Search:recall one

(feat. Claire Davis)

300 copies pressed

The A side was released back digitally in March. "Hope To See You Again" Which is an original song with Claire Davis on lead vocals

Better things is coming out digitally 15th July and it will be on a Ltd edition 45 vinyl. The Pre-Orders for the vinyl will be starting soon.

The B side is a killer version of her classic tune, "Better Things" The soulful vocals of Claire Davis are accompanied by jaunty horns and keyboards, and the cool groovebefits the positive lyrics ("I'm a better woman than I have been")

Introducing The HP's. This talent-studded Hamilton-based funk/soul collective is poised to make major moves with the release of their debut 45. The group is the brainchild of drummer/bandleader 'Parkside' Mike Renaud, the founder/owner of noted Canadian music company Hidden Pony Records & Management. A life-long fervent fan of funk and old school soul, Parkside has assembled a crack team of musicians and vocalists dedicated to his vision of breathing vibrant new life into these classic forms. Drawing inspiration from the likes of James Brown and The J.B.'s and Sharon Jones and The Dap Kings. The title pays tribute to Renaud's hometown, Hamilton, and The H.P.'s sound

honours The Hammer's core characteristics of rugged authenticity. Get ready to get Gritty!

— The HP's have partnered with UK based soul label LRK Records for the release of their latest single "Hope To See You Again", featuring Canadian soul singer and LRK alum Claire Davis

— "Hope To See You Again" arrives digitally March 31st, 2022 with the 45" expected summer 2022

— The 45" single will also include a cover of the Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings classic "Better Things"

The HP's.

To the Canadian music industry, 'Parkside' Mike Renaud is best known as the founder and owner of Hidden Pony

Records & Management, now widely recognized as one of Canada's premiere talent-development labels and artist

management companies. Past and present artists on Renaud's roster include Said The Whale, The Elwins, The Dirty

Nil, Hannah Georgas, Imaginary Cities, Jeremy Fisher, Odds, and many more.

Not many are aware that this popular industry power player actually got his start in music as a drummer in a '90s

Montreal soul/funk band called Parkside Jones (the source of his nickname). When he moved over to the business

side of music, beginning with top indie label Aquarius Records, Mike Renaud packed the kit away, launching himself

into the biz with full passion, commitment, and skill.

Mike has now resurrected his kit (after 20 years), honed his chops, and emerged as the driving force behind The

Renaud recalls the spark that reignited his love of playing drums: "The first time I played them in 20 years was at the

memorial for industry comrade Jon Box at The Opera House in Toronto. I was talked into playing with Chris Murphy

Sloan, Terra Lightfoot, and the Dirty Nil guys on a version of 'Handle With Care.'"

This renewed love affair would lead to Mike's vision for The H.P.'s. From his teenage years, his favourite musical

genre has been classic soul and funk, and he has an encyclopedic knowledge of these styles. Heartened to see the

growing international community building around these sounds, Mike decided to make his own creative contribution to

the form. He recruited musical and vocal collaborators from his hometown (plus a couple of Toronto imports) for the

project, and The H.P.'s were born.

The group name, The H.P.'s, pays homage to James Brown's legendary band, The J.B.'s, with these initials

referencing Hidden Pony. The album title is a tribute to Renaud's hometown, Hamilton, and The H.P.'s sound

honours The Hammer's core characteristics of grit and authenticity. Mike actually spent some time co-managing the

current J.B.'s.

The late Sharon Jones, a key inspiration for Renaud, is honoured via a killer version of her classic tune, "Better

Things." The soulful vocals of Claire Davis are accompanied by jaunty horns and keyboards, and the cool groove

befits the positive lyrics ("I'm a better woman than I have been").

Giving this cover extra resonance are the memorable encounters both Davis and Renaud had with Jones back in

2015. A documentary portrait of the soul great, Miss Sharon Jones!, had its world premiere at the Toronto

International Film Festival (TIFF), and Claire Davis was doing a house concert playing DapKings songs that night.

The band came across the party and jammed along, then, when one of the Dap Kings backup singers couldn't cross

the border, Claire got the call to fill in at Sharon Jones' headlining show at Hamilton's Supercrawl fest.

In a cool twist of fate, Mike Renaud was one of the organizers of that show, and was tasked with looking after

Sharon. The two bonded instantly and deeply, as Mike recalls. "While driving her to soundcheck, Sharon confided in

me that her cancer had returned. She didn't want anyone to know, as the documentary was about her conquering it,

and she didn't want people to be bummed out at the news. It was my 40th birthday that day, and Sharon actually

stopped her show to sing me Happy Birthday in a soulful way!"

Shakethehoof added "Hope To See you Again' to their playlist musicto/shake-a-hoof/the-hps-ft-claire-davis-hope-to-see-you-again-the-hoof-chats/

"BETTER THINGS" has gone straight into the UK Soul chart breakers at No 8

Germany exclusive edition on White & Blue Galaxy Vinyl. Sacred Bones celebrates its 15th year label anniversary with this repress of the haunting and monolithic May Our Chambers Be Full. "The juxtaposition of Rundle's long distance melodies and Bryan Funck of Thou dredging up his guts to scream into the sky shows two sides working together to create something surprising and new." - The Fader // "The whole LP would be a great release for either artist, but it's the brilliant convergence of sensibilities that sets it apart in the landscape of alternative metal... an excellent entry point for any would-be Thou fans, and a potential game-changer for Rundle ones." - Loud & Quiet

Like the many Banded Stilts that spread across the cover of her newest album, ‘Flood’, Stella
Donnelly is wading into uncharted territory. Here, she finds herself discovering who she is as
an artist among the flock, and how abundant one individual can be.
 ‘Flood’ is Donnelly’s record of this rediscovery: the product of months of risky experimentation,
hard moments of introspection, and a lot of moving around.
 Donnelly’s early reflections on the relationship between the individual and the many can be
traced back to her time in the rainforests of Bellingen, where she took to birdwatching as both a
hobby and an escape in a border-restricted world. By paying closer attention to the natural
world around her, Donnelly recalls “I was able to lose that feeling of anyone’s reaction to me. I
forgot who I was as a musician, which was a humbling experience of just being; being my small
self.”
 Reconnecting with this ‘small self’ allowed Donnelly to tap into creative wells she didn’t know
existed. Soon songs were coming to her in a way she could not control and over the coming
months, Donnelly accumulated 43 tracks as she moved out of Bellingen and around the
country, often finding herself displaced due to border restrictions and a tough rental market.
 Though the writing of ‘Flood’ was an intensely personal undertaking, Donnelly still saw the
recording process as one of her most collaborative projects yet. Along with her band members,
co-producing the record beside Anna Laverty and Methyl Ethyl’s Jake Webb helped to foster
an important spontaneity in the studio. With Webb, Donnelly could “dig in” and discover a
“forward-leaning sound” she’d been searching for, while Laverty’s ability to “capture the piano”
and discern the “perfect take” allowed the songwriter to take risks, many of which have clearly
paid off.
 Looking back at the Banded Stilt, Donnelly ultimately appreciates how when “seen in a crowd
they create an optical illusion, but on its own it’s this singular piece of art.” While each song in
‘Flood’ is a singular artwork unto itself, the collective shares all of Stella Donnelly in abundance:
her inner child, her nurturing self, her nightmare self; all of herself has gone into the making of
this record and, although it would take an ocean to fathom everything she feels, it’s well worth
diving in

Like the many Banded Stilts that spread across the cover of her newest album, ‘Flood’, Stella
Donnelly is wading into uncharted territory. Here, she finds herself discovering who she is as
an artist among the flock, and how abundant one individual can be.
 ‘Flood’ is Donnelly’s record of this rediscovery: the product of months of risky experimentation,
hard moments of introspection, and a lot of moving around.
 Donnelly’s early reflections on the relationship between the individual and the many can be
traced back to her time in the rainforests of Bellingen, where she took to birdwatching as both a
hobby and an escape in a border-restricted world. By paying closer attention to the natural
world around her, Donnelly recalls “I was able to lose that feeling of anyone’s reaction to me. I
forgot who I was as a musician, which was a humbling experience of just being; being my small
self.”
 Reconnecting with this ‘small self’ allowed Donnelly to tap into creative wells she didn’t know
existed. Soon songs were coming to her in a way she could not control and over the coming
months, Donnelly accumulated 43 tracks as she moved out of Bellingen and around the
country, often finding herself displaced due to border restrictions and a tough rental market.
 Though the writing of ‘Flood’ was an intensely personal undertaking, Donnelly still saw the
recording process as one of her most collaborative projects yet. Along with her band members,
co-producing the record beside Anna Laverty and Methyl Ethyl’s Jake Webb helped to foster
an important spontaneity in the studio. With Webb, Donnelly could “dig in” and discover a
“forward-leaning sound” she’d been searching for, while Laverty’s ability to “capture the piano”
and discern the “perfect take” allowed the songwriter to take risks, many of which have clearly
paid off.
 Looking back at the Banded Stilt, Donnelly ultimately appreciates how when “seen in a crowd
they create an optical illusion, but on its own it’s this singular piece of art.” While each song in
‘Flood’ is a singular artwork unto itself, the collective shares all of Stella Donnelly in abundance:
her inner child, her nurturing self, her nightmare self; all of herself has gone into the making of
this record and, although it would take an ocean to fathom everything she feels, it’s well worth
diving in

Like the many Banded Stilts that spread across the cover of her newest album, ‘Flood’, Stella
Donnelly is wading into uncharted territory. Here, she finds herself discovering who she is as
an artist among the flock, and how abundant one individual can be.
 ‘Flood’ is Donnelly’s record of this rediscovery: the product of months of risky experimentation,
hard moments of introspection, and a lot of moving around.
 Donnelly’s early reflections on the relationship between the individual and the many can be
traced back to her time in the rainforests of Bellingen, where she took to birdwatching as both a
hobby and an escape in a border-restricted world. By paying closer attention to the natural
world around her, Donnelly recalls “I was able to lose that feeling of anyone’s reaction to me. I
forgot who I was as a musician, which was a humbling experience of just being; being my small
self.”
 Reconnecting with this ‘small self’ allowed Donnelly to tap into creative wells she didn’t know
existed. Soon songs were coming to her in a way she could not control and over the coming
months, Donnelly accumulated 43 tracks as she moved out of Bellingen and around the
country, often finding herself displaced due to border restrictions and a tough rental market.
 Though the writing of ‘Flood’ was an intensely personal undertaking, Donnelly still saw the
recording process as one of her most collaborative projects yet. Along with her band members,
co-producing the record beside Anna Laverty and Methyl Ethyl’s Jake Webb helped to foster
an important spontaneity in the studio. With Webb, Donnelly could “dig in” and discover a
“forward-leaning sound” she’d been searching for, while Laverty’s ability to “capture the piano”
and discern the “perfect take” allowed the songwriter to take risks, many of which have clearly
paid off.
 Looking back at the Banded Stilt, Donnelly ultimately appreciates how when “seen in a crowd
they create an optical illusion, but on its own it’s this singular piece of art.” While each song in
‘Flood’ is a singular artwork unto itself, the collective shares all of Stella Donnelly in abundance:
her inner child, her nurturing self, her nightmare self; all of herself has gone into the making of
this record and, although it would take an ocean to fathom everything she feels, it’s well worth
diving in

Alien Transistor present Alien Parade Japan, a joyous double-album compilation of groups from Japan’s indie-pop and avant-garde undergrounds, all of which feature brass or woodwind instruments as part of their line-up. Compiled by Markus Acher (Alien Transistor, The Notwist, Hochzeitskapelle) with plenty of support and help from his Spirit Fest bandmate, Saya (also of Tenniscoats), it features some familiar names – Tenniscoats, naturally, but also Zayaendo, Tori Kudo’s Maher Shalal Hash Baz – alongside lesser-known groups like Biobiopatata, Mitamurakandadan?, Kourakuen, sekifu, and Noah Lewis Mahlon’ Taits, amongst many others.

