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Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

History brackets Jan and Dean with friends the Beach Boys as
stereotypical young Californians – all-American surfers with bikiniclad girls on their arm. Yet they had a history before they fell in with
the Wilson brothers, beating Brian and company to the charts by a
matter of four years. Their success also helped Los Angeles emerge
as a musical centre of the United States. The major labels of the
time were based in New York and Chicago, and the city’s major
leisure industries were television and cinema. This album focuses
on the early years, including a couple of the rare Jan and Arnie
songs, to give the fullest possible background to a classic pop
partnership.

Vintage George Benson vocals on vinyl & CD, float over orchestral reimagining of beloved American Standards & Soul Classics in this incredible collaboration with renowned composer and conductor, Robert Farnon.

The brand new 10-track collection, once thought to be lost to history, was recently discovered in Benson's personal vaults and remastered to their original glory.

With this new release, Benson marks a musical return to the Warner Family --a Homecoming to the place where he had his most profound commercial success.

PRESENTED FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER ON VINYL AS A DOUBLE LP IN A GOLD VINYL PRESSING WITH A FOLD-OUT INSERT

As music fans know, James Brown wasn't just the greatest funk and soul singer the world has ever seen - he was also a musical visionary and businessman, who surrounded himself with geniuses who made him better and pushed him further. From horn masters Maceo Parker and Pee Wee Ellis to vocalists Lyn Collins and Bobby Byrd, Brown was a musical A & R master, restless and always looking for the next big thing. Most times, that would manifest in the latest James Brown smash under his own name. But not always. His stable of talent was overflowing in the 60s and 70s, and, thankfully, the tape machine in his studio was always rolling. Originally released in 1988, during the era of hip-hop's golden age of sampling, it's no surprise that just about every note heard in this incredible collection has been used on not one, but multiple rap classics. Which, at the time, was proof of Brown's (and his crew's) staying power. But we are over three decades beyond those days now, and it has lost none of its musical potency. Diving deeper into the vaults than the also-incredible Part 1 of the Funky People series, there is not a weak track in the bunch. Moving beyond well-known JBs cuts, things get interesting from the get-go with Bobby Byrd's monumental groove "I Know You Got Soul". Hank Ballard and Marva Whitney also enter the fray, leading the way to Myra Barnes's emotional and powerful "Message From The Soul Sisters (Parts 1 & 2)" and Lyn Collins's slow, smoldering cover of Isaac Haye's "Do Your Thing." Politics even get the funky soul treatment, with Fred Wesley & The JBs "You Can Have Watergate But Gimme Some Bucks And I'll Be Straight" and "I'm Paying Taxes, But What Am I Buying?" And it should not be overlooked that Maceo & The Macks instrumental workout "Soul Power ‘74" even features a proto-sampling snippet from MLK’s I’ve Been To The Mountaintop speech from 1968. This is another amazing collection of James Brown's funky friends, without one second of filler, brought to you as a glorious 2-LP gatefold by your friends at Get On Down.

“For fans old and new, they can expect to be reintroduced to some raw, authentic, classic Detroit Hip-Hop from beginning to end.”-Phat Kat on the Deluxe Edition re-release of “Carte Blanche”.

Phat Kat’s phenomenal sophomore solo LP, “Carte Blanche”, first released in ’07 via Look Records, is the sound of Detroit. It’s gritty, soulful, and raw, three key ingredients in bringing the blue-collar city’s vibe to life in music form. It’s also a modern classic that is getting the deluxe edition re-release it deserves, Below System Records is adding two rare bonus tracks produced by late Detroit legend, J Dilla.

Anyone familiar with Kat or Dilla’s work knows the two shared a special bond. In fact, Dilla would often go to the gruff-voiced emcee whenever he was looking to create a particularly tough track. This friendship led to them forming the group 1st Down, and this re-release’s two bonus cuts, “World Premiere” and “It Don’t Get No Liver Than This (feat. La Peace),” which were recording in 1996 and ’97, respectively. Despite 1st Down never taking off due to label issues, Kat and Dilla remained close and recorded a number of underground classics. Those include several joints off “Carte Blanche”, such as the stirring “Don’t Nobody Care About Us”, “Game Time”, and the Elzhi-featured “Cold Steel”. It’s actually that last track that Kat picks as his favorite cut off the record.

“If I gotta choose one, it would have to be ‘Cold Steel’ because it makes you wanna wild out as soon as the beat drops”, he says, adding that this was the first time he got to choose a Dilla beat to rap over. “He would never let me rock over beat tape beats-he use to say ‘Nah Kat, just write to them cause I’m gonna make all ya shit from scratch.’ ”

The album also boasts collaborations with other Detroit rap heavy-hitters, such as Black Milk, Guilty Simpson, Nick Speed, and T3 & Young RJ (of Slum Village). With Kat as their host, they were able to not only capture the sound of the Motor city in 2007 (when the album was originally released), but also cement its place in the greater canon of hip-hop as we know it today.

"Early Doors documents many of my travels, interactions and celebrates the wonderful connections I've made through music since 2007. From Glasgow to São Paulo and back again, many of the tracks included have been in my life for years at this point and remain obsessions. Some were lying unheard on hard drives, others tucked away in a corner of the internet. They’ve all reached my attention through a combination of lasting friendships, chance encounters and staying curious. After appearing on the occasional mix over the years, it's a real buzz to share them with you now in a more formal format. Musically you’ll find synths, dub, gay electronics, self taught piano compositions, improvised jams and intriguing covers." Andrew Thomson

