quête:ten for two

This time you'll find the Wax's #plectrum with the vinyl; a little gadget to stimulate your musical fantasies. (only for the first 200 orders!)

Four years and ten releases later we can say that Apparel Wax -the vinyl-faced hero- has been able to always renew itself and its sound because, as our manifesto says, we try not to submit to any genre. We wanted every release to be the outcome of a long research through uncommon sounds and APLWAX010, yet again, is an unidentified sonic object picked up by our radar. The last one though! We didn't plan it, we just felt like the time has come -eventually- to close this beautiful chapter. More than one factor led us to take this decision: the progressive concern about the planet (therefore the impossibility to keep producing plastic bags and gadgets), the desire to leave at our peak and to invent something new are just two of them. The constant process behind the renewal of our sound -which we embraced ten years ago with the birth of Apparel Music- sometimes passes through hard choices and we need to feel again that sensation of 'void' in order to create something fresh, different, as we did when we started Apparel Wax. We won't drag our masked hero to a point of sonic stagnation. We'd like to send you all a big greeting and a heartfelt thanks for every second of your time spent listening to Apparel Wax, it literally meant the world to us. What was initially just a bold idea became a musical reference point for many people around the world, and we will be forever grateful to y'all because, without you, it would have never been possible. Finally, a huge thanks to all the artists involved in the project. They contributed with their art to a bigger cause, the biggest: music. YOU are the true masked heroes, you are Apparel Wax. As for us, we'll live on and our sound too. Our ideas, our passion and dedication for the one and only thing that really makes us happy will never die. Something new will always come on our end because that's our purpose, our philosophy. Manman, what a journey has been, now on to the next one!

Born in Brixton, a child of the Windrush Generation, Letts’ slippery and unorthodox career is somewhat hard to define, without taking a few detours around London, New York and Jamaica. He began his working life managing the dauntingly hip Acme Attractions on Chelsea’s Kings Road, where he made a mark with his attitude, dress and, especially, the pounding dub reggae that vibrated the shop’s walls. His first gig as a DJ at the short-lived Roxy in Neal Street, became mythical for turning a generation of punks on to reggae. They in turn hipped him to their DIY ethos resulting in his reinvention as a filmmaker. This led to a shed-load of music videos (Linton Kwesi Johnson, The Clash, Bob Marley) not

to mention documentaries on the likes of Gil Scott-Heron, George Clinton and Sun Ra.



In the ’80s, he was part of Mick Jones’ new venture, Big Audio Dynamite and his innovative use of samples were a core part of their sound. Listeners of his weekly 6 Music radio show are taken on a musical safari that moves seamlessly between time, space and genre. It’s not called Culture Clash Radio for nothing. So this latest bulletin from Letts HQ is merely one angle of a multifaceted personality, his take on the JA tradition of the cover version.



The history of Caribbean music owes a debt to R&B as many of the early island releases were cover versions of US 45s. Ska’s breakthrough commercially, Millie Small’s ‘My Boy Lollipop’, was originally recorded by Barbie Gaye in ’50s New York. Cover versions became quite a thing in Jamaica and Don, following in that tradition, has dug deep with a selection of interesting dubbed out covers including thirteen exclusives.



“A disciple of sound system, raised on reggae n’ bass culture my go to sound was dub. Besides being spacious and sonically adventurous at the same time, its most appealing aspect was the space it left to put yourself ‘in the mix’ underpinned by Jamaica’s gift to the world - bass. But that’s only half the story as the duality of my existence meant I was also checking what the Caucasian crew were up to not to mention the explosion of black music coming in from the States. That’s why this version excursion crosses time space and genre, from The Beach Boys to The Beatles, Nina Simone to Marvin Gaye, The Bee Gees to Kool & The Gang, The Clash to Joy Division and beyond. You’d think it impossible to draw a line between ‘em but not in my world. Fortunately, the ‘cover version’ has played an integral part in the evolution of Jamaican music and dub covers were just a natural extension.”



There’s a diverse mix of classic and new, with legendary figures like John Holt, The Tamlins and Cornell Campbell, mixed in with British veterans Mad Professor and the irrepressible Dennis Bovell, while (relatively) young striplings Kiko Bun, Emily Capell and Prince Fatty deliver the goods, with laidback Texan groovers Khruangbin also offering an exclusive bass heavy-delight.



