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Ltd. Purple & Black Splatter Vinyl. It's been four years since Zach Saginaw, aka Shigeto, returned home to Michigan from a stint in Brooklyn, NY, and since then, the multi-faceted musician has become a part of the fabric of Detroit's music scene. While always having a personal approach to his projects, Saginaw's influences for his third album, The New Monday are more about the community of Detroit than anything else. Named after a weekly DJ event called Monday is the New Monday that Saginaw does at the unassuming Motor City Wine with a group of friends, The New Monday is the result of Saginaw diving into the city's deep record culture, where there legacy of artist's of the past help Saginaw embrace his own contributions. "It's focused on a couple things and they all kind of come together to represent dierent things," explains Saginaw. "My time back in Detroit, back living in Michigan and spending time with a lot of kind of original people who have always been here, learning from them, hearing stories from them, being influenced by them, and inspired by them." While, in the past, projects like Lineage or No Better Time Than Now were rooted in strong personal messages, family and relationships respectively, The New Monday represents a communal eort where solidarity is the key. Going for a simplified approach of just trying to make good tracks, The New Monday is diverse in its styles leaning more into a dance music direction - new ground for a Shigeto project. A new air of confidence in Saginaw has expanded his horizons since his return to Detroit, but traces of his past work will continue to be present. "I don't want people to think I'm leaving anything," says Saginaw. "I'm still me. It's a result of me being immersed in the culture, and inevitably making music that is influenced by that culture whether it be house, techno, jazz, rap. It doesn't matter. It's all coming from what I love about Michigan." While The New Monday still features the jazz textures long associated with Shigeto projects, the varied elements that make up the album cohesively come together to show the distinct inspiration that Saginaw has drew from since his return home to Detroit. Like on "Barry White", which features Detroit hip-hop artist ZelooperZ (a member of Danny Brown's Bruiser Brigade crew who Saginaw also has a side project with called ZGTO), Saginaw captures everything he's been doing all on one track. As much as it's hip-hop influenced, it's a mutant that encompasses elements of dance music, jazz, and ambient sounds. Throughout The New Monday, Saginaw poignantly references the musical influences that have either always been with him or newly discovered. It is Saginaw's interpretation of Detroit's rich culture of innovative artistry, but done so with respect for the history and to contribute, not disrupt. "I think over the past four years, I can confidently say that I found my place here," describes Saginaw. "I'm happy here and I feel that I have the respect from the people I need respect from, that I want respect from. It's all of the result of embracing it and embracing, not Detroit, but embracing community, embracing family,








f A2D (FT. ZEELOOPERZ & SILAS GREEN) AAPV






f A2D (FT. ZEELOOPERZ & SILAS GREEN) [AAPV]

BYAMM started life during the first lockdown of 2021 as a studio project described as song-based synth soul with a nod to the 1980s.

The founders were Barima Yaw Asante, who wrote the songs, played keyboards, produced and did a bit of everything, along with old friend Matt Myatt, who was the DJ with the responsibility for the beats. BYAMM was an acronym of Barima Yaw Asante and Matt Myatt.

Claire Dickson (she/her), the Brooklyn-based vocalist, composer, and producer lauded for her "striking-at times, wordless-lyricism and melody-driven sound chamber within shapeshifting ambiance" (Downbeat) and whose voice "draws the listener into a world complex and jostled, where everything seems possible, loaded with...fascination and mystery" (Silence and Sound), releases her highly anticipated sophomore album, The Beholder, via New Amsterdam Records.

"A Single History 1991-2001" ist eine erweiterte und neu gemasterte 25-Jahres-Jubiläumsausgabe der vergriffenen Singles und Compilation-Tracks des mythischen Trios aus Olympia, Washington. Von den ersten Post-Hardcore-Klängen auf "Crab Nebula" bis zum Dub-inspirierten Todesmarsch von "Behold The Salt" füllt diese 23-Track-Doppel-LP die verzerrten Lücken der ersten sieben Alben und versammelt Reste aus dem ersten Jahrzehnt von Unwound. "Ich würde lieber verwesten Fisch essen, als mir das hier anzuhören"

"A Single History 1991-2001" ist eine erweiterte und neu gemasterte 25-Jahres-Jubiläumsausgabe der vergriffenen Singles und Compilation-Tracks des mythischen Trios aus Olympia, Washington. Von den ersten Post-Hardcore-Klängen auf "Crab Nebula" bis zum Dub-inspirierten Todesmarsch von "Behold The Salt" füllt diese 23-Track-Doppel-LP die verzerrten Lücken der ersten sieben Alben und versammelt Reste aus dem ersten Jahrzehnt von Unwound. "Ich würde lieber verwesten Fisch essen, als mir das hier anzuhören" -

