Cerca:one hand

‘4-Vesta’ is the brightest asteroid visible from Earth. Measuring around 500km in diameter, it’s one of the four largest objects in the asteroid belt between Jupiter and Mars. Fragments of Vesta have been found on Earth, as meteorites that were ejected into space after two collisions that left huge craters on its surface. These fragments show that Vesta was probably once a planet itself, made of the same material as the four terrestrial planets (Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars).

It was an encounter with one of these fragments that inspired the name for Azu Tiwaline’s latest EP for I.O.T Records, ‘Vesta’, which features tracks that were written and recorded around the same time as ‘Magnetic Service’, her break-through EP for Livity Sound. Holding a piece of Vesta that had been found in the Saharan Desert - already a place of deep significance for her - she felt a sense of wonder, on a cosmic scale. In her hands, was an object so apparently familiar, of the same age and made of the same fundamental materials as the Earth on which she stood, yet from somewhere else entirely. A perfect name for the four tracks that make up ‘Vesta’. And also the perfect source material for the EP’s cover, an electron microscope image of a razor-thin slice of that same cosmic fragment that Azu held in her hand.

‘Vesta’ is familiar, yet distinct. It’s recognisably Azu Tiwaline from the very start, yet the unexpected always finds a way in. A booming, echoing kick opens ‘Low’, followed by the rattling, shivering sound of a tanbur hand-drum, courtesy of his regular collaborator, Franco-Iranian percussionist and producer Cinna Peyghamy. But then, tentatively at first, a jazzy synth line emerges, and disappears again, only to reappear later. An another colour to add to Azu Tiwaline’s already rich palette?

Azu Tiwaline’s music has always explored the dynamics between space and depth, and the contrasts between light and density. ‘Vesta’ often feels like a high-wire act, an exercise in finding space even as the air fills with drum patterns and synth lines. ‘Medium Time’ builds from a chorus of buzzing insects into a thick percussive track across eight minutes, without ever losing that initial wide-open sound of the dusk. ‘Into The Void’ pays homage to her well-worn collection of Rhythm & Sound and Basic Channel 12-inch singles, all swaying dub echoes and languid kick drums. Then mid-track, it pivots in intensity, each element suddenly expanded and magnified: a psychedelic shift. Those who’ve had the chance to see Azu Tiwaline perform in the past few years might get a few flashbacks - it’s been a key part of her live set.

But it’s the final track ‘Deep Theko’ that best fits the EP’s cosmic title. A shape-shifting ‘ambient’ track that never seems to settle, it drifts restlessly, sporadic percussion and synth washes injecting random bursts of activity. A sonic representation of planetary debris floating through space? Here, as with the airless void of space, emptiness enables a certain perspective. If the distances between the stars weren’t so enormous, we wouldn’t be able to gaze upon them in their entirety, after all.

After releasing her sophomore album Inner Song in the midst of the pandemic, Kelly Lee Owens was faced with the sudden realisation that her world tour could no longer go ahead. Keen to make use of this untapped creative energy, she made the spontaneous decision to go to Oslo instead. There was no overarching plan, it was simply a change of scenery and a chance for some undisturbed studio time. It just so happened that her flight from London was the last before borders were closed once again. The blank page project was underway.

Arriving to snowglobe conditions and sub-zero temperatures, she began spending time in the studio with Lasse Marhaug. An esteemed avant-noise artist, Marhaug envisioned making music that would fall loosely in line with Throbbing Gristle. Kelly, on the other hand, had planned to create something inspired by Enya, an artist who has had an enduring impact on her creative being. They met each other halfway, pairing tough, industrial sounds with ethereal Celtic mysticism, and creating music that ebbs and flows between tension and release.

One month later, Kelly called her label to tell them she had created something of an outlier, her ‘eighth album’.

