quête:rüben

Closely following a busy 2023, GiGi FM announces her brand-new record label, offering “Kiwi Synthesis Diary Vol. 2” to mark the debut. Sea~rène takes aim at dreamlike and ethereal electronic music to reconnect the subconscious and the cosmos through immersive storytelling. As the identity quote of the label says itself “We are Sea~rène swimming in-between supernatural tides, forever following the emotional waves of the universe”.

Already quite accomplished in her milieu through an acclaimed release on Bambounou’s Bambelabel, where she explored the relationship between bodily technologies and music, as well as through her residency on NTS Radio where she explores inter-dimensional sounds and shares her own musical palette, GiGi also continues to perform at strings of performances in the past years in settings like Berghain, Rural Japan, Draaimolen, Fabric, De School, Primavera, The Bunker New York, and Sustain Release. The French/Italian artist takes her productions further with this first release of her imprint. A continuation of her first self-released project, “Kiwi Synthesis Diary 21k,” in 2021, GiGi FM celebrates the exchange between her, as the owner of the journal, and its reader through euphoric soundscapes and vibrant psychedelia. Taking a step back from lockdown introspections, blurred lines between dream and reality like ambient and drony atmospheres, GiGi gives us a bent club record full of colors and life.

GiGi FM guides us through dreams of sonic environments and the adventures to be had through them. Some are characterized by evolving fractals and shifting landscapes like in the healing mushroom journey of ‘Amadamushies’ and the mythical Japanese Heron ‘Tsuru’. Combining steady rhythm and immersive ambiances, the result intends to soothe into a state of openness through kindly familiar territories. Sifting through the tracks, we find ourselves traveling fast through cosmic ecosystems like in the spiritual and cosmic teaching that “Tevora'' represents, as well as ‘Househopping (Keroppi)’ and “Sly Xupete Di Barcelona,” conveying the urgency to feel and create, even within difficult circumstances, while “Spazio Teletrasporto'' takes us on a hypnotic whirlwind trip into the depths of the cosmos and our inner consciousness. Through these chapters of a journey, a connection between the mind and the beyond is implied, and its importance is highlighted.

Deeply influenced by astrology, philosophy, and the cosmos; for GiGi, music is both a tool for expression and introspection. As a multi-hyphenate artist, she continues on her quest to push artistic boundaries and hold space for unique audience experiences. Whatever medium she may adopt, the result is a rich embodiment of the interconnectedness of sound, color, movement, and metaphysics.

One more year, we are now working tirelessly on our beloved label. Just as we did last year, this 2023, we are back with our 'ANAØH INVITES' series.

Last year we had the wonderful presence of James Ruskin and Ben Sims as guests of honor, that wonderful 12' vinyl sold out in a few weeks, however it is time to present our second volume, where again Dig-It and Fixon as hosts of the label invite 2 artists to join them and release original 4 tracks on a special edition 12' vinyl. In this second chapter we have the presence of a veteran whom we respect and love deeply, one of the main people responsible for the classic hardgroove sound , Mark Williams.
As well as one of our wonder boys, the virtuous CRAVO.

We feel honored and moved to have this second collaboration, which we hope will please everyone! Thank you for all the love and support during these first 7 years of adventure.

