Buscar:makin time

After almost a decade-long hiatus, cult 6-piece MFMB announced their
return with the long-awaited album - Sugar
The followup to 2012's critically- acclaimed "Colossus", "Sugar" revives the dark
and driven alt- rock the Swedes made their name with - equal parts rigor and
finesse, wracked with nervous tension. This time around, however, a democratic
approach to the writing process was decided on, with each member contributing
equally to the sound and feel of the record. The result is unmistakably the sound
of MFMB, but reinvented for these tempestuous times. The making of the album
is a story in itself. "Sugar" is seven years in the making. It has been a bumpy ride.
They were not always the best of friends. Priorities changed. Members quit, then
joined again. It was never easy. We believe you can hear it on the album, how
every song is a result of differing opinions fighting it out until they landed. In the
end, it's MFMB, but ringing purer than ever before. MFMB have remained prolific
throughout their hiatus, which includes Joakim Lindberg becoming one of the
underground scene's most in- demand producers, working with the likes of Hey
Elbow, Spunsugar, This Is Head, and many more.

Chronophage’s third LP is a scarcely anticipated revelation full of poise and delicacy. Tough,tender, precise and unconstrained, it concentrates the tragic ingredients of the past two yearsinto ten songs. Each one is a decisive, well-cut crystal: sharp, clear, weighted. Can you envisiona midpoint between Big Star and the Homosexuals? Imagine Nick Lowe constructing defiantrejections of the civil structure? Chronophage’s unconstrained melodies and gleefullyimaginative structures enact such original, liberatory music.Chronophage began five years ago in Austin, Texas. Stout participants in the transgressive DIYpunk community patchworked throughout the world, the band have released two LPs and ahandful of cassettes, always demonstrating a kind of risk-taking that feels both gleeful and dire.It’s clear that they delight in making hard, unexpected decisions, but there’s a colder sense thattheir existence depends on this daring.Defying the band’s scratchy, 4-track history, ‘Chronophage’ blooms, distilling the warmest, mostcompelling, most vulnerable qualities of their music. It’s a product of their unhurried approach torecording this album, a six-week process of tinkering and clarifying. It’s also a product of thematerial conditions of their songwriting phase—”the pandemic making it where we just saw eachother all the time and were less influenced by scenes,” as explained by guitarist/singer ParkerAllen. Undoubtedly their most immediate record, but without sacrificing the mortalconsequences or thrills of their past. The danger and vigor remains, the spring is wound eventighter. It’s evidence of the band’s growing confidence, but speaks most clearly to the strength ofthe songs. Producer Craig Ross articulated this strength through his own experience of workingon ‘Chronophage’: "When I would run into a block, in terms of arrangement, the narrative of therecord told me exactly what to do. I realized I just had to stick to the record, it has all theanswers."‘Chronophage’ is released simultaneously by Post Present Medium (US) and Bruit Direct(Europe). TRACKLIST: A1 Love torn in a dream A2 after a storm A3 swimmer A4 summer to fall A5 cop in psyche B1 spirit armor B2 old city back again B3 black clouds B4 burst the shell B5 fear + agony Dooms horn

One of the UK’s most consistently inventive production minds of recent times, Lil Silva has perhaps one of the most varied resumes in the world. Causing a seismic effect on the world of club music with smashes such as ‘Seasons’ and releases with the likes of Night Slugs, production credits for a diverse range of artists such as Adele, BANKS, Mark Ronson and serpentwithfeet, and a collaborative project with George FitzGerald as OTHERLiiNE even before factoring stellar solo releases under the Lil Silva moniker using his own vocal, he has continuously combined a broad range of influences to create a transformative, varied discography. After the release of ‘Backwards’ last month alongside Sampha, today Lil Silva announces his long awaited debut album, Yesterday Is Heavy.

