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Limited Edition RED Vinyl – 100 units Hand numbered

Omid's parents were Iranian but he spent his childhood in Putney, London. He grew up listening to rock music, and listed Jimi Hendrix, Neil Young and the Cure among his favourite artists – after Robert Smith became a fan Omid would later remix various Cure songs. He learnt to play guitar and formed a rock band, but after hearing hardcore records played on pirate music stations he began making his own tracks on basic equipment that he had bought. Beginning in 1995, his early house and techno singles were released on his own Alola and Disclosure labels under the names of 16B and Phaser, but they soon attracted the attention of big-name DJs such as Derrick Carter, François Kevorkian and Sasha, and he signed to Sven Väth's Eye Q label to release his debut album Sounds from Another Room in March 1998, which was described by the Independent on Sunday as "avant-garde" and by Muzik as "quite breathtaking".
Although he started out as a producer, Omid gradually moved into DJing, at the request of friends who asked him to play records at parties. He secured a regular spot playing the Elements club night run by Hooj Choons record label boss Red Jerry. In October 2001 Omid released The Witch/Which Equation under the alias of the Sixteen Million Dollar Man.Inspired by Prince initially releasing his Planet Earth album as a covermount with a British newspaper, Omid released his third studio album Like 3 Ears and 1 Eye (Part 1) in a similar manner as a covermount with the November 2007 issue of DJ Mag.
Omid also formed the SOS collective of DJs, consisting of him, Desyn Masiello and Demi. The trio secured a residency at London's Ministry of Sound nightclub, and were asked to produce the club's first mix CD in 2010

In the label's own words:

"Kennedy returns to another musical dream state bringing nocturnal visions to life through the power of machines. Including three tracks of borderless Hi Tech Soul music, on this third 12" in the series he widens his sonic scope via elements of Jazz and African rhythms next to his own distinctive take on the original sounds of Detroit.

It's another musical offering that comes from deep within mind, body and soul. Side a sounds like a warm fusion of loose rhythms and glowing synths determined by machines, whereas the b-side is more explicitly human-made with flute recorded live by Amsterdam Jazz man Han Litz, bringing a lightness of touch that imbues the music with hope and optimism. Beneath that, a battery of drums is set free calling up acoustic sounds driving from deep inside in a dense forest.

This third translation of thoughts, sensations and sounds is another emotive coming together of man and machine that will find yourself invited to gaze off into an infinite sonic cosmos."

Eliott Litrowski and Voiski’s could have done so 15 years ago, after a first meeting in Paris on the Island of Swans, during a ‘Free Party’ event shut down by the police. But it didn’t. Each one followed his own way, and if their paths crossed many times, they only began collaborating in 2021.

Cracki Records’s 10th anniversary Compilation was the trigger: the two artists locked themselves in the studio to create what has become since their signature sound: The Friendship Spacecake, a perfect alliance, driven by their common love for analogic synthesizers, between Eliott Litrowski’s hybrid electro and Voiski’s post-trance.

Neither of them wanted to stop at this stage. One is living in Copenhagen, the other in Paris, yetcreating an album together quickly became the next obvious step.
This common desire led to the beginning of the suitably called Superski duo: a great name that encapsulates both artists’ committed live performances, their unusual musical language, between electro, trance and Italo, and their vision of an uncompromising, colorful and positive club culture.

Oberheim 6, Jupiter 8, TR808, Roland JX8P, Microwave XT and FutureRetro XS, all synthesizers are limitlessly pushed to their last breath, creating an almost retro-futuristic decor for the artiststo evolve in.

Their debut album “Mondo Moderno” will be out March 31st

The sounds across these four tracks were made by SIM and NAP from 2021 to 2023 with lots of love and bass... the sessions started from the first time they met at NAP's studio, point always to kick it, jam and see what happens. After a couple months of that of course a sound develops, a process shines and a friendship grows. After a year or so trust built and a language made present. Transcending the spoken word and feeling unique to both...things start to really go off and the jams turn to songs. Two years pass and it’s time to celebrate with the marker and archive of all those deep sessions, now in edited form to be shared with all. And yeah, you can have all in common with someone when it comes to digging wubs, riddims and drum machines but add vulnerable earnest meetings with meals in between and good conversation about things other than music (or maybe how other things relate to it) and then you get something really special, something like SINNAZ. SIM and NAP journeying into collaboration with a debut EP of rhythmic noise, driving bog beats, swampy dembows, radioactive Dancehall and unhinged experimentalia.

