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The Circus is a place of lights and colors, but also of shadows, even darkness. Admittedly, it delights children and makes adults laugh. But you only need one rainy autumn evening near a circus tent and the smell of fodder to think of the sadness of the clowns, the endless training of the animals and the freaks who are hidden in some caravan... cinema, the essence of the circus – movement, light, danger and burlesque – will have been admirably rendered in Notes on the circus by Jonas Mekas (1966), one of the inventors of the filmed diary. With Cirque, Michèle Bokanowski does similar work, entirely dedicated to spinning, in the musical field.

She distinguished herself in particular in the composition of musique concrète, among others Tabou and Trois chambres d'inquiétudes, after having studied with Pierre Schaeffer and Éliane Radigue. The latter, great lady of drone and minimalism, fell under the spell of Cirque and wrote the booklet for the piece as a poem.

The piece, divided into five movements, is based on the handling and editing of recordings captured within one or more circuses (this is not specified and is of no importance) between 1988 and 1993. The initial allegro reveals the gallop of a horse joined gradually by other images. The idea of the circular space of the circus tent is immediatly and magnificently rendered and will be constantly recalled by an insistent use of the loop technique. Children's laughter, applause and drum rolls are thus sheared, repeated before being brutally interrupted. Accordion interludes and the distortion of sounds create a dreamlike atmosphere. This beautiful nightmare reminds us, to quote Éliane Radigue, the "Magic of childhood still living in the heart of man even beyond its abrupt end."

Words by Alexandre Galand, from the book “Field Recording – L’usage sonore du monde en 100 albums” (ed. Le mot et le reste, 2012)

Major member of the french musique concrète scene, Michèle Bokanowski was born on August 9, 1943 in Cannes, FR, to a musician mother and a writer father. She now lives and works in Paris.
Music lover since adolescence, it was relatively late, at the age of 22, that Michèle Bokanowski decided to study composition. Reading In Search of a Concrete Music by Pierre Schaeffer was decisive. After classical training on harmony, she met Michel Puig, a student of René Leibowitz, who taught her writing and analysis based on the Treatise of Schönberg. In September 1970 she began a two-year internship in the ORTF Research Department under the direction of Pierre Schaeffer. She takes part in the same time in a research group on sound synthesis, studies musical computing at the Faculty of Vincennes and electronic music with Éliane Radigue.
Her main works are intended for concert: Pour un pianiste, Trois chambres d’inquiétude, Tabou, Phone Variations, Cirque, L’étoile Absinthe, Chant d’Ombre, Enfance, Rhapsodia, Cadence, Elsewhere. She has also composed for theater (with Catherine Dasté), dance (with choreographers Hideyuki Yano, Marceline Lartigue, Bernardo Montet) and cinema: music for the short films of Patrick Bokanowski and his two feature films L'Ange ( 1982) and A Solar Dream (2016).

Søren Skov Orbit's debut album, "Adrift," is at once subtle and profound. The saxophonist and his collaborators have created something quite special and consistently deep. This record may not easily be classifiable, but the most interesting music creeps between the lines

Danish tenor and soprano saxophonist Søren Skov (Debre Damo Dining Orchestra) and keyboardist Peder Vind co-founded the trippy quintet Søren Skov Orbit in 2016 to explore “more jazzy ideas,” as the saxophonist puts it. Joined by a rhythm section steeped in contemporary improvisation and psychedelia, bassist Casper Nyvang Rask, drummer Rune Lohse and percussionist Ayi Solomon of the legendary 80's Ghanaian roots/highlife band Classique Vibes, the Orbit belts out a richly focused helping of broadly African-inspired modern jazz with a hazy sheen.

On the opening “Notifications of Nothingness,” Skov digs in his heels, a steely but languid unspooling of burnished tenor lines atop condensed, quavering piano and the thick footfalls of bass and percussion. As a tenor player, Skov has done his homework and has a kinship with Albert Ayler, Archie Shepp, J.R. Monterose, and the Dutchman Hans Dulfer, but he clearly has got his own robust phraseology and expressiveness. He also cites multi-reedists John Gilmore, Yusef Lateef, and Bilal Abdurahman as, “some of the players I’ve been listening to the most for the last 10-15 years.”