Jawad Nawfal and Mazen El Sayed, better known by their stage names of MUNMA and EL RASS, met for the first time in Beirut, during the summer of 2011. A common friend told Jawad wonders about an MC who rapped and slammed in the classical Arabic language, as opposed to the vernacular Lebanese dialect. The two musicians met in a small café in Beirut’s Hamra neighborhood, spoke of music, argued about politics, and decided to collaborate at once. They began working on tracks the following day. A month later, they had already produced a dozen sketches, instrumental beds and accapella vocal tracks. These demos eventually landed in the hands of Ziad Nawfal and Fadi Tabbal, who set out to bring to life the duo’s first recorded album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” (the title is from a Sufi master-work penned some 900 years ago) was eventually released as a limited edition of 500 CD’s, during a launch event at then-budding alternative venue Metro al Madina in Hamra, on the 22nd of February 2012. These CDs went out of print in record time, as can be expected, and the album’s mythical status became reinforced over time – El Rass & Munma collaborated sporadically during the next ten years, but never fully grasped the level of musical intensity and explosive tension attained on this first outing. It has been a longstanding dream of ours, here at Ruptured, to produce a vinyl version of this album, and we are thrilled to say this moment has finally come. Artist ALI RAFEI’s original artworks have been painstakingly reproduced, the music has been dutifully remastered for vinyl by CEDRIK FERMONT, and the records were pressed by our friends at Mother Tongue in Verona. We added bonus track "Fi Kala'at Tarablus" to this 10th anniversary reissue for good measure – recorded during the same sessions that yielded “Kachf el Mahjoub”, it appears on the digital version of the album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” is a landmark album in Lebanon’s alternative music scene, and the MENA region’s hiphop and indie scenes writ large. At the time of their collaboration, El Sayed was a prolific writer and musician, at ease with a variety of instruments, notorious for his masterful flow in the classical Arabic language, with lyrics tackling both social and political sensitive subjects; Nawfal has previously released an impressive number of albums and EPs, exploring downtempo electronica and ambient dubstep, for a number of Lebanese and international labels. The collision of the former’s brazen, slammed vocals and the latter’s harsh beats works wonders on “Kachf el Mahjoub”, Munma’s sound-world perfectly fitting El Rass’s agitated discourse, alternating between broken beats, elaborate percussion, and ambient layers of synths. At times reminiscent of mutant hiphop outfit Shabazz Palaces, at others of the collaboration between dubstep producer Kode9 and the late vocalist The SpaceApe, this album is an uncanny meeting of Arabic hip-hop and electronica, an exceptional event in the realm of contemporary Lebanese alternative music.

Blue vinyl repress

With a voice of pure gold and a startling sensitivity for heartfelt pop songwriting, on No Reino Dos Afetos (In the Realm of Affections), Berle firmly embraces earnestness, through starry-eyed Brazilian love songs, ambient vignettes, warm, home-cooked beats and gentle strokes of MPB genius.

Maceió, the capital of Brazil’s Alagoas state on its sprawling east-coast, is home to pastel coloured colonial houses, white sand beaches and a brilliant young composer, poet and multi-instrumentalist named Bruno Berle.

With a voice of pure gold and a startling sensitivity for heartfelt pop songwriting, on No Reino Dos Afetos (In the Realm of Affections), Berle firmly embraces earnestness, through starry-eyed Brazilian love songs, ambient vignettes, warm, home-cooked beats and gentle strokes of MPB genius.

“It’s an album that was built from my desire to find beauty”, Berle explains - his simple, graceful words mirroring the graceful simplicity in his music. But amongst the simplicity, the compositions, arrangements and productions on No Reino Dos Afetos tingle with nuance and detail.

On the contemporary R&B inspired lead single “Quero Dizer” - produced by Berle and longtime friend and collaborator Batata Boy - the swirling, lo-fi, kalimba and guitar-fronted beat is turned into a feel-good hit by the ingenuity of Berle’s honey-soaked vocal melody.

Powerfully intimate, “O Nome Do Meu Amor” (My Love’s Name) is a guaranteed tearjerker, with Berle’s stunning voice soaring over gently plucked acoustic guitar and the textural flutter of soft movement, as if we hear him writing the song in the moment.

Drawing upon a close-knit, collaborative scene of Maceió artists and musicians, (of which Berle and Batata Boy are vital members), Berle also recorded some of his friends songs on the album, including João Menezes’ “Até Meu Violao”, the album’s beautifully laid back sunshine soul opener, which has all the charm of early-70s João Donato.

Having cut his teeth in soft-rock group Troco em Bala, and more recently finding himself embedded in both Rio and Sao Paulo’s contemporary music scenes - collaborating with the likes of Ana Frango Eletrico, who took the photo for the album cover - No Reino Dos Afetos is as musically diverse as Bruno himself. It’s hazy indie rock (“É Preciso Ter Amor”), calming ambient and field recording (“Virginia Talk”) as well as Berle’s own take on West African High Life (“Som Nyame”).

Instantly recognisable as a truly special artist, Berle’s character fills every corner of the sound, which is unsurprising considering he played most of the instruments.

diskJokke - Loving HowardCurses - Hell yeah. I vibe with this!
Jorkes - U la la. Thanks so much. superduper <3
Heidi Lawden - Nice release for all moods
Gameboyz - Slow and power. Thanks
Pete Herbert - Yes solid all round!
Chloe - Nice EP
Severino Panzetta (Horse Meat Disco) - Yeeeeees
Xinobi - Lisbon and Porto legends. Super cool tunes
DC Salas - Howard is big!
Mufti - Fantastic EP all around! Howard my favorite
Thomass Jackson - New Ears for me Thanks!

Long time friends and Lisbon-based Mirror People & OITO//OITO for the last 20 years have been lighting up dancefloors all over their native Portugal and beyond, with their passion for eclectic sounds as the main fuel for their sonic mission. ‘MP88’ marks their first EP together. ‘Howard’ opens with rugged 4/4 rhythms, acid squelches and meandering arps to set the tone, ‘New Ears’, takes things on saturated drums & fills, vintage stab sequences and enigmatic strings. Last but not least, is the dropped tempo acidic feel ‘Alive & Kicking’. Another flawless EP in OITO//OITO Discos, limited to 300 copies, this time in Yellow vinyl.

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

SYML—Welsh for “simple”—makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Brian Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. This May marked the fifth anniversary of his self-titled debut album, which included the platinum-selling song “Where’s My Love” and the Gold Record fan favorite, “Girl,” and one year since his sophomore album, The Day My Father Died, which was recorded and produced with fellow Seattle-native Phil Ek (Band of Horses, Father John Misty, Fleet Foxes) and features Elbow’s Guy Garvey, Lucius, Sara Watkins of Nickel Creek, and Charlotte Lawrence. In the last year, he was also featured on Lana Del Rey’s song, “Paris, TX,” from her Grammy-nominated album Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd, and realized several other notable collaborations including UK-electronic artist George Fitzgerald, Latin Grammy-nominated Colombian artist Elsa Y Elmar. In February 2024, he launched his imprint, FIN. Recordings, a new venture in collaboration with his label, Nettwerk Music Group, and management team, Good Harbor Music. Says Fennell about Infinity, “Sometimes, songs are wandering souls with no home, and it’s not until enough of them are written that the home is realized. I have a proud obsession with all things apocalyptic and the doom and wonder of an ever-expanding universe. This group of songs is an ode to the absurdity of human existence and my fondness for it. My inspirations were very cinematic ranging from big blaring soundscapes to more gentle, dusty settings like Ennio Morricone was so gifted in painting. I am fascinated by what humans are capable of, especially the stories we tell ourselves to explain our world and the space around it. Importantly, I am thankful for the creative space to make art without rules or expectation.

