quête:suburbs

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

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.

Teatro Del Metapresente is the debut album by La Nuit Je Mens, a duo hailing from the Parisian suburbs and southern Italy. Now based in Rome, the two artists have crafted a striking sound that merges their DIY ethos with raw, unfiltered energy.

Driven by synthetic, minimalist rhythms created on a fleet of analog machines, the seven tracks pay homage to the sound of the '80s – yet entirely forward-looking and embracing the dancefloor modernity.

Blending genres such as EBM, synth-pop and minimal-cold-wave, paired with French vocals, the album delves into themes of underground activities, the slow decay of the club scene and the depths of emotional yearning.

Released on the Berlin-Basel-based label Reach Another System, Teatro Del Metapresente follows the previously released 7” and reinforces the duo's own sound and unique identity.

Ein Nachfolger zur 2016 erschienenen Country-Rock-Compilation "Cosmic American Music"! Dieser zweite Band geht weit über Gram Parsons' Country-Rock-Vision hinaus und erforscht die twangigen Falsettos und kommerzielle Neugier, welche auch die Eagles aufsteigen ließ. Obwohl verwurzelt im Westküsten-Folkrock der späten 60er Jahre, präsentierte diese neue Generation einen "Safe-for-the-suburbs"-Sound, der von den politischen Unruhen der Hippie-Ära geprägt war. 20 Tracks, zwei LPs im Klappcover.

Neon Sky Vinyl!. Ein Nachfolger zur 2016 erschienenen Country-Rock-Compilation "Cosmic American Music"! Dieser zweite Band geht weit über Gram Parsons' Country-Rock-Vision hinaus und erforscht die twangigen Falsettos und kommerzielle Neugier, welche auch die Eagles aufsteigen ließ. Obwohl verwurzelt im Westküsten-Folkrock der späten 60er Jahre, präsentierte diese neue Generation einen "Safe-for-the-suburbs"-Sound, der von den politischen Unruhen der Hippie-Ära geprägt war. 20 Tracks, zwei LPs im Klappcover.

Through X Scroll Era, Gabo Barranco, aka AAAA, conducts a rigorous overhaul of the aesthetics and statements of low-profile IDM, trance, and progressive-acid music typical of the early 2000’s. In addition to this inherent and undeniable veneration for the era, the pieces on this album — which originated from recordings and experimental exercises with gear and accidentally became an album — serve also as a kind of retrospective inspection of Mexico City's suburbs (Lomas de Sotelo), with landscapes full of indiscriminate concrete, highways of two and three levels, factories, and parking lots that have supplanted nature with their own detached beauty. It is a sound memory, a specific melancholy that praises skate squads of the area, friends from the past, parties, and substances. It reviews the decline of rave culture but also its resilience and capacity for transformation. What AAAA offers us with X Scroll Era is an almost multigenerational soundtrack, a memory that feels collective and recollects euphoria, ecstasy, and nostalgia.

After several LPs and EPs (Acid Test, Omnidisc, Janushoved) and several years active in the dance and contemplative electronic music circuit (MUTEK, BERGHAIN, iii Points, RBMA), X Scroll Era is the first album by Gabo Barranco, aka AAAA, published on the Mexican label Umor Rex.

Little Hag zeigt das breit gefächerte Songwriting von Avery Mandeville, deren bissige und nachvollziehbare Songs eine Welt beschreiben, die so kompliziert ist wie die, in der wir leben. Mit Hilfe von 8 Produzenten aufgenommen, in Wohnungen von Freunden bis zu den Headroom Studios in Philadelphia, liefert sie Punkrock-Knaller, tiefe Disco-Tauchgänge, Fackellieder, Folk-Balladen und vieles mehr. Die Bandmitglieder sind seit ihrer Teenagerzeit befreundet und haben sich gemeinsam zu einer wilden Rockband entwickelt.

