Поиск:out of the basement

Village Of The Sun return today with the announcement of their highly anticipated debut LP “First Light”. Due out 4th November on heavyweight vinyl via London analogue specialists Gearbox Records, the record follows their widely acclaimed double A-side single “Village Of The Sun / “Ted”. Village Of The Sun is an enigmatic collaboration between UK jazz virtuosos Binker Golding & Moses Boyd and electronic music legend Simon Ratcliffe of Basement Jaxx fame. Born out of a shared passion for improvised instrumental music, the new project sees all three of the artists steps into relatively new territory, combining their respective sensibilities to create something all at once atmospheric and danceable. Evocative of some of Simon’s inspirations such as Alice Coltrane, Airto Moreira and Masters at Work, Village Of The Sun embodies a hybrid of electronic beats, heady jazz improvisation, and sheer, raw energy, breaking ground between pseudo-Samba rhythms, dreamy ambient textures, and explosive sax and percussion. The new single “The Spanish Master” is a total embodiment of what Village Of The Sun is at it’s heart. Combining atmospheric synth lines with percussive electronics, which gently ebb around Boyd’s intricate drumming and Golding’s expressive sax. With tension building around every element the track careens into a movement of frenetic drumming, electronic idiosyncrasies, and fervent sax breakouts, which find the trio performing at their energetic, adrenaline-fuelled best. The album is truly a project of passion and exploration, and one that refuses to follow just one path. Tracks such as “Cesca” and “Tigris” emphasise Ratcliffe’s ability to weave shapeshifting keys and electronics around Golding and Boyd’s interplay, changing the mood and direction of the track at a moment’s notice. Whereas the title track “First Light” channels the sound of the current UK jazz scene with Ratcliffe imbuing a sense of dramatic tension and release with electronic atmospherics and keys that ferment alongside the almost shamanic, semi-free sax lines and uncomprimising drums. As part of one of British dance music’s biggest ever acts, Basement Jaxx, Ratcliffe and collaborator Felix Buxton led the progressive house sound in the 90s/00s with ground-breaking albums Remedy and Rooty, and by releasing a string of Top 10 singles including Red Alert, Rendez-Vu, Romeo, and Where’s Your Head At?. Ratcliffe’s own solo work includes the 1995 EP City Dreams and the 2011 EP Dorus Rijkers - both releases prove his musical versatility and virtuosity. Speaking about the Village of the Sun collaboration, Simon says, “I’ve always liked improvised instrumental music. It has this intensity and eccentricity that takes me places.

Wunderhorse is the alias of British musician Jacob Slater Jacob fronted The Dead Pretties, a London band who arrived in a haze of hedonism and hype, bowing out before the dust had time to settle. Blink and you'd have missed them. Time- stamped yet timeless. If there's any justice, he'll soon be played out live in sticky basement rooms up and down the country, limbs everywhere, sweat dripping from the walls. An absolute mess, but what a beautiful one.

Prairiewolf make easy listening music for an age of fracture. They almost do it in spite of themselves. No one can seriously question the head music bona fides of the members of this Colorado-based trio.

Guitarist Stefan Beck has already assembled a formidable discography of jewel-toned guitar zone-outs under his Golden Brown moniker. And keyboardist and guitarist Jeremy Erwin and bassist Tyler Wilcox have both made their reputations as chroniclers of the vast world of out-music. Erwin helms the indispensable Heat Warps blog, a performance-by-performance archive of Miles Davis’s labyrinthine electric period. And Wilcox has been covering the ragged edges of psychedelia and experimental rock at Aquarium Drunkard and other publications, not to mention his own virtual basement for heads, the great bootleg blog Doom and Gloom from the Tomb.

These guys come by it honestly. And yet, given their backgrounds, Prairiewolf’s self-titled debut last spring was remarkably free of face-melters, brown acid blowouts, and ascendant spiritual jazz odysseys. Instead, they dropped a record of beautiful, elegant, low-key cosmic groovers that sounded like the piped-in background music to a resort hotel on Jupiter. It was an unlikely psychedelia, brocaded with mid-twentieth century sonic threading from the hi-fi era: vintage synthesizers, smears of spaghetti western, luxe tropical details, the faint schmaltz of space age pop. Imagine something like a Harmonia residency in the airport lounge. And yet somehow it all worked brilliantly. Prairiewolf became last summer’s cool-down standard. After a year woodshedding around Colorado’s Front Range region, the Prairiewolf boys have fired up their trusty Korg SR-120 drum machine for another outstanding collection of suborbital exotica. The appropriately titled Deep Time operates in its own chronology, unspooling at its unhurried pace. All its incongruous period and stylistic references—the new age pulses, Hawaiian steel, shaggy hippie rambles, lysergic guitar spirals, and orchestral synthesizer flourishes—float atop the album’s own singular temporality. Deep Time makes its own time.