Choki Biki Records is proud to present: Coakley Collabs Vol.1! A new collaboration EP curated by DJ and Producer Josh Coakley; a Dublin based DJ & Producer. Coakley Collabs Vol.1 consists of six Techno orientated collaborations between Josh Coakley and other Irish talent including; blk., Sharpson, jxck, KIRK, Karl Seery and Black Traffic. Each track varies between a blend of Acid, Electro, Trance and Breakbeat, under the umbrella of Coakley’s signature Techno sound. Josh Coakley & Karl Seery – W.O.T.U You might be familiar with the introductory track: W.O.T.U by Coakley and Dublin producer Karl Seery, as it has already received serious airtime on BBC Introducing thanks to Jaguar. This techno banger features an array of rave stabs and classic hardcore breaks, which perfectly represents the collaboration between Coakley’s signature techno sound, and Choki Biki’s Nu-Rave aesthetic. Josh Coakley & blk. – Detroit Next up is Detroit featuring prolific techno producer blk..This dubby – techno track features the iconic acapella of Fedde Le Grande’s iconic ‘Put Your Hands Up For Detroit’. Its use of 808 programming gives an authentic replication of the early Detroit techno productions. Its contemporary hard-hitting nature is influenced by the likes of FJAAK, which blends nicely with its clear influence from Jeff Mills. Josh Coakley & Black Traffic – Fade To Grey Fade To Grey comes from Josh Coakley’s Collaboration with Scott Prendergast AKA Black Traffic. The pair have composed a track that tows the lines between Trance and Melodic Techno. Black Traffic’s signature use of rich textures and melodies contrast with Coakley’s ‘in your face’ techno drum programming. Fade To Grey is already making the rounds in Irish clubs as it was featured in Four Four Magazine as track of the week. Josh Coakley & KIRK – Illusionist Illusionist is an Acid Techno track from Coakley and Carlow based producer KIRK. Illusionist steers away from the direction of the ‘retro’ Detroit sounding Techno and moves towards the more atmospheric sounds of European Acid Techno producers such as A.S.Y.S. & T78. Its arpeggiated 303 programming and use of psychedelic vocal samples creates an atmosphere that would be right pounding throughout a club in Amsterdam. Josh Coakley & Jxck – MYB Next up is MYB, an Electro-Breaks collaboration between Coakley and Jxck. This syncopated belter is sure to make you do exactly what it says on the tin; Move Your Body! Featured by the one and only HOUZ, this Break track has already seen serious support from Techno and Electro DJs alike. With a return to a ‘4 to the Floor’ beat halfway through, this heavy hitter is sure to keep an audience on their toes. Josh Coakley & Sharpson – Who’s In The Garden (feat. Wax White) The Final Track of Coakley Collabs Vol.1 takes a total turn with Who’s In The Garden?. This track is a double collaboration between Coakley, Choki Biki label boss Sharpson, and Irish Hip-Hop group Wax White. This high tempo breakbeat track has a cheeky, lighthearted nature to it thanks to the use of happy hardcore sounding synths and Wax White’s hilarious Dublin Mannerisms thrownout throughout the track. The track comes to a screeching halt with an Electro Breaks breakdown supplied by Sharpson. Coakley’s intricate arrangement and production skills really shine through in this final track, as its numerous ideas fit tightly knit together.

Written and recorded during the pandemic, Aaron Watson's 'Unwanted Man' takes the listener on a full circle journey from isolation and despair to loving redemption. Aaron wrote or co-wrote all eleven songs on 'Unwanted Man,' showcasing both his trademark love songs in “When I See You” and “Nothing On You” as well as his popular classic uptempo romps with “Cheap Seats” and “Heck Of A Song”. 'Unwanted Man' is Aaron’s 14th studio album and his 18th album overall. Every album Aaron has released since 2010 has landed firmly in the Top 10 on the Billboard Country Album Chart with three debuting in the Top 5. For the past 20+ years, Watson has achieved success on his own terms, hand-building a lauded career through songwriting, relentless touring and nearly twenty self-released albums. His independent Texas spirit and strong work ethic are emblematic of the western lifestyle; virtues which have taken him from humble honky-tonks of Texas to multiple sold-out tours around the world. Rolling Stone calls him "Texas country's reigning indie underdog" and The Boot remarks that Aaron is "a pure expression of his traditional country ethos.” His 2015 album 'The Underdog' was the first independent album in the history of country music to top the Billboard Country Album Chart. Aaron Watson’s career is perhaps summed up best by Forbes, who says he’s "one of country music’s biggest DIY success stories." A self-made businessman, chart-topper, and road warrior whose authenticity has made him a country music staple, Aaron Watson is here to stay.

