Suche:look to the past

Bob Dylan was at several crossroads in the mid-1970s. Artistically, he was largely written off as being past his prime. Emotionally, he was suffering through a painful divorce from his then-wife Sara Lowndes. Creatively, he appeared at a stalemate, his previous decade's unprecedented run of transformational brilliance finished. Then came Blood on the Tracks.

A start-to-finish cycle that documents a lover's pursuit of, entanglement with, and loss of a woman, the bracingly intimate 1975 effort remains one of the most encompassing break-up albums ever made and ranks as the most personal statement of the Bard's career. To hear it is to experience the agony, frustration, trauma, highs, lows, confusion, sadness, and, ultimately, requisite redemption associated with intimate relationships gone astray. Dylan maintains it's a work of fiction, but it's evident close-vested autobiographical premise is what helps make it universal: It's the icon singing through tears, going out of his mind, battling hallowing emptiness, firing shots across the bow, and accepting culpability. It is, in short, a consummate expression of love's darker sides and the consequences of what happens when dreams unravel.

As part of its Bob Dylan catalogue restoration series, Mobile Fidelity is thoroughly humbled to have the privilege of mastering the iconic LP from the original master tapes and pressing it on dead-quiet LP at RTI. The end result is the very finest, most transparent analogue edition of Blood on the Tracks ever produced – and the first-ever proper analog reissue. Fantastically presenting both the solo acoustic and band-supported songs with the utmost clarity, dynamics, presence, immediacy, spaciousness, imaging, and balance, this version shines a high-powered light on the fluid vocal phrasing, timbral shifts, functional rhythms, and inward-looking strumming that contribute to every song here serving as a wound-exposing confessional.

For all the melancholic pain, unresolved questions, shattered memories, wasted times, unrequited dialogues, and weary regret within, Blood on the Tracks remains as daring as it is reflective. Rather than follow for a monotone caustic vibe, Dylan's songs burrow into the subconscious for the manners in which they are even-keeled, mellow, and occasionally, even peaceful. Dignity, honour, poignancy, and fairness – all traits uncommon in any situation in which partners dissolve histories, change hearts, and attribute blame – instil the record with equilibrium on par with the consistency of the flowing melodies.

Throughout, tunes come on and proceed as if they could continue forever, Dylan spinning poetic verses and conversations amidst finely tied knots of acoustic notes, chords, and fills, the deceivingly simple architecture conjuring the intertwined refractions of a bezeled jewel, various angles, colours, and textures conjoining into a gorgeously inseparable whole. Backed by Tony Brown's flexible albeit subtle bass, Buddy Cage's country-streaked pedal-steel guitar, and Paul Griffin's soul-baring organ – an instrument used to shadow, tuck-point, and illuminate here as effectively as any time in rock history – Dylan pours soulful emotion, open his veins, and bleeds.

Ranked 16 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, and replete with existential thought, piercing directness, raw singing, and majestic arrangements,

Given the sonic and artistic merit of this album, we anticipate huge demand.

‘Mellifluous’... is a word you won’t hear much when conversation turns to early Pooh Sticks records. But ‘noise pollution’, sure: that comes up. I’ve even used it myself. So look away now if you must: ‘Straight Up: Noise Pollution C88-90’ is a selection of some of the most loved/despised/ignored tracks released by The Pooh Sticks on however many records it was before it all went wilfully ‘American’ sometime around dotted-lining for BMG mega-corp in 1991.
The record has highlights and lowlights. You and me, we’d probably agree on most of them. We chose a reasonable cross-section, I think (although there could’ve been more tambourine), including:
- “On Tape” - zeitgeist-nailin’ strum and strangle.
- “I Know Someone Who Knows Someone Who Knows Alan McGee Quite Well” - long title
- “Teenage High” - breathy sweetness sneaked onto the depraved Sympathy For The Record Industry label.
- “Dying For It” - the Vaselines cover which beat Nirvana by a full two years (though theirs sold better).
... and more! It’s like Christmas (no, blocking up the chimney won’t help: we’ve cut spare keys). And all of this in a nice gatefold sleeve, and on Steve McQueen’s- eyes blue vinyl. And there’s even a repro poster for the March ’89 Pastels/Pooh Sticks/Vaselines gig up London way (“I swear I was there”, people say).
On behalf of the group, I hope you enjoy it. No, really. It was all a long time ago but I remember we had fun. Maybe you were even there having fun with us.

Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle, shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable. In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an artifact that "proves for decades that Bush Tetras continued to evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time, the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right. They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head. The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed along - side a catalog as expansive as it is influential), They Live in My Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matter- of-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done, the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is absolutely no exception.

Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle, shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable. In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an artifact that "proves for decades that Bush Tetras continued to evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time, the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right. They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head. The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed along - side a catalog as expansive as it is influential), They Live in My Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matter- of-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done, the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is absolutely no exception.

