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THE 1968 ALBUM ON WHICH JOHNNY CASH BECAME A LEGEND: AT FOLSOM PRISON AMONG THE MOST IMPORTANT AND POTENT STATEMENTS OF THE 20TH CENTURY


Johnny Cash already knew his way around Folsom Prison when he and his band stepped inside the institution’s forbidding walls on the morning of January 13, 1968 to record At Folsom Prison. He’d played there two years prior. But this time was different.

Cash took the stage that day for two shows amid a darkening sociopolitical atmosphere and a raging war in Vietnam, as well as the knowledge his career and health hung on by a thread. The Arkansas native shared many of the long odds and abject failures of the inmates for which he performed. The songs he chose, and the conviction with which he delivered them, say as much. The point at which Cash transformed from a country star into a legendary artist, and a bold statement about the American prison state and its commitment to rehabilitation, the triple-platinum At Folsom Prison remains one the most important, potent, and fabled records of the 20th century.

You can hear it echo off the walls of the room; pulse through the itchiness of the Tennessee Three’s acoustic-based boom-chick rhythms; crackle in the announcements conveyed over the intercom; ring in the comedy of the off-cuff remarks and pair of novelty tunes; sense it in palpable energy that wells up within Cash and his audience. And you can experience it like never before via Cash’s knockout singing. The bedrock foundation of all his music, the singer’s baritone resonates with profound degrees of depth, pliability, and passion that underscore how much this appearance meant to him — and the extent he was living the narratives.

Indeed, every song on At Folsom Prison serves a purpose and speaks to the conditions — mental, emotional, physical, geographical, legal, social — the inmates confronted on a daily basis. Beginning with the explicit messages of the opening “Folsom Prison Blues,” Cash makes it clear he understands and shares many of their plights. Not for nothing did the myth of Cash having done hard time persist for decades once this record hit the streets. That’s how real it is, and how dedicated Cash remains to conveying every note with the same truth he invests in the impromptu comments he makes between and amid songs.

Listen to the sorrow, regret, pity, and loneliness of Merle Travis’ “Dark as the Dungeon,” Cash pulling syllables til they threaten to break and inhabiting the mood of bleak phrases such as “pleasures are few” and “the sun never shines.” Witness the isolation, dejection, and sadness punctuating the walking-blues “I Still Miss Someone,” matched in gravity by a solemn reading of “The Long Black Veil” — a traditional dirge that involves murder, cheating, and deception. Cash cuts even deeper on a heartbreaking solo rendition of “Send a Picture of Mother” and plainspoken version of Harlan Howard’s “The Wall,” detailing a suicide disguised as jailbreak through cliched-jaw deliveries that softly curse the impossible situation.

In chronicling temptations, mistakes, mortality, punishment, and life “inside” — for better or worse, the stories of the disenfranchised, forgotten, written-off, and unrepentant — At Folsom Prison also has a blast playing the outlaw role. Cash captures wild-eyed craziness and out-of-control mayhem on a revved-up take of “Cocaine Blues,” taking extra satisfaction in its dastardly tales by way of voice that shifts into character for the sheriff and judge. The gallows humor and racing drama of “25 Minutes to Go”; quicksilver accents and resigned acceptance of “I Got Stripes”; train-whistle blare and twangy locomotion of “Folsom Prison Blues” — all fight the law only to see the law win.

Cash remains deeply committed at every moment, and inseparably connected with the tortured souls removed from the goings-on of the outside world. No wonder all but two songs here stem from the day’s first performance that saw Cash, Luther Perkins, Marshall Grant, and company give everything. As does the Man in Black’s soon-to-be-wife, June Carter. The couple’s fiery duet on “Jackson” scorches; their combination of surrender and fortitude “Give My Love to Rose” puts us in the dying protagonist’s shoes.

And with the closing “Greystone Chapel,” famously penned by convict Glen Sherley, who watched it all happen under the watchful eye of guards, Cash separates the corporeal from the spiritual, relaying lessons about salvation and survival. Heady themes to which he’d return for the remainder of his illustrious career.

