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*180g virgin leaded vinyl in a deluxe textured heavy gatefold cover, with paste-on artwork and special anti-static innersleeve.* Note: The pressing is absolute on point!!!!

Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon with a beautifully recorded suite of songs and instrumentals.

" More than two decades since he blew minds with a suite of brilliant releases on Warp, Vincent Gallo returns to the world of music at long last in Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon, with the project’s full-length debut, “The Music of Butterfly”. A gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, while interweaving fascinating flirtations with minimalism and experimentalism, it’s a truly captivating piece of work that’s hard to get off the turntable after the first needle drop.

In the arts, the lines between genius and madness, as well as fact and fiction, often blur. Such, it seems, has always been the life of the artist, filmmaker, actor, musician, and composer Vincent Gallo. A cult figure and a member of various creative undergrounds for the better part of half a century, Gallo has courted controversy, ruffled feathers, and made some of the most singular statements to flirt at the outer edges of popular culture that can be called to mind. Arguably most well known for his work in film, during the late '90s and early 2000s - notably with his soundtrack for “Buffalo 66” and a suite of releases on Warp - Gallo became something of a sensation in the world of independent music for a visionary, incredibly unique and sensitive approach to sonority. For a time, the world was abuzz, waiting on bated breath for more, and yet time passed. Bar a few fragments, appearing here and there, almost nothing has been heard from Gallo, within the world of music, for more than 20 years. That is, until now, with the release of “The Music of Butterfly”, the debut full-length of Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon: beautifully produced and issued by Family Friend Records - Gallo’s own label, founded in 1981 - in a deluxe edition that simply left us speechless: 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve. More or less picking up from where we last encountered him, spinning captivating melodies and gentle song-craft within the quieter temperaments of DIY, left-field pop, once again, and at long last, Vincent Gallo, encountered in an incredibly successful collaboration with Harper Simon as Butterfly, reminds us that he’s as much a force within the realm of music as he is within film. Not to be missed. This one isn’t going to sit around for long.

Vincent Gallo’s biography reads like the stuff of blaring beauty: a figure of moderate fame in his own right, who has remained at the centre of cultural ferment as the decades have rolled by. Born in 1961, in Buffalo, New York, as the story goes he ran away to New York City at the age of 16 and fell into the brewing counterculture of the Downtown scene, William Burroughs and John Giorno, in addition to the cream of his own peers, and began making paintings, music, and experimenting with film. In addition to being a member of the now legendary band Gray, with the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the filmmaker, Michael Holman, Gallo appeared in the cult 1981 film “Downtown 81”, before slowly beginning a career as an actor and catching the eye of Claire Denis, who brought his talents into the broader cultural gaze. Catapulted into the public by his own subsequent career as a filmmaker with “Buffalo '66” (1998) and “The Brown Bunny” (2003), both of which were marked by controversy and praise, Gallo further captivated the public with a partially brilliant, if not relatively brief, flurry of activity in the realms of music.

While Gallo had already been making music for roughly two decades at the time of his release of the “Brown Bunny” soundtrack, and the four release issued by Warp in rapid succession between 2001 and 2002 - “When”, “Honey Bunny”, “So Sad”, and “Recordings of Music for Film” - the almost fanatical fandom reached a fever pitch at the moment, allowing him, for some, to be regarded as much, if not more, as a musical artist than an actor and filmmaker. Anyway you cut it, in a few short years, he proved himself to be a polymath of rare talent. Somewhere along the way, while both were working as members of Yoko Ono's Plastic One Band, Gallo met the New York based, highly regarded singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Harper Simon, who also happens to be the son of Paul Simon. The pair fell into an incredibly fruitful duo collaboration, which came to be called Butterfly, and “The Music of Butterfly” being their debut full-length release.

Written, performed, and recorded by Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon in New York City between the winter of 2018 and the spring of 2019, the ten tracks comprising “The Music of Butterfly” are cumulatively a gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, making one feel like barely a moment had passed since we’d encountered his graceful hand at song-craft. Stripped back and raw, while retaining a sense of warmth and intimacy, across the length of “The Music of Butterfly” the duo of Gallo and Simon weave something completely captivating at the juncture of minimalism, experimentalism, and pop: meandering moments of texture and tone, slowly forming toward flirtations of melody that flower into song and back again. Somehow playful and light, while also remarkably emotive and personal, it’s almost as though each of these tracks crystallised out the air, unlabored and exactly as they should be without a note or beat more.

