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Dennis Brown has always been cited as Jamaica’s favourite singer. While Bob Marley set out to conquer the world, Dennis’s popularity on the island grew with every year. Overseas success also came Browns way with crossover hits like the massive ‘Money In My Pocket’. He will always be fondly remembered on the sound systems across the caribbean as the Crown Prince of Reggae.

Dennis Brown (b Dennis Emanuel Brown,1957, Kingston, Jamaica) began his illustrious career at the grand age of eleven like many of the other child singers at Coxsonne Dodds Studio One stable. His first hit in 1969 a cover of Van Dykes ‘No Man Is An Island’ still stands the tests of time and also its follow up cut ‘If I Follow My Heart’ as Reggae classics. The 1970’s saw Dennis build on his reputation by working with all the top Jamaican producers and
studio’s perfecting his sound. Lloyd Daley, Impact, Joe Gibbs, Aquarius and Derrick Harriott to name but a few. But it was his work with producer Winston ‘Niney’ Holness that he enjoyed the most success and many say recorded his best work for. Where many of the other producers stayed with the tried and tested Lovers Rock formula that did prove so popular with Dennis’s voice, producer Niney the Observer as he is fondly called, pushed him into a more roots led direction, over stark rhythms created by Niney’s studio band Soul Syndicate.

Two outstanding albums were put together ‘Just Dennis’ (1975) built on a collection of singles they had recorded together, ’Cassandra’, ’Westbound Train’, ’No More Will I Roam’ and ‘Conqueror’. The second 1977 set ‘Wolf and Leopards’ made up again of singles the prolific two had cut including, ‘Here I Come’ (a live favourite that Dennis always liked to start his set with) and ‘Children of Israel’ made these both strong roots era albums.

We have stayed with this period for our Dennis Brown album. Some of the above-mentioned cuts are present alongside the timeless crossover hit ‘Money In My Pocket’ (1979) produced by Niney but often credited as a Joe Gibbs production as it was released (and sweetened by adding Orchestration for the foreign market place) on his label. By the way this is the original Jamaican version (unsweetened) that you will find on this album a more truthful version in our humble opinion. His voice reigns supreme across these Niney produced cuts ‘Smile like An Angel’ ‘Silver Words’, ‘Play Girl’ and the fantastic ‘Poor Side Of Town’ (helped along by the great harmonies of the Heptones group), ‘Tribulation’ and ‘We Will Be Free’. Dennis Brown’s prolific catalogue of tunes that also found an outlet on his own DEB inprint (named after his initials) stands to show what a great artist he was and what a fine team he and Niney made when in the studio creating these magical moments. So sit back and enjoy a killer set of tunes compiled by Niney himself...Tribulation Times indeed and long may the records of the Crown Prince of Reggae Dennis Brown rule the world.....

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Andrew Duhon has a knack for telling the kind of stories that clearly cost the writer something to tell- the kind of honesty that feels noble and never half hearted. When a song written by a stranger heals you, even in the smallest way, that's a connection beyond entertainment, and that is the journey Andrew Duhon sets out on from his home in Louisiana. His songs are about recognizing our story as much as they are about telling his, and his coast to coast pursuits have given him a clearer view of the American Landscape than most are privy to. Still, after years of voyaging off to every corner of the country, a new sensation arises with each return home to New Orleans. From that familiar return comes The Parish Record, a snapshot of life venturing from and returning to one of America's purest cultural vignettes, and the beauty, conflict, and stories that come with it. The Parish Record was recorded at Dockside Studios in Maurice, LA, where deep in Cajun country sits a wood-panel barn engulfed in oak and cypress trees along the slow butterscotch bayou pace of the Vermillion River. In this isolated hub of Acadiana, Andrew Duhon embarked with his trio of most trusted musicians - Myles Weeks (James Hunter Six, Eric Lindell) on Bass, Jim Kolacek (Feufollet) on Drums, and Daniel Walker (Heart, Ann Wilson, Amy Ray) on Keys - to harness of the sound and feeling of their surroundings. "I wanted this record to feel like home. It wasn't time to get out of town or try out something new on this one. It was about believing in the songs from where the songs came from," Duhon says.

'Wherever You Are' is a new solo piano album, played and composed by John Foxx. Most of the recordings were made at home and in the early hours of morning in the weeks following his rare live performance at Kings Place, London in October 2023, as part of the BBC Radio 3 'Night Tracks' event. 'Around dawn is the best time to play piano,' says Foxx. 'Self-critical mechanisms mostly dormant, so I'm free to invent and enjoy for a while. The piano faces a window overlooking a valley surrounded by hills, where the sun comes up. There's often an early mist in the valley - and quite often, it rains. Some notes and sounds resonate with remembered experiences and you get glimpses of times and people. It's valuable. Quiet. Free association, myriad moments orbiting - and off you go.' He adds: 'Lately I'm realising how we get formed by other people. Everyone we know or knew, who affects the way we think and the way we see things - even in a small way, has a voice, and all those voices remain in a sort of lifelong conversation. I hear them all the time. It's not at all frantic, it's more oceanic - calm and pleasant and it eventually makes us the way we are. Luckily, I seem to have met - and meet - mostly good, generous, bright people and I'm still learning a great deal from all of them. They give you the touchstones, the maps, the weather. It's how we find our way. So - simply, thanks. Wherever you are.'

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

SYML is the solo venture of artist Brian Fennell. Welsh for “simple”—he makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. Says Fennell about his album Nobody Lives Here, "We change, the world changes, and there is so much unknown. About a year ago I started writing songs that represent the change that is happening in front of my face, a group that have emerged to become the third SYML album. Many of these songs are about getting older, and the intimate, and sometimes frightening, passing of time. Some are about how getting older revolves around looking forward to things happening, and when they don’t happen, or they feel different than anticipated, we can be left with surprise and sadness. I’m actually reminded of this watching my 2 year old! We learn to live with disappointment. I recorded some of these songs with kids and dogs making noise in the background, and others in silent studios with musicians I’ve listened to and admired for many years. These songs are meant to be pieces of clothing to wear as you need (or I need). Some are bright and bold and others are gentle, but they were all made with a sense of comfort in mind, even when things feel bleak. My wife jokes that when our friends hear some of these songs, they might think we are not “ok”. Thankfully, putting myself inside a sad song is still a good place to feel happy. There's this generally unspoken feeling that musicians don’t listen to their own music. That isn’t true for me. I love living with my songs because their meaning changes as I change. There is as much fear and beauty in the big questions as there is wonder and possibility in the simple, everyday shit we live through.”

DJ Support: Gilles Peterson (BBC Radio 6 Music), Tom Ravenscroft/Deb Grant – New Music Fix (BBC Radio 6 Music), Huey Morgan (BBC Radio 6 Music)

From Budapest, Mörk (pronounced Merk) play on the boundaries of jazz and soul music. After meeting as students, they created a band that not only toyed with sounds but the methods of delivering them too. They’ve played in kindergardens, climbing halls, tea rooms and living rooms, countering expectations of where and how you find music.

Following April's much loved ‘Astral Visions’ EP, played across Bandcamp Weekly, BBC 6 Music, FIP, Jazz FM and KCRW, their upcoming album ‘Still Dreamin’’ delivers even more soul and uplifting choruses, coupled with the synchronicity of a band that has been through so much together.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

Because Sound Matters' meticulous One-Step process creates the definitive sounding audiophile version of k.d. lang Ingénue. This all-analog release comes from the original first-generation master tapes for the first time. Vinyl guru and editor Michael Fremer says, "This k.d. One-Step is insane – It's otherworldly great!"

This One-Step version is strictly limited to 3,000 copies. The album is housed inside a top-quality, foil-stamped, uniquely designed numbered slipcase. The enclosed gatefold jacket will feature an "old style" tip-on jacket with the original artwork.

Special care has been taken to faithfully preserve the original sound with exceptional clarity and depth, capturing the recording's nuances and subtleties at every step to create the best sounding record possible.

The One-Step process is highly regarded among audiophiles and collectors for its unparalleled sound fidelity and represents the pinnacle of vinyl manufacturing craftsmanship.

Ingénue was originally released March 17, 1992 and is k.d. lang's second solo album.

Upon release, the album charted at #18 in the US, #13 in Canada, #3 in the UK and Australia and #1 in New Zealand. Nominated for six Grammy® Awards with the breakout single "Constant Craving" winning a Grammy® Award for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance. "Miss Chatelaine" and "The Mind of Love" were follow-up singles.

k.d. received universal critical acclaim for the album from publications like Mojo, Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, Uncut and dozens more! Today, Ingénue is a true classic album and considered one of the great audiophile recordings of the modern era. This One-Step version certainly proves that!

Notes for This Release:

Ingénue was originally recorded and mixed on analogue tape and produced by Greg Penny, Ben Mink and k.d. lang. The original analogue master tapes were directly used as the audio source for this One-Step pressing! This is the first time the analogue tapes have been used as a vinyl source for this brilliant recording. The results are stunning.

Because Sound Matters used the Neotech VR900-D2 180g High-Performance vinyl compound, which is the same as what is known as Super Vinyl – the best in the world.

Chris Bellman at Bernie Grundman Mastering cut the lacquers with meticulous care! He also did the original mastering of the CD release in 1992.