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

In Zusammenarbeit mit Künstlern wie Saul Williams, Mndsgn und Co-Produzent Omari Jazz entstanden, dokumentiert 'Take Off from Mercy' - das neue Album des in Charleston, South Carolina, lebenden Musikers Contour (sein erstes für Label Mexican Summer) - eine Reise durch Vergangenheit und Gegenwart, Tag und Nacht, Verleugnung und gelassene Akzeptanz. Contour (mit bürgerlichem Namen Khari Lucas) stellt sich 'Take Off from Mercy' als ein Epos vor, das in der Dunkelheit der Nacht spielt und in einer diffusen Auflösung endet.

Contours Werk zeugt von einer rastlosen Neugier, die in 'Take Off from Mercy' ihren Höhepunkt findet. Lucas begann als Beatmaker, aber seine Vision hat sich mit Veröffentlichungen wie Onwards!, Love Suite und Weight erweitert und reicht von Sample-getriebenem Soul bis hin zu Coverversionen von Strawberry Switchblade. Auf 'Take Off from Mercy' verzichtet Lucas auf Samples und setzt stattdessen auf gitarrenbetontes Songwriting - ein Schritt, der ihn sofort in eine metaphysische Konversation mit einer langen Reihe von Südstaaten-Songwritern bringt.

Anadol and Marie Klock have teamed up for a joint album, La Grande Accumulation. They met two years ago at a festival in England crowded with violent seagulls and outsider musicians. Klock being prone to barking on stage and Anadol not laughing at jokes she doesn’t find funny, they straight away had the intuition that they would meet again. And so they did, a few months later, at Anadol’s studio in Istanbul.

Today, the two Pingipung artists present the fruit of this musical friendship. La Grande Accumulation was born out of the peculiar atmosphere of the studio neighbourhood in Büyükada, an island where thousands of cats run free and humans randomly destroy things during apocalyptic times when parts of Turkey had just been turned into dust by terrible earthquakes. The French lyrics are inspired by hours of conversations, the music is consequently drenched in absurdity, overflowing with a strong urge to live and enjoy. According to the LP sticker, this album has been certified “Best handshake of 2024”, and stickers never lie.

La Grande Accumulation brings together Marie Klock's mysterious metaphors and Anadol's intriguing radiophonic psych-pop. Stretching forms beyond common sense to see how long they can resist is probably their favourite game. The result are six highly imaginative tracks that challenge the sub-3-minutes standards of Spotify pop.

Gözen Atila aka Anadol is well known to the Pingipung audience, with three solo LPs on the label. Her music follows a kind of collage logic, she interweaves countless styles, combining field and studio recordings with obscure quotation marks here and there. "I hope no one will come and explain this music to me, because it's the most beautiful music there is", says Kristoffer Cornils about her solo album Felicita.

Marie Klock is a French writer and musician who produces songs oscillating between synthpop and neo-folk, full of anarchic humour and existential dread. Her recent solo LP on Pingipung was a captivating tribute to the recently deceased poet Damien Schultz entitled Damien est vivant.

Marie Klock delivers her lyrics in song or spoken word, stream-of-consciousness musings on strange human adventures, and her rich keyboard melodies culminate in a nonchalant dialogue with the bass trombone (La Reine des Bordels). In the opulent opening piece (La Grande Accumulation), a woman is cursed to take home everything she kicks in the street; a bit later, we stumble upon a ghoul hiding in the gutter (Sirop amer), Mona Lisa loses her teeth (Sonate au Jambon) and a warthog struggles to climb the stairs of a silver tower (Sabots triviaux).

La Grande Accumulation was mixed and mastered by Jonas Romann at Chaos Compressor Club in Hamburg and cut to vinyl by Kassian Troyer at D&M in Berlin. It's an audiophile LP that invites to focus on every detail in this heap of musical ideas.

You Are The Morning was formed amid personal upheaval in 2021. "I came out as trans to my nearest and dearest," she says, "Some did not accept me, but some did." Jasmine got divorced, and a difficult home life meant she was writing while experiencing homelessness and precarious housing, sleeping on friend's couches and relying on community support. Despite the pain of some of its background, the record is an uplifting look at t4t love. Jasmine describes her first trans romance as the first time she experienced joy in a deep sense, because of her experience of living as a woman. First single `Skin on Skin' explores the new joy of physical touch. Usually a quick writer, it's a rare song that grew over time, during which a close connection with a friend began to form. "Sticking to the physical boundaries we wanted to have with each other became increasingly difficult. We were spending lots of time together, then falling in love. This song became a celebration of healing and physical catharsis found through unrepressed queer love." The first UK signee on Saddest Factory Records, the album was produced by Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus. Jasmine and her band travelled to L.A. to record at Sound City Studios. It was made across 12 days in a highly collaborative and emotional process, and because Jasmine sees her songs as fluid and ever-changing, the recordings carry that free and spontaneous spirit. jasmine.4.t is supported by an all-trans band, Phoenix Rousiamanis contributes piano and strings, with Eden O'Brien on drums and Emily Abbott on bass. With Jasmine's voice and songwriting at the centre, the record incorporates a wider cast of voices. `Best Friend's House' features a chorus including her bandmates, Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus ("the girls and the boys"), Saddest Factory Records label-mate Claud, Becca Mancari and E.R. Fightmaster. The song carries the communal spirit of the record's creation. On the closing track, `Woman', she is backed by the Trans Chorus of Los Angeles, a cross-generational group of trans singers who, like Jasmine, use their voice as a source of communal power. The song blossoms from solo performance to wider group catharsis. All the while, Jasmine sings unwaveringly about the power of knowing yourself at a core level: "I am, in my soul, a woman". The writing of You Are The Morning pulled from dark moments to tell its story. Surrounded by friends, the recording process was full of light. Through her performances, activism and artistry, jasmine.4.t is ushering in a new dawn.

** 2LP BLACK VINYL / 2LP COLOUR IN COLOUR MAILORDER EDITION** In collaboration with composer Amos Roddy and developer Gareth Damian Martin (Jump Over The Age), Stumpy Frog Records has pressed the soundtrack to the critically acclaimed and BAFTA-nominated Citizen Sleeper to 2LP vinyl. Wake up, Sleeper. Studio Jump Over The Age invites you into a world unlike anything you’ve experienced. In Citizen Sleeper, you inhabit a digitized human consciousness in an artificial body, owned by a corporation that wants you back. Inspired by the vast options of tabletop role playing games, developer Gareth Damian Martin set out to create an entirely new world for you to inhabit. Live a life through a game of chance and strategy. Build friendships and discover the stories of spacestation Erlin’s Eye. Gareth Damian Martin’s world isn’t just created through visuals and dialogue. Composer Amos Roddy (In Other Waters, Cloud Gardens, The Wild At Heart) imbues the world of Citizen Sleeper, and its inhabitants, with the sounds of mystery and melancholy, darkness and glimmers of light in the frontiers of the future.

