quête:slip me

Unknown Rivers“ ist das Debüt des Bassisten Luke Stewart bei Pi Recordings. Stewart ist in der Musikszene allgegenwärtig und eine treibende Kraft. Er ist Leader oder Co-Leader von Bands wie Irreversible Entanglements oder des Exposure Quintet. DownBeat bezeichnet ihn als einen der „Twenty-Five Performers Who Could Shape Jazz for Decades“. Er hat mit Künstlern wie David Murray, Archie Shepp, Wadada Leo Smith, Nicole Mitchell, Nate Wooley und zahllosen anderen zusammengearbeitet. Stewart ist außerdem Kurator und Moderator mehrerer Konzertreihen in Washington, D.C. und New York, Schriftsteller, Aktivist, Produzent und DJ. Das neue Album hat er mit seinem langjähriges Silt Trio eingesp

Das mehrfach mit Platin und Gold ausgezeichnete niederländische Duo Tinlicker veröffentlicht ihr drittes Studioalbum 'Cold Enough For Snow'. Spätestens seit ihrem Hit 'Because You Move Me' gehören Tinlicker zu den wichtigsten Elektronischen Acts aus Europa. Auf dem Album zu hören sind u.a. die Stimmen von Brian Molko (Placebo), Tom Smith (Editors), Singer/Songwriter Nathan Nicholson von Boxer Rebellion (bekannt durch seine Arbeit mit Joris Voorn, Claptone, Duke Dumont), der britischen Indie-Rock-Band Circa Waves sowie Julia Church.

. Limited edition silver vinyl anniversary reissue of the Magnetic Fields’ classic 1999 rumination on, of course, love. Funny, smart, dark, memorable, and a lifetime’s worth of listening. Stephin Merritt solidifies his songwriting genius on his “most ambitious and fully realized work.” (AMG) This vinyl reissue is remastered for vinyl and beautifully packaged in a 10” slipcase box with three double gatefold sleeves and a 24 page booklet!

Limited edition silver vinyl anniversary reissue of the Magnetic Fields' classic 1999 rumination on, of course, love. Funny, smart, dark, memorable, and a lifetime's worth of listening. Stephin Merritt solidifies his songwriting genius on his "most ambitious and fully realized work". (AMG) This vinyl reissue is remastered for vinyl and beautifully packaged in a 10" slipcase box with three double gatefold sleeves and a 24 page booklet!

The opening line of Emily Dickinson’s short poem ‘‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers’ inspired the central image of Emily Barker’s new single ‘Feathered Thing’, written while she navigated cumulative grief.

When Barker was first introduced to producer Luke Potashnick (Gabrielle Aplin, Jack Savoretti, Katie Melua) in May 2022, she brought with her a full album’s worth of songs. But after visiting Potashnick’s storied studio, The Wool Hall and hearing his ambitious production ideas, she was inspired to write one more song.

“I also needed to process some heavy news” she comments. Barker and her husband Lukas Drinkwater had been trying to start a family. Following a couple of failed IVF cycles (and other “starts that we’d lost”), they investigated adoption and had decided to relocate to Australia to be closer to Barker’s family.

“It felt like we couldn’t work out what we wanted, but we finally reached a point where we both felt at peace with not having kids,” Barker recalls. “It had been an incredibly intense time, coinciding with a house move and the pandemic.”

And then Barker found she was pregnant. “We’d done all these things to try to make it happen, and then it happened naturally (and against all biological odds). Having previously navigated losses throughout our pregnancy journey, we now had to get our heads around what having this new person in our lives might look like - emotionally and practically.”

Soon after work began on the album, Barker had a miscarriage.

“Songwriting has always been a way of processing throughout my life.” Barker reveals how the new song came quickly as she sat at her piano at home. She shared an early version with Potashnick and remembers him politely asking, “Do you mind telling me what this is about?”

“I think I’d left it too abstract, initially,” she reflects. “It was difficult to open up about the miscarriage, but Luke was very supportive and encouraged me to dig a little deeper without necessarily being specific. I revisited the lyrics, and the result is much stronger.”

“I went to the burnt-out woods/ A tourist with some damaged goods/ Remembered how the trees withstood fires before…”

“The opening line is a metaphor for knowing that I’ll get through this,” Barker clarifies. “It’s about recovery and hope, allowing yourself both the space to grieve and permission to move on”. But Barker’s optimism is never misplaced – she knows the imprint of imagined futures and lost children are carried in hearts and minds forever:

“It’s so hard to let go, wanted to know wanted to know you …”

“I think that it's important to share and normalise these stories, which are all too common, yet not openly spoken about. People hide their pain and don’t want to burden friends and family. I think behind all this anguish, there’s a deep, often untold story.”