The song choices are diverse, from French dubsters’ OBF’s renditions of ‘Sixteen Tons’, the miners’ paean popularised by Tennessee Ernie Ford in the 1950s, to Ash Walker’s refix of Omar’s ‘There’s Nothing Like This’ and ‘All I Do Is Think About You’, immortalised by the ill-fated Tammi Terrell and preserved here by Quantic (the latter two both exclusives). Being a Rebel Dread compilation, there’s a cover (by Wrongtom Meets The Rockers) of The Clash’s ‘Lost In The Supermarket’ while Don’s exclusive, naturally, is a rendition of Big Audio Dynamite’s debut hit, ‘E = MC2’.



“Truth be told I’ve wanted to work with the Late Night Tales crew from the get go. We’re talking nearly two decades such was the allure of their musical aesthetic typified by curators like Nightmares on Wax, The Flaming Lips, MGMT, Trentemoller, Khruangbin and countless others. Now being as old as rock n’ roll (born in ‘56) and having nearly 20 years of Culture Clash Radio under my belt I figured I was tooled up to musically juggle with the best of ‘em. But I wanted to carve out a space that was distinctly my own - something that reflected my musical journey and the culture clash that’s made me the man I am today.”

Following the footsteps of her SUPER MILD split album with TENTENKO (TAL15) from 2019, Tokyo producer KOPY makes a welcome return to TAL with a new EP full of gritty wonders and buzzing rythm structures. Eternal EP presents two of her new tracks plus luminous remix appearances by Elena Colombi, Harmonious Thelonious and Dynamo Dreesen & SJ Tequilla.

KOPY sums it up: "For Fujiko, I had an aggressive spaciousness in mind. The track LOK made me feel like my feet were firmly on the ground."

The pièce de résistance of the entire EP might be the extended reworking by Elena Colombi (Osàre! Editions), who in her debut appearance in the producer's chair offers up a cinematic bricolage, inspired by dreams and scraps of intimate, cartoonish ambiences. The eight minute long journey is full of space, swirling alarm clocks and candid evocations of imaginary creatures and environments crossed with diverse snippets of KOPY’s two original tracks.

Harmonious Thelonious who has already shared the stage with KOPY at Düsseldorfs Salon des Amateurs, contributes a trademark HT remix which combines infectious danceable beats with injections of oddness and raw beauty.

For their KOPY KONTRAST mix DD and SJT drew inspiration from a fulminant Kopy live set in Osaka which they had witnessed while being on a tour in Japan.

The 12"EP is lavishly presented, with a fully illustrated jacket and inner sleeve design by Sarah Szscesny.

The Great Alternative Boom of the early ’90s had begun to wither on corporate FM barely halfway through the decade, but the ever-changing underground had almost entirely regenerated after two major-label thrifting trips. In the ever-in-flux city of Boston, Karate positioned themselves as a crucial tendril in a sprawling nationwide community. They did so largely by refusing to stick to any single formula from the myriad of styles at their root—slowcore, post-hardcore, and jazz. As if to make a point, Karate’s lineup went through its own shift too. In the lead up to 1997’s In Place of Real Insight, Eamonn Vitt took up the guitar, and Karate compatriot Jeff Goddard entered the fold to become the band’s bassist. Armed with two guitarists, the band got significantly louder, and they smeared punk fury all over their second LP.

The Great Alternative Boom of the early ’90s had begun to wither on corporate FM barely halfway through the decade, but the ever-changing underground had almost entirely regenerated after two major-label thrifting trips. In the ever-in-flux city of Boston, Karate positioned themselves as a crucial tendril in a sprawling nationwide community. They did so largely by refusing to stick to any single formula from the myriad of styles at their root—slowcore, post-hardcore, and jazz. As if to make a point, Karate’s lineup went through its own shift too. In the lead up to 1997’s In Place of Real Insight, Eamonn Vitt took up the guitar, and Karate compatriot Jeff Goddard entered the fold to become the band’s bassist. Armed with two guitarists, the band got significantly louder, and they smeared punk fury all over their second LP.

John Lord Fonda announces a new album and returns to Citizen Records after a ten-year absence with a new EP, featuring two hard-hitting unreleased tracks.

A decade after his last album Supersonique, the Dijon-born artist is back with a vengeance, showcasing more than ever his dark side, and the least we can say is that it was worth the wait. Releasing once again on Citizen Records, the label founded by Vitalic, Fonda has dug deep into his psyche, channelling his experiences into strong, metallic, dreamlike rhythms.

Like a steel machine, the deep baseline of They Will Fight For You, with its slow, heavy, mechanical beat sets off at the pace of a long-distance run and keeps us locked into a deliciously brutal alternate reality. Early fans of the artist will go crazy for this dark, cerebral techno!

