Buscar:nee nervous

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Beautifully drunken it hums, the piano in “PianoPiano”, the last tune of “How to Spread Lies”, the first EP by Roman Flügel for the Hamburg based label Dial in the year 2010. Or take “Strich”, a peculiar electrical slow-motion grinder, out on his “Mutter” EP for Klang Electronic in 2006. Since long, the renowned Berlin based DJ and producer is investigating in spheres beyond the dance, the groove, the ecstasy. Zones, where the molecules harmonize, senses relieve, and the soul quietens. All his last albums, “All The Right Noises” (Dial), “Themes I-XIII” (ESP Institue), “Eating Darkness” (Running Back) have moments of tension and relaxation in a deep harmonious connection.

Now “Balmy Evening”, a sundown record for sunup’s. Eleven notions in adventurous journey music, embracing the freedom of structure, blurring the musical pulse into harmonic meditation and mysteriously grooving zones, leaving all unnecessary accessories behind. A quality, that many of his collaborative and solo productions from past 30 years comprise. Still, most of them squint on the dance floor, where jack is king. Not so “Balmy Evening”, where real party bangers are absent. There are moving tunes like the slow Kraftwerk-melody-leaning funkateer “Duftschulter”, or the artificially jacking “Greenhouse”, where nervous Synth patterns ball along soft breaks and decreet kicks. Also, “Super Sonne”, an odd, seemingly improvised synth conversation might ask some souls out for a dance.

But all others, like “Atmosphere”, “Frei”, Dolphins, “Goth”, or “Ambienteuse”, rather seek for the tranquil in each one’s spirit. Listeners need be ready for surprises. Ready for impulsive ideas, linked to a harmonious flow, always ready to grow. An album full of silence, utterly loud, beautifully diverse humming, displaying a playful, exploratory side of a celebrated club music producer, to whom atoms dance in manifold ways.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Für eine Band, die mehr als ein Jahrzehnt damit verbracht hat, den modernen Metal neu zu definieren, scheint für While She Sleeps das Beste noch bevorzustehen, denn 2022 werden sie auf einigen der größten Sommerfestivals der Welt spielen, in den USA und Australien unterwegs sein und im Herbst eine große

Europatournee mit Parkway Drive absolvieren. Mit ’SLEEPS SOCIETY (SPECIAL EDITION)’ erweitert die Band das erfolgreiche Sleeps Society-Album um drei neue Tracks sowie eine akustische Neubearbeitung von ’YOU ARE ALL YOU NEED’ und ’SYSTEMATIC’ mit Gastgesang von Rou Reynolds von Enter Shikari. Und die Tracks sind nicht einfach nur ”Add-Ons” - sie sind komplett in das Tracklisting des Albums integriert - was ein völlig neues Hörerlebnis
für die Fans schafft!

Für eine Band, die mehr als ein Jahrzehnt damit verbracht hat, den modernen Metal neu zu definieren, scheint für While She Sleeps das Beste noch bevorzustehen, denn 2022 werden sie auf einigen der größten Sommerfestivals der Welt spielen, in den USA und Australien unterwegs sein und im Herbst eine große

Europatournee mit Parkway Drive absolvieren. Mit ’SLEEPS SOCIETY (SPECIAL EDITION)’ erweitert die Band das erfolgreiche Sleeps Society-Album um drei neue Tracks sowie eine akustische Neubearbeitung von ’YOU ARE ALL YOU NEED’ und ’SYSTEMATIC’ mit Gastgesang von Rou Reynolds von Enter Shikari. Und die Tracks sind nicht einfach nur ”Add-Ons” - sie sind komplett in das Tracklisting des Albums integriert - was ein völlig neues Hörerlebnis
für die Fans schafft!

Black Vinyl Repress

For the third release on De:tuned we proudly present The Kosmik Kommando AKA Mike Dred. Mike hardly needs an introduction; considered as one of the masters of the Roland TB-303 Mike has been releasing records under various aliases since the early 90s. He has recorded for high profile labels such as R&S and Rephlex as well as his own Machine Codes label. Together, with Aphex Twin, Mike was behind the Universal Indicator releases which are among the most collectible and sought after records in techno history.

