Cerca:slow porn

Spider Taylor crawls over to Dark Entries with Surge Studio Music, an album of archival gay pornographic soundtracks. James Allan Taylor was born into a working-class family in Los Angeles in 1951. Nicknamed “Spider” by his father due to his frantic energy, Taylor was a natural-born guitarist, gifted with perfect pitch and a voracious musical appetite.

Throughout the 70s, he expanded his musical repertoire, playing in bands ranging from country to post-punk, like his outfit Red Wedding, while always looking for new sounds and styles to explore. During this period, Taylor also partnered with his soulmate and musical collaborator, Michael Ely. They were part of a wave of bold, young, gay couples living openly together in the years immediately following the Stonewall Riots. In the early 80s, while working at the West Hollywood gay sex club Basic Plumbing, Taylor met Al Parker, the legendary pornographic actor and director, who recruited Taylor to produce the soundtrack for a film he was working on. Parker’s partnership with Steve Scott running Surge Studios produced some of the most popular all-male films of the era. Spider’s music was a natural fit for Surge, and throughout 1985 and 1986, he composed the soundtracks for five films produced by the iconic studio. Assisted by engineer Steve Conrad and armed with a drum machine and some synths, Spider’s compositions for film veer from the expansive, reverb-drenched “Rainforest” to the Miami Vice-esque chugger “Tech.”

While Spider thought of this work as little more than a gig, tangential to his real craft, enthusiasts of VHS-era nostalgia and vintage erotica will be brought to bliss. Surge Studio Music will be available on both LP and CD, the latter of which includes a 20-minute version of “Strange Places…Strange Things!” as a bonus track. The album’s cover art was designed by Gwenael Rattke, and features stylish images from Surge Studios releases. Also included is an insert featuring liner notes by Will Lewis, a longtime friend of Spider. The music is released from Spider’s estate by Michael Ely, Spider’s partner of 43 years. The shadow of AIDS lingered over Surge; Steve Scott passed from AIDS-related illness in 1987, and Al Parker succumbed in 1992. In 2014, when it became legal for same-sex couples to marry in Arizona, Spider and Michael finally became wedded. Spider would pass away from liver cancer six months later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is an album made during a crucial period in South Africa’s history during which there was a palpable feeling of a slow turning towards the collapse of the apartheid state side by side with an increasingly well-organised culture of resistance through the formation of the United Democratic Front (UDF) and various affiliated bodies. However, as a result, there was increased pushback from the state security establishment, a turning to dirty tricks and the formation of hit squads whose members murdered and tortured many of our friends and created chaos throughout South Africa as well as neighbouring countries.

This album is situated in this political environment however it took advantage of the new do-it-yourself music technologies available at that time. Technologies that made it possible to make and release records without interference from traditional record company executives. Two musician friends of mine pooled their resources after their respective bands had broken up. Ivan Kadey (National Wake) and Lloyd Ross (Radio Rats) built an 8-track recording studio control room and fitted it out in a second hand caravan and called it Shifty. They parked it in a garage attached to the only house left in a demolished and derelict mining village near Soweto on the outskirts of Johannesburg.
All the work on this album was completed there, mainly after hours and mostly alone where I enjoyed an exhilarating freedom to develop a whole new set of musical skills and ideas, incorporating my love of a wide range of music I’d grown up with. Influences of 1970s progressive/kraut/and psychedelic rock combined with mbaqanga bass styles, early reggae/dub and Indian tabla rhythms. Stockhausen, early Zappa and Holgar Czukay were radio text and shredding influences, and Chris Cutler’s band Henry Cow & Art Bears helped me see a way to political expression. Mostly though was the exciting post-punk and no-wave music coming through to us from Europe and America: bands like This Heat, the Mekons, Raincoats, Sonic Youth and Pere Ubu were immensely important to me as was my reading from the period: J.M.Coetzee’s first 3 novels are strong influences on Free State Fence; the stark landscape, superstition, ritual, and sexual repression are in many of his settings. JG Ballard was a constant presence throughout that period, especially whilst living in such a surreal environment, surrounded by mine dumps, but mostly I think the whole French post-modern philosophical movement—Derrida, Foucault and of course, Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation—set out a new sense of possibilities, possible ways to express oneself, ways to think, and ways to try and analyse the political intersection of public and private life. Most important at that time was the influence of sound recordings I had made and experiences garnered from working as a sound recordist on documentary films. These financed my work and later the studio and were consistent employment throughout the 1980s. Film work also enabled me to experience much of South Africa that was hidden from most. The track Independence Day is a good example; drawn from some time spent in the rural homeland of Venda. This then was the first full length Kalahari Surfers album, completed in summer of 1984 it was taken to EMI pressing plant but rejected by the cutting engineer as being ""political, pornographic and anti religious"". Chris Cutler at Recommended Records took up the challenge and released the album through his label. He wrote the original liner note