From the moment Beck folds his slide guitar, origami-like, into a sound resembling the call of gulls on the tranquil album opener, “Peach Blossom Paradise,” there is a sense of departure from everyday life. The shimmering “Lighthouse” has a similar sunbaked nonchalance, like an afternoon passed day-drinking in a seaside bar. That they named their lush, kaleidoscopic downtempo track “The Meander” pretty much says it all. The ranging, propulsive “Saying Yes to Everything” seems like a nod in the direction of Rose City Band’s brand of wookie krautrock. And the motorik noir of “Demon Cicadas in the Night” also goes hard. Beck and Erwin’s intertwined guitar jam on the eerie album standout “The Cold Curve” evolves into something that sounds like primitive computer music. A genteel bassline from Wilcox on another album highlight, “Revisionist Mystery,” sets the stage for a loopy space jazz turn from guest clarinettist Matt Loewen of Rayonism. The title of post-rock cowboy tune “Another Tomorrow” might refer to the alternative future that so many critics heard in the music of Prairiewolf’s first album. Or it might simply refer to the persistence of time, however deep. Either way,

I’m thankful for the way Prairiewolf make each of their tunes a little oasis or sanctuary, each subsisting according to its own crystalline little logic for a few minutes. It is no simple task to filter out the omnipresent anger and anxiety of everyday life these days. But Prairiewolf are out here making it seem easy.

Brent S. Sirota

The Other Sound of Music is Edition Hawara’s first compilation of forgotten Austrian treasures from the 1980s. Plucked from dusty basements, flea markets and bespoke stores across the small Alpine country, it features eight quirky and charming pieces that afford a glimpse into largely unknown but surprisingly rich musical subcultures. The lovingly curated selection brings to light early soul, boogie and proto-house productions, as well as some of the most balearic tracks that have ever been made in a landlocked country. Finally giving this music the stage it deserves, The Other Sound of Music is the definitive guide to the outer limits of the Austrian underground.

ON SAND COLOUR VINYL FOR FIRST TIME

Post-Punk? Indie-Rock? Post-Hardcore? The Van Pelt walked between all these worlds. Spoken/sung vocals, anthemic pop hooks, fiery guitars and a tightly wound rhythm section made them stand outs of the DIY basement scene they emerged from.
RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels.

ABOUT “STEALING FROM OUR FAVORITE THIEVES”:
90s NYC indie heroes The Van Pelt have had a lasting power far greater than so many of the other once bigger bands of that era have had. The sort of interest that has neither waxed nor waned over the decades since they disbanded, yet just mysteriously continues on despite their discography being out of print since the end of the last millennium. So what is it that sets them apart? Too soft to have ran with the AmRep or Touch and Go crowds, not hip enough to have made sense on Matador or Merge, ernest yet not histrionic enough to make it onto the “best emo bands” lists, not weird enough to be on bills with Arto Lindsay and Thurston Moore, etc. In a sense, their outsider status comes not from the wings, but from the dead center eye of the storm. The 90s were happening all around them, they were witnesses thereof, yet they emerged transcendent of it all. You Follow? Maybe it’s worth having a listen to see what I mean.
Barcelona’s La Castanya records is treating us with the first ever rerelease of the two Van Pelt albums to mark the 20th anniversary of Sultans of Sentiment, their benchmark album. They teased us in 2014 that this might be on the docket with the release of Imaginary Third, a collection of singles and unreleased Van Pelt tracks which were originally intended to have been the components of their third album, including the alt-famous “Speeding Train”. Now we’ll finally have access to their entire discography. The first album, Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves is an explosion of anthems belted out as if the war was already lost yet they were hoisting that tattered banner anyhow until there wasn’t a shred to salvage. The momentum coming out of that album had every major label in the States salivating at the possibility of turning them into the next Nirvana. Instead, The Van Pelt followed it up by pulling the van into the garage, leaving the engine running, funneling the exhaust into their lungs, and blissfully deciding to bow out of the race with the epic Sultans of Sentiment. Of course as the story goes, their intended financial flop was the exact opus that jettisoned them into the history books. Buy both albums. You’ll need them both.

cLOUDDEAD's debut album, compiling six 10" EPs that appeared between 2000-2001, is aurally dense and obscured. A sprawling mass of miniature beat-suites and Dadaist lyrics, this strange and beautiful 3xLP would influence a myriad of sub-genres (cloud rap, hauntology, lo-fi hip-hop, etc.) in the two decades since its initial release.

