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Hard-rocking Brooklyn trio Sir Lord Baltimore’s highly sought-after debut album is a legendary precursor of the heavy metal genre, a 1971 Creem review of the disc perhaps the first to ever use the term. The group benefited from the songwriting and production team of Mike Appel and Jim Cretecos, Appel the future manger of Bruce Springsteen and Cretecos already heady from success with The Partridge Family; recorded at Vantone Studios in New Jersey, it
was mixed to fine effect by Eddie Kramer at Electric Ladyland, fresh from his work with Jimi Hendrix. Guitarist Louis Dambra co- arranged the material with Appel and Cretecos; he had earlier played in garage band The Koala as Louis Caine, and here his screeching guitar
is a major draw, backed by plodding bass from Gary Justin, as front man John Garner shrieks his vocals while pounding furious drumbeats. Aside from a tough cover of Ray Charles’ “I Got A Woman” and a track inspired by Yeats’ poem “Lake Isle Of Innersfree,” the album features heavily-stoned acid rock originals, delivered the Sir Lord Baltimore way.

Czechoslovakian big band legend Gustav Brom has graced dancefloors with his music for a long time, you've probably heard his work and not realised it. PANORAMA returns with "Calling Up The Rain", from his 1976 album "Gustav Brom plays for you Pop Jazz and Swing" Gustav infused big band jazz and a latin groove into this dancefloor weapon, Organ solos, Trumpet solos and a screeching guitar solo. What's not to love?

Presented as a reissue by the newly launched London-based record label, PANORAMA Records, "Calling Up The Rain" reaffirms the label's discerning direction and "Don't Judge A Record By It's Cover" attitude. Championed by Gilles Peterson, Patrick Forge and a few other legends in the game, PANORAMA Records aims to reintroduce this big band hit to new audiences, establishing itself as a tastemaker in the business of reissuing global grooves. It comes with a sticker on the front with quotes from tastemakers Patrick Forge, Rainer Trueby and Zag Erlat (My Analog Journal).

With this release, record collectors can anticipate a discovery of Gustav's anthem, for the first time on a 45 and a first time official reissue, a full blown party starter, as Panorama Records presents "Calling Up The Rain" as a timeless reissue. The label shook mountains with it's first release of Gitte and Inger, with huge DJ support from Gilles Peterson, Ross Allen and other great tastemakers. PAN002 is here, Buy or cry!

Common Blah is the debut full-length by Portland, Maine's Weakened Friends. Founded by songwriter Sonia Sturino, drummer Cam Jones, and bassist Annie Hoffman in 2013, the trio is a low pressure outlet for volatile music. Recorded by Hoffman and perfected over the last year, the songs broadcast heavy feelings amid screech and feedback with little more than a distortion pedal the clog up the signal chain. The album also features guest shredding by peer and kindred spirit J Mascis (on the song Hate Mail). Common Blah will be out via Don Giovanni Records on October 19th.

Who is Leon Dinero? From whence did he come? The soulful singer dropped his first single this past June, tearing up a ska version of Lee Fields & Sugarman 3's classic "Lover Like Me". Backed by The Frightnrs, and with Victor Axelrod in the producer's chair Leon returns with "If You Ask Me", a gorgeous piece of wax that draws inspiration from the deep vaults of Jamaican Rocksteady.

Originally penned for The Frightnrs' debut long player but never tracked as such, this version showcases Dinero's timeless vocal delivery - his voice etched with honey-dipped imperfections that call to mind the classic vocals of Alton Ellis and Hopeton Lewis. Gracing the flip-side is"Bandits", a lyrical takedown of the continuing gentrification of New York City that rides the A-Side's instrumental in pure Jamaican DJ style. Vocal duties for this stellar side are brought to you by Screechy Dan, who's often described as the glue that holds the NYC reggae community together.

Beyond his classic tunes like"Pose Off" and "Big Bills", Screechy has nurtured generations of young artists, sound systems and selectors, forging deep ties that bind Jamaica to New York and veteran artists to the new school. Victor Axelrod expertly handles the production by employing the rhythmic powerhouse that is The Frightnrs to help mine the sweetness of rock steady for the A-side whilst tempering it with the drum and bass toughness of classic rub-a-dub for the flip. We're looking forward to much more to come from this extraordinary group of musicians!