Over 10 years in the making, ‘Yesterday Is Heavy’ is a cumulative product of an already remarkable career filled with highlights. An album about stepping out: outside of a comfort zone, and, for Lil Silva, outside of himself. It’s a debut album of heft and heart, but most of all hope – and trusting the process. Buoyed on by the encouragement of long-time collaborators like Jamie Woon and Sampha early in his career (they both implored him to commit his own voice to record), and bolstered by incomparable session experience working with Mark Ronson, Adele and more, the Lil Silva story that started aged 10 in Bedford is beginning full circle. Created primarily in the town he grew up in (and continues to live now), the pervading solace of home courses through the project, while providing the thrilling moments of sleight of hand that Silva has always been capable of.

As he so often does, Lil Silva shares the spotlight with an astonishing international cast of guests. He fuses well-versed modern legends in the shape of Sampha, Ghetts, and Little Dragon with rising stars serpentwithfeet, Charlotte Day Wilson and Skiifall to thrilling effect, the whole time never allowing his deftly dynamic yet considered touch to be outshone throughout. The album has also been created with musical direction from Louis Vuitton musical director and BBC Radio 1 tastemaker Benji B, as well as creative direction from award winning visual artist BAFIC. It’s with the opening track ‘Another Sketch’ however, where his singular talent introduces itself.

With a visual directed by UKMVA Award winner Fenn O’Meally, ‘Another Sketch’ is a prime example of the vast array of talents that Lil Silva possesses. A video that transcends generations of Black Britons (featuring Lil Silva’s own family as well as Sampha), ‘Another Sketch’ focuses on the subject of time. Looking at generations of black britons as monuments, the visual centres on the idea that despite time being able to wear down your appearance, what’s inside of you can never depreciate. The main centrepiece of this is heritage, with archive and newly recorded footage showing Silva’s family and friends enjoying the same activities they did generations ago, spliced with footage and voice notes from one of the lands of his dual heritage, Jamaica. The track itself focuses on a central theme of actions, their consequences and changing our inevitable future, with Lil Silva’s stunning falsetto shining alongside background vocals from serpentwithfeet and an instrumental that initially opens minimalistically before gradually unfurling to unveil elements of his electronic beginnings; a thumping hip hop infused beat and swelling melodic embellishments.

With ‘Yesterday Is Heavy’, Lil Silva reaps the rewards of over a decade of influence to create the debut album he’s always imagined. Simultaneously riding the line between pertinent storytelling and virtuosic production, ‘Yesterday Is Heavy’ charts the story of one of UK music’s unsung heroes taking his time to build something that is truly timeless. Yesterday Is Heavy, but tomorrow is forever.

• 180 GRAM AUDIOPHILE VINYL
• GATEFOLD SLEEVE
• INCLUDING INSERT WITH LINER NOTES
• FEATURING JILL SCOTT, WYCLEF JEAN, GARY BARTZ, JAMILA WOODS, KASSA OVERALL, TEEDRA MOSES A.O.
• BRAND NEW 2022 ALBUM BY GRAMMY NOMINATED
JAZZ MUSICIAN THEO CROKER
• LIMITED EDITION OF 1000 INDIVIDUALLY NUMBERED COPIES ON SOLID GOLD COLOURED VINYL

Love Quantum is the seventh studio album by Grammy Award nominee Theo Croker since his 2007 debut. The album finds Croker making his first-ever foray into the concept of love, once again inviting listeners on a genre-defying journey across time and space in discovery of the self and our shared human experience. Of the album, Croker says, “It's a love story. It's a tribute to all the different levels of love that can exist - love of a friend, love of a partner, love of a parent, love of yourself and a love of life. It's really about the journey of love, the experience of it, and how powerful that energy is for us as human beings.”

Joining Croker across the album's 11 tracks are Jill Scott, Jamila Woods, Wyclef Jean, Ego Ella May, Teedra Moses, Chris Dave, Gary Bartz, James Tillman and Kassa Overall.

Love Quantum is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on solid gold coloured vinyl. The album is housed in a gatefold sleeve and includes an insert with liner notes.