A healthy dose of reverb is present throughout the album, echoing Alton Abraham’s studio wizardry with the Sun Ra Arkestra or the trance-inducing and compressed fidelity of certain Ethio-jazz and Mystic Revelations of Rastafari sessions. Skov notes that, “everything is recorded live at the same time in the same room. I wanted to do it that way in order to catch the dynamics and authenticity of the music.” There is, in fact, a complex teeter- totter between crisp and hazy execution, achieved by a delicately balanced mix that keeps the group’s sound simultaneously advancing and receding. Vind’s phrasing is terse and introspective, a vibrating echo that nudges and reflects on Skov’s brusque tenor in a dance of sonic displacement.

“Orbiting” pits a chunky backbeat and the teetering, taut hand-rhythms of Solomon against an infectious, almost microtonal piano riff, while Skov’s arpeggios are clean and florid as he patiently rises up from under a carpet of funky loops. Following the freer “Reflections of Rif,” “Naration” lilts with a wink at “Footprints” and tugs between up-tempo polyrhythmic drive, clanging keyboard accents, and the innately steadfast keenness of the bandleader. The coupling of Solomon and Lohse is a big part of the group’s detailed energy; as the leader puts it, “Ayi knows everything about regional differences in drum patterns. He is always listening and super responsive, and his and Rune’s dynamics are amazing.” The music both presents a “vibe” and keeps the door open for engaging well under the surface as repeated listens will be extremely rewarding.

Steve Marion, the critically acclaimed-and completely wordless-songwriter and guitarist known as Delicate Steve, has unveiled a new album called Delicate Steve Sings. Is the album title a reference to the instantly recognizable "voice" of his guitar? Does he actually sing this time? Has he not been singing all along? That"s the crux of Sings-Marion is the rare guitarist where you can put on any of his records and know exactly who"s playing. In an indie rock landscape stuffed end-to-end with guitars and amplifiers, nobody else sounds like this. That unique voice has kept Steve busy in an unpredictable variety of settings. The sheer spread of his work outside his own records-collaborating with Miley Cyrus and Paul Simon, playing in Amen Dunes and the Black Keys, and being sampled by Kanye - doesn"t mean Steve"s a chameleon. It means he"s singular. Delicate Steve Sings is a record centered on channeling iconic voices with his guitar. In doing so, Marion is casting himself in the role of iconic singers like Willie who make standards their own. In the process, he reveals just how singular (dare we say iconic) that voice is. The guitar sings these songs-smoothly, sweetly, boldly, and on its own terms. Recorded with Jonathan Rado on bass, Kosta Galanopolous on drums, Renata Zeiguer providing strings, and co-writer Elliot Bergman, the album features both original songs with titles that suggest they might be new recordings of classics. "I"ll Be There" is smooth like a lost Bill Withers track; "Easy for You" isn"t the Elvis song of the same name, but there"s a hint of the king in there, in addition to Marion"s own takes onclassics such as the Emersons" "Baby," The Beatles" "Yesterday" and Otis Redding"s "These Arms of Mine." "You"re tapping into something universal and in the consciousness of pop music," Steve says-tacit permission for his guitar to drift into vocal expressions he"s internalized through years of close, repeated listening. Just like all the great singers.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce a reissue of Chico Mello and Helinho Brandão’s self-titled release from 1984, the first return to vinyl of this classic of Brazilian experimental music with its original cover art and complete track listing. An under-recognised figure whose work inhabits a singular terrain where radical new music techniques and music theatre meet musica popular brasileira, Mello has lived and worked in Berlin since the late 1980s. A student of Dieter Schnebel, Mello played in the 90s iteration of Arnold Dreyblatt’s Orchestra of Excited Strings alongside compatriot Silvia Ocougne, with whom he produced a radical and hilarious deconstruction of MPB classics on Musica Brasileira De(s)composta (an early and rather atypical release on Edition Wandelweiser).

