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Mother Freedom Band’s Cutting The Chord is a funky modern soul classic. It’s both a criminally under-appreciated album and a hard-to-find record so we’re delighted to be giving this sweet disco-funk groover the reissue treatment it deserves.

Produced by the great Al Goodman from The Moments and originally released in 1977, Cutting The Chord seems to be one of the lesser known releases on the curious, and often great “All Platinum” label. Other than a 7" of a couple of these tracks, the only thing that the band seem to have released is this album, and what an album it is. Unbeatable soul-funk of the highest quality.

The album bursts open with “Love Will Stay In Your Corner”. It’s a soulful dancer that reliably slays any funk set you care to drop it in. It’s followed by the lithe disco funk “Flick Of The Wrist” that’s all bubbling baselines and elegant horns. The groovy, horn-enhanced sweet soul of “Gotta Get It Back” is equal parts heartbreaker/hip-shaker and the acidic organs on “Mr Brother” are an experiment in synth soul.

Perhaps the group’s best known track, “Beautiful Summer’s Day” might well be worth the price of an original copy alone. It’s pure piano-driven paradise soul. A tropical birdsong intro sets the scene of a warm, perfect sunshine day and the lead vocal soars over the lush, clean production. The tempo oscillates between contemplative and stomping. Essential.

The brilliantly-named “(Assistants Rag) When You’re Hot, You’re Hot” opens side two. Another huge highlight, its title refrain repeated over this laid-back, power-funk workout. It still sounds incredibly modern, like something off the last D’Angelo record, and if Public Enemy and Diamond D both sampled it you know it knocks hard.

The horn-heavy, clav-stabbing-stomper “We Like To Boogie” keeps things fast and funky before the airy, heavenly harmony soul of “Come On Home” mellows us all out. Things pick up again with “Touch Me”, and you might recognise its addictive elements sampled in Jay-Z’s Kanye West-produced “A Star Was Born”. The magical, reggae-tinged, gospel-influenced “Sweet Love” closes out this assured, classy set.

We dare to say that Cutting The Chord is a rare example of a funk-soul LP which is killer from start-to-finish. Sure, there are the stand-out bombs, but the whole thing is a complete and varied album of feel-good vibes held together by its fluid horns, tight, tight rhythm section and beautiful vocals.

Mastered for vinyl from the original analogue tapes by Simon Francis, cut by Pete Norman and artwork restored at Be With HQ, this new edition should hopefully stop this album slipping any further into obscurity. It’s just too good to be forgotten.

Roman Flügel is a magician. This statement is far from being a hyperbole. Just put the needle down on any record – I mean any! – of his ( collaborations included) since the early nineties and see for yourself: none of them are without that special effect. The magic works instantly. And as the thing with magic goes: it’s challenging to explain it. But I guess that is what makes it magic.

Eating Darkness is the title of his newest spell. Affected by the fundamental shock that any system got in 2020 – but not the result thereof – it is an album that could absorb it – as its name might suggest. Music and nightlife work hand in hand as escapism and as anchors or as the undercoat of social interactions. They enable people to deal with hardships as well as the burden and the joy of life. That is the starting point and hope of Eating Darkness: the outlook and invitation to enrich each and everyone’s existence.

Bound to the single LP format and reminiscent of a time with format limitations, the nine tracks are testament to Flügel’s weakness for the art of pop music with the use of little and especially short motifs. Furthermore equipped with a clear instrumentation and without any camouflage, Eating Darkness corresponds to his idea of a virtual band.

As it happens, the opener is called The Magic Briefcase. That sits not only well with my first sentence, but pretty much embodies the album and Roman Flügel’s apparatus in an alternative title: Crystal clear sounds and melodies bounce on and off the dance floor, living room and club are pulled together and transcendental moments take turns with the tangibility of reality. After all, that is how a real magician allures you.

‘Spoiled Love’ is the debut album from Buzzy Lee (aka Sasha Spielberg). Spoiled Love is unapologetically confessional, The album is about the cycle of an unhealthy relationship, the understanding that one might play a part in that themselves, coming to terms with it and then returning to a state of childhood adolescence following it. These songs started breathing on the coast of Northern California, sat through the traffic of Los Angeles and then found their way to Northern Italy where she crafted and recorded them with longtime friend and collaborator Nicholas Jaar over three trips.

