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Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

An imperial phase Actress commits a lushly amorphous installation piece made for the Berliner Festspiele to vinyl, rendering a post-industrial symphony full of iridescent shifts in gyring, OOBE-like spatial coordinates landing somewhere between nutopian ambient, kankyō ongaku and sawn-off bass science.

‘Grey Interiors’ was made in collaboration with Actual Objects and is an absorbing animation and navigation of those post-human ideals that have prompted Darren J. Cunningham to his best work across the preceding two decades. In its hypnagogic symphony of the elements, he short-circuits distinctions of classical music’s metric freedoms and the hyperspatial sensuality of concrète/electro-acoustic and ambient musics with an artistic license that has come to distinguish his work in the contemporary field, and arguably identified him as this generation’s most vital electronic abstractionist.

The first half of the album is bewitchingly airless, materialised in a twinkling vacuum. Naturalistic environmental recordings and a half-heard piano swirl around nauseous airlock whooshes and eerie bass drones. It's all pulverised to a powdery, shimmering residue; if Actress's music is defined by its character and texture - that sweet spot between the bedroom and the soundsystem - then this one advances the narrative without losing its backbone. And like a lot of his best work, it comes into its own on the back of zonked eyelids, conjuring a play of shifting geometric patterns within its imaginary physics and nuanced narration of ephemeral melodic phrasing and vaporous textures.

At about the halfway point, that dissociated piano finds its groove, coalescing into a jerky drum machine rhythm popping like bubbles in the stifling atmosphere. We can draw some intersecting lines here thru electronic music lore - traces of vintage AE, Push Button Objects, UR - but Actress always leaves an indelible fingerprint on anything he touches. Even when he's rubbing against the gallery-industrial complex, he manages to fill a stagnant space with electricity and wit; look at the title itself: is it a reference to the "landscape beyond man" as the installation's press release might have us believe, or the institutions themselves?

Vinyl release of saxophonist Gary Smulyan's 2022 album 'Tadd's All, Folks'
This album is all about Tadd Dameron (1917 - 65), one of the most important
American jazz composer/musicians. The master baritone saxophonist and perennial
pole winner Gary Smulyan conceived the brilliant idea of recording Dameron
compositions with lyrics. The vocal part is phenomenally rendered by the young talent
Anais Reno. Three songs including the lovely This Night Of Stars have hitherto never
been recorded.
"While Smulyan solos brilliantly throughout, Reno is the real treat here." - Bill
Milkowski, DownBeat
"Smulyan here brings to light Dameron's heretofore unknown Library of Congress trove
of standard- quality off- Broadway gems." - Fred Bouchard, The New York City Jazz
Record

Rob Mazurek’s Alternate Moon Cycles was our first release. The incredibly spare single-note-centered cornet, bass, and organ chant was recorded to tape at pint-sized Chicago bar Curio as part of a performance series that predates any notion of our label’s existence. Documenting this performance—highly unique even within the depths of Mazurek’s vast catalog—stirred those notions, and soon talks began of releasing the recording on a fresh imprint.
The music unfolds glacially amongst the gentle creaks, clinks, whispers, and scuffles of the active room. It’s difficult to imagine a more honest rendering of the two sidelong pieces of organic minimal music, and nearly impossible to separate the sounds from their performance context. It’s also difficult to imagine a more subtly striking way to introduce a new label to the world.
Now this long-gone gem of supernatural frequency excavation is back in print with fresh liner notes by Mikel Patrick Avery and obi design by Aaron Lowell Denton.
Featuring Rob Mazurek, Matt Lux, and Mikel Patrick Avery.
"This is ambient music, suitable for meditation, but its shifts in texture reward real listening." - New York Times

Jules Reidy"s sublime music maps the human experience in glittering constellations of sound. The guitarist is a driver of Berlin"s fertile contemporary music scene. A wide-eyed imagination combined with technical mastery guide each work in Reidy"s extensive catalog, from solo guitar albums and collaborations with innovative peers, including recent works with claire rousay, Oren Ambarchi, Andrea Belfi and Sam Dunscombe to major commissions from JACK Quartet and Zinc & Copper. The songs of Ghost/Spirit collectively convey an astral sense of yearning and wonder, pushing towards transcendence. The album charts a deeply personal journey with love, spirituality and transformation expressed in fractal guitar figures, ethereal vocal vapors and rippling microtones. Reidy"s guitar approach unlocks the tonal and textural possibilities of the instrument from their use of alternate tunings and astute processing. The maximalist melodics of album opener "Every Day There"s a Sunset" are bolstered by rumbling bass samples from Andreas Dzialocha, Reidy"s collaborator in the duo Sun Kit. On "Satellite," cello samples from Judith Hamann stretch out through the cosmos, orbited by spiraling finger-picked guitars, while stacked trombone chords echo out into the ether. Thundering drum samples from Berlin metal mainstay Sara Neidorf push the album to ecstatic peaks on "Every Day There"s a Sunrise," fragmented rhythms breaking apart in the atmosphere. Field recordings of the Berlin S-Bahn recur throughout the album, another endless cycle of leaving and returning that shuttles beneath the album"s whirling tones. Ghost/Spirit captures the inherent power and agency in choosing to offer yourself up to the universe and let go, ego death and prayer rendered in incandescent sonics. Reidy"s inimitable skill as a guitarist, producer and composer is on full display, and when combined with the intensity of experience, the resulting album is a remarkable work of art.

Jules Reidy"s sublime music maps the human experience in glittering constellations of sound. The guitarist is a driver of Berlin"s fertile contemporary music scene. A wide-eyed imagination combined with technical mastery guide each work in Reidy"s extensive catalog, from solo guitar albums and collaborations with innovative peers, including recent works with claire rousay, Oren Ambarchi, Andrea Belfi and Sam Dunscombe to major commissions from JACK Quartet and Zinc & Copper. The songs of Ghost/Spirit collectively convey an astral sense of yearning and wonder, pushing towards transcendence. The album charts a deeply personal journey with love, spirituality and transformation expressed in fractal guitar figures, ethereal vocal vapors and rippling microtones. Reidy"s guitar approach unlocks the tonal and textural possibilities of the instrument from their use of alternate tunings and astute processing. The maximalist melodics of album opener "Every Day There"s a Sunset" are bolstered by rumbling bass samples from Andreas Dzialocha, Reidy"s collaborator in the duo Sun Kit. On "Satellite," cello samples from Judith Hamann stretch out through the cosmos, orbited by spiraling finger-picked guitars, while stacked trombone chords echo out into the ether. Thundering drum samples from Berlin metal mainstay Sara Neidorf push the album to ecstatic peaks on "Every Day There"s a Sunrise," fragmented rhythms breaking apart in the atmosphere. Field recordings of the Berlin S-Bahn recur throughout the album, another endless cycle of leaving and returning that shuttles beneath the album"s whirling tones. Ghost/Spirit captures the inherent power and agency in choosing to offer yourself up to the universe and let go, ego death and prayer rendered in incandescent sonics. Reidy"s inimitable skill as a guitarist, producer and composer is on full display, and when combined with the intensity of experience, the resulting album is a remarkable work of art.