LAKE's 2009 album Let's Build A Roof KLP213, produced by Northwest legend Karl Blau, is sweet, funky and nostalgic - a paragon of psychedelic pop. Originally, this landmark album had overlooked sonic anomalies now corrected by REMASTERING. Five bonus songs have been added to the DIGITAL ALBUM, creating a whole new Let's Build a Roof.Let's Build A Roof is LAKE's most popular album with many fan favorites, though every track is unique. After extensive touring in 2009, LAKE entered Dub Narcotic Studio (Olympia, Wash.) to record fresh with their live energy. In the studio they were able to fill out their jingly pop aesthetic, enhanced with the vintage sounds of instruments available at Dub Narcotic and the local community. Blazing synth solos, timpani, flutes, saxophones, cello, and marimba, are just some of the featured sounds on Let's Build a Roof.Some of the album's most requested songs: "Madagascar," a dubby, slow-groove track; "Christmas Island" a surfy Phil Spector-sounding song used as theme music for the television in show Adventure Time; and "Don't Give Up", an upbeat motivating dance song with Blau performing the hook on harmonized saxophones; "Gravel" is the first single and has that a driving intensity that we can all deeply relate to - trying to keep up.

Two legendary figures of the Greek and international music scene, Floros Floridis and SavinaYannatou join their breaths in this new release on vinyl by To Pikap Records, entitled Blink. In the album’s seven tracks-movements, the two musicians expand the time it takes for the eye to blink. Avant-garde and improvisation, modernism and tradition seek to describe, but ultimately limit, this melodrama of existence, the libretto of which is written in the langue that may have been first heard in Pangea.

Blink departs from the ground on which records like the Residents’ Eskimo sprouted, but moves on by removing the horizon points and the conventions they carry, in order to board the next Voyager that will travel to the stars. Two experienced breaths that generate sound without rules become -through reeds and mouth- vehicles of the language of newborns deconstructing the conventions of human communication. The fragility of existence becomes -like the birdsong- lullaby and dirge, hymn and incantation. The instinctive manages to express the unspeakable in this abstract and ultimately tender work that does not conclude but remains open to the timeless movement of a prehistoric future.

In one sense, it’s easy for artists—songwriters, specifically—to express their feelings in their work. After all, that’s what the lyrics are for! But it’s much harder to convey emotional energy in how you play, slash at the guitar, and the structure of the music itself. That’s precisely why Girl and Girl’s Sub Pop debut, Call A Doctor, feels like such a vital, electrifying shock to the senses. Not since the early work of Car Seat Headrest or Conor Oberst’s widescreen emotional brutality as Bright Eyes has indie rock managed to come across as this intimate and grandiose, as the Australian quartet led by Kai James lay a lifetime’s worth of woes—mental health, the human race’s planned obsolescence if you’ve been living on this cursed rock you know what we’re getting at—across a canvas of indie rock that feels both timeless and in-the-moment.

An audacious and aggressively tuneful blast of a record, Call A Doctor is an unforgettable first bow from Girl and Girl, whose origins lie in James and guitarist Jayden Williams jamming in his mother’s garage in the afternoon after school. One afternoon, James’ Aunty Liss headed down to their practice space after walking her dog and asked if she could sit in on drums. “It sounded really great,” James recalls. “We begged her to stay, and she said, ‘I’ll stay until you find another drummer.’ We wore her down, and she eventually became a permanent member.”

After bassist Fraser Bell joined to round things out, Girl and Girl hit the road and began to make a name for themselves beyond the Australian bush, eventually signing to Sub Pop off the strength of word of mouth. Call A Doctor came together quickly soon after, largely recorded in marathon sessions in a two-story industrial complex over the course of two weeks. “That added to the intensity of the album,” James says about the frenzied creative process overseen by producer Burke Reid. “I can hear the stress in the record, which is good because that’s what it’s about—being tense, tied up, and in your own head.”

Call A Doctor’s eleven songs—spanning sweeping guitar epics and wry acoustic shuffles to spiky punk maneuvers and the type of raw, adoringly unvarnished indie-pop associated with legendary PacNW label K Records—are literally plucked from James’ personal history, as he reworked older recordings with newer lyrics reflecting his past struggles as well as new anxieties that emerged prior to the album’s recording. “I’ve struggled with mental health for a lot of my life,” he explains, “and I went through a particularly difficult patch when we were making the album; the band had started to get some attention, and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to live up to it.”

