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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Growing Bin say sayonara to summer with these bittersweet Balearic gems from Japan’s Nuback. Emotional pop and daydream dub to make you feel younger than yesterday. While the Discogs hipsters hastily hunt down the last, lost street soul OGs, Growing Bin choose instead to indulge in a little Nuback swing. Enlisting the talents of Tokyo’s Dai Nakamura, Hamburg’s home for sensitive sounds provide a much needed vinyl release for the misty-eyed ‘When The Party Is Over’ and ‘Heartbeat Summer’. Largely operating through his own Too Young Records, Nuback trades in textured soul, sympathetic synthesis and forlorn funk - a master at making you move while breaking your heart. Back in 2013, he waved ‘Goodbye To Summer, Again’, giving a digital release to these two tracks, which lurked a little low for the radar until Dai and Basso met somewhere beyond the algorithm, soon bringing this release to bloom. Opening with a fanfare of featherlight pads and full bodied bass, ‘When The Party Is Over’ is pure sonic seduction, holding both Balearic boogie and City Pop in a tender embrace. Delicate guitar and sparkling sequences tug the heartstrings with nostalgic beauty, and Dai’s smooth vocals are made to make you swoon. Emotional pop at its finest folks. On the B-side, ‘Heartbeat Summer’ drops the tempo and soaks up the sun, losing its cares in a haze of loved up dub. As soulful keys sink into spring reverb and steam kettle synths ride a rolling bassline, this downbeat delight lays back in the long grass, making shapes from the clouds and sipping a cool koshu. For summer lovers everywhere; A facemask ruins a first kiss, so start your romance right with Nuback.

It’s taken a long time for me to feel good about myself,” says Andreya Triana of the journey to her third album. “As a musician, as a woman, it’s difficult getting to that space. It’s really wonderful where you reach that time of having more good days than bad.” That sense of celebration is what drives ‘Life In Colour’, Andreya’s most confident, instinctive and heartfelt work to date; a record that celebrates love, freedom, independence and womanhood. “‘Life In Colour’ is about stepping into my womanhood and being like ‘OK, I know this space. Let me try some s**t. I know it’s going to be hard but I know it’s going to be OK’. I just wanted to put some good energy out there.” The first taster of that sweet release was teased with lead single ‘Woman’ - a soulful pop anthem of self-love, tracking Andreya’s life from awkward teen to mighty queen, from memories of heartache and trauma to triumph. “You know when you’re feeling so uncomfortable in yourself and you just want to be swallowed up into a hole in the ground?,” Andreya recalls of her youth. “This is about moving on from being a victim to a place of strength, to feeling like a superhero. “Anyone who has gone through difficult times like I have, should know that it’s absolutely possible to get to a good place. It doesn’t define who you are or your future. You have to fight like hell every day to move forward but anything is possible. We’re all full of so much goodness. Don’t lose sight of that.” The lyric video is a tribute to Andreya’s mother, grandmother, the strong females of her life and the many sacrifices that women make day-to-day, generation after generation.

The third album 'Life In Colour' by the MOBO nominated British soul/jazz singer Andreya Triana who's collaborated with Bonobo, Flying Lotus been endorsed by the likes of Gilles Peterson & Jamie Cullum.

Over the past two decades, Dez Mona never ceased to surprise audiences. Less than a year after “Lucy”, a 'worldly oratorio' in collaboration with the Antwerp Baroque Orchestration X, singer Gregory Frateur and his companions now knock on the door with the cosmopolitan “Loose Ends”.

On the group's ninth studio album, rugged funk often alternates with bouncing disco pop. 'After the dark ballads from our previous projects, we consciously chose to make a cheerful, straightforward record', says Frateur. 'This time I didn't want to exhaust myself too much in metaphors: the lyrics had to be simple and 'in your face'.

On a compositional level, Gregory Frateur gave the steering wheel this time to guitarist Sjoerd Bruil and accordionist Roel Van Camp. This contributed to Dez Mona stepping out of their comfort zone on Loose Ends and experimenting with a new sound. On the new album, for example, Van Camp plays the piano more often than the accordion. Leaning towards a more electronic sound, some songs gravitate and take you on a fantastical, abstract journey. ’Indeed, sometimes Sjoerd adds strange angles in his compositions', the singer concludes. 'During performances, they force me to put myself aside as a singer and get completely absorbed in the instrumental trip'.

