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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."

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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."

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"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."

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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.

Chicago-meets-Philly when Vic Spencer and Small Professor connect on Mudslide, the incredible new album from this pairing of raw talents. Coalmine Records is proud to share this project with the world, and it marks Small Pro’s third collaborative release on the label after he previously linked with Guilty Simpson and the late Sean Price. For the producer, it was an exciting new opportunity to team up with an emcee who’s gruff-voiced, hilarious, and can out-rap anyone on the planet. “Plus, my past Coalmine projects have their own neo/prog-boom-bap vibe, and ‘Mudslide’ continues that particular sonic blueprint,” Small Pro said. And for fans of that sound, you’re not going to find a better example of that sound than this album. It’s just as experimental as it is steeped in the traditions of rap thanks to Vic’s boundary-pushing rhymes and Small Pro’s immensely satisfying instrumentals. Tracks like “Lil Jon’s Weed Stash,” “Ew McNasty’s Revenge,” and “Selfcare Welfare” marry psychedelic vibes with grounded and clever lyricism. Another immediate standout is the lead focus track “Pitfall Music,” which features a mean-mugging guest verse from Flee Lord with cuts supplied by acclaimed turntablist, DJ Revolution.

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is Clutch’s thirteenth studio album – a slamming summary of everything that makes the band great and another giant leap forward into career longevity.

New bangers like “Red Alert (Boss Metal Zone),” “Nosferatu Madre,” “Skeletons on Mars,” “Jackhammer Our Names,” and “Mercy Brown” take their rightful place alongside Clutch classics. Sunrise On Slaughter Beach is the natural culmination of what Clutch began as teenagers in the early ‘90s.

Recorded at the The Magpie Cage Recording Studio, Baltimore, MD, the album was produced and mixed by Grammy nominated Tom Dalgety (Ghost, Royal Blood, Pixies) with additional engineering by J Robbins (Jawbreaker, Against Me!, The Sword).

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce Drumming Up Trouble, the first release of previously unissued music by Alvin Curran on the label. Collecting works recorded between 2018-2021 and a side-long epic dating back to the early 80s, as the title suggests, Drumming Up Trouble focuses on a hitherto almost unknown aspect of Curran’s encyclopaedic and omnivorous musical world: his experiments with sampled and synthesised percussion. As Curran’s wonderful, wildly sweeping liner notes make clear, his fascination with drumming belongs to the radical investigation of music’s fundamental elements that has marked his output since the beginnings of MEV, who aimed (as he says in a recent interview) to return ‘in some collective way to a non-existent start time in the history of human music’. Whatever kind of music our proto-human ancestors played, he writes, ‘drums were front and centre in the mix. Drums rule!’

In a paradox typical of Curran’s approach, Drumming Up Trouble interrogates this most ancient dimension of music with contemporary technology. On the first side, we hear recent pieces performed using the sampling software and full-size MIDI keyboard setup Curran has refined since the 1980s. Two of them are wild real-time improvisations, primarily utilising an enormous bank of hip-hop samples. Building from polyrhythmic layers of drum machine fragments to wild cacophonies of clashing vocal samples, scratching, and frantic pitch shifting, these energetic and at times hilarious pieces occupy a space somewhere between John Oswald’s Plunderphonics, Pat Thomas and Matt Wand in the Tony Oxley Quartet, and the propulsive Kudoro/Grime fusion of Lisbon’s Príncipe label. They are improvisations are accompanied by two austere, minimal compositions realised in collaboration with Angelo Maria Fallo: ‘End Zone’ for orchestral bass drum and high oscillator, and ‘Rollings’, where a snare roll is gradually stretched and filtered by digital means into ‘floating electronic gossamer’.

The incredible breadth of Curran’s output makes it pretty unlikely that a listener familiar with his work would be surprised to find it branching out in a new direction. But no degree of familiarity with his work can really prepare for side B’s epic and bizarre ‘Field it More’. It’s perhaps best to let the maestro describe this unhinged and infectious offering in his own words: ‘It features an 8 bar funky minimal riff à la James Brown, played on synth and an-out-of-tune piano, synced to a pre-paid patch on the Roland drum machine. Over this is laid a heavily processed track of the voices of dancer Yoshiko Chuma and movie-maker Jacob Burckhardt discussing an upcoming performance of theirs at the Venice film festival, capped by a track of my playing an increasingly out of control blues over the top of all of the above’. Only Pekka Airaksinen’s Buddhas of the Golden Light comes to mind as a reference point that might even vaguely compare to this wild home-brew of drum-machine funk, mad improvisation and squelching electronics, which eventually dissolved into a massive, layered cluster. Ancient and modern, synthetic and human, hysterical and rigorous, Drumming up Trouble is 100% Curran.