On this release, his only recording predating his move to Europe, Mello works with the alto saxophonist Helinho Brandão, who appears to be otherwise unknown outside Brazil. The record’s six tracks range from solo saxophone improvisation to densely layered ensemble works bridging minimalism, acoustic sound art and a plaintive melodic sensibility that calls up Edu Lobo or Milton Nascimento. Beginning with a dramatic, dissonant wind and string surge from which emerge ominously pounding piano chords, opener ‘Água’ slowly builds in intensity, a halo of clustered vocal harmonies gradually closing in on Brandão’s squealing sax until the piece opens up to reveal a gorgeous passage of melodic singing. The piano accompaniment reduces to tolling bass notes as the voice begins a repeated incantation, suggesting a ritualistic atmosphere reminiscent of parts of Xenakis’ setting of Oresteia. Dissonant, sawing tremolos on the strings climb to a crescendo before disappearing into the sounds of water being poured and splashed into metal vessels, presented not as a field recording but as a percussive element performed by the ensemble. A child’s voice then appears, singing to piano accompaniment the same melody heard earlier in the piece. After a brief solo alto improvisation from Brandão, working with the guttural pops and fleeting melodic gestures of Braxton or Roscoe Mitchell, the remainder of the first side is dedicated to the leisurely unfolding of ‘Baiando’ over the course of twelve minutes. A trio for Brandão on soprano saxophone, Mello on a very period-appropriate phased nylon string guitar and Edu Dequech on bongos, the performance eases its way hypnotically through subtle variations on a set of rhythmic and melodic patterns, almost derailed at points by Brandão’s wild forays into extended technique but held together by Mello’s droning guitar notes.

The second side opens with another multi-part epic for a larger ensemble, ‘Matraca’, which makes use of strings, electric guitars and a wide range of South American percussion instruments. Rasping violin harmonics hover as drum hits, repeated guitar notes and triangle accompany a slowly descending bass glissando. A sudden change in direction introduces a thrumming, incessantly repeated bowed bass tone, beginning a series of episodes of minimalist phasing and pattern variation, the combinations of electric guitars and orchestral instruments giving the ensemble an ad hoc charm like the early Penguin Café Orchestra but with more percussive drive. Eventually the piece is overrun by a cacophony of the titular matracas (a kind of ratchet/cog rattle). Following a lyrical trio improvisation by Mello, Brandão and Gerson Kornin on bass, the final ‘Danca’ focuses entirely on Mello’s layered acoustic guitars and vocals, using this restricted palette to build up a haunting piece of almost orchestral density, reminiscent of the 70s work of Egberto Gismonti in how it thickens a folkish ambience with harmonic sophistication.

Arriving in a starkly beautiful gatefold sleeve and sounding better than ever in its new remaster, one might call the stunning music contained on Chico Mello/Helinho Brandão ahead of its time. But what (other than some of Mello’s own work) produced in the years since its initial release has really touched the organic fusion of minimalism, free improvisation, radical instrumental technique and popular song achieved here? Forty years after its first release, Chico Mello/Helinho Brandão remains music of the future.

Specially prepared liner notes by renowned music writer Brian Morton.

After an impasse in which she mostly recorded with tightly arranged groups (for Commodore) and big bands with strings (for Decca), Billie Holiday signed her last long-term contract with Norman Granz who tried to repeat the small group magic of her early days.

Solitudewas among Billie's first studio sessions for Granz and features the singer backed by Charlie Shavers, Flip Phillips, the Oscar Peterson Trio, and Alvin Stoller or J. C. Heard.

S
Brand new vinyl reissue to celebrate the 40th anniversary of seminal
album Yelele by Georges Decimus and Jacob Desvarieux, from zouk
pioneers Kassav', includes the massive worldwide crossover hit "Zouk-la
se sel medikaman nou ni"
Whether in concert, or on the radio or TV, the image of Kassav' remains vivid in
the minds of listeners and spectators. The group, founded in 1979 by Jacob
Desvarieux, Georges and Pierre-Edouard Decimus, has become legendary, putting
Guadeloupe and Martinique on the musical map of the world. Touring the world
with zouk, a musical movement introduced and popularized by Kassav', their
albums have repeatedly been rewarded with both gold and platinum discs.
A victim of Covid in 2021, the loss of Jacob Desvarieux leaves a huge void.
The mix of Jacob Desvarieux and George Decimus with Jocelyne Beroard, JeanPhilippe Marthely, Patrick Saint-Eloi and Jean-Claude Naimro has played sold out
concerts in 82 countries. With texts recounting real life in the Caribbean world
their lively music draws on the rhythms of Guadeloupe's gwo-ka and Martinique's
ti-bwa. Transcending the well-defined codes of Caribbean music, they have turned
the 1980s and all the succeeding decades into a fabulous ballroom.
They have been welcomed in Japan and the USSR, where they became the first
group of black musicians to tour. Forty years after the group's creation, their
timeless hits continue to resonate

