Buscar:pop district

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

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

Orange Vinyl


With his second contribution to the Lost Palms catalogue, Swansea-based producer Tom Vernon takes us by the hand and leads us with him on a contemplative journey through Japan's rural landscapes and their urban surroundings.

Following the success of his debut EP released on Shall Not Fade's sub-label Lost Palms, Tom Vernon returns with a blissed-out 5-tracker. Taking its name from the ancient temple district at the foot of the Japanese mountain, Minobu EP sees the emerging producer fuse field recordings with the stylistic tropes of house and broken beat, creating intricately woven tapestries imbued with memory and place.

The wistfully amorphous opening track "Onjuku" captures the stasis of a declining-population seaside town, taking its cue from the futile whine of the tsunami warning system that echoes daily through its empty streets. On "Minobu In The Train", the EP discovers its pulse, translated into the shuffle of maracas, reverberating cymbals and a hypnotic piano melody that New Zealand brothers Chaos in the CBD would be proud of. With instrumental-sounding percussion, a modest, throbbing bassline and the ambient backdrop of Tokyo station, "Unexpected Departure" takes jazz-infused broken beat as its reference point, and sees the EP at its most transportive. Bringing things to a close are the complex drum workouts and acid-tinged melody of "Route E52" and the more upbeat deep house track "Could This Be" with low pass filtered funk-infused melody that oozes sex appeal.

Minobu EP drops 22nd April via Shall Not Fade.

Augustus Pablo's unique sound which was created around playing what could best be described asa child's musical toy, the melodica. It made him a very popular session player in the late 1970's and early 80's.It was not only his unique talent of playing the instrument but also his talents on a piano and the keyboard.
Pablo worked on a varied amount of sessions for all the top Jamaican producers but especially for King Tubby at hi studio in the heart of the Waterhouse district of Kingston Jamaica.
We have compiled a set of rhythms that have King Tubby and Phillip Smart at the controls and Augustus Pablo adding his musical flavour to the mix to make what we believe to be a great album...
Hope you enjoy the set....

In February of 1976 Eddie Carmichael left the group “The Voshays” after catching the bandleader/manager stealing from the band. Derry Shepherd and Duncan Bethel left at that time also. About a week later I asked Derry if he would be interested in starting another band and he said sure. At that point Duncan Bethel agreed to participate and he recruited his friend Flynn Emanuel to play trombone. Derry was the manager of the cafeteria at Sears Department Stores in The Pompano Fashion Square Mall and he met Sandy Ficca who was the manager at Chess King Men’s Clothing Store in the same mall. Sandy also agreed to join the group and we auditioned bass players and chose Dave Segal and only one keyboard player auditioned and that was Bob Groszer. We now had all of the personnel for the group and we commenced rehearsing in the recreation center in Pompano Beach, FL at Westside Park. We did a few “Chitlin’ Circuit“ gigs to fine tune the band and music and then moved over to the beach circuit. While there we would perform spring and summer months at “The Ocean Mist” on the Strip in Fort Lauderdale, FL and for the fall and winter months the Big Daddy’s 8600 Club on Miami Beach. After 18 months of constant gigging I suggested that the band go into the studio and record some original music. Now all we needed was some serious financial support and songs. I met a man by the name of Jerry Bullard and convinced him to back the project. We formed our own independent label “Get Off Records” and publishing company “Situated Music”. At that point Dave Segal and Sandy Ficca left the group and Bruce Saddler who was the drummer for The Voshays joined us on the drums for the first two recordings. Sandy Ficca returned as drummer and brought in his old friend and bandmate Daryl Walker to play Bass on five of the six remaining songs. We recorded the entire album in five days at SRS Studios and Triad Studios both in Fort Lauderdale, FL in August of 1977. The first single “Give It Up (Let Yo Funk Fly Free) was a winner released only in the New York tri state area where in two weeks it reached number 16 in the top 100 and was poised to go number one nationwide on the R&B charts in the next two weeks. Henry Stone, owner of TK Records in Hialeah, FL wanted to sign the group as did many other major record labels including Maurice White of Earth, Wind & Fire. But the usual problems of the music business reared its ugly head and the record was pulled from all radio airplay and the group who became disenfranchised with the business of the industry decided to call it quits. Derry Shephard went into Gospel Music production, Sandy Ficca went on to become the drummer for the Pop/Rock recording artists “Firefall”. Daryl Walker is a session player and music teacher, I did studio sessions and played in several cover bands and toured internationally. Bob Groszer toured with Sly Stone and other legendary recording artists. Dave Segal went on to start New York Bass Works in New York. Flynn Manuel became a music teacher in The Broward County School District and Bruce Saddler and Duncan Bethel left the Music industry completely. We were young and not good business people at that time and did not understand the rules of do’s and don’ts of the music industry. But we had three talented songwriters, a great arranger, a killer band and all the financial support that we needed. Looking back if we only had an experienced manager I truly believe Mirror would have gone on to create some great music over the years that followed.
Peace and love all the time,