Far from the sound of collapsing under pressure, Call A Doctor finds James and Co. stepping up with their entire collective chest. This is a record that’s so out-and-out alive that you nearly feel like you’re in the same room with Girl and Girl as you listen to it; lead single “Hello” practically bursts through the speakers, amplified by Aunty Liss’ unbelievable stickhandling duties. “‘Hello’ is all about romanticizing your own misery. Letting those deep, dark, dirty thoughts take over. Understanding that even if you could pull yourself out, you wouldn’t because the constant stress and worry is far too familiar and comfortable.”

“Mother” pogos on a spiky groove that’s reminiscent of the geographically close New Zealanders who make up the legendary Flying Nun label, while “Oh Boy” draws from the Shins’ own jangly sound, injected with James’ wonderfully nervy vocals. Then there’s Call A Doctor’s sorta-centerpiece “Maple Jean and the Anthropocene,” a five-minute epic offering a new perspective on climate change and the notion of what it means, in a personal sense, to suffer: “I live in the bushland, and I was driving home one night and hit and killed a wallaby with my car,” James recalls while discussing the song’s lyrical inspiration. “My first thought was, ‘What is the universe trying to tell me?’ No remorse, no guilt, just total self-centeredness. Which was like, Woah, you fucking psychopath! This wallaby wasn’t put on this earth to send you a message. That’s what the song is about, our egocentric species - thinking you’re the main character and that everything that happens is somehow about you.”

“This record is about an individual who’s too far in their head, trying to get out,” James continues while discussing Call A Doctor’s overall outlook—specifically the snapshot it offers of its creator. But even though this record deals with uneasy topics we all know well from within ourselves, it’s important to emphasize how teeming with life Girl and Girl’s music is. There’s a brazen, bold sense of humor to this stuff, an undeniable brightness to the darkness that makes it impossible not to be drawn in as a listener. Feeling down never sounded so goddamn good.

Accompanied by James Dewar on soulful vocal and bass duty and Reg Isidore underpinning their psychedelic blues sound with masterful drumming. Producer and former Procul Harum bandmate Matthew Fisher and Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick take on control room duties to help bring this stunning collection of songs together.

50 years later, these new mixes were overseen by Robin and include extended versions of the original album, newly mixed from the original master tapes. Cut at half-speed especially for this release, the album sounds better than ever. On the second disc, you can hear the trio amid a US tour supporting the album Live at The Record Plant, Sausalitoin May 1974available in its entirety for the first time and newly remastered from the original master tapes - the recording sounds as exhilarating as it would have for those in the room.

Bridge of Sighs (50th Anniversary Edition)- Newly mixed and remastered from the original tapes, cut at half- speed, pressed on 180g vinyl, and housed in a deluxe gatefold sleeve with testimonials and rare photograph.

Bridge Of Sighs by Robin Trower, released 17 May 2024, includes the following tracks: "In This Place ", "Too Rolling Stoned ", "Lady Love ", "Twice Removed from Yesterday " and more.

With his new instrumental album Ventas Rumba, the French composer (and singer) returns to his signature instrument, the piano, blending it with warm synth tones. This album represents a "return to his roots ", allowing Ezéchiel Pailhès to reinvent himself in a seamless way while still exploring ballads and ritornellos, halfway between light-heartedness and melancholy. Ezéchiel Pailhès has been meaning to write a solo piano album for as long as he can remember. Hardly surprising, of course, for this academically-trained pianist, brought up on classical music and then studied jazz. Yet, since his 2001 debut with the electro-pop duo Nôze, and his subsequent four albums, the artist had constantly postponed this project that was so close to his heart. Then in 2022, just as he was getting ready to start producing an album of new songs, this long-standing aim finally materialized.
The melodies he wrote seemed to stand on their own naturally, spurring him on to compose this series of fourteen tracks, recorded in sessions split between France and Latvia.
A new piano: the Una Corda
Ezéchiel wanted this project dedicated to the piano to begin a new narrative, to explore new instrumental terrain and new tones, something far removed from the familiar piano he has been playing all his life. He opted for the Una Corda piano, designed by David Klavins, a groundbreaking instrument builder renowned for his distinctive pianos with vertical shapes and frames.

