Cerca:one one one

2024 Repress
"You've got to listen to this band, you'll really like them, I know." A Colourful Storm presents the first-time vinyl issue of one of the true treasures of modern pop music: Blueboy's The Bank Of England. The group of Paul Stewart, Keith Girdler, Cath Close, Ian Gardner and James Neville are Sarah Records royalty alongside The Field Mice, Heavenly, The Wake and The Orchids, and this is the final recording from arguably the most beautiful, afflicted band of 90's indie-pop and DIY. Mastered from the original recording tapes with assistance

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

On How It Ends (?), slinky melodies snake through nocturnal atmospherics, drawing you into a world built on poetic, painterly lyricism. Night Crickets, a long-distance groove affair that materialized during the drawn-out days of lockdown, has emerged once again to soundtrack our waking dreams.

David J (Bauhaus, Love & Rockets), Victor DeLorenzo (Violent Femmes) and multi-instrumentalist Darwin Meiners spearhead a loose collective of like-minded creative souls whom, through sheer tenacity and a burning desire to collaborate and create, transcend the restrictions of space and time. Audio files shared from Los Angeles to Milwaukee, from London to the San Francisco Bay, and the ghosts of Candlestick Park shimmer through the fog, coalescing in a glorious ‘gesamtkunstwerk’ that draws from the past, the present and the imagined future.

Declaring Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Violent Femmes iconic, foundational bands in the history of alternative music would receive little pushback from those in the know. San Francisco born artist Darwin Meiners is a fan of all three. A chance meeting with David J grew into a friendship, and Darwin not only became a bandmate, but his manager. After reaching out to Victor DeLorenzo through e-mail, Darwin met the Violent Femmes drummer after their set at Coachella. Soon, after the three collaborated on Darwin’s 2014 release Souvenir.

As the pandemic took hold, Darwin was looking for a new project to occupy the lock down time and approached Victor, who was keen to proceed and suggested that David join as well. The musical trust established between these three was immediate and Night Crickets were born. Within weeks a global process was initiated between them, the recordings eventually forming the album, A Free Society.

Following that release, inspired by how well – and quickly – they all worked together, the trio kept up their collaboration. “We are each free to discover musical connections that could only exist in an ideal creative setting” explains Victor. “We are very lucky to have three musicians who write, sing and play various instruments in one trio… our egos seem to melt into one when we face musical decisions, so our expeditions are always filled with pure discovery, humor and drive!”

How It Ends (?) was crafted with the same collaborative spirit as A Free Society. Each member contributed contributed unique elements to spur their collective creativity—whether a drum pattern, a lyrical concept, or a musical idea—and together, they expanded these initial sparks into the finished work. True to their approach, much of what you hear was captured in the first take, reflecting a genuine, unfiltered moment.

The music on the How It Ends (?) is a true evolution of the debut album. It is deeper and darker. Having said that, the dark tone is alleviated by a healthy measure of the buoyant, bouncy and melodic. “Much of the new material is very psychedelic and the contrast between this heavy, dark psychedelia and the more uplifting pop elements puts me in mind of The Beatles’ ‘Revolver’ album to some degree,” tells David J. “The recording process for the new album was exactly the same as the first in that we all recorded remotely, taking turns to share files and reacting spontaneously to the previous track, overdubbing then passing on once again until we all felt that the track was done.”

“While we didn’t start with a specific theme, the album emerged as a contemplative exploration of endings” says Darwin. “It touches on the loss of individuals, the shifting of ideas, and the fragility of systems. Beneath this sense of darkness and finality, however, there are threads of beauty and glimpses of hope. We invite you to immerse yourself in the album and experience the journey we’ve embarked upon.”

The 24 songs on this double album are in some ways a completion. Together with Young Man Songs here are nearly all the songs Kerry Lee Crabbe and Daryl Runswick wrote (and Daryl sang) which are good enough to be issued. The subject matter here is wider ranging than on Young Man Songs:love songs, but also family, heroes and antiheroes, zen, celebration, nostalgia, philosophy, life and death.

Daryl Runswick writes: "I first set Kerry Lee Crabbe's words to music in 1967; for the last time in 2010. Our most prolific period was 1970-1980 during which time we had considerable success as a songwriting team, though we didn't have big hits. The pinnacle for us was when Cleo Laine recorded a whole album of our songs (One More Day: well worth looking out for on vinyl or CD). There are a number of reasons for our lack of hits: songwriting was for neither of us our main job - not 'the principal source of his revenue' as Paul Simon put it (One Trick Pony) - we did it in our spare time. Also, neither of us had any interest in being an entrepreneur, nor did we employ a manager to push the songs; also, perhaps we were snobs who disdained moneygrubbing; but perhaps the main reason was that these are art songs: art songs in the style of pop music, yes, but not aimed (other than tangentially) at the commercial market.

