Cerca:major north

Brotherhood Of Peace (aka B.O.P.) brought the world some of the best breezy power pop, Southern rock and heavy boogie all packed into one brilliant album in 1976, the fittingly titled Cuttin’ Loose. The album is a free-flowing nine song collection of genre blending would-be hits suited for both ’70s AM gold and FM album rock that never received its proper due, until now. The album flows somewhat similar to the way Big Star combined heavy riffs with airy pop sweetness, but B.O.P. brought more of a blues rock groove to the proceedings, resulting in heavier undercurrents to songs with glowing three-part harmonies and impeccable power trio musicianship. By the mid-’70s, rock ’n’ roll was truly anything goes. Experimentation, excess and inventing new genres was all the rage, and the trio of spritely young men—guitarist / vocalist Dennis Tolbert, bassist / vocalist Mike Arrington and drummer / vocalist Ronnie Smith—gamely tackled whatever sound they pleased. Fortunately, the band captured it all on their lone album, released on the small independent label Avanti Records in March 1976. The Mount Airy, North Carolina trio got its start as teens in 1969 as the backing band to a large 20-50 person traveling church choir called the New Americans. By 1970, the band was ready to move on to performing on their own. First as a sextet, the band soon trimmed down to a three-piece, working the local club circuit like madmen, sometimes playing three shows a day. At the height of their live tightness, B.O.P. recorded the album with local musicians Don Dixon and Robert Kirkland of the band Arrogance who worked at Charlotte recording studio Reflection Sound in October 1975. The band laid out the highlights of their live set in the studio, which ran the range of influences from The Raspberries to Deep Purple, Doobie Brothers to Nazareth, Lynyrd Skynyrd and Grand Funk. The initial pressing of 1000 copies was released in March 1976, but without major label machinery for retail distribution, radio and press, the album never took off. The band mostly sold them at live shows, via consignment at local stores and in limited distribution in the Southeastern region. However, to date, the record still occasionally pops up for sale online worldwide at exorbitant collectors’ prices. Until now, finally getting a proper reissue via Riding Easy Records.

The story of the invention of the term, 'deepfunk' is probably only known among fans and practitioners of this niche-genre. In short, it all started in the 1990s when DJs like Keb Darge, Mark 'Snowboy' Cotgrove and others began spinning obscure and feral Funk 45 RPM singles from local American bands, ostensibly generating another sub-category branch off of the mighty Northern Soul tree. The dance-club phenomenon inevitably spilled over to contemporary groups on the funk scene which immediately tried to record their music the way their idols did. The 'rare groove' and 'acid jazz' movements had run their course and there was a concerted effort to reinstate primitive idiomatic styles and techniques into the music, most notably by 90s funk collective The Poets of Rhythm. As more years passed by the number of bands steadily increased (although in tiny numbers, compared to the mainstream market). Almost every country had a representative with the majority of them coming from the United Kingdom. The deepfunk sound was still a niche, however a very few bands made it onto the mainstream charts, most notably Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings.

At the height of the retro-soul movement a questionable development took place. As more bands arrived on the scene, the production became more and more polished and pop-ish. Some of that squeaky-clean tidiness began to creep into the recordings, encouraged in part by the signature sounds of the digital recording technology available at that time. Some bands even tried to jump onto the possibility of promoting their music as 'deepfunk' although they were actually playing slick, funky pop music. This way some people who thought they were listening to raw, energetic funk actually felt quite ambushed when hit with real deepfunk. In fact, a certain percentage of funk music produced within the past 20 years does not deserve to be described as 'deepfunk' at all. Fortunately there were (and are) some pleasant exceptions which did not just imitate but actually rendered amazing funk music just like some of the finest funk combos of the 1960s and 70s.

One of those creative minds is without a doubt Joel Ricci aka Lucky Brown. Originally from Seattle, Washington, USA, he has enriched the deepfunk community since the mid-2000s with his stellar abilities. He is not only an amazing musician playing multiple instruments, but also a brilliant composer, arranger, and producer too. But for us here at Tramp he is much more, a close friend and remarkable human being. Whenever we were struggling, whether with the label or in private life, Joel and his musical work helped us to overcome everything and to keep going our path.

So here we are in 2023. The songs you are listening to right now are the complete Space Dream collection, split into two parts, representing the two living-room recording sessions from which his 2011 Tramp Records debut was compiled. Each fully remastered album contains unreleased material and comes with brand new, beautifully reimagined artwork by Ricci himself, housed in an authentic 1960s tip-on cover. A first class product from a first class musician for the discerning funk enthusiast.

The story of the invention of the term, 'deepfunk' is probably only known among fans and practitioners of this niche-genre. In short, it all started in the 1990s when DJs like Keb Darge, Mark 'Snowboy' Cotgrove and others began spinning obscure and feral Funk 45 RPM singles from local American bands, ostensibly generating another sub-category branch off of the mighty Northern Soul tree. The dance-club phenomenon inevitably spilled over to contemporary groups on the funk scene which immediately tried to record their music the way their idols did. The 'rare groove' and 'acid jazz' movements had run their course and there was a concerted effort to reinstate primitive idiomatic styles and techniques into the music, most notably by 90s funk collective The Poets of Rhythm. As more years passed by the number of bands steadily increased (although in tiny numbers, compared to the mainstream market). Almost every country had a representative with the majority of them coming from the United Kingdom. The deepfunk sound was still a niche, however a very few bands made it onto the mainstream charts, most notably Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings.