The collection of songs here rests upon a simple question, and an interesting parallel: Why do so many groups from Japan include brass and woodwind, and how closely does this echo the scene that Acher is involved with in Munich? The idea was formulated in Acher’s mind after one of his groups, Hochzeitskapelle, had been invited by Saya to Japan in 2019, to take part in the Alien Parade Japan tour. “Saya and her friends recommended a lot of music to me that I didn’t know of,” Acher recalls, “and I was surprised and excited to find so many Japanese bands who use brass and woodwind instruments.”

This approach was something Acher had been familiar with for a while, thanks to his experiences in Munich: “Until then I thought of the Munich scene, where Hochzeitskapelle come from, as being quite unique in having ex-punk and still-indie musicians form loud acoustic bands with many brass instruments and play a wild mixture of styles.” And indeed, that variety is reflected in the twenty-two songs on Alien Parade Japan, which flits from the pastoral melody of Maher Shalal Hash Baz’s “Crossin The Tama River”, through the tenderness of various sighhorns’s “people have called them flowers”, to the folksy lament of Gratin Carnival’s “Just Watching”.

Alien Parade Japan reaches further afield, too, drawing in some groups, like HOSE, Fuigo, and popo, that feature musicians like Toshihiro Koike, Masafumi Ezaki and Taku Unami, who may be better known for their experimental and improvised releases on labels like ftarri and Erstwhile. It also looks back to material recorded in the 1990s - the swinging slide guitars and sax/tuba duet of Strada’s “Swamp”, from 1998, and Compostela’s energetic, rousing “ghhgh”, from 1990. Both pieces were written by, and feature, saxophonist Kanji Nakao; Compostela’s membership also included late saxophonist Masami Shinoda, who was also part of such storied Japanese groups as Pungo, A-Musik, Orquestra Del Viento, Ché-SHIZU, and the fiery free jazz outfit, Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai.

Groups like Compostela help to draw some through-lines to the aesthetics of chindon’ya, a type of Japanese marching band made up of costumed street performers who advertise businesses; the music made by these bands is brash, spirited, and full of energy. Alien Parade Japan weaves all of this together – chindon’ya; jazz; indie-pop; psych-folk; big band – into one beautiful, big tapestry of gorgeous melody, sweetness, and melancholy, with plenty of creative fraying at its edges. “The collection is a very personal view of Japanese bands using brass and woodwind instruments,” Acher concludes: “it’s not a representative anthology, it’s mainly held together by my personal taste, experiences, and friendships.” But it’s also a wonderfully coherent collection of some of the most playful and elated music you’re likely to hear this year. As musician and writer David Grubbs says:

„Now it is confirmed: my favorite genre of music is Alien Parade Japan. Hopefully now people will know what I’m talking about when I gush about the unassailable brilliance of longtime favorites like Maher Shalal Hash Baz, Popo, Mitamurakandadan?, Hose, and Tenniscoats, presented here alongside others whose music I have only begun to search out. Please share in my gratitude and enjoyment of this lovingly assembled collection, one that I welcome into my home as I would a long-anticipated guest.“

2022 re-press, 180g vinyl

A monumental force firmly rooted in the soul canon, Willie Hutch is most notable for recording two of the best Blaxploitation soundtracks, The Mack and Foxy Brown. Yet his legacy is much greater. Outside of Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder and Smokey Robinson, Hutch was arguably Motown's top male solo artist of the 70s. Prior to his association with Gordy et al, Hutch crafted his opening statements for RCA, two vital LPs that Be With Records is honoured to present today.
Often-overlooked, his second album Season For Love (1970) is a must for all deep soul fans and has been sought-after by collectors of different stripes for decades. Whereas his debut featured thundering, gritty numbers, Hutch treats us to a mellower soul here - sumptuous, warm and string-led. He compared his approach to that of Otis Redding and there are definite parallels, from the raspy, rough-hewn vocals that tend to roam between sweet and deeply impassioned to the horn-heavy, emphatic sonic backdrops.
With flawless originals presented alongside a few well-chosen classics (his stunning cover of "Wichita Lineman" arguably bests the original's splendour), it's easy to see why sample-based musicians have been falling over themselves to plunder from this album. Witness the sweeping strings that grace "The Magic Of Love" and the heartbreaking "Walking On My Love", the mellifluous guitar work on the contemplative instrumental "The Shortest Distance" and gorgeous single "When A Boy Falls In Love".
Whilst the arrangements and playing are subtly jaw-dropping throughout, Hutch's uncontrived voice has a certain warmth to match a Nat "King" Cole and a purity of tone that even recalls the great Sam Cooke. Indeed, a few numbers are almost in a jazz vocal territory reminiscent of artists Lou Rawls. That's not to say that others lack the righteous energy and undeniable groove of Willie's later sound.
Remarkably consistent throughout - a rare commodity for many 70s soul albums - the lack of one signature song likely hindered its progress. Regardless, it deserved to make more of an impact and now, paired with the majestic debut, Soul Portrait, these recordings shine a new light on the early work of a soul legend.
Original vinyl copies of this album are extremely rare - and correspondingly expensive - so we're thrilled to present the first ever vinyl reissue of a true lost classic. This release is officially licensed and has been remastered for vinyl by our esteemed engineer Simon Francis. It has been pressed on audiophile 180g vinyl for the first time and features the original, rarely seen artwork.

Dewa Alit, Bali’s master of contemporary Gamelan composition, returns to Black Truffle with Chasing the Phantom, presenting two recent works played by the composer’s Gamelan Salukat, a large ensemble that performs on instruments specially built to his designs, using a unique tuning system that combines notes from two traditional Balinese Gamelan scales. Alit explains that the ensemble’s name suggests “a place to fuse creative ideas to generate new, innovative works” and both compositions demonstrate the composer’s ability to wring stunning new possibilities from variations on the traditional Gamelan ensemble. While using familiar elements of Balinese Gamelan music, such as unison scalar melodies and stop-start dynamics, Alit’s music is overflowing with harmonic, rhythmic, and timbral inventions, the latter often facilitated by unorthodox playing techniques.

“Ngejuk Memedi”, an English translation of which gives the LP its title, results from Alit’s reflection on the complex relationship between tradition and modernity in Balinese culture, particularly in the way that belief in the phantoms or spirits known as ‘memedi’ are shared through social media using digital technologies. Embodying this uncanny co-existence, the opening passages of the piece are at once immediately recognisable in their use of the metallophones of the Gamelan ensemble and strikingly reminiscent of electronics in their timbre and movement. At points, what we hear seems to have been fragmented with digital tools, or even to originate in some incessantly glitching DX7. Short melodic figures loop irregularly, with the ensemble splintering into polyrhythmic shards before unexpectedly recombining for intricate unison passages. After several minutes of this manically tinkling metallic sound world, the metallophones are joined by drums for a meditative passage of lower dynamics, as the uniformly high pitch range explored in the opening sections gradually opens up to include resonant low gong hits. Recovering some of the manic energy of the opening, but now enhanced with the full range of percussion, the piece weaves through a series of tempo changes to a stunning passage of rapid-fire melodies and ringing chords that sweep across the metallophones, their unorthodox tuning creating complex clouds of wavering harmonies.

“Likad”, written during Covid-19 lockdowns, channels anxiety and uncertainty into musical form, resulting in a piece that, even by Alit’s standards, is stunning in its complexity and the virtuosity it demands of Gamelan Salukat. Its opening section is perhaps most remarkable for its mastery of texture, with rapid transitions between dry, muted strikes and metallic shimmers calling to mind the use of filters in electronic music. At points, the complex irregular repetitions of short melodic patterns, where the music seems to get stuck or be suddenly interrupted by a skip, recall the mad sampler works of Alvin Curran or the skittering surface of prime period Oval more than anything familiar from acoustic percussion music. Moving through a dizzying series of twists and turns, the piece ends with a majestic sequence of chords possessing an almost hieratic power. A major statement from a radical contemporary composer, one cannot help but agree with Alit when he sees Chasing the Phantom as an answer to the “question of the future of Gamelan music”.

Big warm welcome back to DC’s James Bangura!! Solo dolo this time around, the Black Rave Culture member finds himself swimming in therapeutic & reflective waters. Stretching out into vulnerable, personal territory always makes for the best tunes. And this disc (James Bangura's "Shadow Boxing EP”) is a damn doozy!! Very excited & grateful to share this beautiful release with y'all!!
(Title is inspired by Bangura’s grandfather, Carroll Daniel Smith, who boxed for the US Army in WWII)

“When I think of ‘Shadow Boxing’ I think of practice & preparation. 2020 was a tumultuous year, this was the first time in awhile that I had a moment to reflect on the years passed. My time in military service, dealing with depression & anxiety as a veteran, the loss of loved ones, the ending of relationships, and taking unplanned life paths. This portion of my life story was about healing. This record was the silver lining & the sign of good things to come. It’s about never quitting & being kind to yourself. Loving differently & being vulnerable. These are things we have to practice (and prepare) doing everyday because we can easily let dark moments overcast the joy in our lives. Music has always been therapy for me & is even more important now through the turbulent times we are living in. So practice & prepare.”
- Timothy Smith-Bangura

Pye Corner Audio releases a new album, Let’s Emerge!, for Sonic Cathedral. It’s his first studio outing for the label following the acclaimed live recording Social Dissonance, which came out earlier this year, and it features Ride guitarist Andy Bell playing on five of its ten tracks. From the first glimpse of the artwork to the first note of the music it’s a marked deviation from Pye Corner Audio’s more traditional shadowy sounds. Whereas his last outing for Ghost Box (2021’s Entangled Routes) was inspired by the underground fungal pathways through which plants communicate, this one is very much above ground, bathed in sunlight and acid-bright psychedelia.

“This is a departure to sunnier climes, but a departure nonetheless,” says Pye Corner Audio, aka Martin Jenkins. “It’s something that I’d been thinking about for a while. I try to tailor my work slightly differently for the various labels that I work with, and this seems to fit nicely with Sonic Cathedral’s ethos.” Designer Marc Jones’ bold and ultra vivid artwork consciously references the likes of LFO, Spacemen 3 and the early output of Stereolab. “I think it mixes together many of my earliest influences,” explains Martin. “I’ve been a long-time fan of Spacemen 3 and Stereolab.