Only the three members of cLOUDDEAD – Why?, Doseone and Odd Nosdam – can speak to the group's origins, but in the context of underground hip-hop towards the end of the 20th century, their arrival makes perfect sense. Cincinnati had a vital scene; home to Scribble Jam, an annual confluence of MCs, DJs, B-boys and graffiti artists. While the trio soon relocated to the Bay Area where they co-founded the Anticon collective, their Midwestern roots – in ramshackle basements of off-campus hovels, as the "cerberus of Southern Ohio" – would remain the atomic heart of their early recordings.

As Chris Martins writes in the liner notes, "The only reason we know their names today is because of how loudly and curiously they aired their insularity. They rewrote the entire world as they knew it through their own fucked perspective, and when those mysterious 10-inches started popping up in record shops, it wasn't just a puzzle to investigate: there seemed to be a whole cosmology hidden in those grooves."

Each side of the album represents one of those elusive 10-inches, each embodying a universe unto itself. Opening salvo "Apt. A" and "And All You Can Do Is Laugh" are perhaps most emblematic of the cLOUDDEAD experience. Why? and Dose create a new language through boundless non-sequiturs, sing-song non-choruses and call-and-response hooks, while Nosdam's dexterous production shifts from crackling ambience of Flying Saucer Attack to tight Ohio Players drum breaks and oblique film samples.

Taken all together, cLOUDDEAD is an original interpretation of hip-hop in the surreal Y2K glow – a bizarre meeting point between William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and MF DOOM's Operation: Doomsday. All it took was a Dr. Sample SP-202, Tascam cassette eight-track and cheap RadioShack mic. There's truly nothing like it.

This edition has been faithfully restored by Nosdam. European exclusive version comes on clear vinyl, incl. fold-out poster and liner notes insert.

Originally released in 1997, 'Unfuckwithable' by Kent, Ohio's basement noise art punks was a mid 90s classic. Out of print for over 25 years, this repress has been remixed and remastered from the original tapes and comes with enhanced artwork and a new 12" x 36" insert on colored vinyl.

Originally released in 1997, 'Unfuckwithable' by Kent, Ohio's basement noise art punks was a mid 90s classic. Out of print for over 25 years, this repress has been remixed and remastered from the original tapes and comes with enhanced artwork and a new 12" x 36" insert on colored vinyl.

Black Cherry. Fiddlehead's debut LP Springtime and Blind is an exploration of grief both introspective and through the insight of others. Following the release of their Out of the Bloom EP on Lockin Out Records, the Boston-based band have created a debut LP that shares an anguishing, relatable story of love and loss through the catharsis of spirited, loud indie rock. Consisting of guitarist Alex Henery (also of Basement), vocalist Patrick Flynn and drummer Shawn Costa (both of Have Heart), Fiddlehead explore musical styles different from their other projects while bringing a familiar energetic and emotional core to the collaboration. Springtime and Blind stemmed from Pat's loss of his father. Flynn looks at how his mother coped with the situation- losing her spouse, her center of gravity -writing the lyrics as an emotional catharsis for both of them. While the process of writing and recording helped Flynn cope with his personal loss there's no doubt it carries a universal message that can help ease others' loneliness. A contrast to itself, Springtime and Blind is a multidimensional and relatable journey through its cathartic message and spirited instrumentals.

Leng’s San Francisco connection has long been strong, with the 40 Thieves collective – and their friend Cole Odin – providing some of the label’s most memorable releases of the last decade. That Bay Area connection comes to the fore once more on the imprint’s latest release, which sees Odin join forces with fellow San Francisco resident Marshall Watson, a long-serving producer, engineer and live performer known globally for his Balearic-minded productions.
‘Voyager’, the pair’s first collaborative single, is a genuine meeting of minds. It combines Odin’s love of low-slung dub disco, dancefloor psychedelia and low-tempo cosmic house with Watson’s
picturesque Balearic synths, sparkling piano riffs and immersive sound design. It’s this blend that dominates on the EP-opening Original Mix, an infectious workout that gets progressively more blissed-out and saucer-eyed as it progresses. Listen carefully and you’ll hear some suitably psychedelic guitar solos nestling amongst the heady washes of sound, sun-bright piano riffs and weighty bass.


