

In this regard, Zanshin often feels more like a sculptor and tries not toadhereto strongly to the rules of specific sub-genres of electronic music. Searching for sounds and designing them is one of the energies that fuels his interest the most, thus at the beginning of a lot of tracks there are small skits and ideas that have the freedom to grow in whatever direction.

Hence this album has no elaborate story to tell, there is no extensive "narrative" or big time "storytelling" at work. "In Any Case By Any Chance" is not a novel but rather a collection of short stories (which are certainly dense and have complex plots nonetheless). The result is a long-player where playful electronica, skillful songwriting, extrovert dance music and symphonic film music enter into a symbiotic relationship. Returning to another Wittgenstein quote, "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent", the emotional impact of music is the main focus and the results can be quite solemn at times, but around the corner always lurks the next bone-breaking rhythm pattern and gnarly sound design.

The infamous saying, "writing about music is like dancing about architecture", is another brick in the wall of sound in Zanshin's approach to music. He rarely roots himself in traditions or uses them too overtly, he really likes to agglomerate sounds, to challenge the listeners. It seems like he tries to avoid classification on purpose, because he knows that everyone has their own perception anyway. The only thing that this music demands implicitly is a willingness to listen attentively.

Very dense, at times really heavy and massive, then again airy and playful. "Music for clubs that don't exist.", might be another fitting caption to describe this album, which lasts for a little more than an hour.

The opener "Heatseeker" rushes to a sudden head start with its steel pan extravaganza, tropical vibes meet a bass line drenched in electro funk, and electrified synth stabs support the declaration of love in the lyrics. Kind of Jamie XX meets Electro meets Diva House. The monster that is "Bronteroc Brawl" is up next, a serious test for the speakers and a wild ride with metallic, growling sounds. The aggressive sound design reminds of suspense ridden shark chases, vicious dogs and cunning dinosaurs, in any case a track for people who love a proper bass stomper.

A new approach for the "indie discotheque" brings the emotional roller-coaster "In Gloom" with snappy drums and hypnotic synth motives á la Alessandro Cortini, creating an epic atmosphere together with the multi-layered vocals. A psycho-acoustic treat is position 4, the crisp instrumental "Polar Polychrome", you could even go as far as calling this a Zanshin signature track. Like mentioned before, the roots of this track go back to 2002 and you can hear the unmistakable influence of beat wizards like Photek, a piercing bass line is supported by poly-rhythmic drums, while dense pads try to escape the claustrophobic lockdown mood of winter 2020/21.

Another round of intense pathos waits for the listeners in the ensuing track "In Search Of". Moderat say "Hello", a melancholy piano melody is rushed to a climax by a wild bass arpeggio and forceful drums, the desire for a perfect sunrise at the next after-hour to the max. Initially just an appendix to the preceding track, "Time After Thought" swiftly developed from a mere improvisation to an ambient epic with a croaking alien piano, as if Keith Jarrett were on his way to Alpha Centauri.

Up next is the first single "Because Why", a breakbeat driven, synth-heavy track with winged vocals and a popular film quote. The title refers to the movie "Alphaville" by Jean-Luc Godard, a dystopian science fiction film noir, in which an omniscient computer system named Alpha 60 is ruling society and humans can only say "because" but never "why". As if the gears of a galactic mechanism were spinning into motion sounds "Identity Slices". A raspy chord structure finds its counterbalance in a kind of stumbling, wonky beat, and Zanshin would never deny the huge influence that Autechre's sounds and structures always have had on his music. Micro- and macrocosm meet on the same level and this friction is also a metaphor for questions of identity and self-awareness, without using voices or lyrics.

Off we go into the IDM bubble bath of "Enzyme Enigma", the bass drum is stomping and a fizzy acid-line is twisting in all directions behind rolling dub-techno chords. "Corrosion Creak" is a kind of acoustic degradation process, the rave dogs are finally let loose and everything happens at once, funky synths shred, string sounds wail and then there is this bass that sounds like smashing a rusty metal plate in the junk yard with a vengeance.

Towards the end everything slows down a bit, the beat in "Whatever Words" is Warp school cerebral hop at its best and therefore loads of glittery, creaky sounds swarm out until the synapses are overloaded, cumulating in a mighty bass ending. Last but never least, "Rebus Redux" guides us into the limitless night sky, with long indulgent pads dotted by an aimlessly wandering piano, while a compact net of tamed resonances and meandering sub frequencies unfolds in the background, enticing navel-gazing imagination.