Repress

Songs ’94-’98 is a smart selection of material from The Cat’s Miaow, an Australian indie-pop group that gifted their decade with some of its finest songs. Released on World Of Echo, the album draws from the group’s string of excellent seven-inch singles, a small clutch of compilation contributions, and features one previously unreleased song, “I Take It That We’re Through”, recorded in 1998. Part of the burgeoning international pop underground of the nineties, The Cat’s Miaow’s legend has only built over subsequent decades, as more people discover this most quixotic and curious of groups: a recent appearance on A Colourful Storm’s compilation of Australian indie-pop, I Won’t Have To Think About You, is testament to their enduring influence. In part emulating the selection of tracks on the 1997 CD-only compilation, Songs For Girls To Sing, Songs ’94-’98 is also the group’s first ever full-length 12” vinyl collection. The Cat’s Miaow started out in 1992 as a home-recording duo, Bart Cummings (guitar, bass, vocals) and Andrew Withycombe (bass, guitar) taking time out from duties with Girl Of The World and The Ampersands (respectively), knocking out songs on Withycombe’s four-track. Soon joined by Kerrie Bolton (vocals) and Cam Smith (drums), the quartet spent the next five years quietly, slowly working away in the suburbs of Melbourne, recording gem after gem of independent pop. Like many of their Australian precursors or peers – The Particles, Even As We Speak, The Cannanes – The Cat’s Miaow were more successful overseas, a sadly typical phenomenon within the Australian musical landscape. The Cat’s Miaow were always worldly and stylish, anyway, each seven-inch single a refined artifact, each song a peaceable jewel. You could hear some relationships with other music – someone (if not everyone) in The Cat’s Miaow was a Galaxie 500 fan; there’s a minimalism to the playing and melodies that recalls Young Marble Giants, Marine Girls, Beat Happening – but the spirit in these songs is endearingly individualised, the result of a hermetic vision, an ideal of what a simple, unadorned pop song could be. They had a winning way with simplicity, songs like “Autumn”, “Crying” and “I Can’t Sleep Thinking You Hate Me” passing by in the blink of a moistened eye, and when they stretched out, as on “Firefly”, you can hear hints of the drifting ambience they’d perfect in their other band, Hydroplane. It’s not much of a surprise that The Cat’s Miaow found a receptive audience, and no small amount of support, from the networked communities of indie-pop labels and fanatics that developed in the nineties – they released records on imprints like Drive-In, Darla, Bus Stop and Quiddity, shared a flexi-disc with Stereolab, and appeared on countless compilations over the years. But they also understood the importance of the local: their first few cassettes reached the world’s mail routes via Wayne Davidson’s legendary Melbourne tape label, Toytown; they turned up on a split single with Davidson’s group, Stinky Fire Engine; they appeared on a tribute cassette for one of Australia’s finest, The Sugargliders, and indeed that’s Josh Meadows of said group playing wah guitar on “Stay”. The Cat’s Miaow also rarely played live – one launch gig, for the Munch video compilation, and a few parties – which is a great way to maintain mystique. Cosmopolitan yet homely, dedicated to their craft, The Cat’s Miaow always felt a little like a group moving in slow motion, using that pace and focus fully to embrace the art of the perfectly stated pop song – every element in place, no flash and no fuss, no excess, just the core of the thing. Few managed to tease such fierce poetry from such understated, elegant means. From Australia or anywhere.

Das in Chicago ansässige Quintett Brigitte Calls Me Baby kündigt sein Debütalbum 'The Future Is Our Way Out' an, das über ATO Records erscheinen soll!

'The Future Is Our Way Out' wurde teilweise im RCA Studio A in Nashville mit dem 9-fachen Grammy-Preisträger Dave Cobb (Jason Isbell, Sturgill Simpson, Chris Stapleton) aufgenommen.

Mit ihren poetischen Meditationen über Sehnsucht, Angst und die Komplexität der Vergänglichkeit ist das Album eine kraftvolle Weiterentwicklung der Debüt-EP 'This House Is Made Of Corners' von Brigitte Calls Me Baby, welche von vielen Seiten gelobt und mit dem Nervenkitzel einer vergangenen Ära beschrieben wurde. Post-Punk Elemente wechseln sich mit tanzbaren Rhythmen und Gitarrenriffs ab, die vor allem zusammen mit der Stimme von Sänger Leavins immer wieder an The Smiths erinnert.

Bei der Wahl des Titels für das Debütalbum landete die Band bei einem Satz, den Leavins als Teenager impulsiv auf ein weißes T-Shirt gekritzelt hatte, und den er im Laufe der Jahre immer wieder aufgriff und schließlich in einen üppigen und filmischen Popsong verwandelte.

Mit 'The Future Is Our Way Out' legen Brigitte Calls Me Baby nun ein Werk vor, das auf geniale Weise Genres und Epochen überspannt und die üppige Romantik des Pop aus der Mitte des Jahrhunderts mit der frenetischen Energie und stacheligen Intensität des Indie-Rocks der frühen Jahrtausendwende verbindet. Im Mittelpunkt steht Leavins' hypnotisch croonender Gesang. Das Ergebnis ist eine seltene Konvergenz von Raffinesse, Stil und unverhohlener Aufrichtigkeit.