Their moments of repetition and drone have always seeped into what I’ve tried to create.

“I was living in a small apartment and I’d stripped down my studio set-up when I was recording this album. This enabled me to focus on a few key pieces of equipment and explore them fully.” The recordings were fleshed out by Andy Bell, who Martin first met at the Sonic Cathedral 15th birthday party at The Social in London back in 2019 – the same show that became the live album Social Dissonance.

“New alliances were formed and friendships made in that basement in Little Portland Street,” recalls Martin. “When I met Andy, we agreed that we needed to work together in some way. After I’d remixed a few tracks from his album The View From Halfway Down, he kindly repaid the favour.” The end results – mastered in New York by acclaimed engineer Heba Kadry – are incredible, from the first stirrings of opener ‘De-Hibernate’, via the glorious ‘Haze Loops’ and ‘Saturation Point’, the album slowly but surely awakens, blinking and feeling its way into the light. It all culminates in the epic closing track ‘Warmth Of The Sun’ which, with its vocal harmonies and acid breakdown, is seven and a half minutes of pure release.

“That one’s about life’s simple pleasures,” concludes Martin. “The Beach Boys, tremolo guitars, infinite drones, Spacemen 3. Let’s emerge from this darkened era and feel the ‘Warmth Of The Sun’. “The last few years have seen huge changes, both personally and in a wider perspective. The album title is a reaction to this, a collective (tentative) sigh of relief. Here’s to new beginnings and a sense of hope.”

Évariste is one of the rare specimens of artist-cum-scientists. Among his kind stand others like Pierre Schaeffer, a Polytechnique graduate (an engineer but also the father of musique concrète) and the eccentric Boby Lapointe (graduate of the École centrale and inventor of the Bibi-binaire system, patented in 1968). Évariste's songwriting, joyful and full of energy (albeit extremely critical), shrouds an original tragedy: born in 1943 among résistants, Joël Sternheimer (aka Évariste) grew up without a father, lost to Auschwitz. Although he makes little reference to Jewish culture in his music, his origins leave their mark: in 1974, he sings a Hebrew song on television. In 1966, the young Joël sports Princeton's colourful paraphernalia - that's because he's freshly returning from the US, where he was sent to pursue his research on "particle mass and the interpretation of observed regularities, such as the effects of a wave" (will understand who may). When he gets there the country's in the midst of the Vietnam War. With McNamara keen to find an alternative to the nuclear weapon and calling upon the country's biggest brains to undertake the task, there's a "fund shift" within the university - a diplomatic way to give notice to whoever may not be disposed to follow the government's scheme. Joël, who's under the supervision of a rebellious physician, is dismissed. He regardless keeps following the prestigious seminaries of the Institute for Advanced Study, chaired by Oppenheimer, inventor of the atomic bomb. Likely inspired by the hippie movement and music, Joël buys a guitar and starts playing in Washington Square - after all, Bob Dylan himself started there. He blithely skips Oppenheimer and receives a warm (though surprised) welcome from a crowd thoroughly unfamiliar with French. When the ageing physicist questions him about his decreasing attendance, Joël explains how drawn he is to music, and how he thinks it could help him in self-financing his research. Évariste recalls seeing the sickened man, his face torn by remorse, lighten up to his words and say: "What's keeping you - go for it! If I was still young that's exactly what I'd do." The student takes these words as a testimony from his professor - and it's enough to convince him . And so he takes the leap during the Christmas vacations he spends in Paris. A journalist friend he often sees around the Sorbonne introduces him to the artistic director of Disques AZ. The latter passes the tapes on to the label's boss, Lucien Morisse, also program manager on Europe N°1. Morisse is blown away - and signs him onto the label right away. Michel Colombier, arranger for Serge Gainsbourg and co-author of "Psyché Rock", with Pierre Henry, contributes some of his original ideas to the 7 inch "E=mc2": Évariste's preoccupation with the percussion sound on the track "Le calcul intégral" is that it goes "poom poom" and not "tock tock" - Colombier is aware of the issue and records Évariste's guitar like a percussion in an isolated booth. The organist Eddy Louis, who is to participate, in 1969, to the success of Claude Nougaro's "Paris mai", also appears on the record. It's 1966 and the Antoine phenomenon (signed on Vogue) storms through France. The two singers share similarities: Antoine is an engineer of the École centrale, gifted with a great originality in his song-writing. A godsend for the two labels who turn this resemblance into a commercial strategy, setting them out as rivals. To this day though, Évariste still denies what was little more than slushy tabloïd gossip. Success comes around swiftly and in 1967 Évariste launches into a second 7 inch, "Wo I nee", again arranged by Michel Colombier. Quantum mechanics fans finally get their anthem with "La Chasse Au Boson Intermédiaire" (or the "Intermediary Boson Pursuit"). To sum up what's a boson, say he's a close pal of the meson, photon and other gluons. A few months later, it's May 68 and everything's turned upside down. Évariste writes a series of songs inspired by the events, which he immediately submits to Lucien Morisse. When the man behind "Salut les copains", once married to Dalida, hears the song "La révolution" - a father and son dialogue - he can't take any more: AZ simply cannot release this. But there and then Lucien Morisse makes a gesture which will remain engraved in French music's history: sorry to be unable to officially stand by the singer, he encourages him to self-produce the record, but with his tacit support. He calls the pressing factory and asks they apply the same rate for Évariste as they would for AZ. The singer and his musicians use the same studio as for the previous record, all of them playing for free awaiting a return on investment. Évariste keeps singing at the Sorbonne with "Jussieu's gang" and "the young Renaud" he nicknames "le p'tit gavroche" (or "street urchin"). Renaud volunteers to type the lyrics of the song "La révolution" so that the chorus can be sung and recorded. A boy in the group is related to Wolinski and introduces them. The two get along so well that Wolinski ends up drawing the cover for the record "La révolution", for free. The self-released 7 inch "La révolution / La faute à Nanterre" is sold under the table and door-to-door for half the price of a standard record, on and around the boulevard Saint-Michel; and it runs out fast. In the end, there will be 6 releases of the record, and 25000 copies sold. When the theatre director Claude Confortès decides to adapt Wolinski's drawing series titled "Je ne veux pas mourir idiot" ("I don't want to die a fool"), he asks Évariste to write the original soundtrack. His friend, now cartoonist for Hara-Kiri Hebdo, often promotes him in accordance with a principle dear to him by virtue of which he gives a special place to his friends. Dominique Grange (writer of the song "Nous sommes les nouveaux partisans") soon joins the team. After 150 performances, Évariste leaves his place to Dominique Maurin (brother of Patrick Dewaere). Évariste composes the songs for Claude Confortès' next play, "Je ne pense qu'à ça" ("That's all I think about"), co-wrote with Wolinski in 1969. The comedians of the play record the songs on a 7 inch, with a cover signed, again, by Wolinski. In 1971, French television produces the documentary "Évariste et les 7 dimensions", but doesn't air it. Indeed, the scientific sub-comity of the programming comity (sic) censors the show. The given justification is that "Évariste dangerously mixed science with science-fiction, numerology and other non-scientific disciplines". The underlying motive might have been a will to censor the singer-mathematician's political discourse. In the documentary and among other things, Évariste discusses hierarchy, alienation and revolution. Half a century later the documentary remains invisible, though some excerpts resurfaced in 1992 in the cult show "L'oeil du cyclone", on Canal +. Though flourishing, Évariste's career is nearing its end. 1970 is the beginning of a decade in the course of which he is to make a decisive discovery in the musical and scientific domains. Following this breakthrough, he moves away from self-produced music and gaucho magazines to focus on science. He keeps Oppenheimer's encouraging words in mind, now freely pursuing his research thanks to the sales of his records. Joël realises that when decoding protein sequences, one finds musical sequences recognisable to humans. He names them "proteodies". If, when listening to a proteody, one responds by being so sensitive as to finding it beautiful, then it reveals a deficiency of the related protein - and this peculiar music may be the cure. We could trace back the music history in light of proteins lacking in a given artist, or within a public's majority. You always thought these hysterical groupies who'd throw their underwear with passion and faint in the pit had miraculously appeared because they had never heard anything as wonderful as the Beatles? Make no mistake! For Évariste, it all boils down to an intro's protein content. Indeed, the beginning of their first hit "Love Me Do" corresponds to dopamine, the neurotransmitter linked to compulsive buying. An intro like this could only unleash the fervour of groupies, victims of fashion and biology. Évariste's success is such that the income from his sales gives him the autonomy to which he had aspired when confiding to Oppenheimer. It made it possible for him to pursue his research without any institutional constraints. He now devotes himself to his proteodies, sat in the offices of the European University for Research, just around the corner from the Sorbonne he knew so well. Évariste is no more. Joël regained control of this strange and comical beast.

Decomposed recalls classic American hardcore like Bad Brains, Poison Idea and Jerry’s Kids or Japanese ragers like Paintbox, The Comes, Eiefits and Skizophrenia. But there’s also a healthy slug of classic UK and US punk and even a bit of Krautrock, psychedelia and Black Sabbath in there too. Nottingham has always been a melting pot for heavy music. For a small city, it has boasted more than its fair share of genre defining bands and artists, not to mention record labels. Bands cross-pollinate, form projects and offshoots and play one-off gigs that would result in lengthy careers and world tours if they had happened across the Atlantic. It has always been like that there. No big deal (but yet, a really big deal if you know). One such band/project/offshoot were Endless Grinning Skulls. Formed by guitarist Andy Morgan (also from Bloody Head, Army Of Flying Robots, Nadir and countless more), drummer Steve Charlesworth (Heresy, Wolves Of Greece, Meatfly, Geriatric Unit) and bassist Gords (Hard To Swallow, John Holmes, Geriatric Unit) in the early twenty-teens, they re-set the bar for the 3-piece hardcore band before (perhaps inevitably) burning out in 2018. Morgan and Charlesworth weren’t done though. They’d forged a bond in EGS and wanted to carry on playing together so - in a familiar Nottingham storyline - they recruited former Pitchshifter guitarist Stu Toolin on bass and Anmarie Spaziano (who you might know from running a famous burger joint) on vocals and formed Blind Eye. They knew Toolin was about to relocate to Portland, Oregon so they wrote and recorded an EP (released on Morgan’s own Viral Age Records). Quick-sharp. No messing about. And that – by rights – should have been that: over and out. New band please. However, the demo captured a rare intensity and vitality that more considered projects often fail to achieve. This was a band let loose, free from previous shackles and loving the noise they made. It seemed a shame to stop there. Recruiting Matt Grundy (a former bandmate of Morgan’s in both Nadir and Dead In The Woods) to the bass vacancy they went back to Stuck On A Name Studios in 2021 with Ian “Boulty” Boult at the helm again and delivered the album Decomposed.
Decomposed genuinely rocks out without losing one iota of the effervescent anger that made the demo such an essential listen. From the insistent, minimal opener Ready To Go Now via the unhinged thrash of Straw Man and the menace of the stomping Pero No Quieres, to the measured chugging and epic crescendo of closer Broken Star, this record is a fucking blast. Needle off, flip it back over, play it again. Your neighbours are loving it so much they’re banging on the walls to tell you. “I suppose the intention was to write high energy, catchy hardcore, with a nod to what has come before, but also to do our own thing,” explains Andy. “Lyrically, the album was written during the pandemic, and although it’s not ‘a pandemic album’, I think it deals with a lot of the feelings of loss, separation and isolation

“V I N C E N T” is FKJ’s second album and signals a new dawn, not just as a go-to producer and remixer for artists like PinkPantheress and Moses Sumney but as an artist in his own right, continuously selling out headline tours across the globe with his acclaimed ‘one-man-band’ live shows, and having a billion plus streams across all platforms for his music.

