Search:life form

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

Angelo is an EP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist and singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy's father and both of Stuart's parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo's sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, "to get us out of our grief and into our bodies," says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal _ a resourceful, collective answer to "what happens now?". Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. "Such a bro-y, `80s dude car, it's been super fun to drive around in a new town," Murphy says. "He's older than us, he's a classic, he's got a story." It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, "Which Way To The Club." The question is quickly resolved by "Take A Trip" as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip - the kind of imagined space or chamber within one's self capable of "shifting a fraction of who you are," says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be "as free as we could be," adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: "What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room." Next is "Shy Guy," a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: "We are in junior high, we're on the dance floor, what's going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?" The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. "Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too," Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one - something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, "It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission." "Angelo" and "Ooo La La" deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean's catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo's dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude "Colors" drifting into "Where Do We Go?", a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space. It all culminates in "Caldwell's Way," a fond farewell to their Bay Area community - "a part of my life that I knew couldn't come back," says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There's the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: "I'd rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars." And the song's namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. "I'm only miles away, maybe I'm just feeling lonely," the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and "Nostalgia" runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

Multi-Award winning, hugely influential musician Feist returns with Multitudes, her sixth solo album and first since 2017’s Pleasure.

Multitudes was produced by Feist with longtime collaborators Robbie Lackritz (The Weather Station, Bahamas, Robbie Robertson) and Mocky (Jamie Lidell, Vulfpeck, Kelela). Blake Mills (Bob Dylan, Fiona Apple, Perfume Genius) and Joseph Lorge came in to mix, with Mills as a co-producer in the final stages.

Multitudes took shape soon after the birth of her daughter and sudden death of her father, a back-to-back convergence of life-altering events that left the Canadian singer/songwriter with “Nothing performative in me anymore.” As she cleansed her songwriting of any tendency to obscure unwanted truths, Feist slowly made her way toward a batch of songs rooted in a raw and potent realism which is touched with otherworldly beauty.

Largely written and workshopped during an intensely communal experimental show of the same name through 2021 and 2022, the songs on Multitudes developed in parallel with and were deeply influenced by the mutuality of the unconventional experience. The production, developed by Feist with legendary designer Rob Sinclair (David Byrne’s American Utopia, Peter Gabriel, Tame Impala) was formulated to bring people together as they re-emerged from lockdown while providing an outlet for connection between artist, art, and community.

Metallica melden sich mit einem Knall zurück!

Die achtfachen GRAMMY-Gewinner veröffentlichen ihr langersehntes 12tes Studioalbum mit dem Titel „72 Seasons“.

Das Album beinhaltet 12 brandneue Songs, produziert von James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich und der Rock-Produzenten-Ikone Greg Fidelman (U2, Slipknot, Johnny Cash, Slayer, Red Hot Chili Peppers, uvm.) Als Vorgeschmack auf das Gesamtwerk dient der bereits veröffentlichte Song „Lux Æterna“. Mit 77 abwechslungsreichen Minuten bietet das Album darüber hinaus jedem Fan die Möglichkeit, sich vollkommen in das Werk fallenzulassen.

Den Titel erklärt James Hetfield wie folgt: „72 seasons. The first 18 years of our lives that form our true or false selves. The concept that we were told ‘who we are’ by our parents. … Prisoners of childhood or breaking free of those bondages we carry.”



Zusatzinfo:

Zeitgleich mit der Bekanntgabe des Albums und dem Release von „Lux Æterna“ kündigen Metallica auch ihre M72 Welt-Tournee an, die sich über die Jahre 2023 und 2024 erstrecken wird. Im Zuge dessen werden jeweils 2 Shows in Hamburg und München gespielt, jede davon mit einer gänzlich anderen Setlist und Support-Acts.

Metallica melden sich mit einem Knall zurück!

Die achtfachen GRAMMY-Gewinner veröffentlichen ihr langersehntes 12tes Studioalbum mit dem Titel „72 Seasons“.

Das Album beinhaltet 12 brandneue Songs, produziert von James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich und der Rock-Produzenten-Ikone Greg Fidelman (U2, Slipknot, Johnny Cash, Slayer, Red Hot Chili Peppers, uvm.) Als Vorgeschmack auf das Gesamtwerk dient der bereits veröffentlichte Song „Lux Æterna“. Mit 77 abwechslungsreichen Minuten bietet das Album darüber hinaus jedem Fan die Möglichkeit, sich vollkommen in das Werk fallenzulassen.