At the height of the retro-soul movement a questionable development took place. As more bands arrived on the scene, the production became more and more polished and pop-ish. Some of that squeaky-clean tidiness began to creep into the recordings, encouraged in part by the signature sounds of the digital recording technology available at that time. Some bands even tried to jump onto the possibility of promoting their music as 'deepfunk' although they were actually playing slick, funky pop music. This way some people who thought they were listening to raw, energetic funk actually felt quite ambushed when hit with real deepfunk. In fact, a certain percentage of funk music produced within the past 20 years does not deserve to be described as 'deepfunk' at all. Fortunately there were (and are) some pleasant exceptions which did not just imitate but actually rendered amazing funk music just like some of the finest funk combos of the 1960s and 70s.

One of those creative minds is without a doubt Joel Ricci aka Lucky Brown. Originally from Seattle, Washington, USA, he has enriched the deepfunk community since the mid-2000s with his stellar abilities. He is not only an amazing musician playing multiple instruments, but also a brilliant composer, arranger, and producer too. But for us here at Tramp he is much more, a close friend and remarkable human being. Whenever we were struggling, whether with the label or in private life, Joel and his musical work helped us to overcome everything and to keep going our path.

So here we are in 2023. The songs you are listening to right now are the complete Space Dream collection, split into two parts, representing the two living-room recording sessions from which his 2011 Tramp Records debut was compiled. Each fully remastered album contains unreleased material and comes with brand new, beautifully reimagined artwork by Ricci himself, housed in an authentic 1960s tip-on cover. A first class product from a first class musician for the discerning funk enthusiast.

A group of five talented musicians from the northeast, led by the songwriting genius of Alan Hull. Lindisfarne were formed in 1968 when Hull joined Simon Cowe on guitar, Ray Jackson on mandolin and vocals, Rod Clements on bass and Ray Laidlaw on drums. Building a fearsome live reputation, by 1970 they had been signed to Tony Stratton Smith's Charisma label.
Their first album, Nicely Out Of Tune, contained Lady Eleanor and set up an eager audience for Fog On The Tyne, an album of tremendous light and shade. Known for the Rod Clements- written, Ray Jackson- sung Meet Me On The Corner, and Alan Hull's anthemic title track. The album succeeds in creating a mythical, twilight northeast, from the cover design inwards; of city lights, ragmen, sausage rolls, tattered tweeds and having a "wet on the wall." Fog On The Tyne is the sound of a band at both a commercial and creative peak. The musicianship is second to none, watertight, yet relaxed and freewheeling, recorded at London's Trident Studios by Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen producer Bob Johnston and Bowie engineer Ken Scott.

Before there was Saturday Night Fever there was underground disco. DJs across America went out and found the music to play; dancers went out and found the clubs. At this point, in the early seventies, the disco was the venue and not a genre of music.

By the time Nik Cohn’s short story Tribal Rites of the New Saturday Night was published by New York magazine in June 1976, disco was the biggest genre of music on the charts and was about to get bigger still, becoming an all-enveloping cultural phenomenon. Cohn sold the film rights to Robert Stigwood, and his classic club yarn became Saturday Night Fever.

“Tribal Rites Of The New Saturday Night” is the soundtrack to Cohn’s story, where disco began; a 1975 score for the underground clubs of Brooklyn and Queens that played R&B, soul and Latin beats to people who lived for the weekend.

Bob Stanley has put this collection together, sourcing what was actually played in Brooklyn discos in 1974 and 1975. Only a few specific records were mentioned in Cohn’s feature, but two of them – Ben E King’s ‘Supernatural Thing Part 1’ and Harold Melvin’s ‘Wake Up Everybody’ - were cosmically great and both are included here, alongside underground favourites like Moment Of Truth’s Four Tops-like ‘Helplessly’ and Gloria Scott’s Barry White-produced modern soul classic ‘Just As Long As We’re Together’. Ivano Fossati’s incredible ‘Night Of The Wolf’ has fans in northern soul, disco and prog circles.

Without Cohn’s original story, it’s quite possible that disco would have remained an underground phenomenon – “Tribal Rites Of The New Saturday Night” paints a scene in full flower. Saturday Night Fever would eventually, if unintentionally, wreck the underground nature of this scene, and clubs like Studio 54 would destroy the democracy of the party, but for two or three years the scene was largely undocumented and magical. This album is the sound of disco before it was captured.