De:tuned has worked closely with Mike to develop an 8 track project that gives props to the American Psychologist Timothy Leary and his proposed theory of 'The Eight-Circuit Model of Consciousness'. This model describes 8 circuits of information that operate within the human nervous system. Each circuit refers to a different sphere of activity, enhanced by experimentation with a particular substance. Each circuit also represents a higher stage of evolution than the one before it and the higher the circuit, the fewer the people have activated it as the higher four circuits exist for those who migrate to outer space and live extraterrestrially.

The 8 Models are applied to the track titles that present a varied collection integrating acid house, techno, electro and rave culture.

3 of the tracks on offer here were written exclusively for Mike's live performance at the De:tuned 'Meeting of Minds' event in June 2012, which was Mike's first full live show in 3 years.

This 8 track project will be available on limited 180 gr white double vinyl with label and sleeve artwork by Mike himself. Stay Tuned!

2022 Silver Vinyl Repress

For the third release on De:tuned we proudly present The Kosmik Kommando AKA Mike Dred. Mike hardly needs an introduction; considered as one of the masters of the Roland TB-303 Mike has been releasing records under various aliases since the early 90s. He has recorded for high profile labels such as R&S and Rephlex as well as his own Machine Codes label. Together, with Aphex Twin, Mike was behind the Universal Indicator releases which are among the most collectible and sought after records in techno history.

De:tuned has worked closely with Mike to develop an 8 track project that gives props to the American Psychologist Timothy Leary and his proposed theory of 'The Eight-Circuit Model of Consciousness'. This model describes 8 circuits of information that operate within the human nervous system. Each circuit refers to a different sphere of activity, enhanced by experimentation with a particular substance. Each circuit also represents a higher stage of evolution than the one before it and the higher the circuit, the fewer the people have activated it as the higher four circuits exist for those who migrate to outer space and live extraterrestrially.

The 8 Models are applied to the track titles that present a varied collection integrating acid house, techno, electro and rave culture.

3 of the tracks on offer here were written exclusively for Mike's live performance at the De:tuned 'Meeting of Minds' event in June 2012, which was Mike's first full live show in 3 years.

This 8 track project will be available on limited 180 gr white double vinyl with label and sleeve artwork by Mike himself. Stay Tuned!

Take the freaked-out punked up soul of The Stooges and MC5 mix that with 60s garage trash, blend in Sabbath, AC/DC and heavy rock n roll and then hot wire that sound to a handful of freaks located in Fredericton, New Brunswick. Here it is that The Angered Wrecks were located - in an old Victorian style house in downtown Fredericton. It was here they set up a permanent rehearsal space on the main floor taking up the dining room and living room area with a full P.A. system and the long parties would begin as the Angered Wrecks cranked out an unholy primal serving of mind-numbing, eyeball-popping guttural pure rock and roll.

Lucky for us the Angered Wrecks had a primitive DIY recording set up as they recorded live off the floor with one cardioid mic taped to the ceiling to capture the entire room sound and straight into a cheap Alpine cassette deck. The results of these previously unheard recordings capture the essence of trashy rock’n roll at it’s finest, delivered with pure dereliction, and always a side of extra sleaze.
Keeping warm in the winter at another old salt box style house they would later rehearse and play gigs in, a large circle was cut in the floor so that the rising heat from the pottery kiln downstairs would (along with the right mixture of beer and ‘Purple Jesus’, weed and often speed and hot dogs) keep these boys fuelled long enough in sub zero temperatures to keep pumping out the rock’n roll savagery.
The last show they played was in the fall of ’81 at the Bug Shack after the household was served an eviction noticed with the house to be entirely demolished (just like Stooge Manor aka The Fun House).

They got a gig together the weekend before demolition, packed the bottom floor and played a blazing set. At the very end, walls were kicked apart, old cans of paint strewn about, general wanton destruction to furniture, doors, windows etc…insane. The bug shack had come to an end and shortly thereafter, The Angered Wrecks.
That these tapes have survived to this day is all thanks to John Westhaver’s archival hoarding (even though the loss of a 90 minute session of the Angered Wrecks still haunts John to this day).
So CRANK these tracks as loud as you can – these audio tapes are not for the faint of heart

Nervous Records, the iconic label synonymous with the rise of house from the streets of New York City, will mark 30 years in the music industry by releasing the celebratory compilation LP ‘Nervous Records: 30 Years’ on October 1st (Part 1) and October 15th (Part 2).