Den Titel erklärt James Hetfield wie folgt: „72 seasons. The first 18 years of our lives that form our true or false selves. The concept that we were told ‘who we are’ by our parents. … Prisoners of childhood or breaking free of those bondages we carry.”



Zusatzinfo:

Zeitgleich mit der Bekanntgabe des Albums und dem Release von „Lux Æterna“ kündigen Metallica auch ihre M72 Welt-Tournee an, die sich über die Jahre 2023 und 2024 erstrecken wird. Im Zuge dessen werden jeweils 2 Shows in Hamburg und München gespielt, jede davon mit einer gänzlich anderen Setlist und Support-Acts.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Tape

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

On Labyrinth, Heather Woods Broderick serves as our reflective host, subverting expectations of conventional songcraft with impressionistic language and quietly relentless explorations of the human experience that's at once light and dark, more circular and less linear. "Many of us yearn for stillness and peace, as an escape from the movement all around us," she explains when asked about the themes of the album. "Yet movement is perpetual, happening all the time on some level. It's as wild as the wind, yet eternally predictable in its inevitability. It is linear in part, but infinite in its circuitry. Our lives just punctuate it." Broderick began crafting Labyrinth in March 2020, when most forms of move- ment were brought to a screeching halt. The Maine-born, Los Angeles-based songwriter _ who, in addition to her work as a solo musician, built a life playing and touring with acts such as Sharon Van Etten, Beth Orton, Damien Jurado, and Efterklang _ was suddenly forced off the road for the first time in her career. She used this disruption as an opportunity to pare down her creation process and construct the scaffolding for Labyrinth in her apartment. Employing only the most crucial tools at her disposal, Broderick found herself opening different artistic doors as she focused on sharpening her recording skills, capturing the majority of the album on her own before finishing the remainder with co-producer D. James Goodwin. For all of Broderick's sage lyricism and vocal authority, Labyrinth never provides the listener with any easy answers. If the image of the labyrinth represents the enormity of modern life and the difficulty of navigating it, Heather Woods Broder- ick provides a guide to its endless kinetic wonders _ of being present, aware, and connected despite its disconnects. She describes the texture of its walls, its indifferent rhythms, and the inherent poeticism of feeling lost amid the dead-ends and unexpected turns. At this point in our history, perhaps that's all we need to keep moving.

Grey Vinyl

On Labyrinth, Heather Woods Broderick serves as our reflective host, subverting expectations of conventional songcraft with impressionistic language and quietly relentless explorations of the human experience that's at once light and dark, more circular and less linear. "Many of us yearn for stillness and peace, as an escape from the movement all around us," she explains when asked about the themes of the album. "Yet movement is perpetual, happening all the time on some level. It's as wild as the wind, yet eternally predictable in its inevitability. It is linear in part, but infinite in its circuitry. Our lives just punctuate it." Broderick began crafting Labyrinth in March 2020, when most forms of move- ment were brought to a screeching halt. The Maine-born, Los Angeles-based songwriter _ who, in addition to her work as a solo musician, built a life playing and touring with acts such as Sharon Van Etten, Beth Orton, Damien Jurado, and Efterklang _ was suddenly forced off the road for the first time in her career. She used this disruption as an opportunity to pare down her creation process and construct the scaffolding for Labyrinth in her apartment. Employing only the most crucial tools at her disposal, Broderick found herself opening different artistic doors as she focused on sharpening her recording skills, capturing the majority of the album on her own before finishing the remainder with co-producer D. James Goodwin. For all of Broderick's sage lyricism and vocal authority, Labyrinth never provides the listener with any easy answers. If the image of the labyrinth represents the enormity of modern life and the difficulty of navigating it, Heather Woods Broder- ick provides a guide to its endless kinetic wonders _ of being present, aware, and connected despite its disconnects. She describes the texture of its walls, its indifferent rhythms, and the inherent poeticism of feeling lost amid the dead-ends and unexpected turns. At this point in our history, perhaps that's all we need to keep moving.

The duo of Charles McCloud and Roslyn Johnson made only two albums during their career…but those two albums (Everything Must Change and Spirit of the Living God) are among the most collectible records ever made in the gospel genre. In fact, they are so hard to find that we’re still searching for Spirit of the Living God to scan the artwork, but we managed to snag a copy of their 1981 debut Everything Must Change on the obscure Cheri label (though we may have to pass a collection plate to recoup the cost!).
It’ll just take the first track to show you why these records are in such demand; you have never heard such a soulful (check out those harmonies!), slow-burning rendition of that hoary chestnut “Amazing Grace” in your sanctified life! And with able production by keyboardist Julius Brockington, who played with Larry Young and headed up several outfits of his own, Everything Must Change is a crossover album in the best sense of the word, blending the spiritual fervor of gospel with the danceable grooves of soul and—dare we say it?—disco. Don’t miss the Donny Hathaway cover “Someday We’ll All Be Free,” too. Black vinyl release, first ever reissue in any format…limited to 1000 copies!