An engrossing immersion into both Gallo and Simon’s remarkably accomplished minds, having followed the path toward one another after radically different experiences and careers, “The Music of Butterfly” is one of those records that’ll be hard to get off the turntable after that first needle drop, and rarely leave the listening pile for some time to come. Issued by Family Friend Records in a beautiful deluxe edition that is unmatched even among the most stunning recent productions we can call to mind - 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve - it’s lovely to have Gallo back in the musical mix after so many years. "

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Andrew Duhon has a knack for telling the kind of stories that clearly cost the writer something to tell- the kind of honesty that feels noble and never half hearted. When a song written by a stranger heals you, even in the smallest way, that's a connection beyond entertainment, and that is the journey Andrew Duhon sets out on from his home in Louisiana. His songs are about recognizing our story as much as they are about telling his, and his coast to coast pursuits have given him a clearer view of the American Landscape than most are privy to. Still, after years of voyaging off to every corner of the country, a new sensation arises with each return home to New Orleans. From that familiar return comes The Parish Record, a snapshot of life venturing from and returning to one of America's purest cultural vignettes, and the beauty, conflict, and stories that come with it. The Parish Record was recorded at Dockside Studios in Maurice, LA, where deep in Cajun country sits a wood-panel barn engulfed in oak and cypress trees along the slow butterscotch bayou pace of the Vermillion River. In this isolated hub of Acadiana, Andrew Duhon embarked with his trio of most trusted musicians - Myles Weeks (James Hunter Six, Eric Lindell) on Bass, Jim Kolacek (Feufollet) on Drums, and Daniel Walker (Heart, Ann Wilson, Amy Ray) on Keys - to harness of the sound and feeling of their surroundings. "I wanted this record to feel like home. It wasn't time to get out of town or try out something new on this one. It was about believing in the songs from where the songs came from," Duhon says.

Rerelease of the fourth album of the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra recorded with the Guinean saxophonist Jo Maka. The title says it all: Vol.4 – Jo Maka.

The Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra was created in 1971 by an “old hand” of French free jazz, François Tusques. Free Jazz, was also the name of the recording made by the pianist and other like-minded Frenchmen (Michel Portal, François Jeanneau, Bernard Vitet, Beb Guérin and Charles Saudrais) in 1965. But, six years later Tusques had had his fill of free jazz.

So he then founded the Inter Communal, an association a name under which the different communities could become closer and compose, simply. In 1976, on the first album: L’Inter Communal, we can already hear Tusques playing without borders in the company of Carlos Andreu, Ramadolf, Michel Marre and Jo Maka (as a conclusion to this Vol. 4, we can hear them in 1977 at the Moulin de Prades Le Lez). Over the next decade, the, association kept going with concerts at the Dunois theatre, in 1980 and 1981, it welcomed old hands and new recruits (Bernard Vitet, Jean-Jacques Avenel, Jacques Thollot, Sylvain Kassap…).

If Vol. 4 – Jo Maka is an homage to the Guinean saxophonist, who passed away a few months before the release of this selection of concert recordings, it also displays a proud collective inspiration! One foot in the blues, and ears open to everything else, Tusques begins with a lament that the Company rapidly transforms into a joyful dance (“Vive la Commune”), weaves a full-blown party piece (“Poses ton fardeau et remets la machine en route”, “7 rue des prêcheurs”, “Mazir”) or gets fabulous with Mingus (“Fable Of Faubus”). And there you have it, with so many revolutions François Tusques is almost back to free jazz.

Ennio Morricone composed and arranged scores for more than 500 film and television productions, making him one of the most influential and best-selling film composers since the late 50s. The Legend of 1900 (Italian: La leggenda del pianista sull'oceano) is a 1998 Italian drama film directed by Giuseppe Tornatore and starring Tim Roth, Pruitt Taylor Vince, and Mélanie Thierry. The film is inspired by Novecento, a monologue by Alessandro Baricco. The Legend Of 1900 was nominated for a variety of international awards, winning several for its soundtrack, including a Golden Globe for Best Original Score - Motion Picture. This release includes the song “Lost Boys Calling” featuring Roger Waters & Eddie van Halen. Throughout his career, Morricone received an unprecedented amount of awards, including Grammys, Golden Globes and BAFTAs. Ennio Morricone has influenced many artists including Danger Mouse, Dire Straits, Muse, Metallica, Radiohead, Hans Zimmer, and many more. The Legend of 1900 is available as a limited edition of 2500 numbered copies on green coloured vinyl and contains an insert and is housed in a deluxe sleeve with silver foil finish.