The emphasis is more than ever on the rhythm and groove. Drummer Karel De Backer, the newcomer in the band, gives the music extra punch, while the absence of a bassist is ingeniously compensated by Bruil and Van Camp. 'On Loose Ends we go 'back to basics', admits Gregory Frateur. “But without losing our recognisability.”

Multi-instrumentalist Tijs Delbeke, who was part of Dez Mona for many years, but has moved to Balthazar, was responsible for the production. Frateur prefers to surround himself with people with whom he feels at ease and who carry the DNA of Dez Mona.

Finnish Disco and Electronic Music from Private Pressings and Unreleased Tapes 1980–1991

Hot on the sold-out heels of the three previous Svart-issued early 80’s synth pop and underground electronic music compilations (Satan in Love, Dance For Your Life, Cold War On The Rocks comes the last part of the quadrilogy: Black Hole, that reaches the final frontier of collectable cult synth disco music: privately released and completely unreleased music from 40 years ago. Black Hole has been again compiled by Mikko Mattlar, whose encyclopedic knowledge in the field of Finnish electronic music produces 20 cuts of electro-cult has helped him dig up 20 cuts of rare groove from obscure regional compilation records, seven inches of which only a test pressing exists, demo tapes and privately financed singles. Stylistically the compilation moves from 1979 disco funk as performed by Peak Funktion on their unreleased record to homebrewed synth visions by late 80’s bedroom wizards. Interesting curiosities among the 20 tracks include the riveting dance number by Jarkko Väljä, who received some fame back in the day as a Michael Jackson impersonator, and released one 7” single, that has become an expensive rarity. Another thing you wouldn’t believe existed at all if it wasn’t included here is “Israel Is Real” by We, a short-lived gospel vocal quartet, accompanied here by a drum machine and a synthesizer, which makes for an unforgettable and surprisingly catchy four minute piece of underground gospel disco from 1983. The compilation Black Hole – Finnish Disco and Electronic Music From Private Pressings and Unreleased Tapes 1979-1991 will be released by Svart Records on double vinyl and CD on October 14th.

'Cross the Rolling Water' is the debut collaborative album from Hannah
Reed and Michael Starkey
Acclaimed singer-songwriter and fiddler Hannah Read met banjo player Michael
Starkey at an Appalachian old time session in Edinburgh in late 2019.The
moment they first struck up a tune together there was an immediate meeting of
musical minds and they have since become a formidable and dynamic fiddle and
banjo duo, playing repertoire deep from the old time tradition like Apple Blossom
as well as newly composed tunes and songs Shenandoah by Anais Mitchell.
Hannah is an award winning Scottish musician based in Brooklyn, NY. She moved
Stateside to study American fiddle styles and to immerse herself in the thriving
string music scene. She has toured extensively, performing solo and collaborating
with musicians far and wide including Tony Trischka, Sarah Jarosz and Jefferson
Hamer, as well as being one part of the BBC Folk Award winning Songs of
Separation. Her previous album was the well-received 'Way Out I'll Wander' from
2017.
Michael is a multi-instrumentalist, music teacher and old time banjo enthusiast
living in Scotland. His mission as a musician is to keep things simple - clear
melody lines underpinned by solid, infectious rhythm. Recent collaborations
include with Wayward Jane (Edinburgh- based UK/ US folk and roots music 4-
piece) and 'Faultlines', a collection of Lisa Fannen's poetry set to music.
"Hannah and Michael have arrived at a way of playing old- time music that's
refreshingly dynamic, expressive, and toneful. Every track makes me feel like I'm
sitting right next to them, eyeing my fiddle case, just hoping they'll let me join in" -
Stephanie Coleman, old time fiddler

