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After an almost 2 year hiatus, letherette is back with Brown Lounge Volume 6. Since the 2020 release of Mander House Volume 2, BL6 sees Letherette return to it's hip hop routes. The release will be available on Wulf records digitally and limited edition Cassettes.

John Moreland doesn’t have the answers, and he’s not sure anyone does. But he’s still curious, basking in the comfort of a question, and along the way, those of us listening feel moved to ask our own. “I don’t ever want to sound like I have answers, because I don’t,” he says. “These songs are all questions. Everything I write is just trying to figure stuff out.” Moreland is discussing his new album Birds in the Ceiling, a nine-song collection that offers the most comprehensive insight into the thoughts and sounds swimming around in his head to date. A compelling blend of acoustic folk and avant-garde pop playfulness, Birds in the Ceiling lives confidently in a space of its own, enriched by tradition but never encumbered by it. The songwriting that has stunned fans and critics alike since 2015’s High on Tulsa Heat remains potent, while the sonic evolution that unfolds on the record feels like a natural expansion of 2020’s acclaimed LP5. The New Yorker, Pitchfork, Fresh Air, Paste, GQ, and others have embraced Moreland’s meditative songs, while performances on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, CBS This Morning, NPR Tiny Desk Concert, and more have introduced Moreland to millions. And yet, while the Tulsa-based Moreland is grateful for the respect and musical conversation he’s now having with people around the world, he is also more focused on the idea of just talking to one person––or even himself. “Through the years, I’ve felt like I’m increasingly talking to myself in my songs, more and more,” he says. “Maybe in the past, I wasn’t aware of it, but now, I am. I think doing that has helped me be less hard on myself, which makes you more generous and compassionate in general.” That helps explain why even if Moreland is reaching out to someone else, there is no judgment. “I’m in the same boat with whoever I’m talking to,” Moreland says. Moreland’s songs do feel intimate––like overheard conversations or solitary meditations. “I want to talk one-on-one to someone in a song,” he says. “I don’t want to address a group, really, because I think that’s when it’s easy to start pontificating––and it gets less honest.” Letting things just be what they are is a powerful guiding force for Moreland, determining not just how he interacts with others, but how he treats himself. “When you remove boundaries and instead of holding back parts of yourself––when you say, ‘Okay, I’m going to put all of me into this,’” Moreland says, "You end up making music that nobody else could make.”

A Ride is the new dark alt-country concept album on the road by Phill Reynolds, to be released on June 17th, 2022 by Bronson Recordings; Like all the best concept albums, A Ride takes you on a journey. This one concerns the last three days of an American runaway’s life. Part road-trip, part engrossing mystery, part search for redemption, it’s the fictional tale of a troubled man whose past comes back to haunt him. Via eleven intimate, chronologically-sequenced songs, we travel with him. There are epiphanies and dream sequences, drunken dive-bar nights and chats with Jesus and Lucifer. As the narrator battles with his dark side, it is ultimately we, the listeners, who must weigh-up and flesh-out his story. According to its creator Phill Reynolds, AKA Italian alt-country singer-songwriter Silva Martino Cantele, the key to The Ride’s mystery might lie within its fifth song, A Clockwork Dream. “That’s where we discover that, because of some kind of courtroom trial, the narrator has lost someone who was very important to him”, Reynolds explains. “But we never find out her name or her relationship to the main character. Is she a blood relative? Is she his wife or someone else?”. The origins of A Ride go back to 2015. On tour in the US, Reynolds took in the shifting landscapes, the people he met and their stories. All of this fed into the album he recorded at the all-analogue TUP Studio in Brescia, near Milan. Reynolds played almost all of the instruments himself and co-produced A Ride with long-term collaborator Bruno Barcella. If A Clockwork Dream features a full band arrangement – “I think of it as the kind of thing Neil Young & Crazy Horse might do on a Sunday morning”, says Reynolds – other songs are sparer, more intimate. Banjo, Fender Rhodes, harmonica and glistening slide guitar all feature as Reynolds delivers haunting confessionals such as Run, Run Away and The Fault Is Mine, songs likely to appeal to fans of artists such as Damien Jurado, Strand Of Oaks or For Emma, Forever Ago-era Bon Iver. Intricate, rapid-fire fingerpicking on the first single This Isn’t Me and The Call of The Dark demonstrates Reynolds’ dexterity, while his voice is a rich, fully-lived in instrument seasoned with the salt of experience,and strengthened by the 120 or so gigs a year he used to do before COVID took his one-man show off the road. Long an inhabitant of picturesque Italian towns in the Vicenza province, Phill Reynolds was born in Marostica and currently lives in Zugliano. He was only five when The Beach Boys’ Barbara Ann worked its magic upon him via the radio. Later a fan of ‘90s Californian punk bands, Reynolds was writing and performing in his own post-hardcore bands by 13, but didn’t make it to the nearest big city, Milan, until he was 19. Bands still matter deeply to him. But his love for folk music has deepened over the last decade or so, hence his solo act alter-ego. Where did the name Phill Reynolds come from? “Everybody asks me this,” he smiles. “Especially in the UK. The truth is I needed an alternative name for a gig I was doing, and at the time I was in love with the music of Phil Ochs and Malvina Reynolds. Malvina Ochs didn’t sound too good to me, so I became Phill Reynolds, and I like that, because it sounds like a normal person”. The esteemed Italian label Bronson Recordings will release his fourth solo album A Ride on June 17th, 2022, on CD, vinyl and digital. A Ride is the most ambitious and fully-realised Phill Reynolds album to date. He was assisted by Stefano Pilia (lead guitar on Dive Bar Oblivion), IOSONOUNCANE (backing vocals, synth, bass and field recordings on World On Fire), and C+C=Maxigross (bass, drums and backing vocals on In The Dark). The record’s story is a dark one, but not one without hope. “Every end is a new beginning”, says Reynolds. “One of the main themes here is that life can be a sort of trap unless you recognise your own demons and try to deal with him. So we must be prepared and try to live well”.

Sounds like supergroup. Rarely have outstanding figures of such a variety of musical styles collaborated on one album to pay homage to a nearly forgotten artist, one of the few black Beatnik poets, Bob Kaufman.

"All Those Streets I Must Find Cities For" by The Plastik Beatniks is an attempt to acoustically reanimate Bob Kaufman, to return the Beat to him in a transatlantic collaboration. It is a shimmering psychedelic, at times jazzy concept album, sometimes reminiscent of Krautrock or hip hop, about a Beat-era poet who was as great as he was forgotten. It takes spoken word to a new level, as a transatlantic showcase of musical avant-gardes and a joyful "sound archaeology" of modernity, in which the tracks of the "Plastik Beatniks" meet the best voices of America.

The 12 wildly different songs and audi collages, on the transatlantically-produced album, "All the Streets I Must Find Cities For," is based on lyrics by Beat author Bob Kaufman. They were originally part of the radio play "Thank God for Beatniks," for which author Andreas Ammer ("Ammer & Einheit"), Notwist‘s Markus Acher and Micha Acher and loop maker Leo Hopfinger ("LeRoy") formed "The Plastik Beatniks." On the eastern side of the Atlantic they composed music and crafted soundscapes. On the west side of the ocean, they asked three of the most renowned singers, activists and producers in the U.S. to recite or sing Bob Kaufman's poetry.

Punk-pop icon Patti Smith immediately signed on to read Kaufman's poem "Ginsberg (For Allen)". Free jazz vocalist Moor Mother passionately performed Bob Kaufman's "War Memoir". American jazz clarinetist, composer, singer and “International Anthem” labelmate Angel Bat Dawid, a legitimate successor to Sun Ra, polyphonically read and sang such poems as "The Sun is a Negroe" and "West Coast Sound 1956" and included some clarinet solos on top. Also on the album, Bob Kaufman himself recites his previously unknown poems "Hollywood Beat", "Would You Wear My Eyes", and the "Jail Poem" "All Those Streets I Must Find Cities For". Beat chronicler Raymond Foye, who still lives at the Chelsea Hotel in New York, contributed an interview he conducted with late beatnik Allen Ginsberg about Bob Kaufman. Completing the circle was hip-hop artist Adam "DoseOne" ("13&God"), who once gave Markus Acher a well-thumbed volume of Bob Kaufman, whom he admired. He contributed some raps. Thus 12 tracks emerged, as diverse as the artists, poets and musicians who contributed to it. More than an album. An epitaph. A work for the eternity of Beat.

