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Katy Kirby is a Texas-based songwriter and indie rock practitioner with an affinity for unspoken rules, misunderstanding and boredom. She was born, raised and homeschooled by two ex-cheerleaders in small-town Texas and started singing in church, amidst the pasteurised-pop choruses of evangelical worship. Like many bible belt late-millennials, Katy grew up on a strict diet of this dependably uncool genre and accordingly, Cool Dry Place finds her dismantling it. "I can hear myself fighting that deeply internalized impulse to make things that are super pleasant or approachable," she says. Though Katy hasn't fully overcome the itch to please, it's to a listener's benefit. Instead of eradicating the pop sensibilities of her past, she warps them, lacing sugary hooks with sneaky rage, twisting affectionate tones into matter-of-fact reproach, and planting seemingly serene melodies with sonic jabs. The fun is in the clash. The nine tracks that make up Cool Dry Place are miscellaneous in subject (motherhood, late capitalism, disintegrating relationships) but unified by the angle from which they're told: from a person re-learning to process life with intense attention. Each song is a catalogue of fragments, the number of segments in an orange or the cut of an obsessively-worn shirt, distilled into meditations on the bizarre and microscopic exchanges that make up modern life - a relationship splintering, an uncomfortable pause, an understanding finally found. These emotional dioramas are moderated by the angular storytelling that unites Gillian Welch and Phoebe Bridgers, a favour for the conventions of short fiction over confession.

Sons of Traders 002 is a Compilation 8 Tracks Ep of loosely knit artists that surround the duo Sons of Traders (Mike Tansella Jr. and TANS). Leading the EP, the title track “Rotten to the Core” is a slow stomper with a forceful vocal sample and some various squelches. LA’s Kosmik picks up the tempo with “Murmurs” which features a hypnotic synth loop over a 4/4 beat. On “Chomping at the Bit” C.L.A.W.S. and Tyrell trade off between claps, hi hats and short delays underneath a sinister synth tone. To close the A side of the record is Future Blondes out of Texas with “2020 ultra visions”, a cut that can only be described as a sinister barrage of slamming drums and tones. The B side launches with “The Other Side of Town” by The White Lines, a dark electro workout with vocal samples, dark synths and growling bassline. Frigio label boss Juan Pablo brings us an intricate drum pattern with layers of synths on “Night Drive in Beijing”. “Self Feral” by Chris Mitchell is something with a hip hop swing, heavy drums, various feedback and vocals. Closing the EP is Dragee, a new artist from Tel Aviv. “Them” features a hard snare that holds together the demented vocals, claps and bassline that develop throughout the track.

Katy Kirby is a Texas-based songwriter and indie rock practitioner with an affinity for unspoken rules, misunderstanding and boredom. She was born, raised and homeschooled by two ex-cheerleaders in small-town Texas and started singing in church, amidst the pasteurised-pop choruses of evangelical worship. Like many bible belt late-millennials, Katy grew up on a strict diet of this dependably uncool genre and accordingly, Cool Dry Place finds her dismantling it. "I can hear myself fighting that deeply internalized impulse to make things that are super pleasant or approachable," she says. Though Katy hasn't fully overcome the itch to please, it's to a listener's benefit. Instead of eradicating the pop sensibilities of her past, she warps them, lacing sugary hooks with sneaky rage, twisting affectionate tones into matter-of-fact reproach, and planting seemingly serene melodies with sonic jabs. The fun is in the clash. The nine tracks that make up Cool Dry Place are miscellaneous in subject (motherhood, late capitalism, disintegrating relationships) but unified by the angle from which they're told: from a person re-learning to process life with intense attention. Each song is a catalogue of fragments, the number of segments in an orange or the cut of an obsessively-worn shirt, distilled into meditations on the bizarre and microscopic exchanges that make up modern life - a relationship splintering, an uncomfortable pause, an understanding finally found. These emotional dioramas are moderated by the angular storytelling that unites Gillian Welch and Phoebe Bridgers, a favour for the conventions of short fiction over confession.