‘Archive Series Volume no. 5: Tallahassee Recordings’ is the lost-in-time debut
album from Iron & Wine. A collection of songs recorded three years prior to his
official Sub Pop debut, ‘The Creek Drank the Cradle’ (2002). A period before the
concept of Iron & Wine existed and principal songwriter Sam Beam was studying
at Florida State University with the intent of pursuing a career in film.
‘Archive Series Volume no. 5’ documents the very first steps on a journey that
would lead to a career as one of America’s most original and distinctive singersongwriters. ‘The Creek Drank the Cradle’ arrived like a thief in the night with its
lo-fi, hushed vocals and intimate nature, while almost inversely Tallahassee
comes with a strange sense of confidence. Perhaps an almost youthful discretion
that likely comes from being too young to know better and too naïve to give a
shit.
The recordings themselves are more polished than ‘The Creek Drank the Cradle’
and give a peak into what a studio version of that record might have offered up.
‘Archive Series Volume no. 5’ was recorded over the course of 1998-1999 when
Beam and future bandmate EJ Holowicki moved into a house together. Beam
had not been performing publicly however, he was known for playing an original
song or two in the early morning glow of a long night. Holowicki - also in the film
program and who would go onto a career as a sound designer at Skywalker
Sound - had a mobile recording device and after some prodding convinced his
friend to record these late-night meditations.
Together they would record close to twenty-four songs, ideas and sketches, with
EJ on bass and Sam on vocals, guitar, harmonica and drums. The recordings -
all captured in the house where they lived - have a ‘live in the room’ feel akin to
say Neil Young’s ‘Harvest’ or Nick Drake’s ‘Five Leaves Left’, rather than the
homespun lo-fi 4-track home recording experiment taking place at the time.
These recordings, minus one track, have never been made available and were
instead left preserved on a hard drive for the last twenty years. The one track
that floated out there, called ‘In Your Own Time’ was shared without a title to
childhood friend Ben Bridwell (Band of Horses) at some point. The song became
known as the ‘Fuck Like A Dog’ song and Ben shared it with more than a few
folks during the golden era of mix CDs. Two of those folks were Jonathan
Poneman from Sub Pop and journalist Mike McGonigal, who included it on his
best songs of 2001 mix CD, passed out to friends and acquaintances. And for
many that is where the Iron & Wine story begins, until now.
‘Archive Series Volume no. 5’ is the foreword to your favourite book that you’ve
somehow skipped over time and time again. It’s an alternative history mixed with
some revisionist history told over the course of eleven songs. It’s also the debut
record by Iron & Wine some twenty years after the fact.

Flat Worms on 45! These two tracks charge forth in perfect accord with the increased speed of the format. Culled from their sessions at Electrical Audio for the just-released ‘Antarctica’, this is the upper-cut to follow the album’s gut-punch, a classic knockout move.
The dance called ‘The Guest’ is a bit like The Twist but with more writhing involved. There’s horror there so it’s earned writhing on your part. For this song, Flat Worms take a DEVO-esque view, looking passively upon the actions of the real people. It’s pretty scary.
‘Circle’ belongs to that tradition of 45 tracks that may or may not allude to the 45 itself. “Find the circle! Find the center!” might serve as both timely
polemic and shameless self-promotion. Or maybe not. One thing that’s not ambiguous is the acidglazed lead guitar that hovers like a neon apparition above the thrashing rhythm section. It’s
definitively eerie.
‘Antarctica’ was a life sentence. This double-A-side
45 is the emphatic exclamation point that follows.

After the exceptional first volume of ‘Rakka’, Vladislav Delay is taken by the wanderlust again for a ravishing 2nd album of elemental electronics inspired by the Finnish wilderness. RIYL Shackleton, Rian Treanor...
Where 2020’s ‘Rakka’ represented some of Sasu Ripatti aka Vladislav Delay’s most intensely noisy textures and rhythmic complexity, as inspired by walks in his native Finnish wilderness, his follow-up further draws on and refines that experience in a beautifully brutalist bouquet of brambling distortion and tempestuous pulses that speak to the chaotic power of nature’s ecological interdependence. In the process ‘Rakka II’ fulminates Delay’s reactive sound even closer to the styles of Shapednoise, but still distinguished by his signature,
freehanded style of percussive tumult that reaches beyond techno and club music into an ecstatic, holistic hybrid of power ambient, black metal, avant-dub, free jazz, and extreme dance musicks.
While still breathlessly busy and densely overgrown, ‘Rakka II’ is intended as the romantic answer to the more hostile first volume. Its seven parts balance a sense of febrile passion with hyper-disciplined logic in more explicitly emotive, optimistic gestures that emerge from its atonal murk and convulsive structures.
Boundaries of discord and harmony are smudged almost into the red, but rendered with the spatial definition that become a hallmark of Delay’s best work for over 20 years, but never heard quite so wild and lushly semi-conscious as on cuts such as the soaring and collapsing ‘Raato’, or the craggy might of ‘Raaha’, and the heart-in-mouth headiness of ‘Rapaa.

