Cerca:push for night

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

HOT REPRESS !!!

Kalabrese is a curious tastemaker and bold musical force that dares to tread the murky waters between indie and electronica, playfully emphasising vocals on song based productions and presenting an album that pushes the limits and portrays dance music in a peculiar and natural way. Inspired by blues, funk, and all those beautiful dancers and tragic heroes of the night, 'Independent Dancer' is laced with curiosity and fever inducing productions.

Six years on from his 2007 debut album 'Rumpelzirkus', a critically acclaimed project that was pursued by performances at infamous festivals like Sonar, Mutek in Montreal and Transmediale in Berlin as well as playing nearly every club basement in Europe with his live-project "Rumpelorchester", Sascha Winkler AKA Kalabrese returns with a masterpiece.

Sounding like a soundtrack from James Murphy (in fact Kalabrese played back to back with the LCD Soundsystem lead man in 2012) and Nicolas Jaar, who featured his epic blues solo 'Desperate Man' on his own Resident-Advisor podcast, 'Independent Dancer' commences with an almost euphoric and certainly unpretentious spirit. 'Purple Rose' steps out downbeat with Sarah Palin, the newest Rumpel discovery, singing an astonishing duet with Kala, an almost country-like creation with ringing bells from the Alps and a hypnotic house beat crashing behind. Kalabrese recruits friend and mentor, A.C.

Been Stellar is what you get when you leave the youth alone in a
metropolis; they grow up, they make noise
Crackly, bright and distorted - stories of violence, love, and a new, un-glamorous,
New York City. 12" EP pressed on red transparent vinyl. Hailing from the suburbs
of Detroit, the beaches of Los Angeles, and Brazil by way of Sydney, Nando Dale
(guitar), Laila Wayans (drums), Sam Slocum (vocals), Nico Brunstein (bass) and
Skyler St. Marks (guitar) have positioned themselves at the glimmering rotten
center of tonight's rock and roll. Each member so distinctly themselves, it must
be assumed that such a diverse and unlikely gang were drawn tight together in
their first year of university by nothing short of serendipitous fortune and a
shared, waggish sense of humor.
They are a band of friends - sharing, crying, fighting, and kissing - wreaking havoc
together and laughing like how only the jaunty youth can afford to. Been Stellar's
arrangements come textured, swooping - pushing past you at a downtown pace
and off to find a better night. The songs are of their own time and space, offering
a New York City - Been Stellar's New York City - the sounds of growing up young.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

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Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Highlighting the continuing evolution of Durban's globally influential gqom sound, this special trilogy of releases showcases three separate artists from South Africa's fertile musical landscape. The set captures a fresh wave of gqom innovation from veteran producer DJ Skothan/DJ Scoturn, DJ Scriby, and 20-year-old DJ MaRiiO. DJ Skothan/DJ Scoturn has been a key figure in Durban's underground scene for many years, producing alongside Phelimuncasi, Bhejani, Tweeyking, Lafaristo, MaRiiO and DJ MP3. His gqom and house tracks have quietly provided a rumbling engine for the city's scene, and "Nevegation" is his debut full-length, providing a complex diagram of his dancefloor versatility. This isn't the gqom you might expect to hear: immediately on opener 'The Gringo' familiar sounds - shovel kicks, chopped vocals, sampled gasps, horror movie strings - are shuffled into atypical patterns, creating jerky soundscapes rather than the expected four-on-the-floor bump. 'Salut to DJ Lag' pays respect to Durban's Beyoncé-approved pioneer, but twists the template into a propulsive new form, adding rolling and evolving percussion that teases fractal shapes each bar. But the album's most unexpected and forward-thinking moment arrives with the aptly titled 'The King of Gqom', a track that simmers the genre's percussive sounds into limber sci-fi club futurism, tweaking the bass sounds into patterns that nod to dubstep, Jersey club and ballroom. 25-year-old DJ Scriby has been working behind the scenes since 2013, assisting the first wave of gqom innovators promote their sound both inside Durban and beyond. In 2017 he joined London's Trax Couture to release "The Clermont EP", and here he introduces his long-awaited follow-up "Izingoma zeGqomu". Scriby's approach to gqom is well-studied and self-aware, which gives him the ability to stretch the sound's scope across the diaspora: just peep the Atlanta trap synths on the dynamic 'Friday 13th', or the absorption of tight grime snares on opening track 'Goi'. Scriby's engineering skill pushes his productions to the next level, lending slithering downtempo tracks like 'Ouuu1' and 'Igqom Libuye' a widescreen, big-room punch without losing the genre's undulating funk. And the producer even eyes the EDM mainstage with 'Qumqum!!', balancing saccharine synths with jerky kicks, claps and rolling toms. The youngest artist featured in the collection, DJ MaRiiO started producing when he was just 12 years old, watching YouTube production videos. "No one told me how to use FL Studio," he admits, "and no one helped me doing different genres." This might be why his music sounds so completely unique; the basic structure of gqom is still present, but MaRiiO augments these elements with youthful energy and carefree use of unusual sounds and production methods. "Zulu Man" opener 'GQom NyeGe' manages to mash together trance synths, DMZ bass and a driving woodblock rhythm that reminds you of its Durban roots, while the bizarre 'Ngom ya Phesh', featuring MaRiiO's regular collaborator Hot Chicks on vocals, pushes the gqom template into the red, with overdriven kicks and disorienting environmental sounds. All three records provide a 360 degree view of Durban's contemporary underground, nodding to the past, present and future of gqom. It's a genre that's constantly in flux as it moves from South Africa's bedrooms and basements to main stages and movie screens across the globe.