In 1983 there came a sound from the depths of the Brazilian rainforest that was primal, ground-breaking, and completely ahead of its time. The roaring of amplifiers and the beating of drums was the sound of Max and Iggor Cavalera creating their debut cult-classics 'MORBID VISIONS' and 'BESTIAL DEVASTATION', and now it seems that after many years, the Cavalera brothers will be returning to their raw upstarts with a full re-recording of these beloved yet obscure albums.
When 'MORBID VISIONS' and 'BESTIAL DEVASTATION" were first spawned it was done in ramshackle conditions in Belo Horizonte, where the duo grew up. Max and Iggor were 14 and 13 years old during the original recording, and they had all the tenacity and energy of a pack of wild dogs. Only, their sound was not quite refined at that time, their adolescence bled through on those early records. It is well known that Max's guitars were completely out of tune on those sessions, and Iggor's drums often swung around tempos crazily. There's an air of youth and passion that could only be achieved by two teenagers that wanted to shock the world. Four decades later and it is plain to see that they certainly did gather the world's attention.
Despite the production being rough around the edges and the band still carving out their direction, there was a noticeable level of craftsmanship to the song structures and a clear indication that given their desire to thrash like maniacs, these kids from Brazil were going to tear the place up night after night. These albums still hold a dark, mystic and at times eerie quality to them that many have come to love over the years. For some, the music does not have to be delivered with perfect technical precision, the spastic live delivery is something to be cherished, and even with their guitars out of tune, they played like the gates of hell were opening. The crossroads of a shamanistic spiritual summoning at a back-alley metal show in downtown Belo Horizonte.
It is a task of heavy magnitude to try and cross the gap between the accomplished artists that they are today to the scrappy boys that they were when they first wrote these songs, but the duo have executed the performances flawlessly. The perfect bridge between the unbridled energy of the original sessions and the high-quality sound of a 21st century production. It is truly astounding to hear Max once again growl like a monster during "Troops Of Doom" and riff at insane speeds through "War" and "Crucifixion". Iggor's barbaric drumming on "Anti-Christ" is like the galloping hooves of a death-rider. Accompanied by bassist Igor Amadeus Cavalera (HEALING MAGIC, GO AHEAD AND DIE) and lead guitarist Daniel Gonzales (POSSESSED, GRUESOME) the quartet is a force to be reckoned with.
How this re-recording attained such a familiar tenacity is almost a mystery, like some spell that brought these albums back from the grave. Within the first few beats you can hear that the Cavalera’s have lost no momentum, attacking the songs at maximum speed and ferocity. In fact, it seems that the brothers have only empowered their connection through music over the decades. You can feel the spark that those two create, a dynamic sound rich with subtleties and ear-grabbing hooks. As Iggor counts in each song with his drumsticks, and Max's guitar feedbacks loudly as he approaches the microphone, there is palpable apprehension. It is apparent that when these two icons get together to play, they are going to electrify the room with their presence.
Few have had the incredible careers that Max and Iggor have achieved through their music. Even fewer had faith in the young boys that wrote 'MORBID VISIONS' and "BESTIAL DEVASTATION' all those years ago. Yet here they still stand ripping through their earliest works with decades of experience under their belts. For them, it is a breath of fresh air to finally give these songs the desired production that they deserve. They both feel that the fans also deserve a fresh look at these albums, a chance to appreciate them in a completely new light.
From start to finish 'MORBID VISIONS" and "BESTIAL DEVASTATION" are a torrential whirlwind of riffs, beats, and screams. A blast from the past that is sure to take every last listener back to the raucous live shows of the eighties.
Mysterious clouds form above an old cathedral, the summoning of dark magic is upon us, and the troops of doom march forth to announce the arrival of 'CAVALERA'!

Fueled By Ramen will be reissuing one seminal album from our 25- year history each month throughout the calendar year of 2021. For June 2021, we will be releasing Gym Class Heroes’ third studio album ‘As Cruel as School Children’ on silver vinyl.

We are currently working on a 16 part podcast that will delve into the history of FBR, it’s cultural relevance and Global impact over the past 25 years. Each episode will look at the careers of some of our most important artists, and deep dive into the making of albums told by the artists themselves in their own words.

ME LOST ME led by Newcastle-based artist Jayne Dent announces a new album RPG via Upset The Rhythm on 7th July, and is touring across the UK including support dates with Pigs x7. RPG (recorded in Blank Studios with Sam Grant of Pigs x7) is ME LOST ME’s fourth outing as a collective, having transitioned from an ambitious solo project in 2017, Jayne now regularly collaborating with acclaimed North-East jazz musicians Faye MacCalman and John Pope.
ME LOST ME delights in experimenting with songwriting and storytelling, creating a beguiling mix of soaring vocals and atmospheric electronics that playfully weave together disparate genres, drawing influence from folk, art pop, noise, ambient and improvised music. Hauntological in part, RPG is concerned with tales and with time - are we running out of it? Does insomnia cause a time loop? Do the pressures of masculinity prevent progress? Jayne Dent asks these questions and more on RPG, her homage to worldbuilding and the story as an artform, calling back to those oral traditions around a campfire, as well as modern day video games - bringing folk music into the present day as she does so.
ME LOST ME presents sound reaching in opposite directions, straddling time towards the archaic and timeless traditions of folktales, and towards the possible and potential futures of pastoral Britain and the world at large. Part speculation, part reminiscence, what results on the new album RPG is music that sounds ultimately displaced and yet omnipresent, adjacent to a hapless Vonnegut hero whose life is scattered throughout time and history, but full of wonder and curiosity rather than fear.
On track “The Oldest Trees Hold The Earth”, we see time stretched out between the branches of impossibly old beings in the woods. This track was co-written in Aarhus, Denmark with fellow Newcastle folk musician (with Danish heritage) Ditte Elly. The pair wordlessly passed a sheet of paper between each other to write the lyrics, inspired by Højbjerg and Mosegård, the woods they were sitting in. “How long should I wait/Before the moss grows?/On my skin, on my outstretched arms,” the lyrics are sung in a round, the close harmonies delicate and detailed.