Moon Diagrams – the solo project of Deerhunter co-founder and drummer Moses Archuleta – returns with a second album, Cemetery Classics, on June 21. The 12-track album is a co-release between Sonic Cathedral (in the UK and Europe) and Angus Andrew from Liars’ new label No Gold (in the US and the ROW) and was mixed by James Ford. It features guests including Anastasia Coope, Patrick Flegel (Cindy Lee) and Josh Diamond (Gang Gang Dance). It’s Moses’ first new music since 2019’s Trappy Bats mini-album and the follow-up to 2017’s acclaimed debut Lifetime of Love and everything seems a bit more extreme – from the Basinski-esque degradation of ‘Neptune’ to the Faustian industrial noise of ‘Listen To Me’ via Art of Noise-style postmodern pop (the first single ‘Very Much My Promise to You’), Daft Punk bangers (‘Fifteen Shows at One Time’), trip-hop, shoegaze, Jan Hammer, Depeche Mode, late Leonard Cohen and more. “It’s about finding out your arms are too short to box with god,” says Moses of the emotional force that courses through Cemetery Classics. “It’s the inverse of a desert island disc – a graveyard disc. Songs to take into the afterlife.”

LP, 2024 Repress - half speed mastering
"The 50 best IDM albums of all time"
Pitchfork

"A liquidy headbox of aural shapes, whose forms hardly change yet seem to encompass infinite viscosity within them, like rainbow pools of oil on water"
Wire

"Before IDM became a nation of Aphex and Autechre cosplayers, the genre was less defined by aesthetics than by a shared ideology. Here was a loosely connected axis of post-rave kids, united by little more than a shared willingness to subvert the tools of their techno idols and create sounds that hadn't previously been imagined. No record of the era better embodies this find-a-machine-and-freak-it ethos than Islets in Pink Polypropylene, the otherworldly debut by British producer Anthony Manning."
Pitchfork

"It’s refreshing to hear an all-electronic album that sounds so organic yet so totally alien."
Fact

"One of the UK’s first post-rave ambient records proper; sharing much more in common with Autechre’s Amber or AFX’s Selected Ambient Works Vol. II - which were both released in that same year - than anything else before or around it."
Boomkat

For fans of avant everything innovative and experimental music.




About The Album>>>>

The whole album was composed and realized on the Roland R8 drum machine. It followed the same process as the Elastic Variations pieces, with the major addition of many, many hours of editing.

Each piece was composed as a series of patterns, of varying lengths ( 5,6,7 bars long ). The stock R8 sounds were embellished with one of several ROM sound library cards ( mostly the Dance card, number 10 ).

These patterns were created by tapping out a rhythm, then, in real time, using the Pitch slider as the pattern looped, to create improvised melodies for each of the pattern's voices.

The rough version of each piece was built by stitching the patterns together as a song, listening to each addition over and over, to make sure the melodies flowed into each other in a vaguely coherent manner.

Once this initial rough structure was in place I set about fine tuning every single note.

The R8 doesn't allow you to assign a pitch to a note in the conventional sense. It's not possible to assign a pitch of Middle C to the first note of the first bar. Instead, it assigns a numerical value to a note's pitch, between -4800 and +4800 ( I think those numbers are correct - that little screen is seared into my memory ).

If you restrict all notes within a piece to a multiple of, say, 400, you therefore create the possibility of a sort of scale. For multiples of 400, you have a total number of 24 permissable notes. However, most of the percussive sounds, when pitch shifted, only sounded 'good' over a reduced range.

The first editing step was to go through the entire piece, and change every note's pitch to its nearest multiple of 400.

The second step was to draw out the entire piece on graph paper, the Y axis being pitch, X being time. This drawing gave me a visual sense of a melody's flow. It was easy to see too many notes clustering around too tight a pitch range for instance, or a single note straying way down into the lower register while all others at that point in the melody were in the upper.

Once these first 'clearing-up' edits were complete I could set about re-writing elements that didn't sound right melodically. Often this meant stripping out whole chunks of superfluous notes, to reveal a cleaner melody line, then shifting its shape slightly. If the flow of the line of dots on the graph 'looked' balanced and sweetly sinuous, then often it sounded so.

This entire process took many weeks per piece. Weeks of doing almost nothing else. Listening. Re-drawing. Re-writing. Listening. Round and round and round. When I could hear the whole thing in my head, from beginning to end, and nothing seemed to jar ( too excessively ), I knew it was done, time to move on.

I imagine it's very similar to the process of stop animation. Your days are filled with painfully tiny incremental changes that seem to be getting nowhere. Then, slowly, a shape, narrative, starts to appear. Then, all of a sudden, somehow, it's done.

