Buscar:lost girls

LEMMY Forever. LEMMY ist für immer. Diese limitierte 12inch Bild-Schallplatte enthält rare Hits & Klassiker von und mit Lemmy, der Frontröhre von
Motörhead.

Tauchen Sie ein in eine harmonische Mischung aus rauen Emotionen und musikalischer Brillanz. 'The Color Purple (Music From and Inspired By)' verspricht ein Hörerlebnis, das zutiefst nostalgisch und erfrischend neu zugleich ist. So trumpft das Album mit einem Ensemble auf, das seinesgleichen sucht - der für den Golden Globe nominierten Fantasia mit ihren gefühlvollen Melodien, Taraji B. Henson mit ihrer emotionalen Tiefe, Colman Domingo mit seiner fesselnden Energie, der für den Golden Globe nominierten Danielle Brooks mit ihrer kraftvollen Resonanz, H.E.R. mit ihrer zeitgenössischen Kunst und Hallie Bailey mit ihrem strahlenden Gesang. Und Musik von den Grammy-prämierten Songwritern des Musicals - Brenda Russell, Allee Willis und Stephen Bray. Doch hört die Magie nicht bei den zeitlosen Klassikern auf.
Tauchen Sie noch tiefer ein und lassen Sie sich verzaubern von einem neuen Kapitel und neuer Musik von Alicia Keys, Jennifer Hudson, Mary J. Blige, Keyshia Cole, Coco Jones, Jorja Smith, Celeste, Mary Mary und October London sowie einer atemberaubenden Kollaboration von USHER & H.E.R.
Von Liebe und Schmerz bis hin zu Widerstandskraft und Erlösung - diese Songs fangen die Essenz von 'The Color Purple' ein und ebnen gleichzeitig den Weg für eine neue musikalische Ära. Und für diejenigen, die einen modernen Twist suchen, gibt es Remixe von Missy Elliot featuring Megan Thee Stallion und Timbaland featuring Black Thought. So schlägt 'The Color Purple' auch eine Brücke zwischen Generationen von Musikliebhabern.

Based on David Nicholls’ globally best-selling book, the TV serialisation of One Day has already proved hugely popular with audiences and critics alike.

Multi award-winning screenwriter Nicole Taylor (Wild Rose, 3 Girls, The Nest) adapted the novel for Drama Republic and Netflix.

The story follows Emma (Ambika Mod - This is Going To Hurt) and Dexter (Leo Woodall - The White Lotus) who speak for the first time on their graduation day in 1988.

They go their separate ways but meet once a year on the anniversary as their relationship and lives evolve.



“We wanted to create a score that celebrates the love story between Dex and Em and also reflects the nostalgia for lost time and lost love that they feel, and viewers can relate to.

The music had to follow their journey as their relationship evolves over the years, but still feel like it was rooted in one place.

In other words, we needed to mirror the very different lives and emotions they experience over twenty years ranging from excitement, humour, anger and heartbreak.”

Composers Anne Nikitin, Jessica Jones, Tim Morrish



The score also features tracks from Jessica and Tim under their artist moniker Vanbur, widely acclaimed in their own right, including ‘Last Look’ and ‘Falling Colour’.

FOR FANS OF: MOTÖRHEAD, IRON MAIDEN.
LEMMY Forever. LEMMY ist für immer. Diese limitierte 12inch Schallplatte, gepresst in rotem Vinyl, enthält rare Hits & Klassiker von und mit Lemmy,
der Frontröhre von Motörhead.

These songs came to be a record accidentally and unintentionally. They were written sporadically over a tumultuous two years riddled with more valleys than mountaintops. We considered it a victory when we could actually make ourselves get together to write, even if we struggled to produce anything of any quality. Creativity was tough amidst half-hearted business relationships, being dropped from our label, inconsistent touring, and filing personal bankruptcy. It took a toll on everything: our confidence, our outlook, our health, our happiness. In late 2015, our friend Brandi Carlile invited us to Seattle to play a couple of shows in her hometown. It was there that we explained all that had transpired with our career, how we were barely staying afloat. It was also there that she told us she would be producing our next record. Once we saw that this fantasy could actually become a reality, the frantic search for enough songs to make an album began. To our surprise, we had many things to say, and though some were difficult to write and slow to reveal themselves, we pushed onward. The songs here carry a common thread of what remained when we felt like we’d lost everything. It was in the hardest times that we saw the core of where our music and our souls originate. We still had our homes, our family, our friends, and our fans. This is not a record about rising from the ashes. Rather, it is a deep look into ourselves in an attempt to put out the flames. These songs are our catharsis; an effort to forgive, an effort to heal, an effort to look back into the darkness with newfound light and undeterred fearlessness, an effort to redeem ourselves. The damage was done, but our hearts remained.

Orange vinyl. Time is supposed to mellow us, but for Petrol Girls it has distilled their feminist politics into an ever more potent cocktail. Fitting, given that their logo from day one has been a flaming molotov. Since their formation in 2012, the band has been known for playing fast-paced, chaotic punk that takes aim at everything from sexual violence to immigration policy, but over the last few years their sound has evolved in a more nuanced direction. Their 2016 debut album Talk of Violence was a blast of pure political rage, while 2019's Cut & Stitch saw vocalist Ren Aldridge exploring familiar themes from a more personal perspective. Now their latest offering, Baby - to be released through the London-based independent label Hassle on June 24th - sees the band turn another new corner. This time, by embracing irreverence. "We wanted this album to be less epic and less preachy from day one," Aldridge says. "I hate sanctimoniousness. Like, really fucking hate it. But I also know that I have been mega preachy, and felt very pressured to be sanctimonious, because we've always played in a very political punk scene. I lost my fun side, and I really needed to come back to that." Recorded with Pete Miles at Middle Farm Studios in Devon, Baby embraces a more playful sound. A focus on groove and repetition - driven by guitarist Joe York, drummer Zock and bassist Robin Gatt - give the songs a Talking Heads feel, while retaining the band's formative post-punk energy. The lyrics, too, are a departure for Aldridge. While she continues to address heavy topics like burn out, femicide and police violence, the lyrics balance directed anger with tongue-in-cheek humour where appropriate. Angular opener "Preachers" puts the self-aggrandising nature of call-out culture on blast with lyrics like "feeling dead important in the comments", while lead single "Baby, I Had An Abortion" is intentionally puerile from title to finish. On the flip side, tracks like "Violent By Design" see the band kicking back against carceral feminism in the wake of a news cycle dominated by Black Lives Matter protests and PC Wayne Cousins' brutal murder of Sarah Everard. Similarly, "Fight For Our Lives" - a harsh, borderline industrial song - was lyrically co-written by activist and vocalist Janey Starling. Aldridge deliberately wrote the verses to sound like a manifesto, and the lyrics reference Starling's Dignity For Dead Women Campaign with Level Up, which successfully called for the UK media to change the way it reports on fatal incidents of domestic violence. Baby saw Petrol Girls working in new ways - scrapping entire songs rather than trying to force things that didn't feel right, recording to tape for the first time, and deliberately leaving in imperfections. It was a more carefree process, which Aldridge - having gone through a particularly bad period of mental ill-health at the start of 2021 - welcomed. "Our whole thing for a long time, and a big focus of the last record, was making political struggle sustainable," Aldridge says. "And I think having a good time where possible, and things being not totally serious all the time, is really essential."