Now that Barker is settled back in Western Australia, she’s embracing being an auntie. “I’ve got three younger siblings over here who I’m close to, and they all have kids,” she enthuses. “I look after my brother's kids, aged two and five, one morning a week.”

Recorded - along with the entirety of the new album - at The Wool Hall, ‘Feathered Thing’ begins gently, with oscillating piano and distant drums, until the arrangement gradually transforms into an instrumental dervish of vibrant strings, bass drones and cymbal crashes. Throughout, Barker’s vocals float tantalisingly like a slipstreaming feather.

Watch the video, filmed at The Wool Hall here. The Wool Hall is a studio in Beckington, Somerset, set up by Tears for Fears in the 1980s and used by artists including The Smiths, Pretenders, Joni Mitchell and many more.

Emily Barker is an award-winning singer-songwriter, best known as the writer and performer of the theme to the hugely successful BBC crime drama ‘Wallander’ starring Kenneth Branagh.

Her last album, 2020's ‘A Dark Murmuration of Words’, was produced by Greg Freeman and recorded at StudiOwz, a converted chapel in the Welsh countryside. Lyrically probing, by turns both dark and optimistic, Barker searches for meaning through the deafening clamour of fake news and algorithmically filtered conversation, delivering a timely exploration of the grand themes of our age. It garnered widespread acclaim, with Uncut calling it “…a kind of Australian equivalent of PJ Harvey’s Let England Shake”.

Barker has released music and toured as a solo artist as well as with various bands and collaborations, most notably her long association with Frank Turner, and has written for TV and film, including composing the soundtrack for Jake Gavin’s lauded debut feature ‘Hector’ starring Peter Mullan and Keith Allen.

‘Fragile as Humans’ is scheduled for release on May 3rd 2024 through Everyone Sang/Kartel Music Group. The album will also feature earlier singles: the vast, cinematic ‘Wild to be Sharing This Moment’ and the meditative, crestfallen ‘Loneliness’.

It's been a decade since John Carpenter recorded the material that would become Lost Themes, his debut album of non-film music and the opening salvo in one of Hollywood's great second acts. Those vibrant, synth-driven songs, made in collaboration with his son Cody Carpenter and godson Daniel Davies, kickstarted a musical renaissance for the pioneering composer and director. In the years since, Carpenter, Carpenter, and Davies have released close to a dozen musical projects, including a growing library of studio albums and the scores for David Gordon Green's trilogy of Halloween reboots. With Lost Themes IV: Noir, they've struck gold again, this time mining the rich history of the film noir genre for inspiration. Since the first Lost Themes, John has referred to these compositions as "soundtracks for the movies in your mind." On the fourth installment in the series, those movies are noirs. Like the film genre they were influenced by, what makes these songs "noirish" is sometimes slippery and hard to define, and not merely reducible to a collection of tropes. The scores for the great American noir pictures were largely orchestral, while the Carpenters and Davies work off a sturdy synth-and-guitar backbone. The noir quality, then, is something you understand instinctively when you hear it, as in connected in an emotional way. The trio's free-flowing chemistry means Lost Themes IV: Noir runs like a well-oiled machine_the 1951 Jaguar XK120 Roadster from Kiss Me Deadly, perhaps, or the 1958 Plymouth Fury from John's own Christine. It's a chemistry that's helped power one of the most productive stretches of John's creative life, and Noir proves that it's nowhere near done yielding brilliant results.