From México with Love. Fixon & Dig-It

SULPHUR AEONs neuestes Werk ist gesegnet mit Kontrasten, klanglicher Ebbe und Flut. Ein Taifun kantiger Riffs und wilder Blastbeats, raffinierte Melodieschichten, dichte Atmosphäre und triumphal gesungene Refrains reißen dich mit. Ätherische Akustikgitarren, subtile Synthesizer, einen Hauch von Gothic ('The Yearning Abyss Devours Us'), satte Leads, E-Bow-Parts, heftige Aggression ('Arcane Cambrian Sorcery'), monumentale Schwere, die in hypnotische Gesangsmuster übergeht ('Seven Crowns And Seven Seals'), und ein großes Finale ('Beneath The Ziqqurrats') - "Seven Crowns And Seven Seals" überschreitet Genres; es wütet und zerstört, lullt dich im nächsten Moment in gefährlich täuschende Ruhe, nur um dich unwiderbringlich in den dunklen Strudel des Ozeans zu reißen. SULPHUR AEON meistern ihren durchdringenden Cinematic Death Metal der Extraklasse, gehen über sich hinaus und klingen dabei doch unverkennbar kohärent - perfekt eingefangen und verfeinert von den langjährigen Mitarbeitern Simon Werner und Michael Zech (Secrets Of The Moon, Bølzer etc.), während das Mastering von V. Santura (Triptykon, Dark Fortress) übernommen wurde. Was das Artwork betrifft, so haben SULPHUR AEON diesmal mit der Tradition gebrochen, wieder mit Ola Larsson zu arbeiten, und sich mit dem Italiener Paolo Girardi zusammengetan, um eine Lovecraft'sche Apokalypse darzustellen, die der Opulenz und Dynamik des Albums einen raueren Stil entgegensetzt.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

The 1973 album “El Violento” was the fifth full-length salsa LP led by Julio Ernesto Estrada Rincón, aka Fruko, and the second credited to Fruko Y Sus Tesos. Though it did not contain hits like ‘A la memoria del muerto’ or ‘El Preso’, it’s a collector’s item today in places like the US, Europe and Japan, perhaps precisely because it is obscure yet full to the brim with unrelentingly hard and heavy salsa bangers that never let up from start to finish (hence the title, which translates as “The Violent One”). A mix of originals and interesting covers, the LP is “all killer and no filler”, purposely designed to set the dance floor ablaze. It features Fruko’s two main vocalists that took over from the first pair of Humberto “Huango” Muriel and “Píper Pimienta” Díaz, namely the beloved duo of Álvaro “Joe” Arroyo and Wilson “Saoko” Manyoma. Los Tesos were a talented “wild bunch” who listened to their fearless leader, with Fruko holding down the bottom end on electric bass, Hernán Gutiérrez in the piano chair, the Villegas brothers on hand percussion (Jesús tickling the bongos and Fernando slapping the congas), augmented by Rafael Benítez on timbales and an ace horn section of Freddy Ferrer and Gonzálo Gómez (trombones) and Jorge Gaviria and Salvador Pasos (trumpets). The super aggressive sound comes directly from the South Bronx playbook of Willie Colón. The snarling trombones and soaring trumpet are somewhat sweetened by a nice little Puerto Rican cuatro guitar solo. Sonically lightening the mood somewhat, ‘Nadando’ (‘Swimming’) is a bouncy tune in the ‘Mercy’ genre (basically a hybrid of pop, funky soul, cumbia and salsa, in the style of Nelson y Sus Estrellas), gleefully sung by Joe Arroyo. The beats are complex and ever changing, with a little bit of mozambique, conga, bomba, jala jala and of course salsa thrown in for good measure. The side closes out with a brilliant, uptempo salsa reworking of the venerable ranchera chestnut, ‘Tú, sólo tú’. Side two explodes with the frenetic descarga jam session ‘Salsa na’ ma’—which is exactly that: nothing more than the hottest “sauce” to make the dancers go crazy. Fruko’s tune is dedicated to the Latin community in New York that listens to salsa from everywhere and dances to it so fervently on the weekend. The relentless percussion propels the listener along at breakneck speed as if hurtling down the Bronx Expressway, demonstrating that Fruko y Sus Tesos have mastered the ‘violent’ form of urban salsa that was having its transnational moment in the early 1970s. While “El Violento” may not be as well known as some Fruko records, it certainly deserves a new look and should be assessed on its own merits as a very powerful, confident entry in the historical evolution of Colombian salsa dura.Sleeve

Top Boy is the British television crime drama series, created and written by Ronan Bennett. The story follows two seasoned drug dealers return to the gritty streets of London, but their pursuit of money and power is threatened by a young and ruthless hustler. It stars Ashley Walters, Kane Robinson, and the

2020 BAFTA Rising Star Award-winning Michael Ward. The first two seasons aired between 2011 and 2013, but following interest from rapper Drake, Netflix announced in 2017 that it would revive the series. Co-produced by the Hotline Bling-rapper, the third and fourth season of Top Boy launched in 2019 and 2022.