Copenhagens own dj legend and veteran producer KIM KEMI releases another jacking and euphoric banger- ONLY SMOKE - his stylish and subtle sound design and varied arrangement take hints of Robert Hoods minimal riffs and flesh out a full funky arrangement taking us on that classic luxurious sonic journey. Pres play and trigger the
smoke machine - or the soap bubbles.
Martinez ́s remix is a more electro affair that could blend well with classic Underground Resistance releases. Watch out for the acid topline. Martinez is a Swedish electronic music producer and DJ, currently based in Copenhagen. Martinez kick started his carrier
in 2000 with his "Laidback Grooves EP" on the notorious Chicago based Deep-House label Guidance Recordings.
Asmus Odsats remix of SMOKE KILLS is taking the track in a more broken but funky IDM territory, breaking the track down adding avantgarde dub details over the stuttering beat.
Asmus Odsat is a former resident at Culture Box and co-founder of Ritual Malmö as well as the BULK club night releases via. FALK DISKS, the club focused sub-label of FALK (Fuck Art Lets Kill) with his ‘Ecstatic Half Truth’ EP, is played by Courtesy - even in her BBC Radio 1 show mix.
An added bonus to these 3 unique remixes is Kim Kemis beautiful
Tropical Tucan, a perfect opening track fusing sensual chilly Detroit pads and jacking understated beats into a growing glowing mind-state that is worthy of a Carl Craig spin - let it ride - don't miss the climax - you will end up looping it. An essential tool. Enjoy!

Ever Crashing, the second LP by Kennedy Ashlyn aka SRSQ pronounced ‘seer-skew’, is the summation of a nearly three-year journey of soul searching, songwriting, and self-discovery: “I became myself in the process of making this record.” From the first choral swells of opener “It Always Rains,” it’s clear this collection exists on an ascendant plane, capturing an artist in super bloom. Every song hits like a single, heaving with guitar, synth, strings, live drums, and oceans of Ashlyn’s astounding voice, balletic and illuminated. The tracks gleam with detail, often assembled from as many as 100 separate tracks, all of which were written and played solely by Ashlyn – a feat of world-building as daunting as it is devastating.

For her, however, the process is intrinsic and intuitive – even a matter of survival. Her 2018 solo debut emerged in response to the tragic Ghost Ship fire in Oakland, which took the life of her bandmate and best friend Cash Askew. Similarly, Ever Crashing began materializing in the wake of an ADHD and bipolar disorder diagnosis, prompting a profound personal overhaul. Ashlyn cites such periods of turmoil as a muse of sorts, when “songs begin to echo within me,” gradually reverberating clearer and more vividly. As melodies and arrangements come into focus, the songs act like containers, vessels in which to externalize and exorcise tumultuous emotions, a transformation she memorializes in the climax of “Élan Vital:” “Reeling in and out of deep despair / I am saved by song.”

From swooning end credits balladry (“Dead Loss”) to orchestral slow-burn torch songs (“Abyss”) to dizzying shoegaze heavens (“Someday I Will Bask In The Sun”), the album exudes a sense of aching grandeur and bewildered joy, rich with triumphs hard won and lost loves never forgotten. Melodies pirouette and crescendo in dazzling, elevated acrobatics, somewhere between Kate Bush and The Sundays, threaded with ethereal undercurrents of shimmering shadow. Riffs brood and sparkle over crystalline synths, buoyant bass, and patient percussion, steadily building to holy moments of tidal power, finessed to perfection by producer Chris Coady (Beach House, Slowdive, Zola Jesus). Ashlyn’s is a dream-pop of questing catharsis, vulnerable but orchestral, as dense with hooks as heartbreak.

The album’s title refers to Ashlyn’s recurring sensation of being trapped in the crest of a wave, turned and churned in the surf, mirroring the cycles of self-flagellation and surrender that she battles being bipolar. But as the poetic raptures of these songs attest, her creative process thrives at transmuting trauma into potent music of arresting beauty and hidden divinity. Ever Crashing is an aching, rare work, shaded with gradients of reverie and regret, loss and letting go, “mourning the person I thought I should be, mourning the person I never was.” But even in its pain, Ashlyn’s voice exerts a redemptive gravity, yearning to transform and transcend: “Even on the inside / I’m bracing for impact / I’m waiting to destroy my life / To become sunlight.”

Ever Crashing, the second LP by Kennedy Ashlyn aka SRSQ pronounced ‘seer-skew’, is the summation of a nearly three-year journey of soul searching, songwriting, and self-discovery: “I became myself in the process of making this record.” From the first choral swells of opener “It Always Rains,” it’s clear this collection exists on an ascendant plane, capturing an artist in super bloom. Every song hits like a single, heaving with guitar, synth, strings, live drums, and oceans of Ashlyn’s astounding voice, balletic and illuminated. The tracks gleam with detail, often assembled from as many as 100 separate tracks, all of which were written and played solely by Ashlyn – a feat of world-building as daunting as it is devastating.