The legendary 1964 rehearsal collaboration receives its first official issue Restoration and Mastering by Grammy®-winning engineer Michael Graves Packaging contains rare photos plus liner notes from Jorma Kaukonen Jorma Kaukonen (later of Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna) met a singer named Janis Joplin at a hootenanny in San Jose, California, in the fall of 1962. Over the following years, Janis would call on Jorma to accompany her at gigs. As they continued to play together, the Bay Area was changing musically and developing into the legendary San Francisco scene to which both Janis and Jorma would be integral. During a rehearsal for a show in North Beach, Jorma started his reel-to-reel machine to capture what they were working on. For decades, this recording was the stuff of legend, with inferior, multi-generational transfers making their way through select collector’s circles. Now, for the very first time, it is available officially, with the blessing and cooperation of both the Janis Joplin Estate and Jorma Kaukonen. The Legendary Typewriter Tape: 6/25/64 Jorma’s House contains this legendary recording, featuring Restoration and Mastering from acclaimed, Grammy®-winner Michael Graves. The tracks include Joplin on vocals, Kaukonen on guitar, and Jorma’s wife Margareta typing away intermittently in the background. This may have just been a rehearsal, but it is so much more. Featuring Joplin originals, as well as blues classics, The Legendary Typewriter Tape is an intimate glimpse into two major artists at the beginnings of what would become highly influential careers. As Jorma says in his liner notes: “This is indeed a window into a simpler time when the music truly was everything.” Available on CD and Digital December 2, 2022, the release will also be available on vinyl exclusively for Record Store Day Black Friday, November 25, 2022 Enjoy being a fly on the wall and revel in the magic of The Legendary Typewriter Tape.

Critically acclaimed folk duo The Milk Carton Kids are back with I Only See The Moon. Produced by Kenneth Pattengale, this full-length album features a collection of timeless and traditionalist tracks with hauntingly lovely and rich vocal melodies and lyrical content spanning the themes of time, nostalgia, heartbreak, sadness, love, nature, grief, loss, freedom, solitude, and relationships. Founded in 2011, The Milk Carton Kids swiftly emerged as a major force in the American folk tradition, blending ethereal harmonies and intricate musicianship with a uniquely powerful brand of contemporary songcraft. 2013’s ANTI- debut The Ash & Clay proved their national breakthrough, earning The Milk Carton Kids their first Grammy Award nomination for Best Folk Album. A second Grammy nomination for Best American Roots Performance followed in 2015 for the track “The City of Our Lady” from band’s acclaimed third studio album, Monterey, and 2018’s All The Things That I Did And All The Things That I Didn’t Do was nominated for Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical. The band’s most recent album, 2019’s The Only Ones (out now via Far Cry Records in partnership with Thirty Tigers), was the subject of extensive praise, with Rolling Stone proclaiming that “Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan get back to the beautiful basics with The Only Ones,” while NPR’s “World Café” noted that “even though Joey and Kenneth are not related, their voices together create a sibling-like harmony...the duo has a strong sense of respect and reverence for the musical traditions that they've grown from.”

Murmer is the long-standing project for Estonian field recordist and composer Patrick McGinley, and in Tether, The Helen Scarsdale Agency welcomes Murmer back to our roster, over a decade since he graced us with his last production for the Agency. His field recordings often center upon the amplification and activation of resonance from a particular space, landscape, or object. Such sounds emerge from a condition as begin fleeting, inconsequential, or ephemeral and explode into that which alien, sublime, and profound. Here lies the tremendous prowess of the contact microphone, as wielded by an accomplished musician! The source material cited by McGinley includes cables, fences, wires, and vents.

There is a heft to many of these sounds as heard throughout all of "Taevast" with deep throbbing pulsations from arctic wind generating subharmonic patterns upon thick high-tension wires. Elsewhere the subtle dissonance from a rasping cooling fan blooms into a brooding ambience that is sublimely rich in its metallic timbres and complex reverberations. McGingley has long been an exemplary artist in the field of phonography even as he is less prolific than others. On Tether, he has produced a majestic if occasionally foreboding work on par with the mythic wire recordings of Alan Lamb, Jacob Kirkegaard's haunted resonance from Chernobyl, and much of the Touch catalogue for that matter!

Patrick McGingley on Tether:

In 2006, I made a collection of recordings at a mobile phone mast in Mooste, southeast Estonia. It is a guyed tower, 80 meters tall, affixed to 3 support points with heavy cables. I attached my self-made contact microphones to these cables with poster tack, and spent many hours over several weeks recording the various wind and weather variances (it was summer), and the birds that passed or settled on the tower or cables. This was one of my first visits to estonia, where i now live, and one of the things that marked me about that experience was the access: the tower had no fences or protections around it (I have not been back there recently to answer my own question of whether or not this is still the case); it stands in the middle of a field of tall grass along a dirt road in the countryside, just out of view of the few nearby houses, and during all the hours I spent there I was never disturbed or shooed away.

