Suche:ther

Poet, novelist, musician and academic, Anthony Joseph teams up with legendary UK producer Dave Okumu for forthcoming album, ‘Rowing Up River To Get Our Names Back’

Dave Okumu, known perhaps best as frontman for The Invisible, though digging deeper into his production credits, huge names emerge such as; Grace Jones, Amy Winehouse, Jesse Ware, Rosie Lowe and Eska. On this album, the magic and alchemy of Dave’s production style showcase subtle sonics and deep layering resulting in a contemporary sound to carry Anthony’s afrofuturistic metrical meanings.

Anthony and Dave first came across each other when working with Shabaka Hutchings during Covid broadcasts, and then after Anthony performed some poems on Dave’s 2023 album ‘I Came From Love’, the seeds of collaboration were sown.

With a little more psychedelia, a little more experimentation, Dave’s eclectic vision focuses on the actual sounds on these pieces. Anthony stated that “The best producers guide you, not push you” now add to that the fact that both these humans were born on the same day, a concoction of laid back attitudes in people with strong purpose, some real magic can happen, naturally.

Early writing sessions for this record took place in 2022, around Mount Blanc in France. Anthony was away touring with long-time collaborator, Jason Yarde. Ideas were a little thin and they found themselves somewhat repeating previous work resulting in Anthony rethinking things a little, and so entered Dave Okumu.

LP opener ‘Satellite’ is a fine example of how this new partnership pans out. New musicians have been enlisted; Dan See (Drums), Aviram Barath (Synths), Nick Ramm on Fender Rhodes and Byron Wallen (Trumpet). Add to that the mighty vocal power house of Eska and we have a whole new dimension of soul and depth, to carry Anthony’s statements. “You build a wall, we go under, you build it higher, we go higher, like a satellite” .

On the album's second single, ‘Tony’ - there’s a nod to all drummers and creators of African rhythms, from the point of view of Afrobeat legend Tony Allen. Highlighting this is drummer’s drummer Richard Spaven as Dave’s choice of skin beater. He successfully reminds us that Tony was someone who understood the real power of rhythm and how it is used to unite people.

As well as the new musicians on this LP, Dave Okumu played all the guitars and used the studio as his tool. On ‘A Juba for Janet’ - a poem to Joseph’s mother, and a track so bass heavy that it feels as though it could sit in a deep dubstep set in Plastic People days, - Anthony’s voice reaches straight down your ear canals next to dark drums, huge synths and delayed saxophone stabs from Colin Webster. Slightly more introspective verses on ‘An Afrofuturist Poem’ see Dave’s beats show off the real future sound of this record, kalimba, moog bass and guitars all played by the man himself.

Mellower and deeper moments are also present, Anthony’s cryptic yet informative storytelling is at its absolute best on ‘Churches Of Sound (The Benetiz-Rojo)’ - Caribbean and Windrush history reeled off alongside a linear musical timeline of Black music in the diaspora.

A reminder that this body of work is first of 2 volumes, ‘Rowing Up River To Get Our Names Back’ is not a follow up to Anthony’s previous album, but more a development of his 2006 novel, ‘The African Origins of UFOs’ a book where experimental elements of afro-futurism, metafiction, science fiction, surrealism, mythology are rewritten in Anthony’s innovative language. Look out for Volume 2 also coming in 2025.

Anthony Joseph releases, ‘Rowing Up River To Get Our Names Back’ (Vol. 1) via Heavenly Sweetness 7th February 2025 and he will play live at Ronnie Scotts in London on 14th March 2025, with Dave Okumu as a special guest.

CREDITS:

Vocals - Anthony Joseph

Additional vocals, vocal arrangements - Eska Mtungwazi

Producer - Guitars, Bass, Moog, Synthesisers, Programming, Percussion - Dave Okumu

Drums - Dan See

Drums on ‘Tony’ - Richard Spaven

Synthesiser - Aviram Barath

Fender Rhodes, Synthesisers, Nick Ramm

Trumpet - Byron Wallen

Saxophones - Colin Webster

Trombones - James Wade Sired

Free jazz poetry by a spry, 85 year old Joe McPhee, adapting his renowned improvised practice to words - juxtaposed with Mats Gustafson’s sparing brass and electric gestures. It’s an utterly timeless and transfixing salvo, another shiny notch for Smalltown Supersound’s Le Jazz Non Series.

