Buscar:melody as truth

'The World in Air Quotes' is a genre-shifting style-melting kaleidoscope of art-rock, jazz, techno, folk & industrial. The God In Hackney sound like very little else from the early 2020's and whilst 'The World In Air Quotes' innovative progenitors are manifold - Eno, Coil, The Durutti Column, 1980s ECM jazz to name a few - it sounds beholden to none of them.

The God In Hackney's first album 'Cave Moderne' was Andrew Weatherall's album of the year for NTS Radio.

The God In Hackney's second LP, 'Small Country Eclipse', was album of 2020 for critic Sukhdev Sandhu of The Colloquium for Unpopular Culture: "Mordant music: stuttering, dread, black humour. A record that felt truly independent, beholden to no genre, out of step with all centres and signposted nodes."


'The World In Air Quotes' is The God In Hackney's 3rd album and their most musically emotive and lyrically inventive to date. It's an album that resonates with feelings about climate change, isolation, extinction, the social impact of technology, the flattening of history—and illuminates the darkness with imaginative rhythm, melody, noise & poetry. Songs range from widescreen, anthemic rock, to strange intricately arranged jazz-influenced songs, to abstract, textural electronic pieces. There's a strain of dark and surreal comedy too that runs through the lyrics and some of the choices the band makes in their sounds and arrangements.

The core God in Hackney quartet of Andy Cooke, Dan Fox, Ashley Marlowe and Nathaniel Mellors has expanded to include American multi-instrumentalists and composers Eve Essex (Eve Essex & The Fabulous Truth, Das Audit, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Zummo, Liturgy) and Kelly Pratt (Father John Misty, David Byrne/St Vincent, Beirut, and Lonnie Holley among many others), signalling a new and ambitious direction for the band.

The album cover features original artwork by Iranian-American artist Tala Madani, recently the subject of a career survey exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles.

Advertising:

The Wire, Maggot Brain

Reviews & features:

Maggot Brain - forthcoming feature

Hi-Fi+ Magazine - album review in April 2023 issue

Dereck Higgins (You Tube review)

Sonosphere - interview / feature

Weirdo Shrine - interview

It's Psychedelic Baby - interview

Spettacolo (Italy) - feature.

Ghettoblaster Magtazine (USA) - feature

Airplay:

Gilles Peterson - BBC Radio 6 Music

Steve Lamacq - BBC Radio 6 Music

Dublab - playlisted & featured in Dublab Recommends (Los Angeles)

Cian Ó Cíobháin - RTE Raidió na Gaeltachta (Ireland)

WFMU - playlisted

Resonance FM - The Wire presents Adventures In Sound & Music

Human Pleasure Radio (New Zealand)

Pete Wiggs & James Papademetie - The Seance (Repeater Radio, Sine FM & others)

Peter Hollo's Utility Fog - FBI Radio (Australia)

Jonathan Lethem & Sam Sousa on Radio Free Aftermath (KSP Claremont 88.7)

Life Elsewhere

WRPB Princeton

In Memory of John Peel

Mike Watt's Watt from Pedro Show

Furthering the passionate exploration of cinema that has guided her two previous LPs - 2017’s ‘Fassbinder Wunderkammer’ and 2020’s ‘I Should Have Been a Gardener’ - the Milanese guitarist/composer, Alessandra Novaga, returns to Die Schachtel with ‘The Artistic Image Is Always a Miracle’, two sides off shimmering, tense compositions – culminating as one of her most creatively ambitious and conceptually rich outings to date – freely inspired by the life and work of the Russian director Andrej Tarkovsky and the music of Johann Sebastian Bach.

Classically trained at the Musik Akademie in Basel, Switzerland, over the last decade Alessandra Novaga has emerged as one of the leading figures within northern Italy’s thriving new, experimental, and improvised music scene, rendering striking solo efforts, in addition to collaborations with Loren Connors, Stefano Pilia, Elliott Sharp, Nicola Ratti, Paula Matthusen, Sandro Mussida, Kid Millions, Travis Just, Francesco Gagliardi, and others. Remarkably ambitious and forward thinking, her approach to the guitar embarks upon a relentless deconstruction and rethinking of her instrument’s unique properties through distinct applications of structure, resonance, space, and tone, creating in a deeply personal and emotive music, seeking narrative and meaning within the abstractions of sound.

In 2017, with the LP, ‘Fassbinder Wunderkammer’, issued by Setola Di Maiale, Novaga embarked upon the exploration of her love of film. Having begun with Rainer Werner Fassbinder, this was followed in 2020 by Die Schachtel’s release of ‘I Should Have Been a Gardener’, a deeply intimate mediation on the life and work of Derek Jarman. Rather than focusing on a fixed point of inspiration or a single film to work from, these pieces achieve a form of abstract portraiture, distilling elements drawn from these filmmaker’s life and work into ambient networks of texture and tonality. ‘The Artistic Image Is Always a Miracle”’ freely inspired by the Russian director Andrej Tarkovsky and the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, finds Novaga radically expanding her sonic palette within this approach.

The seeds of ‘The Artistic Image Is Always a Miracle’ can be traced to a conversation that Novaga had with Alan Licht (contained in the highly regarded Common Tones: Selected interviews with artists and musicians 1995–2020, Blank Forms, 2021), relating to the connections between music and cinema, which led her to consider Andrej Tarkovsky’s use of Bach's music within a symbiotic framework: how the music illuminates the imagism of the films, and the film illuminates new dimensions of the music. Slowly developing over the subsequent years, the resulting album comprises six individual works, some of which draw directly upon pieces of Bach’s music that Tarkovsky used in his films – specifically 'Erbarme dich, Mein Gott', 'Das alte Jahr vergangen ist', and 'Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ' - while others draw upon the sensibilities and moods evoked in the imagination by the director’s films.

As a point of departure and illumination into the process and spirit that underscored the creation of the album, Novaga points toward a passage in Tarkovsky’s "Sculpting in Time”:

“Art is born and takes hold wherever there is a timeless and insatiable longing for the spiritual, for the ideal: that longing which draws people to art. Modern art has taken a wrong turn in abandoning the search for the meaning of existence in order to affirm the value of the individual for its own sake. What purports to be art begins to look like an eccentric occupation for suspect characters who maintain that any personalized action is of intrinsic value simply as a display of self-will. But in artistic creation the personality does not assert itself, it serves another, higher and communal idea.”