Dorin Sauerbier at Record Technology, Inc (R.T.I.) has been plating records for decades and is considered the best in the world – he also has done more One-Step processing than anybody. This is a vital step in the process to ultimately delivering the absolute best sounding version of Ingénue ever.

Record Technology, Inc did the pressing – using the exact pressing machine used for so many other One-Step releases. The QC team is constantly monitoring each copy as it comes off the press.

Because Sound Matters' slipcases and gatefold "old style" tip on original art jackets were printed by world-renowned Stoughton Printing Company.

This new all-analogue edition will draw you into the music as never before—at least it did me. The sonic picture is rich, well-textured, harmonically saturated, spatially deep and all the rest of the audiophile buzzwords that no doubt the producers (who include lang) intended to give listeners but until now couldn't fully deliver. The musical flow will have you swooning in your seat. Before the opener 'Save Me' concludes you may already feel overwhelmed and in need of lifting the stylus to catch your emotional breath...What a treat!
-Michael Fremer, Tracking Angle, Music 11/10, Sound 11/10

If every significant artist has an underrated gem in its catalog, then Mirage is that album for Fleetwood Mac. An obvious return to relative simplicity after the dramatic tension of Rumours and experimental ambitions of Tusk, the 1982 album finds the band re-grouping after a brief hiatus and again climbing to the top of the charts. Extremely well-crafted, well-produced, and well-performed, the double-platinum effort distills the group’s hallmark strengths into a filler-free set that never runs short of addictive pop hooks or daft accents.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents Mirage in reference sound for the first time. The efforts co-producers/engineers Ken Caillat and Richard Dashut went to capture the splintered albeit formidable band can be heard with stunning accuracy, range, depth, and detail.

Though Rumours understandably gets a permanent spot in the audiophile hall of fame, the smooth, clear, and dynamic sonics on Mirage confirm that the record that stood as Fleetwood Mac’s last effort for five years deserves a place in the same vaunted arena. The presence and imaging of Mick Fleetwood’s percussion alone on this reissue might have you wondering how this slice of soft-rock bliss has gone under-noticed for decades. Other prized aural aspects — separation, definition, impact, tonal balance — are also here in spades.

Like much surrounding Fleetwood Mac in the 1980s, arriving at Mirage was not easy. Caillat searched for studios located outside of Los Angeles on a mission to change up the vibe of the band’s prior recording sessions. Everyone settled on Le Chateau in France, where relations between some members remained icy — and cooperation with the producers strained. Battles with exhaustion, bitterness, and addiction further informed the proceedings at the 18th century complex in the French countryside, where even communal meals were allegedly eaten in silence.

Inevitably, the feelings that co-producer Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Christine McVie, and company harbored — as well as the situations in which they found themselves — drifted into the songwriting. In its rapid ascent to rock-star royalty status, Fleetwood Mac drifted apart, embarked on solo pursuits, and found it was lonely at the top. Emptiness, the illusion of dreams, the longing for love, the want to escape to bygone times of innocence and happiness: Such themes inform a majority of the narratives. Even if the lyrics regularly take a back seat to easygoing arrangements that allow Mirage to come on like a refreshing breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.

Home to three Top 25 singles in the U.S. and having occupied the pole position of the Top 200 album charts for five weeks, Mirage rightfully resonated with the mainstream and attracted listeners on both sides of the pond. And how, via a smart blend of sugary melodies, warm harmonies, interlaced notes, nimble rhythms, taut structures, and passionate vocals. Not to mention the presence of what arguably remains Nicks’ signature song, the biographical “Gypsy,” a meditation on the loss of her close friend Robin Anderson that teems with majesty, mystery, and mysticism — and which gets an assist from Buckingham’s shaded tack piano and richly strummed guitar chords.

Its ranking as an all-time classic aside, that No. 12 hit has plenty of company when it comes to brilliant pop turns on Mirage. On the subject of Nicks, the raspy singer gets a little bit country on “That’s Alright.” Its clip-clopping pace and two-stepping progression complement subtle vocal swells that emerge during the final verse of a tune that is ostensibly about leaving but still conveys forgiveness and grace. And what would a Fleetwood Mac record be without Nicks drawing on the tools of the supernatural — cards, dreams, wolves, and the like — on the twirling “Straight Back.”

Despite the potency of Nicks’ primary contributions, Mirage seemingly unfolds as a tight competition between Buckingham and McVie — and one that ultimately ends in a draw. Buckingham’s salvos include the contagious “Can’t Go Back,” a yearning to time-travel back to the past that’s complete with hall-of-mirrors backing vocals; “Oh Diane,” out-of- left-field ear candy sweetened with hiccupped vocals and salt-and-pepper-shaken grooves; the chiming “Eyes of the World”; and “Empire State,” a delightfully fluttering track whose high-range vocals, lap harp notes, and ringing xylophones hint at the galaxies of sound that would erupt on Tango in the Night.

Then there’s McVie. As elegant, understated, and coolheaded as she’s ever been on record, she pours her heart out on cuts that revolve around her inevitable split with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. In the process, she punctuates Mirage with a characteristic not always associated with catchy pop music: emotional weight, and the sense of dreaded acceptance in the face of dreams deferred.

“I wish you were here/Holding me tight,” McVie sings over a delicate melody on the album-closing piano ballad “Wish You Were Here.” Though they hoped otherwise, for the members Fleetwood Mac, distance and separation were always close at hand. Believing otherwise, inviting nostalgia, and pretending everything was fine only amounts to a mirage.

Soul music has always been in Paul Weller’s blood from early Jam covers of Martha & the Vandellas 1963 classic ‘Heatwave’. Along with other forms of music, soul found its way into Paul’s record collection, nourishing his ears and informing his own songwriting

We don’t need to recap a questing musical career from the Jam to the Style Council and then blossoming into one of the most productive and revered careers of any UK solo artist. Paul has written anthems, standards and a songbook that have always developed from his own feelings.

Whilst Paul has talked about his love of soul music he has, before now, simply been too busy to sit down and curate a collection of his favourite tracks and get it into the record racks.

Ace Records are honoured and delighted to finally release that Paul Weller curated collection which he has aptly titled, “That Sweet Sweet Music”.

This 2-LP set and CD open the curtains on 26 tracks that are some of Paul’s favourite soul records most of which nestle on vinyl in his own collection. He can still recall paying £70 for his copy of Jon Lucien’s 1971 ‘Search For The Inner Self’ 7” at a record shop in Leicester in the 90s. Some of these tracks are soul classics like James Carr’s 1966 ‘Pouring Water On A Drowning Man’ and Brother to Brother’s brilliant take on Gil Scott Heron and Brian Jackson’s ‘In The Bottle’ from 1974. Others are deliciously obscure wonderous gems like the A-side of Blackrock’s sole 1971 single ‘Blackrock “Yeah, Yeah”’, ‘Life Walked Out’ from the same year by the Mist or Syl Johnson’s ‘Black Balloons’ taken from his 1970 album “Is It Because I’m Black?”.

There are plenty of big vocal hitters such as Darrell Banks, Spinners, Joe Simon, O.C. Smith, the Dells and Betty Davis. Whilst the core is vocal soul the music does branch out with Paul selecting a wicked instrumental from the flipside of the Isley Brothers’ ‘Twist & Shout’ from 1962 and the funky jazz of the Headhunters ‘God Made Me Funky’, the A-side of their first 1975 seven-inch.

On Chrystia Cabral's fourth album as SPELLLING, the Bay Area artist transforms her acclaimed avant-pop project into a mirror. Cabral's lyrics for Portrait of My Heart tackle love, intimacy, anxiety, and alienation, trading the allegorical approach of much of her previous work for something pointed into her human heart. The album's thematic forthrightness is echoed in its arrangements, making it the sharpest, most direct SPELLLING album to date. From the dark minimalism of her earliest music to the lavishly orchestrated prog-pop of 2021's The Turning Wheel to this newly energetic expression of her creative spirit, Cabral has proved again and again that SPELLLING can be whatever she needs it to be. The title track, with its propulsive drum groove and anthemic chorus of "I don't belong here," is the most potent embodiment of the album's turn toward emotional directness. Once the main melody emerged, Cabral used the song as a tool to process her anxiety as a performer and opted for a tighter, more rock-oriented composition. This transformation mirrors the album's broader shift toward energy and immediacy, driven by the core band of Wyatt Overson (guitar), Patrick Shelley (drums), and Giulio Xavier Cetto (bass), whose collaboration uncovers new contours of the SPELLLING sound. Cabral still writes and demos in isolation, but presenting the songs for Portrait of My Heart to her bandmates helped her discover their eventual lively, organic forms. So did working with a trio of producers_The Turning Wheel mixing engineer Drew Vandenberg, SZA collaborator Rob Bisel, and Yves Tumor producer Psymun. Key guest contributions further shape the album. Chaz Bear (Toro y Moi) delivers SPELLLING's first duet on "Mount Analogue," Turnstile guitarist Pat McCrory turns Cabral's original piano demo for "Alibi" into the crunchy, riff-y version that appears on the record, while Zulu's Braxton Marcellous gives "Drain" its sludgy heft. These parts aren't just incorporated seamlessly into the album; they feel like an integral part of its universe. Ultimately, though, Portrait of My Heart is nobody's record but Cabral's. She fearlessly draws the curtain back on parts of herself that she's never included in SPELLLING before_her feelings of being an outsider, her overly guarded nature, the way she can throw herself recklessly into intimate relationships and then cool on them just as quickly. "It's very much an open diary of all those sensations," she says.