We'd have loved to have hits but that's not why we did it and we didn't bother overmuch flogging our wares around. Kerry and I were introduced to one another as undergraduates at Cambridge University. Kerry had written the book and lyrics for a musical (Someone is Squeaking) and I was instructed by Clive James, then President of the Footlights Club where I was Musical Director, to compose the songs. It was put on at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 1967 with Julie Covington in the lead role. Kerry directed and I was musical director, playing piano in the accompanying trio. After that summer I went down to London to be a jazz bass player while Kerry had a further year at Trinity College, Cambridge. After he came down, we got together again and continued making songs."

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Fresh rhythms. Gorgeous melodies. A powerful yet full touch that pleasantly stirs the emotions of the listener. The origins of the great pianist Masaru Imada are here.

Masaru Imada has been active as a professional since the 1950s and now has a career spanning 70 years. He has been at the forefront of music from hard bop to fusion, and has released over 30 titles as a leader. He is one of Japan's leading pianists in both name and reality. His powerful yet full touch creates a sound that pleasantly stirs the emotions of the listener. His first album, "Maki," can be said to be the origin of this. The performances by the trio or one horn quartet are so fresh and beautiful. The carefully woven "Autumn Leaves," the dynamic "On Green Dolphin Street," the ambitious "Gad," the ballad "Maki" dedicated to his beloved daughter, and the hot and cool "Sea Horse."

From standards to originals, his talent is fully displayed throughout the album. Released as part of the Victor "Japanese Jazz" series, this is an undoubted masterpiece. - Yusuke Ogawa (UNIVERSOUNDS / DEEP JAZZ REALITY)

Feiern Sie die Weihnachtszeit mit der beliebten Weihnachtssammlung von Sufjan Stevens, ,Silver & Gold: Songs for Christmas, Vols. 6-10", die jetzt zum ersten Mal seit ihrer ursprünglichen Veröffentlichung 2012 wieder auf Vinyl im Handel erhältlich ist. Dieses umfangreiche Set enthält fast drei Stunden festliche Musik, darunter 18 Eigenkompositionen und kreative Interpretationen von Weihnachtsklassikern. Die 6-LP-Kollektion (vier Einzel-LPs und eine Doppel-LP) im Schuber zeigt Stevens' einzigartige Herangehensweise an Weihnachtsmusik, die Folk, Indie-Rock und experimentelle Klänge miteinander verbindet. Von intimen Weihnachtsliedern bis hin zu ausgedehnten Orchesterarrangements zeigt ,Silver & Gold" Stevens' künstlerische Vielseitigkeit und seinen kollaborativen Geist, was es zu einer unverzichtbaren Ergänzung jeder Weihnachtsmusiksammlung macht.

based songwriter Henrik Appel returns with third album Shadows. Ranging from freewheeling garage rock to intimate moments, and adding touches of jazz, Shadows is inspired by the likes of Bob Dylan’s Blond on Blonde and The Fall’s Hex Enduction Hour and another step of his continued evolution as a songwriter and artist.

For as long as he’s been a solo artist, Henrik Appel has been in a constant state of evolution. His first album, 2018’s Burning Bodies, was a meticulous construction project, one that came togeth-er over a five-year period and that saw him chronicle, with searing honesty, the slow death of a relationship, with its nine songs written according to a stringent set of self-imposed rules, intend-ed to keep the songwriting minimalist and bare-bones in nature.

His 2021 follow-up, Humanity, represented a remarkable progression of its own. It was born out of a break-up of a different kind, this time with his former bandmates in Stockholm outfit Lion’s Den; piecing together aspects of the vision he’d had in mind for the band’s never-realised second al-bum, he built from them his own sophomore LP, one that took the classic feel of Burning Bodies and imbued it with adventurous new influences, as he began to carve out a genuinely singular sound.

Now, three years on from Humanity, Appel has made another ambitious left turn. Neither of his first two albums were made in complete isolation; on both, he enlisted the production services of Stockholm underground legend Martin ‘Konie’ Ehrencrona, and also collaborated on his lyrics with his partner, Emma Lind. Now, on this thrilling reinvention of a third record, Appel has turned away from perfectionism, placing chief importance instead on making a raw, human record.