The Independent - 5 star Glastonbury set review “Making their Glastonbury review, IOW collective Plastic Mermaids are a joy to behold at the Croissant-Neuf stage.” New single 'Girl Boy Girl' Girl Boy Girl is an uncomfortable place, an unspoken awkwardness and tension. Always convoluting, never resolving. Just like this perpetual frustration when a relationship isn’t right but none has the language or understanding to fix it. And then thinking that adding a 3rd party to the mix is going to solve the problems…oh dear. We took some inspiration from the song ‘Night Call’ on the Drive soundtrack and also some of the slower Daft Punk tunes. Kinda wanted it to feel like something you’d stick on cruising in your car after dark in the 80’s. It has been two years since Plastic Mermaids released their critically acclaimed debut ‘Suddenly Everyone Explodes’, and now they return to spread some eagerly awaited blissed out joy with new single Disco Wings & b side Environmental with their second album due next year. The band have been working hard in the studio teaming up with producer Ant Whiting, who has worked with the likes of MIA, John Newman and Lana De Ray, in what proved to be an exciting mix of creative ideas.

Andreas Toftemark is a young and talented Danish saxophonist and composer, who has spent the last 8 years of his life making a career for himself abroad; with 1 year in Sweden, 3 years in Amsterdam and 4 years in New York - where he was very inspired and influenced by the capital of jazz. Toftemark has studied with prominent names, such as Joel Frahm, Ben Wendel, Sam Yahel and Eric Alexander. He has performed around the world and he has played with many internationally acclaimed jazz musicians, like Peter Bernstein, Rodney Green, Ethan Iverson and Paul Sikivie. The six tracks on 'A New York Flight' are melodic and driven by the rhythmic open-mindedness that jazz is moving towards today. This is something that can be heard on both the two tracks that Andreas Toftemark has composed himself and on the four jazz standards which the quartet also play. It is swinging and at the same time open to the individual interpretations of both the listeners and of the musicians. The overall subject of the songs are love and passion, whether it's the love for New York - or perhaps the regained love for Denmark...? - or the love expressed on the track, which was the first single from the album, and which also has the most mysterious title of all of the tracks on the album, '2223', which is a row of numbers that seem to follow Toftemark in love and in friendships. Andreas Toftemark Quartet consists of some of the absolutely finest young musicians on the contemporary Danish jazz scene; Felix Moseholm on bass, Andreas Svendsen on drums, Calle Brickman on piano and, of course, Andreas Toftemark himself on sax. Each one of them is an overwhelming joy to listen to, and brought together in a band, they bring music to a both sincere and playful level.