The Una Corda, created in 2014, is an upright piano with a single string per note (unlike three strings on traditional pianos). Enticed by the "crystalline and unique" tones of this instrument, which is hard to find in France, Ezéchiel travelled to Kuldiga, Latvia (where David Klavins set up his workshops and studios), to record the first part of the album. Although the title of the album may initially conjure up images of a distant, sensual dance, the reality is quite different. Ventas Rumba indeed refers to the waterfall and rapids (in Latvian: rumba) of the river Ventas, which runs near this small village in the western part of the country. Ezéchiel chose to blur the lines, as the sound and musicality of the title likely evoke both his short stay in the Baltic country, and also a form of distant exotic imagery perfectly in tune with his own mischievous wit. Tracks as short stories

Back in France, Ezéchiel enhanced the first tracks recorded in Kuldiga with subtle synth tone layers, and added other tracks composed and recorded at his Montreuil studio. The album reflects a deliberate and sensitive orchestration of piano, synth keyboards and digital effects, as he puts it: "playing to erase the differences between the tones of the various instruments", as if each instrument's texture echoed the others. According to Ezéchiel, you can listen to Ventas Rumba as you would leaf through "a collection of short stories", through compositions that rarely exceed three minutes and evoke figures of movement, lightness, curves or modulation, such as "La ligne", "La valse des singes" or "Fly Finger". Others more seriously relate to a kind of spirituality, which quietly infuses such different tracks as "Ferveur", "Éclair" and "Louanges". Ezéchiel adds: “I’m by no means religious, but I like what God has managed to get musicians to achieve (laughs)". "Louanges", for instance, despite its electronic edge, "refers to Olivier Messiaen, a very devout composer who I greatly admire". Other tracks are directly inspired by the classical music he listens to on a daily basis. For example, Chopin's “8th Nocturne” formed the backdrop of “Pianovado”. Likewise, the harmonic structure of Beethoven's “Waldstein Sonata No. 21” inspired “Opus 53”. Aside from these multiple references and inspirations, which quickly recede behind a style that is uniquely his, Ezéchiel Pailhès keeps exploring ideas already found on his first solo albums, this time in an instrumental format, undoubtedly purer, fostering an imaginary world that evokes the shapes and themes of ballads, ritornellos, light-heartedness, passing time, reverie or a universal subdued melancholy.

Ollie Spalding and Jack Watts were friends first, and songwriting partners second, and this quality sets them apart. They're marked by that peculiar alchemy when two voices become one, a special sense of human connection wrought through harmony and emboldened with experience.

New album 'Redsetter' is their coming- of- age moment - gilded indie- folk with an optimistic sense of maturity, it dares to look towards the light. "We had literally no idea what was gonna happen!" Ollie gasps when looking back on the pair's self-titled debut album. Sculpted over the pandemic and released on Real Kind Records - the boutique Communion imprint chaired by Lucy Rose - the record displayed their core values. "The emotion has to be right," says Oliver.

"When we record songs, we want to stay true to the emotion - as though those songs had just been written seconds before they were recorded." The success of their debut brought fresh experiences - writing with Flyte, collaborating with everyone from Matthew & The Atlas and Victoria Canal to Talos and Olafur Arnalds - but also new challenges.

New LP 'Redsetter' takes them from their base in Brighton to a remote part of Texas (and back again); it's a record that's driven by a special kind of determination, dealing with intimate bonds, familial connections, and a quiet sense of renewal. Looking for perfect moments within our imperfect lives, Memorial have displayed extraordinary sense of character to drive themselves forwards. "We've let go of trying to make everything sound perfect," says Jack. "Being vulnerable in that way means that the end product is truer to you than it ever could be. There's a realness to it." Memorial have taken true ownership of their lives, pushing through enormous challenges to unlock new aspects of their artistry, and actualise their dreams.

Repress!