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

Angelo is an EP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist and singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy's father and both of Stuart's parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo's sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, "to get us out of our grief and into our bodies," says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal _ a resourceful, collective answer to "what happens now?". Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. "Such a bro-y, `80s dude car, it's been super fun to drive around in a new town," Murphy says. "He's older than us, he's a classic, he's got a story." It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, "Which Way To The Club." The question is quickly resolved by "Take A Trip" as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip - the kind of imagined space or chamber within one's self capable of "shifting a fraction of who you are," says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be "as free as we could be," adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: "What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room." Next is "Shy Guy," a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: "We are in junior high, we're on the dance floor, what's going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?" The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. "Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too," Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one - something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, "It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission." "Angelo" and "Ooo La La" deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean's catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo's dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude "Colors" drifting into "Where Do We Go?", a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space. It all culminates in "Caldwell's Way," a fond farewell to their Bay Area community - "a part of my life that I knew couldn't come back," says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There's the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: "I'd rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars." And the song's namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. "I'm only miles away, maybe I'm just feeling lonely," the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and "Nostalgia" runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

Light in the Attic Records is proud to present the next installment of the Nancy Sinatra Archival Series with the first ever reissue of the classic 1972 album Nancy & Lee Again. Recorded during a 1972 reunion between Nancy and the enigmatic Hazlewood, the album contains some of the pair's most enduring and ambitious duets including the epic "Arkansas Coal (Suite)," the sensual "Paris Summer" and the incredibly powerful Dolly Parton-penned "Down From Dover." Equal parts daring, psychedelic, cinematic, and sweet, Nancy & Lee Again reveals with each track a timeless, natural chemistry between two artists who would remain influential for generations to come. Nancy & Lee Again is available in a variety of formats, including vinyl and CD. The vinyl LP is presented in an expanded gatefold jacket and is accompanied by a 20-page booklet, featuring an array of photos from the legendary singer, actress, and activist's personal collection, as well as in-depth Q&A with Nancy Sinatra, conducted by the reissue's GRAMMYr-nominated co-producer, Hunter Lea (also available in the CD package). All formats have been beautifully designed by Darryl Norsen of D. Norsen Design, and include two bonus tracks, "Machine Gun Kelly" (first time on vinyl) and the previously unreleased "Think I'm Coming Down." Nancy, the eldest daughter of Frank Sinatra, had been working with the Oklahoma-born songwriter since 1965, when she topped the pop charts with "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'." Over the next five years, the two artists forged a prolific relationship in the studio, with Hazlewood writing and producing many of Nancy's solo hits. Soon, the duo found success with a series of duets, including "Sand," "Summer Wine," and "Some Velvet Morning" - all of which appeared on their highly-influential 1968 debut. Not long after the critical acclaim and chart success of Nancy & Lee died down, however, Hazlewood unexpectedly relocated to Sweden, leaving his musical partner in the proverbial dust. America, meanwhile, was in the midst of a cultural shift, as the Vietnam War waged on. By the turn of the decade, the musical landscape had changed significantly. "Trivial music and not profound music became unimportant," recalls Nancy, speaking to Hunter Lea. "It was a tough time." And yet, despite the circumstances, the stars somehow aligned for the duo to record some of their most magnificent music together. Returning to Los Angeles for the project, Hazlewood - who reprised his role as producer - chose to take a new direction with the duo's sophomore album. Nancy recalls, "It was more dramatic; it was more fun to do, more challenging to do_. It was more grandiose." Nancy & Lee Again remains a creative high point in the careers of Sinatra and Hazlewood and, upon its release, garnered rave reviews from Billboard, Record World, and Cash Box, among others. Yet, Nancy & Lee Again never received the spotlight it so utterly deserved. "We didn't have label support at all in those days," recalls Nancy. "Without the strength of a label, records die. We were old. We were old-fashioned. We were just not what was happening. It's a very ageist kind of business." Nevertheless, she adds, "I think it's a very good album. I think it's timeless." Now, after years of being a sought-after rarity, this gem in the Sinatra-Hazlewood canon can finally get its due.

