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This is one of Ray Pérez’s most highly sought-after albums, not only for its strong salsa dura anthems and funky boogaloo numbers but also for its brave, quirky eclecticism and youthful, rebellious spirit, all of which are reflections of “El Loco” Ray’s unique genius, making him a beloved figure in rare record collector circles everywhere.

The original is not that easy to find today and carries a hefty price. Thankfully, it has been remastered from the original tapes, fully licensed, with the original artwork, preserving and presenting the legacy of this great Venezuelan music for today’s generation.


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The late 1960s was a very busy time when Pérez was juggling several different studio bands: Los Dementes, Los Calvos and Los Kenya.

The daring experiment Pérez created with Los Calvos laid the basis for Los Kenya, an actual working band that released six albums between 1968 and 1972. Despite being titled “Los Kenya, Vol. 2” because it was the second released by Discomoda, the record actually represents Los Kenya’s third album, and is perhaps the most mature, well-rounded venture in the lot.

In February 1969, on Discomoda, came “Los Kenya, Vol. 2” focused on the upcoming carnival season and was calculated to compete with rival bands Federico Y Su Combo Latino and Sexteto Juventud for the plethora of gigs offered at that time of year.

The album, like all Ray Pérez releases of the time, is short and powerful, with five tracks per side, showcasing a variety of singers, genres, rhythms, influences and arrangements, making this one of his more eccentric and interesting efforts. 1960s California “sunshine pop” rock (often referred to as ‘surf’ on Los Kenya records), guajiras, boogaloos, descargas and even Mexican mariachi corridos are all added to the pot of salsa cooked up by “El Loco Ray” and his band.

The album has been rescued from obscurity and lovingly restored, remastered from the original tapes, fully licensed, with its original artwork intact, preserving and presenting the legacy of this great Venezuelan music for today’s generation of global salsa dura fans.

Two-Piers präsentiert die nächste Killer-Compilation: "Weird Scenes From The Hangout (Psychedelic & Freakbeat Dancefloor Anthems 1967-1982)", kuratiert von Richard Norris (The Grid, Beyond The Wizard's Sleeve, The Time And Space Machine) und zentriert um seine Liverpooler Clubnacht "The Hangout" in den 1980ern. Dort brachten er und weitere DJs bewusstseinsverändernden Wahnsinn aus Psychedelia und Freakbeat auf die Tanzfläche. Herausragende Songs wie "The Left Banke - I've Got Something On My Mind", "The Turtles - Buzzsaw" oder "Can - Outside Your Door" wurden zu echten Hangout-Hymnen. Man widmete der eher trendy Ausbeute der Spät-Sechziger ebenso viel Zeit wie angesagten Acts, solange der Groove auf dem Dancefloor funktionierte. Das Hangout kam und ging im Nu, aber sein Erbe, psychedelische Fußstampfer auf die Fläche zu bringen, lebt weiter, gemeinsam mit der Liebe zu allem, was mit Beat und Freak zu tun hat.
** Exclusive tracks to Vinyl Format

Ghostly 25 Year Anniversary Edition. Thus far, Zach Saginaw's releases as Shigeto have been fragments, albeit singularly satisfying fragments -- EP-length glimpses into the Detroit producer's creative psyche. After filling two EPs on Ghostly International, Shigeto's lush, sumptuous take on instrumental hip-hop has fully materialized. Full Circle, the artist's first full-length album, completes the journey begun with Shigeto's Semi-Circle EP, synthesizing the drummer/producer's signature themes of family, continuity, and musical boundary-pushing into a vibrant, fully unified artistic statement.The sounds on Full Circle come from four years of obsessive field recording and collaboration. Saginaw brought his Tascam mini-recorder with him everywhere, capturing the "glasses, chains, breathing, children, family meals, monks singing in cathedrals, walks in the south of France, and good friends offering their musical skill" that would all find homes in the record's compositional nooks and crannies. As a result of Saginaw's constant documentation, the songs on Full Circle play like chapters in an ongoing story--as in "Escape from the Incubator", whose initial rhythmic claustrophobia opens up into a boom-clap nocturnal chase, or "French Kiss Power Up", whose romantic digital strut gives way to discord and fragmentation as the waves of synthesizer give way to a shaky, neurotic coda. Full Circle is framed by the "Ann Arbor" diptych, a pair of beat suites named after Saginaw's hometown (one featuring a sample of Detroit MC SelfSays), all double-thick synths and triple-strength kick drums. Saginaw plays the majority of his rhythms by hand, and Full Circle's consistently deep pocket is the record's secret weapon, thumping and breathing like a living being.Having set the stage with Semi-Circle and What We Held On To EPs--twin treatises on Saginaw's Japanese grandmother's escape from a US internment camp--Shigeto is clearly ready to draw the tale to a close and take center stage. "This release represents the end of the beginning--or perhaps that there is no end and no beginning at all," says Saginaw. Regardless, Full Circle is the start of something great.

