Suche:random play

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.

On the 19th of October 2021 Random Numbers invited Bear Bones, Lay Low and Polonius to play at the Circolo Dev. The show was recorded now here it is in a beautiful cassette edition (Limited copies available).

Side A is a shamanic potion cooked by improvisation artist Bear Bones, Lay Low. 45 minutes of slow brewing of hypnotic sounds originated from tapes, synths and various effects. A meditating process that slowly morphs into a tribal dance that ends with estatic liberation.

On side B 37 minutes of the magical improvisation of Polonius, that after a slow spelling brings you in to his world of samples and repetition, in a schizophrenic representation of modern world. A live composition on a laptop and a keyboard where every sample is played live.

Rezo Glonti (aka Aux Field), Georgian sound artist and electronic music producer debuts on the label One Instrument with an album entirely made with the Teenage Engineering OP-1.
He mostly works within the field of experimental music and places a strong emphasis on the incorporation of texture and space into his compositions.

On his new album “1 For One” Rezo Glonti created all the layers of the pieces in one take. As always, Glonti’s playing is deceptively elegant, raw but precise, attuned to resonance, radiance, and negative space. The record spans a range of emotions and moods and the result acts like a decaying memory, brief shining moments of clarity fighting against something unclear and untethered.

The various combination of layers perform with both a distinguished efficacy and unhurried dreamy drift—charged and beautiful, pulsating and pleasing. The production is subtle and tasteful.

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.

Morgan Geist and Kelley Polar present their debut album as Au Suisse which features contributions from Dan Snaith (a.k.a. Caribou / Daphni). A streamlined mixture of funk, synthpop and disco for fans of Hot Chip.

Born from the collective mind of producer Morgan Geist (Storm Queen, Metro Area) and songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Kelley Polar, AU SUISSE is a new project that promises to stake a milestone in both its members' already storied careers. Crafting immersive soundscapes using a patchwork of electro, synthpop, funk and disco, AU SUISSE's self-titled debut album evokes both a post-rave comedown on a tropical beach and a weekend alone icy chalet, ruminating on life and love. Guest players include friends and labelmates Dan Snaith (Caribou) and Jeremy Greenspan (Junior Boys).

Having met in college in the early '90s and continued to forge a close friendship throughout the years, AU SUISSE is the first time Geist and Polar have set out to gel their creative relationship into its own musical project. But this is no bashed-together collection of random tunes — this is a band, through and through, and Geist and Polar's shared expertise give the album its own indelible identity.

Ltd weiße 140G Vinyl mit bedruckter Innenhülle und Artwork/Design von Trevor JacksonMorgan Geist and Kelley Polar present their debut album as Au Suisse which features contributions from Dan Snaith (a.k.a. Caribou / Daphni). A streamlined mixture of funk, synthpop and disco for fans of Hot Chip.



Born from the collective mind of producer Morgan Geist (Storm Queen, Metro Area) and songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Kelley Polar, AU SUISSE is a new project that promises to stake a milestone in both its members' already storied careers. Crafting immersive soundscapes using a patchwork of electro, synthpop, funk and disco, AU SUISSE's self-titled debut album evokes both a post-rave comedown on a tropical beach and a weekend alone icy chalet, ruminating on life and love. Guest players include friends and labelmates Dan Snaith (Caribou) and Jeremy Greenspan (Junior Boys).



Having met in college in the early '90s and continued to forge a close friendship throughout the years, AU SUISSE is the first time Geist and Polar have set out to gel their creative relationship into its own musical project. But this is no bashed-together collection of random tunes — this is a band, through and through, and Geist and Polar's shared expertise give the album its own indelible identity.

Four pieces based on drum/cymbal + synthesizer recordings from Copenhagen-based musician Mads Emil Nielsen. Recorded in Berlin & Copenhagen, 2012 / 2015.

A2 Untitled was originally featured in Secret Thirteen Mix 056 "Percussion Bitter Sweet" - mix compiled + synth played by Andrew Pekler.