4LP box set including Angel Olsen’s latest two albums, ‘All
Mirrors’ and ‘Whole New Mess’, as well as an LP of bonus
audio. Also includes 40-page book including photo shoot
outtakes, pictures from the recording of these albums,
handwritten lyrics and items of meaning to Angel.
Originally conceived as a double album, ‘All Mirrors’ and
‘Whole New Mess’ were distinct parts of a larger whole, twin
stars that each expressed something bigger and bolder than
Angel Olsen had ever made. Released in 2019, ‘All Mirrors’
is massive in scope and sound, tracing Olsen’s ascent into
the unknown, to a place of true self-acceptance, no matter
how dark, or difficult, or seemingly lonely. ‘All Mirrors’ is
colossal, moving, dramatic in an Old Hollywood manner.
Recorded before ‘All Mirrors’ but released after, ‘Whole New
Mess’ is the bones and beginnings of the songs that would
rewrite Olsen’s story. This is Angel Olsen in her classic style:
stark solo performances, echoes and open spaces, her voice
both whispered and enormous. ‘All Mirrors’ and ‘Whole New
Mess’ presented the two glorious extremes of an artist who,
in these songs, became new by embracing herself entirely.
Now, with ‘Song of the Lark… And Other Far Memories’,
these twin stars become a constellation with the full extent of
the songs’ iterations: all the alternate takes, B-sides, remixes
and re-imaginings are here, together. Alongside, a 40-page
book collection tells a similar story, not just through outtakes
and unseen photos but through the smaller, evocative
details: handwritten lyrics, a favourite necklace, a beaded
chandelier. As if it could be more plainly stated (there’s
nothing more), Angel adds one cover here: a loving,
assertive rendition of Roxy Music’s ‘More Than This’.
It is a definitive collection, not just of these songs but of their
revelations and their writer, from their simplest origins to their
mightiest realizations.

Ryley Walker currently resides in New York City. But his latest LP is a Chicago record in spirit. The masterful Course In Fable, the songwriter’s fi@h solo effort,
draws from the deep well of that city’s ferCle 1990s scene, when bands like Tortoise, The Sea and Cake and Gastr del Sol were reshaping the underground,
mixing and matching indie rock, jazz, prog and beyond.
Walker spent his formaCve years in Chicago, absorbing those heady sounds and finding ways to make them his own. Even though he emerged at first in folkrock
troubadour mode, it makes sense that he’s arrived at this point; each LP has grown more intricate and assured, his influences disClling into something
original and unusual. To put it simply: Course In Fable is Walker’s best record yet, full of acCve imaginaCon and endless possibiliCes.
Last October, Ryley went straight to one of the primary architects of the Chicago sound to make the LP. John McEn:re, Course In Fable’s producer/engineer/
mixer, can rightly be called a legend for his work with Tortoise, Stereolab, The Red Krayola, Jim O’Rourke and countless others over a prolific career that now
spans more than three decades. Seeing his name in an album’s liners is preVy much a trademark of quality.
Another Windy City exile, McEnCre is based on the west coast these days, working out of the Portland, OR studio he’s dubbed Soma West. On the seven songs
here, he delivers the signature shimmering and prisCne sonics he’s become known for over the years. But McEnCre was also inCmately involved with Course
In Fable’s overall creaCve process. “I told him to take the mixes and have at it,” Walker says.
The result is a rich, immersive affair — a headphones record if ever there was one. Course In Fable’s songs are twisty, labyrinthine things, stuffed full of ideas
(Walker half-jokingly calls it his “prog record”). But no maVer how complex it gets, the album is never overwhelmingly busy. Wiry guitars melt into gorgeous
string secCons (arranged by Douglas Jenkins of the Portland Cello Project). Tricky Cme signatures abound but feel as natural as can be. Melodies o@en dri@ in
unexpected direcCons but remain downright hummable. Like Walker’s beloved Genesis, the pop element is never too far from the surface even when shit
gets weird. (And speaking of weird, Ryley says that in addiCon to Genesis, much of the album’s inspiraCon comes from “Australian extreme scooter riders on
YouTube and balding gear heads on Craigslist.” Go figure.)
To help put together these various puzzle pieces, Ryley assembled a band made up of several longCme collaborators. Bill MacKay (another Chicago mainstay)
and Walker have made two excellent instrumental duo records of interlocking guitars and warm give-and-take — a rapport very much in evidence
throughout Course In Fable. The freakishly talented drummer Ryan Jewell has performed with Walker for years now in a variety of seangs, from
straighborward song-centric sets to blown-out improv extravaganzas. Bassist Andrew ScoJ Young (Tiger Hatchery, Health&Beauty) has logged many miles on
tour with Walker; he and Jewell are frequently astonishing, a buoyant-but-always-locked-in rhythm secCon, able to navigate someCmes dizzying turnarounds
with apparent ease. Listening to the interplay between Walker and these musicians and you might be fooled into thinking they’d spent a year roadtesCng
Course In Fable’s songs. But it all came together relaCvely fast, thanks to demos, rehearsals and the kind of musical empathy that comes from years of
playing together.
Beneath the wondrous interplay, you’ll find some of Walker’s most personal – if sCll typically crypCc — lyrics, hinCng at some of the trials the songwriter has
been dealing with in recent years. Balanced with necessary doses of dark humor and oddball poetry, Course In Fable feels most of all like a life-affirming
record, fresh air in the lungs, sun on your skin. “Fuck me, I’m alive,” Ryley sings at one point, a moment of both disbelief and pure joy.
Walker has released his albums on a who’s-who of independent labels over the past decade — Tompkins Square, Dead Oceans, Thrill Jockey and Drag City
among them. This Cme around, he’s doing it DIY-style, puang Course In Fable out on his own Husky Pants imprint. You’re in good hands. This is an album that
sounds great (mastered by Greg Calbi), looks great (artwork by Jenny Nelson and design by Michael Vallera). It probably even smells great. Whether you’ve
been onboard since the beginning or are new to the Ryley Walker universe, you’re in for a treat.