Regarding Bob Kaufman - of course the FBI kept a file on him – first as a sailor, then a communist, and finally a Beat poet. As one of the mainstays of the movement, he edited the literary magazine "Beatitude" in San Francisco and defined "Beatnik" to Allen Ginsberg: half rhythm, half sputnik. Bob recited his poetry loudly on the streets (when he wasn't sunk into years of silence in protest of the Vietnam War) and in the bars and bagel shops of North Beach. Once, he almost landed a pop hit ("Green Green Rocky Road"), which then made Dylan's companion Dave van Ronk famous. That Kaufman is today less known than his friend Allen Ginsberg may be because he was a black Beat poet, and also a Jew. This was not compatible with fame in the US of the 1950s. Though Kaufman had the same publisher, City Lights, as Ginsberg, he was frequently arrested and jailed, and was treated with electric shocks until he developed serious mental heath issues. There he wrote his "Jail Poems". The seventh of these lent this album its name:

"Someone whom I am is no one / Something I have done is nothing Someplace I have been is nowhere / I am not me What of the answers / I must find questions for? All these strange streets I must find cities for, Thank god for beatniks."

From Pacific City Discs, to you the listener, this summer, a DJ mix of fantasy and splash-energy is coming to you in a small edition of vinyl.  Fantasy writer/recording artist, Francesco Cavaliere, while visiting his seaside childhood vacation location, was extended an impromptu invitation, to DJ an 80s swimming club. He had this to say about his experience:

“I was at Shangri-La and a boy and girl from the bathhouse in silver swimsuits and sand-colored streaks waved me over with a drink and asked me if I would like to DJ the next day during my lesson on the beach at Tana del Pirata! I then and there I laughed but then I accepted (I had nothing at home just my mp3 player and a Nokia with music inside) The next day there was a little wind on the beach and the umbrellas swayed to the left. From the heat they could catch fire, white flames, instead the sea was rough and that wind with very long wrists cheered us up, blowing gaseous clouds in our faces. Perfect for the day ahead. After the first few pieces, I began to see that a group of kids jumped into the adjacent pool trying flips bombs and candle dives. Someone at the bar was playing Altered Beast .. so sipping a drink with ice I imagined DJ werewolf repeating catchy pieces while a kite half cobra half skyscraper inflated above us.”

This Impromptu Disc is fresh now, for you to frolic with this summer, while entertaining a daydream in the midst of entering a body of water while witnessing an apparition in the sky.

Selected and compiled by Francisco Cavaliere
Artwork by Spencer Clark

MISADVENTURES OF DOOMSCROLLER wurde von Jonathan Wilson (Billy Strings, Father John Misty, Angel Olsen) produziert und stellt eine neue, abenteuerliche Richtung für Dawes dar, die einen ehrgeizigeren und experimentelleren Ansatz bei den Aufnahmen zeigt als je zuvor.

”Wir waren schon immer stolz darauf, Minimalisten zu sein. Mit dieser Platte haben wir uns vorgenommen, MAXIMALISTEN zu sein”, sagt Goldsmith. ”Immer noch ein Quartett. Die Songs sollen sich nicht
hinter irgendwelchen Tricks oder Effekten verstecken. Aber wir lassen die Songs wirklich atmen und sich ausdehnen und leben, wie sie es wollen. Wir haben beschlossen, keine Rücksicht mehr auf kurze Aufmerksamkeitsspannen zu nehmen. Unsere Ambitionen gehen dabei über das Musikalische hinaus. ”Wir wollten auch die traditionelle Länge einer Schallplatte - 40-45 Minuten - respektieren, aber keine Rücksicht auf die Anzahl der Tracks nehmen. So wie es Miles oder Herbie oft getan haben. Die Songs zu dokumentieren ist nur die eine Hälfte des Bildes. Für diese Platte sind sie auch die Plattform, von der aus wir abspringen und uns darin verlieren können. Ich glaube, ich kann es am besten so ausdrücken: Wir wollten, dass diese Platte weniger eine Sammlung von Songs als vielmehr eine Sammlung von Musik ist.”

The third instalment of the Best OF Various series sees Malta's Melchior Sultana return to Ten Lovers Music with an amazing new track called Spectres. Following that we have a special reprise of Secret Garden by Paul David Gillman Presents Red Earth Design, from England. The main mix of Secret Garden features on Paul's debut album (TLP004) of the same name, we thought this reprise was too good to remain unreleased. On to the AA side and we have two tracks back to back from Italy's ReeKee with his debut release on TLM, Here We Stay and Next To Me showcase his unique sound. We have been a fan for a while so great to have him on board. Finally someone who needs no introduction, from the USA, Detroit's very own Javonntte following up his TLM 7' release last month with this superb track called Satellites and Dreamers.

As lockdown approached in 2020, Chicago-based singer Lili Trifilio was
wrapping up a tour in support of Beach Bunny's debut album, Honeymoon
- Suddenly, she found herself back at her parents' house, coping with her
new reality - To deal, she retreated into sci-fi stories and her alwaysactive imagination
She envisioned new places to travel in her mind, thus dreaming up big, bombastic
pop sounds to construct Beach Bunny's highly anticipated sophomore album,
Emotional Creature. Simultaneously about personal growth, Emotional Creature is
a collection of highly relatable songs that capture the highs and lows of new
relationships, the joys and vulnerabilities of letting someone in, the gut-wrenching
realities of experiencing anxiety, leaving toxic relationships, and seeing yourself
through the eyes of the one you love. These complex feelings are expertly
contrasted with ultra-poppy melodies, anthemic choruses, and a slight punk edge.
'The songs have grown with me over time,' Trifilio explains. 'Some of them were
written in various stages of life, and I think as we go through different
experiences and hardships, you come out stronger. I've grown as a person, so the
songwriting reflects that.' With its openhearted, vulnerable themes and
progressive, hook-filled take on pop rock and pop punk, Emotional Creature only
further cements Beach Bunny and Trifilio's well- earned reputation as a leading
voice of their generation.

In the late 90’s and early aughts, internet video capabilities like Real Video and Quicktime were expanding, proving the early prophecy that ‘anyone would be able to have their own television channel on the internet’ was indeed coming true. After the critical success of Mulholland Drive, director David Lynch doubled down on the medium, funneling virtually all of his time into personally animating, filming, and scoring content for his own internet destination: davidlynch.cm. It was fertile and limitless ground for a creative like Lynch, allowing him to return to the days of his experimental film roots, where it was actually possible for him to have his hands on every element of the process.

It was out of this newfound digital freedom that the early seeds of Inland Empire were born, evolving and fissuring from an internet-bound experiment itself, into something much more expansive. The film collated a variety of ideas and working methods that the recent web paradigm had nurtured in Lynch, one of which was an increased frequency of his own solo music productions. Having finished constructing his own personal recording studio in 1998, he was no longer tethered to the scheduling and high premiums of rented studio time and was free to accelerate his musical experimentation without constraint. As a direct result of this was a unique shift in Lynch’s musical trajectory; a shift that would eventually bear multiple albums and a short film featuring a lounge-crooning monkey. In the first weeks of 2005, Lynch would record a blues instrumental and instead of getting someone else to sing on the song, he would sing, via a formant and pitch-altering piece of equipment known as the Boss VT-1. It was because of the davidlynch animated series “Dumbland” that the director had discovered the device that would enable him to be ‘any character he needed.’ With “Ghost of Love,” Lynch was experimenting with bringing those ‘characters’ into his own musical compositions. Intrue Lynch fashion, it’s difficult to know which inspired which: did “Ghost of Love” birth a scene in Inland Empire, or did the film’s ideas birth the song? Just as “In Heaven” had served to encapsulate Eraserhead, “Ghost of Love” managed to encapsulate Inland Empire allowing its listener to close their eyes and immediately channel the film’s images and mood onto the screen of the mind.

“Ghost of Love” is backed with “Imaginary Girl,” originally released via CD single in 2006 are now finally seeing their vinyl and digital release for the first time in celebration of Inland Empire’s 2022 theatrical re-release. Both are signature cinematic Lynchian classics that feature Lynch on guitar and vocals, accompanied by his long-time collaborator and Sacred Bones staple Dean Hurley on bass.

'The Present Is A Foreign Land' ist ein ausgereiftes und vollendetes Werk mit 12 Tracks, die komplett von den Brüdern James und Matty Veck-Gilodi in Eigenregie geschrieben und eingespielt wurden. Inhaltlich drehen sich die emotionalen Songs um Themen wie das Impostor-Syndrom, dem Überwinden schwieriger Lebenshindernisse und der Selbstfindung. Für die Produktion zeichnet Mike Horner (Hot Chip, Jess Glynne, YONAKA, u.a.) verantworlich. Die erste Singleauskopplung heisst 'Going Clear', ein ehrlicher und verletzlicher Song, der einmal mehr James' unverwechselbare Stimme mit emotionalem Text vereint, der direkt aus dem Herzen zu Herzen geht. Neben dem neuen Album kann man sich auch auf Liveshows der Jungs in diesem Jahr freuen, u.a. beim Slam Dunk Festival im Sommer neben Alexisonfire, The Wonder Years und Meet Me At The Altar.