"The core of confusion and upheaval that drove some of the band's most fiery earlier work, however, is replaced by a more stabilized undercurrent, a mentality that's reflected in songs not afraid to try new things and honestly explore uncomfortable feelings. When combined with exciting production and songwriting choices, that mindset helps make Feels So Good // Feels So Bad one of the Shivas' best albums.” - AllMusic "Portland, Oregon-hailing psych-surf band The Shivas accomplish another time-traveling, reverb-ridden sound that refuses to get boring. Jared Molyneux’s guitar work knows when to be bright or bashful at the right times, breaking into guitar solos that possess a late-’60s groove… The Shivas seem to blissfully flourish” - Paste "a consistent treat for the ears” - The Vinyl District "Though the psych-tinged guitar riff that drives 'Feels So Bad' was written while The Shivas were still on the road, its lyrics didn’t fall into place until the band was well into lockdown, unsure of when they’d be able to return to their most imperative true love: Live shows... Accordingly, 'Feels So Bad' permeates with a sense of urgent desperation, building off a chugging prog-rock instrumental.” - Consequence (on “Feels So Bad”) "They hooked the audience with their throwback rock sounds. The guitar strums and rhythmic drum beats were layered atop smooth and hallucinogenic vocals. The eyes can tell the take at times and there was a sparkle there that said that the band members just love doing live performances." - California Rocker "This single layers on the fuzz but keeps it dreamy, with an especially sticky guitar riff sure to lodge itself in your brain with minimal effort." - Portland Monthly (on “If I Could Choose”) “'My Baby Don’t' translates the genuine vibrant joy