Just when you thought every loner folk genius had been outed/discovered, hyped, and pontificated about, a new/old challenger lurks in the murky depths of time...and Maine. Sure, you have your Skip Spences, Dave Bixbys, Stone Harbours, and Perry Leopolds already, but have you heard the lonesome sound of Bill Stone? Well, don't feel bad or "unkool", hardly anyone has--unless you lived in rural Maine in the early 70s and grabbed his barely-ever seen LP in the day. Titled simply Stone, Bill's mysterious album was pressed in the micro-est of quantities, covering wistful, airy psychedelia on par with the UK's Mark Fry's classic Dreaming of Alice, while still evoking the earthy, evening-hour melancholy of Leonard Cohen or Tom Rapp. Stone was also especially influenced by one Donny P. Leitch, one Robby Zimmerman, and much trad folk, while growing up in his hometown of Old Town, Maine. Stone started out playing in a few small folk ensembles while also moonlighting with occasional solo gigs, finally recording this lone platter in 1969 in a pottery studio (!?) on a 2-track Panasonic tape recorder in Boothbay, Maine (where he says, they competed with a cat in heat). The LP features Tom Blackwell/Bill Stone-guitars, Arthur Webster-bass, Bob Blackwell/Skip Smith-drums, Bill/Beth Waterhouse on vocals. It also seems cover artist Doug Bane went on to become an acclaimed cosmic painter--committing loads of animals, psychedelic scenes, and Native American portraits to canvas, who knew? But we digress--anyhow, seems Stone's solo career slowed down after marriage hit, and he transitioned to playing covers in bars for cash, but after acquiring a masters and doctorate in education, he moved into the teaching walk of life. Bill published books and articles on subjects as diverse as school counseling and chaos theory--but now retired, he's returned to music, even recording a new album of originals and traditional numbers, based on his experiences as a cab driver (another wrinkle in the Stone Saga we must hear more of someday - but for now check out). So with Bill back in action and the world slowly crawling out of a disillusioning haze, now seems like the perfect time for a first-time-ever reissue of this incredibly rare, happy-sad, gently delicate, Stone(d) classic of a downer song-cycle.

When Claud Mintz's mother finally heard the 13 songs on her kid's magnetic first album, Super Monster, she asked a concerned question: Just how many people had her 21-year-old dated? From beginning to end, these sparkling pop tunes capture the assorted stages of a relationship's delight and dejection_the giddy sensation of a first kiss during the beaming "Overnight," the heartsick longing of a pending rejection during the yearning "Jordan," the reluctant call for a requisite breakup during the smoldering "Ana." Claud, though, replied that these songs detailed the phases of only two or three relationships, simply written during them or at various points after they were over. The debut release on Phoebe Bridgers' Saddest Factory Records, Super Monster is a vertiginous but joyous coming-of-age reckoning with such young love. Claud sees relationships as games of endless wonder, intrigue, and second-guesses, a roller-coaster thrilling you even when it's terrifying. If "Gold" turns the tension and indecision of a bad match into an undeniable bit of lithe disco, "That's Mr. Bitch To You" uses a spurt of righteous indignation to fuse a little soul and emo into one breathless hook. Super Monster is like a compulsive compilation that Claud culled from a lifetime of musical enthusiasms_the arcing alt-rock of '90s airwaves, the rapturous pop of '00s chart-toppers, the diligent genre-hopping of modern online life. Claud emerges as the chameleonic mastermind of this mélange, channeling all of love's emotions into songs so sharp they make even the hardest times feel fun. Perhaps you are in the throes of one of these romantic moments yourself right now, resentful of a frustrating paramour like Claud during "Pepsi" or indulging in lust like "In or In Between." Or maybe these songs recall those wild days and tough situations. Incisive, instant, and addictive Super Monster works on either level_to remind us of love's wild ups and downs or to help us deal with them in real time. In that way, Mom, these songs are about dating, well, everyone.