'The Present Is A Foreign Land' ist ein ausgereiftes und vollendetes Werk mit 12 Tracks, die komplett von den Brüdern James und Matty Veck-Gilodi in Eigenregie geschrieben und eingespielt wurden. Inhaltlich drehen sich die emotionalen Songs um Themen wie das Impostor-Syndrom, dem Überwinden schwieriger Lebenshindernisse und der Selbstfindung. Für die Produktion zeichnet Mike Horner (Hot Chip, Jess Glynne, YONAKA, u.a.) verantworlich. Die erste Singleauskopplung heisst 'Going Clear', ein ehrlicher und verletzlicher Song, der einmal mehr James' unverwechselbare Stimme mit emotionalem Text vereint, der direkt aus dem Herzen zu Herzen geht. Neben dem neuen Album kann man sich auch auf Liveshows der Jungs in diesem Jahr freuen, u.a. beim Slam Dunk Festival im Sommer neben Alexisonfire, The Wonder Years und Meet Me At The Altar.

24 Songs. A new project from The Wedding Present. A new 7” single every month throughout 2022. 24 Songs sees David Gedge writing with legendary Sleeper guitarist Jon Stewart for the first time, and a more perfect union could not have been predicted. The notion of a monthly 7” single is not new to The Wedding Present, but 24 Songs shows us that even classic concepts can be reinvented. The series also continues the band’s association with photographer Jessica McMillan, who has created stunning images and films as a visual accompaniment to the recordings. Explaining 24 Songs, David Gedge said: “In 1991, The Wedding Present were rehearsing in a studio in Yorkshire when we hit upon an idea that immediately thrilled us all. Our bass player Keith Gregory had been a member of the ‘Sub Pop Singles Club’ - a service that allowed subscribers to receive 7”s released by that Seattle label on a monthly basis. Keith wondered if we, as a band, could attempt a similar thing. In that instant, The Wedding Present’s Hit Parade series was born and, during 1992, we managed to release a brand new 7” single each and every month. “The Hit Parade went on to become something of a significant milestone in the history of the band and it’s a project about which I’m often asked. As its thirtieth anniversary approached, I began to wonder if we should celebrate it in some way. A ‘Hit Parade Part 2’ didn’t feel quite right, though. Then, someone said to me: “Other bands have released music in similar ways but there has been nothing like the Hit Parade.” And they were right! A 7” single a month seems, somehow, very ‘Wedding Present’. So, inspired by that little idea from three decades ago, we’ve embarked on this new project, 24 Songs. “Even though The Wedding Present have never been known for taking the easy route, the idea of recording 24 tracks and releasing them in this way could seem daunting to any band. However, I’ve been inspired by the music that has been written since Jon and Melanie joined the group. The thought of celebrating this exciting new line-up with an exciting new series has motivated us all… and I suppose we also didn’t want any of these songs to be hidden away in the middle of an album!”

He might be vocalist in bands such as Brighton-based progressive act Diagonal and psychedelic outfit Baron, but when it comes to his solo work Alex Crispin has typically worked in more wordless fields. Last year the songwriter, vocalist and producer released a triptych of ambient albums, consisting of two older albums in 'Idle Worship' and 'Open Submission', as well as new meditative work in 'Resubmergency'. On his new self-titled album, however, Crispin re-emerges from the cavernous soundscapes to – for the first time – put his vocal and song writing stamp on a record under his own name. “I personally find it easier to create more guarded, moody music, but I was at a point where I wanted to embrace a more universal, intimate and open side to what I might say” Crispin says. “Over time I’d got over certain blocks or preoccupations and so wanted to create something accessible and open hearted, which became a big driver for this record.” Pointedly self-titled to reflect the newfound confidence in his song writing away from the collective of a band, the album’s nine tracks are a warm embrace amidst troubled times. Musically there’s nods to everything from tropicalia and Brazilian MPB, to 80’s dusk pop balladeers The Blue Nile and Paul Simon’s explorations into African music. Lyrically aware of the snowballing turbulence that surrounds us, Crispin in reaction tries to see hope and looks around at the relationships and connections in his life that provide him strength. He opens 'Invisible (To Us)' with the words “Before the world did end, there was just one moment when, everybody thought there might be time, to look around again, to laugh to cry to sing.” Elsewhere, 'Listen & Learn' strikes at the heart of other underlying themes of the record, of the rarity of people opening up, taking on new ideas and allowing change. It’s accompanied with a rich, maximal sound palette of flute and sax that play around each other as Crispin’s vocal chips in with gentle encouragement. “One of the main markers on the album that I was aware of from the start, was to let myself express joy and positivity in the music” he says. “I have come to greatly prize the power of accessibility and universality over artistic 'coolness or trend', much in the same way that so often for me, the greatest pieces of art humans make nowadays are things like Pixar movies, with their combination of undeniable human talent and craft, alongside genuinely moving and accessible themes.” Indeed, there is a cinematic feel to much of Crispin’s own music, something brought over from his ambient creations – although his self-titled album possesses a panorama all of its own. Something like 'When I Reach The Ocean' has a hazy, pastoral feel to it like something out of the Canterbury Folk scene; there’s space between the notes though, which in turn pushes the track out to a greater expanse than the comparatively soft-edged and modest sound palette used to create it. Similarly, the likes of 'Effert' revel in the space afforded to them - in the case of the aforementioned in particular, Crispin lets his voice take a back seat and creates an open wash of sound that he allows the guitar to probe and explore within. “In making any music I am definitely conscious of trying to put in only what is effective” Crispin says. “It is so easy to clutter tracks without realising it, just having the ability to add stuff can just become addictive as it’s so easy to do with recording setups now.” The album started coming together at the end of 2020, with Crispin getting most of the songs to a concrete state, before starting recording in May 2021 with Diagonal bandmates Luke Foster (drums) and Daniel Pomlett (Bass), who put down rhythm tracks. Jazz saxophonist Rob Milne then added parts which would become the glue that held the whole organic aesthetic of the album together. There’s no doubt that lockdown played a part in proceedings, with a kind of forced focus resulting in a need for joyful expression. However, Crispin and his partner also suffered a bereavement which led to her travelling for large periods of time. “It was a very intense and difficult time and I think some of the intensity of emotion of that situation coupled with being alone must have inevitably contributed to the work itself” he says. It's perhaps why when even in moments of sheer happiness, such as the 'Sabu’s' breezily euphoric opener, Crispin ponders: “No-one really cares beyond this moment, and even when it's here, it's never here”. It’s the first of several bittersweet moments on the record that give the album its weight. On this new LP, Crispin recognises that sadness doesn’t mean throwing out hope, and that even in moments of joy there’s still a path ahead of you to take.

Swedish progg is not to be confused with "prog" as in progressive rock music. When we are talking about progg, we are referring to the Swedish music movement influenced by the political climate of the late 60's, to some extent the hippie movement and in many cases also Swedish folk music. Music highly driven by a political agenda. Blod's Knutna Nävar, originally released in an edition of 150 copies on Förlag För Fri Musik in 2018 and later a small cassette run, is pretty much a lost progg classic from the 70's. This is not a case of copying a certain sound though, far from it, neither are ideas really rehashed nor does the album feel nostalgic in that sense. Rather it feels like if someone has read about the progg movement and all the records but never actually heard it, yet decided to do an album and somehow managed to succeed big time. Further developing the sound palette and ambience initiated with parts of the Leendet Från Helvetet recording, the music feels slightly louder and more in your face. It's like it's more of everything. The melodies are immediate and it's quite impossible to resist the brash catchiness of it all. Albeit mentioning progg music and its importance for this recording, the actual musical side of Knutna Nävar has in reality more in common with soundtrack/library music and Swedish composers like the late Björn Isfält when you attempt to break it down. The crude DIY approach and anything-goes mentality just adds an extra dimension to it all and ultimately places the music somewhere else. There's a rather blunt use of samples throughout the record (sources probably best to leave out, though you don't have to be a Einstein to figure these out), but then again this is made by the same guy that gave the world the ABBA album. Those samples has managed to become an integral part of the music through the few years that has passed and though well familiar with the records those snippets are now to me genuinely Blod and nothing else. It seems like everyone has their own favourite but Knutna Nävar is the Blod album I have returned to the most. It has that extra something that sets it apart and if I would have to pick up a few records that sums up why Gothenburg has been a pretty damn awesome place to be in the last 10 years or so, this would definitely be one of the top picks.