A spellbinding tribute from one multi-faceted artist to another. New York-based artist Aki Onda (b. 1967) conjured a transduction to the Korean multi-media pioneer Nam June Paik (1932-2006). Aki himself describes the project:

“Nam June’s Spirit Was Speaking to Me occurred purely by chance. In 2010, I was spending four days at Nam June Paik Art Center in South Korea for a series of performances and had plenty of free time to wander. The building was packed with Paik’s artwork and related material. I have always felt a close kinship with him as an artist, and so it was a great opportunity to immerse myself in his works and ephemera.

It was that night I made the first contact, via a hand-held radio in a hotel room in Seoul. It was literally out of the blue. Scanning through the stations, I stumbled upon what sounded like a submerged voice and I began to record it in fascination. I concluded this was Paik’s spirit reaching out to me.

The project continued to grow organically as I kept channeling Paik’s spirit over long distance and receiving cryptic broadcasts/messages. The series of séances, conducted in different cities across the globe, began in Seoul in 2010, and continued in Köln, Germany in 2012, Wrocław, Poland in 2013, and Lewisburg, USA in 2014. The original recordings were captured by the same radio which has a tape recorder, with almost no editing, save for some minimal slicing and mastering.

Paik is known for his association with shamanism, a practice that constantly surfaces in his works all through his career. In an interview, he stated “In Korea, diverse forms of shamanism are strongly remained. Even though I have created my work unconsciously, the most inspiring thing in my work came from Korean female shaman Mudang.” Paik himself was a master shaman and vividly used shaman rituals and symbols for staging his performances and installations.

These recordings also became a way for me to explore the mythic form of radio—a medium which is full of mysteries. The transmissions captured may be “secret broadcasts” on anonymous radio stations. There are in fact hundreds of those stations around the world, although the numbers dwindle as clandestine messages can now be sent via encrypted digital channels. Some of these stations were likely for military use or espionage or relics of the Cold War. But many others continue without apparent explanation. These are just some of the questions that remain unanswered.”

Commissioned in 2017 by documenta 14's radio program “Every Time A Ear di Soun,” these recordings were continually broadcast on eight radios stations around the world that year. Nam June’s Spirit is a beautifully formed homage, I cannot think of any other like it. An intimate, flickering language discovered through the air. The LP comes replete with a booklet of photographs of Paik on the set of Michael Snow’s unreleased film Rameau’s Nephew (1974).

Sean McCann, 2020
Aki Onda, 2017

20-page art booklet including rare photographs of Nam June Paik from the set of Michael Snow’s film Rameau’s Nephew (1974), two essays on radio-wave phenomenon (by Onda and Marcus Gammel), and a remembrance of Paik by Yuji Agematsu

Swedish duo Thunder Tillman come together again in healing harmony to produce a much needed LP for troubled times. Thunder and his life coach Pony bring their spirits in sync for 40 minutes of improvised soundtracks for mental and physical wellbeing.

Recorded on Stockholm’s Wind Island, the pair have carefully selected specimens from their collection of vintage musical paraphernalia to channel these specific vibrations for maximum healing power.

Side one is a gentle wake up call for the soul, with pipes and chimes that gently give way to mind-expanding synths and feedback echoes that sound like sun glistening off a mountain river. Those sounds lead into an electric piano and life affirming synth figure, before disintegrating into santoor strings and chants with a slight Indian flavor. It’s a cosmic combination that invites relaxation and meditation, and the kind of deep breathing exercises that could turn back the clock on a host of bodily ailments. An electric piano comes back to the foreground with a bass and synth combination that drives forward with healing hands, before parting the frequencies for ear-tickling pads and voices. Rounding out the side is a chiming synth and santoor figure that brings the wandering spirit home and to rest.

Side two starts up with Cosmic Osmosis - a motorik drum machine beat and bass line that briefly brings to mind some of their more krautrock inspired modes across their three previous Eps, but soon collapses back into visceral synth twinkles and relaxing washes of analogue tones. It’s a dynamic that drives the whole record, sounds that excite the soul perhaps even the body on an atomic level, before bringing that energy down to a calming, relaxing home. There’s a craftsmanship to their synthesized tones that goes beyond mere artistry, and the interplay between sounds and frequencies is especially inspired, to the point where the music practically sparkles out of the speakers. Side two closes out with harmonic chimes that could put you on a Himalayan mountain side, and succeeds in raising the spirit, mind and body to higher plains of cosmic consciousness.

