Buscar:reckoning

Richie Culver had been waiting his whole life to record I was born by the sea. His debut album immediately and messily inscribed the artist into the canon of outsider music and experimental electronics, serving both as an arresting statement of intent and a painful reckoning with the difficult path that lead up to it, stealing one last glance back at a place he always knew he had to escape. Between grim lamentations, faded memories and anxiety attacks, all told with searing honesty and disarming openness, I was born by the sea excavates a space for hope, finding Culver digging through Humberside silt to find a world weary optimism, the raw material from which his visual and sound art is shaped. For this collection of expansions and inversions, Culver invites a collection of kindred spirits, contemporary inspirations and old heroes to wade into the salt water of his formative years spent living for impromptu raves and afterparties, connecting vivid memories of his birth place of Withernsea to artists hailing from as nearby as Preston and Bridlington, further afield, from Manchester and London, Berlin and Paris, before returning back to Hull, to where it all began.

For some, responding to I was born by the sea means diving even deeper into the record’s furthest reaches. Space Afrika clear away the pummelling loops of noise from ‘It’s hard to get to know you,’ revealing a cool and cavernous expanse in its wake. Distant chatter, previously heard as though through thin, plasterboard walls, now echoes from outside the maddening claustrophobia of the original’s Sisyphean sonics, illuminated as a dense storm cloud suspended amidst a more open scene, washed clean by a lighter rain, allowing the tender heart of the track to beat clear. London producer MOBBS stretches out ‘Pigeon Flesh’ into an epic, 10-minute, cold-sweat spiral, strung-out tension wrung from disconnected phone tones twisted in unexpected directions, snatches of Culver’s voice turned inside-out and deep fried bass threatening to tip the track over into oblivion, the build-and-release of a nervous breakdown experienced in real time. In an act of subversive self-reflection, Morgane Polanski switches one kind of ennui for another in her adaption of ‘I was born by the sea,’ swapping the sea for the city, English seaside towns in January for summer evenings in Paris and flashing lighthouses and sparkling oil rigs for the Eiffel Tower and the traffic around L’Arc de Triomphe. Even Culver finds time to revisit ‘Dream About Yourself,’ a track taken from his EP Post Traumatic Fantasy, breathing new words into its glacial drift, the half-remembered testimony of a shut-in: Woke up in the evening / Pray for me / Don’t trust anyone / Pray for algorithm. Reframed in a more melancholy light, the track’s reverberant keys even more clearly evoke a mournful nostalgia, fresh pain felt in old wounds.

Others find a parallel universe in Culver’s visceral world building. Rainy Miller flips the script with a scorched, avant-drill rework of ‘Daytime TV’, threading puncturing hi-hats and queasy low-end surge through the track’s steady ambient cascade, invoking the irresistible Preston beat magic of Miller’s own essential debut album, Desquamation. Aho Ssan melts away the crystalline textures of ‘Love Like an Abscess’ with the ominous crackle of a nascent fire, building through swathes of organic Max/MSP squelch and brittle, nails-down-chalkboard scrape, swelling and metastasising the original to spill over Culver’s desperate hymn to corporeal desire, at once flesh and not. Teresa Winter transports us an hour up the coast from Withernsea to her native Bridlington, replacing the sea wall of synthesis on ‘Nervous Energy’ with muffled ASMR murk and fever dream whispers, transforming Culver’s unflinching observations into a haunting call-and-response, filling in the blanks with her own eerie utterances, a fleeting conversation with a ghost. In a touching victory lap, Fila Brazillia, eccentric stalwarts of beloved ‘90s trip hop imprint Pork Recordings, whose performances at Hull institution The Lamp convinced a young Culver of the necessity to make his mark on club culture, resurface for their first remix in 20 years. Steve Cobby and David McSherry lead a low-slung, heartfelt stroll back through a suite of tracks from I was born by the sea, tracing a full circle saunter from Culver’s origins to his current musical practice, the sounds of his present repurposed by the sound of his youth. In a gesture that reflects the emotional complexity of the project, Fila Brazillia find joy at the end of Culver’s troubled reflection, picking out an undeniable groove in the stasis of feeling trapped in your hometown. Underlining Hull’s vital musical legacy, from Baby Mammoth to Throbbing Gristle, Cobby and McSherry demonstrate that, though there are certainly storms, by the sea there is also sun and through the fog, if you listen, you can hear a singular sound, a sound now carried by Richie Culver.