"A nice set of unruly tracks that originate with percussion loops (from samples of recordings of solo percussion and also orchestral works), but achieve a strangeness and beauty all their own when manhandled by this Copenhagen based musician. If they're technically composed of beats, they are not built on a foundation of beat-as-beat so much as rest on beat-as-sound. Wrenched in a variety of unexpected directions, the percussion is about as dancy as a random shard from Han Bennink or Chris Corsano. Which suits me fine. Hard to not think these snippets wouldn't be great to use for soundtracks to antic animated films." - The Wire Magazine

Dutch pioneer Sp@sms returns to U-TRAX with 'From A 20th Century Box' LP, backed with remixes from Bloody Mary and Cosmic Force

On 'From the 20th Century Box' Arno Peeters, aka Sp@sms, returns to U-TRAX with his debut full-length album. Showcasing years of sonic exploration stemming from his time in various groups including Random XS and Voltage Control amongst others, the LP also draws from his experience studying and teaching music at the Centre for Electronic Music as well as his work in project-based sound design.

Filled to the brim with pulsating arpeggios, crunchy drums and dark, moody atmospheres, the LP is marked by a retro yet timeless feel. Inbetween its snaking, squelchy synth lines and old school electro grooves Sp@sms masterfully incorporates playful textures and elements from found recordings and unused projects, resulting in a vastly versatile and experimental album fusing all things techno, acid and EBM.

An expert lesson in sound design and composition taught by one of the Netherlands' most trusted and experienced artists, the LP also contains remixes from Dame Music's Bloody Mary and Utrecht electro stalwart Cosmic Force and arrives via heavyweight, colored double vinyl, digital, CD and cassette mediums.

As is typical for a U-TRAX release, each physical version has its own set of tracks. The vinyl and CD versions also come with a in-depth interview with Arno Peeters, as well as extensive background notes for each track (on the album's inner sleeves and a 24 page booklet, respectively).

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This episode of Dokutoku Records is brought to you by Cologne based, hardware live jammer St. Joseph. With a spontaneous and raw approach to production, he has delivered three elegant tracks with influences ranging from jazz to hip hop and house. To complete the release we have an impressive remix from Arno (aka Einzelkind) who artfully created his interpretation without the benefit of the original parts.

Japanese experimental group Les Rallizes Denudes are the ultimate rock ‘n’ roll enigma. Sometimes referred to as Hadaka no Rallizes or even as Hadaka no Rarizu, each appellation a variant of the name “Fucked Up and Naked” which equates to being high on hard drugs, they are seen as noise-rock pioneers, yet sifting fact from fiction isn’t easy with their oddball tale. Emerging from the radical hippie communes of Kyoto during the late 1960s, the band was formed in November 1967 by university student Takashi Mizutani, taking the overamplified, distorted guitar of the Velvet Underground as a starting point. Early demo recordings apparently suffered from poor sound quality, leading the perfectionist Mizutani to retreat from the studio environment, meaning that most of the group’s output has appeared as live bootlegs, with the occasional studio demo surfacing as well. Performances were initially staged as part of avant-garde theatre, though the band’s propensity for super-loud noise soon put paid to such collaboration; the ever-changing membership saw Mizutani the only permanent force, despite his embroilment in the 1970 Red Army hijacking of a civilian Japan Airlines flight, enacted partly through bass player, Moriaki Wakabayashi, who defected to North Korea in its aftermath. Though perhaps not quite as notorious, fellow improvisational group, Taj Mahal Travellers, has a backstory of random international travels that is almost as intriguing as that of Les Rallizes; formed in 1969 by six experimental musicians and an electronic engineer, they embarked on a series of improvisational gigs across Japan, notably including an all-day marathon held at a Kanagawa beach, and made their way to Europe in 1971, where they crossed paths with Don Cherry and other likeminded practitioners. They later drove from Holland to the Pakistan border, acquiring santoors in Iran on the way to help broaden their already unpredictable repertoire. The Oz Days Live release is culled from the Oz Last Days festival held in the autumn of 1973, to benefit Tokyo’s Oz Rock Café, which had been closed following repeated drug busts. Here the Taj Mahal Travellers are suitably cosmic, their echoing jams featuring looped vocal chants, disjointed string instruments and sparse, off-kilter percussion; in contrast, the contributions from Les Rallizes are more standard examples of instrumental psychedelic rock, which veers more towards the acid rock end of the spectrum as the performance progresses.

