Buscar:m zone

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Amorpha’, a side-long shower of synthetic bells and bass, as
patterns interlock and repeat and the beat within the bar lines
shifts constantly, forms a new, latest miniature of infinity. You flip
it, and ‘Geomancy’ resets you, starting anew, with heavy drift and
drone leading into a space of shorter broken lines and Middle
Eastern tonalities, that roll back into ether again - new spaces, but
mysteriously consonant with the vibe.
 ‘Bajascillators’ arrives almost five years since their last official fulllength, 2017’s ‘Bajas Fresh’. In the eight years prior to ‘Bajas
Fresh’, Bitchin Bajas issued seven albums, plus cassettes, EPs,
singles… wave after wave of analogue synth tones and zones
extending into a stratospheric arc. Each release its own
headspace, shape and timbre, each one sliding naturally into their
implacable, eternal gene pool.
 Following the flow, always, the Bajas went ever-deeper-and-higher
on these records, whether making soundtracks or collaborating
with Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, using only fortune cookie fortunes as a
libretto. Plus engagement, with a steady stream of shows and
tours around the world; live re-airings and expansions of the space
captured in their records as they continued to grow and flow - all
the way through, really, to the present moment.
 Plus, there have been releases since 2017 - a split 12”, a 7”
single, digital track release and two ‘Cuts’ cassettes, plus the allcovers cassette release ‘Switched On Ra’. But the overall number
of releases, plus the five years between long players, implies a
potential distance between phases, a new line in the sand. The
sound of Bajascillators bear this out. How couldn’t it? Compared to
2017, this is a different world.
 Mastered directly from half-inch analogue tape, ‘Bajascillators’
floats transparently from the speakers, its expansive grooves
gathering resonance and building momentum over the four sides,
from genesis to re-conclusion, cascading ecstatically. The elastic
magic of time at its brightest. As the world keeps turning, so too do
Bitchin Bajas, in the same unknowable way. You can’t explain it -
just keep turning.

The illustrious memotone debuts on Accidental Meetings, with a sublime & wonderful thirteen-track LP... Huge tip

The next installment for the AM imprint is headed up by the critically acclaimed artist, memotone. Following previous work for entities such as Black Acre, Disktopia & Termina. Not to mention supplying instrumentation for Batu's debut album, and scoring works for Palace Skateboards.

The multi-instrumentalist showcases his entire repertoire within Clever Dog, thirteen emotive and ambitious tracks traversing between back-alley jazz, low-slung experimental & blissful ambient oddities.

memotone's discography is vast, however, this release truly stands out as a masterpiece. Enough words - dive in.

Rising star pianist/composer Connie Han brings the ancient Sumerian
culture to the present day by channeling Inanna - the ancient Sumerian
goddess of love, beauty and war - on her third release for Mack Avenue
Records
Featuring Katisse Buckingham (alto flute and piccolo), John Patitucci (bass), Rich
Perry (tenor saxophonist) and drummer Bill Wysaske, Secrets of Inanna creates a
new world open to interpretation, harkening back to the ethereal soundscapes of
1970s spiritual jazz with the modern composition Han has received praise for
since her 2018 debut Crime Zone, creating a truly unique soundscape of great
depth.

Chicago-meets-Philly when Vic Spencer and Small Professor connect on Mudslide, the incredible new album from this pairing of raw talents. Coalmine Records is proud to share this project with the world, and it marks Small Pro’s third collaborative release on the label after he previously linked with Guilty Simpson and the late Sean Price. For the producer, it was an exciting new opportunity to team up with an emcee who’s gruff-voiced, hilarious, and can out-rap anyone on the planet. “Plus, my past Coalmine projects have their own neo/prog-boom-bap vibe, and ‘Mudslide’ continues that particular sonic blueprint,” Small Pro said. And for fans of that sound, you’re not going to find a better example of that sound than this album. It’s just as experimental as it is steeped in the traditions of rap thanks to Vic’s boundary-pushing rhymes and Small Pro’s immensely satisfying instrumentals. Tracks like “Lil Jon’s Weed Stash,” “Ew McNasty’s Revenge,” and “Selfcare Welfare” marry psychedelic vibes with grounded and clever lyricism. Another immediate standout is the lead focus track “Pitfall Music,” which features a mean-mugging guest verse from Flee Lord with cuts supplied by acclaimed turntablist, DJ Revolution.