Lebanon oud master Rabih Abou-Khalil's stunning 1996 album 'Arabian
Waltz' is appearing here on vinyl for the first time."Arabian Waltz is the
pinnacle of Rabih Abou-Khalil's achievement as a composer and arranger
It is a sublime fusion of jazz, Middle Eastern traditional music, and Western
classical. In addition to Abou-Khalil on oud (the Arabic lute), Michel Godard on the
tuba and the serpent (the tuba's antique kinsman), and Nabil Khaiat on frame
drums, the album also features the Balanescu String Quartet instead of the usual
trumpet or sax. The presence of the Balanescu might seem to pose a dilemma
for the composer: traditional Middle Eastern music uses no harmony but a string
quartet is all about harmony. Abou- Khalil achieves a compromise by generally
writing the string parts in unison (or in octaves), in effect using the quartet as a
single voice, but also letting the quartet split up to play parts in unison with the
other instruments or to provide ornamentation. Without surrendering jazziness at
all, the presence of the strings makes possible a wondrous atmosphere, almost
as if one is listening to the soundtrack of a classy movie set in Beirut or
Damascus during the '40s. This feeling is greatest on "Dreams of a Dying City"
with its brooding tuba and cello motifs and grave, repeated rhythms. "The Pain
After" starts with an impressive tuba solo that turns into a long interlude for tuba
and string quartet; sad, slow music that sounds like one of Beethoven 's late
quartets. Then Abou- Khalil finally enters on oud, bringing a sustained note of
wistfulness. Fortunately, beside the darker numbers lie the propulsive drama of
"Arabian Waltz" and the bobbing and weaving quirkiness of "Ornette Never
Sleeps." Abou- Khalil is known for experimenting with the possibilities his guest
musicians bring to his style. In this case, the guests have inspired the host to
reach a new height and maybe even a new style. This recording suits every fan of
world music, jazz, classical, or just good music." - Kurt Keefner

To experience Justin R. Cruz Gallego's pulverizing Sub Pop debut is to get burned down to ashes and burst forth, born anew. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), the Tacoma-based artist's second album, is driven by opposing forces: noisy abstractions and tightly structured beats, anguish and dissolution at the outside world and empowerment within, apathy and catharsis. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra) weds scouring electronics to hooky songs and Gallego's powerful drumming in a way that feels visceral and new. It's his most personal statement to date, at once playful and intent, driven and combustible, total fucking chaos mixed into glints of broken-glass beauty. Born in Tucson, Arizona, Gallego experienced culture shock as a child after relocating to the frigid climes of the Pacific Northwest. He found solace in the Seattle punk scene centered around Iron Lung Records and has since remained a fixture in the underground community. "I see this record as first and foremost a musical statement," Gallego says. "I grew up in punk and DIY subcultures, but before that I had Latin music playing in the background through my childhood and every phase of adolescence. It was surprisingly natural to incorporate. I realized I wanted to go deeper into these rhythms. I wanted to make a record that felt as experimental as much as it felt from the perspective of a Latino. When I got a glimmer of that possibility, it felt exciting." Lead single "Dogear" is a face-melting party starter that sounds like someone forced Talking Heads and Rudimentary Peni to share a practice space. "I wanted a song that felt playful in the way it attempted to be dissonant without taking itself too seriously," Gallego says. "Cholla Beat" is even more ambitious, an anthemic mix of WAR and Wire led by unruly synthesizers spiraling down a labyrinth of production. Gallego's influences for the album are vast, ranging from British documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis to electric Miles Davis to audio miscreants like Demdike Stare and Oneohtrix Point Never. But it's Gallego's assured sonic vision that resounds the loudest. And, while J.R.C.G. is a solo project, conceived and executed primarily in Gallego's home studio, he found strength in opening the project to others, starting with Seth Manchester as co-producer. Manchester's penchant for bone-rattling frequencies, as seen in his production work with The Body, Battles, and Mdou Moctar, made him a natural fit for Gallego. Together, they retained the intimacy of Gallego's home recordings while taking advantage of the hi-fi stylings of his Machines With Magnets Studio in Rhode Island. The closing song, "World i," offers a glimpse into the live experience of Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), with upwards of seven band members blasting off. The album features a fascinating mix of supporting players, many of whom cycle through J.R.C.G.'s live lineup: Morgan Henderson (The Blood Brothers, Fleet Foxes), Jason Clackley (Dreamdecay, The Exquisites), Jon Scheid (Dreamdecay, U Sco), Erica Miller (Casual Hex, Big Bite), Veronica Dye (Terminator) Phil Cleary (U Sco), and Alex Gaziano (Dreamdecay, Kidcrash, Science Amplification). Taken as a whole, G.I.S.M. is a whirlwind of sound, pummeling, and cleansing. It's a sweaty, thrilling aural adventure and, like a great basement show, it'll leave you breathless, exhausted, and wanting to repeat it all over again. As any good mantra should.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of Fanny’s 1970 self-titled debut album. For the first time, a group of women (sisters June and Jean Millington, Alice De Buhr and Nickey Barclay) wrote and sang their own songs, played their own instruments and, perhaps most importantly, rocked just as hard as any male band out there. And, as the first all-female band signed to a major label (Reprise) and with superstar producer Richard Perry at the board, these four women became perhaps L.A.’s biggest “buzz band,” landing repeated bookings at the Whisky-a-Go-Go with a who’s who of rock’s glitterati in attendance. Fanny became the reference point for generations of female rockers to come after them, from Joan Jett to Girlschool to Courtney Love and beyond. They were truly the Godmothers of Chick Rock. The self-titled debut by Fanny is available as a limited edition of 750 individually numbered copies on silver coloured vinyl, housed in a gatefold sleeve.

