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Mike Cooper wrote his final songwriter record, a suite of gloaming glam-rock anthems performed with a spiritual jazz trio, while living on the Costa Tropical of Granada, Spain, an era when he was considering retiring from music altogether. A chance encounter and a last-ditch record deal convinced him to make one last album, which he recorded in 1974 at Pathway Studios in London, with “The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World,” featuring the inventive South African jazz rhythm section of Louis Moholo and Harry Miller with UK saxophonist Mike Osborne. This first-ever reissue includes a bonus CD of Milan Live Acoustic 2018, a previously unreleased solo set that represents Cooper’s return, after forty-four years pursuing free improvisation and electronics, to a new, deconstructed approach to singing, steel guitar, and songcraft. The deluxe LP+CD edition also features a six-panel insert with additional artwork and an essay by the artist about both records. The deluxe 2xCD gatefold edition features an eight-panel version of the same insert. In the wake of his magisterial triptych of early 1970s avant-folk-rock records Trout Steel (1970), Places I Know (1971), and The Machine Gun Co. (1972) the British songwriter, guitarist, and fledgling improviser Mike Cooper retreated to the Costa Tropical of Granada, Spain. With no prospects for touring or recording again, his fiery band the Machine Gun Co. had disintegrated. Cooper sets the scene in his liner notes of the first-ever reissue of his unjustly forgotten next album Life and Death in Paradise (1974): No one came running with offers of fame and riches, and we fell apart, and I left the country and headed for the beach, disillusioned and a bit disorientated musically. I went to Almuñécar in Andalusia, a place I had been going since 1969, because a painter friend from Reading, Rowland Fade who made the collage in the gatefold of my earlier album Trout Steel had moved there in 1968. It was in this synthetic coastal “paradise,” unmoored and adrift, considering retiring from music altogether, that he began tentatively writing new songs. A chance encounter with producer Tony Hall, who offered Cooper a last-ditch record deal on Hall’s nascent Fresh Air label, convinced him to make one last album with the stipulation that he could assemble what he called “The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World.” I told Tony that I would do it if I could hire some of my South African jazz musician friends that I had used on my Pye/Dawn albums and some friends from Reading that I still knew and admired. I called up Harry Miller, Louis Moholo, and Mike Osborne, who were in fact a trio at the time … and several local Reading heroes, including the singer-songwriter Terry Clarke. The result, recorded live with minimal overdubbing at Pathway Studios in London, was Life and Death in Paradise, an utterly singular suite of gloaming glam-rock anthems performed with a spiritual jazz trio comprising the inventive South African jazz rhythm section of Moholo and Miller with UK saxophonist Osborne. Unlike anything else in Cooper’s extensive catalog. Fresh Air fizzled, and Life and Death became Cooper’s final record as a songwriter, having pushed the form as far as he could. Drifting north from Spain back to the UK, he fell into the scene of the London Musicians Collective (LMC) including Paul Burwell, David Toop, and saxophonist Lol Coxhill, Cooper’s bandmate in the Recedents and fully embraced free improvisation. He was still, however, interested in singing and lyrics, so, influenced by Tom Phillips, William Burroughs, and Brion Gysin, he began experimenting with text collage and cut-up techniques, arriving at his own hybrid compositional strategy for improvisatory songs. The previously unreleased solo set Milan Live Acoustic 2018 represents Cooper’s return, after more than four decades pursuing free improvisation and electronics, to a new, deconstructed approach to singing, lap steel guitar, and songcraft. Presented here together with Life and Death in Paradise, the two records provide fascinating bookends to Mike Cooper’s long, mercurial, and pioneering practice as a songmaker.

Penguin Cafe kündigen heute ihr fünftes Studioalbum Rain Before Seven... an, das am 7.Juli 2023 bei Erased Tapes erscheinen wird.