The latest release from the acclaimed Live From Austin, TX series of releases from the vaults of the award-winning PBS Austin City Limits TV show. Guided By Voices are one of indie rock s most loved and prolific bands. On their 2004 farewell tour they performed one of their final concerts on Austin City Limits. Recorded on live on 24 tracks, this special 2CD set features 30 songs from their entire performance. Many of the songs were never aired on the TV broadcast.

As Wreckless Eric he needs little introduction - he wrote and recorded the classic Whole Wide World and had a hit with it back in 1977. Since then it"s been a hit for countless other artists including The Monkees, Cage The Elephant and Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. Eric"s version featured in the 2022 Expedia / Superbowl / Ewan MacGregor travel ad, and the Cage The Elephant version is the new theme tune for the podcast Smartless. This new album, Leisureland, marks a return to his more ramshackle world of recording - guitars and temperamentally unpredictable analogue keyboards, beat-boxes and loops in conjunction with a real drummer, Sam Shepherd, who he met in a local coffee shop in Catskill, New York. He was delighted to find that Sam lived around the corner and could easily drop by to put drums on newly recorded tracks. The recording methodology may have been Contemporary American but the subject matter is almost entirely British. It also contains more instrumentals than any of his previous albums.

As Wreckless Eric he needs little introduction - he wrote and recorded the classic Whole Wide World and had a hit with it back in 1977. Since then it"s been a hit for countless other artists including The Monkees, Cage The Elephant and Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. Eric"s version featured in the 2022 Expedia / Superbowl / Ewan MacGregor travel ad, and the Cage The Elephant version is the new theme tune for the podcast Smartless. This new album, Leisureland, marks a return to his more ramshackle world of recording - guitars and temperamentally unpredictable analogue keyboards, beat-boxes and loops in conjunction with a real drummer, Sam Shepherd, who he met in a local coffee shop in Catskill, New York. He was delighted to find that Sam lived around the corner and could easily drop by to put drums on newly recorded tracks. The recording methodology may have been Contemporary American but the subject matter is almost entirely British. It also contains more instrumentals than any of his previous albums.

The always superb Sounds Of The City comes through here with some freshness and newness here via their newly minted 'Sounds Of The City, Dark' series. It finds the French outfit Catalogue debuting on the label with a sound that brings a different perspective to the new post-punk movement. Their sound is a mixing pot of an array of different influences and what you get is music that will get you nodding to the grooves while your mind gets lost exploring synthetic elements, angular guitar riffs, robotic rhythms and lovely deep bass.

After last year's musical excursions to Central & South America and South Africa, Berlin-based reissue label "Matasuna Records" is once again making a detour to the USA for its first release in 2023. Two funk milestones by "United 8" and "Tony Alvon & The Belairs" have been selected from the archives of "Atlantic Records". Apart from a release as part of a Funk45's box set by Warner in 2004, the songs have only appeared on various bootlegs in the past.

Matasuna Records is thrilled tofinally release them as an officially licensed reissue with new mastering as a 7-inch vinyl single. This release is an absolute must-have for all funk enthusiasts, DJs and collectors.

"Getting Uptown (To Get Down)" by "United 8" is a funk classic released on Atlantic Records in 1972. The musicians of United 8 created an infectious sound with a combination of horns, guitars, drums and bass. The drums drive the beat and give the track its distinctive rhythm, while the bass provides a powerful, pulsating foundation. The horns add a jazzy note, while the guitar adds a funky touch.


The result is an energetic, danceable sound that still sounds fresh and exciting today. The song is timeless and has lost none of its appeal.It's no wonder that it has been featured on many funk compilations since the 2000s.

"Sexy Coffee Pot" by "Tony Alvon & The Belairs" is an explosive and energetic funk jointfrom 1969that immediately captivates the listener. The rhythm section lays down a steady, infectious groove, while the guitar and horns provide a funky, dynamic sound that complements each other perfectly.

It's no surprise that "Sexy CoffeePot" has been sampled and covered by so many hip-hop artists over the years, such as "Eric B. & Rakim", "Cypress Hill" or "DJ Shadow", to name a few. B-boys and B-girls also appreciate the upbeat vibe of this song, which has become a staple on battles.

Hayley released her highly anticipated sophomore album ‘PANORAMA’, on 29th July 2022 on CD, & vinyl 3rd March 2023. Co-written by Hayley and produced by Kiyoko, Danja (Beyoncé, Britney Spears) and Pat Morrissey & Kill Dave, the transformative 12-track collection featured previously released singles, “For The Girls,” “Deep In The Woods,” “Chance,” and “Found My Friends”

“I went through a period of time after my last album where I'd lost my confidence and my self-worth. Thankfully I was surrounded by friends and family who kept me grounded, always supporting me in my lowest moments and reminding me who I was along the way. ‘Panorama’ was the last song I wrote for this album, in a moment of clarity to enjoy the present and not let my trauma define me. One of my favourite lyrics from this song is ‘I’m done confusing all these ashes with my worth,’ which is a metaphor for when we measure our own value only by our struggles and hardships, but in reality, our worth is unwavering. We just need to give ourselves the space to appreciate the highs and the lows of this beautiful journey.” – HAYLEY KIYOKO

In 2018, Hayley was at a high point. Following the success of her gold-certified anthem “Girls Like Girls,” Hayley’s landmark debut album, EXPECTATIONS, reacted with tastemakers and a legion of fans. Hayley resonated with a newfound community who brought her total streams to just shy of 1 billion as she sold out tours on multiple continents, lit up the stage at Coachella, and picked up “Push Artist of the Year” at the MTV VMAs.

Since her 2015 debut, Hayley has amassed over 606 million+ career WW audio streams, 507 million+ YouTube lifetime video views, and over 6 million followers across socials, notably 1.9m on Instagram and 1.7m on TikTok alone.