Those languid, stretched-out guitar parts naturally take a more prominent role on the Extended
Guitar Mix. On this alternative take, the pair deliver a lightly tweaked take on the original groove, stretching it out while overlaying eyes-closed guitar solos, pots-and-pans percussion and a more DJ-friendly outro. It’s effectively an extended club mix – the club in question being a Bay Area basement at 5am. To round off the EP, Odin and Watson dust off their dancing shoes and pay tribute to San Francisco great Patrick Cowley. On the appropriately titled Cosmic Rave Mix, the pair swap their bass guitar for a pulsating sequenced bassline, trance-inducing synth sounds, and locked-in electronic loops designed to take you to a higher state of consciousness. By the time the track’s familiar piano refrain drops midway through, you’ll be reaching for the lasers in no time at all.

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?"

. 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

Transparent Blue Vinyl. After years of preparation, Marcus Drake emerges from the basement networks of the resistance underground to claim the first save point along his quest ahead. Welcome to Save Point 1, a universe where popular forms of the past collide at warp speed with Marcus's mutant inspirations to produce sounds and genres hitherto unknown. Save Point 1 is a visionary and singular Debut work of Avant Rock & Pop Alchemy, blown apart and reassembled under the laws of Quantum Musical Mechanics. Written, Produced & Performed by Marcus Drake, the album eludes classification, but sounds like a sci-fi fusion of musical DNA from Nine Inch Nails, Prefab Sprout, Nobuo Uematsu (the Final Fantasy video game composer), Animal Collective, Prince, Mr. Bungle, Liars, The Mars Volta, and Lil Ugly Mane. The album marks the first release under Drake's own name, and the latest since his 2017 release as Anthony Fremont's Garden Solutions_his idiosyncratic side-project with Water From Your Eyes' Nate Amos, Options' Seth Engel, and NNAMDI. He has also since scored for film and video, including the Adult Swim short Thoron the Conqueror. Save Point 1 isn't just a new beginning, but a reintroduction to Marcus Drake the artist and composer. Drake experimented with new techniques and approaches for many years while recording Save Point 1, a process that transformed his sound, voice, and artistic identity. The resulting oeuvre is giddy and dreamy, an Olympic-height diving board from which to descend through indie rock and videogame soundtracks, thrilling math-rock riffs that turn experimental, and synths that glow in rainbow hues. Just turn to the glitchpop of "Heaven's in the Rot" or the slow-motion acoustic glitter that is "Dragon It Out" to hear it in motion. And note the two-part "Haunted" suite that funnels his unpredictable experimentation into darker, weirder directions.

Heated Garage is a sonic snapshot of what happened when boundless musical energy and middle American moxie combined to create a cultural phenomenon. The tracks are drawn from a vast archive of Kay Bank master tapes - some are ultra rarities you’d be hard pressed to snatch from the collectors’ market without mortgaging a kidney. Others are alternate versions and outtakes never before released in any form! “The joke was, some bands didn’t become garage bands because it was too damn cold...you can’t go outside when it’s 25 below zero. So, a lot of people are honing their craft in their basements.” High Spirits guitarist Owen Husney explains. Knowing more about them is not only unnecessary, it would mar their mystique. They exist forever in a moment of raw rock ‘n’ roll glory that transcends time, a space shared by their Heated Garage brethren. Looking back on The Pagans’ songs, for example, Kip Sullivan says, “They feel sacred to me.” Recollecting his High Spirits adventures, Owen Husney sighs, “I would go back to those heydays in a minute.” Now he can. And we can all come along.

Repress!

The seventh release on M.A.D Records - label bosses Make A Dance are back.

The El U Vee E.P sees the London duo serve up an eclectic mix of influences from across the board. ‘Cool Girls’ opens with italo arps, gated snares and seductive vocal samples. Title track ‘El U Vee’ follows, blending house heat with a dash of Latin spice. This is a love-song body groover.

Flip it over and find the percussive basement jam ‘Oh Yeah’, before ‘No Way Out’ rounds off the EP with an acid tinged, new beat blend of M.A.D.ness.

The 1980 space disco hit you probably never heard of. Now officially remastered including new stunning edits by Peaking Lights and Korkut Elbay. Picture sleeve with an outstanding painting by Antonia Freisburger.