** 2LP BLACK VINYL / 2LP COLOUR IN COLOUR MAILORDER EDITION** In collaboration with composer Amos Roddy and developer Gareth Damian Martin (Jump Over The Age), Stumpy Frog Records has pressed the soundtrack to the critically acclaimed and BAFTA-nominated Citizen Sleeper to 2LP vinyl. Wake up, Sleeper. Studio Jump Over The Age invites you into a world unlike anything you’ve experienced. In Citizen Sleeper, you inhabit a digitized human consciousness in an artificial body, owned by a corporation that wants you back. Inspired by the vast options of tabletop role playing games, developer Gareth Damian Martin set out to create an entirely new world for you to inhabit. Live a life through a game of chance and strategy. Build friendships and discover the stories of spacestation Erlin’s Eye. Gareth Damian Martin’s world isn’t just created through visuals and dialogue. Composer Amos Roddy (In Other Waters, Cloud Gardens, The Wild At Heart) imbues the world of Citizen Sleeper, and its inhabitants, with the sounds of mystery and melancholy, darkness and glimmers of light in the frontiers of the future.

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

New West Records is proud to release Can’t Steal My Fire: The Songs of David Olney. This album features new versions of David Olney songs recorded by Lucinda Williams, Steve Earle, Willis Alan Ramsey, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Mary Gauthier, Jim Lauderdale, and Buddy Miller among others. The tracklist is also highlighted by a never-before released live recording by Townes Van Zandt. Originally from Rhode Island, Olney moved to Nashville in the early 70s and fell in with a group of songwriters including Townes Van Zandt, John Hiatt, Steve Earle, Guy Clark, and Rodney Crowell. With his rock band David Olney and the X-Rays he toured tirelessly. He went on to release a string of brilliant albums and his songs were recorded by Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, Del McCoury, Linda Ronstadt, and many others. But the bright lights of stardom never shone on David, and he died the way he lived: onstage in a club, far from home, singing a song. This album gathers some of David’s friends and colleagues to pay tribute to his unique vision. Many of these artists are legends in their own right; all are here because of their deep admiration and respect for the man and his songs.

“Friends, they are my ticket out of this place I am in… feels like nothing more than a dirt bike vacation stop between Phoenix and San Diego.” Dirt Bike Vacation—for Worried Songs Records—explores the sonic world of the late amateur guitar player, Charles ‘Poppy Bob’ Walker, through a captivating set of instrumental songs made in the mid-1980s. Recorded on a single-track, Marantz field recorder, the project is a transportive document of Walker’s days spent as a meatpacking employee in Yuma, Arizona and the dailiness of that existence: driving to work, sitting in his backyard, walking around drunkenly, unwinding on the couch with a friend. These sketches, showing an experimental tendency, are surprisingly ahead of their time; some exhibit ad hoc tape delay (“Granite Bluffs,” “Goodbye YMCA”), while others make use of primitive overdubbing (“Continuation to Moon Doctor”). Not dissimilar to works such as Bruce Langhorne’s The Hired Hand soundtrack, Walker’s guitar playing is melodic, texturally rich and beautifully sober. On a musical tour from Nashville to Los Angeles, musician-archivist, Cameron Knowler, uncovered these songs from a series of dusty cassette tapes housed at a branch of the Yuma County Library. Originally tipped off by cryptic metadata entries found through an online finding aid, Knowler requested a sound sample and was immediately drawn in by their eerie, yet hopeful nature: “I didn’t care what they sounded like at first, but once I heard just a few seconds, I had to find out everything I could about Charles, who he was, and if he was still alive.” As it turns out, the two had miraculously crossed paths over 20 years prior when Cameron was a young boy accompanying his mother, a gem trader, on a biyearly sojourn to Quartzsite, a town 80 miles north of Yuma: “Charles, sitting down and smoking in a recliner, withdrawn, held what I now understand to be a mid-1990s Martin D-28 guitar. Unlike other old-timers, his instrument was sharply tuned and had a nice sound, even to my young and uncalibrated ears. Though his left hand showed signs of highly developed arthritis, his musical ideas were animated by a palpably deep understanding of fretboard anatomy, arrangement and harmony.” Sorting through the index cards associated with these tapes, Knowler was able to gain a detailed sense of most recording’s provenance, whereabouts and time: Walker’s Datsun pickup truck chugging along boiling hot Interstate 80, the Marine Corps Air Station parking lot, the Eastern Wetlands on the banks of the Colorado River, a fishing trip to Martinez Lake. Trying to reduce the amount of his own subjectivities coloring the work, Cameron constructed titles and track sequences by borrowing information gleaned from Charles’ handwritten notes: “I tried to organize everything by time of day, giving the listener the sense of how a Yuma day might sound and feel like, and each song title—even the record itself—is borrowed from his own words.” This proved no small task, as many notecards had to be deciphered and then coupled with their native tapes which needed extensive restoration treatments. The result is a project very much out of the blue, and one that is intensely personal to Knowler, having grown up in the same town under similar circumstances. “It feels like a part of my own journey as a guitarist reckoning with the defining marks of a gothic border town,” he remarks. “At the time I would’ve met Walker, I didn’t have much outside influence, but he has been in there all the while.” In their current form, the tracks combine to create a sonic journey that boldly contributes to the traditions of acoustic guitar soli, archival digs and field recordings all the same; most importantly, it is a creative document which shows a day-in-the-life of a man grappling with the human experience under a ubiquitous Yuma sun.