The Aural Healing Program is accompanied by a 40 minutes Visual Healing Program that will be unveiled in conjunction with the vinyl release. The first visual healing session featuring side B opener Cosmic Osmosis, is already available for all to partake. So just relax, let go and let the frequencies guide you.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

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!!

Second Sub Pop album by acclaimed UK act TV Priest finds them building on the
post-punk of their early material and maturing into a powerhouse of tense, politically
caustic, and thoughtful rock music.
Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made
their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were
established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their
political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy
on its wearer’s shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. “A lot of it did feel
like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length,” says vocalist Charlie
Drinkwater. “I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take
a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the
opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest.”
Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued
press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous
outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single ‘House of York’
followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to
Sub Pop for their debut album. When ‘Uppers’ arrived in the height of a global
pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its “dystopian doublespeak,”
but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic
Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of
tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the
personal and professional landmark of its release felt “both colossal and minuscule”
dampened by the inability to share it live. “It was a real gratification and really
cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental
health,” admits Drinkwater. “I wasn’t prepared, and I hadn’t necessarily expected it to
reach as many people as it did.”
As such, ‘My Other People’ maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking
advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using ‘Saintless’ (the closing
song from ‘Uppers’) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting
lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as
a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health.
“Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would
say, particularly well,” he says. “There was a lot of things that had happened to
myself and my family that were quite troubling moments. Despite that I do think the
record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders
for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in.”
“It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something
that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful,” agrees Bueth. “Brutality and frustration are
only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the
time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening.”
This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and
an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to ‘My Other People’, a
record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you’re
welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is
a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or
any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

On his latest album, 'The Sun is Shining Down', Blues legend John Mayall
teams up with a stellar cast to deliver a funky soulful affair punctuated by
brass, violins, harmonica and electric ukulele
Special guests include, The Heartbreakers' Mike Campbell, fast rising roots rocker
Marcus King, Americana icon Buddy Miller, Scarlet Rivera of Bob Dylan's Rolling
Thunder Review, Chicago blues guitar mainstay Melvin Taylor and Hawaiian
ukulele star Jake Shimabukuro. Also on hand are Mayall's longtime dynamic
Chicago rhythm section of Greg Rzab on bass guitar and Jay Davenport on drums
with Austin's multi-talented and charismatic Carolyn Wonderland on guitar.
Recorded at Robby Krieger's (The Doors) Horse Latitudes studio with Grammy
nominated Producer Eric Corne, 'The Sun is Shining Down' is Mayall's 5th studio
album for Forty Below Records, a fruitful partnership that began with 2014's A
Special Life.
"I couldn't be happier with the new record," exclaims Mayall. "I can't wait to share
it with my fans. Each one of these special guests brings something unique to the
album and our team works so well together. I think you can hear that chemistry in
the music," raves Mayall.
The album explores a range of styles and eclectic instruments with guests
Scarlet Rivera's violin, Jake Shimabukaro's electric ukulele and Mike Campbell,
Marcus King, Buddy Miller and Melvin Taylor on guitars. As significant as each of
these guest turns is, however, they can't overshadow Mayall's own spirited vocals,
iconic harmonica and lyrical keyboard work.

Alex the Fairy is an artist based in Berlin producing music with an emphasis on electronic and concrete methods. Alex the Fairy is also part of the 3Ddancer trio, a live act focusing on improvisation and expression using electronics.

Alex The Fairy writes: "I had sent The Tapeworm tracks before, but I was being difficult so was asked to send a new bunch, with a deadline. I sent the new bunch, a fairly odd collection expecting perhaps some of them to be combined with the older stuff but not seeing any coherence in them. I figured The Tapeworm would find at least something. To my surprise the suggestion that came back was exclusively the tracks I had sent the second time, and, re-listening through the tracks in this new order after returning from a Christmas dinner lying on the floor of my nephews bedroom gave them a completely new context. Despite them being quite varied in terms of age (one had been flung together a few days earlier on the train while another was approaching Schulreife) they seemed to meld together in such a way that I hardly recognised them…

Last year my grandmother died. My last grandparent. I had put off seeing her during corona, as I thought it best not to put her at risk and had almost left to visit her days before her death but had delayed my departure because of a medical appointment. My failure to her weighs heavy on my mind - fates grimacing grin: too little, too late. The approaching march of death, one generation closer was a confrontation I wasn't prepared for.