of the live experience into the studio, bringing the band’s ‘60s garage rock roots, sharp pop vocal harmonies, and fervent performances along for the ride." - Under The Radar "Perfectly straddling the line between a solid-head bopping track and an introspective deep cut, The Shivas’ 'Undone' is a rock & roll gem. The track sounds straight out of the late 60s and fits seamlessly in the Portland band’s electrifying catalog." - The Luna Collective "The first time I clicked play on this track, I knew it was a yes for me." - Ear To The Ground Music (on “If I Could Choose”) "The harmonies would make the “Happy Together” Turtles blush, but the unsettling guitar doesn’t shy away from the woollier implications of the ’60s." - Willamette Week (on “If I Could Choose”) "'Undone' is just the perfect song for the good days and the bad ones." - GlamGlare "another hit" - Austin Town Hall (on “Undone”) "one of the best forthcoming albums of the year" - Austin Town Hall RADIO: #3 Most Added @ NACC - 50 official adds BIO Every working musician has had their life turned upside down by Covid-19. For The Shivas, who had recently released a new LP and normally keep a rigorous touring schedule, it was a particularly screeching halt. “We were about to go to SXSW, the following weekend was Treefort in Boise, and then we were going to open for our friends’ band on tour in the US before going to Europe,” Jared Molyneux remembers. Then everything just stopped. They were faced with a dilemma. “It forced us to adapt or just quit,” Molyneux says. “The reality is that shows are our job.” In truth, live shows aren’t just The Shivas job: they are the band’s greatest love. Shivas shows are bombastic, explosive and thoroughly communal live rock and roll experiences where barriers between the performers and their audience seem to dissolve into the sweat and sound. The stage—or the basement, or the living room—that’s The Shivas’ true element. It’s their raison d’etre. It’s their religion. The band’s live urgency may have been born in 2006, when the band’s young members—who began booking West Coast tours while still in high school—waited without fanfare on sidewalks or in parking lots, before being rushed onstage for their sets at 21-and-up clubs. Maybe it developed a little later, as The Shivas blasted their way through Portland’s storied and unsanctioned mid-aughts house show scene. Whatever the origin of their famously kinetic live experience, it’s the show that keeps them coming back after over 1,000 performances spread over 25 countries in 15 years. In those 15 years, The Shivas have grown tight-knit as a group. Guitarist/singer Jared Molyneux, bassist Eric Shanafelt and drummer/singer Kristin Leonard have all been with the band since its earliest days; guitarist Jeff City, another high school friend, joined in 2017. Together they’ve learned to thread a seemingly impossible needle: They’ve honed and tightened their performances without sacrificing the element of surprise that makes each show special. And despite touring and recording for most of their lives, they speak about their project with humility, in the DIY vernacular of their Pacific Northwest upbringing. They talk up their own favorite bands, play all-ages shows as much as possible, and bring a sort of blue-collar humanism to the live performances they relish so much. “We just want to make people feel good,” Molyneux says. “We want them to forget they have to work tomorrow.” Kristin Leonard elaborates, “The live show is all about that feeling of catharsis—in ourselves and in everyone who comes out. We’re creating this safe space where we can all let go. Where we can exhale. And it feels really good when we are able to facilitate that.” So when Covid hit, the band knew it was time for transformation. After a settling realization that live music would be grounded for the foreseeable future, The Shivas booked significant studio time with Cameron Spies, who also produced the 2019 Dark Thoughts LP. They also transformed their lives: three of the band’s four members found work with a local nonprofit serving unhoused Portland residents. They became engaged in protests and fundraisers for social justice. They spent a whole summer actually living in Portland, settling into the city they had always called home, but that sometimes felt like a temporary stop between tours. “We got into a more community-minded headspace,” Leonard says. “And that did give us some purpose. It felt cool to see everybody come together to stick up for what they believe in. It feels like an incredibly formative last twelve months.” The album that emerged from this new moment finds The Shivas reborn as a band that seems seasoned and perfectly at home with itself. There is a calm, even a hopefulness, to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad that sounds new. The Shivas didn’t write or record the album with a particular theme in mind, but one seems to have emerged: where Dark Thoughts was about confronting your demons with fearless self-examination, much of Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is about what happens once you find that peace: how being honest with yourself changes your relationships and your priorities. “I do think it’s about acceptance,” Leonard says. “There’s a weird relaxation that comes with being at peace with things you can’t control or have regrets about.” Maybe that’s why the squealing, riff-laden break-up song opener, “Feels So Bad,” is such a shock to the system. But it’s more of an exorcism than a melodrama: more a song about not being able to do the thing you love (in


this case, playing live shows) than splitting with a partner. “It’s like part of you goes to sleep,” Leonard says. As bandmates who are also in a long-term relationship, Molyneux and Leonard know that their songs might be seen as glimpses into their personal lives, but their songwriting is rarely autobiography. Leonard compares their process to something more akin to screenwriting. “There’s bound to be some autobiographical material in there,” she says. “But the common denominator is the exploration of universal feelings: ones that everyone experiences or can relate to.” The goal is to use the music to drill down into something genuine and sincere, beyond genre or stylistic affectation. That’s where The Shivas have arrived. Whatever growth led the band to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad, plenty of their fascinations remain. They’re still turning love songs into psychedelic, transcendent epics. “Tell Me That You Love Me” subverts doo-wop extravagance and dabbles in Flamenco rhythms. “Rock Me Baby” is a bubblegum anthem soaked in so much reverb that we might just be hearing it from the stadium nosebleeds. “Sometimes” is almost impossibly huge, like a witchy outtake from the Brill Building era. Those songs feel like logical expansions from a band that has always excelled at a timeless sort of rock and roll that tinkers with and explodes elements from every era. But on the towering and mournful “You Wanna Be My Man,” a slow-burning six-minute shoegaze prayer for a higher sort of love, there is a level of emotional nuance that feels like something altogether revolutionary. It’s there again in the stripped-down vulnerability of the album-closing elegy “Please Don’t Go.” Yes, Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is an album about acceptance. Sometimes that acceptance feels enlightened and sometimes it feels like the end result of a lot of kicking and screaming. The Shivas have adapted in both of those ways. With new tours scheduled and a new album on the way, they’re still hoping--like all of us--for a new era of vibrant, cathartic live music. The lessons they learned from having their normal upended, though, have only helped them grow