For Fans Of : The Black Keys, Otis Rush, J.B. Lenoir, The Ramones, Hound Dog Taylor, Christone Kingfish Ingram, Magic Sam. GA-20 clearly is on to something big. It’s a movement, a new traditional blues revival. The dynamic, throwback blues trio are disciples of the place where traditional blues, country and rock ‘n’ roll intersect. “We make records that we would want to listen to,” says guitarist Matt Stubbs. “It’s our take on the song-based traditional electric blues we love.” Stubbs, guitarist / vocalist Pat Faherty, and drummer Tim Carman have been at the forefront of this traditional blues revival since they first formed in 2018. It’s no wonder they skyrocketed to the top of the Billboard Blues Chart. According to Stubbs, “Since we started the band we’ve focused on the story, the melody, and on creating a mood. Playing live as much as we do, we’re finding more and more that people are discovering how cool it all is. Traditional country, soul and funk music have all had these massive recent revivals, but traditional blues so far has not.” With their new Colemine album, Crackdown, and an intensive tour schedule, that’s all about to change. On Crackdown, GA-20’s third full-length release, the band creates an unvarnished, ramshackle blues that is at once traditional and refreshingly modern. Expanding on their previous releases (2019’s Lonely Soul and 2021’s Try It…You Might Like It! GA-20 Does Hound Dog Taylor) GA-20 finds inspiration on the edges of the genre, where early electric blues first converged with country and rock ‘n’ roll. The album’s nine original songs include the loping, Louisiana-flavored Dry Run, the dirty, and bare-bones Easy On The Eyes and the melodic, garage-tinged Fairweather Friend. With tight, propulsive performances and a brevity and punk energy reminiscent of The Ramones, Crackdown is rowdy and fun, filled with instantly memorable, and well-crafted songs. Tracks: 1. Fairweather Friend 2. Dry Run 3. Easy On The Eyes 4. Crackdown 5.Just Because 6. By My Lonesome 7. I Let Someone In 8. Double Gettin' 9. Gone For Good 10. Fairweather Friend (Final Goodbye)

2022 Repress !!

2x12" 180g Vinyl LP w/ Download Card.
The dub master Radikal Guru returns to the trusted Moonshine Recordings to deliver his third album, which highlights his refreshing take on the beloved, dub sound of 2016. A selected few of the cuts involve exciting collaborations that are not to be missed.

Similar to King Yoof's recent album endeavour called 'Homage To The King', Radikal Guru exerts his speciality in various tempo ranges with the 'Dub Mentalist' LP. The result is just as exciting as his existing back catalogue; all mastered to meet the requirements of the true Moonshine vibration.

The polish producer once again shows appreciation to both the dancefloor fans and the more meditating listeners. Fusing his compelling sound in dub, reggae and dubstep with timeless, old school samples makes every release a reminiscing journey. The amount of dread and energy will most definitely spark a riot across the globe.

Radikal Guru executes his mix-up of dub by incorporating a dose of happiness and psychedelics. The effects take over the mixes in wild fashion; delays spin off the tasty spring reverberation tails, delivering a comfortable setting. Radikal's horns, including the trumpet, saxophone and trombone joined the Radikal Guru's live melodica to complement each other in rhythm and sound.

The collaborations featuring Moonshine familiars Jay Spaker, Echo Ranks, Solo Banton, Violinbwoy and Earl 16 bless the righteous sound waves, as the bassweight, immersive vocals and tight arrangements speak for themselves. Whether it is the bass weight, vocal parts or simply the rhythms, you know exactly when Radikal Guru's music is being played on a true sound system.

The contribution of the polish dub genius, to the healing of the nations and to global dub culture trembles, as he immediately reveals why his 'Dub Mentalist' LP forms an important chapter in our history of Moonshine Recordings material.

We are proud to present he latest from Turbo Recordings Executive Honcho Tiga, a massive ode to passive-aggressive income remixed by Héctor Oaks, Der Zyklus, and Decius.
“No one wants to work their body anymore,” says the Montreal merrymaker from atop a throne in the exact shape of a digital wallet. “I get it. Who wants their surplus sweat equity vacuumed up off the dance floor by corporate parasites when the real future’s in decentralized skanking? But that’s why people in my position - the top one-percent in terms of nightlife and hospitality take-home pay - have to offer real benefits to risking it all in the clubs. I’m talking dance-move insurance, competitive drink ticket packages, and - most of all - the kind of brick-and-mortar bangers Rhythm Nation was founded upon back in 1814.”
While gratingly content with the original version, Tiga has nonetheless chosen to flood the Marketplace of Ideas with a plurality (3) of voices he feels will optimally position this release in today’s unforgiving Neo-Centrist landscape. This stunning grassfed vinyl 12” opens with a remix by Berlin-based vinyl-only DJ Héctor Oaks, who has been described as “operating at the absolute vanguard of rave.” Please remember that describing people this way is basically injecting them with Imposter Syndrome.
The release also features a remix by Der Zyklus, an alias of Gerald Donald, the epochal genius from Drexciya, Dopplereffekt, Japanese Telecom, Abstract Thought, Zerkalo, Zwischenwelt, and many other fantastic projects. Finally, Decius closes out the EP with all the British Mischief you might expect from UK luminaries from Trashmouth Records, Fat White Family, and Paranoid London.
"I’ve designed my entire life around the concept of ease,” adds Tiga. "I never wanted to work for a law firm. I wanted to make beats for a law firm. I’ve always been selfemployed, and that why my street cred’s off the street charts. And I’ve let as much of
that freedom trickle down to the audience as I can. Because when it comes to music,
there’s no such thing as an acceptable minimum wage. You gotta know that you gotta
give it all you got or you’re gonna get got.”