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Arma X burst onto the hardcore scene in 2019 with a demo that made people take notice from day one, seemingly coming out of nowhere, along with a whole host of new bands from Madrid. Taking the best of heavy hardcore styles, whether it’s Cleveland Straight Edge or NYHC Beatdown, Arma X are making it their own with tunes breathing new life into the genre in their debut album, Violento Ritual. Not for the faint of heart, the band are also redefining just how many dive bombs and breakdowns you can have in one song thanks to guitarists Yoshi and Rodri, and we are here for it! Vocalist Leo sings in Spanish, because there will be no appeasing to the English speaking hardcore masses here and rightly so. The result is vocals that just get taken to another level, delivered with Leo’s huge rasping voice not too dissimilar to Integrity’s Dwid, commanding over what sounds like a straight up war zone. Lyrically Arma X rock about the Straight Edge, naturally, as a true form of outsider behaviour within punk and also dark moments of anger in one’s personal life through occult imagery. Meanwhile drummer Tania and bassist Iker waste no time in pummelling out beats you want to smash heads to in the pit. The group are all hard working members of the Madrid hardcore community keeping their local scene vibrant and inclusive for all, reflected in the band themselves. Thanks to that hard work, along with many others from this new generation, the Madrid scene has been growing from strength to strength for the past 3 years. Arma X are part of this new wave of bands and DIY ethic that is selling out local only shows and making a community that stands strong. XXX. For Fans of Bulldoze, Confront, Integrity, Merauder. Genre: Alternative / Punk & Hardcore

Ryuichi Sakamoto, Daniel Lanois, Loscil, K Leimer, Deaf Center, Tangerine Dream, Arvo Pärt Wake is a distillation and reflection of the work of three Portland musicians thrown, like the rest of the world, into forced isolation by the continually-mutating curse of a natural world in disequilibrium. The product of involuntarily inward-looking emotional landscapes, Wake emerged sounding surprisingly expansive and confident. The trio uses a variety of instruments –including harp, fretless bass, piano, and a variety of synthesizers– to conjure sparkling panoramas of the imagination that are deep-pooled and impressionistic, bracing yet comforting. Mike Grabarak and Joshua Ward have performed together for years as a duo under the moniker of Location Services, while Derek Hunter Wilson has primarily worked as a solo composer in the classical realm. For the Points Of No Return compilation, Beacon Sound's 50th release and a benefit for the Beirut Musicians Fund, they recorded a collaborative piece entitled "Interdependence In Solitude" that was so promising the label offered to release an album if they continued down the path they had started upon. The resulting eight songs are simply mesmerizing. Made during a period of change and upheaval in the world and society where many people were disconnected from others, the album is the product of a collage-like dialogue built on trust and patience. While the musicians couldn’t physically be together for much of this time, they began sending musical ideas to one another in a conversational back-and-forth that acted as an anchor of stability – something they found they could turn to and depend on when things felt uncertain elsewhere. This comfort zone led to some transcendent moments of experimentation. “Delicate Need”, for example, features recordings of exaggerated pizzicato that were sampled and then run back through processing effects, which were then subsequently performed live over the original track. As things became less risky on the Covid front, they would occasionally meet for backyard rehearsals. Indeed, a recording of one of these rehearsals became the basis for the opening track “Photo Aware”. Wake will be available later this summer as a limited edition LP, with design work by Berlin-based Studio Bernhardt. The cover painting was created by Portland artist Nate Ethington. Highlights: – Derek was invited by the artist Gregory Euclide (Bon Iver, Erased Tapes) to participate in his label project, Thesis, along with artists such as Benoit Pioulard, Loscil, and Julianna Barwick. – Derek‘s first and second albums as a solo artist were released by Beacon Sound (Travelogue, 2017; Steel, Wood, & Air, 2019). – Location Services likewise released their 2019 album Reincorporate on the label. – The artists plan to tour together in 2023. Cascadia release shows TBA. Bios: Location Services is the Portland-based project of multi-instrumentalist Mike Grabarek (Magic Fades) and harpist Joshua Ward. They’ve released music on Beacon Sound and Beer On The Rug. They perform both written and improvised music. Derek Hunter Wilson is a composer and multi-instrumentalist based in Portland. He has released two solo albums on Beacon Sound and has also collaborated with visual artist Gregory Euclide for his Thesis Project label, resulting in a split 10" with Spanish musician Rauelsson. He has additionally collaborated with poets Zachary Schomburg and Brandi Katherine Herrera for several sound and performance pieces. He has performed live on the West Coast and in Berlin, sharing the stage with artists such as Colleen, Amulets, and Liima.

