Buscar:master mind

On this new LP Harry Bertoia shows why he may have been the first industrial musician. Bertoia often referred to his sound sculptures as a "collaboration with industry" and on this LP Bertoia is intentionally creating heavy, rhythmic music he described as "mechanized," "mechanical" and "factory like."

Recorded in 1971, percussion and repetition emulate the pounding rhythms of machinery on this unique pair of conceptual Bertoia compositions. Bertoia utilizes innovative performance techniques to create new sounds unheard in his ouevre. Even in the busy factory of Bertoia's mind, distant stillness rises up as Bertoia exhibits the massive amount of control he possesses over his many looming sculptures.

"Mechanization" is just one of the many sonic directions Bertoia took while composing and recording between the late 1950's and his death in 1978. He documented all of his ideas and directions in notes accompanying the hundreds of tapes discovered in his barn.

Bertoia's recordings are as much a celebration of sustained tones, intervallic relationships, healing vibrations, deep listening and shimmering harmonics as Indian Classical music, singing bowls, The Well Tuned Piano or Benjamin Franklin's glass armonica. Through these rich harmonics and pulsing pure tone, Bertoia was able to more clearly articulate his inner spirit than he could with sculpture alone – a point he made himself many times in interviews.

Harry Bertoia first came into artistic prominence in the late 1930s and his sculptural, ergonomic chairs, produced by Knoll Furniture beginning in 1952, were soon modernist furniture classics. Inspired by the resonant sounds emanating from metals as he worked them and encouraged by his brother Oreste, whose passion was music, Harry restored a fieldstone "Pennsylvania Dutch" barn as the home for this experiment in sounding sculptures which he had begun in the 1950s. Bertoia was an obsessive composer and relentless experimenter, often working late into the night and accumulating hundreds of tapes of his best performances; Oreste, too, would explore and record the sculptures' sounds during his annual visits to his brother's home in rural Pennsylvania.

Learning by experimentation was common for Bertoia and he mastered the art of tape recording, turning the Sonambient barn into a sound studio with four overhead microphones hanging from the rafters in a square formation. He would experiment with overdubbing by performing along to previous recordings, sometimes backwards, constantly improving his methods while also honing his performance skills. Bertoia was a careful editor of his own work and only chosen recordings remained, each with a date and carefully considered observations written on a note included with each tape. Through these pieces of paper a greater logic can be uncovered, a careful approach to composition, ideas, feelings and forms. The story of Sonambient barn collection will slowly be told through the release of recordings from the archive as well as installations and performances built from Bertoia's own recordings, lectures and a book.

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

Repress! There are very few albums across any genre that stand the test of time better than 93 ‘Til Infinity, the classic debut record from the Hieroglyphics crew’s very own Souls of Mischief. In an era where Gangsta Rap and G-Funk dominated the West Coast Rap scene, Souls broke ground on a completely unique and thoroughly west coast sound. While the Dr. Dre’s and the Snoop Doggs were garnering much of the mainstream attention, Souls were quietly forging a charismatic, critically acclaimed, and cohesively shaped record that when categorized, sounded much closer to A Tribe Called Quest than N.W.A. The sound of their debut is characteristic of the distinct style explored by the collective, including a rhyme scheme based on internal rhyme and beats centered around a live bass and obscure jazz and funk samples.

93 ‘Til Infinity was propelled into success by its title track and lead single, which reached #32 on the Billboard Hot 100. It also featured singles “That’s When Ya Lost” and “Never No More” which also reached the Hot Rap Singles. In 1998, the album was selected as one of The Source’s 100 Best Rap Albums of All Time. Considered by many to be a text book “slept-on” classic Rap record, 93 ‘Til Infinity has only grown better with age. The album simply defines the Hiero golden age with a sound that would later be fine tuned with strong releases from MCs Del The Funkee Homosapien, Casual and Pep Love.

It takes some serious bravado to name your album 93 ‘Til Infinity, but certainly the goal of creating a Hip Hop “classic” must have been on the collective minds of group members A-Plus, Tajai, Opio, and Phesto when recording this landmark moment in Hip Hop history. It’s true, even seventeen years after the album’s initial release many people are still discovering it, and with this re-mastered reissue on double vinyl, fans all over the world will once again discover the brilliance that 93 ‘Til Infinity delivers and will continue to deliver beyond infinity.

The Outer Edge is excited to announce the release of an intense and previously undiscovered funk rap / boogie single, featuring two tracks recorded in 1986.