'Through Today' is the sophomore album for rising Australian band Chimers. A husband / wife duo comprising life partners Padraic Skehan (vocals / guitar) and Binx (drums / vocals). Recorded by Jono Boulet (Party Dozen) over two days at Stranded Studios, Wollongong and mixed at Boulet’s Sydney home studio, produced by the band and veteran manager / promoter / producer Tim Pittman (Feel Presents), 'Through Today' features ten tracks of tightly-coiled intensity that barely lets up for all of its 34 mins. In enlisting Boulet, the band were confident that due to his own experience of being one half of Party Dozen, they had someone who understood the confines of working within the structure of a two-piece but also the possibilities that creates. Boulet, in turn, rewarding that trust by capturing a powerful bedrock of sound that allowed the band's taught rhythms to circle and permeate and yet give full breathing space for the melody within. For Pittman’s part, having a third ear on hand to devote serious listening time and critical commentary was an added bonus. It’s a major step forward from the band’s 2021 self-titled debut. A twelve track effort that snuck out during covid and only hinted at the power within. "Our debut felt more like just trying to capture the songs we had at the time, we weren’t sure if we’d even release it or if it would be our only album" "This time around we were intent on capturing the energy and intensity of our live show on the recording but with a more produced sound than self-titled. We worked more on song structure previous to the sessions. We rehearsed a lot playing quietly so we could actually talk to each other whilst playing the song and iron out any kinks.” “Jono turned the whole live room into a drum room, mics everywhere. The guitar amps were situated outside to prevent too much spill but still recorded live along with about half of the vocals. Second guitar and the rest of the vocals were recorded the next day. Jono was super quick and had the same work ethic and mindset, get in, get it done. If the first take was good enough, move on.” - Padraic Lyrically Chimers maintain the intensity as they tackle the themes of love, life, death and relationships, distance from home (Padraic is Irish, moving to Australia in 2001) and the current political climate providing enough drama to fuel a forest fire. Guest musicians on the album include saxophonist Kirsty Tickle - also of Party Dozen - and violinist Jordan Ireland of The Middle East. Both of whom were invited in on short notice adding their respective parts in just 1-2 takes each without any prior knowledge of the material. Binx too showing added versatility contributing lead vocals to An Echo and sharing lead across 3AM, Generator and others. “Singing is not something that comes naturally to me, and it was at the last minute before we went into the studio that Padraic suggested I sing the lead in An Echo. Having very minimal musical instruments within the band I think having the two different vocals adds a nice dynamic to the record.” - Binx 'Through Today' is a great album. Solid and confident from the get go. No waste. No unnecessary fat. Should it be Chimers last it would remain a defining statement of originality and intent. But it’s not the last, it’s just the beginning. And there’s plenty more where that came from. BIO Like many good bands Chimers are a band born of isolation, not geographically though, via the pandemic. Irish born Padraic Skehan and his life partner Binx, formed the band in their Wollongong backyard during the initial lockdown of 2020. Veterans and drummers both of the ‘Gong’s vibrant garage-scene – The Pink Fits, The Drop Offs, Evol and more – Chimers is an altogether different beast, Padraic taking a giant leap forward by removing himself from the back-seat and assuming the role of driver; singing, playing guitar and writing the songs that would eventually become their 2021 self-titled debut album. It’s a sound and album that draws heavily on Skehan’s time as a youth in Ireland and the post-hardcore sounds of Dischord Records, Husker Du, The Wipers and which has seen the band find friends and favour in like-minds The Mark Of Cain, Henry Rollins, Guy Picciotto and Mudhoney. This is no mere nostalgia though, the band instead landing at the vanguard of a new generation of Sydney and surrounds bands – Body Type, Second Idol, Dust, Private Wives, R.M.F.C – borrowing from the past in order to create a future.

"Daft Punk brought me here, he brought me Daft Punk"

Just knowing that this slice of hyper-rare disco dynamite was crafted by Thomas Bangalter's dad should be enough for you to buy this on sight, if only to understand a little bit more about Thomas and Daft Punk's background. But this is so much more than a Daft Punk family curio.

Born Bangalter in 1947, Daniel Vangarde is a French songwriter and producer. In 1975, Vangarde founded his label, Zagora Records, who we have worked closely with on this lovingly curated reissue. For years, Vangarde wrote and produced songs that remained underground, under several pseudonyms and for various artists. Dubbed "the secret father of French disco" this here groove-fulled firecracker - using his Who’s Who moniker - is for disco-funk, library music and cosmic beat lovers.

The intense, evocative opener "Palace Palace" positively throbs with raw energy and sounds, honestly, like something off Daft Punk's Discovery. The title refers to the fashionable Parisian club Le Palace, essentially the Parisian Studio 54. "I’d been to a nightclub in New York, a big ring where people were roller skating with a whistle. The atmosphere was great. The music was all disco. I made this song when I came back. A vocoder transformed my voice. Back then, it wasn’t used much." The track rides a killer groove and is deceptively complex, with layers of fantastic percussion and ace synth work going on all over it. Listed to on repeat, it's brilliance is simply undeniable.

The louche, slo-mo heater "Hypno Dance" is, in Be With's opinion, *the* deadly dancefloor track. A svelte slice of ace space disco again geared towards the roller skating dance mania of the day. So deep, so disco, so instrumental. An unreal track and, as the title hints at, totally hypnotic. The side closes with the somewhat throwaway "Popeden" - it's a jaunty number that you're probably best skipping, in all honesty. Have we ever steered you wrong?

The B-Side opens with the frankly enormous "Roll Jacky Roll" is another thrilling, high class roller-rink jam with beautiful melodies that's adored the world over. The wonky, abstract "Ad Libitum 80" is a super dope, swirling, staccato electro-funk bounce which sounds light years ahead of its time. This might be the real lowkey sleeper gem on this record. CHECK! This remarkable LP rounds out with the huge "Dancin' Machine". It's got sleek drums that emit an absolutely ace swagger and elements of Italo synth funk feels. A relaxed, slow rhythm throughout ensures you can't help but get your funk on when this crashes soundsystems. We'll leave the final word on this to Daniel: "It amuses me to think that my son Thomas was influenced by "Dancin’ Machine" for "Around The World", he says. Both songs being based on an hypnotic repetitive refrain. Both songs being, of course, timeless pieces of Euro genius.

Who's Who really is a fantastic late-70s-early 80s roller disco-funk essential. The audio has been carefully remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring it sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry in Holland.

When it came to the sleeve for this we were presented with an unusual problem: we usually have to rely on an original sleeve as the starting point for the restoration, but instead we were able to scan the original 35mm transparency of the front cover photo. The problem is that with a modern scanner the results were far sharper than when they made the original sleeve. We’ve played around with the exposure and the colour grading but we’re sorry to say that our version of the front cover still ended up looking too good! Don’t hate us.

Although still very much a secret, Oakland, California's Justin Pinkerton has perfected and expanded his Futuropaco project to a stunning degree over the past seven years. The one-man band is deeply rooted in Pinkerton's masterful drumming, which builds on the legacy of 1960's and 1970's legends such as Tony Allen and Jaki Liebezeit. But he's an accomplished multi-instrumentalist as well, and the Futuropaco sound is a colourful fusion that sees him throw fuzz guitars, flutes, vintage synthesizers and Anatolian string instruments into the mix - seemingly without much effort. The second and final volume of the "Fortezza Di Vetro" series feels like a conclusion, the sound of an artist reaching his creative zenith. It's an experimental album, yet immediately seductive in its energy - channeling the vibey art-rock of Tortoise, Black Sabbath riffage and vintage Italian film music in equal measures. It's such a refined and esoteric blend, yet hits so directly. It's simply impossible not to crank the volume knob once this slab of vinyl is on the turntable, followed by immediate head nodding. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Justin Pinkerton is a vastly talented rhythmsmith, best known as a member of Californian stoners Golden Void. On this project he plays all the other instruments too so he can do what he blooming well feels. And it's not as if the drum solos go on for twenty minutes like those of John Bonham and his pale imitators. Nope. Into tracks that are both jam-packed and concise, Pinkerton has squeezed his love of vintage Italian library music, classic krautrock and heavy psych rock. At one point it suggests Grails have been performing super-speed cover versions of fusion-era Miles Davis with Adrian Younge on production. -The Quietus Futuropaco returns in a big way with Fortezza di Vetro, a buzzing, groove-heavy album that expands on what came before while staying true to the project's origins. Dizzying, fuzzed-out psych with just the right amount of melancholy for good measure. Justin Pinkerton and Futuropaco have done it again. Fantastico! -Complex Distractions

1-800 FANTASY is the third studio album from producer, artist, and visionary, BLK ODYSSY. In what represents somewhat of a sonic shift for BLK ODYSSY - from the dark, brooding blend of R&B & G-Funk to a brighter, warmer and more upbeat Alternative leaning sound - the concept album tells a coming of age story of a teenage boy in the 90s navigating the unfamiliarities of love and lust. The 13-track album includes the previously released singles, “WANT YOU,” “XXX (feat. Wiz Khalifa),” “STANK ROSE (feat. Joey Bada$$),” & “CHANGES” - as well the song, “PHASE,” which was premiered via COLORS. This latest project marks a pivotal moment in BLK’s career, cementing his role as a forward-thinking artist who continues to push the boundaries of R&B and beyond. “Between exploring a new level of storytelling and also a new world of production and songwriting, this record has been a new chapter for me as an artist.” BLK ODYSSY says about the new album. Pressed on Baby Blue Galaxy vinyl, includes double sided insert.