Crack Cloud has always been something beyond a rock band: both profound and grand, vaporous and elusive. The first iteration of Crack Cloud was formed nearly a decade ago as a proxy-rehab outlet on the fringes of Calgary. Over time, two EPs and accompanying visual pieces were produced out of the residence known as Red Mile. By 2017, several members had relocated to Vancouver, working out of harm reduction centers and low-barrier shelters. Sobriety, self-reformation and the idealism of their work further formed an ethos for Crack Cloud. It was during these years that the band produced their astounding 2020 album Pain Olympics. At once, their vision became expansive, cinematic. Now, Red Mile is a bit of a homecoming. Members have returned to Calgary. But Calgary/home has become a liminal space, a place of flux. After a decade of personal and collective growth, what does home even mean? Red Mile is, for them, something like samsara: a return and a rebirth. Red Mile's sound breathes expansive energy into the circuitous, street bound sonics of Crack Cloud's prior material. Fizzling synths intertwine with chiming pianos. Songs layer like Russian nesting dolls; one may find a Ramones chorus set within a desolate Western prog soundtrack only to watch it erupt into a joyous anthem. Real-ass guitars _ alternately lilting, scuzzy and soaring _ ring out across wide sun-bleached spaces. In 2024, the cumulative effect is (in rock instrumentation terms) naturalistic. Any whiff of embalmed nostalgia is absent. Even the close of the album - a winding, almost Jerry Garcia guitar noodle that leads us out of Red Mile - is delivered without sentimentality. Principal songwriter Zach Choy's lyrics are cutting but merciful, with a sharp self-awareness that never slides into self-satisfaction. Crack Cloud as artists are critical _ and ultimately as forgiving _ of themselves as they are the melting world around them. The songs balance an easy charm and cathartic power: affirming life without denying death. Recorded predominantly between the outskirts of Joshua Tree California, and Calgary, Alberta, this record is informed by a bittersweet mélange of old and new. The sprawling, novelistic structures of their previous albums are condensed and sharpened, while maintaining their refusal to delve into superficiality. Through playful melodies and elliptical guitar soliloquy, they deliver a final product of exceptional depth and distinctly unprecious warmth. Crack Cloud have produced a mature, vital work that interrogates the platitudes of the rock-n-roll lifestyle, but ultimately exalts its sacredness. Red Mile's de facto thesis statement "The Medium" is itself a rock song meditation: an ode to the form and its practitioners. This genre that _ typical, repeatable, corporatized as it can be _ somehow still has the power to help us live through life. We see the dusty sentiment of "I love rock and roll" exhumed, taken apart, and stitched back together. It's a song guided by faith _ if the medium helps us proclaim our love today, it's worth protecting from derision tomorrow. We live in an era where music seems to love hitting its head against the wall. Crack Cloud's Red Mile is the sound _ the feeling! _ of the bricks giving way.

