Suche:soft talk

Their masterpiece? With breaks for dayyyyyys and an almost ambient, heavy jazz atmosphere throughout, *this* is the apex of British jazz-rock fusion. We'll Talk About It Later was first released on Vertigo in 1971 and original copies are now very tricky to score. Like all the Nucleus records, it’s aged ridiculously well and this Be With re-issue, re-mastered from the original analogue tapes, shows off just why this deserves to be back in press.

Genius trumpeter and visionary composer Ian Carr was one of the most respected British musicians of his era. He was a true pioneer and saw the potential in fusing the worlds of jazz with rock, just as Miles Davis and The Tony Williams Lifetime did in the US. In late 1969, following the demise of the Rendell-Carr quintet, and tiring of British jazz, Carr assembled the legendary Nucleus. Regarding music as a continuous process, Nucleus refused to “recognise rigid boundaries” and worked on delivering what they saw as a “total musical experience”. We can get behind that.

Under bandleader Carr, Nucleus existed as a fluid line-up of inventive, skilled musicians. This constant evolution and revolution was all part of the continuous musical exploration and discovery that took jazz to new levels. And the music has kept relevant. To steal a line from a review of our re-issue of Roots, when it comes to anything Nucleus “it’s basically already hip-hop”.

We'll Talk About It Later is arguably Nucleus's best album. Not only that, it's in the top 5 of all fusion albums. By the time Nucleus entered Trident Studios in September 1970 to record Elastic Rock's successor, they had already won a best group award at the Montreux Jazz Festival. Once again presented in a Roger Dean designed die-cut gatefold sleeve it continued to demonstrate the chemistry and interplay that worked so brilliantly on Elastic Rock; Carr's sumptuous trumpet and flügelhorn lines, Karl Jenkins's funk-filled electric keyboards, Chris Spedding's wah-wah guitar, Brian Smith's sax and the rhythmic foundation of drummer John Marshall and bassist Jeff Clyne.

The group work and insane musicianship Nucleus were famed for is in evidence from the off. The intensely funky "Song for the Bearded Lady" is absolute FIRE, blasting out the speakers to leave listeners floored. Counterpoint riffing segues into a spacious groove and a Carr trumpet solo demonstrating the influence of electric Miles from the period. The stop-start funk of "Sun Child" would appeal to Soft Machine devotees whilst the genuinely touching "Lullaby for a Lonely Child" is a lovely downtempo ballad. Featuring an understated, reflective horn line from Carr and Smith and atmospheric, shimmering bouzouki from Spedding, there's an exotic flavour which contributes to the bliss. The ominous, sleazy title track retains a swaggering menace and is not the only track to lend a sort of heavy stoner rock atmosphere. The guitars and bass are deep and low throughout, conjuring heavy psych moments to go with the actual jazz and even funk. To say this album was in conversation with Bitches Brew would not be overstating the sheer brain-frying brilliance.

The Weather Report-adjacent "Oasis" opens Side B, a colossal track featuring nearly 10 minutes of steadily building melodic horns, keys and choppy guitar riffs. So ace, it could easily go on for another 10. Mesmeric. Spedding adds unique vocals to the undeniable groove of "Ballad of Joe Pimp" whilst saxophonist Smith's duet with drummer Marshall at the conclusion of "Easter 1916" - inspired by the Yeats poem about the Irish nationalist uprising in Dublin - adopts the wildness of the most incendiary free jazz.

This Be With edition of We'll Talk About It Later has been re-mastered from the original Vertigo master tapes, Simon Francis’ mastering working together with Cicely Balston's cut at AIR Studios to weave their usual magic with these wonderful recordings. The stunning die-cut sleeve has been restored with the original gatefold window pane depicting the Irish uprising in 1916. Incredible, timeless, guaranteed spine-chills.

Manchester's Avant-Jazzy-Funk outfit Swamp Children were enviably eclectic and Taste What's Rhythm is their mini masterpiece. Flitting gracefully through a feast of genres with consummate ease, the band were almost indefinable and, accordingly, nigh-on impossible to market. So whilst this cult EP, originally out in 1982 on Factory Benelux, remains in demand for those in the know, it has also glided under the radar of many otherwise clued-up heads for over 40 years. If you don't know, get to know...

The Taste Whats Rhythm EP was originally released in 1982 on Factory Benelux (an informal partnership between the legendary Manchester-based Factory Records and Belgium-based Les Disques du Crépuscule). With it's kaleidoscopic brightness, silky panache and superb execution, it remains one of the most startling documents of a remarkable time and place.

The EP opens with the oh-so-Balearic title track. "Taste Whats Rhythm" gently unfolds with a Spanish guitar, hazy, drifting vocals and sun-bleached Latin percussion. After this most sumptuous of intros, the tempo is raised, the rhythms grow in complexity as horns jostle amidst the restrained chaos quite wonderfully. And then it winds down again. Proper fluctuating rhythms and tempos throughout. I guess that was the point - taste the variety!

“You’ve Got Me Beat” is a *perfect* piece of post-punk pop-jazz. A mysterious, after dark jazz-dancer, the aching vocals serve as a touching, tender resignation to love. A guitar hook which seems to elegantly reference The Blackbyrds' "Rock Creek Park" and a flowing pulse from New York's No Wave scene. It still sounds so fresh all the years later.

Closing out this most perfect of EPs, the twisted synths and nimble rhythms of bass-heavy roller "Softly Saying Goodbye" combine to create a super-slinky gem; Brit-Funk of the highest order.