Les Dunes d’Altaïr offers a warmer, more mystical voyage thanks to its oriental tinges, and is a fitting homage to Plastikman's Spaz and Spastik monikers.

Despite being an ode to the power of rhythm, it's the image and delicate feel of a desert wind that wafts towards us, and the track keeps listeners breathless for nearly eight minutes, oscillating between these two worlds.

Guest of honour Damon Jee has remixed Les Dunes d’Altaïr, delivering a disco-flecked minimal rework perfect for accompanying the sun as it sets, or indeed rises.

The return of John Lord Fonda is definitely the comeback no-one should miss in 2021.

The Altaïr EP is the first taste of the artist's next album, due this autumn.

Two worlds collide to offer a brand new project. The lo-fi rock from Emilie Zoé and Nicolas Pittet blends perfectly with the sounds of the machines and samples of the leader of The Young Gods, Franz Treichler. The sound triangulates and takes the shape of an /A\. Zoé is an artist who converts the ghosts of everyday life into electric fulgurations on the extreme fringes of pop and rock; Pittet is her drummer, but above all he’s an all-round musician, as comfortable backing Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry’s primal dub as he is

fiddling with electronics (e.g. his project Kera); and of course, Treichler is the well-known leader of The Young Gods, and band that’s been setting the bar since 1986 when it comes to transforming rock by infiltrating its genome into machines.

This diversity of backgrounds, tastes and experiences might at first sight have appeared as a reason to stay apart from each other, but instead it’s proved to be a vector of mutual attraction. What /A\ offers contains no foreign matter: Treichler, Pittet and Zoé’s aesthetics are intertwined through subterranean links that strike by their clarity, like the pieces of a puzzle that is both unexpected and surprising.

It’s through this profound entanglement that the pieces, one after the other, succeed in materialising hitherto unseen faces. They create something new: Hotel Stellar delivers an otherworldly blues, a slow snake that oscillates between the abyss and redemption; We Travel the Light, with its guitars measured in megatons, invents the notion of a steamroller possessed by insane joy; Count to Ten is a wash of restrained melancholy infused with almost Birkin-like touches, which, as the minutes go by, bristles with scratches and sandy echoes, like synthetic dub; The Leaves is yet another strange beast which could be considered as the evolution of a trip hop theme that would have been left to mature for a few decades in the noblest of drums. “It’s red, it’s hot” says Zoé when asked to analyse the record. “You can feel like there’re waves coming at you, but you never really know when.”

Laura Nyro's third Columbia effort is easily the equal of her previous two. The overwhelming strength of her song writing and distinctive arrangements fuel Christmas and the Beads of Sweat. Her unmistakable style of delivery maintains the continual examination of herself as a performer. The results are uniformly interesting and provocative as she continues to draw upon her love of jazz, folk, and R&B. Conceptually, this album is as potent as her previous effort, New York Tendaberry, but in a much different way. Rather than hanging together thematically, Christmas and the Beads of Sweat features two inclusive and distinctive sides of music -- with different musicians and producers for each. The first five tracks feature Nyro backed by the Swampers from Muscle Shoals, AL, and include the talents of Roger Hawkins (drums), Eddie Hinton (guitar), Dave Hood (bass), Barry Becket (vibraphone), and Jack Jennings (percussion), with Arif Mardin producing. While this pairing might seem initially incongruous, the quintet had been concurrently working with the likes of Dusty Springfield and Cher and had gained a rightful reputation as a consummate backup band. The final four pieces are steeped in noir more atypical of her previous efforts. The all-star cast of New York City session heavyweights are led by Felix Cavaliere (producer) and features fellow Rascals member Dino Danelli (drums), Ralph McDonald (percussion), Chuck Rainey (bass), Cornell Dupree (guitar), Duane Allman (guitar), and Alice Coltrane (stringed harp), among others. As with all of Nyro's recordings, at the heart of this effort are her ageless compositions and arrangements. A motif connecting such disparate tunes as the upbeat "When I Was a Freeport and You Were the Main Drag" to the hauntingly beautiful "Christmas in My Soul" and "Beads of Sweat" is the aching hollowness that came with the disillusionment that Vietnam, Kent State, and racial relations brought upon America in 1970. As she had done with "Save the Country" some four years earlier, Nyro's cathartic expressionism is captured at its most fervent on this album.

eudemonia celebrates its ten release with a seven track Split-EP by Das Muster and Krypton 81. The ‘Intergalaktische Föderation’ EP joins forces of two very unique electro artist. On the A-Side Marcus Mumm aka Das Muster delivers his cold yet emotional style with four truly special and cinematic sounding tunes. The B-Side showcases Martin Stoffregen’s and Per Lind’s Krypton 81 project. The three outstanding tracks explore the darker shades of electro where german vocals meet dystopic elements.

