Still Kids is New Kids On The Block's first full-length studio album in 11 years. On the all new album, members Jonathan Knight, Jordan Knight, Joey McIntyre, Donnie Wahlberg and Danny Wood channel the New Kids’ beginnings, even as it pushes them into new territory as songwriters and as a band. The album features 14 new tracks including the lead single, “Kids," and is full of pop anthems, dance tracks, love songs, and grooves that will become fast favorites for the Blockheads.
MISSILES fire off their debut album "Weaponize Tomorrow" on Svart Records Malmö’s MISSILES are set to release their inaugural album, "Weaponize Tomorrow", on May 10, 2024, under the banner of Svart Records. The members of MISSILES are no new kids on the block. Coming from punk, rock, and metal, as well as surf and rather diverse backgrounds, they all answered to the call of their good friend Gabriel Forslund - sincerely interested in doing something new and exciting together. The band's trajectory began with a 7" single released by the Swedish label Fetish in 2016. Initially viewed as a project, MISSILES have organically evolved into a fully dedicated band with a laser-guided focus, causing shock waves in the underground with their jet-fuel genre-clash. Combining abandoned sounds with new inventions on “Weaponize Tomorrow”, MISSILES promises to both pat you on the head and stab you in the back, delivering a unique blend of post-punk with a touch of goth rock. The band’s lineup consists of: Gabriel Forslund (vocals and guitar) Jens Rasmussen (drums) Tobias Augustsson (synthesizers) Sebastian Gadd (guitar) Linus Larsson (bass) MISSILES claim their debut is a one-of-a-kind album, truly a loved bastard. ”Weaponize Tomorrow” will appeal to those who enjoyed the certain “je ne sais quoi” found in the New Wave movement, a line of thought that is liberating to hear today when artists go to the bank with a genre description. MISSILES couldn’t be bothered; it’s rock, it’s pop, its punk, it’s je ne sais quoi. Hard to pin down, but undeniable to freak out to, "Weaponize Tomorrow" is a high yield blast wave that will leave MISSILES hot on the tongues of those looking for a sudden and dramatic, incendiary kick. A gut smashing future shock that will resonate across diverse musical landscapes, “Weaponize Tomorrow” will be the perfect atomic cocktail for fans of Wipers, Dead Moon, The Birthday Party, The Gun Club and even modern iconoclasts Molchat Doma and Beastmilk. Keep your finger on the button for MISSILES‘ explosive debut out on May 10, 2024.
NOW Music is proud to present the next instalment in our ongoing ‘Yearbook’ series – and the second to celebrate the ‘90s, NOW – Yearbook 1990; 79 tracks from a fantastic year in Pop! Available on 4CD deluxe book format with 79 tracks , 4CD std digi with 79 tracks and 44 tracks from a fantastic year in Pop, pressed on gorgeous translucent triple orange vinyl. Disc One includes #1s from New Order, New Kids On The Block, Steve Miller Band, and The Beautiful South, as well as Pop smashes from The KLF, The B-52’s, Kylie Minogue, Whitney Houston Kim Appleby, and concluding with the theme from Twin Peaks, Julee Cruise’s ‘Falling’, Chris Isaak with ‘Wicked Game’ and Pet Shop Boys defining ‘Being Boring’. Dance floor-fillers kick off Disc 2 from Deee-Lite with ‘Groove Is In The Heart’, #1s from SNAP!, and from Adamski & Seal plus club classics from Bass-O-Matic and Adventures Of Stevie V with ‘Dirty Cash (Money Talks)’, plus the unexpected collaboration between DNA & Suzanne Vega. Disc 3 opens with the still-breathtaking interpretation of Prince’s ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ from Sinéad O'Connor. Up next are film related hits; Maria McKee’s ‘Show Me Heaven’, from the ‘Days Of Thunder’ soundtrack, and the ‘Young Guns II’ track ‘Blaze Of Glory’ from Jon Bon Jovi