'Inside' with loads of synths and some vocoder on top is a wild jam that is propelling more and more into a frenzy during its course.

Following the orginal is a dancefloor-edit by Korkut Elbay which puts the vocal part into focus. Korkut Elbay, part of the Cómeme camp and an integral part of Cologne's electronic music scene for over 20 years, crafted an edit in its purest form.

On the flipside Aaron Coyes of the California-based duo Peaking Lights stretches out the original and reaches higher grounds with his stomping rework. He gently adds some more keys and puts you into a trance with his soothing melodies. Now dance!

But what's the story behind this unearthed gem stone? In the late 1970s a marketing company owner faced an increasing competitve market and wanted to work indepently from the professional studios which were charging high rates for commercials back then. The solution was to build his own sound studio. So he set one up in the basement of his company in Saarbrücken, Germany. He hired a studio operator and a composer that got quite a reputation in the local scence back then and besides daily job routines 'Inside' was created.

In partnership with Hollywood Records and Regency Enterprises, Waxwork Records is thrilled to present BARBARIAN Original Motion Picture Music by Anna Drubich. Barbarian is a 2022 American Horror film written and directed by Zach Cregger in his solo screen writing and directorial debut. The film stars Georgina Campbell, Bill Skarsgård, and Justin Long. The plot follows a woman finding out that the rental home she has reserved has been accidentally double-booked by a man, not knowing of a dark secret within the dwelling. Anna Drubich is an award-winning film composer from Moscow. Her diverse body of work includes live action features, animated features, television series, documentaries, and plays and concert halls across the world. Anna has score over 35 major film and TV projects including a co-score with Oscar-nominated composer Marco Beltrami on the Guillermo Del Toro adaptation of Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark, Netflix's hit feature Fear Street: 1994, the horror-comedy Werewolves Within, and more. Waxwork Records is proud to present BARBARIAN Original Motion Picture Music as a deluxe vinyl album featuring 180 gram "Mother's Milk & Blood" splatter colored vinyl, heavyweight gatefold jackets with matte satin coating and UV spot-gloss varnish, new artwork by Steven Reeves, and an 11"x11" art print insert!

Nach der allerersten Vinylauflage im Dezember 2023 (Forest Green Vinyl), folgt nun eine weitere Vinyledition des dritten Albums THE COLD STILL (2010) der britischen Indie-Rock-Band The Boxer Rebellion, diesmal auf Green Swirled Vinyl. Produziert wurde THE COLD STILL von Ethan Johns (Kings Of Leon, Rufus Wainwright, Ryan Adams) in Peter Gabriels Real World Studios.

US House Music legend Teddy Douglas of Basement Boys and Jasper St. Co. fame gets set to unleash his first solo artist album, ‘I’m Here’, on the iconic label, Nervous Records. Teddy has gone all out to deliver one of his most creative and musically diverse albums to date. ‘I’m Here’ is a colourful pallet of meaningful songs and grooves that reach far beyond Teddy’s signature soulful Baltimore House sound, with added infusions of Funk, Rock and Jazz, yet still loaded with plenty of Teddy’s trademark House and Disco sounds that we all know and love.

Across the album he’s pulled together an array of heavyweight international vocal talent including; UK vocal diva Pauline Taylor; Danish award winning Folk and Blues artist, Richard Farrell; Chi Town Hip House legend, Fast Eddie; dance music’s legendary No.1 vocal queen, Ultra Naté; up and coming Brit Soul talent, Sipho; and Buckshot from Blackmoon appearing as BDI Thug. From the shimmering cover of The Frontline Orchestra’s ‘Don’t Turn Your Back On Me’ with Pauline Taylor on the vocals, to the downtempo rocky vibes of ‘Help!’ with Sipho delivering a spine-tingling gravelly vocal, ‘I’m Here’ is testament to Teddy’s finely tuned expert musicianship and impeccable knack for penning great songs and delivering vibrant covers.