After an extended interval between releases, Data Arts Group owner/operator Document Swell (real name Simon Cotter), presents his first full length LP "Hybrid Emotion". Document Swell's first musical contribution to Data Arts Group is also the first vinyl release for the label and brings DAG into the new world of 2022 and beyond. Song-writing, and sound sketches for "Hybrid Emotion" took place over a time span of approximately 5 years in various bedroom studios and life-phases throughout northern Melbourne/Naarm, as well as small setups in the Berlin localities of Templehof and Schöneberg. Arranging and mixing was completed in Northcote, throughout that period of ample time in Melbourne's Covid-19 lockdowns. The album spans a rich tapestry of ideas and moods which can be perceived as something between Document Swell's classic playful dance floor style to a more reflective and brooding tone.

The opening track "River Heart", is built of rudimentary pitched percussion, warm Juno pads and randomised Blofeld synthesis to construct an electronic impression and nostalgic sense of life by the river. The title track "Hybrid Emotion" brings the album closer to the realm of the club with relaxed house grooves and moody but spirited melodies, along with hybridised vocal samples."Why Then Here" pushes the album's character towards something less human, with a more synthetic affection portrayed by repetitive vocal samples and individualistic synth tangents. "Now and Then" realigns the trajectory to a warmer and more predictable landscape with chugging Balearic rhythms, glassy synths and jottings of lush electric guitar. On the flip side, "Day of Thunder" drops things down into an animated variety of industrial darkness, with heavy weight kick drums, metallic percussion and bleak vocal messaging. "Little G", an ode to a well loved cat, lightens things up instantly with playful synth noodlings, disco beats and clatter from pots and pans. "Vergangenheit" exhibits Simon's explorations into the acid world, with 303 squawks, cassette crunched drums and shadowy synth pads. The closing track "Epic Sands" ends the album, not with an end note, but a sense of ongoing possibilities.

With some of the best DJs and selectors there is a certain mysterious sound or underlying feeling which unites the music they play, regardless of genre, year or tempo Luke Una is a master of telling a story through music and this compilation is a perfect example of his musical alchemy in action. Featuring tracks from Yusef Lateef, Airto Moreira, Crooked Man, Henri Texier and many more, it is a collection of new, old, rare and under-discovered music from around the world, all united by Luke under the banner of "E-Soul Cultura".It's best described by Luke himself, who writes: "As the 5AM city sleeps and the strobe lights are slowly turned off, we gather on the wrong side of town in a transcendental journey alone together. We are the late night disenfranchised holding on in various after parties, flats, lofts, random kitchens and basements into the outer cosmos with É Soul Cultura.

Music from exotic tear jerkers, Afro- spiritual jazz, cosmic Brazilian celestial grooves, machine street soul, dark horses, lost B- sides, £1 bargain- bin bombs, hidden gems, late night Italo dubbing, deep velvet N.Y.C garage, bass buggin sonic futurism, wrong speed 33BPM pitched up +8 new beat, majestic sunset strings, sweet vocals from heaven, no half steppin jazz dancing in outer- space and odd numbers. Yes… magical moments, together, holding on in witness protection suburban cul- de- sacs and Castle Court flats. Cosmic É high, 3000ft above the city getting evangelical to murky, wonky timeless beautiful music. This thing of ours dreaming of better days. Fail we may, sail we must, the sun will come up again."

Random orange or black vinyl :).

High Fashion Music enlist an All-Star A Team of world-renowned remixers that includes; Ben Liebrand, Dave Lee, Michael Gray & Luca Moplen. Each step up to the controls and lay down four salacious new grooves on Firefly’s ItaloFunk Disco stomper from the early 80’s – ’Love’ (Is Gonna Be On Your Side).