Die Londoner Experimentalisten Kinkajous releasen ihr neues Album auf dem Nottinghamer Label Running Circle. "Nothing Will Disappear" ist Ambient-Maximalismus in seiner subtilsten und zartesten Form. Anklänge an Floating Points und subtile Klangfarben-Shifts á la Jon Hopkins und James Holden sind deutlicher zu erkennen als bei anderen zeitgenössischen Jazzacts. Die beiden Vorgänger "Hidden Lines" (2019) und "Being Waves" (2021) sind Paradebeispiele für ihre Mischung aus analoger, akustischer und orchestraler Instrumentierung und schafften es beide in zahlreiche Jahresendlisten.

Von CLASH als "ein wichtiger Teil der britischen Musiklandschaft" beschrieben, beziehen Kinkajous ihre Inspiration aus Orchester-, Instrumental- und elektronischer Musik und sind für ihren fesselnden und filmreifen Sound bekannt. Angeführt von Schlagzeuger/Produzent Benoît Parmentier und Saxophonist Adrien Cau, können sie mit einer beeindruckenden Besetzung aufwarten, zu der auch Keyboarder Jack Doherty und Bassist Andres Castellanos gehören. Die mutigen neuen Räume, in die Kinkajous vorgedrungen ist, kommen gut an, mit ausverkauften Headliner-Shows im Londoner Jazz Café und King's Place, neben einer gigantischen Zusammenarbeit im letzten Winter mit dem London Contemporary Orchestra im Londoner Earth Theatre und Auftritten bei den Bluedot und EFG London Jazz Festivals.

Lili Holland-Fricke and Sean Rogan’s debut album “dear alien” is a constellation of radiant improvised impulses, imagined in lucent fragments of cello, guitar and voice. Spacious, tender and glistening with rich electronic distortion, the record melds a spectrum of processed and natural sound as the artists invite listeners into their dreamlike world of synergetic introspections.

Cultivated through a shared spirit of resourcefulness and play, “dear alien” emerges as an organic meeting place in the compositional output of British-German experimental cellist Lili Holland-Fricke and Manchester-born guitarist and producer Sean Rogan. Having studied their respective instruments at the Royal Northern College of Music, both artists have flourished in eclectic solo and collaborative projects, creating intricate and intimate spheres of sound with a deep appreciation for songwriting and improvisation.

Holland-Fricke’s transition from the classical world to writing her own material, and later vastly expanding her palette with electronics, first converged with Rogan’s distinctive flair for production in 2022 on her EP “birdsong for breakfast” and single ‘draw on the walls’. Now, the duo present an album envisioned through true ‘50/50’ collaboration during the summer of 2023, written across two intensive weeks of improvising and experimenting at Rogan’s Greenwich home studio. A convergence of the artists’ sounds and influences, the music was fostered by the idea of making an album with ‘no plan’ and their shared recent discovery of Arthur Russell, to whom the final track is dedicated.

“dear alien” assembles eight compositions that emerged naturally as the duo created sketches with cello and pedals, guitar, tape loops and poetic vocal musings, forming songs that explore themes of waiting, circling back around, and glitchy communication. Moments of drifting through pillowy layers of sound contrast with saturated visions of electronic modification, where the record’s glowing instrumental contours are pushed to the extremes.

The plaintive shades of ‘half blue’ and meandering deliberations of ‘slow thing’ are teased by the friction of static signals and a sense of ever-mutating sonic mass – a sensibility most acutely realised in ‘dawning’, where cello-vocoder eruptions grow in magnitude, the absence of sound between them burdened with something sinister and unspoken. As the artists expand on this piece, ‘It’s the sound equivalent of squeezing your eyes shut to shield against the brightness of something you don’t want to see, only to find that each time you open them again the world is not softening but getting more relentlessly overwhelming, to the point of being totally blinding.’