2025 Repress
Singing black-lit liturgies of bog bodies caked in mud, entranced by nocturnal landscapes flickering in the moonglow and powered by queer enchantment, Tristwch y Fenywod are a Welsh-language gothic avant-rock powercoven. Exhumed from the depths of Leeds’
experimental underground, the trio consist of Gwretsien Ferch Lisbeth (Guttersnipe, The Ephemeron Loop), Leila Lygad (Hawthonn) and Sidni Sarffwraig (Slaylor Moon, The Courtneys).
Stark, striking and bewitching, Tristwch y Fenywod’s self-titled album is their debut studio recording, following just 10 gigs and a live demo. Formed in 2022, Tristwch y Fenywod ("The Sadness of Women”) record exclusively in the Welsh language, conjuring an eldritch, subterranean, alien folk music played on dual zither, electronic drums and bass guitar. With towering, siren-like vocals curling around the Welsh consonants, accompanied by stark, martial rhythms and swirling claw-plucked strings, Tristwch y Fenywod feels like an early 4AD recording dredged from the waters of an Anglesey swamp. The effect is simultaneously chilling and stirring.
The eight tracks on the record constitute what feels like a recently rediscovered, unholy grail of edgy, atmospheric, occult feminist goth emissions. Gwretsien’s dual-zither playing scatters melodic fragments and spirals of harmony around the decimated space opened up by the lugubrious bass playing and pounding, brooding drum pads.
Coupled with the Welsh vocal, Tristwch y Fenywod embody a new, unique Celtic darkwave sound, equal part Pornography-era The Cure, Svitlana Nianio’s haunted hammered string-work and the dark beauty of Dead Can Dance or This Mortal Coil. Opener Blodyn Gwyrdd feels like the last ride of Princess Ukok, with lumbering bass and 6/8 rhythms in procession to the event horizon with an entreating, impassioned vocal and surprising lyrical theme. The doomed dancing of the zither provides the mysterious melodic bedrock throughout the album, particularly on Ferch Gyda’r Llygaid Du’s heavy funereal swa and the slowly building, paroxysmal banshee breakdown of Awen: an astonishing swell of thrilling chaos.
The album was recorded and produced by Ross Halden and the band at Hohm Studio, Bradford, Summer 2023.

Dark Entries has a surprise delivery! Malebox brings us six previously unreleased funk-fueled jams from the archives of the cybernetic disco titan himself, Patrick Cowley. Best known for his chart-topping disco anthems, Cowley left us with an incredible body of work before his tragic death in 1982 due to AIDS-related illness. Since 2009, Dark Entries has been working with Cowley’s friends and family to uncover the singular artist’s lesser-known sides, including his soundtracks for gay pornographic films on compilation albums School Daze, Muscle Up, and Afternooners.

But Malebox gives us more of the Cowley we know and love: churning disco-funk and hi-NRG tracks that are spacey and sleazy, gritty and sublime. Recorded from 1979-1981, these six tracks illuminate what was one of Patrick’s most creatively exciting periods. “If You Feel It” and “Love Me Hot” were both early Paul Parker demos; the former is a peak hour hi-NRG bomb, while the latter dips into Cowley’s zoned-out space disco sound. Jeanie Tracy’s soulful vocals feature on the demo version of “Low Down Dirty Rhythm”, which was later re-recorded by Sarah Dash. The slower, less-varnished rendition here hits with a wild psychedelic edge. Meanwhile, Patrick’s gifts for careful orchestration and infectious melodies shine on “Floating” and “Love and Passion”, which were likely demo tracks for Loverde. The songs on Malebox display the vitality and inventiveness of a brilliant composer taken from us too soon.