‘The Artistic Image Is Always a Miracle’ can be understood as a realisation of the collectivism of which Tarkovsky speaks, in the service of something far beyond the expression of self. Encountering Novaga moving into fairly uncharted waters, three of the album’s pieces incorporate the human voice we encounter the voices of others: that of the poet Arsenij Tarkovsky, the director’s father; a singer from Bach’s ‘Erbarme dich, Mein Gott’, capturing a broadcast in an underground parking lot, and Novaga’s own, rendering the melody from Bach’s “Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ”. Roughly alternating between solo excursions on guitar and bristling electroacoustic pieces, over the course of the album’s two sides Novaga weaves one of her most abstract and ambitious bodies of recordings to date, shifting between the complex tonal mediations generated by the six strings of her instrument, and phycological densities activated by the expanded pallet of sonority made possible by the tactics and approaches of musique concrète.

An immersive, deeply engaging meeting of beauty and melancholy within a labyrinth of voices and ideas, ‘The Artistic Image Is Always a Miracle’ transfigures the life and work of Andrej Tarkovski – one of the greatest auteurs in the history of cinema – into a singular, experimental statement of collective truth. Belonging to recent, ambitious stream of contemporary new music releases on Die Schachtel that’s already included Novaga’s ‘I Should Have Been a Gardener’, Stefano Pilia’s ‘Spiralis Aurea’, Jim O'Rourke & Giovanni Di Domenico’ ‘Immanent In Nervous Activity’, Claudio Rocchetti’s ‘Labirinto Verticale’, and Damāvand’s ‘As Long As You Come To My Garden’, among others, ‘The Artistic Image Is Always a Miracle’ is available on as a limited edition of 300 dark turquoise vinyl LPs released on June 21, 2024. The LP, designed by Bruno Stucchi / dinamomilano, comes with an 8-pages insert illuminated by Alessandra’s text as well as the lovely and intense photographs of Matilde Piazzi.

LTD. CLEAR BLUE VINYL

New York painter and musician exploratory industrialist Tor Lundvall initially envisioned his 14th album, Beautiful Illusions, as an entirely instrumental affair, "inspired by memories of sitting in a church or cathedral watching the shifting sunlight through stained glass." Although he ultimately chose to wreath the majority of the tracks with hushed, poetic vocals, his original muse still resonates. These are certainly songs of shadowplay and vaulted skies, the quiet grandeur of dusk deepening on the horizon. Lundvall characterizes the lyrical subject matter, too, in ways both specific and surreal, exploring "the doubts, the anxieties and even the bleak fantasies the mind spirals into during moments of isolation, separation and distance." Tricks of the eye, mind, and ear, magnified by silence and the looming long winter. Shivering pulses and muted bass lines tread the twilight while icicle synths and wiry guitar map the melody until the voice enters, narrating oblique moods of essence and absence, tenderness and truth. Glimpses of dark humor flicker in the wordplay but the greater sonic landscape is one of falling leaves and failing light, small gestures rendered as revelation, cloaked in reverb and spatial fog. Lundvall's mastery of nuance and negative space continues to heighten, whispered brushstrokes of the invisible and the unsaid, what lies beneath and what lies beyond: "Behind the shields and false fronts is usually a sadness. The heartbreaking reflections of what might have been."

WOW. Daniel O'Sullivan's transcendent new album, Eros, is one of the greatest things we've ever heard. A simply stunning song cycle of hypnotic, experimental contemporary chamber music composed for a 14-piece ensemble. Combining minimalism, complex syncopation, detailed acoustic textures, weird intervals and samurai precision, this record will elegantly blow your mind. When Daniel first sent us this, he pitched it as “Liquid Swords meets Michael Nyman”. Trust us, he wasn't wrong. A "unique hybrid orchestral music", it presents a confluence of Daniel's longstanding fixations; indeed, there's elements of Nyman, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Magma, Aaron Copland and RZA. But this is wholly O'Sullivan's. Originally commissioned for the Sonoton Music Library in Munich, Eros now receives a deluxe vinyl release courtesy of Be With Records, bringing this meticulously crafted work to a wider audience. Limited to just 500 copies for the world, these are gonna fly.

An English composer and multi-instrumentalist, Daniel O'Sullivan’s career has been marked by versatility and innovation. In addition to his work with Sonoton, he has composed extensively for the legendary KPM music library, contributing to its storied legacy of production music. As a deep virtuoso and collaborator, O'Sullivan has also played in a number of influential projects, including Ulver, Sunn O))), This Is Not This Heat, Grumbling Fur and Miracle (with Steve Moore), leaving an indelible mark on the contemporary experimental music landscape.

O’Sullivan’s first foray into classically informed chamber music, Eros is a culmination of his long-standing fixations and expansive musical influences. The album features arrangements that are as detailed as they are emotionally resonant, showcasing his unparalleled ear for intervals and mastery of counterpoint. The music brims with complex rhythmic syncopation and a sensitivity to texture and space, resulting in a soundscape that is both intoxicating and dauntingly precise.

Recorded June 2023 and February 2024, in Brussels, London and Carmarthenshire, Wales, Eros features members of Echo Collective (Neil Leiter and Margaret Hermant), Thighpaulsandra (from seminal post-industrial band Coil), and jazz pioneer Oren Marshall. Daniel's sonic weapons of choice, in his own inimitable words, were "Big Bad Drum, Pee Anne Oh, Low End Brass, Willowy Winds & Samurai Strings." You get the picture. As a cyclical suite, this is a record that really needs to be heard in its entitreity, from start to finish, to truly appreciate the genius at work here.

A jaw-dropping statement of intent, the minimalist "Golden Verses" sets the tone with its complex cue which has your neck snapping right when it feels like it needs to. Listen and you'll understand. A syncopated tangle of sharp strings, crunchy bass, drums percussion and bright piano and mallets vie for position with French horn and woodwind melody in the most compelling and unexpected ways. Quite simply, it's one of the finest album openers I've ever heard. It's followed by the atmospheric rippling minimalism of "Lyre Lyre", a gorgeous gem with shimmering chimes, bright melody, human percussion and syncopated pizzicato strings. It kinda comes on like a less-abstract Boards Of Canada, bursting with typical wonderment. The piano and string-drenched "Dolorous Stroke" effortlessly builds its warm, pastoral orchestration with flowing piano arpeggio, steadfast drums, expressive string quartet, rich low brass, woodwind and lyrical flute. Just sublime.

