Buscar:mach 2

Ben Salisbury and Geoff Barrow’s sinister score to
Netflix’s supernatural horror, ‘Archive 81’, is now
available on LP and CD.
The CD is presented as a digipack.
The LP is pressed on black vinyl and housed in a
heavyweight spined sleeve with double sided
printed insert.
Ben Salisbury and Geoff Barrow are known for
their scores for the Ivor Novello Award winning ‘Ex
Machina’ and ‘Devs’, along with their work on
‘Annihilation’, ‘Free Fire’, ‘HANNA’ and more.
Inspired by the popular podcast of the same name,
‘Archive 81’ depicts the life of a man who comes
across videotapes full of a mysterious woman’s
adventures in an even more mysterious apartment
building. What seemed to be an ordinary job turns
into a nightmare as the strange creature that took
the woman’s life in the past seems to have found a
way back to him 25 years in the future.

To wit, if you think you know already what you’ll be getting into here heady, Television-esque multi-guitar jams played with motorik precision and a fiercely American intensity: you know, a Forsyth record well, go ahead and think that. I won’t stop you. Only . . . maybe the pulsing bass, curiously lurching drumbeat, and lunar synth squiggling of Sun Ra Arkestra maestro Marshall Allen that opens “Experimental & Professional” will set you back on your heels. But just for a moment, before Ryan Jewell’s drums and Tortoise alum Douglas McCombs’s bass twine into perfect alignment and then guitars played by Forsyth and Tom Malach (of Garcia Peoples) start chipping and hammering, twittering and sparring, the whole thing managing to evoke Remain in Light without sounding remotely like it.

Tracks : 1 Experimental & Professional 2 Heaven For A Few 3 Bad Moon Risen 4 You're Going To Need Somebody 5 Hey, Evolution 6 Long Beach Idyll 7 Robot Energy Machine

There’s no escaping the motherlode - that eternal continuum of high drama and overheated amp stacks fit to raise the pulse and revivify the spirits. It’s merely an unmistakable band chemistry that transforms base hard rock into gemstones, and this process is an increasingly rare phenomenon in the here and now. Luckily for Stockholm’s alchemists LUGNET, they are one of the few. Here in these steamrollering grooves and strident anthems is just the kind of swagger and bravado on which rock built its foundations in the ‘70s, yet without any of the cliches or the bloated self-importance. The roots of LUGNET may be visible to see, and the primal stomp of early Deep Purple, the apocalyptic sermonising of Black Sabbath and the cinematic majesty of Rainbow can easily be detected in the almighty sturm-und-drang. Yet this sound is delivered with charisma and maverick energy that effortlessly summons fresh vibrant life to a classic form. The spark that lit LUGNET originates in 2009, when Fredrik Jansson-Punkka (also drummer of Angel Witch, and whose storied history includes stints in Witchcraft, Abramis Brama and Count Raven) met bassist Lennart ‘Z’ Zethzon at Sweden Rock Festival and the two first discussed getting together to jam. Three years later this finally came to fruition and guitarists Bonden Jansson and Mackan Holten joined the fray, alongside vocalist Roger Solander. An original plan to play ‘70s blues-rock with Swedish lyrics was ultimately warped and transformed into the monumental attack of 2016’s self-titled debut proper on Pride & Joy Music. The road to ‘Nightwalker’ saw changes afoot in the band, as Solander was replaced by the soulful pipes of Johan Fahlberg, who matches the swashbuckling charm of the Dio/Coverdale tradition with flourishes and personality all his own, whilst Bonden Jansson made way for wunderkind new guitarist Matti Norlin. This was a quantum leap on from the debut, replete with fiery interplay and incisive song writing, from the slow Zeppelin-esque catharsis of ‘Death Laughs At You’ to the monstrous ‘Stargazer’-esque grandeur of the mellotron-assisted finale ‘Kill Us All’. The aftermath saw Lugnet traverse from strength to strength, a notable highlight being packing out their tent at Sweden Rock Festival in 2018 even whilst a certain Birmingham-birthed Prince Of Darkness himself occupied the main stage across the field. Michael Linder (formerly of Troubled Horse) soon replaced Mackan Holten, and this line-up has subsequently amassed enough material for two albums, with all members throwing their hat into the ring song writing-wise. One of these ‘Tales From The Great Beyond’ has already been recorded at SolnaSound Recording with the dream-team of Simon Johansson (Wolf/ Soilwork) and Mike Wead (King Diamond/ Mercyful Fate) at the helm / mixed by Marcus Jidell (Avatarium/ Candlemass). Just like for the debut album, the front cover artwork was designed by Vance Kelly. Whatever the future holds for Lugnet, only a fool would bet on the result not being a spectacular explosion of righteousness. This machine is firing on all cylinders, and rockers of all persuasions would be well advised to get on board or get out of the way. Track listing: Still A Sinner; In Harvest Time; Another World; Out Of My System; Svarv; Eaten Alive; Pale Design; I Can’t Wait; Black Sails; Tåsjö Kyrkmarsch

The gift that keeps on giving, Purple Disco Machines' 'Exotica (Deluxe Album)' is being treated to some epic remixes of your favourite songs now available on vinyl.