In 1991 Coil released the third of their early classic full-length albums “Love’s Secret Domain”, seemingly casting aside the gloom
and funereal beauty of its predecessors in favour of a painstakingly multi-layered hallucinogenic electronic beast, which unlike
some of their fellow ex-industrial contemporaries’ releases of the time wasn’t an attempt at easy accessibility or (the-godsforbid) danceability, but a vibrating psychedelic masterpiece unrivalled in their discography and still a landmark album.
To mark its 30 year anniversary Infinite Fog are beyond proud to present an expanded, fully remastered re-release of this fan
favourite available for the first time ever in its entirety on vinyl with 10 rare and mostly unreleased tracks and alternative
versions from the period added as a bonus to a luxurious 3LP/2CD set.
Love’s Secret Domain contains among its many highlights the Lynchian William Blake tribute of its title track and the
intoxicating single “Windowpane”, original versions of the later Coil live staple “Teenage Lightning” and the majestically warped
classicisms of “Chaostrophy”. Marc Almond guests on the typhonian “Titan Arch” and This Heat’s Charles Hayward provides
some amazing drum stylings.
This album is Coil pushing their sound ideas and probably their sanity to their very limits. Beyond the iconic Steven Stapleton
cover art here reproduced in unseen definition the doors of perception still open wide for both long-term Coil aficionados and
new-comers to this supremely innovative release to explore unknown depths. The long-overdue re-release illustrates how far
ahead of the curve Coil were with the sounds on this album, which still sounds as fresh and mind-blowing as it did back in the
early 90s.

13 years in the making, Mr Bongo proudly presents a new compilation of beloved Brazilian disco and boogie finds from the legendary London disco connoisseurs, Horse Meat Disco. A labour of love, it showcases a tantalising cross-section of disco, funk, boogie, samba and MPB, from past to present. Unearthing tracks from the seemingly endless gold mine of Brazilian gems, the compilation features legends such as Jorge Ben, Gretchen, Marcos Valle and Robson Jorge & Lincoln Olivetti, alongside unsung heroes including Zé Carlos and Carlos Bivar.

Over 20 years ago, the Horse Meat Disco crew (James Hillard, Severino Panzetta, Jim Stanton and Luke Howard) began their weekly residency at Eagle London back in 2003. That same year, Luke made his first visit to Brazil, beginning a musical love affair that is still going strong.

“I had always wanted to go to Brazil since I was a kid, and when I finally had the opportunity to go with Princess Julia, I was just blown away. I’ve visited Rio every year since 2003, and in that time, I’ve learned Portuguese and tried to discover as much as I can about Brazilian music and popular culture. I learned to dance samba with the Paraiso School of Samba in London and paraded three times at Rio Carnival. Brazilian music was a brand-new world for me to explore and get excited about—a whole universe of genius musicians, singers, and styles.”

9 years later, Mr Bongo invited Luke down to their Brighton HQ for a listening session of some of his favourite Brazilian boogie and disco 7" finds. A compilation was green-lit, but multiple licensing delays and the release of other HMD compilations meant that it lay dormant for years.

Fast forward to 2024, and with the help of esteemed, Rio-based record collector Tee Cardaci, along with suggestions from HMD’s James Hillard, the dream of an HMD Brazilian compilation finally materialised. It’s a carefully curated collection that includes the electronic-boogie/italo-disco-esque 1984 groover 'Venha (Remix)' by the singer Źe Carlos, two cuts by Luiza Maura taken from her sought-after Deixa Girar 7", and Gretchen's sultry 'Ela Tem Raça, Charme, Talento E Gostosura' written by Jorge Ben.

At its core, this compilation captures the excitement and sense of discovery that won over Horse Meat Disco’s heart more than 20 years ago. A vibrant mix of feel-good flavours, it homes in on a sun-soaked strand of disco and boogie that has been enriched with the spirit of a nation where music serves as a central pillar of life.

Nach einem Jahrzehnt, in dem die Band das Beste aus improvisierten Aufnahmeräumen in Lagerhäusern, Wohnwagen und Lofts gemacht hat, ist „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“, das vierte Album von Japanese Breakfast, die erste richtige Studioveröffentlichung der Band. Produziert von Grammy-Preisträger Blake Mills, zieht sich Frontfrau und Songschreiberin Michelle Zauner von der hellen Extrovertiertheit des Vorgängers „Jubilee“ zurück, um die dunkleren Wogen zu erforschen, die in ihrem Inneren aufgewühlt sind, das launische, fruchtbare Feld der Melancholie, das seit langem als der psychische Zustand von Dichtern am Rande der Inspiration gilt. Das Ergebnis ist eine künstlerische Absichtserklärung: ein reifes, komplexes, kontemplatives Werk, das den romantischen Nervenkitzel einer Gothic Novel heraufbeschwört. „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ folgt einer transformativen Periode in Zauners Leben, in der ihr zweifach GRAMMY-nominiertes Durchbruchsalbum ‚Jubilee‘ und ihre Bestseller-Memoiren ‚Crying In H Mart‘ sie in den kulturellen Mainstream katapultierten und ihre tiefsten künstlerischen Ambitionen erfüllten. Als sie über diesen Erfolg nachdachte, erkannte Zauner die Ironie der Sehnsucht, die so oft Glückseligkeit und Verderben miteinander verbindet. „Ich fühlte mich verführt, das zu bekommen, was ich immer wollte“, sagt sie. „Ich flog zu nah an die Sonne heran, und mir wurde klar, dass ich sterben würde, wenn ich weiterflöge“. Das Schicksal von Ikarus und anderen Verdammten verleiht „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ sein beständigstes Thema: die Gefahren des Begehrens. Wie zerstreutes Licht führen seine spektralen Teile die Charaktere des Albums durch Zyklen von Versuchung, Übertretung und Vergeltung. In „Orlando in Love“ - ein Riff auf John Cheevers Riff auf „Orlando Innamorato“, einem unvollendeten Epos, das aus 68 Cantos des Renaissance-Dichters Matteo Maria Boiardo besteht - ist der Held ein gutmütiger Dichter, der sein Winnebago am Meer parkt und dem Ruf einer Sirene zum Opfer fällt, seinem 69. Canto (selbst im erhabenen Reich des klassischen Mythos hat Zauner ein Faible für Anspielungen). „Honey Water“ lotet die stille Wut einer Frau aus, die mit einem untreuen Mann verheiratet ist und zusieht, wie er immer wieder der Lust nachgibt wie ein niederes Insekt, das seinen eigenen Untergang herbeiführt Traurigkeit ist in der Tat die dominierende emotionale Tonart dieser Platte, aber es ist eine Traurigkeit der besonderen Art: die nachdenkliche, vorausschauende Traurigkeit der Melancholie, in der die Erkenntnis des im Wesentlichen tragischen Charakters des Lebens mit Sensibilität für seine flüchtige Schönheit einhergeht. Zauner findet in ihr genügend Raum für Hoffnungsschimmer. Es sind die Tröstungen der Sterblichen, die Dichter vor ihr gerufen haben und die Dichter nach ihr immer wieder neu entdecken werden: Liebe und Arbeit, und obwohl sie sich wie stärkende Vorsätze durch die vielen Episoden des Albums ziehen, erklingen sie am deutlichsten im letzten Song, „Magic Mountain“, einer Auseinandersetzung mit Thomas Manns berühmtem gleichnamigen Roman. Für sie fühlt sich jede Arbeit wie das Erklimmen eines Berges an, aber von der Spitze von „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ aus blickt sie in die Zukunft.

Love Of The Brave are a psyche folk group, based in Leeds, West Yorkshire, at the time this album was recorded, back in 2010. The founder of the group Neil Innes still runs the recording studio, ATA Records, an extremely well maintained all analogue set up, used primarily to record jazz, funk and library music. The short-lived Love Of The Brave outfit was the first project recorded at the famed studio. It brought together some of the most versatile artists in the north, many of who still work on projects with ATA today, both these factors give this release a landmark aspect for the label. The "Love Of The Brave" consists of eight tracks and draws on inspiration from artists such as Pentangle, Rotary Connection, Richie Havens, the Kinks, David Bowie and Joni Mitchell. Vocalist Fuzzy Jones features on all tracks, as does Neil, in his case playing a variety of instruments. They are joined throughout the album by a variety of musicians, including jazz drummer Joost Hendrickx, Work Money...