Making a return to his Chronicle alias for the first time since 2001, Tim Cant brings his unique blend of laid back atmospherics to the Spatial family for the first time with Time and Space on Curvature. Sit back, relax, or dance Chronicle has you covered for either with this welcome return to the scene.

A1 Geosynchronous
Getting straight to business with an intro of thick Hot Pants breaks, Geosynchronous sees Chronicle bring his unique take on atmospherics to Curvature in welcome style. An early breakdown with synths and subtle melodies is followed by a dreamy layer of two step amens and 808 basslines, completing a collage of beats as the increasingly memorable melodies slowly weave their story throughout the track.

A2 Life On Earth
A dream like, reflective affair is up next with Life On Earth Chronicle returning to the late 90s vibe of the moniker with a plethora of classic FX, vocal samples and long constant synthwork cascading above. Utilising a simple but effective core melody, danceable two step breaks and layers of detail that would fit in any retrospective set from the Progression Sessions era to the modern renaissance, this is one to savour.

B1 Future Fragments
A real treat for fans of synthy, sci fi tinged atmospheric goodness from eras gone by as Chronicle transports you to 99 Shepherds Bush Empire you had to be there now you can be with a track that encapsulates the era perfectly. Drizzling the mix with frequent echoing effects and washes of spacey synths and pads over an earworm melody not to mention the crisp rolling breaks this is a versatile and enduring track youll keep going
back to.

B2 Nostradamus
Closing out the EP, we have Nostradamus which opens lightly with hi hats and airy padwork before finely edited old school breakwork injects energy to the mix.
The breaks build with additional elements creating a very danceable and rhythmic loop, punctuated by a catchy melody. One sample proclaims The Future Is Power - if its in the hands of producers like Chronicle, effortlessly channeling the past with a modern twist, we know
we are in good hands.

Words by Chris Hayes Spatial Red Mist

Arthur Russell first visited The Gallery in 1976 with his then boyfriend Louis, who introduced him to Nicky Siano. Arthur became a regular at the space and one night as Siano was playing “Turn the Beat Around”, which had just been released, Arthur waved at him from outside the booth and asked to come in. Nicky opened the door and Arthur suggested they make a record like this together. This ended up being a huge step for Siano as it marked the first ever production by a DJ making a record from scratch.

Arthur had written a song and had an arrangement for it so they assembled a band featuring Wilbur Bascomb who was one of Nicky’s favorite bassists, as well as, Allan Schwartzberg, David Byrne, Miriam Valle, Peter Gordon and Peter Zummo who were all friends of Arthur’s. Russell played the cello and piano – and that was the band. They recorded throughout 1977 and the “Kiss Me Again” 12 inch was finally released in 1978 on Sire Records selling more than 300,000 copies.

Week–End Records is proud to release the first ever reissue by this outstanding disco production. Remastered from the original tapes. With liner notes by David Byrne, Nicky Siano, Peter Gordon and Peter Zummo.

In the age of streaming platforms and social media, stimulation is easy to come by. Real pleasure, however_the kind that feeds our soul rather than draining it_is in shockingly short supply. The second LP by THUS LOVE is full of that kind of nourishing euphoria. It swoons, shakes, and swaggers with a combination of grit and sensuality that's been hard to locate in music lately. It's called, fittingly, All Pleasure. The album came out of a period of dizzying growth and transformation for the group. When they began work on it, vocalist/guitarist Echo Mars and drummer Lu Racine were still reeling from the runaway success of their 2022 debut Memorial_a set of lush, elegant post-punk that brought praise from The FADER, the NME, and the Guardian_along with processing the departure of the founding bassist. With All Pleasure, the band re-formed with new bassist Ally Juleen and guitarist/keyboardist Shane Blank. The group convened in a barn in the woods that Mars had transformed into a recording studio, and kept one rule at the forefront: "If it's not joyful, don't do it." What emerged from that mission is a stunningly gorgeous album, full of big, arcing melodies and a range of kinky stylistic twists that will surprise listeners who know the group just for Memorial's chorus-drenched 80s-style psychedelia. "Birthday Song" gives grungy glam rock with a transcendent hook that underlines Echo's lyrical tribute to communal joy. "Get Stable" transmutes existential panic into sharp-angled punk pop. The anthemic title track is something like the album's mission statement, paying tribute to the power of joyful creation. Mixed by Matthew Hall and Rich Costey and mastered by Bob Weston, All Pleasure was recorded as live as possible, capturing the sheer infectious ecstasy that comes from sharing space together and making a divine racket. Put on All Pleasure, tap into the energy that THUS LOVE is putting out, and you just might find an escape.