Swamp Children formed in Manchester in 1980, around core members Ann Quigley (vocals), Tony Quigley (bass, metalaphone, percussion), John Kirkham (electric & acoustic guitars, metalaphone, percussion), Ceri Evans (keyboards, bass, percussion, background vocals), Cliff Saffer (saxaphone, clarine) and Martin Moscrop (drums, percussion, trumpet). They initially practised at a rehearsal space shared with fellow post-punk funkers A Certain Ratio and Joy Division/New Order. Young and relatively inexperienced upon getting together, the ages of Swamp Children's members ranged from just 16 to 19. Talk about the brilliance of youth.

From the outset, Swamp Children shared DNA with A Certain Ratio. Martin Moscrop was a founder member of Ratio, while Ann provided artwork for them. Although the close association with ACR led some to assume that Swamp Children were simply a splinter group, the new band pursued a more overt latin and jazz tinged direction, at the same time adopting a post-punk attitude towards making music, influenced by the records they were listening to at the time: Miles Davis, Brazilian jazz fusion and heavy funk dancefloor sides.

The band made their live debut at Manchester's infamous Beach Club in May 1980. Thanks to a double-booking blunder another support band turned up and were turned away, having travelled all the way from Dublin for a string of British dates. The name of the unlucky band was U2...

With arrangements that emphasised Tony Quigley’s darkly-coloured basslines (and Ann Quigley’s impressionistic vocals as another instrument in the mix) Swamp Children possessed an easygoing grace and a bubbling energy which indicated that the band's true strength was as an ensemble. The band’s musical sophistication (a fusion of funk, jazz, and bossa nova) would prove to be a strong influence on later UK acts like Sade. Indeed, Swamp Children themselves later mutated into the more known and acclaimed latin jazz outfit Kalima.

Working directly with James Nice, custodian of Factory Benelux, means that the audio for this re-issue of the classic EP comes from the original tapes. Cut at 45 RPM and released in the house Be With disco sleeve, we’ve made sure this record is well up to the job of having a permanent place in every DJ’s bag. As far as we’re concerned, this is essential stuff.

Existing somewhere between the post-psychedelic period of Soft Machine and the electric funk of Herbie Hancock's Headhunters, Black And White, the 1976 album from Norway's Vanessa is without question a formidable beast of a jazz-rock record. A potent brew of sonic experimentation and pulsating off-kilter groove. Taking their name from the genus of Nymphalidae butterfly, Vanessa was founded in 1971 by saxophonist Svend Undseth and pianist Frode Holm, the founder of the Oslo record store turned imprint, Compendium Records. Unsurprisingly analogous to the music championed across the Compendium catalogue Black And White is clearly influenced by the UK Canterbury scene, highlighted by Compendium's focus on the recordings of Soft Machine alumni Hugh Hopper and Elton Dean. Vanessa's spirit also lies synonymous with the collective pedigree on the label's roster including British progressive jazz stalwart Keith Tippett and Mirage (a UK group consisting of ex-members of Centipede and The Mike Westbrook Orchestra), together with the avant-rock collective Henry Cow and the experimental synthesiser-jazz of US ex-pat Joe Gallivan (together with Charles Austin).

Often dubbed the 'Compendium house band' owing to Holm's association with the label, the Vanessa sound is inherently familiar yet undeniably original. Each of the album's four long compositions are a meld of complex angular jazz laced with swirling electronic textures - furious rhythms that surge in intoxicating intensity before easing into fluid passages of soulful post-bop. The dichotomy of these styles plants the group firmly into radical new jazz territory alongside their Canterbury contemporaries. Despite their brief existence, the band, alongside the label left an indelible mark on Norwegian jazz-rock and the headier side of European progressive music at large.

Reissue of 1976 Norwegian Jazz-Rock album.
Post-psychedelic period Soft Machine meets the electric funk of Herbie Hancock's Headhunters
Transferred and restored from the original master tape.

2023 repress in Marbled Vinyl

To say the release of this EP's tracks is long-awaited would be a terribly gross understatement, so it's with much fanfare and general HQ excitement that we announce the sophomore release from the monstrously talented Ross From Friends.

Having been circulating on the net for a fair while now, 'Talk To Me You'll Understand' finally arrives with a fresh mastering, but still thudding along with those scuffed Reebok drums and soaked into fuzzy, stomach-squeezing low-pass filter. All soft chords, soothing vocals, deep-sea bass and skittering hats.

Middle-man 'Gettin' It Done' is a solid label favourite. Less the full vocal flourishes and more the tinkered & chopped MPC underpinned by more dusty drum work that just grows in impact as the track goes on. One for late running and early morning truckin'.

Last but not least comes the R'n'B-inflicted house jam 'Bootman'. Although it takes a good couple of minutes to get going, this is pure 2016 date playlist vibes. Slip the iPhone into the restaurant system and watch the silk melt down from the walls, the tables coat in velvet and ever-lasting passion effervesce from the heaving masses.

Often credited as the “Mother of Hip-hop”, Sylvia Robinson was a seminal blues-turned-soul singer, producer, and writer who released a slew of sultry and sensually charged records in the 1970s as a solo act and in the duo Mickey & Sylvia. Pillow Talk remains her most intoxicating work; a steamy bedroom funk record featuring her illustrious breathy, intimate vocals embedded with silky acoustic guitars, lush orchestral strings, piloted by a series of soft, subtle, and seductive clubby rhythms that still sounds fresh and entrancing today.

