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Carole King’s The Legendary Demos will be released April 24th, 2012 via Hear Music / Concord Music Group. A previously unreleased collection of 13 history-making Carole King recordings of some of her most celebrated songs, The Legendary Demos traces King's journey from her days as an Aldon staff writer in the 1960's, where she crafted hit after hit for other artists, to the dawn of her own triumphant solo career in the 1970's, and contains her original recordings of future standards like "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman," "It's Too Late," and "You've Got A Friend." Featuring liner notes by acclaimed author and Rolling Stone contributing editor David Browne, the collection brings to light a heretofore missing link in the chain of King's career. Fittingly, The Legendary Demos serves as a companion to King’s long-awaited memoir, A Natural Woman, which is being released April 10th, 2012 via Grand Central Publishing.

Aldon Music used these demos—short for “demonstration records”—to pitch King's material to other artists, from Gene Pitney and Bobby Vee to Aretha Franklin and the Monkees. While the recordings have long been coveted and collected within the industry, they have never before been released to the public.

Whether it was a potential single for the Monkees or a solo performer like Pitney, King’s demos were remarkable in their completeness. “When she sat down to the piano and played a demo of one of her songs, the whole arrangement appeared right in front of your eyes magically,” recalls Brooks Arthur, who engineered a number of these efficient sessions for King at one of several midtown Manhattan studios. “A lot of the smarter producers would adhere to Carole’s demos. If you stuck to that, you’d come home a winner.”

King and then-husband / songwriting partner Gerry Goffin signed with Aldon Music in 1959, and anyone who listened to the radio during the first half of the ‘60s will recognize the songs of teen passion and devastating heartbreak heard in King’s original recordings. “Take Good Care of My Baby” was a No. 1 hit for Bobby Vee in 1961. Goffin’s gift for tapping into teen anguish—in this case, hiding behind a stoic public face—was never conveyed better than in “Crying in the Rain,” which the Everly Brothers took into the top 10 in early 1962. “Just Once in My Life” was the Righteous Brothers’ follow-up to their still-spine-tingling “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’,” and King’s demo reveals how she and Goffin were instantly able to tap into the duo’s (and producer Phil Spector’s) dramatic, impassioned sound.

Like many of their fellow songwriters at the time, King and Goffin wrote songs for Don Kirshner’s TV show about a fictional, Beatles-derived pop band that debuted in September 1966. The Monkees turned out to be more credible singers (and musicians) than anyone initially expected, as their high-charting 1967 version of King and Goffin's “Pleasant Valley Sunday” revealed. The Monkees also cut “So Goes Love,” a dreamier ballad heard here, but the track didn’t make their first album and wasn’t released until long after they’d disbanded.

The Legendary Demos includes early takes of six tracks that formed the basis for King’s world-wide solo breakthrough Tapestry. King and lyricist Toni Stern’s ever-poignant “It’s Too Late” is here, along with King’s own “Way Over Yonder,” “Beautiful” and “Tapestry,” all three bursting with the artistic and spiritual renewal infusing King’s life during this period.

Among the collection’s numerous gems is the original 1967 demo for Goffin, King, and producer Jerry Wexler’s “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” a song that would later appear on Tapestry and of course be famously cut by Aretha Franklin later that same year. King’s version offers several different takes from the Franklin and Tapestry versions. Her delivery in the opening lines is looser (check out the way she stretches out “Lord” in “Lord, it made me feel so tired”), and the bridge is even more imbued with palpable romantic and sexual heat.

And finally, there’s King’s initial take on “You’ve Got a Friend,” a classic entry in the Great American Rock Songbook. Milling around in the Troubadour balcony during soundcheck, her friend James Taylor heard King perform the song on a bare stage and was immediately taken with it; his own version, a massive hit, would arrive the following year.

First-ever reissue of the 1988 album. Gatefold LP includes new and restored artwork and a chapbook, featuring forty-eight pages of lyrics, essays, photographs, and Gordon's extraordinary drawings for each song. The Choctaw, Assiniboine, and Texan poet, journalist, visual artist, American Indian Movement activist, and musician Roxy Gordon (First Coyote Boy) (1945-2000) was above all a storyteller, known primarily as a writer of inimitable style and unvarnished candor, whose wide-ranging work encompassed poetry, short fiction, essays, memoirs, journalism, and criticism. Over the course of his career he recorded six albums, wrote six books, and published hundreds of shorter texts in outlets ranging from Rolling Stone and The Village Voice to the Coleman Chronicle and Democrat-Voice, in addition to founding and operating, with his wife Judy Gordon, Wowapi Press and the underground country music journal Picking Up the Tempo. Along the way he cultivated close friendships with fellow Texan songwriters such as Lubbockites Terry Allen, Butch Hancock, and Tommy X. Hancock, as well as Ray Wylie Hubbard, Billy Joe Shaver, and, most famously, Townes Van Zandt, whom he called his brother. Although his work covered a vast array of topics exploring strata personal, local, global, and cosmic alike, Gordon's primary subject as a writer, musician, and visual artist was always American Indian culture, specifically the ways it collided and coexisted with European American culture in the South and West-and within the context of his own life and braided identity. The ten songs on Crazy Horse Never Died, his first officially released and distributed album, were recorded in Dallas in 1988. "Songs" is perhaps an imprecise taxonomy for what Roxy captured on this and his other albums, all of which remain out of print or were released in instantly obscure limited editions of homebrew cassettes and CD-R's. (Paradise of Bachelors plans to reissue remastered, expanded editions of his catalog; Crazy Horse is the first.) He only occasionally attempted to sing, and his musical recordings are primarily corollaries of, and vehicles for, his poems. His sharp West Texan drawl, tinged by formative years of reservation living in Montana and unmistakable once you hear it-high, lonesome, flat, and cold-blooded as a bare rusty blade-instead patiently unfurls in skewed sheets of anecdotal verse and discursive narrative rants. Although Gordon's music at times incorporated powwow style drumming, fiddling, or unaccompanied ballad singing, the majority of it hews to an idiosyncratic spoken word style, accompanied by atmospheric, sometimes synth-damaged country-rock that skirts ambient textures and postpunk deconstructions. His songs are essentially recitations over backing tracks of finger picked guitars, rubbery washtub bass, and buzzing, oscillating keyboards. On the stark yellow and red jacket of Crazy Horse, which he designed himself, Gordon describes these recordings as innately ambivalent in terms of form, content, and identity: These are poems and/or songs about the American West, white and Indian. My life has been Indian and/or white. Maybe there's not a lot of difference-maybe. I guess that's mostly according to which white person or which Indian you're talking about. That's probably what this album's about. Crazy Horse Never Died comprises songs that span the personal and political arcs of his writing practice and the poles of his native and white ancestries.

Today sees Belgian-Caribbean provocateur Charlotte Adigéry and her long-term musical partner, Bolis Pupul announce their debut album Topical Dancer, due for release on March 4 2022 via Soulwax’s iconic label DEEWEE.
Cultural appropriation. Misogyny and racism. Social media vanity. Post-colonialism and political correctness. These are not talking points that you’d ordinarily hear on the dancefloor but Charlotte Adigéry and Bolis Pupul are ripping up the rulebook with their debut album Topical Dancer. The Ghent-based duo, who broke out with their 2019 Zandoli EP, are rare storytellers in electronic music: they take the temperature of the time and funnel them into their playful synth concoctions – never didactic and always with a knowing wink.

