Heavy dubs on the way by producer trio Champion Sound from moscow. Dubcore Volume 22 is a diverse selection of different paced jungle tunes. Champion Sound released before on Through These Eyes Records, Defrostatica, Dub & Roll Records, Uncultured, Frozen Plates and Influential and now dropping four track on the dubcore series.
After some big collaborative tunes with In Flagranti that made big waves a while back, vocalist Natalie Smash is back and in fine form. This new acid-tinged EP for Chicago's Still Music is killer, with San Francisco's very own Loose Control Band (aka DJ Spun and Jonah Sharp in tow. 'New Start' comes in three different but equally vital versions with edgy acid and old school house vibes to spare. The one and only Mystic Bill steps up to remix and as always does so with aplomb and plenty of energy.
The Decades Collected compilations are part of the new Collected compilation series, which is a collaboration between Universal Music and Music On Vinyl. The compilations bring together the biggest names of each decade, combined with forgotten hits and less discovered gems, giving the listener an experience of listening to their favorite tunes while uncovering new musical grounds at the same time.
Various Artists - Tens Collected features Sam Smith “Stay With Me”, Lorde “Royals”, The Weeknd “Starboy”, Dua Lipa “Be The One”, Niall Horan “Slow Hands” and Ellie Goulding “Love Me Like You Do” amongst others.
NNAMDÏ has never been able to stay in one place. The Chicago
multi-instrumentalist and songwriter set a blistering pace in 2020
with his critically acclaimed genre-fusing LP, ‘Brat’, a punk EP,
‘Black Plight’, and ‘Krazy Karl’, a full-length tribute to Looney
Tunes composer Carl Stalling. Add in his role as co-owner of label
Sooper Records, as well as recent tours with Wilco, SleaterKinney and black midi, and it’s an overwhelming schedule.
However, his latest album, ‘Please Have A Seat’, is the result of a
much needed pause. “I realized I never take time to just sit and
take in where I’m at,” says NNAMDÏ. “It’s just nice to not be on
‘Go, Go, Go!’ mode, and re-evaluate where I wanted to go
musically.” This period of reflection allowed him to take stock of his
life and his relationships. “I wanted to be present,” he says. “Each
song came from a moment of clarity.” ‘Please Have A Seat’ serves
as an invitation to listen. It’s a request to sit down, be present, and
take in a moment. With this quiet introspection, NNAMDÏ found
inspiration in silence and nuance.
While making the record, he decided to stretch the limits of his pop
songwriting: every track had to be hummable. Though he’s written
earworms throughout his career from playing in bands in
Chicago’s DIY community or releasing goofy raps as Nnamdi’s
Sooper Dooper Secret Side Project, here, his shapeshifting hooks
are undeniable. Each of the album’s fourteen songs, which
NNAMDÏ wrote, produced, and performed entirely himself, are
relentlessly re-playable, careening into unexpected and
disorienting places. With NNAMDÏ’s singular vision, ‘Please Have
A Seat’ is yet another leap from Chicago’s hardest working
musician. By taking a minute to sit down and catch his breath, he
re-emerged with the most ambitious, accessible, and nuanced
work of his career.
Coloured vinyl LP format pressed on Walnut Brown vinyl.