Nach einem Jahrzehnt, in dem die Band das Beste aus improvisierten Aufnahmeräumen in Lagerhäusern, Wohnwagen und Lofts gemacht hat, ist „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“, das vierte Album von Japanese Breakfast, die erste richtige Studioveröffentlichung der Band. Produziert von Grammy-Preisträger Blake Mills, zieht sich Frontfrau und Songschreiberin Michelle Zauner von der hellen Extrovertiertheit des Vorgängers „Jubilee“ zurück, um die dunkleren Wogen zu erforschen, die in ihrem Inneren aufgewühlt sind, das launische, fruchtbare Feld der Melancholie, das seit langem als der psychische Zustand von Dichtern am Rande der Inspiration gilt. Das Ergebnis ist eine künstlerische Absichtserklärung: ein reifes, komplexes, kontemplatives Werk, das den romantischen Nervenkitzel einer Gothic Novel heraufbeschwört. „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ folgt einer transformativen Periode in Zauners Leben, in der ihr zweifach GRAMMY-nominiertes Durchbruchsalbum ‚Jubilee‘ und ihre Bestseller-Memoiren ‚Crying In H Mart‘ sie in den kulturellen Mainstream katapultierten und ihre tiefsten künstlerischen Ambitionen erfüllten. Als sie über diesen Erfolg nachdachte, erkannte Zauner die Ironie der Sehnsucht, die so oft Glückseligkeit und Verderben miteinander verbindet. „Ich fühlte mich verführt, das zu bekommen, was ich immer wollte“, sagt sie. „Ich flog zu nah an die Sonne heran, und mir wurde klar, dass ich sterben würde, wenn ich weiterflöge“. Das Schicksal von Ikarus und anderen Verdammten verleiht „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ sein beständigstes Thema: die Gefahren des Begehrens. Wie zerstreutes Licht führen seine spektralen Teile die Charaktere des Albums durch Zyklen von Versuchung, Übertretung und Vergeltung. In „Orlando in Love“ - ein Riff auf John Cheevers Riff auf „Orlando Innamorato“, einem unvollendeten Epos, das aus 68 Cantos des Renaissance-Dichters Matteo Maria Boiardo besteht - ist der Held ein gutmütiger Dichter, der sein Winnebago am Meer parkt und dem Ruf einer Sirene zum Opfer fällt, seinem 69. Canto (selbst im erhabenen Reich des klassischen Mythos hat Zauner ein Faible für Anspielungen). „Honey Water“ lotet die stille Wut einer Frau aus, die mit einem untreuen Mann verheiratet ist und zusieht, wie er immer wieder der Lust nachgibt wie ein niederes Insekt, das seinen eigenen Untergang herbeiführt Traurigkeit ist in der Tat die dominierende emotionale Tonart dieser Platte, aber es ist eine Traurigkeit der besonderen Art: die nachdenkliche, vorausschauende Traurigkeit der Melancholie, in der die Erkenntnis des im Wesentlichen tragischen Charakters des Lebens mit Sensibilität für seine flüchtige Schönheit einhergeht. Zauner findet in ihr genügend Raum für Hoffnungsschimmer. Es sind die Tröstungen der Sterblichen, die Dichter vor ihr gerufen haben und die Dichter nach ihr immer wieder neu entdecken werden: Liebe und Arbeit, und obwohl sie sich wie stärkende Vorsätze durch die vielen Episoden des Albums ziehen, erklingen sie am deutlichsten im letzten Song, „Magic Mountain“, einer Auseinandersetzung mit Thomas Manns berühmtem gleichnamigen Roman. Für sie fühlt sich jede Arbeit wie das Erklimmen eines Berges an, aber von der Spitze von „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ aus blickt sie in die Zukunft.

Nach einem Jahrzehnt, in dem die Band das Beste aus improvisierten Aufnahmeräumen in Lagerhäusern, Wohnwagen und Lofts gemacht hat, ist „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“, das vierte Album von Japanese Breakfast, die erste richtige Studioveröffentlichung der Band. Produziert von Grammy-Preisträger Blake Mills, zieht sich Frontfrau und Songschreiberin Michelle Zauner von der hellen Extrovertiertheit des Vorgängers „Jubilee“ zurück, um die dunkleren Wogen zu erforschen, die in ihrem Inneren aufgewühlt sind, das launische, fruchtbare Feld der Melancholie, das seit langem als der psychische Zustand von Dichtern am Rande der Inspiration gilt. Das Ergebnis ist eine künstlerische Absichtserklärung: ein reifes, komplexes, kontemplatives Werk, das den romantischen Nervenkitzel einer Gothic Novel heraufbeschwört. „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ folgt einer transformativen Periode in Zauners Leben, in der ihr zweifach GRAMMY-nominiertes Durchbruchsalbum ‚Jubilee‘ und ihre Bestseller-Memoiren ‚Crying In H Mart‘ sie in den kulturellen Mainstream katapultierten und ihre tiefsten künstlerischen Ambitionen erfüllten. Als sie über diesen Erfolg nachdachte, erkannte Zauner die Ironie der Sehnsucht, die so oft Glückseligkeit und Verderben miteinander verbindet. „Ich fühlte mich verführt, das zu bekommen, was ich immer wollte“, sagt sie. „Ich flog zu nah an die Sonne heran, und mir wurde klar, dass ich sterben würde, wenn ich weiterflöge“. Das Schicksal von Ikarus und anderen Verdammten verleiht „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ sein beständigstes Thema: die Gefahren des Begehrens. Wie zerstreutes Licht führen seine spektralen Teile die Charaktere des Albums durch Zyklen von Versuchung, Übertretung und Vergeltung. In „Orlando in Love“ - ein Riff auf John Cheevers Riff auf „Orlando Innamorato“, einem unvollendeten Epos, das aus 68 Cantos des Renaissance-Dichters Matteo Maria Boiardo besteht - ist der Held ein gutmütiger Dichter, der sein Winnebago am Meer parkt und dem Ruf einer Sirene zum Opfer fällt, seinem 69. Canto (selbst im erhabenen Reich des klassischen Mythos hat Zauner ein Faible für Anspielungen). „Honey Water“ lotet die stille Wut einer Frau aus, die mit einem untreuen Mann verheiratet ist und zusieht, wie er immer wieder der Lust nachgibt wie ein niederes Insekt, das seinen eigenen Untergang herbeiführt Traurigkeit ist in der Tat die dominierende emotionale Tonart dieser Platte, aber es ist eine Traurigkeit der besonderen Art: die nachdenkliche, vorausschauende Traurigkeit der Melancholie, in der die Erkenntnis des im Wesentlichen tragischen Charakters des Lebens mit Sensibilität für seine flüchtige Schönheit einhergeht. Zauner findet in ihr genügend Raum für Hoffnungsschimmer. Es sind die Tröstungen der Sterblichen, die Dichter vor ihr gerufen haben und die Dichter nach ihr immer wieder neu entdecken werden: Liebe und Arbeit, und obwohl sie sich wie stärkende Vorsätze durch die vielen Episoden des Albums ziehen, erklingen sie am deutlichsten im letzten Song, „Magic Mountain“, einer Auseinandersetzung mit Thomas Manns berühmtem gleichnamigen Roman. Für sie fühlt sich jede Arbeit wie das Erklimmen eines Berges an, aber von der Spitze von „For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)“ aus blickt sie in die Zukunft.

"Tonky" ist Lonnie Holleys fünftes Studioalbum und enthält Gastauftritte von Isaac Brock, Angel Bat Dawid, Billy Woods, Alabaster de Plume, Mary Lattimore und anderen. Bei der Leadsingle "Protest With Love" ist Jacknife Lee, der auch das gefeierte Vorgängeralbum "Oh Me Oh My" produziert hat, als Bassist, Keyboarder, Synthesizer, Schlagzeuger, Programmierer, Flötist, Percussionist und Sänger zu hören. Weitere Mitwirkende sind The Legendary Ingramettes am Gesang, Kelly Pratt an den Bläsern und Flöten, Jordan Katz an den Bläsern und natürlich Holley am Gesang. Holley fordert die Zuhörer auf, "mit Liebe zu protestieren" und "die Liebe zu deiner Waffe zu machen". Es gibt Dichter wie die große Mary Oliver, die vorschlagen, dass die Hauptfunktion des Menschen, wenn er sich durch die Welt bewegt, solange er Leben und die Fähigkeit hat, sich durch die Welt zu bewegen, darin besteht, dem Aufmerksamkeit zu schenken, was andere törichterweise als klein oder alltäglich bezeichnen mögen. Das Gehirn und das Herz sind beides Gefäße, die so viel Platz haben, wie man ihnen zugestehen möchte, und zu leben bedeutet, Sammlungen von gefundenen Zuneigungen zu schaffen. Die Geräusche der geliebten und vertrauten Häuser, die Bewegungen der Bäume und der Menschen unter ihnen, die Art und Weise, wie jemand, den man verehrt, einen ein paar Sekunden lang umarmt, bevor er sich aus der Umarmung löst und in einer überfüllten Fußgängerzone verschwindet. Wenn wir unser Leben, unser Schaffen und unsere Liebe auf diese Weise betrachten, bedeutet das, dass wir, zumindest für einige von uns, durch die Aussicht auf das, was als Nächstes kommt, vorwärts getrieben werden können. Welchen Moment wir festhalten und in unsere überquellenden Taschen stecken können. Die Arbeit von Lonnie Holley ist ein Werk dieser Art von Anhäufung und genauer Aufmerksamkeit. Das Vergnügen, einen Klang zu finden und ihn gegen einen anderen gefundenen Klang und einen weiteren zu pressen, bis der Hörer, bevor er es merkt, von einer Klangsinfonie überflutet wird, die sich anfühlt, als würde sie sich zusammenfügen, während sie über einen hinwegspült. "Tonky" ist ein Album, das seinen Namen von einem Spitznamen aus der Kindheit hat, der Holley anhaftete, als er einen Teil seiner Kindheit in einem Honky Tonk verbrachte. Lonnie Holleys Leben des Überlebens und der Ausdauer erforderte - und erfordert zweifellos immer noch - eine Art Erfindung. Eine Erfindung, die auch in Holleys Liedern reichhaltig und präsent ist, die auf "Tonky" voll und eindringlich sind, einem Album, das mit seinem längsten Lied beginnt, einem neunminütigen, erschöpfenden Marathon eines Stücks namens "Seeds", das mit einem einzigen spärlichen Klang beginnt und sich dann ausdehnt. Gesänge, schwache Tasten, Streicher und als Krönung Holleys Stimme, die nicht singt, sondern klar und deutlich von der Arbeit auf der Erde erzählt, als er jung war, und von der Gewalt, die er dabei ertragen musste, als er blutig und mit Schmerzen von Schlägen ins Bett ging. Der Song weitet sich zu einer Metapher über den Ort aus, über das Versagen des Zuhauses oder eines Ortes, der einen beschützen soll, der nicht das hält, was er zu sein vorgibt, selbst wenn man unermüdlich daran arbeitet, daran arbeitet, daran arbeitet, etwas Sinnvolles daraus zu machen. "Seeds" gibt nicht nur den Ton für ein Album an, das sich um Wiedergeburt, Erneuerung und die Grenzen von Hoffnung und Glaube dreht, sondern unterstreicht auch, was Holleys größte Stärke als Musiker ist, nämlich sein Engagement für Fülle und Großzügigkeit. Er ist ein unglaublich begabter Geschichtenerzähler, der sich der mündlichen Tradition verschrieben hat, so dass viele Hörer völlig zufrieden wären, wenn sie zu Füßen einer Lonnie-Holley-Platte säßen und seinen robusten, ausladenden Erzählungen lauschen könnten. Aber "Tonky" ist ein Album, das sowohl klanglich als auch in Bezug auf die vielen verschiedenen Künstler, die auf dem Album vertreten sind, einen Platz bietet, an dem sie sich zu Hause fühlen können, ganz gleich, wie sie die Zeit verbringen, die sie für einen Song brauchen.