Their debut studio record – which cements them as a duo under both their names for the first time and is co-written and co-produced by Soulwax – is both a triumph of kaleidoscopic electro-pop and “a snapshot of how we think about pop culture in the 2020s.” It captures Charlotte and Bolis’s essence as musical collaborators and the conversations they’ve had over the past two years on tour, as well as their perspectives as Belgians with an immigrant background, Charlotte with Guadeloupean and French-Martinique ancestry and Bolis being of Chinese descent.

Beyond the album’s thematic heft, Topical Dancer reflects Charlotte and Bolis’s idiosyncratic sound: it’s thoughtful but it bangs. Their take on familiar genres is always off-kilter; songs sound undone or a little wonky; but these are nocturnal heaters to make the club throb. “We like to fuck things up a bit,” laughs Bolis. “We cringe when we feel like we're making something that already exists, so we're always looking for things to combine to make it sound not like a pop song, not like an R&B song, not a techno song. We’re always putting different worlds together. Charlotte and I get bored when things get too predictable.”

Topical Dancer is fizzing with ideas – there’s certainly no filler among its 13 tracks. But above all, perhaps, it has a restlessness, a desire not to be boxed in and to escape others’ narrow perceptions of who they are. It’s summarised by the refrain of their new single, ‘Blenda’: “Don’t sound like what I look like / Don’t look like what I sound like.” “One thing that always comes up,” says Bolis, “is that people perceive me as the producer, and Charlotte as just a singer. Or that being a Black artist means you should be making ‘urban’ music. Those kinds of boxes don’t feel good to us.”

‘Blenda’ in particular references how “I am a product of colonialism,” says Charlotte, “and I feel guilty for taking up space in a white country.” The song was inspired in part by Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book Why I’m Not Longer Talking To White People About Race. “It talks about the colonial past and post-colonial present in the UK,” Charlotte continues, “but that isn’t merely a British or American problem, Belgium is part of that as well.” She says that her home country is likewise “oblivious to a big part of its history” which “results in general ignorance and a lack of understanding and empathy towards Belgian inhabitants of immigrant descent.”

On Topical Dancer, it’s less about finger pointing or being dogmatic about all the things they speak about. It’s about emancipation through humour. “I don’t want to feel this heaviness on me,” says Charlotte. “These aren’t my crosses to bear. Topical Dancer is my way of freeing myself of these issues. And of having fun.”

Beautiful, soulful jazz record by Jimetta Rose and The Voices of Creation, a Los Angeles-based community choir, a mainstay of the local scene. Highly recommended!!

The Voices of Creation are a community-based choir led by vocalist, songwriter, arranger, producer and mainstay of the Los Angeles scene Jimetta Rose. Made up of a multigenerational group of mainly non-professional singers backed by some of the city’s finest musicians,their music marries hip strains of gospel with layers of jazz, soul and funk. While aspects of their music might recall Kamasi Washington, The Staple Singers or Sly Stone, Jimetta’s unique vision has resulted in new spiritually-charged forms of music whose whole-hearted embrace of love, joy and peace act as sonic healing balms for the soul.

For Jimetta - whose resume includes collaborations with Miguel Atwood Ferguson, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Sa-Ra Creative Partners, Angel Bat Dawid, Shafiq Husayn, MED and Blu - the very act of creation was part of a healing process: “I was very low at the time and I wrote most of the songs going through hardship. But I found comfort in the songs and a way to adjust my mindset to where things got better. So I thought ‘if this music works for me, maybe it will work for other people’ I believe that every person has their own voice and their own note and that we can use our voices to heal ourselves. That’s the intention behind creating the project.”

After putting out a call on social media for people interested in joining her choir she was met with a sea of replies. Members were chosen in less-than conventional fashion: “I recruited people based on their interest in healing themselves and others, not necessarily on their musical experience or being seasoned performers” she says. Among those accepted into the ever-evolving collective, which was begun initially as a community choir, were the likes of Sly Stone’s daughter Novena Carmel, better known as a radio DJ for KCRW’s flagship breakfast show. Jimetta’s upbringing in the Pentecostal church, where she was a youth choir director, fed into her otherwise intuitive teachings of her songs and arrangements to the inexperienced members with help from the group’s seasoned organ player/co-musical director Jack Maeby.

Produced by Mario Caldato Jr. (Beastie Boys, Seu Jorge) and his wife Samantha Caldato the results show the incredible sense of togetherness and communal spirit that the group had built up over time in the rehearsal sessions. The six tracks of their debut album, a mixture of originals and rearranged covers, are performed in a wide-eyed mix of styles that reflect Jimetta’s vision for borderless music: “It’s new black classical music,” she explains. “It’s all the hodgepodge of being an African American but also with creativity and vision for the future. It has a taste of what is to come and what we can do. What we have gone through and who we are now.”

The group’s propensity for warm and buoyant sonics finds representation on album opener Let The Sunshine In, a sparkling rework of the Sons and Daughters of Lite’s deep jazz classic. Their version finds the group’s dynamic group harmonies offset with Allakoi Peete’s nimble afro-percussive touches and plenty of soul- drenched keys courtesy of pianist Quran Shaheed and organ player Jack Maeby. A similarly uplifting take on Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s choral jazz classic Spirits Up Above follows, with Maeby’s groove-laden organ lines inspiring some gorgeous group harmonies as well as prime solo turns from the likes of Kellye Hawkins, Zavier Wise, Tamara Blue, and Khalila Gardner.

Another Sons and Daughters of Lite cover follows as Jimetta leads the choir in the groove-drenched ode to self-affirmation Operation Feed Yourself. Written as a series of mantras for everyday living, the Jimetta-penned composition How Good It Is harnesses the full transformative power of music to generate a stirring and joyful ode to positivity - it’s chanted declarations bringing out some of the group’s most deeply-felt and affecting vocal performances over some superlative piano and organ accompaniment with a surprise feature vocal from Novena Carmel.

Jimetta’s talent for re-imagining songs in her own light is highlighted in Answer The Call, her vivid re-telling of Funkadelic’s Cosmic Slop: “When I listened to the original song, the Mom in the story was really going through it. I thought of how I could turn this into a song that can encompass the glorification of all mothers and I thought of the Egyptian cosmic goddess Nut. To that mother we’re all the seeds planted in the garden. Answering the call in your life is literally that. Finding out exactly what you’re here for through your heart.”

The album finishes with the standout original gospel number Ain’t Life Grand. Over swaying organs and clapped percussion Jimetta’s lyrical mantras serve to emphasise the good feelings that come to those with a grateful heart. Good feeling is an apt descriptor for the mood of the album as a whole. Its shining positivity provides a welcome ray of light in an increasingly dark world. “It’s a shortcut if you will to the better feelings” Jimetta says. “The hope that we need to keep pressing forward. We are saturated and inundated with images of chaos and destruction, death and hatred. There’s so much we can witness. So, I want to make sure that there is a representation sonically of the other parts that are still there to witness so that we can continue to build those things. So that the systems we support actually reflect what we want to experience. So it’s like: “Don’t give up and Let The Sunshine Into You” and then find out what your purpose is and answer the call.”

Edition OF 500 copies, Comes with insert and download code.