LEMON YELLOW VINYL

As mui zyu, Hong Kong British artist Eva Liu navigates the tricky territory of ever-changing identity, merging fantasy and folklore to create a stage for self-acceptance and deliverance. On her debut full-length Rotten Bun for an Eggless Century, Liu utilizes chopped-up sound- scapes, delicate industrial ambience and sweet pop melodies to introduce a character--a guide--who can be stretched across worlds to offer the catharsis of patience, perseverance and understanding. This isn't a character formed from a desire to escape or flee the real world, but rather a way to submerge even deeper into ourselves. Rotten Bun for an Eggless Century is a reflection of everyone, and everything, that made us who we are. On her 2021 a wonderful thing vomits, Liu was praised for her seamless integration of darkened, often ominous instrumentation and pillowy-soft vocals. As the front person of UK indie-rock trio Dama Scout, Liu effortlessly navigates a disorientating genre-bending sonic landscape with a playful, gentle dexterity. Now, with the help of Dama Scout bandmate Luciano Rossi as co-producer, Liu's first solo full-length builds upon these previous worlds to form a blossoming, more upbeat patchwork of lo-fi percussion, poignant lyricism and oddly alluring arrangements. The writing process of Rotten Bun for an Eggless Century prompted Liu to explore more of her Hong Kong heritage, allowing a space for acceptance and celebration. "I am Chinese and I am owning it," she explains. "Before, I would resent it. I tried doing things that would make me like less Chinese somehow." As the album began to take shape, Liu read the traditional Chinese folklore writings of Pu Songling and joined local East and Southeast Asian groups. It opened a portal into a new self, where Liu could blend her love of video games and film scores with traditional Chinese instruments.

ACID KLAUS, the new collaborative solo project from songwriter-producer and Northern England cult leg-end, Adrian Flanagan (The Moonlandingz, International Teachers of Pop, Eccentronic Research Council & lots more) announces his debut concept album co-produced with his music partner in the ERC, Dean Honer titled Step On My Travelator: The Imagined Career Trajectory of Superstar DJ & Dance-Pop Producer, Melvin Harris which will be released on Yard Act"s ZEN F.C. label. The album features contributions from Adrian"s long-time collaborators and friends including actress, Maxine Peake, US musician and video director, Charlotte Kemp Muhl (Ghost of a Sabertooth Tiger), Maria Uzor from Sink Ya Teeth and the Bradford-born pop-noir singer (currently singing in The Specials), Hannah Hu who is joined on lap steel guitar on a track by Richard Hawley. The album is completed by a whole host of fresh and exciting artists (as well as the aforementioned Lieselot Elzinga) - there"s the enigmatic Queen Bee of the Calder Valley, solo artist, Bianca Eddleston who goes under the name Soft Focus and finally from South Wales (and the current talk of the South London scene), the incredible welsh language singer-songwriter, Cat Rin.

After a rollercoaster two years promoting his last offering King Of Clubs in the middle of a global pandemic, alt-rock legend Jamie Lenman returns with the most intimate, most ambitious and most accessible album of his career. Recorded at The Chapel studios in Chichester over January and February this year with producer Mark Roberts, The Atheist is eleven tracks of guitar driven indie-pop, each laden with enough hooks to catch Moby Dick. With themes ranging from toxic friendships to socio economics to the religious topics inherent in the title, Lenman eschews the aggressive approach of previous records for a more melodic mood. “I’ve had a few of these songs kicking around for years, just waiting for the right album,” says Lenman. “Some of them were written for my first solo project Muscle Memory, some of them were even written whilst I was still in my band, but they were all too pretty. After twenty years of hard edges, particularly the ugly overtones of my last record, it was a relief to mellow out and just revel in the pure joyfulness of the thing.” From the huge earworm of Talk Hard to the stadium-sized chorus of Lena (Don’t Leave Me), the sheer catchiness of the material is undeniable, and was proven when Lenman took his new-look three-piece band to this year’s Download and played a set of entirely unheard tracks. The capacity crowd erupted into spontaneous sing-alongs despite never having heard a single note before, resulting in one of the surprise highlights of the weekend. Combined with dazzling artwork from renowned Washington Post/Wall St Journal illustrator Michael Parkin, Lenman will be unleashing his new softer side on an eager public later this year, alongside a string of live shows and the third iteration of his own mini-festival, Lenmania.

Felix Laband’s The Soft White Hand is the masterwork of an artist who expresses himself through musical and artistic collage acting together to reinterpret his sources and to express significant elements of his own personal story.

Released by Munich-based Compost Records, the 14-track album is Laband’s first full-length offering since the critically acclaimed Deaf Safari in 2015. It is heralded by the single “Derek and Me”, and is being pressed on vinyl for distribution globally.

In The Soft White Hand Laband works with source materials that will be familiar to those who know his previous four records – Thin Shoes in June (2001), 4/4 Down the Stairs (2002), Dark Days Exit (2005) and especially Deaf Safari which reached deep into the South Africa scene and its political culture to inspire its vocal and music sampling. However, the disengagement he felt from his homeland during his latest album’s creation – an abiding sense of untethered-ness to place and space, exquisitely rendered in tracks like “Death of a Migrant” – is perceptible in Laband’s desire to illuminate instead aspects of his own life.