With a growing international reputation for championing forward-thinking artists in the contemporary jazz space, Denmark"s April Records proudly presents the third album from instrumental collective Andorra. Their most ambitious undertaking yet, the audio-visual release invites audiences to fully immerse themselves in the energetic grooves, lyrical melodies, and colorful modern production that define their sound. Andorra"s eponymous 2021 debut reunited five friends who met at the Funen Music Conservatory and went on to work across a range of disciplines, from film music and orchestral work to large ensembles and chamber jazz. Realising their long-held desire to explore their collective creative potential, the ensemble describes their sound as "modern vintage", bringing together the nostalgic warmth of analog synthesis, present-day digital audio manipulation techniques, and jazz musicianship steeped in tradition. Taking a decisive step to perfect the production of their music, the quintet recorded at Lundgaard Studios - one of Denmark"s most prestigious studios - and placed the responsibility of mixing in the hands of their own synth-guru Peter Moller, whose deep understanding of the band"s sound made him best suited for the role. Taking a step back from the dark, brooding music often associated with the Nordic countries, "III" is a playful, high-energy, deep pocket collection of seven original pieces that are unapologetic in their grooving, in-your-face attitude. Driving complex drum parts, shimmering guitar textures, squelching synth pads, thick old-school bass tones, and lush timbres from Mads La Cour"s horns deliver catchy and danceable hooks as easily as they do spacious explorations of texture and vivid harmony. The entire album has been shaped into a concert film directed by photographer Jesper Van, set to premiere at select cinemas across Denmark - soon to be available online - offering global listeners a comprehensive experience of Andorra"s creative vision.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

If every significant artist has an underrated gem in its catalog, then Mirage is that album for Fleetwood Mac. An obvious return to relative simplicity after the dramatic tension of Rumours and experimental ambitions of Tusk, the 1982 album finds the band re-grouping after a brief hiatus and again climbing to the top of the charts. Extremely well-crafted, well-produced, and well-performed, the double-platinum effort distills the group’s hallmark strengths into a filler-free set that never runs short of addictive pop hooks or daft accents.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents Mirage in reference sound for the first time. The efforts co-producers/engineers Ken Caillat and Richard Dashut went to capture the splintered albeit formidable band can be heard with stunning accuracy, range, depth, and detail.

Though Rumours understandably gets a permanent spot in the audiophile hall of fame, the smooth, clear, and dynamic sonics on Mirage confirm that the record that stood as Fleetwood Mac’s last effort for five years deserves a place in the same vaunted arena. The presence and imaging of Mick Fleetwood’s percussion alone on this reissue might have you wondering how this slice of soft-rock bliss has gone under-noticed for decades. Other prized aural aspects — separation, definition, impact, tonal balance — are also here in spades.

Like much surrounding Fleetwood Mac in the 1980s, arriving at Mirage was not easy. Caillat searched for studios located outside of Los Angeles on a mission to change up the vibe of the band’s prior recording sessions. Everyone settled on Le Chateau in France, where relations between some members remained icy — and cooperation with the producers strained. Battles with exhaustion, bitterness, and addiction further informed the proceedings at the 18th century complex in the French countryside, where even communal meals were allegedly eaten in silence.

Inevitably, the feelings that co-producer Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Christine McVie, and company harbored — as well as the situations in which they found themselves — drifted into the songwriting. In its rapid ascent to rock-star royalty status, Fleetwood Mac drifted apart, embarked on solo pursuits, and found it was lonely at the top. Emptiness, the illusion of dreams, the longing for love, the want to escape to bygone times of innocence and happiness: Such themes inform a majority of the narratives. Even if the lyrics regularly take a back seat to easygoing arrangements that allow Mirage to come on like a refreshing breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.

Home to three Top 25 singles in the U.S. and having occupied the pole position of the Top 200 album charts for five weeks, Mirage rightfully resonated with the mainstream and attracted listeners on both sides of the pond. And how, via a smart blend of sugary melodies, warm harmonies, interlaced notes, nimble rhythms, taut structures, and passionate vocals. Not to mention the presence of what arguably remains Nicks’ signature song, the biographical “Gypsy,” a meditation on the loss of her close friend Robin Anderson that teems with majesty, mystery, and mysticism — and which gets an assist from Buckingham’s shaded tack piano and richly strummed guitar chords.

Its ranking as an all-time classic aside, that No. 12 hit has plenty of company when it comes to brilliant pop turns on Mirage. On the subject of Nicks, the raspy singer gets a little bit country on “That’s Alright.” Its clip-clopping pace and two-stepping progression complement subtle vocal swells that emerge during the final verse of a tune that is ostensibly about leaving but still conveys forgiveness and grace. And what would a Fleetwood Mac record be without Nicks drawing on the tools of the supernatural — cards, dreams, wolves, and the like — on the twirling “Straight Back.”

Despite the potency of Nicks’ primary contributions, Mirage seemingly unfolds as a tight competition between Buckingham and McVie — and one that ultimately ends in a draw. Buckingham’s salvos include the contagious “Can’t Go Back,” a yearning to time-travel back to the past that’s complete with hall-of-mirrors backing vocals; “Oh Diane,” out-of- left-field ear candy sweetened with hiccupped vocals and salt-and-pepper-shaken grooves; the chiming “Eyes of the World”; and “Empire State,” a delightfully fluttering track whose high-range vocals, lap harp notes, and ringing xylophones hint at the galaxies of sound that would erupt on Tango in the Night.