An album that sounds like The Menahan Street Band playing in a tropical jungle, at dawn, right at the point when the first rays of sunlight penetrate the dark depths of the forest. During the 2022 summer of natural disasters, under an unprecedented heatwave, and haunted by news reports of ancient relics, sunken ships, and hunger stones resurfacing as rivers dried-up all-over Europe, Amsterdam based multi-instrumentalist producer Alex Figueira started to hear uncanny metallic vibrations And eerie melodies of untraceable origins, day and night. He recalls nightmares of winged creatures inside timeless structures of Escherian architectures playing cosmic instruments amidst tropical storms
and acid rains. As the visions came more often, his wife reported that he babbled during his sleep about South American demon Yurupari. Soon, Alex found himself in a sleepless state and decided to cleanse the studio, with hallowed rites and
the intense burning of Palo Santo. After almost burning the studio down, he turned to his neighbourhood’s most experienced psychic, seeking answers. He was told there were “cosmic entities” trying to manifest a message “too complex for us to understand in this dimension” and the only way he could find peace was to deliver those messages in a decipherable form. It was then he decided to transmute his hallucinations into music, an all-or-nothing cathartic solution.

Alex entered a feverish dream, fuelled by the kaleidoscopic motion of the cosmos, ancient meteor showers, and visions of forgotten interstellar South American gods. He remembers very little of the work, but the outcome is this record. Entirely composed, recorded, produced, and mixed in a frenetic nine-day studio stint.

How the experts describe it:

”Just when outernational vinyl vampires thought they had it all sewn up, the metronomic makeshift
magician known as Alex Figueira unravels the entire fabric of your record collection to expose a gaping
hole where PUNKUMBIA and Transplant-Tropicalia should be. Reducing an expansive palette of
influences to a recipe that tastes wildly exotic but comfortably over-familiar, Alex’s roles as both
scavenger and chef, bookend a whole ensemble of other highly adept musical personalities in between.
Discover this record NOW, or wait until all your friends (or enemies) recommend it to you later.”
Andy Votel (Finders Keepers)

“Incendiary, lysergic takes on South American and Caribbean music from one of the scene's truly
authentic and eccentric producers. You can always count on Venezuelan-born, Amsterdam-based,
multi-instrumentalist, music-fanatic Alex Figueira to surprise and innovate, whilst consistently keeping it
true and real. The former Fumaça Preta drummer & front-man's debut solo album does not disappoint!”
Miles Cleret (Soundway)

“The one man band Alex Figueira comes through with some major flavors on this one. Cumbia beats and
psychedelic elements with that Latin touch of soul & Funk!”
Kenny Dope (Masters at Work)

“I really respect Alex Figueira’s DIY ethos. From running his own little funky recordstore to running his
own label and making his own music by playing every instrument himself. I was already a fan of the song
“Aprende” which he released on 7 inch and with“Mentallogenic” he takes it a step further in that same
vibe. From songs like “La Culebra” making use of a vocoder in his typical latin sound to songs like
“Serious” playing with rhythmic changes and topping it off with some synth flavors. A lovely and fun
album”.
Antal (Rush Hour).

When Ella Fitzgerald began recording her series of albums devoted to the work of
America’s greatest song writers, she elevated the art of Jazz singing into a new
dimension while celebrating a unique musical heritage bequeathed to the world of
popular music. Norman Granz encouraged the bold decision to record five albums all
featuring the extraordinary output of songs composed by the brothers George and Ira
Gershwin during the Golden Age of popular song. Gershwin show tunes had long been
a staple diet for bandleaders, pop-vocalists and star-instrumentalists eager to perform
such exhilarating material as Strike Up The Band, Oh, Lady Be Good!, S’Wonderful and
I Got Rhythm. But there was also a gamut of ballads and romantic dance themes
needing to be interpreted with greater sensitivity. Ella was more than capable of
focusing on lyrics and caressing melodies of songs like Someone To Watch Over Me, A
Foggy Day and Embraceable You. They are among the 53 Gershwin classics she
recorded over an eight month period in 1959 and now featured in this superb collection.

Steve Gunn has always had one foot in indie rock and the other in an expansive improvisational scene. His songwriter albums alternate with freewheeling jams, most notably in his Gunn-Truscinski Duo, but are not confined to that. So when Gunn decided to revisit Other You, it made sense that he brought in some guests from the far side of the commercial/experimental spectrum to reimagine his songs. Nakama presents five tracks from that last album, reshaped by artists that Gunn admires. The process loosens the songs up considerably.

To start, he calls in Mdou Moctar’s backing band (the American bassist Mikey Coltun and the other guitarist Ahmoudou Madassane) for “Protection.” The song already had a bit of blues-y swagger to it, with sharper-edged guitar rhythms also heard on the ultra-smooth Other You, but here the heat has an otherworldly desert sheen. Its caravan-traveling rhythm sways from side to side, digging in to to the upbeats in a way that is both kinetic and also hypnotically still. There’s some crowd noise in the background, the knot of people that regularly forms when Mdou and his compatriots plug in from Agadez, and a few mournful afro-blues licks arcing off the vamp. But mostly it’s a cut that reminds you how much African guitar music Gunn has absorbed (listen to “Tommy’s Congo” from Way Out Weather for proof), and how well it fits with what he does.

Gunn also brings in Circuit Des Yeux’s Haley Fohr to reconfigure “Ever Feel That Way,” and she sets the song’s drifting melancholy amid pensive minor-key piano chords. She strips back the ambient whoosh that surrounds the original, slows down the pace and presents the song in startling, unadorned clarity. Her version removes some of the sticky, over-prettiness that I found so distracting in Other You. The melody is better, purer and more focused without the frills. There is also an electronic remake of “Reflection” from David Moore’s ambient ensemble Bing and Ruth, which traps Gunn’s fragile vocals in a shivering palace of synthetic tones. It’s enjoyable in its way, but the two sensibilities never quite meld together.

The best part comes when Gunn joins forces with Joshua Abrams’ Natural Information Society in remakes of “Good Wind” and “On the Way.” The former is a matter of subtle differences: the gentle pitch and roll under Gunn’s voice, the intermittent liquid runs of bass between widely spaced phrases. Abrams and his crew open up the jazz-leaning, reiterative possibilities under Gunn’s song, but they don’t change it fundamentally. “On the Way” is even stronger, a glowing drone and a pattern of hand drums enveloping the melody. It makes the music seem more spiritual, more resonant, more deep and full of mysteries. It was striking enough that I had to go back to Other You to hear again an album that had left me cold. This new version of “On the Way” didn’t change that chill, but it gave me an idea of how strong the songs might have sounded in another setting. (by Jennifer Kelly)

Sacramento, CA duo Blank Gloss’s third album, Cornered, is an exquisite statement of pop ambient starkness, an album that oscillates between lush beauty and spare melancholy. It follows from their 2021 debut for Kompakt, Melt, an album that saw Morgan Fox (piano, synths) and Patrick Hills (guitar) aligned, loosely, with the cosmic pastorale of the ‘ambient Americana’ movement. Cornered feels like a significant step forward, though – by peeling back the layers of their music, they’ve revealed both its restful core and its solemn gravitas. It is unendingly lovely, but with something disquieting at its centre.