2021 duo album by pianist/composer and Blue Note Records' artist Jason Moran and saxophone great Archie Shepp "Neither Archie Shepp nor Jason Moran are old, and neither are they young - except in spirit and delight. Moran is the more recent arrival, and he's no new kid on the block. They carry age and experience in their playing as much as a youthful fascination with the songs and forms that define this tradition we call jazz. Let My People Go is the timely title of this collection, but when has that message not been relevant? Now, sadly, as ever. This is their first album together, a gathering of duet performances from 2017 and 2018, chronicling a relationship that can sound like the intimate huddling of two old friends: whispered asides, excited exclamations, utterances coinciding with practiced harmony, followed by bursts of laughter. "Ain't misbehavin'!" cries out one. "Waahhhh!!," says the other. Let My People Go offers ample evidence of Shepp and Moran's consanguinity. Both were born in the deep South, raised up in the sound of the blues and black gospel: Shepp in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and Moran in Houston, Texas."- Ashley Kahn. Archie Shepp: tenor saxophone
Boy bands and girl groups were a huge factor in 90’s and 00’s pop culture. From the Backstreet Boys and Take That to the Spice Girls, Sugababes and many more great pop-bands, they sparked mass hysteria among their young fanbase. Being one of the first bands in the late 80’s, New Kids On The Block kicked off the hype, although in the 60’s bands like Jackson 5 and The Supremes had been around for quite some time.
The pop genre sparked a whole new breed of both boys and girl bands, with #1 hits all around, fueled by the sing-a-long lyrics, catchy videos on MTV, magazines and tours targeting a young audience around the world. Girlz ‘n Boyz Collected represents the legendary 90’s and 00’s girl- and boy bands including Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls, Sugababes, Take That, Atomic Kitten, New Kids On The Block and many more acts.
The 2LP Girlz ‘n Boyz Collected is available as a limited edition on blue
(LP1) and pink (LP2) coloured vinyl and includes an insert.
History has shown that the greatest bands–bands with that certain, ever elusive quality called lasting power–neither conform to nor buck the trends of their time, but rather force the times to catch up to them. Sheer Mag has such lasting power in droves. After almost a decade spent carving out a career that has already become the stuff of modern underground legend, the band’s new stand-alone single, “All Lined Up,” comes alongside the announcement of their signing to Third Man Records–their first partnership with a larger independent label–who will also be physically and digitally re-releasing the entirety of Sheer Mag’s back-catalogue, including their cult-beloved early EPs I (2014), II (2015), and III (2016), as well as their first two breakthrough LPs, Need To Feel Your Love (2017) and A Distant Call (2019). Sheer Mag’s sensibility, as fervently beloved by baseball-tee clad garage rockers and tattoo-less indie kids as it is by leather-and-stud-loyal punks, finds its strength in an unconventional mixture of refined complexity and straight-forward pop prowess. Seamlessly trading between head-turning guitar heroics and a charmingly timeless blend of disco, hard rock, and garage inflected hooks, Sheer Mag’s oft-referenced, never-replicated sound has played an undeniably large role in stoking the current resurgence of interest power-pop forward rock music. While quickly adopted as a fan-favorite amongst the sweat-caked crowds of the early 2010’s underground, time has attested to Sheer Mag’s singular cultural mutability: though never straying too far from their home-town Philadelphian origins
Going, Going, Going, Gone: The Rare Recordings of
Connie Cunningham and the Creeps Vol. 1
When Nick Kinsey moved into his farmhouse in New York's Hudson
Valley, he dreamed that he would stumble upon a trove of unreleased
music from some eccentric artist who'd previously lived there - If anyone
would be inclined to expect that kind of treasure, it would be the prolific
Kinsey, who in addition to his own music has produced and played on
Waxhatchee's St Cloud, toured with Kevin Morby, and drummed for AC
Newman, Hand Habits, and Cold War Kids, among many others
And with all those various styles and ideas swirling around his head, that
imaginary stash of songs appealed more and more. "I needed to create a fictional
character to get into the headspace necessary to finish this group of songs,"
Kinsey says. "I was able to escape my usual writing blocks and get away from any
need to sound 'cool' by pretending I was this fictional weirdo and failed session
musician." And after rounding out his compositions with some key collaborators,
the first volume of Connie Cunningham and the Creeps fulfilled Kinsey's dream in
the form of six brilliant, retro oddball pop planets circling one oddball songwriting
star.
