Cerca:sea

High Roller Records, picture vinyl, ltd 438, lyric sheet, poster, mastered for vinyl by Patrick W. Engel at Temple of Disharmony

Cutting their teeth as teens in a West Bromwich bedroom, The Sea Urchins were nothing like the heavy metal that seemed to fill every bar in the UK Black Country. Fringe haircuts, perfect trousers, suede jackets and infectious tambourines gave plenty of hints as to their youthful ambition, but nothing could fully prepare you for just how utterly spellbinding these songs would be. Compiling their fanzine-only flexi material with the full complement of singles for Sarah Records, Stardust runs chronologically from late 1986 to the middle of 1989, beginning with the singles split for Clare Wadd’s Kvatch and Matt Haynes’ Sha La La, before hitting the first of what would be an even hundred releases from the new label Wadd and Haynes would form - Sarah.

The song that launched a legendary label and defined a sound, a scene, a place and time; “Pristine Christine” still rings out as immediate and magical today as it did on first listen. What a glorious jangly rush racing around the corners of pop’s history! The band would reach such heights time and again over the course of this three year burst. The melancholy swinging folk of “Everglade” and it’s wonderfully yearning vocal; the organ-fueled british invasion garage rock sing-a-long of “Solace”; the playful psych pop of “A Morning Odyssey”; the acoustic sweep of “Wild Grass Pictures”; the perfectly named “Summershine” leaving you with a ramshackle smile out on the dancefloor. All of it is just so filled with delicate humanity, yet somehow absolutely perfect.

As Bob Stanley said about the shimmering ballad “Please Rain Fall” while bestowing it with NME Single Of The Week (an honor also bestowed upon “Pristine Christine”), “think of some variations on the word marvelous and you’re most of the way there.”

In their time, they might have seemed wildly out of step, but it’s not crazy to say that things could have been very different for the likes of Radiohead, The La’s, and Oasis without The Sea Urchins. Liner notes by Television Personalities legend Dan Treacy.

Orange Vinyl

Cutting their teeth as teens in a West Bromwich bedroom, The Sea Urchins were nothing like the heavy metal that seemed to fill every bar in the UK Black Country. Fringe haircuts, perfect trousers, suede jackets and infectious tambourines gave plenty of hints as to their youthful ambition, but nothing could fully prepare you for just how utterly spellbinding these songs would be. Compiling their fanzine-only flexi material with the full complement of singles for Sarah Records, Stardust runs chronologically from late 1986 to the middle of 1989, beginning with the singles split for Clare Wadd’s Kvatch and Matt Haynes’ Sha La La, before hitting the first of what would be an even hundred releases from the new label Wadd and Haynes would form - Sarah.

The song that launched a legendary label and defined a sound, a scene, a place and time; “Pristine Christine” still rings out as immediate and magical today as it did on first listen. What a glorious jangly rush racing around the corners of pop’s history! The band would reach such heights time and again over the course of this three year burst. The melancholy swinging folk of “Everglade” and it’s wonderfully yearning vocal; the organ-fueled british invasion garage rock sing-a-long of “Solace”; the playful psych pop of “A Morning Odyssey”; the acoustic sweep of “Wild Grass Pictures”; the perfectly named “Summershine” leaving you with a ramshackle smile out on the dancefloor. All of it is just so filled with delicate humanity, yet somehow absolutely perfect.

As Bob Stanley said about the shimmering ballad “Please Rain Fall” while bestowing it with NME Single Of The Week (an honor also bestowed upon “Pristine Christine”), “think of some variations on the word marvelous and you’re most of the way there.”

In their time, they might have seemed wildly out of step, but it’s not crazy to say that things could have been very different for the likes of Radiohead, The La’s, and Oasis without The Sea Urchins. Liner notes by Television Personalities legend Dan Treacy.