Rund 135 Jahre umspannt das Repertoire von Igor Levits neuem Album "Tristan": die Zeit von etwa 1837 bis 1973. Ganz unterschiedliche Genres treffen aufeinander; nur eines der Werke wurde ursprünglich für Soloklavier geschrieben. Levits Annäherungen an existenzielle Grenzerfahrungen - den Tod in "Life" (2018), die Begegnung mit dem Spirituellen in "Encounter" (2020) und jetzt, in "Tristan", die Verbindung von Liebe, Tod und Erlösungsbedürftigkeit - bringen es mit sich, dass wiederum nicht allein Meisterwerke für sein Instrument im Mittelpunkt stehen, sondern vor allem Kompositionen, in denen gewisse thematische Assoziationen eine möglichst persönliche Gestaltung finden. Dabei kreisen Levits eigene Gedanken bei "Tristan" weniger um die Liebes- und Todesthematik als solche, sondern vielmehr um Erlebnisse der Nacht und des Nächtlichen - als dunkle Gegenwelt zum bewussten Handeln bei Tage. Psychische Ausnahmezustände geben den Ton vor: "Die Nacht hat so viele Gesichter. Sie kann Zuflucht und Kontrollverlust bedeuten, sie steht für Liebe und Tod, und sie ist die Zone tiefer Ängste", sagt Levit. "Im Adagio von Mahlers Zehnter Sinfonie gibt es den berühmten Aufschrei des dissonanten Schmerzensakkords, und Wagners 'Tristan und Isolde' inszeniert geradezu eine Art emotionale Kernschmelze. Alle wesentlichen Geschehnisse des Stücks spielen sich in der Nacht ab. Auch Hans Werner Henze spricht in seinen Erinnerungen an die Entstehungszeit von 'Tristan' von Alpträumen und traumartigen Halluzinationen." Henzes "Tristan - Préludes für Klavier, Tonbänder und Orchester" - ein schwärmerisch-raffinierter Hybrid aus Soloklavier, Elektronik, Konzert und Sinfonie - bildet das Herzstück des Albums. Es ist die erste Orchesterproduktion Levits überhaupt. Unter der Leitung von Franz Welser-Möst hatte Levit das suggestive Werk, von dem bisher nur die kompromissbehaftete Aufnahme unter Leitung des Komponisten greifbar war, bei den Salzburger Festspielen als auch mit dem Gewandhausorchester in Leipzig aufgeführt; im Zusammenhang mit den Leipziger Konzerten entstand 2019 die vorliegende Aufnahme.Franz Liszts dritter Liebestraum ist heute als sentimentaler Show-Stopper aller Klavierpoeten bekannt. Dabei ist auch dieses Nocturne in As-Dur durchaus tragisch grundiert. Zurück geht es auf ein Kunstlied Liszts auf Verse von Ferdinand Freiligrath (1810-1876). Der Beginn des Gedichts lautet: "O lieb', so lang du lieben kannst!, O lieb', so lang du lieben magst!, Die Stunde kommt, die Stunde kommt, wo du an Gräbern stehst und klagst!"Nächtlich Verzweifeltes auch bei Mahler: Ende Juli 1910, mitten an der Arbeit am ersten Satz seiner Zehnten, erfuhr der Komponist von einer Affäre seiner Frau. Igor Levit spielt dieses Adagio in einer wenig bekannten Klaviertranskription des schottischen Komponisten Ronald Stevenson, für dessen große "Passacaglia on DSCH" er sich zuletzt so stark eingesetzt hat. Erst in "Harmonies du Soir", der elften der 12 "Études d'exécution transcendante" von Franz Liszt, scheint, bei aller Verdichtung pianistischer Majestät, eine Versöhnung auf. Die am Ende des Programms erklingenden "Abendklänge" bilden das friedliche Gegenstück zu den Ekstasen und Alpträumen, die den Nachtgeweihten bei Wagner oder Mahler widerfahren.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce Drumming Up Trouble, the first release of previously unissued music by Alvin Curran on the label. Collecting works recorded between 2018-2021 and a side-long epic dating back to the early 80s, as the title suggests, Drumming Up Trouble focuses on a hitherto almost unknown aspect of Curran’s encyclopaedic and omnivorous musical world: his experiments with sampled and synthesised percussion. As Curran’s wonderful, wildly sweeping liner notes make clear, his fascination with drumming belongs to the radical investigation of music’s fundamental elements that has marked his output since the beginnings of MEV, who aimed (as he says in a recent interview) to return ‘in some collective way to a non-existent start time in the history of human music’. Whatever kind of music our proto-human ancestors played, he writes, ‘drums were front and centre in the mix. Drums rule!’