Me And Ennui Are Friends, Baby is the latest full-length from New Zealand-born, Melbourne-based singer-songwriter, Sarah Mary Chadwick, whose brutally honest songwriting has cast her contrary to the gentleness of most current music. Comprised entirely of minimal solo piano arrangements, the album is despondently clear-eyed and smirkingly self-deprecating, completing a trilogy of records that started with The Queen Who Stole The Sky recorded on Melbourne Town Hall’s grand organ, and her only outing to date featuring a full band, Please Daddy. Each record has followed Chadwick’s internal processing after a traumatic event, with Chadwick’s zeal for psychoanalysis front and center. On Ennui, Chadwick presents an exacting intensity with her choice to pare back to piano and vocals. It’s in this stark setting that she focuses on the attempt she made on her life in 2019. The methods Chadwick employed here contrast those of her previous full-band record, which thrust her into a very different world of rehearsal, planning, restraint and control as a functional tool. The result, 2020’s critically acclaimed Please Daddy, was her most aching and engaging achievement to date: “a raw, often unnerving experience,” which “delivers compelling and uplifting catharsis” (Mojo). Recording Ennui shortly after those sessions, Chadwick concludes her trilogy by returning to the most immediate compositional process she can muster, doing it alone, with less between her and the microphone than ever before. Joined by long time production collaborators, Me And Ennui was mastered by David Walker at Stepford Audio and mixed and recorded by Geoff O’Connor at Vanity Lair—both expertly bringing scale, subtlety and intangible ascendence to this recording.

Discodelic presents the second release in this series of exclusive 45 RPM records. From the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, province of Limón, the town of Cahuita, we present you with the incredible BOCARACÁ!

Bocaracá is without a doubt a gem from Caribbean Central America, bridging a spectacular concoction of Psychedelia with Afro Latin rhythms. Created by Isidor Asch and Luis Jákamo, two restless "limonenses", who were on the path of discovering their Latin musical roots since childhood, while also experimenting with soul and Rock in their own compositions. Together and on their own, they have written a big chunk of the history of Soul in Costa Rica with their subsequent outstanding groups: Marfil, Grupo Stop, and Manantial.

This limited edition is part of a project that has been in the making for several years. This is a labor of love and respect for the music of this singular band. Four “maes” who were known as “the only hippies in Limón” in their hometown.

This reissue includes historic material that was originally recorded between 1973 and 1974 in Audio Centro, a recording facility in San José. It’s a priceless and important document, a window to what was happening with music in the largely abandoned and forgotten province of Limón, where a musical revolution was cooking in the early ’70s, and where Bocaracá was the cornerstone.

Get to know the full story of Bocaracá in the special liner notes included in the release, prepared with love for all of you, featuring band anecdotes and photos.

Small Town Dubz bringing their dub sounds to vinyl featuring Razaman on vocals and Vale on trumpet. The B-side features a Frenk Dublin remix of 'Soundman a Play' with Rumble B on vocals.