Over the course of the last two decades, of Montreal’s creative force, Kevin Barnes, has been wowing fans with their vast catalog of endlessly fascinating pop and mesmerizing live shows. Barnes’ songwriting and production aesthetic has since become iconic in the industry and has garnered massive critical acclaim in publications such as Rolling Stone, The New York Times, NPR, and Pitchfork, who described the band’s album, Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? as “ceaselessly fascinating and inexhaustibly replayable,” as well as ranking it as the #5 album of the year. Barnes’ influence on pop music is undeniable, with multiple late night TV appearances, including The Late Show With David Letterman and Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, as well as brilliant collaborations with the likes of Solange, Janelle Monáe, Jon Brion, and others. The band has also performed across the globe, with festival appearances at Coachella, Sasquatch!, Pitchfork Music Festival and others, as well as hundreds of millions of streams worldwide.

On of Montreal’s latest album, Freewave Lucifer f ck, Barnes continues to push the boundaries of what pop music can be. On songs like “Marijuana’s A Working Woman,” Barnes revisits themes of psychedelia using pulsating synths

After the 2021 Re-Release of “Schwingungen” (MG.ART612) and together with “Seven Up” (MG.ART613) we proudly announce “JOIN INN” as Part3 of the authorised 50th Anniversary “A.R.T.” Re-Edition Series.
“JOIN INN” is the fourth album by Ash Ra Tempel. It was recorded at Studio Dierks and originally released on LP by Ohr Musik-Produktion, catalogue number OMM 556032. Each side of the LP comprises one long track.
In 1972 ASH RA TEMPEL teamed up again with Klaus Schulze during the recording of Walter Wegmüller's Tarot album, and after one of the recording sessions, ASH RA TEMPEL members: Enke, Göttsching and Rosi, together with Klaus decided to "play it again" in a late night session. This recording led to the birth of the “JOIN INN” album, as well as two legendary last concerts in February 1973 in Paris and Cologne.
Manuel Göttsching recalls Hartmut Enke on bass and Klaus Schulze on drums being a dream-team rhythm section for him to play his guitar, especially here to hear on “Freak'n' Roll”, that was ingenious and not to replace ever since.
It was the last recording ever where Klaus Schulze (who sadly passed away this Year) played the Drums and also Hartmut (the Hawk) Enke soon after quit the Bass and music forever.
Join Inn marks the end of the collaboration with Klaus Schulze.
However, together with Ash Ra Tempel, their eponymous first album, which will be released in 2023 as the final edition of our Series, it is considered a highlight of the Krautrock movement.
As for the music itself we again refer to Julian Cope´s review from his book “Krautrocksampler” (published by Head Heritage, 1st ed. 1995):
""Freak’n’roll” fades in like it never started - just was always there from the beginning of time, a dry wah-guitar freerock riff-out unlike any of the other Ash Ra Tempel LPs, and not much like any other music. Yes, there are bluesy riff but none of them have a blues context. Manuel Gottsching’s guitar is so confident that he sometimes drops down to a simple major chord groove, whilst the Hawk pushes that round woody bass into strange overlapping rumbling melody. And ... it’s the return of Klaus Schulze on drums which propels “Freak’n’roll” to its height. No-one but Klaus has the ability to
transcend rock’n’roll in such an on-the-beat non-groove-y way and still send sparks of light into the cosmos as he does it.
