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As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

Diamond Head are of seminal importance to heavy metal music, and their debut album Lightning To The Nations is a key influence on the genre. Silver Lining Music is therefore proud to present Lightning To The Nations (The White Album) Remastered 2021, the ultimate version of this ultimate album, featuring not only the original album from ¼ inch master tapes discovered in founder Brian Tatler’s archives, but also alternative mixes of classic cuts “Lightning To The Nations”, “The Prince”, “Sucking My Love” , “Am I Evil?” and “Sweet And Innocent” never publicly released (or heard) before. There is also brand-new cover artwork based on an idea Brian Tatler had to show a character referred to as ‘The Lightning God’.

The original tapes were first quite literally baked (a process which allows degraded tape to be returned to playable quality), then restored and digitized before Diamond Head frontman Rasmus ‘Ras’ Bom Andersen remastered the tracks, ending up with a pristine edition of the original recordings. The alternative mixes, pure treasure for all fans of both Diamond Head and the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, are supplemented by a set of bonus tracks originally recorded in 1980s, and rounding-out this ultimate edition are a set of deep and detailed notes on both the era and each song by Brian Tatler.

Lightning To The Nations (The White Album) [Remastered 2021], will be released as a double CD, a deluxe 180 gms gatefold triple-vinyl edition containing the original album remastered, the lost mixes and the bonus tracks. There will also be a single vinyl edition of just the remastered album, also on 180 gms.

“We wrote instinctively,” says Brian Tatler in his notes, “we had an undeniably unique sound. Four young lads, each with an element that, when combined, produced an alloy that was our own heavy metal sound.” Lighting To The Nations (The White Album) remains an indispensable alloy for any set of self-respecting

Diamond Head are of seminal importance to heavy metal music, and their debut album Lightning To The Nations is a key influence on the genre. Silver Lining Music is therefore proud to present Lightning To The Nations (The White Album) Remastered 2021, the ultimate version of this ultimate album, featuring not only the original album from ¼ inch master tapes discovered in founder Brian Tatler’s archives, but also alternative mixes of classic cuts “Lightning To The Nations”, “The Prince”, “Sucking My Love” , “Am I Evil?” and “Sweet And Innocent” never publicly released (or heard) before. There is also brand-new cover artwork based on an idea Brian Tatler had to show a character referred to as ‘The Lightning God’.

The original tapes were first quite literally baked (a process which allows degraded tape to be returned to playable quality), then restored and digitized before Diamond Head frontman Rasmus ‘Ras’ Bom Andersen remastered the tracks, ending up with a pristine edition of the original recordings. The alternative mixes, pure treasure for all fans of both Diamond Head and the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, are supplemented by a set of bonus tracks originally recorded in 1980s, and rounding-out this ultimate edition are a set of deep and detailed notes on both the era and each song by Brian Tatler.

Lightning To The Nations (The White Album) Remastered 2021, will be released as a double CD, a deluxe 180 gms gatefold triple-vinyl edition containing the original album remastered, the lost mixes and the bonus tracks. There will also be a single vinyl edition of just the remastered album, also on 180 gms.

“We wrote instinctively,” says Brian Tatler in his notes, “we had an undeniably unique sound. Four young lads, each with an element that, when combined, produced an alloy that was our own heavy metal sound.” Lighting To The Nations (The White Album) remains an indispensable alloy for any set of self-respecting

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

The Globeflower Masters Vol. 1 takes its inspiration from classic soundtrack and cinematic composers such as Axelrod, Morricone, Gainsbourg, Jean-Claude Vannier and Piero Umiliani. Created during Summer 2020, this album is the product of a fruitful collaboration between Brighton-based musicians Glenn Fallows (The Impellers / Andres y Xavi) and Mark Treffel (Blue States / The Soul Steppers). These seasoned performing and recording artists have put their abundance of experience and skilful musicianship into effect with aplomb on this album. This is as accomplished a debut release as you will ever hear, and dare we say, a future classic in the making.

The Globeflower Masters project was borne from an idea Glenn had to create an album that leant on the influence of soundtrack and library composers - particularly of the late 60s and early 70s. This rich sonic palette had previously been innate in his writing and composition but, for this album, the direct inspiration was placed front and centre. After penning several sketches, Glenn contacted Mark to fulfil the vision he had for a complete sound. Mark had an arsenal of vintage synths, pianos and other fun toys which could supplement the drums, guitars and bass that Glenn had been working on. As the album progressed, the pair worked increasingly collaboratively, with each of them starting and sharing ideas to curate the final eight finished tracks.