Low Company presents Yuta Matsumura’s Red Ribbon, a sequence of introspective, lavishly melodic dream-songs and amphibian atmospheres recorded in scattered periods over 2018-21. Having played in bands like Low Life, M.O.B. and Orion, and the duo Jay & Yuta (with Jay Cruikshank), Red Ribbon is Matsumura’s first solo outing, and represents a conscious effort to move away from guitar-based songwriting. He composed its nine tracks mostly on piano - layering vocals, bass, keyboards, flute (courtesy of Maeve Parker), violin/cello (Laurence Quinn) and clacking drumbox rhythms into dynamic, dubwise avant-pop structures which are supple and spacious but fizzing with detail and vivid inner life. The laconic 4/4 pulse, heat-warped synth-tones and haunting vaporous melodica of opener ‘Box Garden’ set the tone: its surreal psychedelic patternings barely concealing a deep sting of longing and regret. The cryptic lyrics suggest chance encounters, hidden logic, missed opportunities, fatalism, serendipity. A city submerged: everyone else paused mid-movement, while you’re allowed to swim free and fish-like through the streets, over the rooftops...‘Tangled Orchid’ is a tense night-drive through dry desert heat and into the unknown, running away from your old life, chased down by dust-devils of half-baked schemes and abandoned plans, while ‘Myth Machine’ drops the tempo and something mind-altering, guiding us on a tripped-out dub-disco scuba among alien flora and fauna, a world of impossible shapes and sensations. At which point, the mood of the album decisively shifts, firstly with ‘Sake No Otoh’, sung in Japanese by Haruka Sato: an instant-classic, breathtakingly intimate lover's lament that sounds like it got lost on its way to heaven and is now doomed to orbit the earth forever. The songs that follow continue in this more confessional, imploring mode. As if the travelling's done, the baggage has been cast off, and we’ve arrived at our destination, where the real process of rebirth and repair can begin. The music’s textures become less overtly dubby and electronic, with more of an organic, earthy, chamber-pop/avant-folk feel, at once sad and hopeful-sounding. Three songs in particular bear the influence of Eno’s 70s work (and its mutant bedsit offspring Lifetones, Flaming Tunes, etc): ‘‘E. Potential’, where baroquely chorused vocals - half-agonised, half-beatific - teeter on top of simple oscillating piano loops, and the stately, dawntreading ballads ‘Tabula Rasa’ and ‘No Sleep For Birds’. The bulk of the album was made prior to lockdowns and all of that; its themes of reset, self-examination, the need to f**k it all off and take spiritual stock, are timeless. Though they perhaps have a more bittersweet resonance now the world has returned pretty much to how it was, only worse. Track list: 1. Box Garden 2. Tangled Orchid 3. Myth Machine 4. Red Ribbon 5. Soko No Ato 6. Tabula Rasa 7. E. Potential 8. No Sleep For Birds 9. Zookeeper's Trial
Es zirkulieren wenige LPs, die über die gesamte Albumlänge die Schönheit und Wärme des „Balearic Sound“ widerspiegeln. Man kann das auch dem Genre “Cosmic“ zuordnen. Arno E. Mathieu aus Südfrankreich schafft auf “Contemplation” das einzigartige flimmernde Licht des „Mediterranen“ einzufangen, und in einem modernen Sound die Stimmungen der Natur des Mittemeerraumes rüber zu bringen. Die Songtitel und das Cover Image ergänzen das abgerundete Stimmungsbild.
Es kommt nicht von Ungefähr, dass DJ Harvey großer Fan von Arno E Mathieu ist und viele seiner Tunes spielt. Wer auch in diesen Kosmos passt, ist Joe Claussell, der neben Franck Roger, I:Cube, Beanfield, Julien Jabre, Mark E, Simoncino, Woolfy, DJ Deep, Gigi Testa, Next Evidence, Max Essa jeder für sich einen tollen Remix abliefert. Fast jeder Track des Albums wurde geremixt.
West Mineral return with a followup to Mister Water Wet’s 2019's subtropical ambient slow-burn debut ‘Bought the Farm’, expanding Iggy Romeu's horizons to contrast feverish Afro-Caribbean ambient jazz with jaunty illbient and atmospheric freakouts. Low-lit heat that’s highly recommended if yr into Nick León, Carlos Niño, Kelman Duran, Gonçalo F. Cardoso.
Mister Water Wet continues to excavate the tropical soundscapes that simmer the producer's Kansas City home with his Puerto Rican roots, on a new album of extended vignettes and mood pieces that cross a late 90’s Mo Wax instrumentals vibe with present day feelings of displacement and ennui.
LP opener ‘Bory’ tunes us into Water Wet’s weirdly fuzzed frequencies, where tremeloed strings and found sounds resemble what might have been a lost dean blunt x dean hurley sound design concept for Inland Empire, while ‘I Saw the Green Flash' opens a swirl of strings and traditional rhythms caught in a reflecting pool of canned classical orchestrals and 1950s theremin wails. 'Good Apple’, meanwhile, cranks up the mood with aged x looped piano paired with an undulating, bass-heavy shuffle that wouldn't sound out of place on a Kelman Duran x Martin Denny mixtape.