Malebox sleeve design was by Gwenaël Rattke, and features a hyper-color retro collage. Also included is an air mail envelope containing a letter from Patrick Cowley to French disco producer Pierre Jaubert as well as liner notes and hand-written lyrics. Malebox will be released on November 12th , which is the 40th anniversary of Patrick’s passing.

All of us carry a piece of where we’re from with us, but these parcels of fallow land often in a uniquely mysterious way become the prey that nourishes our aspirations. Agnès Gayraud a refined thinker by day that transforms into la Féline at night left Tarbes many years ago in search of greener pastures. After making a name for herself with Adieu l’Enfance (2014), Triomphe (2017), and Vie Future (2019), the author and musician has evolved once again. Her latest release Tarbes reinvents the circle of life and challenges our preconceived notions. She welcomes us to her hometown with sweet and clear melodies over the backdrop of an electronic hum, reminiscent of Mark Twain classic Tom Sawyer. Tarbes is no more than a listen away. Physically prevented from returning to her hometown by the viral threat we all know all too well, Agnès found her way back with a small Electone home organ. The constraints of off-peak hours that called for some DIY savvy, slowly but surely, roused her spirit. With a drum machine, a bass and a guitar, she succeeded in making the young girl inside her smile again. With 13 songs and just as many adventures Tarbes is a concept album that tells the story of a young woman’s formative years, as spent in her hometown. The returning hymn doesn’t only imprint nostalgia, it paints the full emotional portrait of a town. Because for Agnès, Tarbes is not just her theater, but her whole world, showing how fiercely protective she is of her hometown in the song Solazur. Under a magnifying glass of emotion, and with the sentimental testimony that is La Panthère des Pyrénées, the artiste shows us the skeletons in our own closets. Tarbes, more than a brief stopover in a rail journey to the coast, broaches issues that touch on abandonment, desertification, aging and redevelopment that many French towns and cities face today. Alexandre Guirkinger’s photographs serve as album art that illustrates this strangely unique singularity. While fine-tuning this collection of stories, in an oh-so-intimate album where solitude rips away the mask of confidence, Agnès found solace in uniting with other spirits. For 3 songs Tarbes, Jeanne d’Albret and Fum, inspired by an Occitan poem of Louisa Paulin (1888-1944), she invited the young voices of Conservatoire Henri Duparc a building she knows intimately, despite never feeling allowed to enter as a child to breathe the energy of their adolescence into this record. She also collaborated with Lyon’s own François Virot to imbue his delicate rhythms into her work, as well as Belgian guitarist Mocke Depret. Lastly, La Féline entrusted the last production stages to her eternal partner in music, Xavier Thiry, with Stéphane “Alf” Briat on the mixing board. The final piece has a complex tranquility, surrounded by non-verbality, with Jeanne d’Albret, Louisa Paulin and the Pyrénées safeguarding Agnes’ secrets. With the calm reassurance of her metamorphoses, La Féline delivers a slice of silence to her town, serving as both her cradle and theater. Tarbes’ Théâtre des Nouveautés is where Agnès Gayraud, La Féline, has decided to present Tarbes to its residents on October 14, 2022. While “nouveautés” evokes newness, this theater is reminiscent of a future which is already outdated, where modernity is only vague and fictional, carrying reminders of French haute-kitsch accordionist Yvette Horner, whose parents were the caretakers of what was then called the Cani Eldorado a bastion of virtue through the 30s, with its lineup of Catholic films. However, by the 60s, it would have become a temple of pornographic cinema. Tarbes, “Les Nouveautés”, end card. In the mid 90s, then 16 years old, Agnès discovered the volatile dust and the ghosts of the past that were hidden in this apostate theater. This phantom bequeathed song the teenager with the gift of her undeniable talent at her first appearance on stage a high school performance of a guitar-laden ballad sung in Spanish, a language her Andalusian mother has infused her with. On October 14, 2022, Agnès returns to the stage, bass in hand and joined by François Virot (drums), Mocke Depret (guitar), Léa Moreau (keyboard) and the Conservatoire de Tarbes singers to perform the album in its entirety

