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As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

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Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

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Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

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Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

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"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

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Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Corrie Dick, a musician and composer specialising in euphoric, sonically-inventive drumming, is at the rhythmic epicentre of a new era of innovative British jazz. He is lauded for his dynamism, his melodic slant and for his playfully subversive take on style and genre. An artist of prolific and varied output, Corrie has long been an essential component of Laura Jurd’s music including Mercury Prize shortlisted Dinosaur; is a crucial co-pilot in Elliot Galvin Trio and Rob Luft Group; and co-writes music with an abundance of artists including alternative Indie band Ink Line. His 2015 release Impossible Things which skilfully fused Celtic folk and contemporary jazz with new takes on African rhythms culminated in sold out touring and concerts across the UK. Now Corrie resets for an album which further embraces the eclectic whims of a child of the iPod shuffle generation - finding cohesion among disparate elements. Concerning the idea behind Sun Swells, his latest project, Corrie explains: “I wanted to write a jazz album that had rock instrumentation at its core: guitar-bass-drums. Rob Luft (guitar), Tom McCredie (bass) and I have been improvising and writing together for years and years and we’ve forged a sound that is uniquely crunchy yet summery, so I wanted that sound at the centre but decorated with all sorts of elements. I basically wanted to make folk-rock-jazz but treat it how electronic music producer Mura Masa treats his tracks--chucking the whole damn fruit bowl at the thing but somehow keeping space and air in the arrangement and the mix.” The music on Sun Swells is highly unique in a way that is becoming a trademark for the highly gifted artist.

First album from Cologne based Jazz / Hip-Hop band for Melting Pot
Music home to artists such as FloFilz, Twit One, Summers Sons,
Pachakuti & young.vishnu, etc.

Bokoya is a four-piece jazz/hip-hop band from Cologne who plays
improvised beat music. Like a four-headed human drum machine, Bokoya improvise, shape, and develop beats in the electric field of repetition and variation. It's impossible to put a tag on Bokoya's music.

BADBADNOTGOOD, Dilla, Krautrock, Ambient and dub might work as
rough reference points for the music but don't do it justice. After a sling of releases on Wadada Records, Bokoya are now signed to Melting Pot Music where they will release their forthcoming projects.

Following on from last year’s acclaimed Sylva Sylvarum, the epic double LP from Ora Clementi (her collaborative project with James Rushford), crys cole returns to Black Truffle with Other Meetings. Originally commissioned and released on cassette by Boomkat Editions in 2021, Other Meetings is a major addition to the body of carefully hewn solo work cole has released over the last decade, offering up two side-long suites of her radically intimate approach to sound. After many years dominated by touring and travel, cole found herself in lockdown in her Berlin apartment, working in a limited space with minimal equipment. Digging through archives of recordings taken overseas and exploring the sonic potential hidden in the objects surrounding her (including a coffee pot and a vase of dying flowers), she crafted what in her liner notes she calls ‘an internal dérive, a journey that drifted through many places without a defining compass’. Totalling over 50 minutes, the two pieces unfold at an unhurried pace, each containing four individually titled subsections. Beginning with a sequence of the highly amplified small sounds characteristic of much of cole’s work, the opening moments of ‘The time between two durations of sleep’ are underpinned by a gentle rocking motion, weaving together contact mic crunch, metallic resonance, glimpses of bird song, and isolated drum machine hits, the sonic space expanding and contracting as focus moves between elements. Briefly side-lined by a tactile but unplaceable sizzling, this complex weave of voices then returns in a kind of dubbed-out ‘version’, the percussive accents echoing around the stereo space. In one of the record’s most beautiful and unexpected moments, these sounds are joined by a sparse melodic line performed on a broken 1980s digital synth, the vaguely New Age timbres being taken on a long, tonally ambiguous wander. Cole’s immersion in memories of travel comes to the fore in the final section of the first side, titled ‘Wat Paknam’ after a royal temple in Bangkok, where snatches of voices, ringing bells and distant waves of chanting blur together with synth tones into an increasingly abstracted wave of sound. The second side, ‘Slices of cake’, opens in a similarly hallucinatory outdoor space of echoing bird song and liquified traffic before abruptly zooming in on a microscopic world of subtly processed and highly amplified objects, explored with a starkness and quiet insistence that calls to mind the fringe not-quite-concrète of outsiders like Paul A.R. Timmermans or Knud Viktor, whose obsessive interrogation of dripping water might also serve as a point of reference for the following sub-section, the aptly titled ‘magischer Abfluss’ (magic drain).

