Suche:tau

Meet Me at the Gloaming is the long-awaited second album from Los Angeles indie artist A.O. Gerber. Following-on from her acclaimed 2020 album Another Place To Need, which enjoyed support from the likes of Gorilla vs Bear, NPR and The Line Of Best Fit, who gave the record a glowing 9/10 review, the new LP showcases Gerber's knack for subtly infectious indie-pop, crunching, atmospheric alternative-rock and classic acoustic songwriting. Across Meet Me at the Gloaming, A.O. Gerber carefully grapples with the constraints she was taught as a child to reach for the flourishing that comes when we look past the black and white, and into the grey gauze of the in-between. “I was thinking about how damaging it can be to exist in that binary space of good and evil,” Gerber explains. “When we see everything in either/or’s, we lose the nuance and complexity that make life rich enough to be worth living.” By interlocking memory and imagination, Gerber crafts a gleaming future, where the light and the dark don’t just coexist - they create a new colour entirely.

Olympia“ entstand während der Pandemie und beschreibt schwierige Zeiten. Umgeben von Nebel und Gefühlen, die in Wirklichkeit Momentaufnahmen einer fast allbestimmenden Schwere.Bittere Ironie des Schicksals als Stilelement seiner Texte; Zenith des Scheiterns. Am Ende schaut man nur noch YouTubeVideos. Liegt rum, versinkt in alten Sport-Videos und lässt gelähmt die Stunden verstreichen. Während Menschen auf dem Bildschirm in 47 Sekunden 100 Meter Schwimmen und damit ihr komplettes Leben und die Welt verändern, bekommt man selbst nichts mehr auf die Reihe. Totaler Stillstand. Das Bild ruckelt.

Zwischen Apathie, Slo-Motion-Sadness und Geschwindigkeitsrekorden entsteht der Drang, etwas derart
Destruktives in etwas Konstruktives zu transformieren. Ein Ziel, das Betterov auf seinem Debütalbum erreicht hat. „Olympia“ sucht nach Gründen und spendet Hoffnung. Es geht um Liebe, um verlorene
Liebe, um den Wunsch, jemand anderes zu sein, sich selbst zu finden. Die Sehnsucht, Teil einer Gruppe zu sein. Nur um am Ende zu erkennen, dass die eigene Unangepasstheit eigentlich die größte Stärke ist.Gemeinsam mit befreundeten Musikern ist unter Aufsicht des Producer-Duos Tim Tautorat (Pharrell, Herbert Grönemeyer, AnnenMayKantereit) und Dennis Borger (Razz, Anoki, Trille) in den Berliner HansaStudios eine Scheibe entstanden, deren dichter, kompromisslos rauer und doch einnehmender Sound viel
mehr nach Band, als desperatem Alleinunterhalter klingt. Guter Move.

Olympia“ entstand während der Pandemie und beschreibt schwierige Zeiten. Umgeben von Nebel und Gefühlen, die in Wirklichkeit Momentaufnahmen einer fast allbestimmenden Schwere.Bittere Ironie des Schicksals als Stilelement seiner Texte; Zenith des Scheiterns. Am Ende schaut man nur noch YouTubeVideos. Liegt rum, versinkt in alten Sport-Videos und lässt gelähmt die Stunden verstreichen. Während Menschen auf dem Bildschirm in 47 Sekunden 100 Meter Schwimmen und damit ihr komplettes Leben und die Welt verändern, bekommt man selbst nichts mehr auf die Reihe. Totaler Stillstand. Das Bild ruckelt.

Zwischen Apathie, Slo-Motion-Sadness und Geschwindigkeitsrekorden entsteht der Drang, etwas derart
Destruktives in etwas Konstruktives zu transformieren. Ein Ziel, das Betterov auf seinem Debütalbum erreicht hat. „Olympia“ sucht nach Gründen und spendet Hoffnung. Es geht um Liebe, um verlorene
Liebe, um den Wunsch, jemand anderes zu sein, sich selbst zu finden. Die Sehnsucht, Teil einer Gruppe zu sein. Nur um am Ende zu erkennen, dass die eigene Unangepasstheit eigentlich die größte Stärke ist.Gemeinsam mit befreundeten Musikern ist unter Aufsicht des Producer-Duos Tim Tautorat (Pharrell, Herbert Grönemeyer, AnnenMayKantereit) und Dennis Borger (Razz, Anoki, Trille) in den Berliner HansaStudios eine Scheibe entstanden, deren dichter, kompromisslos rauer und doch einnehmender Sound viel
mehr nach Band, als desperatem Alleinunterhalter klingt. Guter Move.