Legendary Italian musician Sergio Messina serves up his 13 track Sensual Musicology on Hell Yeah this March. It comes a couple of years after he first released on the label's Buena Onda compilation and takes in everything from demented waltz to grown-up jazz, groovy beach music to heart-aching melancholia with artwork by virtuoso Italian AD DeeMo.

Now based in Lombardy, Sergio was there at the birth of pirate radio in the mid-seventies and eventually produced Radio art for national broadcaster Rai. At the same time, his DJ career took off and he helped establish Hip hop in Rome before taking his own live show to the stage with a mix of PCs, samplers and tape recorders as early as 1989. Frank Zappa declared himself a fan and in the years since Sergio has done everything from radio art to producing Neapolitan reggae and hip hop band 99 Posse, producing his own solo albums and writing for monthly music magazine Rumore. On top of this, he has both written books about and delivered lectures on the digital porno revolution, as well as teaching History of Pop Culture at the Istituto Europeo di Design in Milan. All this makes him a truly original creative thinking who has long been immersed in many niche facets of popular culture.

Sensual Musicology took several years and four different locations to happen. Its release has been delayed by the pandemic, during which Sergio lost many friends and relatives close to him. As a result, the album is dedicated to all of them. It is a record that addresses many topics from economic migration to jazz piano, 60s blues motifs to corruption, pollution and racism via Michael Jackson covers, odes to West Coast guitar albums and spaced-out pieces of electronica.

Opening with the beautifully delicate Mingus melodies of 'Goodbye Porkpie Hat' the album roams through the bluesy Italo-American-Jamaican groove of 'Amara,' slow melancholy of 'Sometimes Remember' with classy vocals from chanteuse Valeria Rossi and 'The Way You Make Me Feel', an acoustic rebuild of Michael Jackson's hit song. Then comes the serenade that is 'Just Because You're Dead,' and ‘Sono Stufa di Tutto’ which is based around a protest speech recorded from the radio in the 1980s. Jon Hassell Beach Bar' is a musical hybridisation for dancing pleasure.

The second half of the album takes in 'Ouana Di lambo' which is the Four Twenties taking you to a cocktail bar in the tropics, 'Benjamino Placido' which is a melody for a man who inspired Sergio to start writing his columns, and 'Nowhere Special' which is a tribute to West Coast guitar albums. Closer ‘Switchblade Bolero' has a Zappaesque theme.

Sensual Musicology is a rich and diverse musical world that is as thought-provoking and deep as it is emotionally rewarding.


Early DJ Support:
Leo Mas, Phat Phil Cooper, Calm, Chris Coco, Andy (We are The Sunset), Severino (Horse Meat Disco)

 Matador Records celebrate the 21st Anniversary of
The New Pornographers’ debut record and
breakout, ‘Mass Romantic’ (2000), with a special
edition LP reissue.
 The album - clocking three singers and twelve
effervescent and undeniable power-pop gems -
returns to us on red vinyl and includes a bonus 7”,
‘Letter From An Occupant’, which includes two rare
B-sides, ‘The End of Medicine’ and ‘When I Was a
Baby’.

Superb unreleased soundtrack from British 1972 sex comedy starring Gabrielle Drake (Nick Drake’s sister) and Rchard O’Sullivan (Gilbert O’Sullivan’s brother!). Brilliant music on many levels, 17 sexy tracks of swinging jet-set jazz, groovy scatty vocals, hell it must be good because it’s on Trunk Records.