For more than 16 years, I have been thinking about this location and these recordings, and have made several attempts to work with them. I have used the sounds in installations a handful of times, and uploaded one short edit to the Aporee soundmaps, but have never managed to use them in any composed work. They always seemed too big for any structure I could provide them, whether I left them on their own, or partnered them with other sounds. Finally, in 2019, after putting them down and picking them up again repeatedly over so many years, they seemed to allow me in, although it took me another few years before they were happy with what I could offer. They stand now not quite alone - the majority of the layered sounds in the piece come from various edits of those cable recordings, but I added two other contrasting sounds, related to one another: one is snowflakes landing delicately on a plastic cakebox with microphones inside it, and the other is a frosted field of grass thawing on a lightly warming autumn morning (both these recordings can also be heard on their own on the Aporee maps).

Coming back to those cables brought to mind so many other wind-driven sounds that I had spent time with and recorded, but never returned to, that I began digging through my archives looking for them. I ended up with a pool of sounds from resonant wires, cables, fences, poles, fans, and vents, which became the basis for the 2nd work on this release. One of these sounds is among the first sounds I ever recorded, possibly within a month or so of buying my first microphone and minidisc recorder: the rhythmic fan of a beer cooler in a pub where I worked in North London in 1999. Other sounds in the piece include another phone tower, recorded on the northern coast of France in 2008, a telephone pole recorded in the Beaujolais region in 2010, the drone of ventilator fans at a factory in Tezno, Slovenia in 2012, an electric sheep fence in the Scottish borders in 2013, a hanging wire in a storage space in Rovaniemi, Finland in 2016, and, with no relation to cables or wind at all, calcium deposits being cleaned from the inside of an electric kettle here in Estonia in 2019.

I offer these two new pieces as my first solo publication since 2018, the first release on a physical medium since 2016. No one has ever accused me of working too fast, or being too prolific. I have a need, it seems, to leave a physical space of time around my work, before I can consider it 'finished'. Perhaps it is a simple need to forget how I did something, or that I did something; perhaps I have a need to be able to hear a work as a first-time listener would, before I can consider it ready for such an encounter. In some part of my mind I have to forget it before I can let it go. Well, I've just about forgotten that London beer cooler now, and that walk in the Beaujolais (with my father, who has since passed away), and that sheep fence next to our campsite in the borders, and that kettle that is now leaky. So I guess it's time.

Ace Records is proud to announce the purchase of the Shrine label and Eddie Singleton’s independent productions.
To celebrate we have compiled an album of the very best dance recordings the label made in 1965 and 1966, primarily in Washington DC.

The business’s failure made this music incredibly hard to find for record collectors and Shrine is rightly known as the rarest soul label.

It is much more than that though. The music was made by some one of the original founders of Motown, Raynoma Liles Gordy and her Motown-schooled cousin Mike Ossman, New York music business luminaries Eddie Singleton and Harry Bass and the up-and-coming talents of Washington’s Keni St Lewis and Maxx Kidd. The acts included the hugely respected Ray Pollard and fellow New Yorker J.D. Bryant, talented and established Washington and Baltimore acts Eddie Daye & The 4 Bars, Bobby Reed and the Enjoyables. Importantly, they discovered and developed the local talent of the area in the shape of the Cautions, Les Chansonettes, the Prophets and Shirley Edwards.

It took decades for UK Northern Soul fans to realise the significance of the label. It finally clicked for Stafford’s Top Of The World all-nighter DJs who searched out the incredibly hard to find later releases and played them to the cult-following of the rare soul scene. The scarcity was caused by Shrine pressing up a batch of fourteen future singles but only getting a handful released before they folded. The vast majority of the later releases were destroyed in a warehouse fire or simply binned as stillborn commercial failures.

Such was the scarcity that when the first Shrine compilations were issued in 1990, the Prophets tracks from Eddie Singleton’s master tapes were assumed to be unreleased - until Shrine sleuth Andy Rix later obtained one from a group member.

Critically-acclaimed, criminally-overachieving Glasgow-based singer and guitarist Alasdair Roberts is known as a superlative original songwriter as well as an interpreter of traditional songs from Scotland and beyond. For the past twenty years, his recordings have alternated between these two complimentary poles, with "pop" records such as The Amber Gatherers and A Wonder Working Stone nestling in his expansive back catalogue alongside "folk" albums such as No Earthly Man and What News (with Amble Skuse and David McGuinness). Additionally, all of these records possess a further dimension, derived from their collation of songs together into one album-length statement. This is part of Alasdair"s great achievement in his career - for him, this thing of music and song hasn"t come the eons it"s travelled to simply entertain. These impulses fully present and well honed, Alasdair returns to his roots with Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall, his fifth full-length collection of traditional song. Recorded live in the studio, it is an entirely solo collection of twelve traditional ballads and songs sparsely arranged for acoustic guitar, piano and voice. The majority of the songs originate in Alasdair"s homeland of Scotland, with a couple from Ireland and one from Prince Edward Island on Canada"s eastern seaboard too. The record takes its title from a line in the final verse of one of its songs, "The Baron o" Brackley" - a ballad of feuding clans and matrimonial betrayal from the north-east of Scotland. Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall: it"s a title which goes some way towards encapsulating many of the record"s themes. Collectively the songs treat of various conflicts and tensions - those of gender; of class, status and position; and of geography and tribal belonging - and the roles and responsibilities expected at the various intersections of these constructs. That we should never forget! As with many of Alasdair"s recordings, Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall contains ballads aplenty: tragic ("Bob Norris"), supernatural ("The Holland Handkerchief") and dramatic ("Eppie Morrie"). There are love songs ("The Lichtbob"s Lassie") and anti-love songs ("Kilbogie"). There are rare, seldom-heard pieces ("Young Airly") and much more well-known ones ("Mary Mild," a version of "The Queen"s Four Maries"). Woven through all of this - a thread of levity, perhaps - is a triptych of zoological allegories - a panegyric to a mystical steed ("The Wonderful Grey Horse"), a lament for a lost cow ("Drimindown") and a paean to a regal waterbird ("The Bonny Moorhen"), which serves to highlight the intersection of the mythic, the eternal and the mundane at which we all find ourselves in every day of our life on Earth. Grief In the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall was masterfully recorded by Sam Smith at Green Door Studios, Glasgow over an economical two days, and mixed in one day. Its brevity on all levels is an aspect of its expression. Alasdair"s renowned acoustic fingerstyle guitar is understated yet questing, ever in service to the needs of the song, underpinning his soulful tenor voice. Three songs eschew his habitual acoustic guitar in favour of simple piano arrangements. The spare setting and Alasdair"s deeply committed performance gently reminds of the meanings and melodies of these old songs, chosen instinctively and with care, for all to hear and sing in 2023, and the world beyond that is ever coming.