Light in the Attic Records is proud to present the next installment of the Nancy Sinatra Archival Series with the first ever reissue of the classic 1972 album Nancy & Lee Again. Recorded during a 1972 reunion between Nancy and the enigmatic Hazlewood, the album contains some of the pair's most enduring and ambitious duets including the epic "Arkansas Coal (Suite)," the sensual "Paris Summer" and the incredibly powerful Dolly Parton-penned "Down From Dover." Equal parts daring, psychedelic, cinematic, and sweet, Nancy & Lee Again reveals with each track a timeless, natural chemistry between two artists who would remain influential for generations to come. Nancy & Lee Again is available in a variety of formats, including vinyl and CD. The vinyl LP is presented in an expanded gatefold jacket and is accompanied by a 20-page booklet, featuring an array of photos from the legendary singer, actress, and activist's personal collection, as well as in-depth Q&A with Nancy Sinatra, conducted by the reissue's GRAMMYr-nominated co-producer, Hunter Lea (also available in the CD package). All formats have been beautifully designed by Darryl Norsen of D. Norsen Design, and include two bonus tracks, "Machine Gun Kelly" (first time on vinyl) and the previously unreleased "Think I'm Coming Down." Nancy, the eldest daughter of Frank Sinatra, had been working with the Oklahoma-born songwriter since 1965, when she topped the pop charts with "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'." Over the next five years, the two artists forged a prolific relationship in the studio, with Hazlewood writing and producing many of Nancy's solo hits. Soon, the duo found success with a series of duets, including "Sand," "Summer Wine," and "Some Velvet Morning" - all of which appeared on their highly-influential 1968 debut. Not long after the critical acclaim and chart success of Nancy & Lee died down, however, Hazlewood unexpectedly relocated to Sweden, leaving his musical partner in the proverbial dust. America, meanwhile, was in the midst of a cultural shift, as the Vietnam War waged on. By the turn of the decade, the musical landscape had changed significantly. "Trivial music and not profound music became unimportant," recalls Nancy, speaking to Hunter Lea. "It was a tough time." And yet, despite the circumstances, the stars somehow aligned for the duo to record some of their most magnificent music together. Returning to Los Angeles for the project, Hazlewood - who reprised his role as producer - chose to take a new direction with the duo's sophomore album. Nancy recalls, "It was more dramatic; it was more fun to do, more challenging to do_. It was more grandiose." Nancy & Lee Again remains a creative high point in the careers of Sinatra and Hazlewood and, upon its release, garnered rave reviews from Billboard, Record World, and Cash Box, among others. Yet, Nancy & Lee Again never received the spotlight it so utterly deserved. "We didn't have label support at all in those days," recalls Nancy. "Without the strength of a label, records die. We were old. We were old-fashioned. We were just not what was happening. It's a very ageist kind of business." Nevertheless, she adds, "I think it's a very good album. I think it's timeless." Now, after years of being a sought-after rarity, this gem in the Sinatra-Hazlewood canon can finally get its due.