For her, however, the process is intrinsic and intuitive – even a matter of survival. Her 2018 solo debut emerged in response to the tragic Ghost Ship fire in Oakland, which took the life of her bandmate and best friend Cash Askew. Similarly, Ever Crashing began materializing in the wake of an ADHD and bipolar disorder diagnosis, prompting a profound personal overhaul. Ashlyn cites such periods of turmoil as a muse of sorts, when “songs begin to echo within me,” gradually reverberating clearer and more vividly. As melodies and arrangements come into focus, the songs act like containers, vessels in which to externalize and exorcise tumultuous emotions, a transformation she memorializes in the climax of “Élan Vital:” “Reeling in and out of deep despair / I am saved by song.”

From swooning end credits balladry (“Dead Loss”) to orchestral slow-burn torch songs (“Abyss”) to dizzying shoegaze heavens (“Someday I Will Bask In The Sun”), the album exudes a sense of aching grandeur and bewildered joy, rich with triumphs hard won and lost loves never forgotten. Melodies pirouette and crescendo in dazzling, elevated acrobatics, somewhere between Kate Bush and The Sundays, threaded with ethereal undercurrents of shimmering shadow. Riffs brood and sparkle over crystalline synths, buoyant bass, and patient percussion, steadily building to holy moments of tidal power, finessed to perfection by producer Chris Coady (Beach House, Slowdive, Zola Jesus). Ashlyn’s is a dream-pop of questing catharsis, vulnerable but orchestral, as dense with hooks as heartbreak.

The album’s title refers to Ashlyn’s recurring sensation of being trapped in the crest of a wave, turned and churned in the surf, mirroring the cycles of self-flagellation and surrender that she battles being bipolar. But as the poetic raptures of these songs attest, her creative process thrives at transmuting trauma into potent music of arresting beauty and hidden divinity. Ever Crashing is an aching, rare work, shaded with gradients of reverie and regret, loss and letting go, “mourning the person I thought I should be, mourning the person I never was.” But even in its pain, Ashlyn’s voice exerts a redemptive gravity, yearning to transform and transcend: “Even on the inside / I’m bracing for impact / I’m waiting to destroy my life / To become sunlight.”

Collins Dictionary Example sentence: „Other ocular signs include involuntary rhythmic movement of the eyeball.“ Someone in the editorial department wasn‘t paying attention and involuntarily spoke a deeply buried truth: The movement from the eye to rhythm and from there to sound is sometimes a small, puny one.

Now Infuso Giallo provides the proof at the same time and implements his live show for last year‘s debut album „Ocular Soda“ as an audio-visual show, as intertwined senses. Visible sound, audible images. Such ideas only last when they are put to the test and scrutinised by several experts.

The duo Globus, which consists of 2/5 of the post-hardcore band PTTRNS, examines the synth hook of the second part of the double-opener „Every Waking Hour Pt.2“ by playing it, varying it, letting it sway.

In contrast, Anatolian Weapons from Athens can‘t help but immerse the ambient, Soft Machine-production-like first minutes of „Every Waking Hour Pt.1“ in a sinister black light. Staggering into a basement club filled with nocturnal shadow people and indulge in carousing. Cautiously at first, then more and more determinedly.

From Hamburg and Berlin, the „Mole Gaze“ gets a special treatment. The trio Love-Songs drags the number off to Hamburg harbour, packs it onto a steamer, deep into the bow and lets it operate the sonar there. Conrad Schnitzler would have been delighted.
Infuso Giallo, meanwhile, realises that there is nothing more boring than standing still, so he revamps „Hello World“ and gives it a rear spoiler that keeps this number in lane even at club speed.
Speaking of „keeping in lane“: Niklas Wandt, the magician, doesn‘t even try such tricks. He simply throws an acid bolt on the closer „Ocular Soda“ and waits to see what happens. Alongside breakbeats from nowhere, Albert Hoffmann himself appears on a bicycle.
„Ocular Soda Remixes“ is the first tape on the Kame House label, so there‘s only one thing to do: open your eyes and listen!

Up next on Happiness Therapy is Lyon-based mainstay Denyl Brook with his first full-length EP on the emerging label. Already a firm favourite through his contributions to the lauded Happy House series, his forthcoming I Wanna EP follows on from two recent appearances on revered UK outfit Shall Not Fade, as he returns to the French imprint in June to gift us four tracks of mood-lifting musical goodness.


Denyl Brook is swiftly becoming one of France’s most talked-about rising talents. Head of his own Silver Step Records, he’s a familiar face at Happiness Therapy, having racked up several productions on the label’s Happy House compilation series over the years. He’s also one of their resident DJs, regularly playing at their parties across his native country and beyond, and has recently landed a solid release on UK-imprint Shall Not Fade. Now, I Wanna acts as his debut solo EP on Happiness Therapy, proving that Denyl Brook is only just getting started.

Joining the dots between Brazilian musical culture and the sonic melting pot that is New York City, Saidera are a trio on the rise. They’ve already released a pair of critically acclaimed, carnival-ready singles on Brooklyn’s Let’s Play House label and are now ready to make their debut on Leng Records.