Cornered was recorded quickly, over two days in December 2020. There’s nothing rushed or haphazard about the album, though; everything has its place, with each sonic element contributing profoundly to these nine miniature dioramas. It signals change, quietly but perceptibly, through the way the duo sculpts their material, building out of loose improvisations that morphed into songs. While there was no plan in mind when Blank Gloss settled into the studio, Fox recalls that “right away we realised that things were sounding and feeling a bit different than any of the sessions we had previously.”

That difference can be heard in the increased amount of space Blank Gloss gift to their sound sources. Some of the most moving moments on Cornered come when Fox and Hills strip everything back – see, for example, “Crossing”, which sets pensive piano across a shyly humming drone and quiet arcs of guitar, recalling the driftworks of Roger Eno. Curiously, the album’s distinctive shape and mood develops, at least in part, from a change in instrumentation, with Hills using a MIDI pick-up on his guitar. “This resulted in making things happen a lot quicker,” Fox says. “It also helped create what I think is a bit more sombre, dark feeling to some of the songs.”

Elsewhere, on songs like “Salt”, the piano tussles with flecks of guitar, single tones sent out to mingle with the stars, like Morricone at 16 RPM, while Cornered’s centrepiece, the eleven-minute “No Appetite”, lets long arcs of electronic texture breathe and sigh, tangling together in a cat’s cradle of bliss. Throughout, it feels as though the music is blossoming as you hear it, like watching time-lapse footage of flora in bloom. But perhaps the most seductive thing about Cornered is the sense you get, listening, that the music was something unexpected, a visitation. “It almost felt like we weren’t dictating where the music went and how it sounded,” Fox agrees. “We were just there in a room together in December and these sounds were happening, and we were lucky enough to be recording the process.”

Cornered, das dritte Album des kalifornischen Duos Blank Gloss aus Sacramento, ist ein exquisites Statement von pop ambienter Krassheit, ein Album, das zwischen üppiger Schönheit und sparsamer Melancholie oszilliert. Es folgt ihrem 2021er Debüt für Kompakt, Melt, einem Album, auf dem sich Morgan Fox (Klavier, Synthesizer) und Patrick Hills (Gitarre) locker an der kosmischen Pastorale der „Ambient Americana“-Bewegung ausrichteten. Cornered fühlt sich jedoch wie ein bedeutender Schritt nach vorne an – indem sie die Schichten ihrer Musik abschälen, haben sie sowohl ihren ruhigen Kern als auch ihre feierliche Schwere offenbart. Es ist unendlich schön, aber mit etwas Beunruhigendem in seiner Mitte.

Cornered wurde relativ schnell aufgenommen, über zwei Tage im Dezember 2020. Es klingt jedoch nichts überstürzt oder willkürlich an diesem Album; alles hat seinen Platz, wobei jedes Klangelement einen wesentlichen Beitrag zu diesen neun Miniaturdioramen leistet. Es signalisiert Veränderung, leise, aber wahrnehmbar, durch die Art und Weise, wie das Duo sein Material formt und aus losen Improvisationen aufbaut, die sich in Songs verwandeln. Als Blank Gloss sich im Studio niederließen, gab es zwar keinen Plan, aber Fox erinnert sich: „Uns war sofort klar, dass sich die Dinge etwas anders anhörten und anfühlten als bei allen vorherigen Sessions.“

Dieser Unterschied ist in der größeren Menge an Raum zu hören, die Blank Gloss ihren Klangquellen bietet. Einige der bewegendsten Momente auf Cornered kommen, wenn Fox und Hills alles zurücknehmen – siehe zum Beispiel „Crossing“, wo ein nachdenkliches Klavier über einen schüchtern summenden Drone und leise Gitarrenloops setzt und an die Driftworks von Roger Eno erinnert. Seltsamerweise entwickelt sich die unverwechselbare Form und Stimmung des Albums zumindest teilweise aus einer Änderung der Instrumentierung, bei der Hills einen MIDI-Tonabnehmer an seiner Gitarre verwendet. „Dies führte dazu, dass die Dinge viel schneller abliefen“, sagt Fox. „Es hat auch dazu beigetragen, einigen der Songs ein etwas düstereres, dunkleres Gefühl zu verleihen.“ An anderer Stelle, bei Songs wie „Salt“, spielt das Klavier mit Gitarrenfetzen, einzelne Töne werden ausgesandt, um sich mit den Sternen zu vermischen, wie Morricone bei 16 U/min, während Cornereds Herzstück, das elfminütige „No Appetite“, lange Bögen schlägt, elektronische Texturen atmet und seufzt, um sich in einem Katzenkörbchen der Glückseligkeit zu verheddern. Während des Hörens fühlt es sich an, als ob die Musik blüht, als würde man sich Zeitrafferaufnahmen von blühenden Pflanzen ansehen. Aber das Verführerischste an Cornered ist vielleicht das Gefühl, das man beim Zuhören bekommt, dass die Musik etwas Unerwartetes war, eine Heimsuchung. „Es fühlte sich fast so an, als hätten WIR nicht diktiert, wohin die Musik geht und wie sie klingt“, stimmt Fox zu. „Wir waren just im Dezember zusammen in einem Raum, als diese Geräusche passierten, und wir hatten das Glück, dass die Aufnahme mitlief.”

With his new album, Gecko Turner confirms that he is a standout artist in the global groove scene, a must for the outernational sounds aficionados.

Somebody From Badajoz is the fifth studio album in his much lauded discography and his first in seven years, eagerly anticipated by both his fans and himself: "this business of dedicating yourself to music and making songs... it's a long game."

With the release of his first two, remarkable, albums, Guapapasea! (2003) and Chandalismo Ilustrado (2006), Gecko started cultivating what one astute journalist defined as Afro-maduran soul—the "maduran" bit referencing Extremadura, a region in central-western Spain.

Badajoz, Gecko's birthplace, is the biggest city in the area, on the border with Portugal, by the Guadiana River. It is a place that oozes history, where there is constant movement at the border, and people's character is friendly and open-minded with foreign habits.

Gecko's Afro-maduran soul isbuilt on Afro-American music and drenched in Brazilian, African, Latin American and Jamaican sounds. There are also echoes of a youth marked in equal parts by our man's admiration for the Beatles and the flamenco that could be heard everywhere in Badajoz in the seventies. It makes for a singular sound and a musical language of its own—spicy, succulent, full of nuances, but with a very personal flavour.

The album opens with the Nigerian talking drums of Twenty-twenty Vision, (neo) soul in a magical falsetto, carried by a sumptuous orchestral arrangement with a cinematic flavour: "I'd been thinking about doing something called 'Twenty-twenty Vision' for some time, making a play on words with the vision we have of the world after the year 2020 and the medical expression, which, in ophthalmological terms, means 'normal or complete vision.' Beyond that particular song, I think that's the mood of the album: a look at society in the twenties of the 21st century and the feelings and demons it produces."

It's followed by De Balde, a very special song born from a posthumously discovered lyric by the great writer Carlos Lencero, a regular collaborator of Camarón, Pata Negra, and Remedios Amaya, and also from Badajoz. While conceived as a fandango, Gecko has moulded it into his sound in such a seamless way it now seems as if the words could only have been written to be embraced by the percussion, brass, and backing vocals heard on the album. It's the only lyric on Somebody From Badajoz not written by Turner, still it sits rather comfortably with the rest, sharing the same emotivity and sensitivity, as well as the trademark humour and irony.