Infinite Pleasure presents another debut release, this time by Rotterdam based, new kid on the block, Pettson. Showcasing his versatile talent with a smashing 5 track EP named Satchidananda.
Skillfully blending intricate beats with profound melodies leaving no genre untouched. Breakbeat, Electro, Deep Dub, 2Step & Ambient it's all there, laced with a unique freshness.
The title is a nod to the renowned yogi, who believed that pleasure is our natural state of being and we couldn't agree more!
When I first heard Natalie Rose LeBrecht's time-suspending, air-ionizing music, more than twenty years ago, I thought "this kid is on to something." She's been proving that thought right ever since. Her recordings, from the teenage 4-track tapes she made as Greenpot Bluepot to the recent albums under her own name, have been fascinating dispatches from her progressively deeper dives into her gorgeous, weird, wildly idiomatic aesthetic. Holy Prana Open Game is a jewel of intensely personal cosmic music, created through a remarkable process of openness, craftiness, addition and subtraction. It belongs to a tradition of albums that document a rich, meditative sound as it rises up to join the world outside its creators' minds: Alice Coltrane's Universal Consciousness, Harmonia's Musik von Harmonia, Philip Glass's North Star, Talk Talk's Laughing Stock.
"Meditative" is specifically the idea here: Holy Prana Open Game had its origins in the fourteen days LeBrecht spent silently meditating in her home's small music room in the summer of 2019. "I came out of that bursting with the will to create new music," she says, and she created it sound-first. LeBrecht taught herself to program an analog synthesizer's timbres from scratch, and built a new set of glacial, heady compositions out of them, eventually singing to accompany the keyboard parts she was playing.
Then she closed her eyes at her computer, "let my mind be clear and open, imagined light pouring down through me, and began auto-writing to my memory of the music playing through my mind. Most of the lyrics emerged this way, and then I used my conscious mind to refine them a bit at the end." One other song came along with LeBrecht's new pieces, a cover that seems wildly unlikely from the outside and makes total sense in its context: it's a version of Atoms for Peace's "Amok" (which had been created by improvisation and editing, too), mutated into her own idiolect.
In early March of 2020, LeBrecht recorded Holy Prana Open Game's analog synth parts with Martin Bisi at his studio in Brooklyn--and then the world shut down. As you may have gathered, LeBrecht is very much a spiritual, head-in-the-stars type. She is also extremely hardcore, and if making the art she wants to make means doing things the hard way, she cracks her knuckles and gets down to it. Within weeks, she had taught herself how to record, mix and edit with a digital audio workstation. She recorded her vocal parts (sometimes multi-tracked into a radiant choir) at home, assembled a rough mix of the album, and sent it off to her collaborators.
LeBrecht spent some years studying with and assisting La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela at their legendary sound-and-light installation, the Dream House. As with their work, her singular, precisely focused vision is shored up by its openness to artistic voices beyond her own. For Holy Prana Open Game, she worked with the Australian guitarist Mick Turner and drummer Jim White (both of Dirty Three, the Tren Brothers and innumerable other projects), as well as woodwind player David Lackner, a longtime presence on her recordings.
Turner and White have been playing together in one context or another since 1985; in the summer of 2020, they were only blocks from each other in Melbourne, Australia, whose strict lockdown meant they couldn't meet up to record together. So both of them, as well as Lackner, recorded their improvisational additions to LeBrecht's rough mixes individually, often without hearing each other's contributions. "I had asked them to play as much as they could on each track," she says, "and told them that I would edit it all down in post, so I had a lot of source material of theirs to work with."