Participant is a record label and creative studio run by William Markarian-Martin and Richie Culver

In the quiet surrounding the pandemic, Madeline Kenney made sonic sketches in the basement studio she shared with her then-partner. She arranged phrases that called her—the sharp knife of a synth cutting a path along a blooming arpeggio, drums stuttering firm and tight. Working this way, she amassed a collection of songs she had no particular aims for. Some formed her 2021 EP Summer Quarter, others languished.

But in 2022, Kenney’s partner left suddenly and without warning, plunging her into the solitary act of untangling what happened. In the wake of her ensuing depression, she revisited these songs and found in them something prescient. She’d already laid the foundation for A New Reality Mind.

That her relationship’s end came without warning is only half true, though. The warnings were in the feelings and fears that inspired Kenney’s critically-acclaimed third album, Sucker’s Lunch (2020), which was co-produced by Jenn Wasner (Flock of Dimes) and centered around the idea of flinging oneself freely into the seemingly-assured destruction of new love, come what may.

If sonically Sucker’s Lunch was letting yourself be pulled into the warm bath of a good story, A New Reality Mind reflects the harsh light of truth coming to break the spell. But as sobering as morning light can be, there’s brilliance to it, too. To see in the clarity of day is a gift. A revolution. Rather than reckoning with love lost, the songs on A New Reality Mind grapple with the self that chose to fall. “I guess I only needed to look twice / Reflected in my attitude, my constant compromise,” Kenney sings on “Red Emotion,” the musical landscape screeching and gasping around her observations of how she made herself small to keep the dream of love alive.

These notions of sight and vision pervade the record as Kenney stands before the infinity mirror of selves she’s been to preserve bonds in her life. On “I Drew a Line,” Kenney contends with the stories she’s told herself to keep plodding along, and the way those stories shape her perceived reality. She invokes John Berger’s Ways of Seeing—“Everything around the image is part of its meaning,” we hear him say. “Everything around it confirms and consolidates its meaning.” Here, Kenney isn’t interested in shaming herself for being carried away by the fantasies of the heart, but rather in investigating the unavoidably human propensity to do so. “I, like everyone else, am muddling through my most ordinary disaster of a life,” she acknowledges, a sentiment which reverberates through album opener “Plain Boring Disaster.” “I don’t need to start again,” she sings at the song’s close. “But I can change when it ends.” We may all be doomed to repetitive, ordinary heartbreaks, Kenney realizes, but at least we can cultivate a capacity to witness our missteps and build new realities for ourselves.

This is Kenney’s most expansive work, while also her most solitary. Produced and recorded alone in her basement, these songs are manifestations of what it feels like to be transformed by pain. Textures collide and collude; sonic ornaments emerge and dissipate capriciously; saxophones soar untamed, as on the 80s pop elegy to self-sacrifice, “Reality Mind”. These songs beg you to dance, then pull the rug out from under you once you’ve caught the beat, leaving you dizzy like the whiplash of love’s end.

But in the propulsive power of A New Reality Mind, there’s also acceptance, self-forgiveness, and a willingness to move forward into life, with all its ways of making a sucker of you. “That way of living, I’m over it,” Kenney declares of the habits that hold her back on “Superficial Conversation”. “I do not need to be reminded of what I did,” she assures, the song opening wide and beaming, like a smile expanding to taste a new breath of air.