The concept for “V I N C E N T” came about during a solo trip to Los Angeles before 2020. “I just stayed in this house totally on my own, turned my phone off and had some time away from everything to figure out what I wanted to do.” He realised he wanted to tap into the freedom of being a teenager: “back then, I was making music strictly for playfulness, without overthinking it,” he says. “V I N C E N T’s” opening and closing songs underline the sentiment of the new album: the future-jazz of ‘Way Out’ (a playful mini soundtrack in one; a dainty piano motif underscored by a skittering trap beat and serene strings) and the lullaby-styled “Stay A Child”. “I wanted to get back some of that lost innocence of making music purely for pleasure,” he says.

Back in his home studio in the Philippines, with no wifi and an impending global lockdown, FKJ was quite literally cut off from the world, able to explore music’s endless possibilities. “Sometimes I would get into it for the whole night and go to bed when the sun came up.” Out of this freedom comes an expressionistic, touching album that’s impossible to pin down. There’s no more hiding behind a branch of leaves, as he did on the cover of his 2017 debut: “V I N C E N T” marks FKJ out as a crucial new voice. He’s redefining chillout music with his bursts of late-night jazz sax and piano, coupled with his wood-cabin whispery vocals, recalling Bon Iver’s early work, and those Santana-styled guitar flourishes.

Much of “V I N C E N T” is wilfully romantic, sometimes super sexy, and often with its head in the clouds, as on tracks like “Us”, a dreamy ode to his wife June, or “IHM”, which has a 90s hip-hop flavour slowed right down to lights-out tempo. Not entirely a solo record, ((( O )))) appears on ‘Brass Necklace’ – which has the soft power of The Internet and Stevie Wonder’s keys. It’s no wonder that lead single ‘A Moment of Mystery’, featuring Toro Y Moi, has a spacey vibe: while recording in San Francisco together, FKJ, Toro and his keyboard player Tony took some of what Tony called “holy water” – “we shared this bottle and took a bit of a trip,” laughs FKJ. The result is a gentle electronic ode to long-term love that could rival Tame Impala for melodic progginess.

Little Dragon’s Yukimi Nagano vocal, meanwhile, laces its way through the stunning “Can’t Stop”, and there is a call back to FKJ’s dancier beginnings with “Let’s Live”, a galvanising techno-pop number that blends piano, handclaps and soulful vocals to dazzling effect. Each of FKJ’s songs glistens, lambently, with a myriad of ideas but it never sounds overblown or too dizzying.

“V I N C E N T” is a marvel – and testament to the magic that can happen when you dig deep. “This was a challenging record,” he says. “I’m a perfectionist and it’s hard to shake that off. But once I did, and I let the music take over, I felt totally free.”

After two UK #1 albums, 2 million album sales and an array of international acclaim, you might’ve thought you knew what to expect from Royal Blood. Those preconceptions were shattered when they released ‘Trouble’s Coming’ last summer. Hitting a melting pot of fiery rock riffs and danceable beats, they delivered something fresh, unexpected and yet entirely in tune with what they’d forged their reputation with.
The reaction was phenomenal, with highlights including 20 million streams, a premiere as Annie Mac’s Hottest Record and a run on Radio 1’s A-list and earned alternative radio support and media attention across the globe. In short, Royal Blood are primed to be bigger than ever before. That feat is set to be realised when they release their eagerly anticipated third album ‘Typhoons’ on April 30th via Warner Records.
When Mike Kerr and Ben Thatcher sat down to talk about making a new album, they knew what they wanted to achieve. It involved a conscious return to their roots, back when they had made music that was influenced by Daft Punk, Justice, and Philippe Zdar of Cassius. It also called for a similar back-to-basics approach to what had made their self-titled debut album so thrilling, visceral and original.
“We sort of stumbled on this sound, and it was immediately fun to play,” recalls Kerr. “That’s what sparked the creativity on the new album, the chasing of that feeling. It’s weird, though - if you think back to ‘Figure it Out’, it kind of contains the embryo of this album. We realised that we didn’t have to completely destroy what we’d created so far; we just had to shift it, change it. On paper, it’s a small reinvention. But when you hear it, it sounds so fresh.”

Those traits pulsate throughout the new single and title track. Kerr’s spiralling bass riff casts an hypnotic allure as it grows in intensity, while his vocals switch at will between a raw rock roar and a soulful falsetto. It’s underpinned by Thatcher’s thundering beats, his taut rhythms infused with groove-laden hi-hats.



After setting the tone with ‘Trouble’s Coming’, the album opens in breathless, take-no-prisoners style with the fierce metallic grooves of ‘Who Needs Friends’ hitting an early visceral peak. Royal Blood further reference their fresh array of influences by deploying vocodered vocals on ‘Million & One’ before dynamically switching between the biggest contrasts of their sound with ‘Limbo’. Already a fan favourite having been a regular during the duo’s 2019 shows, ‘Boilermaker’ lives up to its reputation and is more than matched by ‘Mad Visions’, which evokes a hyper-aggressive Prince. It ends with a final surprise in the shape of the stark piano ballad ‘All We Have Is Now’, a vulnerable and revealing reminder to live in the moment.

That song’s unguarded sentiments gives the album a redemptive finale. Whether directly or allusively, the album focuses on exploring the flipside of success that they’ve experienced. It comes from the realisation that success is much more complicated than it seems and that having the time to regain perspective is a precious commodity which becomes ever more elusive. The situation called for reflection and change, which Kerr addressed in Las Vegas. He downed an espresso martini and declared it to be his last drink, and soon discovered that his new-found sobriety would have a positive impact upon his creativity and life as a whole.

That new approach manifested itself in the duo’s decision to produce the majority of ‘Typhoons’ themselves. ‘Boilermaker’ was produced by Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme, the two bands having first connected when Royal Blood supported them on a huge North American tour. Meanwhile, the multiple Grammy Award winner Paul Epworth produced ‘Who Needs Friends’ and contributed additional production to ‘Trouble’s Coming’.

Minru is the project of Caroline Blomqvist, a Swedish musician based in Berlin. Woven from light and shadow, the interplay of her folk and indie-rock blend appears from a personal space of finding life after death. On her debut LP »Liminality« she paints melody in soft tones, whispering secrets to navigate feelings of loss.

Built around winding layers of acoustic guitar, piano, and strings, Minru is a surprisingly uplifting and stirring testament to Blomqvist’s own suffering from the passing of someone close to her. Returning to Berlin from Sweden feelings of grief, confusion, and pain travelled with her, and these emotions prompted the journey both of and within the album, heard as a dreamlike actualisation of wandering lost between them. "I read that Carl Jung used the word "»Liminality«” to describe the psychological process of transitioning. I instantly felt seen; it reflected my own experience and the feelings I carried whilst making the album – a sense of the old certainties being gone, but the new not being quite there yet,” she says.

Defined as "the threshold separating one space from another" »Liminality« moves between feeling the ground beneath your feet fall away, fighting through the darkness and the doubt, and the emerging shades of hope and light as you painstakingly make peace with mortality and find yourself as a person again. "I am happy to have encapsulated this moment of time in sound," Blomqvist says, "it will always be there as a memory."

Flourishing from a preferred position of solitude, »Liminality« sees Blomqvist’s vision radiate with intensity from her home-based studio in Neukölln - a small, 2-room apartment with squeaky old wooden floors. Capturing the intimacy of the space, she recorded vocals and synth on gear partly borrowed from friends (to swiftly reunite it with its owners), and the songs flow with a stream of consciousness as feelings become entwined with melody. Time-restraint drew the process to a natural close, preventing Blomqvist from losing herself to experimentation. “Maybe I would have been stuck in »Liminality«, trying out sounds forever,” she suggests of the way ‘Into the well’s instrumental swims into a warm stream of synth pads. "It’s the cosiest moment on the album,” she says, “Cosy is a feeling I always strive for in life."

Finished and self-produced at a Berlin-Lichtenberg recording studio alongside musical friends (Povel Widestrand, Tobias Blessing, Sunniva Lilian Shaw Of-Tordarroch, Marlene Becher and Liv Solveig Wagner), the result is beautifully detailed and rich like the folk of her Swedish roots. First picking up a guitar as a kid and becoming obsessed with it, she would skip school to spend extra hours mastering the instrument, grappling to perfect the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ intro. “As a child I was fascinated by my dad’s acoustic guitars around the house and would hit the strings to make them sound,” she recalls. After attending music high school in Gothenburg and playing in bands during her teens, Blomqvist later moved to Germany. As well as enjoying walks at Tempelhofer Feld and coffee at Leuchtstoff café, she performed with Tuvaband, Adna, and Tara Nome Doyle and played in Berlin venues Loophole and Schokoladen, where music became her world. With the passing of time she felt a growing urge to find an outlet for her own songs; Minru was the answer along with her first »Yearnings« EP.

Now writing whenever she returns to Sweden, within the calm and stillness of her family’s mountainside cabin, her skilfully constructed arrangements summon the comforting atmosphere of home. “I hope listeners will feel inspired to slow down a bit, create, draw, cook something. Just be in the moment that is now.” »Liminality« is the kind of record that rewards attention. Give this album your time, it will give you its soul.

Clear Vinyl

sferic venture a new set of plasmic ambient entertainment systems by Jonas Wiese’s TIBSLC, mining that slender but heady sweetspot between the earliest Vladislav Delay productions for Chain Reaction, Japanese environmental x architectural recordings and the sort of gear you’d hear from Move D & Jonas Grossmann at the late 90’s Source Recordings heyday.

sferic pick up the mantle of late ‘90s-into-‘00s ambient with a new variant primed for the times. Following the themes of their ‘Decisive Tongue Shifts - Situation Based Compositions’ album of 2021, TIBSLC (The International Billionaire’s Secret Love Child) distills their sferic debut into a crystal clear, hypersensitive set of eight tracks that slip seamlessly into each other’s space, recalling the amorphous end of Jan Jelinek’s ambient shimmers.