Tape
"And we"re coming out of dreams / And we"re coming back to dreams" is the first thing you hear Bill say as you remake your acquaintance on YTILAER. Right out the gate, he"s standing in two places at once: meeting up with old friends behind the scenes and encountering them on the record, finding himself coming round the bend and then again as someone else on down the line. Like the character actor he played on Gold Record, writing stories about other people, telling jokes about everyone, and in singing them, becoming the songs. "You do what you"ve got to do / To see the picture" Bill"s got a full band sound going on this one, with him and Matt Kinsey on guitars, Emmett Kelly on bass and backing vocals, Sarah Ann Phillips on B3, piano and backing vocals and Jim White on drums. Jim and Matt sing on one song, too, and some other singers come in, too. Bill plays some synth here and there, and Carl Smith drifts in and out of the picture with his contra alto clarinet, as do Mike St. Clair and Derek Phelps on brass. Somehow in between them all, you might think you hear the distant sound of a steel guitar. And you might - but you might not, too. In this company, Bill continues his journey, tunneling underneath the weathered exterior of what seems to be and into the more nuanced life everything takes on in the dark. With Bill"s voice making the extraordinary leaps and bounds that measure the lives of the songs, the band follow him through passages that seem to invent themselves; other times playing with deeply soulful grooves and/or desperate intensity, as these moments come and go. There"s nothing they can"t do. "I wrote this song in five and forever / I"m writing it right now" Bill sings on "Natural Information" - an admission of the everyday alchemy he"s forever trafficking in. Time passes, triangulating the encounters that went into any one record with two out of any three others, all of it made flesh, new constitution, in our stereo speakers. If every album is its own life, it stands to reason that they"re invariably passing in the night. Cascading images flowing from the stream of consciousness. Turning like pages from the journal, unspeakably personal, then suddenly become tall tales, like a book pulled off the shelf, completely unbound. Headlines flow through. Mirror images, mirthful ones. Bill"s lyrics strain at the lines on the page, not content to separate the printing of the fact from the myth or be confined to ink on paper. They want to fly free. And they do. "I realize now that dreams are real" On YTILAER"s inner sleeve, alongside his lyrics, Bill celebrates the "exhilaration and dread" of cover artist Paul Ryan"s paintings. Paul"s another one met up with again down the road, his indelible cover imagery on Apocalypse and Dream River now an axis of meaning in the Callahanian world - and in the bright colors found in these new images, a parallel to Bill"s recognitions here. "A breath of exquisite air as we come up from drowning", sounds like the desired hope for those hearing the songs of YTILAER.

Repress!

Outstanding free jazz session recorded in 1973 in Paris by Chicago outfit BAG.

It was Lester Bowie, trumpeter with the Art Ensemble of Chicago, who suggested that the Black Artists' Group (BAG) should head for Paris. In 1972 several members of BAG took his advice and flew to France for an extended stay. The following year a concert featuring saxophonist Oliver Lake, trumpeters Baikida Carroll and Floyd LeFlore, drummer Charles Bobo Shaw and trombonist Joseph Bowie (Lester's younger brother) was recorded and subsequently issued as In Paris, Aries 1973, a strictly limited edition LP on the group's own label.

Since the formation of Black Artists' Group in 1968, the home of this multidisciplinary arts collective had been St Louis, Missouri, the city where the Bowie brothers had grown up. It was there that Lester Bowie had started to investigate the expanding horizons of jazz before moving, in 1966, to Chicago where he joined the recently established Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). His close friend Oliver Lake visited Bowie, attended AACM concerts and meetings and was inspired not only by their artistic vision and integrity but also by their efficient organisation. In Chicago musicians were making things happen for themselves, taking control of their own destinies and giving shape to their lives as creative artists.

In June 1969, the Art Ensemble of Chicago had taken their music to France. During the preceding decade Paris had established a reputation for audiences that were unusually well-informed and open-minded, receptive to the uncompromising music of black American innovators such as Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, Albert Ayler and Sun Ra. The city that had nurtured not only Cubism and Surrealism, but also Jean-Luc Godard and contemporary cinema's Nouvelle Vague was well prepared for the sonic collage forms and stylistic dislocations of the Art Ensemble. During that same month violinist Leroy Jenkins, trumpeter Leo Smith and saxophonist Anthony Braxton also arrived in Paris, three further emissaries from the AACM.

The adventure of collective improvisation resonated with the Parisian zeitgeist. Enthusiastic audiences attended their concerts and coverage in the media. In Paris, Aries 1973 offers an isolated and fascinating glimpse into that phase of the group's existence. The album is dedicated to the memory of Kada Kayan, a bassist who had hoped to make the trip from St Louis to France but, tragically, had grown ill and died. His absence adds special poignancy to the sound of the bass when it appears on this recording, played by Baikida Carroll. Listeners keen to hear Kayan himself in the company of Lake, Bowie, Shaw, LeFlore and Carroll should seek out Red, Black and Green by the 10-piece Solidarity Unit, Inc. That album, recorded on 18th September 1970 and dedicated to Jimi Hendrix, who died on that day, features an earlier version of Shaw's composition 'Something to Play On.'