LeBrecht arranged and edited the recordings from all four of their homes to flow together like breath across the duration of her suite. Prana, one of the album's central conceits, is in fact the Sanskrit word for breath, with the connotation of the breath of life. Like LeBrecht's music, prana flows at its own pace, and demands stillness to take in fully--but it's also subtly playful and surprising, a force that can be as light as air or as immersive as the atmosphere itself.
Black Vinyl[24,79 €]
BRIT Award-winning, multi-platinum selling musician George Ezra today announces his hugely anticipated new album Gold Rush Kid, due for release on 10th June via Columbia Records.
“The Gold Rush Kid? That’s me,” says George, reflecting on the title of his third record – a 12-strong suite of marvellous, transporting, elevational songs, that more than anything “sound like me. That’s what ties them together.”
After two blockbuster albums – Wanted On Voyage (2014) and Staying At Tamara’s (2018), both of which reached number 1 in the UK and sold millions around the world, and the latter of which earned him his first number 1 single in ‘Shotgun’ and won him the 2019 Brit Award for British Male Solo Artist – it was time to return to heart and hearth, with an album written and produced entirely in London with longstanding collaborator Joel Pott.
Originally released in 2007, None Shall Pass was the fifth studio album by Aesop Rock. It features production by Blockhead, El-P (Run The Jewels), Rob Sonic (Hail Mary Mallon), and Aesop Rock himself. Guest features include El-P (Run The Jewels), Cage, Breeze Brewin (Juggaknots), Rob Sonic (Hail Mary Mallon), and John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats). Created over a two year period following the release of his Fast Cars, Danger, Fire & Knives EP, the album would prove to be Aesop's final release on the now defunct Def Jux label. The critically acclaimed album debuted at #50 on Billboard's Top 200 chart and #35 on their Hip-Hop and R&B charts, and includes the title track "None Shall Pass" which has proven to be one of Aesop's most popular songs to date. None Shall Pass documents the vast amounts of personal change Aesop had been experiencing at this time while still deftly depicting scenes and stories relative to all ages of life.
Single-LP edit of Piñata lacquered at half speed master by Metropolis Mastering in London for the highest fidelity.
After the original release Freddie Gibbs & Madlib's Piñata in 2014, cover artist Jeff Jank made a new sleeve for the album in the style of a 1964 Blue Note album.
Featuring Danny Brown, Mac Miller, Earl Sweatshirt, Raekwon, Scarface, Domo Genesis, Ab-Soul, Polyester the Saint, BJ The Chicago Kid, Big Time Watts, G-Wiz, Casey Veggies, Sulaiman, Meechy Darko & Freddie Kane.
Freddie Gibbs is the product of violent, drug-laden streets but unlike most rappers with similar resumes, he brings the block to the booth without inhibition or an exaggerated rap persona. Piñata, a 17 track collaboration with producer Madlib, is the best distillation yet of his transparent approach to making music, combining an at times stark honesty with electrifying talent as a lyricist and performer.
Piñata is a gangster Blaxploitation film on wax, says Gibbs, who came up on the streets of Gary, Indiana, the disregarded city previously best known for producing Michael Jackson. Here he is joined by Mac Miller, Earl Sweatshirt, Raekwon, Scarface, Domo Genesis, Ab-Soul and a host of others in setting his soliloquies of the streets alongside film snippets and dusted funk, soul and prog musical tapestries. While this is the latest in a series of single-artist collaborations for Madlib, after Jaylib (J Dilla), Madvillainy (MF Doom) and the street-centric O.J. Simpson with Detroits Guilty Simpson, the pairing is unique as it is the first time for Gibbs working with just one producer.