Oliver Cherer is back with a new Gilroy Mere record which follows on from his other much lauded Clay Pipe releases (The Green Line, Adlestrop and last year’s D Rothon collaboration, Estuary English).

Over the last two decades Ollie has released numerous collections of music in an ever shifting array of modes, from folktronic, singer-songwriter styles through psychogeographic electronica to jazz-tinged, confessional ghost-pop and most recently, the “guitar tainted machine rock disco” of Aircooled.

Gilden Gate is an album of two halves. Side 1 ‘Rising’ celebrates the sun-drenched beaches, pastures and heaths of rural Suffolk, whereas Side 2 ‘Falling’ explores the underwater world of the lost city of Dunwich and its five church spires.

Oliver says:-

“A few years ago I discovered the lost city of Dunwich. I’d made a trip to Suffolk to shoot a short film about Sizewell Nuclear Power Stations and stayed in the old Coastguard’s Cottage on Dunwich Beach within sight of Minsmere Nature Reserve and the power plants. It’s a wild, sleepy place of pines and heath and North Sea winds and a strangely mysterious air – Sutton Hoo is nearby and Eno’s reference to the very beach that I was staying on made perfect sense. In the small museum at Dunwich I learned that this tiny hamlet had once been a major medieval city of international trade. It seemed unlikely and even now, knowing Dunwich as a small village, I find putting what I know about the place into perspective as a city a certain kind of impossible.

It seems that over a period under the influence of the weather, natural erosion and market rivalry the thriving harbour port was inundated by the North Sea and eventually slipped into and under it. The city of churches was lost and all the spires engulfed and toppled. What remains are the few houses, and the ruin of Greyfriars crumbling inexorably down the cliff and exposing the bones of buried monks as the graveyard follows the building’s stones into the sea.

There are local legends surrounding the site including stories of fishermen hearing the bells of lost churches and seeing the ghostly, lighted city beneath their boats as they return to the shore.
Gilden Gate is named for one of the entrances to the old city and is a musical meditation on Dunwich past and present. Frances Castle’s beautiful sleeve art depicts the surface and the sub-marine, the warm and the cold, the past and the present. The glass rises and the glass falls and in the background there are sirens, fog horns, church bells and Eno, and on the sea bed there are the scattered remains of a once great city.”

Gilden Gate is named for one of the entrances to the old city and is a musical meditation on Dunwich past and present. Frances Castle’s beautiful sleeve art depicts the surface and the sub-marine, the warm and the cold, the past and the present. The glass rises and the glass falls and in the background there are sirens, fog horns, church bells and Eno, and on the sea bed there are the scattered remains of a once great city.”

NYC's Disco powerhouse West End Records should need no intro. The home of too-numerous-to-list club classics for over 30+ years is still impacting today on what we know to be club culture. The label started by one Mel Cheren (RIP) with assistance from Larry Levan and more way back in 1976 is still held in such high regard today with it's catalogue constantly being played, rediscovered, reinterpreted and loved by waves and waves of new fans and admirers. One such admirer is one of the UK's longest serving DJ's and editors, a truly legendary Northern selector who's unique reel to reel DJ sets and reworks has gained him fans worldwide and continues to do so. Ladies and gentlemen, we give you Greg Wilson's West End versions, 4 tracks of unparalleled funk touched by the man himself who has also kindly supplied some choice words about this special release:

"West End has a particular place in my heart. Along with Prelude, it was my main go-to label during the early '80s, an underground New York powerhouse issuing a relentless run of now classic and cult-classic club cuts during the time I was DJing at Legend in Manchester. For me personally, the label is forever connected with this then futuristic venue, West End's progressive approach to dance music, incorporating electronic elements to play a key role in ushering in the Electro-Funk era, finding its perfect environment at Legend, with tracks by Stone, and especially the Peech Boys' hugely influential 'Don't Make Me Wait', providing major stepping stones. This is a project that holds a deeper resonance for me, given my personal relationship with the label, and I'm so happy to contribute the series; the 4 favourites tracks I selected for this release illustrating West End's best qualities - serious grooves and soulful vocals.