In Paris, Aries 1973 reveals BAG's musical affinities with the Art Ensemble of Chicago. Both groups preserved an independently minded approach to the notion of free jazz and a carefully filtered awareness of pan-African musical practices, while their creative interest in space, mobile structure, chance occurrences and simultaneity also suggests parallels with the concerns of leading experimental composers working at that time. These performances in Paris of Shaw's 'Something to Play On' and Lake's 'Re-Cre-A-Tion,' plus two collective compositions/improvisations, display the dedication to structural fluency and sensitivity to coloration that accompanied BAG's unorthodox group dynamics and their unconventional instrumental combinations. In this case the musicians embrace congas, log drums, marimbas, woodblocks, cowbells and gongs. This is not a showcase for solos, but a shape-shifting and multi-centred statement of togetherness, quest and discovery. Removed from BAG's original multidisciplinary context the music still exudes an exhilarating spirit of collaborative exploration and shared excitement.

Last year's Big Time brought Angel Olsen to a deeper, truer sense of self than ever before. Borne from the twin stars of grief and love, the album delivered beautiful sense of certainty, the sure-footed sound of an artist fully, finally at home with herself. But within that wisdom comes the realization that there is no finish line, no destination or static end point to life while you're living it, and Forever Means collects songs from the Big Time sessions that hold this common theme. They are, in Olsen's words, "in search of something else." "I was somewhere traveling," says Olsen, "stopped for a few days and wandering the city, and I was thinking `what does `forever' really mean? What are the things I'm seeking in friendship or love, and how can `forever' be attainable if we're always changing?'" Sitting with the reality of that entropy, Olsen realized "maybe the secret to ongoing love is to embrace change as part of love itself, that forever must have something to do with playing, looking, constantly searching things out for yourself, never letting yourself think you're finished learning or exploring." `Forever'", says Olsen, "remains curious while trying also to be kind and honest." All this packs into the four precious songs that comprise Forever Means, songs from Olsen's roads traveled and the ones ahead. "Nothing's free / like breaking free" Olsen sings, comfortable with the costs of her clarity, her heart and voice fixed on the present, the future, the not-yet-known and the beautifully unknowable

Last year's Big Time brought Angel Olsen to a deeper, truer sense of self than ever before. Borne from the twin stars of grief and love, the album delivered beautiful sense of certainty, the sure-footed sound of an artist fully, finally at home with herself. But within that wisdom comes the realization that there is no finish line, no destination or static end point to life while you're living it, and Forever Means collects songs from the Big Time sessions that hold this common theme. They are, in Olsen's words, "in search of something else." "I was somewhere traveling," says Olsen, "stopped for a few days and wandering the city, and I was thinking `what does `forever' really mean? What are the things I'm seeking in friendship or love, and how can `forever' be attainable if we're always changing?'" Sitting with the reality of that entropy, Olsen realized "maybe the secret to ongoing love is to embrace change as part of love itself, that forever must have something to do with playing, looking, constantly searching things out for yourself, never letting yourself think you're finished learning or exploring." `Forever'", says Olsen, "remains curious while trying also to be kind and honest." All this packs into the four precious songs that comprise Forever Means, songs from Olsen's roads traveled and the ones ahead. "Nothing's free / like breaking free" Olsen sings, comfortable with the costs of her clarity, her heart and voice fixed on the present, the future, the not-yet-known and the beautifully unknowable

Trey Gruber's posthumous debut double LP Herculean House of Cards. A compilation of early demos, studio demos, and live recordings. A tortured songwriter and struggling addict who jolted the tired Chicago DIY scene with his own brand of primal despair, Trey Gruber and his band Parent were on track to join the ranks of Twin Peaks, Mild High Club, and Whitney. His death in 2017 at the age of 26 brought it all to a halt. In his final years Trey wrote and recorded hundreds of previously unheard demos, dandelions in the cracked concrete of 21st century disconnect, an alphabet's worth of which have been compiled by his family and friends for his only album: Herculean House Of Cards. The 26-song 2xLP covers years of material, from home tape recordings, sessions at Mathew Roberts (Mild High Club) & Paul Cherry's home studio, to a studio session with Charles Glanders (Whitney) at Chicago's Foxhall Studios, along with audio taken at The Hideout during his last live performance, among others. Though Gruber was an unrelenting perfectionist who was constantly self-deprecating about his best demos, Herculean House of Cards is a wholly comprehensive and accurate reflection of his infectious charisma and raw songwriting. He had a charmingly distinct way with words but also could be disarmingly vulnerable. Like he was in life, Gruber never shied away from being open with his struggles with alcoholism and addiction. On the vivid opener "Eisenhower to the West Side," he sings in painstaking detail of, "A jail-skin cell, a junkies fight/Corner-boys full of grace/And Jesus Christ full of spite." He told then-future bandmate flautist Rebecca Ridge, "It's not some Lou Reed glorification of drugs _ `makes me feel like a man'_ I talk about the disconnect and the ugliness. They're sad pop songs." But even with the pain and the darkness in his lyrics, Gruber's songs had an unmistakable sense of hope and catharsis.