Am besten immer schön zwischen alle Stühle setzen, das ergibt - nicht zwangsläufig, aber oft - die interessantere Musik. Und im Falle von Kuhn Fu definitiv die lustigere. Seit 2012 hat die Band um den Gitarristen Christian Kühn eine singuläre und sehr eigensinnige Form von Jazzrock (oder Rockjazz) entwickelt, zwischen Parodie und einer großen Ernsthaftigkeit, mit der sie gegen musikalische Scheuklappen anspielt. Kühns mit John Dikeman (Saxofon), Tobias Delius (Saxofon, Klarinette), Ziv Taubenfeld Bassklarinette), Sofia Salvo (Saxofon), Esat Ekincioglu (Bass) und George Hadow (Drums) international besetztes Ensemble spielt die vor Melodien und kompositorischen Ideen überbordenden Stücke, als ginge es ums Ganze. Die Komik, die in der Musik Kuhn Fus immer präsent ist, nimmt ihr nichts von ihrer Intensität. "Ich liebe tonale Musik", erzählt Christian Kühn. "Tonal gespielt und dann überspitzt, darum geht es, deswegen klingt es immer wieder mal parodistisch." Parodie - aber auch Klamauk. Auf Jazz Is Expensive erzählt Kühn das Märchen "Vom Fischer und seiner Frau" noch einmal neu und anders. Der Vortrag Kühns trägt sein Übriges bei: Mit forciertem deutschem Akzent wird auf Englisch die Geschichte zu einem modernen Märchen umgeformt. Hauptfigur ist der Fischer Marcel De Champignon, ein Hornspieler, der auf der Suche nach der perfekten Melodie ist - "the melody that makes millions". Diesen Wunsch soll ihm der Fisch erfüllen, "Bruno the Architect" der Name.

Freedy Johnston is one of those rare singer-songwriters who counts
critics among his biggest fans — and whose heroes consider him a peer.
Not bad for a self-proclaimed "geek in glasses who never left his room."
Johnston's 9th album, 'Back on the Road to You' is a record steeped in
wit, humor, pathos, love, and friendship drenched with memorable,
infectious melodies
Johnston recorded the album in Los Angeles with producer Eric Corne after
setting up house in nearby Joshua Tree. The new surroundings seem to have
imbued the album's mood and instrumentation with echoes of The Byrds,
Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, and Neil Young. Joining Johnston in the studio
were Aimee Mann, Susanna Hoffs of The Bangles, and longtime collaborator,
Susan Cowsill, along with an all-star roots music band, including Doug Pettibone
(Lucinda Williams), Dusty Wakeman (Jim Lauderdale), Dave Raven (Shelby Lynn)
and Sasha Smith (Priscilla Ahn).In 1994 Rolling Stone named Johnston the
'Songwriter of the Year', describing him as "A master storyteller, (who) sketches
out full- blown tragedies in a few taut poetic lines." Adding, "He joins that elite
cadre of songwriters—Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Elvis Costello—whose brilliant pop
compositions turn magical with the addition of a defiantly idiosyncratic singing
voice."
'Back on the Road to You' is a return to grace for this gifted songwriter. It
embodies the sound of an American original reminding us that he is still
considered one of the best songwriters of his generation.

Freedy Johnston is one of those rare singer-songwriters who counts
critics among his biggest fans — and whose heroes consider him a peer.
Not bad for a self-proclaimed "geek in glasses who never left his room."
Johnston's 9th album, 'Back on the Road to You' is a record steeped in
wit, humor, pathos, love, and friendship drenched with memorable,
infectious melodies
Johnston recorded the album in Los Angeles with producer Eric Corne after
setting up house in nearby Joshua Tree. The new surroundings seem to have
imbued the album's mood and instrumentation with echoes of The Byrds,
Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, and Neil Young. Joining Johnston in the studio
were Aimee Mann, Susanna Hoffs of The Bangles, and longtime collaborator,
Susan Cowsill, along with an all-star roots music band, including Doug Pettibone
(Lucinda Williams), Dusty Wakeman (Jim Lauderdale), Dave Raven (Shelby Lynn)
and Sasha Smith (Priscilla Ahn).In 1994 Rolling Stone named Johnston the
'Songwriter of the Year', describing him as "A master storyteller, (who) sketches
out full- blown tragedies in a few taut poetic lines." Adding, "He joins that elite
cadre of songwriters—Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Elvis Costello—whose brilliant pop
compositions turn magical with the addition of a defiantly idiosyncratic singing
voice."
'Back on the Road to You' is a return to grace for this gifted songwriter. It
embodies the sound of an American original reminding us that he is still
considered one of the best songwriters of his generation.