Then there’s McVie. As elegant, understated, and coolheaded as she’s ever been on record, she pours her heart out on cuts that revolve around her inevitable split with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. In the process, she punctuates Mirage with a characteristic not always associated with catchy pop music: emotional weight, and the sense of dreaded acceptance in the face of dreams deferred.

“I wish you were here/Holding me tight,” McVie sings over a delicate melody on the album-closing piano ballad “Wish You Were Here.” Though they hoped otherwise, for the members Fleetwood Mac, distance and separation were always close at hand. Believing otherwise, inviting nostalgia, and pretending everything was fine only amounts to a mirage.

Apollo / R&S are delighted to welcome back The Primitive Painter, aka the duo of Roman Flügel and Jörn Elling Wuttke for a timely reissue of their 1994 lost classic self-titled album of sonorous IDM.

Growing up in Frankfurt, in the 80s and 90s the duo met at an indie rock club in their home town of Darmstadt, bonding over their shared obsession with the first wave of acid, Chicago house and early Detroit techno as well as their patronage of now iconic Frankfurt club nights like The Omen or Dorian Gray or the infamous Delirium Record shop run by scene stalwarts Ata (Robert Johnson) and Heiko MSO (Playhouse).

Taking inspiration from the likes of The Black Dog and Transmat as well as seminal compilations such as Planet E’s Intergalactic Beats and Warp’s Artificial intelligence compilation the duo honed their inventive take on the Detroit techno blueprint under the monicker Acid Jesus, debuting on their freshly minted Klang Elektronik label. The label was started in conjunction with Ata and Heiko after Fluegel & Wuttke (regular patrons of the Delirium store) pressed a demo on them, muttering the immortal line; “Please listen to the tape, we are big Mr. Fingers fans.”

Through the mid ’90s the project flourished giving rise to a classic album and a brace of singles that number amongst the best of the era’s techno, winning them a influential fans most notably Sven Väth, David Holmes and Andrew Weatherall who invited them to play live at one of the legendary Sabresonic parties in London.

Alongside the success of the Acid Jesus project, the duo found great inspiration in outside of the club, including an ambient happening when the KLF came to play Frankfurt; “There were live sheep eating grass on stage while they played at Mark Spoon’s club XS”, as well as cinematic influence from the likes of Jim Jarmush and Wim Wenders. It was however the euphonic IDM grandeur of Apollo Recordings self titled compilation of 1993 that really got their creative juices flowing: “It was a ten track compilation with artists like David Morley, Model 500, Aphex Twin which still sounds so good today,” Jörn enthuses. “ It was really the trigger to go away from the Detroit sound and more towards the big melodies of B12 etc.”

Deciding to make their tribute to this style of music the duo turned out 10 tracks of gauzy, melodious electronica in a white hot fever, one after another over the ensuing months. Settling on a name for the new project they picked ‘The Primitive Painters’ taking inspiration from the band Felt. “We are both children of the C86 movement,” explains Jörn. “this attitude of noisy art school influenced rock like Primal Scream, MBV, The Jesus & Mary Chain really inspired us to take a DIY approach to our music.”

They sent the resulting demo cassette to Renaat at R&S / Apollo. “We really had no expectations,” Jörn explains. “So we were shocked and delighted when we received a fax saying that he wanted to release it”.

The resulting release was bungled by an R&S mix up that attributed the album to the duo’s own Klang Elektronik label which confused both fans and distributors alike, denying the release the critical boost and attention that it so richly deserved. Accordingly the release slipped out without much fanfare, with a chastened Fluegel & Wuttke returning to their Acid Jesus activities which would eventually lead to their blockbusting success as Alter Ego.

Over the ensuing years the reputation of The Primitive Painter album has only grown, with second hand copies (only 500 vinyl were pressed) changing hands for exorbitant amounts on Discogs, leading us to this opportune moment of a richly deserved ‘first’ release on the label for which the project was started, Apollo / R&S.

“This really brings us full circle,” says Jörn. “Apollo / R&S meant and means so much to us as artists and so it was bittersweet to not have the official release - to put that right all these years later feels really good.”

This new vinyl release comes in re-created original gatefold artwork and includes all original 10 tracks (Stoned Soul Picnic was previously on the CD only).

Sunset edition - 300 copies

Driving is Sam Wilkes’ Indie Rock record. Iit is the first release on Wilkes Records, an imprint borne of the artist’s emergent need to self-release. The songs presented here exist comfortably within the ever-expanding Wilkesian cosmos, characterized as they are by virtuosity, torqued experimentalism, and collaboration with a range of talented musicians. But Driving’s influences, its sincerity, and its allegiance to a certain pop sensibility reflects a departure for an artist who has primarily staked his claim within the experimental jazz idiom.