Trey Gruber's posthumous debut double LP Herculean House of Cards. A compilation of early demos, studio demos, and live recordings. A tortured songwriter and struggling addict who jolted the tired Chicago DIY scene with his own brand of primal despair, Trey Gruber and his band Parent were on track to join the ranks of Twin Peaks, Mild High Club, and Whitney. His death in 2017 at the age of 26 brought it all to a halt. In his final years Trey wrote and recorded hundreds of previously unheard demos, dandelions in the cracked concrete of 21st century disconnect, an alphabet's worth of which have been compiled by his family and friends for his only album: Herculean House Of Cards. The 26-song 2xLP covers years of material, from home tape recordings, sessions at Mathew Roberts (Mild High Club) & Paul Cherry's home studio, to a studio session with Charles Glanders (Whitney) at Chicago's Foxhall Studios, along with audio taken at The Hideout during his last live performance, among others. Though Gruber was an unrelenting perfectionist who was constantly self-deprecating about his best demos, Herculean House of Cards is a wholly comprehensive and accurate reflection of his infectious charisma and raw songwriting. He had a charmingly distinct way with words but also could be disarmingly vulnerable. Like he was in life, Gruber never shied away from being open with his struggles with alcoholism and addiction. On the vivid opener "Eisenhower to the West Side," he sings in painstaking detail of, "A jail-skin cell, a junkies fight/Corner-boys full of grace/And Jesus Christ full of spite." He told then-future bandmate flautist Rebecca Ridge, "It's not some Lou Reed glorification of drugs _ `makes me feel like a man'_ I talk about the disconnect and the ugliness. They're sad pop songs." But even with the pain and the darkness in his lyrics, Gruber's songs had an unmistakable sense of hope and catharsis.

On Giver Taker, the gorgeous debut album by Anjimile, death and life are always entwined, wrapping around each other in a dance of reverence, reciprocity, and, ultimately, rebirth. Giver Taker is confident, intentional and introspective. Anjimile Chithambo (they/them, he/him) wrote much of the album while in treatment for drug and alcohol abuse, as well as while in the process of living more fully as a nonbinary trans person. Loss hovers over the album, whose songs grieve for lost friends ("Giver Taker") and family members ("1978") along with lost selves ("Maker," "Baby No More," "In Your Eyes.") But here, grief yields an opening: a chance for new growth. Each song on the album is its own micro-journey, adding up to a transformative epic cycle created in collaboration with bandmate Justine Bowe of Photocomfort and New-York based artist/producer Gabe Goodman. "1978" and "Maker" both begin as Sufjan Stevens-esque pastoral ballads with Chithambo's mesmerizing voice foregrounded against minimal instrumentation and swell into the realm of the majestic through the addition of warm, steady instrumentation (informed by the mix of 80's pop and African music Chithambo's Malawi-born parents played around the house) and harmonies by Bowe. "In Your Eyes" starts out hushed and builds to a crescendo via a mighty chorus inspired by none other than the Lion King. The allusion is fitting: each song encapsulates a heroic voyage, walked alone until accompanied by kindred souls. The choirs present throughout are equally deliberate. Chithambo grew up as a choir boy himself, and several songs (notably "Maker") grasp not only towards reconciliation between his trans identity and his parents' strong religious beliefs, but towards reclaiming his trans identity as an essential part of his own spirituality.