Strange Power!, the fifth record from Durham, NC-based songwriter and poet Anne Malin Ringwalt, emerges from the darkest waters of the self into a world remade. Releasing in conjunction with her second book of poetry, What Floods (Inside the Castle, Oct. 2024), Strange Power! overflows with Ringwalt's teeming and sensuous personal symbolry: glowing lilacs and gentle queens, dolphins wild and girls who grew up brave _ T.S. Eliot sung by Cat Power, backed by Mount Eerie. She sings: "I rose up from water." Ringwalt writes and performs with the authority of a lifetime spent harnessing the alchemy of storytelling; her belief in the power of words to heal and transform is palpable in each achingly- delivered lyric. Made amidst profound inner and outer change, Strange Power! also sees Ringwalt taking up the role of self-producer for the first time, mirroring and supporting the record's Orphic quest by gathering contributions from a coterie of friends wielding an electric range of American instruments. Violins, vibraphones, drum machines, electric guitars dappled with spring reverb, wind-blown shells, and a host of other numinous sounds form an unfurling and shadowy world which was then carefully honed during the mixing process (shepherded by Michael Cormier-O'Leary and Lucas Knapp) _ settling the final record in an eerie meridian between spareness and verdancy. The result is a beguiling and darkly blooming realm: the sound of a personal cosmos being remade, piece by piece. Ringwalt is at the height of her spirit as both songwriter-poet and singer, her willowy voice by turns conjuring and keening as she reckons with her deep past and the stories told since. Opening track "The Pines" sets the stage for a record of truly life-long scope: "I was a child, now I hold her / I was asleep for many years." Some songs, like the gorgeous "North Carolina" and "The Saint," were written as early as 2013 but, Ringwalt says, "insisted upon being remembered" as the record took shape; in its final form, they serve as inciting moments of self-discovery before the journey to come. "The Visionary" recalls one of Ringwalt's earliest musical breakthroughs _ her re-rendering of an Emily Brontë poem into a song at age 15 _ and, she says, "`cites' the melody of that song in the context of this new one _ a holding of the past and present and every layer in between/beyond, in utter solitude _ a solitude that reflects certain aspects of abandon as a child and an adult..." This unusually lengthy time-scale lends Strange Power! a deeply moving sense of narrative fullness. Stretches of the record _ particularly the "Judgment Day" ? "River" ? "Lilac Bloom" trifecta that form the black heart of Side 1 _ may recall familiar wanderings of personal underworlds such as Mount Eerie's Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 or Neil Young's Ditch Trilogy. Yet this hollowed landscape is in turn exorcized by the a capella "I Know," in which Ringwalt sings "I won't be gutted by you / For giving and trying to heal / I won't be gutted, I am not a fool / I deserve a love that is new" before the song concludes with a piano passage that recalls hymnal music _ suggesting a faith in life itself to offer new beginnings. Side 2 features some of Ringwalt's most powerfully introspective writing to date, as the songwriter casts off myth after myth in her search for personal transformation. By the final song, "Stories," the energy that has been gathering all throughout the record breaks loose as Ringwalt reflects: "I wrote so many stories, not knowing what the end was." But at this stage in the journey, we know there is no such thing as an ending; if the healing process is never complete, the storyteller's strange power is what finally offers liberation.

The Wild Classical Music Ensemble is a Belgian experimental rock band formed in 2007 by artists with mental disability within the social-artistic non-profit organisation Wit.h in Kortrijk. Their unique sound is a blend of punk/rock riffs, fanatical rhythms and soaring flutes and fiery synths, over which gravitate multiple, multilingual voices that scratch harshly as much as they comfort. There's something very Belgian about this harshness and noisiness. We often think of compadre Arno, from the TC Matic era. During the Covid crisis, the disabled members of the Wild Classical Music Ensemble were undoubtedly subjected more than others to the harsh conditions of confinement, alone in their rooms. Damien Magnette was still able to visit them with sound equipment. This was one of their all-too-few windows onto the world. Forbidden to meet, let alone play together, the members of Wild were nevertheless able to compose songs in tandem with Damien. The tracks were then sent to musician friends - Fabrice Gilbert, Ava Carrère, Wim Opbrouck, Shht, Arthur Satàn, Nathan Roche and Julien ZLDR - who added their artistic touch. Jean Lamoot and Carl Roosens joined the adventure, one as mixer, the other as video director. It's a result of the conditions under which it was created, this is the band's most highly-produced album, and perhaps its most accessible: frankly rock, with a great deal of freedom in production, and sometimes with a certain pop allure. Jean Lamoot's contribution to the mix had a lot to do with it. In addition, the forced slowdown allowed us to devote much more time and attention to writing the lyrics. Leader Damien Magnette says: "For over a year, we were all confined. But what about when you're a mentally handicapped person? Well, it's very different from you and me... We have the right to choose, the luxury of deciding for ourselves what rules we want to follow or not. We have free will. They don't. This series of confined songs is dedicated to all the people who have gone through this crisis, deprived of their free will. We send them our thoughts, hugs and kisses full of true love! The songs respond to a deep desire to look out for each other in adversity (the so obvious "Comment ça va?" by Johan Geenens and Wim Opbrouck, or "Waarom ben je boos" by Sébastien Faidherbe with Wim Decoene, the latter full of empathy). A sense of loneliness is logically present on the album ("Dat is mijn verdriet" by Linh Pham, a very real, very concrete and particularly touching poem, or "Loneliness", whose text was improvised by Wim), if not an understandable rage ("Je ne veux pas" and "My Frustrations"). It worth noting that on "On reste heureux", Sébastien Faidherbe composed all the parts in one go, with an optimism that stands out from the anger expressed in his other songs. Let's make no mistake: none of this is really over. All these emotions, suffering, pain and hope, speak to us far beyond this grim story of covid.

After a nine year hiatus SUN AND SAIL CLUB are back and they've come back swinging! This album is more aggressive than the previous album, as if that was even possible. Same line-up as before featuring Scott Reeder (FU MANCHU/SMILE) on drums, Scott Reeder (KYUSS/THE OBSESSED/FIREBALL MINISTRY) on bass, Bob Balch (FU MANCHU/SLOWER/BIG SCENIC NOWHERE/YAWNING BALCH) on guitar and Tony Adolescent (THE ADOLESCENTS) on vocals. The album starts with a mellow jazz guitar piece and then proceeds to rip your face off until the end of the album, which closes with another solo jazz guitar piece. "Shipwrecked" is their strongest album yet. Fully realized and to the point. Fast and dissonant. "This album is a compilation of riffs collected over a nine year period. Most of the songs were written last year but some of them have been floating around for a while. There is a general sense of unease throughout. I wanted to make an album that went one step further than "The Great White Dope." The songs are faster and more intense at times. It's basically the soundtrack of me beating the shit out of my guitar. Then you factor in Scott Reeder on drums, Scott Reeder on bass and Tony Adolescent on vocals and you've got something more than I could have imagined by myself. This album is raw and pummeling. If you're a glutton for punishment this might be your desert Island record." - Bob Balch Recorded at Jim Monroe's The Racket Room, Casa De Balch, and Scott Reeder's The Sanctuary