-> continued on page 2“Freak’n’roll” is so egoless that it even works at a quiet volume as meditational music. Themes rise from the high tempo pulse beat, then are carried along the muscles of the song into the main area where the riff actually becomes real and expressionist for just long enough before slipping back into the musical fabric of the song.
As usual with Ash Ra Tempel, the other side is an enormous drift piece called “Jenseits (The Next World)”, a beautiful Klaus Schultze meditation of haunting synthesizer chords over which Rosi Muller tells the story of the Cosmic Couriers’ meeting with Timothy Leary. Gradually, the pulsing guitar becomes increasingly intense and turbulent, but Rosi never sounds less than freaked out. Essentially, “Jenseits” is a precursor to Klaus Schulze’s later spacey minor-key grooves.
Unfortunately, this was the last Ash Ra Tempel album in its particular ‘series.
(…) After “JOIN INN”, Manuel Gottsching took over the Ash Ra Tempel mantle alone.”

Anton Klint hails from Sweden and likes to make music at night. In his first release for Hivern he shows once again his knack for producing highly amusing electronic dancing sounds. Both of his tracks in 'Lyckliga Mnniskor' are twisted, playful and hard to pin down, which gives them a unique freshness. The title track is a schizoid take on tribalistic house, in which playful percussion layers and nervous synth sequences provide the background to its menacing vocal sample. 'Djembe Unchained' is, as its title suggests, still heavy on the percussion, but these are generously processed through delays to build a spaced-out and dizzy atmosphere. The track gets the remix treatment by our long-time favourite Black Merlin, who sharpens the beat to invoke mystic forces and push 'Djembe Unchained' into slo-mo cosmic techno territories. The artwork is by Barcelona-based artist Xavier Marin.

Sometimes a band grows so exponentially from one record to the next, it’s almost jarring. Hell Fire has already established themselves as the preeminent masters of a new hybrid breed of Bay Area thrash and NWOBHM in just a few short years, but their fourth album Reckoning is the type of ascendance that truly sets a band apart.

Reckoning is their Master of Puppets, their Number of The Beast, their Defenders Of The Faith. From the very first notes of the album opening title track, you can feel a vital new energy and inspiration to their music. To say Hell Fire used the recent global downtime to dig within and fully refine their sound would be an understatement. It truly is a reckoning.

“This album is every aspect of our band amplified to its maximum potential,” says singer/guitarist Jake Nunn. “This is the record we've always wanted to make, and it feels like we're just getting started,” guitarist Tony Campos adds. “We wanted to push ourselves musically and capture some of our frustrations, anger, loneliness, and rage over being locked inside and dealing with life during a global pandemic in the days when no one really knew how to navigate,” says drummer Mike Smith.

With no touring on the horizon in 2020, the band hunkered down and recorded nearly a full album in preproduction home demos. “I set up a little studio in my garage to record guitar, bass, and vocal tracks,” Campos says. “While Mike bought an electronic drum set and we demoed every song so we were more prepared going into the studio.” Each of them found themselves practicing more on their own and ironing out every last detail and nuance before finally being able to once again play in a room together.