The insistent frenetic propulsion of "Plain Paper" is utterly beguiling, featuring a determined string motif, urgent drums and percussion, driving low brass and breathless, energetic flute. The haunting, interweaving string arpeggios that propel "Grapes Draped" presents a claustrophobic minimalism for chaos and darkness, with growling low woodwind and brass, spiky harpsichord, skittering flutes and tight drums. Up next, "Xanix Annum" is a stately minimalist waltz with expressive lyrical string quartet and delicate woodwind, anchored by drums and percussion. "Painting Rose" is a bouncy stop-start track with angular syncopated strings and a piano pulse underneath bright harpsichord and flutes. "Rotunda Garden" presents ethereal textural minimalism for landscapes and reflection with flowing string arpeggios, warm, low woodwind drones, floating choir and cymbal swells. Closing out this extraordinary side of music, the glowing, flowing minimalism of "Flowry Orb" features urgent organ, piano and woodwind arpeggios, half-time drums with shimmering cymbals, a soaring, beautiful violin solo and hypnotic vocal chant.

Side 2 opens with "Theia Mania" a determinedly off-kilter, angular track featuring low wind, brass and drum stomp in dialogue with lively string trio, woodwind and solo horn. The light, airy minimalism of "Painting Percy" is built around an interplay of rhythmic motifs for piano, low brass, bassoon, fluttering flutes, urgent strings, drums and percussion whilst "For Archetypes" is a delicate, gently syncopated chamber cue for nostalgia, nature, reflection and moments of calm, with steady piano motif, intimate woodwind and French horn, and warm, graceful strings. The urgent Ars Memoriae is a propulsive march for progress, processes and industry, underpinned by driving tuba, with determined strings, resolute drums, and vivid, expressive flute, clarinet and French horn.

The syncopated energetic minimalism of "Mirrored Seven" presents layers of melodic and cyclical piano, drums, low brass, harp, flute and strings. "Pure Ornament" follows, a slowly evolving chamber cue with flowing clarinet, string and harp arpeggio, plodding tuba and percussion, fluttering flute and graceful, lyrical solos. Stunning! Up next, "Brave Boy" moves from its tender, warm, lullaby-like intro with lyrical flute, clarinet and strings before opening into a playful backend driven by a bouncy tuba riff and syncopated piano, woodwind, string trio, and drums and percussion. Rounding out this astonishing piece, "Waxen Waned" is a warm, pastoral chamber cue with light lyrical woodwind, tender French horn and subtly pulsing string trio.

The album's title is a reference to Plato’s conception of Eros, which is more than romantic or physical desire. It is a dynamic and creative force that drives individuals to seek perfection whether in art, relationships, philosophy or the pursuit of truth. Wholly appropriate, here, we think. When asked what his influences were in making this astounding record, he answered thusly: "Non-musical: Householding, Pythagoras, Goethe, Grail romances, Hermeticism, Doctrine of Signatures (Parcelsus, Bohme, Pliny), Eric Rohmer, John Stezaker, Yasujiro Ozu. Musical: Duke Ellington (late suites), Smile-era Brian, early RZA, Wagner (Parsifal Overture), Magma, Mancini, Axelrod, YMO, Hildegard, Nyman, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Jobim (Stone Flower), Alessandro Alessandroni, Tavener, Moondog, Orthodox Music, Secular Music." That's some pretty deep shit. Makes you want to dive in, no?

Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis, and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry. Truly, Eros is a work of extraordinary depth and sophistication. It invites listeners to immerse themselves in its intricate layers, to lose themselves in its hypnotic rhythms, and to marvel at the precision of its execution. With this release, O’Sullivan reaffirms his position as one of the most inventive and uncompromising voices in contemporary music. Do. Not. Sleep.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

»Shell I« is the second edition on Edições CN by Brussels sound artist Florence Cats. It is a magical collection of 23 edits for voice, field recordings, theremin, and piano. Cats’ recorded piano rehearsals and singing sketches reminds us of Cornelius Cardew works. They are at the heart of Edições CN, where a sketch or rehearsal holds as much, if not more, truth than a definitive composition.

A melody line from Debussy passes by. Waves crash in the distance. Sails and flagpoles are sounding by the winds. Florence singing a stream of consciousness poem next to a water stream. Track by track you dream deeper in this generous collection. While the album’s A Side is an aquatic storyboard, the B Side is the essence of storms and days spent in the forest.

Cats holds a singular position at the firmament of Belgian sound explorers. Her art, almost unspectacular, is an important voice in these algorithmic times.

Florence Cats (Be, 1985) is an experimental artist working somewhere between music, sound, visual art and acupuncture. In 2023, she was selected as an emerging sound artist by Stuk, Q-O2 and Musica. Her work is a needle or antenna, inspired by the vibrations of sound and light in nature, travel, telepathy and dreams. She plays the theremin in experimental ways, interacting with her body, voice, water, radio and various.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

It’s written in the Agreement Terms. There’s no getting out alive in Life. And yet, mankind keeps striving for eternal life; through art, through power, through cryogenics, through singularity. In that misguided quest against the inevitable, we all fall into the category of lost travellers. No one is exempt. In that understanding, Confucius MC and producer Bastien Keb offer no misgivings about the destination on the somber “Time Will Come”: Time will come for all of us / try to take your time.

Songs For Lost Travellers is a collaborative album by Con and Bastien Keb that merges unexplored pathways between rap, folk, and jazz into a spiritual triumvirate. Each genre is a balancing force within the record. The result is an album unlike either artist have made previously, possibly unlike any record in existence. Songs For Lost Travellers opens with bedtime stories and fairytales. Both “Tell Me Lies” and “Fairytale” present the creature comforts that trick us into forgetting the truth. Con’s first words spoken are “tell me lies ‘til I swear I can’t remember” over Keb’s lo-fi plucking that feels like it was lifted from a handheld recorder capturing a nursery mobile above a crib. Third track “Time Will Come” resets the album after acknowledging on “Fairytale” there’s “no nourishment in half-truths / no sustenance in eating lies.”