The results are an album of lush, warm, timeless productions that are drenched in strings and classical instrumentation. Awash with atmospheric excursions, it is a listening experience that moves you through moods whilst transporting you to a world of deeply evocative settings and imagined scenarios. The Globeflower Masters Vol. 1 resonates equally as well on a dark melancholic Winter's day as it does sound-tracking a halcyon Summer day. Though influenced by 60s and 70s productions the record is not a simple pastiche, feeling both simultaneously brand new as well as authentically retro.

- Stunning debut album filled with lush, warm, timeless productions.

- Taking inspiration from classic 60s and 70s soundtrack, and cinematic, composers such as Axelrod, Morricone and Gainsbourg

Tape
Los Angeles native Sha Sha Kimbo undeniably lives for the rave. As exemplified through her every intentional move as a producer, DJ, promoter, radio host and label owner, Sha Sha radiates an unwavering love for amplifying, nurturing and supporting the culture of underground electronic music and the community that surrounds it, with her forthcoming release absolutely no exception to this.

Set for release as a digital download and limited edition cassette tape on August 13, the LA rave staple is happy to announce her debut EP on Evar Records, Total Chaos. A brilliant testament to the cathartic importance of staying up late and getting lost in a buzzing crowd of kindred spirits, Total Chaos harnesses the universal experience of having pent-up energy into massive, angst-ridden breakbeat anthems. Over six tracks, Sha Sha channels the hair-raising spirit of '90s rave along with her formative experiences with DMZ-via-Low End Theory dubstep and punk rock. Finding her place within LA's bass music, house, techno and rave scenes while defying easy categorization, Sha Sha personifies the no-rules electronic music ethos behind John Frusciante and Aura T-09's Evar Records. To supplement Total Chaos' three originals, LYZZA, Machine Girl and LCY provide three raw remixes highlighting various aspects of Sha Sha Kimbo's renegade rave spirit.

Drawing from the Los Angeles punk rock and '90s rave music that soundtracked her youth, Total Chaos personifies how she grew up on the dance floor, showcasing Sha Sha's tried and true ability to express rich, nuanced emotions through tracks that, first and foremost, can level a warehouse party. Kicking off the vibe on July 30, the EP's lead single "Save The World" is a perfect representation of this, with the jump-up rave cut employing a megaton breakbeat and sickly-sweet vocal samples over simmering base of dark, UK-influenced atmospherics. From the late night energy of the title track to the euphoric, dawn-breaking feel of "Limited Perfect," Total Chaos offers the refuge of a robust dance floor with the warm reassurance to be one with the universe.

Rounding out Total Chaos EP are three remixes that amicably and serendipitously support Sha Sha Kimbo's visionary aim to both explore the unknown and bring people together along the way. Brazilian-born, Amsterdam-based powerhouse LYZZA adds a full verse and a nest of serrated rhythms to her version of "Total Chaos," while New York's Machine Girl applies their trademark punk electronics approach to "Save The World." Meanwhile, Bristol's own LCY hollows out "Limited Perfect" into a haunting amalgam of post-punk minimalism and low-frequency pressure. A study of the opposing light and dark energies of underground dance music, Total Chaos presents a breakbeat-heavy vortex, sure to awaken everyone's inner raver.

It’s the desire to celebrate their sonic bounty that first got Oberst and the band excited about
the idea of comprehensive reissues. But this wouldn’t be a Bright Eyes project if a moment
devoted to appreciating the past weren’t turned into an opportunity to connect with the future.
That’s where the companion EPs (on Opaque Gold vinyl) come in. Or as Oberst puts it, “the
supplemental reading” for the primary reissues: one six-track EP per reissued album, each
featuring five reworked songs from that album. “My thing was they had to sound different from
the originals, we had to mess with them in a substantial way.” Plus one cover that felt “of the
era” in which that particular albums was made - a song that meant something to the band at
the time. To help the EPs come alive in the fullest way, Bright Eyes called in lots of old friends,
like Bridgers, M. Ward, and Welch and Rawlings, as well as new ones like Katie Crutchfield of
Waxahatchee.
‘Fevers And Mirrors’ is pressed on Merlot Wave coloured double vinyl.