The edit of 'You Can't Take Your Cake And Eat It Too' by B.T. (Brenda Taylor) was originally featured on my first Credit To The Edit compilation, back in 2005, whilst Raw Silk's 'Do It To The Music' was also edited around the same period, but has never been made available until now. 'Keep On Dubbin'' by Forrrce, although not as big as the other inclusions at the time, was an ahead of its time hybrid, mixed by Francois Kevorkian, whose dub awakening had taken place the previous year, and Shirley Lites 'Heat You Up (Melt You Down)', which draws from the instrumental 'Melt Down Mix', the version of choice at Legend, where dub and instrumental mixes often trumped the main vocal versions"

A truly golden era of dance music history, all killer - no filler! All tracks featured re-edited by Greg Wilson and re-mastered, re-pressed and re-released with the permission of and in conjunction with West End Records, New York City / BMG. '

Repress!

Just over a year after his last solo project on The North Quarter, FD returns to the label with ‘Pleasure Rooms’. For this four-track EP, the London-born producer once again shows off his bass line dexterity, along with his trademark grooved percussion and mood-building samples. Heavier, grime-reminiscent tracks ‘Shawn Kemp’ and ‘Mama Told Me’ featuring Bristol MC Hella are combined with a more melody-driven, colourful sound present on ‘Double Drizzle’ and ‘Sails’. Following the major success of his minimal, experimental project LIN000 with Satl, this EP further shows the wide-ranging progress FD has been making in recent years.

Named after the Tottenham venue where FD went to his first rave, ‘Pleasure Rooms’ pays homage to the place that spawned his love for Drum & Bass. FD: 
“Pleasure Rooms was an old rave venue in Tottenham. My main memory is seeing Brockie & Det in a small room, sweat dripping off the ceiling and columns with mirrors on, totally fogged up. And going fucking mental. Being totally immersed in the music and the vibe, super excited and just hyped.

My Pleasure Rooms EP was made with thoughts of these kind of raves and parties in mind as this is a vibe and sound I've been enjoying quite a lot again recently - and it was such an important time for my love of Drum & Bass.

“Avada Kedavra Deluxe,” by Seattle rapper AJ Suede, is a 21-track, self-produced, self-referencing, double-vinyl labyrinth of experimental boom-bap. Building on a signature style that SPIN magazine describes as “stream-of-consciousness rhymes, containing everything from socio-political commentary and blunted cinematic allusions to psychedelic visions,” Suede’s creation is as compelling as it is unclassifiable. On the first LP, Suede demonstrates his substantial skills as a beatmaker and rapper, chopping up what Seattle’s KEXP calls “the smoothest, jazziest, weirdest samples” and overlaying parkour bars about Grunge, success, and social justice. From the first cut, “Nebuchadnezzar,” which New York’s Major Stage describes as a “powerful chant-like hypnotic loop,” these 10 tracks capture an elusive mood of too many hours inside watching YouTube and trying to piece together fractured connections. The album’s title is derived from an Aramaic spell: “Let this thing be destroyed.” On the second LP, Suede invites 13 guests to “destroy” the original songs. This disc of remixes and reworkings showcases underground voices from across the Northwest (Seattle’s Wolftone, Khrist Koopa, Portland’s Fines Double), from across America (New Jersey’s Fatboi Sharif, California’s mudwater, Ohio’s Lord Olo, New York’s Bloodblixing), and around the world (Tel Aviv’s Argov and Japan’s Wazasnics). Seattle rappers Astral Trap, Blake Anthony, Mika’il, and Greg Cypher are featured on a bonus “posse” cut. AJ Suede has been grinding for years in the underground, building a solid, devoted global fanbase. He’s released acclaimed cassettes and CDs through respected labels such as Fake Four Inc., Candy Drips, Chong Wizard, and Blackhouse. In May 2022, a 100-copy vinyl run of his album “Metatron’s Cube” sold out in less than four hours. With “Avada Kedavra Deluxe,” AJ Suede has tapped into the moment, using what Deeply Rooted Hip-Hop calls “a subconscious steeped in the mystical.” As KEXP says: “Quite predictably, the whole album bangs.”

