Suche:the phone

Der Soundtrack von 'KNEECAP', mit Musik von der Band sowie Bicep, Fontaines DC und Orbital, ist als Doppel-LP im Gatefold-Design auf farbigem Vinyl erhältlich. Er enthält auch Filmmusik von Michael ‘Mikey J’ Asante MBE und Ausschnitte aus den Dialogen des Films.

- Ltd. Col. 2LP: (LP1 Orange / LP2 Green Vinyl)

Mike Montgomery’s lifelong fascination with music began as a solitary endeavor. After secretly mining his dad’s record collection of golden 60s and 70s icons and tumbling headlong into 80s skateboard culture and its thrilling soundtrack, Mike learned guitar and started amassing songs on his Tascam Porta-Studio, chronicling hushed bedroom melodies with each new chord he discovered. Soon, he founded thistle, a wonderfully self-sufficient power trio that served as a rich opportunity to tinker with every stage of the music-making process. Through four LPs and two EPs between 1992-2013 and countless thistle shows criss-crossing North America, Mike discovered how to book a tour, repair equipment, run live sound, manage a label, build a studio, and foster a community of collaborators.

Inspired by R.Ring’s looseness and a growing confidence in spartan songwriting, Montgomery’s latest project - under the Nervous Verbs moniker - further peels back the layers of production and fussiness that might accompany access to a fully appointed studio. Instead of ensconcing himself in Candyland with limitless options, Montgomery treated his latest batch of songs as field recordings, often using phone memos to document melodies and entire performances at their inception, where and whenever they might materialize. He realized “there was something about the idea of noticing I had captured something of myself that I couldn’t recreate on subsequent attempts.” As he collected these home sketches, he shared them with friends (including Kelley Deal, Lori Goldston, Devin Ocampo, Joe Suer, Kate Wakefield, Rick McCarty, Adam Nurre, Matt Hart, Dan Dorff Jr., and Alexis Marsh) who responded with supportive contributions, fostering the initial sparks. “All of the extra tracks people sent me that I dressed the songs up with showed me that these were sturdy enough to hold those layers.”

Anxious’ second album Bambi arrives this winter on Run For Cover Records. It’s been a whirlwind few years for the Fairfield, Connecticut five-piece – since the release of their debut album Little Green House, there’s been little time for anything other than consistent touring with bands like Hot Mulligan, One Step Closer and The Wonder Years. Somewhere during that endless grind, vocalist Grady Allen was sitting in a hotel room and stumbled upon a name typed into a long-forgotten memo on his phone: Bambi. “We should have named the band Bambi,” he recalls admitting to his bandmates. Bambi stuck with the band after that night and eventually it evolved from a “what-if” into the name of Anxious’ second full-length album.

Bambi is a record of remarkable growth, depth, ambition, and energy. It takes all the unsolvable and unavoidable problems of exiting adolescence and makes them resonate in urgent and authentic new ways. The album has deep roots in the storied lineage of Northeast tri-state hardcore and emo, but it also fully embraces the widescreen alternative rock songwriting at which Anxious have previously only hinted. It’s a statement of purpose, the kind of album that comes from a band reconciling where they’ve been with where they want to go. Bambi is the sound of Anxious putting everything on the line–and coming out on the other side better than ever.

Inspired by “big swing” records like Blink-182’s self-titled or Jimmy Eat World’s Clarity, Anxious set out to redefine the band without losing sight of what made them work in the first place. Tracks like “Head & Spine,” “Sunder,” and “Tell Me Why” showcase the scope of Anxious’ evolution, tapping crunchy ‘90s rock guitarwork, layered ‘60s-esque harmonies, and crisp, modern production that captures the unrivaled energy of seeing the band play live.