Other tracks see more protagonism for the rhythm.The beat-driven Ain't No Fun Preachin' to the Choir features Gecko's vocals walking the thin line between singing and talking over a phenomenal afro-disco-funk-infused trailblazer. In Am I Sad? it's impossible to not bob your head to the queen of Papatosina's mongrel rhythm, as close to the banks of the Guadiana river as it is to the shores of the Mississippi. Qué Siesta Tan Buena, He Babeao Y To! is an ode to the snooze in true Afro-Maduran fashion. And in Come And Try, the Caribbean influence is evident—lovers' rock that invites you to dance in good company.

In these songs, and throughout the album, for that matter, the musicians accompanying Gecko, who himself plays many of the instruments as well, shine brightly. All hailing from Extremadura, Javi Mojave (percussion), Álvaro Fdez 'Dr. Robelto' (bass), and Rafa Prieto (guitar) have been carrying him with delicate forcefulness since he started out as a solo artist. At the same time, the wonderful and essential voices of Deborah Ayo, Astrid Jones, Fani Ela Nsue, and Miriam Solís give the album a sunny variety of colours. And there are many more—a sensational group of musicians contributes dazzling harmonic bursts to many of the songs. The palette of sounds is very diverse and rich in textures and nuances, including, for example, the ngoni, bells, and various repurposed kitchen utensils.

The groove is always around, moving between the magical border sound of Everybody Knows Somebody From Badajoz and Little Dose, the silky soul of The Sibariteo Appreciation Society, and the exultant celebration of End Of The World (which surprisingly sees Gecko turning to the occasional use of autotune), a piece that could be used for the final credits of a Monty Python film and, in fact, closes the album.

Gecko Turner has done it again with Somebody From Badajoz, looking to the future without losing sight of the roots. In times of upheaval all over the globe, when people are looking for purity, he delivers a formidable piece of work: risky, optimistic in spite of everything, and with a decidedly bastard sound. Let's rejoice.

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Dark Green Vinyl

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Anne's 7th Opus in 13 Years, Containing 6 Fantastic Covers and 6 of Her Own Songs, Recorded in One of the Most Prestigious Studios in Montreal with Her Original Blue Mind Team

Fresh from the success of her single "Killing Me Softly" from her previous album Keys to My Heart, Anne Bisson, singer-songwriter and jazz pianist, decided to perform and record more standards from the American jazz songbook, as well as new arrangements of classic songs that were so much a part of her teenage years.

Be My Lover, Anne's seventh album is, therefore, a savoury feast of original compositions and classic songs in her own bold new arrangements for acoustic trio. While still in the 'Smooth Jazz' genre, the presence of a Fender Rhodes, the legendary '70s keyboard, along with an electric bass, impart the album with quite a unique tone.

After over 18 months of musical experimentation and other creative endeavours, Anne once again brought together master drummer Paul Brochu (Gino Vanelli, Michel Legrand, UZEB) and proficient bassist Jean-Bertrand Carbou from France, for a series of informal sessions to explore the songs that were being considered for this seventh release.

These two musicians have been valuable collaborators for several years now. Paul has been featured on many of Anne's albums, notably Blue Mind, which made a huge splash when it appeared, with over 35,000 hard copies sold, while Jean-Bertrand's playing has also graced several of her albums.

Since 2009, the three have performed at several important venues, including Le Festival International de Jazz de Montréal, as well as other festivals in the United States and Mexico.

What holds them together is an evident complicity which is present from the very first notes. Their musical contributions are precise and deeply heart-felt. Their virtuoso playing greatly enhances these songs without turning them into mere technical exercises.

With precision playing, subtlety and attention to detail, as well as being recorded in impeccable High Definition, these songs will definitely please Anne's audiophile fans, while also appealing to a wider audience.



All About Ultimate High Quality CD (UHQCD)
Many years have passed since the birth of the Audio Compact Disc (CD) back in 1982. By use of High-Quality materials and a totally different manufacturing method, the definitive version of audiophile audio CD was born. Playable on any CD player, the Ultimate High Quality CD greatly surpasses all previous CDs before it!

The Ultimate High Quality CD (UHQCD):
UHQCD is a radical change to the CD manufacturing process itself. The conventional wisdom about CD manufacturing, which had remained largely unchanged across the world for over 30 years, has been exhaustively questioned. Through this effort, the ultimate in quality was attained - a level of quality that is certainly impossible to achieve with existing CD discs.

The Ultimate High Quality CD was developed through an effort to improve audio quality by simply upgrading the materials used in ordinary CDs to higher quality materials. For the substrate a high-transparency and high-fluidity polycarbonate (a type of plastic) of the type used for LCD panels was used, while for the reflective layer, low-cost, common aluminium was replaced with a unique and expensive alloy of high-reflectivity.

Differences in manufacturing methods:
Conventional CDs are produced using the technique of injection moulding to form "pits" of data on polycarbonate material. Metal plate on which "pits" representing audio source data are formed is used as a die. This is called the "stamper." Polycarbonate is melted at high temperature and poured into the die to duplicate the pit patterns on the stamper.

This method is efficient because it enables high-speed production, but it does not enable totally accurate or complete duplication of the pits on the stamper. As a melted plastic, polycarbonate is inevitably viscous, so it cannot penetrate completely into every land and groove of the tiny pits of the stamper.

The Ultimate High Quality CD photopolymer is used instead of polycarbonate to replicate the pits of the stamper. In their normal state, photopolymers are liquids, but one of their characteristic properties is that they harden when exposed to light of certain wavelengths. The advantage of this property, perfect replication of very finely detailed pits was achieved. Photopolymers in the liquid state are able to penetrate into the tiniest corners of pits on the stamper so that the pattern of the pits is reproduced to an extremely high level of accuracy. The Ultimate High Quality CD reproduces audio with greater precision and at a level that is impossible to achieve using conventional CD production technology!

With his new album, Gecko Turner confirms that he is a standout artist in the global groove scene, a must for the outernational sounds aficionados.

Somebody From Badajoz is the fifth studio album in his much lauded discography and his first in seven years, eagerly anticipated by both his fans and himself: "this business of dedicating yourself to music and making songs... it's a long game."

With the release of his first two, remarkable, albums, Guapapasea! (2003) and Chandalismo Ilustrado (2006), Gecko started cultivating what one astute journalist defined as Afro-maduran soul—the "maduran" bit referencing Extremadura, a region in central-western Spain.

Badajoz, Gecko's birthplace, is the biggest city in the area, on the border with Portugal, by the Guadiana River. It is a place that oozes history, where there is constant movement at the border, and people's character is friendly and open-minded with foreign habits.

Gecko's Afro-maduran soul isbuilt on Afro-American music and drenched in Brazilian, African, Latin American and Jamaican sounds. There are also echoes of a youth marked in equal parts by our man's admiration for the Beatles and the flamenco that could be heard everywhere in Badajoz in the seventies. It makes for a singular sound and a musical language of its own—spicy, succulent, full of nuances, but with a very personal flavour.

The album opens with the Nigerian talking drums of Twenty-twenty Vision, (neo) soul in a magical falsetto, carried by a sumptuous orchestral arrangement with a cinematic flavour: "I'd been thinking about doing something called 'Twenty-twenty Vision' for some time, making a play on words with the vision we have of the world after the year 2020 and the medical expression, which, in ophthalmological terms, means 'normal or complete vision.' Beyond that particular song, I think that's the mood of the album: a look at society in the twenties of the 21st century and the feelings and demons it produces."