It’s the desire to celebrate their sonic bounty that first got Oberst and the band excited about
the idea of comprehensive reissues. But this wouldn’t be a Bright Eyes project if a moment
devoted to appreciating the past weren’t turned into an opportunity to connect with the future.
That’s where the companion EPs (on Opaque Gold vinyl) come in. Or as Oberst puts it, “the
supplemental reading” for the primary reissues: one six-track EP per reissued album, each
featuring five reworked songs from that album. “My thing was they had to sound different from
the originals, we had to mess with them in a substantial way.” Plus one cover that felt “of the
era” in which that particular albums was made - a song that meant something to the band at
the time. To help the EPs come alive in the fullest way, Bright Eyes called in lots of old friends,
like Bridgers, M. Ward, and Welch and Rawlings, as well as new ones like Katie Crutchfield of
Waxahatchee.
 ‘Fevers And Mirrors’ is pressed on Merlot Wave coloured double vinyl

It’s the desire to celebrate their sonic bounty that first got Oberst and the band excited about
the idea of comprehensive reissues. But this wouldn’t be a Bright Eyes project if a moment
devoted to appreciating the past weren’t turned into an opportunity to connect with the future.
That’s where the companion EPs (on Opaque Gold vinyl) come in. Or as Oberst puts it, “the
supplemental reading” for the primary reissues: one six-track EP per reissued album, each
featuring five reworked songs from that album. “My thing was they had to sound different from
the originals, we had to mess with them in a substantial way.” Plus one cover that felt “of the
era” in which that particular albums was made - a song that meant something to the band at
the time. To help the EPs come alive in the fullest way, Bright Eyes called in lots of old friends,
like Bridgers, M. Ward, and Welch and Rawlings, as well as new ones like Katie Crutchfield of
Waxahatchee.
‘Fevers And Mirrors’ is pressed on Merlot Wave coloured double vinyl.

Single sleeve, 12” 45rpm EP. 'Avocet Revisited' is a four track EP, commissioned by Earth recordings as a companion piece to Bert Jansch’s 1979 avian-themed masterstroke ‘Avocet’. Again drawing inspiration from the resplendence of birds native to British waters (Bert himself was a keen ornithologist), Earth invited this quartet of artists to each choose a species that particularly speaks to them, and base a track around it. The results have been universally graceful, evocative, and majestic - much like the creatures themselves. Fulmar - Drifting low and gliding high, the flight patterns of this gull-like creature are echoed in Edwyn Collins and Carwyn Ellis’s paean to the bird that spends most of its life airborne. Part waltz, part lullaby, ‘Fulmar’ is exquisite in its simplicity, with Carwyn’s elegant arrangements providing the perfect foil for Edwyn’s unmistakeable intonation. // Curlew - The opening of Modern Studies’ track - the call of the Curlew itself - is as recognisable as the looping feathered frame of its namesake. Perfectly showcasing the handsome orchestral arrangements that have become the group’s signature style, there is a lightness of touch here that evokes Virginia Astley’s ‘From Gardens Where We Feel Secure’. // Goosander - Another Scottish resident, both artist and avian. Unmistakably Alasdair Roberts, ‘Goosander’ is at once refined and somewhat feral; Alasdair’s picking supplemented by sighing organ drones and spartan electric guitar. // Golden Plover - Playing us out, Trembling Bells’ contribution has a Harvest feel - the last days of summer invoked by the warm refrain and gentle orchestration found on 'Golden Plover’. In another lifetime, this song - infused with the sounds of yesteryear - could very easily have made it onto the Wicker Man soundtrack… which should tell you all you need to know. A pagan hymn reimagined for the Scarfolk era! The band is joined by Callum Calderwood (violin), Rory Haye (vocals), Andrew Pattie (vocals) and Belle & Sebastian’s Stevie Jackson (12 string guitar). // Notes come courtesy of musician and keen twitcher, Karine Polwart, whose lyrical, prosaic turn of phrase brings the creatures here to life, as effortlessly as the songs themselves. Artwork again comes from Earth collaborator Hannah Alice (recently nominated for the Art Vinyl 2016) who has gifted each bird magnificent new plumage in her unique style.