HAVEN are proud to present the second record in their black label series focused on the crossover between sounds on the UK bass music spectrum and hard techno dynamics. This time UK break-beat maestro Mani Festo joins the label for the first time with an EP of hardcore-
inspired dance-floor weaponry alongside a remix from Swedish experimentalist PederMannerfelt.

The A side kicks off with 'Hunterr' with booming vocal cuts, pounding 4-4 kicks and break-beat rhythms sprinkled throughout for a prime UK hardcore and techno genre crossover slab of club material. This is followed by the Peder Mannerfelt remix where the Swedish legend brings his left-of-field sensibilities to the fore, submerging the vocals in to a ghostly high-frequency spectrum whisper alongside a looping bass-line and sludgy drum rhythms to close out the first side.

The B side starts with 'Swarmm' - a broken beat roller filled with screeching synth zaps and a mammoth break-beat in the second half. Up next comes 'Poison' with its eerie atmospheres and drones sat behind a 4-4 rhythm and charging break-beats in another dance-floor killer. Finally 'Machine' closes the EP with its syncopated electro rhythms and funky UK swing alongside chugging bass plucks and arpeggiated melodies in one more crossover hammer.

30th year anniversary edition of Distorted Pony's industrial noise-rock classic 'Punishment Room, remastered by Bob Weston at Chicago Mastering Service in 2023. Back on vinyl for the first time in 30 years, recorded in 1992 by Steve Albini and originally released on Bomp!, this album is an absolute essential for any noise-rock aficionado. The Los Angeles band turned heads with their aggressive mix of industrial, post-punk, feedback assault on metal sheets and trashcans. The focal point of Distorted Pony (which formed in 1986 and called it quits in ’93) was Dora Jahr’s seething bass and the mix of screeching guitars from David U and Robert Hammer. "Distorted Pony was already history by the time Instant Winner was released, but with proper live-fast/die-young spirit the album leaves one hell of an impressive corpse — it’s easily the most potent of the three records

Massive reworking in a killer Digi style of Jah Screechy’s 1984 classic Walk & Skank. Widely known for the SL2 sampling ‘On A Ragga Tip’. This one rerecorded and blessed by the man himself.

DJ Support:
-Sub Dub
-Outlook

Limited Edition Vinyl (Hand stamped. Comes in a transparent PVC sleeve with Riso printed paper strip. contains download code)

Making a threateningly potent debut on Osàre! Editions as The Spy, Wessel Janssen combines classic boot-stomping techno with cybernetic groove, jittery IDM and sinister electro. Crackling, liquid synth, as slick on oil on water, channels the potency of club dancefloors through a gripping conceptual underpinning. Capturing fugitives on the run from a mysterious axis power, the mini LP is an action-packed adrenaline buzz.

Launching off with 'Cobra,' the momentous opening track sets the steely tone of the record. ‘Time to Strike’ stabs with polymorphic, stuttering beats, while 'Never Again' wields the high-drama of an urgent getaway. Screeching like a security system gone haywire, 'Cigarette' is set ablaze by J.C.'s monstrous vocals.

Think The Matrix, Mission Impossible and 007, but for dark, pounding basements devoid of time.