When all the pieces were complete the R8 was taken into Irdial's studio where some simple effects were added, each voice recorded individually for clarity onto 8-track tape and mastered onto an ex-BBC half-inch tape deck.

Then I slept. And vowed never to do it again.

*****

And the title ?

Soon after finishing the pieces I happened to read a magazine article about Christo's "Surrounded Islands" installation with the music playing in the background.

There was something about a particular cluster of words within a random sentence that seemed pleasing and somehow appropriate.

"Islets in Pink Polypropylene" seemed to make as much sense as anything else.

Club music culture necessarily shifted gears in many ways during and after the course of the pandemic. Older participants found their way into other interests and younger participants took new reigns to orient spaces they felt good inside of. The agenda for the music, and the cultural industry surrounding it at large, took a more frivolous and “fun” turn. Clubs needed to recoup lost money, people needed more refreshing catharsis for their nightlife escape, and in some pockets scattered around the globe a newer and younger cadre of producers/promoters/DJ’s pulled optical cues from a scattering of “darker” influences to give an alternate aesthetic to the aforementioned “vibes” culture. In the midst of this, a large polarization of conceptual energy shifted within the compositional and utilitarian machinations of the club music culture leaving behind the brooding and cerebral placeholders for different kind of enjoyable hedonism. Terrestrial Paradise’ “Artificial Hell” harkens to another prescient time before that shift occurred. “Artificial Hell’ might just be an illustration of what all of this fun escapism encapsulates.

Terrestrial Paradise is the latest moniker from Montreal come Los Angeles based producer Jaclyn Kendal. Having developed and cemented her sonic positionality with releases on North American labels like Ascetic House and Summer isle over the years, as well as a series of monolithic live sets, Bank is pleased to announce Kendal’s Terrestrial Paradise first full length album “Artificial Hell”. Over the course of nine recordings, “Artificial Hell” gives a master class in pressurized industrial techno of the slower variety. Fitting with the legacy of Bank’s output since it’s inception, Terrestrial Paradise’s aesthetic sensibilities sit within the canon of a certain tinge of club music imbued with a sense of natural grit, sans pretense.

“Artificial Hell” nods to artists like Scorn, Regis, and 400 PPM while maintaining it’s own territory in the landscape of cerebral and brooding rhythmic techno. Ominous, mechanistic drones sit above succinctly exacted percussion composition and sound design. Throughout “Artificial Hell”, Kendal shows her proficiency with the push and pull of building and releasing tension. On tracks like “Salvation” and “Relativity” she melds her synth wash wallscapes with driving percussion, serving as both a hint and counterpoint to the the entirety of the latter part of the album taking on spartan ambient compositions as a way to keep the listener in a subdued stasis. This album is a statement piece from a long time participant in the North American underground music sectors. It reminds the listener through perilous, considered rhythms and darker drone impositions to cement themselves back into a place where not
everything is always a good time.

"The new avant-garde isn't about creating something that doesn't yet exist, it's about abandoning and confusing rigid genres. I want to open up, in order to both abolish and reconstruct the musical past." — Noémi Büchi

Noémi Büchi's album 'Does It Still Matter' completes a series of releases whose titles - 'Matière', 'Matter', and 'Does It Still Matter' - place the physicality of music in the center of attention. Büchi's specific sound structures and aesthetic choices question the state of materiality in a world that is becoming more and more fluid and intangible.

From 'Matière' to 'Matter', Büchi subtly transferred from a focus on substance to questioning the enigmatic core of

being, passing from a noun to a verb, and from a single word to an inquiry. 'Does It Still Matter' weighs in on the importance of questioning. Her pieces juxtapose multi-layered analog synthesizer textures, crystal clear sounds and almost brutalistic noises, while they unfold in compositional structures akin to pop songs. Driven by an orchestra of myriad parts, her music creates transcendent intonations that resonate deeply with the listeners' bodies. A daring blend of complexity and accessibility are molded into captivating sound sculptures that challenge and intrigue listeners alike.

Deviating from conventional time divisions, 'Does It Still Matter' immerses listeners in a discordant succession of elements, and guides them towards an eternal present that erases the past with each new revelation, while maintaining it through recurring themes that serve as intimate memories. Büchi's electronic maximalism questions our linear perception of time, offering a glimpse into a world where the past, present, and future converge into a singular moment. Her avant-garde approach rejects predictability, inviting listeners to immerse themselves fully in the present. Everything starts anew at any given instant. Each musical idea exists for one precise moment, rendering the future unpredictable.