While Other Meetings develops many aspects of cole’s previous work – the hyper-magnification of small gestures, the unsettling edits and fades partly inspired by hypnagogic states, the location recordings smeared into oneiric haze – it is almost as if these pieces are somehow songs, the remnants of an evaporated music of which nothing remains except isolated hits from a synthetic drum, a handful of notes, or simply a duration of emptied atmosphere. Radically reductive yet deeply musical, Other Meetings is a major work from an artist driven by an uncompromising and idiosyncratic vision.

Presented with an inner sleeve with photos and liner notes from the composer and remastered audio.

Greg Puciato, the enigmatic singer known for his diverse list of projects, from the incendiary The Dillinger Escape Plan to the brutalist electro-pop outfit The Black Queen and the unabashedly thrashy Killer Be Killed, releases his debut solo album, Child Soldier: Creator of God this Autumn via Federal Prisoner. The Los Angeles-based singer premiered the single “Fire For Water” on BBC Radio 1’s Rock Show with Daniel P. Carter and followed with the debut of a video for the three-minute track via Revolver. The video was edited and directed by Puciato and fine artist Jesse Draxler, Puciato’s Federal Prisoner co-founder. Puciato played all of the instruments on the song with the exception of drums, which were done by Chris Pennie (the last original material the pair worked on together was The Dillinger Escape Plan’s 2004 Miss Machine), who also contributed additional programming. “I started writing in May or so of 2019, for what I thought would be the next Black Queen album, except that’s not at all what came out. So, just like with everything else that’s been born from necessity, it felt like the right time to create a home for anything that I do that didn’t fit neatly under any other existing roof. The misfits needed a place to go,” explains Puciato about releasing his first solo album.

During the 13 years of existence of our label we have managed to turn many a dream project into reality and reissued countless numbers of forgotten and overlooked gems. There has, however, been one dream we've chased for years that is now finally manifesting itself on vinyl - the albums of the most remarkable Finnish post rock band Magyar Posse and especially the second of their three records, Kings of Time. Magyar Posse's debut album We Will Carry You Over The Mountains (2001) was already an impressive, ambitious work in which the band effortlessly mixed Goblin and Ennio Morricone influences into their melodic and atmospheric blend of instrumental post-something. It was, though, the second album Kings of Time, that took the band from the darlings of the local alternative music press to such levels of artistic expression that even the mainstream media had to pay attention. The album, consisting of seven untitled songs, sounds like music to an imaginary sixties new wave film that mixes Soviet space drama with spaghetti western gunfights on a scorching hot desert, all covered with slavic melancholy. The record was released originally covered in a striking red and black 20's Soviet avantgarde style cover design. The Svart Records vinyl reissue comes in a blue cover that better reflects the changed times. The vinyl also includes a booklet full of memorabilia and text that look back to the creation of this spectacular album.

During the 13 years of existence of our label we have managed to turn many a dream project into reality and reissued countless numbers of forgotten and overlooked gems. There has, however, been one dream we've chased for years that is now finally manifesting itself on vinyl - the albums of the most remarkable Finnish post rock band Magyar Posse and especially the second of their three records, Kings of Time. Magyar Posse's debut album We Will Carry You Over The Mountains (2001) was already an impressive, ambitious work in which the band effortlessly mixed Goblin and Ennio Morricone influences into their melodic and atmospheric blend of instrumental post-something. It was, though, the second album Kings of Time, that took the band from the darlings of the local alternative music press to such levels of artistic expression that even the mainstream media had to pay attention. The album, consisting of seven untitled songs, sounds like music to an imaginary sixties new wave film that mixes Soviet space drama with spaghetti western gunfights on a scorching hot desert, all covered with slavic melancholy. The record was released originally covered in a striking red and black 20's Soviet avantgarde style cover design. The Svart Records vinyl reissue comes in a blue cover that better reflects the changed times. The vinyl also includes a booklet full of memorabilia and text that look back to the creation of this spectacular album.