Possessing lyrics heavily focused on political and social justice, inspired heavily by West Coast gang culture and Islam, Da Lench Mob made waves throughout the hip-hop scene when they first appeared on the track "Rolling With Da Lench Mob", off Ice Cube's famed 1990 solo record AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted. Initially, the titular "Lench Mob" of the track namesake referred to Ice Cube as well as the other participating rappers, but J-Dee, Shorty, and T-Bone would adopt the name for their own in time. Their standout appearance on the Ice Cube track would earn the trio critical interest, (as well as shout-outs on Ice Cube's 1991 follow-up Death Certificate) and generate palpable anticipation for a studio album of their own. Guerillas In Tha Mist, their 1992 debut record, was recorded in the wake of the Rodney King riots, taking its name from infamous comments made during the riots. The record was uncompromising and confrontational in its depictions of urban decay and an unjust system wreaking havoc on an economically disadvantaged Black population. It was starkly realistic (bordering on abrasive) in the content of tracks like the armed revolution-advocating "Freedom Got An A.K.", the kill-your-idols style of "You And Your Heroes", and the anti-pusher anthem "All On My Nut Sac." These harsh manifestos were made all the more smooth via Ice Cube's jazzy G-funk and Bomb Squad-influenced production, which sampled heavily from classic songs by Parliament, Kool & The Gang, The Incredible Bongo Band, and even Vangelis. Cube himself would make guest appearances throughout the record, as well as an appearance by B-Real of Cypress Hill on the track "Ain't Got No Class." Guerillas In Tha Mist was a Billboard success upon its release, reaching #24 on the Billboard 200, and rendering rap radio hits out of its title track and "Freedom Got An A.K.", but Da Lench Mob would fall into obscurity over the years, eventually going their separate ways after creative differences, financial rifts, and the life conviction of rapper J-Dee for suspected murder in 1993. Despite their loss of commercial fortunes, Guerillas In Tha Mist would develop a strong reputation as an unheralded gem among hip-hop heads, and would be considered one of the great lesser-known releases of the era among critics (in 2018 Complex would declare the title track as one of the 100 Best L.A. Rap Songs). Decades after its initial release, and in tribute to the memory of Da Lench Mob member Shorty, who passed in 2019, Get On Down now presents an exclusive LP reissue of Guerillas In Tha Mist, which previously was only released officially on wax in Europe. The LP is pressed on a deluxe Green and Orange Splatter-colored vinyl, and features remastered audio and a painstakingly recreated full color jacket.

The Parisian Label Gathers Five Producers Around a Minimalist Techno Canva. ...

Lucy Sissy Miller is a French/British singer-songwriter, performer and artist based in Paris. On her latest release for Mêtron Records, Pre Country, she renders her own personal take on country music, an ambient and airy ode to her love of Americana. Across 16 tracks, Miller recollects about love-like friendships, breakups, mermaids and missing girl mysteries - the album acting as a movie-like homage to girlhood and desire.

“With this album I really enjoyed blurring the lines between fiction and reality, a bit like what movies are able to do to us. I hide a little bit of personal truth behind each song.”

Influenced by the tones of Laurie Anderson and Imogen Heap, as well as the imagery found in Twin Peaks and Paris, Texas, Pre Country is a rich and explorative record that mixes a wide range of sonic sources. Though very much rooted in folk music, Pre Country is laced with layers of autotune, bringing an other worldly and haunted presence to the work.

“It’s an album about memories and how we stitch up these moments, making them movie-like to make sense of these experiences.”

The record was crafted with notes from journals, poetry, voice memos, transformed and collected sounds and here it carries the many layers of desire, loss and fear that Miller wanted to convey in the songs, communicating an unsteady, explosion of feeling whilst remaining delicate and personal.

It’s safe to assume no one in the audience at Carnegie Hall on March 30, 1974 anticipated what Miles Davis would play at the concert documented on Dark Magus: Live at Carnegie Hall. Recorded near the tail end of his electric period, the double album remains the darkest, most ferocious statement of Davis’ career — a visionary effort that foresaw developments in jungle, noise-rock, funk, and drum ‘n’ bass.

Initially issued in Japan in 1977, Dark Magus waited two decades for U.S. release. Now, more than 50 years after Davis and his ensemble blew minds at the famous New York venue, it gets its first-ever domestic issue on vinyl — and on a definitive-sounding pressing at that.

Mastered at Mobile Fidelity's California studio, housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, this numbered-edition 180g 33RPM 2LP set of Dark Magus invites you to pull up a seat and wrap your head around an exhilarating performance that simultaneously functions as an audition, experiment, release, and magnificent explosion of jazz-rock fusion. We hope your turntable and speakers are up to the challenge.

This collectible reissue presents the improvisational magic that unfolded onstage — the skronking tonalities, wah-wah-pedal bluster, acid-washed effects, furious drumming, run-the-voodoo-down grooves, menacing riffs, crashing cymbals —with incredible detail, color, and pace. It also captures the band’s unbelievable energy, rendering both instruments and on-the-fly changes with revealing depth, definition, and dynamics. At its core, MoFi’s audiophile set takes you deep into the boundless mystery, promise, and uncertainty of Davis and company’s efforts like never before.

The story behind Dark Magus is nearly as unbelievable as the spur-of-the-moment compositions that resulted when Davis brought drummer Al Foster, bassist Michael Henderson, percussionist James Mtume, horn virtuoso Dave Liebman, and guitarists Pete Cosey and Reggie Lucas together, and, in a new twist for the concert’s second half, added guitarist Dominique Gaumont and tenor saxophonist Azar Lawrence to mix. That the latter two instrumentalists had never seen each other until that night adds to Davis’ legend — and penchant for bold, unorthodox moves.

Ditto Davis’ own actions that spring evening, which reportedly included showing up to the show an hour late and taking the stage with his back facing the crowd. The strategy worked. Davis inspired the group to play in a bold manner that few, if any, had heard before. Dark Magus is a rhythmic bonanza. Rooted in Afro-centrist techniques, avante-garde sensibilities, and exploratory moods, the songs eschew set arrangements and solos, and, for the most part, melodic devices.

For Davis, Dark Magus represented a personal triumph amid a period marked by health issues, addictions, and critical decline. The latter slight would be corrected, but not until decades later when Dark Magus saw Stateside release in 1997 via a CD reissue. Of course, the free-form patterns, unpredictable passages, dense structures, and distorted blues that course through the songs — titled after Swahili numerals — are not for everyone. And certainly not for the fainthearted. Though Dark Magus contains majestic moments marked by quiet restraint and something on the level of balladry, its rich and radical concoction of tormented thwacks, thumps, cracks, clatters, wails, bleeps, burbles, stomps, and enigmatic beats remains its adventurous heart and soul.