The music of Brigitte Calls Me Baby is equal parts elegant time warp and up-close exploration of our modern-day neuroses. The Chicago-based five-piece emerged in early 2023 and soon scored a breakout hit with “Impressively Average”—a sublimely shimmering anthem, setting the band on a swift rise that’s recently included embarking on a headline tour with sold-out dates across the US. Having opened for The Strokes, Last Dinner Party and Muse, the band has been featured in the Sunday Times “Breaking Act” and NME’s Radar Spotlight series. Now, with their debut LP The Future Is Our Way Out, Brigitte Calls Me Baby share a body of work that ingeniously spans genres and eras, merging the lavish romanticism of mid-century pop with the frenetic energy and spiky intensity of early-millennium indie-rock. Centered on lead singer Wes Leavins’ hypnotically crooning vocal work, the result is a rare convergence of sophistication and style and unabashed sincerity.

We are delighted to bring you the follow up to the successful 'The Bristol Punk Explosion (1977-1979) album released in November 2023 - a twelve-track compilation entitled 'The Bristol Punk Explosion Vol 2 (1977-1981).'The sleeve notes are written by Tim Williams author of the 1977 Loaded Fanzine. Tim talks about the transition from Soul to Punk, the demise of Prog Rock and the fashion culture that sat seamlessly alongside the music. There are three previously unreleased tracks never before available on vinyl. The Cortinas were the first. They played the Roxy Club, released two singles on Mark Perry and Miles Copeland's Step Forward label, graced the front cover of Sniffin' Glue and recorded a Peel Session. Taking their cue, bands like Social Security (the first band on Heartbeat Records), The Pigs (whose 'Youthanasia' single was released by Miles Copeland's New Bristol Records), The Media, 48 Hours and Private Dicks gave Bristol one of the strongest provincial early punk scenes. The area of Barton Hill gave us The X-Certs, who by 1978 could already pull audiences of five hundred into Trinity Hall. Though we did not realise it at the time, they effectively bridged the gap between the late 70s Bristol scene and what our American cousins like to term the UK82 bands. In time bands from the suburbs of Bristol started to appear on the scene, Misdemeanor (who were managed by the late Dennis Sheehan U2's tour manager for thirty plus years), Apartment from Downend (whose photo adorns the front cover) and Noiz Boiz from Weston Super Mare, the seaside town just down the road. This compilation is designed to give all fans of Punk a snapshot of what Bristol Punk was all about during that period. We close side Two of the album with The X-Certs Clash infused /reggae single 'Together' and follow it with one of Bristol finest Roots reggae bands Talisman and their single 'Wicked Dem'. The punky/reggae party had truly started as we move into the 80's Bristol Stylee! Bristol Boys Make More Noise!

. Legs Akimbo, the latest offering from the eclectic producer and DJ, Skwirl, released by Cold Busted, is a vibrant tapestry of sound that dances boldly across genres, much like its title suggests a stance of uninhibited exuberance. The album is a playground of audacious sounds and rhythms, each track splayed out with a creative audacity that's both refreshing and exhilarating. From the space-age funk of "Ur M8's Jetta," with its electrified beats and wisps of harp, to the orchestral cut-ups and synthetic soul of "Inside," Skwirl crafts a soundscape that is as diverse as it is cohesive. The album is an open invitation to experience the world through Skwirl's genre-agnostic squiggles, blips, and booms, where musical conventions are playfully disregarded. "We'll Be Here" encapsulates this ethos perfectly, blending a snazzy rhythm with snatches of jazz-infused flute, creating an ambiance akin to a midnight fog enveloping city streets. The music, much like the artist himself, is an amalgamation of varied influences and experiences, from teenage roots in the Atlanta suburbs to transformative encounters in Berlin's vibrant music scene. Each track on Legs Akimbo is a testament to Skwirl's unique approach to music-making, where disparate musical universes don't just meet; they dance together in perfect harmony

The Good the Bad and the Zugly have been delivering premium class, antiquated rock for almost 15 years straight. They’ve always been the real deal. True heroes of the Armageddon. Whenever responsibility came knocking at the door they stuck to their guns and kept living the rock life to the fullest. Their contemptuous look at everything and
everyone who doesn’t fit into their world view has always been prominent in their sound, and their musical and lyrical expression has stayed uncompromised.