Womack updates his material for the 80s, creating grown-up sensual soul.

The passion for earthy R&B seemed to have dimmed as the 80s began.

Synthesised confections abounded and veteran Bobby Womack, the Midnight Mover, was at a crossroads. His peers were either in the wilderness (Marvin Gaye, James Brown and Isaac Hayes) or otherwise indisposed (Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, Sly Stone), so it was left to Womack to fly the flag for down-to-earth, quality soul.

Womack had been a recording artist for best part of two decades when he made The Poet. After making his name with The Valentinos in the 60s, he cut a string of heartfelt, emotional albums for Minit, United Artists and Columbia throughout the 70s. The Poet was written with great optimism; Womack was out of contract and was approached by agent Otis Smith to set up on his new label, Beverly Glen.

Working with Patrick Moten, Womack crafted eight songs that sounded breathlessly contemporary. If this material had been put in the hands of a soul crooner, it could have sounded perfunctory. The Poet works because of the juxtaposition of Womack’s feral growl with the album’s sweet, smooth, urbane soundtrack. This is grown-up, sensual music; from So Many Sides of You to its epic closer Where Do We Go From Here, this is a luscious collision of Womack’s soul mastery and slick musicianship. It rises and falls, with Womack sidestepping cliché thanks to his preaching, heartfelt delivery. For example, when he cries “I wanna dedicate this song to all the lovers tonight / And I expect that might be the whole world,” on If You Think You’re Lonely, it sounds honest, simple and sincere.

The Poet put Womack back on the map, and gave him his first US R&B chart-topper and first mainstream top 30 album. It was adored in the UK, and sent many back to investigate his grittier 70s heyday as an albums artist. The album became the best-selling record of Womack’s career

Womack cut the equally sublime follow-up The Poet II, released in 1984.

Daryl Easlea – BBC

After two UK #1 albums, 2 million album sales and an array of international acclaim, you might’ve thought you knew what to expect from Royal Blood. Those preconceptions were shattered when they released ‘Trouble’s Coming’ last summer. Hitting a melting pot of fiery rock riffs and danceable beats, they delivered something fresh, unexpected and yet entirely in tune with what they’d forged their reputation with.

The reaction was phenomenal, with highlights including 20 million streams, a premiere as Annie Mac’s Hottest Record and a run on Radio 1’s A-list and earned alternative radio support and media attention across the globe. In short, Royal Blood are primed to be bigger than ever before. That feat is set to be realised when they release their eagerly anticipated third album ‘Typhoons’ on April 30th via Warner Records.

When Mike Kerr and Ben Thatcher sat down to talk about making a new album, they knew what they wanted to achieve. It involved a conscious return to their roots, back when they had made music that was influenced by Daft Punk, Justice, and Philippe Zdar of Cassius. It also called for a similar back-to-basics approach to what had made their self-titled debut album so thrilling, visceral and original.

“We sort of stumbled on this sound, and it was immediately fun to play,” recalls Kerr. “That’s what sparked the creativity on the new album, the chasing of that feeling. It’s weird, though - if you think back to ‘Figure it Out’, it kind of contains the embryo of this album. We realised that we didn’t have to completely destroy what we’d created so far; we just had to shift it, change it. On paper, it’s a small reinvention. But when you hear it, it sounds so fresh.”

Those traits pulsate throughout the new single and title track. Kerr’s spiralling bass riff casts an hypnotic allure as it grows in intensity, while his vocals switch at will between a raw rock roar and a soulful falsetto. It’s underpinned by Thatcher’s thundering beats, his taut rhythms infused with groove-laden hi-hats.