BABY BLUE VINYL

"Workin' all day, trying to forget about the old me." Like most of us, Martin Frawley is busy trying to work himself out. He lives alongside the long shadow of his late dad, musician and songwriter Maurice Frawley, a cultural icon of the Australian underground and collaborator of Paul Kelly, Tex Perkins and Mick Thomas. Most of Martin's 20s were spent writing and playing songs in locally beloved Melbourne band Twerps - a collection of pals who were on the forefront of the city's jangle pop renaissance. A few albums, US tours and band rotations under its belt, Twerps split up in 2018 and Martin turned his compass towards a solo project. His first album, Undone at 31 (2019), was a bit of a reckoning; a wild ride through the wreckage of both a band and longterm romantic break up. His new album The Wannabe is a personal, cheeky and, at times, self-depreiciating collection of songs unpacking the reality of finding his way as an adult without his dad around, and ultimately falling back in love with life, music and someone new. Martin and his band - friends Dan Luscombe (The Drones), Steph Hughes (Boomgates, Dick Diver), Nik Imfeld (Tyrannaman) and Dan Kelly - had heaps of fun recording The Wannabe in Melbourne. The title track is a particularly spicy take on an entertainment industry that seems to give more shits about marketing than music. The album is a bit of an emotional tour, from anger and derision, through to comedy, through to deep and honest love. It's positive with a lot of sadness. Not unlike Martin himself. As well as the guitar, Martin had some fun playing the piano on this record. The technical term is `multiinstrumentalist' but Martin's more of a musical explorer of sorts. No one is exactly sure how these things work - if Martin was born into music or if it was born into him, but it doesn't really matter. Music is what he loves. It's what he does. It's not about the industry or about success - not anymore. It's about the freedom of creating songs on his own terms, and trying to let go of the feeling he has something to prove: to his dad, to his critics, and to himself. And while he's not sure he'll ever fully shake that feeling, he's at least relaxing and having a bit of fun doing it. Like his dad, Martin has a reputation as a `musician's musician'. He hosts a pretty sporadic podcast Dive For Your Memory, where he has fast and loose chats with musicians while doing a deep dive into their musical inspirations and canon. He and his fiancé Lauren also make wine under the label El'More Wines, named after the farm and small town where his dad grew up. It's all come a bit full circle, really.

History has proven that when the world is in flames, it ignites the empathetic artists to siren their words, music, and rhythm, to blanket our society"s fury and nurse scorched souls. The seemingly endless years of pandemic lockdown and social distancing, coupled with the turbulent plague of civil unrest and racial injustice, called on Vintage Trouble to step into their battle wear. Like so often before, they have spun records to drop onto the fighting grounds, with the intent to freeze the frame long enough to momentarily halt the warring world. And while at ease, we can freely choose to think before we strike or decide to retreat, rather than thoughtlessly charge into repeating history. This collection of heavy hymns is from the heart, and it provides a necessary rise to our ever reckoning.