A central thesis of this album is the joy of creation, something which is paid homage to in the album’s final track, “Science And Art” (Not because we need it to last/just because we needed to make it - so we invented the words/this language). It is also reflected in the definition that Jayne gives for “folk” itself. She comments, “To me, folk is quite an expansive idea. I think of it as creative work that's often made ad-hoc, with things that are at hand and more often than not it's born of a DIY ethos. It is songs and stories of the people, as in the traditional sense, but also creative coding, game design etc. Whatever outlet someone has for their creative expression could be described as folk. It's the things we make because humans need to make things, and the stories we tell about ourselves and the world around us.”
Crucially, on latest album RPG, Dent expands her songwriting and looks towards the unreal locations of worldbuilding in video games for inspiration. She comments, “I think the main similarity is the importance of a song's setting/environment to inform its narrative and textures, I'm often most inspired when out walking in the natural landscape, in cities and travelling to places I've never been before - the environment I'm in really impacts the work I make. While writing this album, however, I found myself inspired by imaginary landscapes, those in video games, paintings, etc. I was writing stories into these unreal locations instead. Even the songs inspired by real places, like The Oldest Trees Hold the Earth, have a very surreal quality to them in the songs, like they're being warped and turned into something not of this world. I think that's the main difference for me in terms of the thematic content and inspiration behind this album - I've been getting more and more interested in balancing surreal and fantastical environmental elements with ordinary and everyday settings.”
RPG upends the concept of the eternal return - we may be in the midst of inevitable repetition, but we tell stories whilst awaiting the passage of time.
"Being familiar with, and a fan of Jayne's earlier work, it was great to get the opportunity to work with her on the production of her new record. I had in mind a sense of what the record might be, but what came of the sessions, led by the vision Jayne had for the record, totally exceeded my expectations. As far as albums go, it has a breadth of writing and a sonic depth that made it a truly brilliant record. Having Jayne join us on a leg of the Pigs x7 tour in April is going to be ace. The creative nature, the sincerity and bold strokes of ME LOST ME put it in that space outside of any genre pigeonholes, and between our two sets I imagine the audience is going to have a proper sonic bath..."
Sam Grant, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, 2023
“The music of Me Lost Me is beguiling, idiosyncratic and cinematic - or should that be video-game-omatic? This suite of songscapes often hits the sweet spot between ancient and modern with its masterful blend of stark folk, neon electronic burbling and unusual arrangements. Jayne's singing is refreshingly straightforward and nuanced - it's exquisite! - and perfectly punctures the nebulae of synths and brass which billow around the old wooden frames of the songs. Whilst listening I had images in my mind of what Northumberland might look like through the eyes of Simon Stalenhag - foggy moors, a robot looking across the sea to Lindisfarne, twinkling lights on metal towers.... that sort of thing. It's a really great album.”
Richard Dawson, 2023

Lost private press gem "The Swimmer" by Florida native Danny Morgan, is a cool and breezy, beguiling easy glide from 1987. It should've been huge. It still could be. It's a mellow marina masterpiece and quintessentially Balearic. Over the past few years, it's gathered a cult following yet the album from which it derives is virtually impossible to come by.

Finally available on a standalone, fully remastered 12", it's been backed by an instant classic "Seahawks Swimming Through Space Remix", courtesy of those beloved cats Jon Tye and Pete Fowler.

These won't be around for long, limited to just 500 copies for the world, so don't drown in procrastination.

One listen and you'll want to dive in.

Fans of the deeply entrancing, nautically and narcotically-enhanced cuts of Dennis Wilson or Michael Nesmith’s The Prison will be instantly mesmerised by the sheer beauty of "The Swimmer". After tracking Danny down, we wanted to know more. How does something so magical come about? The man himself answered thusly:

"At the time I was running many miles on the Sanibel Island beach and doing a bit of swimming in the Gulf Of Mexico. Keeping my mind busy on a long run, I imagined a “what if” movie scene. Almost every run or swim someone is sitting there on the beach watching what goes by. Back at my desk I started finger picking some chords and the picture in my head showed up. I punched in a rhythm loop and the song was on its way.

Adrian Belew and I had the same manager Stan Hertzman so I was listening to some of Adrian’s work. I was a huge fan of Joni Mitchel and the unusual chord changes and melodies in some of her songs. All of this influenced the sound on “The Swimmer”

I had a support band at the time living in my house on Sanibel Island so we practiced a lot. We came up with an arrangement of the song and we took across the bridge to John McLane’s Important Studios and recorded it. I played finger picking acoustic guitar and sang, Tim Miller played drums, Jeff Holck played fretless bass, Dave Dust played lead guitar and John McLane played keyboards and sang harmony."