It's followed by De Balde, a very special song born from a posthumously discovered lyric by the great writer Carlos Lencero, a regular collaborator of Camarón, Pata Negra, and Remedios Amaya, and also from Badajoz. While conceived as a fandango, Gecko has moulded it into his sound in such a seamless way it now seems as if the words could only have been written to be embraced by the percussion, brass, and backing vocals heard on the album. It's the only lyric on Somebody From Badajoz not written by Turner, still it sits rather comfortably with the rest, sharing the same emotivity and sensitivity, as well as the trademark humour and irony.

Other tracks see more protagonism for the rhythm.The beat-driven Ain't No Fun Preachin' to the Choir features Gecko's vocals walking the thin line between singing and talking over a phenomenal afro-disco-funk-infused trailblazer. In Am I Sad? it's impossible to not bob your head to the queen of Papatosina's mongrel rhythm, as close to the banks of the Guadiana river as it is to the shores of the Mississippi. Qué Siesta Tan Buena, He Babeao Y To! is an ode to the snooze in true Afro-Maduran fashion. And in Come And Try, the Caribbean influence is evident—lovers' rock that invites you to dance in good company.

In these songs, and throughout the album, for that matter, the musicians accompanying Gecko, who himself plays many of the instruments as well, shine brightly. All hailing from Extremadura, Javi Mojave (percussion), Álvaro Fdez 'Dr. Robelto' (bass), and Rafa Prieto (guitar) have been carrying him with delicate forcefulness since he started out as a solo artist. At the same time, the wonderful and essential voices of Deborah Ayo, Astrid Jones, Fani Ela Nsue, and Miriam Solís give the album a sunny variety of colours. And there are many more—a sensational group of musicians contributes dazzling harmonic bursts to many of the songs. The palette of sounds is very diverse and rich in textures and nuances, including, for example, the ngoni, bells, and various repurposed kitchen utensils.

The groove is always around, moving between the magical border sound of Everybody Knows Somebody From Badajoz and Little Dose, the silky soul of The Sibariteo Appreciation Society, and the exultant celebration of End Of The World (which surprisingly sees Gecko turning to the occasional use of autotune), a piece that could be used for the final credits of a Monty Python film and, in fact, closes the album.

Gecko Turner has done it again with Somebody From Badajoz, looking to the future without losing sight of the roots. In times of upheaval all over the globe, when people are looking for purity, he delivers a formidable piece of work: risky, optimistic in spite of everything, and with a decidedly bastard sound. Let's rejoice.

2023 Repress On Vertigo Days, the first album in seven years for The Notwist, one of Germany’s most iconic independent groups are alive to the possibilities of the moment. Their music has long been open-minded and exploratory, but from its engrossing structure, through its combination of melancholy pop, clangorous electronics, hypnotic Krautrock and driftwork ballads, to its international musical guests, Vertigo Days is both a new step for The Notwist, and a reminder of just how singular they’ve always been. Most importantly, the core trio of Markus and Micha Acher and Cico Beck are reaching out: as Markus reflects, “we wanted to question the concept of a band by adding other voices and ideas, other languages, and also question or blur the idea of national identity.”

It’s been seven years since The Notwist’s last album, Close To The Glass, and in that time the various members of the group have been busy with side projects (Spirit Fest, Hochzeitskapelle, Alien Ensemble, Joasihno), guest appearances, a record label (Alien Transistor), movie scoring, helping organise the Minna Miteru compilation of Japanese indie pop & running a festival (Alien Disko). Those divergent paths feed back into Vertigo Days in surprising ways, from its structure, built from group improvisations, with songs flowing and melting into one another in a collective haze, to its spirit, which feels refreshed and alive. There’s something cinematic about Vertigo Days too, reflective of the group’s time working on soundtracks, and reflected in the rich, moody photographic artwork by Lieko Shiga that adorns the cover.

The first sign of this newfound openness was the album’s lead single, “Ship”, where the group were joined by Saya of Japanese pop duo Tenniscoats, her disarmingly hymnal voice sighing over a propulsive, Krautrocking beat. Elsewhere, American multi-instrumentalist Ben LaMar Gay sings on “Oh Sweet Fire”, also contributing “a love lyric for these times, imagining two lovers in an uprising hand in hand.” American jazz clarinettist and composer Angel Bat Dawid adds clarinet to the spaced-out dream-pop of “Into The Ice Age”, while Argentinian electronica songwriter Juana Molina gifts some gorgeous singing and electronics to “Al Sur”. Saya also reappears as a member of Japanese brass band Zayaendo, who guest on the album. Throughout, The Notwist also capture the openness of their live performances, too, where they mix and link their songs in unexpected ways.

Indeed, what’s most impressive about Vertigo Days is the way it sits together as one long, flowing suite, the album conceptualised as a whole entity – it’s perfect for the long-distance, dedicated listening experience. This is also captured by the album’s lyrics, which Markus states, “feel more like one long poem.” The dimensions of that poem are multi-faceted, something intensified by the geopolitical weirdness of its times: “As the situation changed so dramatically, while we were working on the record, the theme of ‘the impossible can happen anytime,’ more about personal relationships in the beginning, became a global and political story.” But it also works at a level of poetic abstraction, such that each song gestures in multiple directions – the deeply private pans out to the global. The one certainty is that there is no certainty. “It’s maybe mostly about learning and how you never arrive anywhere,” Markus concurs. To sit within uncertainty is brave, but it’s also where we feel most alive, and Vertigo Days is an album that is brimming with life, with enthusiasm and love for music and for community, all wide-eyed and dreaming.

2023 Repress on Yellow Vinyl

On Vertigo Days, the first album in seven years for The Notwist, one of Germany’s most iconic independent groups are alive to the possibilities of the moment. Their music has long been open-minded and exploratory, but from its engrossing structure, through its combination of melancholy pop, clangorous electronics, hypnotic Krautrock and driftwork ballads, to its international musical guests, Vertigo Days is both a new step for The Notwist, and a reminder of just how singular they’ve always been. Most importantly, the core trio of Markus and Micha Acher and Cico Beck are reaching out: as Markus reflects, “we wanted to question the concept of a band by adding other voices and ideas, other languages, and also question or blur the idea of national identity.”

It’s been seven years since The Notwist’s last album, Close To The Glass, and in that time the various members of the group have been busy with side projects (Spirit Fest, Hochzeitskapelle, Alien Ensemble, Joasihno), guest appearances, a record label (Alien Transistor), movie scoring, helping organise the Minna Miteru compilation of Japanese indie pop & running a festival (Alien Disko). Those divergent paths feed back into Vertigo Days in surprising ways, from its structure, built from group improvisations, with songs flowing and melting into one another in a collective haze, to its spirit, which feels refreshed and alive. There’s something cinematic about Vertigo Days too, reflective of the group’s time working on soundtracks, and reflected in the rich, moody photographic artwork by Lieko Shiga that adorns the cover.