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Pink Vinyl

Die Wahl-New-Yorkerin Yaeji hat sich in den letzten Jahren als Produzentin, Sängerin und DJ mit ihren introspektiven Dance-Floor-Hymnen eine ganz eigene Nische geschaffen. Nach der Veröffentlichung ihrer Debüt-EPs, sowie den Singles "Raingurl" und "Drink I"m Sippin On" in 2017, war sie auf Charli XCXs 2019er Album "Charli" zu hören, remixte Songs für Dua Lipa oder Robyn, kollaborierte mit dem Seouler-Künstler OHHYUK, verkaufte weltweite Headline-Touren aus und eröffnete ihren eigenen Lifestyle Webstore JI-MART. Ihr Sound und ihre Einflüsse sind dabei so vielschichtig wie ihre Herkunft. Geboren im Jahr 1993 in New York reicht ihr Stammbaum von Seoul über Tokyo bis nach Atlanta - Einflüsse die sich in ihrer Musik in Form von koreanischem Indie-Rock und Electronica, 2000er Hip-Hop, sowie Leftfield Bass und Techno wiederfinden. Mit ihrem 2020er Mixtape "WHAT WE DREW“ schärfte Yaeji noch mal ihre Vision als Musikerin, die kreativ losgelöst von Sprachen Genre-Grenzen zu sprengen vermag - kein Wunder, dass sie daraufhin von Pitchfork 2022 zu einer der "25 Artists Shaping the Future of Music" ernannt wurde. Die nahe Zukunft wird sie ebenfalls prägen. Schließlich erscheint am 7. April nun endlich das Debütalbum "With A Hammer" bei XL Recordings. Entstanden innerhalb von zwei Jahren in New York, Seoul und London kurz nach der Veröffentlichung des Mixtapes und während den Lockdowns ist es eine Ode an die Erforschung ihrer selbst, setzte sie sich doch dabei mit ihren eigenen Emotionen auseinander - besonders mit ihrer eigenen, in ihr brodelnden Wut. Während sie textlich zwischen englisch und koreanisch springt, nutzt sie erstmals auch Live-Instrumente, sei es in Form von einem Ensemble an Musikern oder auch zum ersten Mal sie selbst an der Gitarre. "With A Hammer" beinhaltet darüber hinaus auch Features der Produzenten und engen Verbündeten K Wata und Enayet, sowie Gast-Vocals der Londonerin Loraine James und von Nourished by Time aus Baltimore.

Requiem for Jazz is a 12-movement suite composed and arranged by Angel Bat Dawid, inspired in part by dialogue from Edward O. Bland’s 1959 film “The Cry of Jazz.”

The original form of the music was premiered at the 2019 edition of the Hyde Park Jazz Festival in Chicago, where Angel conducted a multigenerational fifteen-piece instrumental ensemble (all Black musicians from Chicago’s creative music community) alongside a four- person choir (featuring singers from Black Monument Ensemble), dancers, and visual artists in performance.

Angel mixed and post-produced recordings from the performance – adding interludes, vocals and additional sounds, as well as transcribing a piece from “The Cry of Jazz” film. The final movement of Requiem for Jazz features Marshall Allen and Knoel Scott of the Sun Ra Arkestra. Their contributions were recorded remotely at the historic Arkestral Institute of Sun Ra in Philadelphia in late 2020.

The final Requiem for Jazz work in album form is an immersive 24-track, double LP experience. The physical package is a deluxe, heavyweight gatefold jacket with liner notes by South African writer Nombuso Mathibela, artwork by Damon Locks, and a large fold out poster designed by Jeremiah Chiu, featuring poetry written by Angel Bat Dawid in dedication to all of her collaborators on the project. Additionally, there is a limited Thy Kingdom Come purple color vinyl edition of Requiem for Jazz available for the first pressing only.

The Bluebeaters landmark debut album from 1999 receives a first-ever vinyl release. Featuring band's hits like Cher's "Believe" or Black's "Wonderful Life" all cooked in a strictly mid 60s Jamaican Blue Beat & Rock Steady style. Gatefold 2LP clear vinyl with printed inserts, limited to 500 copies, instant collector's item.