This vinyl includes a remix of 'Dopamine' by The Emperor Machine and a remix from the one and only Art Of Tones of 'Loneliness'.

Neotex – Between The Machine (NH002) The A1 is hypnotic and dark ambient music, the A2 is a minimal focused cut, B1 is a bleepy acid bomb and then the B2 is a 138bpm rave style track. Why sleep when you can bleep.

Luca LTJ Trevisi (LTJ Xperience) began his dj/producer career in the 80s. As resident dj in two of the most famous Italian clubs of the time, Kinky in Bologna and Cap Creus in Imola, he was one of the first Italian jocks to spin House and to re-propose those black music, jazz and latin-bossa classics from the 70s that at the end of the same decade would have given birth to the Acid Jazz and Rare Groove movements. His first single release in 1988, titled First Job, together with Kekkotronics, was also the first release ever on Bologna based Irma Records. It was featured in a lot of compilations of the time and entered several playlists, rapidly reaching cult status for many UK and US djs. During the early 90s LTJ delivered a couple of singles in a kind of pre-breakbeat style: Dont Stop The Sax, released all over Europe, and Funky Superfly. He also produced US singer Tameka Starrs single Going In Circles, always for Irma Records, still a classic in the downtempo/r&b field. In the second half of the nineties Luca began to produce acid jazz bands like Bossa Nostra, still today one of Irma Records main acts. Their first album had Vicky Anderson as special
guest and today is still considered one of the most important European acid jazz albums. In the following years he concentrated on developing his activity as collector and rare vinyl merchant, which gave him the chance to get in touch with djs from all over the World and to discover many forgotten gems from the past years. Thanks to this experience he was able to create two extremely successful rarities series on Irma Records:

Groovy and Suono Libero. In the meanwhile LTJ started to dj outside Italy too, performing in important venues like the Blue Note and Jazz Café in London, Giant Step in New York and Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland. In 1999 saw the release of his first solo album under the LTJ Xperience moniker. The album was produced with the collaboration of fellow Irma artist and producer Ohm Guru and had Taka Boom and Jackson Sloan among the guests. Two of the main tracks on the album are brazil house classic Sombre Guitar and title track Moon Beat, which became a true hit of the Chill Out genre, featured in dozens of important compilations.

After making countless productions for Irma Records, including their second album When The Rain Begins To Fall (with the participation of the historic Spanish-American singer Joe Bataan), and the recents singles as ORGAN MIND / I LOVE YOU (favorite track by Larry Heard ) & ON THE FLOOR / SOUND MACHINE, LTJ is devoted almost exclusively to re-edit and reconstruct tracks from the past with the addition of sounds and rhythms in post production for labels like SUPER VALUE, SMALL WORLD DISCO, HOT GROOVY RECORDS, OH CRISTO! increasing the production of this new musical genre that is currently defined as beatdown/slo-mo, working with international labels such as Far Out Recordings, Sleazy Beats, Future Classics, E.A.R. Music For Dreams, Apersonal Music, Roam Recordings, !K7.

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

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

Hervorragendes Album eines fantastischen joint venture Teams: Inkswel aus Australien und Colonel Red aus Birmingham machen unbeschwerten Hip Hop-beeinflussten Downbeat mit Soul. Perfekt balancieren sie fette Beats, gute Melodien, geradeaus Messages mit geräuschvollen Unter- oder Obertönen.

Beide haben eine beeindruckende Vita mit tollen Produktionen. Colonel Red kennt man von einigen West London Produktionen (Bugz In The Attic) und cutting edge Songwriting für Teddy Pendergrass, Amp Fiddler, Maurice White, Tony Allen u.a.
Inkswel ist nicht nur durch seine Arbeiten für Talib Kweli, Lee Scratch Perry, Andrew Ashong, Dwight Trible, Amp Fiddler u.v.m. bekannt.

Checkt das Video zu “Make Me Crazy” und auch die grandiosen Remixe von Moodymann, Potatohead People, Moodorama.
Das Cover wurde von Our Machine aus Holland gestaltet, die viel für Kindred Spirit, Tom Trago, Versatile, Build An Arc et cetera designed haben.

Big name pile up alert! Frankie Knuckles and fellow Chicago producer Ricky Sinz team up for a funky house outing that has classic written all over from the moment its R&B-slanted vocal starts to wind your around its little finger and the pumping, stripped down 80s groove kicks into life. Orlando Voorn delves even further back for inspiration on his remix, shimmering in disco strings, before Ben Sims carves out two harder-edged mixes that nestle neatly on the house/divide, both playing a single bass note off against restless rhythms.