Each remix brings a new vibe and a fresh wax coating. Ben Liebrand adds his own imitable production values as he brilliantly beefs up the original vibe with sass and verve. Dave Lee brings his encyclopaedic disco know how to proceedings with a classic sounding, Chic like journey, whilst Michael Gray’s version has a stylish new four-to-the-floor drums sound, he keeps the funky instrumentation firing whilst still managing to hark back to the days of hanging out in salubrious NYC nightclubs. Finally, Luca Moplen delivers a dance floor delight, an up to date production with real a get down and boogie retro twist. One can just imagine his mix being played back to back on syndicated radio stations across the USA and Europe!

Three years after Stroom TV released his debut album Modified Perspectives, Kolàr released, Loops & Pieces, a documentation of sounds he has been working on in the period 2017-2020. According to Kolàr, this tape, also his first release for Dauw, was full of vaporous drafts transforming into solid forms with the help of time and distance. Compared to his previous work, the music on Loops & Pieces is much more stripped down and minimal, yet the dreamy character remained.

On Liquid Rhythm, we see Kolàr combining approaches of both albums. Using synths and acoustic instruments, he created 10 songs reflecting his typical playful yet melancholic aesthetics.

Vinyl Edition of 300 copies

Aesthetical in collaboration with Sync presents "Detect" by Marco Monfardini.

Originally developed as an audio/video live performance, Marco Monfardini based his research for Detect on the decoding of inaudible sounds, sound generated by electromagnetic emissions left from electronic devices and inaudible to the human ear. By using various electro-smog detectors Marco Monfardini creates a sort of detection mapping where electromagnetic emissions are the starting point for the sonorous development of each single composition.

A path that creates a parallel with our lives by questioning how much these emissions affect unconsciously our choices, tastes and perceptions, seeking a relationship between the massive use of technology in everyday life and our emotional state.
The album Detect is developed in 15 tracks in continuous play, an imperfect, faulty mosaic inhabited by invisible beings manifesting themselves in the form of sound streams, mutable entities that find a definitive form in the pattern of the compositional structure.

The album opens with “aR1 detection", sounds of pure detection place themselves in the sound space giving the initial coordinates for the exploration of unconscious parallel areas. The boundaries transform and gradually expand until they flow into the structure of "kernel variations", a growing rhythmic pattern decodes the impulses projecting a perspective that dissolves in the unstable and fluctuating electromagnetic emissions of the subsequent "[a]3020t detection", "binary defect "and "core[2] ". “[A.box]emission” confronts the use of sound downloaded random from internet sample banks and the emissions generated during the download itself, micro sound fragments arrange themselves in an organized and regular pattern, shaping a rhythmic structure. The first part ends with the short “[sa]6030” and “[det]x1a”, absence and presence provide an alternation of movements, inaudible and elusive signals all trying to establish a contact with our perception. “det : scan” opens the second part of Detect, a sort of scanning, leaving EMF (electromagnetic field) textures, a static multilayer that progressively expands until it dissolves into the rhythmic emissions of a common smartphone “[4s]detection”.The track “[rs]zone” " is pushing itself deeper, two minutes of sound speleology that reveal the existence of sound artifacts that seem to vanish getting in contact with the light accented by the bass drum of "[det] 0100+" a constant, rhythmic pumping, a luminous pulsation that reveals an apparent void, which seems to subside entering in the winding and waving atmosphere of "conductive [area]" and "[s3] microfunktion". Detect comes to the end with “[emf]terminal” a mirror of the unarrestable technological acceleration intercepting the flow of data that feeds the system of communication , digital micro waste suffocates the living space by centering up the invisible in an unconscious map.

[a] A1

[c] A3

[e] A5 core[2]
[f] A6 [A.box]emission (2)
[g] A7

[i] B2 [4s]detection
[j] B3
[k] B4 [det]0100+
[l] B5 conductive[area]
[m] B6 [s3]microfunktion
[n] B7 [emf]terminal