'Does It Still Matter' unfolds against a backdrop of collective disaster and biocidal urgency, challenging the very essence of time. Büchi explains: "The world appears to have gone mad. It's all but impossible to reflect on the meaning of avant-garde in music, considering the future in this sepulchral kind of stability of the human condition." Her compositions resonate like an infernal machine, questioning the instantaneous dissipation of everything. Finally, echoes and fragments of sounds remain, haunting memories like ghostly companions.

'Does It Still Matter' is an immersive experience that invites listeners to contemplate the impermanence of our world and the enduring power of sound.

Palpitations“ ist Laurels selbstbewusster Schritt ins Rampenlicht der Popmusik, vollgepackt mit Ohrwurm-Hooks, verspielten Experimenten und gefühlsbetonten, bis ins Mark gehenden Texten.
Angeführt von der übersprudelnden Leadsingle 'Wild Things', die von Balladen ('Only One') bis hin zu Knallern ('45 Degrees', 'Coming Back For More') alles abdeckt, besteht das Album aus 10 Tracks mit schillernden, atemberaubenden Pop-Fähigkeiten.
Palpitations", das bereits von BBC Radio 1, GQ, The Observer, i-D, The Independent, Elle und vielen anderen gefeatured wurde, ist Laurels endgültiges Statement - eines der aufregendsten Pop-Alben des Jahres 2024 und ein Beweis dafür, dass Laurel einer der aufregendsten Stars dieses Jahres sein wird.

Antibody presents this new opus by Berlin based Japanese artist Tot Onyx (Tommi Tokyo, formerly of group A).» Satire Of Desire« is her second solo album to date. Here, performance and sound art meet post-industrial deconstructivism. It’s radical, ferocious, wonderfully free and powerful.

Written under the covid-19 pandemic, "Satire Of Desire" is her radical criticism on the man-made catastrophe and sonic response to the cacotopic world that seemed less realistic than the surreal dreams of flying turtles. »My dreams started to become more realistic than the empty streets of Berlin. That's when I began wondering the difference between dream and reality, conscious and subconscious, how we distinguish them and what that even means. That was the beginning of creating this album. The beginning of the future i was unwillingly stepping into.«

This collaboration between Spanish producer Nueen and Manc vocalist / rapper Iceboy Violet - who has previously sprinkled their magic dust across Hyperdub releases from aya and Loraine James - traces the arc of a four year relationship, memorialising its highs and documenting its lows, processing, reflecting, and then ending with the ecstatic spark of new love. It’s a magical, intimate and heartfelt album, sometimes anguished but often enchanting. Nueen's music responds with foggy, but richly detailed, production. Smudgy drill-laced beats contrast with curdled, spiralling chords, at times drawing out a malevolent ambience. ‘You Said You'd Hold My Hand Through The Fire’ is an immensely affecting and lucid album, powerfully wrought, ultimately hopeful.

A home, a house, has countless frequencies. Each room, each corner feels different. Swings differently. And as you grow older, you realize which corner is yours. But yeah, it takes time…

It certainly marks the end of an era when the house one called home as a kid no longer exists. This home, it was the starting point of so many journeys. Of one big, ongoing journey. And so it feels good, soothing, reassuring to at least return to a spot nearby – to that (proverbial) hill from where you can see it. Feel the vibe that made you.

Andi Haberl’s debut solo album as Sun is sort of dedicated to that house. It’s a journey leading to that hill overlooking everything that made him. It’s not about nostalgia, not about actually returning to a specific place. Instead, it’s about finding a personal frequency, an overlapping of sounds and samples, an open space that mirrors and extends whatever frequencies felt right at different points in time.

“To me, the results feel like Gold Panda/Four Tet meets Steve Reich meets Krautrock meets film scores. I just really wanted to create moods that touch me – and ideally others, too.”

Talking about his first solo album, Haberl recalls many stages: early compositions that ended up on Alien Ensemble’s albums, early DIY/home studio/multi-instrumentalist inspirations (Le Millipede), new technologies that came and went, even a set of wildly convincing arrangements (done with Cico Beck’s crucial input) that ultimately became stepping stones for yet another round of DIY takes. “It was a long, recurring process, and the songs went through so many different versions,” he says, talking about phases of growth (“I added more and more equipment over time”) and pruning, “cleaning up my music a bit.” Tending towards instruments that open up space, and slowly falling in love with sampling, he certainly didn’t rush things once it was time for interior design decisions ;)

“During this whole process I got to learn so much about my own taste, how I prefer to listen to the pieces, which musical elements really matter to me… and what my own voice is. For example, that acoustic elements are most important to me: the banjo, piano, drums, my voice, glockenspiel, trumpet, melodica. Anything that opens up some space.”