The band’s heightened professionalism also brings in guest bassist Matt Freeman (of Rancid and Operation Ivy fame) on the album after original bassist Herman Bandala departed the band amicably during the initial writing process. New bassist Kai Sun joined Hell Fire in Fall 2021. Reckoning was recorded and mixed at Atomic Studios in Oakland, CA with Chris Dugan.

The title track kicks things off with a slight nod to the layered melodies of acoustic and harmonized guitars of Metallica’s “Battery” before the band rips into its signature galloping guitar picks, soaring harmonies and blistering rhythms. It’s an anthem and a gauntlet thrown down with Nunn’s shimmering screams and guttural howls while dueling guitar solos and Smith’s relentless double bass drum shuffle bring home the point that Hell Fire is born anew. “Medieval Cowboys” hearkens to the epic attack of Iron Maiden’s Powerslave with glistening melodies and complexly interwoven musical shifts that showcase exactly how tight and precise the band has become. “Addicted To Violence” is blistering thrash and “Thrill Of The Chase” soars with rich harmonies while both songs lyrically reflect hard truths the band faced in isolation. The lush acoustic based ballad “A Dying Moon” shows the band effortlessly stretching out in new directions. “It Ends Tonight” is an epic anthem served as a mission statement to the band’s return wherein arpeggiated riffs, squealing pinch harmonics, group chant vocals and Smith’s octopus-armed beats will have legions raising their fists in the air in salute.

“It’s somehow the heaviest and most melodic work we’ve done, and I’m proud of the discipline it took,” Nunn says. “It’s a wild thing.”

15TH ANNIVERSARY LIMITED EDITION

When we started our family group, The Staple Singers, we started out mostly singing in churches in the south. Pops saw Dr. Martin Luther King speak in 1963 and from there we started to broaden our musical vision beyond just gospel songs. Pops told us, "I like this man. I like his message. and if he can preach it, we can sing it" So we started to write "Freedom Songs," like "Why Am I Treated So Bad," "When Will We Be Paid For The Work We've Done," "Long Walk To DC," and many others. Like many in the civil rights movement, we drew on the spirituality and the strength from the church to help gain social justice and try to achieve equal rights. We became a major voice for the civil rights movement and hopefully helped to make a difference in this country. It was a difficult and dangerous time (in 1965 we spent a night in jail in West Memphis, Arkansas and I wondered if we'd ever make it out alive) but we felt we needed to stand up and be heard. So for us, and for many in the civil rights movement, we looked to the church for inner strength and to help make positive changes. And that seems to be missing today. Here it is, 2007, and there are still so many problems and social injustices in the world. Well, I tell you we need a change now more than ever, and I'm turning to the church again for strength. With this record, I hope to get across the same feeling, the same spirit and the same message as we did with the Staple Singers and to hopefully continue to make positive changes. We've got to keep pushing to make the world a better place. Things are better but we're not where we need to be and we'll never turn back. 99 and 1/2 just won't do! - Mavis

Am 22. Juli veröffentlicht Paul Weller ”22 Dreams”, sein 9. Studioalbum, zum ersten Mal auf Vinyl!

Auf dem Album sind die Oasis-Stars Noel Gallagher und Gem Archer sowie Steve Cradock (Ocean Colour Scene) und Blur-Gitarrist Graham Coxon zu hören. Erstmals veröffentlicht im Jahr 2008 stieg das Album
direkt auf Platz 1 der britischen Albumcharts ein.

”22 Dreams” erscheint als 2LP Gatefold Sleeve und enthält ein 12ff x 36ff s/w-Poster mit gedruckten Lyrics, Tracklist und Credits auf der Rückseite, sowie ein 8-seitiges Booklet mit dem Titel ”The Missing Dream AKA Dream # 22” von Simon Armitage.

