Cerca:mish maybe

Igor Tamerlan is a stranger in his own land. Born in 1954 the Hague and spent most formative years in Paris, Igor suddenly had the urge to relocate to Bali in 1986. “I want to settle in Indonesia and marry a local girl,” he told his sister shortly before flying out.

His next journey would be as audacious as his time in the Fifth Republic. Born from a prominent Indonesian expatriate family in Paris with ties to Indonesia’s first prime minister Sutan Sjahrir, Igor earned a degree in architecture at Ecole nationale supe´rieure d’architecture de Paris-La Villette.

He could have been a brilliant architect or a political scientist (he was accepted to Sciences Po), but his passion for music distracted him from his academic works. He was after all named after Russian composer Igor Stravinsky.

During his brief stint at Sciences Po, Igor spent most of times hanging out at recording studios and rub shoulders with the likes of singer-songwriter Jean-Jacques Goldman and Michel Polnaref. He had a brief encounter with The Rolling Stones at the Cha^teau de Thoiry studio in the early 1970s.

But Igor’s musical education and his occidental eyes appeared to be ill-suited for Indonesia. His first record, titled Langkah Pertama (First Step) on the mainstream label Musica was met with a shrug and was a commercial dud. An experimental record blending the influence of Spanish motifs, Francophile production and a whiff of hip hop and ska was seen by critics as being too alien. His sarcasm-laden lyrics and his biting critique of excessive materialism among the upper tier of Indonesia’s nouveau riche in the album was met with confusion from the audience. He was just too far ahead of his time.

He left the label Musica – or may had been dropped – soon after Langkah Pertama and decided to go independent. He then relocated to Bali and set up a state-of-the-art recording studio in Sanur, across the street from Southeast Asia’s first boutique hotel where luminaries like Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Sting, Yoko Ono and Ringo Starr stayed for their holiday.

From the studio, Igor recording everything from the sounds waterfalls, geckos, minibuses to motorized rickshaw and mix them with hip hop, jazz, electronica, dub and Balinese gamelan. A visionary, Igor was the first musician to use MIDI, which started to be available globally in the early 1980s.

On paper, songs like “Bali Vanilli” should not work, a mish mash of disparate elements mentioned above, sung in three languages, Balinese, English and Bahasa Indonesia while tackling the subject of overtourism. The song was also the first to introduce rap to an unsuspecting audience. But for some strange reason “Bali Vanilli” became a sensation and overnight Igor became household name. And in 1987, long before overtourism was an issue, Igor broached the subject to a national audience in Indonesia on the possible destruction of nature and culture from tourism.

Ever an iconoclast, Igor decided to step out of the limelight following the success of “Bali Vanilli” and in early 1990s he relocated to Indonesia’s cultural capital, Yogyakarta. Here, he worked on some more experimental music while juggling as music video director. He passed away in 2018 at the age of 64.

The 10 songs in this compilation, Bali Vanilli: Experimental Pop from Paradise Island (1987-1991), are some of Igor’s best works, music that would have gone into obscurity had it not been for the diligent work of film director Alfred Pasifico Ginting, who managed to track down some of the master tapes while researching on a documentary on the musician.

These recordings have never before been released outside of Indonesia. Igor would have been proud with this reissue project.

For All The World, the black watch's twenty-fifth (and first double) album is a darkly poppy, brightly moody, many-splendored take on a number of the great themes: Death and Sex, Memory and Lament and Hope and Love. And it is, arguably, this heralded Los Angeles band's most sonically ambitious and moving record yet, since front man/novelist/ex-English professor John Andrew Fredrick formed the group in 1988 in Santa Barbara after he'd seen a London-by-way-of-Canada band called The Lucy Show play to twelve-or-so people in his hometown.

Having recorded 2024's Weird Rooms with producer Misha Bullock and Fredrick's son Chandler at Bullock's studio in Austin, TX, the TBW founder was keen to repeat the experience with, he says, more straightforward, classic psych/jangle/shoegaze songs. The result, though artistically satisfying, spurred a yen in John to write more songs as a sort of reaction against the batch he'd carried with him from LA to Texas. "We had such a productive time recording ‘Weird Rooms’ that I wanted to repeat the experience... without repeating the experience. And once it was over and I left Misha to do what he pleased with respect to mixing and overdubbing, all I could think was 'I need to write another album now.'" So Fredrick brought longstanding producer/engineer and TBW-associate Scott Campbell (Stevie Nicks, Acetone) along this time to help out with engineering and good cheer.

Fredrick, who has been "accused" of being "astonishingly prolific," learned that bandmate Andy Creighton had recently become unemployed, seized the opportunity to have yet another multi-instrumentalist flesh out the new songs he quickly wrote after he came back from Austin. “Achilles Past,” the first single, is in fact a song that John wrote when the production team thought the album was done—and the front man avers that it’s often the case that a very strong song comes to him, as it were, in the eleventh hour. The same could be said for “Listen You Wait”—another number that came late to the Austin sessions.

Nevertheless, the recording of the first half of For All The World has Creighton's signature indelibly stamped on it - especially on such tracks as “Fainting” and “Surely You Rally”- just as the latter half highlights Bullock's formidable talents. "They're both not just brilliant musicians and they understand my aesthetic and bring their own sensibilities to bear on my stuff. Our respective tastes meet in, you guessed it, The Beatles' realm - the great shadow that hangs over all I do, at least."

"There's A Place," the final song on side two, serves in fact as a distinct homage that's been a long time coming for a band that included a cover of "It's All Too Much" as a bonus track and that release a quite punkish, uptempo version of "Eleanor Rigby" on a 7".

It's a little known fact that in 1969, Motown Records boss Berry Gordy organised a holiday trip to Jamaica for his label's stars. It's even less well known that while they were there, a number of those same stars worked with an up-and-coming local producer to record versions of established hits over instrumental riddims from the newly emergent reggae genre. Unfortunately, perhaps due to the plentiful supply of herbal entertainment during the recording sessions, the masters were believed lost. Until now. Happily, their recent re-discovery means you finally get to hear Uptight Boss and Beg For A Dollar - the massively crowd-pleasing consequences of giving a brace of mid-sixties Motown classics the boss reggae treatment!

Alright, maybe it didn't go down like that. Maybe the sound of this release was born instead out of people occasionally mishearing the name of Mako & Mr Bristow's 'Stank Soul Edits' series as 'Skank' Soul Edits. Which got them thinking. What would 'skank soul' sound like? Hello Trojan – meet Motown. Mojan? Trotown? Either way - reggae most definitely got soul!