It's been a decade since John Carpenter recorded the material that would become Lost Themes, his debut album of non-film music and the opening salvo in one of Hollywood's great second acts. Those vibrant, synth-driven songs, made in collaboration with his son Cody Carpenter and godson Daniel Davies, kickstarted a musical renaissance for the pioneering composer and director. In the years since, Carpenter, Carpenter, and Davies have released close to a dozen musical projects, including a growing library of studio albums and the scores for David Gordon Green's trilogy of Halloween reboots. With Lost Themes IV: Noir, they've struck gold again, this time mining the rich history of the film noir genre for inspiration. Since the first Lost Themes, John has referred to these compositions as "soundtracks for the movies in your mind." On the fourth installment in the series, those movies are noirs. Like the film genre they were influenced by, what makes these songs "noirish" is sometimes slippery and hard to define, and not merely reducible to a collection of tropes. The scores for the great American noir pictures were largely orchestral, while the Carpenters and Davies work off a sturdy synth-and-guitar backbone. The noir quality, then, is something you understand instinctively when you hear it, as in connected in an emotional way. The trio's free-flowing chemistry means Lost Themes IV: Noir runs like a well-oiled machine_the 1951 Jaguar XK120 Roadster from Kiss Me Deadly, perhaps, or the 1958 Plymouth Fury from John's own Christine. It's a chemistry that's helped power one of the most productive stretches of John's creative life, and Noir proves that it's nowhere near done yielding brilliant results.

It's been a decade since John Carpenter recorded the material that would become Lost Themes, his debut album of non-film music and the opening salvo in one of Hollywood's great second acts. Those vibrant, synth-driven songs, made in collaboration with his son Cody Carpenter and godson Daniel Davies, kickstarted a musical renaissance for the pioneering composer and director. In the years since, Carpenter, Carpenter, and Davies have released close to a dozen musical projects, including a growing library of studio albums and the scores for David Gordon Green's trilogy of Halloween reboots. With Lost Themes IV: Noir, they've struck gold again, this time mining the rich history of the film noir genre for inspiration. Since the first Lost Themes, John has referred to these compositions as "soundtracks for the movies in your mind." On the fourth installment in the series, those movies are noirs. Like the film genre they were influenced by, what makes these songs "noirish" is sometimes slippery and hard to define, and not merely reducible to a collection of tropes. The scores for the great American noir pictures were largely orchestral, while the Carpenters and Davies work off a sturdy synth-and-guitar backbone. The noir quality, then, is something you understand instinctively when you hear it, as in connected in an emotional way. The trio's free-flowing chemistry means Lost Themes IV: Noir runs like a well-oiled machine_the 1951 Jaguar XK120 Roadster from Kiss Me Deadly, perhaps, or the 1958 Plymouth Fury from John's own Christine. It's a chemistry that's helped power one of the most productive stretches of John's creative life, and Noir proves that it's nowhere near done yielding brilliant results.

It's been a decade since John Carpenter recorded the material that would become Lost Themes, his debut album of non-film music and the opening salvo in one of Hollywood's great second acts. Those vibrant, synth-driven songs, made in collaboration with his son Cody Carpenter and godson Daniel Davies, kickstarted a musical renaissance for the pioneering composer and director. In the years since, Carpenter, Carpenter, and Davies have released close to a dozen musical projects, including a growing library of studio albums and the scores for David Gordon Green's trilogy of Halloween reboots. With Lost Themes IV: Noir, they've struck gold again, this time mining the rich history of the film noir genre for inspiration. Since the first Lost Themes, John has referred to these compositions as "soundtracks for the movies in your mind." On the fourth installment in the series, those movies are noirs. Like the film genre they were influenced by, what makes these songs "noirish" is sometimes slippery and hard to define, and not merely reducible to a collection of tropes. The scores for the great American noir pictures were largely orchestral, while the Carpenters and Davies work off a sturdy synth-and-guitar backbone. The noir quality, then, is something you understand instinctively when you hear it, as in connected in an emotional way. The trio's free-flowing chemistry means Lost Themes IV: Noir runs like a well-oiled machine_the 1951 Jaguar XK120 Roadster from Kiss Me Deadly, perhaps, or the 1958 Plymouth Fury from John's own Christine. It's a chemistry that's helped power one of the most productive stretches of John's creative life, and Noir proves that it's nowhere near done yielding brilliant results.

Reissue des dritten Studioalbums von Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions, das vielerorts zu den besten Alben des Jahres 2016 zählte und auf "Through The Devil Softly" (2009) folgte. "Until The Hunter" ist die erste Zusammenarbeit von Hope Sandoval (Mazzy Star) und Colm Ó Cíosóig (My Bloody Valentine) seit der Veröffentlichung von Mazzy Star "Seasons Of Your Day" und My Bloody Valentine "m b v" im Jahr 2013 und enthält Beiträge der Songwriter Mariee Sioux und Kurt Vile, Jim Putnam (Radar Bros.), des Straßenmusikers und Multiinstrumentalisten Michael Masley sowie der irischen Band Dirt Blue Gene.