In the wake of Bitch Magnet and current of Superchunk, Sooyoung Park and Mac McCaughan formed a raw version of Seam in the summer of ’91. With bassist Lexi Mitchell, the trio banged out an album and two singles worth of shambolic dream pop in the sweltering Chapel Hill heat. Ten songs of talk-whispered vocals, sloshing guitar solos, scattered snare rolls, Velocity Girl’s Sarah Shannon, and the original version of Codeine’s slowcore classic “New Year’s,” on LP for the first time in 30 years.

Thomas Dahyot. the voice of Madcaps, a feelgood French garage band
releases his debut solo LP as alter ego Pepper White.
Found in the ten songs of The Lonely Tunes Of Pepper White are Dahyot’s first
the loves in song - the casualness of JJ Cale, the smeared pop of 1969 Velvet
Underground, the profane gospel of Nat King Cole, the acoustic heartbreaks of
Ty Segall, the snap and crackle of a Barratt or Ayers.
These are wedded to the trademark signatures of his song writing: the astonishing breaks, the wonderful arrangements and the attention given to tempo.
And then there is the omnipresence of the piano whose keys he had fallen in
love with, “Lonely For Too Long”, the first song composed on the instrument
and its mellotron finale, gives some clues about the state of mind in which the
album was composed.
“Still In Love With You”, is sung on two octaves, as if Pepper was in duet with
himself. The bewitching “Home Alone” invokes the devilry of Screamin’ Jay
Hawkins, while “Rom Com” lays bare, with derision, the guilty pleasures linked
to televisual mawkishness. These are the elements, new and old, that make up
Pepper White’s music.

One of life's most difficult arts is learning to let go. You can try to cling to control in the face of a turbulent world, but the only constant we can count on is change—the tendrils of cleansing fire wiping away the old, new life springing forth from the dust and ash. So what's the point? Give yourself over to the depths. Surrender to the flow.

G.S. Schray's new solo album The Changing Account is an appropriate soundtrack for learning to cope with a world we can't count on. Each piece is full of elliptical melodies that swirl with the unstable logic of dreams. Flurries of piano, guitar lines, and other more alien instrumentation shimmer delicately, but before they coalesce into familiar shapes or rhythms they change, then change, then change again. Listening is a bit like falling asleep on a long road—with each passing song you're waking up somewhere new, trying to get your bearings in another strange world. How did I get here? Where are we going? It doesn't matter. Close your eyes, drift away again.

Brian Leeds a.k.a. Huerco S' West Mineral label present a groggy Midwestern ambient doozy with Chat, the first collaborative release by Pontiac Streator and Ulla Straus
Pontiac Streator previously appeared as a guest on the first West Mineral LTD release, Pendant's Make Me Know You Sweet, while Ulla Straus is perhaps best known for her part on the cultishly adored bblisss compilation tape which introduced Huerco S.'s Pendant alias to the world at large.
Their first album together is a bedroom-crafted confection where drowsy blues and raga smudge with lounging exotica themes in a blunted style to properly heavy-lidded effect.
Chat was recorded on July 5th in Pilsen, Chicago on Ulla's bed after a long week spent dancing with friends, staying up all night typing in chatrooms, and hate-watching Fox news. The results channel that experience into four lop-sided creations that feel satisfyingly burned out and immersive, like the murmur of zonked chat between close friends.
In four parts; Chat One thru Chat Four, the record unfurls with a muggy mid-fi tension between its illusive fidelities, kindling a smoky atmosphere that colours listening spaces with seductive smells
and a muggy, keening tension that recalls the minutes before sundown
This balmy feel of the surreal comes out in a sylvan patina of sweetened cicadas and curling pads urged along by a stream of wooden drums, variously recalling Spencer Clark on some kind of
Aguirre soundtrack mission in the tropics, a heatsick Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement piece, or, in the dream-pop drift of the last part, like Leven Signs smudged by Muslimgauze.
Coolly serving to expand West Mineral LTD's remit after that spellbinding Pendant album and a 12" of ectoplasmic dubs from uon, the flux of arid/fluid textures and para-dimensional fidelities in
Chat feels somehow calming yet fraught with a somnambulant appeal that's dangerously easy to

Mannequin Records is elated to present for the first time on vinyl the reissue of Giovanotti Mondani Meccanici’s first video soundtrack, originally released in 1984 as an audiotape in less than one hundred copies. Giovanotti Mondani Meccanici (literally Mundane Mechanical Youth) or GMM was one of the most unclassifiable audiovisual experiences to emerge from Italy in the 1980s. Maurizio Dami a.k.a. Alexander Robotnick, a pivotal member of GMM, was responsible for the group’s music output.