Featuring original mixes of the label’s biggest tracks, plus remixes by some of its most celebrated acts, ‘Nervous Records: 30 Years’ is both a celebration of the past and of the future. Featuring a who’s who of electronic dance music, the long player sees names including Louie Vega, David Morales Darius Syrossian, Tensnake, Monki, Franky Rizardo, Danny Howard and more take on iconic Nervous cuts: ‘You Make Me Feel Mighty Real’, ‘Treat Me Right’, ‘Future Groove’, ‘Feel Like Singing’, ‘Get Up Everybody’, ‘Break You’, ‘Hot’, ‘End This Hate’, ‘Unspeakable Joy’, ‘Can Ya Tell Me’, ‘Jerk It’, ‘The Anthem’, ‘It Makes A Difference’, ‘Learn 2 Luv’ and ‘Don’t You Ever Give Up’.

The album marks one of the most enduring, extraordinary legacies to grace America’s illustrious music history, not just in electronica but far beyond. Founded in 1991 by Michael and his father Sam Weiss, and recognizable immediately by its distinctive character logo, the label grew rapidly, in no small part due to Michael Weiss’ practically unmatched passion for discovering new music.

“Louie Vega and Kenny Dope woke me at 4am on Tuesday night, Wednesday morning from their studio telling me they had something really different that I needed to hear,” Michael recollects. “I asked if they could play it over the phone. They said if I wanted to hear it I had to come to the studio. So of course I got myself up, got dressed and went there. That “really different track” ended up being ‘The Nervous Track’, a tune that became our signature release and was also highly instrumental in the emergency of London’s ‘Broken Beat’ movement.”

The label’s willingness to take chances on fresh sounds and innovative concepts rising up from the melting pot sidewalks of NYC ensured a body of work that has become a living musical history of the city. House cuts ‘Unspeakable Joy’ and ‘Nitelife’ (Kim English), ‘Get Up (Everybody)’ (Byron Stingily) and ‘Feel Like Singing’ (Sandy B) bump up against hip-hop anthems like ‘Who Got Da Props’ (Black Moon) and “Bucktown” (Smif-n-Wessun) and reggae cut ‘Take It Easy’ (Mad Lion); soulful flows from Mood II Swing (Kim English ‘Learn 2 Luv’, Loni Clark “Rushing”), Armand Van Helden (‘The Anthem’) and Nuyorican Soul (‘Mind Fluid’) sit alongside seminal techno singles like Winx’ ‘Don’t Laugh’. The young artists and producers who joined the Nervous Records’ family have gone on to become some of the most hallowed and celebrated dance acts of all time: Louie Vega, Kenny Dope, David Morales, Tony Humphries, Roger Sanchez, Armand Van Helden, Kerri Chandler, Kim English, Byron Stingily, Josh Wink, to name just a handful.

“We did a release with Josh Wink under his Winx alias entitled ‘Nervous Build-Up’,” Michael said. “It did well and it was obvious how talented Josh was. Subsequent to that release I was pretty persistent in asking him to continue to play me his new demos. During one phone conversation he said, “Mike I’m gonna play you something over the phone but don’t laugh when you hear it.” That demo ended up being ‘Don’t Laugh’, which became one of our biggest international hits and still to this day is one of America’s earliest and most impactful techno hits.”

As much a celebration of the label’s future as it is of their past, Nervous Records: 30 Years is but a marker in the imprints’ history, a clear sign of where they’ve been and also where they’re going. With 30 years behind them, the label’s determination to unearth new raw diamonds in the rough is as unwavering as ever.

“I’ve always been one to look at what others are doing (the industry at large) and think, “ok, are they doing this specific thing for a reason, or doing it because everyone else is doing the same thing” and make my decision based on that,” says Nervous Records’ General Manager Andrew Salsano. “In an age where data metrics and analytics reign supreme, I remain steadfast that they should be complementary to your decision and not the sole indicator to make one. So many songs today are written with 15 second hooks in mind for social media, and while there’s nothing wrong with that business model you will always be chasing the wave instead of carving out your own path and identity.