Primal and enigmatic, fierce and jagged, forceful and revolutionary, jolting and terrifying, Dark Magus seemingly attacks from any and all directions. Turn it up loud and let the prophetic brilliance of this inimitable and relentlessly funky album wash over you.

Filled with aural magic and enchanting musical spells, Sorcerer is true to its name. The third of five albums by Miles Davis’ legendary Second Great Quintet — and the second record in a still-unprecedented string of eight consecutive releases within a four-year period that forever changed the face of jazz — the 1967 effort mesmerizes with instrumental colors, subdued musings, and subtle details. These crucial characteristics blossom with vibrant realism on Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP.

Sourced from the original master tapes and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, this numbered-edition audiophile edition of Sorcerer joins the ranks of other essential Davis records given supreme sonic and packaging treatment by Mobile Fidelity. Longtime listeners will immediately recognize a wealth of information and depth of tonality unavailable on prior versions. The myriad shadings, interwoven textures, and relaxed nuances that tie the post-bop set’s warm compositions together are rendered with utmost realism. Credit goes to MoFi’s engineers as well as the label’s groundbreaking SuperVinyl profile that features the lowest-possible noise floor as well as sublime transparency, dead-quiet surfaces, and superb groove definition.

By any measure, this is a reference reissue. You’ll hear poetic lyricism pouring out of Wayne Shorter’s horn, the breadth and definition of the notes spreading across an enormous soundstage. Never before have drummer Tony Williams’ rim shots ricocheted with such purpose or his light percussive work mirrored that of a feather touching skin. Similarly, Herbie Hancock’s piano runs occupy their own space, where their relationship to the central rhythms and front line becomes clearer.

Prizing inflection and nuance more so than heady solos or uptempo flights, Sorcerer mesmerizes with cerebral properties and cascades of emotional interplay. Such beauty emerges in the mellow ballad “Pee Wee,” an indelible statement of restrained authority and sophisticated expression. The swirling title track unfolds as jazz shadowplay, Hancock, Shorter, and Williams mirroring one another’s moves with guile and purpose. The opening “Prince of Darkness” showcases the ensemble’s reach and communication, every musician going in seemingly different directions yet ending up on the same page.

A lasting example of Davis’ visionary insight, Sorcerer is comprised entirely of pieces written by his band mates. Indeed, save for the closing “Nothing Like You” — a brief tribute to Davis’ eventual wife, who also graces the cover, recorded in 1962 and adorned with vocals from Bob Dorough — the album represents a further maturation and refinement of a quintet that stands as one of the finest in jazz history.

MoFi SuperVinyl
Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analog lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world’s quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are virtually indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label’s engineers hear in the mastering lab.

Linking music and literature, building a bridge between the written and the sung – only the greats have managed to do this in the past. Leonard Cohen, Scott Walker, and Patti Smith were just some of the shining stars that Anna B Savage orientated herself towards as a teenager. Born on the anniversary of Bach’s death, the young musician spent her birthday every year in the Green Room of the Royal Albert Hall watching her parents perform compositions by the grand master. That shaped her. Today, thanks to albums such as her debut, “A Common Turn” (2021), and the incredibly sensual art-pop opus “in|FLUX” (2023), the singer-songwriter is one of the truly exceptional talents on the British independent scene. In her music, otherworldly vocals nestle up against chamber orchestral compositions, delicate arrangements rise up and blow away, and the musician’s highly eclectic sound grows song by song into an experience that lingers for days and weeks. Potentially life-changing.
A sense of rootedness is at the heart of Anna B Savage’s third record You and i are Earth, a record that is as much about healing as it is an unbowed sense of curiosity, and, more simply, “a love letter to a man and to Ireland.” Following on from her critically acclaimed records A Common Turn and in|FLUX, You and i are Earth manages to convey a sense of intimacy, while also being open-ended. Gentleness is as radiant a touchstone on the record as earthiness, something that Savage attributes to the place she finds herself at present, both geographically and emotionally. And quite literally the record bears witness to a particular piece of earth - Ireland, and Savage’s relationship to it as her new home. That process is brilliantly rendered on Agnes, a complicated piece of work featuring Anna Mieke that turns on tropes of duality and transformation. It mirrors an unsettling experience that Savage had through meditation, which ultimately ended in an immersive, beautiful feeling, “I felt like I was part of the earth, completely connected to the mycelium network, I felt like I was where I was meant to be.” In many ways, that experience framed the album’s artwork, a photograph taken in some woodlands in Co. Sligo, with Savage looking up at the trees, their fractals reflected in her eyes, mirroring something she had felt in her meditation, bringing us back full circle, and to that sense that we are essentially in unison, or at least striving to be, that “you and I are earth”.

Linking music and literature, building a bridge between the written and the sung – only the greats have managed to do this in the past. Leonard Cohen, Scott Walker, and Patti Smith were just some of the shining stars that Anna B Savage orientated herself towards as a teenager. Born on the anniversary of Bach’s death, the young musician spent her birthday every year in the Green Room of the Royal Albert Hall watching her parents perform compositions by the grand master. That shaped her. Today, thanks to albums such as her debut, “A Common Turn” (2021), and the incredibly sensual art-pop opus “in|FLUX” (2023), the singer-songwriter is one of the truly exceptional talents on the British independent scene. In her music, otherworldly vocals nestle up against chamber orchestral compositions, delicate arrangements rise up and blow away, and the musician’s highly eclectic sound grows song by song into an experience that lingers for days and weeks. Potentially life-changing.
A sense of rootedness is at the heart of Anna B Savage’s third record You and i are Earth, a record that is as much about healing as it is an unbowed sense of curiosity, and, more simply, “a love letter to a man and to Ireland.” Following on from her critically acclaimed records A Common Turn and in|FLUX, You and i are Earth manages to convey a sense of intimacy, while also being open-ended. Gentleness is as radiant a touchstone on the record as earthiness, something that Savage attributes to the place she finds herself at present, both geographically and emotionally. And quite literally the record bears witness to a particular piece of earth - Ireland, and Savage’s relationship to it as her new home. That process is brilliantly rendered on Agnes, a complicated piece of work featuring Anna Mieke that turns on tropes of duality and transformation. It mirrors an unsettling experience that Savage had through meditation, which ultimately ended in an immersive, beautiful feeling, “I felt like I was part of the earth, completely connected to the mycelium network, I felt like I was where I was meant to be.” In many ways, that experience framed the album’s artwork, a photograph taken in some woodlands in Co. Sligo, with Savage looking up at the trees, their fractals reflected in her eyes, mirroring something she had felt in her meditation, bringing us back full circle, and to that sense that we are essentially in unison, or at least striving to be, that “you and I are earth”.