Three tracks with lyrics – ‘at first’, ‘dear alien’ and ‘seem asleep’ – refract the album’s wistful and melancholic colours into poetic imagery and metaphors, ushering in reflections on relationship tensions and someone close feeling unknown, with hints towards wider unsettled feelings about climate change. In the spirit of lyrical improv, ‘seem asleep’ compiles lone lines from Holland-Fricke’s journals into a cut-and-paste collage around hopeful patience or futile lingering – either way conjuring a softness that welcomes the hazy ambience of ‘for a. r.’, the final composition which soundscapes the summer days spent making the album. As the artists describe of this track, ‘The music kind of leads somewhere, but then kind of leads nowhere, and just meanders around where it is, content to just be walking in a circle back to where it started.’

For centuries, the drum and its practitioners have been stewards to the physical and ancestral planes.

Detroit afroteknologist Huey Mnemonic advances his sound into a tomorrow unheard with his latest Subsonic Ebonics record, Brainscraatch, a 4-tracker of his researched and highly developed Afriko Tekno.

A portal tears open with the speaker splitting ‘Ankhobi’, blurring the lines between ritual and rave. An opening ceremony of a drum circle in the year 3000, knocking on the door of a domain beyond our own.

Entering the gateway with ‘Brainscraatch’ , a peak time percussive calling where a high pitched whine of sacred electronics becomes the foundation for a slippery hypnotic rhythm. Warranting a double take for the heads in the back fully immersed into the moment.

The portal collapses onto the unknown with the dramatic closer ‘Slipping Into Madness’. Rushing you beyond the dance into a flow state where time and space behave a little differently.

Offering his own perspective, Sard shares a jacking ‘Rescratch’ of the title track, leaning into an acidic groove faithful to the timeless freak funk of the midwest.

With this release, Mnemonic forges ahead to the borderlands of techno, leaving us with an ancient-to-the-future message,

Repress!

You know it's going to be a heavy record when DJ / collector Mr Thing asks you to keep a look out for a copy on your next digging trip to Brazil. Add on top of that, being sampled by Madlib on the track 'Curls’ on his Madvillain album!

Taken from Waldir Calmon's 'Waldir Calmon E Seus Multisons' album on Copacabana (1970), from looking at this unassuming record cover featuring a middle-aged man sporting an impressive pair of glasses you wouldn't expect it to become the fabric to one of the songs from the iconic 'Madvillain’ album. But… like many things in life, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 'Airport Love Theme’, like its name suggests, falls into full-on lounge territory. It’s feel-good music made to be the soundtrack for a utopian world that never really was. Yet behind the silky-smooth groove is an addictive earworm waiting to be heard.

'Afro Son' taken from the same album, pushes things in a different direction towards a sound that is more firmly rooted in the Brazilian tradition. This quirky 60's-breakbeat-funk groove is reminiscent of French artist Jean Jacques Perrey's 'E.V.A.', also from 1970, in its melody and backbeat, where the Moog synthesizer of Perrey is replaced with a more orchestrated sound by Calmon. This track is magical, cinematic and breakbeat-laden with a hidden unknown exoticism.

Waldir Calmon had an active career in music working from the '50s right up until his passing in 1982. His career started early, forming his first ensemble at the age of fourteen, originally working in bands in nightclubs and writing jingles. He progressed in the early '50s to a long-running career working in television. In addition to his television work, he had success with his recording vocation, mixing in the same musical circles as greats such as Tom Jobi, João Gilberto and Doris Monteiro.

• Next installment in BRAZIL 45 Series.
• Sampled by Madlib on the track ‘Curls’ from his ‘Madvillain’ album.
• Quirky, cinematic, breakbeat-laden exoticism.

Detroit house maverick and FXHE boss man Omar S is back with a new EP named seemingly in honour of himself. And why not? Few house producers can touch him even 20-plus years into his career. The title cut 'O Maarr' is dry, paired back but immediately catchy with a loved-up vocal loop and knackered kicks that bump along nicely. The second track 'Glass' is for lovers of lo-fi sounds of the sort that this man has made his signature. Searching synths circle the dusty analogue drums and coarse claps add some raw texture. 'Bug Off' is another archetypal Omar S cut - pensive chords that are whimsical and inwardly reflective over chunky beats and bass with brighter chords bursting out of the mix to bring a hint of optimism.