Our deep thanks must go out to Jon Tye (MLO / Seahawks / Ocean Moon) for first hipping Be With to this stunner. We returned the favour by giving him the keys to the stems and requesting a strung out remix to go on the flip - he returned having conspired with Pete Fowler to conjure a cosmically copacetic rerub with the subtropical chug of the "Seahawks Swimming Through Space Remix".

Putting together the artwork for this 12" release was an enjoyable process. It was nice to be able to flip the original sleeve for the Beach Life album by using previously unseen photos, sent to us by Danny. We wanted to create something that looks like it would've gone with the LP sleeve. We think we've cracked it. Simon Francis remastered Danny's original audio and Cicely Balston's precise cut for Alchemy at AIR Studios ensures this 12" sounds appropriately outstanding. The immaculate Record Industry pressing will ensure this previously lost masterpiece stays forever found.

"To celebrate the 35th anniversary of my store I looked for a personal connection between the past and the present... following that typical attitude in the search for alternative music that has developed since the 80s"

Paolo LDSQ

Eric Emm and Jesse Cohen of Tanlines are indie-rock lifers turned reasonable, happy middle-aged fathers of two, figuring out their place in a chaotic culture and industry that can no longer command their full attention. They are emblematic of a particular time and place that doesn't really exist anymore, yet here they are existing, and thriving, in 2023. The Big Mess came together when Emm and his family moved from Brooklyn to rural Connecticut, while Cohen launched a marketing career and a successful podcast and stayed in the city. Emm continued writing songs_hundreds of them _ through all the weirdness of the past few years, but he wasn't exactly sure who he was writing them for. "I spent years figuring out in my mind, `What is my musical life going to look like?'" he says. "I just kept writing." Cohen gave Emm his blessing to continue Tanlines, even if his own contributions would be limited due to his own non-musical obligations. "I'm like, `Whatever you can do to keep this thing going, do it,'" Cohen says. And with that, Tanlines was reborn. By January 2022 Emm felt he had a body of work that made sense as a Tanlines album. Cohen spent ten days with Emm at his Connecticut studio, along with unofficial third Tanline Patrick Ford (!!!). This was tied together with a sleek final mix from Peter Katis (The National, Interpol) at his famed Tarquin Studios, resulting in a clear vision of what Emm's musical life was going to look like: The Big Mess. The first sounds on The Big Mess are the title track's coiled guitars and thumping drums, building into the kind of outsize, choral rock anthem artists like Tanlines were almost a reaction to. It is warm and nostalgic, and Cohen likens a lot of the prevailing mood to "a sepia filter on a digital photo." He continues, "we were pretty intentional about making this the first song on the album, underlining the way that this is a new phase of the band." Cohen says. The moody, scintillating "Burns Effect" serves as one of the biggest pushes forward for the Tanlines sound, and for Emm as a lyricist. He says that the song is "deep and dark and dangerous, but in a fun way. It's one of the more personal tracks on the album where this ungrounded part of my personality surfaces, but with an over-the-top machismo, almost an ironic character." Other tracks like "New Reality" and closer "The Age of Innocence" are also demonstrably guitar-forward in ways that wouldn't seem obvious for Tanlines (despite Emm's pedigree in austere avant-garde math-rock outfits Storm & Stress and Don Caballero), but Emm is less sure The Big Mess is a total departure. "I'm trying to make these absolutely simple things," he says. "I think of these songs as Rothko paintings: They're big and they're bold and they're seemingly straightforward, but they have a lot of depth and they engage with you and make you feel something."

Miles in the Sky reflects the intriguing curiosities and rainbow possibilities suggested by the album cover. Miles Davis' fifth and final album with his classic second quintet is kaleidoscopic in sound, forward-looking in structure, and contextually grounded in approach. As the legendary leader's first venture into what would become fusion, it's historical for containing the premier appearances of electric piano, bass, and guitar on a Davis effort.

The album's wide-open soundscapes soar. As do the fluid contributions of Davis' mates. Tony Williams' percussion, central to every composition here, transpires before your eyes. Herbie Hancock's piano hovers and fades with sublime purity. And George Benson, who sits on "Paraphernalia," blows the equivalent of smoke rings with his bluesy guitar, which here takes on brilliant tonality and definition. The acoustic material that occupies the second half of the record is equally transparent and full-bodied.

Granted enhanced production and a greater field of audible information, Miles in the Sky can finally be perceived as belonging to the same upper echelon as Davis' ubiquitously acclaimed Nefertiti and Filles de Kilimanjaro – the albums that precede and follow, respectively, this watershed title. Commonly branded a "transitional" work, Miles in the Sky showcases Davis already at ease with electric instruments and eager to venture into uncharted territories. Doubling as organized jams and bridges between jazz and rock, both the rhythmically challenging "Stuff" and frisky "Paraphernalia" glancing toward the future while keeping solid footing in the past.

Similarly, so do "Country Son" and "Black Comedy." In his original review for jazz authority Down-Beat, Larry Kart observes: "Davis takes material from his earlier days and darkens its emotional tone. His opening phrase on 'Country Son' recalls a fragment from his 'Summertime' solo on the Porgy and Bess album, but here it is delivered with a vehemence that rejects the poignancy of the earlier performance. Even on 'Black Comedy,' his most straight-ahead solo here, the orderly pattern of the past is displaced and fragmented."