“For this album, my source material became almost autobiographical as opposed to African statements I’ve worked with previously,” says the artist. “I have sampled a lot from documentaries from the 80s crack epidemic in impoverished African American communities and believe my work speaks unapologetically for the lost and marginalised, for those who are the forgotten casualties of the war on drugs. In the past, I have had my issues with substance abuse, and I know first-hand about the nightmares and fears, what it feels like to be isolated and abandoned.”

Few artists have managed to air these intimate aspects of their life so luminously as Laband does in tracks like “5 Seconds Ago”, “They Call Me Shorty” and in the strange and meditative “Dreams of Loneliness”. “I’ve been building this weird, autobiographical story using other people talking. It’s kind of humorous but it is also sad and beautiful,” says Laband.

Yet, as in all of Laband’s recorded output, the delineations between emotions are never starkly drawn and The Soft White Hand is also shot through with beauty. Nature appears in recordings made in his garden in the intimate early morning hours, whether as in the calls of the Hadada Ibis and other birdsong in “Prelude” or of the vertical-tail-cocking bird in “Derek and Me”. The last is a wonderful track with Derek Gripper, the South African experimental classical guitarist of international renown, whose 2020 song “Fanta and Felix” imagines a meeting between Fanta Sacko and Laband.

Laband’s eloquence in reinterpreting classical composers such as Beethoven in “We Know Major Tom’s a Junkie” is another thrilling aspect of the new record. “I’ve been properly exploring classical music on this album,” explains Laband, “taking melodies from classical compositions and reinterpreting them”. A fresh quality comes to his work through this sonic adventuring: the tender manipulation of the mundaneness of the computer’s AI voice to reimagine and reinvent iconic lyrics and melodies in strange and unexpected configurations.

The Soft White Hand is Laband’s most cohesive body of work to date. Yet it remains, in its sheer artistic scope, impossible to describe fully. Darkness abuts the gossamer light. A song that summons the sunrise and all the hope of a new day could also be about the final dipping down of the sun that portends a troubled night ahead. Interludes are invitations to expand outwards or shift inwards. Mistakes and “weird fuckups” in the sound are cherished as convincing statements against what Laband calls the “grossness” of perfect sound in modern music.

For this world-leading electronic artist, the boundaries are unfixed. He is inspired by the German Dada artist, Hannah Höch, who memorably declared: “I wish to blur the firm boundaries which we self-certain people tend to delineate around all we can achieve.” His music consequently reflects a primal artistic impulse that is also visible in Laband’s considerable visual art output as seen recently in several solo exhibitions such as that held in the No End Gallery in Johannesburg in 2019 and in the works he produced during his 2018 Nirox Foundation Artists Residency. “My music is always about collage, as is my art,’’ he affirms. “Everything I do is collage. It is a medium I find very interesting because you are taking history and distorting it and changing its meaning and turning it upside down and back to front.” In her book Recollections of My Non-Existence, Rebecca Solnit calls collage “literally a border art”; it is “an art of what happens when two things confront each other or spill onto each other”.

With The Soft White Hand, Laband is confirming his singular ability to achieve this in both art and music, melting the divisions between the two creative disciplines until they become one. He is also affirming his belief that an album of music should be more than a collection of unrelated tracks, but should unfold a fully integrated, cohesive story as in the song cycles of the great classical composers. In doing so, he claims his position as one of the most significant artists working today.

Artist Statement – Felix Laband – August 2022

When the Khmer Rouge took their captives for processing, they identified their class enemies by looking at their hands. If they were sunburned, rough and calloused, they were those of a peasant, a proletarian to be spared. But if they were soft and white, then they were those of a city-dweller, an intellectual or bourgeois, an adversary to be liquidated.

In calling this album The Soft White Hand, I was reflecting on the Cambodian genocide and how it resonates in contemporary South Africa. The apartheid era is over, and gone with it is white political domination. Yet economic and social privilege is still held in soft white hands. But those who grasp it know just how tenuous is their hold, how it singles them out, and my music reflects their subconscious fears, the stress and guilt of clinging on to what others envy and desire.

The soft white hand of the title suggests to me a further image, one that relates to all of postcolonial Africa. In my mind’s eye, I see the soft, duplicitous handshake of the smooth representatives of the superpowers making deals and promising gifts that benefit only them, and not their African dupes.
Yet, soaring above the wailing of sirens sampled from the first day of the invasion of Ukraine, my music is also about love gained and passion lost. It is about the tender caress of a soft white hand that conducts you into a place of dreams to be enfolded by nocturnal melodies.

ACID KLAUS, the new collaborative solo project from songwriter-producer and Northern England cult leg-end, Adrian Flanagan (The Moonlandingz, International Teachers of Pop, Eccentronic Research Council & lots more) announces his debut concept album co-produced with his music partner in the ERC, Dean Honer titled Step On My Travelator: The Imagined Career Trajectory of Superstar DJ & Dance-Pop Producer, Melvin Harris which will be released on Yard Act"s ZEN F.C. label. The album features contributions from Adrian"s long-time collaborators and friends including actress, Maxine Peake, US musician and video director, Charlotte Kemp Muhl (Ghost of a Sabertooth Tiger), Maria Uzor from Sink Ya Teeth and the Bradford-born pop-noir singer (currently singing in The Specials), Hannah Hu who is joined on lap steel guitar on a track by Richard Hawley. The album is completed by a whole host of fresh and exciting artists (as well as the aforementioned Lieselot Elzinga) - there"s the enigmatic Queen Bee of the Calder Valley, solo artist, Bianca Eddleston who goes under the name Soft Focus and finally from South Wales (and the current talk of the South London scene), the incredible welsh language singer-songwriter, Cat Rin.