It’s the desire to celebrate their sonic bounty that first got Oberst and the band excited about
the idea of comprehensive reissues. But this wouldn’t be a Bright Eyes project if a moment
devoted to appreciating the past weren’t turned into an opportunity to connect with the future.
That’s where the companion EPs (on Opaque Gold vinyl) come in. Or as Oberst puts it, “the
supplemental reading” for the primary reissues: one six-track EP per reissued album, each
featuring five reworked songs from that album. “My thing was they had to sound different from
the originals, we had to mess with them in a substantial way.” Plus one cover that felt “of the
era” in which that particular albums was made - a song that meant something to the band at
the time. To help the EPs come alive in the fullest way, Bright Eyes called in lots of old friends,
like Bridgers, M. Ward, and Welch and Rawlings, as well as new ones like Katie Crutchfield of
Waxahatchee.
 ‘Fevers And Mirrors’ is pressed on Merlot Wave coloured double vinyl

It’s the desire to celebrate their sonic bounty that first got Oberst and the band excited about
the idea of comprehensive reissues. But this wouldn’t be a Bright Eyes project if a moment
devoted to appreciating the past weren’t turned into an opportunity to connect with the future.
That’s where the companion EPs (on Opaque Gold vinyl) come in. Or as Oberst puts it, “the
supplemental reading” for the primary reissues: one six-track EP per reissued album, each
featuring five reworked songs from that album. “My thing was they had to sound different from
the originals, we had to mess with them in a substantial way.” Plus one cover that felt “of the
era” in which that particular albums was made - a song that meant something to the band at
the time. To help the EPs come alive in the fullest way, Bright Eyes called in lots of old friends,
like Bridgers, M. Ward, and Welch and Rawlings, as well as new ones like Katie Crutchfield of
Waxahatchee.
 ‘Fevers And Mirrors’ is pressed on Merlot Wave coloured double vinyl

It’s the desire to celebrate their sonic bounty that first got Oberst and the band excited about
the idea of comprehensive reissues. But this wouldn’t be a Bright Eyes project if a moment
devoted to appreciating the past weren’t turned into an opportunity to connect with the future.
That’s where the companion EPs (on Opaque Gold vinyl) come in. Or as Oberst puts it, “the
supplemental reading” for the primary reissues: one six-track EP per reissued album, each
featuring five reworked songs from that album. “My thing was they had to sound different from
the originals, we had to mess with them in a substantial way.” Plus one cover that felt “of the
era” in which that particular albums was made - a song that meant something to the band at
the time. To help the EPs come alive in the fullest way, Bright Eyes called in lots of old friends,
like Bridgers, M. Ward, and Welch and Rawlings, as well as new ones like Katie Crutchfield of
Waxahatchee.
‘Fevers And Mirrors’ is pressed on Merlot Wave coloured double vinyl.

The Ricardo Villalobos / Samuel Rohrer partnership has yielded increasingly interesting results over the past few years, with the former’s remixes of the latter’s trio Ambiq being supplemented by further reinterpretations of Rohrer’s solo work and live meetings at select events like Berlin’s Funkhaus and Radialsystem V. As should be the case with any strong collaboration, this partnership has been based on mutual challenge rather than compromise,
seeing each participant shuttle key technical and emotive aspects of the other’s work to previously unexpected places.
Those who have been closely following this relationship will notice a definite sense of continuity between previous outings and the new collaborative release entitled MICROGESTURES. As with those earlier Villalobos / Rohrer pairings, these four new pieces are defined by a special quality of being many things that once: that is to say, depending on the listener’s own level of focus, these can feel very tightly constructed and disciplined, or playful and freely wandering. That the tracks are equally engaging regardless of one’s chosen listening “mode” is a testament to the level of thought put into them; you could almost imagining the creators poring over some elaborate sketched set of architectural blueprints rather than coolly monitoring the usual multi-track editing software.
Altogether the music here is firmly a-melodic and percussive, but within these deliberate limitations there is still a greater variety of individual sounds than most would bother with. Each track is its own observatory of microgestures clustering together into a dense communicative fog or a sort of robotic sound swarm. Yet while all
these tracks are variations on that theme, each one has its own character and, consequently, its own rewards in terms of the exact sectors of the imagination that it activates.
Take for example “Cochlea” and its twin “Helix,” on which the magnetizing, busy layers of percussion are tempered with mischievously disruptive blossomings of digital noise, as well as sampled radio communications (which again bring us back to the idea of listeners’ attentiveness changing the meaning of this music - these
curious transmissions can either be taken as a purely aesthetic element or as something to be actively decoded).
Club-oriented elements are also not absent from this suite, particularly on “Incus” with its traditional sequenced baseline, crisp synthetic trap and hats, and dizzily sliding set of bell-like tones laid on top.?
Yet this track, too, is powered as much by its restless desire to deviate as by its rhythmic consistency: throughout the eleven-minute running time, a mass of ambiguous and restless machine sounds build a parallel narrative, and will maybe prompt the occasional glance over the shoulder as they seem to be taking on their own life. “Lobule” rounds out the program with the most rhythmically eventful sound set off the five.
What this all adds up to is a confident music which builds that quality from its faith in possibilities rather than firm conclusions: it’s an inspiring addition to both the musical landscape and reality in general