Where TIBSLC’s first album sprawled over two discs, this one relates to the same recording sessions, but glimpsed via more succinct windows of opportunity. In effect they’re like Hitchcockian, voyeurist snapshots of other lives in the urban complex woven into a melting emulation of the city at dusk, replete with infrasonic bass from streets below, and streaked with the wistful dream energy and fizzy optimism of a certain city life. In fleeting rounds of ephemeral shrapnel and synth pad washes, the eight parts evoke a sense of mental discombobulation, lending itself to ruminating on the unbearable lightness of being.

He may not have known it before, but Toronto-born, New York-based
guitarist Matthew Stevens, prized for his forceful, distinctive electric
sound was an ideal candidate to make an album fully devoted to solo
acoustic guitar: the intimate, unadorned, straightforwardly titled
'Pittsburgh'
September 2020, Stevens was hunkering down in his wife's family's hometown of
Pittsburgh, while navigating his way through the crisis. He had with him a vintage
Martin 00-17, a small- body mahogany guitar. Practicing daily on the Martin, he
began generating a series of short song "starts" - ideas and sketches he thought
might lead somewhere. Then one rainy Pittsburgh day, Stevens' bike slid out from
under him and he broke his right elbow. Rather than getting derailed musically, he
became immersed in a creative process that led straight to 'Pittsburgh': a
document of those short song "starts" from the notebook, now hatched as
completed compositions. "Playing this music became a big part of my rehab,"
Stevens recalls.
As the album took shape, it became clear to Stevens that he was headed in the
direction of a wholly unaccompanied recital, with no overdubs or sound layering
of any kind. Just him and this special Martin, two Neumann U89 mics and enough
peace of mind across two separate sessions to make 'Pittsburgh' the triumph that
it is.
In addition to his extensive high-profile work with Esperanza Spalding (serving as
co- producer on 'Exposure' and '12 Little Spells'), Stevens is also a member,
songwriter and co-producer of Terri Lyne Carrington's GRAMMY-nominated Social
Science band. He has made vital contributions to groups led by Dave Douglas,
Linda May Han Oh, Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah, Ben Williams and more. With
tenor saxophonist Walter Smith III he co-leads the In Common collective. Stevens
has also amassed many credits beyond the jazz world, collaborating on
forthcoming releases by Anna B Savage, Jamila Woods, Tyler Armes
(Murdagang) and Berlin-based electronic artist Robag Wruhme.

First exposed to the sounds of Samba and Bossa Nova while
touring South America with Dizzie Gillespie in 1956, Jones recalls
hearing Gillespie sitting-in with a Samba combo at Rio's Gloria
Hotel and how he was fascinated by the thrilling fusion of Jazz and
Samba. Some years later in 1962, he took a stellar big band into
NYC's A&R Studios to record the Big Band Bossa Nova album. It
was the culmination of a dream for Jones, who had never
forgotten the musical experiences he had encountered in Brazil.

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

Repress

Brainwaltzera's debut LP 'Poly-ana' follows quickly on the heels of the producer's Aescoba EP - also released this year via FILM. Across thirteen tracks of both previously released material and fresh excursions into the artist's world, Brainwaltzera explores sounds ranging from luscious, downtempo grooves and expertly reduced braindance cuts with nods to early 90's experimental IDM to harder, more caustic outings - all bound together by a recurring theme of otherworldly ambience. Taking its name from a variety of sources dear to the artist, including polyphonic analogue synthesizers and the Pol-lyanna Principle itself - a theory that suggests individuals recall pleasurable experience more acutely than displeasing ones - the title represents a meeting point in the artistic process between creative method and conceptual choices. Production techniques range from more traditional hardware synthesis to the incorporation of a modified dot matrix printer acting as a modulation source for MIDI parameters. Sample sources include VHS material from the produ-cer's own childhood and ambient Bullet Train samples from an on-the-fly production session traveling from Tokyo to Kyoto. According to the enigmatic producer, memory and its fundamental role in the human experience is one of the central themes of the record. While the artist's own experiences shaped the sound of the record, there is no attempt to impose them on the listener through blatant exposition.

LIMITED TO 500 COPIES // HIGH-QUALITY TIP-ON COVER // INCL. DOWNLOAD CODE

OFFICIAL RE-ISSUE, DONE IN COOPERATION WITH THE FAMILY OF BOBBY COLE !!!

If you lived in New York during the 1950s through the 1990s and liked jazz, you knew about Bobby Cole. He played piano, sang, composed, arranged and, in 1967, released an album of original compositions titled "A Point of View" (Concentric Records). He had fans but avoided becoming mainstream. He stayed contemporary without becoming current. Jazz, folk, rock, modern dance scores…he wrote and performed them all. He smoked too much, drugged too much, drank too much. He was also cerebral, curious, a prodigious reader of poetry, philosophy, theology, and an uncommonly intelligent and literate lyricist.

On a December night in 1996, he had a heart attack while walking to work. An ambulance brought him to New York Hospital where, a few hours later, he died. Bobby Cole performed throughout Manhattan for forty years, but he spent most of the 1960s headlining at Jilly's, the midtown bistro owned by Frank Sinatra and his friend Jilly Rizzo. Sinatra called Bobby "my favorite saloon singer."

Bobby Cole caught the attention of Judy Garland, who visited Jilly's one night in 1964. She was hosting a weekly television show, and in the midst of a feud with her special materials arranger, Mel Torme. Three weeks later, Mel was out, and Bobby was in. He performed on Judy's show with his Trio. Bobby was scarcely 30 years old and it was his first time on television, but he was unruffled, sophisticated, and so damn cool. After Judy's show ended, Bobby occasionally arranged and conducted for her until she died.

Today, Jilly's is called the Russian Samovar and the piano is in the same spot. My husband and I ate there a few years ago. As we enjoyed our meal, I talked about Jilly's in the Sinatra era. Jilly had an apartment on the upper floor. I pointed up to the apartment and the balcony, where Jilly and Frank would sometimes drop water-balloons on unsuspecting pedestrians below. Another story described Jilly's as "tough, and you had to be tough to work there. Bobby Cole was tough. Frank and Jilly used to throw firecrackers at him to see if they could rattle him, but nothing rattled Bobby Cole. He ignored them and kept on playing." In the 1980s, Bobby headlined at a club called the Café Versailles. His daughter sometimes visited with her friends. She recalled that when she and her father would exit the club after work, a panhandler would be waiting for him. Bobby, who fought his own losing battle with the bottle, would slip the guy twenty dollars and wryly admonish him, "Be sure not to spend it on food." The night my husband and I visited the Russian Samovar there was a guy playing piano there, very young, and trying hard. I talked to him a little bit between his numbers about Bobby and the history of Jilly's and he was sweet, but I could tell he didn't care. I felt like one of those old people who bore young people to death with stories about things that happened before they were born – which, let's face it, is what I was. Nonetheless, when we were ready to leave, I put twenty dollars in his tip jar and said, "This is with compliments from Bobby Cole." After we left my husband said I should have added, "Be sure not to spend it on food."

Marie Hegeman (December 2021)

2022 Repress

Apichatpong Weerasethakul is recognised as one of the most original voices in contemporary cinema today. His seven feature films, short films and installations have won him widespread international recognition and numerous awards, including the Cannes Palme d'Or in 2010 with Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.

This compilation album 'Metaphors' contains 14 soundworks carefully selected from his past cinema and other visual works since 2003, which includes Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, Syndromes and a Century, Fever Room and more.

Apichatpong has regularly worked with the same sound designers since 2003 and has always given importance to the personality of on-location sounds giving his films a sense of continuity. In post-production, he's fascinated by the manipulation of these 'live' sounds in order to express 'reality'. This reality doesn't necessary represent the actual sound of the places, but more a representation of the world in layered memories. Similar to the way he treats images, Apichatpong sometimes calls attention to the physicality and the fragility of the audio (and its apparatus) and to the process of audio manipulation itself. In his cinema, Apichatpong prefers natural sound sources over music. Nevertheless, he often boldly incorporates popular songs that were persistent during the shooting. He doesn't shy away from using tunes that relate to his own personal memories. In this sense, Apichatpong values the spirit of authenticity much more than rigid manipulation of audio and weaves a complex and dreamlike soundscape in his cinematic repertoire.

Born in Bangkok, Apichatpong grew up in Khon Kaen in north-eastern Thailand. He began making films and video shorts in 1994 and completed his first feature in 2000. He has also mounted exhibitions and installations in many countries since 1998 and is now recognised as a major international visual artist. His art prizes include the Sharjah Biennial Prize (2013) and the prestigious Prince Claus Award (2016), the Netherlands. Lyrical and often fascinatingly mysterious, his film works are non-linear, dealing with memory and in subtle ways invoking personal politics and social issues.

It started, as it so often does, with two old friends hanging out.

John Shima and C P Smith were joking around one evening in their home city of Sheffield. At some point, Smith challenged Shima that, if the latter could produce a record using nothing more than a small modular synth setup, then Smith would release it on his Central Processing Unit label. As heads will know, while Shima has drops on imprints like FireScope and Subwax Excursions to his name, he had never previously released anything via CPU. Shima accepted, and thus we now have his CPU debut, the four-track EP CPU Modular 1.

The specific setup that Shima worked with for these tracks was Smith's Doepfer A-100P6 Suitcase, a small but mighty combination of modules and programmers. It's no surprise that Shima was able to familiarise himself with the equipment in double-quick time - after all, Shima was an early adopter of the Eurorack modular format back in the day. What emerged from the CPU Modular 1 sessions was a quartet of devastatingly effective DJ tools, mid-set rollers which will get the dance moving something crazy.

Opener '003' kicks the EP off as it means to go on. There's something at once stiff-necked and buoyant about the rhythms here, all thwacking Roland tones and snares which crack like someone whipping a length of sheet metal. While the beat barrels unyieldingly onwards, the programming in the tuned modulars is more exploratory and even trippy, full of delay-laced bleeps and flighty rhythmic motifs. It comes together for a cracking mix in the vein of artists like Jerome Hill and London Modular Alliance. Second A-side cut '010' is no different, the street-beat groove and grumbling low-ends underpinning all manner of modular wizardry.

CPU Modular 1 is really timeless stuff, a set of percussion-heavy, future-focussed beats which recalls Smith's own CPU drop 'DJ Tools Vol.1 - 808 Tracks'. '011' kicks of CPU Modular 1's second-half with a dose of Drexciyan dystopia, playing an atonal loop off of an insistent bass wiggle and neurotic hi-hats. Even when Shima tightens or slackens the modulars here, '011' remains unyielding, a dose of pure 'Wip3out' energy that you could happily groove to all day long. The EP closes out with '005', a gnarled, gurgling production which still retains the dancefloor punch of the rest of the record.

For his Central Processing Unit debut, John Shima was tasked to produce four tracks using a single small modular setup. Unsurprisingly given the pedigree of this seasoned machine-funk pro, Shima aced the assignment.