Founded in 1984 by Antonio Glessi and Andrea Zingoni in Florence, GMM was an art collective whose production represents the quintessential expression of postmodern transmedia hybridity. GMM pioneered the genre of computer comics, created video installations, developed “multiple identity” performances, and was involved in fashion, media, and music productions, and later on produced cyberdelic environments, artificial reality projects, and proto-memes.

Alexander Robotnick’s first contribution to GMM was this soundtrack for the group’s eponymous first video, the animated version of a computer comics they coincidentally published on legendary Frigidaire magazine. Restored by Dami and reissued here for the first time by Mannequin Records, the composition was also split into two “suites” and released as an audiotape distributed by Materiali Sonori, also responsible for other releases by both Robotnick and GMM.

Determining in this work is Dami’s adoption of the alphaSyntauri, also known as the first affordable digital synth (priced less than $2000 when it was released in 1980), which was playable through its own software, “alphaPlus,” on the Apple II computer. The same computer was used by Glessi to “draw” the 3-bit strips scripted by Zingoni recounting the joyrides of the Giovanotti Mondani Meccanici, three merciless cyborgs in black suit and sunglasses dividing their time between nightclubs, rapes and murders.

As Robotnick, Dami developed an innovative formula of Italo disco that was attractive to the dance floor yet at the same time highlighted the expressive properties of the instruments he used, notably Roland drum machines and Korg synthesizers. For the soundtrack of GMM’s videos and installations, he left aside the danceable synth rhythmics in favor of ambient sounds that produced rarefied atmospheres, psychological tensions, and enhanced states of consciousness.

Dami’s scores for GMM’s artworks could be associated with Italian avant-garde music of the 1970s and 1980s, ranging from composers who adopted electronics flirting with pop and songwriting to minimalist musicians exploring seriality and drones, including Franco Battiato, Roberto Cacciapaglia, Francesco Messina, and Riccardo Sinigaglia. Analogies could also be traced with the playful and humanizing approach to personal computers that characterizes the music output of Marcello Giombini and Doris Norton.

The futuristic escapism of minimal synth and ambient music’s psychological nature is infiltrated by drifting harmonics typical of new age, as if in search of a spiritual dimension of technology. Characteristic of the postmodern ethos of GMM Suite, in line with the humanizing approach to technology that is at the base of GMM’s computer comics, is the melancholic take at speculative dystopias in which human beings would find themselves increasingly trapped into identity crises: a true cyborg’s melodrama.

Ephat Mujuru exemplifies a unique generation of traditional musicians in Zimbabwe. Born under an oppressive colonial regime in Southern Rhodesia, his generation witnessed the brutality of the 1970s liberation struggle, and then the dawn of independent Zimbabwe, a time in which African music culture - long stigmatized by Rhodesian educators and religious authorities - experienced a thrilling renaissance. Under the tutelage of his grandfather, who was a respected spirit mediumand mbira master, Ephat showed an early talent for the rigors of mbiratraining, playing his first possession ceremony when he was just ten years old. By then, guerilla war was engulfing the country and his grandfather Muchatera tragically became a victim of the violence, a devastating blow to the young musician. In the midst of the liberation struggle, mbira music became political. Eventually, the Rhodesians were defeated, but rather than return to the past, the nation of Zimbabwe was born and a new future unfolded. Ephat threw himself into the spirit of independence, singing of brotherhood, healing, and unity: crucial themes during a time when the nation's two dominant ethnic groups, the Shona and the Ndebele, were struggling to reconcile differences. Ephat's band would eventually follow the popular trend and add electric instruments. But before that, he and Spirit of the People released two all-acoustic albums, and they may well be the most exciting and beautiful recordings he made in his career. Mbavaira, the second of these albums, was released in 1983. As the independence years moved on, there would be fewer and fewer commercial mbira releases. But for the moment, Ephat had the required stature and reputation. Also, with the energy and drive we hear in these recordings, the album could easily rival the pop music of its day. Within a few years after the release of Mbavaira, it and albums like it became harder to find in Zimbabwean record stores. Ephat adapted to the times and formed an electric band. They recorded more albums over the years but none of them have the particularly delicious energy of Spirit of the People in the first years of Zimbabwe's independence.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Parampara Festival 13.3.1992, a stunning performance by Amelia Cuni captured live in Berlin almost thirty years ago. Milanese by birth and resident in Berlin for many years, Cuni lived in India for over a decade, studying the classical vocal style of dhrupad under masters of the form. Though perhaps known to many listeners primarily through her performances of the vocal music of John Cage and collaborations with Werner Durand and Terry Riley, she is recognised internationally as one of the great contemporary proponents of traditional dhrupad singing. These recordings document her performance at the 1992 Parampara Festival at the Haus der Kulturen der Welt, a landmark event celebrating the global spread of Indian classical music, bringing together Indian teachers with their international students.