The first sign of this newfound openness was the album’s lead single, “Ship”, where the group were joined by Saya of Japanese pop duo Tenniscoats, her disarmingly hymnal voice sighing over a propulsive, Krautrocking beat. Elsewhere, American multi-instrumentalist Ben LaMar Gay sings on “Oh Sweet Fire”, also contributing “a love lyric for these times, imagining two lovers in an uprising hand in hand.” American jazz clarinettist and composer Angel Bat Dawid adds clarinet to the spaced-out dream-pop of “Into The Ice Age”, while Argentinian electronica songwriter Juana Molina gifts some gorgeous singing and electronics to “Al Sur”. Saya also reappears as a member of Japanese brass band Zayaendo, who guest on the album. Throughout, The Notwist also capture the openness of their live performances, too, where they mix and link their songs in unexpected ways.

Indeed, what’s most impressive about Vertigo Days is the way it sits together as one long, flowing suite, the album conceptualised as a whole entity – it’s perfect for the long-distance, dedicated listening experience. This is also captured by the album’s lyrics, which Markus states, “feel more like one long poem.” The dimensions of that poem are multi-faceted, something intensified by the geopolitical weirdness of its times: “As the situation changed so dramatically, while we were working on the record, the theme of ‘the impossible can happen anytime,’ more about personal relationships in the beginning, became a global and political story.” But it also works at a level of poetic abstraction, such that each song gestures in multiple directions – the deeply private pans out to the global. The one certainty is that there is no certainty. “It’s maybe mostly about learning and how you never arrive anywhere,” Markus concurs. To sit within uncertainty is brave, but it’s also where we feel most alive, and Vertigo Days is an album that is brimming with life, with enthusiasm and love for music and for community, all wide-eyed and dreaming.

Kelman Duran introduces LA’s Holodec to his Scorpio Red label with a debut album of flickering R&B torchsongs and ambient trap-soul that aches in a very special way. RIYL Dawuna, Burial, Junior Boys, MssingNo, claire rousay, Joy O, Triad God, Sampha…

The smouldering ’All Dogs Come From Wolves’ is a definitive statement by a quietly gifted artist who operates inside the long shadow of late ‘90s US R&B and the space where it intersects ambient, neo-classical, and the weightless bass interzones of contemporary UK club music. Bare boned and bathed in a dusky Californian half-light, the album’s 11 songs feel unnervingly stark yet full of tongue-tip sensuality, making a virtue of negative space and atmosphere with a lo-fi soundtrack-like quality that evokes the idea of nostalgic reflection as the route to the future; “a reminder to look to the past to remember where you’re from, to see where you’re going.”

Holodec's been assembling rugged dancefloor constructions for years now, teetering between 2-step, jungle, nu-rnb, and vaporous ambient forms, but rarely has he been as pointed or full-bodied as he is on ‘All Dogs Come From Wolves’. It's an album that can't possibly be cleaved from the place where it comes from, documenting LA's immigrant experience (Holodec is Asian-American), and finding thematic common ground with Space Afrika's "Honest Labour", absorbing prismatic reflections of footwork, rnb and hip-hop instead of trip-hop and dub techno.

Holodec croons soulfully over muted piano motifs on 'Tiles', evoking the spirit of Sampha or Dawuna, but with a gaseous glamor that's unmistakably Californian. The mood carries into 'The Wild', utilising wistful pads and saturated noise but refusing to let his music sink into the background. If you feel yourself drifting, there's inevitably a voice, a womp, or a stifled drum sound to drag you back into its presence. 'Bounce' is rhythmically heavy, but still somehow smudged around the edges; beats don't so much pump as fray, the closer you listen the more you hear it falling out of time and just out of space. It's more like a memory of neon-hued dance forms than a replication of the thing itself.

Even at the album’s rudest, the flinty jungle drums of ‘Black Market’ still remain desiccated, just out-of-reach, suggesting not telling, in a way that makes the album’s other highlights such as the vaporous R&B voice note of ‘And My Angel Dies Too’ or the shivering baroque figures of ‘Spirit’ so unusually seductive with their nuanced grasp of inference and a reserve of humility.

In 1962 Martin left his record label Capitol and signed with Frank Sinatra’s new label Reprise. His debut album for them was French Style, released in April of that year. Martin had recently released an album of songs sung in Italian and would go on to record an
album of Latino material at the end of that year. French Style came in between the two, and collected a number of songs about France ably arranged by conductor Neal Hefti. At this point, France must have seemed impossibly glamorous, with Brigitte Bardot swanning
around St Tropez, while Grace Kelly raced her sports car around the clifftops of Cannes in Hitchcock’s To Catch A Thief. Beatniks filled the jazz cafés, where the New Wave of French cinema was being discussed over Disques Bleu and café au lait. What’s more, the
majority of songs in this collection focus on Paris – and the City of Lights has been a magnet for Americans ever since the days when Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald and Cole Porter first took up residence there. French Style is delivered with his trademark
charm and ease. So, bon appetit!

Glasgow's First Lady of Jazz Carol Kidd, whose string of successful Linn recordings in the 1980's have made her a staple of international audiophile artists, returns with an all-new collection of delectable jazz and pop standards delivered in her inimitably smooth and heartfelt style.

Kidd has always been an artist celebrated for her cool, controlled phrasing and easy-going balladry, and her lovely new recording, BOTH SIDES NOW, is replete with her trademark inflection and warmth spread over classic songs by everyone from Rodgers & Hammerstein, Billy Joel, Joni Mitchell, and Richard Thompson. A songwriter of note, Kidd herself contributes two new tracks co-authored with Chris Anthony.

Impex's exclusive 180-gram 33 rpm LP, mastered by the superlative Kevin Gray at Cohearent Audio, features brilliantly detailed mid-tones, effortlessly stable bottom end, and crisp overtones. RTI's peerless pressing brings it all together for your listening pleasure.

Carol Kidd is an international award winning singer. She has been named 'Best Vocalist' at the British Jazz Awards on four occasions and was appointed MBE for Services to Jazz. In 2006, Carol was a winner of the prestigious Nordoff-Robbins Tartan Clef Music Award and in 2017 she received a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Scottish Jazz Awards. Renowned for her impeccable phrasing and delivery along with an unforgettable ability to breathe fresh life into any jazz standard, Carol has cut a distinctive path through the Great American Songbook throughout her career with orchestral and trio backing, as well as performing as a unique and intimate duo with guitarist Nigel Clark.

A long line of admirers has included Tony Bennett, Vic Damone and Frank Sinatra, who invited her to open for him at a stadium concert where he remarked that, "Carol Kidd is the best kept secret of British jazz." After a sensational performance at the Tribute to Johnny Mercer show at the Royal Concert Hall in Glasgow, Sir Michael Parkinson observed from the stage that "If there is a better jazz singer out there I have yet to hear them!" Luminaries who have performed alongside Carol as her guests include George Shearing, Georgie Fame, Annie Ross, Benny Carter, Joe Temperley, Bobby Watson and Martin Taylor.

Following a battle with cancer, Carol returned to the stage triumphant in the summer of 2013 to give a powerful, emotional performance at the Glasgow Jazz Festival. In the wake of this homecoming, it is impossible to deny that Kidd is one of the most remarkable artists and performers of our time.