“My primary focus for the sound of the label has and will continue to revolve around signing good songs and music that has the ability to react at the street level first. The best results come from artists that are firstly given a bit of local love that grows into a global impact. Fresh ideas that express child-like curiosity and artists showing vulnerability in their music are also something I look for, artists and producers that are not making music with certain markets in mind, but rather their own style and signature that is unique but able to straddle the fine line of underground and overground.”

Still as raw, as underground and as finely tuned to the dance floor as they ever have been, perhaps the secret to the success - and the longevity - of Nervous Records has something to do with that hard, dogged, no-holds-barred NYC edge that runs through the veins of the label. With the next generation of producers rising from the clubs of New York, one thing is certain; Nervous Records will be there to find them, nurture them and bring them to the world at large, over the next decade and beyond.

Having already proven that he is capable of maintaining sonic quality and distinction over the course of a full original program, Chevel (a.k.a. Dario Tronchin) now makes his LP debut for Stroboscopic Artefacts. His other S.A. contributions (including the inaugural entry in the label's singular Monad series, the "One Month Off" EP, his participation to the label's five-year retrospective series) have already hinted that a more complete exposition of his unique inner world would surface, and here it is at last.

Over the course of his young career, Chevel has gained a mastery over several compositional elements: Polaroid-like slow melodic fades, sharp ricocheting beats, and simply making one's headphones feel like a viable means of physical transportation. All of these elements come into play shortly after the needle hits the grooves of (Track A1), a euphoric introductory track marked by a spectral panning sequence and by beats chopped with a culinary expert's sense of elegance. The drum kit sounds that feature throughout are used sparely but - either because of this or in spite of this - provide maximum impact upon the listener's nervous system. The almost 'far Eastern' use of 'block' percussion on (Tracks A2 and B1) perfectly complements the synthetic sheen produced by fuzz distortion, radio static and bandpass-filtered sound bites, taking us to a terrain where a palette of decay effects provides just as much aesthetic inspiration as the presence of technological advancement.

There is more than enough humor and playfulness at work here, too, helping to once again banish the persistent stereotype of the modern techno producer as a sterile technician: the queasy melody line, sliced-and-diced whistling and gelatinous bounce of (Track D2) evoke a child's wonderment at playtime more than they do the rarefied rigour of the laboratory. The less pulsating numbers like (Track C3) and the closing (Track D3) will engage the listener as well, being like short audio films of abiogenesis (i.e. spontaneous generation of life from 'non-living' material) taking place. These tracks are not so much 'interludes' or contemplative retreats from the action as they are enhancers of it, utilizing fluttering cycles of melody to engage in a kind of conversation with the more driving tracks. As to the 'driving' tracks themselves: the places that they drive the listener to are satisfyingly beyond customary experience.

In other words, despite Chevel's keeping the sonic toolkit and overall atmosphere consistent from track to track, there is a rich variety in the emotional affectivity on display here. The net effect is like a dream state that leaves strong impressions even though one can't pinpoint exactly why they are doing so (and which leaves one wanting to dive back into the dream pool and experience something similar again.) This is a talent that unifies the diverse constellation of Stroboscopic Artefacts producers, and one that makes Chevel in particular one to continue watching, listening to, and experiencing.
Wire (USA/Germany/UK) - ''Very intriguing, can/'t wait to dive in.''
Pitchfork (USA) - "Nice use of space, though do find the atmosphere a little one-note. Percussion really pops."
RBMA - "Thanks for reaching out. Having a listen now and the album sounds really good. Happy to give it a shout on RBMA Twitter whenever is best for you."
Paramount Artists (UK) - "20/10 top effort!"
NTS Radio (UK) - ''Nice IDM music with fine textures and bass frequencies..''
Groove (Germany) - ''Very interesting delicate structures. Suggested for review in Groove.''
Exclaim! (Canada) - "I like this. I'll float it to my team and I'll let you know if anyone's interested in covering it."
Big Up Magazine (USA) - "Absolutely epic album."
Vicious Magazine (Spain) - "Great sounds, for our september issue, thx a lot!"
Little White Earbuds (USA) - ''Fantastic album from Chevel. I have unfortunately been at work today without my usual headphones but even listening on very poor quality ones, the rich sonic mastery comes through. Can't wait to get home and listen to this properly.''
Cone Magazine (UK) - "Thanks for sending this through. Looks great, and always interested about a new Stroboscopic release. I'll let you know when something goes up."