In the dimly lit corners of a nondescript basement party, amidst the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses, a pulsating beat cuts through the haze of alcohol-induced euphoria. It's a track that none have heard before, yet it feels instantly familiar, echoing the electrifying energy of Underworld's iconic 'Born Slippy'. The song, discovered by accident during a drunken deep-dive into the depths of an online music platform, becomes the unexpected anthem of the night. Titled "Macht over het Stuur", this track is an odyssey of sound, blending relentless techno rhythms with haunting, ethereal vocals that seem to drift in from another world. The opening notes are a siren call, drawing listeners into a whirlpool of synths and beats that mimic the heartbeat of the city at night. It's music that doesn't just want to be heard; it demands to be felt, pulsating through the veins and igniting a fire in the soul. As "Macht over het Stuur" unfolds, it weaves a narrative without words, telling tales of fleeting connections, electric glances, and the raw, unfiltered essence of human emotion. It captures the spirit of those who chase the dawn, those who find beauty in the blur of lights as they speed past on their way to nowhere. The track is a paradox, both a celebration of the present moment and a longing for something just out of reach, a sound that encapsulates the feeling of being utterly lost yet exactly where you're supposed to be. The discovery of "Macht over het Stuur" on that drunken night feels like unearthing a treasure, a secret shared among friends that would soon ripple out to captivate a wider audience. As word of the track spreads, it becomes more than just a song; it's a movement, a collective memory etched into the minds of those who experienced it firsthand. It stands as a testament to the power of music to unite, to transform an ordinary night into something magical, a reminder that sometimes, the most unforgettable moments are those we never see coming.

After 20 years of living on the road in different places, Six Organs of Admittance had returned home to Humboldt County - a far country, to some, but still part of the world through which creatures of all kinds are moving through and contributing to. And some of them are human. Alone together - forming connection and exchange out of thought and expression - no different from the people on the other side of the Redwood Curtain. It was there, where Six Organs had long ago emerged, in the name of everything cycling, of circles that spiral concentrically and remain unbroken, the new music was conceived. In moments, it was as if the future had somehow wrapped around 360 degrees; elsewhere, the systems and patterns inside the writing and recording only became evident later - like a recognition that cumulus and nimbus clouds which passed through the sky the day before contained familiar shapes. Informing the songs accordingly as he went, Ben picked up on modes both musical and lyrical, threading backward through the time of Six Organs of Admittance. Almost marinating in it as a way of life. Working on the music and the vocals, then spending some time with them while stepping away from them. Walking the dog and coming back to them Time is Glass is made of that kind of time. Alone time. Recorded in the visceral environs of home, Time is Glass is sharply focused, even as misty impressionist mountains float through the background. Sweet and spiny, "The Mission" sings its purpose, before turning abruptly to the orchestral rumble of "Hephaestus": rural industrial psychedelia, ecosystem goth, synths arcing to lift a helplessly earthbound community into the firmament above. Winding almost imperceptibly back into song with "Slip Away", the time of the record becomes clear, moves fluidly, relaxed but aware, from event to event. People and things coming around again. The intuit, passing through wormholes and time, sounding deep then dissolving into the universal. The acoustic sounds ringing, layered suddenly, then clear again. Explosions of a new kind of distortion. Ecstatic melodies. Communing. The space of a day. The space of a season. Time is Glass, and Six Organs of Admittance is here and will be here, again.

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.

Red Vinyl

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.

2x7"
Not so long ago Marlena Shaw was a forgotten figure. The talented vocalist had made several LPs for respected labels such as Cadet and Blue Note, and she'd performed regularly throughout the '60s and '70s. But she hardly had what you might call diva status. Falling into the unfortunate category that slips uneasily between soul and jazz, she was accepted - but not especially admired - by aficionados of either genre. Then came the '90s, and an open-minded enthusiasm for soul and jazz - and more importantly - everything in between - soon changed that. Marlena Shaw became an icon, and the diva status soon blossomed amongst her new-found soul-jazz fans.

Respect is a word that means much to any singer. The artist who stands up in the bright lights before an audience that has handed over their hard-earned cash has only their physical presence and naked voice to rely on. There is no hiding when you're on stage, you're the focus of attention and everybody is gawping at you. The singer yearns to communicate and entertain, and in return not only asks for appreciation and acceptance, but respect. To this end Marlena Shaw has endured decades of singing in the shadows, and she has only recently finally found her niche.