Im Herbst 2022 lebte Phil Cook allein in einem kleinen Haus am Rande von Feld und Wald in North Carolinas Piedmont. Die meiste Zeit seines Leben lang lebte er in der Nähe der Herzen der Städte, die er sein Zuhause nannte, in der Nähe des ächzenden Verkehrs und des Trubels in den Coffee Shops. Diese Nähe Nähe trug dazu bei, dass der gesellige Cook ein produktiver Mitarbeiter wurde, als Mitbegründer von Megafaun bis zur Zusammenarbeit mit The Blind Boys of Alabama, Bon Iver, Hiss Golden Messenger und unzähligen anderen. Aber Cooks nächster war ein Wanderweg, und so ging er hin und lauschte, hingerissen erst von der Stille und dann von den vielen Vögeln. Er begann, sein Fensterbrett jede Nacht einen Spalt offen zu lassen, damit der Chor der Vögel im Morgengrauen ihn begrüßte. Cook begann, diese verworrenen Vogelstimmen aufzunehmen, und er schloss sich ihnen an. Wenn die Sonne schließlich hoch stand, hörte Cook sich die Aufnahmen des Tages an und improvisierte in Echtzeit auf dem Instrument, das seine erste und unerschütterlichste Liebe seines musikalischen Lebens geblieben ist: das Klavier. Als Cook diese Hütte nach einem Jahr verließ, zog er in ein eigenes Haus in Durham, mit viel Platz für seine beiden Jungs zum Spielen und für etwas, das er noch nie besessen hatte: ein richtiges Klavier. In den nächsten Monaten verbrachte Cook unzählige Stunden damit, an diesen Stücken zu feilen. Während des Unterrichts beim großen Südstaaten-Gospelpianisten Chuckey Robinson hatte dieser Cook aufgefordert, weniger Noten zu halten und seine Melodien nicht mehr durch die Verwendung der Pedale des Instruments als Krücken zu benutzen. Seine Musik hatte plötzlich mehr Klarheit, und die Klänge und Gefühle, die sie transportierten, hatten mehr Raum zum Funktionieren. Cook grub sich in die Gefahr und Freude, in die Idee, dass wir unsere Körper zu Knoten verdrehen um zu verstehen, was das Beste für unsere Herzen ist. Im April 2024 kehrte Cook in das Chippewa Valley in Wisconsin zurück, wo er aufgewachsen war. Sein lebenslanger Freund und Bandkollege, Justin Vernon, hatte gerade die Renovierung von April Base abgeschlossen, dem Studio, in dem Cook in den letzten 15 Jahren an mehr als einem Dutzend Platten gearbeitet hat. Cook bat Vernon, Appalachia Borealis so einfach wie möglich zu produzieren, nur zuzuhören und in zwei ausgedehnten Nachmittagssitzungen Feedback zu geben, um die richtigen Takes auszuwählen, die, die das Herz erfasst haben. Natürlich wurde das Ganze komplizierter, als sie anfingen in dem Prozess zu experimentierten. Vernon fügte die Vogelstimmen zu Cooks Kopfhörern hinzu oder entfernte sie, um zu sehen, wie sie sich auf sein Spiel auswirkten. Oder sie leiteten seine Noten durch eine massive Hallkammer und Cook reagierte darauf mit hauchzarten Improvisationen. Appalachia Borealis ist eine zutiefst ergreifende und persönliche Sammlung von 11 Klavier Meditationen, die die emotionale Bandbreite einer vollen und offenen Existenz abbilden. Inspiriert von diesen Improvisationen auf der Fensterbank, spiegelt es nicht nur die Aufruhr und die Traurigkeit einer schwierigen Zeit für Cook, sondern auch die Hoffnung, das Licht und die Freude, nach der anderen Seite zu schauen. Manchmal kann man noch die Vögel hören, deren Melodie und Zeit so viele dieser Lieder inspiriert haben. Selbst wenn sie nicht in Hörweite sind, bleibt ihre Essenz bestehen.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

From the deepest trenches of deadstock 45s and the unsung annals of soft rock infamy, we present SR4HT02: (Till You're) Back In My Arms.

Universal Cave and the Street Road Band cover Dan Strimer with Insured Sound's cult anthem (Till You're) Back In My Arms which was originally released as a 45 in 1977 on Lost Nation Records out of Guysville, Ohio. When Universal Cave featured Back in My Arms on Soft Rock for Hard Times Vol 8 in 2023, we reached out to Dan Strimer to tell him how much we loved his record, and quickly made a friend who helped us release a cover of his song 47 years after it first came out. Dan is still making music to this day and there are even rumors of some unreleased recordings making their way out in the near future.

On vacation in Hawaii when we released Soft Rock for Hard Times Vol 8, Alex Tebbs Mitchell of Universal Cave kept coming back to Dan's catchy, rural classic rock tune. When Alex returned to Philadelphia, he assembled the Street Road Band to record a laid back, 'southwestern Balearic' cover version with André Ethier on vocals, Charles Simon on guitar, Jesse Spearhawk on Pedal Steel, Alex Tebbs Mitchell on Rhodes and bass, Ryan M. Todd on synthesizers, and Shawn Ryan and Brian Cassidy on additional programming and arrangement. The result is a blissful soft rock ballad inspired by the likes of Chris Rea and Mark Knopfler.

After recording the cover, we called in the UK's finest Balearic maestro's Coyote to take the multitracks to the White Isle and back for a remix worthy of Cafe Del Mar. Coyote send the song into a dreamy, dubby, deep house groove, confirming that the record is, in fact, Balearic.

Mixed by Alex Tebbs Mitchell
Mastered by Mat Leffler-Schulman

"Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee" said the famous boxer Mohammed Ali, in reference to his legendary strike. This punchline also works wonderfully in music, listening to Roseaux's third album. A French success story, created with all modesty and honesty by the Parisian trio: Emile Omar, Alex Finkin and Clément Petit.

The three musketeers of sound cultivate their know-how, now acclaimed by critics and an ever-growing audience since their first project in 2012. It took them time to take a step back and gain perspective in order to offer us a return that is both joyful and resounding.

Roseaux takes root on the banks of soul, folk, jazz, and songs from all eras, a cascade of inexhaustible sounds, where the three composers draw their inspiration and merge their experiences.

The leaves of Roseaux soar to the breath of wonderful voices, chosen with precision by the three friends, like that of the American singer Aloe Blacc, present since the beginning of the adventure, essential enchanter of the three episodes.

Conceived as a dreamlike escapade full of emotions, on the fringes of the massive, instantaneous and often disembodied production, Roseaux is a totally artisanal group, a sort of UFO in the French musical landscape, which operates on instinct and above all on desire.

Thus, Roseaux has become an expert in bringing together, for the duration of a record, the artists who specifically form the DNA of their host: captivating voices, a plot on the piano and cello, but also encounters and reunions, in a poetic and deliberately nebulous universe.

A welcoming nebula, where the listener is invited to listen and immerse themselves without hindrance, in a luxuriant, wild, exciting sound forest. This third album is the work of 3 music lovers, capable of switching roles: writing, arrangements, production, from which emerge this time, eleven tracks with chiseled melodies including three colorful and unusual instrumentals.

A journey between melancholy and euphoria, which led Roseaux to the ends of the planet, from the Caribbean to Europe via Africa to unearth other vibrations and unique performers: the captivating Grenadian-British singer Ala.ni, the little English afropop prince from Ghana, Ghetto Boy, and the disturbing Swedish Isabel Sörling, sign here a first flamboyant collaboration with the group.