Limited Violet Vinyl repress for Indies only. Genre: alternative/punk/heavy/riot grrl. Debut album for legendary Tasmanian noise-punk band formed in the early 90s. Recordings span more than 20 years, including tracks thought lost on a corrupted hard drive from the late 90s. Legendary Australian punk band Little Ugly Girls formed in Hobart, Tasmania in the very early 90s, but have never released a record until now. This new self-titled set is officially their debut album, and features recordings spanning more than 20 years. The band formed around fiery vocalist Linda Johnston, whose high-kicking stage antics make her one of Australia's most electrifying frontpeople, and her guitar demon brother Dannie "Bean" Johnston. After moving to Melbourne in the mid 90s, the band settled on their classic lineup of Brent "Sloth" Punshon on drums, and rock-solid bassist Mindy Mapp (previously of another cult 90s band, Brisbane's much-loved Fur). Little Ugly Girls played with the likes of Bikini Kill, Fugazi, and once memorably headlined over the White Stripes in Melbourne. But their only recordings released to date include a handful of 90s cassettes. Now nearly 30 years since they formed, the debut album by Little Ugly Girls shows them at their towering best - fierce and inspiring, with Linda's scarifying lyrics and impassioned delivery set to a huge wall of taut punk noise. It has been a long time coming, but it's as good as you could have dreamed. Tracklist 1. Tractor 2. Slip 3. Jimmeh 4. Senseless 5. Baggage 6. The Pit 7. Storm After Storm 8. Dead C 9. Snap 10. Tardis 11. Vinegar 12. Boxen-Hooda-Hayda

Freedom is both an integral and multi-layered topic for improvised music, describing its mechanics, aesthetics, and values and often an underlying political dimension as well. In the case of free jazz specifically, the word carries additional weight given the music's deep connection to the black liberation movement of the 1960's and 70's.

The passionate and unclassifiable work of Calgary-based improviser Jairus Sharif embraces each of these definitions of freedom and others, albeit strictly on its own personal and idiosyncratic terms. Since early 2020, the 34 year-old autodidact has been generating a steady stream of homespun solo recordings that forge unprecedented connections between hip-hop abstraction, cosmic skronk, outsider jazz, and staunch post-punk DIY ethos.

Leading up to the pandemic, Sharif's immersion in spiritual and exploratory jazz had culminated in him deciding to purchase an alto saxophone. Unbeknownst to him this instrument would be a catalyst for him to discover his own ardently individualistic artistic voice.

Prior to that point, he had always been somewhat of a solitary musical traveler. In 2002, he acquired his first instrument—a pair of Technics 1200s — but struggled to find local collaborators that had equal investment in hip hop culture. Ultimately, Sharif picked up the guitar, turning to the resilient local punk community, that had also nurtured both of his mothers some time earlier.

As Black Lives Matter gained momentum in the wake of George Floyd's murder, Sharif was suddenly flooded with an acute awareness of his own identity. It compelled him to zealously plunge headlong into open-ended spontaneous solo creation. Water & Tools, his strange and stirring debut for Toronto's Telephone Explosion Records (home to full-lengths from the likes of Brodie West's Eucalyptus, Mas Aya, and Joseph Shabason), offers a glimpse into this ongoing hermetic journey.

As Sharif dedicated himself to uncovering his own deeper musical truths, he assembled a home studio in his basement, cobbling together a drum kit from bits his bandmate had left at his house pre-pandemic, chaining effects together and outfitting the entire space with microphones. Somewhere between the chaos of child's treehouse and the tidy import of a shrine, this space (pictured on the album's back cover) consecrated his own imagination. He laid it out to maximize access to any and every tool in his arsenal, providing him a freedom to explore that he had never permitted himself to consummate before.

Within this cozy private universe, his recent purchase—the saxophone—assumed new meaning. It furnished a tangible connection to the black radicalism that mobilized free jazz, but also something far more personal. From a technical standpoint, the instrument was completely unfamiliar to him, yet rather than this being a hindrance to Sharif, his inexperience opened fruitful path forward, unencumbered by preconceptions. Resolving to shirk formal training, convention, and build his own understanding of it from scratch, allowed him to access his most raw, fundamental creative impulses. The Saxophone's inseverable bond with breath compounded this effect, echoing revelatory discoveries he had been making about breathing through yoga, research, and psychotherapy. Of course, the parallels with BLM's harrowing rallying cry—“I can't breathe”—were not lost on him either.

Water & Tools is a dense, contradictory statement with a blustery surface that shelters a soulful heart. It's generous music, exuding profound vulnerability—grappling with the loss of one his mothers, Lisa—all the while brimming with electric wide-eyed wonder. Almost every one of the nine pieces seems to carry some semblance of a groove, while remaining completely untethered from pulse. For Sharif, this collection is an expression of newfound lucidity, however for the listener his sonic concoctions act as powerful psychotropics. At points, there's a timelessness that's conveyed through the music's processional, ritualistic tenor, and yet there's an endless amount of wild, futuristic detail waiting to unspool at any given moment. Similarly, while this recording emerges from Sharif's private pilgrimage and personal emancipation, he also leaves room for collaboration. Woven throughout Sharif's one-man-ensemble textures, one finds Maxmilian Turnbull (of Badge Epoque, U.S. Girls, and Cosmic Range infamy) providing sundry keyboards and treatments, as well as his mixing skills.

Whether conjuring effusive psychedelia or plumbing introspective depths, the music that Jairus Sharif produces is singular, visceral, and wondrously unpredictable. Water & Tools sketches a raw, firsthand account of his nascent explorations within his own unbridled imagination.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hailing from Ancaster, Ontario, Carl Didur has been an enigmatic fixture of Toronto’s underground music community for close to two decades. Originally traversing the Golden Horseshoe with The Battleship, Ethel, a band which sprung from his first outfit CEDRUMATIC, Didur soon moved to Toronto. Throughout the mid-2000’s he could be spotted playing his trademark ace-tone organ as a member of No Dynamics and Rozasia in the city’s crammed rogue venues, such as The Bagel and the infamous and transient Extermination Music Night. During these years The Battleship, Ethel continued to tour, often performing as backup band for Damo Suzuki, while at other shows inviting Dave Byers (Simply Saucer) and Bob Bryden (Spirit Of Christmas) to perform alongside the band. Perhaps the most enduring legacy of "The Battleship, Ethel", which dissolved in 2009, is that it laid the creative foundation for Carl and bandmate Michael McLean's next project, the prolific, studio focused, Zacht Automaat. As Zacht Automaat released music at a frantic pace, Carl continued to collaborate with members of a tight-knit group of Toronto’s downtown scene including touring with U.S. Girls and Slim Twig, performing and recording with Colin Fisher as Fake Humans, guesting on Absolutely Free’s Currency EP and producing New Fries’ most recent album The Idea of Us. Throughout the last decade Didur’s purely solo output has served to document his unimpeachably singular approach to music making. I Cannot See You Too Well (2011), Nothing is the Secret to Anything (2014) and Is It Yesterday? (2020) all released on cassette were followed by a digital album of gentle minimalism called Natural Feelings Vol I (2020). His solo shows consist of multiple tape machines running loops through various analog devices (a Certified Electronics Technician Didur now spends his non-piano playing hours of the day repairing all manner of tape echoes and synthesizers) or solo Wurlitzer electric piano improvisations, his performances gracing both stage and gallery. With his latest release Maybe Next Time, Didur further establishes himself as a singular artist with a unique methodology honed from years of music-making and listening. The album’s compositions swing from lush Axelrod-ish affairs filled with Mellotron strings to the album’s spiritual jazz influenced centerpiece The River Meets The Sea. “I was inspired by Eno's Here Come the Warm Jets, Crazy Horse but only when they are sad, Alice Coltrane, Jessica Pratt, McDonald and Giles, and so many others…” states Didur. Infused with a melancholic tone throughout, tracks such as Close My Eyes and Autumn’s Here invoke cinematic memories with tape echo and reverb applying a softened focus to the proceedings. Carl explains the context for the tone and the setting for the record’s gestation: “Maybe Next Time is a record I made after the world lost a sweet person that many in our community loved. Unlike most of my albums this one never seeks to shock or surprise you. It is about sadness, confusion, dissolution, transformation and ultimately a deeply forgiving sense of love. It is a concept record about being a human being!”