Wonky noir specialist, Kercha, is back with five spun-out cuts, merging dubstep, jazz, garage, techno and a whole lot of weird.

‘Disarray’ is as discombobulating as its title suggests, a slinky beat hidden among umpteen odds and ends from Kercha’s cabinet of curiosities. A subby wiggle here, a far-off siren there, the warm tinkling of a Fender Rhodes, and was that someone falling down the stairs? Our only constant allies are a vaguely disturbing vocal and a bass clarinet that’s definitely up to no good.

‘Witness’ employs a similar palette but switches tactics, stripping back to the basics as faint whispers and the ever-growing presence of a whirring alarm suggest something dangerous might be lurking around the corner.

‘Conjugate’ is more direct, the percussion elevated from its usual backseat as thudding kicks and taught snares make their presence felt among the digi-dub wobbles — a theme repeated on digital bonus track ‘New World’, though there, jagged mid-bass lines provide an extra dollop of screwface-inciting muck.

And bringing this leg of DNO’s journey to a close is ‘Long Way’, which rumbles along like a lonely night train, its chugging bassline matched with eerie engine whistles, the rhythmic clink of a cowbell and, somewhere deep in the mix, the familiar clickety-clack of tracks.

Weaving together disparate worlds like some interdimensional architect, Kercha simultaneously places us among the inebriated haze and freewheeling expression of a basement jazz club, and the 10-tonne rhythms that have fuelled DNO’s parent party The Mine for the past decade, and will continue to do so into the future.

Rhythms of postmodern realism at the very bottom of the DNO.

Clear Vinyl

Laila Sakini and Lucy Van’s sought after 2017 EP Figures resurfaces on a newly expanded and remastered edition, deploying taut poetry and creeping electro-pulses for an alchemical suite of slowly encroaching trip hop x dub-pop.

Long before releasing her slow-burn classic ‘Vivienne’ and last year’s compelling Princess Diana of Wales album, Laila Sakini was at work with acclaimed poet Lucy Van for an impromptu session for a local noise and spoken word night in Naarm, Australia. Those initial ideas marinated and eventually resulted in ‘Figures’ - an EP that was originally released on tape via Purely Physical Teeny Tapes, offseting Sakini’s minimal production against Van’s text, spoken in a carefully enunciated dialect lifted and wrapped around Sakini’s nocturnes. It’s the sort of thing that reminds us of Tin Man & Rashad Becker’s ‘Wasteland’ sessions, fused with the spirit of the contemporary Naarm/Melbourne scene.

For all those references, Sakini and Van’s songs are displaced from the contemporary wellspring too. The dusky blue waltz of opener ‘Those Who See’ comes off like a lighter Leslie Winer or melodic, early AFX, as Van dryly intones “...all my enemies in an orgy, of IQ to body ratio,” while ‘Deep End’ sees them nudge into more claustrophobic introspection, before shoring up a dank sort of trip hop sleaze with the title song, slithering with a similar energy to early 90’s Autechre as the narration echoes to a blur.

The three previously unreleased songs flesh out the release into the full album it always should have been, cut of equally rare, hand-spun fabric. With its post-Sleng Teng B-line and noctilucent chords, ‘What You Need’ feels like an Eski rhythmic bump accompanied by sub-aquatic synth bass, and the opalescent, gumtree-shaking shimmer ‘Rough Desires’ secretes its intimations with an absorbingly hypnagogic slow-burn that pools into the perfect curtain closer; ‘Trees Make Me High’.