Every journey begins with a search: “Missing” with its plucked chords opens like a sunrise over pastoral plains, gently leading the way towards the intricate, playful explosion that occurs once a certain amount of energy (“Sun”) hits dirt and other surfaces: things grow, clot and curdle into new shapes, like new buds; layers of sound move forward, drenched in Spring’s new light. Relying on samples to ask for precipitation (“Rain On Me”), robotic “Low” goes from barren to bass-heavy after its midway shift in pace, full of loops plucked from the shade.

Towards the album’s midpoint, things are suddenly reversed: “Cluster” has that backwards pull, you can’t tell what’s what, yet everything is perfectly locked in, as the pace increases once again. And before the title song shimmers with densified cheering (to eventually stand tall like early Lymbyc Systym), “Beside Me” swipes you off your feet with its booming bass drum. The beat returns once again (“Daydream”), full of searching voices underneath, and at “Dawnday,” we can finally catch a melancholy view of the house. Voices hum. It’s the score moment of the album. Everything makes sense now. A happy end of sorts?

“I want to take people on a journey. A personal journey, too, because when my parents split up and sold the house I grew up in, I felt a bit like the ground had fallen out from under my feet. But I have dedicated the album title and the accompanying piece to this house… so I can keep it in good memory.”

“I Can See Our House From Here” has been a long time coming. It’s been a long journey. Homeward-bound. Leading to a place that’s really Haberl’s – his sound. His frequencies.

Known as a long-time member of The Notwist and various other bands/projects (Alien Ensemble, AMEO, jersey, Ditty etc.), Berlin-based drummer/composer Andi Haberl has also worked with My Brightest Diamond, Till Brönner, Owen Pallet, and Kurt Rosenwinkel, to name a few. “I Can See Our House From Here” is his first solo offering.

Keith Hudson was a one-of-a-kind musical innovator with an impeccable track record from the start: his first studio recording involved former Skatalites, and his earliest releases provided solid-gold hits for Ken Boothe (“Old Fashioned Way”, 1967), John Holt, Delroy Wilson, U-Roy and the others.

With Pick A Dub Hudson produced one of the best dub albums ever, and with The Black Breast Has Produced Her Best, Flesh Of My Skin, Blood Of My Blood he released the first concept album in reggae history, bringing his all-around talents to full fruition as early as 1974. Thematically dedicated entirely to Black history, the latter of these two albums is a masterpiece that captivates with an atmosphere that is as dark as it is deeply spiritual, charged by Hudson's eccentric vocals. Like Lloyd Bullwackie Barnes, his splitting from tradition was dynamic and all his own.

As his career moved on, Hudson found himself working outside of Jamaica, more frequently in London and New York studios and for transatlantic audiences, his dark experimentalism becoming increasingly better suited to the LP than the cardinal 7” reggae format.

Playing It Cool & Playing It Right was released in 1981 on the Joint International label, in NYC, with Lloyd Bullwackie Barnes as the executive producer. The Love Joys and Wayne Jarrett, stalwarts of Barnes' record label, Wackies, would also inimitably feature Hudson at the microphone. Like Bullwackie, Hudson was a devotee of Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One and Playing It Cool & Playing It Right follows Dodd’s then strategy of overdubbing his signature rhythms. The Studio One sides were aimed at the dancefloor and Hudson’s reworkings of tracks like “Melody Maker” are more psychological. Here, deep Barrett Brothers rhythms are made deeper with reverb, filters and distortion; everything pitched down and overlaid with new recordings of guitar, percussion, keyboard, and voice, often heavily treated.

Playing It Cool & Playing It Right continues Hudson’s psycho-acoustic journey into the abysses of existence, and overwhelms with the beauty of artistic self-empowerment. "Too much formula," sings Hudson, whose voice is occasionally reminiscent of Sly Stone or even Tom Waits. "Darkest night," answers an echoing background choir elsewhere. Even more fascinating is Hudson's production, which reflects Black history in even the smallest sound detail, the flashing whip of the slave driver still echoes in the sound of the snare drum. Rarely has a roots sound been made so electrifying, so expansive in all directions, so crystal clear, so bass-warm and echophonic as on these 30 minutes of music.

Playing It Cool & Playing It Right is legendary, strange, utterly compelling music that has possibly never been more topical than it is today.