After setting the tone with ‘Trouble’s Coming’, the album opens in breathless, take-no-prisoners style with the fierce metallic grooves of ‘Who Needs Friends’ hitting an early visceral peak. Royal Blood further reference their fresh array of influences by deploying vocodered vocals on ‘Million & One’ before dynamically switching between the biggest contrasts of their sound with ‘Limbo’. Already a fan favourite having been a regular during the duo’s 2019 shows, ‘Boilermaker’ lives up to its reputation and is more than matched by ‘Mad Visions’, which evokes a hyper-aggressive Prince. It ends with a final surprise in the shape of the stark piano ballad ‘All We Have Is Now’, a vulnerable and revealing reminder to live in the moment.

That song’s unguarded sentiments gives the album a redemptive finale. Whether directly or allusively, the album focuses on exploring the flipside of success that they’ve experienced. It comes from the realisation that success is much more complicated than it seems and that having the time to regain perspective is a precious commodity which becomes ever more elusive. The situation called for reflection and change, which Kerr addressed in Las Vegas. He downed an espresso martini and declared it to be his last drink, and soon discovered that his new-found sobriety would have a positive impact upon his creativity and life as a whole.

That new approach manifested itself in the duo’s decision to produce the majority of ‘Typhoons’ themselves. ‘Boilermaker’ was produced by Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme, the two bands having first connected when Royal Blood supported them on a huge North American tour. Meanwhile, the multiple Grammy Award winner Paul Epworth produced ‘Who Needs Friends’ and contributed additional production to ‘Trouble’s Coming’.

After two UK #1 albums, 2 million album sales and an array of international acclaim, you might’ve thought you knew what to expect from Royal Blood. Those preconceptions were shattered when they released ‘Trouble’s Coming’ last summer. Hitting a melting pot of fiery rock riffs and danceable beats, they delivered something fresh, unexpected and yet entirely in tune with what they’d forged their reputation with.
The reaction was phenomenal, with highlights including 20 million streams, a premiere as Annie Mac’s Hottest Record and a run on Radio 1’s A-list and earned alternative radio support and media attention across the globe. In short, Royal Blood are primed to be bigger than ever before. That feat is set to be realised when they release their eagerly anticipated third album ‘Typhoons’ on April 30th via Warner Records.
When Mike Kerr and Ben Thatcher sat down to talk about making a new album, they knew what they wanted to achieve. It involved a conscious return to their roots, back when they had made music that was influenced by Daft Punk, Justice, and Philippe Zdar of Cassius. It also called for a similar back-to-basics approach to what had made their self-titled debut album so thrilling, visceral and original.
“We sort of stumbled on this sound, and it was immediately fun to play,” recalls Kerr. “That’s what sparked the creativity on the new album, the chasing of that feeling. It’s weird, though - if you think back to ‘Figure it Out’, it kind of contains the embryo of this album. We realised that we didn’t have to completely destroy what we’d created so far; we just had to shift it, change it. On paper, it’s a small reinvention. But when you hear it, it sounds so fresh.”

Those traits pulsate throughout the new single and title track. Kerr’s spiralling bass riff casts an hypnotic allure as it grows in intensity, while his vocals switch at will between a raw rock roar and a soulful falsetto. It’s underpinned by Thatcher’s thundering beats, his taut rhythms infused with groove-laden hi-hats.



After setting the tone with ‘Trouble’s Coming’, the album opens in breathless, take-no-prisoners style with the fierce metallic grooves of ‘Who Needs Friends’ hitting an early visceral peak. Royal Blood further reference their fresh array of influences by deploying vocodered vocals on ‘Million & One’ before dynamically switching between the biggest contrasts of their sound with ‘Limbo’. Already a fan favourite having been a regular during the duo’s 2019 shows, ‘Boilermaker’ lives up to its reputation and is more than matched by ‘Mad Visions’, which evokes a hyper-aggressive Prince. It ends with a final surprise in the shape of the stark piano ballad ‘All We Have Is Now’, a vulnerable and revealing reminder to live in the moment.

That song’s unguarded sentiments gives the album a redemptive finale. Whether directly or allusively, the album focuses on exploring the flipside of success that they’ve experienced. It comes from the realisation that success is much more complicated than it seems and that having the time to regain perspective is a precious commodity which becomes ever more elusive. The situation called for reflection and change, which Kerr addressed in Las Vegas. He downed an espresso martini and declared it to be his last drink, and soon discovered that his new-found sobriety would have a positive impact upon his creativity and life as a whole.

That new approach manifested itself in the duo’s decision to produce the majority of ‘Typhoons’ themselves. ‘Boilermaker’ was produced by Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme, the two bands having first connected when Royal Blood supported them on a huge North American tour. Meanwhile, the multiple Grammy Award winner Paul Epworth produced ‘Who Needs Friends’ and contributed additional production to ‘Trouble’s Coming’.

Womack updates his material for the 80s, creating grown-up sensual soul.

The passion for earthy R&B seemed to have dimmed as the 80s began.