In the old attic, among dust and dimness, I once found an old children's magazine, that opened itself on a photograph of three melancholic girls eating soup. A distant voice, quietly singing ravels of poems from the 19th century, all gone and forgotten long ago, is accompanied by monotonous loops, played on toy keyboards, or are they maybe a rustling and hissing of twigs on the roof? repeating gusts of wind, slightly moving curtains over a flaking window frame? the pace of moonlight on the carpet? Do you also hear a horn, every now and then sounding from a frayed and yellowed picture of a castle on flower dotted wallpaper? Kot Kot’s "i pni" ("and stumps") LP brings another glimpse into Lena Filatova’s sound gathering & recording process and her unique sensibilities. Feeling as though born from some kind of advent calendar hiding forgotten sounds, neglected moments and haunting sentiments, waiting there for those inclined to have a look. Lena is curiously opening doors individually and in new unisons to arrive at sound collages & compositions born from both accident and design (see the 5/4 odd time signature in „Ottepel“). Vocals that are fragile yet often laced with a feeling of determination and emotive persuasion. Lyrics pulled from old children’s books, juxtaposed with often dark and foreboding loops and samples that dance asynchronously around each other beneath Lena’s voice & piano/toy keyboards. Often recognising and embracing the magic in imperfection and choosing to keep early takes & improvisations, capturing and treasuring what others might have failed to recognise and hold dear. Lena is always demonstrating an innate ability to sew all of these things together in such a way as to cast a spell on the listener from inside a zoetrope of curiously collected & curated frames. „i pni“ is a big and serious poetic work about the most hidden, almost lost and perished, but forever wandering between sleep and waking in an eternal hauntological dream of an old attic.

Originally released by Victory Music in 1991, Tin Machine II is the second and final studio album by Tin Machine. After this album and the supporting tour, frontman David Bowie resumed his solo career.

Tin Machine II’s reputation has only increased over the years. Uncut magazine placed the album on their list of 50 Great Lost Albums (their list of great albums not currently available for purchase), calling the album “extraordinary”.

As with all Bowie albums, there are plenty of strong tracks here to make this a must have. Opening track “Baby Universal” is pure Bowie. He re-recorded this track in 1996 for his 1997 album Earthling, but the track was not released on the album. It was eventually released in 2020 on the Bowie EP Is it Any Wonder?. The first single “You Belong in Rock n’ Roll” was released ahead of the album and peaked at No. 33 in the UK. The second single “Baby Universal” achieved success on the Modern Rock chart in the USA, where it reached No. 21, and the third and last single “One Shot” became an even bigger hit, reaching No. 3.





RELEASE: 17-7-2020




• 180 GRAM AUDIOPHILE VINYL
• INSERT
• SPECIAL SPOT VARNISHED SLEEVE
• SECOND AND FINAL STUDIO ALBUM BY THE SUPERGROUP TIN MACHINE, ORIGINALLY
RELEASED IN 1991
• TIN MACHINE = DAVID BOWIE, REEVES GABRELS, TONY SALES & HUNT SALES
• LIMITED EDITION OF 5000 INDIVIDUALLY
NUMBERED COPIES ON SILVER COLOURED VINYL

SIDE A
1. Baby Universal
2. One Shot
3. You Belong In Rock N’ Roll
4. If There Is Something
5. Amlapura
6. Betty Wrong

The album’s cover (which was censored for its original USA release!) was created by Edward Bell, who had previously worked with Bowie in making artwork for Scary Monsters. The MOV cover features a spot varnish finish.

Music On Vinyl gives Tin Machine II its first vinyl re-release since the 1991 original, and it’s pressed on coloured vinyl for the very first time. The initial pressing is a limited edition of 5000 individually numbered copies on silver coloured vinyl.

With ‘Love on My Mind’ - the six-song mini-album, mixed by Claudius
Mittendorfer (Tennis, Parquet Courts, Johnny Marr) - Bambara condense all the energy and darkness that have made them so compelling and rearrange it into something defiantly new.

Opening track, ‘Slither in the Rain’, all hissing high-hat and spectral
synthlines, is a true statement of intent. It’s minimal and atmospheric,
foregrounding Bateh’s raw vocals as he introduces one of ‘Love on My Mind’s main characters years after the events of the album are over, a lonely man who throws bottles at airplanes and dances a two-step in the pattern of a figure-8. While Bateh has always been adept at character sketches, tracks like ‘Slither’ introduce a newfound vulnerability that runs true through the entire album and cause the songs to hit on a more human level.

Similarly, ‘Point And Shoot’ - in which each stanza describes the louche, lawless scenes of “rooftop girls / standing shoulder-to-shoulder, naked figures with their hips / cocked,” busted up jaws, and couches full of burnholes captured by the snapshots of ‘Love on My Mind’s female lead - displays an autobiographical intimacy that is not as apparent in Bambara’s previous releases. This tenderness is echoed on ‘Birds’, a rare love song (from which the EP’s title is derived), and album closer ‘Little Wars’, a gripping finale of loneliness and isolation.

But while these songs may display a softer side of Bambara, it’s important to note that they haven’t lost the thrill of what attracted so many people to them in the first place. ‘Mythic Love’ (featuring vocals from Bria Salmena), with its driving bassline and ricocheting guitar lines, brings to mind past rave-ups like ‘Serafina’ and ‘Sunbleached Skulls’ but obliterates them in the process, while ‘Feelin’ Like A Funeral’ - a dangerously oscillating tale of a city knifing - is probably the most thrillingly anthemic song the band have ever recorded.

Taken together, ‘Love on My Mind’ amounts to another massive step forward for Bambara - the boldest thing they’ve ever done - and the sound of yet another breakthrough.
“Engrossing, dark and irresistible… an adventurous group, who just keep getting better all the time.” - CLASH
“Never anything less than captivating.” - Upset
“What Athens, Georgia bunch Bambara do, they do very well… the trio’s commitment to the dark side is never in question.” - DIY
“Bambara are ice cold and sharp as a knife’s edge.” - Loud & Quiet
“Brooklyn based doom-mongers delight… the trio go further than most in their quest to rattle.” - Q (4/5)
For fans of Daughters, Protomartyr, IDLES, King Krule, Ice Age.