Since we've known him, Robert Lloyd has made quite clear his enormous affection for the songs and sounds of Freakwater, the duo of Janet Beveridge-Bean and Catherine Irwin who've been wrongly denied their place as rightful and willful progenitors of alt-country's 'movement', which (frankly) is to their credit. Their genius in offering absolute authentic to the sound old-time Appalachian folk music with a modern façade that in no way negates tradition (one of their albums is titled Feels Like The Third Time) is unparalleled within the genre, and Freakwater remain under-appreciated. After the start of Covid, Robert dared approach Janet with the idea of recording together. Over the course of the long pandemic, songs were bandied about for months, and when recording was finally practical, a band was assembled with dates set up for a recording session in Valencia, Spain. Robert and Janet were joined by Robert's long-time ally, Pete Byrchmore, the musical foil for Robert's solo album on Virgin and a former Nightingale, Mark Bedford, the bassist for Madness and Terry Edwards' Near Jazz Experience, and Pablo Roda, Spanish mystery drummer, couldn't have worked out more perfectly. Tracks were selected without regard for collective presentation, just the goal of walking out of the studio with an album of perfect gems. Forget Lee & Nancy or George & Tammy, Rob and Janet have an immediate chemistry that only sounds long-lived - and too uniquely them to merit any comparison. The title track, Black Cat, Dark Horse is the sole Lloyd / Bean / Byrchmore composition and one of the record 's highlights. Jim Elkington, collaborator with Jeff Tweedy and Richard Thompson, contributes Heavy Reckonings and a song written with Janet, The True Lovers' Knot And The Lie, while Robert adds reworkings from past releases - Sweet Georgia Black and Black Country (with Pete) - not to mention the unreleased Eggs And Bacon. Janet brought One Shot and the unheard Freakwater song Arc Of A Smile. Covers of tunes from Dion and The Monkees and a magnificent Jon Langford song, "Tears Like Stars" round out the album. We daresay the album is among the finest you'll hear in 2023. That it doesn't fit perfectly into any preconceived genre is a testament to its quality. "Songcraft" is a word used infrequently today, yet Black Cat, Dark Horse will show that good songs endure. We're proud that Robert and Janet will find some new admirers through this album's release. The Michael Cumming / Stewart Lee film King Rocker made a case for Robert Lloyd-as-losthero; this album furthers that idea and shows a compelling side of Janet's talent and abilities which will be a surprise to her fans and serve as an entry point to exploring her many other compelling projects.

‘Deep Blue Dreams’ ist das Debütalbum des in Berlin lebenden, 26jährigen Musikers, Sängers und Produzenten Lucas Herweg alias LLUCID. Inspiriert von Vorbildern wie Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole, Frank Ocean oder Ty Dolla $ign, lässt LLUCID jegliche Grenzen zwischen Rap und R&B konsequent verwischen. Die 12 Songs stehen fernab aller Stil- und Genreschubladen und liefern Banger zwischen Rap und Trap, sanfte Soundwellen mit exquisiten Beats und traurigem Autotune, hymnisch-sakralen Hip-Hop und ein ungewöhnliches Duo mit der britischen Sängerin Kimbra, die mit ‘A Reckoning‘ bereits eines der Alben des Jahres veröffentlichte. Nach Kollaborationen mit Samy Deluxe, Hundreds und Wallis Bird und der ersten 6-Track-EP ‘Getting In Touch’ im Frühjahr 2022 auf Grönland pusht LLUCID jetzt konsequent sein Solowerk.

After recently releasing the critically-acclaimed Plains album (I Walked With You A Ways) with Katie Crutchfield of Waxahatchee, Jess Williamson’s Time Ain’t Accidental is the sound of a woman running into her life and art head-on. With a vocal dynamic kindred to Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris, Williamson blends the emotional immediacy and story-telling of traditional country with the artful, wholly honest transmissions of songwriters like Townes Van Zandt and Terry Allen. The album's reckoning with loss, isolation, romance, and personal reclamation signals both a stylistic and tectonic shift for Williamson: from someone who once made herself small to an artist emboldened by her power as an individual.

While the hook line for this new local trio would have to be that bassist/leader Brenda Sauter used to be a member of the later-'80s incarnation of the famous Feelies (and it's notable offshoot, The Trypes), even if you didn't worship at the altar of that group (and especially if you did!), Wild Carnation is a revelation. While
the persistent, pumping beat and hard-played jangle guitars of most of the tracks here emanate from her previous band and from their forerunners, the Velvets (especially), Television,and the Byrds - Sauter's beguiling voice is perfect for the ultra-appealing pop hooks the group writes as well as the thoughtful lyrics she composes.

Way back in the 1990s, a young Delmore stumbled into now defunct NYC nightclub Wetlands (during the sadly also now defunct, NYU Independent Music Festival), just as WILD CARNATION were about to begin their set.