Honest and direct, Con and Keb imbue Songs For Lost Travellers with knowledge and truth from their lived experiences. There is grief hidden in the notes, an inherent sadness that is balanced with an awareness that grief is a protest against the social machinery of remaining numb. The record lingers in a meditative state, unafraid of restlessness and embracing solitude, with the expectation that peace is just as imminent as death.

The production contains a complimentary authenticity. Neither Con nor Keb bothered much with the professional studio in making Songs For Lost Travellers. Instead they opted for the raw state of their home recordings and first takes, matching the intimacy of being alone and reflective in their creative energies. Room static on “Tell Me Lies” makes it feel like you’ve entered their apartments. The immediacy continues on “Gutters,” as Keb plays guitar while watching the tele and Con hums along to the vocal melody in search of the proper pocket for his verse. Someone snaps their finger to mark a cue, but the snap never returns to the mix to keep time.

More drawn to Keb’s recent folk recordings on the Songs For Lilla EP than his funk roots circa Dinking In The Shadows of Zizou or the cinematic soul of The Killing of Eugene Peeps, Con leaned into the spacial freedom he heard in Keb’s lo-fi production cobbled from field recordings and voice notes. Both artists placed their families into the tableau. Con wrote “Little Man” for his son, hoping to add a positive contribution to the canon of parental rap songs. Later, his son appears at the end of “Paramount” to deliver a passage from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. Keb secretly recorded his mum playing saxophone and sampled his cousin playing sax as well. The result is a near-drumless album (save for “Toulouse” and light tapping on “It Would Speak”) in which Keb’s raw production (plus a few sessions with Kofi Flexxx) gave Con a liminal zone, unencumbered by beats per minute, to craft melodies that turn his philosophical rhymes into mantras.

Perhaps there’s a message in the presence of family? It would be one of many. Con and Keb’s reflective, somber approach to Songs For Lost Travellers does not wallow in the mire. Music is action and it’s taking them through a portal to the other side of grief. We are welcome to join (which is also in the fine print of the Agreement Terms), but first there’s a password in the final song, a single request to answer: Tell me what you care about.

Biography by Blake Gillespie
credits

When the world — and his previous band Star Tropics — crumbled in the early days of the pandemic, Chicago's Loren Vanderbilt began rebuilding himself through song. Daydreaming to the chime of IRS-era R.E.M., Felt, The Railway Children, New Order, and 90's staples like Ride, Pale Saints and Slowdive, he fell backwards in time through records as a means of escape. To break away from the present and embrace the nostalgia of musical eras gone by, Loren formed Humdrum — a band built around his favorite elements of dream-pop, indiepop, shoegaze, and new wave. On his debut album, "Every Heaven," Loren establishes himself as a talented songwriter and master of melody across 10 tracks brimming with jangly guitars and lovelorn vocals—all punctuated by the pulse of a driving beat. A deeper listen reveals a juxtaposition between the album's carefree melodies, and its sobering truths about the life, loss, and the questions of being a queer 30-something artist. With "Every Heaven" Humdrum has presented 10 songs that speak to life's dynamic moments. And they can't wait for you to hear them.

Dame Area's highly anticipated fourth studio album, "Toda la verdad sobre Dame Area" ("The Whole Truth about Dame Area"), a collaboration with the renowned labels Mannequin Records and Humo Records.

Formed in 2017 within the vibrant underground scene of Barcelona's Màgia Roja club, Dame Area comprises the Italian-Catalan duo Silvia Konstance and Viktor Lux Crux. They fuse industrial-tribal polyrhythms with minimalist synth basslines, drawing profound inspiration from avant-garde masters such as Esplendor Geometrico, Throbbing Gristle, Suicide, Einstürzende Neubauten, Can, Coil, Swans, Big Black, and Wolf Eyes.

This record represents a new phase in Dame Area's discography. It's a big step up in terms of sound, composition and ideas. This record it's the perfect representation of what they have been playing live the last three years and what most people know them for. Also it serves as a companion piece to 2022’s Toda la mentira sobre Dame Area ("All The Lies About Dame Area"), which had a stronger focus on melody, while this latest record is more aggressive and industrial-influenced, with a greater emphasis on percussion.

Tracks like the Suicide-influenced "Si no es hoy cuando es" and "Sempre Cambiare" are an onslaught of industrialism and experimentalism—formidable, volatile, and unpredictable avant-garde subversion. Silvia explains, "One of our biggest influences is doing what our influences wouldn't do. We're more into dynamics and structures atypical of electronic music, with changes in time signatures, starts and stops, and dynamics more typical of rock music. We use any musical idea from any genre. Some songs on the album are based on flamenco rhythms, others influenced by '60s experimental pop, heavy metal, or contemporary electronic music."

The confrontational "Vengo dall'aldilà" accelerates with heavy percussion, while "Tu me hiciste creer" builds into a rhythmic, transcendent noise of yelled vocals and hypnotic beats. Viktor adds, "This song took us more time to complete than any other we have recorded. It was a very organic process, evolving slowly from some instrumental percussive stuff we were doing live. Then we started using feedback as a rhythmic element (through a metallic sheet), and this was the first song where we incorporated this element, typical of noise-rock and experimental rock."

Elsewhere, "Esto Es Nuestro Ruido" represents a manic, eclectic form of contemporary industrial music, post-punk, and EBM. Silvia notes, "It's the first album we recorded outside a studio. Although we've been playing live with metallic percussion and floor tom from the very start, in the studio, with some exceptions, it was mostly sample-based until now. On Toda la verdad sobre Dame Area, all drums and almost all metallic percussion have been recorded live."

With a growing reputation as one of the best live bands around since their inception, Dame Area has toured extensively across Europe, performing at renowned festivals like Atonal, CTM, Nuits Sonores, Dour, and Fusion, as well as legendary clubs such as Berghain, Tresor, Apolo, and Spook Factory.