Flavoured with humuor, bossa nova, country, and even ballroom phrases, the compositions on Miles in the Sky explode with creativity, purpose, and color.

Bedouin aka Tamer Malki and Rami Abousabe are to release their long awaited and adventurous debut album Temple of Dreams on their own label Human By Default this Spring.

Over the course of the pandemic, Malki and Abousabe spent a great amount of time finalizing songs created in the past 7 years, composing, song writing, singing, and working on numerous projects including collaborations and new originals. Temple of Dreams was shaped from these sessions and captures the enigmatic sound of the versatile, forward-thinking group.

Malki explains that the album looks to “experiment and push the boundaries.” It differs from their previous work, as the album is intended to be a deep listening experience for the fans, rather than a slew of club cuts. The multi-talented artists sought to create a timeless sound in Temple of Dreams. Malki outlines that the album lies between “what we play on stages around the world and what we’re capable of writing and producing as musicians and producers. We wanted to exceed expectations and present something that you might think or feel you’ve heard before, yet it's something completely new and not what might be expected from us.”

It starts with the enchanting sounds and candle lit grooves of Rise And Fall then journeys far and wide through the Eastern string sounds of Coldman featuring Nathan Daisy, darkly alluring vocals and mystic rhythms of Voices In My Head and the hypnotic melodic leads of Crazy feat. Iveta Mukuchyan. Elsewhere the richness of Bedouin's sound makes for spellbinding listening on tracks like Hokema Feat. Delaram and Flore Chico feat. Chico Castillo with its alluring Spanish vocals. Love And Hate is a more dynamic and punchier house cut while Fill The Space is an intriguing mix of melodic magic, authentic instrumentation and smooth rolling grooves.

The musicians, singer-songwriters, and producers in Bedouin have spent the better part of a decade fine-tuning their sound, which draws as much from their Middle Eastern heritage as it does their world travels as DJs playing iconic venues across the globe. They have pioneered a distinctive and timeless sound on some of the world’s most notable labels such as Crosstown Rebels, Get Physical, All Day I Dream, and recently their own imprint—Human By Default.

Select major label releases include remixes for Black Coffee and Virgil Abloh on Ultra and Sony/Universal and as well as calling Burning Man home they have their own iconic Ibiza party, Saga, at Pacha each week of summer, and play major events such as Coachella, Tomorrowland, and Art Basel and venues like Ushuaïa, Wynn Las Vegas as well as a ground-breaking Cercle set filmed in Petra, Jordan.

This much anticipated debut album shows yet another side and the artistic development for this influential pair.

Eric Emm and Jesse Cohen of Tanlines are indie-rock lifers turned reasonable, happy middle-aged fathers of two, figuring out their place in a chaotic culture and industry that can no longer command their full attention. They are emblematic of a particular time and place that doesn't really exist anymore, yet here they are existing, and thriving, in 2023. The Big Mess came together when Emm and his family moved from Brooklyn to rural Connecticut, while Cohen launched a marketing career and a successful podcast and stayed in the city. Emm continued writing songs_hundreds of them _ through all the weirdness of the past few years, but he wasn't exactly sure who he was writing them for. "I spent years figuring out in my mind, `What is my musical life going to look like?'" he says. "I just kept writing." Cohen gave Emm his blessing to continue Tanlines, even if his own contributions would be limited due to his own non-musical obligations. "I'm like, `Whatever you can do to keep this thing going, do it,'" Cohen says. And with that, Tanlines was reborn. By January 2022 Emm felt he had a body of work that made sense as a Tanlines album. Cohen spent ten days with Emm at his Connecticut studio, along with unofficial third Tanline Patrick Ford (!!!). This was tied together with a sleek final mix from Peter Katis (The National, Interpol) at his famed Tarquin Studios, resulting in a clear vision of what Emm's musical life was going to look like: The Big Mess. The first sounds on The Big Mess are the title track's coiled guitars and thumping drums, building into the kind of outsize, choral rock anthem artists like Tanlines were almost a reaction to. It is warm and nostalgic, and Cohen likens a lot of the prevailing mood to "a sepia filter on a digital photo." He continues, "we were pretty intentional about making this the first song on the album, underlining the way that this is a new phase of the band." Cohen says. The moody, scintillating "Burns Effect" serves as one of the biggest pushes forward for the Tanlines sound, and for Emm as a lyricist. He says that the song is "deep and dark and dangerous, but in a fun way. It's one of the more personal tracks on the album where this ungrounded part of my personality surfaces, but with an over-the-top machismo, almost an ironic character." Other tracks like "New Reality" and closer "The Age of Innocence" are also demonstrably guitar-forward in ways that wouldn't seem obvious for Tanlines (despite Emm's pedigree in austere avant-garde math-rock outfits Storm & Stress and Don Caballero), but Emm is less sure The Big Mess is a total departure. "I'm trying to make these absolutely simple things," he says. "I think of these songs as Rothko paintings: They're big and they're bold and they're seemingly straightforward, but they have a lot of depth and they engage with you and make you feel something."

Offering a three track EP on Token, emblematic UK producer James Ruskin proves his capability and linear focus once again through 'From the Ashes'. Looking past trends to create a lasting record rich in texture and thick with impact, the project affirms what the scene has already known to be true about his work for the past 25 years.