Norwegian musician and novelist Jenny Hval
announces her new album, ‘Classic Objects’.
 ‘Classic Objects’ is a map of places; past places,
like the old empty Melbourne pubs Hval’s band
used to play in, public places Hval missed
throughout lockdown, imagined, future places, and
impossible places where dreams, hallucinations,
death and art can take you. It is interested in
combining heavenly things and plain things.
 ‘Classic Objects’ is Hval’s version of a pop album.
Every song has a verse and a chorus. There are
interchangeable moments of complexity,
interesting melodies throughout, and a feeling of
elevation and clarity in the choruses. Heba Kadry
mixed it to sound as though it’s played through “a
stereo in a mysterious room.”
 Since 2019’s ‘The Practice of Love’, Hval
published the English translation of her third novel,
‘Girls Against God’, and released an album under
the name Lost Girls.
 Hval will play London’s EartH venue on 11th April,
2022.

A few years back I had this dream: I was walking through vast grasslands
towards a solitary hill
On top of the hill was a movie house. On the marquee: History of Jazz.I kept
thinking about it. What was in the movie house? What happened before? What
followed? Why was I going there? Why "History of Jazz"? To reach some kind of
insight, I began a film script, extending the dream tenfold. The script morphed
into a novella-sized book, a series of songs, and finally, a "mind-movie" podcast,
forming this labyrinthine, multi- medium story – equal parts dream, film and
waking life. Figuring out how to transcend the traditional parameters of the album
to create a more panoramic story- vision is something I've been unconsciously
trying to do for some time. I've been pushing against the edges – toying with
narrative, characters and visuals with Easterween and Niagara, a weird children's
book Daydreams for Night – but the scope of life behind Rialto felt too
irrepressible and expansive to be boxed in an album. The book and podcast have
kicked open the doors – allowing the album to lead or serve where it should.In
Rialto's extended narrative, Klaus (loner, insomniac) is working a stint as a driver
for a small town writer's festival. Following a series of unsettling paranormal
events, he finds himself agreeing to a strange request - to deliver a film reel in
time for its premiere at a secluded movie house - the Rialto. The journey leads
him through a circuit of strangely located, oracular movie houses, screening a mix
of dreams, fantasies, memories and prophecies - numinous films of personal
revelation. Inhabiting the movie houses are underworld characters and spirits
with ambiguous motivations, some helping and some hindering Klaus's quest. It's
a Dantesque, deep cleanse pilgrimage to untangle bitterness and trauma,
rediscover a lost clairvoyance, ancestry, and ultimately, the medicinal source of
eternal youth. A metaphysical noir. A hyperstition.Rialto's album stars seven
singer-artists playing characters alongside mine: Tamara Lindeman (The Weather
Station), Daniel Knox, Thom Gill (Owen Pallet, Beverly Glenn- Copeland), Ryan
Driver (Jennifer Castle), Felicity Williams (Bahamas), Robin Dann (Bernice) and
Martin Tielli (Rheostatics). All Toronto- based like me except Daniel (Chicago).
Performed by the Venuti String Quartet with arrangements by Andrew Downing.
Produced by Jean Martin (Tanya Tagaq). It's my 13th album and fourth on Tin
Angel - previous releases on Tin Angel: Miracle In The Night (2019), Small Town
Water Tower (2016), and Niagara (2014). Each of Rialto's eight podcast episodes
features a chapter from the book performed by a cast of twenty five - made up
almost entirely of musicians – including the speaking voices of the
aforementioned singers, as well as Meg Remy (U.S. Girls), Claudia Dey, Veda Hille,
Devon Sproule, Luka Kuplowsky and others. Rialto is available as a 101-page eBook (illustrations by David Ouimet) on Sud de Valeur Press. Premiere
performances begin fourth quarter 2021. Happy Rialto listening, reading,
watching, dreaming...

Second album from The Datsuns now available on vinyl at a cheaper price. The Datsuns lead the adrenalin-charge into the sheer unadulterated stomach-churning joys of rocking and rolling. The same energy and abandon which pulsed through their eponymous 100k plus selling debut album in 2002 is present and amplified but, with ‘Outta Sight/Outta Mind’, The Datsuns’ take you on a wild and unpredictable rock’n’roll rocket-ride, a ringside seat, if you will, for two years of inspirational madness, guitar wielding in the big wide world.

Entitled "The Body Remembers", this 14 song collection is a well rounded
combination of dance/pop, pop/rock, and ballads including a re-imagined version
of her mega-hit 'Lost In Your Eyes' with Joey McIntyre.
Her musical contributors on this new release range from Grammy award winning
DJ Tracy Young, to Emmy Award winning composer/ producer/ Cinderella
drummer Fred Coury, Former Guns n Roses guitarist DJ Ashba and, iconic mixers
Josh Gudwin and Brian Malouf. This album marks the debut of 19 year old
musical prodigy Sean Thomas. This recent Berkley graduate is Debbie's
producing partner on the majority of songs.

Soundtrack to the 2003 Academy Award nominated film. Features songs by My Bloody Valentine, Air, and The Jesus and Mary Chain. On Rolling Stone’ s Greatest Soundtracks of All Time list.

Mr Bongo is delighted to present a new and exciting collaborative project with Swedish label Piano Piano Records.

Hearing the Swedish outfit Sven Wunder for the first time is as refreshing as an ice-cold Limoncello after an Italian meal. One of those bands that feel instantly familiar like an old friend, yet simultaneously fresh and new. Straight away we fell in love with their sound and knew we had to work with them.

The first fruits of our partnership is a collector's edition 7”. We have selected two tracks of Turkish inspired funk goodness taken from their already cult-classic 2019 album, 'Doğu Çiçekleri (Eastern Flowers )'. Both instrumentals, 'Tulip' and 'Magnolia' could easily have come from a lost soundtrack to a psychedelic movie. With their beautiful, yet raw aesthetic, they will enthrall funk, B-Boy / Girls, and psychedelia fans alike.

Cut at the Timmion Records Cutting Lab in Finland.