Summer at Land’s End is not an interlude or tangent for The Reds, Pinks & Purples but rather a perfect fourth movement following the albums Anxiety Art, You Might Be Happy Someday, and Uncommon Weather. As with these self-recorded records (the primary work of songwriter Glenn Donaldson), the songs on Summer at Land’s End were crafted slowly and then drawn together to make a unified statement. But here, and more than before, Summer at Land’s End combines Donaldson’s rueful pop sensibility with a parallel musical universe, one composed of pictures, dreams, and feelings without words. Even if the underlying theme of this collection is one of conflict or unhappiness, the vision of the music presents an escape to a new world, always fading in and out of sight.

For listeners who may not be familiar with Donaldson’s corner of San Francisco––the Richmond district––or the current wave of hazy, melodic DIY pop groups performing in the city, Summer at Land’s End pulls in images and scenes that feel like a collision of the mundane and the sublime of this present landscape. But settings such as these are the backdrop for personal narratives, expressed as a struggle with love, with companionship and the conflicts of home. With this record, The Reds, Pinks & Purples give less focus to the vanities of a subculture and more to the challenge of connecting with someone, to the ordinary goals of being human and finding harmony with others.

This deliberate saturation in drama and ambiance, along with some of Donaldson’s best songwriting to date, is what gives Summer at Land’s End its special class in the project’s discography. Of the album’s cinematic mood, Donaldson refers to films like Summer of ‘42 and the influence of the classic 4AD catalogue of the 1990s. This style informs much of Donaldson’s prior and current ventures of course (The Ivytree, Vacant Gardens, and a dozen projects in between) but now The Reds, Pinks & Purples have taken the mantle, embracing this instinct for instrumental or dreamier modes of pop songwriting. It’s a pleasure to experience Summer at Land’s End, as this record finds a thrilling balance between songs and sounds, instruments and voices, and the ironic twin poles of art and life.

Cementing his reputation as the star toaster with the small but popular El Paso sound system, based in the Waltham Park area, Dennis Alcapone was one of the first deejays to rise to prominence following U Roy’s breakthrough in the late 1960s. Born Dennis Smith in the rural district of Culloden, he became immersed in sound system culture after settling in western Kingston. Once El Paso became big on the sound system circuit, dental technician- turned-producer Keith Hudson brought him into the studio for his debut recordings, which led to a debut album for Studio One and hit material for Duke Reid, some cut in concert with his deejay sparring partner, Lizzy. Alcapone’s longstanding links with Bunny Lee yielded the excellent Guns Don’t Argue album, first issued in 1972, on which the toaster raps with style over some of Lee’s all-time greatest rhythms, including Delroy Wilson’s Better Must Come, John Holt’s Left With A Broken Heart and Slim Smith’s rendition of the Temptations’ soul classic Ain’t Too Proud To Beg.

Fractal City, the latest Cubenx album is a collection of terrestrial jams and arachnean ambient ballads that are particularly apt for urban listening. If its predecessors cracked the musical codes in force and shone by the versatility of their references, this new opus offers its listener an intense and symbolic sound environment.


The raw material of Fractal City was first conceived as a series of sound patches, designed to run in parallel with Canadian digital artist Maotik's installation. Broadcasted in real-time by generative patches reacting to various external and non-human data, those musical excerpts have been rendered in hundreds of nuances and extended over infinite durations. This unusual approach confers to the recording of the finished album's outstanding immersive strength.

Recorded live on a single track over a short period of a few weeks, the nine compositions of Fractal City capture the obsessions of its author for postmodern urban landscapes, and the revelation of new perspectives on the city of Paris.