While researching for his book on 80s funk music in Germany, DJ Scientist explored bands from Bavaria that collaborated with GIs. One of these bands is Grand Slam, a group that remains active to this day. The band’s leader, Toby Mayerl, lived near a US Army base in Amberg, where he fell in love with funk after hearing Roger Troutman and Zapp. He soon became part of two groups: Total Control and Grand Slam.

Originally led by guitarist Harry Zawrel, Grand Slam had a “European” funk sound similar to Talking Heads or Level 42. However, in 1985, Mayerl took over the band and merged it with Total Control, a mixed group that included African-American soldiers. From that point on, they shifted towards a heavier funk and soul sound, continuing to work with musicians from the GI community. By late 1986, they had enough material to record their debut album, Make My Day. Although published by the independent label Kerston, the album was only available on cassette, primarily sold at their concerts in early 1987.

DJ Scientist managed to track down an original copy of this ultra-rare tape in the MUZ archive in Nuremberg. "What I heard blew my mind," he said. "The cassette featured seven raw, well-produced funk and soul jams with fantastic arrangements and vocals." As an old-school funk and disco rap collector, he was immediately captivated by the track "Goin' Out," which features GI rapper Calvin E. Flagg. This song evokes the energy of early recorded rap singles from labels like Enjoy or Sugar Hill Records.

On Side B, the second track from the unheard debut album, ‘Don’t Let You Down,’ offers another glimpse of what we've been missing. This uptempo boogie-funk track features lead vocals by Aletha Mcbryde, Calvin E. Flagg, and Oliver Allwardt, along with thrilling synths and a lively brass section - perfect for turning up the volume.
Both tracks have been remastered from the original master tapes, which Toby Mayerl fortunately still had in his archive. The artwork for the release is inspired by original band posters, with the Grand Slam logo taking cues from Bootsy's Rubber Band’s Body Slam! cover from 1982. This limited vinyl pressing is capped at just 350 copies.

Ltd White Vinyl, DL card. 1992's 'Untitled' brought the band's third album that re-cemented the duo once again as the progenitors of the "lo-fi" genre. This breakthrough set transitioned "The Trux" into a never ending all-inclusive rotating cast of musicians. Continuing Fire Records' series of classic remastered albums from Royal Trux, 'Untitled' is released on white vinyl and features updated monochrome and silver artwork. As unpredictable as ever, Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema shook off the next level layering and noise of 'Twin Infinitives' to embrace the history of rock 'n' roll in all its deformed grandeur. Utilizing their ever present mind set of macro-inclusivity, they allowed the subconscious "radio stations" of their lives to infiltrate, lead, and dictate. Culling from their collective minds and memories twisted tunes that touched them. After the blood rush of their much-hailed avant-garde masterpiece 'Twin Infinitives' (1988), this eight-song opus added to the lo-fi genre that originated on 'Twin Infinitives'. On 'Untitled' Hagerty uses his 5-string blues roots and hails rock's twisted potential, while Herrema slurs and snarls in ecstasy. They sound like they're locked in a fourth-floor boudoir at the Chelsea Hotel; bottles clink, an album clicks on its run-out groove, the band plays on. In the mix are the characters and casualties of the 90s, a roll call of swaggering misfits. These aren't superficial sketches, the Trux cut much deeper than that_ "'Junkie Nurse' isn't just about addiction; it's about the twisted hope that even the most broken people can somehow mend others, even when they're falling apart themselves." Jennifer Herrema, Royal Trux. With 'Untitled' Royal Trux justifiably increased their coterie of convicted followers, becoming the cult heroes for a transgressive generation, and the Rosetta Stone for male/female duos (ie:The White Stripes, The Kills etc... ) over the years inspiring everyone from The Silver Jews (David Berman) & Sonic Youth through to melodic blue-eyed soulsters like Hot Chip - "I urge and encourage you to enter the harmolodic multiverse of their music." Alexis Taylor, Hot Chip. "Royal Trux were nothing if not fearless." Pitchfork.

Matter-of-factly, Lycox exclaims "Yaaahh" right at the beginning. That's an affirmation but in times of distress it can also mean resignation, something like "Yeah, whatever". Lycox says he was only freestyling though. Then the bassline appears. Elastic, expressive, full-bodied. And it's not even present the whole time. He was "trying to develop a new formula for the Kuduro beat."