This album marks the debut recording for Venezuela's Velvet label by pianist Ray Pérez and his trombone-led salsa band Los Dementes. Heavy dance numbers and the distinctive vocals of Perucho Torcat make this historic 1967 rarity a sought-after collector's item. Now the LP has been lovingly restored, mastered from the original tapes, with its original artwork intact, preserving the legacy of Los Dementes for today's generation of salsa lovers everywhere. First time reissue. Salsa pianist, vocalist, composer and arranger Ray Pérez, acquired his nickname "Loco" by being a free, independent spirit, an innovator and iconoclast who was initially branded as "crazy" for the freshness and audacity of his sound. Amazingly, he is not that well known in the US, where he spent some time in the late 1960s and salsa was king during the 1970s. Yet he was quite popular in his home country from the beginning, especially amongst the working class of Caracas and Maracaibo, who adopted Cuban music played by New York Puerto Ricans as their own and called it "salsa" years before the term was employed by US labels like Fania as a marketing tool. Pérez is revered in Venezuela, as well as in Mexico and Colombia, and his storied career, which spans seven decades and thousands of concerts, has yielded more than 35 albums recorded by his various bands, including Los Dementes, Los Kenya, and Los Calvos, all of which are collector's items today. At the start of 1967 Pérez debuted Los Dementes, with vocalists Claudio Zerpa and Perucho Torcat backed by an ace band featuring only trombones in the brass section. Titled "¡Alerta mundo! Llegaron los 'The Crazy Men'" the record was released on the small Venezuelan label Prodansa. Soon after, Prodansa folded and Los Dementes were left without representation or much compensation for their efforts, being paid only in records. In the end of February of that year, Pérez returned to Caracas from a stint in Maracaibo in order to finish his first LP with the well-established and larger Velvet label, entitled "Manicomio a locha". In the first quarter of 1967, Velvet unleashed a trilogy of salsa records in order to compete with rival label Palacio and their recent success with Federico y su Combo Latino: "Porfi '67 Salsa & Boogaloo" by Porfi Jiménez y su Orquesta, "Guasancó" by Sexteto Juventud and lastly "Manicomio a locha". The LP begins appropriately with the boisterous title track, written by the band's conguero Carlos "Nené" Quintero, who would become a legend in coming years. Torcat describes a jam session in mental institution and introduces the band, with tasty solos by trombonist Rufo García followed by Ray on piano. Already you can hear something was different about Ray and his "Crazy Men"-a sound as wild and innovative as what was happening in New York with Eddie Palmieri, but with a more unhinged, raw feeling in line with Willie Colón and other younger Nuyorican bands. Next up is an intriguing track sung in a mix of Italian, English, Spanish and Papiamento by Pérez himself, performed in the complicated rhythm of the mozambique, an Afro-Cuban carnival beat developed in the early 1960s. This is followed by the heavy dancer 'Rico guaguancó', penned by Angelito Pérez, which changes from the guaguancó to the mozambique rhythm mid-way through, proving that Los Dementes were "different from the rest" as the lyrics say. 'Puerto Libre', sung by Torcat, is dedicated to the Venezuelan island of Margarita in the Oriente region, and the independent spirit of its working people. The rhythm changes from guaguancó to guajira and back again but remains danceable all the way through. The side closes out with a "3 in 1" medley inspired by the popular formula of the mosaicos of Billo's Caracas Boys, seamlessly knitting together several different tempos, rhythms, moods and compositions. Side two starts strong with the fierce yet satirical 'Corte e' patas', then 'Alma Cumanesa', a typical folk song refashioned as a guaguancó. This is followed by the funky 'Guajira con Boogaloo'. The tune echoes the sound of young Latin New York, pointing out the connection between Cuban and African American soul music. The pace picks up again with 'Fiesta de trombones', a hot descarga and then the album closes with another medley. Though this marks the end of a rather short album, it also signaled the emerging success of Los Dementes and their involvement with the salsa boom in Venezuela, quickly selling out of its initial run of 1000 records and making for a memorable debut on the Velvet label. Now this rare and sought-after LP has been lovingly restored, mastered from the original tapes, with its original artwork intact, preserving the legacy of Los Dementes for today's generation of salsa lovers everywhere.