The opening piece `Ssarg´ seems to hide the figure of the Mexican ambient producer Jorge Reyes. Cubenx built a cocoon of energetic layers, a new home of the mystical kind harmoniously integrated in a flourishing rainforest ecosystem.

`Transect ´refers to the urban development model of the same name, which is based on a division of the city into autonomous "fractal" zones. It also echoes the concept of "metro polarities" which considers the city as a mosaic of social groups. "By cycling in the evening with a friend, we could get away from the city centre to the suburbs of Paris. The contrasts are striking. You move from chic districts to bedroom communities, from industrial zones to improvised caravan camps. But there is a kind of energy in this heterogeneity that pushes you to always pedal further."

A few miles away, it would look like Art and urbanism have tried to level the cultural and social discrepancies of the outskirts of Paris. "Architectural sites like the Arcades of Bofill are splendid. There are completely extravagant projects, which seem to emerge from nowhere."
These buildings with ambitious aesthetics off the beaten tourist track, deteriorate over time and often remain far from the expectations of the local population. A feeling of nostalgic beauty is particularly perceptible on the slowest and most introspective ballads of the album as 'Urban Decay', 'Hagel' or 'Axe Majeur'. The producer leaves nonetheless no room for melancholic emptiness. "Every time, I have the impression that urban culture is taking its rights back and that young people appropriate the places in one way or another."

Just like `Transect', ` Quantified' and `Fractal City' present themselves as mirrors of a daily urban life in constant motion. All three are empowered by an overheated factory, which dispatches hypnotic beats and burst of analogue compressors with a clinical precision and direct them straight away to the reptilian areas of their listener's brains.

The sequencing leaves however space and time to take breath and makes way for aerial sonic excursions of spiritual and enlightened nature. On `Human Dilemma', Cubenx shows some concerns to opening the Pandora's box of transhumanist theories. While a long cosmic wave gives the listener a feeling of perfect fullness, a dizzying guitar distortion cast doubts on long term outlooks. `Smash Other' on the other way alternates gentle dissonances over an ocean of white noise and concludes the album on ethereal note.

With ´Fractal City", Cubenx eludes his irreconcilable love for shoegaze pop song and techno to concentrate exclusively on the production of mutant experimental materials. The result is an uncanny musical object, rich in image and sensation. Cubenx give us a guiding framework, enthralling enough to engage the listener to a tour of town. But he leaves it to the sole listeners to design their own projection of the city.

From the many musical lives of artist Glenn Donaldson emerges The Reds, Pinks and Purples, a project that sifts out the purest elements of pop music and in the process chronicles the point of view of an assiduous San Francisco-based songwriter. The Reds, Pinks and Purples’ third album, called Uncommon Weather, is both an elusive portrait of San Francisco––during one of its fluctuations as an untenable place for musicians and artists––and also a self-portrait, however inverted, of a songwriter who has dispatched another treasured collection of timeless sounding DIY-pop songs.

How The Reds, Pinks and Purples arrived here is a story with many roots, the most consequential of which is perhaps the musical aftermath of his earlier band, The Art Museums, whose brief tenure in the late ’00s coincided with an explosive period of the Bay Area rock scene and was followed by a hermetic musical period of Donaldson’s. Disenchanted with the dissolution of his band, Donaldson averted the DIY-pop sound with an instrumental, conceptual project called FWY! but meanwhile started a habitual songwriting practice, sharing nascent songs with friends in an email exchange. In 2013–2014, The Reds, Pinks and Purples took shape as the moniker for Glenn’s most direct expressions in the DIY-pop mode, enabled by this new disciplined output. By then, San Francisco was already a changed place. The tragic loss of his former bandmate in Art Museums was another source of discontinuity and rupture. You can hear in The Reds, Pinks and Purples’ earliest songs this grappling with life, anxiety, and atrophying subcultures. For an artist with an overriding interest in the aesthetic principles of discrete musical genres, this turn toward his immediate world for subject matter was a major shift, setting The Reds, Pinks and Purples apart from Donaldson’s other musical ventures.