THE CHARLATANS proudly announce their (Covid) delayed release of their 30th Anniversary tour and a career spanning best of entitled “A Head Full of Ideas’ Released on Then Recordings through Republic Of Music. ‘A Head Full of Ideas’ sums up their remarkable progress from 1990 Manchester scene hopefuls to one of the UK’s most enduring and best-loved bands. The accompanying tour begins at Belfast, Limelight 22/11/21 and finishes in Aberdeen on 20/12/21.

The band have notched up 13 Top 40 studio albums - three of them number ones - alongside 22 hit singles, four of them top 10. The rollercoaster highs have been accompanied by some shattering lows, any which one of them could have felled a less resilient band, from nervous breakdowns to near bankruptcy and the deaths of two founder members.

Somehow, they have not just carried on but adapted and transformed. The classic Charlatans sound - driving Hammond organ, Northern Soul and house-influenced rhythms, swaggering guitars and Tim Burgess’s sunny yet somehow yearning vocal - is instantly recognisable. And in spite of everything they have been through their music is now more relevant than ever, The Guardian described their last album, Different Days as “one of their best ever”.

As well as a very limited 6 Vinyl box set, there will also be Limited Coloured Triple vinyl LP version and 2CD deluxe of the box set featuring the hits albums plus a bonus live album ‘Trust is For Believers’, and finally a CD or Double LP Vinyl of just the hits albums.

THE CHARLATANS proudly announce their (Covid) delayed release of their 30th Anniversary tour and a career spanning best of entitled “A Head Full of Ideas’ Released on Then Recordings through Republic Of Music. ‘A Head Full of Ideas’ sums up their remarkable progress from 1990 Manchester scene hopefuls to one of the UK’s most enduring and best-loved bands. The accompanying tour begins at Belfast, Limelight 22/11/21 and finishes in Aberdeen on 20/12/21.

The band have notched up 13 Top 40 studio albums - three of them number ones - alongside 22 hit singles, four of them top 10. The rollercoaster highs have been accompanied by some shattering lows, any which one of them could have felled a less resilient band, from nervous breakdowns to near bankruptcy and the deaths of two founder members.

Somehow, they have not just carried on but adapted and transformed. The classic Charlatans sound - driving Hammond organ, Northern Soul and house-influenced rhythms, swaggering guitars and Tim Burgess’s sunny yet somehow yearning vocal - is instantly recognisable. And in spite of everything they have been through their music is now more relevant than ever, The Guardian described their last album, Different Days as “one of their best ever”.

As well as a very limited 6 Vinyl box set, there will also be Limited Coloured Triple vinyl LP version and 2CD deluxe of the box set featuring the hits albums plus a bonus live album ‘Trust is For Believers’, and finally a CD or Double LP Vinyl of just the hits albums.

THE CHARLATANS proudly announce their (Covid) delayed release of their 30th Anniversary tour and a career spanning best of entitled “A Head Full of Ideas’ Released on Then Recordings through Republic Of Music. ‘A Head Full of Ideas’ sums up their remarkable progress from 1990 Manchester scene hopefuls to one of the UK’s most enduring and best-loved bands. The accompanying tour begins at Belfast, Limelight 22/11/21 and finishes in Aberdeen on 20/12/21.

The band have notched up 13 Top 40 studio albums - three of them number ones - alongside 22 hit singles, four of them top 10. The rollercoaster highs have been accompanied by some shattering lows, any which one of them could have felled a less resilient band, from nervous breakdowns to near bankruptcy and the deaths of two founder members.

Somehow, they have not just carried on but adapted and transformed. The classic Charlatans sound - driving Hammond organ, Northern Soul and house-influenced rhythms, swaggering guitars and Tim Burgess’s sunny yet somehow yearning vocal - is instantly recognisable. And in spite of everything they have been through their music is now more relevant than ever, The Guardian described their last album, Different Days as “one of their best ever”.