Record Kicks in collaboration with Universal Music Italy presents the release of The Bluebeaters seminal debut LP "The Album" for the first time ever on wax on a limited edition clear vinyl double LP on March 31. Way before the vinyl comeback of the 2010s, "The Album" was released in 1999 on CD and on two limited edition promo 12"s that are now very in-demand in the scene on V2 Records. "The Album" marked a generation of Soul, Rock Steady and Reggae fans in Italy selling over 40.000 physical copies and now 24 years after its original release, it gets published on full vinyl.

Fronted by "The King" Giuliano Palma on vocals backed with members of cult Italian bands of the 90s such as "Casino Royale", "Africa Unite" and "Fratelli di Soledad", The Bluebeaters' analog recordings finally find the vinyl format they deserve. On the album's track list you can find Jamaican music classics such as "World's Fair" from the Skatalites, Joe Higgs' "There's a Reward" or Bob Marley's "Coming In From The Cold" mixed with hits such as Cher's "Believe", Black's "Wonderful Life" or even 1978 "See You Tonite" by Gene Simmons from The Kiss that perfectly sound as if they were recorded by Clement "Coxsone" Dodd at Studio1 in Kingston in 1966.

The Bluebeaters are not newcomers on Record Kicks, the Milan label released their "Everybody Knows" album in 2015. Top Italian musicians in love with vintage Jamaican ska and reggae and blessed by Ken Booth, during the last 25 years of their career they headlined festivals like Rototom Sunsplash and International Ska Fest in London. Among their fans, they count the likes of Gaz Mayall, David Rodigan and the legendary late lamented Lloyd Knibb (The Skatalites).

The reissue of The BB's "The Album" is part of Record Kicks' 2023 initiatives to celebrate its 20th anniversary. Side by side with similar imprints like Daptone, Big Crown, Colemine or Timmion Records, under its motto "The explosive sound from Today's scene", Milan-based record label and music publishing Record Kicks, has been pitching the contemporary funk & soul scene since 2003. With over 250 physical releases under the belt, the label has released bands from all over the globe and earned support of VIP fans such as rap superstars Jay-Z, Tyler The Creator and Dr. Dre, who sampled the label's catalogue.

Circassian-Turkish Producer Sine Buyuka debuts new solo project Sinemis with lush, graceful album ‘Dua’, gently combining the ancestral Sufi music of her homeland with sophisticated techno-inflected ambient. Dua’s life began with a life-threatening illness. “I started feeling unwell last year and no one could figure out the reason,” Sine writes. “It was a scary time, not knowing and trying to manage symptoms while they slowly worsened. In late 2021, while I was visiting my family in Turkey during the Christmas break, I was taken into A&E. After more tests, I had a diagnosis and had surgery in January.” Following this, within the healing process - highly emotional as well as physical - Sine was drawn to the traditional Sufi music of Turkey and the Middle East. Ritualistic music to accompany ancient sema ceremonies, in which whirling dervishes enter a transcendental consciousness through ecstatic movement and repetition. With this influence at heart, Sine began work on ‘Dua’, with a newly-formed artist name to signify new, unfamiliar music from a celebrated electronic producer. For her, the album marks a significant step in her recovery. But it is also a potent marriage of contemporary and ancestral trancestates, interweaving sci-fi synthesis and floor shaking bass tones with mystic imagery, textures and timbres. A meditative, spiritual balm that melds field recordings, found sounds, ambient soundscapes, electronics and acoustic instrumentation to celebrate life and survival in challenging circumstances. The breathy, cinematic tones of album opener ‘Dua’ hover and shiver in preparatory stasis as broken-machine punctuation begins to dot rhythmically through the space. A yearning, repeated vocal sample - a living, beating heart inside the machine - characterises a crucial theme for the album: the marriage of digital instrumentation with the analogue, the human and the organic. Later, ‘Elegy’ reflects its title with heartbreaking chordal shifts and glitching birdsong, conjuring a sound world somewhere between KMRU and Max Richter. Key track ‘Gazel’ moves in glacial slo-mo, like whirling dervishes frozen in time at the peak of their trance. Euphoric ceremony made haunting and poignant without losing a mote of power…Across the album, the timbres of Sufi ritual are often captured by the otherworldly presence of the historic ney flute, said to be as old as the Holy Books. “Sufi music can be created using several different instruments but the ney flute is at the heart of it. The sounds emanating from this fascinating instrument kept capturing my imagination,” Sine tells us. Working both with samples and with Turkish musician Omar Faruk Tekbilek, Sine achieves a rare balance of reverence and recontextualisation for such a time-honoured instrument, here performed by a lifelong student of its intricacies and mysteries. In Sinemis’ hands, the processing and sonic treatment of the ney even sometimes renders it indistinguishable from Dua’s synthesis and sound-design