In a paradox typical of Curran’s approach, Drumming Up Trouble interrogates this most ancient dimension of music with contemporary technology. On the first side, we hear recent pieces performed using the sampling software and full-size MIDI keyboard setup Curran has refined since the 1980s. Two of them are wild real-time improvisations, primarily utilising an enormous bank of hip-hop samples. Building from polyrhythmic layers of drum machine fragments to wild cacophonies of clashing vocal samples, scratching, and frantic pitch shifting, these energetic and at times hilarious pieces occupy a space somewhere between John Oswald’s Plunderphonics, Pat Thomas and Matt Wand in the Tony Oxley Quartet, and the propulsive Kudoro/Grime fusion of Lisbon’s Príncipe label. They are improvisations are accompanied by two austere, minimal compositions realised in collaboration with Angelo Maria Fallo: ‘End Zone’ for orchestral bass drum and high oscillator, and ‘Rollings’, where a snare roll is gradually stretched and filtered by digital means into ‘floating electronic gossamer’.

The incredible breadth of Curran’s output makes it pretty unlikely that a listener familiar with his work would be surprised to find it branching out in a new direction. But no degree of familiarity with his work can really prepare for side B’s epic and bizarre ‘Field it More’. It’s perhaps best to let the maestro describe this unhinged and infectious offering in his own words: ‘It features an 8 bar funky minimal riff à la James Brown, played on synth and an-out-of-tune piano, synced to a pre-paid patch on the Roland drum machine. Over this is laid a heavily processed track of the voices of dancer Yoshiko Chuma and movie-maker Jacob Burckhardt discussing an upcoming performance of theirs at the Venice film festival, capped by a track of my playing an increasingly out of control blues over the top of all of the above’. Only Pekka Airaksinen’s Buddhas of the Golden Light comes to mind as a reference point that might even vaguely compare to this wild home-brew of drum-machine funk, mad improvisation and squelching electronics, which eventually dissolved into a massive, layered cluster. Ancient and modern, synthetic and human, hysterical and rigorous, Drumming up Trouble is 100% Curran.

Over the past decade, the mysterious, London-based artist Moiré has perfected a syrupy, addictive brand of dance music via labels like Actress's Werk Discs and illustrious imprints like Ghostly and Rush Hour. For most of this period, Moiré seemed pramarily concerned in creating alternative universe club tracks. The beats were hypnotic, if wonky. The pads were deep before they were refracted through an oblique filter. In a discography bearing a surfeit of leftfield high points, Circuits, Moiré's latest album for the Berlin-based Avenue 66 (Lowtec, John Frusciante, Joey Anderson) is a massive creative leap that fully breaks with the strictures of a "conventional" dance music.

While there are still nods to the low-slung, slow house style Moiré's perfected in the past ("Circuit 1"), as well as the looming shadow of hardcore ("Circuit 8), Moiré's style now billows into a liminal, cinematic zone that recalls the canonical SAW albums, BOC or even Seefeel's enduring, genre-free experiments. Rhythms come and go at all tempos, from Hauntological four-on-the-floor to flickering downtempo and ambient house approximations. But the emphasis lies with the melodies. From the queasy orchestral style of "Circuits 1" to the glacial, "end credits"-style synths that close out the album, these motifs bear an uncanny familiarity, as though they always existed. You recognize them, not from a previous listen, but rather, some half-remembered dream, or, perhaps, a previous lifetime.

Chicago-meets-Philly when Vic Spencer and Small Professor connect on Mudslide, the incredible new album from this pairing of raw talents. Coalmine Records is proud to share this project with the world, and it marks Small Pro’s third collaborative release on the label after he previously linked with Guilty Simpson and the late Sean Price.

For the producer, it was an exciting new opportunity to team up with an emcee who’s gruff-voiced, hilarious, and can out-rap anyone on the planet. “Plus, my past Coalmine projects have their own neo/prog-boom-bap vibe, and ‘Mudslide’ continues that particular sonic blueprint,” Small Pro said.