The band’s roots can be traced back to a trip that Lemonade band member Alex Pasternak made to Brazil in 2014. While DJing at a house party in the bohemian Rio de Janeiro neighbourhood of Sta Teresa, Pasternak was left gobsmacked when a mysterious local singer/sambista Vadinho Freire, grabbed the mic and started freestyling lyrics and melodies over his set. Realising their instinctive musical connection, Pasternak and Freire decided to work together on some music, with New Yorker Le Chev joining them to complete the Saidera trio.

Now based in Rio and California, the group’s sun-soaked sound – which they describe as “samba disco-Afro melody” – is a cross-cultural stew in which infectious Brazilian percussion, colourful synth sounds, glistening guitars and celebratory vocals combine to create magical, life-affirming musical moments.

‘Luzes Da Cidade’, their first outing on Leng, encapsulates all that’s good about the Saidera sound and the trio’s approach to music. The song is about identity and connection and in its original form is languid, loved-up and joyous, with acoustic and electric guitars, Portuguese vocals and Korey Riker’s gently breezy flute solos rising above a squelchy synth bassline and energetic, sweat-soaked samba drums.

The song’s main mix comes accompanied by a wonderful instrumental pass featuring more extensive solos by Riker, and Saidera’s own remix of ‘Luzes Da Cidade’ – an extra-percussive, breakbeat-tinged fusion of hazy deep house, energetic samba and sunset-ready synth-disco that will delight DJs and dancers alike.

To round off the EP, Saidera has delivered a brand new “Uprockin Dub” of debut single ‘Deixa Tudo Fluir’, this time with female vocals from Irina Bertolucci taking the lead. Brilliantly kaleidoscopic sonically, with dub delay-laden vocals, guitars and flutes, it’s a superb, life-affirming Balearic reggae interpretation of a now familiar favourite. If you’re not singing along with the chorus after your first listen, we’d be very surprised.

Some bands reveal themselves immediately, coming right out and winning the listener over the moment they hit play. And then there are bands that open up with time, rewarding repeat listens with new lyrical and musical thrills on every return. Glaswegian jangle pop extraordinaires U.S. Highball have the rare distinction of being both. The duo specialize in the kind of instantly charming songwriting that makes a great first impression, and an even better second, third, and beyond. Their songs are equal parts wit and heart, full of pop culture nods, inside jokes, and hooks upon hooks. Now U.S. Highball’s third full-length, A Parkhead Cross of The Mind, leans even further into their unique dichotomy, offering another goldmine of discovery set to their finest batch of pop gems to date.

“V I N C E N T” is FKJ’s second album and signals a new dawn, not just as a go-to producer and remixer for artists like PinkPantheress and Moses Sumney but as an artist in his own right, continuously selling out headline tours across the globe with his acclaimed ‘one-man-band’ live shows, and having a billion plus streams across all platforms for his music.

The concept for “V I N C E N T” came about during a solo trip to Los Angeles before 2020. “I just stayed in this house totally on my own, turned my phone off and had some time away from everything to figure out what I wanted to do.” He realised he wanted to tap into the freedom of being a teenager: “back then, I was making music strictly for playfulness, without overthinking it,” he says. “V I N C E N T’s” opening and closing songs underline the sentiment of the new album: the future-jazz of ‘Way Out’ (a playful mini soundtrack in one; a dainty piano motif underscored by a skittering trap beat and serene strings) and the lullaby-styled “Stay A Child”. “I wanted to get back some of that lost innocence of making music purely for pleasure,” he says.

Back in his home studio in the Philippines, with no wifi and an impending global lockdown, FKJ was quite literally cut off from the world, able to explore music’s endless possibilities. “Sometimes I would get into it for the whole night and go to bed when the sun came up.” Out of this freedom comes an expressionistic, touching album that’s impossible to pin down. There’s no more hiding behind a branch of leaves, as he did on the cover of his 2017 debut: “V I N C E N T” marks FKJ out as a crucial new voice. He’s redefining chillout music with his bursts of late-night jazz sax and piano, coupled with his wood-cabin whispery vocals, recalling Bon Iver’s early work, and those Santana-styled guitar flourishes.

Much of “V I N C E N T” is wilfully romantic, sometimes super sexy, and often with its head in the clouds, as on tracks like “Us”, a dreamy ode to his wife June, or “IHM”, which has a 90s hip-hop flavour slowed right down to lights-out tempo. Not entirely a solo record, ((( O )))) appears on ‘Brass Necklace’ – which has the soft power of The Internet and Stevie Wonder’s keys. It’s no wonder that lead single ‘A Moment of Mystery’, featuring Toro Y Moi, has a spacey vibe: while recording in San Francisco together, FKJ, Toro and his keyboard player Tony took some of what Tony called “holy water” – “we shared this bottle and took a bit of a trip,” laughs FKJ. The result is a gentle electronic ode to long-term love that could rival Tame Impala for melodic progginess.