Prolific Japanese producer T5UMUT5UMU has built up a reputation in the last few years for his ability not just to recreate club styles but to flip them into almost unrecognizable dancefloor hybrids. "Asyl" follows a blistering run of Bandcamp releases where T5UMUT5UMU has melted together gqom and techno, deconstructed grime and welded dubstep to traditional music from Japan and India. Here, he's operating completely off the grid, pulling raw materials from across the globe and hammering them into confounding shapes and patterns. On its surface, 'Fireball' sounds like a liquid metal approximation of South African gqom, but move in closer and you can make out dubstep bass squelches, trap hats, and industrial techno jet propulsion filling in the gaps with rubberized mortar. 'Desert' is the EP's most lightheaded cut, a psychedelic percussive spiral that curves micro-tuned mbira clangs around bee sting bass, aerated noise blasts and sub-aqueous kicks. It's a hard track to place, but fits in somewhere between Donato Dozzy, Menzi and 33EMYBW, all shifting rhythms and precision-edited sound design. 'Sea of Trees' retains this momentum, pushing the tempo and interspersing woodblock vibrations with syncopated bass drums and goosebump-inducing synths, while closer 'Bottomless Valley' shifts back into a gqom framework, shuffling the expected pulse with a powerful dembow swing, half step subs and Indian-inspired rattles. "Asyl" is a varied but shockingly coherent statement from an enigmatic producer who refuses to confine himself to a single path, and at a time when "cross-genre" is the norm rather than the exception, it's refreshing to witness a producer who's unafraid to truly make stylistic left-turns, rather than simply mash together top-level aesthetics.

Songs of the Highland, Songs of the Sea besteht ausschließlich aus berühmten traditionellen Seemannsliedern,
die grob zwischen Land und Meer aufgeteilt sind. Selbst
wenn man noch nie in Schottland war, selbst wenn man kein
Seefahrertyp ist, kennt man sie. Das liegt daran, dass die
zwölf Hymnen - und es sind wahrlich Hymnen -, die The
Real McKenzies für ihr neues Album ausgewählt haben,
schon seit Jahrzehnten, wenn nicht Jahrhunderten, von
anderen gesungen werden.

With I was born by the sea, Richie Culver brings to a close a period of intense introspection and emotional reckoning with a debut album that serves as both an optimistic statement of intent and a final glance back at the painful places it explores. Following recent work with Blackhaine and Pavel Milyakov, I was born by the sea picks up where Culver’s EP for Italian label Superpang, Post Traumatic Fantasy, leaves off, painting an unabashed portrait of contemporary malaise, detailing a life lived behind closed doors, pinned under the crushing weight of austerity, sapped of the strength to do anything other than gaze out to sea and all the grey possibilities it represents. Where Post Traumatic Fantasy saw Culver returning to his hometown of Hull after a period spent entangled in London’s relentless sprawl, his first full length project reaches further back to his formative years working in a caravan factory and going to raves in and among Hull’s outskirts. Unspooling like a fever dream, I was born by the sea is the anxious clutter of a racing mind spoken clearly, a stark reflection on how it feels to have too many ideas and too much time to act on them.

Though unquestionably a snapshot of a time of significant difficulty, Culver reflects on this period with tender empathy and pitch-black humour, stitching together unflinching observations from England’s neglected corners, ‘there’s more mobility scooter repair shops and bookies than there are bookshops,’ and devastating vignettes of everyday struggle, ‘tears on the tin foil’, with surreal depictions of industrial grit, ‘skimming stones in a small pond by the slaughterhouse’. His DIY approach to production stretches the rough sinew that connects these fragments of memory, a process he describes as using a paired back collection of synths and drum machines to the best of his ability, ‘but to the least of their capabilities,’ wringing out visceral sound with self-taught urgency. During the album’s most impressionistic passages it’s as though Culver has transposed past internal turmoil into powerfully resonant noise, the Sisyphean sonics of ‘Create A Lifestyle Around Your Problems’, which evokes in its concrète clatter and MRI machine barrage the sound of making the same mistake again and again, or the stuttered jumble of ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You,’ its garbled vocal modulation and frayed edges of distortion channeling the paranoia of somebody listening to muffled voices through thin plaster, climbing the walls of their bedroom with the curtains closed, a nervous breakdown in stereo.