Mitos & Ritos, the debut EP by the Ecuadorian group Cruzloma, consolidates in its six songs a spirit of promoting traditional rhythms in contemporary styles, a process of reinvention and self-discovery in homage to the indigenous peoples of the Ecuadorian jungle and the riches of ceremonial music all in a mix featuring electronica, global bass and dembow. The hostile times humanity is going through have awoken a need to get back to our roots, reclaim ancestral knowledge, and question where the excessive exploitation of natural resources has led us. We have heeded that urgent call to care for everything that seems unlimited but which is increasingly scarce. And so we have looked to the past to understand our relationship with what surrounds us and establish a dialogue between the past, the present and the uncertain idea of the future. Applied to music, this has aroused the interest of artists and producers who use the rich folklore and traditions of Latin America to replicate that dialogue between what was and what will be. With this in mind, Mitos & Ritos ("Myths and Rites"), the debut EP by the Ecuadorian group Cruzloma, consolidates in its six songs a spirit of promoting traditional rhythms in contemporary styles, a process of reinvention and self-discovery in homage to the indigenous peoples of the Ecuadorian jungle and the riches of ceremonial music, based around the bambuco style from Esmeraldas on the northern coast, and the bomba del chota and the san juanito from Imbabura province. On this EP there are also sacred prayers of the Shuar nation, called Ujaj and Anets, including ceremonies like the taking of ayahuasca and of the tzan tza, all in a mix featuring electronica, global bass and dembow. It is a journey into mysticism, the jungle and the dancefloor, reflecting a search for musical identity that is at once contemporary and futurist.

L.D. 50 is the debut studio album by Mudvayne, the American heavy metal band that is known for their sonic experimentation and horror-styled appearances. The album was co-produced by none other than Garth Richardson and Shawn ""Clown"" Crahan of Slipnot. For the album, they experimented with a ragged, dissonant sound; a sound collage prepared specially for the album that was used as a series of interludes. It spawned three singles, ""Death Blooms"", ""Nothing To Gein"", and one of their biggest hits to date: ""Dig"". In the year of its release, the album peaked at #1 on the Billboard Top Heatseekers chart and #85 on the Billboard 200. It gained more critical praise over time and was named one of the twenty best metal albums of 2000 by Metal Hammer magazine. L.D. 50 is available as a limited edition of 3000 individually numbered copies on yellow and black marbled vinyl. This 2LP is housed in a gatefold sleeve and includes a 4-page booklet.

"It seemed that if I didn’t somehow repeat the process of greatness, and do so immediately, multiple times away to satisfy playlist and binge watch culture, then I “wasn’t shit”. After a while I was like “nah this doesn’t feel good,… I don’t know if I am finding joy in this”. I would record songs and not release them, obsess over sessions recorded in my home with 30 takes of vocals and wake up only to delete them. When it began to feel right I found solace in an epiphany that I was not obligated to operate at any other wavelength. I am moving on a different type of time, and that doesn’t expire." -Cavalier

For heads of a certain time period of NYC hip-hop, Brooklyn born, New Orleans-based rapper and songwriter, Cavalier was the one that got away. The outrageously talented artist whose name and reputation preceded him everywhere you went in the scene. The rapper who everyone knew was so dope that he had to blow, but who never seemed concerned with any of that. The pretty boy draped in Polo who stole every live show with a feather in his hair and a mouth full of gold fronts. The cat so dedicated to his own independence that even indie labels stopped trying to sign him and projects came when they came, but when they came they were undeniable.


Cavalier was THAT guy for a lot of us; a silver-tongued philosopher with an eye for the poignant details of black life and a delivery as effortless as a young Ken Griffey’s swing. All that said, it never really felt like Cav had that moment in the spotlight that we always assumed was coming. After chiseling away through headier cult corners of the NYC hip-hop scene Cavalier was recognized for his memorable co-pilot to Quelle Chris’ 2013 Mello Music debut, Niggas Is Men. The critically acclaimed LP helped propel Quelle Chris into the forefront of indie hip-hop (and also happened to be the first production credits for Messiah Muzik). Cav followed up with his first full length, Chief, which sports a notable Raekwon feature but also early work from producers like Ohbliv and Tall Black Guy. A relocation to New Orleans and partnership with producer/vocalist Iman Omari yielded two more projects: 2015’s Lemonade EP and Private Stock in 2018. Great records all; eagerly sought by collectors and signal boosted by influential media like OkayPlayer, Solange’s Saint Heron, and Pitchfork. Cavalier’s bonafides have never been in question, but his new album Different Type Time feels like a revelation—a sonic suspension bridge between his rich history and the artform’s future.

Different Type Time doesn’t sound like the future though, its vibrations are somewhere all their own. It sounds like jazz, like a conversation overheard in roti shop, or a pool hall, or the foyer of your old building on a fall day, front door propped open with a brick. The blues is in there too, and the south—the American South, and theGlobal South, and South Brooklyn. It’s not that it sounds like the past, but you can hear everything that came before in the thick of the basslines and the yearning of the keys. Different Type Time also doesn’t sound like now, it sounds like RIGHT NOW; the bounce of the lyrics like the staccato of basketball in the park, carried on a spring breeze.