Seit der Veröffentlichung ihres gefeierten Debüts "Versions of Modern Performance" 2022 (u. a. mit Höchstwertung um US-Rolling Stone) hat sich vieles für Nora Cheng, Penelope Lowenstein und Gigi Reece verändert. Im Herbst desselben Jahres zog die junge Band von Chicago in die Ostküstenmetropole, wo Penelope und Nora an der New York University ihr Studium begannen und das erste Mal überhaupt Musik außerhalb des elterlichen Zuhauses schrieben. Der Einfluss der neuen Umgebung macht sich unmittelbar im Sound bemerkbar. Zugleich wendet sich der Blick in Zeiten beispielloser Veränderungen nach innen. Im Januar 2024 kehrten Horsegirl nach Chicago zurück, um die neuen Songs aufzunehmen. Im "The Loft" Studio stellten sich dort ein Fokus und eine Intimität ein, wie sie wohl nur entstehen können, wenn es schlicht zu kalt ist, das Gebäude zu verlassen. Cate Le Bon führte die Band derweil in neue, helle und klare Sound-Gefilde, die Raum und Textur gegenüber den dichten Soundflächen des Debüts in den Vordergrund rücken und das charakteristische Songwriting von Horsegirl betonen. Dazu zählt auch der erstmalige Einsatz von Violinen, Synths und Gamelan. Die Leadsingle "2468" ist ein Beispiel für die offenkundige Experimentierlust auf "Phonetics On and On". Mit seinen Raincoats-artigen Streichern und energischen Drums verdreht einem der Song in seinem fortlaufenden Crescendo immer mehr den Kopf. Das dazugehörige Video stammt von der Schriftstellerin und Regisseurin Eliza Callahan und wurde von Alexa West choreographiert. Es ist schwer vorstellbar, dass Songs wie die auf "Phonetics On and On" augenblicklich von irgendwem anderes stammen könnten als von diesem Trio bester Freundinnen. Nora, Penelope und Gigi schreiben mit ungefilterter Aufrichtigkeit über Szenen ihrer Jugend als Momentaufnahmen des Lebens. Die Liebe zueinander ist dabei in jedem Augenblick spürbar und resoniert durch und durch im Zusammenspiel auf ihrem zweiten Album. Horsegirl gründeten sich 2019 in der umtriebigen DIY-Szene Chicagos. Die damals 17- und 18-jährigen Schülerinnen zählen Yo La Tengo und Pavement zu ihren erklärten Vorbildern. Ihr Debüt, auf dem Steve Shelley und Lee Ranaldo als Gäste zu hören sind, nahm die Band in Steve Albinis Studio mit John Agnello (Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr.) auf. Zuletzt tourten Horsegirl u. a. mit The Breeders.

Loyle Carner will release his highly anticipated sophomore record, 'Not Waving, But Drowning' on 19 April via AMF Records.

'Not Waving, But Drowning' follows Loyle's BRIT (Best Male, Best Newcomer) and Mercury Prize nominated, top 20 debut 'Yesterday's Gone'. The bedrock of honest and raw sentimentality that you heard on 'Yesterday's Gone' left an inextinguishable mark on music in general and UK Hip Hop in particular, standing out as an ageless, bulletproof debut.

'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's new album, gives yet more evidence - as if it were needed - of his razor-sharp flow and his unique storytelling ability. Yes, he can rap, but he allies that with the sensitivity of a poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, 'a woman from the skies', and he's moving out.

It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator.

Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. 'Ottolenghi' the first single from the album was featured on the BBC Radio 1 B-list, BBC 6 Music A-list and has already been streamed over 5 million times.

Loyle refers to real life for everything, the title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving, But Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend Rebel Kleff after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead.

Loyle also has his own personal black consciousness movement. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). With no real emotional ties to his biological father, but a deep connection with a deceased step-father, where does a young child turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain on 'Looking Back'.

An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Kwes, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place.
Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or a society that lets so many down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. Loyle's 2019 Spring tour - which includes London's Roundhouse - sold out within 20 minutes of being on sale.

Not Waving, But Drowning



A rapper that raps about family is hard to find. The boys in the 'hood' tend not to be that interested in how much a 'brother' loves his mother, or how much he misses his dad, or even how much he misses his best friend. The boys in the 'hood' tend to be obsessed with the size of their cars, girls, bank accounts, and other personal 'possessions'. Loyle Carner's Mercury and BRIT Prize nominated debut 'Yesterday's Gone' (Released 2017), made it clear that he wasn't that kind of rapper. In fact, every time I talk to him about his work we talk about the world, and we tended to confuse ourselves by calling his work rap, poems, or songs, sometimes in the same sentence. They are in truth all of these things.