LP reissue of Collective Calls, the first duo LP from Evan Parker and percussionist Paul Lytton. Mythically alluded to as ‘An Improvised Urban Psychodrama In Eight Parts”, Collective Calls utilises electronics, pre-records and homemade instruments to wryly in/act self investigation. Having just recorded the cliff jumping Music Improvisation Company with Derek Bailey, Christine Jeffrey, Hugh Davies and Jamie Muir, Parker was at the point where he was thinking, ‘what’s the next thing?’ On Collective Calls, only the 5th release to appear on the newly minted Incus label, percussionist Paul Lytton arrives with an arsenal of sound making sources to push Parker into ever new territory. Recorded in the loft of The Standard Essenco Co on Southwark Street by Bob Woolford (Topography of the Lungs, AMM The Crypt), Collective Calls has more in common with noise or music concrete than with jazz; sitting comfortably alongside Italian messrs Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza or the husband-wife duo of Anima Sound. According to Martin Davidson, it was a Folkways record that Lytton was obsessed with around the time of this release - Sounds of the Junkyard - its track titles like “Steel Saw Cutting Channel Iron in Two Places” working to give you a good idea of the atmosphere of Collective Calls. Paul Lytton had encountered the use of electronics in music in 1968 when he was invited to play drums on the recording of An Electric Storm by White Noise (along with David Vorhaus, Delia Derbyshire and Brian Hodgson). He had seen Hugh Davies using contact mics in the Music Improvisation Company, and soon set about assembling a Dexion frame akin to drummer John Stevens’, except that his own was armed with several single-coil electric guitar pickups, long wires and strings with connected foot-pedals to modulate pitch. Influenced as much by Stockhausen, Cage and David Tudor as he was by Max Roach and Milford Graves, Lytton’s percussion is abstract, expressionist and at times totally mutant. Sometimes rolling extremely fast, then screeching almost backwards over feedback, Lytton gives Parker room to play some of his weirdest work. Parker is listed as performing both saxophones, but also his own home made assemblages, including one dubbed the ‘Dopplerphone’ - a length of soft rubber tubing (activated by a saxophone mouthpiece and manipulated to alter the rate of airflow) attached to a longer length of clear plastic tubing (whirled around the head whilst being played) ending in a plastic funnel. Thickening the brew even more, Parker would also add a cassette recorder, on which he would play back collected sounds and previous recordings of the duo. Imagining the set up in a 70s loft, it’s an assemblage more akin to what today's free ears might see at a Sholto Dobie show, spread out on the floor of the Hundred Years Gallery, the shadow of Penultimate Press lurking in the corner. It’s a testament to Parker’s shape shifting sound - the ever present link to birdsong being at its most warped here - terrifically free and unfussy, wild and loose from any of the dogma that might come in later Brit-prov years

Copenhagen punk rock/power pop band BIG MESS is a pile of hooks and energy. Taking their cues from the timeless masters of melody, loud guitars and high BPMs, their music packs an infectious punch. CLEANING UP WITH is the band's fourth full length and its first collaboration with UK-based label Specialist Subject. The album shows Big Mess at their most accomplished yet, and shows total dedication to reaching the ultimate in hit making. Imagine a singles compilation by your favourite band and you get the idea. Songwriting is key for Big Mess - as much Brill Building sparkle as hardcore punk economy, with no room for duds. Lyrically, the songs are heartfelt and occasionally stupid, with the dangers and difficulties of existence and the joys of rocking holding equal importance. Having been a band for nearly a decade, Big Mess’ playing is instinctive, effortless and relentless topped with vocals that combine a hooky sense of melody and rhythm with the right amount of desperation. This time the band adds a refreshingly shameless amount of backing vocals and harmonies that only add to the effective singalong quality Pink vinyl limited to 500 copies “BIG MESS is actually one big, relentless, overwhelming wall of hooks…non-stop, uptempo power pop/pop-punk with contagious riffs and choruses with their own choruses. This group is due a place on the shelf next to pop-punk’s catchiest tunesmiths, like JAY REATARD, the SPITS, MARKED MEN, SCREECHING WEASEL, etc. etc. Great!” - Maximum Rocknroll