Reissue of 2018 debut on 2 colour vinyl, black & milky clear. Note includes members of Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. More than anything else, Oh Boy is a celebration of teenage fandom and friendship. Each song is “about” something else, of course: a betrayal, a breakup, new love, parenthood. The usual stuff. And we’re hardly teenagers. Yet somehow Massage feels like the kind of band you were in back in high school. We were friends first. We all had other lives. We started playing music almost by accident. (Michael wanted to learn drums; Alex wanted to relearn guitar after playing bass in the Pains of Being Pure at Heart; Andrew and David invited themselves to their second practice.) We made a playlist of songs we loved hundreds of them long before we recorded anything: the Feelies, the Go-Betweens, East River Pipe, the Lemonheads, the Breeders, Flying Nun, Sarah Records. Alex and Andrew started writing songs the way kids do to sound like their heroes. No matter how we tried, though, the songs half Alex’s, half Andrew’s came out sounding like “Massage”: scrappy, catchy, minimalist, and sincere, with Gabi’s harmonies elevating each track. Every Monday after practice, we went to Jay’s Bar for beers and poutine. There was no point to any of this. We were just having fun. Then one day we realized we were a band. Oh Boy is our attempt to capture this easy alchemy on tape the strange magic of a bunch of amateurs coming together, finding their own wavelength, and making something out of nothing. We couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime than our pal Jason Quever of Papercuts, who recorded us on random weekends over the course of two years. We hope the result sounds as loose, low-key, idiosyncratic, and ultimately indelible as the bands that inspired us — the ones you already know, and the ones that are still just teenagers goofing off in some suburban garage.

We finally made it: BEWITH100LP! And what better way for a re-issue label to celebrate such a landmark catalogue number than to give it to a record of new music. We couldn’t resist when the artist is Official Be With Family Member Kenny Dickenson and when the music is his lovely, lovely score to French-Vietnamese artist Mai Hua's 2020 documentary film “Les Rivières”. If you enjoy the more minimal, intimate piano of the likes of Nils Frahm or John Carroll Kirby’s solo work, you’re certain to fall for this beautiful album.

Taking six years to make, Mai’s film explores what happened when she brought her dying grandmother to France, pulling together four generations of women from the same family. Kenny’s score accompanies all the pretty things, sad things, dirty, beautiful, happy, broken and reborn moments of these women’s experiences.

The whole score is built around delicate, sparkling piano motifs. At times they’re joined by cello and complemented with ambient chords and other flourishes. It’s a very particular palette that Kenny and Mai established early on, as Kenny explains: “We had agreed on a particular sonic aesthetic early on in the process - to use specific and relatively minimal instrumentation, reflecting the intimacy of the picture. So piano and cello were quite prominent in instructing a sense of space and immediacy. Until I had to get the junkyard percussion out… ”

When it comes to describing the end results, Kenny’s happy to wear his influences on his sleeve:

“When the director and I sat down for the creative meetings early in the process, we watched ‘Wolf Children’, a Japanese animation film by Mamoru Hosoda. The amazing soundtrack by Masakatsu Takagi was a launching point for me and thereafter I leaned into more modern classical composers - Reich, Sakamoto, Glass as well as Jon Hassell’s Fourth World output. Richard Reed Parry’s ‘Music for Heart and Breath’ was a good early touchstone for me and Mark Hollis’ sparse, considered and deliberate approach was a constant presence. Also labels like Ghostly, ASIP and the ubiquitous Erased Tapes should probably get a nod here too…”

We’d even suggest there’s the occasional Yann Tiersen moment in there too.

Out of sheer necessity the collaboration between Kenny and Mai continued beyond this initial creative direction. With Kenny speaking neither French nor Vietnamese, Mai acted as translator, a process that naturally lead to discussing the film beyond just what was being said in the footage. Mai herself explains just how successful this relationship felt to her: “Music plays a very important role in all my work, particularly in Les Rivières. I cried every time Kenny sent me a new composition. I felt understood in a way that words cannot describe. It was absolutely magical and I am so happy if this music can make your soul vibrate too.”

Kenny composed much of the music in London, at the same time that Mai was shooting and editing. As the film took shape and the music also evolved, another challenge presented itself when Kenny relocated to Los Angeles part way through, resulting in Arnulf Lindners beautiful cello taking on new shapes- multi sampled, played and manipulated by Kenny into new compositions.

What Kenny has put together for the film score release is definitely a “soundtrack LP”, with the music arranged to work as a proper album in its own right that should be listened to from start to finish. Indeed the album also includes a new piece “Pour Marthe” that Kenny composed in memory of Mai’s grandmother who died after the film was finished.