Over the past decade, the mysterious, London-based artist Moiré has perfected a syrupy, addictive brand of dance music via labels like Actress's Werk Discs and illustrious imprints like Ghostly and Rush Hour. For most of this period, Moiré seemed pramarily concerned in creating alternative universe club tracks. The beats were hypnotic, if wonky. The pads were deep before they were refracted through an oblique filter. In a discography bearing a surfeit of leftfield high points, Circuits, Moiré's latest album for the Berlin-based Avenue 66 (Lowtec, John Frusciante, Joey Anderson) is a massive creative leap that fully breaks with the strictures of a "conventional" dance music.

While there are still nods to the low-slung, slow house style Moiré's perfected in the past ("Circuit 1"), as well as the looming shadow of hardcore ("Circuit 8), Moiré's style now billows into a liminal, cinematic zone that recalls the canonical SAW albums, BOC or even Seefeel's enduring, genre-free experiments. Rhythms come and go at all tempos, from Hauntological four-on-the-floor to flickering downtempo and ambient house approximations. But the emphasis lies with the melodies. From the queasy orchestral style of "Circuits 1" to the glacial, "end credits"-style synths that close out the album, these motifs bear an uncanny familiarity, as though they always existed. You recognize them, not from a previous listen, but rather, some half-remembered dream, or, perhaps, a previous lifetime.

Mice Parade returns from a decade of silence to release lapapọ, an album that spans the many styles of their storied career,and features guest singer appearances by Angel Deradoorian (Dirty Projectors) and Arone Dyer (Buke & Gase). The rock is louder; the West-African-inspired highlife breaks are chubbier; the dueling drumkits are more complex, the instrumental passages more serene. What started as a home recording project in the late 90s soon morphed into a formidable and completely unique live band of incredible musicians from around the globe, all live-mixed and effected by legendary UK engineer Brandon Knights (aka Dub Warrior), the longtime sound engineer for Lee Scratch Perry, Soul II Soul, Gladiators and others. After 9 albums and nearly 15 years years of worldwide touring, including festivals across the UK, Iceland, mainland Europe, Turkey and Japan, and supporting Stereolab across the US, Mice Parade fans can finally hear some new music, and the live band hopes to safely reunite later this year. Throughout it all, Adam has mostly recorded with same ethos: allowing only one take for each track, forcing him to either leave in mistakes or address them with mutes or distractions, and embracing the Bob Ross concept of 'happy accidents.' This was a strict rule for the first several albums, and while he eventually became less strict about it, it's still a goal that is achieved more often than not. Perfection is not the goal - indeed, there should be no such thing in music. Most songs are not even written before pressing the record button, but instead are built piece by piece in improvised fashion. lapapọ is a Yoruba word meaning something akin to "totally" or "altogether."

Chicago-meets-Philly when Vic Spencer and Small Professor connect on Mudslide, the incredible new album from this pairing of raw talents. Coalmine Records is proud to share this project with the world, and it marks Small Pro’s third collaborative release on the label after he previously linked with Guilty Simpson and the late Sean Price.

For the producer, it was an exciting new opportunity to team up with an emcee who’s gruff-voiced, hilarious, and can out-rap anyone on the planet. “Plus, my past Coalmine projects have their own neo/prog-boom-bap vibe, and ‘Mudslide’ continues that particular sonic blueprint,” Small Pro said.

And for fans of that sound, you’re not going to find a better example of that sound than this album. It’s just as experimental as it is steeped in the traditions of rap thanks to Vic’s boundary-pushing rhymes and Small Pro’s immensely satisfying instrumentals.

Tracks like “Lil Jon’s Weed Stash,” “Ew McNasty’s Revenge,” and “Selfcare Welfare” marry psychedelic vibes with grounded and clever lyricism. Another immediate standout is the lead focus track “Pitfall Music,” which features a mean-mugging guest verse from Flee Lord with cuts supplied by acclaimed turntablist, DJ Revolution.

Mudslide will be available digitally, as well as on CD, cassette and vinyl in three configurations; classic black, brown w/ white color-in-color, and a limited Ghostly Brown vinyl edition.