As a common ligature to the OG free jazz scene of ‘60s NYC, with formative binds to its European offshoots and the experimental avant garde, Joe McPhee is a true force of nature who has represented jazz at its freest over a remarkable lifetime. In duo with Swedish free jazz and noise standard bearer Mats Gustafson, he upends expectations with an astonishingly vivid and upfront example of his enduring contribution to freely improvised music. In 11 parts he variously reflects on everything from the neon sleaze and scuzz of NYC to contemporary US politicians and laugh out loud imitations of his previous sparring partners such as Peter Brötzmann, with a head-slapping immediacy that leaves you reeling, spellbound.

McPhee’s flow of rare, organic cadence, ranging from urgent to contemplative and dreamlike, is blessed with a unique turn-of-phrase that surely mirrors his decades of instrumental work. Gustafsson, meanwhile, dextrously takes up the mantle with a multi-instrumental spectrum of sounds, leaving McPhee unbound and able to float and sting on the mic. There’s obvious wisdom in his perceptively penetrative observations, as derived from a rich cultural life well spent, but also a playful naivety and levity in his ability to veer from almost melodic speech to explosive aggression and a knowing, bathetic wit. It’s perhaps hard to believe that McPhee only started incorporating and performing spoken word in his work in the past ten years, a half century since his declaration of “What Time Is It‽” announced his arrival on a legendary debut ‘Nation Time’ (1971), ushering in one of free jazz’s most singular characters in the process.

Oscillating between discordant reflections on life as a touring musician, set to Gustafsson’s skronk and culminating in a snort-worthy imitation of Peter Brötzmann’s gruff German accent, on ‘Short Pieces’ or the glowering growl and noise exhortations of ‘Guitar’, he evokes a more sweetly consonant calm in ‘When I Grow Up’ and eerie threat of ‘The Dreams Book’, and viscerality of ‘Disco Death’, where Gustafson’s tonal versatility comes into hugely mutable play, whilst McPhee’s extraordinary, unaffected voice is a constant. It’s perhaps McPhee’s balance of cool measuredness and wellspring of barbed energies that allows us, at least, to get the most out of this one; not stifling with mannered or manicured enunciation that can trigger certain icks; keeping close to the nature of spoken word in a way that avoids cliche and becomes inherently critical of it within his purposeful, non-hesitant clarity and unflinching approach.

Do Your Own Dance! VARIOUS ARTISTS
Chic’s Nile Rogers is lauded as an international star and the recently departed Patrick Adams is acknowledged as one of the most important pioneers of disco music, but behind them were an army of lesser-known musicians, producers, and arrangers including one of the founding-fathers of New York Dance, the enigma Lonnie Johnson.
Scorpgemi Records and Lonnie Johnson, the man behind the label, will be unknown to most, but he was an important figure at the birth of dance music. His label featured work by several leading voices of the New York scene and provided one of New York’s most instantly recognisable dance music records— “Keep In Touch (Body To Body)”—one of the greatest club cuts ever.. But Johnson himself leaves hardly a trace, a behind-the-scenes person, and a friend of Patrick Adams who is only known to those who study the small print on record labels.
So, Lonnie Joel Johnson proves to be both highly influential, and almost completely elusive. A backroom person, who created an anthem across the Atlantic from his home base in New York. A man who was instrumental in the development of Patrick Adams’ career from producer of vocal groups to the go-to producer for dancefloor gold. Yet, for all this there are no biographical details, no interviews and almost nothing left behind except for a small but fantastic catalogue of music.
The first ever curated works of the Broadway based Scorpgemi label Produced by Lonnie Johnson, one of the founding-fathers of New York Dance Dancefloor Gold from the enigma that is Lonnie Joel Johnson, the man behind the career of the legendary Patrick Adams.

Last May, Hard Times captivated us with The Lost D.A.T.S (Part One)—a remarkable collection of unreleased and freshly unearthed gems from the vaults of NYC legend DJ Romain. But the story didn’t end there. To our surprise and delight, Romain had delivered an even larger treasure trove of beats—too many to reveal all at once.

Now, Hard Times is proud to present the next chapter: DJ Romain – The Lost D.A.T.S (Part Two).

"1996-97? Yeah, that’s when New York was still NEW YORK!

That was around the time we really started to get hold of exotic herbs. Copper Haze, hydroponic! The vibes in the studio were always lovely. I had hair at the time! Dread-Locs down to my shoulders... I was still rockin’ the Wallabees, or British Walkers as we called them - representing for Brooklyn and my West Indian roots!