Red vinyl, limited to 300 copies. After a nine year hiatus SUN AND SAIL CLUB are back and they've come back swinging! This album is more aggressive than the previous album, as if that was even possible. Same line-up as before featuring Scott Reeder (FU MANCHU/SMILE) on drums, Scott Reeder (KYUSS/THE OBSESSED/FIREBALL MINISTRY) on bass, Bob Balch (FU MANCHU/SLOWER/BIG SCENIC NOWHERE/YAWNING BALCH) on guitar and Tony Adolescent (THE ADOLESCENTS) on vocals. The album starts with a mellow jazz guitar piece and then proceeds to rip your face off until the end of the album, which closes with another solo jazz guitar piece. "Shipwrecked" is their strongest album yet. Fully realized and to the point. Fast and dissonant. "This album is a compilation of riffs collected over a nine year period. Most of the songs were written last year but some of them have been floating around for a while. There is a general sense of unease throughout. I wanted to make an album that went one step further than "The Great White Dope." The songs are faster and more intense at times. It's basically the soundtrack of me beating the shit out of my guitar. Then you factor in Scott Reeder on drums, Scott Reeder on bass and Tony Adolescent on vocals and you've got something more than I could have imagined by myself. This album is raw and pummeling. If you're a glutton for punishment this might be your desert Island record." - Bob Balch Recorded at Jim Monroe's The Racket Room, Casa De Balch, and Scott Reeder's The Sanctuary

Released in 1982, "Heart and Soul" is a collaboration between bassist Ron Carter and pianist Cedar Walton, two jazz giants renowned for their impeccable musicianship. The album showcases their exceptional interplay and deep understanding of jazz standards. Title track "Heart & Soul", "Frankie and Johnny", "Little Waltz" highlight their ability to communicate and improvise with sophistication and emotion. The album is a testament to the enduring appeal of jazz standards and the artistry of two master musicians.

Brunson debuts on Rekids Special Projects with ‘Intimacy Between Friends’. Discovered in a Mike Banks interview by Benji B, ‘Intimacy Between Friends’ releases on RSPX 18th October.

Brunson’s ‘Intimacy Between Friends’ EP on Rekids Special Projects kicks off with 'Aminal'. Originally discovered via a 2017 BBC Radio 1 interview between Benji B and Underground Resistance co-founder Mike Banks, ‘Aminal’ was played on the show and subsequently sought out by Matt Edwards for release on RSPX in 2024 as part of the ‘Intimacy Between Friends’ EP.

‘Aminal’ by Brunson is a ten-minute odyssey into atmospheric deep techno. Wiggling acidic synth motifs and warm, radiant pads bring the soul to a tight groove, constantly evolving and allowing you to sink ever deeper into majestic chords which wash over you like rays of sunlight. Brunson’s 'My Friend Ryan' is another classic Detroit sound with machine warmth and energetic drum programming, which all work together to make you move your body while your heart is enriched by its vibrant soundscape.

Brunson released his first EP in 2023 via Berlin’s Tresor Recordings but has been active for a number of years before this as a Midwest American and Motor City producer while being the VJ behind Juan Atkins’ Model 500 shows. He now releases the ‘Intimacy Between Friends’ on Radio Slave’s Rekids Special Projects, already supported by artists such as Luke Slater, Laurent Garnier, and Jerome Sydenham.

The Blessed Madonna began with three magic words, scrawled in shoe polish on a broken - down box and hung on the wall at a small sweaty party: We Still Believe. “I think you have to give up completely to really understand what hope is. It was like 2011? I had spectacularly, monumentally failed. I left the label. I wasn’t DJing. I wasn’t putting out records. I was divorced and living on my Dad’s couch so naturally my friends and I decided to throw an illegal rave. We didn’t have any decorations, so I took a box and wrote, ‘We Still Believe’ on it. I needed to believe that something better was possible and that’s how it all started.” After years of $50 gigs, strung together by gas money and surfed couches, The Blessed Madonna cemented her reputation as a sublime technician behind the decks with a legacy of fluent and dynamic sets, spanning from disco to techno to house and back. One room sweatboxes, circus tents, theatres, massive festival stages and entire city blocks have all served as the canvas for her shows. After a jam packed 2023, from Glastonbury to Sonar to Boiler Room Bali, The Blessed Madonna has been filling the dance floor everywhere she goes and is now releasing her debut album.

Distance as a measure of time and place informs Kelly Finnigan's, A Lover Was Born with a grit and grace that turns passion into virtue. The latest solo release from The Monophonics frontman roots itself in the best traditions of midwest soul labels like King, Curtom, Dakar, and the Bodie Recording Company. A Lover Was Born is a testimony that these deep cut grooves are not resigned to nostalgia, instead, they are at the burning heart of longing and hope. The journey Finnigan takes listeners on over Lover's eleven tracks echo the state of motion and growth since his solo debut, The Tales People Tell (2019). These two records bookend a prolific period of output, including a pair of Monophonics albums, a Christmas album, a mixtape, and a full slate of producing other artists (The Ironsides, Alanna Royale, the Sextones). "There's nothing like making records," says Finnigan. "It feels like that's my purpose _ the reason I was put on this earth." Written in California, Ohio, and Staten Island, Kelly Finnigan collaborated with old friends in and outside the studio. "I enjoy working alone but it's not how you want to make a record_almost everybody I brought in for this album I've worked with, toured with or spent a great deal of time with." Max and Joe Ramey (The Ironsides), Jimmy James (Parlor Greens), Sergio Rios (Orgone), Joey Crispiano (Dap Kings) and Jay Mumford (aka J-Zone) all contribute to the overall sound of A Lover Was Born. Dramatic influences like Isaac Hayes (check out the piano on "Be Your Own Shelter") and Jerry Ragovoy are chopped and folded into Northern Soul uptempo numbers to create stompers like "Get a Hold of Yourself" or "Chosen Few". Finnigan's take on Deep Soul is captured brilliantly on "Walk Away from Me" and "Love (Your Pain Goes Deep)", while Boom Bap pervades on hard hitters "His Love Ain't Real" & "Cold World". Slower songs such as "Let Me Count the Reasons", the emotional "All That's Left", and the soul-stirring album closer "Count Me Out" show the honest and tender side that has become Finnigan's calling card. All the while, the voice is raw and earthy _ in the best tradition of R&B shouters like Otis Redding, Lee Moses, and David Ruffin. The songs on A Lover Was Born reconfigure the spliced and sampled DNA of hip hop (extracted by crate diggers like Dilla and RZA) to create something new, underscoring both the spectrum and depth of soul while making a case to the timelessness of Finnigan's sound.