RIYL: The Fall, Royal Trux, The Dead C, Shirley Collins, ’70s British progressive rock, Dean Blunt.
Throughout their legendary, decade-long run, the Shadow Ring were an enigmatic force on the international musical sub-underground. Before their disbandment in 2002, this shambolic rock outfit, formed by a group of rowdy teenagers in southeast England, left behind a mighty run of eight LPs, a handful of 7"s, and a spate of raucous live shows and cryptic zine appearances on both sides of the Atlantic, all which have bolstered their enduring word-of-mouth mystique. Beginning this year with the first-ever vinyl pressing of the self-released pre-Shadow Ring tape The Cat & Bells Club (1992), Blank Forms Editions is conducting a systematic retrospective of the storied group, including a multi-year LP reissue effort and a forthcoming comprehensive CD box set and an over five hundred page book. Recorded in summer of 1994 at S.H.P studios (frontman Graham Lambkin’s parents’ home), the group’s sophomore record Put the Music In Its Coffin is a more sinister, saturnine affair than their debut City Lights. Coffin was many listeners’ introduction to the Shadow Ring, who had hitherto self-released their music, courting a steady stable of international fans through the magazine and mail-order catalog Forced Exposure. For their follow-up, the duo reached out to the ascending Philadelphia label Siltbreeze, whose eclectic roster of sneering, low-fidelity rock and noise connected disparate subterranean scenes from rust-belt America to the English Midlands, Dunedin, and beyond. As luck would have it, Siltbreeze proprietor Tom Lax was already a fan of the band’s first record and arranged to release both a 7” and their “difficult second album.” The connection proved to run deeper than vinyl within six months, Lax would pick up the pair from the airport for their spring 1995 US tour. This episode marked not only their first trip to the States but their first live performances at all, formally introducing the Shadow Ring to the American underground and solidifying the allure of the Folkestone pair. From the get-go, the record has a menacing, vile ambience. Its opening track “Horse-Meat Cakes,” inspired by an anecdote by pulp author Philip K. Dick about how he and his wife subsisted off low-grade pet food when he first arrived in San Francisco, sets the tone lyrically and sonically. Subsequent tracks are filled with Rabelaisian body horror and sinewy, haptic diction. “I try to pass out vital organs, convinced that they are waste,” intones Lambkin in “Heart, Liver & Lungs,” before a chorus of detuned guitars kicks in, nearly drowning out the speaker’s account of consuming chevaline intestines. Later songs similarly detail vernacular cooking (“Caribbean Porridge,” about a cornmeal hangover cure), bodily processes (“Nocturnal Middle Rumbles,” about nighttime defecation), and creaturely conflict (“Crystal Tears” and “Spin The Animal Dial”). The album’s makeshift percussion and teenaged rawness resembles the verve of City Lights, while its screeching strings and gnarly distorted vocals give it a sparse, miasmic atmosphere that look towards the uncompromising, otherworldly experimentation of the band’s Hold Onto I.D. (1996) and Lighthouse (1997), making this one of the Shadow Ring’s most distilled musical statements

The anticipation is there in Elizabeth Stokes’ solo guitar riff under the opening lines of “I’m Not Getting Excited”: a frenetic, driving force daring a packed Auckland Town Hall to do exactly the opposite of what the track title suggests.

As the opener of The Beths’ Auckland, New Zealand, 2020 expands to include the full band, the crowd screeches and bellows. It’s a collective exhalation, in one of the few countries where live music is still possible.

The album title, and film of the same name, deliberately include the date and location, lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce says. “That’s the sensational part of what we actually did.” In a mid-pandemic world, playing to a heaving, enraptured home crowd feels miraculous.

In March 2020, everything seemed on track for another huge year for The Beths. Home after an 18-month northern hemisphere tour, they had just finished recording sophomore album Jump Rope Gazers and were primed for more extensive touring. But within days, New Zealand’s lockdown split the band between three separate houses. All touring was cancelled.

“It was existentially bad,” Stokes says. As well as worrying about economic survival, they lost something crucial to the band’s identity: live performance. “It's a huge part of how we see ourselves... What does it mean, if we can't play live?”

The band found an outlet through live-streaming, returning to the do-it-yourself mentality of their early days to connect with a global audience. The album and film have their genesis in that urge to share the now-rare experience of a live show, as widely as possible.

The fuzzy-round-the-edges live-streams pointed the way aesthetically. Native birds, wonkily crafted by the band from tissue paper and wire, festoon the venue’s cavernous ceiling while house plants soften and disguise the imposing pipes of an organ. The presence of the film crew isn’t disguised: much of the camerawork is handheld; full of fast zooms and pans.

With much of the material still fresh, the band was less focused on re-invention than playing “a good, fast rock show”, Pearce says. The tempo is up on crowd favourites “Whatever” and “Future Me Hates Me” (released as a live single on its third anniversary) as both band and audience feed off the mutual energy in the room.

Certain songs have taken on special resonance post-Covid. Pearce has found “Out Of Sight”, a tender rumination on long-distance relationships, hits particularly hard with live audiences.

Album closer “River Run” visibly brings Stokes to tears as a mix of achievement and relief kicks in. “You can finally relax at that point … You play the last note, breathe out a sigh and look up - and you’re in a giant room full of people happy and smiling.”