Little Dragon’s Yukimi Nagano vocal, meanwhile, laces its way through the stunning “Can’t Stop”, and there is a call back to FKJ’s dancier beginnings with “Let’s Live”, a galvanising techno-pop number that blends piano, handclaps and soulful vocals to dazzling effect. Each of FKJ’s songs glistens, lambently, with a myriad of ideas but it never sounds overblown or too dizzying.

“V I N C E N T” is a marvel – and testament to the magic that can happen when you dig deep. “This was a challenging record,” he says. “I’m a perfectionist and it’s hard to shake that off. But once I did, and I let the music take over, I felt totally free.”

Black Screen Records and Kaizen Game Works have once again teamed up to release Barry "Epoch" Topping's new album About That... Paradise Killer B-Sides - featuring three new songs, vocal tracks, instrumental versions, remixes and piano arrangements, and a lot of amazing guests (Fiona Lynch, Kyle Murray-Dickson, Fabian Hernandez, Ged Cartwright, Thomas Temple, MEEBEE and Okumura) - on limited edition translucent violet 180g vinyl with gorgeous cover art by José Salot. Paradise is blinking out of existence but we must not cry. The day has not yet finished. There is still music to be played. Listen to it. Let the warm embrace of luxurious sounds caress you as you stand on the precipice of an abyss too dreadful to imagine. Hold my hand again. Repeat that album. Paradise can last forever if we believe hard enough.

The roots of Naima Bock’s music are far reaching. Born in
Glastonbury to a Brazilian father and a Greek mother, Naima spent
her early childhood in Brazil before eventually returning to England
and various homes in South East London. This heritage combines
with more recent pursuits in Naima’s music. From the Brazilian
standards that the family listened to while driving to the beach, to the
European folk traditions she tapped into on her own, and the pursuits
that interest her today - studies in archaeology, work as a gardener,
and walking the world’s great trails - Naima’s music draws from
family, the earth and music handed down through generations.
 Naima’s debut album, ‘Giant Palm’, is undoubtedly infused with the
Brazilian music of her youth and regular family visits. She found
inspiration in “the percussion, the melodies, chords - and particularly
the poetic juxtaposition of tragedy and beauty held within the lyrics.”
 By the age of 15, Naima was embedded in the music scene of SouthEast London, eventually forming Goat Girl with school friends and
touring the world. After six years playing bass in Goat Girl, Naima left
the band to try something new. She set up a gardening company and
started a degree at University College London in archaeology
because, as she jokes, “I liked being near the ground.” During this
time, she wrote music, played guitar, learned violin, worked with evershifting South-London collective Broadside Hacks, and met producer
and arranger Joel Burton through Memorials of Distinction labelhead
Josh Cohen. Joel’s burgeoning interest in Western classical music,
global folk music, and experience in large scale arrangement and
orchestration informed the collaborative process that eventually
culminated in ‘Giant Palm’.
 Recorded with the help of over 30 musicians (including Josh Cohen
on synth / electronics) by Dan Carey of Speedy Wunderground at his
studio space in Streatham, South-East London, and engineered by
Syd Kemp, the songs on ‘Giant Palm’ represent a snapshot of a
specific feeling, of brief moments in Naima’s life that make up a larger
whole.
 The expansive yet delicate arrangements highlight Naima’s love for
the collectivist values of traditional folk music, in which songs belong
to everyone, and singing can take on countless forms without the
need to exactly replicate something. “All the other representations
that I’d had of singing felt so unattainable,” she recalls. ‘Giant Palm’
finds Naima bucking these expectations to let her unique voice and
sense of communal creativity flourish.

‘Bye Bye’ is a three-track offering from Philadelphia-based
sextet Blood, that rarely stays put in one style for long.

 All three songs were recorded by the band throughout the
pandemic, providing a uniting force whilst touring remained
impossible.

 The tracks are a testament to the unforgiving and rewarding
process of self-recording. The band found great relief in
finally having the time to flesh out an experimental
atmosphere without the constraint of paid studio time.
 Blood are proud of the work they’ve made, but it is
imperative to mention that all three tracks were brought to life
in a way not formerly thought possible, by the mixing
brilliance of Nancy Conforti.

 ‘Money Worries’ finds Blood slingshotted over an open letter
to their landlord. What starts as a clear threat to an obvious
albeit deserving villain, soon caves into an acoustic respite,
in which the nightmare of financial ruin becomes lullaby.

 Blood began as a solo project of current lead singer Tim
O’Brien in the winter of 2017. After going through several
line-up changes throughout 2018, the current iteration began
making waves in the bijou punk scene of Austin. They were
considered “a live staple in their own prospective scene” and
“one of Austin’s buzziest new acts” by press nationally and
locally.

 After twice touring the US, Blood were poised for a big 2020
when plans were altered drastically by the pandemic. They
then self-released their debut EP, ‘Why Wait Til’ 55, We Might
Not Even Be Alive’, in April of that year.