In 'Christmas Morning', a song recorded for the 10th edition of the Snowflakes Christmas Singles Club, California folk singer Annie Jay remembers how special Christmas mornings were to her as a child. It was a magical moment. When she got older, the mystery of Christmas slowly disappeared. But not everything is gone. There is still the gathering together with loved ones every Christmas. And there are still children who wake up on Christmas morning and feel the same excitement that she felt when she once felt as a child. Annie Jay sings it all in a soft and sweet voice that is very easy to fall in love with and accompanies herself with the instrument that she fell in love with: the banjo. ‘Blue Christmas’, the song on the B-side of the single, has been covered by thousands of other artists since first recorded in the late 1940s and especially since Elvis Presley recorded it for his 1957 Christmas album. It only takes Annie Jay two minutes to make the standard hers - as if Billy Hayes and Jay W. Johnson wrote ‘Blue Christmas’ with her banjo and her vocal harmonies in mind.

Annie Jay lives in Upland, California and grew up with the music of Kenny Loggins, James Taylor, Carol King and Fleetwood Mac. After first teaching herself to play ukulele and guitar, her life changed when she discovered the banjo. It was then that she decided to follow the path of music. It brought her a BA of Arts in Music from the University of La Verne and it made her travel to Europe to play her music. Annie Jay formed the folk duo Your Companies and debuted in 2016 with the solo album 'Love Is All Around'. Earlier in 2022, she released the 6-song EP 'Time And Space' and a split 7" with California indie act Eatpianokeys, to which she contributed the beautiful song 'Talking To Plants'.

Dressed in a powder blue suit with the frilly shirt to match, DJ Yoda invites you to be his +1 for ‘Prom Nite’, his new album promising retro Americana full of daydreaming reverie, international megastar guests, trip hop acknowledging the likes of Morcheeba and Nightmares on Wax, and the turntable extraordinaire’s bread and butter of cuts, beats and rhymes.

Certainly no stranger to retro sounds having famously peppered his DJ and AV sets with the unexpected the world over, and his ‘How to Cut n Paste’ mix series going all the way back to the 30s, Yoda’s harp-laden puppy love vibe spreads from the sweet and mellow sound of 2019’s ‘Home Cooking’, an album described as ‘boundary-breaking’ by Mojo upon slotting nicely into the UK’s blooming jazz canon. Think deliciously harmonised doo-wop murmuring ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ with an eye for dreamboats en route to Makeout Point – on ‘My Energy’, Eva Lazarus takes the form of an earth angel, with Yoda on jukebox cut-ups, taking it back to starry-eyed, clean cut days of wonder (or more recently, Little Mix’s ‘Love Me Like You’).

Beginning enigmatically with the assistance of Hollywood A-lister (and former next-door neighbour) Lily James, ‘Breathe’ demonstrate Yoda’s continued evolution as a musician (not to mention shrewd decision maker), with James’ vocal confidence - a little Lana del Rey to her breathiness - returning on the velvet-smooth ‘Airplane Mode’. It’s a smartly executed soundclash accentuated by LA rapper Choosey, the star of the album’s straightest hip-hop shooter ‘Harder I Rock’. Homeboy Sandman adds some kick to the prom punch with typical wordplay sent down ‘Coconut Grove’, and Liam Bailey is perfectly cast for the darkly cinematic sway of ‘Don’t Even Try It’.

On an album of many talking points, the LP’s crowning glory is opening single ‘Feel Like Home’: featuring the vocal comforts of the House Gospel Choir, it’s your go–to pick-me-up when the chips are down, targeting the hairs on the backs of necks like a softer focus version of Jamie xx’s ‘Loud Places’. Extended into an alternative, equally uplifting form by Beardyman’s ‘Don’t Mean Thing’, summer festival season already has its homecoming anthem.

With tongues wagging, the twists and turns step away from Heartbreak Ridge when O Love tucks into the mouthwatering shopping list funk of ‘Way Home’; and ‘Lesson 1956’, featuring Jamie Cullum and DJ Woody, jauntily pays homage to classic Cut Chemist alchemy, Yoda’s celebrated turntable tomfoolery back in full effect and extending the flavours found in ‘Home Cooking’.

Again maximising the experience and enjoyment gained from recording live instruments and prioritising songs over beats, Yoda continues to progress with a mixture of risk-taking, elite musicianship, nostalgia brought bang up to date, and ultimately, good clean fun capable of stirring your soul, making ‘Prom Nite’ a date to remember.

Magpie artwork supplied by London’s ENDLESS, whose signature style has tagged Liberty and Lagerfeld as but two high profile clients, Yoda again maximises the experience and enjoyment gained from recording live instruments and prioritising songs over beats. His continued progress mixes risk-taking, elite musicianship, nostalgia brought bang up to date, and ultimately, good clean fun capable of stirring your soul, making ‘Prom Nite’ a date to remember.

Featured 7” Vinyl singles:
Feel Like Home (feat. The House Gospel Choir)/ Don’t Mean A Thing (feat. Beardyman)
My Energy (feat. Eva Lazarus)/Lesson 1956 (feat. Jamie Cullum & DJ Woody)

"Most of this record was created in the shadow of COVID and deep in the maw of Melbourne’s 2020 long winter lockdown. It is a meditation on the nature of connection.