Limited edition picture disc in full colour printed sleeve

Covered In Stars featuring members of Luna, Spacemen 3, Slowdive, Spectrum, Add N To (X), The Vacant Lots, Spiritualized, Slipstream and more.

This is a wonderfully colourful, beautiful fun and powerfully transcendent album by Fuxa, Featuring driving drum machines, gritty fuzz bitten guitars on The Sun Is Shining and Mary, 80's neon midnight post-punk disco grooves on Shadazz and perfectly blissed out floating in space vibes (Help Me Please and Cluster Fuxa). The synths shimmer and elevate, guitars attack and sparkle and the vocals deliver dark romanticism which evoke often David Cronenberg inspired fantasies such as photographs of car crashes, crushes on perfect strangers and unknown futures. 
 - Simon Scott (Slowdive)


Fuxa returns in 2022 with a new album  'Covered In Stars'
 
Eight new songs and several years in the making, of what can best be described as a full on sonic explosion. Mixing space-rock elements, krautrock rhythms, punchy beats and swirling electronic sweeps and beeps that would make for a perfect soundtrack for any warp speed travelling cosmonauts with phasers set to fun!!
 
For the past 25 years Fuxa front man Randall Nieman has no doubt been on a cosmic journey in sound and space. from his early beginnings a part of Detroit locals Windy and Carl as a guitarist/synth player, running and releasing close to 100 releases on his own label Mind Expansion, to later joining Sonic Boom's (Spacemen 3) group Spectrum for close to a decade. Performing the songs that Spacemen taught him touring across North America and Europe as well as recording and releasing several releases with Sonic under the Spectrum moniker. 
Randall has since worked with and released numerous amounts of material with the likes of Martin Rev (Suicide), The Telescopes and Dean and Britta (Luna) to name a few.
 
It is no surprise that Randall would once again build this new album with friends that he became close to over the years musically and there's certainly no shortage of indie royalty star power on this album
 
Produced by Randall Nieman, Richard Formby and Stefan Persson.
Mastered by Simon Scott (Slowdive)
This album features guest appearances from Britta Phillips and Dean Wareham (Luna), Ann Shenton (Add N to (X)), Mark Refoy and Jonny Mattock (Spiritualized, Slipstream), Roger Brogan (Spectrum/Dean Wareham), Jared Artaud (Vacant Lots) and more! Each adding an unmistakable and timeless element that Fuxa's core members have created. 
It would be hard not to notice the sheer aesthetic glory of this release as once again Randall has chosen the amazing James Marsh (most would remember him as the phenomenal artist responsible for all the Talk Talk albums over the years. His artwork is not only featured on the jacket but on both sides of the limited edition picture disc vinyl.
Covered in stars is a celebration of 25 years of music and friendships made along the way. 

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Fuxa! 

Seine Alben sind Welten, die Musikvideos legendär: Seit zehn Jahren ist Action Bronson der unverwechselbare HipHop-Held der Herzen. Heute veröffentlicht der in Queens geborene Rapper mit albanischen
Wurzeln, der zweifache ”New York Times”-Bestsellerautor, ehemalige Küchenchef und TV-Koch sein neues Album ”Cocodrillo Turbo” mit Features von u.a. Conway the Machine und Roc Marciano. Physisch erscheint das Album am 7. Oktober auf Vinyl &CD.

Auf dem Album ”Cocodrillo Turbo” kann man den neuen Hunger des 38-Jährigen spüren, der aufgrund gesundheitlicher Probleme während der Pandemie eine Bosstransformation absolvierte, über 160 Pfund abund das Kampfsporttraining aufnahm – und es so bis zum spielbaren Charakter in EA Sports ”UFC 4” schaffte. ”Ich habe nicht das Gefühl, dass mir der verdammte Respekt entgegengebracht wird, den ich verdiene”, erklärt Bronson, der auf ”Cocodrillo Turbo” seine Lines über Prog-Rock-Samples und gut abgehangene Beats von Produzenten wie Daringer und The Alchemist spuckt. ”Es gibt nicht viele da draußen, die mein verdammtes Suspensorium anfassen können.”

Auf ”Cocodrillo Turbo” taucht er tief in die psychedelische Schattenseite der amerikanischen Kultur ein. Wie ein Soziologe auf Säuretabletten. Wie Slavoj Žižek nach einem verdammt dicken Blunt. Das reptiloide
Albumcover stammt erneut vom Meister höchstpersönlich: ”Vertrau mir, wenn ich sage, dass es für keines
der Tiere da draußen sicher ist. Der alte Apexprädator ist wieder auf Beute aus.”