 In 2021, the sextet made a move to West Philadelphia and
began recording their upcoming release, ‘Bye Bye’, while
also playing shows throughout the North Eastern United
States. At this time, the group live in a seven-bedroom house
with a converted basement for recording and rehearsing.

In 1990 Ronald Lee Trent Jr. was the teenage creator of Altered States – a raw, futuristic techno-not-techno anthem, which in retrospect was something of a stylistic anomaly for the young artist. Across subsequent years, with time spent in Chicago, New York and Detroit, came the development of his signature sound, and renown as a world class purveyor of deep, soul infused house/garage. This story has already been told, and on casual inspection, the well-worn platitude ‘house music legend’ is an old shoe that still fits. However, in fact, he’s actually so much more, and has been for quite a while. A genuine musician, songwriter, and ‘producer’ in the proper, old-school sense, the artist today has more in common with Quincy Jones than he does your average journeyman DJ track-hack.

To those in the know, these broader skills haven’t gone unnoticed, which is why on the highly collaborative, career-topping new LP ‘What Do The Stars Say To You’, it took little persuasion to recruit serious star power. Brazilian royalty Ivan Conti and Alex Malheriros from Azymuth, violin maestro Jean Luc Ponty, ambient hero Gigi Masin, hype band Khruangbin and more performed, whilst NY cornerstone François K provided mastering duties. At various points Ron himself played drums, percussion, keys, synths, piano, guitar and electronics.

Harking back to the 70s and 80s boom in adventurous, luxurious albums, WDTSSTY is a love letter to the longplayer, where rich musicality and a liquid smooth, silky flow make seemingly odd genre bedfellows acquiesce harmoniously. Each song its own high-fidelity odyssey, Trent incorporated a broad range of live instruments and electronics into a sophisticated, euphonic whole. Described by him as being “designed for harmonising with spirit, urban life and nature”, this is aural soul food, gently easing you into balmy nights, where everything is alright.

Originally wanting to be an architect, Trent’s views his approach to collaboration and music in general as having the same principles. A firm believer in the nourishing qualities of sound, he sees direct parallels between the two disciplines, being as the purpose of good architecture is to improve quality of life. “With WARM, through sound design, I built frameworks for the musicians, who furnished and occupied these structures beautifully, which was a big compliment for me”, he comments.

The conditions required for a good collab are more than simply structural though, as Trent expounds, “I’m a huge fan of everyone on the record, especially Jean Luc and Azymuth, who’re part of my DNA. Each track was made with that guest in mind – for example, when I started writing ‘Sphere’, I immediately thought ‘this IS Ponty’. I played the keys in his style, and did a guide violin solo using a synth, which he then re-did, amazingly. ‘Cool Water’ is based around Azymuth themes, so when I sent it to Ivan, he could immediately see himself in the piece; He got what I was going for straight away. For ‘Melt Into You’ I hit up Alex on Instagram, sent him the track, he liked it, and within 24 hours he’d sent back six different bass passes!”
“Conversely, Admira began with a sketch sent by Gigi and became something combining Jon Hassell-esque chords and the feel of ‘Aquamarine’ by Carlos Santana, which links back to Masin’s recurrent nautical theme”, he adds.

With community, history and the need for racial equality never far from Ron’s mind, ‘Flos Potentia’ translates from Spanish as flower power, but rather than promoting some hippy idyll, instead it refers to plants which drove the slave trade: tobacco, sugar and cotton. Joined by Khruangbin, together they propel Dinosaur L, Hi-Tension and afrobeat into an ethereal, clear-skyed stratosphere.
Aside from these esteemed guests, other key influences cited by Trent include ‘Gigolos Get Lonely Too’ by Prince, ‘Beyond’ by Herb Alpert, David Mancuso, Jan Hammer, Tangerine Dream, The Cars, Trevor Horn, Alan Parsons Project and pre-Kraftwerk incarnation Organization. A multitude of others are audible too, including George Bension, Vangelis, Loose Ends, Maze, Flora Purim, Weather Report, Atmosphere, Grace Jones, James Mason and Brass Construction.

On the subject of influences, although opposed to the fences erected by genre tags, to understand where Ron is coming from, and where he’s at, it’s important to acknowledge just how big the palette is from which he paints. Traversing jazz funk, quiet storm, sophisti-pop, new age, new wave, kosmische, Balearic, samba, afrobeat, Latin rock, soft rock and yacht rock, his deeply entrenched digger’s knowledge pays off in dividends.

In 1990 Ronald Lee Trent Jr. was the teenage creator of Altered States – a raw, futuristic techno-not-techno anthem, which in retrospect was something of a stylistic anomaly for the young artist. Across subsequent years, with time spent in Chicago, New York and Detroit, came the development of his signature sound, and renown as a world class purveyor of deep, soul infused house/garage. This story has already been told, and on casual inspection, the well-worn platitude ‘house music legend’ is an old shoe that still fits. However, in fact, he’s actually so much more, and has been for quite a while. A genuine musician, songwriter, and ‘producer’ in the proper, old-school sense, the artist today has more in common with Quincy Jones than he does your average journeyman DJ track-hack.