Take yourself back to the fleapit cinemas of the early 1970s. My home town of Aldershot had two - the ABC/123 (with three screens) and The Palace (just one screen, and anything but palatial). Au Pair Girls, released in 1972, was exactly the kind of soft porn “comedy” flick with a vague plot that would, without doubt, have been playing as part of a double bill to the regular “dirty mac brigade”. Such films and such establishments guaranteed the small crowd regular titillating wide screen visions of nude women in preposterous situations and fulfilling preposterous fantasies.
The title of Au Pair Girls suggests it all of course; yes, four young women fly into London from Europe and Asia, are sent to their new employers and find themselves in unexpected and unusual situations pretty fast. There is of course full nudity, crudity and a large slab of cheese on the menu.There is also no real comedy, a sprinkling of infamous character actors (Richard O’Sullivan, John Le Mesurier), and “UFO” actress Gabrielle Drake (sister of Nick Drake) wearing nothing at all. If anything, the film has maintained a vague middle aged male following because of Gabrielle.
But there’s little to save this film from contemporary criticism - its outdated view of life, rights, sex and taste sit uncomfortably today. But the jet set soundtrack by Roger Webb was worth saving.
By 1972 Roger Webb’s career in film and TV music was taking off. He was an established songwriter and live pianist with a jazz trio. He’d already penned a few British scores and was just starting on a formidable future with library companies including Chappell, de Wolfe and Capitol. His route to Au Pair Girls was accidentally through Norman Newell, one of the giants of the post war music industry.Actress and performer Dee / Deanne Shenderry had asked Newell to recommend an artist to arrange her up and coming album. New;ee recommended Roger Webb.The two worked together and some music was produced, but to my knowledge only got to acetate stage (possibly for Apple Records). Dee husband was Kenneth Shipman, a co-owner ofTwickenham film studios.And so when Kenneth Shipman started pre
production of Au Pair Girls, Roger Webb was an easy go-to for film music composition.
Many years ago there was an original reel / master for Au Pair Girls. It was transferred to CD, DAT and cassette circa 1990 and the rapidly degrading tape was subsequently misplaced, lost or just binned. So all we had to work with was a rather shaky transfer from nearly 30 years ago, one which included numerous wobbles as well as speeding up and slowing down moments.The job of rescuing all this was left to Jon Brooks, my hero for all such musical problems. The end result is what you hear on this album. It is by no means sonically perfect but it is all we will ever have.
It’s certainly not Roger Webb’s best ever score (I have more of his ace work coming) but it has a certain charm and relentlessness.The lyrics were written by Norman Newell, and I can imagine the pair having a huge amount of fun putting the score together and recording it, with - as you’d expect - a pretty tight band and lively vocal group.The main theme does, as one reviewer state, “go on a bit”, but there’s enough musically here for me to get excited about and really want to “stick it out”. So I have.

A frustration with trends, hype and the system itself that permeates our current society has influenced LDWG to create ‘Hyperidiocracy’, an in-depth, aural analysis on the modern world in the form of a frenzied, fractured recollection of club influences from the past 20 years.

An angry dozen of tracks that shift genres and form, LDWG switches from mangled 80's to jungle-era drops to what sounds like porn heard through a walkie talkie faster than you can like a selfie on Instagram.

Lock up your 303s, Roy Of The Ravers is back with a brand spanking new album and it's quite possibly his strongest and wrongest to date! Following a limited run cassette version of the album, Who Are Ya lands on gatefold vinyl and spans 10 tracks and nearly 60 minutes of top quality turns, which sees our star player's BPM rising up into tougher, more hardcore-esque territory (Supremacy Acid, Roy Shat Over Ref) Who Are Ya also takes in some seriously smoked-out, slow-mo squelchers (Phaelon Acid 4, The Box) essentially making it a game of 2 halves (no mid tempo tracks allowed - ok??!) Through-out all of the album's giddy twists and turns however, it's Roy's trademark 303 constantly on the boil that crowns him man of the match, as he dribbles it skilfully from in and out of the mix, making him top of the league for acid once again. Hoorar!!

Different house style from New York based Juice Records!
Vinyl Only, 4 raw cuts that reminds the classic house from Deep88