On Disc One we have 'California Soul', probably the most enduring and well-known of her many songs, but just a few seconds listening will tell you that it is much more than that. It's already a classic amongst those who have already seen the light and have danced and swayed to its timeless swing. Upon hearing it all lovers of soul, jazz – or any other kind of good music - will feel an aural glow as warm as the Californian sun. The song 'Liberation Conversation' on the flip was only ever available on her highly revered 1969 LP 'The Spice of Life'. This is where the 'Blues ain't nothing but a good woman gone bad' launches into an irresistible, relentless uptempo funk groove.

Disc Two showcases 'Wade in the Water', an ancient song rumoured to have been developed and popularised by slaves in the American south. The message is to pass on the notion that by fleeing in a bid for freedom through streams and rivers, the scent that bloodhounds use to follow their victims will be obscured. Marlena's version has long been a favourite dancefloor filler since its 45-only release back in 1966.

'Woman of the Ghetto' is one of her best-known songs and ends the set on the other side. The opening number from 'The Spice of Life', it's since been recognised for the classic it is, and as such has been afforded anthemic status. We release the original 45 version here, as used to promote the LP back in the day.

This special 2x7" product from Jazzman is dedicated to the memory of Marlena Shaw, b. 22 September 1939, d. 19 January 2024.

New Heaven, INTER ARMA’s latest album, is a compelling testament to perseverance, top to bottom. Its thicket of ever-dense layers of doom, death, and black metal occasionally let bits of light slip in, fleeting reminders to keep going amid the tumult. New Heaven marks a sharp turn for the band, showcasing some of the most extreme and angular songwriting INTER ARMA has ever laid bare. Known for their cinematic take on sludgy, extremely cavernous, and borderline psychedelic Metal, the Richmond band broadens their dynamics by seesawing between piledriving momentum and swirling oblivion. New Heaven crushers and conquers, and illustrates what INTER ARMA can truly be. Take the title track, with its hair-raising lead riff stemming from drummer/songwriter TJ Childers’ challenge to himself to write a nonsensically dissonant part that he ended up loving. The song spirals upward into a punishing Death-Metal march, Meanwhile, vocalist Mike Paparo’s stentorian bellows the bludgeon, above an impossibly complicated web of riffs and rhythms. From the get go, New Heaven and the opening title track eschews any restraint - INTER ARMA is completely unchained. Paparo’s keen and empathetic lyrics about innocent victims of war, addiction, and social apathy affirm that feeling, as a survivor grimaces at the carnage behind him and presses ahead best he can. “You stared into the brutish jaws of strife’s heartless device,” he growls into a chthonic blitz during “The Children the Bombs Overlooked,” a late-album powerhouse. “And you turned your back to hell.” That forward march out of madness is New Heaven in an armor-plated nutshell. Though this is indeed another INTER ARMA triumph, it is not a triumphant album, meant to offer some glib or naïve assurance that everything will be fine. What evidence is there for that, really, either on a record where friends are forced into submission, addiction, suicide, or retreat to a world where suffering remains the lingua franca? No, INTER ARMA and New Heaven are too realistic and experienced for that. This is, instead, a record about enduring brambles and curses and lasting long enough to make something profound, honest, and even affirming about it all every now and again—exactly as INTER ARMA has on New Heaven. FFO: Amenra, Neurosis, Full of Hell, Cult of Luna, Yob, Primitive Man, Thou, Ulcerate, Mastodon, The Body, Panopticon