When the quartet of Luke Martin, Gabriel Salomon, Klaus Janek and Andy Graydon gathered to record an afternoon of sessions in Andy's studio, it was both the result of years of cultivation and an afterthought. Klaus and Andy had been long-time, and now long-distance, collaborators since their shared years in Berlin. That city was also where Andy was introduced to Gabriel at one of his solo performances by their mutual friend, the painter Paul McDevitt. Years passed, and cities. After meeting and working together in Boston, Luke and Andy both found themselves transplanted to Minneapolis. And by happenstance Gabriel arrived a few years later. A new conversation was just starting to emerge when Klaus announced his arrival, stopping by on a North American tour. Suddenly the four got a chance to listen and play together performing on a bill at a local gallery, in one configuration or another, for the first time. Packing up after that show, Klaus leaned over to ask, "isn't there a moment we could meet again, to play?"

Nothing was expected, and so anything was possible. The circumstances lent their gathering an impromptu but grounded feeling, a unique mix of chance encounter and reunion. As befits an opening encounter, the focus was as often on listening to the unfolding sonic conversation as it was on making a recording. Everyone seemed to intuit the direction despite not knowing where they were headed. The four faced each other in a loose circle surrounded by speakers and microphones pointed haphazardly, as likely to catch the dog padding around curiously as the bowing of strings or rattling of a cymbal. The permissive spirit of the day was declared early, just before rolling, when Gabriel asked if we should close the studio windows or leave them open. "You know what my answer is," replied Luke. If it's in the nature of a recording to become fixed, to be bottled up, let us at least leave open the windows to hear what might be coming next.

Building up a head of steam, Ace Vision returns on the heels of his Raising Awareness EP.

For Shaped Mind, the Italian artist is exploring new musical avenues. While his musical essence, glow and style remain, a darker dancefloor palette is employed on the release. Polyrhythmic patterns race in the sample strewn “Second Phase”, rumbling waves and warehouse echoes tempered by swirling stabs. A bouncy liquid groove ushers in “Nu să Chan”, rasping beats shrouded in smoky bass while bars bend around an assortment of textures and tones. “Katana Cut (Trance Mix)” conjures up images of dancing bodies waiting for the dawn. Melodies circle percussive layers, meandering undercurrents of acid bubbling beneath shimmering synthlines. The finale comes with “Mixage Électronique.” Steady kicks and crisp cymbals give way to juddering chords, clean keys and snare rolls countering to a close.

Matter-of-factly, Lycox exclaims "Yaaahh" right at the beginning. That's an affirmation but in times of distress it can also mean resignation, something like "Yeah, whatever". Lycox says he was only freestyling though. Then the bassline appears. Elastic, expressive, full-bodied. And it's not even present the whole time. He was "trying to develop a new formula for the Kuduro beat."

Songs for the club? Most certainly. Different sensibilities, one same focused mind. Lycox evolves within tradition, he has mastered the groove, the ambience, the right tones. Simply called "Energia", the last track circles above wistfully, menacing but maybe just promising some sort of action. With a few drops one could almost switch over to a parallel universe of old school Trance, a reference that feels as alien here as maybe this track feels to someone for whom the standard Afro House sound represents modern African music.

These songs pile up in a threshold balanced between styles, sensations, maybe in the middle of life itself. Such a concentration of energy is bound to need release and that comes figuratively through details in the music reaching out to receptive ears. "To Bem Loko" explicitly tries to "literally drive everyone crazy on the dancefloor." Once again Lycox provides vocals, as in "Edson no Uige", about a friend who embarked on a trip to the Angolan province of Uige and came back speaking only the local dialect known as lingala. A nod to tradition, very emotional, without compromising complex arrangements. Consequently, we the listeners are kept believing there is still enough space for a bright future. To ears accustomed to Lycox productions the title "Contemporaneo" (opening of side B) reads like a redundancy, then.

Maybe this music can never be quite as massive as other Afro styles. Without sounding pretentious, it avoids simplistic patterns, it demands a bit more mental processing while it certainly aims to loosen the limbs. Universal in vocation, underground at the core, Lycox definitely calls it Batida but for some it is still Ghetto Music. Like DJ Veiga said when describing a previous release for Príncipe, Ghetto is home, though. Lycox adds it is a foundation of personality. "Few in our community will recognize your work when you come from the same environment, but once you establish your reputation outside of the neighbourhood and even outside of the country, people will look at you differently, as if you were a star."