In the captivating Netflix series Top Boy, Brian Eno’s transcendent music serves as a vital companion, molding the narrative’s essence with its ethereal power. With a masterful touch, Eno’s atmospheric compositions effortlessly transport us into the gritty world of crime, friendship, and survival in East London. From delicate ambience to pulsating beats, his sonic tapestry envelops every scene, elevating the storytelling and evoking a range of emotions. Eno’s singular ability to capture the struggle, hope, and inner strength of the characters accentuates the raw authenticity of Top Boy, leaving an indelible mark on its viewers. His haunting melodies and intricately crafted soundscapes symbolize the unyielding resilience amidst chaos, making Brian Eno’s music an integral and unforgettable component of this groundbreaking series.

Mind Against launch their eagerly awaited imprint Habitat with a 15-track compilation titled “METAFLORA”, available as a deluxe transparent vinyl 3LP box set including a 24x12” fold-out poster.

Suitably, the compilation features new and emerging artists with whom Mind against have relationships, and recurrent motifs of subtly unsettling melodic house/techno building alternate worlds in soundscapes.

Mind Against & Sideral – ‘Criseide’ heralds this new world with portentous pounding beat/bass, the melodic synth singing beneath like beauty surviving under threat, the vocal/lyrics with an edge of alarm: ‘if you think it couldn’t happen to you…’

‘Talk To Me’ by Dyzen (who also collab’ed with Mind Against on their fabric presents compilation) has stately chords riding a prancing beat while sombre piano and sweet high vocal create a heraldic, post-apocalyptic nu-medieval world, whereas Sam Shure’s ‘Plus Ultra’ has rattling percussion, with melody like a coded message from an abandoned spaceship to which something replies in stark tones…

Marino Canal, whose debut album was released by Nicole Moudaber’s MOOD, and who has support from many big names including fabric’s founder Keith Reilly, features plangent notes veering up, down and off the scale for a disturbing effect in ‘Ample’, while Swiss duo Read The News in ‘A Place’ set a fast, kicking beat against a female voice yearning for ‘a space where I can just be’.

Remcord, often played by Black Coffee, Tale of Us and more besides MA, show us why in ‘Entourage Effect’ while Laroz gives a lively melody and raucous chords in ‘Don’t Touch’ feat. Sheera as her cool, raunchy, layered vocals come to the fore.

Y'all ready to mangle peoples heads??? Most of you are, but not YOU,-YOU know who you are, get out of here with your NU Garage chipmunk vocal Bass-Hop shit...

Mr. Cool aka Louie Fresco aka El Cabrone has some heat right here.
Get it- heat, cause he's from Mexico City, and cause the ep is Picante.

Pride is some dank ass bassment shit right here.
Percussive grooves for days, mind melting sounds and a nice tripped out vocal to round it all out.
Pride has a modern minimal shuffle, and that swingy greasy percussion that the Mexicans do
so well,its even low rumble that hits just right in the booty.

A perfect combo of blended brains and brawn!

On the flip we have the K-Dot. I hope it's referencing some new drug that is microdot acid and K combined in a mind warping 250Mg tablet.
This song sounds just like that, mind bending, face melting grinding madness, it rolls and rolls and evolves and evolves.
Put that record on and just watch people make twisted faces and dance like they are puppets getting their strings pulled.

Mr. Cool nailed this, and I question his sanity, and life choices. Nobody normal makes music like
this.

If you don't like this record now, you probably will in 18 years when it's the jam all over again cause a 65 year old Raresh drops it at Sunwaves 309.

Mind you if we keep this global warming shit up, all our vinyl gonna melt. Live in the moment and buy records now.

Repress.

Back in 2015, Japanese DIY house pioneer Soichi Terada stepped back into the limelight courtesy of Rush Hour's 'Sounds From The Far East', a Hunee curated retrospective of material first released on his own Far East Recording label in the 1990s and early 2000s. Buoyed by the positive response and renewed interest in his work, Terada went back into studio to record his first new album of house music for over 25 years, Asakusa Light.