Following the precursor singles of 2021, Formality Jerne-Site’s unveiling is finally cast upon her already-growing fanbase. Trained classically as a composer and completing a masters at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, Jura introduces a highly-anticipated playground of carefully sculpted characters, plots and lessons - sometimes charming, sometimes nefarious, always absolute and sincere. A fictional land opens its doors and roof to us. A trio of trans kids run amok in rural suburbia. Various sorcerers of the wild future enter the scene on some songs; on others, the mind is cast to sun-drenched drives and journeys of yesteryear. At the heart is a pop sensibility: yearning, reflections, vanity, guesswork, hope. Jura is adamant about practice and precision. Dead seriously she offers, about making music: ‘Nothing should be half-hearted or an accident.’ There’s a maturity and elegance to her compositions, arrangements that - although at first sound seem abstract - lean away from experimental, somehow. She sing-speaks in English, and somehow not typically theatrically for such a play of a record. The theatrics are all real. It’s a fantasy land for sure, but it's based on hard facts. Like academia subdivided into poetry. It’s that weird-ass specificity she mentioned. Opener ‘Someone’s Lifework’ introduces less a choir of voices, than a choir of personalities. The art of storytelling is at the center of the musical expression. A protagonist relinquishes control of chaos that’s bigger than them on a perilous journey on some vessel: they comfort their co-passengers. There’s a sense that the hero - or anti-hero - might be more canny and cunning than the sweetness they first sell to fellow players. 'Is this our getaway chance?’ sings fellow Copenhagener Ydegirl amongst swelling synths and reverb that become so definitely Jerne-Site as the quest continues. The search? For intimacy, perhaps. ‘Same late Age (dIcK bIfFeReNcE)’ imbibes at once, some further disorientation, perhaps a little hallucinatory feeling which may come over the listener. Through a synthesizing of political themes that work across time ‘Same Late Age (dIcK bIfFeReNcE)’ bears reminiscences of the musical expressions of anti-capitalism in the 1980es, although in a new body and context. “I have a feeling that music reconjures societal morals and ideas from the time in which it was written when we press play or hear a live performance. From the moment at a concert when the symphonic orchestra starts tuning in, the time traveling begins. So I imagined how it would be to be trans sitting there playing the first violin, having the job of producing that first tone that all the other musicians around me tune in ona, ” Jura explains. The listener yearns for more; and subsequent tracks deliver. On ‘How Intimate It Gets,’ Jura meditates on the futility of closeness, begging the audience to enter the blood and guts of their own entanglements, the blueprints of focusing entering. Jura sings richly about fingers being lines, pointing or bending, and we’re reminded of their own wicked ways we can’t control. A history of singing in choirs informs the harmony of myriad inner voices heard across the album. At once prophetic and enigmatic, some of the songs rearrange historical events out of pop musical language. The enormously entertaining ‘Pinot-Botticelli Toast to European Users’ conjures scenes of Cold-War world leaders stuck on a cruise in the Transatlantic vacuum, and the protagonist watches a devastating heartbreaker careen on into the picture, led by his own hips on ‘The Lasceaux Associate’. Finally, on title track ‘Formality Jerne-Site’, American English rises to the occasion like a verdict around the narrative of three trans teenagers in rural Colorado: language turns into something sensual and haptic, playing with the snare and sizzle of syllables. The words twist and bend, while the music follows its own synaesthetic logic: “around us pop culture made a vow to a normative desire, drawing in like water color percussion”. Anyines is a site of play and documentation, with a canon so far quite nice. Their future is one that envisions supporting the galaxies their dear friends embody, be it music, performance, video games or beyond. Highlights from their discerning back catalogue include myriad formats: live and digital, plus releases binded to physical artefacts that enhance the live experience such as sculptures and scents. Their history also includes disappearing time-sensitive shadow-tracked material and cross-disciplinary opportunities that reflect deep professionalism and a totally non-schooled semblance of sound and drama. Recent releases include a dance-theatre soundtrack, a traditional shiny pop record, and the acclaimed ML Buch sophomore, Skinned.

Princess Diana of Wales, by London-based Australian Laila Sakini, is A Colourful Storm's latest and most curious project. Someone, no one, a notion, a feeling... Sakini offers clues but no simple answers. Vocal-led pieces 'Still Beach' and 'Fragments of Blue' are brittle and intoxicating, contemplating recklessness and unfulfillment of a past life: "Watching the future wash away / Giving it up to have this day". She studies closeness and, incredulous of the feelings that emerge, wonders if detachment is impermanent. She catalogues these emotions as a series of memories, colours and images. 'Evaporate', sedated and hushed, is a secret confession and ode to resolution, albeit, fatally, only a temporary one: "Take some form / Later on when I can do this / When we can do this / Together".

Behind the album is a stage of dubwise disorientations evoking in-between states of the everyday. 'Swing' and 'Closer' are woozy and dreamlike, their voices summoning ghosts of fortunes past while 'Exhaust' finds an aperture in our protagonist's daydream. A perilous foreshadowing of the incantatory 'Choir Chant', whose spell pacifies her inquisition, submerging both self and feeling into the deep blue sea. RIYL: Grouper, Kali Malone, Drew McDowall.

‘Jim, I’m Still Here’ is the second album from James Righton under his own name; produced by David & Stephen Dewaele of Soulwax and released on their label DEEWEE, the album follows The Performer released in 2020. James’ musical past is well documented; as the frontman of the genre inventing Klaxons, he helped create a revolution in British music and spawned a youth subculture. ‘Jim, I’m Still Here’ is a captivating meditation on the artists experience of the pandemic as James looks to conceptualize the myriad of emotions and events into a fascinating third person narrative. One of the album tracks features Benny Andersson from Swedish pop legendary band ABBA, with whom James has been working on putting together their new live band.

"I wrote this record during the first few months of the pandemic. At the time I wasn’t intending to make any music. I’d just released ‘The Performer’ on what turned out to be the first week of lockdown. The outside world shut down and I was busy being Dad. Then. I started making notes on my phone. Just words. In moments stolen from family life I’d head downstairs to my garage studio and put the words to music. When I was happy with a song I’d send it to Dave and Stef. Demos and Pro Tools sessions were passed back and forth between my home studio and the Deewee studio in Ghent. I was nervous about their response to the music I was making. It was personal, raw: unlike anything I’d ever written before. A conversation with the outside world during these times of isolation. For the most part my life was centred on the domestic. Getting to spend so much time with my family was a blessing. Making music was my play time. Isolation opened me to memories and allowed me to dream of the future. As the outside world tried to adapt to the pandemic I was asked more and more to promote ‘The Performer’ in live stream concerts on various platforms. As the pandemic went on, demands on production increased (more camera angles, better lighting, higher quality audio recordings). It became a one man show. I’d head downstairs to my garage, put on my Gucci suit, comb my hair and become someone else. Jim. Jim the deluded rock star, living out his fantasies from the confines of his garage. A lonely stardom. And yet, Jim was part me. He made me feel like I still existed. Jim became the centre of the new album. Dave, Stef and I worked into the sessions over the following months. It was always exciting to see where they would take my initial demos. The working method and the restrictions of making music together but in separate spaces, separate countries shaped the sound and feel of the record.
I won’t make another record like this again”.James/Jim

Felicia Atkinson’s music always puts the listener somewhere in particular. There are two categories of place that are important to »Image Langage«: the house and the landscape. Inside and outside, different ways of orienting a body towards the world. They are in dialogue, insofar as in the places Atkinson made this record—Leman Lake, during a residency at La Becque in Switzerland, and at her home on the wild coast of Normandy—the landscape is what is waiting for you when you leave the house, and vice-versa. Each threatens—or is it offers, kindly, even promises? —to dissolve the other. Recognizing the normalization of home studios these days, she revisited twentieth-century women artists who variously chose, and were chosen by, their homes as a place to work: the desert retreats of Agnes Martin and Georgia O’Keefe, the life and death of Sylvia Plath. Building a record is like building a house: a structure in which one can encounter oneself, each room a song with its own function in the project of everyday life.

At times listening to »Image Langage« is immediate, something like visiting a house by the sea, sharing the same ground, being invited to witness Atkinson’s acts of seeing, hearing, and reading in a sonic double of the places they occurred. In an aching moment of clarity in »The Lake is Speaking,« a pair of voices emerge out of the primordial murk of piano and organ, accompanying the listener to the edge of a reflective pool that makes a mirror of the cosmos. "I open my feet to fresh dirt, and the wet grass. I hold your hand. You hold his hand. In the distance without any distance. The comets, the stars." At other times, listening to »Image Langage« is more like being in a theatre, the composition a tangle of flickering forms and media that illuminate as best they can the darkness from which we experience it. On »Pieces of Sylvia,« a noirish orchestra drones and clatters beneath and around a montage of vocal images, stretching the listener across time, space, subjectivities. Atkinson says that "Image Langage" is like the fake title of a fake Godard film. There is indeed something cinematic about Atkinson’s work—not cinematic in the sense that it sounds like the score for someone else’s film, but cinematic in the sense that it produces its own images and langage and narratives, a kind of deliberate, dimensional world-building in sound.

»Image Langage« is built from instruments recorded as if field recordings, sound-images of instruments conjured from a keyboard, instruments Atkinson treats like characters, what she calls “a fantasy of an orchestra that doesn’t exist.” And then, speaking of Godard, there are the monologues, operating as both experimental-cinematic device and a literary style of narration. Voice can be a writerly anchor or a wisp of a textural presence. Atkinson’s capacious and slippery speech plunges into and out of the compositional depths, shifting shapes, channelling the voices of any number of beings, subjectivities, or elements of her surroundings—not unlike her midi keyboard, able to speak as a vast array of instruments.