There was no social media, no supervision, nobody all up in our business… It was classic "mind your own business" NYC Vibes! I was DJing at a lot of the hot clubs and THE hottest afterhours in the city. There were nights when I saw Micheal Douglas roll into the afters with Grace Jones - they were there to party and unwind and I was there dropping the dope tracks for the people.

When it was studio time, with my homie Matt Echols...I was probably setting things off with some quality herbage, a big ass bag of Funyuns and my trusty SP-1200, lol. I had picked up some tips and tricks from Todd Terry and by '96-'97 I was a Shaolin with it myself! This was around the time tracks like "Flowers" and "Only Love Can Break Your Heart (Dub)" were tearing up the clubs. I wanted to be able to get my ideas out with no problem, and by then I had a lot of confidence...

Being able to Dj in some of the hottest NY hot spots at the time, I was able to really see what worked and what didn't on the dancefloor. The best House Dancers from around the world and around the Tri-State area would be at my jams. I'm talking Ejoe, Voodoo Ray, maybe kids from the Mop-Top Crew... I was definitely taking note of the kind of rhythms and sounds that would make them go crazy on the dancefloor!

And that's how we went about it - I laid down the rhythms that made it happen in my sets and translated the vibes I was picking up from NYC itself. Matt threw down musically and we were just being as creative and inventive as possible! But we always kept in mind that our job was to make the people on the dancefloor jump!

A lot of the jams from those days got signed to various record labels, we dropped a lot of them on our own label...and some of them ended up in the archives - until now!"

Jesse Hackett returns with another unclassifiable co-mingling of genres, this time made in collaboration with Durban-based gqom trio Phelimuncasi. The group met up in Nyege Nyege's Kampala studio last year, spending three days engineering a sequence of tracks that turned the acts' respective sounds inside out, stretching urgent vocals over mutating backdrops of time stretched electronic drums, saturated noise and unstable synths.We last heard from Hackett on last year's chilling 'Shadow Swamps', a chilly, surrealist blast of disembodied folk and vintage electronics that added a cinematic twist to industrial music. Phelimuncasi meanwhile followed their acclaimed debut with the enormous 'Ama Gogela', asserting their dominance with tight, dancefloor-fwd, hook-led jams produced by some of the scene's most important beatmakers. In collaboration, both Metal Preyers and Phelimuncasi materialized a few worlds outside their comfort zones, with the Durban trio's words frothing from Hackett's marshy productions like echoes from another universe.Opening track 'Gidigidi ka Makhelwane' erupts in a fizz of beatbox percussion that loops noisily alongside Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's stirring vocals, delivered in their local isiZulu tongue. Hackett's process is relatively restrained, offering Phelimuncasi the space to work their rousing magic unimpeded and adding punctuation where necessary. But when he takes more of a destructive role, it's just as impressive: on 'Gqom slowgen Chant', he corrupts his rhythm into a ritualistic pulse, letting the trio's words melt into metallic clicks and nauseous atmospheres.Elsewhere on 'Mgiligi wableka', Phelimuncasi's words create a rousing rhythm against a low-n-slow gqom thud from Hackett, and on 'Coffin Roller' he brings to mind '80s video nasty soundtracks, toying with analog synth sequences against Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's distant chants. 'Like A Corpse' might be the album's most hollowed-out banger, turning the beat into a chopped 'n screwed drag that scrapes clamorously against Phelimuncasi's gurgling raps. Needless to say, there's nothing else like this.Jesse Hackett returns with another unclassifiable co-mingling of genres, this time made in collaboration with Durban-based gqom trio Phelimuncasi. The group met up in Nyege Nyege's Kampala studio last year, spending three days engineering a sequence of tracks that turned the acts' respective sounds inside out, stretching urgent vocals over mutating backdrops of time stretched electronic drums, saturated noise and unstable synths.We last heard from Hackett on last year's chilling 'Shadow Swamps', a chilly, surrealist blast of disembodied folk and vintage electronics that added a cinematic twist to industrial music. Phelimuncasi meanwhile followed their acclaimed debut with the enormous 'Ama Gogela', asserting their dominance with tight, dancefloor-fwd, hook-led jams produced by some of the scene's most important beatmakers. In collaboration, both Metal Preyers and Phelimuncasi materialized a few worlds outside their comfort zones, with the Durban trio's words frothing from Hackett's marshy productions like echoes from another universe.Opening track 'Gidigidi ka Makhelwane' erupts in a fizz of beatbox percussion that loops noisily alongside Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's stirring vocals, delivered in their local isiZulu tongue. Hackett's process is relatively restrained, offering Phelimuncasi the space to work their rousing magic unimpeded and adding punctuation where necessary. But when he takes more of a destructive role, it's just as impressive: on 'Gqom slowgen Chant', he corrupts his rhythm into a ritualistic pulse, letting the trio's words melt into metallic clicks and nauseous atmospheres.Elsewhere on 'Mgiligi wableka', Phelimuncasi's words create a rousing rhythm against a low-n-slow gqom thud from Hackett, and on 'Coffin Roller' he brings to mind '80s video nasty soundtracks, toying with analog synth sequences against Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's distant chants. 'Like A Corpse' might be the album's most hollowed-out banger, turning the beat into a chopped 'n screwed drag that scrapes clamorously against Phelimuncasi's gurgling raps. Needless to say, there's nothing else like this.