'When Kennybrook Burned to the Ground' leans into heady jazz vapours, spreading crackle over pitch-fucked horn samples, but it’s the producer's weird use of percussion that keeps us gripped: scattering his arrangements across the grid, mimicking an ensemble of players deployed in irregular formations. Romeu embraces trip-hop on 'Any Other Time', blending Afro-Caribbean percussion with a swung downtempo beat, while ‘Isthmus’ reminds us of the clatterbox plunder of Moonshake’s PJ Harvey hookup ‘Just a Working Girl’ - with all its asymmetric hooks.
The extended closing track 'Losing Blood' takes a leaf out of Fennesz's glitched rulebook, stretching and folding disintegrating loops through an 11 minute descent into the elegiac aether.
Red Vinyl[27,69 €]
Up The Bracket arrived like a raging bull in a tired post-Britpop china shop and introduced the world to The Libertines, a new gang of London bohemians, whose ragged tunes, red military tunics, opiated poetry and "live now pay never" lifestyle came to define the millennial angst of the early noughties. At the heart of the band is the blood bond bromance between the ramshackle Music Hall Jagger/Richards, Peter Doherty and Carl Barat, ably assisted by the rock solid rhythm twins John Hassall and Gary Powell. Any bookie worth his salt would have given you short odds on this quartet surviving more than a month or two, given the teetering on the brink lifestyle they chose to lead, but here we are two decades later and our Byronic heroes, though older and wiser, are still fighting the good fight and making music every bit as vital as their debut. The belief, talent and fervour that Doherty spoke of in their earliest manifesto has stood them in good stead. Up The Bracket, justly considered one of the greatest albums of the noughties, was originally released on October 21st 2002 by Rough Trade Records. The album, a heady stew of indie rock, skiffle, blues, dub and English bucolic pop, was a huge shot in the arm to a largely redundant music scene and helped to inspire the rebirth of guitar music, going on to influence countless artists who followed in its wake. Up The Bracket, which was produced by Mick Jones of The Clash, takes you on a wondrously poetic journey into the band"s mythical world and their fevered dreams of Albion, a land of squalid glamour, liberty, equality, fraternity, gin palaces and chip shops. Quite simply Pete, Carl, Gary and John created a hugely compelling timeless British rock"n"roll classic debut as relevant now as it was upon its release.
Heist Recordings has been pushing the envelope for house music since day one and we’re always on the lookout for artists that represent our vision on electronic music. Our next guest on the label fits that profile and more. He is the embodiment of modern-day electronic funk and a true wizard on the keys: Atlanta raised cool guy Byron the Aquarius.
Byron has a solid history on the label: He remixed Parker Madicine back in 2017 and did a mad solo on the 2019 released Dam Swindle track ‘The life behind things’. We’ve done some shows together and stayed in touch while Byron was working together with Jeff Mills on his 2020 jazz crossover record ‘Ambrosia’ on Axis. Now, after a solid string of releases on labels like Shall not Fade and Purveyor Underground, Byron is making his solo appearance on Heist. His ‘Akira’ EP goes from dark basement grooves to dreamy broken beats and features a remix by New York dance music wizard Kush Jones.
The Akira EP kicks off with ‘I love yo’. In this track, Byron decides to leave his keys at home and goes in deep with a moody club workout. ‘I love yo’ is a track that juxtaposes dreamy samples with rough percussion and vocal chops with a clear nod to the work of Mr. G. The melody is mellow, but don’t be deceived; clever drum programming and plenty of sub take this track into the club vibe just the way Byron likes it: warm, hazy and sexy AF.
Byron is not known for delivering straightforward house tunes, but when he does deliver them, he does it in style. Enter ‘Get up’; the A2 of the EP. There’s everything we love about house music: smart vocal chops, driving percussion, classic house keys and a booming sub to get you bumping to this beat.
The B-side sees Byron up the tempo and take a deep dive into bass territory with ‘Love’. In this track, there’s lush pads running over a percussive broken beat and chopped R ’n B vocals to add some serious sex appeal. It’s deceptively simple and clean but ever so catchy, which clearly shows Byron’s prowess as an electronic music producer.