No one has yet dared to confront their satirical know-it-all attitude, but recently water has started to seep through their seemingly waterproof façade. Band members have on several occasions been observed at the Oslo’s local shopping malls wearing reading glasses, down jackets, and sensible footwear, pushing strollers filled with blaring,
chocolate devouring children. With wistful eyes they’re seen pushing strollers through to the suburbs, far away from dirty dens credible dark nooks and shitty toilets.

To mend this rapidly declining rock image they´ve decided to release what they consider to be their worst album so far: A collection of B-songs that have never made the list when assembling the list of Norwegian Grammy nominated classics. This upcoming album is
nothing less of a wonderful bouquet of contemptuous elegies who haven't yet found a place on the big, dark web. Truth be told the opinionated armor GBZ has been hiding behind was mostly for show, they’ve always beat around the bush – or as we say in Norwegian: had a walk around the porrid

The Good the Bad and the Zugly have been delivering premium class, antiquated rock for almost 15 years straight. They’ve always been the real deal. True heroes of the Armageddon. Whenever responsibility came knocking at the door they stuck to their guns and kept living the rock life to the fullest. Their contemptuous look at everything and
everyone who doesn’t fit into their world view has always been prominent in their sound, and their musical and lyrical expression has stayed uncompromised.

No one has yet dared to confront their satirical know-it-all attitude, but recently water has started to seep through their seemingly waterproof façade. Band members have on several occasions been observed at the Oslo’s local shopping malls wearing reading glasses, down jackets, and sensible footwear, pushing strollers filled with blaring,
chocolate devouring children. With wistful eyes they’re seen pushing strollers through to the suburbs, far away from dirty dens credible dark nooks and shitty toilets.

To mend this rapidly declining rock image they´ve decided to release what they consider to be their worst album so far: A collection of B-songs that have never made the list when assembling the list of Norwegian Grammy nominated classics. This upcoming album is
nothing less of a wonderful bouquet of contemptuous elegies who haven't yet found a place on the big, dark web. Truth be told the opinionated armor GBZ has been hiding behind was mostly for show, they’ve always beat around the bush – or as we say in Norwegian: had a walk around the porrid

“Mother”, Logic1000’s debut album. “I felt so much love and inspiration entering into motherhood that I just needed to create something really powerful,” explains Samantha Poulter, the Berlin-based DJ and producer , who grewed up in the Sydney suburbs of Yarrawarrah and Botany Bay and better known to fans as Logic1000. “And with a lot less free time, you really make sure you make the most of any moment you get.” That vitality and renewed sense of purpose is captured on Mother.Preceded by the single ‘Grown On Me’, the 12-track set is a laser-focused “love letter to house music”, written in collaboration with her husband and long-time creative partner Thom McAlister (Cop Envy, Big Ever). Finding Poulter further fine-tuning her inventive, multi-genre approach, it’s a crucial contribution not just to the world of dance but to the canon of art inspired by parenthood. As Poulter herself puts it, a little awed, “I never thought I would be capable of something so powerful.”

Footballhead is a Chicago-based alternative rock band headed by singer/ songwriter Ryan Nolen - At its heart, the band is a vessel to toil forward through internal and external insecurity It also serves the unrelenting spirit of new- millennium Midwestern youth, with MTV and skatepark dreams in the core of their memories. By blending pop structures with alt and emo sounds, Footballhead channels the frantic, dramatic, and anthemic to map the pressure points of existence. It's outcast music, revitalized in search of a modern, blissful awakening. Nolen was a skate kid from the western Chicago suburbs; the one who only kicked it with older neighborhood kids. The punkish attitude of late-90s and earlyaughts alt- rock galvanized Nolen, from the infectiously fun music down to the fashion.

A teenage relocation to Palm Springs, CA coincided with Nolen inundating himself with all the music he could: Warped Tour, 411 videos, Limewire, and the like. The Footballhead ethos comes from this comfort zone of pop impulses and raucous energy, carried by a DIY spirit that grants Nolen the autonomy to facilitate honesty and reflection. Joined by Adam Siska, snow ellet, Liam Burns, and Robbie Kuntz, Footballhead crafts supercharged rock songs like brief, open secrets. However weathered one is from their struggles and mistakes, this music offers unbridled fun as a reprieve, and salves for the shaken. These are your old friends inviting you in to commiserate, elevate, and believe.