The five members of Sun June spent their early years spread out across the United States, from the boonies of the Hudson Valley to the sprawling outskirts of LA. Having spent their college years within the gloomy, cold winters of the North East, Laura Colwell and Stephen Salisbury found themselves in the vibrant melting-pot of inspiration that is Austin, Texas. Meeting each other while working on Terrence Malick's 'Song to Song', the pair were immediately taken by the city's bustling small clubs and honky-tonk scene, and the fact that there was always an instrument within reach, always someone to play alongside. Coming alive in this newly discovered landscape, Colwell and Salisbury formed Sun June alongside Michael Bain on lead guitar, Sarah Schultz on drums, and Justin Harris on bass and recorded their debut album live to tape, releasing it via the city's esteemed Keeled Scales label in 2018. The band coined the term 'regret pop' to describe the music they made on the 'Years' LP. Though somewhat tongue in cheek, it made perfect sense ~ the gentle sway of their country leaning pop songs seeped in melancholy, as if each subtle turn of phrase was always grasping for something just out of reach. Sun June returns with Somewhere, a brand new album, out February 2021. It's a record that feels distinctly more present than its predecessor. In the time since, Colwell and Salisbury have become a couple, and it's had a profound effect on their work; if Years was about how loss evolves, Somewhere is about how love evolves. "We explore a lot of the same themes across it," Colwell says, "but I think there's a lot more love here." Somewhere is Sun June at their most decadent, a richly diverse album which sees them exploring bright new corners with full hearts and wide eyes. Embracing a more pop-oriented sound the album consists of eleven beautiful new songs and is deliberately more collaborative and fully arranged: Laura played guitar for the first time; band members swapped instruments, and producer Danny Reisch helped flesh out layers of synth and percussion that provides a sweeping undercurrent to the whole thing. Throughout Somewhere you can hear Sun June blossom into a living-and-breathing five-piece, the album formed from an exploratory track building process which results in a more formidable version of the band we once knew. 'Real Thing' is most indicative of this, a fully collaborative effort which encompasses all of the nuances that come to define the album. "Are you the real thing?" Laura Colwell questions in the song's repeated refrain. "Honey I'm the real thing," she answers back. They've called this one their 'prom' record; a sincere, alive-in-the-moment snapshot of the heady rush of love. "The prom idea started as a mood for us to arrange and shape the music to, which we hadn't done before," the band explains. " Prom isn't all rosy and perfect. The songs show you the crying in the bathroom,, the fear of dancing, the joy of a kiss - all the highs and all the lows." It's in both those highs and lows where Somewhere comes alive. Laura Colwell's voice is mesmerising throughout, and while the record is a document of falling in love, there's still room for her to wilt and linger, the vibrancy of the production creating beautiful contrasts for her voice to pull us through. Opening track 'Bad With Time' sets this tone from the outset, both dark and mysterious, sad and sultry as it fascinatingly unrolls. "I didn't mean what I said," Colwell sings. "But I wanted you to think I did." Somewhere showcases a gentle but eminently pronounced maturation of Sun June's sound, a second record full of quiet revelation, eleven songs that bristle with love and longing. It finds a band at the height of their collective potency, a marked stride forward from the band that created that debut record, but also one that once again is able to transport the listener into a fascinating new landscape, one that lies somewhere between the town and the city, between the head and the heart; neither here nor there, but certainly somewhere.

You could think of the collection of tracks here as a library record of sorts, and each track inhabits its own universe. Tropical fits various moods and situations, and it could soundtrack any number of activities at home or on a dancefloor - whether real, imaginary, or hallucinated. Strangely enough, it sounds like it could have been constructed from obscure Italian library breaks, when instead every instrument has been played and panned, several times over, across magnetic tape.

The genesis of many of these tracks began when CV Vision moved to Berlin in 2014. His flat had a small chamber where he could fit a drum set, so he treated the walls with foam, and in true DIY style, dived headfirst into recording these tracks. It was the natural next step on an audio adventure that first began when CV Vision picked up the guitar in his teens, and a couple years later started recording with friends in his home town of Bayreuth. Fast forward ten years and here is his debut - a culmination of practising chops and learning instruments, mastering recording techniques and fine-tuning the CV Vision sound.

It’s a sound that condenses elements of acid rock, psych soul, library funk and new wave oddities into a movie soundtrack for your mind. It’s a journey from ‘60s west coast LSD-drenched excursions to ‘80s synth and post-punk mutations. Tropical is a plunge into another time, another music you can simply swim around in and explore.

