Suche:the travel

Of all the things that can and should and will be said of Sam Wilkes’ & Jacob Mann’s Perform the Compositions of Sam Wilkes & Jacob Mann, let’s begin at the beginning and acknowledge that it is an aptly named record indeed. An ideal collaborative effort (which is to say, greater than the sum of its parts), here we have two longtime friends, two luminaries of the New Weird Los Angeles — the experimental, genre-encompassing underground—who have, at last, devoted a full-length record to their signature musical admixture.

Since their meeting as USC music students (Wilkes studied bass, and Mann, jazz/piano), the two have, with a kind of ceaseless abandon, chased the music to the ends the earth — oftentimes quite literally; travel is a recurrent theme in Compositions’ track titles (Pre-board, Soft Landing, and Around the Horn), and the record’s second track, Jakarta, was sketched out in a hotel room in the city of the same name, where Wilkes and Mann were performing at a jazz festival in 2019. Having initially bonded over a mutual and abiding appreciation for the Soulquarians, the two have spent over a decade playing and traveling, together and separately, their styles coevolving all the while.

Across its thirteen tracks, Compositions captures the relaxed creative flow of two consummate musicians. Most of the record’s sessions (“four-to-five-day summits” in an apartment studio, occasioned by “blasts of inspiration”) began with casual improvisation, and, indeed, roughly half of the final material was composed in this manner: Wilkes and Mann squaring off, a Yamaha DX7 facing a Roland Juno 106, alternating leads, two co-pilots with no set course. And though the songs are polished to a shine, there are artifacts of the intimacy of these sessions. Yes It Is concludes with a snippet of just-intelligible studio chatter: “…A flat minor, then A major.” A figuring-it-out-as-we-go moment that briefly renders explicit the warmth, friendship, and creative freedom that is the album’s heart.

Repress!

Using an old door, 17 strings, chopsticks and combining them with phasers, echo units and amplification, the new device was to become his signature sound, mixing Irish folk influences with Asian and North African sounds in a mesmerising and soulful new way that brought him to the attention of the leading improvisers of his day - Alice Coltrane, Ravi Shankar, Don Cherry and more.

A logical follow up to AllChival's recent reissue of Stano's debut LP, Michael O'Shea's self titled LP was originally released on Wire's Dome Imprint in 1982.

The background to the album is as interesting and inspiring as the artist who created it - born in Northern Ireland but raised in the Republic, O'Shea was keen to travel and escape the troubles of his home.

Wandering throughout Europe and the Middle East, O'Shea found himself living and working as a relief aid in Bangladesh in the mid Seventies where he learned to play sitar while recovering from a bout of hepatitis. A later period spent busking in France accompanied on zelochord by Algerian musician Kris Hosylan Harp led to O'Shea's idea of combining both instruments as a homebuilt instrument - Mo Chara (Irish for "My Friend").

He later described the process on the back of the LP himself saying:

"Having sold my sitar in Germany and being desperate for money to travel to Turkey, I conceived of the idea of combining both sitar and zelochord. The first Mo Cara was born, taken from the middle of a door, which was rescued from a skip in Munchen"

A combination of dulcimer, zelochord and sitar, O Shea would play it with a pair of chopsticks, striking the strings softly using Irish folk rhythms mixed with the rich, nostalgic sounds of of the many Asian artists he'd encountered on his travels.

It was a pan cultural sound standing at an unusual crossroads of folk, traditional, rock, progressive, jazz, electronic and post-punk worlds without hesitation.

Perfecting the instrument on the streets, there were further spells spent busking in the underground stations and cafes of London's West End and Covent Garden during the heady days of the 1970s when they were full of eccentric street entertainers, jazz improvisers and musical pioneers.

His work with Rick Wakeman never saw the light of day but O'Shea's contact with the world of post-punk London ensured his name would live on.

Introduced to Wire's Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis via cartoonist Tom Johnston, O'Shea eventually acquiesced to an open invite to record at their studio. Turning up unannounced in the summer of 1981 the LP was recorded in a day in the legendary Blackwing Studios and released on Dome the year after.

The first side features the fifteen minute masterpiece "No Journeys End" with the B side featuring more input from Wire in processing the Mo Chara sound.

Lewis himself said years later of the forgotten masterpiece: 'I always said it was the best job we ever did.'

After an aborted LP with The The's Matt Johnson the following year, O'Shea quietly disappeared from the formal recording world and his brief but unique contribution to the music world came to a sad end in 1991 when O'Shea was struck by a post van and died a few days later in hospital in London.