Kristian Matsson has never remained in one place for very long. Having spent much of the last decade touring around the world as The Tallest Man on Earth, Matsson has captivated audiences using, as The New York Times describes, “every inch of his long guitar cord to
roam the stage: darting around, crouching, stretching, hip-twitching, perching briefly and jittering away…Mr. Matsson is a guitar-slinger rooted in folk, and his songs are troubadour ballads at heart.”

Now, Matsson returns as The Tallest Man on Earth with Henry St., his sixth studio album following 2012’s There’s No Leaving Now, full of “vivid imagery, clever turns-of-phrase, and devastating, world-weary observations” (Under The Radar) and 2015’s Dark Bird Is A
Home, his “most personal record… surreal and dreamlike” (Pitchfork). Henry St. notably marks the first time he recorded an album in a band setting. “My entire career I’ve been a DIY person––mostly fueled by the feeling that I didn’t know what I was doing, so I’d just do everything myself.”

But now, longing for the energy that’s only released when creating
together with others, Matsson invited his friends to come and play.
Nick Sanborn (of Sylvan Esso) produced Henry St., which includes contributions from Ryan Gustafson (of The Dead Tongues) on guitar, lap steel and ukulele, TJ Maiani on drums, CJ Camerieri (of Bon Iver) on trumpet and French horn, Phil Cook on piano and organ, Rob
Moose (of Bon Iver, yMusic) on strings and Adam Schatz on saxophone.

Multi-Award winning, hugely influential musician Feist returns with Multitudes, her sixth solo album and first since 2017’s Pleasure.

Multitudes was produced by Feist with longtime collaborators Robbie Lackritz (The Weather Station, Bahamas, Robbie Robertson) and Mocky (Jamie Lidell, Vulfpeck, Kelela). Blake Mills (Bob Dylan, Fiona Apple, Perfume Genius) and Joseph Lorge came in to mix, with Mills as a co-producer in the final stages.

Multitudes took shape soon after the birth of her daughter and sudden death of her father, a back-to-back convergence of life-altering events that left the Canadian singer/songwriter with “Nothing performative in me anymore.” As she cleansed her songwriting of any tendency to obscure unwanted truths, Feist slowly made her way toward a batch of songs rooted in a raw and potent realism which is touched with otherworldly beauty.

Largely written and workshopped during an intensely communal experimental show of the same name through 2021 and 2022, the songs on Multitudes developed in parallel with and were deeply influenced by the mutuality of the unconventional experience. The production, developed by Feist with legendary designer Rob Sinclair (David Byrne’s American Utopia, Peter Gabriel, Tame Impala) was formulated to bring people together as they re-emerged from lockdown while providing an outlet for connection between artist, art, and community.

Als Thes Ones langjähriger musikalischer Partner bei People Under The Stairs 2021 plötzlich starb, wandte er sich nach innen, um ein Werk über Trauer, Verlust und Erlösung zu schaffen. In dieser ehrgeizigen instrumentalen Elegie erzählt Thes One die Geschichte ihres gemeinsamen Lebens, indem er Double Ks Lieblingssongs in einem dicht geschichteten Mosaik aus Jazz, Beats und Psychedelia covert. Mit einer Besetzung aus renommierten Musikern aus der ganzen Welt Kat 010, Headnodic, Mikhail Galkin, Paul 'Chop' Caruso und Saint Ezekiel ist diese letzte Fußnote sowohl ein Abschiedsgeschenk an die Fans als auch ein Liebesbrief an einen verlorenen Freund.

So sehr Waterparks auch ein Genre sprengendes Kollektiv von drei Freunden ist, die Musik machen und abhängen, repräsentiert Waterparks wirklich eine größere, wagen wir es zu sagen, Bewegung. Das Trio aus Houston - Awsten Knight Gesang, Gitarre, Otto Wood
Schlagzeug und Geoff Wigington [Gitarre] - hat dem Rock auf bescheidene Weise wieder Lebendigkeit verliehen. Ihre seltsame magnetische Anziehungskraft hat eine wachsende Schar hingebungsvoller Fans angezogen, die ausverkaufte Shows besuchen, ihre Songs wie verrückt streamen und sie sogar in mehrere
Billboard-Charts befördert haben. Jetzt starten sie mit ihrem fünften Album in voller Länge INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY eine neue Ära.

When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.

Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.

There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.

Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same.