As Jess Sylvester finished his Hardly Art debut as Marinero in the fall of 2020, he realized it was time for a change. Sylvester grew up in Marin County, on the doorstep of San Francisco. It was a nurturing community for a high-school punk with a pompadour and, later, for a sober songwriter with a proclivity for moody psychedelia. But he wanted to be challenged and inspired by a new setting and scenario around strangers who prompted him to approach his music in unexpected ways. So in September 2020, as the world continued to reel in lockdown, Sylvester headed several hours south to Los Angeles, a city that, despite the relative proximity, the film buff knew largely from classic and cult films situated there. When he arrived, he kept digging into that cinematic past-Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye, with John Williams' classic theme, or classic 90s movies about East LA, many featuring Edward James Olmos. They shaped his understanding of his new town just as it began to open. This is one pillar of the multivalent and endlessly lush La La La, Marinero's new album about sobriety, identity, and fantasy that is playfully named both for the city that helped shape it and the sophisticated pop it contains. Sylvester wrote about characters outside of himself, whether considering the heroine reckoning with her own version of keeping clean or the screenwriters whose work was deemed communist simply as a political convenience. He linked those songs with motivational anthems about self-acceptance and playful numbers about flirting through food, shaping a 12-song set rich with humor, empathy, and encouragement. Sure, La La La is a continuation of the slippery genre play Sylvester started with 2021's Hella Love, 2019's Trópico de Cáncer, or even before that. But it also feels like a fresh beginning for Marinero, as Sylvester realizes how boundless this project can be. He began to think about the music of his childhood, how his mother is from San Francisco with Mexican roots, and how he'd heard so much salsa growing up as an impetuous teenager. So he wrote "Taquero," a red-hot salsa tune that uses tacos and their trappings as a source of endless metaphors for come-ons. And then there was the Ray Barreto or Santana-inspired "Pocha Pachanga," with organ gliding and percussion pulsing beneath his yearning vocals, warped as if by desert winds. In Los Angeles, he found a wealth of players who spoke this music like language itself (including Chicano Batman's Eduardo Arenas), all ready to play with and push these familiar forms. Sylvester has also been sober for 21 years, since a cross-country sojourn to attend college in Boston ended in a chemical haze. Today, he sees friends facing the same decisions he made two decades ago, and he brings bits of that experience to bear in songs that feel like self-help anthems. Recorded with a musical hero (and labelmate) of his, Chris Cohen, "Sea Changes" feels like sunshine breaking through dark clouds, as Sylvester acknowledges the newfound confidence and clarity in a friend who has stepped away from destructive habits. In the past, Sylvester has been intractably linked to his identity as a Mexican-American, born to parents from Mexico and Irish- American descent who settled in San Francisco. That can be limiting, of course, tying him to notions of sound and style that aren't always correct. On La La La, he simultaneously steps into and out of those preconceptions, singing tracks above salsa in joyous Spanish or pondering the dynamics of the Hollywood Ten and blacklists above mysterious lap steel and teasing trumpet. His identity, then, should now be clear: He is a Californian, making music shaped by the diversity of encounters and experiences that are a central part of that state's fabric. Never before has he presented himself so fully and unabashedly on tape as with La La La, an album Sylvester built with new inspirations to deliver new charms.