This repress on All City's AllChival imprint has been remastered and reissued with the approval of both Dome and his surviving siblings.

An intergenerational meeting of minds, Galaxy is the first collaborative EP from Meanjin, Brisbane musicians Sam Poggioli aka Sampology and Charlie Hill. Equal parts brain dance and body music, Galaxy’s seven tracks represent a vivid intermingling of 70s jazz-funk, fusion, machine-funk, Latin house and broken beat, accented by flourishes of minimalist composition. Considered as a whole, it evokes the possibility and potential of a space-age future where technology and nature exist in simpatico.

One of the most in-demand young jazz drummers in the Meanjin (Brisbane) music scene, Charlie started producing electronic music on his laptop three years ago. It was a vibe shift that hit him after several months spent immersing himself in Europe’s jazz and electronica scenes on the eve of the global coronavirus pandemic. After returning home, he approached Sam about recording some music together.

Sam, a well-travelled Australian DJ, producer and Worldwide FM radio host, was cautious about starting a new side project. However, when he heard his demos, he realised Charlie was blending rhythmic fundamentals he’d learned while completing a music degree with a beautifully wide-eyed approach to jazz-tinged electronica.

With Charlie on drums and Sam on MPC, they set about recording the songs on Galaxy, along the way discovering Sam’s mother taught Charlie visual art as a child. They also learned that Charlie’s mother plays with Sam’s father in the Queensland Symphony Orchestra, synchronicities which made their collaboration feel like it was meant to be.

As part of the Galaxy sessions, Sam and Charlie collaborated with fellow Australian vocalists Tiana Khasi and Merinda Dias-Jayasinha. On ‘Constant Call’, Tiana threads neo-soul/modern soul melodies through a backdrop that sounds like Burial on a future jazz tip. ‘Merinda’, on the other hand, sees Merinda laying a repeated Steve Riech-style vocal refrain over a man/machine instrumental accented by stargazed synths.

At the same time as they were creating Galaxy, Charlie was also busy recording his debut solo EP Yore, both of which are due for release in August 2023, respectively, through Middle Name Records.

hat happens when one's mind wanders in between waking and dream state? Hypnagogia is a phase leading into the dream state, in which people can have visions and rather creative ideas.

In between dreaming and being awake, people are traveling in the bordersland of consciousness. Reality is still experienced, but the logic of real life is not present anymore. People can see shadows and colors around them, hear voices, or get surprising ideas.

It it said that hypnagogia is the shortest road to your own subconscious and intuition. We can be immensely creative on hypnagogic states, because the rational mind is not present anymore.

Empath is exploring those hidden states of subconsciousness with six sound collages in his album Music For Hypnagogia. Ideas and visions for this music have been born from his own hypnagogic experiences and they could be a fascinating path to lead (greek: Agogo) listeners into dreams (greek: Hypnos).

Drop a needle on Psyché's debut double-sider – the debut album is out on May 19th – and you'll see visions, or rather Mediterranean visions, be they of waves of heat shimmering above dunes of sand, or of women dancing around a bonfire on a rocky plain, or of bushy cliffs overlooking emerald-green and turquoise sea. The name Psyché is of course ancient Greek for 'soul' or 'mind',signifying the band's love of psychedelic funk, but also the wide range of Mediterranean influences – from Southern Europe to the Balkan Peninsula, and from Anatolia to the Maghreb – that provide an endless source of inspiration for their hypnotic sound and minimalist style.

Psyché members Marcello Giannini (Guru, Nu Genea, Slivovitz), Andrea De Fazio (Parbleu, Nu Genea, Funkin Machine) and Paolo Petrella (Nu Genea) have been active in the Naples music scene for almost two decades, most notably during the first wave of the new Neapolitan Power movement (Slivovitz, Revenaz Quartet). Over the years they have often crossed paths and collaborated on side projects in various genres (math-rock duo Arduo and, more recently, Italo-disco duo Fratelli Malibu), before working together as the rhythm section of Nu Genea's live band. Following their first tour with Nu Genea in 2018, they started Psyché with the intent of exploring more minimalist styles and making musicwith just a few elements.

A unique combination of psychedelia, groove and improvisation, the music of Psyché goes back to the roots of our future; it evokes visions of a mythical past, blending centuries-old music traditions and mixing them with modern genres. Like a warm Mediterranean breeze, it travels across lands, seas and eras, distilling essential rhythms and cosmic pulsations.