Take the first track, “Folk Home,” which inaugurates the album’s fecundity—a bright, green, humid, summer feel. A swirling, freakout coda of reversed vocals gives way, in no short order, to a caterwaul of flute work that conjures Van Morrison’s (in)famous Astral Weeks sessions. Standing beside Morrison, the usual suspects are all present, if somewhat abstractedly. Dylan, The Dead, Joni, the Fab Four. Wilkes has developed a reputation as an experimental jazz luminary, but his deep affinity for the pop/rock/folk idiom of the latter twentieth century rings clear throughout Driving. More so than any Wilkes release to date, Driving is a collection guided by and dedicated to the man’s attention to songcraft.

Written and recorded during a period of rain-damage induced renter’s itinerance (and the attendant desire to produce a kind of therapeutic, self-soothing, home-feeling music), Driving loosely charts the trajectory/experience of “a protagonist,” both Wilkes and not, “who has figured out how to live an enlightened and fulfilled life, but is unable to do so because he thinks about it too much.” This friction is surely relatable — a symptom of our compulsively self-aware present. But Wilkes avoids the obvious pitfalls of public hand-wringing. Rather, Driving’s nine tracks evince a genuine, and mature searching-ness, both sonically and lyrically. The ending refrain of “Own” serves like something close to a thesis— “Letting go // isn’t a concept // it’s an action.” In an attempt to beat back ego, hyper-cogitation, language itself, Wilkes arrives at an axiom that feels so true and familiar, you’d swear you’d heard it one hundred times before.

Driving’s final third is, fittingly, its most emotive and cathartic. Tracks seven and eight, “Again, Again” and “And Again,” form a diptych, joined most obviously by the jangling, recursive grooves of guitarist Daryl Johns. Wilkes is said to have encouraged Johns to go “full Lindsey Buckingham” (clearly a welcome and resonant prompt), but one also catches stray Knopfler vibes, some intermittent Fripp, and (perhaps more-so in tone than technique) the spirit of DIY prophet and jangling man himself, Martin Newell (the Cleaners from Venus). Wilkes has stated that he finds joy in creating musical environments suitable to the contribution and flourishing of his favorite musicians. Throughout Driving, and in these two tracks especially, he has more than succeeded.

The record closes with the titular track: a story-song that, according to Wilkes, poured out of him (melody, composition, and lyrics) in a single sitting. The tale is told plainly, bravely, starkly; a mistake was made, regrets have been had, and all is wrapped up in the recollection of a deeply felt adolescent heartsickness—a time when the narrator was first afire with music and automotive freedom. The song captures the moment when meaning inexplicably falls into place, when a long-nagging memory suddenly assumes narrative form, and the subsequent sense of lightness and unburdening. It is fitting that Driving, a record conceived as a form of self-therapy, should culminate with a sense of humble revelation. That Wilkes is plainly eager to share the vulnerable fruits of this labor constitutes Driving’s joyful offering.

Words by Emmett Shoemaker

Rock and Rock roots, deep down under You'd better believe it! The roots of Australian rockers AC/DC lie in the whirlwind of original fifties rock and roll.
In the early days the group would cut their teeth on the club circuit with a live set that would include a handful of band originals,a few Rolling Stones numbers plus many crowd pleasing Rock and Roll classics.
The Sydney club and bar scene was rough so you had to get the punters on your side.
With their original singer Dave Evans at the helm the group who play residencies at the likes of the New Hampton Court Hotel in Sydney entertaining with their own brand of loud guitar takes of 'Carol' and 'Bye Bye Johnny'by Chuck Berry,'Tutti Frutti'by Little Richard,as well as rocking standards like 'Shake,rattle and roll' and 'Blue Suede Shoes'.
Cranking out cover versions didn't die even when the group composed more original material,a version of 'School Days' by Chuck Berry would appear on their second album' TNT',whilst 'Baby Please Don't Go' would be pulled from their original 1975 debut album'High Voltage' and issued as a single in America.
These roots are the reason that AC/DC have become one of the best loved bands on the planet who never fail to deliver the goods everytime.......

2025 Repress

"Hydroplane reinstate their formidable 1997 debut of sublime guitar atmospherics, fragile lyricism and droning incidentals with an overdue vinyl and digital reissue.

An offshoot of the now-féted The Cat’s Miaow, the trio formed after drummer Cameron Smith decamped to London, charting new territory with tape loops, manipulated samples and a borrowed Jupiter 4 in the wake of Endtroducing. Adopting a handle that Dean Wareham once considered calling Luna, Hydroplane intended to only ever release Excerpts From Forthcoming LP, a single-sided 7” sonic collage, before imploding in mystery. Their label however insisted they deliver their taunted album. From the comfort of a Brunswick flat, they continued to record soaring melodies and restrained song structures to 4-track, sculpting dramatic Radiophonic Workshop cues weighted in reverb and near-perfect dream pop lead by Kerrie Bolton’s empyrean vocals.