Crack Cloud has always been something beyond a rock band: both profound and grand, vaporous and elusive. The first iteration of Crack Cloud was formed nearly a decade ago as a proxy-rehab outlet on the fringes of Calgary. Over time, two EPs and accompanying visual pieces were produced out of the residence known as Red Mile. By 2017, several members had relocated to Vancouver, working out of harm reduction centers and low-barrier shelters. Sobriety, self-reformation and the idealism of their work further formed an ethos for Crack Cloud. It was during these years that the band produced their astounding 2020 album Pain Olympics. At once, their vision became expansive, cinematic. Now, Red Mile is a bit of a homecoming. Members have returned to Calgary. But Calgary/home has become a liminal space, a place of flux. After a decade of personal and collective growth, what does home even mean? Red Mile is, for them, something like samsara: a return and a rebirth. Red Mile's sound breathes expansive energy into the circuitous, street bound sonics of Crack Cloud's prior material. Fizzling synths intertwine with chiming pianos. Songs layer like Russian nesting dolls; one may find a Ramones chorus set within a desolate Western prog soundtrack only to watch it erupt into a joyous anthem. Real-ass guitars _ alternately lilting, scuzzy and soaring _ ring out across wide sun-bleached spaces. In 2024, the cumulative effect is (in rock instrumentation terms) naturalistic. Any whiff of embalmed nostalgia is absent. Even the close of the album - a winding, almost Jerry Garcia guitar noodle that leads us out of Red Mile - is delivered without sentimentality. Principal songwriter Zach Choy's lyrics are cutting but merciful, with a sharp self-awareness that never slides into self-satisfaction. Crack Cloud as artists are critical _ and ultimately as forgiving _ of themselves as they are the melting world around them. The songs balance an easy charm and cathartic power: affirming life without denying death. Recorded predominantly between the outskirts of Joshua Tree California, and Calgary, Alberta, this record is informed by a bittersweet mélange of old and new. The sprawling, novelistic structures of their previous albums are condensed and sharpened, while maintaining their refusal to delve into superficiality. Through playful melodies and elliptical guitar soliloquy, they deliver a final product of exceptional depth and distinctly unprecious warmth. Crack Cloud have produced a mature, vital work that interrogates the platitudes of the rock-n-roll lifestyle, but ultimately exalts its sacredness. Red Mile's de facto thesis statement "The Medium" is itself a rock song meditation: an ode to the form and its practitioners. This genre that _ typical, repeatable, corporatized as it can be _ somehow still has the power to help us live through life. We see the dusty sentiment of "I love rock and roll" exhumed, taken apart, and stitched back together. It's a song guided by faith _ if the medium helps us proclaim our love today, it's worth protecting from derision tomorrow. We live in an era where music seems to love hitting its head against the wall. Crack Cloud's Red Mile is the sound _ the feeling! _ of the bricks giving way.

The album opens with a 13 minute improvisation titled “The Time Is Now For Change”. As Ranelin , Belgrave, and Harrison exchange flurries of notes and squeaks over improvised chaos from the rhythm section, the group builds to a spiritual high that calls to mind the best Albert Ayler recordings. Bebop lines and unison phrases occasionally rise to the surface, offering a glimmer of familiarity in what is largely a harsh soundscape. Yet what sets Ranelin (and indeed, all of his Tribe contemporaries) apart from the larger free and spiritual jazz scene at the time is their sense of rhythm. Even as Harrison evokes sounds that would make a Meditations era Coltrane blush, the drums stay in time, and the looping bass and piano riffs take on an almost hypnotic quality, repeating quietly under a whirlwind of sound.

Later tracks see the ensemble veer into soul jazz, and jazz-funk, with “Black Destiny” perfectly highlighting the group’s ability to meld the avant-garde with grooves that you won’t be able to stop yourself from tapping your foot to. Members of the Tribe were well known for their appreciation of African American popular music, and the influence of groups such as Sly And The Family Stone is clear in the song’s edgy rhythms and dense sound.