Developed over 18 months, Terada tried to recreate the mental and physical processes that led to the creation of his acclaimed earlier work. Those familiar with Terada’s celebrated, dancefloor-focused sound of the 1990s – a vibrant, atmospheric, and emotive take on deep house powered by the twin attractions of groove and melody – will find much to enjoy on Asakusa Light.

“I tried to recall my feelings 30 years ago, but when I tried it, I found it super difficult,” he explains. “I didn’t even know what I thought about myself five years ago, and the mental metabolic cycle seems to be faster than I thought. I tried different methods, including digging up my old MIDI data and composing by remembering old experiences. With the help of Rush Hour, I found some of the light from my heart that I had 30 years ago. I nicknamed the light I found in my heart, ‘Asakusa Light’.”

Produced using the very same synthesizers and drum machines that powered his 1990s work, the album is a joyous, colourful and life-affirming collection of timeless house music that not only recalls Terada’s own impeccable back catalogue, but also that of similarly celebrated contemporaries such as the Burrell Brothers or Ben Cenac (Dream 2 Science, Sha-Lor).

Terada, who has spent much of the last two decades writing video game music, has always had a gift for combining warm, undulating synthesizer basslines and perfectly programmed machine drums with stirring chords, smile-inducing melodies and mellow musical flourishes. It’s this immersive, sun-kissed and tuneful trademark style that takes centre stage on Asakusa Light, an album for the ages.

The set begins with the alien-sounding chords, soft-touch percussion and dawn-friendly warmth of ‘Silent Chord’ and ends on a high via the bouncing string stabs, starlight chords and thickset grooves of ‘Blinker’; in between, you’ll find a deluge of effortlessly feelgood music that’s the aural equivalent of a dopamine rush at sunrise.

There are subtle variations aplenty throughout the album – see the 8-bit lead lines and pulsing electronic textures of ‘Takusambient’, the vintage Tony Humphries flex of ‘Diving Into Minds’ and the effortlessly funky ‘Marimbau’ – but it’s the uniquely atmospheric, vivid and tactile nature of Terada’s loved-up sound that resonates. After well over 30 years in house music, the light in his heart is shining brighter than ever.

This July the esteemed scribe, proper DJ, and discreetly deft twiddler Bill Brewster, drops the latest instalment in his ‘After Dark’ series, for Late Night Tales.

A throbbing, louche and leisurely affair, groove is very much at the heart of this freestyle selection, a vibe which Bill de- scribes as “a basement, a red light and a sound system. Or, as the Beastie’s once rapped, slow and low, that is the tempo”.

There’s Hawaiian drum machine bossa balearica from Island Band, percussive afro post punk from Czech jazz singer Jana Koubkova, and breathy-bubbling-dubwise-slap-bass-soul from Debbe& The Code.

There’s also sultry deep house mood music from Lanowa, infectious bouncy jazz funk breaks from Canada High, and Nail’s life affirming re-edit of singer songwriter Gilbert O Sullivan’s electro pop gem ‘So What’.

Bill’s own studio skills are present and correct too, featuring an undulating bassy version of country troubadour Jeb Loy Nichols, reworked along Alex Tepper under their Hotel Motel moniker, and a chugged-up squelchy disco take on Khruang- bin, this time paired with Raj Gupta, as Mang Dynasty.

Chock full of exclusives, tracks are either completely brand new, or available digitally for the first time, whilst others are wallet-rinsing rarities if purchased elsewhere. Whichever way you slice it though, every tune is a highlight, working equally well as standalone nuggets, or within Bill’s fluidly cohesive mix.

Whether he’s taking the roof off a club with his unique selec- tion of deep and tough house music, enchanting a backroom with a genre-bending set of disco, Balearic, rock and hip hop or playing chillout music in a bay in Croatia, Bill Brewster is the man for all occasions.

In a former life, Bill was a punk rocker, a chef and also the co-editor of football magazine When Saturday Comes but has been a record nerd all of his life. He began DJing in the 1980s, but came into his own in the early 1990s, particularly during a two-year stint in New York running DMC’s office, where nights at the Sound Factory and hanging out with Danny Tenaglia gave him the musical grounding you can still hear in his music today.