The SC704 premises are in a remote past. We need to go back to the days of the early '90s, when the first record by Schema was released.
In 1993 we handled Right Tempo records and published a 3 tracks EP which was highly acclaimed by the international acid jazz scene. Behind the project there was Nicola Conte, a leading figure in Bari's new jazz scene who acted as a catalyst in many productions.
Our followers should remember 'Introducing The Paolo Achenza Trio'.
As Paul Bradshaw from 'Straight No Chaser' magazine commented, the record was 'Rooted in the soulful funk of the sixties and early seventies jazz...'
Mysteriously, a fourth track hadn't been released at that time...
The new 7 inch series by Schema gives us the chance to listen to 'Chameleon' a cover version of Herbie Hancock's classic, featuring Gianluca Petrella on trombone.

Although a five-piece live and with too many contributors on record to list, Serena-Maneesh nevertheless essentially remains the work of Emil Nikolaisen. Born in the remote village of Moi into a musical family (sisters Hilma and Elvira often play with the band), Emil is Norwegian rock royalty. It’s hard to find a Norwegian band that Emil hasn’t either played with or produced, and he’s also been nominated for a Spellemannsprisen, the Norwegian equivalent of a Grammy. He’s not just influential in his home country either, having released a split single with Fucked Up, worked with Sufjan Stevens, and been invited to share stages with The Dandy Warhols, Nine Inch Nails and Oasis. In 2008, Smalltown Supersound originally released this glimpse of Serena-Maneesh's early days. Tweaked and all beautifully pushed to the red. Most of the material on SM-Backwards was released as two EPs prior to Serena-Maneesh's much lauded debut album; "Zurück" and "Fixxations" both on Hype City and Honeymilk Records, covering the time 1999-2003. Due to the fact that the labels didn't have international distribution, the material never got released outside of Norway. In addition to the original EP material, this vinyl reissue also contains new re-wrappings/mixes with contributions from Anton Newcombe of Brian Jonestown Massacre, Kramer and others from the universe surrounding Serena-Maneesh.

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

London-based four-piece Adult Jazz announce their first full-length album in a decade, So Sorry So Slow, out 26 April 2024 via Spare Thought. Alongside the announcement comes lovesick new single ‘Suffer One’ featuring Owen Pallett, a cautious excavation of self and sexuality, clambering across a gorgeously shapeshifting, filmic five-minutes.

Containing some of the band’s most abrasive but gentle, beautiful and melismatic work to date, So Sorry So Slow has many defining characteristics: romance, panic, devotion and remorse, threaded together by an intentionally laser-focused love. It’s deeply personal, bruised and candid in its expressions of tenderness, and deeply pained in its concurrent reflections of ecological regret. Across its hour-long runtime, a delicate, frenetic energy and glacial heaviness coexist, the band pitting those paces against one another. In their richly experimental timbre, dancing strings and fluttering falsettos prang against a bed of brass drones like a wounded bird.

“We started writing in 2017 and began recording in 2018,” says vocalist Harry Burgess. “We genuinely thought it might be finished in 2018! But things kept developing and, having resolutely not struck while the iron was hot, there was no real external push to rush things after that, so we just kept letting things shift and unfold until it felt right. Listening back to my voice notes it’s nice to notice that there are fragments of ideas from the whole period 2017-2023 which have shaped the record.”

Recorded in bursts at studios across London and in the band members’ flats, at Konk, on the Isle of Wight and in Sussex, So Sorry is unambiguous in its evolution. Sonically, there are sparks of the arrhythmic brightness that afforded the band’s critically acclaimed debut album Gist Is its cult adoration, for fans of Arthur Russell and Meredith Monk, but with a blossoming, melancholic darkness often overhead. Piano sprees and luscious string sections appear like low-hanging stars on a night-time drive, whilst plunging vocal distortions and humming brass loops resurrect heavy limbs in a bad dream.

“I usually have objects as kind of totems for ideas,” explains Burgess. “The album initially started out to do with performance… the totem was a head mic, one of the subtle skin-tone ones, discreet on the forehead of a West End star. A number of the first songs in their original forms were almost musical theatre piano ballads. I think that was really a device to write about my life as the ‘main character’ (pre internet-speak reframing): regrets about romance, relationships - unsustainable relationships with the self and others.”