Synthesised confections abounded and veteran Bobby Womack, the Midnight Mover, was at a crossroads. His peers were either in the wilderness (Marvin Gaye, James Brown and Isaac Hayes) or otherwise indisposed (Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, Sly Stone), so it was left to Womack to fly the flag for down-to-earth, quality soul.

Womack had been a recording artist for best part of two decades when he made The Poet. After making his name with The Valentinos in the 60s, he cut a string of heartfelt, emotional albums for Minit, United Artists and Columbia throughout the 70s. The Poet was written with great optimism; Womack was out of contract and was approached by agent Otis Smith to set up on his new label, Beverly Glen.

Working with Patrick Moten, Womack crafted eight songs that sounded breathlessly contemporary. If this material had been put in the hands of a soul crooner, it could have sounded perfunctory. The Poet works because of the juxtaposition of Womack’s feral growl with the album’s sweet, smooth, urbane soundtrack. This is grown-up, sensual music; from So Many Sides of You to its epic closer Where Do We Go From Here, this is a luscious collision of Womack’s soul mastery and slick musicianship. It rises and falls, with Womack sidestepping cliché thanks to his preaching, heartfelt delivery. For example, when he cries “I wanna dedicate this song to all the lovers tonight / And I expect that might be the whole world,” on If You Think You’re Lonely, it sounds honest, simple and sincere.

The Poet put Womack back on the map, and gave him his first US R&B chart-topper and first mainstream top 30 album. It was adored in the UK, and sent many back to investigate his grittier 70s heyday as an albums artist. The album became the best-selling record of Womack’s career

Womack cut the equally sublime follow-up The Poet II, released in 1984.

Daryl Easlea – BBC

Over the past several years, the recorded output of Carl Stone has been turned on its head. In previous decades, Stone perennially toured new work but kept a harboring gulf of time between the live performances and their recorded release. This not only reflected the careful consideration of the pieces and technical innovations that went into the music but also the largely academic-minded audience that was themselves invested in the history and context of the work. The time span of Stone's recorded output in both sheer musical duration and year range was generously expansive. Following multiple historical overviews of Stone's work on Unseen Worlds and a re-connection with a wider audience, the time between Stone's new work in concert and on record has grown shorter and shorter until there is now almost no distance at all. Stone's work has often at its core explored new potential within popular cultural musics, simultaneously unspooling and satisfying a pop craving. On Stol en Car, the forms of Carl Stone's pieces have also become more compact, making for a progressive new stage in Stone's career where he is not only creating out of pop forms but challenging them. Stolen Car is the gleeful, heart racing sound of hijack, hotwire, and escape. Stone carries the easy smirk and confidence of a car thief just out of the can, a magician in a new town setting up a game of balls and cups. With each track he reaches under the steering wheel and yanks a fistful of wires. Boom, the engine roars to life, the car speeds off into the sunset, the cups are tipped over, the balls, like the car, are gone. "These tracks were all made in late 2019 and 2020, much of when I was in pandemic isolation about 5000 miles from my home base of Tokyo. All are made using my favorite programming language MAX. However distinct these two groupings might be they share some common and long-held musical concerns. I seek to explore the inner workings of the music we listen to using techniques of magnification, dissection, granulation,, anagramization, and others. I like to hijack the surface values of commercial music and re-purpose them offer a newer, different meaning, via irony and subversion." - Carl Stone, Los Angeles, September 2020

• When Lonnie Mack’s treatment of Chuck Berry’s ‘Memphis’ broke into the US Hot 100 on 8 June 1963 and peaked at #5 during its 13-week stay, he was initially pigeonholed as an instrumental artist. This perception was heightened by ‘Down In The Dumps’ on the flip, and furthered by his double-sided instrumental follow-up whose topside, ‘Wham!’, reached #28.

• Six months later the other side of Lonnie was revealed with his first vocal 45. The topside was a dynamic re-vamp of Jimmy Reed’s ‘Baby, What’s Wrong’, backed with a version of the gospel classic ‘Where There’s A Will’. Here you could hear him emoting in a way white singers never did – hollering, pleading and screaming in the very finest gospel tradition. The track was even picked up by some black radio stations in the south, but quietly dropped once it was realised that Lonnie was white.

• ‘Memphis’ was recorded at King Records Studio in Cincinnati on 12 March 1963. Carl Edmondson had been booked to produce a split session for Max Falcon, Kenny Smith and the Charmaines, but Edmondson’s band had recently broken up, so Lonnie and his crew were drafted in. With some time left at the end of the session, Lonnie was asked if he had anything he might like to record. ‘Memphis’ was the result. Edmondson thought the track had potential and suggested to Fraternity Records boss, Harry Carlson, that he should put it out. Within weeks it was climbing the charts, launching Lonnie’s long career.