Here's some poetry.



Honestly I need them.

I hate them but I grieve them

I think I've finally found the reason

Trust

Like the fire needs the air.

I won't burn unless you're there.





'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's forthcoming new album, gives us yet more evidence, (if it were needed), that he still has what rappers call, flow, but he hasn't lost any of his story telling qualities. Yes, the boy can rap, but a rapper with the sensitivity of a true poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, (a woman from the skies), and he's moving out. He really loves the woman from the skies, but he still loves his mum, and so he reassures her that there is no competition, and tells her that 'She's not behind me or behind you, but beside we and beside two', his words. Or to put it another way, moving out without moving out. My words.



It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator. He says finding his own voice was something he always found easy. Although young, (in terms of a musical career), he has confidence in his own words and his own voice, and has never been tempted to sound like he's been hanging out in the USA, or rolling in 'Grime' on the mean streets of East London. And so when it comes to the creative process he doesn't simply find a beat to jump on and ride. Beats are important, but they are tenderly layered with samples, keyboards, or live drums, all imaginatively assembled for the laying on of words. Some tracks start with the idea, some with poetry, and some with a verse from a singer or some other melodic inspiration, but there is no formula.



Here's some poetry.



Don't hold any memories of us

Rather hold you everyday until the memories are dust

Yo we only caught the train

Cos you know I hate the bus





A prolific reader, who has dyslexia is hard to find. Add ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) to that and life should become even more difficult. To deal with your difficulties you devise coping strategies, which can differ from person to person. Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. Loyle describes himself as 'weird' because he is happy to read a cookbook as if he was reading a novel or a book of poetry. He has opened a cookery school for young adults not just because he loves food and wants to make more of it, but because it is one of the few things that can focus the ADHD mind. And when it comes to his other love, football, his approach is the same. Focus. He wanted to be a striker he says, up front scoring goals, but found his best position was in midfield because he was able to focus, check options, and see passes ahead of time, providing passes for other players just when they needed them. He says, 'You don't grow out of ADHD, you grow into it.' Loyle is also working with Levi's® on their music project where he is mentoring young musicians over a six month period, culminating at Liverpool Sound City festival.



More poetry.



When the going is tough

I wait till it falls on deaf ears

Hearsay

Without the boundaries of love



He also said, 'Ask most people and they will say that they love their mothers, but most are not going to rap about her'. On his first album Loyle's mum Jean wrote about the 'scribble of a boy' that growing up would take things apart to see how they worked. On this album she speaks with pride about a man who has found his place in the world.



Yes, poetry.



I'm still looking for the answers

Trying to find the right questions

Still waiting for my fathers

But can't break them in to sections



This poetry is serious. Loyle has his own personal black consciousness movement. He told me that he always felt safe at home, and being the darkest one in the family never meant a thing, but then when he had to face the outside world he felt hostility. It shook him up. Now he had to start asking questions, but what were the questions. This is serious. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the verse above taken from the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). So to whom would a young black (or mixed race) kid turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain when he says, 'My great grandfather could of owned my other one.' We are a people descended from enslaved people on one hand, and enslavers on the other, something we are still struggling to come to terms with, and this can be apparent in one family. A big book could have told you that, but here we get it in one line on the track, Looking Back.





Loyle refers to real life for everything. The album is peppered with captured moments that he records on his phone. These moments can range from conversations with taxi drivers, to capturing the moment when England scores a goal in the world cup. The title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving but Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead. Yes people, this is real.



An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit, this is an album for those who have, (I'm sorry, I'm going to say it), emotional intelligence. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place. Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or the society that has let him down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. His first album worked, and this second album is a continuation of that work. Not creating a form, but being formless, as someone like Bruce Lee once said.

And here's some poetry from mum.



We talked long in to the darkest hours

Until we saw the burnished sky

And our eyes stung

As our words blurred and became thoughts

As we were silenced by the dawn

We clung to each other like sailors in a storm

Hailed by Galore Magazine as "A Queer Icon", 80's inspired popstar Caroline Kingsbury releases her latest EP "I Really Don't Care!" on pink 10" vinyl. "I Really Don't Care!" was produced by Charlie Brand (Minature Tigers), and features the song "Take My Phone Away" co-written with Justin Tranter.