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

Moshe Fisher-Rozenberg returns to Altin Village & Mine with his second album as Memory Pearl. »Cosmic-Astral« reimagines a music programme used by psychotherapists in the 1970s in combination with LSD. While the original album was designed to take the listener on a cosmic journey of personal discovery through classical music, Fisher-Rozenberg draws on the sounds of electronic instruments and a collage-like approach: he converted the scores of the original pieces by Richard Strauss, Alexander Scriabin, and others into MIDI files, manipulated those into entirely new shapes and sounds using a variety of techniques, while also combining them with improvisational input from artists such as Sam Prekop, Joseph Shabason, Moritz Fasbender, Alec O’Hanley, Bram Gielen, and Brandon Valdivia.

Besides his work as a multi-instrumentalist, producer and collaborator of bands such as Alvvays as well as a member of the group Absolutely Free, Fisher-Rozenberg is also a registered psychotherapist and certified music therapist. »Cosmic-Astral« is hence marked by his expertise in both fields while also displaying the conceptual rigour and aesthetic playfulness that had already been in full effect on his Memory Pearl debut, 2021’s »Music for 7 Paintings« for Altin Village & Mine. Aiming to create his own version of the »Cosmic-Astral« programme, but making it more »delicate and tender,« as he puts it, Fisher-Rozenberg combines the ethereal with the terrestrial, abstraction and concretion, synthesization and the organic across these nine tracks.

As a whole, the resulting album is quite literally trippy. »Each piece is meant to bring the listener deeper into their journey,« explains the Toronto-based artist. »You can think of it in terms of space travel, with each tune taking you further out of yourself and deeper into a cosmic realm.« Think about »Cosmic Astral« as a map through which you can find your way towards sonic healing.

Watch out! You are holding the 125th (one-hundred-and-twenty fifth!) album on Tramp Records in your hands! We are honored to celebrate this impressive anniversary with the tenth volume in the Praise Poems series. This time, too, we go on a journey to discover previously unheard regions of jazz, folk and AOR from the 1970s and 80s.

Praise Poems Vol.10 presents sixteen (almost) forgotten rare groove gems, all released between the years 1970 and 1984. One of the many highlights is the opening track: "Fields of Laughter" by Color Me Blu - originally released on an acetate only of which two copies exist worldwide. But there is much, much more to discover. This brandnew volume features a wide range of genres, from AOR (Whiz Kids, Ross Miller, and another previously unreleased track by Harve & Charee) to Latin-Rock a'la Santana (Color Me Blue, Tribal Sinfonia, and Apple) to Soul-Jazz (Ernie Lewis Trio, Joe Bozzi Quintet or Dutch saxophonist Frits Kaatee). Right at the end, one track in particular stands out: the wonderful "It's Good Not To Forget" by George Melvin and his quintet - a fabulously dreamy, thoughtful instrumental piece in the style of Ramsey Lewis with catchy tune potential.

Not many compilation series make it to a tenth edition. And if they do, then you often notice that the quality of the songs goes in the opposite direction to the increasing number of series: namely decreasing. Not so with Praise Poems Vol. 10, which the creators prove in an impressive new way. They have found tracks that were originally either a) pressed by the musicians themselves in very small editions or b) released by small, regional labels. It is understandable that neither the musicians nor these small labels had the necessary knowledge or budget to market their albums or singles professionally. The majority of the bands therefore did not manage to reach a large audience - although they certainly had the potential for the big stage.

"Praise Poems 10 - A journey into soulful jazz and funk from the 1970s" makes these almost 50-year-old treasures accessible to a new audience. We hope that you enjoy discovering your personal favorite song(s) and we are already looking forward to many more releases!

The music of Green Cosmos makes us realize that our never- ending quest for love can find fulfillment. You take a long, slow breath and feel the magic of transcendent wisdom. There is not one note too many, and everything gets to the heart of the matter. A saxophone that sails ahead on a world- map of sound, driven by the beat of Kalimba and drums, sometimes fraternizing with a bass that‘s now insistent and then shy, and closely listens to a reassuringly omniscient piano until the music merges into a unit that‘s greater than its parts and sees us through the night.

STEVE MURPHY with another killer release! The real italian Gigolo who already brought us great music on imprints like CHIWAX, Hot Haus Recs, Lobster Theremin, Hardmoon...the 90's are back!

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.