Setting his intentions from the A1, Ruskin wastes no time by creating an intimidating introduction. Saturated percussion and stuttering keys whip through a 4 minute masterclass of sound system focused production. Adventurous in structure, Ruskin remains unquestionably in control of a bursting, almost chaotic track. 'From the Ashes 2' picks up what was left off, containing a hard-set groove with hi hats slithering in progressively from the stereo image to slightly destabilize an impressive club-heavy tool. With intricate work being done in the ambience, the EP's hard hitting second track booms through a cavernous acoustic, giving the record not only body, but dimension. Switching up the rhythm and focusing on more mental synth work for the third act, Ruskin quickly and mercilessly rips through his work with a shrill pad, creating overwhelming tension to be released in the first third of the recording. He brings a dosed dissonance between his elements, reflective of the qualities of vintage techno with today's capabilities and arrangement. Pushing intensity through waves, Ruskin leaves us in anticipation of a fourth track that is never given.

Today sees Belgian-Caribbean provocateur Charlotte Adigéry and her long-term musical partner, Bolis Pupul announce their debut album Topical Dancer, due for release on March 4 2022 via Soulwax’s iconic label DEEWEE.
Cultural appropriation. Misogyny and racism. Social media vanity. Post-colonialism and political correctness. These are not talking points that you’d ordinarily hear on the dancefloor but Charlotte Adigéry and Bolis Pupul are ripping up the rulebook with their debut album Topical Dancer. The Ghent-based duo, who broke out with their 2019 Zandoli EP, are rare storytellers in electronic music: they take the temperature of the time and funnel them into their playful synth concoctions – never didactic and always with a knowing wink.

Their debut studio record – which cements them as a duo under both their names for the first time and is co-written and co-produced by Soulwax – is both a triumph of kaleidoscopic electro-pop and “a snapshot of how we think about pop culture in the 2020s.” It captures Charlotte and Bolis’s essence as musical collaborators and the conversations they’ve had over the past two years on tour, as well as their perspectives as Belgians with an immigrant background, Charlotte with Guadeloupean and French-Martinique ancestry and Bolis being of Chinese descent.

Beyond the album’s thematic heft, Topical Dancer reflects Charlotte and Bolis’s idiosyncratic sound: it’s thoughtful but it bangs. Their take on familiar genres is always off-kilter; songs sound undone or a little wonky; but these are nocturnal heaters to make the club throb. “We like to fuck things up a bit,” laughs Bolis. “We cringe when we feel like we're making something that already exists, so we're always looking for things to combine to make it sound not like a pop song, not like an R&B song, not a techno song. We’re always putting different worlds together. Charlotte and I get bored when things get too predictable.”

Topical Dancer is fizzing with ideas – there’s certainly no filler among its 13 tracks. But above all, perhaps, it has a restlessness, a desire not to be boxed in and to escape others’ narrow perceptions of who they are. It’s summarised by the refrain of their new single, ‘Blenda’: “Don’t sound like what I look like / Don’t look like what I sound like.” “One thing that always comes up,” says Bolis, “is that people perceive me as the producer, and Charlotte as just a singer. Or that being a Black artist means you should be making ‘urban’ music. Those kinds of boxes don’t feel good to us.”

‘Blenda’ in particular references how “I am a product of colonialism,” says Charlotte, “and I feel guilty for taking up space in a white country.” The song was inspired in part by Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book Why I’m Not Longer Talking To White People About Race. “It talks about the colonial past and post-colonial present in the UK,” Charlotte continues, “but that isn’t merely a British or American problem, Belgium is part of that as well.” She says that her home country is likewise “oblivious to a big part of its history” which “results in general ignorance and a lack of understanding and empathy towards Belgian inhabitants of immigrant descent.”

On Topical Dancer, it’s less about finger pointing or being dogmatic about all the things they speak about. It’s about emancipation through humour. “I don’t want to feel this heaviness on me,” says Charlotte. “These aren’t my crosses to bear. Topical Dancer is my way of freeing myself of these issues. And of having fun.”

11th album by the one-of-a-kind collective: psychedelia and free form jazz (not jazz) trigger a sophisticated excursion into weird textures with drastic turns. Dislocated dense music full of secret connections!

Kammerflimmer Kollektief – "Schemen"

Before reason prevails, invoked by those who want everything to remain as it is, Kammerflimmer Kollektief disrupts the established supply chains of sound. It seeks more interesting ways to assemble them. Trusting in this, because of the fact that every sound that still comes out of a guitar, a bass, a harmonium, drums and electronic devices has already been taken into the common mangle of meaning anyway. Enough of all that. Here, nothing is explained. Here we speak in schemes. Polished and jerky.

The images that Kammerflimmer Kollektief conjures up therefore happen not in the focus of consciousness, but rather in its outer realms. In those to which one does not give one's full attention at the moment, but which are nevertheless perceived. For example, when a leaf falls from the ground back up to the tree in the corner of your eye, and for an instant you think this is possible, before you realize it was a small bird flying into the tree; it is in just such irritating moments between perception and realization that the art of the Kollektief also unfolds. On "Schemen", familiar fragments float gently around their core – a Fender Rhodes tone, a bass figure, a guitar motif, a masterful drum shuffle, a moment of icy stasis borrowed from the harmonium playing of Christa 'Nico' Päffgen. Triggering brief associations, they slowly rush off in other directions through free jazz-informed editing work, whereupon such zones can also arise in which perception has a few tricks ready and earlier experience suddenly breaks into the now in a completely different way. Half suspected, half seen.