In counterpoint to this glides the ever-present spirit of the dance floor, which haunts the record from the moment it is invoked in its first few seconds. Opening onto a sea wall of bright synthesis, the stuttering vocals and bass tone chops of ‘Nervous Energy’ dump us directly into post rave ecstasy, the echoing cry of a voice amplified by loudspeaker carrying the loose energy and surge of crowds moving in darkness. The incessant, dead phone line beep of ‘Pigeon Flesh’ builds to a pulse that suddenly swells into an anxious technoid surge, shapeshifting at lysergic speed into head shrinking audio hallucinations, a descent into the void of the present via machine music hypnosis. Even ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You’ summons the ego death drive of hardcore techno within its scorched textures, flickering indiscernibly between attritional noise and frazzled hardware stomp. Paying homage to both the parties of his youth and a countless succession of Sundays spent offering himself up within Berghain’s hallowed architecture, Culver’s experiments in addressing his formative relationship with rave provide an energetic glimpse at where he might take his sound next.

Between spikes of propulsive energy and grim mood pieces Culver returns to suspended passages of aching, glacial drift, the cold swell of the North Sea, accompanied by some of his heaviest testimonials. The gauzy ebb of ‘Daytime TV,’ its tumbling loops reminiscent of boats bobbing off a distant shore, sees the artist at his most checked out, slumped in front of his television, seven days a week. ‘I used to dream of doing something,’ he admits, ‘anything to get out of this town.’ ‘Love Like An Abscess’ pairs swirling currents of ambient shimmer with violent images of baseball bats lying next to beds and blood-stained mattresses, next to which Culver pleads in a desperate mumble, ‘let our love grow, like a broken abscess.’ Yet it’s with the album’s final word and title track that Culver reveals a glimmer of cautious optimism, a parting gesture of exposition and closure. ‘I knew I had to get away,’ he asserts, ‘so I did and I never looked back.’ What follows builds from a low throb, the flutter of a tiny heartbeat, to a resonant glow, embellished with unfurling synthetic burbles, oil rigs sparkling in the distance, golden light spilling across the sea. In reckoning with the place he had to escape, Richie Culver is now free to look towards the promise of something new, something hopeful.

500 copies on limited purple vinyl

By The Sea come from the lineage of firework pop, bursts of colour and squeeze-your-hand intense love aligned with grey skies & work things.
Recall the first time you heard The Chills’ ‘Pink Frost’ or Television Personalities’ How I Learned To Live The Bomb’?
That’s the encounter.

Liam Power formed By The Sea in 2011, the band’s debut single Waltz Away coming out on The Great Pop Supplement label that year. In November 2012 the band released their self-titled album through Dell’Orso and GPS. The NME noted how there was “a beautifully bruised element to this Wirral act’s debut from the subdued, morbid production to Liam Power’s heroically battle-weary vocals”.

They have also often been tagged for their kitchen-sink dramas though they’re more akin to something like ‘Wish You Were Here’, both funny and dark without being maudlin. There’s an end of pier melancholy to By The Sea records though, something more than a scribble of sentiment on a souvenir postcard.

For their second LP ‘Endless Days, Crystal Skies the band turned over production duties to their friend Bill Ryder-Jones (formerly of The Coral) and released that bounty of melodic pop in 2014. It’s a partnership they have retained for the new third album ‘Heaven Knows Magnolia’ released on limited purple vinyl, CD and digital formats on October 21st. The song

Hitting play on SEAMOSS2, the latest missive from Portland noisetinkerers Sea Moss, is like punching the big red button on a cartoon
bomb before it explodes into a multicolored mushroom cloud
From the second Nap Time revs up, vocalist Noa Ver and drummer Zach
D'Agostino absolutely clobber the listener with a distorted hodgepodge of sounds
as raw and violent as they are winkingly playful, as if Black Dice and Melt-Banana
were caught in the middle of some kind of psychotic square dance together.The
duo's setup "which involves a primitive assemblage of hacked feedback
oscillators, colorful Rococo tin boxes, and a contact mic plugged directly onto
Ver's neck to capture her barking intonations " harkens back to an era of DIY
where live performance meant everything. Blurring the line between reckless
improvisation and tightly- knit compositions, the band achieves a disorientingly
complex interplay. Though Sea Moss's music may initially seem to be an act of
pure blunt force, the duo's true prowess lies in the intricacy of their rhythmic
interplay. As freeform as it all might seem, SEAMOSS2 contains the band's most
potent, precise compositions yet, refining the distinct style they forged on
disorienting releases like Bread Bored and Bidet Dreaming into a thrilling act of
controlled chaos.
In an era where the communal spirit of DIY feels more difficult to achieve than
ever, Sea Moss embody the classic ethos of weirdo punk music in all its absurdity
and wonder. It's this same sense of scrappiness that's earned them attention
from legends like Lightning Bolt and Machine Girl, and SEAMOSS2 illustrates why
they're every bit as deserving of their own trophy in the noise-rock hall of fame
one adorned in broken contact mics and scuffed-up scratches from one too many
bloody basement shows.