Bored of industry expectation and largely ignored by local audiences, the reluctant performers followed the way of The Cannanes and formed meaningful overseas alliances by mail and phone, securing releases on Michigan outpost Drive-In and Broadcast launching pad Wurlitzer Jukebox. Championed by John Peel with twenty spins on his converted Radio One slot and even polling in Festive Fifty of 1997, the humble three-piece still walked to their neighbourhood shops undetected.

'001-015' is a "best of" compilation celebrating the first 15 sample packs made by Frollen Music Library. Launching in late 2021, the sample house has since been featured in productions by ScHoolboy Q, Leon Thomas, Devin Malik and more. This retrospective "best of" traverses a wide range of styles and moods to appeal to every music enthusiast as well as producers and songwriters alike. Whether it's bouncing Hip Hop beats or evocative cinematic etudes, FML's 3- piece house band, comprising Henry Jenkins, Darvid Thor and Hudson Whitlock have a deep love and respect for many musical styles. FML'sdiverse catalogue takes cues from the 'Third Stream' composer David Axelrod, as well as drawing upon cinematic themes from 60's and 70's Italian film score composers a la Ennio Morricone and Riz Ortolani. There are 90's New York boom bap beats, as well as synthesiser music inspired by Tonto, , utilising a locally made synthesiser from Melbourne Instruments. Jenkins, Thor and Whitlock have been playing in bands and producing music for their local music scene for the last 15 years. Recording and performing with The Cactus Channel, Karate Boogaloo, Mo'Ju, Surprise Chef and many many more. Not only is this brand-new LP a great musical collage worthy of any music library enthusiast, but also functions as a tremendous sampler demonstrating the many styles of FML. Fast, slow, sweet AND sour!

'001-015' is a "best of" compilation celebrating the first 15 sample packs made by Frollen Music Library. Launching in late 2021, the sample house has since been featured in productions by ScHoolboy Q, Leon Thomas, Devin Malik and more. This retrospective "best of" traverses a wide range of styles and moods to appeal to every music enthusiast as well as producers and songwriters alike. Whether it's bouncing Hip Hop beats or evocative cinematic etudes, FML's 3- piece house band, comprising Henry Jenkins, Darvid Thor and Hudson Whitlock have a deep love and respect for many musical styles. FML'sdiverse catalogue takes cues from the 'Third Stream' composer David Axelrod, as well as drawing upon cinematic themes from 60's and 70's Italian film score composers a la Ennio Morricone and Riz Ortolani. There are 90's New York boom bap beats, as well as synthesiser music inspired by Tonto, , utilising a locally made synthesiser from Melbourne Instruments. Jenkins, Thor and Whitlock have been playing in bands and producing music for their local music scene for the last 15 years. Recording and performing with The Cactus Channel, Karate Boogaloo, Mo'Ju, Surprise Chef and many many more. Not only is this brand-new LP a great musical collage worthy of any music library enthusiast, but also functions as a tremendous sampler demonstrating the many styles of FML. Fast, slow, sweet AND sour!

After the success of Trenchtown Rock, Small Axe, and All in One, here comes the final chapter of this quadriptych dedicated to Bob Marley’s musical legacy. Side A opens with “Treat You Right,” a vibrant declaration carried by mesmerizing rhythms, while “Don’t Rock My Boat” radiates a serene, sunny vibe. On Side B, “Chances Are” shines with its melodic tenderness, leading into the energetic “Bend Down Low,” a pure call to dance. An essential album, blending incandescent grooves with universal messages, crafted by an eternal legend.