As well as a very limited 6 Vinyl box set, there will also be Limited Coloured Triple vinyl LP version and 2CD deluxe of the box set featuring the hits albums plus a bonus live album ‘Trust is For Believers’, and finally a CD or Double LP Vinyl of just the hits albums.

Rage, confusion, despair, self-deception, and introspection Madi Diaz cycles
through the full spectrum of emotions on History Of A Feeling,
her debut on ANTI-.
It’s an album that undeniably marks Diaz’s status as a first-rate songwriter, a
craft she’s spent years refining, and one wherein Diaz establishes herself as an
artist capable of distilling profound feelings with ease.
Diaz pulls from a range of folk, country, and pop leanings she is as much influenced by Patty Griffin and Lori McKenna as she is the sonics of PJ Harvey
and directness of Kathleen Hanna. On History Of A Feeling, the Nashville based
songwriter comes to terms with the dissolution of a meaningful relationship.
By the end of it, she wills herself into a self-reflective state where she doesn’t
hate herself for being so heartbroken.
The songs on History Of A Feeling, are the most direct and introspective songs
Diaz has ever written. In the few times she’s gotten to perform them live in
front of an audience, Diaz describes the experience as one where she feels
acutely present even though she’s singing about emotions that started to take
root years ago.
It’s relatable to anyone who has experienced heartbreak and great change in
some manner, and this profound sense of intimacy and camaraderie she seamlessly weaves into the songs was important to her.
“I wanted it to sound conversational, like I had just walked over to your house
and we’re sitting and at the end of your driveway talking just like we’re hashing it out in the same way that you’d call a best friend at one in the morning
because you needed to talk about what just happened.”

Don’t you realise that it’s getting warmer and warmer by the minute, that DJ JA’s “Warm”EP for hundert is just the beginning of something new while things continue to heat up?
Just think about hearing it on the news, that feeling of your skin crawling, shrivelling, theshrill alarm sounds ringing inside your head and you trying to keep your cool while theheat is rising. Just relax though, consider the Y2K panic – how everyone breathed a
breath of relief on the 1st of January once the clock had struck midnight and everything just stayed the same. After all, that’s maybe what we really need to be doing instead: wait for things and nature and this planet to settle this on their own terms. Wasn’t it all just a
hazy craze back then, and isn’t the same happening now? Aren’t we all susceptible for either apathy or paranoia, that bittersweet ambivalence also at the core of this EP, which navigates between harsh and nervous sounds, providing both heat and the (figurative and literal) chilling cool that we so desperately long for? Remember to stay calm when you can and that nature couldn’t give a fuck about whether or not we start acting only when it’s far too late; just consider your own insignificance while the melodies stretch out beyond the horizon and into the aether. May we suggest however that you wake up, take the first letter of each sentence, put them all together in order to see through the heat of the moment and the chilling anxiety in order to feel what’s true, real, and present?

Josh Wink joins Ellum Audio for a stellar new single backed with a remix from DJ Seinfeld.

Josh Wink needs little introduction to fans, or even occasional listeners to dance music. The American DJ and producer has been one of the most enduring figures in the scene with a catalogue of music on labels like R&S, Strictly Rhythm, Nervous, Pokerflat, MNus and of course his own long standing Ovum Recordings imprint. As a DJ, he has travelled the globe since the mid-nineties, headlining festivals and clubs wherever he goes. What he has never done in his almost 30-year career is ever lose touch with the roots of underground dance music, something he demonstrates once again here with a standout new single for Maceo Plex’s label.

As Josh says, “Eric and I have known each other since the 90’s, when I would come to Dj in Houston Texas, and now so many years later, I’m excited to have my music released on his mighty Ellum imprint, including a great remix from Dj Sienfield”.

‘Feel’ is classic Josh Wink, near eight minutes of spacey, hypnotic dancefloor wonderment fuelled by syncopated percussion and arpeggiated bass which builds the tension before a spacious drop and meditative, spoken word vocal take the reins. Timeless and heartfelt this is a gem from the Philadelphia legend.