And for fans of that sound, you’re not going to find a better example of that sound than this album. It’s just as experimental as it is steeped in the traditions of rap thanks to Vic’s boundary-pushing rhymes and Small Pro’s immensely satisfying instrumentals.

Tracks like “Lil Jon’s Weed Stash,” “Ew McNasty’s Revenge,” and “Selfcare Welfare” marry psychedelic vibes with grounded and clever lyricism. Another immediate standout is the lead focus track “Pitfall Music,” which features a mean-mugging guest verse from Flee Lord with cuts supplied by acclaimed turntablist, DJ Revolution.

Mudslide will be available digitally, as well as on CD, cassette and vinyl in three configurations; classic black, brown w/ white color-in-color, and a limited Ghostly Brown vinyl edition.

Mice Parade returns from a decade of silence to release lapapọ, an album that spans the many styles of their storied career,and features guest singer appearances by Angel Deradoorian (Dirty Projectors) and Arone Dyer (Buke & Gase). The rock is louder; the West-African-inspired highlife breaks are chubbier; the dueling drumkits are more complex, the instrumental passages more serene. What started as a home recording project in the late 90s soon morphed into a formidable and completely unique live band of incredible musicians from around the globe, all live-mixed and effected by legendary UK engineer Brandon Knights (aka Dub Warrior), the longtime sound engineer for Lee Scratch Perry, Soul II Soul, Gladiators and others. After 9 albums and nearly 15 years years of worldwide touring, including festivals across the UK, Iceland, mainland Europe, Turkey and Japan, and supporting Stereolab across the US, Mice Parade fans can finally hear some new music, and the live band hopes to safely reunite later this year. Throughout it all, Adam has mostly recorded with same ethos: allowing only one take for each track, forcing him to either leave in mistakes or address them with mutes or distractions, and embracing the Bob Ross concept of 'happy accidents.' This was a strict rule for the first several albums, and while he eventually became less strict about it, it's still a goal that is achieved more often than not. Perfection is not the goal - indeed, there should be no such thing in music. Most songs are not even written before pressing the record button, but instead are built piece by piece in improvised fashion. lapapọ is a Yoruba word meaning something akin to "totally" or "altogether."

Long before Lina Seybold became a geologist, the singer and guitarist was already writing songs and making a name for herself far beyond the city limits of Munich with her Steve Albini-trained (and produced) quartet candelilla, before the band dispersed into new projects. During her studies, she met Moritz Gamperl and the two realised that what they learned in rock research could also play a role in rock music. Thus, the material history of the planet became both a source of existential reflections for the two and the impetus for a highly accomplished and often graceful sound, which has been expressed in the band pirx together with drummer Sascha Saygin since 2019: Technically sovereign, obstinate songs that - with Seybold now on bass and vocals - create subtle dramaturgies, cinematic aesthetics, far-reaching arcs of tension.

With Lamina, the trio now presents an excellent debut album, recorded by Martin M. Hermann, which shoots out of the earth with explosive force as hot lava, only to flow into the valley in glowing beauty the next moment, changing the earth's surface, telling of elemental forces - until it finally evaporates the water in the sea and lays a comatose fog over all existence. Or in other words: pirx make creation music, in all directions of time!

Belgian composer Otto Lindholm presents his new LP titled FortyTwo, releasing in early June on Totalism with support from Phantom Limb. Consisting of two complementary entities of equal duration (21 minutes), the album really is one. Together, the two longform pieces are like two sides of one coin, like the two motions of a rocking chair; forwards and backwards. The first piece titled “Reg” explores the simplicity of the stroke with veiled, beautiful melodies, while the second called “The Donkey Theory”, built on an octatonic scale, delves into deeper, more atmospheric zones.

FortyTwo is intentional in its duration, as Lindholm tries to question our relationship with time itself. Extending and expanding the natural sounds of the double bass and expertly arranging and layering them, he is able to toy with time, refocusing the experience on the act of listening itself. The results are rich tapestries of voluptuous tones, deeply felt emotions and elongated melodic motifs which are completely enveloping, almost overwhelming. As the Brussels-based composer and double bassist's focus shifts from instrumental performance to composition, he delves deeper into the world of drone music influenced by contemporary classical composition.