Having lived in NYC / Brooklyn / Hoboken the previous decade, where countless mesmerizing gigs by THE FEELIES, YUNG WU, TRYPES, and SPEED THE PLOUGH had been experienced, it was the chance to see Brenda Sauter fronting her new group that drew Delmore in. A few songs into their set, it was apparent, however, that this trio was more than a Feelies offshoot project, despite melodic similarities, and Brenda's cool vocals / presence.

WILD CARNATION played raw, loud and fast (and occasionally out of control), with Richard Barnes distorted, jangly guitar lines perfectly colliding with Brenda's propelling bass notes, while Chris O'Donovan
kept it together, while pounding the living hell out of his drums. It was a garagey, indie rock mess, more reminiscent of Hib-Tone / Chronic Town era REM, and emergent New Zealand bands like The Bats and The Clean, than The Feelies.

Delmore was smitten, and determined to sign them, despite the fact that the Delmore label did not yet exist.
In 1993, Wild Carnation's debut 7", "Dodger Blue" b/w "The Lights Are On (But No One's Home)", taken from raw home demos recorded the previous year, became the second Delmore release. A full length album was then commissioned, and an evolving Wild Carnation holed up at Mix-O-Lydian recording studios with engineer Don Sternecker (The Feelies, Speed The Plough, Wake Ooloo) to record their debut full length, Tricycle, released in 1994.

On Tricycle, the pastoral quality of their most beautiful ballads was captured perfectly, while retaining enough of the rawness of the live experience. Waves of critical acclaim followed, from now defunct publications (CMJ Jackpot! Raygun, Trouser Press) followed, including this one by Jack Rabid of The Big Takeover, written for All Music Guide:
"While the hook line for this new local trio would have to be that bassist/leader Brenda Sauter used to be a member of the later-'80s incarnation of the famous Feelies (and it's notable offshoot, The Trypes), even if you didn't worship at the altar of that group (and especially if you did!), Wild Carnation is a revelation. While the persistent, pumping beat and hard-played jangle guitars of most of the tracks here emanate from her previous band and from their forerunners, the Velvets (especially), Television,and the Byrds - Sauter's beguiling voice is perfect for the ultra-appealing pop hooks the group writes as well as the thoughtful lyrics she composes.

Trading the occasional Feelies drone for sugar-sweet melodies (yes!) and utilizing the pretty ring of the guitars to maximum effect, songs such as Wings are the perfect pop confectionery, too honeyed and
delightful to miss capturing your bending heart and too consistently insistent and edgy to be wimpy, kind of like Reckoning-era R.E.M. It's all so well captured with pristine production, with balls to match the heart, too!

And though the 12 tracks are largely cut from a similar mode, all seem special just the same on their own.
A truly shining, first-rate effort, along with Lotion's and Nyack's early EPs and the last Flower LP, the best release to come out of a New York group this decade, and exceptionally crafted at that! Do not miss."

“Before becoming a producer, I grew up with labels such as Cenobite, K.N.O.R., Cold Rush and Ruffneck Records; this emblematic 1990s hardcore sound has influenced me heavily, even though it has never explicitly featured in my music. But I feel it’s time to return from exile, and so I have started to dig up the relics and present my interpretation of that great style: The energetic kicks, the sweeping sounds, the samples. Enjoy my piece of modern arkaeology!”

End of Everything is the intrepid seventh album from Mega Bog, a nightmarish experimental pop ensemble led by Erin Elizabeth Birgy. In 2020, Birgy was surrounded by seemingly endless turmoil: mass death, a burning planet, and a personal reckoning when past traumas met fresh ones. Living in Los Angeles, against the backdrop of brilliantly horrifying forest fires, she questioned what perspective to use moving forward in such dumbfounded awe. Deciding to seize something tangible, she produced a record that spoke of surrender, of mourning, and support in the face of tumultuous self-reflection. Writing on piano and synthesizer, instead of the familiar guitar, Birgy explored a spectrum of new sounds to illuminate a state of volatility and flux that was both universal and personal. Speaking of this transition, she describes the need “to feel… instantly. I didn’t want to dig into secret codes. I no longer wanted to hide behind difficult music. I was curious to give others the same with the music I create; to make music someone could use to explore drama, playfulness, and dancing, to shake the trauma loose.” Heavy grooves, metal guitar squeals, Italo disco bass lines, rhapsodic synth layers, and huge choruses stomp around the delightfully sanguine pop drama. Where previous records stretched out into the abstract and ethereal, End of Everything delivers a hit straight to collective awareness and healing. A seemingly disparate jukebox of sounds – ranging from Thin Lizzy, Bronski Beat, Franco Battiato and Ozzy Osbourne to 90’s house classics like Haddaway’s ‘What is Love’ and Corona's ‘Rhythm of the Night’ - foregrounded a new punchy theatricality in Birgy’s music. The songs she was creating at home followed suit with bolder hooks and more dancefloor energy than she’d ever dared before.