While far from a household name in reggae, Judah Eskender Tafari cultivated a loyal fanbase and respectable catalogue during his recording career. The Studio One single, "Rastafari Tell You" sits at the top of a small set of deep cuts he recorded for Coxson Dodd's famed studio starting in 1978. These have continued to find a place at roots reggae sound systems and DJ rub-a-dub parties after nearly five decades. The earnest lyrics and spiritual mission of these early recordings would define Judah's entire career, extending through the decades to "Great Escape", a new Daptone 45 produced by label stalwart Victor Axelrod. The song alludes to the Old Testament in a vision of mankind gone astray, trying to escape the confines of Earth for salvation. Axelrod provides a lush roots backdrop against which Eskender shines in a way we haven't heard in years.

Trust Fund, hinter dem der britische Singer/Songwriter Ellis Jones steht, kehrt mit einer neuen LP zurück. Das fünfte Album "Has It Been A While?" wurde Anfang des Jahres in Sheffield gemeinsam mit dem Produzenten und engen Freund Joe Mackenzie Todd aufgenommen. Fans von Jones" feinfühligem, geistreichem und nahbarem Songwriting mussten sich für eine ganze Weile gedulden. Sein letztes Album ist vor sechs Jahren erschienen: "Bringing the Backline" erhielt Lob u. a. von Pitchfork, Rolling Stone und The Guardian, doch Trust Fund wurde direkt im Anschluss auf Eis gelegt, da einige Bandmitglieder Familien gründeten und Jones nach Norwegen (und dann nach Kanada) zog, um eine akademische Karriere zu verfolgen. Oder wie er selbst sagt: "Ich wurde 30, zog weg und dachte, dass ich das jetzt wohl bleiben lasse". Erfreulicherweise konnte er es nicht bleiben lassen Die Einsicht, dass es mit dem Musikmachen doch noch nicht vorbei sei kam einher mit der Entwicklung eines gereiften Stils. Während bei frühen Trust-Fund-Alben eine diffuse Indie-Rock-Ästhetik im Vordergrund stand, reduziert Jones seine Songs auf "Has It Been A While?" auf klassische Gitarre und Gesang, unterstützt von ergreifenden Streichquartett-Arrangements von Maria Grig. Geblieben ist die lyrische Finesse von Trust Fund, die sich hier besonders in Tracks wie "The Mirror" (ein Duett mit Celia MacDougall von Radiant Heart) zeigt, in dem der prahlerische Protagonist allzu gern den Spiegel als TV nutzen würde.

Founded in the late 1960s by record store owner Seidou
Adissa, Albarika Store is one of the most important
independent record labels on the African continent. That
it was founded in the relatively small ex-French colony
of Benin (then still called Dahomey), is a testament to its
founder’s musical taste and vision for what the local
musical scene had to offer.
This September, Acid Jazz releases the first ever vinyl
and CD overview of the label and its music, compiled by
David Hill of The Soul Revivers and West African
musical expert Florent Mazzoleni, who also wrote the indepth notes.
The compilation provides a look into what was a
developing and then thriving post-colonial music scene.
It focuses on the label’s biggest and most prolific act
Orchestre Poly-Rhythmo and its founder Melome
Clement – who released under a variety of names often
spotlighting on the musicians’ key to their sound. It also
looks at the other established artists on the label such
as the incendiary Les Sympathics De Porto Novo and
Les Volcans. All of these artists create a unique mix of
Westernised Funk, Soul and Latin sounds crosspollinated with the traditional music of the region.

Anadol and Marie Klock have teamed up for a joint album, La Grande Accumulation. They met two years ago at a festival in England crowded with violent seagulls and outsider musicians. Klock being prone to barking on stage and Anadol not laughing at jokes she doesn’t find funny, they straight away had the intuition that they would meet again. And so they did, a few months later, at Anadol’s studio in Istanbul.

Today, the two Pingipung artists present the fruit of this musical friendship. La Grande Accumulation was born out of the peculiar atmosphere of the studio neighbourhood in Büyükada, an island where thousands of cats run free and humans randomly destroy things during apocalyptic times when parts of Turkey had just been turned into dust by terrible earthquakes. The French lyrics are inspired by hours of conversations, the music is consequently drenched in absurdity, overflowing with a strong urge to live and enjoy. According to the LP sticker, this album has been certified “Best handshake of 2024”, and stickers never lie.