Songs for the club? Most certainly. Different sensibilities, one same focused mind. Lycox evolves within tradition, he has mastered the groove, the ambience, the right tones. Simply called "Energia", the last track circles above wistfully, menacing but maybe just promising some sort of action. With a few drops one could almost switch over to a parallel universe of old school Trance, a reference that feels as alien here as maybe this track feels to someone for whom the standard Afro House sound represents modern African music.

These songs pile up in a threshold balanced between styles, sensations, maybe in the middle of life itself. Such a concentration of energy is bound to need release and that comes figuratively through details in the music reaching out to receptive ears. "To Bem Loko" explicitly tries to "literally drive everyone crazy on the dancefloor." Once again Lycox provides vocals, as in "Edson no Uige", about a friend who embarked on a trip to the Angolan province of Uige and came back speaking only the local dialect known as lingala. A nod to tradition, very emotional, without compromising complex arrangements. Consequently, we the listeners are kept believing there is still enough space for a bright future. To ears accustomed to Lycox productions the title "Contemporaneo" (opening of side B) reads like a redundancy, then.

Maybe this music can never be quite as massive as other Afro styles. Without sounding pretentious, it avoids simplistic patterns, it demands a bit more mental processing while it certainly aims to loosen the limbs. Universal in vocation, underground at the core, Lycox definitely calls it Batida but for some it is still Ghetto Music. Like DJ Veiga said when describing a previous release for Príncipe, Ghetto is home, though. Lycox adds it is a foundation of personality. "Few in our community will recognize your work when you come from the same environment, but once you establish your reputation outside of the neighbourhood and even outside of the country, people will look at you differently, as if you were a star."

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

THE DYNAMICS • DRAG’N'FLY
by VINCENT HELLO.

Jamaica, 1960s. Ska artists, rock steady and reggae take back some soul songs of the United States, thus giving their versions that will in turn become future classics. The hits of the moment are also seasoned with Jamaican sauce, no matter where it comes from Original, pop, country, jazz... The rhythms of the island permanently transform the tracks of origin. In 2024, with their third album called Dragn'fly and decorated with a beautiful dragonfly (a "dragonfly" so in the language of King Tubby) the Dynamics honour Jamaican tradition and dynamite 10 versions of hits from yesterday and today. The Dragonfly spread his wings reggae, soul, funk to land in all headsets at the heart of good stereos and on spicy dancefloors. Because this dragonfly is a true superfly that speaks to the heart... and legs.

After two albums whose success led them to walk the globe of Glastonbury in Tokyo, honoured by the large elders (the first part of Lee Perry here, a regular dj support of Don Letts over there) the Dynamics are alive so their 'soul reggae vocal sound system” in front of audiences specializing in Jamaican or to those who are who were lucky enough to meet them by chance in Chemical Brothers... or Lady Gaga.

The Dynamics have forgotten the weight of ancestors to make their own recipe. They proclaim it, they are Sound System! The voices of Mounam, Steve Levi and Mr Day are in the front row, so making lovers, preachers, crooners and crooners to Turns of Duty, while Fab Master Flab all in one of the roots and futuristic echos. But if the mind is a sound system, the dynamics sounds also as a group through instruments live performances that plunge the tracks into a fervor unique. And then there are the hits, so, from all times and of all styles.
The low rider becomes toaster and leaves the road a American carried by these vocal harmonies Sky to take the exit Kingston. On the roadside, the joker delivers his lovers soft rock after a small detour to Muscle Shoal, The time to borrow a guitar from Duane Allman. In the south again, Mounam “Mrs Dynamics” meets the spirit of «Mr Dynamite» and tells him his radical, soul version. “ man’s world...” inna digital style! The spiritual anthem “you got to have freedom” by Master Pharoah Sanders becomes a universal skank, pop and dub who sends resounding high its universal message Dance! The dynamics are mutating the classic of ESG into a small, minimal pop bomb that is not without resemblance to the Neptunes of Mr Pharell Williams. On the edge of the track, Peter Gabriel sees his “Sledgehammer” groover as he does could imagine it and dissolve into sublime soul scrolls. Later, “After laughter...” soul classic celebrated and sampled Born into a rock steady air promised also to eternity. JJ Cale’s "cocaine," leaves its on the dancefloor for a reggae disco version, necessarily! And then, we must conclude. So it’s time to send an original title. It will be "Rubba Sub", to the aromas of sleng teng, which proves that far from the hits, the Dynamics deploys same layouts to deliver fresh and authentic sounds. And when the dub echoes evaporated, that the riddims have been silent, only remains an album majestic, in turn a future classic, full of unique Dynamics sound that mixes with instinct the echoes of yesterday to its own voices today.