History has proven that when the world is in flames, it ignites the empathetic artists to siren their words, music, and rhythm, to blanket our society"s fury and nurse scorched souls. The seemingly endless years of pandemic lockdown and social distancing, coupled with the turbulent plague of civil unrest and racial injustice, called on Vintage Trouble to step into their battle wear. Like so often before, they have spun records to drop onto the fighting grounds, with the intent to freeze the frame long enough to momentarily halt the warring world. And while at ease, we can freely choose to think before we strike or decide to retreat, rather than thoughtlessly charge into repeating history. This collection of heavy hymns is from the heart, and it provides a necessary rise to our ever reckoning.

"Westerman — the London-born, Athens-based pop maverick — has returned with his new album, ‘An Inbuilt Fault’.

The album's nine songs took shape throughout the depths of the pandemic and soundtrack Westerman’s reckoning with two years of intense isolation, loneliness, heartbreak, and dread. The phrase “an inbuilt fault” itself is an examination of the inherent and innate flaws that make us human – a visceral response to Westerman’s disillusionment with AI and social media during this time period.

Through it all, the album is visceral and live-sounding, full of the sound of breath and the idiosyncratic gestures of acoustic instruments. It creates a spatial feeling, sounding like musicians assembled in a room, passing evolving ideas back and forth. Co-produced with producer and percussionist James Krivchenia (Big Thief), and featuring an extended crew of Los Angeles associates, 'An Inbuilt Fault' exhibits music that is heavier and more sonically daring than Westerman’s previous releases, and it is the most adventurous and unselfconscious songwriting of Will Westerman’s career.

‘An Inbuilt Fault’ follows Westerman’s acclaimed 2020 debut ‘Your Hero Is Not Dead,’ a graceful and self-reflective project which earned him a spot as one of the most talked about new artists of the year thanks to profiles from Pitchfork (‘Rising’), Stereogum (‘Artist To Watch’), and Rolling Stone (‘Artist You Need To Know’)."

In his South London flat, James Howard gestures apologetically at the mess of books, lined A4 paper and stationary at his desk. “I butcher poetry for a living,” he explains, “It isn’t a pretty job, but someone has to do it.” This being 2022, every emerging musician needs a side-hustle to keep the house warm. In the daytime, our host writes study guides to help teachers teach poetry to pupils who would rather be elsewhere. “I make sure the poems are clinically dead by the time they reach the schools.”
An explanation punctuated by a mildly contrite shrug makes you want to lean forward and remind Howard about some of the stuff other people are doing for a living. And, more to the point, aren’t doing. Which brings us to the real matter at hand. For Howard, foregrounding his own songs hasn’t always come naturally. An enthusiastic collaborator, he made two well-received albums with his previous band Blue House and played with the likes of Rozi Plain, Alabaster dePlume and his wife Dana Gavanski, as well as running his own music night with Sam Tyler in London, Incredible Society. It’s important to mention these creative hook-ups because Howard feels that, in one way or another, they all helped to give form and shape to the lilting lunar lullabies that would ultimately comprise his ravishing solo debut Peek-A-Boo. 