Otto Lindholm is a composer and double-bassist based in Brussels. He has released music on Icarus Records, Gizeh Records, Houndstooth, Aurora Borealis Recordings, Bedouin Records, Midira Records, 7k!, Takuroku and other labels. His new LP, FortyTwo, is due to be released in 2022 on Totalism with the support of Phantom Limb. He is a keen collaborator, working alongside many artists such as Ross Tones aka Throwing Snow, Aidan Baker, string quintet BOW, Jean D.L., P.Maze, and others.

The debut album from Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers and featuring the U.S. single tracks, “New England” and “Here Come The Martian Martians” This version of The Modern Lovers included drummer David Robinson (The Cars) and Greg “Curly” Keranen on bass (The Rubinoos) Co-Produced by Beserkley Records founder Matthew King Kauffman and Glen Kolotkin (Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin) Available CD & LP. Jonathan Richman formed The Modern Lovers in 1970 in Boston with Jerry Harrison (Talking Heads), Ernie Brooks and David Robinson (The Cars). The band recorded a series of demos, first with John Cale (The Velvet Underground) and later with producer Kim Fowley. Both sets of demos were eventually released, but not until the original group had disbanded. In 1975 Jonathan relocated to California and secured a recording deal with Beserkley Records. By 1976 he had pulled together a new version of The Modern Lovers. This group included the holdover David Robinson from the original band and added, Leroy Radcliffe and Greg 'Curly’ Keranen (The Rubinoos). The self-titled release delivered on Richman’s desire for more acoustic and harmony-based material. Unfortunately, nearly on top of the bands’ debut album release, the earlier demo material drawn mostly from the Cale demo sessions was issued, and Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers was overshadowed by “Pablo Picasso,” “Roadrunner,” and their—now classic—“debut.” Shortly after the release of their actual self-titled debut, Robinson departed to join The Cars. Needing a new drummer, the band found D. Sharpe (later of the Carla Bley Band) and this new line-up recorded Rock ’n’ Roll With The Modern Lovers which was released in 1977 and achieved some chart success in Europe with “Egyptian Reggae” making it to #5 on the U.K. Singles Chart. Greil Marcus called it “the purist Rock and Roll album I’ve heard this year.” However, another in the series of personnel changes, Keranen left the group. Modern Lovers ‘Live’ followed in 1977 with new bassist Asa Brebner. While the U.S. might not have caught on to the magic of Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers, the U.K. certainly did. Recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon, ‘Live’ features Jonathan and The Modern Lovers performing classics from their first two releases to an enthusiastic crowd. The set included the recent Top 5 U.K. single “Egyptian Reggae,” as well as tracks from The Modern Lovers’ previously releases plus an eight-minute version of “Ice Cream Man.” 1979’s Back In Your Life marked the end of any original versions of The Modern Lovers and closed the Beserkley era with Jonathan stepping back from music for a few years after its release.

‘’The band brings out instrumentation and vocal melodies that are of the same lineage as more modern indie bands like Parquet Courts and Ought. “ POST-TRASH

Hailing from Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela and Nashville, Tennessee, Rui DeMagalhaes and Mac Folger found a middle ground in skewness. Heavily influenced by kiwi pop acts like The Bats and The Clean, as well as British post-punk pioneers Swell Maps and Wire, Lawn maintains a balance of classic pop sensibilities and sharp, curious energy.
Indeed, Lawn's sound is a marriage between two different songwriting approaches that make both members step out of their comfort zones without losing their bearings. The result is a partnership that thrives in exploring how their differences make them a solid unit. DeMagalhaes and Folger are different, but never at odds.

After approaching their second full-length with a sense of ease and composure, New Orleans' Lawn found themselves embracing a sense of urgency for their follow-up work, Bigger Sprout. Written, rehearsed, and recorded under a month-long period, Bigger Sprout explores a feeling of urgency as a theme and a catalyst: urgency to get out of uncomfortable situations, urgency to take relationships more seriously, urgency to work on themselves, urgency to play shows again, urgency to record, urgency to start a family, urgency to make plans and leave old settings behind, urgency to grow up and become more in tune to your surroundings, urgency to quit old habits and pick up new ones. The EP, co-written with former drummer Hunter Keene, is a document that embodies the anxieties of change, for better or worse. This idea is juxtaposed by including a remastered version of Big Sprout, their first-ever release, as side B. Big Sprout, which was also written and recorded over a short period of time, has never been released in any physical capacity. The inclusion of these songs provides a contrast into who the members of Lawn were in their early 20s against who they are now.