Kingsbury has been featured in influential playlists such as Spotify's Fierce Femmes, Fresh Finds, and Apple Music's Alt Pop, and New Music Daily. She's toured the US multiple times over supporting artists like Alex Lahey, St Lucia, Arlie, and has garnered praise from Pitchfork, the New Yorker, Gay Times, Rolling Stone, and many more."

Seit der Veröffentlichung ihres gefeierten Debüts "Versions of Modern Performance" 2022 (u. a. mit Höchstwertung um US-Rolling Stone) hat sich vieles für Nora Cheng, Penelope Lowenstein und Gigi Reece verändert. Im Herbst desselben Jahres zog die junge Band von Chicago in die Ostküstenmetropole, wo Penelope und Nora an der New York University ihr Studium begannen und das erste Mal überhaupt Musik außerhalb des elterlichen Zuhauses schrieben. Der Einfluss der neuen Umgebung macht sich unmittelbar im Sound bemerkbar. Zugleich wendet sich der Blick in Zeiten beispielloser Veränderungen nach innen. Im Januar 2024 kehrten Horsegirl nach Chicago zurück, um die neuen Songs aufzunehmen. Im "The Loft" Studio stellten sich dort ein Fokus und eine Intimität ein, wie sie wohl nur entstehen können, wenn es schlicht zu kalt ist, das Gebäude zu verlassen. Cate Le Bon führte die Band derweil in neue, helle und klare Sound-Gefilde, die Raum und Textur gegenüber den dichten Soundflächen des Debüts in den Vordergrund rücken und das charakteristische Songwriting von Horsegirl betonen. Dazu zählt auch der erstmalige Einsatz von Violinen, Synths und Gamelan. Die Leadsingle "2468" ist ein Beispiel für die offenkundige Experimentierlust auf "Phonetics On and On". Mit seinen Raincoats-artigen Streichern und energischen Drums verdreht einem der Song in seinem fortlaufenden Crescendo immer mehr den Kopf. Das dazugehörige Video stammt von der Schriftstellerin und Regisseurin Eliza Callahan und wurde von Alexa West choreographiert. Es ist schwer vorstellbar, dass Songs wie die auf "Phonetics On and On" augenblicklich von irgendwem anderes stammen könnten als von diesem Trio bester Freundinnen. Nora, Penelope und Gigi schreiben mit ungefilterter Aufrichtigkeit über Szenen ihrer Jugend als Momentaufnahmen des Lebens. Die Liebe zueinander ist dabei in jedem Augenblick spürbar und resoniert durch und durch im Zusammenspiel auf ihrem zweiten Album. Horsegirl gründeten sich 2019 in der umtriebigen DIY-Szene Chicagos. Die damals 17- und 18-jährigen Schülerinnen zählen Yo La Tengo und Pavement zu ihren erklärten Vorbildern. Ihr Debüt, auf dem Steve Shelley und Lee Ranaldo als Gäste zu hören sind, nahm die Band in Steve Albinis Studio mit John Agnello (Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr.) auf. Zuletzt tourten Horsegirl u. a. mit The Breeders.