The idiosyncratic musical style and production practices by Sheldon, Sidney Thompson (aka Sid Le Rock) are shaped by the DIY electronic-music movement that has encouraged his creativity to develop and thrive since the late ’90s. This is a contributing factor to his impressive discography that currently stands at twelve albums under his various aliases, including Sid’s collaborations with artists from various fields and musical genres such as Depeche Mode, DJ Koze, Placebo, and persistent impressions of the journeys he has made throughout the world as a result of his live music performances.

These invaluable experiences are the supplements for his next important leap forward as follows: As a tribal member of the Algonquin First Nations, Sid seeks to explore his ancestral heritage to uncover the traditional, ceremonial soundscapes of the Native American indigenous peoples as an integral component for his new solo album project – Invisible Nation. It is his respectful endeavour to bind this seamlessly together through his knowledge of music theory and his own distinctive production sound. Sid Le Rock’s current album concept is a fusion of traditional music and organic elements utilised by the Aboriginal peoples of Canada, combined with the modernisation of electronic-based music. Mixing of both sound styles achieve balance with a shared importance to rhythm as a source of impulse and functionality. It is his equitable attempt to produce and deliver a complementary synthesis of sonic peculiarities, modern electronic methods and the repurposed use of ceremonial music, to showcase a profound pride and pay homage to his forebears.

The Algonquin First Nations otherwise referred to as Anishinaabe, are a group of indigenous peoples present in the Great Lakes region of Canada. They consider music and dance to be sacred and an integral part of their lives. It is a culture in which it heavily relies on rich oral traditions to pass on its stories, teachings, history, and cultivates their verbal language. Membranophone, idiophone, aerophone, and chanting are traditionally essential components to our sacred sound, "Drumming is the heartbeat of Mother Earth, chanting is the heart”. This musical connection produces a narrative depth that can transport an effective atmosphere to dance-floors, bridged by the unconventional virtues, to which electronic music permits limitless possibilities. Sid Le Rock’s latest release, marks his eighth studio album – Invisible Nation, is an exploration into his cultural roots, combining myth and musical expression to bring forth a prideful nation.

Not much is known about the German session musician ensemble Studiogruppe 1 from the ‘70s and ‘80s. It’s believed that the grandfather of one member, known only as V.S., originally soundtracked silent films in theatres - although that hasn’t been proved. Studiogruppe1 never rose to prominence in the heyday of studio groups and library records, but it certainly wasn’t due to lack of trying.

Although it’s unknown who the individual members of Studiogruppe1 were, it’s clear they could find a groove within the machines. It appears the sessions were also engineered by V.S., and there’s plenty of space between the notes, which lends a heady atmosphere of anticipation to the music. Just close your eyes and you will find that the music triggers many scenes from the movies in your mind.

Take the opener Dunkler Sonnenaufgang, for example. Waves lap on the shore line of an alternate Coney Island, while the sound system of an abandoned amusement park plays arpeggios in the distance. Errinungen could complement expansive panoramic time-lapses of natural cycles and rolling clouds. The track Wenn Der Tiefe Schlaf Kommt, might accompany a documentary on REM dream cycles and flotation tanks. Sonnentanz raises the temperature, as act III in every movie narrative should, as protagonists rush to overcome their challenges. Ein Neuer Anfang would perfectly soundtrack the plot twist of any number of thrillers, film noirs, or sci-fi mysteries. Album closer War Alles Nur Ein Traum could supplement slow-motion shots of dawning realization, foreshadowing a betrayal or a cliffhanger.

V.S. and Studiogruppe1 have condensed the evocative sounds of the ’80s into something of an art form. Bringing to mind the lilting melodies and melancholy chord movements of Tangerine Dream, Vangelis or Manuel Göttsching, Studiogruppe1 manage to capture widescreen emotional flash points without the need for celluloid, or barely any visual aid, for that matter. These tracks work just as well in the furnace of your imagination or a dark room filled with dry ice and lasers.