In January 2011 Sam Prekop, Archer Prewitt, John McEntire, and Eric Claridge reconvened at Chicago"s Soma Electronic Music Studios to record their latest release The Moonlight Butterfly. This thirty three minute mini-album finds the band deliverying much more long form and cinematic pieces. The new songs lean upon the band"s more experimental tendencies, taking time to stretch the forms and in someways the new material relates to the way the band re-interpretes some of their songs live. With the band making a shorter than usual record they were allowed to take more chances and ended up with a release that leans a bit more towards the instrumental. Rather than having the vocals be the sole focal point the shifts in emphasis to other instruments facilitated a more open approach. The song "Weekend" from Car Alarm was kind of an unwitting blueprint for some of the new material. Especially the new song "Inn Keeping" where a synthesizer pattern became the armature for the song, a constant to play with and against. "Inn Keeping" is also quite a breakthrough for the band, sounding unlike anything they have done before and breaking the 10 minute mark.

Stripped back electro, tooled to make your body move in dark rooms. Rubbery synth lines duck and weave with metallic percussion, as the machines spin stories of deep space and distant aquatic worlds.

Four tracks made with the knowledge and instincts of a turntable veteran combining an 'always in the record bag' usefulness with a solid individual identity.

An additional remix by Human Rebellion mutates the already fierce sea snakes into a radioactive monster from the deep.

Alexandra Spence is a sound artist and musician living on unceded Wangal land in Sydney, Australia. Through her practice Alex attempts to reimagine the intricate relationships between the listener, the object, and the surrounding environment as a kind of communion or conversation. Her aesthetic favours field recordings, analogue technologies and object interventions (she holds the belief that electricity might actually be magic).

Recorded, performed, composed, and mixed by Alexandra Spence.
In order of appearance: waves, waterbugs, shells, cymbal, keyboard, clarinet, woodblock, dream, rock, queña, modular synth, hands, tape recording submerged in seawater, tape loops, NI mixer, EMS VCS 3, sine waves, non-definitive list of things in the Pacific Ocean, submerged hydrophone tape loop recordings, ceramic pipes in water, bowed cups, pontoon, blown bottles, submerged tape recording of waves.

9th in the monthly series

2022 reissue of »Black Sea«, originally released in 2008. Fennesz uses guitar and computer to create shimmering, swirling electronic sound of enormous range and complex musicality. "Imagine the electric guitar severed from cliche and all of its physical limitations, shaping a bold new musical language." - (City Newspaper, USA). His lush and luminant compositions are anything but sterile computer experiments. They resemble sensitive, telescopic recordings of rainforest insect life or natural atmospheric occurrences, an inherent naturalism permeating each piece.

Jacob Long’s third Earthen Sea outing for Kranky, Ghost Poems, further refines his fragile, fractured palette into fluttering arrhythmias of dust, percussion, and yearning.
Composed during the first wave of lockdowns in New York, the pieces took shape patiently from samples of piano, texture, and domestic sounds (sink splashing, room tone, clinking objects), filtered through live FX to imbue them with an intuitive, immaterial feel. Wisps of melody splinter, shimmer, and refract, like light on water; pulses accrue and dissipate, as if mapping shifting sands. Throughout, there’s a sense of matter made animate, of absences felt.
Long cites notions of “the studio as a dub instrument” and the melancholy of “7th chords on a fake Rhodes patch” as central elements in his process, transforming raw materials into rare thresholds of symbiosis and hypnosis. This is music for night skies in hollowed out cities, for views across rivers towards unknown shores: restless, placeless, and profound.
track listing:1. Shiny Nowhere 2. Stolen Time 3. Felt Absence 4. Oblique Ruins 5. Snowy Water 6. Rough Air 7. Slate Horizon 8. Ochre Sky 9. Fossil Painting 10. Deep Sky
press quotes for previous album Grass and Trees:
“Jacob Long’s vaporous, lo-fi ambient tracks feel like snapshots of stillness made of moving parts.” Pitchfork
“As light as a warm breeze on skin, Earthen Sea’s latest album for Kranky showcases Jacob Long’s natural sensitivity for low-key, enchanting electronic sound craft.” Boomkat
“It’s exciting to hear such a significant change in his sound without sacrificing a personal touch and sonic character.” Igloo

Chris Orrick hat seine bisherige musikalische Karriere damit verbracht, Antworten auf Fragen zu finden, vor denen die meisten Menschen Angst hätten sie überhaupt zu stellen.