While clearing out her flat in the following weeks I had kept some of my grandfathers cassettes, live recordings of jazz greats, Pink Floyd, Sade and some classical among them, none originals, several presumably from the radio e.g. a church organ rendition of Bach. At the time I wasn't sure why I was hanging on to them, other than the urge to hoard, and that it felt wrong not at least to keep some. Half a year later, half way through mixing this cassette, suffering from my first bout of COVID, I had the insatiable urge to hook up the cassette player I had received from my grandfather after his death around nineteen years earlier and had been dragging along with me since. I stuck a cassette in only to immediately return to the safety of my covers. I began to work my way into what I had saved, hearing the fruits of my grandfathers labour decades before. It felt like quite an intimate interaction with someone I had long lost contact to/was long gone. Quite a wonderful thing, these time traveling cassettes.

I returned to the tracks to mix them shortly before my corona/cassette experience, with a new mixing console at hand. I had been looking for one for several years, but nothing had ever clicked, until I found this old broadcast desk 30 minutes from my place (it also coincided with a payment from a job the sum of which matched the price identically… fates return). Installing became a massive hassle and I doubted my decision continuously, but the further it was implemented the more it made sense. The first track I recorded with the mixer is on this cassette. Shortly before the mixing I was introduced to an Effektgerät by a friend, Rapha. Another good friend Art lent me their one, and I ended up using copious amounts of it throughout mixing, alongside my usual space creators. All the tracks on this release were mixed again on this mixer and are in a sense all a bit of a dub of the originals. I wouldn't have worked this way without the mixer, and the effect gave me a dimension I hadn't had before, so, from a technical perspective, the mixer and this effect define this release, giving it a coherence, at least for me. Emotionally of course the chaos and turbulence of the preceding year and my newfound appreciation for the medium give it a meaning I will struggle to formulate." – Alex The Fairy, Berlin, 9 May 2022

Certain Sound Records and DJ Jazz T announce the second in a series of DJ mixtapes from the World-Famous Steel Devils Turntablist Crew.

When he is not touring the world with Jehst or High Focus Records artists or running his own legendary label Boot Records. You will find Jazz T laying down cuts or mastering some of the UK’s finest hip hop releases. So, it was an honour that he wanted to drop a brand-new mixtape for us. Spurred on by his counterparts in the Steel Devil’s crew, Jazz put together this outstanding collection of rarely or never heard beats and collaborations and distilled it into 60 mins of mixtape glory. The track listing says it all.

REMASTERED

Grönland Records announce a revised, remastered reissue of “Sleepwalkers” by DAVID SYLVIAN. Available as a gatefold 2LP with exclusive art print and as a gatefold digipack CD, this new edition also features the previously unreleased track “Modern Interiors”.

in the 00s, DAVID SYLVIAN produced two of his strongest and most solitary statements, BLEMISH and MANAFON. but those records don’t tell the whole story. during that the same period, SYLVIAN created an alternate body of work: a series of collaborations and side projects with leading talents of pop and improv, electronic and contemporary classical music. the best of these recordings are gathered here on SLEEPWALKERS, meticulously sequenced and remixed: the fruits of one-off meetings and lifelong partnerships, they jump from bliss to intrigue, romance to sensuality, as arch experiments lead into the lushest pop.

the single ‘world citizen – i won’t be disappointed,’ written with RYUICHI SAKAMOTO, is a sublime example, with an impeccable melody and lyric warmed by SYLVIAN’S gorgeous tenor. SYLVIAN has worked with SAKAMOTO for close to three decades. by contrast, on ‘pure genius,’ a collaboration with CHRIS VRENNA aka tweaker, he sounds like he’s walked into a heist flick, singing the part of a delusional, dangerous bedroom genius. as sylvian explains, tracks like this ‘give me a chance to write in a way that’s completely non-personal, playful. it’s an exercise of some kind, working within the parameters of a given assignment.’

intrigue of a different kind drives ‘sugarfuel,’ with music by JEAN-PHILIPPE VERDIN, aka READYMADE FC. the lyrics offered ‘an opportunity to grapple with a more overt sexual theme than anything i’d previously attempted, as suggested by a vocal sample in the original track provided, a threateningly insistent ‘i’m on your side.’ so i took that as my point of entry and ran with it. i would love to write more on this subject should i find the right context. you’re always aware of walking a thin line exploring sexuality with language alone. the failings of the great and the good are strewn all around.’