The Soultrend Orchestra is a side project of the producer and musician Nerio ‘Papik’ Poggi.
Owner of the main project, Papik, Nerio Poggi has been one of the most internationally renowned Italian producers for the Nu Jazz
Lounge sound for over ten years, with around forty albums under his own name and those produced by him with solo artists or
with monothematic collections such as the ‘Cocktail’ series.
With the project The Soultrend Orchestra, Nerio Poggi has dedicated himself in particular to the Soul Jazz and Disco sound, with
a particular eye on the 70s/80s sound that starts from artists such as Roy Ayers, George Benson and Donald Byrd to arrive at the
Acid Jazz sound of Incognito and The Brand New Heavies.
The first album '84 King Street', released in 2017, was the one most dedicated to the Disco sound, also for the title that reports the
address of the legendary New York club Paradise Garage from where Disco music in the late 70s was definitively launched all over
the world by the deejays David Mancuso and Larry Levan in primis.
With the second album of 2022 'Live For Funk' the sound ranges more towards Soul and Jazz thanks to some songs that have driven it such as About Love openly inspired by the sound of Roy Ayers.
This third album, produced like the second Live For Funk together with Peter De Girolamo (aka P.A. Jeron) is due out at the beginning of 2025 and is titled Non Imagine where he continues in the search for these same sounds.
With some of his closest collaborators such as Alfredo Bochicchio, Massimo Guerra, Simone ‘Federicuccio’ Talone and vocalists
Laura Lanzillo, Erika Scherlin and Anna Fondi, the album as always also has other illustrious guests such as Wendy D. Lewis, Ely
Bruna, Nadyne Rush, Filippo Perbellini, Stevie Biondi and Nicole Magolie on lead vocals.
In the tracking list we also find some covers in this album: Lost In Music, a symbolic song of Disco by Neil Rodgers and Bernad
Edwards (Chic) made famous in the 70s by Sister Sledge, and Summer Madness, a very particular song by Kool And The Gang,
famous for its magical atmosphere here perfectly rendered by Peter De Girolamo's keyboards and Anna Fondi's voice.

Available for the first time on vinyl and reaching #2 on the iTunes Jazz Album Chart, CODE RED brings together hits like SILENT MOVIE and the title track CODE RED with newer songs including the sultry album closer ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE. The album is pure class from start to finish and has been the most requested vinyl issue on the FRESHLY SQUEEZED roster since its original digital release in 2021.

LEEDS based Little Violet is the writer, pianist and vocalist behind these impeccably rendered songs featuring her brilliant studio band. With its high quality contemporary production, vintage styling and superb musicianship, the album was described as "an instant classic of RETRO POP" that takes inspiration from the likes of Caro Emerald and runs with it to create something at once both modern and timeless. "If you think they don't make albums like they used to any more, this is probably one you should hear..."

Steven Wilson is no stranger to composing music that appears to counter everything else before it in his catalogue. Bass Communion, his long running solo electronic project, is no exception to this perverse streak that apparently likes to turn all expectations upside down. The Itself of Itself, Bass Communion's first album for 12 years, skilfully pays testament to this. Long established as a purveyor of mostly atmospheric or ambient textures, the seven cuts that represent The Itself of Itself take detours from this approach in order draw as much from musique concrete, noise music, abstract electronics and uneasy listening. Whilst still rippled with the same shades of light and dark that can be found throughout all of Bass Communion's work, The Itself of Itself reveals a fascination with analogue sounds and, more importantly perhaps, 'unwanted' analogue artefacts like tape hiss, wow and flutter, static noise, and sonic break-up, taking the music into a space at once different yet familiar. 'Apparition 3' presents a stark nod to Wilson's established command of shifting textures steeped in penumbral gauze, while 'Bruise' is akin to a space probe adrift and headed towards a white dwarf as all communication is reduced to a disturbing and indecipherable crackle. Between the other five cuts we witness fragmented, garbled and buried voices, vast vacillating banks of grainy hum, what sounds like the dying gasps of an oboe, spooky swirls from an indiscernible source, swathes of tape hiss, moody drones, and spiralling slivers of noise. Meanwhile on the title track, a mellotron flute rusts and collapses in on itself in a way that renders it the very antithesis of the one deployed on 'Strawberry Fields Forever'. Everything adds up to a dynamic listening experience where unease, dread and comparatively claustrophobic torrents of sound make (un)natural bedfellows to moments of enchantment and serenity. Above all, The Itself of Itself sees Steven Wilson cutting his teeth on an album that's at once cinematic and moody whilst proving him to be a master in electronic music craftsmanship. It's an album that might surprise some of those who have thus far been paying attention to his work as Bass Communion, but setting out to please everyone was never part of his raison d'etre. The Itself of Itself catches Bass Communion spreading its weatherbeaten wings to embrace new strategies and a strong desire to journey elsewhere. Arriving in a wonderful Carl Glover designed deluxe cover also comprising a 24pp. booklet of his photographs and an obi strip, this version of The Itself of Itself arrives in December on Lumberton Trading Company as a 2LP pressed in an initial run of 1000 copies.

Sweetheart is the first Cassie Ramone album in ten years, a crowning glory for a singular artist who has forged a unique path through the underground. Breaking out in the late 00s with the revered Vivian Girls, to her current status as a traveler on the
heartworn highway, Cassie Ramone has survived and thrived. Sweetheart is Ramone's greatest recorded statement to date:
focused songwriting shot through with American tragedies, distorted guitars and tear-stained fretboards. Recorded with
collaborator Dylan White in Richmond, VA in the latter's Valley Structures barn studio between December 2023 and March
2024, Sweetheart is Ramone's songwriting rendered direct but with a sweeping cinematic quality. Smeared with reverb and
scintillating like stars in the pitch black night, these songs fulfill the promise of Ramone's songwriting prowess.
Ranging from heart-stealers like I'm Going Home or Joy to the World to the riotous guitar scree of the titular Sweetheart,
Ramone's songwriting here is raw and direct, bolstered by White's perfectly balanced instrumentation. White's work on
Sweetheart blows up Ramone's songs to epic proportions, with waves of shoegazed guitars crashing and cresting with
emotion. As a result, Sweetheart fits effortlessly in with the best of Ramone's work with Vivian Girls and The Babies. With the
emotional vulnerability at its core, Sweetheart is Cassie Ramone emerging as one of the most honest and vital songwriters of
the underground.
Sweetheart, released on White and Ramone's new CD-R Records, builds on Cassie Ramone's legacy as a DIY pioneer. With Vivian Girls, Ramone and her bandmates forged a distinctive sound from 80s Punk, Shoegaze and 60s Girl Groups, delivering it with a dedication to world-building and Do It Yourself pragmatism. CD-Records and this first release are a continuation of Ramone's mission to maintain creative and aesthetic control over her art, communicating directly and honestly. Sweetheart may
also be the best record of her career.
Released on Cassie Ramone and Dylan White's label CD-R Records

Over three years in the making, Needle Mythology Records is delighted to announce a super deluxe, expanded remastered reissue of The Lilac Time’s 1991 masterpiece, Astronauts. Released as a triple vinyl, triple CD or single vinyl, only 1000 copies of each format will be produced, there will be no further pressings. Both the 3LP and 3CD editions will come with an extensive 11,000 word oral history of Astronauts and liner notes by Needle Mythology co-founder and longtime Stephen Duffy fan, Pete Paphides.