Barry Gray’s soundtrack LP to the 1962 series “Fireball XL5” from Gerry and Sylvia Anderson will be released on vinyl early in 2021 on Silva Screen Records, the next in a series of Anderson releases which has so far featured UFO, Supercar and Thunderbirds.

Fireball XL5 was set in 2062 and followed the exploits of the eponymous spaceship commanded by Colonel Steve Zodiac of the World Space Patrol. It was produced, like most other Anderson productions, in Supermarionation, using puppetry techniques that captured the imagination of a generation.

Composer Barry Gray collaborated with the Andersons on all the Supermarionation series, his jazzy style supplemented by the use of an electronically augmented keyboard, the Ondes Martenot, creating the other-worldly atmosphere which became synonymous with the sci-fi series.

A further volume of ryūkōka recordings, covering the end of the 1920s though to the late 1930s, supplementing the recent Longing for the Shadow collection...

Emerging during the early stages of the recording industry in Japan, the ryūkōka style adopted western classical, blues & jazz elements into traditional and classical Japanese music.

Is It Really Goodbye? further collects pre-war ryūkōka records which capture the hauntingly unique sound of a cultural merging that was starting to reflect itself via popular song, ahead of the widespread influence of western pop music during post-war US occupation.

LIMITED-EDITION SANDS OF TIME COLOR VINYL VERSION Open The Gates is Philadelphia-based free jazz collective IRREVERSIBLE ENTANGLEMENTS's third full length album (and first double LP length album). Recorded at Rittenhouse Soundworks in Philadelphia, across 73 minutes of music the band - featuring Camae Ayewa aka Moor Mother, trumpeter Aquiles Navarro & drummer Tcheser Holmes (who released their duo debut Heritage of the Invisible II on International Anthem last year), saxophonist Keir Neuringer, and bassist Luke Stewart - supplement their raw, organic punk-jazz sound with firsttime experiments with electronics and synthesizers.

 Nils Landgren was born in 1956 and grew up with the music of his
father, a jazz cornetist, and the church music of his grandfather, a
pastor. He never lost his strong affinity for his own musical heritage.
 Esbjörn Svensson, born in 1964, didn’t want to play folk music at first.
At home with the music of Chopin, Ellington, or disco-pop groups
such as The Sweet, the pianist had first found his place in the
competitive music scene in Sweden. His trio was a success and in his
homeland, he was voted Jazz Musician Of The Year in 1995 and
1996. The first sprinkling of jobs became a steady flow. Svensson
proved himself in the bands of his friend Nils Landgren. The music
was about funk and soul, occasionally pop and, in the main, classic
jazz. But not folklore.
 It was through the influence of Landgren and Svensson’s former
teacher Bengt-Arne Wallin, who recorded the landmark album ‘Old
Folklore In Swedish Modern’ back in 1962, that Svensson and
Landgren were inspired to make a duo album centred around folk
songs. In August 1997, both went into the studio and, with only
trombone and piano, recorded ‘Swedish Folk Modern’. Their
improvised treatments of the classic songs of the folk culture not only
impressed the public; it brought praise from the press. Svensson and
Landgren had created more than just a few impressions in duo.
Discarding any sort of large conceptual superstructure, they had
continued what Jan Johansson’s Jazz på Svenska and Bengt-Arne
Wallin had begun in the early Sixties and what has since become a
major force within the inner workings of European jazz.
 The time after ‘Swedish Folk Modern’ was hectic and exciting. Nils
Landgren’s Funk Unit advanced to the position of a celebrated festival
act. Svensson’s own trio, E.S.T., expanded beyond Scandinavia’s
borders, where the band’s fortunes skyrocketed. Inundated with jobs,
the musicians finally found the time to once again get together, in
December 1999 in Oslo’s Rainbow Studio. It would be a meeting full
of exceptional jazz energy. Even more than the first time, they would
rely on the force of reduction. Moods would be suggested, left open.
Melodies worked out in simple clarity. Delicate variations
supplemented and amplified both the original and traditional motifs of
the central musical im- pressions. ‘Layers Of Light’ is an affair of the
hearts of two artists who went back to their roots. That makes their
music truthful, direct and authentic in a wondrous way.