This autumn Ludwig A.F. aveils his first full-length album project.

It is a very personal collection of ten pieces inspired by a special location near his home in the Taunus region of Germany. He recorded the songs as soon as he returned to his studio, inspired by the atmosphere of the place. He has been collating the pieces over the course of almost a decade.

“Air“ is an atmospheric and ambiguous collection of music that at times is rhythm and sound design driven but mainly focuses on the home listener with its picturesque melodies and ambiances.

“Air” will be in stores digitally and physically on October 7th 2022.

Seine Alben sind Welten, die Musikvideos legendär: Seit zehn Jahren ist Action Bronson der unverwechselbare HipHop-Held der Herzen. Heute veröffentlicht der in Queens geborene Rapper mit albanischen
Wurzeln, der zweifache ”New York Times”-Bestsellerautor, ehemalige Küchenchef und TV-Koch sein neues Album ”Cocodrillo Turbo” mit Features von u.a. Conway the Machine und Roc Marciano. Physisch erscheint das Album am 7. Oktober auf Vinyl &CD.

Auf dem Album ”Cocodrillo Turbo” kann man den neuen Hunger des 38-Jährigen spüren, der aufgrund gesundheitlicher Probleme während der Pandemie eine Bosstransformation absolvierte, über 160 Pfund abund das Kampfsporttraining aufnahm – und es so bis zum spielbaren Charakter in EA Sports ”UFC 4” schaffte. ”Ich habe nicht das Gefühl, dass mir der verdammte Respekt entgegengebracht wird, den ich verdiene”, erklärt Bronson, der auf ”Cocodrillo Turbo” seine Lines über Prog-Rock-Samples und gut abgehangene Beats von Produzenten wie Daringer und The Alchemist spuckt. ”Es gibt nicht viele da draußen, die mein verdammtes Suspensorium anfassen können.”

Auf ”Cocodrillo Turbo” taucht er tief in die psychedelische Schattenseite der amerikanischen Kultur ein. Wie ein Soziologe auf Säuretabletten. Wie Slavoj Žižek nach einem verdammt dicken Blunt. Das reptiloide Albumcover stammt erneut vom Meister höchstpersönlich: ”Vertrau mir, wenn ich sage, dass es für keines
der Tiere da draußen sicher ist. Der alte Apexprädator ist wieder auf Beute aus.”

Die Jazzkantine hatte nie Berührungsängste beim Manövrieren zwischen den Genres, das neue Studioalbum "Discotheque" stellt dies eindrucksvoll unter Beweis. Gründer und Bandleader Christian Eitner hat es geschafft, die vielköpfige Charaktertruppe im Kern seit fast 30 Jahren zusammenzuhalten. Gestählt durch unzählige Gigs in kleinen schmuddeligen Clubs, aber auch in piekfeinen Theatern und in riesigen Arenen. Die Jazzkantine hat bis dato um die 1.500 Konzerte gespielt, das Schönste und Schlimmste, Aufregendste und Außergewöhnlichste aus allen Musikwelten erlebt. Und sie hat noch lange nicht genug. Wir müssen wieder tanzen. Wir müssen wieder singen. Und so taucht die Jazzkantine ein in die Welt der "Discomusik", die in ihren Ursprüngen vor 50 Jahren im Milieu des New Yorker Undergrounds viel diverser und innovativer ist, als man vermutet. Eine Melange aus ersten DJ-Techniken und neuen bombastischen Sound-Systemen bietet auf privat organisierten House Partys viel Raum zur Entfaltung der LGBT-Community. Noch heute erinnert alljährlich der Christopher Street Day an die Stonewall-Riots und somit an eine Zeit, als noch gleichgeschlechtlicher Tanz verboten ist. Vor allem David Mancusos "Loft" ist Anfang der 70er eine Keimzelle für den Disco-Sound, der erst viel später mit Hits wie "Stayin' Alive" und "Le Freak" zum internationalen Boom wächst - auch die Rolling Stones, Abba und Kiss springen bekanntlich später auf den Zug auf. Parallel verbinden aber auch Jazzgrößen wie Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis und Chick Corea die Raffinesse des Jazz mit der rhythmischen Intensität des Funks zu "Fusion". Und Fred Wesley sagt: "Discomusic ist Funk mit einer Krawatte". Wie es sich für die experimentierfreudige Jazzkantine gehört, entsteht auf "Discotheque" ein Sound, den man "Disco Jazz" nennen könnte - alles im gewohnten Mix aus Funk, Soul und Rap. Songs, die Lust machen, die neun Musiker endlich wieder live auf der Clubbühne zu erleben.