At once a hazy relic and a digital snapshot of the human experience, Your Day Will Come is the debut album from Chanel Beads, arriving April 19 via Jagjaguwar. The remarkable project announces the arrival of New York-based musician Shane Lavers as a new force in experimental music, capturing the many contradictions of modern existence and the strange infiniteness of the digital world. The songs feel like a memory in which you can't distinguish between what actually happened or what was a false reproduction in your mind - although the burning emotion remains intact. Lavers pushed himself to strip his own sense of ego from “Your Day Will Come”. Throughout, Lavers weaves in contributions from his live bandmates, singer-songwriter Maya McGrory (Colle) and experimental instrumentalist Zachary Paul, who offer their own layers of feeling. As McGrory offers a more full-bodied tone and Lavers often sings with his higher-pitched head voice, the two collaborators meet in the middle; it's an intermingling of identities or a subconscious pining for androgyny. In this slippery space, different perspectives merge together, and there's a sense of empathy and humility that arises from the blending of these voices. These days, Chanel Beads live shows see all three performers weaving together in absolute catharsis. This catharsis is pushed to its peak on "Idea June," which sees McGrory taking over lead vocals to project Lavers' lyrics. As McGrory sings, "The waves wash onto my shore," in a voice that's both earnest and digitally processed, it's as though she's speaking as a separate embodiment of Lavers. In under two minutes, the track of clunky acoustic guitar and gutting strings lands somewhere between detachment and kinship. Similar to the off-kilter structure of "Police Scanner," these songs are strangely affecting in their unfinished and liminal forms. Lavers, who is drawn to poor MP3 rips and transitional moments in DJ mixes, knows that these inexact musical artifacts evoke human imperfection. The title of Your Day Will Come could be read as a promise of the arrival of good karma, or it could be a reminder of one's mortality, said out of spite. Yet as Lavers unpacks the haunting feelings of the past that he must release in order to move into his future, he reminds us that grief and hope might be closer than they seem to the naked eye.

At once a hazy relic and a digital snapshot of the human experience, Your Day Will Come is the debut album from Chanel Beads, arriving April 19 via Jagjaguwar. The remarkable project announces the arrival of New York-based musician Shane Lavers as a new force in experimental music, capturing the many contradictions of modern existence and the strange infiniteness of the digital world. The songs feel like a memory in which you can't distinguish between what actually happened or what was a false reproduction in your mind - although the burning emotion remains intact. Lavers pushed himself to strip his own sense of ego from “Your Day Will Come”. Throughout, Lavers weaves in contributions from his live bandmates, singer-songwriter Maya McGrory (Colle) and experimental instrumentalist Zachary Paul, who offer their own layers of feeling. As McGrory offers a more full-bodied tone and Lavers often sings with his higher-pitched head voice, the two collaborators meet in the middle; it's an intermingling of identities or a subconscious pining for androgyny. In this slippery space, different perspectives merge together, and there's a sense of empathy and humility that arises from the blending of these voices. These days, Chanel Beads live shows see all three performers weaving together in absolute catharsis. This catharsis is pushed to its peak on "Idea June," which sees McGrory taking over lead vocals to project Lavers' lyrics. As McGrory sings, "The waves wash onto my shore," in a voice that's both earnest and digitally processed, it's as though she's speaking as a separate embodiment of Lavers. In under two minutes, the track of clunky acoustic guitar and gutting strings lands somewhere between detachment and kinship. Similar to the off-kilter structure of "Police Scanner," these songs are strangely affecting in their unfinished and liminal forms. Lavers, who is drawn to poor MP3 rips and transitional moments in DJ mixes, knows that these inexact musical artifacts evoke human imperfection. The title of Your Day Will Come could be read as a promise of the arrival of good karma, or it could be a reminder of one's mortality, said out of spite. Yet as Lavers unpacks the haunting feelings of the past that he must release in order to move into his future, he reminds us that grief and hope might be closer than they seem to the naked eye.