Niemand thematisiert den Abgrund besser als Chris Orrick.

Der ehemalige Fabrikarbeiter aus Michigan, der früher als Red Pill bekannt war, hat die letzte halbe Dekade damit verbracht, industriellen Verfall, familiäre Schmerzen und Suchterkrankungen besser zu dokumentieren als fast jeder andere, der auf dieser vergifteten Erde lebt.
Er und seine Musik ist irgendwo zwischen Charles Bukowski und Michael Moore zu verorten.

But the continuous stream wouldn't provide sufficient answers for long. Observing rudimentary structures sewer sender became tantalized with a vision of reverbation fromlower vaults of confinement. Waves reminiscent of solid concrete yet deeply seated below the ocean surface form and merges with the narrow surroundings.
Manitou takes the first step by setting a clear form for something deep seated. Proceedingextends the notion of martinous inaugural appointment Procedure' with a take on industrial
drums reverbing from the depths. Never (Anthem) takes the first part of the EP to fruition with stripped anthemic stabs and alarms to a strict and cleanly distorted beat. Jargonsolidifies concrete solid with enigmatic percussions over jaunty kick patterns. I have lost again focuson a dramatic narrative with hypnotic vocal stabs rolling over an intense kickand climatic builds. Needlessness frames the entire release combining both the concrete solid and the deep sea seated with again a take on martinous inaugural release Needless, leaving the frail thematic stab subdued by syncopated kicklike percussion and soaring
hihats to create a toollike appearance.

‘Cinnamon Sea’ is the perfect introduction to one of the most mysterious, ever-morphing underground bands from New Zealand. The Garbage and the Flowers make their long awaited return with another psychedelic masterpiece from the band that gave us 1997's cult dreampop gem 'Eyes Rind As If Beggars'. A hybrid fusion of the Velvets, Elephant 6 and any God-fearing stoned strummers you can think of, with a nod to Charlie Manson’s bedside balladry to boot. On their return, the band hone their songcraft with tracks like ‘Eye Know Who You Are’, a tantalising piece of Mazzy Star on steroids, a spiralling sonic rumble, that reaches a miasmic high on every hummed chorus. It opens the Pandora’s box of this release, a sleight of ear collection of five songs from this cosmology-observing Australia-based outfit. Tracks like ‘Red Star’ exist in a land where sound levels are destroyed by savage birds. ‘On The Radio’ trips into an untuned lagoon. There’s a quasi-religious zeal to proceedings, a nod to Sterling Morrison’s Velvet strum elsewhere, everything that would have been key to the Elephant 6 conglomerate not so long ago, maybe, if you can even imagine, My Bloody Valentine unplugged. ‘Cinnamon Sea’ was recorded in an abandoned courthouse in Freyerstown, a ghostly village in Victoria’s Goldfields in Southeast Australia, where you’re more likely to meet giant grey kangaroos bounding on its dusty main street than tottering prospectors these days. It unravels with claustrophobic glee as we traverse the structured climes of exemplary songwriting seasoned with the salt of improvisation. This from a band who previously released an album famously dubbed ‘Stoned Rehearsal’. It closes with the track ‘Jacob B’, a melancholy tale that’s a hybrid of Manson’s troubled tunes and the psychedelic folk songs of Quicksilver’s Dino Valente. File under: outsider music for insiders. “By some measure Wellington's most brilliant pop band, The Garbage & The Flowers are classic underground rock'n'roll with a hazy ramshackle sound pockmarked by bursts of genius.” Forced Exposure

Emotional Rescue looks back again with a 2022 repress, digging deep in to the early 80s Bristol post punk scene of Pig Pag, the Wild Bunch and the Dug Out club. A short lived project of just 3 releases, Mouth trail-blazed leftfield percussive jams in the rich vain of Liquid Liquid and ESG but in their own jazz-infused way.