Lewis Taylor's legendary magnum opus: The Lost Album. "Now you're talking. That's my favourite LT album. Unlike all of the others, there isn't anything about it that embarrasses me." Straight from the genius's mouth. What can we say about this? Well, it's the most requested record ever at Be With Towers. The Lost Album was the intended follow-up to his first album but Island rejected it for fear of "confusing" the marketplace and its conception of Lewis as a soul artist. Their loss. It's a breezy sunset masterpiece.

The genesis of this incredible record needs unpicking a bit. Lewis stopped promoting the first album after a year and went home to record a completely different record that was the most un-R&B album you could probably ever hear: "I pushed in such an extreme direction the other way with what eventually became The Lost Album. It was a knee-jerk reaction to a perceived ‘trapped in R&B’ feeling I was going through at the time. Some people around me were in favour of it and others weren’t. In the end I think I lost confidence in it and did Lewis II instead." We did at least get Lewis II, which is a remarkable album, and he kept Island happy...for a bit. Not long after, Lewis was dropped. And what was to become The Lost Album could've been...er...lost. Forever.

Thankfully, however, Lewis and longtime partner Sabina Smyth revisited those scrapped demo tracks in 2003. They decided to re-arrange, re-record and then self-release them. So it was that the brand new version of The Lost Album finally dropped in late 2004. It's sheer perfection, and we don't say that lightly. The Lost Album was a fully 50/50 collaboration between Lewis and Smyth. As well as production, Sabina did a lot more writing on it, from the melody to "Listen Here" to the chord sequence for "Let's Hope Nobody Finds Us." Thankfully, Sabina is credited this time around.

No, it's not straight up "soul music" in the vein of his previous work. Yet, in its perfectly formed suite of one dozen songs, The Lost Album is dripping in soul. It's so warm, so effervescent and so alive with possibilities. It features deep, fresh imprints on well-loved, accessible sounds. It's a proper 70s style double album. Just one listen and the musical influences on The Lost Album are fairly self-explanatory, as Lewis recently told us, but it's always nice to hear that, in case we were in any doubt, he was definitely channeling Love, Yes, Brian Wilson, CSN, Laura Nyro and, of course, Todd Rundgren. The influences don't end there: "I’m particularly fond of my bass playing on that album, there’s a lot of Chris Squire going on which is cool."

Deep orchestral opener "Lost" is a sublime, harp-laced, string drenched gem, a cinematic, melancholic Axelrod-esque mini-epic that simply beguiles. Written by Smyth, it evokes Donny Hathaway's celestial "I Love The Lord, He Heard My Cry" from Extensions Of A Man. The only problem is the brief 90 seconds running time. It segues into the classic Brian Wilson-meets-power-pop-rock splendour of "Listen Here" which, with its outstanding extended harp-licked beatless intro, sounds like the younger cousin to Boston's "More Than A Feeling". We then drift into the ringing guitars of classic 70s rock anthem "Hide Your Heart Away". It's Lewis's personal favourite, "especially the multi-tracked guitar solo – I was listening to Boston at the time, which was fun." A-ha!

A new version of the heart-stopping, shoulda-been-a-massive-pop-hit "Send Me An Angel" opens Side B before the arrival of, in Lewis's completely correct words, "the clear standout, "Leader of the Band"; the perfect distillation of everything that album was trying to achieve." Soaring, piano-led Rundgren-esque power pop that makes the hairs on the back of your next stand on end. Truly, otherworldly. This is pure pop for now (and then) people. The simple jangly brilliance meets experimental prog-rock of "Yeah" sounds like simultaneously like prime CSNY and late 90s Radiohead (if they'd had a slightly more accessible bent and could write better tunes).

Oh, you wish The Beach Boys had continued writing amazing songs beyond Holland? Well, allow us to point you in the direction of the downlifting stunner "Please Help Me If You Can" and the warm textures and brilliant atmospherics of goosebump-inducer "Let’s Hope Nobody Finds Us". Words can't really describe the sheer beauty of these songs. So we'll stop trying. Just listen. Listen, listen, listen. Closing out this remarkable side of music, the accidentally Balearic "New Morning" should be blasting out at every sunrise set in Ibiza, this summer and forevermore.