All three albums including a 2024 remaster, a collection of works in progress entitled‘Softened By Rain The Making Of Astronauts’ and a live compilation ‘Any Road Up The Lilac Time Live 1990/91’ have been mastered for vinyl by Miles Showell at Abbey Roadand will be housed in a triple gatefold sleeve with a colour inner sleeve and new artwork for each disc, which has been especially created by designer Mike Storey. The main sleeve for Astronauts itself will replicate the original artwork but with the four distinctive “blobs” rendered in a red “foil” texture. In addition to these three disc sets, 1000 single vinyl remastered copies of Astronauts will also be made available, in a cherry red vinyl edition to match the outer sleeve.

With the shoegaze and baggy movements at their zenith, The Lilac Time’s fourth album was released at a moment when the left-field music zeitgeist was shaped by the nascent shoegaze, baggy and grunge movements. Whilst Astronauts conformed to none of those trends, neither was it the record Stephen had in his head when he finally finished working on it. We’ll never know how that record would have sounded, but it’s hard to imagine a better version of the album he did end up making. The songwriter who brought ‘A Taste of Honey’ and ‘Hats Off, Here Comes The Girl’ into the world envisaged the sort of choruses that would jump from the single speaker of your favourite transistor and lodge themselves into the collective memory bank.

But while he really was writing some of his most beautiful melodies, Astronauts is a family of songs that demands to be kept together in the sundazed cloud of inspiration that created it. It constitutes a partial retreat from the outwardfacing utopianism of its predecessors, choosing instead to dwell on the journey taken to get to this point. That this is an audibly different band to the pastoral expeditionaries of the group’s previous releases is almost entirely down to the departure of Nick Duffy and the arrival of Sagat Guirey. Suddenly, accordions, banjos and mandolins are out; jazz guitar is in. Sagat’s filigree work on the outro of ‘A Taste for Honey’ acts as a sublime parting shot to a lyric which acts as a wiser, wistful companion piece to Stephen’s 1985 solo hit ‘Kiss Me’, something tantamount to the camera retreating to reveal the years elapsed between the time depicted and the present day. The distance between the carefree youth of pop stardom and the first intimations of mortality can be measured between the first and second verses of the quietly devastating ‘Madresfield’; from the depiction of the deserted cricket pavilion obscured by fresh snowfall to the sudden shift in perspective from subject to protagonist: ‘No one ever told me/That killing time is harmful/For time cannot recover/What soon the ground will offer.’ For all of that, however, the resulting album didn’t correspond to the vision its creator had for it. At a loss as to what to do with it, Stephen surrendered Astronauts to Creation with no plans to promote or draw attention to it. The consciousness shift of which Stephen had hoped The Lilac Time might be a precursor hadn’t happened. Or, rather, it had – but it had happened elsewhere, in the Haçienda and Shoom and in Ibiza. Not on the hills of Herefordshire. In a nod to that sea change, Stephen handed over one song, ‘Dreaming’ to Hypnotone, who

A collaboration between Duncan Bellamy (Portico Quartet) and Belinda Zhawi (MA.MOYO), Jump Ship, Sit Lean, Be Still, Stand Tall is a collection of sonic-poetry that sets Zhawi’s illuminating, elliptical words in dialogue with diffuse, explorative music and sound by Bellamy. Fluctuating between expansive contemporary classical arrangements and intimate layered vocal experiments, together they render these disparate forms into something distinct, melancholic and luminous.

Belinda Zhawi is a literary & sound artist based in London & Marseille, author of Small Inheritances (ignitionpress, 2018), & experiments with sound/text performance as MA.MOYO. Her work explores African diaspora research and narratives, and how art and education can be used as intersectional tools. Her literary & sound works have been featured on various platforms including The White Review, Vogue, NTS, Boiler Room & BBC Radio. She’s held residencies with Triangle-Asterides, France; Cove Park, Scotland; Serpentine Galleries; ICA London and was a Brixton House Associate Artist 2022 - 24. Belinda’s the co-founder of literary arts platform, BORN::FREE. She is working on her first full poetry collection.

Duncan Bellamy (b. Cambridge, UK, 1986) is a multidisciplinary artist based in London. His diverse practice encompasses painting, silkscreen, photography, sound and music. His work examines the shape of time, loss and our relationship to the past and present in a period of compressed transformation. He is a founding member of Mercury Prize nominated Portico Quartet, and has contributed sound work to the artist Hannah Collins audio-visual installation I Will Make Up A Song. Bellamy is working on a debut exhibition and new music.

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

Free Help is Minnesota trio Heart to Gold's celebration of the titular idea, conceived while broken down on the side of a road in Georgia. Recorded at Will Yip's Studio 4 and releasing on Memory Music, it's an expertly arranged, arena-sized rendering of the group's scrappy, bold guitar rock, a heartening mix of melodic punk, cavernous post-hardcore, and '90s alt-rock. It's the sound and feeling of a band growing into adulthood and maturity_singer Grant Whiteoak's writing is subtle and figurative, a result of deepening introspection spurred by years of touring.Free Help represents a push beyond Heart to Gold's long-time community, and a broadening of the boundaries of the project. The rich, spacious single "Can't Feel Me," released in February, evidenced this new sound and space, and record opener "Surrounded" leaves no room for doubt: This is Heart to Gold operating on a new level. It's a sleek, pit-ready thrasher, tearing at the seams with energy and intention, loaded with melody. There are classic, pedal-to-the-metal bangers, like "Get It Back" and "Blow Up the Spot," alongside the down-tempo drift of "Pandora," and the multi-movement epic "Belonging." Here it is, from Heart to Gold to you: Free Help.