Restricted to a 5km zone, one of the only people I saw outside my family during this time was my old friend and teacher, Ania Walwicz. We met in the overlap between our zones on the waterfront near Docklands to walk and talk on bright, cool winter afternoons. Those conversations became large in my thoughts when Ania suddenly passed away in September. Her voice was in my head as I worked on this music, trawling through threads of ideas, recordings made on my phone, and thoughts jotted down in notebooks.

Ania’s practice as a writer relied on ‘automatic’ processes. Her work was informed by everything she had read (a lot) but it was created in the manner of dreams. In a state where the subconscious might bubble up and the words arrange themselves into meaning bearing forms that resonate more than represent. I thought a lot about that as I made this music. I recorded everyday using the trumpet, my old Revox reel-to-reel, a couple of synths, a harmonium I lent from a friend, and whatever else was around. I worked mostly on just diving a little deeper each time I sat down to it.

Through the simple process of exhalation, I explored my relationship with the trumpet, which has been through so many twists and turns. I let the tones produced by my breath unfurl on long tape loops and degrade beyond recognition through pedal and plugin chains, until the only imprint of the initial gesture remained.

My process also involved long bike rides during which I’d listen to the work of previous days on ear buds, gliding through familiar streets made slightly strange by the absence of people and movement. Often my rides took me along Footscray Rd next to the port, and as I washed down towards Docklands past the old boat moorings I stopped pedalling to coast. The sounds from my darkened studio mingled with the low rush of air past my helmet, the click and whirr of my bike gears, a squalling bird, a whooshing car. And I remembered my last conversation with Ania. Sitting in the late afternoon sun, squinting against the light that raked across the water, she was telling me about all the different words for they have for blue in Polish and Russian, and how words don’t just change our perception of things, but also actually change the thing being perceived.

As I rode home that afternoon, I felt like anything was possible. "

Peter Knight

Talkbox is multidisciplinary artist Michael O’Mahony’s third album and his first for 33-33. It’s his most complete and cohesive music project to date, a culmination of ideas, happy accidents and compositions that have been cut up and re-arranged over many years. The album’s sonic signature is the Vocaloid software synthesizer – the titular ‘talkbox’ – famously by Japanese cartoon Hatsune Miku. O’Mahony became aware of Vocaloid in 2015 through the popular Nyan Cat meme, which em marketed ploys the software. Excited by the emotive potential and realism of Vocaloid’s voice synthesis, he began to imagine an album that combined its capabilities with italo disco- and UK garage-inflected sounds. As the version of Vocaloid O’Mahony had access to sang only in Japanese, O’Mahony relied on Google Translate to obtain the required characters to enter into the software. In early experiments with the software, the north Londoner translated BBC match reports from his beloved Arsenal FC. Eventually, he amassed a library of syllables and phonetic sounds, from which he created the melodies crystallised on the record. As far as we know, these vocal lines have no meaning in lyrical terms. O’Mahony works largely in an iterative way; song ideas are reworked over and over in different styles, sometimes over a period of years. Multiple versions of a song might appear on an album, each one with its own particular nuances in feeling. Music perhaps does not always flow out of O’Mahony, but emerges over time. O’Mahony’s album forms part of his wider project: an analysis of his subjectivity through art and psychotherapy. The music complements his writing and video work, which feature in his performances. He writes in chains of association, speculating on topics such as family dynamics, or the meaning of recurring dreams about a childhood game console. His video practice features footage of objects found in his parents’ house, such as his sister’s childhood My Little Pony toy and his retired psychiatrist father’s lecture tapes. The music, at once synthetic and heartfelt, imbues the writing and video work with a strange tenderness. Taken together, these various aspects of O’Mahony’s work form a meditation on the emotional attachments we make to consumer objects and the role of early life in character formation. Tracklist 1/Talkbox 2/More Succinct 3/Electricity 4/Not Giving Up 5/Dinosaur 6/Trumpet 7/Electricity (Rock Version) 8/Aliss 9/Be Good 10/Not Giving Up (Slow Version)

New pressing on Opaque Natural Vinyl. For Fans Of... Durand Jones & The Indications, Tame Impala, Temples, Lee Fields. Monophonics cordially invite you to attend the grand re-opening of the once thriving, once vibrant establishment, the legendary Sage Motel. A place where folks experience the highs and lows of human existence. A place where big dreams and broken hearts live, where people arrive at without ever knowing how they got there. It's where folks find themselves at a crossroads in life. So join us as we examine where the stories are told and experiences unfold..... and sink into a soft pillow of soulful psychedelia.....down at the Sage Motel. Sage Motel, Monophonics' fifth studio album since 2012, tells its story. Once again produced by brilliant bandleader Kelly Finnigan, the album captures a timeless sound that blends heavy soul with psych-rock. With their previous album, It’s Only Us, selling over 10,000 physical units and garnering over 20 million streams, Monophonics have built a reputation over the past decade as one of the most impactful bands in the country. If these walls of the Sage Motel could talk, this is what they'd say. So join us as we examine where the stories are told and experiences unfold.....and sink into a soft pillow of soulful psychedelia.....down at the Sage Motel. Tracks 1. Check In 2. Sage Motel 3.Let That Sink In 4.The Shape of My Teardrops 5. Broken Boundaries 6. Love You Better 7. Never Stop Saying These Words 8. Warpaint 9. Crash & Burn 10. Check Out