Die Jazzkantine hatte nie Berührungsängste beim Manövrieren zwischen den Genres, das neue Studioalbum "Discotheque" stellt dies eindrucksvoll unter Beweis. Gründer und Bandleader Christian Eitner hat es geschafft, die vielköpfige Charaktertruppe im Kern seit fast 30 Jahren zusammenzuhalten. Gestählt durch unzählige Gigs in kleinen schmuddeligen Clubs, aber auch in piekfeinen Theatern und in riesigen Arenen. Die Jazzkantine hat bis dato um die 1.500 Konzerte gespielt, das Schönste und Schlimmste, Aufregendste und Außergewöhnlichste aus allen Musikwelten erlebt. Und sie hat noch lange nicht genug. Wir müssen wieder tanzen. Wir müssen wieder singen. Und so taucht die Jazzkantine ein in die Welt der "Discomusik", die in ihren Ursprüngen vor 50 Jahren im Milieu des New Yorker Undergrounds viel diverser und innovativer ist, als man vermutet. Eine Melange aus ersten DJ-Techniken und neuen bombastischen Sound-Systemen bietet auf privat organisierten House Partys viel Raum zur Entfaltung der LGBT-Community. Noch heute erinnert alljährlich der Christopher Street Day an die Stonewall-Riots und somit an eine Zeit, als noch gleichgeschlechtlicher Tanz verboten ist. Vor allem David Mancusos "Loft" ist Anfang der 70er eine Keimzelle für den Disco-Sound, der erst viel später mit Hits wie "Stayin' Alive" und "Le Freak" zum internationalen Boom wächst - auch die Rolling Stones, Abba und Kiss springen bekanntlich später auf den Zug auf. Parallel verbinden aber auch Jazzgrößen wie Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis und Chick Corea die Raffinesse des Jazz mit der rhythmischen Intensität des Funks zu "Fusion". Und Fred Wesley sagt: "Discomusic ist Funk mit einer Krawatte". Wie es sich für die experimentierfreudige Jazzkantine gehört, entsteht auf "Discotheque" ein Sound, den man "Disco Jazz" nennen könnte - alles im gewohnten Mix aus Funk, Soul und Rap. Songs, die Lust machen, die neun Musiker endlich wieder live auf der Clubbühne zu erleben.

George is Lord is a celebration of all things George Harrison - What began
as an exercise inlearning to play the drums, became a band - Anna
Pomerantz quit her job as Interior Designer to the stars and called upon
old friend Lindsay Glover, to teach her to play the drums
Lindsay, who has played in local LA favorites, Whiskey Biscuit and Future Pigeon,
began by teaching Anna the fundamentals and quickly it turned into learning
songs. "One of the first songs we learned was 'Something.' I've actually spent
most of my life hating the Beatles, but hearing them again for the first time
through the drums, made me fall completely in love, especially with George and
Ringo" recalls Anna. "I began teaching Lindsay the guitar and we started playing
together." The duo went on to learn a number of songs like, "Long, Long, Long," "All
Things Must Pass," and "Give me Love" when they realized they were ready to play
with other people. Lindsay asked friend Cody Porter of Pearl Harbor and Puro
Instinct to come play bass. "In our lessons, Lindsay had taught me how to sing
while playing the drums to keep my place in songs. I didn't think I was going to be
a singer in a band, it just happened." The missing ingredient was a lead guitar
player, and the trio invited Sam Blasucci of the popular LA folk duo Mapache if
he'd be willing to jam with us. He brought his magic and completed George Is
Lord. George is Lord recorded their first album of covers with producer Jason
Quever (Beach House, Cass McCombs). Dean Wareham (Luna, Galaxie 500)
appears as a guest. The ten song record includes a variety of George favorites
from the Beatles catalogue and throughout George's solo career.