Blue Valentine Vinyl. Sometime in 2005, a lone box of master tapes escaped an estate sale and made its way through a network of collectors, record dealers, and "junkers" into the hands of leading Ohio soul expert Dante Carfagna, who linked them to Columbus, Ohio's mysterious Prix label (See: Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label). A bit of research turned up Prix proprietor George Beter, who identified most of the unlabeled material. All it took was an endless series of phone calls and letters and two fields trips in Columbus. But one complete mystery wended its way onto our final Prix compilation. "You and Me," a simple but irrepressible demo credited only to Penny & the Quarters, was found tacked onto a mixed studio reel. Our survey of every willing lifer left on the Columbus soul scene, including retired DJs, producers, and important local artists, produced not so much as a glimmer of recognition at the name Penny & the Quarters. Though we loved the song from the first play, it may've ended up a bit buried on our original compilation, as #18 of 19 tracks.Four years later, Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label hadn't exactly become a huge seller, although listeners had repeatedly told us that the unfiltered studio demos that fill out the record's back half were true diamonds in the rough. But neither Penny nor her Quarters had appeared to claim credit for their efforts. Then, completely out of left field, we heard from respected screen actor and avowed Numero fan Ryan Gosling that Penny's piercing bit of stripped down doo-wop was being considered for inclusion in Derek Cianfrance's indie-weeper film Blue Valentine. What we didn't know was that "You and Me" had won a major role in what became an indie circuit hit, and that Penny & the Quarters would instantly assume the role of world's most famous unknown doo-wop group.Every week is a slow news week in Columbus, Ohio, and early January 2011 found the city recovering from the thrill of elevating Ted Williams_the formerly homeless guy with the awesome voice for radio_into a national news sensation. But both major daily newspapers in town, as well as the city's alternative weekly, also ran stories about how a lost and unknown Columbus soul group had become the musical centerpiece of a film already garnering Oscar buzz. That mainstream spotlight aimed at Blue Valentine and Penny & the Quarters did the trick: we finally made contact with the widow of Jay Robinson, lead Quarters' singer and songwriter. Robinson, it turned out, had also been the leader of Columbus doo-wop pioneers The Supremes (later known as "The Columbus Supremes," for reasons which should be obvious). Jay Robinson never did give up on the dream of writing a hit record; even so, the posthumous realization of his dream is cold comfort for his widow and daughter. With their blessings, we returned to those estate sale masters and pulled down another neglected track ("You Are Giving Me Some Other Love") from the still-unknown Penny and her now-partly-known Quarters. "You and Me" is a song that could not be suppressed: not when Prix failed to release it; not when Penny & the Quarters were forgotten; not when Numero stuck it at the bitter end of a much overlooked compilation. Its evolution from estate sale trash to silver-screen gold has finally returned it to big-hole 45, where it probably should have lived all along.

Southern-bred, alternative R&B singer-songwriter Mereba artistically embodies self-understanding on The Breeze Grew a Fire, her grandest work and first release on Secretly Canadian. To hone in on this latest album, it was necessary for Mereba to reconnect with her whole many-sided self, from her inner child to her inseparable relationships. Mereba peacefully transmutes her beginnings, looking upon her closest kinships and friendships with a keen understanding of their steadying, inspirational force. Surrounded by the gentle Breeze of these relationships and recollections, Mereba is empowered as both an artist and mother, while also being reminded to nurture her childlike wonder. Mereba gracefully shines on the follow-up to her bounteous 2019 debut, The Jungle Is the Only Way Out. In escaping the Jungle, Mereba faced the paradigm shift of birthing a son in 2021 and getting accustomed to a rapidly changing self-outlook. Mereba's creative output has always relied on her innermost reflections and ideas on whatever was happening around her; but in motherhood, the singer's perspective widened while her inspiration became more focused, and more individually powerful. "Even though I'm fully an adult, I had to grow up in a way overnight when he my son came," Mereba explains. "The process of watching him open up to the world, learn how to engage with the world, it is very tender. I feel like it's the most reminded I've ever been of when I was a child and the first memories I have of life." The transformation brought Mereba to the intimacy of DIY recording sessions, providing an honest and organic foundation to Breeze. Mereba tapped her longtime production collaborator Sam Hoffman to co-assemble the album's rich production, which parallels its folk-like warmth. Although Mereba is a true double Earth sign-Virgo and Virgo rising-the development of Breeze was anchored by experiences and memories that span from Atlanta to L.A., Addis Ababa to Greensboro, an intention that speaks to the album's fluid nature. While nowhere near the end of her musical trek, The Breeze Grew a Fire is a loving, inspiring return to origin, one where Mereba frees a painful past, eases into future possibilities, and goes with life's flow.