To those in the know, these broader skills haven’t gone unnoticed, which is why on the highly collaborative, career-topping new LP ‘What Do The Stars Say To You’, it took little persuasion to recruit serious star power. Brazilian royalty Ivan Conti and Alex Malheriros from Azymuth, violin maestro Jean Luc Ponty, ambient hero Gigi Masin, hype band Khruangbin and more performed, whilst NY cornerstone François K provided mastering duties. At various points Ron himself played drums, percussion, keys, synths, piano, guitar and electronics.

Harking back to the 70s and 80s boom in adventurous, luxurious albums, WDTSSTY is a love letter to the longplayer, where rich musicality and a liquid smooth, silky flow make seemingly odd genre bedfellows acquiesce harmoniously. Each song its own high-fidelity odyssey, Trent incorporated a broad range of live instruments and electronics into a sophisticated, euphonic whole. Described by him as being “designed for harmonising with spirit, urban life and nature”, this is aural soul food, gently easing you into balmy nights, where everything is alright.

Originally wanting to be an architect, Trent’s views his approach to collaboration and music in general as having the same principles. A firm believer in the nourishing qualities of sound, he sees direct parallels between the two disciplines, being as the purpose of good architecture is to improve quality of life. “With WARM, through sound design, I built frameworks for the musicians, who furnished and occupied these structures beautifully, which was a big compliment for me”, he comments.

The conditions required for a good collab are more than simply structural though, as Trent expounds, “I’m a huge fan of everyone on the record, especially Jean Luc and Azymuth, who’re part of my DNA. Each track was made with that guest in mind – for example, when I started writing ‘Sphere’, I immediately thought ‘this IS Ponty’. I played the keys in his style, and did a guide violin solo using a synth, which he then re-did, amazingly. ‘Cool Water’ is based around Azymuth themes, so when I sent it to Ivan, he could immediately see himself in the piece; He got what I was going for straight away. For ‘Melt Into You’ I hit up Alex on Instagram, sent him the track, he liked it, and within 24 hours he’d sent back six different bass passes!”
“Conversely, Admira began with a sketch sent by Gigi and became something combining Jon Hassell-esque chords and the feel of ‘Aquamarine’ by Carlos Santana, which links back to Masin’s recurrent nautical theme”, he adds.

With community, history and the need for racial equality never far from Ron’s mind, ‘Flos Potentia’ translates from Spanish as flower power, but rather than promoting some hippy idyll, instead it refers to plants which drove the slave trade: tobacco, sugar and cotton. Joined by Khruangbin, together they propel Dinosaur L, Hi-Tension and afrobeat into an ethereal, clear-skyed stratosphere.
Aside from these esteemed guests, other key influences cited by Trent include ‘Gigolos Get Lonely Too’ by Prince, ‘Beyond’ by Herb Alpert, David Mancuso, Jan Hammer, Tangerine Dream, The Cars, Trevor Horn, Alan Parsons Project and pre-Kraftwerk incarnation Organization. A multitude of others are audible too, including George Bension, Vangelis, Loose Ends, Maze, Flora Purim, Weather Report, Atmosphere, Grace Jones, James Mason and Brass Construction.

On the subject of influences, although opposed to the fences erected by genre tags, to understand where Ron is coming from, and where he’s at, it’s important to acknowledge just how big the palette is from which he paints. Traversing jazz funk, quiet storm, sophisti-pop, new age, new wave, kosmische, Balearic, samba, afrobeat, Latin rock, soft rock and yacht rock, his deeply entrenched digger’s knowledge pays off in dividends.

"Prime Sequences" is the latest album by dj and electronic music producer GummiHz, real name Alexander Tsotsos. Alex has an ear for what he describes as elastic frequencies, thus gummi-hertz! In other words, low bass lines, airy synth phrases and shuffle rhythms, playfully arranged within loose forms. A philosophy that comes across throughout this long player. Elements fall in and out of order, time swings back and forth, all together in perfect harmony! Pushing the boundaries of what has become his signature sound, a fusion of house and techno all the way from Berlin to Detroit! This package features underground music coming straight from the heart, or the Hertz more appropriately! The story unfolds within no less than nine tracks showcasing Alex's versatility in making waves!