By now you’re probably familiar with our wildly popular Brown Acid series of rare, lost and unreleased proto-metal and stoner rock singles from the 60s-70s. In the endless pursuit of those glorious gems, we often uncover equally brilliant rarities from the late-70s to late-80s Golden Age of Heavy Metal that also just must be heard, but they don’t fit the series’ aesthetic. Scrap Metal, Volume 1 collects some of the greatest unknown and lost Heavy Metal tracks, long buried beneath the avalanche of the era’s classic output.
We all know the old adage that history is told by the winners. But sometimes the losers tell the best stories. And while none of these bands found fame and fortune, this artifact and the volumes to come are testament to the enduring power of heavy music. You can hear the blood, sweat and beers that went into each of these singles. The recordings may be low budget, but the inspiration and talent is immutable. Not only are the amps turned up to 11, the boyish sexual innuendo is cranked to 69. You can hear the convergence of influences — NWOBHM, thrash, glam metal, doom, etc — colliding at once as the era birthed a wellspring of subgenres.
Many of these singles are self-released and were thus limited to a small run of copies. Those that remain are hoarded by collectors and sold for exorbitant amounts. We’ve collected the best of the best for you here. As with Brown Acid, all of these tracks are licensed legitimately and the artists all get paid. Because it’s the right thing to do.
LINER NOTES:
Rapid Tears launch this series with the perfect christening. The Toronto, ON quintet’s 1981 single “Headbang” is such the pinnacle of heavy metal madness that it almost sounds like a spoof. There’s also enough of the rapid-fire sputum that inspired Metallica to bang the head that doesn’t, as such, engage in said practice, to be found on the band’s sole full length Honestly. But “Headbang” is a straightforward glammy anthem for the ages.
Air Raid’s “69 In A 55” may be lyrically so sophomoric that it’s actually pretty clever, but this 1983 Bay Area power metal single is loaded with sleek Judas Priest riffs and interwoven melodies that are downright sublime. The band’s sole release, the 2-song Rock Force 7” features a curious band photo in which 3 band members — dolled up in Crüe makeup and leather — are sexually menacing the lead singer/guitarist tied to a bed. Another low budget highlight is when singer/guitarist Tommy “Thrasher” Merry imitates a delay effect on his vocals as he sings, “tonight!...tonight...night.”
Hades’ “Girls Will Be Girls” has a real demo cassette feel to its vastly uneven mix, but the energy to the performance makes this an undeniable keeper. The long running Paramus, NJ quintet’s 1982 2- song debut 7” titled Deliver Us From Evil features this blistering thrasher dominated by shimmering leads and confident vocals that show why the band went on to near-fame on Metal Blade Records.
Resless don’t need no T to prove that they’ve got “The Power” with this 1984 driving mid-tempo rocker in the vein of Mötley Crüe and Ratt. The River Vale, NJ quartet’s tight crunch wails all over Bon Jovi posers but it’s the band’s unique and subtle deployment of background vocals that gives this rager its staying power.
Pittsburgh, the Steel City, is home to Don Cappa, a band that pays tribute to the burgh, the metal, and the awesomeness of both with “Steel City Metal.” Their lone single, issued in 1987 with only 300 copies released, sounds like the work of some serious steel driving men, with a drummer who might’ve forgotten to wear a hard hat one too many times on the construction site.
The Beast has more of a punk feel to their aggressive “Enemy Ace” track from the 4-song Power Metal EP from 1983 — something like Dr. Know meets D.O.A. But their look, artwork and lyrics all prove that Heavy Metal is where their hearts lie. And this hook filled monster delivers repeated lines like, “I command them all in my lofty realm,” with commendable conviction.
Dead Silence from Denver, Colorado, debuting in 1984 is not to be confused with Dead Silence from Denver, Colorado, who also debuted in 1984. The former a workman’s hard rock bar band, the latter a political peace punk band and neither knowing of the other’s existence throughout their tenure. The pre-internet days were a marvel, indeed.This Dead Silence spits out a slick, Nugent tinged rocker called “Can’t Stop” about life on the road.
The Danger Zone is, by all accounts, not the place to be. And, Hazardous Waste of Boston, MA saw fit to add their two cents on the matter with this 1986 single that combines Van Halen’s flashy musicianship with NWOBHM aggression that sounds so awesome it teeters on itself entering the “Danger Zone.”
Czar’s heavy, doomy “Iron Curtain” single from 1982 hearkens to the sleazy sounds of Saint Vitus and Pentagram with its cranked up DOD Distortion pedal in a Peavey combo amp guitar tone and meaty, barking vocals. The upstate NY quintet only issued this 2-song single, but its driving rhythm, nosedive whammy-bar guitar solos and comparatively mature Cold War subject matter show they had real potential.
Not much is known about Real Steel’s majestic “Viking Queen” from 1987, other than it rocks hard and the 7” 45 sells for upwards of a grand on the collectors market. The Flint, Michigan band recorded at the home studio of local radio personality Bill Lamb, who primarily released Christian Gospel recordings. So, perhaps the band was struck down by a bolt of lightning shortly after this rare single’s release. Whatever the case may be, it’s a must have for fans of classic metal mayhem.

Colorado songwriter Emily Scott Robinson beckons to those who are lost, lonely, or learning the hard way with American Siren, her first album for John Prine's Oh Boy Records. With hints of bluegrass, country, and folk, the eloquent collection shares her gift for storytelling through her pristine soprano and the perspective of her unconventional path into music. Though not fully autobiographical, American Siren gracefully blends imagined characters with meaningful people she’s encountered on her journey. Robinson grew up in Greensboro, North Carolina, and turned toward guitar at age 13, after a summer camp counselor closed out the nights by playing songs by Joni Mitchell, Cat Stevens, and Dar Williams every night. She taught herself to play in the early 2000s by printing guitar tabs from the internet and singing to CDs by Indigo Girls and James Taylor. But she didn’t pursue songwriting until after seeing Nanci Griffith perform in Greensboro in 2007. Robinson received significant acclaim for her 2019 album, Traveling Mercies.
Her long-held dream came true later that year when she sang on the Telluride Bluegrass Festival stage as the winner of the Telluride Troubadour Contest. A poignant standalone single in 2020, titled “The Time for Flowers,” prompted a private Instagram message from Oh Boy Records’ Jody Whelan, letting her know how meaningful the song was to his family. They struck up a fast friendship, then decided to partner for a release of American Siren. For her fans and for herself, this revealing collection proves that heeding the call to make music was the right decision.

LP + DVD

Factory Benelux presents a 180gm vinyl edition of The Invisible Girls, a collection of rare lost studio recordings by legendary new wave production duo Martin Hannett and Steve Hopkins (aka The Invisible Girls).

The album has been newly remastered by Peter Beckmann at TechnologyWorks and is pressed on 180gsm black vinyl. The outer sleeve is printed in black with a silver pantone. The inner bag includes detailed liner notes by Steve Hopkins, as well as archive TIG and Strawberry images.

Martin ‘Zero’ Hannett is the legendary Manchester producer famous for his work with Joy Division, Buzzcocks, New Order, Magazine and Happy Mondays. Steve Hopkins was his musical partner in The Invisible Girls, a floating studio collective which shaped epochal records by John Cooper Clarke, Pauline Murray, Nico and several others.

The first five tracks on the album are a selection of previously unreleased demos (‘moods’) recorded at the famous Strawberry Studios between 1980 and 1987. “These were the beginnings of Martin’s Invisible Girls world domination plan,” ace arranger Hopkins explains. “The idea was to assemble a roster of key instrumental players, produce tracks to be fronted by different singers/stars - and get some hits!”

Also included are 3 Hannett solo pieces recorded in 1978 and 1979, with the deluxe package rounded off by a DVD featuring a remarkable 13 minute trio improvisation by Hannett, Hopkins and Vini Reilly of The Durutti Column, recorded for television in January 1980.