Herva started to work on 'Seez' right after the release of his last Planet Mu album 'Hyper Flux' back in 2017. He was experimenting with home-made hardware and after the album release wanted to raise the bar, challenging himself to build a point-to-point mixer from scratch. This task took almost a year of intense soldering and forced him to scrap music production. Eventually all this hard work grew into making studio hardware properly and he co-founded a new company making mixers and compressors that work with Eurorack, called Audio Gear Obsession. On 'Seez' Herva moves away completely from the sample-based music he's most known for and into programming and computational production, which he mixes and compresses with his newly-built hardware tools to give them the life and feeling he requires. There's also an element of randomness in 'Seez' as the music is generative, defined with numbers and ratios from his own software, tuned by ear rather than to set scales, with unexpected outcomes.To make the record, he spent more time digging between the different iterations of each track than coding the programs that generated them. He says "How I make music is kind of weird for most producers, but I like it, and I plan to dig further. You can think of 'Seez' as the alpha version of what I and my system are able to do." The new music still retains Herva's laid back airy feel. Each track is like a small ecosystem of chiming tones, wafting drones and skittering rhythms, hinting at formal patterns and melodies but developing on its own abstract terms. It feels as if it's the audio equivalent of watching sped-up recordings of a camera capturing different combinations of plants growing, a pleasant and curious experience to let yourself enjoy.

Originally released in the UK on 13 May 1996 through Virgin Records, ‘Older’, George Michael’s iconic album, reached the pinnacle of chart success, where it remained for three consecutive weeks, spending 35 weeks in the top 10 overall. The album produced six singles, two of which - ‘Fastlove’ and the haunting ‘Jesus To A Child’ - reached No.1, with the other four peaking in the top three.

The album was a huge global commercial success, going 6x platinum in the UK, as well as verified platinum in another 22 countries – an achievement which is unparalleled to this day.

‘Older’ was George’s third album as a solo artist and would see him experimenting with new musical styles and expanding his artistic horizons. Hailed by critics as a triumph, it told the story of an extraordinary period in the life of the man who wrote, recorded and produced it, as he journeyed through one of the most turbulent periods of his professional and personal life. George channeled all his painful life experiences into one of the most personal, heart-felt albums he had ever written.

Stripped back electro, tooled to make your body move in dark rooms. Rubbery synth lines duck and weave with metallic percussion, as the machines spin stories of deep space and distant aquatic worlds.

Four tracks made with the knowledge and instincts of a turntable veteran combining an 'always in the record bag' usefulness with a solid individual identity.

An additional remix by Human Rebellion mutates the already fierce sea snakes into a radioactive monster from the deep.

“If you can’t say it, you don’t have to,” sings John Fullbright on “Bearden 1645,” the opening track to his new record “The Liar,” out September 30, 2022. The song details Fullbright finding refuge in playing the piano, starting as a child and still today. For fans, it may feel like a bit of a rebuttal to “Happy,” the opener from 2014’s “Songs,” one of several in his repertoire that speak explicitly about mining one’s angst in order to make music. In that way, “Bearden 1645” is also a firm nod to the fourth wall: Fullbright knows you’re thinking about his songwriting. He is, too…but not quite the way he was before. The public at-large hasn’t heard much from him since the critically lauded “Songs,” a chasm of eight years that seemed unthinkable for an artist with so much hype surrounding his early career. Why did it take so long? “Honestly, I don’t know, and that’s been the scariest question to think about and the hardest one to answer,” Fullbright said. Maybe it was a tacit rejection of mounting industry pressure, mixed with a little fear. Or maybe it was the adjustment to a massive upheaval of his way of life. Whether we bore witness or not, it’s been a critical period of change for Fullbright, now in his 30s. Since his last release, he moved out of rural Oklahoma—the aforementioned Bearden has a population of about 130 people—to Tulsa. Once there, he worked to build a place for himself in the context of an established and vibrant musical coterie, performing often as both a bandleader and, more curiously, a sideman: storied loner John Fullbright lugging a piano from this small stage to that one with an uncharacteristic looseness. “It’s been a process of learning how to be in a community of musicians and less focusing on the lone, depressed songwriter…just playing something that has a beat and is really fun,” Fullbright said. “That’s not to say there are no songs on this record where I depart from that, because there are, but there's also a band with an opinion