The final side opens with the vaguely Beatlesey "Say I Love You". It's just classic, soaring pop-rock songwriting and should strictly be canonical. It's that good. The sassy, Stonesy swagger of "See My Way" injects enough rock'n'roll attitude to compensate for the rest of record's peace-loving, AOR sun-dappled vibe whilst album closer, "One More Mystery", emerging out of the rubble of the previous track, comes on initially like a Baroque-Pop George Harrison before piling crunching drums and screeching guitar solos atop the dreamy harmonies til close.

When asked what it means to have these records available on vinyl for the first time, Lewis is in no doubt: "It’s great and it’s really nice to be able to offer fans a different listening experience. There’s a whole other dimension with vinyl that taps into that whole nostalgia thing, well for me anyway. Something about the physical aspect of pulling it out of the sleeve and putting it on, it does tend to make you feel like you’re more engaged."

Lewis was adamant that he wanted all new artwork for The Lost Album vinyl sleeve and his brief was just the sort of classic tropical-beach-at-sunset you’d want to see on the front of a record that sounds like this. On the finished sleeve, the beach at sunset is just where we start out, before heading up through the painterly clouds and heading out into the stars. And yes, the lettering is a definite subtle nod to all those in-between-period Beach Boys bootlegs we all love. Simon Francis's sensitive mastering combines with Cicely Balston's precise cut for Alchemy at AIR Studios so the album sounds appropriately outstanding. The immaculate Record Industry double LP pressing will ensure this previously lost masterpiece stays forever found.

In the quiet surrounding the pandemic, Madeline Kenney made sonic sketches in the basement studio she shared with her then-partner. She arranged phrases that called her—the sharp knife of a synth cutting a path along a blooming arpeggio, drums stuttering firm and tight. Working this way, she amassed a collection of songs she had no particular aims for. Some formed her 2021 EP Summer Quarter, others languished.

But in 2022, Kenney’s partner left suddenly and without warning, plunging her into the solitary act of untangling what happened. In the wake of her ensuing depression, she revisited these songs and found in them something prescient. She’d already laid the foundation for A New Reality Mind.

That her relationship’s end came without warning is only half true, though. The warnings were in the feelings and fears that inspired Kenney’s critically-acclaimed third album, Sucker’s Lunch (2020), which was co-produced by Jenn Wasner (Flock of Dimes) and centered around the idea of flinging oneself freely into the seemingly-assured destruction of new love, come what may.

If sonically Sucker’s Lunch was letting yourself be pulled into the warm bath of a good story, A New Reality Mind reflects the harsh light of truth coming to break the spell. But as sobering as morning light can be, there’s brilliance to it, too. To see in the clarity of day is a gift. A revolution. Rather than reckoning with love lost, the songs on A New Reality Mind grapple with the self that chose to fall. “I guess I only needed to look twice / Reflected in my attitude, my constant compromise,” Kenney sings on “Red Emotion,” the musical landscape screeching and gasping around her observations of how she made herself small to keep the dream of love alive.

These notions of sight and vision pervade the record as Kenney stands before the infinity mirror of selves she’s been to preserve bonds in her life. On “I Drew a Line,” Kenney contends with the stories she’s told herself to keep plodding along, and the way those stories shape her perceived reality. She invokes John Berger’s Ways of Seeing—“Everything around the image is part of its meaning,” we hear him say. “Everything around it confirms and consolidates its meaning.” Here, Kenney isn’t interested in shaming herself for being carried away by the fantasies of the heart, but rather in investigating the unavoidably human propensity to do so. “I, like everyone else, am muddling through my most ordinary disaster of a life,” she acknowledges, a sentiment which reverberates through album opener “Plain Boring Disaster.” “I don’t need to start again,” she sings at the song’s close. “But I can change when it ends.” We may all be doomed to repetitive, ordinary heartbreaks, Kenney realizes, but at least we can cultivate a capacity to witness our missteps and build new realities for ourselves.

This is Kenney’s most expansive work, while also her most solitary. Produced and recorded alone in her basement, these songs are manifestations of what it feels like to be transformed by pain. Textures collide and collude; sonic ornaments emerge and dissipate capriciously; saxophones soar untamed, as on the 80s pop elegy to self-sacrifice, “Reality Mind”. These songs beg you to dance, then pull the rug out from under you once you’ve caught the beat, leaving you dizzy like the whiplash of love’s end.