Half-music like Can from Cologne – also masters of improvised editing – sometimes produced a few decades ago in their in-between moments. The first minutes of "Future Days" for example, which fade in gently, sketch a barely graspable figure emerging from all directions of the room. Kammerflimmer Kollektief also engages in similarly open moments of development. Loosely, it eludes the first formative impressions, keeping itself ready for moments that do not follow any logic of appointment. This looseness in handling makes Kammerflimmer Kollektief so fluidly audible, even when dissonant peaks and free playing arise. What Karlheinz Stockhausen is to Can's understanding of composition, the recordings of The Cocoon are to Kammerflimmer Kollektief. The Cocoon, a meeting of garage psychedelics from the Hannover area with free jazzers from the Galaxie Dream Band, whose album "While The Recording Engineer Sleeps", recorded in 1985 in unguarded moments, operates in a very similar way with decentralized perceptual ambivalences and only appeared more or less secretly four years later on Wilhelm Reich Schallspeicher. Other traces of "Schemen" lead to the debut album of Quicksilver Messenger Service. The guitars of Gary Duncan and John Cipollina, which refer to themselves in an unforced manner, are instructions to let go. They don't want to be traced in every note as a solo, but they give their music a sense that the essential takes place off center, in the mutual and intuitive gift of loving attentions. Consciousness-free.

Loving turns like the little guitar phrase that, like a kind of leitmotif, is repeatedly ghosting more or less unchanged through all of the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums. A Coricidin induced, very catchy slide idea filtered out of ancient Æther, which – who knows – maybe even centuries ago found its way from somewhere to America – the old, the eerie – and from there wafted on through the ages to southern Germany, to a smoky studio in the Upper Rhine lowlands. A memory of which even the memory no longer knows what it once reminded. Unsaid, then forgotten.

In Kammerflimmer Kollektief you will also find a friend of slowly building, unhurried music, which probably would have been appreciated by the old Franz Mesmer, who 200 years ago, after tranquilizing treatments, sometimes used to play for his patients ambient melodies on the enormous glass harmonica. However, in order not to surrender completely to the flow of one's own life energy, as Mesmer had in mind with his therapies, Kammerflimmer Kollektief occasionally adds hectic tensions, gently embraced by the droning of a sine wave generator, as if a trance could briefly refesh. This old analog sine wave generator is new in the Kammerflimmer assortment of sounds. So, the art of the Kollektief likes to dock occasionally in modern times, yet with the past in mind. Mental states begin to flicker between imagination and certainty, between culture-bound art expression and coincidences: A cawing and scraping can always just be a cawing and scraping with Kammerflimmer Kollektief, the way Andy Warhol's mushroom eater just eats a mushroom.

Heike Aumüller's cover works, which illustrate all the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums, additionally act as amplifiers of unexplained refractions. Her style consists of eye-corner art that remains so, even when looked at directly. Her shots remain disquieting because they do not jolt themselves into a reassuring order, even in retrospect. Rather than evading the fear that arises when looking at them by trying to impose some irrational rhyme or reason, that fear must simply be endured. This strategy of endurance is equally applicable to the music. The trick is to let parts be parts without compulsively seeking delusional patterns that lull us into a false sense of security and in doing so, possibly delude ourselves. In this context, freedom means not having to anxiously attach a fantasized superior meaning to everything. "Schemen" has an conspiracy disintegrating effect.


b A2 Zweites Kapitel (ruckartig) [feat. Heike Aumüller]

The popularity of Brazilian music from the 60s, 70s and 80s has experienced quite the renaissance; artists such as Gal Costa, Gilberto Gil, Arthur Verocai, Joyce et al, have become household names to an international audience passionate about global sounds. However, even for die-hard fans and collectors of Brazilian music of the past, discovering contemporary Brazilian artists is not always easy, nor accessible. But, if you know where to look, you will see that there is a resurgence well underway that can be epitomised by an exciting new wave of Brazilian artists beginning to break through and gather momentum overseas. It’s with thanks to Sound and Colours, a website devoted to promoting Latin American music and culture, that we can help shine a light on one particular collective, bursting with creativity and camaraderie.

‘Hidden Waters: Strange and Sublime Sounds of Rio de Janeiro’ is compiled by Joe Osborne (founder of specialist Brazilian music platform Brazilian Wax) and Russ Slater (editor at large of Sounds and Colours). Focusing solely on the 'Rio Scene', rather than taking on the mammoth task of tackling Brazil as a whole, this collection presents 20-plus ground-breaking artists selected from Rio’s resurgent music scene. By presenting a snapshot into the pulse of the city and the vibrant musicians that live in it, ‘Hidden Waters’ collates tracks from a wide spectrum of musical genres from the avant-garde edge to bossa nova, samba, Candomblé, lo-fi rock, jazz and funk.