This double LP reissue also contains alternate versions and outtakes that are so good you’ll be wondering why they were originally left out! With modern remastering, three bonus tracks, and an obi-strip, you don’t want to miss the definitive version of Phil Ranelin’s The Time Is Now! "

Four years after his last album "TRICKSTER," DJ KRUSH has faced, sharpened, and overcome himself during a new coronavirus pandemic with "Rebirth -Saisei-,"

his first album since becoming independent. In Japanese, "Rebirth" means "Play" to regenerate music and art, "Rebirth" to be reborn, "Reconstruction" to be reborn,

"Renaissance" which is also translated as "literary revival".... With its multifarious connotations, the year 2024 will see DJ KRUSH take the opportunity of his

independence to "Play" and repeatedly "Rebirth" his way into the future. Guest artists include Jinmenusagi, Chinza DOPENESS, and D.O.

Oliver Dollar unveils part two of his ‘Contemporary’ EP on Rekids.The release features collaborations with Brillstein and Harvard Bass.

Part two of Oliver Dollar’s ‘Contemporary’ EP will be released this July via Rekids. It follows part one, released in April of this year, which saw him team up with ADMN, Austin Ato, and APROPOS and featured a remix from Brian Kage. With the first part winning support from the likes of Laurent Garnier, Nightmares On Wax, and Dam Swindle, this next EP continues with an equally promising cast behind the wheel, as Dollar brings in Brillstein and Harvard Bass for more irresistible house funk across three tracks in part two.

First up on the ‘Contemporary Part Two’ EP, Jesse Rose, Diplo and Switch collaborator Brillstein joins Oliver Dollar for ‘Pill Popper’, a real dancefloor-igniting underground cut with an unforgettable hushed vocal over infectious rhythms. It is followed by Oliver Dollar and Harvard Bass’ ‘Funky Brewster’, which sees the Tuskegee, Relief Records, and Turbo artist complement Oliver’s house style with signature jackin’ flair. A repeating vocal and hard-hitting drum beat keep centre in this party anthem before Dollar flies solo for ‘Funked Up’, in which a low-slung groove and dreamy, chopped-up vocal work in harmony before breaking down into a jazz-inflected midsection,
making for the perfect outro to a fantastic two-part series on Radio Slave’s Rekids.

"Sun Racket" is the brand new album from legendary Boston trio Throwing Muses, consisting of Kristin Hersh, David Narcizo and Bernard Georges. The follow up to 2013's 'Purgatory/Paradise' is an outpouring of modal guitars, reverbed shapes, echoey drums and driving bass set behind Kristen Hersh's well-thumbed notebook of storylines. A ten-song opus of suitably wrought tales set against a wall of sound that's at once calm and ethereal before building into glorious cacophonous crescendos.

When Throwing Muses wrote their last album, they were shattered. Pieces were coming and going, elements repeating and charging the whole. "It sounded beautiful jumping around like that". Two-minute songs reappearing as twisted instrumentals or another song's bridge.

They mimicked the effect live which kept them on their toes. Whatever was happening was already over in other words. 'Sun Racket' is the opposite. It refused to do anything but sit still. It says, "sit here and deal". "All it asked of us was to comingle two completely disparate sonic vocabularies: one heavy noise, the other delicate music box.

Turns out we didn't have to do much. Sun Racket knew what it was doing and pushed us aside, which is always best. After thirty years of playing together, we trust each other implicitly but we trust the music more" - Kristin Hersh And so, they continue. Business unusual.

"A ground-breaking band who changed the face of alternative music rather than follow the rule book." MXDWN "Pioneers of the 80'/early 90's college rock sound" Pitchfork "One of America's finest guitar bands" - The Quietus.