Recorded at Sol de Sants Studios and Estudio Hermetic between August and November 2023

Silvia Konstance: vocals, synths, percussions, electronics, production
Viktor L. Crux: synths, drums, percussions, electronics, production
Mixing and additional production by Guillermo Sánchez Rojo
Mastering by Paul Mac at Hardgroove Mastering
Designed by Leo Sousa
Photography by Fabio Calabretta
Photo concept by Dame Area

Having gathered up praise from Mary Anne Hobbs, Cerys Matthews, Jamie Cullum, Gilles Peterson, Huey Morgan, The Guardian, Jazzwise and more, for his lauded ‘Crisis & Opportunity’, drummer and composer Myele Manzanza returns with the fourth instalment of his series, titled ‘Meditations’.

On ‘Meditations’, we see Myele revert to a purely acoustic line-up, channeling a focused and razor-sharp return to his Jazz roots. Showcasing an incredible level of musicianship between three musicians at the top of their game - including Matthew Sheens (Ross McHenry, John Patitucci) on piano and Matt Penman (Joshua Redman, Sfjazz Collective) on double bass - the trio exchange motifs over the length of 7 tracks.

Opening proceedings with frenetic rhythmic improvisation, complimented by melancholic and cinematic layers of sound, ‘Crayford’s Room’ is a tribute to Myele’s musical mentor back in New Zealand. Remembering his time as a student in Wellington, Myele shows his deep connection to his origins, manifesting itself as lament on ‘Winter’ and ‘Homesick’. Introducing hypnotic, contemplative melodies take centre stage on ‘Something Old Something New’ (the first single to be released from the project)’ It maintains a sense of tension and intrigue throughout, and intensity rises to a crescendo sending sonic particles sprawling into space.

Intuitive, darker and deeply contemplative, Myele shares his innermost thoughts on ‘Crisis and Opportunities Vol.4 - Meditations’. He divulges:

‘The personal angst and existential frustration I was going through across 2020 - 2022 I believe is well reflected here. The album is deeply informed by the musicianship and sound of my trio, Matthew Sheens on piano and Matt Penman on double bass. Knowing that musicians of their calibre were going to be involved gave me licence to go further in my writing, deploying odd time signatures, sharing the melody roles across the piano and the bass, and delving deeper into the nuances of what the acoustic piano / bass / drums trio can do. The compositions present a challenge even to the best musicians, and I knew that it was essential to have a team on this level to really move the music beyond an academic exercise and draw out the emotion and colour from the material.’

‘Empires into Sand’ is the first album of new material from Normil Hawaiians in 40 years. The group first refined their sound during the early 80s, hitting on a pastoral experimentalism that drew on ambient drone, motorik impulse and post-punk pep.
‘Empires into Sand’ came together in the familiar manner of their original three albums, with improvisation and nuance informing the blueprint of the tracks. It was with the official release of this last record ‘Return of the Ranters’ (originally recorded in 1984/85, but then unconsciously shelved) in 2015 by Upset The Rhythm that led to the group reconnecting with the intention of playing music together again. Normil Hawaiians played a launch show for that ‘lost album’ and followed that up with more concerts, including an appearance at Supernormal, a residency at the Edinburgh Festival, gigs at Cafe OTO. They were even chosen by Richard Dawson to perform with him in London.
Throughout this time, Normil Hawaiians revisited their original songs for live performance. However for a group always so interested in evolving their sound, it came as no surprise that they shirked at the idea of a faithful retread. The band pushed their songs into new inventive dimensions, still progressive at core, but now imbued with a cosmic uncanny. A cinematic approach that was always quietly present has come to the fore. The quaint weirdness of folk song, the humanity of communal practice and the group’s ecological mindedness have all found a place in Normil Hawaiians’ current sound world.
When Normil Hawaiians write and record music they prefer to gather in a remote location and live together for a while, such is their communal ethos. Being far-flung across the UK, the Family Hawaii (numbering seven key members) decided to encamp to Tayinloan, a small village on the west coast of the Kintyre peninsula in Scotland. They set up their own studio in an isolated, windswept house overlooking the sea and started the tape rolling. Noel Blanden from the band explains the process neatly: “we set up and began playing, slowly and patiently, allowing the music to take its own shape based on where we were staying and our ongoing friendship. We recorded for days, capturing everything. A lot of new and rich ideas began to emerge”.
Normil Hawaiians took their time to develop these threads at their own pace, allowing songs to mutate and settle over months. Simon Marchant deftly produced and recorded the album whilst also performing in the band, this marked the first time the band had total control of their own sound. The last few years has seen the band reconvene in Herne Bay, Faversham, London and Leith to record new parts, constantly responding to the changing form of these quietly spectral songs of defiance.
‘Empires into Sand’ incorporates samples from old rehearsals and live music into the new finished pieces, this is in continuum with their previous records. Snippets of sound from the static of short wave radio and satellite transmissions also embellish the work. In fact the whole album is stitched together with interludes, creating an acutely immersive 45 minutes. ‘Exiles’ opens the album amid swirling atmospheres, synth flights and recordings of Vilnis Egle (father of Zinta Egle from the band) retelling his experience of fleeing his home in Latvia during Soviet occupation in 1942. George Bikandy also features on this track talking about his flight from Syria in 2014. ‘Ghosts of Ballochroy’ is a winding river of a song featuring a lively discourse in Scots courtesy of Rodney Relax. There’s a commitment to truth telling present across this hopeful album populated with angels, incoming tides, long shadows and the rose-washed sun. “From our broken windscreen, we feel the breeze” soars Guy Smith triumphantly over the driving beat of ‘Waterfalls : Bedford 330’. ‘Big City Sky’ flutters and sparkles with rapid synth runs, tape-looped drums and Jimmy Miller’s commanding vocal. With ‘In The Stone’ Zinta’s melody is deliberately jagged and blunt, exaggerated by octave-layered vocals and interjections from Guy.
This is thought-provoking, boundary-bothering music. Honest in intent, a solidarity of vision. The album’s title is derived from a poem by band member Mark Tyler, who sadly passed away during the recording process and the transience of life is felt heavily throughout. Noel best coins the group’s wish for the album: “we wanted to create an album that acknowledges our history and also reflects who we are today. We remained true to ourselves and we wanted to make something beautiful without removing the edges.” ‘Empires into Sand’ certainly does that, it’s an echo from the past, an echo from the future.