»Image Langage« is an environmental record, in the vastest sense of the world. It is about getting lost in places imagined and real; it registers, too, the dizzying feeling of moving between such sites. It puts forth a concept of self that is hopelessly entangled with the rest of the world, born of both the ache of distance and the warmth of proximity.

For Félicia Atkinson, human voices inhabit an ecology alongside and within many other things that don’t speak, in the conventional sense: landscapes, images, books, memories, ideas. The French electro-acoustic composer and visual artist makes music that animates these other possible voices in conversation with her own, collaging field recording, MIDI instrumentation, and snippets of essayistic langage in both French and English. Her own voice, always shifting to make space, might whisper from the corner or assume another character’s tone. Atkinson uses composing as a way to process imaginative and creative life, frequently engaging with the work of visual artists, filmmakers, and novelists. Her layered compositions tell stories that alternately stretch and fold time and place, stories in which she is the narrator but not the protagonist.

Tape

Charlemagne Palestine (born Charles Martin ni 1947 in Brooklyn, New York) wrote intense, ritualistic music in the 1970s, intended by the composer to rub against audiences' expectations of what is beautiful and meaningful in music. A composer-performer, he always performed his own works as soloist. His earliest works were compositions for carillon and electronic drones, and he is best known for his intensely performed piano works. He also performs as a vocalist. Palestine's performance style is ritualistic; he generally surrounds himself (and his piano) with stuffed animals, smokes large numbers of kretek (Indonesian clove cigarettes) and drinks cognac.

Oren Ambarchi (born 1969 in Australia) is a composer and multi-instrumentalist with longstanding interests in transcending conventional instrumental approaches. His work focuses mainly on the exploration of the guitar, "re-routing the instrument into a zone of alien abstraction where it's no longer easily identifiable as itself. Instead, it's a laboratory for extended sonic investigation". (The Wire, UK).

Oren Ambarchi's works are hesitant and tense extended songforms located in the cracks between several schools: modern electronics and processing; laminal improvisation and minimalism; hushed, pensive songwriting; the deceptive simplicity and temporal suspensions of composers such as Morton Feldman and Alvin Lucier; and the physicality of rock music, slowed down and stripped back to its bare bones, abstracted and replaced with pure signal.

From the late 90's his experiments in guitar abstraction and extended technique have led to a more personal and unique sound-world incorporating a broader palette of instruments and sensibilities. On releases such as Grapes From The Estate and In The Pendulum's Embrace Ambarchi has employed glass harmonica, strings, bells, piano, drums and percussion, creating fragile textures as light as air which tenuously coexist with the deep, wall-shaking bass tones derived from his guitar.

Ambarchi works with simple constructs and parameters; exploring one idea over an extended duration and patiently teasing every nuance and implication from each texture; the phenomena of sum and difference tones; carefully tended arrangements that unravel gently; unprepossessing melodies that slowly work their way through various permutations; resulting in an otherworldly, cumulative impact of patiently unfolding compositions.

Ambarchi has performed and recorded with a diverse array of artists such as Fennesz, Otomo Yoshihide, Pimmon, Keiji Haino, John Zorn, Rizili, Voice Crack, Jim O'Rourke, Keith Rowe, Phill Niblock, Dave Grohl, Gunter Muller, Evan Parker, z'ev, Toshimaru Nakamura, Peter Rehberg, Merzbow, Kassel Jaeger, Anthony Pateras, Crys Cole, Giuseppe Ielasi, Judith Hamann, Sunn 0))), James Rushford, Stephen O'Malley and many more.

For 10 years together with Robbie Avenaim, Ambarchi was the co-organiser of the What Is Music? festival, Australia's premier annual showcase of local and international experimental music. Ambarchi now curates the Maximum Arousal series at The Toff In Town in Melbourne and has recently co-produced an Australian television series on experimental music called Subsonics. Ambarchi co-curated the sound program for the 2008 Yokohama Triennale. Ambarchi has released numerous recordings for international labels such as Touch, Southern Lord, Table Of The Elements and Tzadik.

Belgian drummer Eric Thielemans is one of the most idiosyncratic figures in Belgian music, someone who not only demonstrates that special musicians always seek out (and find) their own place, but above all that they always remain students of the art of questioning and listening. No musician better illustrates the difference between playing music and playing with music than percussionist Eric Thielemans. He gets to the heart of the matter with an at times extremely minimalist approach, but on the other hand he frequently relies on a range of objects beyond the regular drum kit: a drum placed on its side, a bicycle wheel with a bow, hands and the body.

Tape

Charlemagne Palestine (born Charles Martin ni 1947 in Brooklyn, New York) wrote intense, ritualistic music in the 1970s, intended by the composer to rub against audiences' expectations of what is beautiful and meaningful in music. A composer-performer, he always performed his own works as soloist. His earliest works were compositions for carillon and electronic drones, and he is best known for his intensely performed piano works. He also performs as a vocalist. Palestine's performance style is ritualistic; he generally surrounds himself (and his piano) with stuffed animals, smokes large numbers of kretek (Indonesian clove cigarettes) and drinks cognac.

Oren Ambarchi (born 1969 in Australia) is a composer and multi-instrumentalist with longstanding interests in transcending conventional instrumental approaches. His work focuses mainly on the exploration of the guitar, "re-routing the instrument into a zone of alien abstraction where it's no longer easily identifiable as itself. Instead, it's a laboratory for extended sonic investigation". (The Wire, UK).

Oren Ambarchi's works are hesitant and tense extended songforms located in the cracks between several schools: modern electronics and processing; laminal improvisation and minimalism; hushed, pensive songwriting; the deceptive simplicity and temporal suspensions of composers such as Morton Feldman and Alvin Lucier; and the physicality of rock music, slowed down and stripped back to its bare bones, abstracted and replaced with pure signal.

From the late 90's his experiments in guitar abstraction and extended technique have led to a more personal and unique sound-world incorporating a broader palette of instruments and sensibilities. On releases such as Grapes From The Estate and In The Pendulum's Embrace Ambarchi has employed glass harmonica, strings, bells, piano, drums and percussion, creating fragile textures as light as air which tenuously coexist with the deep, wall-shaking bass tones derived from his guitar.

Ambarchi works with simple constructs and parameters; exploring one idea over an extended duration and patiently teasing every nuance and implication from each texture; the phenomena of sum and difference tones; carefully tended arrangements that unravel gently; unprepossessing melodies that slowly work their way through various permutations; resulting in an otherworldly, cumulative impact of patiently unfolding compositions.

Ambarchi has performed and recorded with a diverse array of artists such as Fennesz, Otomo Yoshihide, Pimmon, Keiji Haino, John Zorn, Rizili, Voice Crack, Jim O'Rourke, Keith Rowe, Phill Niblock, Dave Grohl, Gunter Muller, Evan Parker, z'ev, Toshimaru Nakamura, Peter Rehberg, Merzbow, Kassel Jaeger, Anthony Pateras, Crys Cole, Giuseppe Ielasi, Judith Hamann, Sunn 0))), James Rushford, Stephen O'Malley and many more.

For 10 years together with Robbie Avenaim, Ambarchi was the co-organiser of the What Is Music? festival, Australia's premier annual showcase of local and international experimental music. Ambarchi now curates the Maximum Arousal series at The Toff In Town in Melbourne and has recently co-produced an Australian television series on experimental music called Subsonics. Ambarchi co-curated the sound program for the 2008 Yokohama Triennale. Ambarchi has released numerous recordings for international labels such as Touch, Southern Lord, Table Of The Elements and Tzadik.

Belgian drummer Eric Thielemans is one of the most idiosyncratic figures in Belgian music, someone who not only demonstrates that special musicians always seek out (and find) their own place, but above all that they always remain students of the art of questioning and listening. No musician better illustrates the difference between playing music and playing with music than percussionist Eric Thielemans. He gets to the heart of the matter with an at times extremely minimalist approach, but on the other hand he frequently relies on a range of objects beyond the regular drum kit: a drum placed on its side, a bicycle wheel with a bow, hands and the body.

Minru is the project of Caroline Blomqvist, a Swedish musician based in Berlin. Woven from light and shadow, the interplay of her folk and indie-rock blend appears from a personal space of finding life after death. On her debut LP »Liminality« she paints melody in soft tones, whispering secrets to navigate feelings of loss.

Built around winding layers of acoustic guitar, piano, and strings, Minru is a surprisingly uplifting and stirring testament to Blomqvist’s own suffering from the passing of someone close to her. Returning to Berlin from Sweden feelings of grief, confusion, and pain travelled with her, and these emotions prompted the journey both of and within the album, heard as a dreamlike actualisation of wandering lost between them. "I read that Carl Jung used the word "»Liminality«” to describe the psychological process of transitioning. I instantly felt seen; it reflected my own experience and the feelings I carried whilst making the album – a sense of the old certainties being gone, but the new not being quite there yet,” she says.