Preceding the release of Uncommon Weather was the Reds, Pinks and Purples’ 2nd album, one of the record buying joys of 2020, You Might Be Happy Someday, and, earlier, their first proper full length Anxiety Art, a title that might nod to the classic Television Personalities song “Anxiety Block.” Donaldson’s music continuously reckons with the influence of Dan Treacy, whose own forays into drum-machines, echo, and reverb in the early 1990s is an important reference point for The Reds, Pinks and Purples’ musical template. Paul Weller, Robert Smith, and Sarah Records also come to mind. But, as important, Donaldson sees his projects as visual expressions too, often blurring the lines of records and physical art objects. They could just as well be “art multiples” as well as records. The pattern for Reds, Pinks and Purples’ records is to document San Francisco’s Inner Richmond district in photographs: the muted, pastel colours and unpeopled compositions unfold in a series of images that read like counter-melodies to Donaldson’s distinctive voice, a vocal tone that always complements the colours.

Self-recorded and mostly self-performed, Uncommon Weather features pinnacle versions of songs Donaldson has honed since the beginning of the project. The album arrives with grateful timing, quick on the heels of You Might Be Happy Someday, and alleviating, for a brief window at least, whatever it is that keeps us coming back to this elemental music. Donaldson imagines his listeners are just like himself: fascinated and addicted to the spiritual power of uncomplicated pop classics. Anthony Atlas

Iggy Pop ‘Rain’s Break’ tonight 25th June with shout out
BBC6 Music

“Magical miniature sonic worlds that modestly await discovery.”
Music OMH – interview + review now live

"Assured and promising"
The Vinyl District – 5* review
Birthday Cake For Breakfast – review

Concrete Islands – review

The Line Of Best Fit - “An incredibly exciting artist”

Andrés Vargas Pinedo is a prominent composer of Amazonian popular music from Peru. He is blind and has excelled as a player of the quena and the violin. He was born in the city of Yurimaguas but he developed as an artist in Lima, for thirty years he has worked as a traveling musician on a street in the San Isidro district of Lima. Throughout his career, he has formed and joined various popular music groups. This compilation presents fifteen songs of his authorship, belonging to his first two groups: Conjunto típico Corazón de la Selva and Los Pihuichos de la selva, active between 1965 and 1974, and which helped define the sound of Amazonian popular music.

These years saw the emergence of an Amazonian popular music movement led by Vargas Pinedo as well as groups such as Los Solteritos, Flor del Oriente or Selva Alegre. These artists based their music on the rhythms of the Amazonian folklore (pandilla, sitaracuy, movido, cajada, chimayche) and were nourished by influences from the coast and the highlands of Peru, as well as by the tropical rhythms of Brazil, Colombia and Ecuador, achieving a musical synthesis that is an invitation to collective celebration and endless dance. A sound that is defined by a constant and hypnotic rhythmic base of kick and snare drums, upon which the quena and violin develop imaginative melodic lines. Sometimes there is a singing voice, sometimes the voices playfully appear as sounds that identify Amazonian popular speech or that emulate jungle animals.

The fifteen tracks gathered in 'El fabuloso sonido de Andrés Vargas Pinedo: Una colección de música popular amazónica' (1966-1974) / 'The fabulous sound of Andrés Vargas Pinedo: A collection of Amazonian popular music' (1966-1974) are a good introduction to the work of an essential creator of Peruvian music, whose sound expresses the spirit of the Amazonian people and summarizes the transition from tradition to the popular in the context of the emergence of a record industry of Amazonian music. Andrés Vargas constitutes a fundamental basis for the music of the Amazon, as his work synthesizes diverse influences, having that original root as its main motive.

This compilation is presented in vinyl format and includes a brochure with extensive information and photos. The audio has been remastered directly from the original tapes. Edition of 300 copies. Art by Jordy García (Blumoo Posters).

Tin Pan Alley is the name given to a collection of New York City music publishers and songwriters who dominated the popular music of the United States in the late 19th century and early 20th century. It originally referred to a specific place: West 28th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues in the Flower District of Manhattan. Haruomi Hosono (Apryl Fool, Happy End, YMO), Masataka Matsutoya (music producer, arranger, keyboard player and composer married to popstar Yumi Arai), Shigeru Suzuki (also guitarist in Happy End) and drummer Tatsuo Hayashi (later on in fusion prog-bands such as Aragon and Parachute) took the name for granted. Their 1975 self-titled debut is stil one of the most sophisticated venture in the so called city pop scene.