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

Led by Sommer, the release signifies the first chapter of the drummers much much-anticipated Nordic trilogy on April Records, aiming to capture and document Nordic improvisation and composition across three carefully curated ensembles. Bassist Arild Andersens storied career stretches back to the 1970"s as one of ECM s first recording artists, collaborating with household names of the genre including Jan Garbarek, Don Cherry, Bill Frisell, John Taylor, Sonny Rollins, Chick Corea, and the list goes on. Welcoming the opportunity to work with and nurture younger artists, the ensemble was born when Daniel Sommer selected Andersen for a project during his studies at the Danish National Academy of Music. Later, impressed by Luft s performances in Ireland and Norway, Andersen suggested expanding the pair into a trio. A transcendent musical voyage, As Time Passes " blurs the lines of conventional trio roles, and celebrates the evolution of jazz as a fluid, versatile form of expression. By providing each musician the freedom of becoming a key contributor in the melodic discourse, the trio channels the spirit of jazz veterans such as the Bill Evans Trio and free free-jazz ensemble Air, while echoing the sounds and innovations of pan pan-European contemporary jazz. Mixing pensive rubato ambience with energetic grooves, instrumental dexterity, a modern ECM ECM-esque sound and folk undertones, the record s compositional clarity combined with the spontaneity of a live performance flows across and between genres, borders and generations alike. Luft s intricately over- dubbed layers of acoustic guitars, vast reverbs, and contrapuntal melodies expand the sound of the three piece into an immersive world of textures. Rendered in the stark beauty of Andersen"s bass lines, the nuanced strokes of Sommer"s drums, and capped with the lush, expansive timbres of Luft"s guitar, "As Time Passes" is a testament to the enduring and ever ever-evolving wonder of Jazz.

One of the Most Exhilarating Live Albums Ever Released: Santana’s Lotus Documents 1973 Performances Distinguished by Passionate Soulfulness, Chemistry, and Inventiveness

Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM 3LP Set Features Reference Sound and Deluxe Trifold Packaging Faithful to That of the Original Japanese Import: Strictly Limited to 5,000 Numbered Copies, Includes Four Photo Inserts and Two Fold-Out Posters

The bizarre legacy of Lotus transcends its status as both the definitive onstage document of Santana’s career and one of the most spectacular live albums ever released. Originally issued in 1974, the triple LP contains exhilarating performances of the band recorded at two shows in early July 1973 at the 2400-seat Osaka Kosei Nenkin Kaikan concert hall. It bears witness to the eight-piece collective playing with a chemistry, inventiveness, cohesiveness, and soulfulness no other Santana lineup would ever surpass. Featuring seven previously unreleased tracks as well as remarkable renditions of material from Santana’s first four albums and the Carlos SantanaJohn McLaughlin collaboration Love Devotion Surrender, Lotus simultaneously suggests and inspires, dreams and delivers.

Transferred by original engineer Tomoo Suzuki, strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, and housed in deluxe trifold packaging faithful to that of the original pressing, Lotus benefits from reference audiophile treatment on Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 3LP set. Featuring rich tones, smooth dynamics, excellent separation, deep soundstages, and involving presence, this reissue pays tribute to both the virtuosic lineup and the magnetic fusion of Latin- and Afro-Cuban-influenced jazz, rock, psychedelia, R&B, and blues. The complexity of the spiritual passages, demands of the crescendos, delicacy of the calm transitions, electricity of the solos: everything is rendered with superb balance and free of the harshness, compression, and fatiguing peaks that would otherwise distract from the presentations at hand. Black magic, indeed.

Butcher Holler is named for the little Kentucky town where Loretta Lynn was raised. On the tribute album of the same name, acclaimed singer-songwriter Eilen Jewell pays homage to Lynn’s humble roots and timeless, hard-hitting writing and performance style. For the first time, Butcher Holler is now available on vinyl, remastered and expanded with three brand new tracks. Jewell writes, “And so, a toast: to the woman with more banned songs than anyone can count; to that voice that reaches the very grain of the theater walls around her; to our national treasure. Gratitude is not enough, so I sing these songs for any who will listen.” The Boston Globe praised, “There's an irresistible snap to these songs- they're tight, deliciously twangy and rendered without orchestrated frills... a deft tribute."

Mac DeMarco, formerly Makeout Videotape, is the anti-thesis to your stereotypical singer-songwriter. Disregarding the seriously somber moments, he replaces them with whimsical and youthful spontaneity, whilst retaining the endearing and subtle commentaries that exude his familiarity. Promptly after leaving his Edmonton garage for Vancouver he embarked on a North American tour accompanying fellow Canadians Japandroids on a grand voyage of enlightenment and alcoholic debauchery. DeMarco's a weird cat cultivating an affinity for occult imagery, nudity and social satire. But his most impressive trait is his undeniable and instinctual ability to compose magical pop jangles, of which he'll likely refer to as "jizz jazz". His dusted jams have garnished him accolades that are as ever-increasing as his song writing abilities; his sound rendering comparisons, but in a nomadic fashion alluding no distinct origin. DeMarco's debut solo EP entitled "Rock And Roll Night Club" will ramble into the great unknown guided by Captured Tracks, DeMarco's inner Elvis a tow.

Limited Edition Picture Disc. Including Silver/Chrome Obi Sticker and Silver Postcard with album titles and info in English and Bengali. Housed in PVC sleeve.

ICCHĀ is an international collaboration project that originated in 2023 in Dhaka, Bangladesh. The work "Chant For Hope" was realized by Miet Warlop and created on site with local performers while Micha Volders composed the musical context. The performance acts as a monumental living sculpture, in which the physical process of casting hundreds of Bengali words in plaster becomes the driving force to create a playing field between performers, public space, and participation. Woven through this performative context are more complex relationships that explore the tension between humans and language. As the words become so visible and tangible, an image of their inner bearing and our dealings with them emerges.

The recordings of this performance have been adapted and enhanced to create an album that reflects the energy and expands upon the sound created in Dhaka. ICCHĀ is the Bengali wording of "desire," and reflects the eagerness and urgency felt within the process of this collaboration. In conjunction with the seven performers, a sonic adventure emerges that thrives on the energetic rendering of the Bangla language through transient patterns and snappy melodic figures. The album will be released on 24.05.24 as vinyl picture disc and digital, and will be available as a pre-order online and in local selected record shops.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Moon White Vinyl. All her life, Emma Hardyman has wrestled with contradictions. After all, she was practically rendered a living, breathing contradiction the moment she was born into her half-Peruvian, half-white working-class Mormon family. In young adulthood, Hardyman became increasingly disillusioned with Mormonism's righteous black-and-white thinking, as well as its exclusionary elitism, and decided to leave the church. But she also acknowledged that the institution's all-or-nothing philosophy had become a part of her, resulting in a considerable test of grace and unlearning. As the singer-songwriter behind Little Moon, the Tiny Desk Contest-winning, Utah-based avant-folk project, Hardyman uses music as an outlet to illuminate contradictions of all kinds. Following the release of her 2020 debut LP Unphased, Hardyman set out to write a romantic album about her newlywed husband Nathan (who also sings and plays guitar in Little Moon), but the universe had other plans. After Nathan's mother tragically passed away, Hardyman recalibrated her vision and started work on a love-as-grief, grief-as-love album titled Dear Divine. The record serves as a mirror for the darkest parts of ourselves, allowing us to examine our ego_not to dismantle it, but to better understand how we love, process adversity and move through the world. Centering the classical music, folk, video game soundtracks and Tabernacle Choir hymns she grew up with, as well as ephemeral snapshots of personal significance, Dear Divine is an abundant tapestry of Hardyman's life. As enlivening melodies radiate from a string trio, you can envision the classical music that thrums from her parents' radio 24/7, as Hardyman sings in an otherworldly coo, you can imagine her younger self swooning over the tranquil records of Vashti Bunyan and Joan Baez, and as arpeggiated synths twinkle, you can visualize the enchanting kingdom of Hyrule from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time that she still adores. Songs like "now" and "messy love" embrace the gloriously jumbled stew of life, with the former chronicling Hardyman's arduous quest for love and trust and the latter patiently navigating the ways romantic partners can mirror each other's shortcomings. As Dear Divine attests, Emma Hardyman may not have it all figured out, but that's kind of the point. Through grief, faith crises and all-encompassing love, she's found the most wisdom in life's maddeningly consistent inconsistencies, as well as the subtle ways one can cultivate a feeling of home. Dear Divine doesn't take a red pen to life, it brings an open heart, an open mind and achingly beautiful, opulently weird folk songs.