While the talented Haitian-Canadian Mélissa Laveaux, the hypnotic Scandinavian singer Olle Nyman, the sparkling French-Canadian Anna Majidson and our remarkable national Ben, already present on the second part, still manage to create a surprise by revealing new aspects of their range.

Roseaux's voices are decidedly impenetrable and its magic is renewed today by making the strength of all these scintillating elements dialogue, to be discovered in a setting of softness and voluptuousness.

Nature is full of reeds, this one is unique.

2025 Repress

Veyl is proud to welcome back to the label one of the most essential and multidimensional producers today, Filmmaker. To date, the Colombian artist has delivered a plethora of revered releases from his breakout, The Love Market (2019), to his previous album on Veyl, Fictional Portrayals (2022). He consistently traverses genres from postpunk, EBM, synth wave and beyond to create a unique identity still firmly rooted in film culture. Now he returns with perhaps his most robust and powerful offering, Hollywood
Cult.

Comprised of 13 tracks, the album sees the producer elevate his sound to new levels, conjuring a world of haunting atmospheres and devious directions that take the listener through a journey of unparalleled proportions. Kicking off the album is the ritual-like
'Secrecy', which builds tension before exploding into a synth-driven race against time and introduces us to the world that lies ahead. 'Holy Wood' injects a heavy dose of body music for an infectious piece that bleeds perfectly in to the slow burning nostalgia of 'Generational Trauma'. Next, 'Western Malice' picks the pace back up with its evil energy that feels fit for the best horror scenes before 'Shocking Therapy' enters the picture with an exhilarating electro feel.


Now in the depths of the journey, 'Vessels Wine' continues the saga with a high intensity work that gives way to the stirring emotions of 'Peacekeeper Ripper' and the raw, blood lust of 'Criminal Rite'. Now entering the final phases, 'Spiritual Harvest' cleanses the palate before 'Elite Dungeons' comes crashing in with a lo-fi feel that puts you deep underground. 'Two Sets of Rules' charges back with twisted lines before 'No Fetish Without Evil' unveils post-punk strings that puts you in a trance before 'Hanging Finale' closes the release u ltimately fading out into the abyss. Repeat listens will be necessary and the whole album feels like a soundtrack to a dark new world that is perfectly fitting for any Hollywood Cult.

Fourteen records in eight years. Side-projects records, experimental EPs, a double album of B-sides, splits and collections of demos: in just a few years, Bordeaux-born Thoineau Palis has built up a discography as fascinating as it is plethoric, in which he pays tribute in his own way to the heroes of a rock pantheon all his own, populated by lofi geeks and beautiful losers of all kinds.

Negative Freaks, TH da Freak's fifteenth album, sets the record straight in a way, since it's the first album by TH da Freak "the band", a collective incarnation hitherto reserved for the stage. This first album, composed entirely by the five of them, breaks a pattern established several years ago, with Thoineau contributing finished compositions that were then reworked collectively for live performance. The 5 Bordelais impose on themselves the use of what they call the "negative scale", dissonant and disturbing sonorities that they apply to compositions initially structured as pop tracks. This approach, combined with the casual, surreal lyrics written by Palis (influenced by intensive listening to the likes of Oingo Boingo, Devo and P-Model), lends an unprecedented coherence to the tracks on the album. Negative Freaks sounds like a massive grunge monolith, driven by a collective, radical vision that is assertive from start to finish. Impressive for a debut album

The sounds, songs, and passages within Power Sucker are the very reason that Young Widows are still a band after an 11-year creative pause; they remain masters at making music with equal parts sonic and emotional weight. Young Widows have inspired scores of underground artists across the globe with their unique collage of noise-rock, hardcore, and post-punk and pioneering presentation. The Young Widows sound - or more accurately, the Young Widows feel - is in full battering ram motion on their fifth studio album. The heaviness of Power Sucker isn't mysterious. The Louisville, Kentucky power trio play their individual parts with such recognizable precision and style that once entwined together each completed piece becomes an integral part of the puzzle. The sizzling guitars, growling bass, and lock-tight drums rip through the pavement that Young Widows had previously laid to allow the most forward-moving vocal arrangements of their now two-decade career. Historical accomplishments aside, Power Sucker has the shock and wonder of a new band's debut album. After all, this is the regrouping of three passionate lifers once again sharing their undying love for the art of sound. No one and no thing can take those powers away.

The sounds, songs, and passages within Power Sucker are the very reason that Young Widows are still a band after an 11-year creative pause; they remain masters at making music with equal parts sonic and emotional weight. Young Widows have inspired scores of underground artists across the globe with their unique collage of noise-rock, hardcore, and post-punk and pioneering presentation. The Young Widows sound - or more accurately, the Young Widows feel - is in full battering ram motion on their fifth studio album. The heaviness of Power Sucker isn't mysterious. The Louisville, Kentucky power trio play their individual parts with such recognizable precision and style that once entwined together each completed piece becomes an integral part of the puzzle. The sizzling guitars, growling bass, and lock-tight drums rip through the pavement that Young Widows had previously laid to allow the most forward-moving vocal arrangements of their now two-decade career. Historical accomplishments aside, Power Sucker has the shock and wonder of a new band's debut album. After all, this is the regrouping of three passionate lifers once again sharing their undying love for the art of sound. No one and no thing can take those powers away.

Now on album number seven , Metronomy has continued where many of their 2000s ‘cool’ band peers have dropped off along the way. Small World is a return to simple pleasures, nature, an embracing in part of more pared down, songwriterly sonics (some moments wouldn’t sound amiss on a Wilco release), all while asking broader existential questions: which feels at least somewhat rooted in the period of time during which it was made – 2020. For all that Mount seems to think he has made a comparatively sombre record, much of Small World still pulses with the zesty, tongue-in-cheek joie de vivre you’d expect of a Metronomy record.

So sure, things are different now Joe Mount is getting older and what’s on his mind is changing, but that doesn’t mark a change in quality for Metronomy. An immaculate set of tracks, Joe Mount’s ability as a songwriter and arranger shines through on Small World, evergreen. Metronomy might be growing up, but they’re not afraid to still have fun with it all. Through the tumultuous ebb and flow of the years, Metronomy continues to endure and make great pop music – and, really, that’s all that we could ask for.

On their most explicit venture into music for moving image, Miles Whittaker & Sean Canty rudely fracture piano and vocal recordings by US filmmaker-musician Kristen Pilon in a short-circuiting of style and pattern.

Shredding up definitions of electro-acoustic opera, spectralist chamber musique and concrète rave, Demdike hit square between the eyes/ears of film music vernaculars on a startlingly strong addition to their unique oeuvre, now in its 16th year of elusive psychoacoustic strafes and jump-cuts across putative borders. The 13-part, hour-long album dislodges source material made for the experimental film ‘To Cut and Shoot’, by Kristen Pilon, an NYC-based musician and filmmaker, to farther refract the film’s themes of serendipity and the nature of ghosts and dreams with a flickering flux of sound-imagery and aleatoric weirdness appropriate to her original meditations, but also freely messing with their forms.

Situated just a few miles north of Houston, Cut and Shoot is a relatively insignificant Texas town with an unforgettably bizarre name. Pilon grew up not far from Cut and Shoot, and it's there where she ran into 65-year-old machinist and motorcyclist Robert Lewis Stevenson, better known as Bobbo, who's pictured on the album's cover. The meeting occurred a few months after Pilon recorded her improvisations on piano, strings and voice in the basement cellar of the Halle in Manchester, with Bobbo providing the necessary narrative heft the trio needed to inspire an experimental film and its accompanying soundtrack.

Responding to Kristen’s initial piano and operatic vocal recordings, Demdike return a volley of discrete parts tilting from typically cantankerous mayhem to quieter, more clandestine buzzes sliced with crazed interstices of the imagination, all marbled with the plasmic contrails of the paranormal which have long been peculiar to their work. With a poetic flair reflecting Pilon’s own phrasing and melding of mediums, Demdike unfold and expand her melodic fragments into temporal mazes, variously resembling the most messed-up ends of The Caretaker in ‘A Grave Fall (January)’, but also liable to skew into buckshot club turbulence, as with ‘Belly Up’, or the bittersweet bruk contortions of ‘Twist’.

The storyline wickedly frays and loops into itself with a non-linearity that recalls the mid-to-latter stages of Lynch’s ‘Mulholland Drive’ or waking from a sweaty fever dream only to pitch back into its thorny bush of ghosts, often within the space of one track. It’s testament to the ever-tighter binds of Demdike’s symbiotic vision that the results nevertheless hold a thread of logic that weaves in everything from their Jon Collin jams to reams of mixes and Gruppo edits with an unresolved, open-ended quality that still keeps us on our toes, perhaps more so than ever here.