Remix duties fall to Sweden’s DJ Seinfeld, the lo-fi house pioneer and Young Ethics label boss who chops things up with a warped bassline, wonky FX and dancing synth lines to bring a brilliant alternative to the table.

is it the best jazz record from japan, as the french-born english disc jockey, record label owner and music collector gilles peterson once assumed or is it maybe the best jazz record of all jazz records
well, everybody needs to decide by himself and has to listen to 'watabase', the second solo piano album of the japanese jazz pianist fumio itabashi, that was originally released in 1982.
tokyo based mule music unearth it, remastered the original recordings and brings it back to the global stores in order to seduce all music lovers that embrace notes who come straight from the heart and soul.
while diving deep into the seven compositions on 'watarese', any sensible listener finds out, that the instrumental piano pieces are somehow soulfully connected to what keith jarret plays on his legendary 'the köln concert' live album for the munich based ecm record company.
like jarret, itabashi does not play his notes academic. he let them fly, gives them some kind a life of their own, hits the piano keys deeply emotional and injects his compositions and interpretations some kind of nervous human soul.
in terms of style some call his 'watarase' recordings post-bop, others contemporary jazz. none of such definitions fit really, as all is just that kind of agitating jazz that melts spirituality with humanity. three tunes, the epic 'someday my prince will come' as well as 'msunduza' and 'i can't get started', are interpretations of compositions by the us-american movie score pioneer frank churchill, south african pianist dollar brand and russian-american composer and songwriter vernon duke.
all other four compositions been written and recorded by the 1949 born itabashi who started to play the piano when he was eight years old. while studying at the tokyo based kunitachi college of music, he fell in love with jazz.
his love was so deep, that he starts to work in the 1970's with such legendary japanese jazz musicians like trumpet player terumasa hino, drummer takeo moriyama and saxophonist sadao watanabe.
till today fumio itabashi is a vital part of the japanese jazz culture as a live performer and film score composer. those who want to see how he makes love with his piano should check the world wide web for the french documentary 'jazzed out', that captured his unique way of playing in one episode.
but as music is always firstly for the ears, and not for the eyes, this little letter in-front of you would rather like to recommend to play the 'watarase' recordings loud to get hooked by the highly infectious piano gems that have been recorded at nippon columbia 1st studio in tokyo on 12th and 13th of octo-ber 1981.
they will haunt you. they will come for good. and they will force you to be a good friend with the repeat button - whatever medium you chose to surrender to the piano jazz music of fumio itabashi.

The first in a series of all-time CLASSIC hip-hop anthems from the Nervous vaults, pressed onto high quality dinked 45's.
Remastered from the original source material and featuring the unedited 'dirty' version on the A-side, and the full instrumental on the B-side, these 45's are for the heads who know what time it really is! Black Moon's 'Who Got The Props' needs no introduction, it's place in hip-hop history is fully solidified. The combination of vintage Beatminerz SP1200 beats paired with the legendary MC's Buckshot and the 5 Ft. Accelerator's streetwise NYC raps is a heady mixture indeed. Often speaking of street life in New York in the 1990's, Black Moon gained cult status via their 1993 debut LP 'Enta Da Stage', one of the most celebrated hip-hop debut albums of all time. The Beatminerz production changed the game, their deep knowledge and understanding of samples, records and digging in the crates gave their sound a real style and edge. 'Who Got Da Props' is the perfect example of this, one of those timeless rap records that appeals to the hardcore and can ignite the party. Truly essential. Every home should have one (or 2!).
Fully legit, licensed and reissued by Above Board distribution in conjunction with Nervous Records, NYC. 2018.

Does the world needs more acid Yes it does! the R-A-G trio aka Dutch producers Ma Spaventi, G-String & Aroy Dee deliver three raw acid-jams with Aroy on the couch working the mic. The lyrics of Dreadfully Nervous are based on a Edgar Allan Poe story.

'Dreadfully Nervous (Aryd's Acid Mix)' is a gurgling brew of squelchy acid with dark vocals and pinging cowbells pulling you in all directions. Coarse claps and ever more wild synths encourage you to cut loose and make for another timeless cut. 'Dreadfully Stoned' is more stripped back, with a rubbery arpeggiated synth the main hook over subtle, supple drums. Those dark spoken word vocals are back again and the whole thing is freaky and unsettling as a result. Last of all is the bright and glistening 'No Soul' with metal hits and claps and prickly acid all bursting out of dusty Chicago drums. It's raw and sure to fire the synapses just like R-A-G productions always do.