Baltimore’s Teddy Douglas has produced everyone from Michael Jackson, Lenny Kravitz, Crystal Waters, Erykah Badu, Martha Wash and Ultra Nate’ and was an important figure in the development of the Baltimore “House” Sound. Teddy has held down a long and successful DJ career since 1983 staring out in Baltimore and spreading his wings globally gracing the decks at clubs such as Yellow in Japan to London’s Ministry of Sound and beyond. In 1985 he met Jay Steinhour and Thommy Davis, who later formed The Basement Boys production company. The Basement Boys have produced countless dance classics like Crystal Waters’ 1991 Gold single, ‘Gypsy Woman’. In the mid 90’s Teddy Douglas and Jay Steinhour opened Basement Boys Records and released club anthems from Teddy Douglas, Jasper St. Co., Ann Nesby, Those Guys, DJ Spen, Byron Stingly, Karizma, Kenny Bobien, Taja Seville and more

"A group of tried-and-true musicians got together and found the sort of camaraderie and kinship you typically only find once in a lifetime. They didn’t overthink it. They didn’t waste a second. They simply left their blood, sweat, and tears on tape—like they’ve always done. For as much as Better Lovers represents the union of former Every Time I Die members Jordan Buckley guitar,Steve Micciche [bass], and Clayton “Goose” Holyoak [drums] with The Dillinger Escape Plan and Killer Be Killed frontman Greg Puciato [vocals],and musician (Fit For An Autopsy/END) and GRAMMY® Award-winning producer, Will Putney [guitar], it really cements the bond of five friends around a shared vision. That vision is as uncompromising, unapologetic, and undeniable as anything they’ve individually done, yet it’s refined by experience and a commitment to a future together. They’re in it for the long haul... “To me, this band is refreshing,” exclaims Jordan. “Looking back, I’m so happy everything got me to where I am. The pandemic and the last few years made me hungrier and more grateful. This isn’t a hobby. This isn’t temporary. This is the next evolution for each of us. Greg and Will rejuvenated me and made me even more confident.



Now, everybody needs to know we’re a wild animal that just broke out of the zoo—there’s no trying to put it back in the cage.” “Better Lovers definitely feels like its own thing,” states Greg. “I’m in so many lanes right now, so it was important that one lane didn’t step on another. However, nothing I’m doing is this vicious. This is full-on scathing. It’s been really fun. I forgot how much I liked that.” As the story goes, Jordan ended up back in Buffalo, NY, jamming in a basement rehearsal spot with Steve and Goose during the winter of 2022. After working with Will on the last two Every Time I Die records, they shared a handful of early demos with him to produce. As the year progressed, Jordan caught Greg on the road with Jerry Cantrell in Las Vegas, mentioning the new music. Once ideas solidified, he shared them with the vocalist who replied at 3am one night in December. “The text said, ‘Let’s give these motherfuckers what they want’,”chuckles Jordan. “I went to bed smiling and laughing. There is no one like Greg on stage, off stage, or over text. Once I told Will, he was like, ‘Can I play?’ We said, ‘Of course!’ That’s how it was born.” “Once I pick up the scent, I’ll go for the kill,” smiles Greg. “We’ve all hung out, gotten to know each other, and it’s all fire now. Everyone has already been through shit. You know yourself better. Your ego isn’t as big as it used to be. You can share your opinions. It’s a cool dynamic.” Fittingly, they introduce this era with the single “30 Under 13.” A seasick guitar groove bleeds into an incisive riff punctuated by Greg’s vitriolic and venomous screams, “Hold onto me, try to let go of me, let go of what you’ll never be. ”This barrage unpredictably subsides on a haunting clean vocal, only to ramp back up into a pit-splitting thrash crescendo and rapid-fire solo played at warp speed. “We always try to up our game,” notes Jordan. “This is the next step for all of us. There’s just constant forward motion, and we don’t want to compromise that. We want to keep going. We’re doing a lot of shit we haven’t done before in Better Lovers. I’m not going to spoil it for you, but get ready.” “For some reason, this song got me,” recalls Greg. “Once that happens, you have the toe of the dinosaur skeleton in the dirt. You start brushing it away, and soon you have a fucking T-Rex.” The name might give you a hint of what’s coming—or it might not. So, what does the future hold for Better Lovers? Well, it’s entirely in their control. Expect a lot of touring. Expect more music. Expect these five guys to leave a trail of destruction in their wake—really would you want anything less? “We feel like we’re going to explode if we sit around any longer,” Jordan leaves off. “This is my life’s work. I learned all of my lessons, passed all of the tests, and took all of the right turns and the wrong turns. It turns out what I thought were wrong turns got me here, and that’s all that matters. I have no regrets. I know this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” “I just want you to view this on its own merits,” Greg concludes. “I hope it reaches some new people. For me, the enjoyment is making the music and putting it out. The second it’s released, I don’t look back. You drop the bomb and keep flying the plane. You don’t circle back to see how much destruction you cause. You keep moving, which is what we’re going to do.” "