Defined as "the threshold separating one space from another" »Liminality« moves between feeling the ground beneath your feet fall away, fighting through the darkness and the doubt, and the emerging shades of hope and light as you painstakingly make peace with mortality and find yourself as a person again. "I am happy to have encapsulated this moment of time in sound," Blomqvist says, "it will always be there as a memory."

Flourishing from a preferred position of solitude, »Liminality« sees Blomqvist’s vision radiate with intensity from her home-based studio in Neukölln - a small, 2-room apartment with squeaky old wooden floors. Capturing the intimacy of the space, she recorded vocals and synth on gear partly borrowed from friends (to swiftly reunite it with its owners), and the songs flow with a stream of consciousness as feelings become entwined with melody. Time-restraint drew the process to a natural close, preventing Blomqvist from losing herself to experimentation. “Maybe I would have been stuck in »Liminality«, trying out sounds forever,” she suggests of the way ‘Into the well’s instrumental swims into a warm stream of synth pads. "It’s the cosiest moment on the album,” she says, “Cosy is a feeling I always strive for in life."

Finished and self-produced at a Berlin-Lichtenberg recording studio alongside musical friends (Povel Widestrand, Tobias Blessing, Sunniva Lilian Shaw Of-Tordarroch, Marlene Becher and Liv Solveig Wagner), the result is beautifully detailed and rich like the folk of her Swedish roots. First picking up a guitar as a kid and becoming obsessed with it, she would skip school to spend extra hours mastering the instrument, grappling to perfect the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ intro. “As a child I was fascinated by my dad’s acoustic guitars around the house and would hit the strings to make them sound,” she recalls. After attending music high school in Gothenburg and playing in bands during her teens, Blomqvist later moved to Germany. As well as enjoying walks at Tempelhofer Feld and coffee at Leuchtstoff café, she performed with Tuvaband, Adna, and Tara Nome Doyle and played in Berlin venues Loophole and Schokoladen, where music became her world. With the passing of time she felt a growing urge to find an outlet for her own songs; Minru was the answer along with her first »Yearnings« EP.

Now writing whenever she returns to Sweden, within the calm and stillness of her family’s mountainside cabin, her skilfully constructed arrangements summon the comforting atmosphere of home. “I hope listeners will feel inspired to slow down a bit, create, draw, cook something. Just be in the moment that is now.” »Liminality« is the kind of record that rewards attention. Give this album your time, it will give you its soul.

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.

Graeme Martin and Liam Karima made the new pet deaths album to be
both explored and sat with
In age of dull disconnection and constant refreshing, unhappy ending, the London
duo's second full- length effort, was deliberately and acutely considered to be a
journey of its own; nine new songs but one whole immersive piece for the listener
to climb inside, in the quiet of reflection, in the sobering commute to and
from.Following on from the sparkling celestial folk of the band's 2019 debut To
the Top of the Hill, unhappy ending is the next step in pet deaths' somewhat
remarkable journey. Setting out to make their new album, the band had one
question in the forefront of their collective mind: Is life an unhappy ending, or do
we become part of a bigger movement to more positive things?
Across the album's nine tracks, this conundrum is explored in many and
meaningful ways, their subtle take on melancholic folk- pop conjuring a
bewitching atmosphere that hangs over every inch of the album. unhappy ending
thrives within the world it creates for itself, one of distinctive colours and shapes
that feel intimate and familiar but always slightly off- kilter, as if you've
momentarily stepped into someone else's dream. It sings of love and loss and the
unwieldy connection between those two things, in ways that feel quietly radiant
and beguiling, caught in an alluring contrast. Recorded at a residential studio in
Oxfordshire which they used as a retreat from the business of London – fleshedout and toyed with over time with their acclaimed producer Ian Davenport
(Slowdive, Gaz Coombes, Radiohead's Philip Selway) who encouraged the duo to
lean into the wilder parts of their creativity. Inspired, musically, by the spiritual
moments of Alice Coltrane, the freeness of Miles' 'Bitches Brew', with a sprinkling
of Talk Talk's 'Spirit Of Eden' in its colourful unravelling, unhappy ending is an
enveloping experience, touching upon universal themes but all shone through the
lens of Karima's signature perspective.
Tour in May & June in support of the release - dates in Newcastle, London, Bristol,
Manchester & Sheffield.
Pet Deaths previously supported the likes of Elbow and Arab Strap.
Support from So Young Magazine, Chris Hawkins (BBC 6 Music), DIY Mag, Clash,
Huw Stephens (BBC Radio 1)

“I’m closing a chapter in my life,” Barbie Bertisch says to me from a park bench in Greenpoint, “I spent the last four years working towards gaining confidence around my ideas and my creative perspective. This feels like a culmination of that process” The “this,” in question is Bertisch’s debut record Prelude, a collection of eleven songs that chronicle 5 years of Bertisch’s life. The legendary musician Anna Domino describes the record best: “Prelude is a record of layers and depths. The melting phases and soaring distances.”


Raised in Buenos Aires and Miami, Bertisch has called New York home for most of her adult life. When she started piecing together Prelude, she was in her Brooklyn kitchen. It was early quarantine. Stuck at home instead of DJing at clubs, she found the space to parse through the archives. What she previously considered unworthy of attention in the era of distractions, finally made sense as a whole once all the noise was turned down. Compiling a list of songs in various states of completion, Bertisch dreamed up an album, a chronicle in growth and healing frustrations of the past, an honest account of someone trying to find her own voice. That in and of itself was a journey. It took years for Bertisch to accept that she was an artist. “I felt like I was surrounded by men who ruled every space. I constantly felt like I had to ask permission to enter, always around bands but never the girl in the band” she says.


Prelude is an introspective record. It explores all of the valences of being and feeling. Some songs are chaotic and choppy. Others are soft and searching. There is rage and innocence, and moments of forced stillness, like capturing the aftermath of panic attacks, as in “After The Storm”. Bertisch also focuses on rhythm, bass guitar being her main instrument, and no stranger to the power of the beat. The record also draws on influences as varied as Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, Cocteau Twins, Berlin School, and pioneering producer François Kevorkian. Both sonically and conceptually, Prelude is a portrait of who Bertisch is as a person.“Is This What You Wanted?” is fiery, a pointed provocation to domineering figures from her past. It’s full of strobing, strident synths, and heady lines of bass. It gives off the same vibe as a fire alarm, as a big room dance track that subverts your expectations of what it means to dance in a sea of bodies. “28,” the record’s opening track is more peaceful. It’s all languid keyboard arpeggios with the occasional flourish of a cascading synth effect.


Since most of the songs already existed in some form or another, Bertisch’s job on Prelude was to refine and reimagine music that had previously been private. She spent time rearranging, rewriting, adding elements newly available to her, such as the saxophone, and pushing the limits of the rough mixes to mold the universe she envisioned. Along the way, Bertisch grew more excited about her abilities as a musician. The resulting record is one that is inherently confident.


Prelude is also a homespun release. It’s coming out on Bertisch’s own label, Love Injection Records, which she runs with her partner Paul Raffaele. The two also DJ and make zines under the name, which started in 2015. Love Injection is a love letter to New York. Prelude is a word of encouragement to those struggling with self-actualization. The record was mixed by Justin Van Der Volgen and mastered by Walter Coelho. Love Injection Records holds the remix tradition in high regard, and they’ve enlisted reworks by some of Barbie’s favorite producers. It’s all a labor of love for Bertisch. Prelude is her: Barbie the musician.
©℗ Love Injection Records 2022

Renata Zeiguer's new album 'Picnic in the Dark' - her second full length
with Northern Spy - is a sonic dreamworld infused with magical realism
that tells an extremely personal narrative
It is a culmination of a lifetime of reckoning with her past and her unwavering
resolution to transcend inherited patterns and cycles that have held her back. Coproduced with Sam Griffin Owens (Sam Evian), the twelve songs lead a mystical
conversation between characters within her psyche that all center around this
process, which she whimsically likens to the ritual of having a picnic in the dark.
Integrating her child self into her adult life with immense compassion and
enlightenment, 'Picnic in the Dark' is not only an album of exploration but one of
transformation, healing and self- actualization, all through a courageous journey
towards that extremely uncomfortable yet fertile liminal space between
familiarity and uncertainty.

Listening pays off. This is evident not least in the debut EP of Golden Pudel Club barman Paul Speckmann.

Long years behind the bar of the Hamburg club pub made him a willing listener to the numerous and diverse events there - from start to finish, something that very few "regular" clubbers can claim.

And these influences, from indie concert to electronica crunch, from jungle breakbeat massacre to dignified house groove, not only led to his varied DJ sets, with which Speckmann also made his house club happy, but certainly also served as inspiration for these wonderful tracks, which skil-fully oscillate between deep-dusty house, angereak indie dance and playful IDM jingling, often varying different elements in one track.