Los Angeles-bred "SoCal Country" singer Sam Outlaw will release a pedal
steel-stamped, new wave-inspired record titled 'Popular Mechanics'
Solely writing seven of the album's 11 tracks, Outlaw fuses the sounds of his
favorite artists of the '80s - Kenny Loggins, Cyndi Lauper, Tom Petty - with stories
influenced by the great innovators of the 20th century and the engineers that
make up his own family tree. The ambitious direction of 'Popular Mechanics' may
seem like a sudden shift from Outlaw's country-leaning albums, 'Angeleno' (2015)
and 'Tenderheart' (2017), which garnered appearances on CBS Saturday
Morning's Anthony Mason, NPR, The New Yorker, Wall Street Journal and more,
but the gears actually started turning in early 2018 after Outlaw shelved some
new material he recorded in Southern California. Following his cross- country
move to Music City that same year, Outlaw found unexpected inspiration during a
visit from his father, a mechanical engineer, and it prompted him to shift his focus
to the technological side of music creation. The epiphany came when he
connected industrial machines with the role technology plays in recorded music.
Growing up on the hits of the '80s, an incredible time of transformation in music
history, he remembers everything came into focus for the album once he
envisioned the title, 'Popular Mechanics`

Los Cotopla Boyz: Millennial Cumbia For The End Of The World. The newest psychedelic space ranger Cumbia band from Bogotá's infamous DIY scene have been sent to earth to save the party! Los Cotopla Boyz make the walls sweat, they set fire to your feet on the dance floor. It all started in Bogotá, which you might say is the tropicanibal venue par excellence, a place that has brought life to acts like Frente Cumbiero, Los Meridian Brothers, Romperayo, Chúpame el dedo, Dub de Gaita, Los Pirañas, Onda trópica and León Pardo, among other eccentricities that have taken the world and stand out not only for their virtuosity but also the connection that lives between that salvaging of traditional folklore and lysergic futurism that expands hypnotically around the world. From this musical hotbed that emerged in the second decade of the new millennium, there is now a new generation to continue the tropicanibal scene, with groups such as La Sonora Mazurén, La Tromba Bacalao, Los Yoryis, El Conjunto Media Luna and, of course, Los Cotopla Boyz, a five-piece that formed in Bogotá in 2018 but inhabit a post-pandemic dystopian multiverse where their mission is to save the party. So their live performances have that illusion of frantic Power Rangers singing about their adventures, as if these were epic chants, except instead of heroic feats they sing with humor about their everyday lives, like the drama “N’sync” about that chat where they leave you on read, or “Me Malviajé con las Ganlletas” about the hallucinogenic experimentation of ingesting cannabis and flipping out. These experiences also lead to songs like the clumsy love lost of “Dama tu Wasap,” the cathartic “Tren de Cotopla” and the ode to excess that is “Raspafiestas,” that moment in your life when the night seems eternal and you only want to go from one party to the next until the world ends. These songs, together with “Plankton (Abanico Sanyo)” and “El Peruanito” are part of Mamarron, Vol. 1, a compilation of seven millennial cannon shots inspired by Los Mirlos, Los Hechizeros Band, Anan, Wendy Sulca, La Sonora Cordobesa, Bad Bunny, Yandel and Los Corraleros de Majagual, tracks laid down on their debut record that saw the light in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and will be re-released in 2022 by AYA records (ZZK Records imprint.) As well as being pressed on vinyl the album will include the bonus track “El Peruanito” remixed by Colombian producer Santiago Navas and taken from Mamarrón, Vol. 2, their album of remixes by figures such as Frente Cumbiero, Cerrero, Prendida, Sonido Confirmación, DJ Rata Piano and Felipe Orjuela, local producers and musicians with a global scope and vision who expand the raspafiesta universe to the limits of the world. Los Cotopla Boyz are a sweaty, schizophrenic cumbia experience that has been witnessed by emerging Bogotá clubs like Matik-Matik, Boogaloop, El Chamán, Tejo Turmequé, Videoclub and the festival Hermoso Ruido, providing nights of wild abandon to the beat of an outrageous big cumbia sound, a ritual of release giving those present a maximum catharsis that has no compare, not even the most animalistic moves of any metaller shaking his powerful mane. Los Cotopla make the walls sweat, they set fire to your feet on the dancefloor, drawing amorphous moves from their fans on exquisite nights. Tracks SIDE A: 1. Plankton (Abanico Sanyo) 2. El Peruanito 3. Dame tu Wasap 4. N’sync SIDE B: 1. Tren de Cotopla 2. Me Malviaje con Ganlletas 3. Raspafiestas 4. El Peruanito (Santiago Navas Remix)