Strange Power!, the fifth record from Durham, NC-based songwriter and poet Anne Malin Ringwalt, emerges from the darkest waters of the self into a world remade. Releasing in conjunction with her second book of poetry, What Floods (Inside the Castle, Oct. 2024), Strange Power! overflows with Ringwalt's teeming and sensuous personal symbolry: glowing lilacs and gentle queens, dolphins wild and girls who grew up brave _ T.S. Eliot sung by Cat Power, backed by Mount Eerie. She sings: "I rose up from water." Ringwalt writes and performs with the authority of a lifetime spent harnessing the alchemy of storytelling; her belief in the power of words to heal and transform is palpable in each achingly- delivered lyric. Made amidst profound inner and outer change, Strange Power! also sees Ringwalt taking up the role of self-producer for the first time, mirroring and supporting the record's Orphic quest by gathering contributions from a coterie of friends wielding an electric range of American instruments. Violins, vibraphones, drum machines, electric guitars dappled with spring reverb, wind-blown shells, and a host of other numinous sounds form an unfurling and shadowy world which was then carefully honed during the mixing process (shepherded by Michael Cormier-O'Leary and Lucas Knapp) _ settling the final record in an eerie meridian between spareness and verdancy. The result is a beguiling and darkly blooming realm: the sound of a personal cosmos being remade, piece by piece. Ringwalt is at the height of her spirit as both songwriter-poet and singer, her willowy voice by turns conjuring and keening as she reckons with her deep past and the stories told since. Opening track "The Pines" sets the stage for a record of truly life-long scope: "I was a child, now I hold her / I was asleep for many years." Some songs, like the gorgeous "North Carolina" and "The Saint," were written as early as 2013 but, Ringwalt says, "insisted upon being remembered" as the record took shape; in its final form, they serve as inciting moments of self-discovery before the journey to come. "The Visionary" recalls one of Ringwalt's earliest musical breakthroughs _ her re-rendering of an Emily Brontë poem into a song at age 15 _ and, she says, "`cites' the melody of that song in the context of this new one _ a holding of the past and present and every layer in between/beyond, in utter solitude _ a solitude that reflects certain aspects of abandon as a child and an adult..." This unusually lengthy time-scale lends Strange Power! a deeply moving sense of narrative fullness. Stretches of the record _ particularly the "Judgment Day" ? "River" ? "Lilac Bloom" trifecta that form the black heart of Side 1 _ may recall familiar wanderings of personal underworlds such as Mount Eerie's Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 or Neil Young's Ditch Trilogy. Yet this hollowed landscape is in turn exorcized by the a capella "I Know," in which Ringwalt sings "I won't be gutted by you / For giving and trying to heal / I won't be gutted, I am not a fool / I deserve a love that is new" before the song concludes with a piano passage that recalls hymnal music _ suggesting a faith in life itself to offer new beginnings. Side 2 features some of Ringwalt's most powerfully introspective writing to date, as the songwriter casts off myth after myth in her search for personal transformation. By the final song, "Stories," the energy that has been gathering all throughout the record breaks loose as Ringwalt reflects: "I wrote so many stories, not knowing what the end was." But at this stage in the journey, we know there is no such thing as an ending; if the healing process is never complete, the storyteller's strange power is what finally offers liberation.

Emerging from the same circle of musicians that spawned Squirrel Bait and Slint, Rodan formed in 1992 out of a failed high school rap project. Guitarists Jason Noble and Jeff Mueller enlisted Tara Jane O’Neil on bass and a couple drummers before Kevin Coultas came aboard permanently. After a couple 7”s and self-released cassettes, Quarterstick Records released the band’s first and only full-length Rusty in 1994. The band broke up at the end of the year, aiding their growing cult following. Jason went on to form Rachel's, Jeff started June of 44, and Tara began a solo career after recording with Retsin, and The Sonora Pine. Jason and Jeff later reunited in The Shipping News. Rodan was Quarterstick’s indie rock super group that spawned numerous other intriguing projects. “(Thirty years ago) a Louisville band called Rodan released the only record they’d make in their two year tenure. Rusty would become one of those records that launched a thousand very f**king good bands in the 90’s, an historical moment in real need of poets and punks and beautiful freaks who could render some sense and beauty out of the cultural grey water”. Joe Manning // “Whatever scene or geographical associations Rodan dealt with by being from Louisville, KY, in the early '90s, setting those aside and looking at the music straight up reveals one key fact: this was an amazing band, one with clear roots but also one with a sense of its own strong fusion… this is an album to readily get lost in”.

Nour Mobarak’s Dafne Phono is an adaptation of the first opera, Dafne, composed and written by Jacopo Peri and Ottavio Rinuccini in 1598. Drawing on the myth of Daphne and Apollo from Ovid’s Metamorphoses—a story of unrequited love, patriarchal possession, conquest, and transformation—Mobarak’s multimedia and multispecies reimagining splinters the opera’s Italian libretto. Alongside English and Greek versions, it is translated into some of the world’s most phonetically complex languages—Abkhaz, San Juan Quiahije Eastern Chatino, Silbo Gomero, and !Xoon. In this process, the narrative—and an artifact of Western culture—is dismantled, metabolized, and rendered into unruly utterances that shape the sensorium as much as they do the capacity for sense-making. These voices are given material form by a cast of mycelium sonic sculptures whose rhizomatic compositions and broadcasted recordings resemble the formation and mutation of language over time, reconstituting speech into a new, polyphonic body politic, composed of voices whose striking, poetic utterances transfix and transcend meaning.

The A-Side of the record presents a stereo version of Mobarak’s 15-channel sound installation, Dafne Phono. The B-Side uses a recording of a portion of the translation process the libretto underwent in Namibia, live-processed by the artist.

The LP is published on the occasion of Nour Mobarak’s exhibition at The Museum of Modern Art, New York (October 26, 2024–January 12, 2025), with support from Sylvia Kouvali.