'Through Today' is the sophomore album for rising Australian band Chimers. A husband / wife duo comprising life partners Padraic Skehan (vocals / guitar) and Binx (drums / vocals). Recorded by Jono Boulet (Party Dozen) over two days at Stranded Studios, Wollongong and mixed at Boulet’s Sydney home studio, produced by the band and veteran manager / promoter / producer Tim Pittman (Feel Presents), 'Through Today' features ten tracks of tightly-coiled intensity that barely lets up for all of its 34 mins. In enlisting Boulet, the band were confident that due to his own experience of being one half of Party Dozen, they had someone who understood the confines of working within the structure of a two-piece but also the possibilities that creates. Boulet, in turn, rewarding that trust by capturing a powerful bedrock of sound that allowed the band's taught rhythms to circle and permeate and yet give full breathing space for the melody within. For Pittman’s part, having a third ear on hand to devote serious listening time and critical commentary was an added bonus. It’s a major step forward from the band’s 2021 self-titled debut. A twelve track effort that snuck out during covid and only hinted at the power within. "Our debut felt more like just trying to capture the songs we had at the time, we weren’t sure if we’d even release it or if it would be our only album" "This time around we were intent on capturing the energy and intensity of our live show on the recording but with a more produced sound than self-titled. We worked more on song structure previous to the sessions. We rehearsed a lot playing quietly so we could actually talk to each other whilst playing the song and iron out any kinks.” “Jono turned the whole live room into a drum room, mics everywhere. The guitar amps were situated outside to prevent too much spill but still recorded live along with about half of the vocals. Second guitar and the rest of the vocals were recorded the next day. Jono was super quick and had the same work ethic and mindset, get in, get it done. If the first take was good enough, move on.” - Padraic Lyrically Chimers maintain the intensity as they tackle the themes of love, life, death and relationships, distance from home (Padraic is Irish, moving to Australia in 2001) and the current political climate providing enough drama to fuel a forest fire. Guest musicians on the album include saxophonist Kirsty Tickle - also of Party Dozen - and violinist Jordan Ireland of The Middle East. Both of whom were invited in on short notice adding their respective parts in just 1-2 takes each without any prior knowledge of the material. Binx too showing added versatility contributing lead vocals to An Echo and sharing lead across 3AM, Generator and others. “Singing is not something that comes naturally to me, and it was at the last minute before we went into the studio that Padraic suggested I sing the lead in An Echo. Having very minimal musical instruments within the band I think having the two different vocals adds a nice dynamic to the record.” - Binx 'Through Today' is a great album. Solid and confident from the get go. No waste. No unnecessary fat. Should it be Chimers last it would remain a defining statement of originality and intent. But it’s not the last, it’s just the beginning. And there’s plenty more where that came from. BIO Like many good bands Chimers are a band born of isolation, not geographically though, via the pandemic. Irish born Padraic Skehan and his life partner Binx, formed the band in their Wollongong backyard during the initial lockdown of 2020. Veterans and drummers both of the ‘Gong’s vibrant garage-scene – The Pink Fits, The Drop Offs, Evol and more – Chimers is an altogether different beast, Padraic taking a giant leap forward by removing himself from the back-seat and assuming the role of driver; singing, playing guitar and writing the songs that would eventually become their 2021 self-titled debut album. It’s a sound and album that draws heavily on Skehan’s time as a youth in Ireland and the post-hardcore sounds of Dischord Records, Husker Du, The Wipers and which has seen the band find friends and favour in like-minds The Mark Of Cain, Henry Rollins, Guy Picciotto and Mudhoney. This is no mere nostalgia though, the band instead landing at the vanguard of a new generation of Sydney and surrounds bands – Body Type, Second Idol, Dust, Private Wives, R.M.F.C – borrowing from the past in order to create a future.

Some record crates deserve a sub-category called 'play it again, Sam'. tracks that spin on the turntables without a push. Funk Kraut, Zombie Zombie's second LP on Born Bad, is of this kind. This well-proportioned classic is a fine example of the style the trio has been embodying: instrumental for synths and drums music played live. This time it was a quick affair, recorded by Laurent Deboisgisson in the studio of Cheveu's singer. A pretty straightforward job, and a far cry from their previous concept album. Let us praise Krikor Kouchian's mix: drums have been resampled with some restraint, and that Linn Drum kick lightens up the overall mix. It marks a notable evolution in the band's sound, and adds some dynamic. The album kicks off with 'No cruise control', a big bad sedan that effortlessly eats up the distance at 120 BPM. Kraut as can be, with a twist. And as far as funk goes, it's not Bootsy Collins, but there's a whiff. Space is structured by synth patterns, for optimized drumming : forward, straight and fluid, top-notch suspension (Cosmic Neman / Dr Scho?nberg take care of business on drums). They treat themselves to a diversion via Darmstadt to take some musique concrete on board : mechanical birds chirp, the odd atonal piano here and there. Nerds will appreciate liner notes detailing the equipment used : about twenty synths and they still describe it as minimal. With 'Densite?', we've just passed a polyphonic milestone: outright chords ! Long, suspended pads, pierced only by fat claps. Clapping hands are not far off. The band shows it has mastered concise pop formats. That same vibe can be found in 'Jungle the Jungle', paradoxical tune, catchy and moody at once. You'll get some brass riffs in 'Helix', which takes off on a synth moving from one speaker to another to herald the crash of syncopated drums to come.Zombie Zombie sounds ready to write themes for niche TV series.'Aurillac Accident' documents a haphazard soundcheck which, once in the studio, became a bitter ballad, breaking apart into dubby gravy. Live with two drummers performing, this aspect showcases in 'Snare Attack' and 'Double Z', with its jogging hi-hats and creepy little toy piano motifs. Cardio levels are high on 'Dodorian', perfect track for depraved spinning classes, with its moving filter, disco arpeggios and flashes of synthetic brass. 'Magnavox Odyssey', a nostalgic but bouncy synth lasagna, brings this album to a majestic close. The cover by Dddixie sets the tone with its 'Motorik Vibes & Stereo Grooves' sticker. Motorik, absolutely, it's autobahn time for 45 minutes. And when it comes to stereo grooving, the acoustic image is as wide as the canyons of Mars. DO NOT MISS THIS ALBUM (or the previous Vae Vobis)!