2LP Gatefold (featuring liner notes). Limited Edition. Artwork by Meeuw.

A collection of personal recordings made on various synthesisers between 1989 and 2017, by Telesoniek Atelier. Huge Tip on this one!

Early feedback:

"Fascinating improvs. I loved 'Gruesse'. " Suzanne Ciani (Atmospheric)

"Beautiful music with real subtlety and depth” Anthony Child (Surgeon, Transcendence Orchestra)

"Lovely, pure synth music." Mark Pritchard (Warp Records)

"Chateuroux is mighty... A proper zoner. Flung on earth." John T. Gast

"This is a great release by Telesoniek Atelier - a musician unknown to me before now. I've been thoroughly enjoying playing this double vinyl release since i got it. Both discs are filled with amazing music that moves between abstract electronic experiments to melodic, DMT bent sounding, classical contemporary music and futuristic soundtracks from non-existing Sci Fi movies you'll wish you could see. It time-warps you from here to there then freezes the moment. It all sounds like its been taken straight from the ancient room .. you know, that one where the spirits of the great teachers live. This is very focused, unpretentious and highly emotive music . A wonderful and dreamy sound garden coming from what I imagine to be a beautiful mind . These discs will be camping out on my turntables for a while."
Tako Reyenga (Music From Memory)

"A deep sense of the symphonic permeates this record. While synthesizers form the basis of its sound, Hans Kulk shapes their timbre into uncanny acoustics and weaves them together like an orchestra. Just when you think you have understood what is happening, another layer reveals itself. Yet it keeps a floating sense of lightness throughout. A truly rewarding listening experience."
Hainbach

The Idealist is one of the many projects of Joachim Nordwall who has a long history in Swedish experimental music running the quintessential iDEAL Recordings record label since 1998, as a member of the psych-drone duo Alvars Orkester, avant punk rock trio Kid Commando and ritual drone rock group The Skull Defekts and through his many solo recordings and collaborations with people such as John Duncan, Aaron Dilloway, Mika Vainio, Mats Gustafsson, Leif Elggren, Gabi Losoncy, Mark Wastell and Christine Abdelour.
As The Idealist, he has been delving into an amalgam of experimental techno, dub and industrial music since 2006. His new A Lion Is A Lion And Not A Lamb continues this perspective unabatedly, conjuring up six tracks that shimmer with an almost psychotropic intensity, sometimes including acidic touches, dwelling in a confrontational minimalist musical stance where repetition, bursts of gorgeous noise and dubbed out skeletal rhythms make for wayward yet driving grooves at home on the dance floor and a set of headphones alike. The Idealist looks for engagement within rhythm, in its almost purest
form.

Mit dem neuen Studioalbum "Positive Aggressive" feiern Godslave ihr Labeldebut bei Metalville Records. Hier kommt eine Ltd. Edition LP Auflage in grün transparenter Farbe.

Incl. Schacke Remix

Having been extensively road-tested this past year by DJs including Daniel Avery, HAAi and Gerd Janson, Highdive arrives with tangible anticipation. The work of less-than-shadowy figures Gramrcy and John Loveless, the pair have passed lockdown and beyond remixing artists such as WH Lung, Discovery Zone and Ghost Culture. Debuting their first original material, closely following Gramrcy’s recent appearance on Loveless’s own Hot Concept imprint, Highdive is a long-anticipated explosion of energy.

Built around a sonic-boom breakdown, glossy rave chords and pounding post-punk drums, Highdive feels immediately at home on Phantasy. Having worked closely alongside founder Erol Alkan in recent years to shape the imprint's diverse output, Loveless' collaboration with the Peach Discs founder nods to the electro landscape of the label's earliest days. Having never left dance floors since, Gramrcy & John Loveless take a golden opportunity to plunge dancers into the sublime and the ridiculous.

While a stripped-down ‘Beats Mix’ sees the pair adopt a less-maximal approach, leave it to Schacke to stretch Highdive into hardcore rave heaven. The already-influential Copenhagen artist underscores his refreshing funk in the ‘fast-techno’ scene through which he has risen, turning the screws and upping the tempo with intense but elastic results.