Featuring what may be his only recordings on the Prophet keyboard,
these once lost performances expand the omniverse of Ra across a
stellar set of lengthy cuts! All recorded in a single day and finally making
their terrestrial debut, pressed on colored vinyl and packaged with a
Prophet keyboard brochure plus notes from Ranthropologist Brother
Cleve!What happens when a Prophet meets a Prophet? The answer lies
within these grooves
Amongst the hundreds of recordings issued by Sun Ra and his Arkestra, under
their various guises, the majority were recorded in concert or in makeshift studios
such as their early 1960s set- up at NYC's Choreographer's Workshop. Beyond
those, roughly 22 albums were recorded at Variety Recording Studio in New
York's Times Square. However, on August 25, 1986, Sun Ra and cohorts entered
Mission Control, a state- of- the- art 24- track studio north of Boston, which was
teeming with electronic keyboards and otherworldly sound generators. Nestled
within that arsenal was a brand- new digital ultra keyboard — the Prophet VS
("Vector Synthesizer").Of all the keyboards Ra played throughout his half-century
career, the Prophet was one of the most sophisticated. There's no evidence that
he had played either of the instrument's earlier incarnations, the Sequential
Circuits Prophet-5 and Prophet-10. Created using microprocessors, a then- new
technological advance, under the auspices of engineer Dave Smith in 1978, the
Prophet-5 revolutionized electronic music as the first polyphonic and, most
importantly, programmable synthesizer.Ra was intrigued by the Prophet (surely by
the instrument as well as by the name). Recorded during a single day, it's about
time that these once lost performances have now been found.It was a joy and a
thrill to be sitting at the console hearing this music for the first time, especially
with my fingers on the faders and knobs of the mixing desk. We watched the
oxide fly off the 2" tapes during playback, making this our one chance to digitize
before they metamorphosed into dust. Welcome to the new Sun Ra album….35+
years after it was recorded. The Omniverse has expanded once again.— Brother
Cleve (1955 - 2022)

The Vee-Gees (previously known as the Versatile Gents) were from Greensboro, N.C. The versalite Gents started the Group in 1967 originally as "the African Americans" performed at a talent show at Gillespie Park School, Geensboro, North Carolina. Soon After Virginia Massey a Senior Music Major at A&T joined the group and the name was changed to Gin And The Gents. After one year Massey left the Band and their name was changed to The Versatile Gents. They reformed and called themselves the Vee Gees in the early 70’s. The Members are Robert Evans (Vince Evans of the NFL's brother), Nathaniel Herring, Anthony Quick, CC Stewart, Cecil Young.In their band. Carlton Morales that wrote "Vallotte" and played with Julian Lennon on guitar. Kevan Tynes on drums. Walter Carlton on bass. They recored a beautiful sweet soul side call It’s hard to say so long on Jump in 1973. They came back to the studio in 1974 and cut the incredible Talkin on Jump off records. Vee Gees Talkin is the ultimate crossover tune, Spun by some of the best deejays in the world in the last 3 decades including Arthur Fenn, Keith Money, Andy Burns, Buey, Andy Dawes, Alexander Dimitriades Bentley, Jens Chreisti, Steven Clancy and many others. We’re sure you will be singing all day “Hey brother, brother, just had a talk with the man yesterday.. what did he saaaaaay? “

Gondwana Records announces Horizons the debut album from Jasmine Myra, produced by Matthew Halsall, it's an elevating debut record of understated beauty

Jasmine Myra is a Leeds-based saxophonist, composer and band leader Her original instrumental music has a euphoric and uplifting sound, influenced by artists as diverse as Kenny Wheeler, Bonobo and Olafur Arnalds and like Mammal Hands and Hania Rani her music has a special, emotive quality that draws the listener into her world. Matthew Halsall first heard Myra's music in 2019 shortly before the pandemic hit, signing her to Gondwana Records and producing her beautiful debut album, Horizons.

"I was immediately drawn to Jasmine's music. I could hear jazz, electronica in her music but with a deep, honest, emotional quality. I was really impressed with her skills as a composer and bandleader, that she is open and intelligent enough to bring all those influences together, to make something fresh and original. We were also delighted to work with a young artist from the North of England. London is often seen as the place to be, but cities like Manchester and Leeds are full of creative musicians too, and that sense of local community is at the heart of our values as a label."

Myra came-up through the bustling, creative Leeds music scene and her music draws on the sense of community that permeates life in the city and which is notable for a strong DIY ethos in its musical community. She attended Leeds Conservatoire and played with the Leeds based Abstract Orchestra, a jazz big-band, led by tutor Rob Mitchell that explores the synergy between jazz and hip-hop found in the recordings of Madlib, MF Doom of J Dilla. Indeed, Myra cites MF Doom and Soweto Kinch as early influences on her own music. It was in her last year at the conservatoire that Myra started to consider leading her own group and started to really think about what her own music might sound like and her first band featured guitarist Ben Haskins and drummer George Hall who both feature on Horizons and her band draws heavily on the Leeds community featuring rising stars such as pianist Jasper Green and harpist Alice Roberts.

Myra also mentions local legend, Dave Walker, who owns an instrument repair shop called 'All Brass and Woodwind' which is right next to the music college. She worked there while studying and he introduced her to a lot of local musicians. Walker also has his own line of saxophones (played by Shabaka Hutchins, Pete Wareham and Nubya Garcia), and gifted Myra the saxophone she plays on Horizons. It was Walker who encouraged Myra to apply for Jazz North Introduces, a scheme that supports emerging jazz artists in the North of England and Myra credits her winning a place, in 2018,with helping her grow in confidence.