But in the propulsive power of A New Reality Mind, there’s also acceptance, self-forgiveness, and a willingness to move forward into life, with all its ways of making a sucker of you. “That way of living, I’m over it,” Kenney declares of the habits that hold her back on “Superficial Conversation”. “I do not need to be reminded of what I did,” she assures, the song opening wide and beaming, like a smile expanding to taste a new breath of air.

blue + red marbled vinyl
"Dog Eared"! Named as such as it marks a turning point in my productions and releases. Made while moving from Bristol back to London this as a theme pops up throughout the EP.

"Ithaca Vox" is the name of my first ever favourite preset - a CMI-inspired pad from GarageBand which I've been using since I was 11 but never on a release. The track also samples the screeching of Victoria line on my way back from nights out.

"Bubble Trouble" caused many headaches to finish hence the addition of the word "Trouble". The track pops, floats and bursts into the space between simplistic cartoon sound sources and excessively over the top sound design and production.

"Dive" dives further into these production ideas swapping tight space tiny bubbles for wide grinning resonance. The twisting track cuts these resonances leaving a large valley of missing frequencies that gets suddenly filled by an unrelentingly simple bell centring the listeners balance.

"From Window to Wall" gives a not so subtle nod to one of my favourite excessive chart hits as well as a further nod to the source of some of the track samples (see if you spot them).

"Calpohol" is the first collaboration Ive released (another reason to Dog Ear this release). Made from an afternoon of recording with Delay Grounds on his custom Eurorack the track was shaped by us over the weeks that followed.

"Against The Grain" is screechingly released hot on the heels of the previous years punk hit `No Control" which sold so many copies, why not keep the formula untouched? The exuberance of this release is kinda tuff ta" blow off. Contains the superior original version of "21st Century Digital Boy" plus 16 more crucial cuts. A barrage of melodic, hyper-overdrive.

Like the winged half-man/half-bull that dominates its outrageous cover, Cleveland Eaton's Half And Half is a mutant bass-heavy monster that absolutely slays. Incredible jazz-funk from 1973, it's been largely overlooked for decades, and unfairly so. This is just sensational music - a crate digger's delight. It's super funky throughout, with lots of layers, jazz breaks for days, dripping with style and gritty class. This is the first reissue of what has been a hard to find record for many years; it's long overdue. Joyous music for mind, soul and body.

Cleveland Eaton was a revered bassist who played an active role in the backing of Count Basie, the Donald Byrd Quintet, The Ramsey Lewis Trio, Terry Callier and Minnie Riperton; amongst many, many others. Half And Half was the first album released under his own name, initially released as a private press record on his - awkwardly named - Cle An Thair Records. It was then picked up by Gamble & Huff for Gamble Records. Varied, string-adorned and with stupid funky grooves, it's just exceptionally good.

Whilst Half And Half is treasured for its famously brilliant interpretations of gold funk-soul standards, Eaton proves an imaginative composer in his own right. Indeed, the album opens with a striking original; the earthy, laconic jazz-guitar-funk fusion of "Keep It Funky". Cleveland and co. do exactly that. Up next is a properly moving cover of Aretha Franklin's eternal "Day Dreaming". The flute and guitar combo truly achieve celestial greatness here. "Here Comes Funky Lou" rides a bassline from the Gods and a driving soul-jazz groove allows the track to go off in all sorts of directions. Serene guitar soul of the breezy variety one moment, crazy hectic violin-driven wig outs the next, courtesy of Ed Green who played with Dorothy Ashby and Alice Coltrane.

His blistering two track salvo of Stylistics covers to close out this A-Side of A-Sides will leave your jaw dropped, and they're likely the reason you're here for this. And why not? "Betcha By Golly Wow", which uses a bed of acidy synths and harmonica to create a unique atmosphere, is on some next level business. Melancholic, wistful, beautiful. "People Make the World Go Round" is so good, dripping in wonderful horns and ace percussive breaks, it could even be regarded as the definitive version. Seriously!