Air, Nico, St Etienne, Kid Loco, Young Marble Giants, Sandy Denny, Vashti Bunyan, Andrew Weatherall, Robert Wyatt and Serge Gainsbourg. Limited edition first pressing of 500 copies on "Mock Turtle" Blue. International collaboration between artists in Glasgow, London, Paris & New York. Mastered by Shimmy-Disc founder Kramer. Accompanying visual art work by Film and art director Tim Saccenti. Inspired by the intensity of lockdown, the self-titled debut album by electro-pop project Gates of Light, is the result of a collaboration between five artists across four cities, three time zones and two continents. Hailing from Glasgow, singer-songwriter Louise Quinn and producer Bal Cooke teamed up with London-based DJ and producer Scott Fraser; Parisian musician, DJ and producer Kid Loco; and film director and photographer, New York’s Tim Saccenti - who has previously worked with Run The Jewels and Pharell- to create a sublime, electro-pop reflection on the grief, insularity and peculiar highs of lockdown. Immediately after hearing the album, revered post-punk musician and producer Kramer offered to release the vinyl edition on his iconic cult label Shimmy-Disc, which boasts an impressive back catalogue of artists including Daniel Johnson, Low and Galaxie 500. A project grounded on collaboration - born from a period of disconnect - Gates Of Light perfectly amplifies the longing, confusion, lucid dreams and appreciation of the outdoors that the pandemic ignited in so many over the last couple of years. Originally written and recorded by Louise and Bal from their bedroom studio in Glasgow whilst their one-year-old twins slept, the tracks were then sent to Scott and Kid Loco who remixed the tracks from home studios in London and Paris before Tim created the artwork and a video for the track ‘When The Leaf Falls’. Gates Of Light is the latest project from Louise and Bal who have released music in the past as A Band Called Quinn and DAWNINGS. Louise and Scott Fraser have also previously collaborated following a chance encounter at a nightclub in Glasgow. Their single ‘Together More’ was released on Andrew Weatherall’s renowned Birdscarer vinyl imprint in 2019 and featured a remix by the Guv’nor himself who described the track as “sublime magik”.

It’s been a long way. All seems to blend naturally with ‘A Long Way’, the debut album from Parisian duo Jacques Bon & Drux.

Jacques is a long term friend, who was running the Paris branch of the Smallville record store for 13 years (2006 – 2019). He made himself a name also outside of Paris as a DJ and with music released on Giegling, Kann, Mule Musiq and of course Smallville. Jacques shares his studio in Paris with Vincent Drux, a producer and sound engineer, who recently started his own imprint Cabale Records. Both got together naturally in the studio for hour-long sessions to craft an album together. House music at its most meticulous form.

First, as a short form, in which every track captures another time zone of the dancefloor experience. And then as longform, as a whole album with a narrative that combines futuristic aesthetics, classic ethos and human warmth.

From the rolling percussion and windy-city style bassline of opener ‘Distant Voices’, with its cut yet longing distant voices, through deepy, dubby and raw ‘Celeste’, the haunting synths of ‘Mirage’; The snares that arrive mid through ‘Space Ways’ and launch into another level; ‘Radiance’’s Techy vibe ride; The late night chords and peak time beat programming of ‘Your Wings’; And then final couple stick the landing with enough energy, deepness and beauty - ‘Elevate’, which channels Bon and Drux’s inner Fred P, and ‘Sandstorm’, a mastery percussive tale with a long, repetitive chord that opens and closes, teases until it disappears and remains nothing but a whispery dying effect.

Words by Niv Hadas


All Tracks are written, produced and mixed by Jacques Bon & Vincent Drux

This limited reissue of Arjen Lucassen’s (of Ayreon fame) second solo album from 2012 comes in a gatefold jacket and features the original booklet. The story of “Lost in the New Real” follows Mr. L, a twenty-first century man who was cryopreserved at the moment of clinical death from a terminal disease. The album begins as Mr. L is being revived at a point in the distant future, when technology has advanced enough to cure his disease. Mr L finds himself in a world that has drastically changed — to the point that the line between what’s real and what’s not is no longer clear. Arjen Lucassen as “Mr. L” Vocals, instruments, music, lyrics Rutger Hauer as “Dr. Voight-Kampff” Instrumentalists Arjen lucassen: all instruments, with the exception of those listed below Wilmer Waarbroek: backing vocals Ed Warby: drums Rob Snijders: drums Ben Mathot:violin Maaike Peterse: cello Jeroen Goossens: flute Elvya Dulcimer: Hammered dulcimer on “Battle of Evermore”

The Boogie Times label is back with 4 cuts from a very elusive artist.