Ever since their auspicious beginnings, more than a decade ago, Laughing Bastards have giddily delighted in impurity. Initially a reeds-guitar-bass trio modeled after the classic Jimmy Giuffre 3, the band has remained truthful to its original spirit. Saxophone player Michel Mast and guitarist Jan-Sebastiaan Degeyter have remained its core, but the band went through several permutations, first welcoming Eline Duerinck (cello) and Marcos Della Rocha (for Unanimal in 2019) and solidifying its present-day line-up with bassist Cyrille Obermüller.

Bastards. It's kind of a rude word to throw around carelessly, but there has always been that element of being irregular, being too stubborn to comply with what is expected, that has set them apart. This is nowhere more evident than in the material contributed by Degeyter, who wrote more than half of the album's compositions. A talented illustrator and designer (he created a few of their striking album covers) as well as a versatile guitarist, Degeyter always manages to add a strong visual component to his material. In combination with his knack for pulling exotic influences into the band's overall sound, it leads to a playful, cinematic eccentricity.

"Tigraman" and "Black Spoon" are examples of this. Both are infused with an Ethiopian-tinged sound, but while the first one develops the catchy throbbing of a trance-like soul/rock tune, the second exudes the lush cadence of Golden Age Ethio jazz, the kind that gets under your skin with those sensual, irrepressible rhythms. They are a nice match with the increasing drama of the Slavic-tinged "Red Lemon", the slow, dreamy flow of the Jamaican dance hall-inspired "Sand", a strong feature for Duerinck, and "Dosi", that shows Obermüller's knack for propulsive melody.

The synesthete in Degeyter gets free reign in "Calliope", chamber jazz in which sweeping sax and cello are kept grounded by guitar, bass and drums. Mast's odd meter-song "Fetish" is another showcase for the band's effortless dancing and some gorgeous tenor schmooze. Della Rocha's "Turquoise" starts off in brooding, contemplative way and keeps simmering on a low, glowing fire. To top it off, there are a few covers that remind you of the band's origins. A new take on Giuffre's rootsy "The Train and the River" stresses their loose flexibility with an Americana style somewhat reminiscent of Charlie Haden, while Carla Bley's evergreen "Vashkar" gets a carefully constructed makeover to close out the album with grace.

On their latest album, Laughing Bastards prove they are a quintessential Belgian band - soaking up sounds and influences from all over the place while maintaining a tight unity - with an international appeal. Combining jazz and chamber music with ideas from pop music and multi-colored strains does not only give their music an iridescent edge, but also keeps the interplay fresh and inspired, something to return to while waiting to see them live on stage.

French pianist Dorian Dumont is an exceptionally gifted, Brussels-based jazzman and member of electronic experimentalists, ECHT! In 2021, he released his debut solo album 'APHEXionS' - a challenging exercise of solo piano focussed entirely on the music of one of the most influential and important artists in contemporary electronic music, Richard James, aka Aphex Twin. Dumont's sophomore album, 'to the APhEX', released 23rd February via W.E.R.F. Records, continues that fascination with his musical hero and acts as a musical love letter of sorts - a groundbreaking experience, where the enchanting world of classical piano collides with the electronic brilliance of Aphex Twin. Richard James' music serves as a starting point for Dumont's musical developments which are sometimes composed and often improvised, letting him find his playing field around the concepts and the poetics of the genius of electro music. Contrary to what one would expect, there are no electronics involved but Dumont carefully transcribes a wide selection of Aphex Twin's music to the grand piano, giving the songs a whole new dimension. Dumont starts from the melody lines and rhythmic structures found in the original tracks but builds on them, deconstructing pieces and adding his own improvisations. Lovingly recreated, the songs take on a completely new dimension, and it exposes both the genius and musicality of Aphex Twin and Dumont himself. "Aphex Twin is a fascinating artist and character. At first, I started transcribing his pieces just to understand them. I then sat on my acoustic piano for the pleasure of hearing these pieces that I loved so much only to realize that in the end I was improvising, I was playing. In short: I was having fun. That's how this project was born: through pleasure and games. The challenge then was to develop the concept of this project to find my own playground and my own responses around the musical principles of Mr. Richard James, in order to make this project a celebration on my own terms."

Always curious about new sounds and cultivating eclecticism, 'to the APhEX' stays truthful to the minimalistic aesthetics from the original tracks. From the unruly, emotionally stirring '180db_ 130' to the simple beauty of 'Windowlicker', Dumont is part of a new generation of musicians who have no intention of sticking to the rules. Dumont dances across the keys, perfectly capturing the mood and feeling of Aphex Twin, where classical meets electronic. Elsewhere, 'PAPAT4 155[pineal mix]' is stripped to the core showcasing Dumont's ingenuity, while 'Avril 14th' and album finale '#3 (Rhubarb)', unfolds with delicate piano, evoking a sense of tranquil introspection.
Born in Montpellier where he studied classical piano at the Conservatory, in 2005, Dumont achieved the highest distinctions in piano and chamber music. With a broadening interest in jazz and improvised music, he moved to Brussels in 2008 and after studying in the Jazz sections at the Royal Conservatory of Brussels then at the Koninklijk Conservatorium van Brussel, he obtained his master's degree in 2013. In recent years, he has played an integral part of the critically acclaimed four-piece 'ECHT!' which breaks the boundaries between jazz, electronic music and hip-hop. In addition, Dumont also participates in numerous other projects across various genres including 'Edges' with Guillaume Vierset, Jim Black, and Anders Christensen or 'Easy Pieces' with Ben Sauzereau and Hendrik Lasure. He also collaborates with bands including Juicy, Vaague, Kuna Maze, and Pol Belardi's Force, among others.