A voice in the ether. A calm, clement drone. A gentle, pulsing throb. Like the ghost of a forgotten future as imagined by the distant past, Certain Creatures' sophomore LP Nasadiya Sukta is a study in timelessness - crystalline, heartfelt ambient music designed to push light through shadow. Nasadiya Sukta is the debut release on Mysteries of the Deep, a record label dedicated to total sensory immersion. Mysteries (as it's known colloquially and affectionately) launched in 2011 after a particularly fruitful late-night mixing session, first as a cult podcast series dedicated to narcotic music of all kinds, subsequently expanding into a series of seasonal events. Now, with the release of Nasadiya Sukta, Mysteries of the Deep becomes a full-fledged outlet for music to play in the dark. Certain Creatures is the alias of Brooklyn-based artist Oliver Chapoy, and Nasadiya Sukta was crafted especially for Mysteries of the Deep. Its genesis came when Grant Aaron, Mysteries' proprietor, tapped Chapoy to perform at Mysteries' Halloween event in 2015. His performance was the night's axis point, bridging earlier subdued sounds with late-night upbeat moods. Two years later, reworked and reconfigured, this performance is reborn as Nasadiya Sukta. Although divided into six tracks, Nasadiya coheres into a single extra-terrestrial mass, its beautiful understated elegance encouraging repeat listens. Simultaneously harking back to ambient classics from the '90s (you know who they are) while cementing Chapoy as a visionary artist with his own unique voice, Nasadiya Sukta is one for the space travellers indeed. Releases on Styles Upon Styles, Medical Records Label Promo + Tour

100 copies only

Apron Records has been instrumental in shaping the current landscape of contemporary electronic music coming out of the U.K. since 2014. After almost a decade of pushing their unique vision has made the Apron Records imprint one of the most in-demand labels in most independent record stores. Now more than 45 releases deep in their journey, Apron Records have teamed up with Patta Soundsystem to work on their first various artists release and to celebrate this monumental milestone, both camps have collaborated to create a clothing capsule to accompany this release. After working with the artist formerly known as Funkineven on ‘The Wave’ late last year, it was only right to showcase the diverse talents behind this movement.

Sharing a drawing board with Patta for the first time with Apron Records, together they have created a Trucker Cap and a Graphic T-Shirt that echo the racing theme of the whole project. Better Together is the slogan that runs throughout the entire collaboration, stressing how unity makes us stronger as individuals. Artwork for the record has been provided by Amsterdam based artist Jim Klok. His unique Acetone printing technique has now been immortalised on this LP, juxtaposing vintage cars with checkered racing flags to create a dynamic cover that would be right at home in a picture frame as well as a record bin.

System Olympia’s ‘Passi Mai’ is a beautiful 80’s inspired driving riddim layered with her own vocals that wouldn’t be out of place in an arcade or a sticky nightclub floor. Followed up by ‘Leven’ by Brassfoot, we get a wobbler from the NTS regular. Layed with Jamaican vocal samples and audacious arpeggiated bleeps, Leven is a soulful approach to techno tropes that have been bouncing around Brassfoot’s head. Shamos’ 737363 is a cryptic masterpiece. With dreamy pads as a backdrop for shuffling drum beats, euphoric sweeps and dynamically designed synthesis, this closes off the themes explored in the first half of the record.

Side B kicks off with J M S Khosah’s contribution to the record titled ‘Lessons’ which is a dancefloor filler, adorned with glamorous percussion, vocal samples and syncopated stabs ontop of a driving 4x4 kick pattern. Kicking things into 6th gear is a club-ready production from London's most soulful selector Shy One. Groovy basslines and a 2-step riddim make ‘Candy Floss’ an ode to the grimey and the glittery sides of London nightlife. This project champions one of the people that have been pivotal in the success of the label, Steven Julien whose track E46 is an emotional journey through his synth-laden East London studio. Bookending the project are two compositions from Compton’s-own AshTreJinkins. Showcasing his abilities to approach the project from both an ambient and a pure beat-making perspective in order to hold the whole project together.

8 years after his debut album entitled "What You Give", it's time for the Greek musician's second long player! No doubt, this is Bengoa's most mature work to date and a product of countless studio hours. Pushing his electronic sound forward, the Greek musician, dj, songwriter and label owner, delivers an outstanding 9-track LP, floating between trip hop, nu-jazz, mid and downtempo motifs. The extensive use of physical instruments like saxophone, trumpet, guitars, piano, percussion and bass add musicality and deepness to the whole record, on which Bengoa has also written most of the lyrics himself. "Music For Your Red Parts" flows like an undercurrent of nervy isolation and late night melancholy, toying with the emotional structure of it's own sound. Songs that signal something memorably, indelibly and hypnotically sexy, without talking about sex. Music that you feel - strong, soft and filled with emotion. It wants to meet you in your deepest parts. It will play games with you, fill you with sorrow, or send you into a deep reverie. out now through SAOS RECORDS.