Opening Side B, War's gigantic "Slipping Into Darkness" is tightly tailored to Eaton's funky flute fusion arrangement whilst the insistent "Missing You" is a swaggering horn-heavy version of Luther Ingram's track from the Dilla/Ghostface-linked LP, I've Been Here All The Time. The creeping, screeching guitar-drenched original "John's Groove" features more fantastic horn lines and neck-snapping percussion whilst "The Love Gangster", written by Bill Wyman and Stephen Stills for his seminal Manassas LP, contains a heavy break with slick drums high in the mix and fuzzy guitars.

The album closes with two more Eaton originals. Written with Johnny Guitar Watson, "Lie" is one hell of a funky string and guitar-driven gem whilst the wild, celebratory "Ah Movin' On" cleverly quotes "Wade In The Water" (which he'd recorded with Ramsey Lewis in 1966) folding it into his new free-jazz composition. A message to his old boss, perhaps, as a sign-off?

We've worked on this reissue for 3.5 years, spending the whole time making it sound super sharp and looking as perfect as it possibly can. An absolute must-have for fans of soulful jazz-funk, Half And Half was mastered for vinyl by Simon Francis and cut by Pete Norman at Final Tweak. The bizarre artwork, mutant beast and all, was restored at Be With HQ over many painstaking months! Hopefully, this new edition, a real labour of love, should bring Cleveland Eaton into the homes and record boxes of many more people.

"Against The Grain" is screechingly released hot on the heels of the previous years punk hit `No Control" which sold so many copies, why not keep the formula untouched? The exuberance of this release is kinda tuff ta" blow off. Contains the superior original version of "21st Century Digital Boy" plus 16 more crucial cuts. A barrage of melodic, hyper-overdrive.

Death/Thrash Metal classic reMastered! A strong Master album re-issued.
Since the dawn of human intellectualism, self-aware individuals have sought solitude. Paul Speckmann of Master finds his own solidarity in
expressing apathy towards society. Lets acknowledge the introspective impact of Master’s 1998 release “Faith is in Season.”
Crusty bass lines and tom-centric drumming push “Faith is in Season” forward with a reliable tempo, coupled with intermittent guitar leads and Speckmann’s defiant screeches define Master’s new production - consistent and comprehendible Death Metal. This is further polished with thoughtful song intros that highlight each individual member’s musicianship. This foundation supports the guitar melodies and lyrical concepts.

Compositionally, each instrument in Master is worth its own weight in gold while also not overshadowing each other. This is a self-evident
testament to Speckmann’s exemplary leadership because the band line-up on “Faith is in Season” was relatively brief.

Similar to 1990’s contemporaries like Vader or Obituary, Master solidified their craft with “Faith is in Season” and has since strayed minimally.

On Labyrinth, Heather Woods Broderick serves as our reflective host, subverting expectations of conventional songcraft with impressionistic language and quietly relentless explorations of the human experience that's at once light and dark, more circular and less linear. "Many of us yearn for stillness and peace, as an escape from the movement all around us," she explains when asked about the themes of the album. "Yet movement is perpetual, happening all the time on some level. It's as wild as the wind, yet eternally predictable in its inevitability. It is linear in part, but infinite in its circuitry. Our lives just punctuate it." Broderick began crafting Labyrinth in March 2020, when most forms of move- ment were brought to a screeching halt. The Maine-born, Los Angeles-based songwriter _ who, in addition to her work as a solo musician, built a life playing and touring with acts such as Sharon Van Etten, Beth Orton, Damien Jurado, and Efterklang _ was suddenly forced off the road for the first time in her career. She used this disruption as an opportunity to pare down her creation process and construct the scaffolding for Labyrinth in her apartment. Employing only the most crucial tools at her disposal, Broderick found herself opening different artistic doors as she focused on sharpening her recording skills, capturing the majority of the album on her own before finishing the remainder with co-producer D. James Goodwin. For all of Broderick's sage lyricism and vocal authority, Labyrinth never provides the listener with any easy answers. If the image of the labyrinth represents the enormity of modern life and the difficulty of navigating it, Heather Woods Broder- ick provides a guide to its endless kinetic wonders _ of being present, aware, and connected despite its disconnects. She describes the texture of its walls, its indifferent rhythms, and the inherent poeticism of feeling lost amid the dead-ends and unexpected turns. At this point in our history, perhaps that's all we need to keep moving.