There has been much speculation over the years as to the identity behind the Disciples Of The Watch moniker. Sharp eared listeners have attributed the sound of the breakbeats to one artist, while others are as convinced their deductions from the sound of a bassline can attribute the production to someone else.

Perhaps it’s who they think? Maybe it’s not? Possibly it’s a collective of artists?

All we can say is that Disciples Of The Watch make great music!

Back in 1992 the Dance In Peace EP received an incredibly limited white label run and was only available from a handful of specialist record shops. The scarcity of this release means that it has now reached near mythical status and has seen it selling for as much as £200 on the second-hand vinyl market.

This EP is now getting the very long overdue full release that it deserves, with all tracks expertly remastered & cut to heavyweight black vinyl.

With very limited stock being pressed we’d urge anyone wanting to own the amazing musical journey by the elusive Disciples Of The Watch to get orders in as soon as it goes on sale!!

Ted K. Kaczynski is notorious for both tragically murdering three people (and wounding an additional 23) via bombs sent in the mail and for his numerous writings on the evils of technology he composed during his primitive residency in the woods of Montana. Film director Tony Stone's choice to have the renowned electronic artist Blanck Mass score the film is somewhat ironic and creates an obvious tension perfect for the controversial and complex subject matter. 2020 saw the first Blanck Mass movie score, for the soundtrack to Nick Rowland's acclaimed cinematic debut Calm with Horses. This expansion into new areas of melodic composition and textural exploration won Blanck Mass many new fans, with the BBC's acknowledged number one film buff Mark Kermode proclaiming the work the soundtrack of the year. In 2021, Blanck Mass won the prestigious Ivor Novello Award for Best Original Film Score and has firmly established himself at the forefront of the latest wave of experimental soundscape wizards. Recording during lockdown at his studio in Edinburgh, Scotland, Blanck Mass's Ben Power was in the perfect setting for a musical piece intended to capture the isolation central to Kaczynski's story. Power was also working with a director in a time zone 10 hours behind and thus many sessions required working in the middle of the night, which added a fitting intensity to the composition process. He said of the project "I wanted it to feel like an `epic'" and drew on the legends Sergio Leone and Ennio Morricone for inspiration in encapsulating the energy of the perceived good vs. evil. The gentle madness of sound achieved is exquisite and slowly builds in intensity and desperation as the score moves along. Power is able to perfectly capture the complexity, the terror and the deep emotionality of the film while presenting an often breathtakingly beautiful and always masterful album that stands on its own as a work of art. For Fans of Tim Hecker, Oneohtrix Point Never, DJ Shadow, Coil, Arca, Andy Stott, Fuck Buttons.

Ted K. Kaczynski is notorious for both tragically murdering three people (and wounding an additional 23) via bombs sent in the mail and for his numerous writings on the evils of technology he composed during his primitive residency in the woods of Montana. Film director Tony Stone's choice to have the renowned electronic artist Blanck Mass score the film is somewhat ironic and creates an obvious tension perfect for the controversial and complex subject matter. 2020 saw the first Blanck Mass movie score, for the soundtrack to Nick Rowland's acclaimed cinematic debut Calm with Horses. This expansion into new areas of melodic composition and textural exploration won Blanck Mass many new fans, with the BBC's acknowledged number one film buff Mark Kermode proclaiming the work the soundtrack of the year. In 2021, Blanck Mass won the prestigious Ivor Novello Award for Best Original Film Score and has firmly established himself at the forefront of the latest wave of experimental soundscape wizards. Recording during lockdown at his studio in Edinburgh, Scotland, Blanck Mass's Ben Power was in the perfect setting for a musical piece intended to capture the isolation central to Kaczynski's story. Power was also working with a director in a time zone 10 hours behind and thus many sessions required working in the middle of the night, which added a fitting intensity to the composition process. He said of the project "I wanted it to feel like an `epic'" and drew on the legends Sergio Leone and Ennio Morricone for inspiration in encapsulating the energy of the perceived good vs. evil. The gentle madness of sound achieved is exquisite and slowly builds in intensity and desperation as the score moves along. Power is able to perfectly capture the complexity, the terror and the deep emotionality of the film while presenting an often breathtakingly beautiful and always masterful album that stands on its own as a work of art. For Fans of Tim Hecker, Oneohtrix Point Never, DJ Shadow, Coil, Arca, Andy Stott, Fuck Buttons.