EIGHTEEN AND I LIKE IT… (MISC. COLOURED VINYL))if you survived trips 1-17 with one tiny speck of psychedelic sunshine intact, Brown Acid The 18th Trip will be your coming of age nightmare. Vintage underground '70s hard rock, coming at you from bizarre angles, local scene wasteland America when everybody was out for themselves and the drugs went bleak. The guitars kill, the attitude is twisted, even the sex is headed down the wrong road. Real people, no compromise, pure and potent. Get stoked, take the 18th Trip and know that the artists will get paid for pulverizing your soul! "People… are you ready?, 'cause the music now is getting so heavy"… Back Jack out of St. Louis, Missouri in 1974 launch our trip with "Bridge Waters Dynamite". It's an invocation to rock flashing on Mark Farner whooping up a Grand Funk crowd, then getting to the point quickly with berserk guitar assaults. Heavy riff with power chord stalks beneath as you take their advice… get loose and blow up the past. Smokin' Buku Band dropped my jaw with the audacious track "Hot Love" coming on like some fractured fever dream burlesque of Led Zep moves out of Hollywood in 1980. Swooping elongated vocals above, a total Zep chord move at the end of each verse. Writer/producer Steve Shauger aka Shag Stevens gets a brilliantly messed up sound quality here, the ideal polar opposite of slick. The extended guitar break is an epitome of serendipitously crude virtuosity, simply outrageous! Coming at you from way outta left field is "Moby Shark" by Atlantis, a hilarious and strange Baltimore pre-punk vibed dose of D.I.Y. meets hard rock. Lon Talbot is the mastermind, the flip side of this impossibly rare Mekon Records label single was featured in an obscure 1978 B-movie titled "The Alien Factor". Follow the lyrics closely, when the ominous jaws jaws jaws start coming after you you you… the song's big hook is so preposterously catchy the shark attack feels like good news. Inquiring minds should know that the band formerly known as Atlantis can now be found by searching for the Lon Talbot Group! Tommy Stuart and the Rubberband's "Peeking Through Your Window" from 1970 opens with a spooky organ riff, slips into a gushy fuzz/organ groove akin to "Mustache In Your Face” by Pretty. The singer creates downright creepy vibes, a stalker peeking through the girl's mind like a peeping Tom at the window up to no good. The lyrics evoke a disturbing scenario. Tommy Stuart also made a strange LP titled Hound Dog Man in 1977 and some terrific rare garage singles under the names Magnificent Seven and The Omen & Their Love in the mid '60s. Nothing better than an angry two chord guitar attack with cowbell to set the stage for this rant about getting "Ripped Off" by love. Taken from their rare 1977 LP on Dynamite Records, Chicago Triangle was Marvey Esparza, Dave Guereca, Jose 'Tarr' Perez and Robert Aguilera. They unleash such strong brain-scrubbing wah wah frenzy in the guitar break here that it seems to perversely mock it's own intensity! Like I said, Brown Acid the 18th Trip comes at you from all kinds of uncanny angles. Damnation of Adam Blessing out of Cleveland, Ohio unleashed a stone killer psychedelic hard rock classic "Cookbook" in the late '60s, this track "Nightmare" from 1973 has them cooking again at full power. A different singer, name change to Damnation and then Glory, unleashing a deadly dose of dark progressive heavy rock drama peaking when spooky 'oooo-wa-oooo' background vocals emerge during a bizarre spoken bit. It unfolds like a mini-epic and includes some remarkably brutal guitar and turbulent organ, too. "Swing your sword, all aboard… bid farewell to the dreamer" Dalquist exclaims. Cynical view of human nature, idealism is over, war is coming, it always does. Opens with a cold menacing riff and atmosphere reminiscent of "Synthezoid Heartbreak" by Maya. Mournful despondent vocals ride an insistent churning groove, gnarly guitar break moves into free noise territory. This rare track is from a local various artists benefit album titled Kangaroo Jam issued for the Waco Family Abuse Center in Texas circa 1980. The Pawnbrokers "Realize" is prime proto heavy rock emerging out of psychedelic garage roots in 1968 Fargo, North Dakota. Unusual arrangement, terrific sustain guitar tones like on the first Blue Cheer LP, even a rip on Hendrix "Manic Depression" with unison voice and guitar ascent near the end. They made three 45s and were active from '65 to '69. Hats off to Blake English, Kent Richey, Paul Rogne and Steve Harrison, you nailed it in just a hair over two minutes! As pure and creative as the original psychedelic garage hard rock gets. Parchment Farm from Union, Missouri gigged with the likes of ZZ Top and Foghat back in the day and unleashed the amazing "Songs Of The Dead" in 1971. Primitive riff/chord pattern dosed with some funky prog moves, sky turning black, 'is this heaven or hell' type disoriented confusion… may as well grab your guitar and sing songs to the dead. Robert 'Ace' Williams on bass, Paul Cockrum on guitar, Gary Reed on keys and Micky Waterman on drums, replacing Mike Dulany (R.I.P.) Cool that they use the Blue Cheer misspelling from Vincebus Eruptum for the band name! Ominous organ, thick minimalist fuzz riff, funky psychedelic wah wah flashes and freaky sex combine in one twisted dance titled "Rockin' Chair" by Brothers Of The Ghetto. Out of Chicago in 1975 with some Santana atmospherics and a delicious fuzz wah screamin' guitar break, the groove is highlighted by an off the wall vocal which sounds eerily detached in a subtly sleazy way. Rene Maxwell is the writer of this hard-rock boogie-down hybrid straight out of the twilight zone. It was issued on Ghetto, a subsidiary of the peculiar Kiderian label that released the Creme Soda LP. Now that your head is totally skewered, go Back Jack and play side one again! (Words by Paul Major)