Spills is the debut album from Spairs (made up of Jonn Penney and Dan
Worton of Ned's Atomic Dustbin) and features mighty riffs, emotion and
rock/moshability one would expect from such pedigree
This prolific lyricist, combined with the multi- instrumentalist talent that is Dan
Worton, has created something very special. This isn’t a Ned’s Atomic Dustbin
side project, this is a totally new beast born out of lockdown.

Joakim Ahlund has been a member of both internationally successful
groups Caesars and Teddybears and is responsible for evergreens such
as Jerk it out (Caesars) and Cobrastyle, Punkrocker, Hey Boy
(Teddybears) as well as starting and being the main driving force behind
projects like the more space rock oriented Les Big Byrd, indie pop two
man orchestra Smile (With Björn Yttling from Peter, Björn and John)
He has also worked as a songwriter and producer for numerous other artists like
for example Robyn, Giorgio Moroder, Charlie XcX and Håkan Hellström etc.
Jockum Nordström is one of Swedens most internationally acclaimed visual
artists and has had successful exhibitions at museums like the MoMA in NYC
and prestigious art fairs and museums in Paris, Berlin, Japan and all over the
world. The two friends met when Joakim asked Jockum to make the cover art for
his band Caesars' albums. When Joakim found

B. Bravo (aka Adam Mori) returns to Bastard Jazz with the long-awaited follow-up to his 2017 debut LP, "Paradise," with a fresh full-length offering: "Vizionz." Replete with his signature future funk vibes, infectiously soulful grooves, and talkbox excursions, "Vizionz" sees the multifaceted artist take the classic West Coast into outer space. If B. Bravo's last album sought to get lost in paradise - enjoying the moment here and now - "Vizionz" looks forward, feet placed firmly in an established LA vibe, while the matured eyes of a veteran producer gaze keenly to the future.

"Vizionz" arrives following a slew of diverse singles, which highlight B. Bravo's stunning versatility as a songwriter, producer, and collaborator. Last year's "Lifted (What U Waiting 4)" came first, at the end of May, 2020, pairing g-funk talk-box verses and synth lines with rich vocal harmonies and a dance-floor-ready beat. Frequent collaborator Reva DeVito (Miami Horror, Kaytranada) makes a standout vocal appearance on "Fly Bye," the second single. Here, Adam surrounds Reva's vocals with ambient pads, a Dilla-inspired beat, and an irresistible bassline, while Reva's dreamily sings about getting away from it all. The final single, "Believe," sees Chuck Inglish (of the famed duo The Cool Kids) rhyme in his distinctive baritone over a bass-heavy instrumental meant to rattle some car stereos.

The singles offer a view into the rest of the album: Solo B. Bravo joints include "Moon Bounce," a talk-box boogie jam begging for late-night drives with the top down; the largely-instrumental synth improvisation, "Midnight Rider;" the upbeat "Penelope," which showcases Adam's vocal and harmonic prowess; a bumping g-funk interlude, with "Flip Out;" as well as the laid back album opener, "Da Essence."

Further vocal assists come by way of Sally Green on the flirty "10/10," and Rojai on the slow jam ""No Regrets" . Both singers have worked on B. Bravo projects in the past, with Rojai additionally joining forces with Adam to form the duo Kool Customer, whose self-titled debut album was released on Bastard Jazz in 2018. Two more hip-hop-leaning tracks are aided by Def Sound ("Back Times Two") and Nico Fasho ("Ms. Stardust"); leaning heavy into outerspace G-Funk Hip-Hop vibes.

Taken as a whole, "Vizionz" is a much needed boost of serotonin: Uncompromisingly positive, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes aspirational, but always funky. The range of styles is a testament to Adam's indelible production chops, songwriting skill, and ability to collaborate. While it has been a long 5 years since "Paradise," "Vizionz" proves more than worth the wait.

Born and raised in California, with roots in Japan, B. Bravo's signature style of Cosmic Funk and late night synth grooves have made him a favorite among DJ's, dancers, and music lovers worldwide. A tasteful producer, sought after remixer, party rocking DJ, master of the talkbox, band leader, and alumnus of the Red Bull Music Academy, Mr. Bravo is an accomplished performer both at home and abroad.