Centered round the cultural melting post of the St Paul's district, it's pubs, clubs and blues parties threw together young and old to the sounds of dub, funk, jazz and soul and took the spark lit by punk rock and new wave and spawned music that still resonates today.

Consisting of a floating line up based around main members Andy Guy and Rob Merrill, alumina included a young Nellie Hooper before he would go on to be a founding member of the Wild Bunch and on to produce the likes of Bjork, U2 and Madonna.

Based around a hard tribal drumming, mixing guitar, trumpet, shouted vocals and effects, the thrown in the mix nature was inspired as much by avant-jazz than punk's do it yourself attitude.

Here then, on one EP are their complete recordings, including as the title cut, their best and deepest, Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea. Featured on a compilation LP from the legendary Y Records, its bottom heavy dub sound is augmented by female and toasted vocals riding a top a heavy stepper style riddim.

This is followed by an increasingly dizzy array of percussion jams. Acab (Part 2) is all skips and trumpets, while the versions of Take Your Coat Off perfect skat vocal / tom interplay, before the finale busts out the rockabilly influences in full effect with jagged guitar, skipping hats meets double bass punk style.

Glastonbury rockers REEF return with their new album Shoot Me Your Ace

Produced by former Duran Duran/ Power Station guitarist Andy Taylor, Shoot Me Your Ace, showcases the bands talents in one of the most thrilling rock albums of recent years. From the title track’s swaggering opening salvo to rollercoaster closer ‘Strangelove’, Shoot Me Your Ace is a thrilling blast of unadulterated rock’n’roll joy that doesn’t just match such classic Reef albums as 1995 breakout debut Replenish or 1997’s transcendent Glow, but exceeds them.

Glastonbury rockers REEF return with their new album Shoot Me Your Ace

Produced by former Duran Duran/ Power Station guitarist Andy Taylor, Shoot Me Your Ace, showcases the bands talents in one of the most thrilling rock albums of recent years. From the title track’s swaggering opening salvo to rollercoaster closer ‘Strangelove’, Shoot Me Your Ace is a thrilling blast of unadulterated rock’n’roll joy that doesn’t just match such classic Reef albums as 1995 breakout debut Replenish or 1997’s transcendent Glow, but exceeds them.

Glastonbury rockers REEF return with their new album Shoot Me Your Ace

Produced by former Duran Duran/ Power Station guitarist Andy Taylor, Shoot Me Your Ace, showcases the bands talents in one of the most thrilling rock albums of recent years. From the title track’s swaggering opening salvo to rollercoaster closer ‘Strangelove’, Shoot Me Your Ace is a thrilling blast of unadulterated rock’n’roll joy that doesn’t just match such classic Reef albums as 1995 breakout debut Replenish or 1997’s transcendent Glow, but exceeds them.

At its essence BAIT is a band that has become a long distance relationship. For 18 months it’s lived in the cloud, with a rope around its neck. We’ve all had enough restrictions but restrictions force you to work with what you’ve got. Restrictions are precisely what BAIT needed to breathe out, sink to the bottom and propel itself back into the light of day clutching a new record.

‘Sea Change’ is the debut full-length album from BAIT. It’s a digital post-punk lockdown docu-record which watches the clock, gets the jitters, and lashes out just like the rest of us. It’s an internal monologue that accounts the anxiety, the struggles, the pressures experienced living by the sea during a global pandemic.

“This record is true to the environment it was created in, everything was developed remotely and we were forced to collaborate through isolation. I had to sing lower to avoid fucking off the neighbours…At one point I drove out to the middle of nowhere to demo some screaming parts in the driver’s seat of my car, I’m lucky I wasn’t arrested.” - Michael Webster

Originally planned for issue on Strata-East, Hammond took his collaboration with Durrah to Detroit and issued his masterpiece. Lacquered by Bernie Grundman. Now-Again presents the de­nitive Tribe Records reissues. Deep, Spiritual Jazz of the highest order. The Tribe label, one of the brightest lights of America’s 1970s jazz underground, receives the Now-Again reissue treatment. This is your chance to indulge in the music and story of one of the most meaningful, local movements of the 20th Century Black American experience, one that expanded outwards towards the cosmos. In the words of the collective themselves, “Music is the healing force of the universe.” Included in an extensive, oversized booklet, Larry Gabriel and Jeff “Chairman” Mao take us through the history of the Tribe, in a compelling story that delves not just into the history of the label and its principals, but into the story of Black American empowerment in the latter half of the 20th Century. The booklet features never-before-seen archival photos and rare ephemera from Tribe’s mid-1970s heyday.