Accompanied by Gianni Ricchizzi on vichitra vina (a plucked zither played with a glass ball slide) and her own tanpura, Cuni stretches out for a languorous side-long performance of the late night Raag Bageshri, the limpid tones of her vocal improvisations illuminating the droning strings like flashes of the moon revealed by rushing clouds. Initially working patiently through a series of subtle dialogues between Cuni’s melodic extemporisations and phrases in response from Richizzi’s vichitra vina, the performance builds to a series of strikingly beautiful, virtuosic held notes from Cuni at the beginning of its second half, before picking up some brisker rhythmic articulation on the way to its conclusion.

On Devino Amor, Cuni presents her own composition, a setting of mystical texts by the 13th century Franciscan friar Jacopone da Todi, elaborated through various traditional raags. Like the words used for most dhrupad compositions, the text Cuni has selected from da Todi praises divine love, thus linking her otherwise unorthodox use of Italian text to the dhrupad tradition. The result is a performance of a yearning intensity that communicates across any language barrier. On the final performance, Cuni and Ricchizzi are joined by Helmut Waibl on the two-headed pakhawaj drum for a piece using a 14 beat rhythmic pattern that sets in motion a cycle of tension and release, metrical dissolution and resolution, possessing a subtle grandeur.

Illustrated with archival images of the performance and accompanied by new liner notes from Peter Pannke and Lars-Christian Koch, Parampara Festival 13.3.1992 invites listeners to lose themselves in Amelia Cuni’s unique approach to ancient tradition.

By 1971 Pharoah Sanders' playing essentially alternated between two moods: ferocious and peaceful. This live record gives one a good example of how the passionate tenor sounded in clubs during the early '70s. Sanders is joined by an impressive group of players: trumpeter Marvin "Hannibal" Peterson, flutist Carlos Garnett, Harold Vick on tenor, pianist Joe Bonner, the basses of Stanley Clarke and Cecil McBee, drummers Norman Connors and Billy Hart, and percussionist Lawrence Killian. On the 20-minute "Healing Song," the lengthy "Memories of J.W. Coltrane," and the two-part "Lumkili," Sanders is heard in top form.

’Angelo lost his shit over it. Aaliyah’s 3rd favourite track of all time is on it. David Bowie rocked up with it to a TV interview, declaring it “the most exciting sound of contemporary soul music”.

In 1996, Lewis Taylor released his self-titled masterpiece. A true modern classic, it’s an album that was years ahead of its time. Forget 25 years ago, it could easily have been made in 2021. An effortless blend of neo-soul, sophisticated pop, smart grooves and laid-back white funk, it enjoyed rapturous reviews from critics and music legends alike. But the album never managed to make an impact and given what was likely a token vinyl release at the time, the original records have long since been near-impossible to find. Lewis Taylor’s Lewis Taylor remains a holy relic for some and criminally unknown to most.

Lewis Taylor’s impeccable influences created a dazzling sonic palette: the LP as a whole suggests the visionary brilliance of Prince; the vocal stylings evoke the yearning power of Marvin Gaye; the effortless guitar playing shares the virtuosity of Jimi Hendrix; the haunting tones conjure Tricky; the innovative production and engineering invite comparisons to studio mavericks like Todd Rundgren and Brian Eno; the multi-layered, complex harmonies flash on Pet Sounds-era Brian Wilson; the dark, drama is reminiscent of both Scott Walker and Stevie Wonder; the complex arrangements create textures and moods with the feel of Shuggie Otis on Inspiration Information; the bold experimentation is akin to progressive artists like Faust and Tangerine Dream; the atmosphere is in conversation with Jeff Buckley’s Grace… and we could go on. That might all sound like marketing hyperbole, but not as far as Be With is concerned. It is a genuine wonder how an album this good could’ve passed so many people by.