Miki Yui is a musician, artist, and composer, originally from Tokyo, who has been based in Düsseldorf since 1994. Her whose work has long explored multiple forms of media, while documenting liminal zones of perception. On her latest album, As If, Yui creates a subtly connected suite of electronic music, drawn from improvisations and randomised processes that she has engaged with modular synthesis. Deeply poetic in its expression, even at its most minimal, the six pieces on As If have a curious tenor – they are, each of them, intensely sensuous, almost haptic listening experiences, as though the laser focus that Yui displays towards her compositions allows her to engage them as almost physical presences in the world.

One of the keys that unlocks the intimate complexity-in-simplicity of As If was Yui’s encounters with the Amazonian rainforest in Manaus, Brazil in 2018. Finding that the sounds in the rainforest both shadowed and echoed the music she had been making for two decades, she embraced the possibilities of modular synthesis, the sounds of which she discovered “have astonishing similarities to the sounds I experienced in the rainforest.” There is, indeed, something natural about the way these sounds bloom in real time; in their dedicated focus to the subtle development and mutation of several discrete parameters of sound, they grow slowly, gradually, their rhizomic structures suggesting that we are always situated within the middle of sound.

Sometimes, the material here has a kind of febrile energy, as on the ticking, clacking electronics of “Generativ”, a track that seems to rotate in the air in front of the listener, the light reflecting off its multiple surfaces as we catch the intricacies of its micro-patterns. Elsewhere, we slide into a cooled but welcoming environment, like the late-night fire-fly horizon of “Song 4”; there’s also the humid, dripping tropical sunset that’s documented on “Summernight”. It’s a music that’s hard to locate external coordinates for, though there are, perhaps, some parallels with the work of Laurie Spiegel, Eliane Radigue’s Vice Versa, and Pauline Oliveros’s “Roots of the Moment”. But As If is an extraordinary collection of naturally developing, rich studies for slowly mutating, enveloping, elemental electronics.

From the off, Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory is sonically different from Van Etten's previous work. Writing and recording in total collaboration with her band for the first time, Van Etten finds the freedom that comes by letting go. The result of that liberation is an exhilarating new dimension of sound and songwriting. The themes are timeless, classic Sharon - life and living, love and being loved - but the sounds are new, wholly realized and sharp as glass. Reflecting on this new artistic frame of mind, Van Etten muses, "Sometimes it's exciting, sometimes it's scary, sometimes you feel stuck. It's like every day feels a little different - just being at peace with whatever you're feeling and whoever you are and how you relate to people in that moment. If I can just keep a sense of openness while knowing that my feelings change every day, that is all I can do right now. That and try to be the best person I can be while letting other people be who they are and not taking it personally and just being. I'm not there, but I'm trying to be there every day." Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory is a quantum leap in that direction. - Lol Tolhurst

Awareness Edition: Amber Galaxy Vinyl. From the off, Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory is sonically different from Van Etten's previous work. Writing and recording in total collaboration with her band for the first time, Van Etten finds the freedom that comes by letting go. The result of that liberation is an exhilarating new dimension of sound and songwriting. The themes are timeless, classic Sharon - life and living, love and being loved - but the sounds are new, wholly realized and sharp as glass. Reflecting on this new artistic frame of mind, Van Etten muses, "Sometimes it's exciting, sometimes it's scary, sometimes you feel stuck. It's like every day feels a little different - just being at peace with whatever you're feeling and whoever you are and how you relate to people in that moment. If I can just keep a sense of openness while knowing that my feelings change every day, that is all I can do right now. That and try to be the best person I can be while letting other people be who they are and not taking it personally and just being. I'm not there, but I'm trying to be there every day." Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory is a quantum leap in that direction. - Lol Tolhurst

Awareness Edition: Amber Galaxy Vinyl + Laptop Sticker. From the off, Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory is sonically different from Van Etten's previous work. Writing and recording in total collaboration with her band for the first time, Van Etten finds the freedom that comes by letting go. The result of that liberation is an exhilarating new dimension of sound and songwriting. The themes are timeless, classic Sharon - life and living, love and being loved - but the sounds are new, wholly realized and sharp as glass. Reflecting on this new artistic frame of mind, Van Etten muses, "Sometimes it's exciting, sometimes it's scary, sometimes you feel stuck. It's like every day feels a little different - just being at peace with whatever you're feeling and whoever you are and how you relate to people in that moment. If I can just keep a sense of openness while knowing that my feelings change every day, that is all I can do right now. That and try to be the best person I can be while letting other people be who they are and not taking it personally and just being. I'm not there, but I'm trying to be there every day." Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory is a quantum leap in that direction. - Lol Tolhurst