"Cumbia Mahàre", on side A of the 7-inch, dives deep into the origins of rhythm, drawing us into the movements of an imaginary ritual dance (the term mahàre was used in Southern Italian dialects to indicate witches). Through the interplay between minimal synths and exhilarating rhythmic patterns of drums, percussion, guitar and bass, Psyché take a fresh and bold approach to contemporary afrobeat and cumbia fusion.

"Ophis", on side B, is a mesmeric blend of African, Balkan and Turkish rhythms and sounds. Ethereal vocalizations and warm, hypnotic bass lines combine with psychedelic riffs and haunting melodies on guitar to evoke ancient cultures whose spiritslithers like a snake across the dunes of a sun-scorched desert.

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

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

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

BLUE & BONE VINYL

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

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

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

A Rothko-esque color field set to music, The Window Is The Dream ventures even deeper into Horn's inner space than her stark, acclaimed debut Optimism, which earned her an 'artist to watch' tag from The Guardian upon its release last year. For her second record, Horn travelled to upstate New York to record with a few musical touchstones in mind: the electro-primitivism of the Silver Apples, austere rhythm kings This Heat and The Raincoats' time-bending Odyshape , however the resulting 10 songs are an entry into a world which is very much her own.

The debut release on the Finnish occult themed insignia Summon Titans sees label manager New Gods take an introductionary journey to the abyss. The intensely built EP travels through various styles of techno with influences from electro, EBM, 90's trance and breakbeat.

Descend into the vast underwater world of Melbourne/Naarm producer LOIF. LOIF's imagination of the mysterious world beneath the shores needs not words to describe it, but your ears to envision it. 'Plunge' presents four tracks of varying liquid moods which illustrate LOIF's versatility and tendency to hop between genres and moods. 'Plunge' travels through the depths and rhythms of techno, electro, bass, breaks, psy, glued together by a bubbly warmth reminiscent of oceanic exploration and dance floor groove.

Alex Albrecht returns in 2023 to Analogue Attic with 'Coles Ridge'.

The album is built on the foundation of field recordings that Alex has captured during his travels, specifically the Dandenong Ranges in Melbourne's east.
Ranging from hypnotic downtempo grooves to deep house, Coles Ridge features Alex's signature sound, characterised by its use of warm, analog textures, and lush atmospheres, mixed with intricate piano melodies and tonal themes.

Following his debut 12” “Human”, Armonics teleports back to the Slow Motion mothership with his debut mini-album: Nuovi Orizzonti. Dreamy, lo-fi fuzz emanates from cassette tape and vintage circuit boards to synthetic travel music that will jettison you into outer space. Strap in. Tune out.

Free The Robots intentionally marries various electronica genres into a joyous, machine-like syrup that swims between the currents of deep introspection and the depths of the dance floor. 'Kaduwa' is his most recent manifestation, born out of his travels around the world. Especially inspired by his time between Los Angeles, Barcelona, and the island Siargao in the Philippines, Free The Robots translates his experiences into electronic, jazz-centric and sample based beats with sublime tinges of psych, rock, house, and hip-hop. For the most part, these compositions are blunted, funky, and psychedelic. There are tracks for club nights, tunes for early morning comedowns, and songs that are suitable for both. Once more adding new ripples to his sound, Free The Robots continues to explore new frontiers while keeping the torch burning for the L.A. beat freaks

“Wild Boy …” is a reissue of the well-known 2016 release curated by Brian Chidester, renowned researcher and biographer of Eden Ahbez. Especially for this album, Brian wrote an interesting text about Abi’s life, which definitely became the decoration of the release.
With the new 2020 re-release, we went a little further and kept what is commonly referred to as studio cuts. It’s a few more minutes in the studio with ahbez himself, full of emotion and life. In addition, to the delight of fans, the edition includes an additional composition Nature Boy (Mantovani Orchestra).
Especially, it is worth noting the outstanding mastering prepared from practically decomposed tapes by the Grammy-nominated Jessica Thompson, which guarantees the deepest and warmth possible sound. Jessica a huge ahbez fan and we’re highly appreciated for what she has done to save his music for the future.
Eden Ahbez is definitely at the origin of psychedelic music and this release can be taken as further proof. Over the past twenty years, the iconic figure of the world’s first hippie Eden ahbez has become famous primarily for his 1948 song “Nature Boy”, praising universal love, and his amazingly solo album from the 1960s called “Eden’s Island” – one from the first concept albums in the history of music and probably the first psychedelic music album. “Wild Boy: The Lost Songs Of Eden Ahbez” deepens understanding of the origins of the psychedelic movement in the 1950s.
The disc contains a musical selection of works by Eden ahbez himself, written by him in the period after Nature Boy. The inclusion of songs such as “Palm Springs” – Ray Anthony Orchestra and “Hey Jacques” by Erta Kitt gives the listener the chance to discover for the first time the little-known recordings of world-famous artists composed by Eden ahbez. Through “Wild Boy” and “Surfer John” you can hear the author’s handling of absurd rock and exotic experimentation, as well as sweet psychedelic pop like Monterey (with Paul Horn on flute). Overall, Wild Boy: The Lost Songs Of Eden Ahbez offers an overview of the lost works of 1949-1971 with seven unpublished recordings and eight rare singles.
If in 2020 you are missing the hallucinogenic content in Eden Ahbez, it amazingly makes up for that deficiency with simple chords, expansive arrangements, and lyrics about travel, relaxation, free love, and spirituality. Thus creating the standard of psychedelic music. Eden Ahbez’s songs weren’t only fantasy and his personal philosophy was the real thing that he lived.