Praise for FBN 65: ‘This store room grab conjures Manchester’s scarred wastelands, jazz-funky library music and ambient disquiet. Blade Runner via the Arndale Centre. A strange wayward collection, just like the thought processes of Hannett’s brain’ (Mojo)

‘Lovingly annotated, these effortlessly melodic backdrops offer a glimpse into what could have been as a post-punk one-stop-shop Chic’ (Q); ‘Captivating’ (Classic Pop); ‘The Nelson Riddle of narcotic rock’ (The Wire)

LP pressed exclusively for National Album Day 2021 on gold vinyl in
single-pocket jacket with custom dust sleeve and digital download
coupon.
 Through ‘Titanic Rising’, Weyes Blood, aka Natalie Mering, has
designed her own universe to soulfully navigate life’s mysteries.
Manoeuvring through a space time continuum, she plays the role of
melodic, sometimes melancholic, anthropologist.
 Tellingly, Mering classifies ‘Titanic Rising’ - written and recorded during
the first half of 2018, after three albums and years of touring - as The
Kinks meeting WWII or Bob Seger meets Enya. The latter captures the
album’s wilful expansiveness (“You can tell there’s not a guy pulling the
strings in Enya’s studio,” she notes, admiringly). The former relays her
imperative to connect with listeners. “The clarity of Bob Seger is
unmistakable. I’m a big fan of conversational songwriting,” she adds. “I
just try to do that in a way that uses abstract imagery as well.”
 The Weyes Blood frontwoman grew up singing in gospel and madrigal
choirs. (Listen closely to ‘Titanic Rising’ and you’ll also hear the jazz of
Hoagy Carmichael mingle with the artful mysticism of Alejandro
Jodorowsky and the monomyth of scholar Joseph Campbell.)
‘Something To Believe’, a confessional that makes judicious use of the
slide guitar, touches on that cosmological upbringing. “Belief is
something all humans need. Shared myths are part of our psychology
and survival,” she says. “Now we have a weird mishmash of capitalism
and movies and science. There have been moments where I felt very
existential and lost.”
 As a kid, she filled that void with ‘Titanic’. (Yes, the movie.) “It was
engineered for little girls and had its own mythology,” she explains.
Mering also noticed that the blockbuster romance actually offered a story
about loss born of man’s hubris. “It’s so symbolic that The Titanic would
crash into an iceberg, and now that iceberg is melting, sinking
civilization.” Today, this hubris also extends to the relentless adoption of
technology, at the expense of both happiness and attention spans.
 But Weyes Blood isn’t one to stew. Her observations play out in an
ethereal saunter: far more meditative than cynical. To Mering, listening
and thinking are concurrent experiences. “There are complicated
influences mixed in with more relatable nostalgic melodies,” she says.
“In my mind my music feels so big, a true production. I’m not a huge,
popular artist, but I feel like one when I’m in the studio. But it’s never
taking away from the music. I’m just making a bigger space for myself.”

Superb unreleased soundtrack from British 1972 sex comedy starring Gabrielle Drake (Nick Drake’s sister) and Rchard O’Sullivan (Gilbert O’Sullivan’s brother!). Brilliant music on many levels, 17 sexy tracks of swinging jet-set jazz, groovy scatty vocals, hell it must be good because it’s on Trunk Records.

Take yourself back to the fleapit cinemas of the early 1970s. My home town of Aldershot had two - the ABC/123 (with three screens) and The Palace (just one screen, and anything but palatial). Au Pair Girls, released in 1972, was exactly the kind of soft porn “comedy” flick with a vague plot that would, without doubt, have been playing as part of a double bill to the regular “dirty mac brigade”. Such films and such establishments guaranteed the small crowd regular titillating wide screen visions of nude women in preposterous situations and fulfilling preposterous fantasies.
The title of Au Pair Girls suggests it all of course; yes, four young women fly into London from Europe and Asia, are sent to their new employers and find themselves in unexpected and unusual situations pretty fast. There is of course full nudity, crudity and a large slab of cheese on the menu.There is also no real comedy, a sprinkling of infamous character actors (Richard O’Sullivan, John Le Mesurier), and “UFO” actress Gabrielle Drake (sister of Nick Drake) wearing nothing at all. If anything, the film has maintained a vague middle aged male following because of Gabrielle.
But there’s little to save this film from contemporary criticism - its outdated view of life, rights, sex and taste sit uncomfortably today. But the jet set soundtrack by Roger Webb was worth saving.
By 1972 Roger Webb’s career in film and TV music was taking off. He was an established songwriter and live pianist with a jazz trio. He’d already penned a few British scores and was just starting on a formidable future with library companies including Chappell, de Wolfe and Capitol. His route to Au Pair Girls was accidentally through Norman Newell, one of the giants of the post war music industry.Actress and performer Dee / Deanne Shenderry had asked Newell to recommend an artist to arrange her up and coming album. New;ee recommended Roger Webb.The two worked together and some music was produced, but to my knowledge only got to acetate stage (possibly for Apple Records). Dee husband was Kenneth Shipman, a co-owner ofTwickenham film studios.And so when Kenneth Shipman started pre
production of Au Pair Girls, Roger Webb was an easy go-to for film music composition.
Many years ago there was an original reel / master for Au Pair Girls. It was transferred to CD, DAT and cassette circa 1990 and the rapidly degrading tape was subsequently misplaced, lost or just binned. So all we had to work with was a rather shaky transfer from nearly 30 years ago, one which included numerous wobbles as well as speeding up and slowing down moments.The job of rescuing all this was left to Jon Brooks, my hero for all such musical problems. The end result is what you hear on this album. It is by no means sonically perfect but it is all we will ever have.
It’s certainly not Roger Webb’s best ever score (I have more of his ace work coming) but it has a certain charm and relentlessness.The lyrics were written by Norman Newell, and I can imagine the pair having a huge amount of fun putting the score together and recording it, with - as you’d expect - a pretty tight band and lively vocal group.The main theme does, as one reviewer state, “go on a bit”, but there’s enough musically here for me to get excited about and really want to “stick it out”. So I have.

- All Songs are New and Exclusive Recordings to this LP and the Movie. The inside of the album features Rare Photos of the Record Session.

Collector first-ever and worldwide release of the original soundtrack of the sumptuous documentary NICE GIRLS DON'T STAY FOR BREAKFAST, (2019) about the legend Robert Mitchum, directed by the famous photographer Bruce Weber (Let's Get Lost about Chet Baker). Soundtrack directed by Bruce Weber, on a 33 rpm with gatefold, mastered by Translab Mastering. Limited to 600 copies.

Vital Sales points

The exclusive release of the sumptuous documentary NICE GIRLS DON'T STAY FOR BREAKFAST, about the film legend Robert Mitchum, immortalized by the eye of phographer Bruce Weber.

Directed by Bruce Weber himself, the soundtrack includes melancholic and jazzy unissued tracks performed by Robert Mitchum, along with the performances of Marianne Faithfull, Rickie Lee Jones and Dr. John.