Clear Vinyl

I met Thomas Roussel in 2017 at a Pigalle fashion show in Paris. As always with Stéphane Ashpool, the designer of Pigalle, casting is perfect and the clothes are modern and groundbreaking. But my eyes and ears were intrigued by this retro-futuristic instrument next to me, the Cristal Baschet. French composer and conductor Thomas Roussel wrote the soundtrack of the show.
He add this magnificent instrument in his "not very classical" orchestra, this is what I immediately loved with him!
He invited us into his world of classical music with a fresh twist, simplicity and audacity.
At the same time I was scratching my head to find something different to celebrate the 15th anniversary of Ed Banger records.
For a long time I had this idea of mixing both electronic and classical music together. Exactly like my heroes Metallica did in 1999 with the Symphonic orchestra of San Francisco! Thomas Roussel seems the perfect man for this crazy idea. We did Ed Banger 15 together and we became friends.
Thomas Roussel grew up in Dijon, spent his days at the conservatory and his nights at L’An-Fer, one of the most respected Techno club in France. Probably the reason why he ended up working with Jeff Mills, on two projects mixing Jeff’s 909 and a classical orchestra.
By experimenting new ways of using an orchestra, by creating state-of-the-art scenography and producing more ambitious music he quickly became the man in charge of everything "classica". The list of his collaborations is too long and will ruin this little introduction.
It could sounds like this : Chanel, Apple, Cartier, Kenzo, Nike, Dior…
Performing from Paris to Macau, from Monte Carlo to Dubai and from New York to Beijing!
In 2017 Thomas Roussel released his first album as Prequell with Universal Music.
A successful collaboration that really allows Thomas Roussel to become an artist.
In 2022 Ed Banger records is proud to release Thomas Roussel "LATE METAL" a 3 tracks EP.
Where uplifting orchestration and electronic music composing collide. The perfect soundtrack of a block buster movie mixing George Lucas & Christopher Nolan generations. It’s also a marker of our time, music boundaries are explosing. It’s time to hear the London Symphony Orchestra’s strings battling with a Drum’n’Bass beat, a way to DEIFIED classical music.
It’s also a record for your eyes. Art director Andy Picci created an algorthym and gave life to a mercury abstract form. This collaboration
marks the need for Thomas Roussel to always push the boundaries and take his project to another LEVEL.

"Prime Sequences" is the latest album by dj and electronic music producer GummiHz, real name Alexander Tsotsos. Alex has an ear for what he describes as elastic frequencies, thus gummi-hertz! In other words, low bass lines, airy synth phrases and shuffle rhythms, playfully arranged within loose forms. A philosophy that comes across throughout this long player. Elements fall in and out of order, time swings back and forth, all together in perfect harmony! Pushing the boundaries of what has become his signature sound, a fusion of house and techno all the way from Berlin to Detroit! This package features underground music coming straight from the heart, or the Hertz more appropriately! The story unfolds within no less than nine tracks showcasing Alex's versatility in making waves!