On Piñata, where Gibbs can shift from textbook lessons in robbing and drugging on trackslike Scarface and Knicks, to perhaps the albums most personal song, Broken, a collaboration with Scarface, who, along with Tupac, DMX and 50 Cent, make up the rappers own Mount Rushmore of MCs (Youre getting a hurricane of all those motherfuckers hitting you at once when you listen to Freddie Gibbs, he says). Deeper, a Gibbs favorite and the third single from the album after Thuggin (2012) and Shame, (2013) is an ode to hip-hop in the mold of Commons I Used to Love H.E.R.; High, featuring Danny Brown, is self-explanatory and just what you would expect from Gibbs, Madlib and one of Detroits finest; while on Real, Gibbs addresses an old score just as Michael Corleone settled all family business on baptism day.
As a producer, Madlib, quite simply, is music, and ten years into his career-a time when other artists become comfortable-Gibbs remains restless, focused, with an eye on the competition and their position relative to his ascent. This is because mentally, hes still on the corner hustling, which would be the downfall of the average rapper. With Piñata, Gibbs confirms that he is anything but average.
Waxwork Records in partnership with Back Lot Music is honored to release NOPE Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Michael Abels. Oscarr winner Jordan Peele disrupted and redefined modern horror with Get Out and then Us, he reimagines the summer movie with a new pop nightmare: the expansive horror epic, Nope. The film reunites Peele with Oscarr winner Daniel Kaluuya (Get Out, Judas and the Black Messiah), who is joined by Keke Palmer and Oscarr nominee Steven Yeun as residents in a lonely gulch of inland California who bear witness to an uncanny and chilling discovery. NOPE marks Abels' third feature film score with director Jordan Peele, having previously scored Peele's GET OUT and US. The album also features songs from the film, including a new version of Corey Hart's classic "Sunglasses at Night (Jean Jacket Mix)", Dionne Warwick's "Walk on By", The Lost Generation's "This is the Lost Generation", Exuma's "Exuma, the Obeah Man", and a never-before-released gem by a young Jodie Foster, "La Vie C'est Chouette" from the 1977 film MOI, FLEUR BLEUE. "NOPE is my most ambitious score to date," says Abels. "There are elements from the genres of sci-fi, action, horror, and westerns, but always through the tonal palette of Jordan Peele's unique vision. The lines between source music and score are blurred, as a good part of the score seems to be playing at the theme park, which is a key location in the story. The score is at times terrifying, yet also invokes the sense of awe and wonder that the characters feel as they realize what they are seeing. The film eventually becomes a grand adventure, and so the music expands into the larger-than-life scale we expect of a summer blockbuster." He goes on to say, "it was a joy to compose a score that encompassed such a broad range of genres and emotions, and I'm thrilled to have audiences experience all of them through this album." "Michael is one the most exciting composers working today - he has this amazing ability to create new sounds which was important for this film," Jordan Peele says. "He's able to play in the familiar and in the unfamiliar at the same time, so that helps give every film its own character, and he has an incredible mastery of so many different music genres." Abels is known for his genre-defying scores for the Jordan Peele films GET OUT and US, for which Abels won a World Soundtrack Award, the Jerry Goldsmith Award, a Critics Choice nomination, and multiple critics' awards. The hip-hop influenced score for US was short-listed for an Academy Awardr and was named "Score of the Decade" by The Wrap. Abels is also co-founder of the Composers Diversity Collective, an advocacy group to increase visibility of composers of color in film, gaming and streaming media. Waxwork Records is thrilled to present the official NOPE deluxe double LP soundtrack album. The package comes complete with 180-gram colored vinyl, quality packaging, original artwork by Ethan Mesa, heavyweight gatefold jacket with matte coating, a multi-page 12" x 12" booklet, liner notes, & more!