If this word "music" is sacred and reserved for eighteenth and nineteenth century instruments, we can substitute a more meaningful term: organization of sound.
- John Cage

Kista returns from a long hiatus with his first ever all instrumental LP.

Songs From The Seas Edge takes us on a journey into the mind of producer and Graffiti Writer Kista.

It's an album where all his early influences or things that intrigued him, all come together, his love for Sc-Fi Movies, Hip Hop, 80's Arcade Games, John Carpenter Soundtracks and Films (you will notice a few vocal samples from his films nestled away among the songs) and many other things that influenced him growing up as a kid.

In a world now dominated by Playlists and the digital age, Kista took a step back to try and make an album that all fitted together, a concept album based around living on the coast as a kid in the 80's.
“ I started going through samples i put aside years ago and started to go back to them, to try and make them all fit and blend together to form an instrumental album”.

“It's kind of hard to explain where Songs From The Sea's Edge fits to my previous work” explains Kista
“ I wanted to make something for myself that I could then share, a journey, something to listen to from start to finish,with certain samples making an apperance in more than just one track.

Songs From The Sea's Edge has an hypnotic and haunting synergy to it, it's atmospheric, melodic but is still firmly rooted in Kista's love for Hip Hop.

Press play and enjoy.

Acclaimed Los Angeles indie songwriter Alex Brown Church has announced the release of Sea Wolf - “Through A Dark Wood (Deluxe)” on November 19 via Dangerbird Records. “Having it come out now feels kind of fitting,” Church remarked. “‘Through a Dark Wood’ originally came out in March 2020 at the beginning of the pandemic, when we were all entering into a new ‘dark wood’ together. We’re beginning to figure it out, though we’re still not sure what’s next. Just like the story of the album.” “Through A Dark Wood (Deluxe)” includes 5 new songs from the original sessions where Church, coming out of a bruising divorce, wrote, recorded and scrapped a full album's worth of material before starting anew. Deluxe Tracklist: 1. Witchknife 2. Reflections On A Grey Dawn (feat. Dustin O'Halloran) 3. Two Figures 4. Here For You 5. Animal Mind

A new label from Kinfolk records founder - and a 14 of a Soft Rock - Christopher Galloway is upon us.

This first release sees the beautiful sounds of Torn Sail/Huw Costin revamped by the mighty production force that is Mark Rayner and Matt Horobin, aka Shrinkwrap.

Shrinkwrap are a production team that have been in the wilderness for a number of years but are much lauded by The Idjut Boys - amongst others - which has seen them release on Discfunction and U-Star.

Being close friends with Huw Costin, they decided to get together and re-work the track Gain On Gains that featured on Torn Sail's 2017 long player, This Short Sweet Life.

These two re-works see Shrinkwrap take the original into an extended/after-hours bliss out of epic proportions and an ambient dub.

Added to the package is an unreleased on vinyl mix of Costin's Disconnected cut from 2015. This is a more folk-infused affair that once again ventures into epic territory thanks to the production skills of Rayner and Horobin.

A lovely EP to kick off this new label.

Watch this space...

The new instrumental project of guitarist Jim Fairchild (Grandaddy / Modest Mouse / All Smiles / Grace Meridian,) and songwriter/composer Jacob Snider, Small Isles inhabits a rare hypnotic twilight between motion picture music and incandescent cosmic folk.
At once a love letter to film soundtracks and a meditative balm for our troubled times, ‘The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea’ was recorded by Fairchild on a bare-bones mobile rig while on tour with Modest Mouse. It was recorded in the cracks of time between soundchecks and performances, from city to city, in darkened hotel rooms and over-lit backstage dressing rooms, giving the album a sense of intimacy, of stolen time and weary after-show solitude.