Joni Void, the artistic persona of Montréal-based French-British producer Jean Néant (he/them) returns to songcraft on their warmest and most welcoming record yet, where the acclaimed sampledelic sound collagist chills out with an emotionally resonant song cycle tinged by downtempo, lo-fi, avant-pop, and trip-hop. Guests include Haco, Ytamo, Sook-Yin Lee, Pink Navel and N NAO. Every Life Is A Light expands on Void's recent stylistic turn towards more languorous and mellow lo-fi production, foreshadowed by the drifting looseness and ambient bricolage of their preceding experimental sound-art record. This transitional sensibility now shapes more defined song structures and styles, with loops are given time and space to unspool, and rhythms shot through the softer-focus lens of trip-hop and dub. Every Life Is A Light swaps the twitchy insistence of Void's acclaimed early albums for a newfound lightness and suppleness, still imbued with all the restlessness, sonic detailing, and emotional resonance that made their name. The neurotic brokenmachine kinetics of earlier Void, summarized by Sasha Geffen as "drawing despair and wonder from within the vast unfeeling of digital communication" in an 8.0 Pitchfork review, may be chilling out, but Void is becoming an ever better conjurer of hauntological feeling. Every Life Is A Light summons this in a comparatively buoyant, benevolent, head-nodding journey more open to tenderness and modest joys. Perhaps it's the sound of Void at greater peace with themselves and the world, despite the bittersweet cost: even as it channels grief, memorializing comrades and companions recently deceased, this album wants light. Void's raw materials continue to draw heavily from samples (their own Walkman cassette fieldrecordings and songs by others) and from a wide community of musical guests. Vocalists Haco on "Time Zone" and Ytamo on "Cloud Level" help levitate what could be lost tracks from a mid-90s Too Pure Records compilation of skewed-lounge electronica. Canadian musician Sook-Yin Lee sings on lead single "Vertigo," a sinewy 80bpm tape-loop and bassline groove propelled by psychedelically-layered lyrics that eventually turn the song in on itself entirely, like Grace Jones' "Nightclubbing" covered by Animal Collective. One of Void's greatest hip-hop loves is the Ruby Yacht collective; charter member Pink Navel drops some brilliant verses on "Story Board." The album's two minimal tracks, an extended piano loop set to a slow beat and shimmering electronics on "Muffin-A Song For My Cat" and the languid sampled bass riff and breakbeat of "Event Flow," are perhaps most overtly `lofi chill.' Indeed the whole album could be said to sit adjacent to those viral (if not already AI-generated) genre trends, which maybe begs the question on a lot of our minds: can specificity and authenticity of musical materials still be heard, still meaningfully signify substance and difference, still matter? Perhaps a question that fades in comparison to the career break Void could catch by landing on generic streaming playlists. More likely, these tracks remain too off-kilter, too genuinely lo-fi and ineffable, and too disqualified by the status of its peasant rights-holders, to catch the algos. Context remains the poor cousin of content. Meanwhile Void marches on, as a tireless organizer of local music events, bouncing around and often living in DIY venue, depending on the latest apartment eviction. With an ubiquitous polaroid camera in tow, they also document each communal happening with a single shot (and often a blinding flash bulb): a memory and metaphor for lives illuminated preciously, singularly, `imperfectly' in the moment. Dozens of these polaroids adorn the album's back cover and inner sleeve art in grid-like montages, as a fitting analog for the careful construction, grainy intimate materiality, and ephemeral feeling of these songs. Every Life Is A Light is Joni Void's most coherent and congenial record while relinquishing none of their experimentalist acumen as a producer or emotional attunement as a composer. Instead these qualities flourish, on an album that lights a humble flame for the fragile promise of homespun creative collaboration as unalienated labour and therapeutic communion, making an enchantingly idiosyncratic contribution to downtempo sample music along the way. Thanks for listening.

The complete album - pressed on limited edition 180g vinyl

Tenor saxophonist Ben Webster (1909 - 1973) had already enjoyed a long and fruitful
career by the time this 1957 session was recorded. However, as Bob Blumenthal
explains in the original liner notes, he still wasn't known for the sensual ballad feeling
that became his trademark during the last two decades of his life. At that time, he was
still recognized for the hard blowing fast tenor sax style he played with both the Duke
Ellington Orchestra and his own multiple small groups.
Even though his repertoire was generally linked to that of Duke Ellington, this classic
Norman Granz produced session presents Webster playing four popular ballads and
two of his own bluesy compositions, Soulville and Late Date. On hand in support are
the incredible Oscar Peterson Trio (Herb Ellis, Ray Brown), and drummer Stan Levey.
"The by turns grizzled and vaporous-toned Webster really hit his stride on the Verve
label. This 1957 date with the Oscar Peterson Trio is one of the highlights of that
golden '50s run. After starting off with two bluesy originals, Webster gets to the heart
of things on five wistful ballads. Providing sympathetic counterpoint, Peterson
forgoes his usual pyrotechnics for some leisurely compact solos; his cohorts -
guitarist Herb Ellis, bassist Ray Brown, and drummer Stan Levey - are equally assured
and splendid. Newcomers shouldn't hesitate to start here." - ***** Stephen Cook,
AllMusic

NOW Music proudly presents NOW That’s What I Call Gold – The Ultimate Hits – this essential 3-LP set brings together 46 tracks by legendary artists with timeless anthems, celebrating some of the greatest hits of all time, including chart-topping classics and enduring favourites.



LP1 sets the stage with Queen’s electrifying ‘A Kind Of Magic’, followed by Philip Bailey & Phil Collins’ #1 ‘Easy Lover’. The Police feature with their #1 smash ‘Message In A Bottle’, while The Killers follow with their record-breaking anthem ‘Mr. Brightside’. The massive ‘Stick Season’ from Noah Kahan is up next before the first side finishes with Lana Del Rey’s stunning ‘Video Games’. Flip the LP over for contemporary classics from Coldplay and Duran Duran. Sinéad O’Connor’s ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ still sounds raw and breath-taking and is followed by classics from the Pretenders, Shirley Bassey, Dusty Springfield, and Soft Cell’s ‘Tainted Love’, one of the best-selling UK singles of the ‘80s, whilst another of those closes out the first LP: Ultravox with their masterpiece, ‘Vienna’.



LP2 delivers a legendary lineup, including Billy Joel with his Grammy-winning ‘Just The Way You Are’ and Céline Dion’s powerful version of ‘All By Myself’. John Denver’s ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ and Paul Simon’s groundbreaking ‘Graceland’ are featured along with the pop genius of Electric Light Orchestra with ‘Last Train To London’. While on the other side timeless ballads from Elton John with ‘Tiny Dancer’ and Lewis Capaldi’s ‘Someone You Loved’ come ahead of Wings, Simply Red and ‘60s gems from Stevie Wonder, The Supremes and the peerless ‘Walk On By’ from Dionne Warwick.



LP3 opens with Neil Diamond’s universally beloved singalong anthem, ‘Sweet Caroline’ and Cliff Richard’s mid-70s classic, ‘Devil Woman’. Disco legends Donna Summer (‘MacArthur Park’) and Gloria Gaynor (‘I Will Survive’), lead into Sophie Ellis Bextor’s ‘Murder On The Dancefloor’ which became a smash for the second time recently. Ed Sheeran and Pharrell Williams had enduringly popular hits with ‘Galway Girl’ and ‘Happy’, and the side closes with the harmonic vocals of All-4-One and their beautiful signature song ‘I Swear’. The final side is packed with anthemic and uplifting classics kicking off with Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’, Survivor’s ‘Eye Of The Tiger’, and Take That’s soaring ‘Rule The World’. The remainder of the collection celebrates and showcases some of the ‘70s greatest tracks including Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Lost In France’, Marianne Faithfull’s poignant ‘The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan’ and Blondie’s era-defining and genre-defying #1 ‘Heart Of Glass’.



NOW That’s What I Call Gold is a must-have for all music lovers —packed with legendary artists, timeless hits, and unforgettable moments in pop. Don’t miss out on this golden treasure trove of musical brilliance!

Freivogel / Sinclaire with their debut Untitled consisting of three live recordings made using only a concert flute and an Octatrack M1. The recordings are live taken from improvised sessions and have been left unedited.

Shifting between playful and austere, the simple goal for these sessions was honest improvisation; comfortable in both its limits and potentials. Placing classical instrument performance and extended playing techniques alongside heavy sonic processing and cavernous acoustics, they are in some ways uninfluenced by genre, governed only by a drive to find moments of clarity amidst chaos.

Recorded in single takes using a simplified setup of the flute – played into a microphone and wired through an Octatrack – every sound heard in the recordings comes in one way or another from the flute as a single sound source, manipulated and looped on the fly with additional live improvisation over the top.

The result is a timeless capsule of heady drones, offbeat electronics, and mischievous flutes, captured during a time when the world stood still. Scuzzy at times, glistening at others, and ever-optimistic in the pursuit of something new.

Adam Sinclaire is a flautist who has worked with artists such as Billy Bultheel and Ziúr, recorded for labels including PAN and Purple Tape Pedigree, and performed for institutions including KW Institute for Contemporary Art, Schinkel Pavillon, and Martin-Gropius-Bau. His practice focuses on using extended playing techniques to explore the limits of the C flute.

Marco Freivogel is a producer and composer who has released an extensive discography on labels including Mannequin Records and Veyl, and collaborated with artists including dBridge, Mare Nero and Mathew Jonson, remixing artists as diverse as Hercules & Love Affair, Shackleton and Yappa. His Prequel Tapes project sits between utopian and claustrophobic, tracing harsh industrial atmospheres and levitational ambient from a lifelong obsession with sonic extremes. Marco currently works on compositions for film and television, alongside his own releases and collaborations. The EP will be released on 14 February 2025 as limited vinyl and digital via Midnight Shift. Art direction by Mauro Ventura.

All record profits from this release will go to 3ezwa.de, providing financial and legal support to those facing repression for their commitment to the Palestinian cause.