Going back to classic house mode, we’ve got ‘Success’: A spoken word house track that fits right in with the classics. Byron sets the mood with some bumpy key-and synth work while brainstorming about originality and blackness throughout the track. Even though the message underneath might be a serious one, Byron succeeds in delivering this in a fun, uplifting way that never gets pretentious or divisive.
The EP finishes with a remix by New Yorker Kush Jones. This is an artist who understands how to build a groove. He could take you anywhere from house to juke, footwork and techno, which is exactly why he’s been getting so much love for his music recently. Kush is an artist who sees no boundaries in his music and still manages to create his own sonic universe. His remix of ‘I love yo’ takes a dreamy approach with soft chords running over an electronic groove with a pure and improvised feel. All elements fit together perfectly and it’s the clever ad-hoc programming and arrangement that suck you into his unbounded world from the first beat.
As always, enjoy the music and play it loud.
Yours sincerely,
Maarten & Lars
Acid Mental tribe... Keja with 2 long tribe tunes, acid, … with a B side under FKY influence... Notice also 2 bonus tracks... hidden mikes, afterparty checking...
Composer François de Roubaix was born in 1939. He didn’t receive any formal musical education, but he became interested in jazz from the age of 15. His professional musical career only spanned ten years, from 1965-1975. During that period he composed for commercials, TV series, shorts, and about 30 feature-length films.
The most striking aspect of François de Roubaix’s music is its versatility: on one hand, it’s his ability to create simple, memorable tunes; on another hand, it’s his bolder experiments with different timbres and recording techniques. He freely combined folkloric and electronic instruments, embracing the advent of the first synthesizers and rhythm boxes. Being a multi-instrumentalist gave him a high degree of artistic freedom, as he spent long hours at his home studio overdubbing various parts of his scores until he would reach the desired result.
Du Jazz à L’Electro 1965-1975 is a brand new compilation album consisting of compositions by Francois de Roubaix. It includes previously unreleased and hard to find compositions from tv-series like Les Survivants and Tarif De Nuit. This compilation also includes compositions for commercials of Cointreau, Muratti and Fiat Coupé. Du Jazz à L’Electro 1965-1975 is available as a limited edition of 1500 individually numbered copies on solid yellow coloured vinyl, housed in a gatefold sleeve with liner notes and background stories about the compositions.
IND in his special skillz... With melodious and nostalgic beautyful intros, opening on a light speed kick... and a crazy ambient drop sensitive and touchy.
The kick then turns more threatening... to turn Hardcore, without becoming that crazy either...
Both tunes in a pure Joe IND style.
Superb !
"UNITED", Tristesse Contemporaine’s new album is like a space shuttle, full of metropolitan and eccentric music makers.
Inside the shuttle: Narumi, Leo & Mike, respectively from Japan, Sweden and Jamaican-British. All "united" behind the unique Tristesse Contemporaine flag and led since the start by French label Record Makers (Kavinsky, Sebastien Tellier, Cola Boyy…).
After three rock & post-punk infused albums: "Tristesse Contemporaine" (2012), "Stay Golden" (2013) and "Stop and Start" (2017), they’re off to a new start and open a new cycle with their new opus "UNITED".
Who other than young prodigy Lewis OfMan, the one-man band behind hits like "Attitude" and renowned collaborations including Rejjie Snow or Carly Rae Jepsen, to join the joyous ride?
After hearing "Sly Fox"'s first demo in 2019, they convinced him to produce a whole album for them and became the fourth member of sorts, adding his pop sensibility, mixing genres and emotions with funky basslines, strong hooks, and digital arrangements.
A free-spirited album filled with irresistible beat-driven tunes thanks to Mike's thunderous voice, Narumi's sparkling synths and Leo's gleaming guitar, conquering new territories from reggae to 90’s breakbeat or New-York disco. A unique and united style glued together by a rare ability to switch moods and dynamics in a gleam of light, like a skilled DJ would.