"Turmion Kätilöt, the Finnish-singing industrial and electronic metal band hailing from the barren wastelands of Savo, is rapidly becoming a new favorite among open-minded metal fans in the mid-2020s. The odds of their rise to prominence are nothing short of great.
Known for their ecstatic and theatrical concerts, Turmion Kätilöt invites you to dive into their twisted world of ""disco metal."" The current lineup features singers MC Raaka Pee and Shag-U, guitarist Bobby Undertaker, bassist Master Bates, keyboardist RunQ, and drummer DQ. Since the early 2000s, this vivid sextet has been delivering a unique blend of electrifying heavy music, characterized by its peculiar, perverted, and catchy style. Their journey includes numerous sold-out concerts, gold and platinum records, and Emma nominations (Finland's equivalent to the Grammys).
Turmion Kätilöt's depraved disco ball has also shone beyond Finland. Many fans remember their legendary European tour with Pain in 2011. In the 2020s, their fame continued to grow, highlighted by their selection as the opening band for Nightwish's sold-out European arena tour in 2022.

Now, Turmion Kätilöt is ready to unveil their latest creation: ""Reset."" Founding member and main songwriter MC Raaka Pee explains, ""Reset is simply the perfect name for our new studio album. For us, Reset is more about taking advantage of everything we've learned over two decades and then adding new nuances to our metallic disco vortex."" With twenty years and ten studio albums behind them, Turmion Kätilöt continues to push their boundaries. ""We have relentlessly raised our own bar with every record,"" says the band. ""Reset is our best album to date, and we simply couldn't be more satisfied.""

""Reset"" features all the hallmarks of Turmion Kätilöt: twisted synths, underfoot grooves, pounding beats, and cryptic lyrics, all with a stronger musical vision than ever before. The album is described as a ""bastard child"" of their previous records, with new spices added. The vocal parts, a mix of fierce screams and melodiousness, add a special twist.


Line up:
MC RAAKA PEE -vocals
SHAG-U - vocals
MASTER BATES - bass
BOBBY UNDERTAKER - guitar
DQ - drums
RUNQ – synths
"

This is the forth in the massively popular Kick Four series from Good 2 Go DMR with four absolute monster Jungle Techno tracks.

The Well is the second album by the duo So Sner, composed of Susanna Gartmayer (bass clarinet) and Stefan Schneider (electronics). Recorded over nearly two years in various studios and spaces, the album reflects So Sner's extensive touring across Europe. The final mixing took place in Vienna at the studio of Martin Siewert, who served as both co-producer and mastering engineer. Known for his meticulous attention to sonic detail, Siewert brings his unique techniques and distinctive sound enhancements to the album, resulting in a work that is both stylistically cohesive and daringly uncompromising.

So Sner’s critically acclaimed debut album REIME (TAL26, 2021) was celebrated for its innovative fusion of bass clarinet and electronic sounds in unexpected and surprising ways. With The Well, the duo explores both fluid and dissonant sonic landscapes, embracing different structural and sonic challenges. The result is a quieter, more introspective set of compositions than many might have anticipated. The album is a statement of two confident collaborators crafting complex, spatial musical moments in their own distinct manner.

The music on The Well generates a multiplicity of effects that transcend conventional oppositions such as hand-played versus programmed, composition versus improvisation, or analog versus digital. The album suggests a re-articulation of these categories, allowing the ten tracks to gradually blend one musical idea into another, and one musician into another, in a circular and complementary fashion. The polymetric permutations and exploratory reed components create a soundscape where all elements coexist harmoniously, without compromising or diminishing each other’s presence.

With its sparse sound architecture, The Well invites listeners into a space of effective emptiness, offering room for the mind and body to explore—a sonic island where one can develop sensuality through patient movement.

For So Sner, live performance is a passion of the mind, and since they began working together in 2020, their music has taken them to many different places. The live experience has deeply influenced the recorded music on this album, with the interplay between live performance and studio work informing their creative process. The Well captures the genuine act of exploring new territories, serving as a storage place for the time and space shared by the duo, re-filtering their experiences of performing and traveling together.

The Well is a lucidly playful and ambitious album by two contemporary musicians who are continually learning to create and respond to the subtle and significant changes in their music, maintaining momentum throughout the entire work.