“Richard Davies is one of the last great songwriters on planet Earth. Every song on Composition Book is up there with his finest and so it's no small feat that after 35 years of making beautiful records, this one is his best.” – Robert Pollard / Guided By Voices Australian mad scientist Richard Davies has long flown under the popular radar with his groups The Moles and Cardinal, but his 10 albums are loved and championed by indie rock royalty. The Flaming Lips, for example, have recorded a Davies song and backed him up on a Moles tour in 1995. A scholar of the songwriting of The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Dylan et al., Davies spins off subtle, catchy indie rock melodies, sometimes reassembled in bizarre Frankenstein arrangements and deconstructed sonic derangements. On Composition Book, The Moles have evolved with emphasis on acoustic guitar and divine female voices. Davies’ lyrical non sequiturs and caustic wit sting, surprise and delight. “The Australian-bred, New England-based Richard Davies has long been a secret-handshake artist for indie diehards; his songs suggest self-contained pop hits from a crooked dimension.” – The New Yorker “The greatest differentiator between the work of the Moles and that of their contemporaries, though, is Davies himself. As a presence, there is something deeply and beguilingly inscrutable about him, a purposeful blankness that betrays an enormous amount of weight and depth behind it, and oozes both vulnerability and vitriol when it breaks and cracks.” – Pitchfork

Limited edition classic black vinyl mini-album of cathartic slowcore by The Declining Winter, the new vehicle of Richard Adams, formerly of Domino Records post-rockers, Hood. The next release on the acclaimed boutique English independent label, Second Language Music, will be ‘Last April,’ the new mini-album by The Declining Winter, a raw, deeply emotional monument of loss, grief and heartbreak that treads in the footsteps of Red House Painters’ ‘Down Colorful Hill,’ Low’s ‘I Could Live In Hope’ and Songs: Ohia’s ‘Didn’t It Rain.’ This is not a heart-on-your-sleeve record. It does away with the sleeve and goes straight for carving a heart on the arm. Recordings which emerged out of a period of shock, grief and trauma, these six songs were all written on the same night and form a stately tribute to a loved one lost. The Declining Winter strip things back to just Richard Adams’ plaintive voice and acoustic guitar, alongside the beautiful, irrefutably melancholy string arrangements/playing of Sarah Kemp (Brave Timbers). There’s been no attempt to plane off any rough edges – here and there, the creak of a chair, a guitar note missed, a voice almost cracking with emotion – these recordings are like cathartic scrawls in a diary. Only this one has been left out for anyone to read. As with his previous band, Hood, Adams has a way of evoking a particularly pastoral, English melancholy, of lonely morning hikes in inclement weathers, of rain on slate in the West Yorkshire streets where he was raised and still lives.

Rare Seventies Big City Street Soul

In 1971, film producer David Gil and his business partners Robert S Sinn and Paul Frankenberg launched a film company called GSF. Over the next few years, it would be involved in a small number of productions. But, in 1971 the movie business was kind of old-hat, music was where it was at, and so GSF Records, a well-funded label, headed by Larry Newton was formed. Today Newton is largely remembered for his attempts to prevent Louis Armstrong from recording 'What A Wonderful World' but that didn’t stop him from growing ABC from a second division company to an industry leader. As he approached his 52nd birthday he was unveiled as GSF Records’ president a full-service music company, involved in records and publishing across all genres. Through a joint venture with drummer Bernard Purdie the label targeted the R&B charts and soul & funk dominated GSF's release schedule.

Black music ruled and this was reinforced by the hiring of Lloyd Price as head of A&R (veteran R&B star), and producers George Kerr (All-Platinum), Mickey Stevenson (Motown) and Jerry 'Swamp Dogg’ Williams. No wonder then, unintentional as it was, that GSF left behind such an extraordinary legacy of rare soul treasures.

NEW YORK’S BEST KEPT SOUL SECRET Features legendary Northern Soul classics courtesy of Anderson Brothers, Skull Snaps and Connie Laverne Produced by hit makers George Kerr and Motown veteran Mickey Stevenson Starring the Whatnauts and Eddie “Hey There Lonely Girl” Holman