Our earliest exposures to music can often be the most formative
For Toronto- based songwriter and multi- instrumentalist Eliza Niemi, that
influence came from her Dad who taught her the basics of bass and guitar at
home. These childhood experiences of playing music together by ear fostered the
sense of playfulness that she's approached her craft with ever since. They also
instilled an ethic in her creative work that prioritizes making music with friends
and loved ones.Those honed guitar — and later piano, cello and vocal — skills
make Eliza an ideal collaborator: starting in Halifax's rich music scene with the
mid-2010s experimental pop groups New Love Underground and Mauno, and
later in her role supporting artists Le Ren, Quaker Parents and Evan J. Cartwright.
Through the rhythms of touring and the brilliant spark that's shared in musical
exchange, Eliza found and developed connections across Canada's DIY music
communities. These collaborative moments fuel her creative practice, whether
playing solo, in an ensemble or releasing others' music as the founder of her own
label, Vain Mina Records.Connection and collaboration lives in the intimacy of her
albums, starting with 2019's Vinegar, an understated set of songs for cello,
keyboard and voice that wander with a comforting grace. 2020's Glass furthered
Eliza's reputation for writing songs that are boundless and experimental without
ever being alienating. There's an open, inviting quality throughout the record,
apparent from the close-miked instruments, to her softly sung and affable lyrics
that unfold like a conversation with a good friend.Her latest album, Staying
Mellow Blows, furthers these ideas and aesthetics to a staggering degree,
retaining the candor, humor and emotional humility she's known for, while letting
the vast number of supporting musicians shape each song with their own
emotionally resonant performances. The result feels whimsical and inspired, and
is the sound of an artist flourishing
180g 12" Deluxe Lavender Vinyl

Gold Vinyl

Die Jazzkantine hatte nie Berührungsängste beim Manövrieren zwischen den Genres, das neue Studioalbum "Discotheque" stellt dies eindrucksvoll unter Beweis. Gründer und Bandleader Christian Eitner hat es geschafft, die vielköpfige Charaktertruppe im Kern seit fast 30 Jahren zusammenzuhalten. Gestählt durch unzählige Gigs in kleinen schmuddeligen Clubs, aber auch in piekfeinen Theatern und in riesigen Arenen. Die Jazzkantine hat bis dato um die 1.500 Konzerte gespielt, das Schönste und Schlimmste, Aufregendste und Außergewöhnlichste aus allen Musikwelten erlebt. Und sie hat noch lange nicht genug. Wir müssen wieder tanzen. Wir müssen wieder singen. Und so taucht die Jazzkantine ein in die Welt der "Discomusik", die in ihren Ursprüngen vor 50 Jahren im Milieu des New Yorker Undergrounds viel diverser und innovativer ist, als man vermutet. Eine Melange aus ersten DJ-Techniken und neuen bombastischen Sound-Systemen bietet auf privat organisierten House Partys viel Raum zur Entfaltung der LGBT-Community. Noch heute erinnert alljährlich der Christopher Street Day an die Stonewall-Riots und somit an eine Zeit, als noch gleichgeschlechtlicher Tanz verboten ist. Vor allem David Mancusos "Loft" ist Anfang der 70er eine Keimzelle für den Disco-Sound, der erst viel später mit Hits wie "Stayin' Alive" und "Le Freak" zum internationalen Boom wächst - auch die Rolling Stones, Abba und Kiss springen bekanntlich später auf den Zug auf. Parallel verbinden aber auch Jazzgrößen wie Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis und Chick Corea die Raffinesse des Jazz mit der rhythmischen Intensität des Funks zu "Fusion". Und Fred Wesley sagt: "Discomusic ist Funk mit einer Krawatte". Wie es sich für die experimentierfreudige Jazzkantine gehört, entsteht auf "Discotheque" ein Sound, den man "Disco Jazz" nennen könnte - alles im gewohnten Mix aus Funk, Soul und Rap. Songs, die Lust machen, die neun Musiker endlich wieder live auf der Clubbühne zu erleben.