The opening track titled "Berlinopolis" is a sonic portrait of the city of Berlin, where Alex lives since more than a decade. A smooth soundscape produced by combining abstract melodies with field recordings of the city's ambience. "'Second Wave" follows airy jazz chords and drum parts to launch the listener into trajectory. It feels like the sort of track that would probably make it into Herbie Hancock's deep house collection! The title track "Prime sequence" is a Detroit brewed piece with some Berlin minimalism rawness in the rhythm section! Combining a mixture of drama, suspense and shaking drums to dominate the dance floor. Next up comes "Submerge", a tight and hypnotic affair carrying the right amount of subtle release. It locks in right from the start and doesn't let go! "Prime Dub" dives deeper into the frequency spectrum. Rhythm and sound stimulate the brain waves as a heavy chord phrase cycles to infinity. "Proto Sequence" follows a simple still infectious groove laced with various modulations. This track has party written all over it! Inspired by proto-house motifs pioneered by artists like Chi-town's Ron Hardy. "Metafunk" reaches out to Berlin's club culture at its core. That is, the youth and street culture! The phrase on repeat signifies the urge to reclaim the streets, while endlessly flowing within finely tuned electronics. "Mindloop" is a track written for the after hours looping state of mind. Another minimal house cut with a fair dose of psychedelic sound design. Lastly, "Descension" relaxes the mood through deep pulsating rhythms and playful arpeggios. Pushing towards a meditative state by stimulating mind, body and soul!?

"Prime Sequences" covers a wide range of styles like ambient electronics, peak time house and techno, as well as seriously effed up after hour minimalism! Made for both djs and music lovers, this is the second long player by GummiHz to come out on vinyl after his debut album "Sleepless Nights" back in 2009! While it succeeds his latest EP, "Groove is in the Hertz". What makes it even more special is that it comes out on brainchild Claap, giving the artist total freedom of expression.

"The dazzling symphonic album he always threatened to produce" UNCUT 5/5
"A soulful symphonic masterpiece" ROLLING STONE

Originally released in Japan only on CD in 2002, Plush's Fed lives up to the cult-like adulation it has garnered ever since. A stunning symphony of Bacharach-inspired pop, Toussaint-swing andMelody Nelson-era-Gainsbourg, it's an album bound together by Liam Hayes' maverick genius, an uncompromising Brian Wilson-esque quest for sonic perfection. Positively indulgent in every way, this sumptuous record has long deserved to be treated to a deluxe vinyl edition. Lovingly overseen by Hayes and recent collaborator Pat Sansone (Wilco/The Autumn Defense), it will finally be available on the format it should've always been, this Record Store Day 2018. Remastered and presented as a double LP - cut specially at 45rpm - it comes housed in a beautiful gatefold jacket with expanded artwork throughout.

Its expansive, singular vision infamously took years to realise, involving Earth Wind & Fire's horn arranger (the legendary Tom Tom MMLXXXIV) amongst other elite personnel. Recorded with five different engineers (including Steve Albini and John McEntire), Hayes meticulously extracted every ounce of pop from each note. A long list of renowned studio ringers (including soul drummer Morris Jennings) and Chicago regulars (McEntire, Rizzo, Parker) among many others provide playing of demonstrably professional precision. As such, Hayes' complex, meandering melodies are rendered far more coherent and satisfying than they otherwise might have appeared, bringing his epic, anguished pop to a rarely seen level of perfection and depth. This unstinting dedication to the overarching vision was rewarded handsomely - artistically, at least.

However, as might have been expected, his deluxe approach resulted in a bill too steep for any American or European label to ultimately support. It has since seemed unlikely that it would see the light of day on either side of the Atlantic. Yet we were determined not to allow Hayes' lifetime achievement to go unnoticed or let music fans across the world miss out on one of the finest albums of this century.

A wide-eyed opus of stunning intensity, Fed oozes Hayes' impeccable influences without ever becoming overwhelmed by them. Incredibly, it touches upon Blaxploitation soul, Boz Scaggs-soft-rock, hints of jazz and blues, timeless baroque and skewed pop. In one long minute, the stabbing, soulful "So Blind" moves through five different melodic segments, horns shift easily from haunting backdrop to explosive forefront, smoothly giving way to strings as Hayes' voice casts its bewitching spell. The ambitious soul of "Having It All" has been described as the diffident cousin of Marvin Gaye's "Save The Children" whilst the breezy "Greyhound Bus Station" is pure 70s AM Gold, evoking the easy warmth of Jimmy Webb's beloved Land's End period. The sublime resignation of "No Education", a beautifully slow number that begins, "Never read a book in my life/ But I feel just fine" is post-rock ballad heaven. Arriving towards the end, the title track arrives as a majestic suite, moving from a horn-and-guitar-led instrumental via shifting melodies to Hayes' compelling vocal bursts.

An album of such brilliance, Fed can comfortably sit alongside such staggering statement pieces as David Bowie's Young Americans, Randy Newman's 12 Songs or Harry Nilsson's Nilsson Schmilsson. Indeed, for all the sprawling elements that went in - lengthy guitar builds, exploding horn sections, solemn strings, female backup chorus - it is a deeply personal and original record. Employing a distinct "more is more" aesthetic, he demonstrates remarkable restraint in producing an album of such intimacy. "My creation has drowned me," he memorably sings on languid opener "Whose Blues", yet he navigates the shifting styles and ideas with enviable ease.