reviews:

“This carefully and extensively researched compilation culls covers by top notch mainstream artists juxtaposed with unreleased Eden recordings. What might sound like a mixed bag is actually more like a chronological, musical non-fiction novel about Eden Ahbez. While Eden was writing hundreds of songs and performing live and making recordings in various styles, his songs were also being picked up by popular artists like Nat King Cole and Eartha Kitt who recorded with a more polished mainstream style. There are also some early rock n roll style recordings here. Eden’s professionally recordings often end up as Novelty Pop records such as “Child of Nature” and “The Clam Man” but if you read between the lines and listen to the lyrics it is pretty eye-opening that he is singing about Eastern-religion-style and pre-hippie philosophies about being at one with the planet Earth.
All of this is explained in the lengthy liner notes inside the lp along with a few choice photos that establish Eden as a founding father of Southern California mystic/psychedelic music.” – Tiki_News
“Eden Ahbez’s life philosophy was summed up in the lyrics of his most famous song, “Nature Boy,” a 1948 hit for Nat King Cole: the song describes a “strange enchanted boy” who wanders the world in search of truth. “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn,” he concludes, “is to love and be loved in return.” Ahbez was a pre-cursor of California’s beatniks and hippies, and an exalted icon of ex-otica via his rare 1960 album Eden’s Island. Beyond “Nature Boy” and Eden’s Island, though, there were nu-merous lesser-known Ahbez record-ings. Ahbez biographer Brian Chidester has been doing an exemplary job of archiving and documenting that catalog of work. The Exotic World of Eden Ahbez (reviewed in UT#38) appeared a few years ago, gathering together 14 Ahbez-related rarities” – Ugly Things

Critically-acclaimed, criminally-overachieving Glasgow-based singer and guitarist Alasdair Roberts is known as a superlative original songwriter as well as an interpreter of traditional songs from Scotland and beyond. For the past twenty years, his recordings have alternated between these two complimentary poles, with "pop" records such as The Amber Gatherers and A Wonder Working Stone nestling in his expansive back catalogue alongside "folk" albums such as No Earthly Man and What News (with Amble Skuse and David McGuinness). Additionally, all of these records possess a further dimension, derived from their collation of songs together into one album-length statement. This is part of Alasdair"s great achievement in his career - for him, this thing of music and song hasn"t come the eons it"s travelled to simply entertain. These impulses fully present and well honed, Alasdair returns to his roots with Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall, his fifth full-length collection of traditional song. Recorded live in the studio, it is an entirely solo collection of twelve traditional ballads and songs sparsely arranged for acoustic guitar, piano and voice. The majority of the songs originate in Alasdair"s homeland of Scotland, with a couple from Ireland and one from Prince Edward Island on Canada"s eastern seaboard too. The record takes its title from a line in the final verse of one of its songs, "The Baron o" Brackley" - a ballad of feuding clans and matrimonial betrayal from the north-east of Scotland. Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall: it"s a title which goes some way towards encapsulating many of the record"s themes. Collectively the songs treat of various conflicts and tensions - those of gender; of class, status and position; and of geography and tribal belonging - and the roles and responsibilities expected at the various intersections of these constructs. That we should never forget! As with many of Alasdair"s recordings, Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall contains ballads aplenty: tragic ("Bob Norris"), supernatural ("The Holland Handkerchief") and dramatic ("Eppie Morrie"). There are love songs ("The Lichtbob"s Lassie") and anti-love songs ("Kilbogie"). There are rare, seldom-heard pieces ("Young Airly") and much more well-known ones ("Mary Mild," a version of "The Queen"s Four Maries"). Woven through all of this - a thread of levity, perhaps - is a triptych of zoological allegories - a panegyric to a mystical steed ("The Wonderful Grey Horse"), a lament for a lost cow ("Drimindown") and a paean to a regal waterbird ("The Bonny Moorhen"), which serves to highlight the intersection of the mythic, the eternal and the mundane at which we all find ourselves in every day of our life on Earth. Grief In the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall was masterfully recorded by Sam Smith at Green Door Studios, Glasgow over an economical two days, and mixed in one day. Its brevity on all levels is an aspect of its expression. Alasdair"s renowned acoustic fingerstyle guitar is understated yet questing, ever in service to the needs of the song, underpinning his soulful tenor voice. Three songs eschew his habitual acoustic guitar in favour of simple piano arrangements. The spare setting and Alasdair"s deeply committed performance gently reminds of the meanings and melodies of these old songs, chosen instinctively and with care, for all to hear and sing in 2023, and the world beyond that is ever coming.