Although he doesn’t rap on DTT, Quelle Chris plays a pivotal role; producing eight songs and serving as associate producer/consigliere to Cav throughout the creative process. “There is no time wasted in explaining things when I collaborate with Quelle. He understands the universe I am in and the realities I want to create. He’s in them. And I don’t think I can envision one without him,” Cavalier explains. Messiah Muzik, Wino Willy, Ohbliv, Ahwlee, Child Actor, Fushou and several other producers round out the credits, all lending their talents to the album’s spaciously soulful sound. At the center of all these alchemies is Cavalier, nimbly dancing in and out of pockets like a sidewalk game of jumprope. Different Type Time is a masterclass in this thing we call hip-hop; daring and original, yet always standing deeply rooted in the culture.

The Telescopes Radio Sessions collects together the essence of three live session recordings in 3 different countries over a three year period between 2016-2019. This is the third in a series of radio session releases from Tapete Records that have so far included The Monochrome Set and Comet Gain. More session releases are being lined up for the rest of the year and beyond - enjoy the sonics and stay tuned. Over the years I have read a lot on people’s impressions of The Telescopes. Some folk think it’s a collective, others imagine it used to be a band and feel nostalgia towards what they consider to be the original line-up (even though many had come before, during and since) and some people refer to it as currently a solo career. In a way this is all true and none of it is. When faced with these kind of questions, along with questions about the style of music that The Telescopes make I often say The Telescopes house has many rooms, which explains things perfectly for me but for people on the outside looking in it only serves to increase their confusion. For me, confusion isn’t such a bad thing. Everything is born into confusion, the sense we try and make of that chaos is interesting and excites me. The universe often disorientates, it sends me a jumble of thoughts and impressions coupled with a feeling of something I need to express… if I could only decipher the encryption. This is how The Telescopes music comes to be and it is also how The Telescopes came to me. I regard The Telescopes as an entity of it’s own that introduced itself in my darkest hour and I was chosen as its vessel. From the second it arrived I was obsessed to the point where there was nothing else. A bit like having an imaginary friend. As the obsession grew it began to infect others, everybody loved my imaginary friend and wanted a piece of it. As its success grew however, so did the corruption, until one day the entity fell silent. The silence lasted for years, I tried everything to reconnect but it was having none of it. I had been a bad caretaker, I had let the house become infested and I had lost my way. This epiphany served to remind me of simpler times when anything felt possible with this entity by my side. It had trusted me with something so simplistically profound and I had let it down. The realisation of this was a eureka moment. I am not The Telescopes, I never was and never will be, I am the caretaker, the lighthouse keeper and if a job is worth doing it is worth doing well. With this dawning, I felt a crack open up in the cosmic egg and a familiar confusion in my head. The entity had returned. It was time to start untangling its tangled threads once more, to make sense of what it was saying, this time without corruption. It’s all about listening. I listen to what my cosmic friend sends me and channel this expression into what you hear through your speakers. It may take one person to achieve this, it may take more. There is no set line up or instrumentation that can hold The Telescopes. Whatever it takes to hit the zone, whatever is available, absolute focus is imperative. Sometimes it takes sabotage to keep that line of vision intact, there is no room for preconceptions or complacency in making the music. The Telescopes music is the now

incarnate and a state of total being is necessary to achieve. From the outside looking in... again, it’s all about listening. What comes through your speakers is the only thing that matters. The music either reaches you or it doesn’t. Everything else may seem interesting or confusing but ultimately it is corruption. So if you’ve bought the record, read the sleeve notes and bought a ticket to see a live show, don’t be surprised if the line-up is or isn’t the same as the recording. The only thing that is for sure is that The Telescopes as an entity is speaking to you in its own voice in every scenario.
Of course the difference between albums and live shows is that you can play the record over and over again to the point where you know every line and every note that was played. Whereas with live events you are left with an impression that can only be replayed in your mind. It can be frustrating at times. When you are touring with a great line-up and feel like something exciting is happening, you want everyone to hear it, not just the people at the shows but the people that couldn’t make it on the night as well. There is no guarantee that there will be the same line-up at a live show as there is on the album. This is why live sessions are important, they document a side of things that is often fleeting. Here we have three sessions, all different people transmitting The Telescopes sound on each. Some are regulars, some dip in and out and some were just passing through. In each case The Telescopes chose them as their vessel and as the lighthouse keeper I did everything I could to help them on that journey while trying to be a good caretaker to the house of many rooms. The Telescopes have been invited in for many sessions over the years, the first two were for John Peel on BBC Radio 1. We also recorded a session for Marc Riley and Mark Radcliffe before their
celebrity when they had a show on BBC Radio Manchester. We could have compiled this album from those sessions, it was certainly considered but Tapete and myself believe this selection gives an exciting glimpse into that fleeting side of The Telescopes in a constant state of flux that is left mostly to myth and imagination. For those who listen to the records but have never had the chance to take in the live experience, welcome to the other side. For those that follow us live, here’s a little reminder and a keepsake. Infinite suns. Stephen Lawrie February 2024.

Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts is an American rock band from Nashville founded and fronted by former Biters leader Tuk Smith, originally from Atlanta, now living in Nashville. The band released their debut single "What Kinda Love" on January 10, 2020 and were also added as an opening act for The Stadium Tour with Def Leppard and Mötley Crüe on the same day. Then came the onset of Covid 19. “When the pandemic hit, it was like hitting the reset button on my music career” recalls Tuk, “everything got taken away…album campaign, stadium tour, record deal. The world was in lockdown, and the only way to escape was to throw myself into writing. My thoughts began exploring the past, and the inspiration for the songs just came in tidal waves.”
The new collection is a rock ‘n roll silver lining that came out of the solitude and reflection of the pandemic. Ballad Of A Misspent Youth is the new single (and subsequent album of the same name) released summer of 2022 on Tuk’s new record label MRG, through Virgin Music. Tuk explains, “I decided to make a rock and roll record for me and what I like because there was no label, there was no committee involved…just me and my stories. I wanted to create a setting and an authentic feeling about everything. I reunited with long-time friend Dan Dixon and recorded these songs in his garage studio, and there is a purity to the work that came from all the circumstances of that time.” Growing up as an outsider in rural Georgia, Tuk found solace in hardcore punk acts like Black Flag and The Exploited. From there, Smith branched out into exploring seventies New York bands like The Dead Boys and New York Dolls, which lead him across the sea where he embraced first-wave British acts like The Buzzcocks and the Clash. Smith wasn’t just a casual fan of these acts, he was obsessed with them and traced their lineage with fervent dedication. “I was always into the Clash growing up and Mick Jones’ favorite band was Mott The Hoople, so through the years I ended up developing a love of the first wave of British glam, power pop and things like that,” he explains. Soon Smith was forming his own acts, touring relentlessly and building a following with his high-energy live shows, including his tour of duty as lead singer for the Biters, who he fronted for nearly a decade. He offers “Then after being on the road for years, I had a reckoning about where I was at and the future ahead. …I realized the only way to achieve something meaningful was to be a good songwriter…that clicked. I went on a musical diet where I stripped the obscure stuff away, and I really started focusing on the greats. When I started clicking that it was just about the songs, things changed. I had already put my 10,000 hours in the van to play in the dive clubs, but then I put my 10,000 hours into figuring out how to write. I also started working with other songwriters. I humbled myself… it was an education, like going to school.” Tuk elaborates, “I wanted to kind of branch out musically and do different things, and I figured to go solo would be better. My manager actually suggested I call my new band “The Restless Hearts” and that's what he would call me all the time. It was the title of a Biters song that people loved and I’d seen a few restless hearts tattoos at our shows along the way… and so Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts was born. I was in a period where I changed everything including the way I lived my daily life. I experimented with different ways to tap into positive/creative energy…it was an evolving overall process (and still is).” Tuk summarizes, “Things used to be about debauchery, and now they’re more about dedication. I mean, I was always driven, but I was sometimes focusing on the wrong things. Now I focus on the music and the craftsmanship of writing and producing and performing. “

“Not a lot of people talk about the true origins of bluegrass music,” says Swamp Dogg, “but it came from Black people. The banjo, the washtub, all that stuff started with African Americans. We were playing it before it even had a name.” Blackgrass, Swamp Dogg’s remarkable new album, is no history lesson, though. Produced by Ryan Olson (Bon Iver, Poliça) andrecorded with an all-star band including Noam Pikelny, Sierra Hull, Jerry Douglas, Chris Scruggs, Billy Contreras, and Kenny Vaughan, the collection is a riotous blend of past and present, mixing the sacred and the profane in typical Swamp Dogg fashion as it blurs the lines between folk, roots, country, blues, and soul. The tracklist is an eclectic one—brand new originals and vintage Swamp Dogg classics sit side by side with reimaginings of ’70s R&B hits and timeless ’50s pop tunes—but the performances are thoroughly cohesive, filtering everything through a progressive Appalachian lens that nods to tradition without ever being bound by it. Special guests like Margo Price, Jenny Lewis, Justin Vernon, and The Cactus Blossoms all add to the excitement here, but it’s ultimately the 81-year-old Swamp Dogg’s delivery—sly and playful and full of genuine joy and ache—that steals the show. The result is a record that’s as reverent as it is raunchy, a collection that challenges conventional notions of genre and race while at the same time celebrating the music that helped make Swamp Dogg the beloved iconoclast he’s known as today.