There is, for example, the delicately dreamy house hit "On The Flip", the latenight funk of "Star-ship", which would not be out of place on the Sunday MFOC floor, or the blurred indie ambient tune "Return", which captivates with campfire guitar and Sophia Kennedy on the vocals.

And these are just three of the seven tracks (or eight on the digital release) on the EP, none of which disappoint. Someone has listened carefully and learned his lessons. Chapeau!

It's dark in the forest. Especially in the »northwest«. You have to adjust all your senses. But once you have, the forest will take you in his arms. The forest will protect you. Just like Daniel Herrmann's first album for Live At Robert Johnson will protect you.

Herrmann is far from being unknown in the world of music - let alone in the art or photography world. In the music field, he is probably much more known under his Flug 8 moniker where he released five albums on Disko B, Doxa Records, Ransom Note, and Acid Pauli's Smaul Recordings. Under his given name, Daniel Herrmann's relationship with LARJ's label boss Ata Macias goes way back. As an artist and photographer Herrmann was the only one allowed to take pictures inside Ata's ROBERT JOHNSON club, thus creating an iconic series of pictures of clubbers and club life in general. Herrmann’s pictures of the partying punters themselves were presented as wallpaper all over Robert Johnson back in 2002.

With »Enroute« Herrmann enters new territory: It is his most ambient work up to today. And yes, it is a piece of work created during the lockdown. Herrmann's studio is situated in the outskirts of Frankfurt, near the forest - a quite remote place already in-between the Taunus mountain range. Imagine life during the lockdown in such a place … This is where Herrmann set up his former basement studio in the large living room with a variety of instruments besides a cozy fireplace spending warm light and warmth. A warmth that despite its seemingly rather "cold" atmosphere can be heard all over »Enroute«. Once you soak in the sounds (or get soaked into the sounds) of the first tracks like album opener »northwest«, »Fly By Wire« or the 11min »Dark Trace« you might feel this warmth too. A cold warmth you could say, yet a warmth that only modular systems and synthesizers can create.

There is a change of mood with »Intercontinental« - literally as it seems that Herrmann indeed is on an intercontinental journey here despite the strolls and long walks in silence through the Taunus forest. This is also the place where Herrmann took many photographs of the forest and its trees (to be seen on his Instagram account) - and the picture on the cover: This spooky yet fragile high seat in the mist in front of those trees. Yet darkness alone is not dominating this album. Even during these dark days, there was a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. And it shows in the beauty of »Bouncing Rays«.

»Enroute« is done all alone and in total isolation. And one can hear it. But it also invites the listener to be a part of this lonely world. And we all know that being lonely is made easier with someone on your side - »Enroute« to a better place. A place that isn't lonely at all.

PS: For all digital music lovers we have included two bonus tracks: The GLOK remix of »Bouncing Rays« and Herrmann's clattering and creaking tune »Economy« - enjoy!

The Boogie Times label is back with 4 cuts from a very elusive artist.

There has been much speculation over the years as to the identity behind the Disciples Of The Watch moniker. Sharp eared listeners have attributed the sound of the breakbeats to one artist, while others are as convinced their deductions from the sound of a bassline can attribute the production to someone else.

Perhaps it’s who they think? Maybe it’s not? Possibly it’s a collective of artists?

All we can say is that Disciples Of The Watch make great music!

Back in 1992 the Dance In Peace EP received an incredibly limited white label run and was only available from a handful of specialist record shops. The scarcity of this release means that it has now reached near mythical status and has seen it selling for as much as £200 on the second-hand vinyl market.

This EP is now getting the very long overdue full release that it deserves, with all tracks expertly remastered & cut to heavyweight black vinyl.

With very limited stock being pressed we’d urge anyone wanting to own the amazing musical journey by the elusive Disciples Of The Watch to get orders in as soon as it goes on sale!!

The (seventh) new Half-handed Cloud album, ‘Flutterama’, is
a record of 18 jubilant indie-pop songs by John Ringhofer
that investigate spiritual incompetence with lively
arrangements and radiant melodies that skilfully dissolve into
deterioration using herky-jerky tape manipulation, analogue
wow-and-flutter, and an animated orchestra of homerecorded sound effects.
 Ringhofer’s work on ‘Flutterama’ was inspired by Frances
Mary Hunter Gordon’s adolescent liturgies (recorded at
Abbey Road during The Beatles era), turbid sights and
sounds in Guy Maddin films, audaciously bold forms in Sister
Corita Kent’s devotional printmaking, the exquisite brittleness
of Elizabeth Cotten’s voice, Alberto Burri’s stitched wound
burlap assemblages, Alvar Aalto church design, Andrea
Büttner’s poverty-informed artwork, Lou Barlow/Dinosaur Jr’s
lo-fi ‘Poledo’ sound collage (which namechecks Jesus), Julie
Canlis book ‘A Theology of the Ordinary’, Wallace Berman’s
visual collage, and The Raincoats’ magnificently shaky DIY
aesthetic.
 The album’s tape-fiddled tunes - recorded on the very same
16-track recorder last serviced by a sound technician who
also worked with The Beach Boys in their home studio -
employ surprisingly little synthesizer (“it felt like cheating,”
says Ringhofer) - he preferred to craft most of the album’s
effects the long way, frequently going behind the back of rock
instrumentation by hand-feeding ½” magnetic reel recordings
of chord organs, deflating balloons, some guitars, piano
(occasionally tracked with a baby on his lap), brass,
tablecloth swipes, and a quickly-cranked half-speed music
box. He was assisted by long-time Half-handed Cloud
contributor Brandon Buckner on drums, and single song
backing vocals from Anacortes, WA songsmith John Van
Deusen.
 LP pressed on Opaque Brown vinyl

"Don’t be afraid, old son, it’s only me,
though not as I’ve appeared before,
on the battlements of your signature,
or margin of a book you can’t throw out"
~ Michael Donaghy

Whytwo is a young, enigmatic artist from Scotland, UK. A talented multi-instrumentalist and performer with an extraordinarily broad range.
First coming to Blu Mar Ten's attention after entering their 2017 remix competition, Whytwo created a wildly different take on their track 'Titans', bending it into a skittering, menacing groove while somehow maintaining a playful edge.

Fast-forward a little and we've now arrived at Whytwo's debut LP, 'Ghost', an exhilarating and elasticated take on Drum & Bass that exists in the hinterland between elation, melancholy and longing.

Mirroring Whytwo's music, the album's title, 'Ghost', is richly layered word, meaning, in different places and at different times; a memory of something or someone; to disappear without communication; to move quietly and quickly; to secretly do work for another; and, of course, a being caught between worlds.
From the old English, 'Gast', meaning 'breath' or 'spirit', the word eventually transformed into 'Ghost' coming to describe "a slight suggestion, mere shadow or semblance". All of these definitions relate, in some way, to the album now before us.

In conversations with Whytwo, he describes how his Jazz musician Grandfather was the person responsible for first giving him music-making software, and whose clarinet features on some of the album tracks. At the same time that 'Ghost' was being created, Whytwo was looking after a young child and some of the drums on 'Ghost' are recordings of the child hitting things. Whytwo describes the feeling of existing between these two extreme states, young & old, naive & experienced, primitive & advanced, and taking the role of a medium 'caught between worlds' whose task was to stitch together this generational fabric.

The result is nothing less than spectacular. Despite having its roots in Drum & Bass, the rules and conventions of the style are ruthlessly disobeyed resulting in glittering cascades of melody, harmony and rhythm that somehow burst with both sadness and joy, hope & loss, memory and anticipation. The music swoops and dips, briefly casting shadows before blasting them away with sunlight, evoking memories both personal and collective. This is 'Lost Soul Music' that manages to speak to all of us.

Despite being deceptively listenable, Whytwo insists this is not relaxing background music. Listeners should fully engage with the music beyond its attractive surface and absorb it at the same deep human level where it was created. 'Ghost's production levels are astoundingly high but focussing on those would be a mistake. They only serve to carry the spiritual content of the music across to the audience and unlock the valves of feeling. The beauty here is not the machine, but the ghost in the machine.

Alex the Fairy is an artist based in Berlin producing music with an emphasis on electronic and concrete methods. Alex the Fairy is also part of the 3Ddancer trio, a live act focusing on improvisation and expression using electronics.

Alex The Fairy writes: "I had sent The Tapeworm tracks before, but I was being difficult so was asked to send a new bunch, with a deadline. I sent the new bunch, a fairly odd collection expecting perhaps some of them to be combined with the older stuff but not seeing any coherence in them. I figured The Tapeworm would find at least something. To my surprise the suggestion that came back was exclusively the tracks I had sent the second time, and, re-listening through the tracks in this new order after returning from a Christmas dinner lying on the floor of my nephews bedroom gave them a completely new context. Despite them being quite varied in terms of age (one had been flung together a few days earlier on the train while another was approaching Schulreife) they seemed to meld together in such a way that I hardly recognised them…

Last year my grandmother died. My last grandparent. I had put off seeing her during corona, as I thought it best not to put her at risk and had almost left to visit her days before her death but had delayed my departure because of a medical appointment. My failure to her weighs heavy on my mind - fates grimacing grin: too little, too late. The approaching march of death, one generation closer was a confrontation I wasn't prepared for.