Artist Bio:
Nour Pamela Mobarak (Lebanese-American, b. 1985, Cairo, Egypt) lives and works between Los Angeles; Bainbridge Island; and Athens, Greece. Her works have been shown at Sylvia Kouvali (formerly Rodeo), London/Paris; Schinkel Pavillon, Berlin; MIT List Visual Arts Center, Cambridge, MA; Amant, Brooklyn; JOAN, Los Angeles; Kim? Contemporary Art Centre, Riga; Miguel Abreu Gallery, New York; Hakuna Matata, Los Angeles; and Cubitt Gallery, London. Exhibitions at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, and Castello di Tivoli Museo d’Arte Contemporanea, Turin, are forthcoming. She has performed at Western Front, Vancouver; 2220, the Hammer Museum, and LAXART, Los Angeles; Cafe OTO, London; Renaissance Society, Chicago; the Museum of Contemporary Art, San Diego; and elsewhere. Her music has been released by Recital (Los Angeles), Cafe OTO’s TakuRoku (London), and Ultra Eczema (Antwerp), and she has had sessions on BBC Radio 3, NTS Radio, and Dublab Radio. Mobarak’s writing has been published in Triple Canopy, F.R. David, The Claudius App, and the Salzburg Review, and her first catalog, Sphere Studies and Subterranean Bounce was published by Recital (2021). She received a BA in English and Media Studies from Sussex University and did further studies at Université Paris-Sorbonne, Paris IV. She has held residencies at Denniston Hill, New York and the Institute of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, and was the recipient of the 2023 FOCA fellowship award. Mobarak was a 2024 faculty at Bard College MFA program.

Dafne Phono Vocalists:
Apollo: Renato Grieco (Italian)
Cupid: Arnou Argun (Abkhaz)
Dafne: Agnes | xaye (!Xoon)
Ovid: Olivia O’Dwyer (Latin)
Venus: Don Eugenio Darias (Silbo Gomero)
Abkhaz Chorus: Liana Ebzhnou, Murman Guaramia, Fatima Kharzalia, and Gunda Osia
Chatino Chorus: Felix Daniel Peña Mendes, José Vasquez Canseco, Catalina Candelario Matias, and Claudia Garcia Baltazar
!Xoon Chorus: Franco Tsame, John Djujui Klosi Barase, and Charity Tsame
Clarinet: Steve Kado

Born from of a relentless global tour schedule, Samara Joy took her touring band, made up of other rising young jazz musicians, into the legendary Van Gelder Studios (the venerable studio from which A Love Supreme and so many of the great catalog records from Impulse and Blue Note were recorded) in February of 2024. Recorded across three days, Samara and her musicians were able to capture an incredible snapshot of who she is today and the promise of tomorrow. It’s a collection of standards, as well as one original and some of her first forays into lyric writing and features her singular voice, alongside arrangements and playing from this tight knit young group. The recording is this story of the community she’s created with a new generation of young players and serves as a studio rendering that delivers on the promise of the live show so many fans have seen them perform over the last year.

John Davis is a sound artist and filmmaker based in the Bay Area. Active since the mid-aughts, he has published recordings on labels such as Root Strata and Digitalis, as well as on his own Bimodal Press imprint. “Landlines” sees a return to the SOD catalog for Davis, following a full-length release in 2013, and may be seen as somewhat of a spiritual successor to that album. In all of Davis’ work, there is a specific pastoral sensibility that feels firmly rooted in the forests and coasts of Northern California, moving with the delicate and erratic cadence of dust motes rendered visible in bright sunlight. Opening track “Verichrome” articulates the soundscape wonderfully, stitching together Music Mouse-esque formant synthesis and meditative vocal sampling with an exquisite minimalist suite for prepared piano. Of these recordings, Davis himself writes, “In a general sense the conceit here is nostalgia, a desire to reflect on the importance of connection – to ourselves and to the world around us. The title is, of course, a euphemism for the telephone, but I am also considering landscape, horizons, and infrastructure, as well as the invisible lines that connect us, the threads that bind us, and the communities that form us.”

Early 2009 Single Versions of these songs (featuring Robo on drums in his final recording with the Misfits), were released on the "Land of the Dead" 12-inch maxi-single in 2009, (featuring a green variation of the cover art, and "Land of the Dead" as the title track on Side A).The 2011 "Devil's Rain" album versions of both tracks are included on this Ltd. Ed 12-inch maxi-single with a blue variation of the cover art, and "Twilight of the Dead" as the title track on Side A. Like "Land of the Dead" and "The Devil's Rain" the cover art was rendered by Arthur Suydam (Marvel Zombies) with art direction by John Cafiero. Certainly black vinyl (2021 pressing)

Saxophonist Walter Smith III pays homage to his hometown of Houston, Texas on his sophomore Blue Note album, three of us are from Houston and Reuben is not, the follow-up to 2023’s return to casual. The album’s wry title signifies the lineup, which includes fellow Houston natives – pianist Jason Moran and drummer Eric Harland – while bassist Reuben Rogers, who hails from the Virgin Islands, rounds out the quartet. Together they enliven 10 compelling Smith originals and an imaginative rendering of a Sam Rivers composition – all of which speaks to Smith’s ascending status as one of modern jazz’s most engaging talents of his generation.

"A Singular Blend of Dynamic Post-Pop & Electronic Production Featuring The Vibraphonist’s Remarkable Quartet Special Guests Gerald Clayton and Marquis Hill Named One Of Downbeat's 25 For The Future

“His music is fresh, it speaks to everyone. Never heard anyone play vibes like that before.” -Herbie Hancock

“Best vibes player I’ve heard...” -Quincy Jones

In discussing Elements of Light, his fifth album as a leader, the vibraphonist-composer Simon Moullier often returns to a specific term: unfolding.

“This is an important word — the unfolding of a song,” says Moullier, who was born in France and lives in New York. “It’s something I’m very attached to, and something I’m always working on.” As he explains, many of his essential influences —Wayne Shorter, Milton Nascimento, Toninho Horta, Radiohead’s Thom Yorke, Ravel, — have been masterful unfolders in their writing. Moullier admires the movement and design in their music and harmony, the way one section of a tune leads into the next, everything flowing in a natural, beautiful, inviting way. Even the most serious intellectual musical concepts are rendered with a directness, a simplicity that can captivate a general audience. “For me, no matter how complex an idea can get,” he says, “clarity is always key.”

That’s a mature, evolved outlook for a millennial jazz musician to embrace, and it’s shared among Moullier’s youthful quartet featuring pianist Lex Korten, bassist Rick Rosato and drummer Jongkuk “JK” Kim. What’s more, these musicians of astonishing technical facility interact with the selflessness and good taste that Moullier’s song-focused music requires; to say it another way, they use their virtuosity to make the bandleader’s compositions sound as human and affecting as possible — never to preen."