• Post-Fraternity releases on Elektra, Capitol, Epic and Alligator cemented his reputation as the man who brought gospel, soul, blues, country and rock’n’roll together. He was one of the creators of blue-eyed soul, as well as the leading light for the legion of blues-based rock guitarists who plied their trade from the 60s onwards. It has to be said, though, that the bedrock of his legend rests on his Fraternity recordings, which highlighted both sides of Lonnie Mack – the vocalist and the guitarist.

All music improvised by Michael Wollny, Emile Parisien, Tim Lefebvre
and Christian Lillinger (except ‘Nostalgia for the Light’, written and
arranged by Michael Wollny).
The music we hear doesn’t fit into any category. We’re in uncharted
territory, so a good way to capture its essence might be to break it
down into its four component parts. First there’s Michael Wollny, here
for the very first time playing only on electronic keyboard instruments.
He creates a characterful world of retro-futuristic sounds that is very
much his own. We find the occasional nod to early Jean-Michel Jarre,
references to science fiction and horror movies and also vivid
memories of the sounds of avant-garde Krautrock: Can and Irmin
Schmidt and Klaus Schulze.
As for Tim Lefebvre, here is a musician who has plied his very great
craft with stars such as David Bowie, the Tedeschi Trucks Band, John
Mayer, Knower, Steely Dan, Elvis Costello and Wayne Krantz. Here
he is like a rock in a tempestuous sea. He propels the music forward
with a combination of bass and effects. He builds structures and
tames unruly elements. The way he lays down a groove is
overwhelming.
As a counterbalance we find the explosive yet highly sensitive playing
of drummer Christian Lillin-ger. He stacks layer upon layer of rhythms
and textures.
And the melodic lines of Emile Parisien on soprano saxophone
always have an astonishing springy inventiveness. Such is Parisien’s
latent energy, it seems as if at any moment he could suddenly
become airborne.
The players’ eager curiosity as to what the next turn, the next
impulse, the next push will be is palpable to the listener. One can
sense the tension between the urge to construct forms, lines,
grooves, harmonies, textures, versus the illicit joy of tearing such
fragile structures apart before they have even been heard. There are
beats and patterns from the 90s, 80s and 70s, all coalescing into
cinematic bacchanalia of sound. These four master improvisers and
composers all have the urge to rewrite the rules of their musical world
- and to do so in real time.
LP pressed on 180g vinyl with digital download code.

On his latest opus, 2121, Michigan composer and multi-instrumentalist, The Lasso, creates a thermonuclear rocket ship glide of astral funk: a floating house party that exists at that eternal crossroads, suspended in timeless animation, the axis mundi where past, present, and future all get down. Its genesis traces back to the dozens of instrumental demos that The Lasso created throughout 2019 and early 2020, vulcanizing his singular twists on psychedelic rap with delirious mutations of vintage Ohio and Minneapolis funk. A long-brewing collaboration with New Mexico-based vocalist A. Billi Free, coupled with his introduction to the vocalist Rachele Eve, allowed for their voices to buoy his interstellar thump. Over the course of the summer of 2020, Lasso gathered various features from old and new collaborators to fill out the core vocalists, including Fat Tony, Hemlock Ernst (Sam Herring of Future Islands), Ill Camille, Namir Blade, and Nelson Bandela. In the fall of that year, The Lasso met up with The Saxsquatch and cellist Jordan Hamilton for the fait accompli: layering lush orchestrations to capture the haunted reverberations of a renowned 100-year old Michigan theatre. 2121 exists in its own galaxy, its own planetary tilt, its own sense of time. A record that asks whether the future is merely the place where the loop starts again, but this time a little more aged. As the centuries progress -- from 1921 to 2021 to 2121, with each repetition, we can hear the tape warble deepen and the hi-end lose its definition. What is it about this moment now that will shape our future ten decades hence? Life revolves in cycles, so you might as well maximize the upswing. If music is our collective vessel to track where and who we are and what we hope to lean towards in this next passage through history, the only sane answer is to turn 2121 up as loud as possible, until we all disappear into the shadows.

At first glance, Sarah Louise might seem an unlikely candidate
to credit technology as inspiration for her new album, Earth Bow.
After all, she has lived in rural Appalachia for the last decade,
foraging numerous species of wild mushroom, concocting
medicine from plants she gathers, and performing what she
terms “Earth Practices” to deepen her relationship with the
natural world. But it is precisely her ability to find connections
between false binaries that makes this album so novel and richly
immersive.
Louise conceived Earth Bow as an interconnected ecosystem,
meant to evolve, interact and grow. Known for her inventive
guitar playing, vocal harmonies and electronic experiments,
it was her use of the SP-404SX sampler that became a primary
inspiration for the album’s woven nature. “Improvising with the
404 during live shows allows me to collaborate with the music
as a living system, almost the way generative music works,” she
says. “I kept finding more and more samples that worked together
and realized I wanted to connect the entire record—and
that there were many ways it could be connected.”
Through this process, what began as eight core songs
blossomed into two sweeping suites. Samples—denizens of
her electronic forest—move around the record with changing
context like words in a sestina or phrases in the I Ching,
revealing new connections with each listen. Mesmeric sounds
abound on Earth Bow, from analog synth tones, to digitally
manipulated sonics that she stretches and layers with a painterly
touch. These electronic sounds inhabit the same environment as
field recordings, ceremonial percussion, guitars and empathic
vocals, weaving together her vast and borderless influences into
an enveloping world. “I want this record to take people on a
journey through the wonders of our incredible planet, to help
people feel held by the mysteries of nature,” she enthuses. “I
believe music can heal.” After a string of celebrated releases on
Thrill Jockey, Sarah Louise is self-releasing Earth Bow on her
new imprint of the same name.