More a family than a band, BANDA MAJE formed in a home studio in the historic district of Salerno, in Southern Italy, on the initiative of Peppe Maiellano (composer and keyboards) and Tonico Settanta (producer, rapper and DJ). The collective has an ever-changing number of members, all of whom – a bit like the lively port city they are from – exist at the crossroads between Italian melodies and imported genres like funk, soul and disco.

Released by Four Flies Records, a label specializing in vintage Italian soundtracks and brand new productions with a strong cinematic feel, Banda Maje's debut album "Ufo Bar" transports you to an imagined version of Salerno that combines local tradition and 70s pop and film culture.

Listening to the album's eight funk- and soul- infused tracks also means seeing stories unfold in the streets of this re-imagined city: from the jubilant uprising organised by the women from the Rione Fornelle neighborhood in "Fornellesse", to the cigarette smuggling story in "P' ciel, p' mar, p' terr"; from the distinctly southern Italian pucundria (bittersweet melancholy) in "Sunday Embarcadero", to the saga of provincial nightlife in "Living Disco Club".

While the LP's Side A is sunny and cheerful, its Side B is more nostalgic, almost nocturnal, with bittersweet vibes in "2010" and new wave-influenced synths in "Ago". This variety of moods reflects the emotional depth behind the music of Banda Maje: "We want to leave a trace of what we experience: the narrow little streets brimming with life; our love for Neapolitan music, for Italian soundtracks from the 70s, for B-movies and the saga of cigarette smugglers; our passion for vinyls and cassette mixtapes, not to mention second-hand love affairs and dusty afternoons spent watching third-division football."

Over three decades as the unassuming but pivotal figure behind some of Scotland’s most iconic pop, Jim McCulloch steps out of the shadows and onto centre stage with his debut solo album. The former Soup Dragon perfects his mastery of songcraft on When I Mean What I Say, released on Violette Records on 21 May 2021.
Lush and textured, delicate and intriguing, When I Mean What I Say is immersed in the melodic tapestries of Laurel Canyon but rooted in Jim’s life in his hometown of Glasgow. Written in Donegal’s wild Atlantic coast and recorded pre-Lockdown in Glasgow’s downtown Gorbals district, the warmth of the album’s classic pop and its lyrical openness transports the listener to an emotional and harmonic timelessness far from 2020’s claustrophobia.
Jim: “Violette Records are kindred spirits in the music world. Their ethos, aesthetic and generosity of spirit chime with me. Once I had finished the album, they were the only record company I sent it off to-the only record company I thought could do it justice.”

LP Ltd edition PINK Vinyl (300 copies) + BONUS Fire Records Compilation CD. A Powys trio whose free-spirited invention and exuberant intensity flows through experimental pop: hypnotic, exhilarating and defiantly unique. The Welsh band Islet return with the release of their long-awaited new album, and now available on Ltd edition Pink Vinyl. Eyelet was recorded at home tucked away in the hills of rural Mid Wales. It took form the months following the birth of band members Emma and Mark Daman Thomas' second child and the death of fellow band member Alex Williams' mother. Alex came to live with Emma and Mark, and the band enlisted Rob Jones (Pictish Trail, Charles Watson) to produce. 'Caterpillar' described by Emma as "a song for my unborn child". It's followed by syncopated lullaby 'Good Grief' with its haunting keyboard hook and icy percussion thawed by Emma's yearning vocals about the quiet strength of generations of women. With nods towards Arthur Russell and Jenny Hval, 'Geese' is a mini symphony of driven electronica inspired by Welsh cultural theorist Raymond Williams' novel People Of The Black Mountains. Young Fathers inflected rhythm can be heard on 'Radel 10' that accompanies the multi-tracked variations of Emma and defiant lyrics that were inspired in part by The Good Immigrant - the landmark anthology of essays on race and immigration by BAME writers. "One of the best albums to come out of the UK in years" Louder Than War // "Unhinged, euphoric, wonderful." Pitchfork // "They create an ideology that fuels creativity" The Quietus // "They invigorate life on the margins with this whirlwind of psychedelic pop" The Guardian // "Full of reflective, explorative psych wonderment" ???? The Line Of Best Fit // Short listed for Welsh Music Prize 2020 // ????? The Vinyl District // ????? Buzz // ????? God Is In The TV // ???? AllMusic // Track