Kenny’s personal highlight is also ours: “When I listen back to the album as a whole now, I never want part II of the Trilogy (Belles Larmes) to end. I have fond memories of recording it and I love how the dynamic of the piece gradually evolves from falling on the ‘1 and the 3’ to the ‘1 and the 2’. It’s so short and sweet, I keep wanting it to last for longer. But it’s kind of perfect as it is.”

Pretty much our sentiment for the album as a whole.

Running a record label means we often get asked advice about pressing a record. In this case the music was too good not to offer to release it ourselves. To Kenny, having the Les Rivières score on vinyl also feels like the final part of the project.

“It’s a beautiful thing to have it on vinyl. It’s quite an intimate soundtrack so there’s something really perfect about being able to listen to it on that format. When I was a kid, my Uncle Pat who used to work at Woolworths would visit and bring random records from their record department over to us. I can remember listening to “Theme From Exodus” by Ernest Gold. I had no idea what it was about but the imagery it conjured up when listening to that record was just mind blowing to me at that age. Soundtracks can have their own life on vinyl I think, and removed from their original context is this unique format for reinvention. So I’m excited that people who haven’t (and have for that matter) seen the film can have that experience.”

This might not be a re-issue, but the Les Rivières film score album has still been given the full Be With treatment. The vinyl has been mastered by Simon Francis (under Kenny’s ever-watchful eye/ear, of course), cut by Pete Norman and pressed at Record Industry. The sleeve follows the film’s poster and other promotional material, including Lucile Gomez’s almost magical illustration.

We’re under no illusions that many people reading this will have seen “Les Rivières”, but that doesn’t really matter when it comes to listening to the score. Just on its own, Kenny’s music still captures the robustness and the delicacy of lives lived.

Featuring: Deena Abdelwahed, Rabih Beaini, Fari Bradley, Dieb 13, DJ Sniff, Gavsborg (Equiknoxx), Electric Indigo, Donzilla Lion (Nyege Nyege), Marina Rosenfeld, Microhm, Muqata’a, Bob Ostertag, Rrose

Project presentation:

Sampler / Sampled is an album made of two interdependent parts rather than a double-album.

The first part of the project, Sampler, is a trumpet solo album that catalogues the unique sounds and extended techniques that Mazen Kerbaj developed for the instrument in the past 25 years; it consists of 318 pieces ranging from less than a second to forty seconds each, and presenting different sonic materials. This catalogue of sounds works on various levels: first and foremost, it is a trumpet solo that could be played in its original order, or in random mode to create different pieces of music. But it is also a collection of samples that could be used for various applications (ringtones, phone sound effects, cinema…) and, of course, to create new pieces of music based on sampling.

The second part of the project is the composition Sampled for a musician working with loops and/or samples. The composition has one instruction: create a piece of music using solely tracks from Sampler as your sound source (with the possibility to use all kind of effects or treatment). Each interpreter/musician becomes thus a co-composer who appropriates the piece and makes it their own. In this regard, the musicians that were commissioned to play Sampled were chosen from different geographical origins and musical genres to create highly different and personal pieces of music.

One important output of this project is putting in practice the overused idea of music as a universal language. This idea is very present in “free improvised music” where musicians from different origins can meet for the first time and make music together without the need to adapt to different musical traditions. But here, the collective part of creating music in real time is not involved. It is rather the contrary: it starts with one middle-eastern musician creating a new language/vocabulary for his western instrument, to be later used by other musicians from around the globe who will appropriate this vocabulary and use it with their own language/grammar.
The final output of this double faceted album that was recorded during the Covid lockdown proved to be a very efficient new way to collaborate from a distance in times of world isolation, and ultimately put in practice the universality of music by breaking the boundaries of genres that are the most difficult to break.

A new hub solely for the Icelandic talent’s unreleased material, BJARKI will also serve as a platform to launch a wealth of forthcoming audiovisual projects in the coming months, with the label logo designed by Paul Nicholson, NUMBER 3, and all artwork designed by Thomas Harrington Rawle - the creative behind the Care More project. Operating and creating its own storyline with every release, intertwining projects between Harrington Rawle and Bjarki across various mediums, the imprint will also drop a series of offshoot white label releases while being reactive and unveiling random drops across its upcoming schedule. Delivering his first solo release since ‘Oli Gumm’ on трип in 2018, late-February marks the first release on the new label as he unveils his four-track ‘I Wanna Go Home’ EP.