Mysterious, multifaceted collective i Häxa have unveiled their epic self-titled, full length debut; a ground-breaking conceptual double album shaped by a collision of ancient gods and bleeding-edge technology_ Released as four distinct Parts over the course of the year, `i Häxa' now comes together as a singular vision that weaves together genre-defiant soundscapes, abstract cinema and ancient meteorological mythologies from singer-songwriter and visual artist Rebecca Need-Menear (also of electronic alt-rock duo Anavae) and forward-thinking producer Peter Miles (Architects, Dodie, Fizz). i Häxa is a ritualistic dissection of the world as we know it, a forceful separation of the monotony of modernity from the rites and rituals that for centuries formed the foundations for who we are, how we came to be and where we claim to belong. Disjointed fragments of time collide. Two sides, one of logic and one of chaos, seeking unity and balance through an expression of freedom. This is i Häxa. Whilst the album is composed of four distinct movements, each consisting of four distinct tracks themselves; pulling them apart into easily digestible, standalone singles isn't an easy feat and, as is now clear from the project's sprawling cyclic nature, was never the intention. In an age of fast fun and instant gratification, the ties that bind these works together are intended to transcend tracklisting. With aural, visual and lyrical themes freely intertwining, i Häxa is something to be consumed whole; just as it will, in time, consume you. Charting an existential journey to the very depths of what makes us who we are, with every dark corner illuminated in glitched out, discordant glory; i Häxa is a project years in the making that draws simultaneously from rituals for old gods and the modern day deification of data. i Häxa is both heartwarming and horrifying; i Häxa is ancient history and hyper-real; i Häxa is everybody and no one at all. Check out if you like Radiohead, Julie Christmas, Agnes Obel, Bjork, Fever Ray, Massive Attack, Dead Can Dance, Emma Ruth Rundle, Jenny Hval, Cult of Luna, Eivor, Zola Jesus, Marissa Nadler, Soft Moon

"SKANLESS SUMMER: 80Z BABYZ (RE-ROCK EDITION)" takes you on a nostalgic yet groundbreaking musical journey, masterfully curated by the LA up-and-coming star T.F. In this innovative album, T.F. seamlessly fuses the raw energy of 80s hip-hop with contemporary beats, re-rocked by Local Astronauts, redefining the very essence of rap music and featuring guest appearances by Larry June, Jay Worthy, Flee Lord, Tiona Deniece and more!

Real Bad Man keeps expanding his circle of collaborators by teaming up with fellow LA native Blu on their brand new collaboration effort "Bad News". Blu's introspective, intricate and mind bending rhymes perfectly blend with Real Bad Man's fresh and sample-heavy productions, creating a unique piece of works, boasting guest appearances by NY legend CL Smooth as well as Planet Asia, Cashus King, Donel Smoke and Definite. Limited vinyl hot off the press and available to order right now!

The man born Omar Credle is an ornate wordsmith; his tone is rough and rococo — every verse is like a boosted spool of handmade silk. There’s a meticulous rasp to every O.C. utterance, wherein his lavish darts seem composed by a Crooklyn corner-stander tickled by his technical brilliance.

O.C., on Word...Life, had to compete in this impossible climate (in which Nas was rap’s messiah, and B.I.G. squared mad circles the instant he uttered, “It was all a dream”). Against all odds, O.C.’s first LP captivated in its quiet way.

The much acclaimed Environments series returns with an exclusive to Record Store Day vinyl edition of “RITUALS” the first in the Environment 7 trilogy - a 13 track album of new recordings by The Future Sound of London, engineered by Yage.
Delicate melodies collide with deeply fragmented electronics - surfing atop muted rhythms and beats. Unique and unplaced the FSOL are unrivalled in art-electronic.

Pique is the sensational debut solo album from Dora Morelenbaum, one of the key talents spearheading Brazil’s new musical wave. A member of the Latin Grammy award-winning band, Bala Desejo, Dora showcases a new side to her solo productions on this special LP. Whereas Dora’s first solo EP, Vento de Beirada, was a leap of faith, Pique sees her soaring as one of Brazil’s standout stars, emboldened, emphatic but ever elegant. Building bridges between past and present, it’s a funkier, more groove-based affair, weaved together with those signature, slower, celestial tracks. Touching on disco, MPB, soul, R&B and jazz, the album is enriched with an indie pop aesthetic courtesy of fellow Brazilian star and co-producer, Ana Frango Elétrico.