" It gave me the opportunity to start gigging outside of Leeds, which I was very keen to do. I was quite surprised by people's reaction to the project and the support I was being shown, which helped me gain a lot of confidence. It became clear to me very quickly that being a solo artist was what I wanted to do and it was also apparent to me that mine was one of the only female-led instrumental bands on the Leeds scene, which encouraged me even more, as I wanted my project to inspire younger female musicians".

Horizons was produced by Matthew Halsall and mixed by Portico Quartet collaborator Greg Freeman, and much of the music was written during lockdown. It was a hard time for a lot of people, and initially Myra struggled mentally, deprived of shows and the connections of making music with her band and friends, but she also realised what she wanted as an artist and the result is heard on Horizons.

"I realised that my aim was to start writing music that made people feel happy and uplifted. Writing is one of my biggest passions, but I also love performing. Playing live and seeing the audience connect with my music and have a positive experience brings me so much joy".

This sense of elevation is at the heart of Horizons, together with the feeling of a journey, of reaching new ground. Prologue and Horizons were originally composed as one piece as they encapsulate Myra's own personal development as she worked on the album - taking the listener on a journey, especially Prologue; and then Horizons is that moment of release when you've reached the end goal. 1000 Miles takes inspiration from the music of Shabaka and the Ancestors. Whereas Words Left Unspoken was written after Myra's grandmother unexpectedly passed away in June, and due to Covid restrictions she was unable to visit her before she passed and say how much she loved her. Morningtide is a nod to Kenny Wheeler, particularly the track Opening from Sweet Time Suite on Music for Large and Small Ensembles but Myra also puts her own spin on it as she also does with Promise, another track influenced by Wheeler. Awakening has a calm and euphoric quality and represents that sense of problems lifting, or of reaching the other side, and New Beginnings finishes the album with a positive vibe and a sense of moving forward from darkness

This then is Horizons. A soulful, emotional and up-lifting debut from a major new voice. A snapshot of a young artist at the beginning of her journey - drawing on jazz and electronica influences to create something fresh and new. But also a celebration of her home town Leeds, and a record built on a sense of support and community before looking out to wider Horizons.

Jamie Cullum on BBC Radio 2 "...That's Jasmine Myra and 'New Beginnings', wonderful to hear new music from a new artists i've not heard before, a great new artist!"

Tom Ravenscroft on BBC 6 Music "Leeds-based saxophonist, composer and band leader Jasmine Myra. 'New Beginnings' on Gondwana Records. Compositions drawing influence by Kenny Wheeler, Bonobo, Ólafur Arnalds. Produced by Matthew Halsall"

Formed in 2005 in Sundsvall, Sweden, Technical Metal Masters SOREPTION are known for their razor-sharp technical riffs, schizophrenic time signatures topped with catchy chugging grooves and intense vocals. From this they have created their signature sound, not yet replicated by any other modern band, with a strong following to back. The band’s debut full-length Deterioration Of Minds brought major attention to the band as a formidable force in the genre. Deterioration Of Minds was released by Ninetone Records in 2010 and was rereleased by Unique Leader Records in 2014, and their follow-up punishing album “Engineering the Void” was released February 2014 also on Unique Leader Records to critical acclaim. 2015 saw SOREPTION take their technical prowess to the masses, with tours supporting extreme metal machine Cryptopsy, tech-death masters Origin, and the legendary death metal giant Cannibal Corpse. Following the on-road success, the industry and fans sat up and took notice, resulting in the band signing with Sumerian Records in 2018 releasing their next full-length “Monument of the End in the late summer of that same year. The album highlighted the growth of the outfit and continued razor-sharp precision that SOREPTION has become known for. Prior to the release of “Monument of the End” the band earned a spot on the 2018 edition of The Summer Slaughter Tour and followed it up with a support slot for Revocation on “The Outer Ones Global Invasion Part II” European Tour, solidifying them again as a live force to be reckoned with. When the world was shuttered from a worldwide pandemic, SOREPTION saw this as an opportunity to shift gears, refocus their tech machine and set out to create an album that is the natural continuation of ‘Monument of the End’, both musically and concept-wise. 2022 sees the return of SOREPTION to Unique Leader Records with the highly anticipated new album “Jord”, mixed and mastered by Buster Odeholm and featuring artwork by Caelan Stokkerman who handled artistic duties on their previous releases.

'Marasma Vussa is the Brainchild of Antonio Feola a long standing figure on the London music scene, Antonio has been running the Fish Factory Studio in Willesden, North London for over two decades now. Throughout the years, he has had a major role in helping many of the current lead players of the London scene have a place to record and define their sound.

Antonio's project Masmara has existed for over 30 years and here has found its place on record. Recorded on tape over time with some of the most sought after players in London and edited during the lockdown period, Vussa is an album of mind-bending deep, cosmic mediative jazz experiments. Boasting catchy melodies and heavy, heavy jazz breaks!'

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.