Score entirely mastered by Translab Mastering.

Sleeves designed by Nathan Kilcer. Printed inner sleeves with stills from Bruce Weber.

Limited edition, 600 copies.

‘Wild Slide’ is the debut album from techno supergroup, Better Lost Than Stupid, aka 3 of the world’s finest producers and DJs - Martin Buttrich, Davide Squillace, and Matthias Tanzmann.

Released on 13 September by Skint/BMG, the 11 track album follows a slew of singles - ‘Back From The Desert’, ‘The Sky Is Too Low’, and ‘Inside’ – which have won praise from the likes of Mixmag, Dancing Astronaut, RA, Radio 1 (Pete Tong and Danny Howard), Marco Carola, Dubfire, Nicole Moudaber, Kolsch, Joris Voorn, Claptone, Eats Everything, Adam Beyer, and many more.

Electronic music underpins ‘Wild Slide’, but Better Lost’ look beyond it with a varied collection of song ‘Wild Slide’ is the debut album from techno supergroup, Better Lost Than Stupid, aka 3 of the world’s finest producers and DJs - Martin Buttrich, Davide Squillace, and Matthias Tanzmann.

Released on 13 September by Skint/BMG, the 11 track album follows a slew of singles - ‘Back From The Desert’, ‘The Sky Is Too Low’, and ‘Inside’ – which have won praise from the likes of Mixmag, Dancing Astronaut, RA, Radio 1 (Pete Tong and Danny Howard), Marco Carola, Dubfire, Nicole Moudaber, Kolsch, Joris Voorn, Claptone, Eats Everything, Adam Beyer, and many more.

Electronic music underpins ‘Wild Slide’, but Better Lost’ look beyond it with a varied collection of songs that combine synth-pop (‘Inside’, ‘Wild Slide’), electronica (‘Boys & Girls’, ‘Harder Than Gold’), indie rock (‘Back From The Desert’), and downtempo (‘Without The Feeling’, ‘Bender’), with the kind of euphoric techno moments they’re individually known for (‘Inside’, ‘Right Now’).

‘Wild Slide’ shows that the comparisons made between Better Lost’ and stadium techno acts like The Chemical Brothers, and Underworld, stand up. The production quality is every bit as good as you’d expect from Buttrich and co, and the songs have been crafted and written by three people who’ve spent their lives making music and then playing it to hundreds of thousands of people.

Mit ihrem sechsten Album kehren die Casady-Schwestern Bianca und Sierra zum bewährten Erfolgsrezept
ihrer früheren Releases zurück. Im Gegensatz zu den mehr psychedelisch-elektronischen Erkundungen der
beiden letzten Veröffentlichungen "Tales Of A Grass Widow" (2013) und "Grey Oceans" (2010), streift
"Heartache City" wieder durch staubig-poetische Gefühlswelten längst vergangener Tage. Ihren Anfang
nahmen die zehn Tracks von "Heartache City" wie gehabt im südfranzösischen Landgut der Casadys, wo
sich die beiden Geschwister ein lauschiges Studio eingerichtet haben. Dort sammelten sie Ideen und
schrieben Songs, die sie bei Gelegenheit mit minimalem Equipment, antiken Instrumenten und Vintage-
Spielzeug vertonten und ganz nostalgisch mit einem alten 4-Spurgerät aufnahmen, nur zu zweit, rein
akustisch und ohne digitalen Firlefanz. So entstanden relativ reduzierte Songs, die ihren Weg letztlich in
Argentinien in die Händen ihres Produzenten Nicolas Kalwillwith, und um eine Prise Buenos Aires
angereichert, ihren krönenden Abschluss fanden.

Reed Records presents the fifth single from Mohawkestra ‘Mo Heavy’ b/w ‘Buffalo Bill’ available on 7” vinyl

Mo Heavy is the first Mohawkestra single to feature one of their original compositions as the A Side and it’s a belter! Replete with the signature Mohawkestra heavy organ working alongside driving guitar chops and the percussion gets plenty of time to shine.

As the a-side is a Mohawkestra original on this one the B-Side is ‘Buffalo Bill’ which is a rather unique funk fuelled take of ‘The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill’ from The Beatles’ White Album. The hint of the title and the melody are the only similarities though as Mohawkestra take the groove far out into the Funk spectrum and stripped back to raw elements.

Available on 7” vinyl

The fifth and final Mohawkestra 45 in this series for Reed, and for this final donut they have gone into the realms of soundtracks vibes, a lost 70s cop show theme immediately comes to mind. This is a wide open joint, a spaced-out arrangement with super tough drums n' bongo breaks that keeps building into a killer jerkin' funk burner, just needs a cop car's siren wailing at the end! Special mention to Joe Wilkins for the raw as **** guitar riffs, heavy stuff. All in all a wicked and furious 45 for B-Boys & B-Girls.

Hot On The Heels On Our Favourite Boy Wonder From Kazachstan Command Strange, Fokuz Now Presents Intelligent Manners Straight From St Petersburg.

This 12inch Perfectly Defines His Funky Style And Is A Great Addition To The Liquid Vibes Of Fokuz.

C - Never Wanna Be Alone Again
Intelligent Manners On The Emotional Tip, Great Piano Work On This One And The Melody Will Bring You In The Mood For Hot Summer Nights.

D - Get Back
The Lost Track Of This Wicked Double Pack Is Probably The Most Dj Friendly One. Big Beats And Another Melodic Master Piece Will Bring The Vibe On The Dancefloor And The Girls Screaming For More!

Friendship. Gratitude. Music Passion. Turbo Recordings is proud to present the feel-good story of the year with the debut release from Tiga & The Martinez Brothers.

"This is a true labour of love,' says Tiga. 'Two of the most refreshingly positive figures in dance music teaming with me, the heartless cynic with a heart of gold. Positivity and actual quality: the best of both worlds."

Tiga was originally meant to produce tracks for the DJ duo, but the sessions soon evolved into a full-fledged collaboration. The three men manned the studio in psychic unison, laying real-time drum programming and minimal storytelling over a techno foundation to create a truly dynamic dynamic. The result is some of the best work of their careers.

'Chris and Steve brought a deep knowledge of house music and DJ energy-flow, while I left my deep hatred of live studio jam sessions at the door," adds Tiga. 'These tracks are tougher, funkier and weirder than 99.3% of contemporary dance music, and it's all because we were brave enough to get sincere and real."

The material was written and recorded over the course of two sessions at Montreal's Lost Star Studios, a haven for vintage gear and laid-back vibes right out of your most casual dreams. It was easily the most fun anyone's had in a studio since 2014.

"You can keep your VIP laminates and hot flavors of the moment,' concludes Tiga. 'I'm here to tell you that there's nothing cooler than the magic of friendship.'

Part II of the collaboration is set for release on The Martinez Brothers' Cuttin' Headz label under the name The Martinez Brothers & Tiga, an inspiring nod to the importance of fairness in project credits