La Grande Accumulation brings together Marie Klock's mysterious metaphors and Anadol's intriguing radiophonic psych-pop. Stretching forms beyond common sense to see how long they can resist is probably their favourite game. The result are six highly imaginative tracks that challenge the sub-3-minutes standards of Spotify pop.

Gözen Atila aka Anadol is well known to the Pingipung audience, with three solo LPs on the label. Her music follows a kind of collage logic, she interweaves countless styles, combining field and studio recordings with obscure quotation marks here and there. "I hope no one will come and explain this music to me, because it's the most beautiful music there is", says Kristoffer Cornils about her solo album Felicita.

Marie Klock is a French writer and musician who produces songs oscillating between synthpop and neo-folk, full of anarchic humour and existential dread. Her recent solo LP on Pingipung was a captivating tribute to the recently deceased poet Damien Schultz entitled Damien est vivant.

Marie Klock delivers her lyrics in song or spoken word, stream-of-consciousness musings on strange human adventures, and her rich keyboard melodies culminate in a nonchalant dialogue with the bass trombone (La Reine des Bordels). In the opulent opening piece (La Grande Accumulation), a woman is cursed to take home everything she kicks in the street; a bit later, we stumble upon a ghoul hiding in the gutter (Sirop amer), Mona Lisa loses her teeth (Sonate au Jambon) and a warthog struggles to climb the stairs of a silver tower (Sabots triviaux).

La Grande Accumulation was mixed and mastered by Jonas Romann at Chaos Compressor Club in Hamburg and cut to vinyl by Kassian Troyer at D&M in Berlin. It's an audiophile LP that invites to focus on every detail in this heap of musical ideas.

Following his debut on Planet E Communications last year to release Art-O-Fact, New Jersey-born and-based house music legend Junior Sanchez now teams up with longtime friend, label boss and techno icon Carl Craig for a brand new Remix EP. “Art-O-Fact (Detroit Remix)” injects the futuristic sound of Carl’s hometown, the EP also includes a ‘Beatless’ mix and a ‘Bass’ mix, which split the new Detroit Mix directly in half, with one focused on melody and the other on rhythm.

Sanchez initially brought “Art-O-Fact” to Planet E with Detroit in mind. “I loved so many records by Carl Craig, Derrick May, Kevin Saunderson, and Juan Atkins,” he says. “I let my inspiration guide me, and I thought about that city—what it meant to me and what techno meant to my heart.” To fully connect the dots, Carl Craig has hopped on the remix, reinforcing the eclectic synth work with a heavy new groove, a gritty bass line, and subtle, shadowy synth melodies. The result is a fortified connection between two scenes and eras that sonically toes the line.

A Willed and Conscious Balance is the first album of material arranged for an ensemble by multi-instrumentalist composer Tomin Perea-Chamblee. The bulk of the album was recorded in one day at The Bunker in Brooklyn, NY by IARC house engineers Dave Vettraino and David Allen, and features a truly incredible lineup that includes members of Irreversible Entanglements and jaimie branch"s FLY or DIE. Tomin"s work with this group of veteran musicians is singular though, instantly setting this material apart from the discographies of its contributors.

A Willed and Conscious Balance is the first album of material arranged for an ensemble by multi-instrumentalist composer Tomin Perea-Chamblee. The bulk of the album was recorded in one day at The Bunker in Brooklyn, NY by IARC house engineers Dave Vettraino and David Allen, and features a truly incredible lineup that includes members of Irreversible Entanglements and jaimie branch"s FLY or DIE. Tomin"s work with this group of veteran musicians is singular though, instantly setting this material apart from the discographies of its contributors.

Das im November 2000 erschienene dritte Studioalbum von Ivy, Long Distance, wird von vielen als ihr Durchbruch angesehen. Es ist stark von Trip Hop und New Wave beeinflusst, behält aber die Mischung aus Indie-Pop und Rock bei, für die sie bekannt geworden waren. Long Distance enthält einige der bekanntesten Songs von Ivy wie ,Worry About You", ,Undertow" und ihren unverkennbaren Hit ,Edge of the Ocean". Diese 25-Jahres-Jubiläumsausgabe enthält das unveröffentlichte Outtake ,All I Ever Wanted", produziert von Lloyd Cole im Jahr 1996 während der Aufnahmen zu ihrem Album Apartment Life. Als weitere Bonus Tracks sind außerdem ein Remix und das Original-Demo von ,Edge of the Ocean" enthalten.