Distance as a measure of time and place informs Kelly Finnigan's, A Lover Was Born with a grit and grace that turns passion into virtue. The latest solo release from The Monophonics frontman roots itself in the best traditions of midwest soul labels like King, Curtom, Dakar, and the Bodie Recording Company. A Lover Was Born is a testimony that these deep cut grooves are not resigned to nostalgia, instead, they are at the burning heart of longing and hope. The journey Finnigan takes listeners on over Lover's eleven tracks echo the state of motion and growth since his solo debut, The Tales People Tell (2019). These two records bookend a prolific period of output, including a pair of Monophonics albums, a Christmas album, a mixtape, and a full slate of producing other artists (The Ironsides, Alanna Royale, the Sextones). "There's nothing like making records," says Finnigan. "It feels like that's my purpose _ the reason I was put on this earth." Written in California, Ohio, and Staten Island, Kelly Finnigan collaborated with old friends in and outside the studio. "I enjoy working alone but it's not how you want to make a record_almost everybody I brought in for this album I've worked with, toured with or spent a great deal of time with." Max and Joe Ramey (The Ironsides), Jimmy James (Parlor Greens), Sergio Rios (Orgone), Joey Crispiano (Dap Kings) and Jay Mumford (aka J-Zone) all contribute to the overall sound of A Lover Was Born. Dramatic influences like Isaac Hayes (check out the piano on "Be Your Own Shelter") and Jerry Ragovoy are chopped and folded into Northern Soul uptempo numbers to create stompers like "Get a Hold of Yourself" or "Chosen Few". Finnigan's take on Deep Soul is captured brilliantly on "Walk Away from Me" and "Love (Your Pain Goes Deep)", while Boom Bap pervades on hard hitters "His Love Ain't Real" & "Cold World". Slower songs such as "Let Me Count the Reasons", the emotional "All That's Left", and the soul-stirring album closer "Count Me Out" show the honest and tender side that has become Finnigan's calling card. All the while, the voice is raw and earthy _ in the best tradition of R&B shouters like Otis Redding, Lee Moses, and David Ruffin. The songs on A Lover Was Born reconfigure the spliced and sampled DNA of hip hop (extracted by crate diggers like Dilla and RZA) to create something new, underscoring both the spectrum and depth of soul while making a case to the timelessness of Finnigan's sound.

Distance as a measure of time and place informs Kelly Finnigan's, A Lover Was Born with a grit and grace that turns passion into virtue. The latest solo release from The Monophonics frontman roots itself in the best traditions of midwest soul labels like King, Curtom, Dakar, and the Bodie Recording Company. A Lover Was Born is a testimony that these deep cut grooves are not resigned to nostalgia, instead, they are at the burning heart of longing and hope. The journey Finnigan takes listeners on over Lover's eleven tracks echo the state of motion and growth since his solo debut, The Tales People Tell (2019). These two records bookend a prolific period of output, including a pair of Monophonics albums, a Christmas album, a mixtape, and a full slate of producing other artists (The Ironsides, Alanna Royale, the Sextones). "There's nothing like making records," says Finnigan. "It feels like that's my purpose _ the reason I was put on this earth." Written in California, Ohio, and Staten Island, Kelly Finnigan collaborated with old friends in and outside the studio. "I enjoy working alone but it's not how you want to make a record_almost everybody I brought in for this album I've worked with, toured with or spent a great deal of time with." Max and Joe Ramey (The Ironsides), Jimmy James (Parlor Greens), Sergio Rios (Orgone), Joey Crispiano (Dap Kings) and Jay Mumford (aka J-Zone) all contribute to the overall sound of A Lover Was Born. Dramatic influences like Isaac Hayes (check out the piano on "Be Your Own Shelter") and Jerry Ragovoy are chopped and folded into Northern Soul uptempo numbers to create stompers like "Get a Hold of Yourself" or "Chosen Few". Finnigan's take on Deep Soul is captured brilliantly on "Walk Away from Me" and "Love (Your Pain Goes Deep)", while Boom Bap pervades on hard hitters "His Love Ain't Real" & "Cold World". Slower songs such as "Let Me Count the Reasons", the emotional "All That's Left", and the soul-stirring album closer "Count Me Out" show the honest and tender side that has become Finnigan's calling card. All the while, the voice is raw and earthy _ in the best tradition of R&B shouters like Otis Redding, Lee Moses, and David Ruffin. The songs on A Lover Was Born reconfigure the spliced and sampled DNA of hip hop (extracted by crate diggers like Dilla and RZA) to create something new, underscoring both the spectrum and depth of soul while making a case to the timelessness of Finnigan's sound.

Jerome Hill returns to the long running Don't label (24 years strong) with a four tracker of big boned Techno/Booty music that swaggers along, at times with tongue in cheek and mainly giving no fucks.

On the A side, taking inspiration from Relief and Dance Mania records, 'All My Friends' meets the bombastic New-New-Beat rave stylings of 'The Ghost Of New Beat' while over on the flip, you're faced with 'Dog Booty', an obscenely filthy Ghetto Techno track that only your dog will understand, before finishing off with the Miami Bass apocalypse that is 'Blip Trick Track'.

In Cornish slang it is said that things get done ‘dreckly’; that is, not now, not necessarily tomorrow, but, at some indefinite point...in the future...soon...

Fitting then that when Bristol’s Langkamer decamped to their de facto home-from-home in the picturesque south-west seaside town of Falmouth to record their third album in as many years (with an EP thrown in there too) - there was no particular need to rush things: “The process was much slower and more considered for Langzamer.”, drummer/vocalist Josh Jarman explains: “The first two albums felt pretty urgent, and each was finished in about 6 months, but this one feels a lot more deliberate. It’s taken us two years to get this done.”

Equally fitting too that Langzamer kicks off proceedings with ‘Heart of Tin’: the first bars are languidly lugubrious, so deliciously plucked-out and scuzzed-up that they linger in the air like passing smoke, magically, slowing time down to their own assured and steady will. And in so much time, that also feels like no time at all, comes an opening line of such stark, disarming confessionalism as might be found in the David Berman/Silver Jews songbook: “Do you want the good news or the bad news first? // They’re both bad news, but the bad is worse” It’s Langkamer in a nutshell: embattled, heart-on-sleeve Slacker Rock slaked with twinges of fret-sliding Americana, yet deeply embedded in the folk mythologies, colloquialisms and experiences of the band’s West Country roots.

Throughout Langzamer, confronting the listener again and again is this conflict between the band’s breezy, melodic charm, and the threat of something more sinister lurking in the undergrowth. While those more familiar with Langkamer’s oeuvre to date will have already come to know and love their often self-deprecating yet witty lyricism, the songs on Langzamer take this trademark ebullient gloominess to more challenging plains: “Principally this is an album about grief, and everything that entails...” explains Jarman. “in a sense death brought these songs to life.”

This thread is felt no more so than on ‘Salvation XL’. Inspired by a “particularly bad batch of food poisoning I had in Morocco”, Jarman explains, and beginning with the memorable opening line, “Jesus came to me a Burger King in Marrakech”, the band wind their way through the ‘big topics’: death and God.