Debut solo album from Julia Kugel (The Coathangers). Limited edition first LP pressing on heartbeat pink color vinyl, includes DL (1500 copies). If you can’t trust yourself, who can you trust? This is the crucial question at the core of Julia, Julia, the moniker for Julia Kugel, founding member of garage punk icons The Coathangers and the dream pop duo Soft Palms. On her first solo full-length album Derealization, Kugel shifts her focus from collaboration and band dynamics towards a singular artistic vision and private self-discovery. Steeped in the beguiling pop elements of her past work, Derealization is a meditative deep dive into the mind of a person struggling to understand a crumbling internal and external world. The album traverses a landscape of ethereal folk, atmospheric deconstructed pop, and dubbed-out country ballads, all centered around straight forward and direct lyrics. This juxtaposition of nebulousness and lucidity gives the album a sense of clarity emerging from the haze, an apt refection of Kugel's personal growth and journey toward self-acceptance. Derealization is based on weaving the unreal, unsaid, and unknown into an undulating sonic fabric. Vocal layering and abstract instrumentation convey a blurred desperation to connect to an emotional and psychological focal point. Moody, dark, and sumptuous, the record is a flow chart of Julia Kugel coming into herself as an artist and songwriter. The album finds Julia playing almost all the instruments and taking her first stab at engineering at COMA, her and her husband's home recording studio in Long Beach, CA. “You know how touring musicians often speak of whether home is real or tour is real? Well, it can lead you to lose grasp on ‘reality,’ especially when touring is taken away and you are left to wonder if anything was ever real, including yourself. Like you we're just playing a character,” Kugel says of her headspace leading up to the creation of Derealization. “Honestly, I kinda lost it, and through making this record I made peace with it and reconciled myself as a real person. I forgave myself and in turn forgave those around me. The song ‘Forgive Me’ is the apology I wanted to say and to hear. I wrote every song from that place and gained the confidence I was pretending to possess.” This raw and personal approach to the lyrics is present throughout Derealization. On the opening track "I Want You," Kugel creates a woozy sense of space with reverb-soaked drums and spaghetti western guitars while she lists off her desires for a mysterious “you.” Is she actually listing off her desires for herself? For the people around her? As she repeats "do you feel it?" in the song’s chorus, it feels as if she’s conjuring a magical thread by which we are all connected, showing us how our desires are all the same. On "Fever In My Heart" the listener is treated to a lush, acoustic techno track detailing the exhilarating madness of an emotional breakdown. Simple truths percolate to the surface on "Words Don't Mean Much,” as if clearing away the murk of platitudes and empty gestures. The journey continues on the detached and conflicted "Do It Or Don't,” an alluring walk through the winding road of lonely choices. The name for the project Julia, Julia is a look in the mirror, a reflection of what is hidden and unanswered, of what is real and what is transient. The experience of living life not as you planned it but as it unfolded, and the mysterious, magical pain that creates meaning.

Tracklisting 1. I Want You 2. Forgive Me 3. Impromptu 4. Fever In My Heart 5. Words Don’t Mean Much 6. Do It Or Don't 7. No Hard Feelings 8. Big Talkin' 9. Paper Cutout 10. Where Did You Go 11. Corner Town

"His music filled me with the urge to connect with the world," Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith says of Emile Mosseri. She first heard his work while watching the 2019 film The Last Black Man In San Francisco; just minutes in, she paused it to look up who did the score and wrote to him immediately. "I love Emile's ability to create melodies that feel magically scenic and familiar like they are reminding you of the innocence of loving life." Those talents saw recognition in 2020 with an Oscar nomination for Mosseri's original score to the film Minari. He was already a fan of Smith's and became increasingly intrigued by her impressionistic process as they started to talk. "The music feels so spiritual and alive and made from the earth," Mosseri says. "I think of her as the great conductor, summoning musical poetry from her orchestra of machines." I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon, their two-part collaborative album, introduces an uncanny fusion of their sonics. Constructed using synthesizer, piano, electronics, and voice, this soft-focus dream world is lush, evocative, and fleeting. It finds two composers tuning their respective styles inward as an ode to mutual inspiration, a celebration of the human spirit and its will to surrender to the currents of life. As a full album set, I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon moves fluidly from track to track, panning through textural vignettes. Two roughly 17-minute halves, the set evokes the bittersweet sense of something too bright or rare to last, a short-lived glimpse into a golden hour. There is a dreamy, elemental intention to this music, which Smith and Mosseri say came naturally, as they both embraced intuitive interplay throughout their creative back-and-forth. The stylistic threads of each composer are recognizable yet become more ambiguous as the album progresses, sewn into a singular vision.

8 years after his debut album entitled "What You Give", it's time for the Greek musician's second long player! No doubt, this is Bengoa's most mature work to date and a product of countless studio hours. Pushing his electronic sound forward, the Greek musician, dj, songwriter and label owner, delivers an outstanding 9-track LP, floating between trip hop, nu-jazz, mid and downtempo motifs. The extensive use of physical instruments like saxophone, trumpet, guitars, piano, percussion and bass add musicality and deepness to the whole record, on which Bengoa has also written most of the lyrics himself. "Music For Your Red Parts" flows like an undercurrent of nervy isolation and late night melancholy, toying with the emotional structure of it's own sound. Songs that signal something memorably, indelibly and hypnotically sexy, without talking about sex. Music that you feel - strong, soft and filled with emotion. It wants to meet you in your deepest parts. It will play games with you, fill you with sorrow, or send you into a deep reverie. out now through SAOS RECORDS.