Anthology of some the earlyest french Hardcore producers.
Featuring Yann Dub from Brest, who passed away 10 years ago in Barcelona playin guitar in the a bar... Peace to him and his familly.

Playing experimental music since the 90's, creating "Reverse Studio" in Paris in Y2K (we did a lot of cut with him...) and then moving away to Barcelona, cutting again... His brother took over with DK Mastering studio... His cutting machine is now in Belgium at Angström Studio... The story continues...
Explore Toi is Explore Toi Crew. Also early french Hardcore music producer, golden age where musicians were nameless... Everybody knows his label(s) as a CYBER Hardcore pure creation... Visual and musical artist.
Alive and kicking, active !

Big respect for this high ranking production, with locked grooves and remastering.

All tunes are improvisations from the 90's.

Don't miss !!!

'Body Riddle', ein Highlight des frühen Clark-Katalogs, von Produzenten wie Arca, Rustie und Hudson Mohawke als massgeblicher Einfluß bezeichnet, wurde unter persönlicher Betreuung von Clark neu für mehr Dynamik remastered und erscheint erstmals wieder seit 16 Jahren.

-----

BIO: Chris Clark arbeitet seit 20 Jahren mit Musik und Ton. Schon in jungen Jahren wurde er von Warp Records gesignt und veröffentlichte bis dato 13 Alben und eine Vielzahl an EPs und Singles. Sein jüngstes Studioalbum 'Playground In A Lake' für das Klassik-Label Deutsche Grammophon verschmolz sein Markenzeichen, die elektronische Musik, mit den Streichertönen des Cellisten Oliver Coates, der Geigerin Rakhi Singh und des Budapest Art Orchestra.

Nach seiner ersten Filmmusik für die Sky/Canal+ TV-Serie 'The Last Panthers' schrieb Clark die Scores zu 'Rellik' (BBC1/HBO) und das Drama 'Kiri' (Channel 4/Hulu). Kürzlich lieferte er die Filmmusik für Apple TV+ 'Lisey's Story', basierend auf Stephen Kings gleichnamigem Roman, sowie für 'Daniel Isn't Real', einem psychologischen Horrorfilm von Spectre Vision, der Produktionsfirma des Nicolas Cage-Kultfilms 'Mandy'. Dieser OST wurde ebenfalls von der Deutschen Grammophon veröffentlicht.

Chris arbeitete mit der Choreografin Melanie Lane zusammen und vertonte 12 zeitgenössische Tanzprojekte, darunter die Aufführung ihres Soloprojekts 'Tilted Fawn' im Sydney Opera House und zuletzt 'Personal Effigies', das im März 2018 mit dem Kier Choreographic Prize ausgezeichnet wurde, sowie 'WOOF' für die renommierte Sydney Dance Company.

Chris' umfangreiches Verzeichnis an Remixen für Künstler wie Thom Yorke, Massive Attack, Depeche Mode, Max Richter, Battles und Nils Frahm wurde 2013 als Doppelalbum 'Feast / Beast' veröffentlicht.

'What's always set Clark apart is his eclecticism, dynamism, and flair for the dramatic... His tracks don't drop as much as they slip or swerve... He'll end a techno album with eight minutes of beatless, sky-cracking ecstasy and it will make sense. He's allergic to the idea of standard sounds and presets. And unlike many of his more insular peers, Clark can be open to sentimentality — not schmaltz — as much as a belief in humanness and all its inexact wonder. In electronic music's never-ending battle between man and machine, he's seeking a third way.' - Pitchfork

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.

A band who have never stood still creatively, EBM is a breathlessly heavy step up and Editors’ most leftfield material yet – a thrilling, unrelenting thrust of full-bodied electro-industrial rock. The album title is an acronym of Editors and Blanck Mass, but also a knowing reference to Electronic Body Music, the potent sound that originated in the 1980s and which has hugely influenced Editors’ new material, where the synths of bands like Nitzer Ebb, Front 242 and DAF hammer darkly amongst smoke machines, strobe lights and the smell of leather.

A band who have never stood still creatively, EBM is a breathlessly heavy step up and Editors’ most leftfield material yet – a thrilling, unrelenting thrust of full-bodied electro-industrial rock. The album title is an acronym of Editors and Blanck Mass, but also a knowing reference to Electronic Body Music, the potent sound that originated in the 1980s and which has hugely influenced Editors’ new material, where the synths of bands like Nitzer Ebb, Front 242 and DAF hammer darkly amongst smoke machines, strobe lights and the smell of leather.