While clearing out her flat in the following weeks I had kept some of my grandfathers cassettes, live recordings of jazz greats, Pink Floyd, Sade and some classical among them, none originals, several presumably from the radio e.g. a church organ rendition of Bach. At the time I wasn't sure why I was hanging on to them, other than the urge to hoard, and that it felt wrong not at least to keep some. Half a year later, half way through mixing this cassette, suffering from my first bout of COVID, I had the insatiable urge to hook up the cassette player I had received from my grandfather after his death around nineteen years earlier and had been dragging along with me since. I stuck a cassette in only to immediately return to the safety of my covers. I began to work my way into what I had saved, hearing the fruits of my grandfathers labour decades before. It felt like quite an intimate interaction with someone I had long lost contact to/was long gone. Quite a wonderful thing, these time traveling cassettes.

I returned to the tracks to mix them shortly before my corona/cassette experience, with a new mixing console at hand. I had been looking for one for several years, but nothing had ever clicked, until I found this old broadcast desk 30 minutes from my place (it also coincided with a payment from a job the sum of which matched the price identically… fates return). Installing became a massive hassle and I doubted my decision continuously, but the further it was implemented the more it made sense. The first track I recorded with the mixer is on this cassette. Shortly before the mixing I was introduced to an Effektgerät by a friend, Rapha. Another good friend Art lent me their one, and I ended up using copious amounts of it throughout mixing, alongside my usual space creators. All the tracks on this release were mixed again on this mixer and are in a sense all a bit of a dub of the originals. I wouldn't have worked this way without the mixer, and the effect gave me a dimension I hadn't had before, so, from a technical perspective, the mixer and this effect define this release, giving it a coherence, at least for me. Emotionally of course the chaos and turbulence of the preceding year and my newfound appreciation for the medium give it a meaning I will struggle to formulate." – Alex The Fairy, Berlin, 9 May 2022

LIMITED EDITION CLEAR VINYL

Clear Vinyl

Music became an escape for Greta during lockdown, and her new songs tell us about the feelings of love and longing that became an essential part of the pandemic for the German, Copenhagen based singer-songwriter. The songs follow last year’s successful debut album ‘Ardent Spring’ and together they make up her new album ‘Forever We’ll Be Dancing’, which will be released on February 4th 2022

Like so many of us, Greta spent most of last year trapped inside her apartment. While some have been making puzzles or knitting sweaters Greta has been writing songs about love, euphoria and longing; longing for the clubs of Berlin, longing for social contact and trying to find a way out of an emotional darkness.

During the Corona lockdown, Greta found herself in a romantic symbiosis with her husband and though the isolation brought them closer, it was also a challenging time where Greta’s husband struggled with depression.

»Music became my escape and if I needed to take a break and connect with myself, I could disappear into my computer and write a lot of songs. That was a good thing. Difficult, but good. It’s extremely hard to be close to someone who’s in pain when you have to carry them because they’re not able to carry themselves. In that sense, lockdown has been a good thing. My husband needed me and because of the lockdown I didn’t have to worry about missing out on anything. I feel that I’ve reached a deeper understanding of his feelings because we’ve had time to talk about them«, Greta says.

»Zwei Herzen«
The bubble of love and depression became a source of strength and personal growth, but it also caused Greta to miss the world outside and her family in the small German town Husum. Because of this, Greta wanted to fulfill a wish she had kept for a long time – she wanted to write songs in her native tongue, German. This is why multiple of her songs carry titles such as ‘Nicht Allein’, ‘Genug’ and ‘Drei’.

»I’ve been crazy homesick and that has definitely inspired the album. I have not written in German before, so for me this was a way of connecting with my roots. I can listen to German with Danish ears now, because I’ve lived here for so long now, and it allowed me to use the language differently and more rhythmically«.

24 Songs. A new project from The Wedding Present. A new 7” single every month throughout 2022. 24 Songs sees David Gedge writing with legendary Sleeper guitarist Jon Stewart for the first time, and a more perfect union could not have been predicted. The notion of a monthly 7” single is not new to The Wedding Present, but 24 Songs shows us that even classic concepts can be reinvented. The series also continues the band’s association with photographer Jessica McMillan, who has created stunning images and films as a visual accompaniment to the recordings. Explaining 24 Songs, David Gedge said: “In 1991, The Wedding Present were rehearsing in a studio in Yorkshire when we hit upon an idea that immediately thrilled us all. Our bass player Keith Gregory had been a member of the ‘Sub Pop Singles Club’ - a service that allowed subscribers to receive 7”s released by that Seattle label on a monthly basis. Keith wondered if we, as a band, could attempt a similar thing. In that instant, The Wedding Present’s Hit Parade series was born and, during 1992, we managed to release a brand new 7” single each and every month. “The Hit Parade went on to become something of a significant milestone in the history of the band and it’s a project about which I’m often asked. As its thirtieth anniversary approached, I began to wonder if we should celebrate it in some way. A ‘Hit Parade Part 2’ didn’t feel quite right, though. Then, someone said to me: “Other bands have released music in similar ways but there has been nothing like the Hit Parade.” And they were right! A 7” single a month seems, somehow, very ‘Wedding Present’. So, inspired by that little idea from three decades ago, we’ve embarked on this new project, 24 Songs. “Even though The Wedding Present have never been known for taking the easy route, the idea of recording 24 tracks and releasing them in this way could seem daunting to any band. However, I’ve been inspired by the music that has been written since Jon and Melanie joined the group. The thought of celebrating this exciting new line-up with an exciting new series has motivated us all… and I suppose we also didn’t want any of these songs to be hidden away in the middle of an album!”

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

"bit by bit" is the first full-length release from Toronto-based singer-songwriter Evan J Cartwright. This self produced album from the go-to drummer/collaborator (The Weather Station, U.S. Girls, Brodie West) presents a highly singular songwriting vision that combines existential lyrics with masterful musicianship. Steeped in jazz melodicism, Cartwright’s trumpet-like phrasing mixed with contemporary composition presents an eclectic art song performed by an artist that could perhaps be best described as a post-modern Chet Baker. Deep poetic observations on love and time paint an affecting picture of an artist reflecting on life’s universal truths. Visual in nature, "bit by bit" places its audience within a world of musical leitmotifs extracted from field recordings of bells and birdsong. Collected during years of touring, these sounds evoke extant spaces beyond that which the music inhabits. The use of this source material in its unaltered form evokes the feeling of a technicolour European film at one moment and then, as the extrapolated melodies are meticulously translated into electronic tone bank sequences, a modernist setting the next. One carillon melody is used as the basis for a wealth of the album’s musical material before its origin is finally revealed by the chiming of bells in the last seconds of the album. The result is a fragment of space between the constructed world of the musical compositions and the candid world of documentation, inviting the listener to ponder whether those two worlds are distinct or whether the songs and music are not simply “field recordings” themselves. Throughout "bit by bit" Cartwright drops staggering revelations hiding in plain prose that often involve the contemplation of time. In I Don’t Know he states “if I only trusted time / then I would wish it all away” and nearing the album’s end he opens impossibly blue with the phrase “the impossible truth of time”, playfully inserting a pregnant pause before the word time. A drummer’s fixation, to be certain, the album’s recurring theme of time is eclipsed only by Cartwright’s contemplation of human relationships. Here he elaborates on some of the album’s subjects: “Many of the lyrics circle, and try to give a name to the illegible space between human beings. “i DON’t know” celebrates the fact that we will never truly understand what love is. Its message is one of assurance. It says that we can never really touch love, and that is ok. “and you’ve got nobuddy” refers to life’s great tragedy: that we are unable to read each others’ experiences, and in reaction to this, we separate ourselves.” The entirety of "bit by bit" is a continuous work. There is seldom a clear demarcation of where one piece ends and another begins and when this does occur, it is done crudely, as if someone is flipping through a series of broadcasted channels. At times words are sliced right out of their lines and replaced by pure tones. This is both a comical interpretation of censorship and a reminder that there are things in life that will forever remain unseen and illegible. In fact, this statement lies at the centre of the LP and although hidden beauty does reveal itself through repeated listenings, "bit by bit’s" eccentric world remains just out of reach — an imaginary second story room viewed from a crowded city street.

Bill Evans' 'Easy To Love' plus bonus track pressed on limited edition
180g orange vinyl, includes a unique sticker
Compiled from early sessions for Riverside during 1956, 1958 and 1962, this
elease presents pianist Bill Evens unaccompanied, apart from one trio
performance with bassist Teddy Kotick and drummer Paul Motian. Produced by
Orrin Keepnews, these are among the earliest recordings of Bill Evans under his
own name.