‘Hidden Waters’ showcases musicians such as iconic Rio mainstays Negro Leo & Ava Rocha, Brazilian jazz upstart Antônio Neves, critically lauded Avant-pop trailblazer Thiago Nassif, breakthrough artists Ana Frango Elétrico and Letrux, lo-fi psych rocker Lê Almeida, plus the Latin Grammy-winning Bala Desejo who are set to explode onto the world stage. The music featured on ‘Hidden Waters’ is unequivocally Brazilian, swelling with samba, bossa nova, funk, and jazz. But it’s within the album's blend; from sunny psychedelia to dusky synth-pop via experimental electronics, that marks the compilation as the sound of modern, multicultural Rio.

This comprehensive compilation comes with album artwork designed by Rio music’s leading album artwork designer, Caio Paiva. It features essays by professor and music critic Bernardo Oliveira and music journalist Leonardo Lichote, plus extensive notes on each track by the artists themselves.

Liberation is the latest evolution by David West, a dedicated underground dweller and traveler with his groups Rat Columns and Rank/Xerox and previously spotted in Lace Curtain and Total Control. Many familiar elements of West's songwriting creep out from the speakers this time around, albeit in a sonically more adventurous and personal manner. Swathed in analogue and FM synths, pinned down by near-funk drum machines, and with a vision expanded into the past and future. While in previous incarnations, West's alienated and fragile vocal has battled with jangling guitars and distortion, Liberation sets free his woes and ruminations into space. Taking inspiration from the heyday of Mute Records, the beginnings of electronic dance music's rudimentary sampling, broken and sound art, Liberation's debut LP is 10 songs of the road, about the nameless ghosts on the highway, accidental lovers, the alienation of the stranger in a strange land, the unbearable weight of freedom.
Beginning with a curveball, Liberation's first vocal sets out the position of the forever-cuckold, the sad lover hanging on: Looking For A Lover combines a Roland 707's loping mid-tempo with creeped-out synth lines as West intones his intentions close to the ear. Continuing in a more baroque manner, Move Me makes astounding use of string samples and space, with esteemed engineer Mikey Young's (Total Control / Eddy Current Suppression Ring) production prowess making for a distilled yet inviting loneliness. Forget is the night-drive centerpiece of the album, a 7 minute that erupts into a nihilistic sub-disco darkness. A constant theme of Liberation is the friction between West's characters: a frustrated love in victim-status paired with a menacing intent. The adorable, fragile stalker in the moonlight, illuminated by Whatever You Want, a
subjugated protagonist offering they have while the city burns. The brightest pop moment of the album has this in abundance: Cold And Blue, a classic synth pop jam to be played on repeat til the end of time, like New Order played by one man in his bedroom, with no drugs for a cushion, coming down the stairs, she looks like a perfect fear and Im a monument to your existence. But West has moments of touching sincerity that speak direct to the listener, as in album highlight Leaves Falling; a sparse string arrangement frames his vocal, "why do I keep falling for you I must just really like to be alone." Liberation is the freedom from attachments, about how sometimes they're what you want most.

lack Marble Vinyl! High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before.

Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me.

It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

Like many debut solo albums from musicians in bands, Jared Mattson’s Peanut didn’t originally come from a need to break away. As a composer for the Mattson 2, Jared Mattson was working up a batch of new songs through the winter of 2019-2020, looking ahead to the next album he and brother Jonathan Mattson, the blitzkrieging drummer, would record. As the pandemic hit stateside, Jared holed up in his home studio and kept developing the new music. And during that process it became increasingly clear to them that this wasn’t shaping up to be the next Mattson 2 album. This was a Mattson 1 album.

Jared had been absorbing the guitar work on records by reggae stalwarts Aswad and Burning Spear, and also the Police’s Andy Summer and the ways he gives songs space. And Jared wanted a prominent bass sound, too, where the guitar itself sometimes settles into the passenger seat so that the bass can drive. Lyrically, the album taps into our rattled world, where anxiety, loss, violence, and regret are sometimes pierced by the promise of love. The time spent working on the album was a profoundly introspective time as he reflected on past relationships while living through and writing during the pandemic, he also never lost sight of this truth about himself: Life is great with music.

One of the album’s standout highlights is “Burn Down Babylon,” which is propelled by the bass’s funk-you-say groove. You don’t often encounter many pop songs with so blunt an opening line as, “I got punched in the face last night by a neo-Nazi,”—a true experience that was delivered many years ago in a bar brawl in Carlsbad, California. But to hear the music that goes along with this tale manages a vibe that is less melee and more backyard jubilee.

When “Please Come Here,” with an intro that slinks along like a Cadillac on a Sunday morning drive, kicks in, it’s typical of the album’s melodic pop flourishes, but the twist here is that the vocals are in Japanese (The Mattson 2 have toured Japan 20 times and covered many Japanese pop songs on 2018’s Vaults of Eternity: Japan). Ween’s “She Wanted to Leave” is the lone cover, but the way Jared reimagines the song makes it fits seamlessly within the album’s sonic template. The song’s inclusion was also a personal way to honor one of Jared’s best friends, who died from cancer two years ago. The two had always bonded over the song and marveled at its inherent beauty. Ultimately, Mattson’s solo debut unfolds like a string of fascinating clouds: These are not songs in a hurry; they shift around as they float by, and, most notably, they carry their unique kind of electric charge.