Three years after Reno Wurzbacher’s entry into the series, Cook Strummer now offers up his own Berlin Gets Physical, a collection of all-new and exclusive tracks.

Berlin-based, Belgium-born Strummer has been a Get Physical associate for several years. He has dropped various singles including the standout 'Rising' which also featured on the Words Don't Come Easy series, and always crafts the perfect mix of rhythm and melody with plenty of hints of his homeland's famous cold wave sound. He often uses his own voice, drum machines, synths and guitars in his music, and since his debut album in 2018 on LOK Recordings, he has had high profile support from the likes of Laurent Garnier, Adam Port and Ame. This summer, he dropped 'Atmosphere' on Obsolet Records which proved another successful outing and now Berlin Gets Physical finds him digging deep into the famous city's freshest and most essential house sounds across 15 well-sequenced tracks.

His own new offering 'For Berlin' kicks off with a dark and edgy vibe, gothic vocals and tense drums. Glitchy hits and blurting synths add to the prickly atmosphere and immediately lock you in while Los Cabra & Manuel Sahagun's 'Italian Groove' then takes off on waves of serrated dark disco synths and Freudenthal feat. Nowhere People continue that macho disco vibe with the rugged chug and cosmic rays of 'Cipher.'

The twinkling 'Bad Karma' by Marvin Jam & Le Mythe then allows you to catch your breath with a slower, more spacious dub disco sound and the twanging bass riffs and exotic effects of Daniel Jaeger & Valenti's 'Quarantine Cowboys' rebuilds the atmosphere with some innovative house blues. The mid-section brings brain-frying synth work on 'Out Of The Blue', bubbling dub house and disco courtesy of dramasquad's sprawling 'ziggy' and percussive deep house looseness from 'Abayomi.'

After KEENE's rubbery and rolling Afro sounds comes more cosmic house richness from Dan Buri and Max Joni & MUKKIMIAU, the driving tech of Red Pig Flower & Lulla and heady sounds of Mike Book. There is a raw house heaviness to FreedomB's 'State of Shock' and things shut down with Electronic Elephant's tightly coiled minimal drum funk on 'Ask Yourself'.

This on point collection is an authentic snapshot of the contemporary underground sound of the Berlin.

Steve Howes (YES) kreative Leidenschaft hat ihn auf eine lebenslange Reise auf Pfaden geführt, die von Jazz, Blues und Klassik bis hin zu Folk, Bluegrass und Rock reichen. Seine produktive Solokarriere entzieht sich einer einfachen Kategorisierung und macht jedes neue Album zu einem Vorstoß in ein neues Genre, das stets seine unverwechselbare Handschrift trägt. Jedes seiner Alben spiegelt die Erkenntnisse wider, die er auf seinem Weg gesammelt hat, und treibt ihn mit Studiotechnik und Virtuosität immer weiter voran. 'Lunar Mist', Steves zweite Zusammenarbeit mit seinem Sohn Virgil, setzt die Reise fort, die von der Liebe und der Energie seiner Frau Jan und ihrer Familie, seiner Leidenschaft für die Gitarre und natürlich von seinem unermüdlichen Drang, Musik zu machen, angetrieben wird. Erhältlich als limitiertes CD-Digipak, 180g Black LP+CD & als Digitales Album.

Divino Niño are no strangers to bold reinvention. When Camilo Medina and Javier Forero_friends whose bond dates back to their childhoods in Bogotá, Colombia_moved to Chicago and recruited guitarist Guillermo Rodriguez to form a band, they were psych-pop outsiders playing live shows with a drum machine. With the addition of drummer Pierce Codina, their 2019 breakthrough and debut LP for Winspear, Foam, solidified their place as local indie rock mainstays. Soon after, multi-instrumentalist Justin Vittori joined to round out their lineup. Once again, with their masterful, unpredictable, and eminently danceable new album, the band has done something radical: They totally upended the way they write songs, eschewing practice room jams for unrelentingly collaborative beats, implied grooves for immersive dance floor heaters, and mellow vibes for frenetic doses of reggaeton, electropop, and trap on their most adventurous and ambitious work to date. Welcome to the Last Spa on Earth. Written and recorded over the past two years, Last Spa on Earth deals in release and catharsis: confronting your darkest moments and coming out better for it. The album artwork, done by Medina, a longstanding visual artist, depicts a dreamy, yet graffiti-tagged spa, void of physical bodies so listeners can envision themselves in this unique environment. It represents the yin and yang approach Divino Niño took while creating the album: the serenity of the spa and the chaos of the party. Ultimately, the band's desire is to provide healing in the same way one feels after sweating, shivering, stretching, and resting at the spa against the backdrop of the world's darkness. Last Spa on Earth is the cathartic product of Divino Niño letting go of their musical preconceptions, past traumas, and future anxieties to embrace change, chaos, and each other's contributions both to these songs and to each other.