Heavily inspired by the synthesizer-enhanced R&B grooves of the late '70s and early '80s, B. Bravo debuted in 2009 with the seven-track "Analog Starship" EP. A deeper impression was made the following year with a shorter extended play, "Computa Love," the title track of which was supported by BBC DJ Benji B months prior to release. Additional strides were made with a batch of singles and EPs that followed throughout the next few years, as Bravo toured and performed at numerous festivals around the world.

His relationship with the Brooklyn tastemaker label, Bastard Jazz Recordings, began in 2016 with the 7" single "I'm For Real / Stay The Night' (which notably featured a Mr. Carmack remix of the latter). Bravo's debut solo LP quickly followed with 2017's critically acclaimed "Paradise" - which shone a light on vocalists and frequent collaborators Reva DeVito, Trailer Limon, Kissey, and Lauren Faith - with a remix album appearing six months later.

Additional solo releases have found a home on Gilles Peterson's Brownswood Recordings and Frite Nite, while production credits have appeared on releases from the legendary Blue Note Records, HW&W, All City, Friends of Friends, and Tokyo Dawn. B. Bravo has worked on projects with the likes of Salva, Mr. Carmack, Teeko, DJ Lean Rock, Reva DeVito, Lauren Faith, and Kate Stewart.

Having toured throughout the US, Latin America, Europe and Asia, he's shared the stage with performers like Erykah Badu, Flying Lotus, DāM-FunK, Hudson Mohawke, at a world-spanning range of festivals such as Detroit Electronic Music Fest, HARD LA, Northern Nights, Laneway Singapore, Sonar in Barcelona, Snowglobe, SXSW, Basscoast, Do-Over, Low End Theory, Boiler Room, and Soulection.

B. Bravo's "Vizionz" LP is out on Brooklyn's Bastard Jazz Recordings Spring, 2022.

For its latest album, Pirate Radio / Radio Pirata (Thirty Tigers), the band collaborated with major songwriters such as Blair Daly, Zac Maloy, and Sam Hollander for a triumphant and empowering collection of rock fused with an accessible pop structure and some of the everyday heart infused by Nashville’s country sound. “On this album, I’m free, and I can say things I was scared to say before. People deserve hope, and this record spreads a message,” Diaz says. The 11-song album will be released in English and Spanish—a unique feat for a rock release. SLP’s sophomore American release, Pirate Radio / Radio Pirata, is an artistic and personal milestone for the group. It is a concept album that loosely mirrors SLP’s journey to be artistically liberated against a stifling government regime, and the story unfolds with theatrical grandeur. The album’s unique melding of ultra-hooky choruses with ethereal ambience and passionate vocals and lyrics recalls such diverse artists as Paramore, Muse, and Olivia Rodrigo.

For its latest album, Pirate Radio / Radio Pirata (Thirty Tigers), the band collaborated with major songwriters such as Blair Daly, Zac Maloy, and Sam Hollander for a triumphant and empowering collection of rock fused with an accessible pop structure and some of the everyday heart infused by Nashville’s country sound. “On this album, I’m free, and I can say things I was scared to say before. People deserve hope, and this record spreads a message,” Diaz says. The 11-song album will be released in English and Spanish—a unique feat for a rock release. SLP’s sophomore American release, Pirate Radio / Radio Pirata, is an artistic and personal milestone for the group. It is a concept album that loosely mirrors SLP’s journey to be artistically liberated against a stifling government regime, and the story unfolds with theatrical grandeur. The album’s unique melding of ultra-hooky choruses with ethereal ambience and passionate vocals and lyrics recalls such diverse artists as Paramore, Muse, and Olivia Rodrigo.

France is the trio of Jeremie Sauvage on electric bass, Mathieu Tilly on drums and Yann Gourdon on amplified hurdy-gurdy. They play one note / one rhythm producing energetic performances reminiscent of the early collaborations between Faust and Tony Conrad. Creativly recycled influences result in intense shows with pounding overtones and repetitive pulsing rhythms. Loud straight and trance-inducing.

The pertinency of the recordings only slowly appear On Occitanie" in the mass of sound, the rhythmic repetition and the elongated drones. The hurdy-gurdy forces you deeper, highlighting points of microtonal flux, cracking open the single note, the nodding rhythm, to imply the presence of every note, every sound, inside it. The insensible evolution, lurks in a corner of noise and finally imposes itself slowly on careful listening.