“However, once we started writing, the ideas about unsustainable personal relationships, loving unevenly and heartbreak conflated with a more expressly ecological regret. Like contending with big feelings of loss, endings, beauty, desolation, and with how much joy the earth contains in it. Feeling so much gratitude bound up in waves of sadness. Maybe witnessing a slow-motion goodbye to all that, or its last gasps. I love the earth and the life it supports so much. I love how ecosystems fit together - even the brutal stuff. It may be basic to say, but now is the time to be laser focused on that love. I was thinking about human centrality on earth, us as the ‘main character’, the way that is served by faith and romanticism, and the subsequent disingenuous understandings of our position in the ecosystem, as only stewards somehow, rather than subjects. The totems at this point: a herald’s horn, lorry inner tubes, archaeological tools. I guess from doom, industry, history respectively.”

“Now I would say the record is about gripping. Totems being: crampons, rope, drips, desalination equipment, accruing various survival tech. I think gripping sums up both of the threads. There’s the emotionally correct clinging to the earth that is the substrate of everything we value, or the delusional clinging to our imagined dominant position. But also the practical, technological aspects of creating a sustainable relationship, of remaining here. Then I think of romance again.”

So Sorry So Slow comes out 26th April 2024 on Spare Thought, mixed by Fabian Prynn at 4AD Studios and mastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road.

Adult Jazz is Harry Burgess, Tim Slater, Steven Wells and Tom Howe.

Following the force of their introductory singles 'Tabernacl' and 'St Agatha', the band return with an invitation to explore their landscape of violent poetry and gothic propulsion to the fullest extent yet. Prepare to be lulled under their spell once more with the slow-burn of forerunning single, 'Remoter Heaven'.

Produced by long-time collaborator Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard's Tom Rees. It begins in a dream state of hypnotic repetition that mounts in intensity, with vocalist Jack Shephard presiding over it all with his distinctive, poetic drawl. His protagonist is revisiting a memory of the pain inflicted by a thorn as a child; "I was awake with feeling", he confesses, before the song takes on the momentum that feels like a triumph over the numbness attendant to adulthood.

Of the track, Shephard shares: "I liked the idea of writing a very simple narrative to a big, epic song - something as modest as the story of a child playing in some flowers and then bursting into tears when a thorn pricks their leg. The words are an ode to that sensitivity we embrace when we are young. Then, when we become adults, we insist on subjugating all of that wonderful, absurd rage."

'Remoter Heaven' follows on from 'Tabernacl' and 'St Agatha' which earned Slate rave write-ups and support from publications including NME, CLASH, So Young, DIY, Buzz Magazine, The Most Radicalist and more, as well as early radio plays from the likes of Huw Stephens and Steve Lamacq on BBC 6Music, Matt Wilkinson on Apple Music 1, John Kennedy on Radio X and Jack Saunders on BBC Radio 1.

A humanity-reminding suite of miracle moments, Someone Like Me unites a geographically unbound cast of real people in pursuit of a meaningful connection. Taping their lived experience in economic studios in quiet English counties, Pacific Northwest woodland retreats and the big city bustle of Sydney and Los Angeles, these kindred spirits rendered sheer beauty in the process. Custom pressed folk songs of love, loss and the lord saviour.

Illuminating minor works from seasoned players such as former Syndicate Of Sound chart-topper Sharkey and late-era Canned Heat lynchpin James Thornbury, the collection simultaneously honours the fleeting amateurism of hobby musicians. With their one shot at tangible vinyl, freshman Lynne Ann Kingan realised her loose bubblegum rocker on campus time, while U.S. Navy recruit Fred Potts cut his unconditionally serene ballad remotely stationed on a Spanish naval base. Spartan production continues to reign with Jon Betmead’s hair-raising gospel, howling into infinite space, and Goldrust’s stripped back garden hymn.

Throughout the hour-long reflection, faith has an intermittent yet revelatory presence, most overtly with the divine choral soul of Seventh-day Adventist quartet Remnant. More subtly, Gary Ramey and Jim Kennedy both turned to song in their spiritual quests, offering their all to a universal power. An irrefutable compilation cornerstone, the National Office For Black Catholics showcased Charles Murphy’s lionhearted account of the Black experience at a 1971 concert. Five years earlier, high school seniors The Superwomen would use their hauntingly angelic harmonies to address racial inequity with a breathless take on ‘Lowlands’.