"Everyone you love will end up dead," Isaiah Neal sings on "Ivy Tech," the second track from Leisure Hour's upcoming The Sunny Side. It's a matter-of-fact lyrics delivered in a matter-of-fact way - but a second later, Grace Dudas and Raegan Gordon join in to harmonize on a booming "whoa-oh-oh-oh" chorus. In the span of about three seconds, Leisure Hour's whole ethos becomes clear. The Sunny Side is the result of years of writing and recording, the culmination of a half-decade of lineup changes; by now, Leisure Hour's reached their final form: bassist/vocalist Dudas, guitarist/vocalist Neal, and drummer/vocalist Gordon. The Sunny Side, according to the band, is about "love, loss, and struggle with mental health as a middle class individual," and maybe it was a case of life mimicking art. The three of them struggled to come up with enough money to record and produce these songs the way they envisioned; they picked up extra shifts at their jobs and, in true DIY fashion, decided to throw as many music festivals as they could to drum up enough cash to bring these songs to life, and "the community around us rallied together to make this album happen, and for that we are eternally grateful." That gratitude is the driving force behind The Sunny Side. The eleven songs that comprise the record are built on shaky hopes and the anticipation of disappointment, but along with that comes a teeth-gritting resilience and a hard-won appreciation for those small victories. "I can't forgive you," Dudas sings at the end of "Forgiveness," but she follows it quickly with "But I'm trying to," and then she repeats it over and over. Maybe she's just trying to convince herself, but it's the effort that matters. Leisure Hour won't stop looking on the sunny side anytime soon, and they're trying their damnedest to convince you to do the same.

Veiga lands straight on the dancefloor, no ambiguity about it. Spurred by the guys from RS Produções, he's been honing his DJ skills since he was 17 (currently 23), initially with partner Nunocoox, who gave him even more motivation. Production came naturally sometime in 2020. We venture: maybe one of the good things coming out of the lockdown? Summer of '22, his debut at Musicbox (at the Príncipe monthly residency) is recorded as a festive, lively set, punctuated by the kind of crowd shouts only heard when things go really happy and sweaty. Since then, Veiga's name has been spotted regularly in the afro club scene, growing in reputation

This side of kuduro, "Leandro" is as expressive as it gets, with percussive forces pulling in deceitfully different directions, much in the same style as the slower form of tarraxo. But we can call this house, yeah? No niceties, however: little over 3 minutes and the track abruptly cuts into silence, exuding the raw power of something made for the mix, not in the least "for the people". In a similar pragmatic mode, the stabs in "Sem Nome" get the party started unannounced. Full mode, for the duration. Minimal groove, broken beats and emotive highlights. "Boiler Room" may be wishful thinking, an interpretation of what is required to rock the place or, ultimately, just a title to wrap up the project. In any case, here's a feisty vocal-and-whistle driven stormer, building up to perfection over three and a half minutes. All elements exactly where they belong. Relentless pace in "X de Destroi", a dark side operation, unreal ambiance, breakneck beats, a purgation?

The title "Tudo É No Guetto" contains all the necessary theory. Everything happens in the ghetto. This uplifting house slab celebrates life as it is, freezing hardships for a moment, the ghetto seen as welcoming, a natural place to be. Vocals stashed away in his cell phone come from the animação crew Os Twinni (he joined them for a while). Clipped, repeated and manipulated to convey the very simple feeling of good times. Veiga himself talks about growing up with minimum resources but still happy. That is the memory he retains from being a kid in the ghettos of Amadora, just outside of Lisbon, born to a Cape Verdean father and Portuguese mother. Though the music sounds carefree and the message is chilled, let us not be tempted to rebrand Reality.

Hometown to Come' is the second full-length album by Minhwi Lee from Seoul, South Korea. The eight tracks were written over a period of seven years after Lee's first album and loosely form a single story, contemplating how people who have lost their hometown can return.

“What I had imagined from the title, Hometown to Come, was something forever delayed yet constantly approaching; however, upon repeated listens, it takes on a different meaning—a promise of hospitality being realized every day. Even if our places to meet disappear, ‘the song we sing today’ will remain. We will continue to grow, cross paths again, venture far away, and encounter more faces. And when time has passed and you, having forgotten me, ask about my smile or sadness, I will hum ‘the same song,’ cherishing it as a keepsake.” (morceau j. woo, sound designer)

Before joining Dick Cuthell in jazz fusion act Trifle, keyboardist Alan Fealdman and drummer Chico Greenwood formed Jasper with bassist Jon Taylor, guitarist Steve Radford and singer/harmonica player, Nick Payne. On sole LP Liberation, released by Spark in 1969, Jasper skirts psychedelia, proto-prog and blues rock, the unusual hybrid a fluid sound that’s difficult to place. Along with unusual arrangements of ‘Baby Please Don’t Go,’ ‘St Louis Blues’ and Donovan’s ‘Cuttin’ Out,’ there are baroque motifs of the title track, repeated at varying intervals. For fans of multidimensional prog and cutting edge blues-rock.