The band members of France perform in various other projects: Tanz Mein Herz, Toad and Jérico, all are member of the collective La Novià, an organisation based in Haute-Loire which brings together professional musicians and is a place for reflection and experimentation around traditional and / or experimental music.

In 2009, France was invited to play in Pau, a city far south-west of France, next to spain, by the people running Pagans Musica, a like-minded traditionnal-oriented group of people, also bent on educational issues concerning the local music and dialect: Occitan and on fusioning traditional musics and rock related sounds and instruments. They had set up a show for France and their band Artus and originaly wanted to have Acid Mother's Temple join the bill. The japanese band had done versions of songs coming from their village (eg. "La Nòvia") but weren't touring near France so instead they invited Duo Ancelin Rouzier as the third act, a band both Artus and France were also very fond of.

Pagans had everything set-up for the concert to be recorded and as France had plenty of time for sound-check, they went on to record the Pau" album in the afternoon, taking a thirty seconds pause in the middle of the session so as to mark both sides of the vinyl. The Occitanie Lp is the recording of the live set later that night, with no cut and a longer, more savage performance.

Anthology introducing the first of a series of albums based on the concept of Aquapelago.

‘’ Since the earliest days of the planet there has been a rhythm of tides that creates coastal interzones where humans have foraged and pursued various livelihoods. Developing boats to fish from and technologies that enabled them to immerse themselves deep underwater, the aquatic realm has been one explored, experienced and imagined in various ways. In an effort to express the vitality and richness of this environment I coined the term aquapelago in 2012. The wordplay was deliberate. The neologism was designed to distinguish the liquid inbetweenness of this space from the dry, scattered, lands of archipelagos.

The concept of the aquapelago coalesced around themes taken from various places. Epeli Hau’ofa’s idea of an Oceanic “sea of islands’” was formative but a number of songs were also inspirational. Torres Strait islander Seaman Dan captivated me with his experiences of pearl diving in the Darnley Deeps in his song ‘Forty Fathoms’ and Norfolk Islander singer Kath King imaged how sea-turtles might have experienced ecological change in her song ‘Tech me how fer lew’. Other reflections on watery realms also appealed. Debussy’s solo piano piece ‘La cathédrale engloutie’ soundtracked me as I researched myths of lost Lyonesse while Mike Cooper’s Kiribati, an ambient exoticist album about the imperilled archipelago (recently re-released on Discrepant), caused me to reflect on the social and cultural impact of sea level rise before that topic became a high-profile concern.

This compilation album takes the concept of the aquapelago into new depths and breaches it on fresh shores. The tracks are soaked with the aquatic. Bassy sonorities boom as if heard deep underwater. Bubbly textures breach the surface, water drips and seabirds soar high above waves. Sugai Kei samples fragments of text concerning the Ningen, a fantastic humanoid/whale that reflects the ‘aquapelagic imaginary’ of modern Japan and its preoccupation with industrial whaling. Andrew Pekler continues the orientation of his Phantom Islands project - a sonic atlas of imaginary places - with a soundscape as if heard by a swimmer just offshore, mixing sounds of the island and the sea together. Mike Cooper’s sonic reflection on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island is similar, combining the island’s ubiquitous barking dogs with the slurp of waves on rocky shores, conjuring a languorous time before Chinese crackdowns on the territory.

Taking another tack, the Dead Mauriacs gleefully water-ski through collage of tropical island exoticisms, replete with glitchy orientalism, while Babau combines skittering idiophone melodies with resonant glissandi. Vica Pacheco moves between dense and airy sounds, as if crossing between surf lines and the space above. Yannkick Dauby’s track is also imbued with in-betweenness, evoking ambient sounds heard through a ship’s hull. Sculpture’s ‘Froth Surfer’ realises its title, with bubbling sounds and rhythms that evoke Hawaiian surfing filtered through layers of time and distance. Reminding us of the shore necessary for aquapelagic spaces, Franceso Cavaliere and Tomoko Sauvage’s composition anchors the album, centred around shaken rhythms and resonant ringing tones and drones.