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

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

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

Zapatilla, better known as Louis Hackett, is a founding member of Brownswood 's Owiny Sigoma Band and key collaborator on Eska's Mercury nominated debut album, but has a neat side hustle making house music with one foot in the gentle melodies of Balearic beat and another in the irresistible energy of Afrobeat. It's a recipe that he continues over onto this fine four tracker, which opens with the smoothly grooving but lively 'Like Dat' before 'Zimzimmer' builds up around a gently frenetic Afro guitar riff. On the flip, 'Disco Facial' is slower and more retro, with a synth line that could be from a lost John Carpenter soundtrack. 'Self Isolated' completes the package in its most esoteric fashion, another synth work rooted in the past, this time perhaps echoing the approachable experimentalism of Jean Jacques Perry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This compilation presents for the first time various underground techno groups and projects that emerged in Lima in the mid-1980s. Projects such as Disidentes, Paisaje Electrónico, T de Cobre, Meine Katze Und Ich, El Sueño de Alí, Cuerpos del Deseo, Círculo Interior, Ensamble and Reacción. Disidentes and T de Cobre brought extreme sounds to local electronics, and which has made them an unavoidable reference for any historical account of techno and industrial music in Latin America. This compilation presents for the first time various underground techno groups and projects that emerged in Lima in the mid-1980s. Projects such as Disidentes, Paisaje Electrónico, T de Cobre, Meine Katze Und Ich, El Sueño de Alí, Cuerpos del Deseo, Círculo Interior, Ensamble and Reacción were responsible for introducing styles such as techno-pop, EBM, industrial and minimal synth in Peru. Coinciding with the explosion of punk in Lima and the appearance of the so-called Rock Subterráneo underground rock, these techno groups shared the same DIY spirit, performing in many punk concerts and even creating their own fanzines, and, above all, opening a space for other types of sonic experiences. Meine Katze Und Ich, El Sueño de Alí and Paisaje Electrónico were also the parallel projects of the members of Narcosis, the iconic punk band, one of the founders of Rock Subterráneo. Disidentes and T de Cobre brought extreme sounds to local electronics: viscerality, mechanical rhythms and the use of Casiotones or synthesizers, which resulted in an atypical sound that, in turn, portrayed a critical time in Peru, and which has made them an unavoidable reference for any historical account of techno and industrial music in Latin America. The title of this compilation is inspired by the name of a concert held in Lima in 1991, considered to be the first techno concert to have taken place in Peru. Even though not all intervening groups were doing techno at that time, they did share the fact that they all used keyboards. Four of them, however (Cuerpos del Deseo, Ensamble, Círculo Interior and Reacción), were in fact affiliated to an electronic sound (techno-pop, EBM). The concert was a sign of the diversification of musical styles in Lima's alternative scene, and in particular of the emergence of a micro scene, for which the concert Síntomas de techno [Symptoms of Techno] represented an important step towards the development of a local culture of electronic music during the 90s. Many of the recordings included here are extracted from demos with limited circulation, practically impossible to find. Other tracks are unpublished pieces which come from the private archives of the artists themselves. The compilation has been made by Luis Alvarado and is part of the Essential Sounds Collection, with which Buh Records is making available a vast archive of avant-garde Peruvian music. This compilation is published in vinyl format in a limited edition of 300 copies, with extensive information and visual documentation. Mastered by Alberto Cendra. Art by René Sánchez. Cover photography by Rogelio Martell. This project was awarded with funding from the Economic Stimuli program of the Peruvian Ministry of Culture.

Marisa Anderson is one of the most eminent guitarists working today. Her lucid, eloquent approach to guitar music and composition has established her as an unparalleled artist and an insightful, coveted collaborator. Anderson"s work draws on a mosaic of folk musics and lives in conversation with myriad musical traditions. Her music is inviting and candid, beckoning the listener into sprawling ecosystems and intimate corners alike, from barren landscapes to verdant thickets, impassioned communal experiences to pensive reclusions. As a master of her instrument, Anderson translates abstractions into undeniably moving music, tracing through traditional folk tunes, imagined Sci-Fi films, and foggy sanctuaries of sound. Still, Here is Anderson at her most direct, laying bare her practice of processing and understanding the world through music and distilling that practice into pieces as expressive as they are transfixing. The pieces of Still, Here center around Anderson"s present. The album is a compendium of living moments captured by her preternatural ability to mold human realities into enduring, lyrical compositions. Away from the road for the longest stretch of her career, the making of Still, Here affirmed for Anderson the role of the guitar as an essential tool in processing external and internal realities. "I don"t get ideas and then turn to the guitar, rather I turn to the guitar to find out what my ideas are. I turn towards it for meaning." The discordance of protest and upheaval emanates from a propulsive acoustic ostinato and mournful dueling pedal steel guitars on "The Fire This Time," pausing only to allow space for the blare of sirens on the Portland street near Anderson"s studio. "The Crack Where the Light Gets In" rapturously revels in the glimmers of hope that peek through a pall of darkness. Across Still, Here, Anderson"s playing transmutes the tributaries of fluctuating emotions into a unified flow, stirring and sublime.