Black Vinyl[31,72 €]
Ltd edition Double Sky Blue Vinyl, Gatefold sleeve w/ spot gloss, liner notes + DL card. Classic Double Black vinyl, Gatefold sleeve w/ spot gloss, liner notes + DL card. Bending scuzzy boundaries, ‘Good Bad Not Evil’ is a coming-of-age garage rock classic record. Full of hedonistic delinquent anthems, the fourth studio album from Atlanta punks Black Lips reaches it’s 15 year anniversary. This deluxe edition includes unearthed photos and new liner notes from Jared Swilley and King Khan. The second disc features B-sides and rarities including ‘Cruising’, ‘I Wanna Dance With You’ and ‘Leroy Faster’. ‘Good Bad Not Evil’ perfectly encapsulates the disillusionment of the mid-00s America, slammed between warehouse parties, DIY generator shows and scattered party pics, which was recorded in a little house in Atlanta that had been converted into a studio called the Living Room. Referencing Shangri-Las in the title, this is where their knack for garage gems met Motown; with bass heavy grooves (later remixed by Diplo), a certified country twang and unabashed bravado. Instant hits like ‘Veni Vidi Vici’, ‘Cold Hands’, ‘Bad Kids’ and ‘O Katrina!’ immediately became Black Lips staples. This was a band caught in the eye of the storm, the touring continued, the parties didn’t stop, this was a band bending the scuzzy boundaries of their chosen genre. The record was hailed by the likes of Pitchfork, who proclaimed, “Black Lips are a go-to band for vintage lo-fi freaks, and their raucous live shows have helped them cross over outside of crusty dive bars. ‘Good Bad Not Evil’, however, is the record where naysayers, disinterested friends and acquaintances, people on the street, and anyone else within earshot has to sit up, shut up, and listen.” …and, shut up and listen they did. “A perfect tapestry of sordid pleasure.” NME // “The same rapturous energy as the Sonics and the 13th Floor Elevators.” The Guardian // Track List: Disc One – Good Bad Not Evil. A1 I Saw A Ghost (Lean) A2 O Katrina! A3 Veni Vidi Vici A4 It Feels Alright A5 Navajo A6 Lock and Key A7 How Do You Tell a Child That Someone Has Died B1 Bad Kids B2 Step Right Up B3 Cold Hands B4 Off The Block B5 Slime and Oxygen B6 Transcendental Light… Disc Two - B-Sides & Rarities. C1 Cruising C2 Make It C3 I Wanna Dance With You D1 Best Napkin I Ever Had D2 My Trouble D3 Leroy Faster D4 Buried Alive
Sky Blue Vinyl[35,25 €]
Ltd edition Double Sky Blue Vinyl, Gatefold sleeve w/ spot gloss, liner notes + DL card. Classic Double Black vinyl, Gatefold sleeve w/ spot gloss, liner notes + DL card. Bending scuzzy boundaries, ‘Good Bad Not Evil’ is a coming-of-age garage rock classic record. Full of hedonistic delinquent anthems, the fourth studio album from Atlanta punks Black Lips reaches it’s 15 year anniversary. This deluxe edition includes unearthed photos and new liner notes from Jared Swilley and King Khan. The second disc features B-sides and rarities including ‘Cruising’, ‘I Wanna Dance With You’ and ‘Leroy Faster’. ‘Good Bad Not Evil’ perfectly encapsulates the disillusionment of the mid-00s America, slammed between warehouse parties, DIY generator shows and scattered party pics, which was recorded in a little house in Atlanta that had been converted into a studio called the Living Room. Referencing Shangri-Las in the title, this is where their knack for garage gems met Motown; with bass heavy grooves (later remixed by Diplo), a certified country twang and unabashed bravado. Instant hits like ‘Veni Vidi Vici’, ‘Cold Hands’, ‘Bad Kids’ and ‘O Katrina!’ immediately became Black Lips staples. This was a band caught in the eye of the storm, the touring continued, the parties didn’t stop, this was a band bending the scuzzy boundaries of their chosen genre. The record was hailed by the likes of Pitchfork, who proclaimed, “Black Lips are a go-to band for vintage lo-fi freaks, and their raucous live shows have helped them cross over outside of crusty dive bars. ‘Good Bad Not Evil’, however, is the record where naysayers, disinterested friends and acquaintances, people on the street, and anyone else within earshot has to sit up, shut up, and listen.” …and, shut up and listen they did. “A perfect tapestry of sordid pleasure.” NME // “The same rapturous energy as the Sonics and the 13th Floor Elevators.” The Guardian // Track List: Disc One – Good Bad Not Evil. A1 I Saw A Ghost (Lean) A2 O Katrina! A3 Veni Vidi Vici A4 It Feels Alright A5 Navajo A6 Lock and Key A7 How Do You Tell a Child That Someone Has Died B1 Bad Kids B2 Step Right Up B3 Cold Hands B4 Off The Block B5 Slime and Oxygen B6 Transcendental Light… Disc Two - B-Sides & Rarities. C1 Cruising C2 Make It C3 I Wanna Dance With You D1 Best Napkin I Ever Had D2 My Trouble D3 Leroy Faster D4 Buried Alive
Vinyl LP[23,49 €]
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."