Two insanely funky dancefloor bangers recorded in the late '60s in Peru by the long time Coco Lagos associate and top percussionist Mario Allison. Astonishingly hard-to-find boogaloo and descarga tunes from the vaults of MAG records. First time reissue on 7" vinyl. Peruvian artist Mario Allison was born into a family of musicians. One of his brothers was part of groups like Los Golden Boys, others were percussionists and singers. His North American ancestry familiarized him with the use of English from an early age. He met Coco Lagos through a mutual friend, César González, and the three of them soon became regulars at the recording sessions taking place at MAG studios. The connection between them was formidable to the point of coordinating without the need for prior rehearsals. Mario Allison was a self-taught timbalero and his performances are said to have been full of energy and passion. At concerts it was not uncommon for female audiences to react by screaming and freaking out every time Allison performed a solo. After years working at MAG's studio as session player, in the late '60s he was offered the opportunity of recording his own stuff under his name. Mario Allison then worked on a repertoire focused on boogaloo, descarga and, mainly, pompo. This single comprises two insanely funky dancefloor bangers recorded in that period; hard-to-find boogaloo and descarga tunes from the vaults of MAG records. First time reissue on 7" vinyl.

Here’s artist Max Kuhn on hearing the new Ralph White recordings for the first time: “I was driving a familiar round trip across the high desert when I first put it on. It immediately spoke to me. In the lyrics there's a familiar geography for me, a familiar emotional landscape for all of us. And maybe it was driving an almost 40 year old truck on sun baked & cracked asphalt in July, but it's like you can hear his songs coming apart- the cadence, the rhymes stumbling & defying expectations, consistency but they just keep moving. You have no choice but to go with it. Probably a good lesson for how to live in this era we're in, cracking up but keeping it all running somehow, trying to make something pretty with the time.” Recorded in Austin, Texas in March of 2020, just days before the city and the rest of the world shut down, Ralph White spent two days with producer, Jerry David DeCicca (Will Beeley, Ed Askew) and recording engineer, Don Cento, capturing a raw and wild set of performances. Ralph, having recently converted his van into a mobile living and touring quarters equipped with a wood-burning stove, left Austin, the city where he was born 70 years ago, and retreated to an Arizona commune where he began building a new house in the desert hills to escape the virus and insanity of daily living. Ralph takes us on a journey through his myriad of travels: from Dock Boggs to Syd Barrett to William Faulkner to Stella Chiweshe to Blind Uncle Gaspard…scratching banjo, rasping train whistle hollers, rolling kalimba, rousing accordion, taut shimmers of guitar, caustic fiddle and lyrics - that could have been hidden amongst the dusty inner groove of a lost Harry Smith 78 - weaving in and out of streams of consciousness, time and place. In addition to his solo work, White has recorded or performed with a diverse group of folk and avant-garde musicians: Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth, Jandek, Jack Rose, Eugene Chadbourne, Michelle Shocked, Sir Richard Bishop, and Michael Hurley. “This is what Ralph White really sounds like. It’s what time passing really sounds like. It’s what a look really feels like. This record is someone touching you all over!” --Bill Callahan “Striking, electrifying acoustic music from an underappreciated legend of the American Southwest. Here, tight song structures meet open, unadorned instrumentation: guitar, banjo, kalimba, accordion, fiddle, and White's elastic voice, unspooling pitches and syllables. White draws listeners in on his terms. Lyrics wind and twist and pull back: "Motel 6, Motel 6, Altoona, Altoona; missing you, missing you so, great big hole in my--..." Brave, beautiful, a high point in White's long career. And this is just Volume 1!” - Eli Winter. "What Ralph White puts on albums and onstage is so mind-boggling and vast, it forces those of us in the description business down a treacherous path." --Darcie Stevens, Austin Chronicle. “White was a member of well-loved punk bluegrass outfit Bad Livers, but his solo work is possessed of a much more lonesome spark, exaggerating the implied drone at the heart of the music of Dock Boggs and The Stanley Brothers…White plays wooden six-string banjo, violin, button accordion and kalimba and his voice has a high, eerie quality to it…extremely psychedelic.” --David Keenan, The Wire Tracklisting: 1. Gun Barrel Polka 2. Misinformation Shuffle 3. El Golfo 4. Something About Dreaming 5. Rye Straw 6. The Stovepipe Blues 7. No Stranger 8. Morning Sickness 9. Lord Franklin

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."

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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.

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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."

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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."

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"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."

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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.