Mr. K with two slices of Philadelphia disco, from smooth and slinky on our A-side to all-out floor pounding disco madness on the B.

Janice McClain, rightly adored for her Garage classic “Smack Dab In The Middle” (feat. on MXMRK-2068) but her second single is a real under-the-radar treat. The comfortably laid back groove somewhere between a stepper and simmering midtempo disco, classy and danceable as the finest Philly soul. Originally on a small LA-based label in 1983 (and sounding like it could have come out a good five years earlier), written and produced by McClain’s uncle Milt Tennant and his writing partner Thom Page, the same team responsible for “Smack Dab” — all Philadelphia rooted, so the sound should come as no surprise. Add McClain’s heartfelt and uplifting vocal and we easily have a lost classic. Mr. K’s edit trims the rare 12-inch version down for maximum sonic fidelity for its first appearance in a 7-inch format.

The flip side vibe goes in a completely different direction, although once again has its roots in Philly. The disco remake of the standard “Brazil” was a massive hit for the Ritchie Family in 1975, topping Billboard’s dance charts and getting deep into the Top 20 on the Hot 100. The group itself was a studio concoction led by veteran producer Richie Rome, with legendary trio Sweethearts of Sigma handling vocals — you’ll recognize their trademark harmonies from other huge classics like “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now” and “Love Is The Message", studious listeners will detect a lot of similarities in the vamp section of “Brazil” and “Love Is…” as the MFSB house band launches into their trademark groove. This vamp section is unfortunately truncated on the original 7-inch single, but the always-attentive ear of Mr. K picks this point to begin his edit, starting where the original single faded out and giving us a full four-plus minutes of galloping disco delight.

Two flavors, both as tasty as it gets, all on one compact piece of wax! Another essential addition to your collection.

Steeped in classic dancefloor rhythms and sounds, ARTIFACTUAL RHYTHM presents a re-interpretation of club and DJ music through the lens of a live band with a jazz edge. Tapping into sounds of the 90s and 2000’s while keeping his foot very firmly in the now and beyond, Flood’s new body of work is both for the dancefloor and the listener.

Dubbed 'nu-jazz', 'jazztronica' and 'jazz house music', at its core Alex’s sound takes influence from house, UK garage, drum n’ bass, and broken beat. 'Artifactual' can be defined as 'made by human hands', and that’s exactly what Alex explores with this record; taking sounds and styles that are inherently electronic and giving them new life through the rawness of a live band underpinned by jazz and improvisational explorations. Music made by human hands.

Recorded live in a studio in Naarm / Melbourne and engineered, mixed, and co-produced by Lewis Moody (Energy Exchange Records), the album features a list of some of the finest players 'Down Under' including Erica Tucceri (flute), Finn Rees (keyboards), Dylan Paul (bass), as well as guest vocal features from the lyrical legend Cazeaux O.S.L.O on LIFE IS A RHYTHM, Kara Manasala on UK garage cut DON’T WAIT 4 ME, and New York soul queen Vivian Sessoms heating up some classic house energy on CAN’T GET ENOUGH.

Alexander Flood is one of Australia’s commanding beat-masters, possessing a unique and finessed arsenal of groove, power, and expertise on the drums. Leading his own band from the drum chair, Alex’s music pushes a fresh rhythmic and dynamic realm of live dance music leaning on nu-jazz, deep-house, broken beat, DnB, funk, and experimental sounds. The band has recently featured at Wellington Jazz Festival, Melbourne International Jazz Festival, SXSW Sydney, WOMADelaide, JazzMontez Frankfurt and various clubs across Europe and Australia.

Winning Australia’s Best Up and Coming Drummer Competition in 2016 was just the beginning of Flood’s accelerating trajectory in music. After graduating top of his University jazz degree in 2017, Alex signed with US label Stretch Music to release his debut album HEARTBEAT, followed by his sophomore release The Space Between in 2022. Later that year Alex toured Europe with heavyweight 6x GRAMMY nominee Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah’s band. While in Berlin Flood recorded his third album 'Oscillate' with an all-star lineup including Horatio Luna and Abase, releasing via Jakarta Records in May 2023. In 2023 Alexander was also the recipient of the highly prestigious Young Achiever Award at the Ruby Awards, as well as receiving the Robert Stigwood Fellowship (Government of South Australia).

2024 sees Alex join forces with Atjazz Record Company to release new music from his forthcoming album ARTIFACTUAL RHYTHM, as well as touring his band across Australia, New Zealand, Europe and the UK.

Some notable collaborators of Alex’s include Chief Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah, Abase, Horatio Luna, Atjazz, Vivian Sessoms, Cazeaux O.S.L.O, Nelson Dialect, the ASO, WASO, QSO, as well as working with brands including Red Bull Music and Istanbul Cymbals.