-LTD. LOSER EDITION-

This LIMITED LOSER INDIES edition is on GREY MARBLED Vinyl! It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

Long-time collaborators, longer-time best friends, lifelong analog appreciators; the German duo Iron Curtis & Johannes Albert join cosmic forces once again for another LP mission 'Moon II', a heartfelt voyage through the sounds, movements, styles and machines that created this music in the first place.
Think late 80s New York, early 90s Sheffield and the perennial sounds of Italo and Detroit, 'Moon II' is a lunar safari that celebrates the deepest foundations of house, techno and electronic soul while resolutely refusing to get nostalgic. Written and recorded during an intense two-and-a-half month session in Berlin last autumn, there's a consistency and tangible narrative running throughout as the pair play inspiration ping-pong over the course of 10 tracks.
A little Drexcyian glacial nod here, a hazy Boards Of Canada wink there. The Other People Place, Kerrier District, Environ Records, the Hacienda, Sub Club, Heaven 17, classic electro… All these ingredients are constantly bubbling in the mix for both Curtis and Albert (as individuals and even more so as a duo) and the end result is an album that works as a proper album should. Peaks, troughs, dreamy departures and all beautiful things in between.
Taking off where their debut collaborative album 'Industrie & Zärtlichkeit' (soon to be retitled 'Moon I') left us three years ago, the opening modem sounds on the intro track 'Canggu Laundry Club' dial us into a special sense of time and space.
It's a space where anything feels possible; Visual-inspired acid lines on 'Tiger Trek', lino-spinning body pops and windmills to the street sounds electro style of 'The Ultimate Seduction', the club-focused, Traxx-style Cutie Schamuthie collaboration 'Hurting', the melancholy plucks and struts of 'Feingold', the provocative, slinky, smoky finale piece 'Nektar'… The list of intergenerational and cross-genre landmarks on this adventurous body of work go and on, each track complementing the last as they fuse to create a bigger collective picture. A picture that's charmed together through the consistent use of key classic studio machines.
They call it Introverted Electronic Body Music, we call it warm, free-spirited and ultimately timeless. Perfect for your sets, your afterhours or your headphones alike; it's time to let Iron Curtis and Johannes Albert take you to the Moon and back… Once again.

Bulkhead present their debut album - Aft Pressure - due June 1st on 2MR Records. In 2015, during the coldest Toronto winter on record, two old friends - Pop District and Patrik Benjamin - locked themselves away in the studio to experiment with a medley of hardware. Both solo artists in their own right, they had overseen their own projects prior, but had never considered how a collaboration might sound. Exploring the polarity of extreme cold and immersive warmth with a distinctly analogue feel, the duo carved themselves an aesthetic. And so Bulkhead was born. Using a raw, organic palette they repudiate formal structure and polish, opting instead for a freeform blend of unhindered mechanical techno and fuzzy ambience - slambient, if you will. Debuting in 2016, their 'Worker's Kampf' cassette album on LA imprint Far Away Tapes sold out quickly, warranting another release on 2MR featuring highlights of the cassette on 12' and digital. Continuing with the purveyance of abstract arrangements and machine wizardry, their forthcoming album - Aft Pressure - is a striking exploration of the intersection between frenzied techno and harmonic warmth.Fragments of techno and EBM mutate without strict guidance, rebuilding themselves into new forms with stunning physical qualities. Whilst many of the tracks might file under dance music, the DIY spirit of the album transcends a nightclub, occupying a peculiar space between the uncensored grit of the post-punk scene and some melancholic form of ambient minimalism. Angular percussion slices its way through dizzying synth leads whilst serene harmonies wander on their own accord. Darting melodies are made all the more powerful by their harsh timbre as drum-less excursions provide a cinematic backdrop. Aft Pressure is a statement of intent, blurring the parameters of dance music culture with equal doses of insanity and serenity. At the same time, it's also a hell of a lot of fun...