The opening track titled "Berlinopolis" is a sonic portrait of the city of Berlin, where Alex lives since more than a decade. A smooth soundscape produced by combining abstract melodies with field recordings of the city's ambience. "'Second Wave" follows airy jazz chords and drum parts to launch the listener into trajectory. It feels like the sort of track that would probably make it into Herbie Hancock's deep house collection! The title track "Prime sequence" is a Detroit brewed piece with some Berlin minimalism rawness in the rhythm section! Combining a mixture of drama, suspense and shaking drums to dominate the dance floor. Next up comes "Submerge", a tight and hypnotic affair carrying the right amount of subtle release. It locks in right from the start and doesn't let go! "Prime Dub" dives deeper into the frequency spectrum. Rhythm and sound stimulate the brain waves as a heavy chord phrase cycles to infinity. "Proto Sequence" follows a simple still infectious groove laced with various modulations. This track has party written all over it! Inspired by proto-house motifs pioneered by artists like Chi-town's Ron Hardy. "Metafunk" reaches out to Berlin's club culture at its core. That is, the youth and street culture! The phrase on repeat signifies the urge to reclaim the streets, while endlessly flowing within finely tuned electronics. "Mindloop" is a track written for the after hours looping state of mind. Another minimal house cut with a fair dose of psychedelic sound design. Lastly, "Descension" relaxes the mood through deep pulsating rhythms and playful arpeggios. Pushing towards a meditative state by stimulating mind, body and soul!?

"Prime Sequences" covers a wide range of styles like ambient electronics, peak time house and techno, as well as seriously effed up after hour minimalism! Made for both djs and music lovers, this is the second long player by GummiHz to come out on vinyl after his debut album "Sleepless Nights" back in 2009! While it succeeds his latest EP, "Groove is in the Hertz". What makes it even more special is that it comes out on brainchild Claap, giving the artist total freedom of expression.

Dama Scout's first full-length sees the London/Glasgow trio stretch their creative muscles, further building upon their unique, individual tastes to bring together a world that’s ever-changing, infectious and brilliantly fresh. By pushing through the barriers of genre, Dama Scout’s constantly curious dive into contrasting sonic landscapes allows them to craft new terrain that takes its cues from East Asian pop and film. Mimicking the unpredictability of playing live shows, the tension between audience and artist and the push-and-pull of creative collaboration, 'gen wo lai (come with me)' ushers in an authoritative new era for the band. Here, jolting nightmares and reality-bending dreams exist side-by-side, and Dama Scout are our guides for every unnerving, enchanting moment.

The first British reggae sub-genre to achieve ‘outernational’ success and influence the music of Jamaica, lovers rock was a dominating force in the UK scene, from the mid-Seventies through to the close of the Eighties.

Developed largely as a counterpoint to the more militant style of roots reggae, the romantically-themed genre was heavily influenced by the styles of US R&B and the predominantly soulful Jamaican rock steady sound of the Sixties.

Despite the style achieving mainstream success with a number of major UK chart hits, lovers rock received scant attention in the mainstream media until the screening of Steve’s McQueen’s award-winning 2020 BBC TV series, “Small Axe”, the highlight of which was an aptly titled episode that paid tribute to the style and its impact upon British culture.

Since then, interest in the genre has continued to grow internationally and reflecting this trend comes this handsomely packaged album which is presented in 2 physical formats – 2x LP and 3CD.

Comprising the most popular and influential recordings in the style, the collection includes works by such legendary British performers as Janet Kay, Carroll Thompson and Louisa Mark, alongside established Jamaican reggae royalty, notably Gregory Isaacs, Dennis Brown, John Holt and Sugar Minott.

With its focus firmly upon the best-loved romantic reggae sounds of the Seventies and Eighties (whilst the 3CD set also digs deep into the archive), this essential collection of dancefloor favourites provides the most authentic representation of lovers rock sounds yet to see issue.

Best known to funk / groove collectors for his 70's library efforts (Freezing Point, The Pop World Of Yann Tregger, Schifters, Catchy, Ducks & Drakes) on such cult labels as L'Illustration Musicale, MTS or Montparnasse 2000 or his late funky disco output via projects like Major Symphony or M.B.T. Soul; french trumpet player / composer /arranger Yann Tregger also devoted time and efforts to delve into electronic sound abstraction when needed.

Based around the possibilities of the legendary ARP 2600 synthesizer, To The Land Of No Return was an outrageous and nightmarish collection of sound vignettes that pushed the instrument's capabilities to the limit. Thrilling, uneasy, surreal, spellbinding or just plain spaced out - an album "whose theme is the departure of a psychedelic train on a trip with no return to a lost world, leading its only passenger to unreal adventures" according to composer's words.