A decade is a long time in music, but it feels less epic when the music in question is timeless, picturesque, and immersive. Founded in London, run from Bali for a period, and now based in Ibiza, NuNorthern Soul has grown from humble roots to become one of the most popular outlets for Balearic music on the planet.

NuNorthern Soul started in the late 1990s, long before the label launched, NuNorthern Soul was a regular Sunday session in a bar in Chester, UK where label founder Phat Phil Cooper and school friend Jim Baron (Ron Basejam, Crazy P, JIM) sat behind the decks and played laidback, eclectic musical selections to wind down the weekend. The name was suggested by one of the event’s regular punters, who likened the community feel of the event to his experiences as a Northern Soul dancer.

Fast forward to 2011. Following a move to London, Cooper was introduced to Ben Smith, a singer-songwriter and producer whose music he’d long admired. After bonding over a few pints of Guinness, Smith offered to hand over a hard drive full of unreleased tracks; together, the pair put together what would become the NuNorthern Soul label’s first ever release: a fine album of beautiful, boundary-free music entitled The Movedrill Projects.

Another EP from Smith, Dedications to the Greats, followed in early 2013, with the sometime Fug and Akwaaba band-member recording emotive, life-affirming cover versions in his signature style. It was followed by an EP of opaque, sunset-ready songs from Ragz Nordset, and NuNorthern Soul was on its way. While the label has subtly moved around musically since, offering up EPs and albums that incorporate elements from a multitude of becalmed and blissful styles, the core ethos remains the same. Significantly, those early Ben Smith and Ragz Nordset releases still stand up to scrutiny all these years on.

Smith has remained a big part of the NuNorthern Soul family ever since, and it’s fitting that two of his tracks – the stunning, undulating downtempo epic ‘Over Land & Sea’, from improvised 2019 album From The Ash, and Jonny Nash’s glistening, shuffling 2015 rework of ‘Hold On To It’ – are featured on this 10th birthday celebration of the NuNorthern Soul story so far.

It’s right, too, that Jim Baron, whose stints behind the decks with Cooper in Chester began the NuNorthern Soul story, also makes two appearances. His chugging, jangling, wide-eyed 2014 Ron Basejam rework of Ragz Nordset’s ‘You Started It All’ – a track that has so far racked up over three million streams on Spotify – was an early label hit, while his fragile, softly spun masterpiece as JIM, ‘Whisper in the Wind’ (featuring none other than Ben Smith on guitar), features here via a deliciously stretched-out, sunrise-ready remix from James Holroyd under his Balearic-friendly BEGIN guise.

Sentimentality aside, the success of NuNorthern Soul is rooted in Cooper’s ability to pick music to release from a wide variety of artists that fits the label’s colourful, atmospheric, and tactile sonic vision. This lovingly curated box set is testament to that, with immersive, yearning efforts from veteran musicians such as Jon Tye (here appearing as Captain Sunshine, via the breath-taking ‘The Oceans Inside’) and the late, great Ryo Kawasaki (remixed by Mancunian, former Body & Soul NYC resident DJ Andi Hanley) being joined by wonderfully on-point productions from relatively recent signings such as Torn Sail (the Balearic folk swell of ‘Disconnected’), George Koultalieris, My Friend Dario and Tambores En Benirras.

10 Years, 5 EPs, 10 tracks, exclusives, previously unreleased and hard to find NuNorthern Soul treasures. Packaged in a full colour commemorative designed box with full colour inner sleeves. 1 track per side of vinyl for maximum audio pleasure. Comes with 4 page NuNorthern Soul insert. Limited edition.