Southern-bred, alternative R&B singer-songwriter Mereba artistically embodies self-understanding on The Breeze Grew a Fire, her grandest work and first release on Secretly Canadian. To hone in on this latest album, it was necessary for Mereba to reconnect with her whole many-sided self, from her inner child to her inseparable relationships. Mereba peacefully transmutes her beginnings, looking upon her closest kinships and friendships with a keen understanding of their steadying, inspirational force. Surrounded by the gentle Breeze of these relationships and recollections, Mereba is empowered as both an artist and mother, while also being reminded to nurture her childlike wonder. Mereba gracefully shines on the follow-up to her bounteous 2019 debut, The Jungle Is the Only Way Out. In escaping the Jungle, Mereba faced the paradigm shift of birthing a son in 2021 and getting accustomed to a rapidly changing self-outlook. Mereba's creative output has always relied on her innermost reflections and ideas on whatever was happening around her; but in motherhood, the singer's perspective widened while her inspiration became more focused, and more individually powerful. "Even though I'm fully an adult, I had to grow up in a way overnight when he my son came," Mereba explains. "The process of watching him open up to the world, learn how to engage with the world, it is very tender. I feel like it's the most reminded I've ever been of when I was a child and the first memories I have of life." The transformation brought Mereba to the intimacy of DIY recording sessions, providing an honest and organic foundation to Breeze. Mereba tapped her longtime production collaborator Sam Hoffman to co-assemble the album's rich production, which parallels its folk-like warmth. Although Mereba is a true double Earth sign-Virgo and Virgo rising-the development of Breeze was anchored by experiences and memories that span from Atlanta to L.A., Addis Ababa to Greensboro, an intention that speaks to the album's fluid nature. While nowhere near the end of her musical trek, The Breeze Grew a Fire is a loving, inspiring return to origin, one where Mereba frees a painful past, eases into future possibilities, and goes with life's flow.

Sometime in 2005, a lone box of master tapes escaped an estate sale and made its way through a network of collectors, record dealers, and “junkers” into the hands of leading Ohio soul expert Dante Carfagna, who linked them to Columbus, Ohio’s mysterious Prix label (See: Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label). A bit of research turned up Prix proprietor George Beter, who identified most of the unlabelled material. All it took was an endless series of phone calls and letters and two fields trips in Columbus. But one complete mystery wended its way onto our final Prix compilation. “You and Me,” a simple but irrepressible demo credited only to Penny & the Quarters, was found tacked onto a mixed studio reel. Our survey of every willing lifer left on the Columbus soul scene, including retired DJs, producers, and important local artists, produced not so much as a glimmer of recognition at the name Penny & the Quarters. Though we loved the song from the first play, it may’ve ended up a bit buried on our original compilation, as #18 of 19 tracks.

Sometime in 2005, a lone box of master tapes escaped an estate sale and made its way through a network of collectors, record dealers, and “junkers” into the hands of leading Ohio soul expert Dante Carfagna, who linked them to Columbus, Ohio’s mysterious Prix label (See: Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label). A bit of research turned up Prix proprietor George Beter, who identified most of the unlabelled material. All it took was an endless series of phone calls and letters and two fields trips in Columbus. But one complete mystery wended its way onto our final Prix compilation. “You and Me,” a simple but irrepressible demo credited only to Penny & the Quarters, was found tacked onto a mixed studio reel. Our survey of every willing lifer left on the Columbus soul scene, including retired DJs, producers, and important local artists, produced not so much as a glimmer of recognition at the name Penny & the Quarters. Though we loved the song from the first play, it may’ve ended up a bit buried on our original compilation, as #18 of 19 tracks.

Ein prächtiges Doppelalbum (2x LP) im Gatefold welches die besten Beispiele eines bis vor kurzem sehr unterschätzten Genres enthält.
Jetzt ist es natürlich der angesagteste Sound überhaupt.
Aus dem umfangreichen Nippon Columbia-Katalog hat Cunimondo Takiguchi die heißesten Stücke der innovativsten Schöpfer des City Pop-Genres zusammengestellt.
Wenn man dann noch die berühmte hohe Produktionsqualität und Qualitätskontrolle von Gearbox hinzunimmt, hat man einen frühen Anwärter auf die Compilation des Jahres!

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Ginnels never let up. Though it has been, staggeringly, eight long years since the last irresistible jangle pop transmission under the Ginnels moniker, nothing much has changed in Mark Chester's approach when it comes to the practice of music making, even if much everything else for Chester has seen considerable flux – he's now a father of two, and most shockingly of all for an indie popster of his ilk, gainfully employed. "It definitely started the same way all Ginnels stuff starts," Chester explains, "which is just me looking through five years of phone demos and going 'that's a decent song' and 'that's a decent song', and if you keep that up then you have a full album."