Side A opens up with Tropical Tune In, which rides in on a clave and a warm wind, blowing a distinctly herbal aroma and recalling exotica dons like Les Baxter and Martin Denny. Following on with the aural equivalent of a sea breeze through your mind, Spaziergang am Meer blows away the cobwebs and conjures some nice library moments like Stringtronics or F eelings . Next, Ba_c_k(Lava) bounces out of a cold wave post-punk melting pot and crashes through the speakers like a blazed Zebedee, with some sweet eastern synths for added flavour, before the rolling bass licks of Der Böse Schamane take us into another dimension, landing somewhere between a psych rock freak out and a Black Ark dub session. Mr Maze channels the arpeggiators of synth outsiders like Mort Garson and Bruce Haack, creating a glorious interlock of robotic electronics and freakbeat vocals. The side comes to a close with the guitars of Der Strand (außer Rand und Band) letting loose like syrupy springs, and setting a languid mood like the bedroom scene in Bedazzled (1967 version). Side B kicks off with Parallel Universum, which comes through like a woozy krautrock workout, all ducking synths with big chord shifts to create an epic deranged beehive of a soundtrack. Im Land der Ameisen evokes the spirit if not the sound of White Rabbit, when logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead, before waking up and wandering through the side alleys of Marrakech with the West Coast Pop Art Ensemble and the Electric Prunes, as Ritual (No. 4) blares out the speakers of passing tuk tuks. Ein Wasserfall plumbs the deep synth depths, like Raymond Scott in scuba gear, modular rack strapped to his back delivering oxygen as he swims between connector cables and seaweed forests through a watery underworld. Banana King sounds like a lost soundtrack to Donkey Kong or Mario Cart, if the cart radio was tuned into a synth

documentary hosted by James Pants, while Das Kloster am Berg takes the baton from Brenda Ray and her Naffi cohorts, all dubbed-out niceness and post punk swagger. The LP closes out with Tropical Drop Out, a dreamscape rather than a wake up call, coaxing you deeper into the trek across the desert of your mind.

And that’s Tropical in its essence: capsules from another time, snapshots of another sound, messages from another mind - all in the service of inducing the visions in your head.

written by Max Cole

Signed to Parisian label N F rmat! (home to Oumou Sangar , Blick Bassy & M lissa Laveaux), Soweto-based 4 piece band Urban Village present their debut album, ‘Udondolo’.
Marrying the day-to-day experiences of black South Africans with ebullient elements from traditional Zulu music, Urban Village is the alias of four experimental musicians all born & raised in the township of Soweto at the tail end of apartheid.
Urban Village release music under a name which specifically references the blend of cultures, music & rites which were assimilated into the now 1 million strong population of Soweto, when black South Africans from multiple provinces were brought to the area during the establishment of apartheid, under strict segregation from Johannesburg’s white suburbs.
Born for the most part in the last years of apartheid, whilst growing up the band plunged happily into house and dance music that turned the page of a heavy past. Guitarist Lerato came across older Zulu musicians and their style of maskandi playing. Lerato has since mixed styles from homelands and rural areas, sharpened in club jam sessions (where he went on to meet Tubatsi and form Urban Village) during which spoken word, hip-hop and jazz rub shoulders freely.
‘Udondolo’ - partially recorded at legendary Downtown Studios in the heart of Johannesburg and at Figure of 8 studios in the leafy suburbs of Randburg, - is a journey through all the colours of Soweto. This is where it draws its consistency, strength & identity. That of Soweto itself - a dormitory town designed to
monitor those who were sent there, it has become a laboratory of music where the hopes of an entire people resonate, even today.

The Luka State are Cheshire Cats, Conrad Ellis (voice, guitar), Sam Bell (bass, voice), Jake Barnabas (drums) and Lewis Pusey (guitars). Their hometown is famous for salt mining, and not much else. Yet being halfway between Liverpool and Manchester – hence, every kid in the town wanting to be a footballer or pop star the minute they can kick a ball or play a guitar. The Luka State chose music.

The band racked up 68 shows around the UK in the twelve months leading up to the lockdown, and despite not having the chance to play their latest releases live, they have amassed over 6 million Spotify streams. This is no mean feat for an independent band, so it’s no wonder that Shelter/BMG jumped at the chance to sign them.