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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.
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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.
- The Complete 1988 Film Score by John Massari - Available For The First Time On Vinyl 180 Gram Violet and Blue Vinyl (Light In The Attic Exclusive Variant) - Exclusive Liner Notes by Composer John Massari - Exclusive Liner Notes by Killer Klowns Co-Creator Stephen Chiodo - Heavyweight 12" x 12" Art Print - Old-Style Tip-On Jackets with Matte Satin Coating // KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE have finally landed at Waxwork Records! After much anticipation, we are thrilled to present the official 1988 Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by John Massari for the very first time on vinyl! Would you believe someone if they told you a circus tent-shaped spaceship landed in your small town and was abducting your neighbors to store them in cotton candy cocoons? In this '80's cult classic, teens Mike Tobacco (Grant Cramer) and Debbie Stone (Suzanne Snyder) have to fight both the diabolical bozos and the local law enforcement's disbelief to save themselves and their community! The original score to Killer Klowns From Outer Space is kicked off by the classic 80's horror movie theme track, Killer Klowns (From Outer Space) by California punk band, The Dickies. The 'nightmare merry-go-round' continues with a smattering of menacing electronic brass sections, electric guitar, bombastic drum machine beats, & harpsichord combined with sci-fi synth elements to capture the ultra-specific origins of the antagonists. Massari's score to Klowns is a retro-synth joyride from start to finish featuring immediately recognizable cues from the beloved 80's cult-classic! Waxwork Records is thrilled to present the official Killer Klowns From Outer Space double LP, released for the first time on vinyl. Complete with 180 gram "Cotton Candy" and "Popcorn" vinyl, deluxe packaging, new artwork by Ruiz Burgos, old-style tip-on jackets with matte coating, a heavyweight 12"x12" art print, and liner notes by composer Massari and Klowns co-creator Stephen Chiodo!
Cassette[11,72 €]
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."
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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.
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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.
After the 2021 Re-Release of “Schwingungen” (MG.ART612) we proudly announce “Seven Up” as Part 2 of the authorised 50th Anniversary “A.R.T.” Re-Edition Series.
“Seven Up” is the third studio album by Ash Ra Tempel and their only album recorded in collaboration with American Ph.D. in psychology, Dr. Timothy Leary. The Coverart for “Seven Up” was designed by famous Swiss Artist Walter Wegmüller. Recorded in August 1972 at Sinus Studio in Berne, Switzerland, remixed September 1972 at Dierks Studios in Stommeln, Germany. First release in spring 1973 by OHR Musik - the first release on the new sub-label "Kosmische Kuriere", Kat-Nr. KK 58001.
We release “Seven Up” in a Re-Cut carefully overseen by Manuel Göttsching himself, on September 9th 2022, also being Manuel Göttsching´s 70th Birthday. Our Edition features the full original text for the “7 levels of consciousness” by Timothy Leary in English, i.e. “Instruction Manual for Pleasure Panel” plus a previously unreleased glimpse view of the original scripts incl. notes and mark ups as well as partly unreleased photos from the recording session. ->continued on page 2->continued on page 2 As for the music itself we again refer to Julian Cope´s review and remarks from his book "Krautrocksampler” (published by Head Heritage, 1st ed. 1995):
“When the Leary Mob met the Kaiser Gang, the sparks flew ever Up-wards... 7up is a stone classic in every way. Yes, it is unlikely to find Timothy Leary singing lead vocal in a cosmic group, but even weirder that he chose to sing a wild yelping freaked out blues !