'Big or profound sensations from small gestures which are carefully arranged. Using a mixture of sacred and profane, or classical and prosaic sound sources, knitted into intricate, fleet-footed compositions that virtually spring into the ear. Profondo Rosa is composer Ailin Grad’s first vinyl album following years embedded and loved in the Argentinian experimental music scene, with past treats on labels Krut, Sun Ark, Orange Milk Records and her own label Abyss, devoted to ‘connecting Latin Juke with the world’.
There’s a playfulness at the heart of Profondo Rosa that’s immediately charming, with a sense of scale and spatialisation in the sounds being toyed with, exploring the strange pleasures and satisfaction in her approach to delightful and fresh feeling sound design. Aylu is known to be as likely to deploy the sound of a finger click, a fizzy drink being cracked open, or a fly buzzing past the ear, as she is drawn to sampling gorgeous strings or instrumentation. Her debut album for Mana constantly builds territories that tug at your heartstrings and then have you grinning five seconds later. This versatility and acceleration has often resulted in her music being compared to footwork, alongside collaboration with other producers experimenting in that sphere; in 2017 she and Foodman put together a dizzying hour of sounds for NTS.
Her miniaturisation of rhythm and ringtone-like sample size could also bring to mind SND circa their warmer softer glitch Tenderlove phase, or perhaps the approach that Teenage Engineering take to designing tools for music making. Each are deriving pleasure from small and satisfying shapes, as well as advocating an object-oriented philosophy and minimalisation in their work that sidesteps a draining of colour. Sound is fun, and in Profondo Rosa it sounds like Aylu has that at the forefront of her mind.
Her hyperreal sound and its link to the languages of electroacoustic or computer music are clear, but she outmanoeuvres many of the overly-academic and formless examples of those genres. Profondo Rosa’s skeletal assembly of objects becomes tunes in an elegant, almost understated way; tactile elements quickly combine and roll into deeper and persuasively emotional places. These compositions give off an air of being very free, very experimental, despite being meticulously artful and studied arrangements on precise and nimble coordinates.'
Latest 45 on Dinked’s Random Rap imprint features Russian producer Paul Sitter link up with Ugly Duckling’s Andy Cooper on Go Move sampling Charles Wright’s classic “What Can You Bring Me” to great effect. Side B sees Paul create an instrumental masterpiece sampling the Kings of Rock both tunes primed to rock the dancefloor!
Vinyl LP[23,49 €]
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.
2022 Repress
The Sound of Studio One can be identified by the great singers that it cultivated along the many great songs that these singers released. But as studio 1's dominance was slowly pulled away by the up and coming new breed of producers many of the artists would inevitably end up working for these new camps and so the songs and singers found a new audience. The reggae sound of the Studio 1 would make a great combination and the man to pull this was together Bunny Lee.
The 1960's in Jamaica was run by two main factions, Coxsonne's Studio 1 and Duke Reid's Treasure Isle. These two leading protagonists saw what some of the other great Sound System men like ' Tom The Great Sebastian' had not taken onboard, that when the tunes they imported began to dry up from the USA, their future lied in producing music. Tunes that suited the musical styles that the people of Jamaica still enjoyed. By the late 1960's thse supremacy was being challenged by the up and coming new producers on the scene, Lee Perry being one, and the other being 'Ghost of the Studios' himself, Bunny Lee. Bunny 'Striker' Lee may have inherited the moniker 'Striker' from his liking of a particular TV show called 'The Hitch-Hiker', but it would soon stand also for the considerable hits he would obtain as he was declared producer of the year in Jamaica in 1969, 1970,1971 and 1972.
For this release, we have compiled many of the great Studio hits that Bunny Lee recorded with the singers that had originally cut at the famed Studio 1. Bunny Lee's sprinkling of magic over some classic tunes....the sound of Studio 1 backed up this time Bunny 'Striker' Lee's set of star musicians The Aggravators. Proving you can't keep a good tune down, or a great producer pushing forward.....Bunny Lee strikes back....
Hope you enjoy the set.....
Hand Stamped, Hand numbered, Limited press, with insert.