[i] 9. [Insert Girls Name Here]

12” album of previously released Dub album by Nkrumah “Jah” Thomas from Kingston, Jamaica. Re-issued on WHITE vinyl.

Nkrumah “Jah” Thomas is an esteemed reggae deejay and record producer who first came to prominence in the 1970s, later setting up his own labels ‘Midnight Rock’ and ‘Nura’.

Scofield and Metheny. What more needs to be said? A masterpiece meeting of musical minds, these two guitar virtuosos entered the studio in December 1993 with Steve Swallow on bass guitar and Bill Stewart on drums to create one of the greatest jazz guitar albums of all time. Produced by Lee Townsend, I Can See Your House From Here is an 11-track set of Scofield and Metheny originals including Sco’s expansive title track and Pat’s rocking “The Red One” and the stunning ballad “Message To My Friend.”

Recorded in a string of sessions between Curve Pusher’s former Darnley Road location in London and new facility in UK seaside town Hastings, ​Old Tight Selektah​ sees Radioactive Man and Ben Pest (OverworX) riff off their shared passions for studio hardware and live set jams, maintaining the funk at all times.

Lead track ​Old Tight​ works in ​recorded licks from the Pest band’s horn section - Off-Key He-Man. Bar Tab smooths out into a glimmering and acid licked electro number. ​You Bring It, We’ll Wing It​ enjoys more of the Pest brass service, slowing the pace to a dubby, broken beat tempo. Finishing up the EP ​Bracetings​ is a jumpy, up tempo finish to the release showing off both producer’s flair for high precision beat programming.

Ben Pest is a hardware-made-techno specialist based in Bristol. He runs his own label OverworX and has also released his heady raucous sound on ​Varvet, Don’t and I Love Acid.

Asking For Trouble est. 2017
Mastered and cut by Keith Tenniswood at Curve Pushe

Lyon-based freakers Chico Magnetic Band began as Chico & the Slow Death, its front man a
wild Tunisian-born singer otherwise known as Mahmoud Ayari, with drummer Patrick Garel,
bassist Alain Mazet and guitarist Bernard Lloret, later replaced by Bernard Monneri.
Conjuring a dark, excessive sound with unfettered guitar, pummelling drum rolls and Ayari
growling and grumbling over the top, this sole LP is culled from different permutating
sessions, with plenty of audio freakery and extreme effects from Jean-Pierre Massiera;
Hendrix cover “Cross Town Traffic” is rendered with love, despite Ayari’s hefty accent.

Under the impression of the racially motivated murders on 19 February 2020 in Hanau, her hometown, the visual artist and musician Michaela Meise recorded the piece "Cemalim" by the Turk Erkin Koray in German translation. The production of the song was supported by the Städtische Galerie Nordhorn and the NS-Dokumentationszentrum München, both of which have included the work in their exhibition programmes this year.

Erkin Koray is a representative of the psychedelic Anadolu-Rock and published "Cemalim" as an arrangement in 1973. The original composer, Rafik Başaran, came from the Cappadocian town of Ürgüp, which is also mentioned in the song. "Cemalim" means, translated into German, "My darling Cemal", and is a lament for the dead. Meise wrote the German text based on the translation by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, who also comes from Hanau.

Besides the mourning of nine young people, solidarity with the relatives and friends of the murder victims is urgently needed. They have organised themselves in the "Initiative 19 February Hanau" - on their website you can find information about what support they would like to receive.

Most of the concert programme of the last two years included anti-fascist songs and was a reaction to the increasing right-wing populism. Folk songs, hits and chansons of the 1960s, published in July 2018 on the album "Ich bin Griechin" (Martin Hossbach), dealt with the experience of the Second World War, told of the longing to leave home or the experiences of a seasonal worker. The songs were composed by the anti-fascist Mikis Theodorakis, the musician Barbara, who survived the Shoah with her family in the underground, and George Moustaki and Alexandra, who crossed both national borders.