 With their duo debut, Dean Spunt and John Wiese invite you to experience
the frenzy of percussive space and discreet sound found inside ‘The Echoing
Shell’.
 This is the first official collaboration between the two veteran music-makers,
though their connection goes back to 1999. As John recalls, “Dean was in a
high school arts program at CalArts. A friend and I were recording the first
Sissy Spacek demo in the design studios there, and taking a tape to my car
over and over again to check the mix. Dean was walking through the parking
lot with a Locust shirt on, we said hello, and he immediately got into a car
with two strangers to ‘listen to a tape’.”
 The tape-listening ended well, apparently. Dean and John became friends
and fellow travellers in LA circles and beyond: in 2005, John did a remix for
Dean’s first band, Wives; in 2007, Dean played percussion with Sissy
Spacek’s 13-Tet Los Angeles; John toured with No Age several times and
collaborated live with them in 2010.
 Under the Sissy Spacek name as well as his own, John’s recordings for his
own Helicopter label and many others kicked things off for him around the
end of the century; since then, he’s been constantly engaged in solos and
collaborations on record, performances, and installations around the world.
 In addition to Dean’s ever-growing discography with No Age, he curates his
own label, Post Present Medium. In 2018, Radical Documents released
Dean’s solo debut ‘EE Head’, which explored concrète and experimental
techniques in a four-part, album length piece.
 ‘The Echoing Shell’ is born of Dean and John’s shared understanding, using
John’s process common to Sissy Spacek: elaborate sound-collage works
using source material originating from punk, hardcore and improvised music.
A series of impositions, tape manipulation and edits recompose the material,
cracking open the crust of the source, freeing its implied guts to steam forth
in gushes of extreme noise. On ‘The Echoing Shell’, this is as often noise as
it is extreme intimacy, seeming at times to be sourced from within Dean’s
drumkit, at other times appearing to emanate from the capsules of
microphones and the circuits of the signal path itself.
 One may read these collaged sounds as abstraction, but there is a unique
language conveyed in their assembly, forming something like word-shapes
and meaning. And intention: the two side-long pieces, comprised of many
short sections, form a linear whole, creating alternately ripping and
discriminating music - and meaning - in the process.
 ‘The Echoing Shell’ is a fantastic conception in contemporary musique
concrète, combining incendiary post-rock power, dry humour and astonishing
depth of field. Whether projecting the sound through headphones, ear buds,
bookshelf speakers or your own personal amp stack, crank up ‘The Echoing
Shell’.

Black Vinyl, DL card. CD Capacity wallet. A reawakening for the Swedish visionaries, Sincere solidifies their impressive trajectory in a fuzzed out haze of dark and arresting shoegaze pop. An expansive trip through noisier, bittersweet pop realms that recalls My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive and Deerhunter. Underpinning everything there’s a continuing sense of drama throughout; richly textured crescendos, chiming guitars and delicate melodies are guided by Caroline Landahl’s tender yet sharpened vocals. Sincere is joyously effervescent, but with a dark underbelly where fury manifests in a swirl of entrancing and propulsive percussion. A gorgeous and dazzling piece of aching romanticism, destined to feature on a thousand mixtapes. Recorded last year in Malmö, Hater welcomed two new band members and those early day sparks saw them quickly turning demos into fully-formed new songs that appear on the record. Sincere was produced by long-time collaborator Joakim Lindberg and was mixed and mastered by John Cornfield, whose credits include Ride, The Stone Roses and Robert Plant. // “One of the best bands in the world” Gorilla vs Bear // “Your next Scandinavian indie pop obsession.” Flood // “Stunning” Stereogum

Ferocious JP / US free jazz bomb. A rare meeting between the NYC free jazz scene and the Japanese free music scene. Old-style Gatefold LP, with rare photographs & liner notes by Alan Cummings.

Following hot on the heels of the first, mid-sixties generation of Japanese free jazz players like Kaoru Abe, Masayuki Takayanagi, Yōsuke Yamashita, Motoharu Yoshizawa, etc., an exciting second wave of younger players began to emerge in the seventies. Two of its leading members were the saxophonist Kazutoki Umezu and multi-instrumentalist Yoriyuki Harada. Both were post-war babies and immigrants to the city, Umezu from Sendai in the north and Harada from Shimane in the west. They first met as students in the clarinet department at the Kunitachi College of Music, a well-known conservatory in western Tokyo. Harada was already securing sideman gigs on bass with professional jazz groups and was active in student politics, making good use of his connections to set up jazz concerts on campus. It was around this time that the two began to play together in an improvised duo, with Umezu on clarinet and bass clarinet and Harada on piano. They also experimented with graphic scores and prepared piano.

These experiments eventually led to the creation of a trio, with a high-school student called Tetsuya Morimura on drums, that they decided to name Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai (Lifestyle Improvement Committee) in joking reference to the Marxist discourse of the student radicals of the time. Around 1973, Umezu and Harada decided to call it a day and go their separate ways. Umezu began playing with the Toshinori Kondo Unit and Harada with the Tadashi Yoshida Quintet. In 1974 Harada formed his own trio and began to play at jazz coffeehouses across Japan.

Then, in September 1974 Umezu travelled alone to New York, where he set about building connections with the loft jazz scene in the city. It was a fortuitous moment to arrive in New York. Rents were cheap in the Lower East Side, possibilities for squatting existed, so many musicians and artists had moved to the area. Umezu soon became known on the scene as Kappo and he started to make connections with some of the young musicians like David Murray, Arthur Blythe, and Oliver Lake. He recalls making the rounds of the lofts every evening, checking out the performances, and getting the chance to sit in with many groups including Juma Sultan’s Aboriginal Music Society and trumpeter Ted Daniel’s orchestra.

Things were going so well that Umezu wrote to Harada and invited him to come to New York. He accepted and arrived in the city in July 1975. Harada and Umezu took the opportunity to resume their artistic collaboration. Their first concert together in over two years took place on July 20th at another loft, Sunrise Studios at 122 2nd Avenue. Umezu remembers Sunrise as an unusually sunny loft with the rarest of things, a grand piano. He invited along Ahmed Abdullah, a trumpeter he had got to know while playing with Ted Daniel. Abdullah led his own group and was a long-term Sun Ra sideman. William Parker, one of the key figures in the loft jazz scene of the period, was on bass. Abdullah also brought along Rashid Sinan on drums. Sinan drummed in Abdullah’s units throughout the seventies, but he had also played on Frank Lowe’s immortal Black Beings album and collaborated with Arthur Doyle, playing on Doyle’s Alabama Feeling album. By all accounts the evening was a huge success, with speed and dynamism of Harada’s piano playing gaining him lots of support.

Since they had managed to save some money from their day jobs, Umezu and Harada decided to set up a recording session with the same line-up on August 11 at Studio We, where there was a well-equipped studio on the third floor. Umezu recalls the session as follows, Of course, we recorded our performances in one take, with zero retakes as far as I remember. On all the tracks we recorded, we moved as one unit, sharp and fast. That was the nature of Lifestyle Improvement Committee, New York Branch.

Umezu and Harada would later become known for the elements of parody and entertainment that they brought to their music, a freewheeling blend of pastiche, humour and on-stage performativity that paralleled the approaches of the Art Ensemble, Sun Ra, and Holland’s ICP. But here, on their first recordings, the humour element is not yet present. Instead, there is a febrile sense of joy in creation and connection. On the Umezu-penned “Kim”, for example, Harada opens the piece with a speedy exploration of the full-range of the keyboard, hitting hard on the bass keys to create a rhythmic bed out of which patterns begin to emerge. Umezu enters at a much slower pace, longer held notes that at first float weightlessly over the urgency of the piano before they begin in splinter and accelerate. When Parker and Sinan kick in, it’s a rollicking tempo with Parker plucking deep and hard and the left-handed Sinan skittering hard across the topside of his kit. Abdullah kicks in a glorious solo twelve minutes in, bright and breathy at once. The piece slows and grows more spacious towards the end, giving Parker a chance to showcase some arco work that shades beautifully into the air against Abdullah’s trumpet.

On their third album »Constant Connection«, West Australian-based Erasers create hypnotic compositions of synth, guitar and voice, evoking the vast expanse of their native landscape and the shrouded emotions behind the senses. Comprising of vocalist, synth player Rebecca Orchard and Rupert Thomas on guitar and synths, Erasers have developed their earthly kosmische music into an open language based on drone, variation in repetition and minimal song structures. Based in Perth, regarded one of the most isolated cities in the world, Orchard and Thomas’s music has brewed in the city’s vibrant DIY/Outsider community and evolved into a meditation on landscape, power, the shadow-world of human emotions and stream of consciousness. »Constant Connection«, with its waves of sound and chant-like vocals evokes a trance that suggests an infinity just beyond the senses.

At the heart of each Erasers composition is the interplay between the instrumentation, played with stoic restraint and recorded directly with minimal effects and the transcendental states induced in the listener. It’s a magic that is performed in plain sight and all the more powerful for it. The recognisable vibrato of Fender Rhodes keyboards and simple drum machine loops, the subtle strands of analog synth melodies that snake in and out of the ear, above all the towering encantations of Rebecca Orchard’s undeniably Australian-accented hymns; all of this is presented with minimal ostentation and yet it instantly engenders a dream state, hints at an infinity beyond the material.

Shades of John Cale’s 70s work with Nico, early 70s German synthesists Kluster and even fellow Australians Fabulous Diamonds can be seen as stylistic touchstones for Constant Connection. Where Nico hinted at the macabre and gothic, Rebecca Orchard’s similarly gliding vocal is more zoned in to a kind of oceanic openness, with words becoming chants and spells that suggested themselves to the singer during recording sessions. It’s this hidden hand of improvisatory, automatic writing that lends a sense of expanse to the music. On opener I Understand, while the lyrics might hint at discontent the emotional spectrum it opens up is far more rich and complex, as layered as the waves of droning chords that are the bedrock of each Erasers track. The title track talks of flow, continuum and balance, the protagonist in the song seemingly weightless, gently pulled through a walking reality that borders on dream. In Erasers’ world, it seems, the borders between reality and dream, consciousness and sub-consciousness are blurred and eroded.

On Constant Connection, Erasers’ music might be deeply evocative of landscape but it’s never clear which one. The vast, open terrain that surrounds Perth is dusty, burned by the sun into desert and Constant Connection feels like the product of the heat and relative isolation, the altered states these elements can create. But it’s these altered states of mind that appear to be the real landscape described by Erasers. It’s a landscape that’s hazy, in-and-out of focus, with emotional undertows pushing and pulling you into a weightlessness. On album closer Easy To See the band dispense with percussion all together, field recordings of the water at the edge of their native city ushering in two duetting synths. Orchard’s vocal undulates with the flow, viewing both the geographical and psychological landscape from the perspective of a consciousness not bound by bodies and from a timescale measured in millennia. The album ends as it begins, with field recordings of the real world that the music seeps out from, temporarily, before regressing back into the other realm it feels like it belongs to.

Between these two recorded hints of reality, Erasers manifest a deeply sensual dreamscape that constantly feels like it’s dissolving at its seams. A desert psychedelia emanating from a real world that might not be that real in the first place.