An oddly familiar/familiarly odd entity floating about the relatively cohesive surface of contemporary electronic music, Belgium-via-Italy based duo Front De Cadeau has been knocking genres askew and blowing overused terminologies out of the water with unrelenting panache over the past decade. Championing a sound unmoored by vanishing trends and cross-pollinating approaches, F2C punch back in on Antinote with their anticipated debut album, “We Slowly Riot”, an 8-track mishmash of tunes previously released and not.
Bastardizing tried-and-tested rave tropes by slowing the tempo down to barely recognizable shapes and contours, Hugo Sanchez and Maurizio Ferrara dish out a new high in their ever expanding discography. Free-falling down the K-hole with no parachute on, “La Ketamine” burns slow but steady. A practically immersive dub filled with processed minutiae and vibrational drums out a mystic forest, it’s a helluva trippy post-industrial joint that unfolds, heady and empyreumatic to the bone. “We Slowly Rot” puts on offer a buggy script-like swing, adorned with F2C’s trademark blend of spoken word and jacuzzi-warm vibes, whereas “There is Something Wrong” steers us into further sizzling, syncopated groove territories through a fevered meshwork of sliced-and-diced vox samples, overheated machine talk and primitive percussions on a African Headcharge tip.
Draped in eerie, 8-bit-infused layers and Arabian Nights ambiences, “Slam is Slam” treats us to a spookily fun Oriental mix of hot-tempered darbukkahs and FX-soaked riffs. The outrageously sensual “Ouvre Ta Bouche” is a tactile invitation to get down in some dark alcove of sorts and more if you hit it off. A steely dub primed for post-party divagations, “Climate Change” slowly veers off into verbed-out industrial jazz as bars run by, while “Legal Illegal” cuts a path of acid-dipped dancehall from outer-space across the club. Last but not least, Jewish clarinets quietly move along waves of sedated bass on “Casa Gaza”, rounding it all off on a dreamy, cinematic note that serenely phases into a liquid-like roller over one solidly deeper-than-deep home stretch.
Black Vinyl[15,76 €]
It has been twenty years since the first Back To Mine release but still the series is going strong. These personal after-hours soundtracks have never sounded more relevant than now, and next up is GRAMMYr Award-nominated, San Francisco-based artist Tycho. It finds him going deeper than one of his famous Burning Man sets as he heads into otherworldly, cinematic headphone territory with tunes from Lancaster, Little Dragon, Octo Octa, Ulrich Schnauss and many more across four fantastic sides of vinyl.
Beautifully drunken it hums, the piano in “PianoPiano”, the last tune of “How to Spread Lies”, the first EP by Roman Flügel for the Hamburg based label Dial in the year 2010. Or take “Strich”, a peculiar electrical slow-motion grinder, out on his “Mutter” EP for Klang Electronic in 2006. Since long, the renowned Berlin based DJ and producer is investigating in spheres beyond the dance, the groove, the ecstasy. Zones, where the molecules harmonize, senses relieve, and the soul quietens. All his last albums, “All The Right Noises” (Dial), “Themes I-XIII” (ESP Institue), “Eating Darkness” (Running Back) have moments of tension and relaxation in a deep harmonious connection.
Now “Balmy Evening”, a sundown record for sunup’s. Eleven notions in adventurous journey music, embracing the freedom of structure, blurring the musical pulse into harmonic meditation and mysteriously grooving zones, leaving all unnecessary accessories behind. A quality, that many of his collaborative and solo productions from past 30 years comprise. Still, most of them squint on the dance floor, where jack is king. Not so “Balmy Evening”, where real party bangers are absent. There are moving tunes like the slow Kraftwerk-melody-leaning funkateer “Duftschulter”, or the artificially jacking “Greenhouse”, where nervous Synth patterns ball along soft breaks and decreet kicks. Also, “Super Sonne”, an odd, seemingly improvised synth conversation might ask some souls out for a dance.
But all others, like “Atmosphere”, “Frei”, Dolphins, “Goth”, or “Ambienteuse”, rather seek for the tranquil in each one’s spirit. Listeners need be ready for surprises. Ready for impulsive ideas, linked to a harmonious flow, always ready to grow. An album full of silence, utterly loud, beautifully diverse humming, displaying a playful, exploratory side of a celebrated club music producer, to whom atoms dance in manifold ways.