Unter dem Eindruck der rassistisch motivierten Morde am 19. Februar 2020 in Hanau, ihrer Heimatstadt, hat die bildende Künstlerin und Musikerin Michaela Meise das Stück »Cemalim« des Türken Erkin Koray in deutscher Übersetzung eingespielt. Die Produktion des Liedes wurde von der Städtischen Galerie Nordhorn und dem NS-Dokumentationszentrum München unterstützt, die beide das Werk in ihre diesjährigen Ausstellungsprogramme aufgenommen haben.

Erkin Koray ist ein Vertreter des psychedelischen Anadolu-Rock und veröffentlichte »Cemalim« im Jahr 1973 als Bearbeitung. Der ursprüngliche Komponist, Rafik Başaran, stammte aus der kappadokischen Stadt Ürgüp, von der auch im Lied die Rede ist. »Cemalim« bedeutet, ins Deutsche übersetzt, »Mein Liebling Cemal«, und ist eine Totenklage. Meise schrieb den deutschen Text auf Grundlage der Übersetzung von Fatih Alasalvaroglu, der ebenfalls aus Hanau kommt.

Neben der Trauer um neun junge Menschen ist Solidarität mit den Angehörigen und Freunden der Mordopfer dringend notwendig. Sie haben sich in der »Initiative 19. Februar Hanau« organisiert – auf ihrer Website finden sich Informationen, welche Unterstützung sie sich wünschen.

Meises Konzertprogramm der letzten zwei Jahre umfasste anti-faschistische Lieder und reagierte somit auf den zunehmenden Rechtspopulismus. Volkslieder, Schlager und Chansons der 1960er Jahre, erschienen im Juli 2018 auf dem Album »Ich bin Griechin« (Martin Hossbach), verarbeiteten die Erfahrung des Zweiten Weltkrieges, erzählten von der Sehnsucht, die Heimat zu verlassen oder den Erfahrungen eines Saisonarbeiters. Die Lieder stammten vom Antifaschisten Mikis Theodorakis, der Musikerin Barbara, welche die Shoah mit ihrer Familie im Untergrund überlebte, sowie von George Moustaki und Alexandra, die beide nationale Grenzen überschritten.
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Kiwi Jr. is a phenomenal "rock" and/or "punk" and/or "indie-rock" (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass), and Brian Murphy (guitar). Cooler Returns is their second album, and their first for Sub Pop. Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, Cooler Returns is truly a whole lot of fun. RIYL indie-pop from down under, things that are smart/exuberant/catchy all at once. Buildings burning in every direction; macabre unknowns in your friendly neighbor's basement; undecided voters sharpening their pencils: under pressure we could call Kiwi Jr.'s Cooler Returns "timely." But what year is it, again? On Cooler Returns, Kiwi Jr. cycle through the recent zigs & looming zags of the new decade, squinting anew at New Year's parties forgotten and under-investigated small town diner fires, piecing together low-stakes conspiracy theories on what's coming down the pike in 2021. Put together like a thousand-piece puzzle, assembled in flow state through the first dull stretch of quarantine, sanitized singer shuffling to sanitized studio by streetcar, masked like it's the kind of work where getting recognized means getting killed, Cooler Returns materializes as a sprawling survey from the first few bites of the terrible twenties, an investigative exposé of recent history buried under the headlines & ancient kings buried under parking lots. Not so long since their debut Football Money in archaeological time, unending gray eons later in the dog years of quaran-time, spiritually antipodean Canadians Kiwi Jr return to disseminate this year's annual report to the shareholders, burying the incriminating numbers in the endless appendices of a longform narrative record, a 3,000 word tract for stakeholders to pore over. These stories - memories of Augusts past, unrepressed & transcribed fast - go down easier thanks to meaningful changes enacted in 2019's KiwiCares Pledge: delivering on a promise to transition from Crunchy to Smooth by 2021, the caveman chug of Football Money has been steamed & pressed with the purifying air of a saloon piano - operated with bow-tie untied - and a spring green side-salad of tentatively up-tempo organ taps & freshly fluted harmonica. A chronically detuned spin of the dial through swivel-chair distractions & WFH daydreams, an immersive ctrl-tab deluge cycling through popular listicle distractions like the unentombing of Richard III, or the deja vu destruction of the Glasgow School of Art, Kiwi Jr. sing this song to an indoor audience, crisscrossing canceled, every other prestige distraction source wrung dry, only songwriting remaining to deliver engrossing tales to the populace, just how I imagine it worked in the old days. Fixing loose ingredients into a sturdy whip, Kiwi Jr. beam in live from the 9-5, striding into 2021 with a mastered brainwave that comes equally from the back room of the record store as the penalty box. And how do we, left holding this box of deliberate entanglements, sign off to those as yet uninitiated, undecided, uncertain, unseen, absent return coordinates - Best Wishes, Warm Regards, Good Luck? Cooler Returns, Cooler Returns, C o o l e r R e t u r n s ! Cooler Returns was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto, and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.