The man himself might be coyly committed to making his process sound as pedestrian as possible, but from the moment the delicate chiming introduction of album opener 'The Body Was Gone' goes widescreen – revealing an expanded sonic palette richer in timbre and exponentially wider in scope than anything Chester has let out into the world thus far – it is apparent that "The Picturesque" is poised to be less than parochial in its sonic purview.

From here, "The Picturesque" plays like a gauzy road trip Super 8 footage cutting between scenes of sunset at Monument Valley and B-roll from around middle-Ireland, entirely soundtracked by some enchanted mixtape of heretofore unheard B sides from REM, XTC and The Go-Betweens, unexpected guest appearances from the surprisingly together-sounding ghost of Johnny Thunders and snippets from your coolest friends' unreleased instrumental experiments. All liberally rippled with Chester's unique ear for melody and appetite for the unexpected when it comes to crafting guitar parts. And this, by design, feels like a Guitar Record, above all else.

For all its effortlessly sticky lyrical and melodic twists, "The Picturesque" separates itself within the mighty Ginnels catalogue in both the dexterity in playing and diversity in tone on show across these 12 tracks. And 12, of course as we know, being the optimum number of tracks for any LP to have, so bonus points for that too.

Four years after "The Watchful Eye Of The Stars", Adrian Crowley returns with a new John Parish-produced album "Measure of Joy" to be released on the brand new label Valley of Eyes Records. This is album 10 for Crowley: an achievement number and maybe even a career high, but the music doesn"t bother with that. They are just great songs. Crowley is a songwriter and a poet. Here, also, he is in the company of John Parish, who is always more than a producer. "Measure of Joy" is a nocturnal album. Not in the usual commonplace sense of dark and moody though it can be. The night is present in the sounds that can only be noticed when most things rest. In the lost transmission and the ghost lips that talk on the phone over sleepy jazz.

Luke’s Anger returns in fine form for his 5th full EP on Don’t.

It’s a mixture of straight up ghetto style DJ jams, supremely bendy bangers for Xtra special dancefloor moments and the impactful jugular Electro of ‘Numberz’, all of which have been causing a stir in the hands of a select few. Don’t sleep!

999's album 'Death in Soho' was originally released in 2007 on Overground and is a testament to the enduring power of punk rock. As one of the original British punk bands from the late 1970s, '999' brought their classic energy and attitude into the modern era with this album. It features 15 tracks that capture the raw, fast-paced, and anthemic sound that defined their early work while also showcasing a more polished production.

Notable tracks include:
"Gimme the World": A high-energy opener with driving guitars and socially conscious lyrics.
The System": A critique of societal control with a catchy chorus.
"Stealing Beauty": A melodic track with a hint of new wave influence.
"Last Breath": A slower, reflective punk ballad that adds variety to the album.
'Death in Soho' combines punchy riffs, political commentary, and memorable hooks, proving '999's relevance decades after their debut. It resonated with long-time fans while also appealing to newer listeners, serving as a reminder of punk's timeless appeal and of 999's staying power in the punk genre.

Forever was a record that was written and recorded one track at a time with my husband Coley. After scrapping about 20 songs or so I had written the last few years, I wanted to get to the heart of things. I had a great talk with a friend on the phone and she mentioned she just wasn’t sure where I’d been. I realized I wasn’t really certain of that either. It’d been a foggy few years after 2020, and the pieces seemed to just be starting to be picked up. I had fallen in love, gotten married, had a dog, a house…things I had always dreamed of. But it took my quite some time to accept them as my life. For a bit, I felt like an outsider watching myself stumble though everything, and was constantly critiquing myself, to the point where I could hardly leave the house for a bit. But then I realized my life was passing me by, and the love I was living in required presence to accept. I started to do the little things you have to do to just show up for people: listen, grow, change, write….get outside of my own problems. Time is flying, and I want to be here for it all rather than lost in my thoughts all the time. My love is forever. When I was a kid I used to say to my mom and dad “I love you forever and always” then neurotically changed it to “I love you forever and always and it’s true and I mean it”…because I wanted to make sure they knew how much I wasn’t messing around! I still feel that way when I say “I love you” to anyone and hope it comes across on this record. Love y’all forever!