But despite all the reference points, the similarities are really only skin-deep because the album sounds truly original. It occupies its own distinct, strange universe that feels dark and brooding one moment, bright and joyous the next. Ultimately, Taylor sounds like Taylor.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the credits, the album wasn’t the work of Lewis alone. Sabina Smyth gets an executive producer credit on the original sleeve, but in fact she worked with Lewis on the production and arrangements, did a lot of the backing vocals and she co-wrote Track, Song, Lucky and Damn with Lewis.

Lewis clarified all this in a Soul Jones interview with Dan Dodds in 2016. He explains how not giving Sabina the credit she was due at the time was an unfortunate consequence of where his head was at and he’s now trying to set the record straight.

Together they created an exquisite and sensually-charged record, with a freshness to the writing that makes the songs catchy, melodic-yet-deep and sometimes even funky. The music is predominantly guitar-led and a mixture of organs and synths, live drum loops and electronic percussion make for a sort of modern soul backing orchestra.

On the surface the album is gorgeously laidback, but beneath the lush, sometimes slick, production there’s a murkiness in the seriously gritty funk/hip-hop instrumentation. Lewis Taylor can be a claustrophobic listen. Even its one-word, often seemingly throw-away track titles add to the sense of unease. In its most positive moments, there’s still a sense that things aren’t quite right. The magic comes from this compelling tension.

The languid, strutting “Lucky” is a sensational opening statement. Sinuous electric guitar winds around the shaking percussion with a killer bass line rattling your bones, and Lewis’s voice is sublime. Its six-and-a-half unhurried minutes manage to distill the work of Marvin, Al Green and Bobby Womack because yes, it’s *that* good. Up next is the tough, dusty drum and jazzy, unsettling psych-guitar workout of “Bittersweet”. Aaliyah described it the “perfect song”, which says it all. By turns loping and soaring, tightly coiled and blasting free, 25 years on its discordant, swaggering majesty still sounds like future R&B.

The swinging, blue-eyed funk of “Whoever” oozes sophisticated sunshine soul for hazy days before “Track” sweeps in. The music tries to lift us up, beyond the reach of the vocals trying to drag us back down as Taylor sings “my mood is black as the darkest cloud”. The spare, dubby electro-soul of “Song” closes out the first half of the album with barely contained dread as it creeps towards the lush, synth-heavy coda.

The smouldering “Betterlove” eases us into the second half, coming on like a languorous response to the call of “Brown Sugar”, before sliding into the shuffling, softly-rocking “How”. Somehow the remarkable “Right” manages to both warm things up and smooth things out even more. Taut yet luxurious, it’s definitely not wrong.

“Damn” was to have been the album’s title track and you might also be able to hear its influence on D’Angelo’s Voodoo, maybe most obviously in the chaotic closing moments of “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”. Building to a screeching wall of noise that suddenly cuts dead, “Damn” sounds like the natural end to the album, with the celestial a cappella “Spirit” serving as a heavenly reprise.

When it came to the sleeve, art director Cally Callomon heard Taylor’s music as “sideways off-camera glances at a plethora of influences he had” and wanted to interpret that visually: “I went off into night-time London to see if I could find his song titles in off-beam low-fidelity photographs. I even found a shop called Lewis Taylor”. With a slide for each of the album’s ten tracks, nine of them are on the inner sleeve and the slide for “Damn” makes the front cover. It should’ve been the album’s title, but concerns over distribution in the US scuppered this.

One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, Andrew Lewis Taylor is an enigmatic figure and a hugely under-appreciated talent. A prodigious multi-instrumentalist who got his start touring with heavy blues/psych outfit the Edgar Broughton Band, he released two albums of psychedelic-rock as Sheriff Jack before Island signed him on the strength of a demo alone. But Taylor was destined to be one of those artists unable (or unwilling) to be pigeonholed and despite the best efforts of Island’s publicity department the music never sold in the quantities it needed to or deserved to. Island eventually let him go in the early 2000s and in June 2006, Lewis Taylor retired from music.

Typical for the mid-90s, this CD-length album was squeezed onto a single LP for its original vinyl release. Simon Francis’s fresh vinyl mastering now spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Pete Norman and pressed at Record Industry. The original artwork has been restored at Be With HQ and subtly re-worked to work as a double.

This sprawling psychedelic soul opus really is a forgotten should-be-classic. We know that there are those of you who know, and as for the rest of you, we’re a bit jealous that you’re getting to hear Lewis Taylor for the first time.