"Meat. The story needs meat. (And blood ... coagulated blood (Gore)). The substance we are seeking here lies beyond the bare bones of fact, thewhen and the where (founded in 1988, Mülheim an der Ruhr) or personneland instruments (a trio since 2016, built around keyboards, saxophone, bass & drums). The story is more than the sum of its facts. Mysteries may very well lurk here or there along the way. What keeps the final two foundermembers going after all this time Do Morten Gass and Robin Rodenberg have skeletons locked in their closets How dearly we would we love to know the answer to that one, alas the most beautiful puzzles tend to remain unsolved.Including their debut Gore Motel' (1994), BOHREN & DER CLUB OF GORE have amassed an impressive eight longplayers. Four album titles allude to the night - their debut was followed by Midnight Radio' (1995), Sunset Mission' (2000), and Black Earth' (2002), whilst the most recent instalment carried the name Piano Nights' (2014). The nocturnal quartet was punctuated by Geisterfaust' (2005), Dolores' (2008) and a mini-album entitled Beileid' (2011), adding rather eerie overtones to the after hours ambience. The BOHREN & DER CLUB OF GORE legend has grown stronger both at home and abroad with every record they have released and every show they have played. Strange as it may seem, there is a uniform consistency to their reception. Whatever the band does, critiques are unfailingly positive, yet repetitious. References, links and associations recur almost word for word. Consider the arrival of Christoph Clöser in 1997, by way of illustration. When he joined the group, his saxophone replaced the departing Reiner Henseleit's guitar as one of the defining instruments in the band. This was arguably the sharpest break in their sound to this day and a significant marker in terms of the band's reverence for Dutch instrumentalists GORE (the clue is in the name), whose repetitive riffs paved the way for how the guitar would be deployed in a post-everything future. Nevertheless, this fissure in the BOHREN continuum has barely merits a mention in the greater scheme of things. Similarly conspicious by their absence in the BOHREN chronicles are the numerous instruments which they added to the mix - vibraphone, organ, tuba, bass trombone to name just a few. The introduction of choirs at least had a clear visual impact. Since Thorsten Benning left at the end of 2015, the band has continued as a trio, sharing shifts on the drums (although they have equipped themselves with mechanical brushes). A decrease in personnel was conversely accompanied by quantum leaps forward in the group's musical development - or more precisely, minor adjustments triggered major effects. Such changes may not get any easier to spot in the future, such is the intensity of internal imagery sparked by the music, a maelstrom of distractions so powerful that its promises are too sweet and too dangerous in equal measure. The music of BOHREN & DER CLUB OF GORE opens up remarkable rooms of association, from a warm burrow to a pristine secret lodge, from a
dusky woodland tavern to a smoky quayside dive. Individual and collective floods of images rush forth irresistibly. Loneliness is not at all problematic: empty multi-storey car parks, nighttime drives, remote bridges to nowhere. All in your mind. This is the temptation, a sweet, guilt-free addiction. It's all in your mind - and only there. These sinister crackling songs are invitations to secrete oneself in darkness. With track titles such as 'Maximum Black', 'Zombies Never Die' or 'Dandys Lungern Durch Die Nacht', the mind wanders inexorably into filmic spaces.
Echoing the masters of midnight cinema, stories evolve all by themselves. As the American Film Noir Foundation observed so smartly: 'the vivid co-mingling of lost innocence, doomed romanticism, hard-edged cynicism, desperate desire, and shadowy sexuality.' Their definition of Film Noir serves just as well as an appraisal of the group, 'Bohren For Beginners'.
Which says it all really, doesn't it A final word of warning! Sources close to the band describe the double CD
released in October 2016 as a gateway drug to the Bohren universe. Enter at your own risk, some have never found their way out again."(by Lars Brinkmann)

Many Worlds Interpretation is a collection of cosmic Americana for electronics, guitar, and percussion culled from Jon Iverson’s extensive home-studio archive. 1984, Los Osos, California. In a small cinderblock cottage, hand-painted with bright psychedelic flora, Jon Iverson created vibrant new worlds. He spent long days and nights immersed in sound, perfecting home recording on his 8-track reel-to-reel, combining his love for kosmische and Berlin School electronics with an infatuation with ethnographic sounds and expansive guitar music. In a duo with fellow sonic traveler Thomas Walters, Iverson released missives from the studio on a self-titled LP released on country legend Guthrie Thomas’ Eagle Records. That release featured
three electro-acoustic compositions (“Naningo”, “River Fen”, and “Fox Tales”) as well as a gathering of guitar duo tapestries. Many Worlds Interpretation re-imagines those interplanetary works alongside several unreleased compositions that also feature synthesizer, guitar, and percussion, creating a re-visioned album which leans into Iverson’s electronic studio wizardry.

All songs have been carefully transferred from analog tape to high resolution digital, retaining their vintage studio warmth, but mixed and mastered for modern ears and audio systems. The album is pressed at 45rpm, further enhancing the audiophile experience.

Artist Statement

I worked in a Harley Davidson parts warehouse in the summer of 1976 in the San Francisco Bay Area. The goal was to save enough money to buy transportation for college and a Teac 4 track 1/4" reel to reel tape machine. By September there was a rusting monkey-vomit green car in the driveway and shiny new Teac with a Sony condenser microphone in the bedroom. At this point I had been playing guitar for a dozen years and like most children of the sixties, dreamed of joining
a band.

Went to college instead to study business.

But all was not lost. 1978-1979 was spent as Weird Al Yankovic's roommate and we recorded and created enough songs to play shows around San Luis Obispo, California, where we were attending college. Many of those recordings have yet to be heard by the public, including the first performances of My Bologna and many other parodies of pop songs of the day. We sent tapes to Dr. Demento, we auditioned for The Gong Show and were barred from playing at the local college after one memorable performance. Wild times.

I, however, was more intent on working on "serious" music, with albums from Vangelis, Tangerine Dream and Jean Michel Jarre providing inspiration. DJing at the local college radio station and then public radio outlet provided exposure to an endless stream of obscure albums (Sky Records from Germany was a particular favourite). Most of them would never make it to the air, but my buddies and I would pass them around like exotic treasure.

Fast forward a couple more years and I had picked up a Mini-Moog and eventually a Prophet V synthesizer as well as starting a collection of instruments from around the world. The Teac and synths formed the basis for a growing DIY studio that had taken over a modest-size garage (pictured on the cover) that had been converted into a two room cottage in Los Osos, California.

The Teac was eventually joined by a rented Otari 1/2" 8-track and then finally a vintage MCI JH-100 2" 16-track. The compositions on this album were recorded on these three machines between 1982 and 1989. At some point an Apple II computer with Alpha Syntauri sound card and keyboard were added and then later the first personal computer sampling hardware/software kit, the Decillionix DX-1. The DX-1 forms the rhythm track for “Fox Tales” and the Alpha Syntauri was programmed to create the pulsing synth for “Naningo”. “River Fen” was tracked with both the Alpha Syntauri and the Prophet V.

I knew this music wasn't commercial, but didn't care. It was inspiring working with the first computer-based synths and semi-pro gear. Home studios were still rare in the early 80s until the Tascam Portastudio blew the DIY door wide-open. But I was more interested in sound quality so stuck with reels of tape instead of lower fidelity cassettes.

During the time these songs were recorded, I was also collaborating with my good friend and mandolinist, Tom Walters. “River Fen”, “Naningo” and “Fox Tales”, were solo recordings that also ended up on the first Iverson & Walters album, First Collection. The other four pieces on this new LP were never fully finished or released until now.

— Jon Iverson, September 2022