Manuel Göttsching and Hartmut Enke had begun their careers in The Steeple Chase Blues Band back in the mid-'60ies, and they quickly felt their way through what Barritt and Leary were aiming for. They reconciled it all as a kind of West Coast chordless psychedelia, where blues riffs sparkle out of nowhere and the sheer weight of synthesizers renders everything with an unreal Pere Ubu/early Roxy Music quality.
The greatness of Ash Ra Tempel burned so brightly on 7Up that there is really nothing else like it. Hartmut Enke and Manuel Gottsching here returned to their riffy roots. It can hardly be called a retro act, though, as the context of music is everything. And with Dierks at the controls, even the New Kids on the Block would have sounded psychedelic.
7Up is like a late night radio show glimpsed through a shattered tuner where all but the most truly dangerous sounds have been allowed to stay, to drift and to dance around the performers.
The result is an extreme gem, a flash of hysterical white lightning, and a pre-punk Technicolour yawn in the grandest of traditions.
In typical Ash Ra Tempel style, the record is divided into two pieces, “Space” and "Time”. Within this, though,
Timothy Leary’s ideas are allowed to free-flow and the two sides are therefore divided into mini-songs all segued together. The highlight of Side 1 is “Power Drive”, a West Coast burn-up that transcends any W.
Coast music I ever did hear. Leary and Barritt present the greatest twin-vocal of all time, coming on like Jagger and Morrison but too caught up in their own maelstrom to be anything less than Heralds of the Punkfuture still five years away.
In chaos it was conceived and in chaos it was recorded. Yet Dieter Dierks, the great Aural Architect of the Cosmic Couriers, turned 7Up into a personal triumph and a Kosmische dream.”
Ash Ra Tempel – “Seven Up”
TIMOTHY LEARY - voice
BRIAN BARRITT - voice
MICKY DUWE - voice & flute
LIZ ELLIOTT - voice
BETTINA HOHLS - voice
PORTIA NKOMO - voice
HARTMUT "HAWK" ENKE - bass, guitar & electronics
MANUEL GÖTTSCHING - guitar & electronics
STEVE A. - organ & electronics
DIETMAR BURMEISTER - drums
TOMMY ENGEL - drums
DIETER DIERKS - synthesizer & Radio Downtown
Limited edition of 7500 picture disc copies. Spirituals is Santigold's first full-length album since 2016's 99¢, and was mostly recorded during the 2020 lockdown. "All of a sudden there I was with three small children out of school_just-turned-two-year-old twins and a six-year-old_I was cooking, cleaning, doing laundry and changing diapers from morning to night, with three little kids coming in and out of my bed throughout each night like musical chairs. I was losing touch with the artist me, stuck in a part of myself that was too small. I felt the other parts of me were shrinking, disappearing." Santigold struggled but succeeded in defining a space in which she could center herself and collaborate virtually with producers and contributors: Rostam, Boys Noize, Dre Skull, P2J, Nick Zinner, SBTRKT, JakeOne, Illangelo, Doc McKinney, Psymun, Ricky Blaze, Lido, Ray Brady, and Ryan Olson. "Recording this album was a way back to myself after being stuck in survival mode. It wasn't until I made the space to create that I realized I wasn't only creating music but a lifeline," she says. California was on fire, we were hiding from a plague, the social justice protests were unfolding. "I'd never written lyrics faster in my life. After having total writer's block, they started pouring out. I decided to create the future, to look towards where we are going, to create beauty and pull towards that beauty. I need that for myself, but it's also there for whoever else needs it."