Toro y Moi’s seventh studio album, ‘MAHAL’, is the boldest and most fascinating journey yet
from musical mastermind Chaz Bear. The record spans genre and sound - encompassing the
shaggy psychedelic rock of the 1960s and ‘70s, and the airy sounds of 1990s mod-post-rock -
taking listeners on an auditory expedition, as if they’re riding in the back of Bear’s Filipino
jeepney that adorns the album’s cover. But ‘MAHAL’ is also an unmistakably Toro y Moi
experience, calling back to previous works while charting a new path forward in a way that only
Bear can do.
 ‘MAHAL’ is the latest in an accomplished career for Bear, who’s undoubtedly one of the
decade’s most influential musicians. Since the release of the electronic pop landmark ‘Causers
of This’ in 2009, subsequent records as Toro y Moi have repeatedly shifted the idea of what his
sound can be. But there’s little in Bear’s catalogue that will prepare you for the deep-groove
excursions on ‘MAHAL’, his most eclectic record to date.
 The second the album begins we’re immediately transported into the passenger seat, jeep
sounds and all, ready for the ride Chaz and company have concocted for us. Seeds of some of
‘MAHAL’s 13 songs date back to the more explicitly rock-oriented ‘What For?’ from 2015.
 ‘MAHAL’ was mostly completed last year in Bear’s Oakland studio with the involvement of a
host of collaborators, Sofie Royer and Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s Ruban Neilson to Neon
Indian’s Alan Palomo and the Mattson 2.
 “I wanted to make a record that featured more musicians on it than any other record of mine,”
he explains. “To have them live on that record feels grounded, bringing a communal
perspective to the table.” As a result, ‘MAHAL’ is lush and surprising at every turn, from the
cool-handed ‘The Loop’, which recalls Sly and the Family Stone, to the elastic psych rock of
‘Foreplay’ and the dizzying Mulatu Astatke-recalling of ‘Last Year’.
 Lyrically, the album zooms in on generational concerns, picking up where the ‘Outer Peace’
standout ‘Freelance’ effectively left off. Bear seems to be surveying the ways in which we
connect with technology, media, each other, and what disappears as a result. Cuts like the
squishy ‘Postman’ and ‘Magazine’ take a deep dive into our relationship with media in a
changing digital world. “It’s interesting to see how we adapt to this new age. We’re so
connected, but we’re still missing out on things,” Bear ruminates while discussing the album’s
themes.
 It’s not all introspection. Bear cools things down near the album’s end with the Mattson 2-
featuring ‘Millennium’, a laid-back jam with tricky guitar licks about ringing in new times even
when everything else seems upside down. “It’s about enjoying the new year, even when it’s
been shitty,” Bear explains. “There’s nothing else to do.”
 Finding a sense of joy in the face of adversity is embedded in ‘MAHAL’s DNA, right down to the
jeepney that literally and figuratively brings the music out into the community. “We know that
touring is messed up for now, and large gatherings are a fluke,” he explains. “It’s about the
notion of us going out to the people and bringing the record to them.” And with the wide-open
atmosphere of ‘MAHAL’, Toro y Moi stands to connect with more listeners than ever before.

One record which has lately come to prominence is the brilliant "After Hours" by Charlie Mitchell aka Vic Marcel on an absolutely gorgeous slice of mellow Rare-Groove which recalls the Leon Ware vibe perfectly. Produced and arranged by seasoned veterans Tony Silvester and Bert DeCoteaux this incredibly hypnotic song was also written by top writers J.R. Bailey and Ken Williams. "After Hours" has grown in popularity particularly over the last few years with original copies now reaching the £200-£250 valuation.

The flip-side is another slice of beautiful mid-tempo soul from the same production stable. Only one copy currently available the last time we checked, such has been the demand over the last two years especially. Quite why this record has been underground for so long is open to debate. Vic Marcel was under contract to RCA at the time hence the Charlie Mitchell pseudonym. Janus were also suffering distribution problems at the time which explains why the original is so rare. We're proud to finally make this available again on the original Janus imprint. Another double-sided beauty.

Legendary privately pressed 1979 LP from Scotland. This illusive, super rare and sublimely wonderful percussion album is like no other. Hypnotic, celestial, even cosmic and ambient in parts and totally unique in all ways, it was played by a group of 11 girls with an average age of 14. The group included Evelyn Glennie, who was destined to become one of the world’s greatest percussionists. This is her first ever record.

The Cults Percussion Ensemble was a group formed by percussion teaching legend Ron Forbes in the mid 1970s. The ensemble must have one of the best group names of all time. To many it will immediately come across as something sinister, a touch spooky and possibly a bit dramatic too. They are certainly two of those but the use of the word “Cults” here is easily misinterpreted. Cults, in this case, is the suburb of Aberdeen.

The average age of the students was just 14. They came from a few of the schools in the area, including the Cults Academy, Ellon Academy, Aboyne Academy, Inverurie Academy and Powis.

My original copy of the album came from Spitalfields market in London. I loved the music the second it started, because it reminded me of Carl Orff and peculiar library. So I started to investigate it further, and eventually, thanks to the highly tuned world of percussion, was given the address of Ron Forbes. I got in touch with him and now we have this, a formal release of something quite lovely that was only previously available very briefly in 1979 at concerts when the young girls performed.

The music here is really quite unique, with a celestial swirling hypnotic quality. The blend of glockenspiels, xylophones, vibraphones, marimba and timpani drums is quite intoxicating and can recall the shimmering warmth of the desert sun one minute (“Baia”) or freezing glacial ice caps the next (“Circles”). The Ensemble perform with an effortless tightness and deftness of touch, building textured layers with recurring percussive motives which appear simultaneously dense and yet sparse, almost sounding like modern sampling. In fact, while struggling to find a musical comparison, during the pulsating introduction to "Percussion Suite" I found myself recalling "Gamma Player", a piece of soulful Detroit techno minimalism from Jeff Mills (Millsart - “Humana” EP 1995) with its rhythmic percussion layered with complex emotion. Weirdly enough, other tracks on that EP also prominently feature xylophone and tuned percussion, although obviously synthesised and programmed, a good 20 years after the CPE first recorded.

Sleevenotes also include a letter from Ron Forbes:
“I decided to form a percussion group to provide an outlet for my percussion pupils to play music specially written for them. The group soon became well known in the region and as a result of winning the outstanding award at the National Festival of Music for youth on three occasions, they were invited to play at other festivals within Europe, one being in Erlangen in Germany - hence the Erlangen Polka - and Autun in France - hence the Autun Carillon. During these visits we were often asked if we had any recordings and so it was decided to make an LP”.

Thanks to Ron Forbes and Trunk Records, more people can now enjoy the simple hypnotic musical charms of the Cults Percussion Ensemble

Historically informed violin player, prize-winning street musician, new age experimentalist, chamber ensemble performer and conservatoire deviant. The career of Valentina Goncharova (b. Kyiv 1953) shares parallels with those associated with the broader new music movement of the 20th century and the dissemination of home recording technologies.

Valentina’s was a youth spent immersed in the world of classical music study under soviet rule, first in Kyiv- later in Leningrad & now St. Petersburg, from the age of 16. With the supervision of professors M. Vayman and B. Gutnikov she learned concert violin and developed alternate playing styles alongside skilled pianists. A student of the Leningrad conservatoire during the years 1969 - 1983, her repertoire included music for violin and later expanded to contemporary music composition.

The improvisatory nature of free jazz and then-budding experimental rock circles also intrigued Valentina during this period in Leningrad. Departing from the rules of the conservatoire, she briefly performed in underground rock clubs alongside future members of the industrial group Pop- Mechanika (Popular Mechanics). This perpetual state of flux is central to the variety found within ‘Recordings Vol. 1’, though as opposed to any degree of uncertainty Valentina’s practice is one
in flux by way of earnest curiosity.

Pushing further into an exploration of solo electro-acoustic sounds, she took to home taping on a modified Olimp reel to reel recorder. Intrigued by the manipulability of dubbing and the fresh sounds of DIY effects chains, Goncharova developed pickups alongside her husband Igor Zubkov. Her infatuation with the music of Stockhausen, Xenakis, Ganelin Trio and Pierre Boulez channels through considerations of space and erratic sound design, the 3 movements of ‘Metamorphoses’ embodying this textural approach to musique concrete.

The compositional skills developed in Leningrad unfold in the romantic gestures of ‘Higher Frequencies’, whilst manipulated cello combines with synthesise keys across ‘Passageway To Eternity’.
The slow, pulsating drone soundscapes recall the likes of Robert Rutman’s US Steel Cello Ensemble or even deep listening pioneer Pauline Oliveros.

The juxtaposition of written notation and improvisatory flare is central to Goncharova’s sound world. This period of home recording documents a confluence of minimalism, free form and flirtations
with new age tropes (inc. bell chimes and cavernous vocal mantras).

Experimenting with unusual performance techniques, such as shouting into amplified cello strings, Valentina’s home studio functioned as a place to foster full artistic and creative freedom
away from any academic strictures.

Relocating to Estonia in 1984, and in parallel to the deeply personal music of ‘Recordings Vol. 1’, Valentina performed at jazz festivals and gave classical concerts across Eastern Europe. In a sense, the recordings on these discs offer only a glimpse into her lifelong body of work. Over the past few decades she has taught at Tallinn Music College, expanded and updated post- Soviet popular music repertoire, collaborated with the Russian Philharmonic Society of Estonia and given concerts and charity events alongside the Catholic Church.

Hers is a life dedicated to the exploration of sound, a career forged through careful study and ceaseless intrigue. In a time where technological interconnectedness has allowed for music of the pas
to be continually mined and evaluated through new lenses, Shukai present an artist whose tendency for private home-taping had allowed recordings to go unheard for thirty years.

New pressing in soon!

Orgone is one of the most exciting bands in the new generation of funk bands; led by the powerhouse vocals of Adryon de Leon, Orgone recalls such legendary groups as Rufus and Sly & The Family Stone at their best! The band has backed Alicia Keys on her As I Am album and Cee Lo Green on his Grammy-winning track Fool for You. Beyond The Sun is the most complete fulfillment of Orgone s full spectrum of sound, ranging from the in the pocket funk of Don’t Push Your Luck to the evocative balladry of No Pain to the clubby-jam of the title track and the scorching instrumental workouts on Meat Machine and Sabi. A highlight is a hot version of Rufus - I'm A Woman (I'm A Backbone).

After turning heads with the densely orchestrated Riddles, produced by Dan Deacon, the Baltimore-based duo Ed Schrader’s Music Beat have given us another giant leap forward with their fourth record Nightclub Daydreaming. The whiplash-inducing stylistic shifts between aggressive noise rock and operatic gloom pop that have become the band’s trademark have given way to a single aesthetic that fuses both impulses. On Nightclub Daydreaming, menace teems just below the surface as propulsive, stark arrangements leave space that Schrader fills with strident, reverb-soaked narration.

LIMITED GOLD VINYL w/ Download Card

When Ed Schrader and Devlin Rice began writing the record in 2019, the idea was to make a fun, danceable album, but an underlying moodiness proved unshakeable. As Schrader puts it, “The cave followed us into the discotheque.”