What do notions of freedom and movement mean to us as we experience unprecedented restrictions on travel, culture and socialisation? Henry Keen’s Freedom In Movement offers a soundtrack to both remember and look forward to freedom through music, movement and community.

The memory and feeling of the Plastic People dancefloor were often in Henry Keen's thoughts as he produced the tracks on this new LP. Inspired by the London club nights he frequented – Balance, CDR, and CoOp – Freedom in Movement is Henry’s first vinyl self-release, an embodiment of self-expression that compliments his contributions to projects Electric Jalaba and Soundspecies.

The soulful tracks on the album pick up where Henry Keen’s 70's Baby (Maddjazz Recordings, 2017) record and EPs as The Room Below on the Don't Be Afraid label left off, bringing a range of tempos to get heads nodding while hips and feet work out. Lovingly made, the collection of songs offer meditations on questions evoked by the record's title and respite from the heaviness of challenging times.

The lead single from the album is Dexter’s Breakfast, featuring London-based woodwind expert, and previous collaborator Ben Hadwen on baritone/tenor saxophone, and flute.

Dexter’s Breakfast was released digitally on 25th June 2021 and gained support from the likes of Adam Rock (Jazz Re:freshed), Kev Beadle (Mind Fluid), Simon Harrsion (Basic Soul), Psycut (Music Is My Sanctuary) and Laani and Papaoul (Worldwide FM) amongst others

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.

Temples is a tempting invitation into another world, full of light and movement. From the second the synth comes in this track has got us deep in its pocket. Shotter manages something that is hard to achieve - he has us floating completely, yet steadily carried by tip-toeing metallic rhythm elements and the relentless swells of bright synths. The game changer in the second half is a new, gritty bass quality, which couldn't roll in any more fiercely. At its fullest the track has us in an uncompromising trance, a relentless movement that we don't ever want to escape from. Breaking back down to pleasantly gentle hi-hat reverb-tails and inducing synth patterns Temples lets us down easy, with the unspoken promise to return.

Ueno claims the room to itself completely and immediately. The rise and fall of melodic synth lines lead us through a labyrinth at first, leaving plenty of space for imagination. Before we notice playful call-and-response rhythms are teasing our ears, until the track surrenders itself to an ever-growing wave of synth patterns and their behind-the-beat-delay. It climaxes into a haunting silence with tenuous high-pitched sounds and a clear outer space feel. Finally, all elements lock into a comforting groove, driving us forward, not too fast, not too slow - exactly right.

The track starts off with a blissfully nostalgic vintage-feel - slightly muffled, like the humbling quality you get from an old Technics playing your favourite LP. But don't be fooled, Cube March is bold. And unexpected. Stomping rhythms take over quickly and full-blown gritty synth-stabs cut the air effortlessly, like blades. An unapologetic and careless pumping bass line makes us want to move with every cell in our body. Shotter demonstrates his fearlessness in experimenting with heavy contrasts and elements from different genres here. A break with tastefully placed repetitive rhythm elements is complemented by the constant ebb and flow of melody lines. Both in volume and presence they fluctuate, one handing over the spotlight to the other seamlessly, keeping us hooked until the very end.

This remix lures you away from reality in a matter of seconds, with Definition's signature heavy hitting bass dominating. He expertly weaves shimmery fills into buoyant synth lines and brings us a skilful mix of dark minimal techno, breaks and infectious monster synth lines. Every so often, he adds a new layer, increasing the depth of the track, before letting it all crumble in a breakdown where time stops and tension grows, as we impatiently await the next rise to carry us away. The lengthy build-ups give this remix the energy to fill any room, easily. It is subtle, yet propulsive, too - a lane that Definition seems to manage regularly.

Think about the classic from MAW "Work", Reel to Real "I like to Move it"... TROPICAL FLASH "Get up" has the same vibe and the same kind of potential on the dancefloor !

This is a truly essential for the coming summer, percussive rhythm and expressive Jamaican vocal style. Funky, efficient and with an organic feel due to the bass guitar and percussion.

Along both original mixes features a really cool remix by the NYC Legend DJ Spinna, this time Spinna did not produce a soulful house track but a real massive House Remix with some heavy 90’ influences, really sick! The 12'' has been cut by Mathieu Berthet so expect a very nice cut, the full picture sleeve has been manually designed by Felix Godefroy and is really colourful, it makes a very nice 12'' with good pressing quality on 140g from Vinyl de Paris.