NINE HORSES’ ‘wonderful world’ strolls in on a black tie bassline and the echoing coos of swedish chanteuse STINA NORDENSTAM, whose high chirps brush hands with SYLVIAN’S lead; there’s the blistering ‘money for all’ by FRIEDMAN and SYLVIAN, an oblique response to the fallout of 9/11 and the war on iraq. this is followed by the last known recording of SYLVIAN’S singing voice in over a decade, ‘do you know me now?’, a live studio recording later augmented by JAN BANG, EIVIND AARSET and ERIK HONORÉ. it’s certainly a title that’s become more relevant over time as SYLVIAN, in the latter stages of his career, repeatedly comes face to face with a new generation of admirers fixated on the life and times of the band formed by his younger self. SYLVIAN is one of only a handful of musicians to have successfully moved on from overt pop beginnings into a domain all his own but is consistently plagued by the misguided desires or expectations of some unfamiliar with his evolution to do a u-turn, pick up where he left off in the late 90s. although this compilation, as well as his writing for NINE HORSES, adequately shows SYLVIAN’S traditional love of melody is
intact, that it’s consistently remained part of his output, there’s no denying his focus has shifted, evolved.
the refusal to embrace complacency, the need to cover new ground ‘as older generations of popular musicians have a moral duty to explore despite, or because of, the greater possibility of failure’ will, i believe, lead to a reassessment of his later work that embraces a sightly more complex relationship with what we’re referring to as ‘melodic’, accompanied by an exploration of improvisation without dogma or beholden to any ‘givens’ for which he’s not infrequently been castigated. for SYLVIAN, there are no such boundaries. it’s obvious that different facets of his work co-exist without conflict but not necessarily for the majority of his audience. again, this places SYLVIAN in the odd, rare, unenviable(?) position of moving forwards leaving many in his devoted audience behind as, should he decide to return to music, it’s unlikely he’ll be aiming to placate an audience in love with work that preceded the 00s. in fact we’ve no idea where new work, should it surface, may lead.

SLEEPWALKERS also spotlights the innovators who contributed to MANAFON and BLEMISH. CHRISTIAN FENNESZ hangs a crackling, shimmering curtain behind the vocal on ‘transit,’ matching his signature mass of sui generis sounds to sylvian’s stately performance. and the title track began with an instrumental handed to SYLVIAN by MARTIN BRANDLMAYR of POLWECHSEL, soon after the first recording session for MANAFON. spite crackles in the gaps between the percussion, and onkyo artists TOSHIMARU NAKAMURA and SACHIKO M set the stage for the scathing lyrics in the chorus.

it cuts close to the bone and so do the two spoken word cuts, ‘angel’ and ‘thermal,’ produced by SAMADHISOUND recording artists JAN BANG and ERIK HONORÉ (and featuring ARVE HENRIKSEN on trumpet). SYLVIAN describes the latter work as a ‘love poem’ to his daughter. ‘‘thermal’ reflects on a period when our time in sonoma, ca was coming to an end. we’d stayed in temporary accommodation which had lulled us into a false sense of security. we had pear, apple, lemon, and figs trees growing in the yard. a small but exotic paradise. a cocoon. but the cracks were beginning to show in the relationship between ex-wife INGRID CHAVEZ and i which is where i think this underlying sense of anxiety, which runs throughout the poem, is derived from, coupled with the need to provide physical and spiritual stability to the children, the youngest of whom was just under two at the time. the poem is addressed to her. our world was dissipating, coming apart at the seams, but we were an island unto ourselves.’