O’o share many of the musical characteristics of their ornithological namesake. The Kaua’i O’O produced the most exquisite birdsong before its extinction in Hawaii in the late 1980s. The beauty and character of its voice was delicate and mysterious, tuneful and surprising. You can experience it with just a cursory websearch, a haunting cri de coeur from the last century. If the poor O’O is consigned to history, then life is just beginning for this French duo, based in Spain, who’ve won plaudits and awards already in their short musical lifespan.

O’o are about to release their sublime debut album Touche. This is not an endling, it’s just the beginning: “I found the name on a website of weird English language words, and I loved the way the letters were arranged like a pair of glasses,” says O’o singer Victoria Suter. “Afterwards, I went onto YouTube and started listening to the last bird of its species, calling for a mate that would never come. I thought: ‘Oh my God, that’s so sad’. Then we talked about the name and we thought it could be a nice thing to honour it and keep it alive in some way.”

Suter met her musical partner Mathieu Daubigné at college in Agen, South West France, when the pair were studying music theory in their teens. Victoria moved to Barcelona in 2010; Mathieu followed six years later. Their debut EP, Spells, appeared in 2018 a beautifully crafted patchwork of vocals and samples that is redolent of the uncanny vocalese of Laurie Anderson. The bird makes an appearance at the beginning of the EP: “Sweet tooth beak. Soft melody peak / Oh O’o, go round and round in circles / Looking for a honeydrop, til you vanish, til you drop”.

That sense of profound longing for something lost is carried over to Touche, as well as the same heightened sensory awareness of the world around them. What has developed in spades is the creative process. O’o have blossomed organically, augmenting their pop sensibilities. Avant-garde techniques have been brought to heel as the pair create off-kilter pop music that warms the heart and nourishes the brain. The catalyst that enabled this bold pop transformation came with the song ‘Touche’ itself, a saucy chanson at the heart of the album. Suter’s wry narrative about a botanical femme fatale is inserted into a lithe and skittish song with reggaeton beats and an inviting, balmy atmosphere.

“The song is about a flower which attracts male insects, producing the very same smell as the female of the species,” explains Victoria. “The poor male is fooled by the sex-appeal of this botanical trap, and gets so excited that he exhausts himself and wastes all his other chances of ulterior mating and having any offspring. The flower entices the insect in in mermaid-like fashion, to come nearer and touch her. It’s the hot track!”

‘Touche’ reaches into hitherto unexplored areas of pop, while the rest of the album is accessible in the way that James Blake, Radiohead or Kate Bush are accessible, and it always challenges, in a way that pop isn’t supposed to. Suter writes playful, poignant, observational songs that tell stories as well as tell us something about ourselves. Songs like ‘Dorica Castra’ are built upon the voice as an instrument, centrifugal and layered from its core.

Complimentary to this method is Daubigné, who brings startling innovation with found sounds, samples and clever vocal manipulations—creating unique, otherworldly sonic flourishes. A guitar whirs like a musical spinning top on ‘Spin’, created in Ableton; an Ondes Martenot appears to make a guest appearance on the title track, though it’s the ingenuity of the Prophet 8 synthesiser. “I’ll often say to Mathieu, ‘what’s that?’” says Suter, He’ll reply, ‘that’s your voice’.”

O’o found their own voice when they won a competition held by the legendary festival organisers Primavera Sound. Victoria entered the band into a competition she saw on Instagram, sending off rough demos on the final day of entry, thinking little more about it other than the fact Mathieu might be annoyed. Soon they would have to build a live set from scratch and figure out how to present their music for the first time. At stake was seventy hours of recording time at Aclam studios, used by Rosalía and Kendrick Lamar, and for the winner a coveted spot at the festival. A pool of 350 acts were whittled down, and then O’o triumphed at a Battle of the Band style face off.

The O’O might be extinct, but O’o the band have learned how to fly. Just watch them go.

"His music filled me with the urge to connect with the world," Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith says of Emile Mosseri. She first heard his work while watching the 2019 film The Last Black Man In San Francisco; just minutes in, she paused it to look up who did the score and wrote to him immediately. "I love Emile's ability to create melodies that feel magically scenic and familiar like they are reminding you of the innocence of loving life." Those talents saw recognition in 2020 with an Oscar nomination for Mosseri's original score to the film Minari. He was already a fan of Smith's and became increasingly intrigued by her impressionistic process as they started to talk. "The music feels so spiritual and alive and made from the earth," Mosseri says. "I think of her as the great conductor, summoning musical poetry from her orchestra of machines." I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon, their two-part collaborative album, introduces an uncanny fusion of their sonics. Constructed using synthesizer, piano, electronics, and voice, this soft-focus dream world is lush, evocative, and fleeting. It finds two composers tuning their respective styles inward as an ode to mutual inspiration, a celebration of the human spirit and its will to surrender to the currents of life. As a full album set, I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon moves fluidly from track to track, panning through textural vignettes. Two roughly 17-minute halves, the set evokes the bittersweet sense of something too bright or rare to last, a short-lived glimpse into a golden hour. There is a dreamy, elemental intention to this music, which Smith and Mosseri say came naturally, as they both embraced intuitive interplay throughout their creative back-and-forth. The stylistic threads of each composer are recognizable yet become more ambiguous as the album progresses, sewn into a singular vision.