[a] A1. 180db_ [130]


[d] A4. PAPAT4 [155][pineal mix]

Sourced from the Original Master Tapes and Presented in Audiophile Sound for the First Time: Mobile Fidelity’s Numbered-Edition 180g SuperVinyl LP Plays with Riveting Detail
Three decades before he released The Philosophy of Modern Song — an insightful book devoted to 66 tunes that both impacted his career and the music world at large — Bob Dylan issued Good As I Been to You. The under-heralded 1992 album, Dylan’s first solo acoustic album in nearly 30 years and first all-covers effort in nearly 20 years, can be seen as a prophetic prelude to what has become the Nobel Laureate’s celebrated late-career arc. It’s also an absorbing continuation of the custom Dylan has embraced since he first picked up a guitar.


Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at RTI, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition 180g SuperVinyl LP of Good As I Been to You reveals the immediacy, detail, and stripped-down nature of recording sessions that took place in Dylan’s garage studio in California. Simple, raw, and unplugged, the record presents Dylan in peak form — and showcases a diversity of vocal phrasing, soulful chording, harmonica accents, and close-up ambience that on this reissue emerge like never before. As the first-ever audiophile edition of this almost-lost classic, this LP also benefits from SuperVinyl’s extraordinary properties: a nearly inaudible noise floor, superb groove definition, and dead-quiet surfaces among them.

Recorded and mixed by Micajah Ryan, and supervised by Debbie Gold, Good As I Been to You took shape at Dylan’s home shortly after the singer-songwriter completed sessions in Chicago with a full band. Unaccompanied, he again gravitated to existing works — in this case, traditional folk music — and, with Gold serving as a trusted advisor, performed the songs in multiple keys and tempos until he arrived at what he desired. That careful, determined albeit loose, organic approach emanates from this reissue, on which each note, movement, and space come across more directly, fully, and immediately than on the original formats. It helps draw a through-line to Another Side of Bob Dylan (1964) as well as the similarly themed follow-up, World Gone Wrong (1993) and immersive old-world storytelling of Tempest (2012) and Rough and Rowdy Ways (2020).

Well before Dylan made those renowned 21st century LPs, however, he needed to find a way out of a funk that — save for his 1989 collaboration with Daniel Lanois, Oh Mercy — followed him for years. As author Clinton Heylin reported Dylan admitting in 1997: “My influences have not changed — and any time they have done, the music goes off to a wrong place. That’s why I recorded two LPs of old songs, so I could personally get back to the music that’s true for me.”

Truth: Few, if any, concepts better encapsulate Good As I Been to You. It resonates with the same originality, honesty, resolve, and age- and time-defying relevance as the seminal Anthology of American Folk Music that fired Dylan’s imagination as a kid in small-town Minnesota and, later, per Greil Marcus’ That Old Weird America book, informed Dylan and the Band’s Basement Tapes sessions. This record also contains the type of music Dylan was playing during his acoustic sets at his period Never Ending Tour shows; within a year of the record’s release, Dylan would play half the album’s songs live.

As for those songs: Rife with strange mystery, common circumstance, and epic adventure, the stories appeal to our base instincts. Their themes — jealousy, temptation, sacrifice, love, revenge, identity, opportunity — operate on a fundamentally human level immune to trends, generations, or eras. They’re ancient and modern, serious and comical, open and disguised, simple and multi-layered. They talk of vengeance and justice (“Frankie & Albert”; “Jim Jones”), romance and tenderness (“Tomorrow Night,” “Froggie Went a Courtin’”), the troubled and trouble-free (“Hard Times,” “Sittin’ on Top of the World”). They lend voice to lovers scorned and freed (“Blackjack Davey”), the used and users (“Diamond Joe”), the powerful and powerless (“Arthur McBride,” “Canadee-I-O”), the followed and followers (“Little Maggie”). And akin to much of Dylan’s finest output, things are not always what they appear to be.

Spanning country, folk, sea shanty, bluegrass, and blues motifs, Good As I Been to You re-confirms Dylan’s position as an elite interpreter and sculptor — not of just structure but emotion. Dylan delivers the tunes as if he’s known them forever. He plays with a subtle sense of mischievousness and retains a largely upbeat demeanour; his eyes seemingly twinkle as he sings and picks. His guitar serves as the guidepost for shuffles, boogies, ballads, and mess-arounds while his innate feel for each specific arrangement and melody helps inform pacing, tone, attack.

Like a great author, he understands the importance of adhering to concision, luring an audience, holding their attention, and maximizing the impact of details, actions, and unexpected turns. Though already coarse and ragged, his voice feels ideal for the subject matter and his phrasing — from the clever ways he stretches syllables to underline meanings on the surprise twists of “Canadee-I-O” to the sheer delight he gets from singing “rowdy-dow-dow” on the protest song “Arthur McBride” — outstanding.

Powerhouse R&B/Soul vocalist and Canadian Idol finalist. Gary Beals, is thrilled to be releasing his new album, The Melody Within. The Melody within is a musical journey that unfolds across two sides, much like a story that reveals new layers with each turn. The album is more than just a collection of songs; it's an emotional guide that beckons us to explore the depths of our own feelings and explores navigating emotions, self discovery, and nostalgia through soulful melodies. "This album serves as the aftermath to my previous album, "Bleed My Truth". It's a continuation of my musical journey, a fusion of soulful melodies and diverse influences that mirror both my personal and artistic evolution," said Gary Beals. "Each song is a chapter, a piece of my heart and soul, inviting listeners into my world of emotions, experiences and connection. It uncovers the melody that resides within. The anticipation is building as I look forward to sharing this collection of new music, and I hope it resonates deeply, offering a meaningful and memorable musical experience enriched with a multitude of emotions." With this new body of work, Gary had the opportunity to work with two talented primary producers,Beatchild (Drake, Justin Nozuka, Glen Lewis) and Myles "Losh'' Schwartz (Allan Rayman, Tobi, The Game, Pretty Lights). Additional production credits on the album include, Chris Guirguis, Frizzy Astro (Raz Fresco, Daniel Son), Jordan "Tempo" Farmer, Kobebeats (Rodwave, Kcamp, Sevyn),Sid Aakowa, Ty Danelley (Popcaan, Tory Lanez, Pressa) and Warren Williams, who all helped to shape the makings of the album while maintaining a consistent synergy. Side A of the album draws inspiration from the likes of Al Green, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye, and James Brown, and pays homage to artists who have played an integral part in shaping Gary's musical roots. This side includes Gary's previously released singles, "Good People, Good Vibes" and "All of Me," and the album's title track "The Melody Within," that commends the process of self-discovery and introspection. Also included is the album's 5th single, "Self Revolution," which will be released on October 27th along with the official music video. On Side B, you'll encounter a fusion of R&B and pop elements while still staying true to the album's soulful essence. Included on this side, is Gary's third single "I Like That," featuring JRDN and KAYO ,and the new single "How Do I Say (I Love You)," released September 22nd. "How Do I Say (I Love You)" dives into the inner conflict of conveying affection, showing vulnerability, and the bravery needed to expose one's heart to someone else. About Gary Beals: Two decades ago, Gary embarked on his musical journey when he, a small-town kid from Nova Scotia (now calling Toronto home), made a remarkable entrance onto the national stage as a part of Canada's inaugural season of Canadian Idol. This month marks the 20th anniversary of the finale where Gary was crowned as the "runner up" on the show. The experience ignited a transformative period of self-reflection and discovery that propelled Gary toward personal growth, shaping his life and musical career in lasting ways.