The duo road-tested the songs “This Thirst,” “Echo Base” and “Black Pearl” with drummer Kevin O’Meara on tour with Dan Deacon in February 2020. COVID restrictions cut the tour short, squashed plans to go immediately into the studio and sent the touring party on a sprint from LA to Baltimore. “We broke down outside Roswell,” Schrader recalls. “And these cops laughed at our dumb asses as we used all our pent-up stress and fear to propel our half-submerged bus out of the muck, yelling epithets to the sky.”

It was one of the last experiences they had with O’Meara, whose death in October 2020 weighed heavily on Rice and Schrader’s minds as they worked on the record. It was also a cathartic moment that presaged the aesthetic that would permeate the songs on Nightclub Daydreaming: “mad euphoria in the face of doom,” as Schrader puts it.

“This Thirst” is an alienation-fueled barn burner barely restraining itself through musically sparse, lyrically dense verses to culminate in a howling, synth-saturated chorus that beats horror punk at its own game. “Came from the north with a twisted planetarium, rock salt, nervous tic and novocaine,” Schrader sings, assuming the guise of a vagrant whose irresistible urges lead him through a fever dream of chemicals, back-alley bartering and existential threats.

The hyperactive “Echo Base” exudes agitated-cool, with breakneck drum fills and a relentless bass line. The narrator is stranded in a frozen landscape and running out of options. “She is just a night train away,” we are assured, and yet we sense that may not be an altogether good thing.

The band recorded and mixed Nightclub Daydreaming over a two-week period with Craig Bowen at Tempo House in Baltimore with David Jacober on drums, turning demos with artificial sounds and placeholder melodies into fully realized songs playable by a live band. The end result is not the album of “sunny disco bangers” that Rice says the band set out for, but something deeper, darker and more rewarding.

Jlin's new EP "Embryo" marks a key point in the multi-platform artistic growth of the Indiana-based producer. It features a bold and fiery sound palette recalling the futurism of nineties Detroit techno and British IDM without succumbing to their clichés. With faint echoes of classic Model 500, it sounds like music for automated cars, robot cop junctions and virtual freeways in the air. A fifth wave techno? "Connect The Dots" is one of the standouts from her recent lives sets, with the kind of rhythmic complexity only Jlin can bring, underpinned by a glitch reborn and transmuted into something utterly of the here and now. Jlin comments "I wrote all these pieces in between commissions and trying to stay afloat mentally." She singles out final track "Rabbit Hole" as a highlight "It made me feel nostalgia yet connected me to my own evolution." Jlin is currently working on a new full length album for Planet Mu.

Some forty years into one of music’s most impactful, sometimes tense and yet curiously enduring partnerships, Tears For Fears have finally arrived together at The Tipping Point – the group’s ambitious, accomplished and surprising first new studio album in nearly two decades. Tears For Fears find themselves back in peak form at The Tipping Point, an inspired song cycle that speaks powerfully and artfully to our present tense here in 2021. This is an album that vividly recalls the depth and emotional force of the group’s earliest triumphs. Imagine a far more outward-looking take on TFF’s famously introspective 1983 debut album The Hurting set in an even more mad world, or 1985’s Songs From The Big Chair bravely confronting even bigger issues in our increasingly unruly world. Or even 1989’s The Seeds Of Love that sows a mix of love and other emotions. The Tipping Point is the bold, beautiful and powerful sound of Tears For Fears finding themselves together all over again. Available as a 1CD Mintpack, a 1CD deluxe digipak (with extra track), a Gatefold Balck 1LP.

Born from ten-hour jam sessions in peeling Brighton bedsits, the
technical parameters of a bootstrap recording process and the osmotic, multi-genre influence of internet music archives, quintet Ebi Soda have been steady-cultivating a unique sound amidst the exploding UK jazz scene.

Despite their steep rise – the Brighton outfit have preserved as much as possible of their unique recording process, originating from their very first sessions. With just a two- track recorder around, the band would lay down whole takes, one instrument at a time, then immediately transform the overdub, digitally reshaping the sound with the same mischievous, adderall energy as the musical performance.‘Honk If You’re Sad’, their sophomore full-length album, stays true to these foundations, while bringing more ambitious experimentation, technical mastery and a stellar lineup of guest players to the studio including Yazz Ahmed, Deji Ijishakin and Dan Gray.In typical Ebi style, while recalling jazz pioneers in playing style, ‘Honk If You’re Sad’ draws from a vast neural network of influences:
the Ebi Brain has been marinating in a digital soup of trap, drill, dub, post-punk and no wave to name but a few. The result is a mercurial record that beams in psychedelia, dissonance, serene ambient passages, tough, neck-snapping beats and lush textures, all underscored by the intersection of jazz, hip hop and electronic music.

Ichiko Aoba’s albums have only been available as expensive Japanese imports, until now. In November, Ba Da Bing will release Windswept Adan on 2xLP in North America, Europe and the United Kingdom, with deluxe packaging.

After creating her label, hermine, last year to celebrate her tenth
anniversary in music, Aoba released the most complex and rewarding
work of her career, 2020’s Windswept Adan. While audiences in
the west are only just learning she exists, her accomplishments are
unquestionable; she contributed to the soundtrack for The Legend of
Zelda: Link’s Awakening, was cited by Owen Pallett as an inspiration
(“I’ve never been so blindsided by a musician as I was by Ichiko
Aoba”), and has collaborated with the likes of Haruomi Hosono,
Cornelius (who met her only two years after she first picked up a
guitar and was blown away), Ryuichi Sakamoto, and recently Mac
DeMarco.
Ichiko Aoba’s iconic voice and classical guitar playing are
immediately recognizable, timeless sounds. Windswept Adan,
envisioned as a soundtrack for a fictional film, builds its own world with
sweeping co-production and arrangements from Taro Umebayashi,
which “recall the Wes Anderson scores of Mark Mothersbaugh or
the cinematographic swells of American composer Jherek Bischoff”
(Bandcamp). It’s the story of a young girl sent to the island of Adan, a
place where there are no words.
While international listeners of Aoba may not understand the words
she sings, and despite the central importance of lyrics in her writing,
it’s a testament to the power Aoba wields that one can resonate so
deeply with her work. No matter the breadth of her sonic palette, and
on Adan her scope is as wide and encompassing as Joanna Newsom’s
on Have One On Me, Aoba manifests an intimacy that makes one feel
in the room with her.
Ichiko Aoba’s work gained greater exposure in the past year as the
need for comfort grew while the world sequestered in solitude. She
has a rare musical gift that is matched only by her ability to hone it
into meticulous craft. Her music embraces and elevates alone time to a
generous and tranquil place. In it, listeners are invited to feel a sense of
consolation and possibility. The magic she imparts yields articles like
“Ichiko Aoba and the emotion of space during the pandemic;” in other
words, her effect is singular.

Array expresses the experience of a remote Antarctic research station through the convergence of sound, site and performance. The result is an immersive and affective experience of the spaces, protocols and conditions comprising the bracing polar environment. Array is a companion piece to Polar Force, a performance-installation work by Philip Samartzis and Eugene Ughetti, presented by Speak Percussion.

Array features recordings of radar and scientific instrumentation used for upper atmospheric research and terrestrial communication. These sounds reveal the sophisticated technology and architecture used and heard within the Australian Antarctic Territory. Many of the recordings focus on the way the built environment is transformed through stress and fatigue caused by extreme climate and weather events including freezing temperatures and high velocity winds.

Together with the field recordings are layers of live performance using custom built instrumentation to produce a unique series of textures, rhythmic cycles, resonances and timbral phenomena. The application of tension and pressure upon the assorted instruments recalls the distressed state of highly specialised infrastructure found within the perimeters of a research station.

A polar research station comprises many types and volumes of prefabricated space. In dialogue with this are the unique spaces used to record the instrumental performance. By merging different spaces Array brings into focus various industrial resonances, spatial characteristics, timbres of metal and concrete, and sonic artefacts produced by hard and permeable materials and surfaces.

In three parts, Array presents Antarctica as a liminal space oscillating between representation and abstraction to challenge often repeated tropes. The intent is to blur the relationship between the recorded and performed to produce a hyper-realistic encounter of the powerful forces that operate at the margins of our planet. One hears the precariousness of a remote research station contorted by unrelenting stress, compressed air forced through waterborne fipples and the volatility of weather events.

Life on remote research stations is progressively resembling the broader contemporary experience, in which strict protocols are used to govern and preserve life. The resilient communities who live and work in these places have learnt how to co-exist with an increasingly hostile environment, along with its unknowns and necessity for hyper-vigilance. Rather than consider it as a place on the edge of elsewhere, Antarctica and its assemblage of durable, super modern colonies provides an archetype for an uncertain future in anticipation of the volatility that awaits.

F.S.Blumm and Nils Frahm have confirmed details of their fourth collaborative album, 2X1=4, which will be released on September 3, 2021, by LEITER, the new label formed by Frahm and his
manager, Felix Grimm. The seven-track album finds the duo unexpectedly exploring a dub influenced universe, though in truth it’s one already familiar to both. F.S.Blumm, for instance, is
co-founder of Quasi Dub Development, whose 2014 album, Little-Twister vs Stiff-Neck, featured Lady Ann and Lee Scratch Perry, while Frahm’s music – not least 2018’s All Melody – has
occasionally betrayed a fondness for the form’s associated studio techniques, though he concedes wryly that his approach has always been “a little bit more German” than his influences.

F.S.Blumm, a revered mainstay of the German underground for over two decades, and Nils Frahm, who’s enjoyed significant success in recent years with his ground-breaking compositions
for piano and synths, first met in the early 2000s. Frahm was a big fan of Blumm’s 2001 album, Mondkuchen – he refers to his fellow Berlin resident admiringly these days as “a vital brick in the
Berlin Wall” – while Blumm was soon dazzled by Frahm’s studio set up. “Compared to mine,” he says, “it was like a space ship!” Soon they were working together on a variety of projects –
including theatre pieces and animated films – and by 2010 they’d released their first collaborative album, Music For Lovers Music Versus Time. A second, Music For Wobbling Music Versus
Gravity, followed in 2013, and a third, Tag Eins Tag Zwei, in 2016.

2X1=4 is very different to its predecessors, but its final track, ‘Neckrub’, first took shape as they wound up work on Tag Eins Tag Zwei. “We had a certain sound in the back of our heads,”
Blumm recalls, “which was influenced by these 80s rhythm machines, and we suddenly discovered a common love for dub.” Most of the new album, therefore, was initially developed in 2016 during improvisation sessions recorded by Frahm to two-track cassette. “It was like we were running a combine harvester,” Blumm laughs, “so we could write our names on a single grain!”

Afterwards, they worked on editing and overdubs in Frahm’s new studio at Berlin’s legendary Funkhaus. “We kept on making new songs out of these sessions and starting over and over again,” Frahm smiles. “It was a process that was time consuming but really fun.” Not that either of them is eager to claim a purist approach. “I love ending up somewhere where I’m surprised by myself or the machine or the person with whom I’m making music,” Blumm concludes, while
Frahm emphasises that, “None of this is too serious. The record is only as much of a dub record as the ones before are jazz records…”