‘five lines’ marked the start of a new partnership with acclaimed young composer DAI FUJIKURA, who at the time of recording was also working on remixes of MANAFON for what became DIED IN THE WOOL. the string quartet was performed by the celebrated ICE ENSEMBLE and written for SYLVIAN, who FUJIKURA cites as an early influence. says SYLVIAN, ‘the composition moves through numerous changes in time signature but as i had no knowledge of what these were i just relied on my gut instinct, and responded, as i always do, with what felt right to me, composing an entirely new melody in the process. some months later i was working in a studio in london and dai dropped by. i rather tentatively asked if he’d like to hear a rough mix of the song as it stood, painfully aware that my contribution might make no sense to him at all but, to my relief he loved the result.’

there’s one further new addition to this collection, the first official release of a track composed in response to the tsunami in fukushma, ‘modern interiors’, featuring SYLVIAN once again in collaboration with BANG and AARSET.

like 2000s EVERYTHING AND NOTHING, SLEEPWALKERS is a retrospective of a particular decade when SYLVIAN was free of major label interference and could follow his own instincts without having to explaining himself – but it’s also an eye-opening complement to his solo releases. as SYLVIAN explains, ‘some collaborations seem to be a one-off exchange but you can never be too certain of that fact. others have been long term. in this respect, RYUICHI comes to mind. there’s others with whom you hope to continue working as you feel you’ve barely scratched the surface. other times offers come out of the blue, welcome, inspired. regardless, it’s wonderfully explorative to have so many possibilities to juggle with. each collaboration seems timely. it’s as if there’s a rightness to the exchange at a given moment in time.’

in the meantime, we hope you enjoy the work presented here, personally selected, remixed and sequenced and entirely remastered. these are the orphans, abused, estranged, exotic, migrating from diverse corners of the globe, brought together under one roof which they're learning to share despite their differences.

‘as many of you will already be aware, despite relatively continuous work on solo albums, i’ve maintained strong ties with a number of musicians throughout my life in one context or another. on this new collection, let’s call it SLEEPWALKERS 2.0, a selection of collaborative work produced over the period encompassing blemish through to manafon, i’ve included compositions by nine horses as well as more fleeting flirtations and one-offs. neglected offspring. represented also is long term friend and writing partner, RYUICHI SAKAMOTO, as well as more recent but potentially equally productive partnerships such as CHRISTIAN FENNESZ, ARVE HENRIKSEN and contemporary classical composer DAI FUJIKURA.
i hope you enjoy the work presented here, personally selected, remixed and sequenced and entirely remastered. these are the orphans, abused, estranged, exotic, migrating from diverse corners of the globe, brought together under one roof which they're learning to share despite their differences.

we contain multitudes. we’re nothing if not contradictory.’

DAVID SYLVIAN, 2010

(consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life: aldous huxley)

The other well known 7” from STARFIRE, titled “Almost Insane”, was initially meant to be the “flagship” single for the Long Player “Get Off With Us” released in 1976 on the Dynamic Artists label. Almost no one was aware of the existence of this ultra rare biscuit, once simply thought to be just an LP track. Soon after being unearthed, the luxurious Funk infused seventies soul arrangement and high audio fidelity of “Make The Most of It” backed by the insanely good “Out of The Ghetto” made it one of the most sought after 45 in the rare soul community soon becoming a firm play of a handful spinners to include Dave Ripolles and Yours Truly. Hard work to track the guys down, all well in their seventies, all in the name of spreading the love. Enjoy and support the venture, and if you like the Spice of Ice too, please bundle up and spare something. One in every home!

Landscape Tantrums Lost for two decades, the recent rediscovery of Landscape Tantrums the first attempt at recording the music that would become The Mars Volta’s De-Loused In The Comatorium revealed an important and hitherto missing chapter in the group’s evolution. Selfrecorded by Omar (assisted by Jon DeBaun) at Burbank’s Mad Dog Studios within a head spinning four days, Landscape Tantrums captures De-Loused in somewhat embryonic form, though much of what would make The Mars Volta’s debut album such an electrifying, sublime experience was already in place: the fearless invention, the fusion of futurist rock elements and traditions from outside of the rock orthodoxy, the sense of virtuosity working in service of emotional effect. From a distance, The Mars Volta must have seemed as if they were on a high when they walked into the studio to record what they expected to be their debut album (“I didn’t think of it as demos or a dry run,” Omar says). The group had recently played the Coachella festival to rave reviews, a vindication of the quixotic risk Omar and Cedric had taken, quitting At The Drive In to lead such an uncompromising musical proposition.