everything one needs to know about this album: a misshapen,
CHUD-like figure wanders in a graveyard bearing a cross,
while a mutated fish flops in a polluted ditch and a clutch
of factories belch their smoke above it all. The message of
the illustration is not to frighten or warn, but to celebrate
and admire.
Originally released in January of 1984, Disease Is Relative
is an unapologetic and wholesale embrace of death,
disease, and dystopia, with liberal doses of absurdism
and an unrelenting devotion to anything unexpected,
chromatic, or evil sounding. Sporting influences as
diverse as no wave, death rock, funk, post-punk, hardcore,
metal, and prog rock, this music somehow happened in the
midst of a first wave hardcore scene, before there was a
“post-” to be “post” of. Less surprising is that this happened
in Cleveland, which also inspired a desire to recreate the
feeling of the city’s post-industrial desolation in sound.
There’s also some epic screaming and crazy guitar playing.
The album features three songwriters (brothers Andrew
& Chris Marec, Robert Griffin), who also divide guitar,
bass, and vocals equally between themselves here.
Drummer Bruce Allen is the secret weapon, and provides
a clue to what a young Bill Bruford might have done in a
band like this. And yet, beyond all odds, the end result is
cohesive, cathartic, and utterly idiomatic. The distinct vibe
of the album, and its sheer quantity of killer riffs, songs
and performances have made it an album that people have
championed over time, while others have come to know it
through the interwebs as a result.

everything one needs to know about this album: a misshapen,
CHUD-like figure wanders in a graveyard bearing a cross,
while a mutated fish flops in a polluted ditch and a clutch
of factories belch their smoke above it all. The message of
the illustration is not to frighten or warn, but to celebrate
and admire.
Originally released in January of 1984, Disease Is Relative
is an unapologetic and wholesale embrace of death,
disease, and dystopia, with liberal doses of absurdism
and an unrelenting devotion to anything unexpected,
chromatic, or evil sounding. Sporting influences as
diverse as no wave, death rock, funk, post-punk, hardcore,
metal, and prog rock, this music somehow happened in the
midst of a first wave hardcore scene, before there was a
“post-” to be “post” of. Less surprising is that this happened
in Cleveland, which also inspired a desire to recreate the
feeling of the city’s post-industrial desolation in sound.
There’s also some epic screaming and crazy guitar playing.
The album features three songwriters (brothers Andrew
& Chris Marec, Robert Griffin), who also divide guitar,
bass, and vocals equally between themselves here.
Drummer Bruce Allen is the secret weapon, and provides
a clue to what a young Bill Bruford might have done in a
band like this. And yet, beyond all odds, the end result is
cohesive, cathartic, and utterly idiomatic. The distinct vibe
of the album, and its sheer quantity of killer riffs, songs
and performances have made it an album that people have
championed over time, while others have come to know it
through the interwebs as a result.

180 gram Vinyl LP Producer - Jah Thomas Toyan aka Ranking Toyan (born Byron Letts, died 1991) was a Jamaican reggae deejay active since the mid-1970s and best known for his early 1980s recordings.
Toyan began his career in 1974, deejaying on Kingston’s sound systems, such as Socialist Roots and Romantic HiFi. He recorded his debut single, “Disco Pants” in the late 1970s for producer Don Mais. He went on to work extensively with Joseph Hoo Kim and Jah Thomas, resulting in a string of hits including “Girls
Nowadays”, “Kill No Man”, “John Tom”, and “Talk of the Town”, as well as combination hits with The Mighty Diamonds (“Pretty Woman”), Badoo (“Rocking the 5000”), and Freddie McGregor (“Roots Man Skanking”).
In 1981 he joined Henry “Junjo” Lawes’ Volcano Sound system, and toured Canada. With Lawes, he recorded the album How the West Was Won, and went on to produce his own work and that of others such as Billy Boyo and Anthony Johnson. He toured the United Kingdom with the Jah Prophecy band and performed in Jamaica alongside Dennis Brown. He was murdered in Jamaica in 1991.
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