LTD. LOSER EDITION

Kiwi Jr. is a phenomenal "rock" and/or "punk" and/or "indie-rock" (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass), and Brian Murphy (guitar). Cooler Returns is their second album, and their first for Sub Pop. Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, Cooler Returns is truly a whole lot of fun. RIYL indie-pop from down under, things that are smart/exuberant/catchy all at once. Buildings burning in every direction; macabre unknowns in your friendly neighbor's basement; undecided voters sharpening their pencils: under pressure we could call Kiwi Jr.'s Cooler Returns "timely." But what year is it, again? On Cooler Returns, Kiwi Jr. cycle through the recent zigs & looming zags of the new decade, squinting anew at New Year's parties forgotten and under-investigated small town diner fires, piecing together low-stakes conspiracy theories on what's coming down the pike in 2021. Put together like a thousand-piece puzzle, assembled in flow state through the first dull stretch of quarantine, sanitized singer shuffling to sanitized studio by streetcar, masked like it's the kind of work where getting recognized means getting killed, Cooler Returns materializes as a sprawling survey from the first few bites of the terrible twenties, an investigative exposé of recent history buried under the headlines & ancient kings buried under parking lots. Not so long since their debut Football Money in archaeological time, unending gray eons later in the dog years of quaran-time, spiritually antipodean Canadians Kiwi Jr return to disseminate this year's annual report to the shareholders, burying the incriminating numbers in the endless appendices of a longform narrative record, a 3,000 word tract for stakeholders to pore over. These stories - memories of Augusts past, unrepressed & transcribed fast - go down easier thanks to meaningful changes enacted in 2019's KiwiCares Pledge: delivering on a promise to transition from Crunchy to Smooth by 2021, the caveman chug of Football Money has been steamed & pressed with the purifying air of a saloon piano - operated with bow-tie untied - and a spring green side-salad of tentatively up-tempo organ taps & freshly fluted harmonica. A chronically detuned spin of the dial through swivel-chair distractions & WFH daydreams, an immersive ctrl-tab deluge cycling through popular listicle distractions like the unentombing of Richard III, or the deja vu destruction of the Glasgow School of Art, Kiwi Jr. sing this song to an indoor audience, crisscrossing canceled, every other prestige distraction source wrung dry, only songwriting remaining to deliver engrossing tales to the populace, just how I imagine it worked in the old days. Fixing loose ingredients into a sturdy whip, Kiwi Jr. beam in live from the 9-5, striding into 2021 with a mastered brainwave that comes equally from the back room of the record store as the penalty box. And how do we, left holding this box of deliberate entanglements, sign off to those as yet uninitiated, undecided, uncertain, unseen, absent return coordinates - Best Wishes, Warm Regards, Good Luck? Cooler Returns, Cooler Returns, C o o l e r R e t u r n s ! Cooler Returns was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto, and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.