With an ethereal, enveloping air few can match, Dora’s gift shines through both the serene and the spirited songs contained within. The blissful, sun-soaked ‘Não Vou Te Esquecer’ opens, before the funk-fuelled, feel-good ‘Venha Comigo’ and ‘Sim, Não.’ give a glimpse of the creativity bursting from the production partnership between Dora and Ana Frango Elétrico. Elsewhere, the album reclines into hazy lean-back realms via ‘A Melhor Saída’ and ‘Petricor’, virtuoso jazz funk in the form of ‘VW Blue’ and radiant MPB through the album’s title track ‘Pique’.

The drumming is tight, fresh and swung, the horns and strings deftly arranged, as funk-driven basslines and strutting guitars mesh with playful production touches that give an added vibrancy to the record. It is an album that exhibits every side of Dora and one she has been involved in from the ground up, from the songwriting, singing, arrangement and production to booking the studio time and sourcing the artwork designer, Maria Cau Levy.

An exchange of musical ideas powers every great scene and Rio’s contemporary landscape is no different - a family of interconnected musicians and friends that collaborate on each other’s productions. Pique is graced by a wealth of these leading Brazilian lights including her Bala Desejo bandmates Lucas Nunes, Julia Mestre and Zé Ibarra, as well as Guilherme Lirio, Alberto Continentino and Tom Veloso to name just a handful. This exchange crosses generations merging tradition with modernity. In a full circle moment, Dora’s parents Paula and Jaques Morelenbaum, who featured in countless recordings from Tom Jobim's Nova Banda and Ryuichi Sakamoto to Gal Costa and Gilberto Gil, join on the album through backing vocals and arrangement.

Pique sees Dora embrace a freedom through fresh forms, showcasing the depth and diversity of her creative artistry. An infinitely listenable release that nods to Brazilian greats like Gal Costa, Banda Black Rio and Lincoln Olivetti, fused with the indie pop edge of Ana’s production. The result is truly unique and sure to be a future Brazilian classic.

Tristan Arp returns to Wisdom Teeth with his sophomore LP: ‘a pool, a portal’ - a vast, multi-dimensional record of pin-drop rhythms, hushed vocals and swirling ambience that maps out a vivid limbic space between the natural and the digital worlds. The LP began life while Tristan was still living in Mexico City, and was subsequently finished in New York. Carrying on from where his acclaimed debut ‘Sculpturegardening’ left off, the record marries hallucinatory modular synths with cello, found sound and spoken word, creating a rich sonic world in which machines mimic nature and acoustic instruments merge with their digital counterparts. Across the record’s narrative arc, listeners are invited to imagine a future world in which nature and machines collaborate to rewild and search for new modes of being. Far from apocalyptic, the artist’s vision is yearning and hopeful - a reflection on how we might evolve to overcome our very human limitations. “Hopefully we can all open a little portal into another world and integrate what we learn into our own”, Tristan offers. True to his word, Tristan shared much of the creative process with his machines, using modular generative processes to create randomised, improvisatory moments that he could collaborate on as artist and observer. Most of the tracks were captured in single takes as live performances and improvisations that were subsequently edited and cut down. Speaking of ‘Life After Humans’ - the record’s beguiling 10-minute centrepiece - Tristan recalls: “I neglected to record multi-track outs, but it was actually super empowering to be left with just a stereo track: I couldn’t mix individual elements even if I wanted to after the recording, but I’m happy I inadvertently limited myself in that way.” Alongside his own voice, the record features a stunning appearance from fast-rising Guatemalan cellist and vocalist, Mabe Fratti. The pair met in Mexico City in 2020, where she helped Tristan to learn cello - an encounter that ultimately went on to inform the recordings that made up ‘Sculpturegardening’. Her appearance on ‘a pool, a portal’ marks a full-circle moment in their creative relationship. The album’s artwork features photography by Zhang An - a photographer based in Nanjing, China. Despite their appearances, these are unmanipulated photos of real-world ice formations. As is the case throughout ‘a pool, a portal’, the lines between the natural and the artificial are playfully indistinct.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"