Taken together, the album sketches the contours of the aquapelago as it might be imagined and conjured in sound – an endless oceanic realm that laps on to beaches and crashes against cliffs. The performers navigate this space under alternately starry and cloudy skies, orientating themselves with sounds, textures and sonic samples of their terrestrial homes while we float with them. ‘’
Philip Hayward December 2021

Drawing the night in around his private, unnerving vigil, Ellis Swan returns to Quindi Records with an album of cracked beauty and haunted balladry. The Chicago-based singer-songwriter debuted on the label last year with a collaborative project called Dead Bandit, a vividly produced instrumental set in thrall to the badlands and a laconic, languid Americana.

Under his own name, Swan records intimate, poetic songs in a stark fashion, so fragile they might disintegrate in between your fingers were you to pick them up. He draws the microphone close to pick up every whisper and drags the music through layer upon layer of tape fuzz, leaving room for atmospheric impressions which loom out of the walls like the ghosts of past misdeeds. These pieces play on the natural distortion and delirium which occurs at the farthest end of the night - the hour before dawn might hope to break the veil of darkness.

Swan's is a hauntological sound, but like the late Israeli rockabilly icon Charlie Megira his process strikes a spooked tone past revivalism and out of time or place. The only anchor which places Swan anywhere is the subtle presence of Katherine Swan providing lyrics to '3am' and lyrics and backing vocals to 'It Could Be Worse'.

The impression cast is of one man and his guitar, but there are other textures tucked into the music - the muffled murmur of a drum machine or a low frequency organ hum, some desolate piano, other treated percussive impulses which might well have been the work of incidental sprites while the four-track was rolling.

There are fuller cuts like 'Evening Sun' and the title track '3am' which play with structural dynamics and creep out of the shadows a touch, while passages of plaintive, instrumental unease such as the hypnotic, mantra-like 'Chinatown' protract the space between songs. 'Swing' lolls between moments of bottomless silence and a discernible, rickety funk, and 'Puppeteers Tears' teases out a buried drama. But primarily, it's the light touch of 'Horses Bones' and tin can tenderness of 'She's My Sweet Summer Storm' which spell out the spellbinding character of 3am; a singular creation fusing the best qualities of folk, blues and Americana with a fearlessly experimental sound palette.

Repress in soon. For the third installment of his PeteStrumentals series, producer Pete Rock takes a departure from the sample-heavy style that has earned him recognition as a living Hip-Hop legend. This twelve-track project is instead a collection of beats crafted by the producer, then reimagined by his stellar band, The Soul Brothers - drummer Daru Jones (Jack White), keyboardist BigYuki, bassist MonoNeon (Prince), guitarist Marcus Machado and vocalist Jermaine Holmes (D'Angelo); all critically acclaimed musicians in their own rights. After performing together across Manhattan, cementing their creative bond, Pete Rock & The Soul Brothers combined their individual musical influences and experiences to craft a smooth sonic experience that is truly the sum of all of its stylistic and instrumental parts. PeteStrumentals 3 is a masterful blend of Funk, Jazz, Hip-Hop and Soul, a mellow soundtrack for any occasion.

Death. Sex. Doomed Romance. These three simple phrases define the sound and thematic presence of Panic Priest. The musical project of singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist Jack Armondo (of “dark pop” outfit My Gold Mask), Panic Priest is centered around Armondoʼs deep, crooning vocals while weaving together dreamy guitars and synths. For fans of New Order, Tears for Fears, The Sisters of Mercy, and Clan of Xymox.

Panic Priestʼs long awaited sophomore effort Second Seduction is a significant sonic expansion on the projectʼs signature sound (which was first unveiled by way of the debut self-titled offering in 2018). Co-produced and engineered by Brian Fox (Wingtips, Ganser), the new album intertwines classic genres such as darkwave, post-punk and goth while a richly layered modern synth-pop sensibility elevates the album to something larger than simple nostalgic recreation. Performed and composed almost entirely by Armondo (with key contributions by Twin Tribes, Vincent Segretario of Wingtips and Gretta Rochelle of My Gold Mask), Second Seduction is simultaneously personal yet fantastical. A cathartic account of Armondoʼs real life experiences, stemming from personal heartbreak, life as a non-monogamous individual and even current political anxieties, be prepared to once again be tempted and lured into the world of Panic Priest. Midnight Mannequin Records is proud to present this deluxe reissue of Second Seduction, pressed on limited edition “Kiss Me Dead” ghost white (frosted clear) 140 gram vinyl. Includes OBI strip and insert with lyrics and liner notes.