Limited Coke Bottle Green vinyl, 250 copies only for the UK. Any future pressing will be on black vinyl. Massage feature Alex Naidus from Pains At Being Pure At Heart. Recorded by Lewis Pesacov (Fool’s Gold, Foreign Born, Peel’d). Massage was supposed to be low-stakes, no big deal "anti-ambition," as Andrew Romano, guitarist and vocalist, put it. The L.A.based jangle-pop group's first album, 2018's Oh Boy, was a sweet and simple weekend warrior's affair, or more specifically, an every-other-Monday one, as the band members gathered to bash out songs that offered messy but heartfelt tribute to their chosen heroes: The Feelies, the Go-Betweens, Twerps, Flying Nun. For Romano, not taking things too seriously is a dead-serious affair: “Nothing kills the kind of music we want to make faster than the sense that a band is trying too hard,” he says. The kind of music Massage makes sunny, bittersweet, tender is less a proper genre than a minor zip code nested within guitar pop. Take a little "There She Goes" by the La's, some "If You Need Someone" by the Field Mice; the honey-drizzled guitars from The Cure's "Friday I'm In Love," a Jesus & Mary Chain backbeat, and you're almost all the way there. Indie pop, jangle pop, power pop whatever you call it, pushing too hard scares the spirit right out of this sweet, diffident music, and Massage have a touch so light the songs seem to form spontaneously, like wry smiles. Still, on their sophomore effort, Still Life, they manage to take a quantum leap forward in songwriting, production, and depth, all somehow without seeming to try. These 12 deft songs are full of late-summer sunlight and deep shadows, pained grins and shared jokes, shy declarations of love and quietly nursed heartbreak. Still Life resurrects a brief, romantic moment in the late-'80s, right after post-punk and immediately before alt-rock, when it seemed like any scrappy indie band might stumble across a hit. When Andrew Romano and Alex Naidus first met in 2007, Naidus had just joined a band with his friends Kip Berman and Peggy Wang that was about to stumble into many of them. When Naidus finally left Pains for L.A. in 2013, two hit albums and a few world tours later, he started playing with Romano to recapture the no-stakes, suburban-garage joy of making music for its own sake. It was "friendship incarnate," Naidus remembers. The other members came from within the friend circle Gabrielle Ferrer (keyboard/vocals) is Romano's sister-in-law, Michael Felix (drums) is one of Naidus’ best friends, and David Rager (bass) is a childhood friend of Felix’s. When Felix moved to Mexico City in early 2020, Naidus’ wife, Natalie de Almeida, stepped in. The result is the finest batch of songs they've ever produced. From Naidus' velvet-lined JAMC tribute "Half A Feeling" to Ferrer's Let It Be-era Replacements-tinged lament "The Double" to Romano's "In Gray & Blue," these are gold-standard indie-pop gems from emerging masters of the form. Still Life glows with the sincerity and unfakeable warmth of the era they so lovingly channel. Like the best Gin Blossoms chorus you still remember, the songs on Still Life stir big, pure emotions, but beneath them, uneasy truths about adulthood linger, just below the surface. Maybe the exact mix of ringing guitars and two-part harmonies can chase those feelings away, or redeem them, for at least a minute or three. Massage won't stop trying.

MEDWAY GARAGE UPSTARTS! 2nd LP! The Shadracks are a three-piece rock n’ roll group hailing from Medway, Kent. With timeless and expert precision the Shadracks play from 37.3 years in the past 33.7 years into the future. The actual origins of the group date back even further with their cultural appropriation of Babylonian 'Rhythm and Punk. A mere 3 years ago Huddie Shadrack and Elisa Abednego had a brief encounter in deserted parkland. Discovering sheared an interest in vacant park benches, herbaceous borders and beat music it became paramount that they form a group - and quickly. After the release of there self titled debut LP, a subsequent live BBC 6Music session for Marc Riley and a fast selling EP, Elle Meshack retired from The Shadracks to peruse a career as a Poly Styrene impersonator aboard a Tahitian cruise liner: SS Honolulu Baby. Fortunately for the bass bereft Shadracks an advert placed in the window of a local stationers was answered by a certain Rhys ‘King Nebuchadnezzar’ Webb. A meeting issued and after proclaiming "Oh merciful Marduck, may the house that I have built endure forever” Their followed a two-hour induction ceremony (in which to learn all the new tracks for their forthcoming long player From Human Like Forms and Webb, for it was he, was sworn into The Shadracks fraternity. From Human Like Forms sees The Shadracks achieving giddy new heights in their song writing and performing abilities - pushing their ancient sound 3.7 years ahead of the current lunar time module. Councillor Duxbury. 2021