Felte Records presents `Glimpse Of Heaven' - a stunning new album by the Hawaii-born, LA-based musician, singer, producer and professional mastering engineer Jess Labrador, AKA Chasms. Labrador's deeply personal work as Chasms has always felt like an unveiling. Following 2019's `The Mirage,' which was a dark, dubby meditation on grief and loss, this new album is both familiar and different. The third full-length under the Chasms name, `Glimpse of Heaven' trades in washes of reverb for starker moments of closeness and intimacy. An exploration of the personal inventory and reckoning necessary to move forward in life, the LP considers not only how we relate to the world, but more importantly how we relate to ourselves. While always distinct, you could previously detect post-punk, shoegaze, and dub sensibilities in the music. Dreamy drift tethered by skittered beats, airy vocals, and melancholic melodies are here like previous efforts too. However, at the same time, Labrador steps into new territory with an expanse of vaporous synths and samples, adding to the project's ethereal electronic pop and dubwise pulse. Lush guitars glisten throughout the album, but this time only in sparse, disciplined embellishments. `Glimpse of Heaven' is a fully realised version of Chasms beyond its influences; to say that this is a seamless evocation of such disparate sounds as Massive Attack, Basic Chanel, Sade, Seefeel and Dif Juz is to say it is wholly unique. While she continues to unfurl her thoughts, there is a shift from opening up to the listener toward allowing the listener to witness her opening to herself. Where the last Chasms record was about various kinds of collapse, `Glimpse of Heaven' is about trying to develop as a whole person. It seems to ultimately be asking whether what we want and what we need align in ways that will get us where we want to be. Can we let go of the comfort of bad habits and steer ourselves toward a less easily obtained but maybe more enduring happiness? `Glimpse of Heaven' is a Chasms record, but really it's a Jess Labrador record. This is the first release operating on her own, and it feels like that's the only way this could have been made. It finds itself in the rare company of those few records that exist within themselves; it's a complete environment. You don't need to know anything to tune in and enjoy the world that she's created. It's a record that feels indebted to itself. It offers premonitions but not directions. It gives us honesty, but doesn't claim to know exactly where that will lead.

"Denial” and "Anger" are the first and second movements in Michael Leonhart’s, The Normyn Suite #1: (Soundtrack to the Five Stages of Grieving), which is both a requiem and celebration, inspired by the life and death of Leonhart’s 15-year-old dog, a female mini dachshund named Normyn.

Suite #1 first appeared on the Michael Leonhart Orchestra 2022 album "The Normyn Suites" (Sunnyside Records) and was inspired by “The Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle,” a model introduced by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying. “The Five Stages of Grief” is a critically acclaimed study on how humans handle loss.

For Leonhart's suite in five parts, he expands the MLO’s live performance palette of brass, woodwinds and strings to include choir and found percussion over gritty breakbeat drums from Nick Movshon. Leonhart shares, “I wanted ‘Denial’ and ‘Anger’ to have an emotional tension and raw quality, almost a whiplash effect..."
The Normyn Suites is an elegy; to listen is to spend time in that space of loss, reckoning, questioning, and mourning. At the same time, though, with each note, each phrase, we are propelled back into life,” reflects author Alexandra Horowitz in the stirring liner notes.