Bill was also one of the founding residents at Fabric in London, a position he held for five years. There are few still playing regularly today that have his dedication, eclecticism and encyclopedic knowledge of music.

His parallel life is as a writer, and with his long-term part- ner-in-crime Frank Broughton, they have written four books together, including the acclaimed ‘Last Night A DJ Saved My Life’ (latest edition published last July), ‘How To DJ (Prop- erly)’ and ‘The Record Players’.

He has been working in the industry’s fringes for over 40 years including the running of various labels from Twisted UK and Forensic in the ’90s to Disco Sucks and Anorak in the noughties.

He is one of NTS radio’s new residents for 2023 and his ‘Low Life Loves You’ show is available on the first Tuesday of every month.

As it celebrates its 50th anniversary, Bill Withers' Still Bill remains true to its title – and stands as the greatest male-fronted soul album not made by a singer named Marvin, Al, Sam, James, or Ray. Though the saying "keeping it real" did not exist in popular parlance when Withers released his sophomore effort on Sussex Records, no words better capture the music's approach, mindset, and value. Every facet of Still Bill radiates honesty, truth, and emotion.

These characteristics – along with Withers' strong singing, hybrid arrangements, and deceptively simple songwriting – have allowed the album to endure to the point where it sounds as fresh today as in 1972.

After rising into the Top 5 of the Billboard Album charts and attaining gold status within a year of release, Still Bill has long been evaluated not by sales – but according to its merit, spirit, and agelessness. Included by The Guardian on its "1,000 Albums to Hear Before You Die" list (2007) as well as in Tom Moon's 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die book (2008), its contemporary standing as one of history's most venerated soul efforts eclipses the positive reception it enjoyed in the early ‘70s.

Still Bill walks the same hallowed ground as What's Going On, Call Me, Night Beat, and Genius + Soul = Jazz. Like those landmarks, Still Bill plays with a mix of consistency, effortlessness, and complexity that rewards repeat listening and transcends categorization.

In combining four of the era's predominant styles – Philly soul, sweaty funk, Southern-reared blues, acoustic-based folk – and melding them with standout production borrowed from both minimalist affairs and sophisticated singer-songwriter albums, Still Bill occupies a distinct universe.

Its rhythmic fare is equally laidback and invigorating; relaxing and rollicking; eloquent and muscular; soft and tough. Withers' calm, self-assured voice hovers above it all, doubling as a warm blanket that adds comfort and grace to lyrics steeped in maturity, perspective, and compassion.

Withers' balanced outlook on human desires, needs, and situations stem from his own existence as a former blue-collar employee who believed his time as a musician would soon end. That grounding forever separates Withers from other contemporary soul greats – and stamps Still Bill with a conversational nature and egoless approachability.

"I mean look, I'm really a factory worker," said Withers in 1972. "That's a real job." There's that word again: real. The songs on Still Bill are tethered to modesty and actuality, wedded to a belief in simplicity, and connected to universal truths that link us all – independent of our economic or social standing. No track better exemplifies those principles than "Lean on Me," a feel-good paean to brotherhood and community that hit No. 1 on the pop and R&B charts en route to becoming a mainstream staple.

Withers approaches the plainspoken insight on "Lonely Town, Lonely Street" and heartbreaking vulnerability of "I Don't Want You on My Mind" with similar sincerity and straightforwardness. His proclivity for authenticity extends to the record's other big hit: the sexual, funk-laden "Use Me," which reached No. 2 and reflects the singer's everyman persona. It's an identity couched in keeping it real, the very inclination that ultimately led Withers to retire in the mid-'80s rather than bend to industry pressures or risk credibility.

That commitment to truthfulness and realism helps make Still Bill feel as unaffected as the air we breathe. Looking back on "Lean on Me" years later, Withers said it seemed like "something that was there before I got here" – the kind of song that could be 100 or 10 years old, or one we encounter anew 10 years into the future. The same can be said for every note on Still Bill.