Over the past 20 years, The New Pornographers have proven themselves one of the most excellent bands in indie rock. The group's ninth album and first for Merge establishes them alongside modern luminaries like Yo La Tengo and Superchunk when it comes to their ability to evolve while still retaining what made them so special in the first place. A dazzling and intriguing collection of songs, "Continue as a Guest" finds bandleader A.C. Newman and his compatriots Neko Case, Kathryn Calder, John Collins, Todd Fancey, and Joe Seiders exploring fresh territory and shattering the barriers of their collective comfort zone. Newman began work on "Continue as a Guest" after the band had finished touring behind 2019's "In the Morse Code of Brake Lights". Themes of isolation and collapse bleed into this album, as Newman tackles the ambivalence of day-to-day life during the COVID-19 pandemic. But Newman says that the album's title track also addresses the concerns that come with being in a band for so long. "The idea of continuing as a guest felt apropos to the times," he explains. "Feeling out of place in culture, in society, being in a band that has been around for so long_not feeling like a part of any zeitgeist, but happy to be separate and living your simple life, your long fade-out. Living in a secluded place in an isolated time, it felt like a positive form of acceptance: find your own little nowhere, find some space to fall apart, continue as a guest." Newman discovered new vocal approaches within his own talent. There are new and rich tones to Newman's voice throughout Continue as a Guest, from his dusky lower register over "Angelcover" to his slippery slide over the glimmering synths of "Firework in the Falling Snow," to bold tones he embraces on the soaring "Bottle Episodes." Another sonic change comes courtesy of saxophonist Zach Djanikian, whose tenor and bass luxuriate all over Continue as a Guest's alluring chassis, especially on the menacing build of "Pontius Pilate's Home Movies." Along with Newman's usual collaborators, several songwriters contribute. The bursting opener and first single "Really Really Light" is a co-write with Dan Bejar (Destroyer, the New Pornographers). Then there's "Firework in the Falling Snow," a collaboration with Sadie Dupuis of Speedy Ortiz and Sad13. Even as Newman embraces a collaborative spirit more than ever, his new album is a testament to his ability to discover new artistic sides of himself. "Continue as a Guest" sounds like a thrilling path forward for The New Pornographers, with songs that generate a contagious feeling of excitement for the future as well.

Ltd. Green & Blue Vinyl

Over the past 20 years, The New Pornographers have proven themselves one of the most excellent bands in indie rock. The group's ninth album and first for Merge establishes them alongside modern luminaries like Yo La Tengo and Superchunk when it comes to their ability to evolve while still retaining what made them so special in the first place. A dazzling and intriguing collection of songs, "Continue as a Guest" finds bandleader A.C. Newman and his compatriots Neko Case, Kathryn Calder, John Collins, Todd Fancey, and Joe Seiders exploring fresh territory and shattering the barriers of their collective comfort zone. Newman began work on "Continue as a Guest" after the band had finished touring behind 2019's "In the Morse Code of Brake Lights". Themes of isolation and collapse bleed into this album, as Newman tackles the ambivalence of day-to-day life during the COVID-19 pandemic. But Newman says that the album's title track also addresses the concerns that come with being in a band for so long. "The idea of continuing as a guest felt apropos to the times," he explains. "Feeling out of place in culture, in society, being in a band that has been around for so long_not feeling like a part of any zeitgeist, but happy to be separate and living your simple life, your long fade-out. Living in a secluded place in an isolated time, it felt like a positive form of acceptance: find your own little nowhere, find some space to fall apart, continue as a guest." Newman discovered new vocal approaches within his own talent. There are new and rich tones to Newman's voice throughout Continue as a Guest, from his dusky lower register over "Angelcover" to his slippery slide over the glimmering synths of "Firework in the Falling Snow," to bold tones he embraces on the soaring "Bottle Episodes." Another sonic change comes courtesy of saxophonist Zach Djanikian, whose tenor and bass luxuriate all over Continue as a Guest's alluring chassis, especially on the menacing build of "Pontius Pilate's Home Movies." Along with Newman's usual collaborators, several songwriters contribute. The bursting opener and first single "Really Really Light" is a co-write with Dan Bejar (Destroyer, the New Pornographers). Then there's "Firework in the Falling Snow," a collaboration with Sadie Dupuis of Speedy Ortiz and Sad13. Even as Newman embraces a collaborative spirit more than ever, his new album is a testament to his ability to discover new artistic sides of himself. "Continue as a Guest" sounds like a thrilling path forward for The New Pornographers, with songs that generate a contagious feeling of excitement for the future as well.