In addition to her work with So Sner, Susanna Gartmayer has recently collaborated with artists such as Joe McPhee and Maria Portugal, and remains a member of her long-running band, the Vegetable Orchestra. Stefan Schneider, founder of the label TAL, has recently performed with Garth Erasmus from Cape Town and fine art luminary Katharina Grosse.

2024 Repress
The Aggrovators were one of Jamaica’s finest session bands, many of the tracks you know and love from the 70’s Reggae scene probably featured this group of musicians in some shape or form.
The band were put together by Bunny’Striker’Lee , one of Jamaica’s formidable producers, who with no studio of his own had to rely on buying studio time from the existing establishments, such as Randy’s Studio or Channel 1.
The updating of Studio 1 classic’s which in some cases were reworkings of American R&B tunes was common practice. The rhythms were much loved favourites and with the added incentive that the musicians knew the tracks inside out.
This set of dubs are straight from the master tapes of such sessions orchestrated by the man Bunny Lee himself, no one knew better…you can’t keep a good tune down never mind a great one..
So sit back and enjoy The Aggrovators in fine Studio 1 style….RESPECT

For the next reissue in Mr Bongo’s Cuban Classics series, we look to Raúl Gómez’s entrancing 1977 Instrumental album. Presenting a unique blend of orchestral disco and jazz-funk, with Afro-Cuban flavours and soundtrack influences, it’s rich with drum breaks, energy and evolving compositions. A record that forever keeps you guessing, powered by an exemplary orchestra at the top of their game.

Cuban composer and singer Raúl Gómez is most known for featuring in the groups Mirtha Y Raul and Los Bucaneros alongside producing the Cuban classic Los Reyes 73 album, amongst a whole host of other incredible productions over the years. Released on Cuba’s state-owned label Areito, Instrumental sees Gómez not only as an instrumentalist and author, but also as a producer and arranger.

It's an album that deftly evades pigeonholing. Floating between instrumental mood music and library/soundtrack mastery, followed by explosions of cosmic-Latin funk, psych guitar workouts and compositions that reflect the orchestrated disco coming out of the US at the time, from greats such as Love Unlimited or MFSB. Lace that together with a healthy serving of Afro-Cuban magic to underpin the tracks and it’s a recipe for a record that captivates from start to finish.

Predominantly an instrumental album as the title suggests, the record showcases the Orquesta EGREM in full flow, soaring strings and vibrant horns at every turn. Highlights include 'Mi Samba Carnaval' with its breathtaking drum break, bubbling synths and sublime arrangements and the romantic film music impressions of ‘Tema De La Sierra', that have been a sampling source for many a producer. Elsewhere, ‘6 Son’ is a mind-melding psych guitar powerhouse, with 'Dacapo', written by Gilberto Peralta, offering up a slice of atmospheric and energetic Latin shuffle. One of only a handful of tracks where scat vocals compliment the orchestral tones, a Brazilian percussion theme marries with dancefloor sensibilities for a dose of feel-good, brilliance.

A wide-ranging, multi-dimensional release, Instrumental exhibits musicianship, composition and creativity at its finest and demonstrates another key example of the rich output of music that flowed from the island of Cuba post revolution.

In collaboration with musicians and parody artists Auralnauts, Stumpy Frog Records has pressed the soundtrack to their ongoing series of ‘As Seen on TV’ parodies known as the ‘Infomercial Wars’. During an unspecified point in time, a faceless dystopian company pushes out products under the guise of improving the quality of life for humanity. The commercials have a sexy presentation to them, designed to lull the viewer into a hypnotic state and gloss over what is really being sold to them: enslavement to an evil entity. The true purpose of these products is clear to anyone with an iron will: to imprison your mind, strip away your humanity and weaponize what remains. Humanity’s only hope is a scrappy group of freedom fighters whose key to success is convincing you to buy their products instead of the enemy’s. May the best infomercial win. Beyond humanity. Beyond Copper. The parody series is made up of real life infomercials with complete audio makeovers. The products themselves vary from one commercial to the next, but a popular trend in these ads is the seemingly unlimited uses for copper, which is taken even further by the parody versions. The bubbly pitchman from the source material has been replaced by a soothing, yet vaguely threatening alien presence. This mysterious voice paints a picture of a world that would make David Cronenberg and James Cameron blush, and all of it is held together by a dystopian soundtrack that is perfect for ushering humanity into the next step of this forced evolution. Side A of the album contains six full length studio versions of the music featured in each ad. 1) 300% More Human 2) Techromancer 3) Full Body Copper System 4) Master of Reality 5) Final Boss (Sock Defense Grid) 6) Beyond Copper Side B features the ads themselves, presented faithfully as they appear on the Auralnauts Youtube channel.