Magna Pia, a.k.a seasoned producer, DJ, and composer Hüseyin Evirgen, announces his second full-length album, ‘QUT’, arriving on Inland’s Counterchange label in March on double vinyl.

After 2 steamrolling EPs of club tracks on the label - now entering its tenth year of action - Magna Pia presents his most complete and advanced body of work to date, weaving a dense narrative of drone, figurative synthesis, bass-heavy electronica, and abstract techno.

Over eight tracks each referencing his rich cultural and musical background, we are treated to a unique overview of a producer at the crest of his art. The word ‘Qut’ is an ancient positive affirmation, in one short word encompassing all that is scared, pure and good. The Old Turkic term meaning not only ‘good fortune’ and ‘joy’, but in shamanic circles, the ‘wonder of the heavens’, permeates the roots of Evirgen’s multi-heritage history.

That Evirgen expresses his interpretation of this central theme through the marriage of bewitching melodies with atonal, experimental and rumbling electronics is a conscious comment on the distortions and mutations of our Modern Era. We now exist in the digital age of the Technosphere for better or worse, and must seek beauty where-ever possible.

The opening ‘Prologue’ invites the listener into a futuristic yet organic sound world, where lush stereo processing goes hand in hand with rumbling bass and subtly detuned drone languages. From the echoes of traditional Uyghur folk music, translated via synthesizers into a glistening slow-diving opus (‘Qizil’), to churning dub-techno adorned with a symphony of evolving sine-waves (‘Venus M’), Evirgen then deploys ‘X’ - a haunting experimental piece composed predominantly with his voice and electronic processing.

The interweaving synth lines of ‘Gudanna’ pierce the fog with a radiant and transcendent club-techno bounce before the ode to the ancient Bronze Age goddess ‘Astarte’ unfolds its snare-driven broken-beat formations. The title track ‘Qut’ embodies by far the heaviest club track of the album, in a deadly, stripped-back moment of future-techno hypnotism. Dancing flames of purple-tongued synthesis are held (just) in line by a wonderfully tough throb of drums.

With his ‘Epilogue’, Magna Pia allows the spectral ideas and concepts laid out across the LP to connect and travel full circle, confirming our suspicions that this could be one of the most coherent and exciting works to emerge in the brave new field of introspective, and sensitive techno-electronic language.

Bongo Joe Records is pleased to announce the release of Yalla Miku's debut album. It is a new way of combining African, European, electronic, acoustic and electric music and cultures. The project was launched by Cyril Cyril duo, then joined by Simone Aubert and Vincent Bertholet from Hyperculte and three musicians with migrant backgrounds: the Moroccan Anouar Baouna, the Eritrean Samuel Ades and the Algerian Ali Bouchaki.

For its initiators, the idea was not to appropriate a non-European heritage and to interpret it in the company of musicians from these countries. They opted for a more radical approach: to propose a base of compositions on which the migrant musicians then worked with their instruments, which range from the derbouka to the guembri via the krar, the Eritrean lyre.

The album, nourished by these stage performances, was recorded in autumn 2021. The result is full of vibrations, unusual sounds and life experiences. Sung in Arabic, Tigrigna and French, the lyrics glide over throbbing rhythms, borrowing from gnawa, krautrock and electro trance. Their eponymous debut album sounds like a call to travel beyond the barriers of sound, a call to a horizon without a visa.