“This trip was shortly after a few of my friends had passed away, and I think a lot of my thoughts and actions at that time were being influenced by my grief without me realising it.”, he explains, “Whenever I dwell on grief, and how death has given my life a new context, I come back to that. The ongoing battle between agnosticism and atheism. I wasn’t raised in a very strict religious home, but I come from a long line of methodists, and it’s interesting to think about the way theism and religion have shaped my life without me knowing it. I think that’s being channelled on this album a lot. The uncertainty that comes with disbelief.”

Our collective mortal frailties are also felt on lead single ‘Richard E Grant’. With a trademark bittersweetness, a track that begins as an appreciation of the actor’s humorous social media presence unfolds as a study on “finding healthy coping strategies to deal with loss.”. Elsewhere, ‘At The Lake’ - to the tune of mournful, folk-like balladry - explores binge-drinking culture and the troubled association between unhealthy behaviour and creativity. The listener is left in no mind as to the meaning behind the references to James Joyce and Janis Jopin as “souvenirs stolen from the dark”.

With themes as weighty as these strewn across the album’s 10 tracks, It seemed like a particularly astute move then for the band to personally approach Ben Woods, founder of the Golden Dregs, to assist on production duties. Not only would the delicate intimacies of Woods’ main project - see 2023’s On Grace & Dignity for reference - add an appropriate moodiness, but Woods was also born and raised in Cornwall, where the album was recorded; amidst “eating pasties” and breaks by the sea, Woods and the band transformed the vaults underneath iconic Falmouth venue The Cornish Bank into a makeshift studio for a weeks’ worth of recording. Occasionally friends would drop by to lighten the load; Zander Sharp tracking violin on ’Double Island’ and ‘Flight’; Josh Law and Ben Sadler of Breakfast Records labelmates Getdown Services, both of whom contribute to the soul-stirring ‘mountain’ chorus on ‘Aberfan’.

When compared to the brightness of 2023’s The Noon and Midnight Manual, Woods’ influence on the record seems indisputable. On the aforementioned ‘At The Lake’, for instance, which features backing vocals from Woods. Or, most acutely, on the piano strains of harrowing closer ‘Bluff’, a track with such chilling, spectral severity as to effect the band’s most heartbreaking effort to date. While it’s particularly sombre note on which end proceedings, it's also an appropriate one: Langzamer bravely stands tall as their most restrained, matured, and sincere collection to date. And almost by virtue of its impeccable honesty, those moments of sunshine-joy that creep through the cracks feel that much more golden.

William Tyler is a Nashville guitarist and composer. He spent years woodshedding and touring with Nashville groups like Lambchop and Silver Jews before breaking away to focus on his own version of instrumental guitar music. In the summer of 2022 he was fortunate to have an artist residency at Epicenter in Green River, Utah, a tiny high desert town three hours from anything, One of the other non-profit friends of Epicenter was The Tank is Rangely, Colorado. The Tank itself is a giant and tall disused water tower from the high days of train travel and used to store water to cool train engines and such. Empty for decades, it is now an internationally recognized destination for sound art and almost unparalleled echo/acoustics. William Tyler decided to book recording time there and chose to re-interpret all of the songs of hie 2019 album "Goes West" in a sparse yet cavernous solo acoustic setting: "Something about the frailty and space I wanted the songs to imply was lost in the over-production of the studio record, This felt like a reclamation of the songs and also a symbolic tribute to the stunning, haunted and vast possibilities of the American West, especially at the twilight of American Empire.’

Despite having never released his own album, Terry Marshall remains one of the most ubiquitous and influential individuals in modern music; this of course comes from the guitar amplifiers which bear his name. Debut album ‘Living The Blues’ by Terry Marshall and Friends, including Laurence Jones, Emma Wilson, Alice Armstrong, Krissy Matthews and Zoe Schwarz as well as an array of talented blues musicians, the album is the embodiment of a lifetime of dedication to music and a revitalising take on blues classics.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once billed as "Europe's First Lady of Jazz," Rita Reys was a legend overseas during the second half of the 20th century, and certainly one of the top European jazz singers. Jazz Pictures at an Exhibition showcases a 1961 concert featuring Rita with the Pim Jacobs Trio (also including Pim's brother Ruud on bass), plus drum legend Kenny Clarke. This was the only time ever Reys and Clarke recorded together.

There are cult bands and then there's Souled American. In 1988, the Illinois group arguably invented "alternative country" with the album Fe. While the alt-country sound is widely recognized as Southern roots rock with an indie-punk sensibility largely defined by Uncle Tupelo's No Depression released two years later — Souled American's early music feels as if it was formed in a vacuum, inspired by the timestretching space of reggae. But over the course of the following decade, Souled American's music grew increasingly slow, insular and esoteric. Although Fe, Flubber and Around the Horn are inarguably more accessible, upbeat and even sometimes fun, if you've never heard this music before, it actually makes sense to start at the end.

Their last two albums Frozen and Notes Campfire will now be re-issued in limited, 30th Anniversary Editions with a fresh abundance of stories, technical information, musician credits, and cartoons that detail the unexpected origins surrounding these two early classics of “ambient Americana.” These records sound at once both old and new with brilliant melodies and profound performances stacked in unusual patterns like soft-hued bricks.

You may not have heard of Long Beach O.G. Greg Royal aka Pür Royale, but you're definitely familiar with his work. With a resume of remix, production, engineering, and editing work ranging from Dr Dre's "The Chronic" to Bobby Brown's "My Prerogative", to the dub version of Patrice Rushen's "Feels So Real", Greg left an indelible mark on contemporary black music from the mid-80's to mid-90s.

In 1993 however, a one off 100 copy house 12" self titled as "Royal Phenomena" on the surface didn't seem to quite fit with the more traditional hip-hop and r&b output of his extensive discography. I only found out it existed through connecting with another unsung west coast pioneer, Aaron Paar, for Must Have's 2016 Teflon Dons compilation. Greg is credited as a mixing and recording engineer on practically every release on Aaron's own consistently excellent label Worldship. After listening to Aaron tell his story, it was clear Greg's studio experience and mentorship were key elements in the development of Aaron's signature tough SP-1200 house sound. "Royal Phenomena" remains an elusive connecting point for LA hip-hop and underground deep house, and Greg and Aaron remain friends and frequent collaborators.

Aaron put me in touch with Greg, who miraculously kept his original DAT tape recordings of these unique house excursions and was happy to finally share them with a wider audience. Blending hip-hop production techniques, west coast Latin sleaze, midwestern minimalism, and a dash of UK bleep, the LA underground house sound remains singular.