An essential slice of musical lunacy coming from the most experimental fringes of the french library world!

Trees Speak are back!
Speak’s new album, “Vertigo of Flaws: Emancipation of the Dissonance and Temperaments in
Irrational Waveforms” comes as a double-vinyl edition, single CD and digital release. The limitededition first pressing only of the vinyl includes a bonus 45 enclosed in an 8-page 7”x7” booklet
insert housed within the gatefold sleeve with cover artwork created by Soviet Union propaganda
artist Lazar Markovich Lissitzky in 1911.
Trees Speak are back!
This new release is a vast leap into an ocean of space and sound, a quantum leap into cybernetics, biology, anti-gravity,
time travel, dream speech and transfiguration. A seriously next step release!
Showing no signs of slowing down their rapid creative pace – incredibly this is their fourth album in the space of just over
one year – ‘Vertigo of Flaws’ is a mighty 29 tracks, one and a half hours of music across one double album that is surely
going to be a defining point in their musical career, a giant leap into the sonic unknown, an epic exploration of intensity
and sound.
Alongside their now trademark German krautrock motoric-beat rhythms, angular New York post-punk attitude, tripped-out
60s spy soundtrack, psyche-rock, and 70s synthesizers and vocoders, here you will also hear a new cosmic spacial
awareness (both personal inner space and galactic outer space) and a truly wilful pushing of sonic boundaries - as police
sirens, static noise, alarms, radio signals, avant-garde voices, and orchestral string quartets, all collide to add beautiful
dissonance to uber-powerful, intense, addictive and propulsive rhythms - in the process creating a truly unique
soundscape that Trees Speak have made wholly their own.
If you ever wanted to hear Can, Hawkwind, Destroy All Monsters, Pere Ubu, electric eels, John Cage, Liquid Liquid,
Tangerine Dream, Suicide, Neu!, Laurie Spiegel, Art Ensemble of Chicago, John Barry, Mother Mallard’s Portable
Masterpiece Company, Sun Ra, Stockhausen, John Carpenter, Electro-Acoustic and Musique Concrete and Mars in one
band - then this is it!
Trees Speak are Daniel Martin Diaz and Damian Diaz from Tucson, Arizona and their music often draws on the cosmic nighttime magic of Arizona’s natural desert landscapes. ‘Trees Speak’ relates to the idea of future technologies storing
information and data in trees and plants - using them as hard drives - and the idea that Trees communicate collectively.
Special guests from the hyper-creative hub of the Tucson music scene on this release are Gabriel Sullivan, Ben Nisbet, Saul
Millan, Stephani Guilmette, and Davis Jones.
The album Vertigo of Flaws was recorded in Brooklyn, New York, and Tucson, Arizona during the plague of 2021.
Extract from Vertigo of Flaws sleevenotes:
‘As we travel through space and time, avoiding the discarded remains of the industrial period, the
deconstruction of social norms through the expression of art, music, and philosophy guide the human
experience towards the unknown.
All that remains are musical echoes scattered throughout the universe, like ancient vibrations that now
populate the cosmos. These waves now show signs of decay. Melody, beauty, tonality have all but fallen
away as dissonance blossoms. As John Cage wrote in 1937,
“Whereas, in the past, the point of disagreement has been between dissonance and consonance, it will be,
in the immediate future, between noise and so-called musical sounds. New methods will be discovered,
bearing a definite relation to Schoenberg’s twelve-tone system and present methods of writing percussion
music and any other methods which are
free from the concept of a fundamental tone”.
Similarly, George Van Tassel claimed the Integratron as capable of
rejuvenation, anti-gravity, and time travel. So, what remains of the
“people”? We have adopted from them our own Zeitgeber: their pulses
now guide our sun, our planets, our earths, and are the new circadian,
diurnal, and ultradian rhythms of the galaxy. Traumsprache, dream
speech, is now the internal language of trees.
Decaying metal and machines liberated the note unto nature’s table,
and we sip the delicious nectar of music once more irrational, elaborate,
violent, vast. The past is the future, musical disintegration its own rebirth.
We are nature, once more the computer of the Universe.’