Reaching the furthest corners, Someone Like Me secures the inaugural licence of three homespun masterpieces. Discovered by fluke in the digital haystacks of Youtube and Soundcloud, Jim Huxley’s bedroom pop earworm melds peacefully into Charlie Webster’s synthesized reverie. Meanwhile, Hollywood’s John Agostino introduces us to the bizarre world of tax scam records, with the artist only now learning that his tender psych-folk demos were leaked via a 1977 bootleg.

Compiled and lovingly restored by armchair digger Mikey Young (Eddy Current Suppression Ring/The Green Child), Someone Like Me pays due service to seventeen rarefied journals of truth and devotion. Adorned with visual artist Chris Fallon’s figure and flora dream extractions, the uniting songbook is further detailed by expansive track-by-track liner notes and a forward from San Franciscan poet Rod Roland.

2023 sees the return of multi-talented Norwegian producer Espen Horne to Wah Wah 45s, after a 24 year hiatus. The man behind the label's very first release, the now seminal Magnetica, never lost his connection with the imprint and has remained very much part of the Wah Wah family, making a comeback this year with his first solo material under his own name since that club classic from 1999.

Back in the spring, the first single from the project, the gorgeous soul-jazz beauty Bakeren, featuring the stunning vocals of Resonators' Faye Houston, quickly found a home on Gilles Peterson's internationally renowned BBC Radio 6 show as well as that of Jazz FM legend Robbie Vincent, Bandcamp Weekly and the Fresh Finds Jazz Spotify playlist.

Following that, Bergen Sunrays, became a weekly fixture on the Craig Charles Funk & Soul Show on BBC 6 Music, with the limited 7-inch of both singles selling out within hours of release.

Next up was the wistful Den Franske Gitaren, a lugubrious soul-jazz piece with drum & bass leanings featuring Bergen based MC and vocalist Aich, which found favour with legends Laurent Garnier and Jazzanova as well as hot Japanese production outfit Dazzle Drums.

This was closely followed by the final single to be taken from the album, the stunning and outspoken vocal jazz waltzer Nada Pode Me Calar (which roughly translates to Nothing Can Shut Me Up!) featuring the sublime talent of Olav Wöllo on vocals and Juno - anotherr big one with Gilles Peterson on Worldwide FM and Deb Grant on BBC 6 Music.

And now the full album, entitled The Anatomy Of Serene Eloquence is available for your aural delectation. Recorded largely during lockdown, the LP is a sophisticated and composed piece of work that sees the Norwegian producer make connections with musicians from across Europe, and some closer to home, to collaborate on this sedate and peaceful collection of songs.

The aforementioned Faye Houston also appears on the soulful, dub flavoured Don't Fall Asleep, a piece of music that explores the feeling of being isolated whilst sharing a mutual love and drive to explore new sonic possibilities.

Elsewhere, Olav Wöllo pops up again too, this time on O Mar E A Lua and once again singing in Portuguese to give this track a certain Tropicalia feel, as Espen explains:

"Olav Wöllo is a close friend, an excellent musician and vocalist, and a capoeira professor here in Bergen. He has spent much of his life living in Brazil and speaks Portuguese fluently. He wrote the lyrics for this tune years ago and had just been waiting for the right collaboration to come along.

We went to his lovely studio out on this remote island, made a massive gyoza meal, had some serious good wine and stayed the whole night to record his vocal harmonies and outspoken lyrics."

The single Bergen Sunrays also appears on the album in instrumental form with featured keys courtesy of London based player Rory More - here entitled Rory's Sunrays. His Lowrey organ adds a more melancholic feel to the track, as it does on the stunning Belle Époque, alongside the ivory work of Eirik Blåsternes - an emotional, contemplative and atmospheric track that was tested and shaped in the eclipse of Covid.

As with Belle Époque, La Psychosomnie is a playful yet explorative cut that examines insomnia, paralysis and hypnosis courtesy of some enigmatic French spoken word spinning around a framework of drums, bass and swirling keys.

And finally, the album offers up an alternative version of the single Den Franske Gitaren, this time featuring Martin Halla, a vocalist out of the Bergen Grieg Jazz Academy and winner of the Norwegian version of The Voice back in 2012! The perfect flip to Aich's more mournful interpretation of this bass and drum future classic.