Oceanhoarse mag ein Neuling auf dem Gebiet des Heavy Metal sein, aber schnell und laut werden sie die Szene im Sturm erobern! Die Helsinki-Band mit Ben Varon (ex-Amoral) an der Gitarre, Bassist Jyri Helko (Warmen, ex-For The Imperium), Oskari Niemi am Schlagzeug und Sänger Joonas Kosonen tourte bereits in Finnland, Tokio, Japan und ganz Europa.
Zweifellos macht die Heavy-Metal-Gruppe ein Statement gegen computerisierte Metal-Musik, bei der es schwer zu wissen ist, was real ist und was nicht: Mit Oceanhoarse, gelobt für ihre wilde Energie auf der Bühne, bekommst du, was du siehst, ohne Backing-Tracks; aber pur, roh und wild - eine Seltenheit in der Heavy-Musik-Welt heutzutage.
Im Juni 2020 veröffentlichten Oceanhoarse The Damage Is Done - LIVE!, ein Album mit 11 Straight-in-Your-Face-Heavy-Metal-Hymnen, die auf einer ausgedehnten Tournee mit Nightwish-Sänger und -Bassist Marko Hietala aufgenommen wurden. Die Singles von Oceanhoarse, die auch auf dem Soundtrack des beliebten Videospiels Wreckfest enthalten sind, wurden bereits fast zwei Millionen Mal allein auf Spotify gestreamt.
Im Jahr 2021 ging die Band mit dem deutschen Label Noble Demon einen Gang höher, das erste Studioalbum der Band veröffentlichte und das Follow-up ist bereits für Anfang 2023 geplant!


Mit ehemaligen und aktuellen Mitgliedern bekannter Bands wie Amoral, Warmen und anderen haben sich Oceanhoarse zu einer Band entwickelt, die bereit ist, die Dinge in ihrem eigenen Stil zu erkunden, anstatt sich an irgendeine Art von Durchschnittsformel zu halten. Nachdem sie 2021 ihr Debütalbum "Dead Reckoning" (Noble Demon) veröffentlicht haben, gefolgt von mehreren Single-Veröffentlichungen und ausgedehnten Tourneen, sind die aus Helsinki stammenden Vierer vielleicht einer der bemerkenswertesten und hart arbeitenden Newcomer. Also macht euch bereit für "Heads Will Roll", ein Album, das ihr im Jahr 2023 nicht verpassen solltet!
Als Bonus gibt es das Live Album von "The Damage is Done" als 2te CD dazu.

Sophomore album from the singer who NPR are calling "the Next Queen Of Americana Folk." Boomerang Town marks a bold step forward for this country-folk-leaning singer-songwriter. It is an arresting, ambitious song-cycle that explores the generational arc of family, the stranglehold of addiction, and the fragile ties that bind us together as Americans. This is a record that understands that love and grief are two sides of the same coin. Jaimee Harris turned 30 during the pandemic. It’s a milestone that is a rite of passage even during normal times. But for this Texas-born singer-songwriter, it came in the midst of one of the strangest and most tumultuous periods in American history. When the world stopped during lockdown, Harris, like many others, found herself gazing back into the past, ruminating on the nature of her hometown and family origins, and reckoning with their imprint on her. The term ‘nostalgia’ derives from the Greek words nostos (return) and algos (pain), and if Harris’s Boomerang Town can be regarded as a nostalgic album, it is only nostalgic in the sense that the longing for home is a desire to return to the past and heal old wounds. For Harris, the album began gestating around 2016, a time of great loss for many in the Americana community, with the songwriter losing several musicians close to her. The shift in the nation’s political landscape had ushered in a new level of polarization that saw whole swaths of cultural life being demonized. For someone who grew up in a small town outside of Waco, Harris believed the values instilled in her by her parents were not entirely in line with how many on the left were viewing — and vilifying — Christians, citing them as responsible for the new change in leadership. As a person in recovery, Harris has had to re-evaluate her own connection to faith and find strength in a higher power (“Though he’s not necessarily a blue-eyed Jesus,” she laughs), though she certainly knows what it’s like to “be told how to vote” in a Southern church setting. It was from the intersection of these social, personal, and political currents the album was born. And while much of the material on Boomerang Town was inspired by personal experience, the songs on this collection are far from autobiographical xeroxed copies. More than anything, they come from a place of emotional truth. “My goal is to just write the best possible song I can write,” Harris says, “and I wanted to have ten songs that made sense together sonically.

The sophomore album from the Spanish Deathcore group BONECARVER. Previously known as CANNIBAL GRANDPA and now one of the biggest metal bands in Spain. For fans of Lorna Shore, Within Destruction, Ov Sulfur