Marisa Anderson is one of the most eminent guitarists working today. Her lucid, eloquent approach to guitar music and composition has established her as an unparalleled artist and an insightful, coveted collaborator. Anderson"s work draws on a mosaic of folk musics and lives in conversation with myriad musical traditions. Her music is inviting and candid, beckoning the listener into sprawling ecosystems and intimate corners alike, from barren landscapes to verdant thickets, impassioned communal experiences to pensive reclusions. As a master of her instrument, Anderson translates abstractions into undeniably moving music, tracing through traditional folk tunes, imagined Sci-Fi films, and foggy sanctuaries of sound. Still, Here is Anderson at her most direct, laying bare her practice of processing and understanding the world through music and distilling that practice into pieces as expressive as they are transfixing. The pieces of Still, Here center around Anderson"s present. The album is a compendium of living moments captured by her preternatural ability to mold human realities into enduring, lyrical compositions. Away from the road for the longest stretch of her career, the making of Still, Here affirmed for Anderson the role of the guitar as an essential tool in processing external and internal realities. "I don"t get ideas and then turn to the guitar, rather I turn to the guitar to find out what my ideas are. I turn towards it for meaning." The discordance of protest and upheaval emanates from a propulsive acoustic ostinato and mournful dueling pedal steel guitars on "The Fire This Time," pausing only to allow space for the blare of sirens on the Portland street near Anderson"s studio. "The Crack Where the Light Gets In" rapturously revels in the glimmers of hope that peek through a pall of darkness. Across Still, Here, Anderson"s playing transmutes the tributaries of fluctuating emotions into a unified flow, stirring and sublime.

Joni Mitchell was at a turning point 50 years ago. After making four acclaimed albums with Reprise Records, including her 1971 masterpiece Blue, she left the label to join the brand-new Asylum Records in 1972. Over the next seven years, Mitchell would record some of the most acclaimed music of her career while changing her musical direction by adding more jazz elements into her song writing. The evolution culminated in 1979 with Mingus, her collaboration with jazz titan Charles Mingus, and her studio last album for Asylum.

The Asylum Albums (1972-1975), the next instalment in the Joni Mitchell archive series, explores the beginning of that prolific era. The collection features newly remastered versions of For The Roses (1972), Court And Spark (1974), the double live album Miles Of Aisles (1974), and The Hissing Of Summer Lawns (1975). All four were recently remastered by Bernie Grundman. The Asylum Albums (1972-1975 will be available on 23rd September on 5-LP 180-gram vinyl (Limited Edition Of 20,000) and as a 4CD set. The cover art for the set features a previously unseen painting by Mitchell. The set also includes an essay by friend and fellow Canadian Neil Young.

The Asylum Albums (1972-1975), follows Mitchell’s musical evolution over four albums as she embraced more jazz-inspired pieces and moved away from the folk and pop of her early years. It includes essential tracks like her first Top 40 hit, “You Turn Me On, I’m A Radio” and her highest-charting (#7) single “Help Me,” plus favourites like “Free Man In Paris,” “Raised On Robbery” and “In France They Kiss On Main Street.” Mitchell has been intimately involved in producing the collection, lending her vision and personal touch to every element.













l b6. Judgement Of The Moon And Stars (Ludwig’s Tune) 2022 Remaster











[x] e1. You Turn Me On I’m A Radio (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[y] e2. Big Yellow Taxi (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[2022 Remaster]
[xa] e4. Woodstock (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xb] f1. Cactus Tree (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xc] f2. Cold Blue Steel And Sweet Fire (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xd] f3. Woman Of Heart And Mind (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xe] f4. A Case Of You (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xf] f5. Blue (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xg] g1. Circle Game (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xh] g2. People’s Parties (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xi] g3. All I Want (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xj] g4. Real Good For Free (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xk] g5. Both Sides Now (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xl] h1. Carey (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xm] h2. The Last Time I Saw Richard (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xn] h3. Jericho (Live) [2022 Remaster]
[xo] h4. Love Or Money (Live) [2022 Remaster]