“I want to share more of my unreleased works, especially the tracks that I have created specifically for parties in each city I play. People impact my work a lot, and I would like to share this music directly before or after the show. I don’t see any other way than to set up my own channel or label where I can share all these ideas. Next year will be a lot about sharing stuff and being in direct contact with the audience.” - Bjarki

Opening the label with authority, ‘I Wanna Go Home’ welcomes a quartet of cuts showcasing the genre-spanning polymath at his best, delivering a medley of serious yet playful productions which arc back to previous material while also looking ahead to the future. A creative force with an unrelenting swathe of experimental ideas, influences and directions, this new eponymous imprint looks set to home some of Bjarki’s finest and most unpredictable material to date.

repressed !

Some people are just not destined to have enough sleep.When you don't sleep enough the world appears to be a different place, compared to the way it is when the mind is fully rested. In such cases very different scenarios may occur.
Starting with a dreamy melody of Roma Zuckerman's 'Sleep not found', which inspired the entire 008 album, and ending with a thirteen minute live recording by a_000, the side project of Alex Backdrop, the entire record has a dreamy and tripped out flow. 008 continues the tradition of gatefold double EPs as conceptual album.All tracks are selected around a particular story, a trip, and presented as a continuous sonic landscape.All tracks are structured in a way that they can be mixed one with another an endless amount of times making a continuous loop, a trip, that needs only end when the party stops. Kraviz works without release dates or deadlines, enabling her to achieve a certain sound bank to shape the story, unmasking the thoughts and unravelling like a dream. A1. Roma Zuckerman - Sleep Not found (North Edit) Apart form the fact that he leaves in Krasnoyarsk in the middle of Russia, very little is known about Roma (short version of the name Roman). But listening to his music and engaging in random short conversations late at night makes it clear that there are really a lot of things going on Romas mind... Minimalistic yet emotionally complex, his music always stands out with it's murkiness and signature moodiness that Roma creates like nobody else.
A2. Deniro - G Deniro continues the record's journey with his new live cut that like pretty much everything he did so far is a beautiful sparse atmospheric groover. He says he wanted it to be angry and it its done with triggering synths from the tr909 and tr808.
B1. Maayan Nidam - Infinite Rattle
Maayan was born in Tel-Aviv. She does not like computers and prefers to record her music live using hardware only. In order to do so she built her incredible studio in Berlin where she recorded "Infinite Rattle'.There is much more to come from Maayan on
B2. Bbbbbb - Prins Polo Caramel milkshake.
Side project by Bjarki-bbbbbb. Like any other normal Icelander, Bjarki really likes ice cream. In Iceland they are absolutely crazy about it.They walk the streets, ice cream in hand, even when its freezing cold outside. But even more than that Icelanders like Milkshakes with all sorts of added cookies and candies. Bjarki's favourite is called Prince Polo after the name of a chocolate bar. He always believed Prins Polo was an Icelandic brand but a couple of months ago somebody proved him wrong.
C1. Exos- dub jazz
In Iceland Exos is a legend. Everybody knows him there. He's been playing incredibly powerful and technically advanced techno sets since the late 90s and releasing delicious dub techno on Icelandic label Thule. Nina always appreciated his subtler, dubbier side, and this short recording a the continuation of it.
C2. Maaayn Nidam - Justice for some
This second live recording was a perfect fit for this album. Maayan has managed to create a particular mysterious night time dreamer here. Sound wise it's even more unique. It took a few times to get the master right, because we wanted to keep the original breathing of the machine that has captured a seriously freaky vibe. Maayan has always been one of Nina's favourite DJs as they share a similar attitude towards music. But after this tune she has also reserved a place in Nina's collective of favourite producers. D1. A_000
This is a side project of Italian native Alessio Meneghello (Alan Backdrop) & Enrico Voltan. . A beautiful 13-minute sonic journey.