Over the past 20 years, The New Pornographers have proven themselves one of the most excellent bands in indie rock. The group’s ninth album and first for Merge establishes them alongside modern luminaries like Yo La Tengo and Superchunk when it comes to their ability to evolve while still retaining what made them so special in the first place. A dazzling and intriguing collection of songs, Continue as a Guest finds bandleader A.C. Newman and his compatriots Neko Case, Kathryn Calder, John Collins, Todd Fancey, and Joe Seiders exploring fresh territory and shattering the barriers of their collective comfort zone. Newman began work on Continue as a Guest after the band had finished touring behind 2019’s In the Morse Code of Brake Lights. Themes of isolation and collapse bleed into this album, as Newman tackles the ambivalence of day-to-day life during the COVID-19 pandemic. But Newman says that Continue as a Guest’s title track also addresses the concerns that come with being in a band for so long. “The idea of continuing as a guest felt apropos to the times,” he explains. “Feeling out of place in culture, in society, being in a band that has been around for so long—not feeling like a part of any zeitgeist, but happy to be separate and living your simple life, your long fade-out.

Living in a secluded place in an isolated time, it felt like a positive form of acceptance: find your own little nowhere, find some space to fall apart, continue as a guest.” Newman discovered new vocal approaches within his own talent. There are new and rich tones to Newman’s voice throughout Continue as a Guest, from his dusky lower register over “Angelcover” to his slippery slide over the glimmering synths of “Firework in the Falling Snow,” to bold tones he embraces on the soaring “Bottle Episodes.”

Another sonic change comes courtesy of saxophonist Zach Djanikian, whose tenor and bass luxuriate all over Continue as a Guest’s alluring chassis, especially on the menacing build of “Pontius Pilate’s Home Movies.” Along with Newman’s usual collaborators, several songwriters contribute. The bursting opener and first single “Really Really Light” is a co-write with Dan Bejar (Destroyer, the New Pornographers). Then there’s “Firework in the Falling Snow,” a collaboration with Sadie Dupuis of Speedy Ortiz and Sad13. “I was feeling like I wanted some help, so I sent it to Sadie and she sent me back this complete song that had these great lyrics,” Newman says. “She included the line ‘A firework in the falling snow,’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, that’s great.’ Sometimes you need that one thing to center the song, and even though I only used a few lines of hers in the end, I couldn’t have finished it without her.”

Even as Newman embraces a collaborative spirit more than ever, Continue as a Guest is a testament to his ability to discover new artistic sides of himself. “I started out as a songwriter more than as a singer, but at some point, you have to sing your own songs,” he says with a chuckle. “For a long time, I felt like the idea of changing a song because I couldn’t hit a note wasn’t okay—I could just get someone else to sing it. But I’m learning now that my songs can actually be a lot more malleable than I thought.” And it’s in that spirit that Continue as a Guest sounds like a thrilling path forward for The New Pornographers, with songs that generate a contagious feeling of excitement for the future as well.

Growing up in South Korea was difficult for the young Sun-Mi Hong, intent on a musical path but experiencing restrictions and negativity. Drumming became a refuge, a place to escape to. It took over her life and became an obsession for her. The sound and energy was a huge inspiration and helped channel the emotions she was feeling. Surrounded by negativity, criticism of her chosen path and pressure to follow a more secure, traditional career, her persistence and resilience prevailed and she made the move, a little over 10 years ago, to study in Amsterdam, an undertaking full of risk, facing a new culture with barriers in spoken and musical language. Step forward a decade and Sun-Mi has built a formidable reputation in her city, in the Netherlands and beyond, and is fast cementing her position as one of the leading up-and-coming talents on the European scene. Sun-Mi’s new record with her long-running quintet, balances meticulously crafted compositions with investigations into the great unknown of improvised music. Each record she’s released with the quintet up until this point, (First, Second and now Third Page: Resonance), chronicles her life as an artist and her unique path to her goal. Drifting between expressions of warmth and appreciation contrasted with moments of pure passion and catharsis, this is an album that cannot be ignored – it demands your attention and your focussed listening unlike anything else you are likely to hear.