Gather your loved ones, Together is here. Duster's fourth album is a 13-song exploration of comfortable, interplanetary goth. A sonic vaseline of submerged guitars, solder-burned synths, and over-driven rhythm tracks. "I know people say, `Oh Duster music so sad, we've even said it ourselves before," Clay Parton said. "But it's a lot more like absurdism than nihilism."

Gather your loved ones, Together is here. Duster's fourth album is a 13-song exploration of comfortable, interplanetary goth. A sonic vaseline of submerged guitars, solder-burned synths, and over-driven rhythm tracks. "I know people say, `Oh Duster music so sad, we've even said it ourselves before," Clay Parton said. "But it's a lot more like absurdism than nihilism."

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

With his Arjunamusic label and a growing catalog of category-defying releases, Samuel Rohrer
continues to quietly, yet confidently, make a name for himself as a genuinely unique figure within
the European electronic music realm. Over the past decade he has assembled a repertoire of
music that fills a sadly neglected gap in the modern musical landscape. That is to say, he has
made a number of “electronically”-aided works that never seem to make “electronic-ism” the main
selling point or raison d'être. Rohrer understands that we inhabit a networked media landscape
that no longer sees a novelty value in every synthetic or technological sound, and by realizing
this, he makes a music that fully engages with the present without completely disregarding the
exciting speculative sensibility that has allowed electronic music to solidify into a tradition. His
latest solo album, Hungry Ghosts, again shows the high quality of sonic design that can be
achieved by conceptualizing musical passages as living, breathing entities rather than as
signposts to some still distant reality.
Maybe more so than any of Rohrer’s solo records to date, Hungry Ghosts is the one that
most unambiguously displays the artist as a kind of inspired sound “cultivator” or landscaper
rather than just a straightforward “producer”. The emphasis here seems to be biological growth
processes rendered in musical form, and in fact some track titles namechecking the biodiversity
of the external world (“Slow Fox”, “Ctenophora”) and neurochemistry (“Serotonin”) lend some
additional credence to this interpretation.
As with previous outings, Rohrer starts with his skills as a genre-resistant percussionist
and builds from there, with dense clusters of drum hits and icy cymbal exclamations leading the
way into a wide-open atmosphere full of fragmented phrases, marked with strange reversals or
compressions of time. The percussive portions and other ambiences merge together in such a
way that the latter seems like a kind of shifting, holographic camouflage for the former; an effect
which makes for a greater than usual number of shifts in mood. Rohrer’s already established
ambiguity and mystery are the moods that permeate throughout, to be sure, but there are also
surprising moments of humorous whimsy (the flourishes of cartoon mischief and teasing silences
on the tracks “Human Regression” and “Bodylanguage”), reverence (the optimistic organ swells
and steady sequencer guiding “Ceremonism”), and meditative focus (the slow-motion spectral
waltz of “Treehouse”). Also notable here are very brief etudes, such as “Window Pain,” whose
dark, lush ebb and flow actually seem tailored to repeated or looped listening.
It’s particularly remarkable that almost all of this material is recorded solo and in a “live /
no overdubs” mode, given how much it feels like well-rehearsed ensemble playing, and given the
impeccable timing involved in continually exchanging the sounds at the very forefront of the mix.
And here we come full circle to the idea of “electronic music” mentioned at the beginning here:
instead of making us feel that we are in the presence of some fully-realized form brought back
from “the future,” Rohrer invites us instead to witness fascinating processes of transition and
mutation, and to value them for what they are now as much as for where they are headed.