Franco-British artist, born in Birmingham suburbs in 1993, Albert Newton welcomes us into the metaphysical universe of his debut album scheduled for release early 2024 on Byebye records.

After releasing his first EP «Bedroom Posters (*Spring)» in 2020, Henry met a quantum researcher and an astrophysicist who opened his eyes to the reality and beauty of the scientific world we live in. These encounters would prove a major inspiration for the writing of his first album, «Twin Earth».

A 10-track album influenced by a wide range of musicians from Bowie, MGMT and Tame Impala to Frank Ocean or even Philip Glass. Produced by Max Baby (Hannah Jadagu, Goldie Boutilier).

The multilayered lyrics map the traditional rollercoaster of emotions as well as their place in the celestial architecture . Nothing is ever perfect on this twin planet, but Albert Newton looks upon it with tenderness and gratitude, and shares a much-needed optimistic vision.

After releasing his seventh - arguably best and most popular album - The Odd Shower, The Bitter Springs' singer / songwriter Simon Rivers reinvented himself as Poor Performer, whose own debut, Like Yer Wounds Too, followed the same winning formula, widened somewhat by the inclusion of songs with a greater fragile beauty and introspection . . . though rarely without a degree of self-effacing humour and a rather stylish wit. Decades of self-releasing compact disc-only albums from the far southwestern suburbs of London, with scant regard for promotion or the normal machinations of showbiz - touring, for instance - did little to spread the word about Rivers' unique and prestigious talents. A conversational singer with a delightfully warm and convivial stone, Rivers' sense of the absurd and willingness to portray aspects of life generally unrecognised by pop music, one supposes it's not entirely unfair to have expect Top of The Pops to come calling. Yet the relative absence of cult of Simon Rivers fans is somewhat perplexing, for his lyrics, ideas and tunes all do merit it. There's little affectation in the sense of stage persona, but heaps of personality and intriguing, occasional perverse idea. It's hard to listen to anything he's down without a degree of sheer enjoyment. It's real, without affectation. The very real bumps heads with the slightly mental, just like in life! So what does this new guise - Oldfield Youth Club - have to offer? It's partially a revival of Rivers' first 'real' band, Last Party, and it displays hallmarks of that band's youthful energy. There's a bit of teen glam in Good News I'm Afraid and (Theme From Oldfield Youth Club, even while lead track We're The OYC and When Bob Grant Ruled The World add a dollop of an energetic ruefulness to the mix. A Kind Of Loving In A Loveless Town is an immediate classic, a song one could hear dozens of times before really reaching the core of its magic and majesty. Lest this sound like the work of a solo artist, it does feel like a band - a rather clever one, in fact. Including members Kim Rivers and Neil Palmer (both from Last Party), as well as trumpeter / vocalist Alison Targett, Oldfield Youth Club is a band with an obvious musical kinship. There's a connection to the literal style of Vic Godard's Subway Sect (and members have been shared between both acts) or early Go-Betweens . . . there's an alchemical sensibility shared by all three acts wherein their words and tunes inform each other in a deceptively casual but arresting manner. It's hard not to love, a rare work that earns immediate affection and just grows better from there.

Run-D.M.C.'s Raising Hell remains the turning point at which hip-hop crashed through mainstream barriers and never left. Anchored by the crossover smash "Walk This Way," the 1986 blockbuster still sounds like a revolution unfolding in real time. It has everything – hard-rock riffs, turntable scratching, itchy rhythms, hit singles – not the least of which are the trio's invigorating raps and inseparable chemistry. And now it's the first rap record afforded audiophile treatment, courtesy of Mobile Fidelity.

Sourced from the original master tapes and pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, the reissue label's numbered-edition 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP elevates Raising Hell to sonic heights on par with its musical and cultural significance. Ranked the 123rd Greatest Album of All Time by Rolling Stone, 43rd on Pitchfork's Greatest Albums of the 1980s, one of the Top 100 Albums of All Time by TIME – and included on "Best of" lists by Spin, Paste, XXL, Entertainment Weekly, and basically every other significant media outlet – the triple-platinum effort rocks the house.

Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and groove definition of SuperVinyl, Raising Hell unleashes a torrent of massive dynamics and tsunami of frequency-plumbing details underlined by Rick Rubin's taut, crisp, albeit raw and streetwise production. Just as the Queens-based group both defined what hip-hop could represent – and displayed just how big it could get – Rubin's work melded ear-worm hooks, savvy drum loops, metal-leaning guitars, and, of course, Run and D.M.C.'s cross-fire lyrical interplay into watertight frameworks bursting with ideas, tones, samples, and beats. Heard anew on Mobile Fidelity vinyl, Raising Hell is in every regard the aural equivalent of a direct-to-console 1970s classic. And it sounds as fresh as hell.

As for the music, it ranks among the most influential, inventive, and invigorating ever released – rap or otherwise. Vanguard artists such as Ice-T, Eminem, Jay-Z, and Public Enemy's Chuck D – who declared it his all-time favorite and "the first record that made me realize this was an album-oriented genre" – have testified on behalf of its brilliance. And never mind the presence of the Top 5 single "Walk This Way," whose power helped make Aerosmith's Steven Tyler and Joe Perry relevant for the first time in nearly a decade – and literally put Run-D.M.C. in bedrooms ranging from the Bronx to Bartlett to Bad Axe.

Look instead to the rest of the entirely filler-free set, be it the corkscrew turns, slippery wordplay, and "My Sharona"-meets-"Mickey" mixology of the boisterous "It's Tricky," the fat-but-minimized bass grooves and warped turntable wobble of the hysterical "You Be Illin'," chimes-accented inertia and boombox-on- shoulder thunder of the now-iconic "Peter Piper," or voice-as-percussion attack of the funky "Is It Live." With Raising Hell, the answer to the question is always affirmative – a sensation bolstered by the fact the group always had something to say.

The definition of Golden Age Hip-Hop in every way, Run-D.M.C. avoids the negativity and misogyny that later plagued the style, spinning assertive tales about identity (the biographical and culture-changing "My Adidas"), work ethics ("Perfection"), and, most notably, pride (the Harriet Tubman- and Malcom X.-referencing "Proud to Be Black"). Pavement-packed inner cities, tree-lined suburbs, and cornfield-rimmed rural areas would never again be the same. And rocking a rhyme that's right on time would become trickier than ever.

Sea Blue in Coke Bottle Clear Vinyl.

Because Hold, Jack Tatum's fifth album under the moniker Wild Nothing, was written in the aftermath of new parenthood during the pandemic, it was probably inevitable that it would be searching and existential music. But during the recording process, the artist known for synth-pop tastefulness used it as an opportunity to reach for a new sonic maximalism and wider set of influences. With contributions from longtime collaborator Jorge Elbrecht, Tommy Davidson of Beach Fossils and Hatchie's Harriette Pilbeam, first single "Headlights On" features an acid house-worthy bass groove and breakbeat that prove Tatum is playing for the rafters. Tatum produced the rest of the record on his own, partially out of necessity, due to the challenges of the pandemic. The songs were eventually brought to Adrian Olsen at Montrose Recording in Richmond to begin recording drums and filling in the gaps. While largely a product of isolation, Hold also reflects the things Tatum has learned from collaborators, both on previous records and during his acclaimed work with Japanese Breakfast and Molly Burch. The rest of the record was mixed by Geoff Swan, who listeners might know for his work with Caroline Polachek and Charli XCX. Swan put Tatum's vocals high in the mix, and throughout the album, he embraces playful vocal processing like never before. Tatum moved from Los Angeles back to his home state of Virginia about five years ago in search of a scaled-back lifestyle. The relatively suburban environment - and the occasional regret it inspired - proved to be great artistic fodder. It's the paradox of modern America - the suburbs are supposed to be stultifying to art, but they are so full of human desperation perfect for dramatizing. On "Suburban Solutions", he presents an anti-jingle with an acidly bright synthesizer melody, imploring you to sign on the dotted line, put your feet up, and embrace sweet oblivion. Adding to the song's menacing cheeriness is a chorus-sung bridge, made with assistance from Molly Burch and Tatum's wife, Dana, It was loosely inspired by the classic Martika song "Toy Soldiers" and the long-ago pop craze for children's choirs, and he embraces the trend's less-than-stellar reputation. By design, Hold dwells in uncertainty and fear, but in a package that encourages meditation and a bit of fun. "In the face of the pandemic, I think being a parent really forced my hand," Tatum said. "I felt that I had no other choice but to have a positive outlook on the world. Because if I were to give in at any moment and say, "Oh, everything is horrible," then I'll feel as if I've lost and I've given up on my son being able to thrive in this world."