Fast forward through three albums and twenty years, Gary's work and talent have made a remarkable impact and received widespread critical acclaim. Among his accomplishments are debuting in the top 10 of the Canadian sales chart, being nominated for a JUNO Award for "Best R&B/Soul Recording," winning an East Coast Music Award and seven African Nova Scotia Music Awards, as well as scoring nominations for an Urban Music Award and a Canadian Radio Music Award. These accomplishments led to his home province's Premier officially designating November 22nd as Gary Beals Day in acknowledgment of his achievements.

With his return, Gary is poised to make a positive impact on the ever-expanding global community as he prepares to release his new album The Melody Within. The album will stand as a tribute to the strength that resides within all of us and a reminder that true fulfillment comes not just from achieving goals, but from discovering the intricate beauty that lies within our own hearts and souls.

Craig Charles is a big supporter of Gary Beals and spun his single 'All Of Me' for three weeks in a row on his Funk and Soul Show on BBC Radio Six

The earth rotates, seasons change_there is but one long day_ Time is a beguiling, indistinct entity_sometimes standing still, sometimes bending back upon itself with premonitions or memories of the future. Growing out of a pen pal style correspondence that took place over the course of a year, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, Gloria de Oliveira and Dean Hurley passed thoughts and music back and forth that would eventually form their collaborative album, Oceans of Time. The result is an aural tapestry of that exchange: woven from conceptual threads of the celestial within, mortality and the realm beyond stars. The duo's partnership is an effortless merge, yet it's the steady presence of de Oliveira's vocals that endows the record with its sense of potency. Throughout the album, there is an innate understanding of how a lyric across a chordal color can sharpen an emotional truth. Much like a sunbeam that pierces a spiderweb to reveal its intricacy, her lyric and melody are purposely aimed in order to illuminate the truths deep within oneself_a process that ties us all to the universal. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, a professed influence, wrote about the truth as something that was inherently subjective, less about the concrete reality of what is believed and more about how it is experienced by the believer. Frequent David Lynch collaborator Dean Hurley sets the tonal and sonic landscape of each track on the album, lending a layered ether that envelops, frames and holds de Oliveira's vocals. With its impressionistic synths, shimmering guitars, and ethereal sonics, Oceans of Time at moments recalls the foundational dreampop of 4AD acts like Cocteau Twins and Lush. The album feels especially attuned to the connections between the physical and transcendental realms, and the best dreampop has a way of making the veil between two worlds feel just a little bit thinner. Oceans of Time is a key that has the power to release its listener from the handcuffs of reality, however briefly_

The earth rotates, seasons change_there is but one long day_ Time is a beguiling, indistinct entity_sometimes standing still, sometimes bending back upon itself with premonitions or memories of the future. Growing out of a pen pal style correspondence that took place over the course of a year, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, Gloria de Oliveira and Dean Hurley passed thoughts and music back and forth that would eventually form their collaborative album, Oceans of Time. The result is an aural tapestry of that exchange: woven from conceptual threads of the celestial within, mortality and the realm beyond stars. The duo's partnership is an effortless merge, yet it's the steady presence of de Oliveira's vocals that endows the record with its sense of potency. Throughout the album, there is an innate understanding of how a lyric across a chordal color can sharpen an emotional truth. Much like a sunbeam that pierces a spiderweb to reveal its intricacy, her lyric and melody are purposely aimed in order to illuminate the truths deep within oneself_a process that ties us all to the universal. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, a professed influence, wrote about the truth as something that was inherently subjective, less about the concrete reality of what is believed and more about how it is experienced by the believer. Frequent David Lynch collaborator Dean Hurley sets the tonal and sonic landscape of each track on the album, lending a layered ether that envelops, frames and holds de Oliveira's vocals. With its impressionistic synths, shimmering guitars, and ethereal sonics, Oceans of Time at moments recalls the foundational dreampop of 4AD acts like Cocteau Twins and Lush. The album feels especially attuned to the connections between the physical and transcendental realms, and the best dreampop has a way of making the veil between two worlds feel just a little bit thinner. Oceans of Time is a key that has the power to release its listener from the handcuffs of reality, however briefly_

Reissued on limited edition 180 gram Clear vinyl. On The Blackened Air (her second album but first for Touch and Go, originally released in 2002), Nina Nastasia and her band are not content to just support a vocal melody; they pry it apart and look down its throat. The stringed and wind instruments (viola, cello, mandolin, accordion, bowed saw, acoustic and electric guitars) reach up out of the songs into rarefied territory. Little stories of Peeping Toms and the police lights they bring with them, graveyards and impolite family, epigrams against disaster, depression, simple forgetfulness, all delivered so effortlessly that the precision of the delivery registers long after its substance has left its mark. When she sings "I'm not hiding anything / I'm not trying to fool you at all," in a song titled "That's All There Is," it is all the truth. A generation-plus of young troubadours pine for things they never had to lose, as if sadness and depression were inevitable consequences of being alive. Nastasia's music is an antidote to all of that. The Blackened Air is a darkish record not just in title, but by examining everything without caving in to decadence or solipsism, it is a rejuvenating experience. It is informed, without affect, unique, and succinct. Above all, it is beautiful to hear and a pleasure to have in one's home.