12" Widespine Gloss Jacket, Full Color Printed Record Sleeves, 1x Red & Black Marbled Vinyl, 1x Blue & Black Marbled Vinyl and Free Digital Download Card. Growing up in his hometown of Atlanta, artist/producer Sol Messiah has always been inundated with the rich and energizing spirit of Hip Hop culture. Breakdancing from a young age eventually led him joining the legendary Rock Steady Crew out of New York City and learning and mastering the skill of DJing. From there, he began taking an interest in production too, which ultimately led him to working alongside legendary Atlanta producer, Dallas Austin. While Sol Messiah's time with Austin created a deep catalog filled with timeless tracks for TLC, Madonna, Boyz II Men and more, he eventually chose to pursue his own path independently and spent years building a stunning catalog of his own, producing popular tracks for Chamillionaire, David Banner, Nappy Roots, Dead Prez and more. Soon, Sol Messiah would embark on a fruitful musical partnership with a fierce lyricist named Sa-Roc. Together, Sa-Roc and Messiah have released over a dozen projects thus far, including Sa-Roc's groundbreaking 2020 debut on Rhymesayers Entertainment, The Sharecropper's Daughter. As a duo, Sa-Roc and Sol Messiah have amassed a global reach, touring internationally and rocking crowds across continents. They have performed at the legendary Jazz Cafe in London, performed live for BBC, and have shared the stage with luminaries such as Common, The Roots and Jay Electronica. On GOD CMPLX, Sol Messiah connects with some of the finest MCs in the game to create an impressive collection of Hip Hop music that's both innovative and inspiring. Featuring guest performances from KXNG Crooked, Sa-Roc, Evidence, Locksmith, Slug (Atmosphere), Murs, Aesop Rock, Baba Zumbi (Zion I), Che Noir, Lyric Jones and more, GOD CMPLX is a powerful and engaging project serving as a testament to Sol Messiah's skills both as a producer as well a visionary.

Last album recorded by Colombian rock pioneers Los Speakers in 1968 after leaving behind its affinity with yéyé and go-go music. One of the most brilliantly whacked-out psych LPs to emerge from South America. Originally self-released on their own Producciones Kris label, this is an almost impossible to find cult record. Officially reissued for the first time. By 1968, Colombian rock had left behind its affinity with yéyé and go-go music. In Medellín, Discos Fuentes had terminated its contract with Los Yetis, whose farewell record "Olvídate" set a strong anti-establishment tone. While the fire of protest that had spread rapidly among students in Paris was dying out, young people in Bogotá voiced their discontent. Aware of the effervescent political climate across the world, Los Speakers wrote their last record between June and September of the convulsive year of 1968. In order to give shape to these new songs they needed a space where they could experiment freely with sound. The music historian and critic and sound engineer, Manuel Drezner, made a providential appearance and offered the innovative Ingeson studios to the trio under one condition: that his company's name was included in the title of the record. For four months, Rodrigo, Manuel and Roberto created a record that was completely different to anything on the Colombian rock scene at that time. Los Speakers used cutting-edge equipment to record and mix "El maravilloso mundo de Ingeson", It was the first time local musicians had access to a multichannel mixing desk where they could experiment with all kinds of bold sound effects. The silences between songs were replaced with brief intervals of sound including the noise of a train running over a passer-by, a bomb exploding_ Although it's often labelled a conceptual record, the four compositions that each of the band members contribute reveal different aesthetic personalities. From the strong influence of Renaissance and Baroque poetry and music to the virulent social critique and pacifist statements, suffused with religiosity and mysticism. Armed with the demo tape, Los Speakers presented the project to CBS, Philips, Sonolux and Bambuco. The labels' verdict was unanimous: not very commercial and very costly. The group reacted to this negative response by pooling their personal savings, inventing a fictious record label called Kris and released the record just as they had imagined it. This led to the creation of a graphic concept unheard of in Colombia: the record included a booklet containing photos, texts and illustrations. Although there was a big media roll out, which included TV appearances and features in newspapers and magazines, as predicted the album was a commercial failure_ "El maravilloso mundo de Ingesón" is one of the most brilliantly whacked-out psych LPs to emerge from South America.