Hardwarez, the third LP by Master Boot Record (aka MBR) on Metal Blade, sees multi-instrumentalist mastermind Vittorio D'Amore (aka Victor Love) aurally exploring the duality of technology and humanity in 9 intense and incandescent tracks. The LP, which follows 2022’s Personal Computer and 2020’s Floppy Disk Overdrive, comes from the expansive mind of Love, an Italian producer who emerged from the underground as an anonymous project in 2016 to create the soundtrack for the cyberpunk point-and-click adventure game VirtuaVerse. The project seamlessly evolved into a standalone entity, releasing over 14 albums in just a few years.
To create Hardwarez, the technologist worked by live streaming his desktop on YouTube while composing new music. Everything is programmed via MIDI. “The very first song I wrote is actually also the first single, “CPU,” he says. “Even though the other songs on the album have a quite different style, the type of riffing and the different melodic section of this track worked as a base to upgrade the sound before moving forward.” “CPU” is also where Love decided to test the real guitar overdubs and was inspired by the results.
“With every album I’ve upgraded bits of the sounds, adding new layers,” he says. “In Hardwarez the core sounds for synth guitars, leads and pads are still those that constitute the trademark MBR sound, but what makes this album very different is the addition of guitar overdubs that play along synth guitars for both the rhythmic and solo sections.”
Intensive touring augmented with live musicians helped Love to make the decision to include real guitars to achieve a massive sound and boost the enhanced frequency spectrum of the instrument. “On this record there are a lot of heavy riffs with palm muting and my lead guitarist Shreddy recorded most of those leads and solos as well playing in unison with synth leads and adding extra energy to them.”

Hardwarez, the third LP by Master Boot Record (aka MBR) on Metal Blade, sees multi-instrumentalist mastermind Vittorio D'Amore (aka Victor Love) aurally exploring the duality of technology and humanity in 9 intense and incandescent tracks. The LP, which follows 2022’s Personal Computer and 2020’s Floppy Disk Overdrive, comes from the expansive mind of Love, an Italian producer who emerged from the underground as an anonymous project in 2016 to create the soundtrack for the cyberpunk point-and-click adventure game VirtuaVerse. The project seamlessly evolved into a standalone entity, releasing over 14 albums in just a few years.
To create Hardwarez, the technologist worked by live streaming his desktop on YouTube while composing new music. Everything is programmed via MIDI. “The very first song I wrote is actually also the first single, “CPU,” he says. “Even though the other songs on the album have a quite different style, the type of riffing and the different melodic section of this track worked as a base to upgrade the sound before moving forward.” “CPU” is also where Love decided to test the real guitar overdubs and was inspired by the results.
“With every album I’ve upgraded bits of the sounds, adding new layers,” he says. “In Hardwarez the core sounds for synth guitars, leads and pads are still those that constitute the trademark MBR sound, but what makes this album very different is the addition of guitar overdubs that play along synth guitars for both the rhythmic and solo sections.”
Intensive touring augmented with live musicians helped Love to make the decision to include real guitars to achieve a massive sound and boost the enhanced frequency spectrum of the instrument. “On this record there are a lot of heavy riffs with palm muting and my lead guitarist Shreddy recorded most of those leads and solos as well playing in unison with synth leads and adding extra energy to them.”

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

"The seventh Various Artists release on Mary Yuzovskaya's Monday Off imprint arrives on vinyl in October 2024, with Viels, ORBE, D-Leria, and Yuzovskaya contributing tracks.
First up on the record, Italy's End Of Perception founder Viels conjures up a storm with 'Nero', a cerebral cut with crushing, low-end-heavy atmospheres and mysterious alien signals. It is followed by Spanish techno lynchpin and Orbe Records boss ORBE, whose hypnotic 'Rigging' explores the abyss with foreboding sonics and a continual beep sequence that guides the track forward.

On the B-side, Monday Off label head Mary Yuzovskaya presents 'Trouble'. A masterful bassline and bodied kickdrum starts the trip, providing an excellent foundation while alternating between rattling percussion, deep dub hits, and strangely familiar but indecipherable vocal snippets. Sound design wizard D-Leria then closes out the EP with the spellbinding 'Battito', complete with mind-blowing melodies and swirling effects, rounding off another top-draw psychedelic offering on Monday Off.