Their debut EP, Tremulant, had similarly signalled their singular vision, and been rewarded with similarly positive feedback. But the truth was that The Mars Volta entered Mad Dog in tatters, scarcely believing anything other than failure lay within their reach. They’d recently lost their bassist, Eva Gardner, and parted ways with keyboard play Ikey Owens. Tensions were brewing with drummer Jon Theodore, too himself a replacement for founding drummer Blake Fleming Omar questioning Theodore’s commitment to the group. And sound manipulator Jeremy Michael Ward’s drug problem had gotten so far out of hand that he’d been sent to rehab, and wouldn’t return until two days into the Landscape Tantrums. The pressure upon Omar was intense, and it began to manifest in the form of physical and emotional breakdowns. His art was his life, but now he began to wonder if it was actually going to kill him. Under such heavy manners, miracles occurred at Mad Dog. Surely that’s the only way to describe the music contained on Landscape Tantrums, as Omar fashioned early versions of Inertiatic ESP, Drunkship Of Lanterns and Eriatarka that rivalled the Rick Rubin produced versions that ended up on De- Loused for intensity, precision and immediacy, as Cedric delivered a powerfully intimate reading of Televators, and as a bare bones version of the group sketched out the peaks of what would become their debut masterpiece in barely half a week, on a shoestring, and believing they wouldn’t last long enough to see it hit the shelves. Listening to Landscape Tantrums now, with the benefit of hindsight and the knowledge of what these songs will become, one notices Cedric has yet to fully find the voice that will lend The Mars Volta their devastating authority, that Eriatarka will evolve even further under Rick Rubin’s watch, and that the lyrics to De-Loused’s climactic chapter, Take The Veil Cerpin Taxt, have yet to be penned. But one also notices how lithe the group sound here, how hungry, and one appreciates the raw edge that Rubin would later polish to a venomous sharpness. More than mere historical curiosity, Landscape Tantrums is an essential text for the dedicated Mars Volta aficionado, and a breathtaking album in its own right.


[a] a1. Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of) [Unfinished Original Recordings Of De-Loused In The Comatorium]

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

Truly sensational modern soul double sider. Fantastic group vocals, swirling string arrangement and top notch punchy production. Impossible to find on original format (came out on private press on KickBack Records). Spun only by a handful of deejay around the world, to include George Mahood and our very own Dj Camembert. Recorded at United Artist studio, Beverly & 3rd Street Los Angeles California in 1978. Co-Produced by JJ Wilson who was also the band leader at the time and Bert (Humberto) Agudelo who was also Chief Engineer on this project and is a mastering engineer known to have worked at Liberty/United Artists Recording Studio. He also produced the famous Rocky movie album on United Artist. Executive producer Cecil Lyde Holden from the well known Lyde, Fisher & Giles band, who has cut the classic Serve Me Right to Suffer in 1977 on HAB records. Enjoy and support the venture, and if you like the Starfire too, please bundle up and spare something. One in every home!

In 2020, Sahel Sounds hosted a project called Music from Saharan WhatsApp. This series consisted of ephemeral digital EPs, documenting live performances by some of the most exciting acts in the Sahel playing music, including Nigerién techno, wedding rock, Woodabe guitar, WZN, traditional music, Mandingue music, and more.

Responding to an open call from our network of artists, musicians recorded a handful of tracks on their cellphone and sent them over the popular mobile app WhatsApp. Each session was hosted for a month on Bandcamp and sold on a sliding scale, with all profits wired directly to the musicians. After a month, the EP would disappear, replaced by another one.

Now, some of the label's favorite tracks from this series are collected for the first time outside of Bandcamp as the Music from Saharan WhatsApp compilation LP. This LP features tracks by established Sahel Sounds artists such as Etran de L'Aïr, Hama, Alkibar Jr, Amaria Hamadaler (of Les Filles de Illighadad), and artists new to the label like Bounaly and Andal Sukabe.

Prince Jazzbo started his career at Studio One before moving on to record for Glen Brown and Bunny Lee. He cut more classics with Lee Perry before establishing his own labels ‘Mr Funny’ ‘Ujama’ ‘Brisco’ and ‘Count 123’.

Rally Round Zion only appeared on a very limited run on the Wildflower label and has always had a cult status with collectors. An authentic roots tune with a deep Tubbys dub on the flip side. This is the first time it has been re-pressed. Comes in a hand stamped bag. Killer no filler!!