Eine zuversichtliche Grundstimmung durchzieht das fünfte Studioalbum von Penguin Cafe, Rain Before Seven…, wobei es sich keinesfalls um jenen extrem selbstbewussten, fast schon prahlerischen Optimismus handelt, sondern eher um so eine auf bescheidene Art hoffnungsvolle Grundhaltung, die man den Menschen auf der Insel ja häufiger nachsagt. Auch wenn alle Anzeichen das Gegenteil behaupten, spürt man hier sofort diese Gewissheit, dass sich alles doch noch irgendwie zum Guten wenden wird. Vermutlich zumindest.

Der Titel des Albums geht auf eine alte Bauernregel zurück, wobei die gereimte Vorhersage – „… fine before eleven“: ab 11 Uhr also wieder alles klar – auf ein baldiges gutes Ende hindeutet, vollkommen unabhängig davon, was die Wissenschaft sagt: „Ich habe diesen Spruch in einem Buch entdeckt. Davor hatte ich ihn noch nie gehört“, erzählt Arthur Jeffes, der Kopf von Penguin Cafe. „Er hat so einen dezent optimistischen Beigeschmack, und das gefällt mir sehr. Man verwendet ihn heutzutage kaum noch, aber der Reim beschreibt tatsächlich Wetterphänomene in England, die vom Atlantik aus über die Insel ziehen.“

Angefangen beim leinwandgroßen und schwärmerischen Eröffnungstitel „Welcome to London“, der mit einem Augenzwinkern auf Morricone anspielt, bis hin zum „Goldfinch Yodel“, jenem „Maibaum-Banger“ (um es mit Arthurs Worten zu sagen), mit dem das neue Album ausklingt, zieht sich ein angenehmes Gefühl von Leichtigkeit und Lebensmut durch den Longplayer, unterfüttert mit der Ausgelassenheit exotischer Rhythmen. Alles wirkt spielerisch und verspielt, und selbst der Titel ist eine Anspielung – auf A Matter of Life… aus dem Jahr 2011, der letzten Veröffentlichung, deren Titel in eine Ellipse mündete Jenes Debütalbum von Penguin Cafe diente einst als Bindeglied und Brücke – zwischen dem legendären Penguin Cafe Orchestra, das einst Arthurs Vater Simon Jeffes leitete, und dem gefeierten Nachfolger, als dessen Mastermind seither Arthur verantwortlich zeichnet.

„Ich glaube, das wirklich Neue an seinem Ansatz bestand darin, spannende und schräge Ideen zu nehmen – und dann seltsame Dinge damit anzustellen“, meint Arthur, „dabei aber konstant im Blick zu haben, dass es hinterher auch schön klingt und emotional ansprechend bleibt.“ Dieses Ethos lebt weiter in der Musik von Penguin Cafe: „Dazu haben wir uns entschlossen, als ich daran anknüpfte, schließlich spielen wir die Sachen meines Vaters und machen dazu auch neue Musik, die im selben Klanguniversum angesiedelt ist. Das bedeutet, dass ich gewissermaßen moralisch dazu verpflichtet bin, den ursprünglichen roten Faden im Auge zu behalten – und dafür zu sorgen, dass wir nicht plötzlich in Richtung Thrash-Metal abbiegen.“

Dennoch waren die rhythmischen Elemente, die zum Teil sogar an elektronische Sounds erinnern, noch nie so präsent und tonangebend wie auf Rain Before Seven…, was durchaus auch dem Co-Produzenten Robert Raths geschuldet ist. „Find Your Feet“ etwa hat ein Beat-Fundament, das weit über einen bloßen Pulsschlag hinausgeht. Abgemischt von Tom Chichester-Clark, blitzt an Stellen wie diesen etwas auf, das Arthur selbst als „fast schon elektronischen Vibe“ bezeichnet, um dann ganz aufgeregt zu ergänzen: „Es geht vor allem auch einfach ums Spaßhaben, was auf den letzten drei Alben nicht so zu hören war.” Extrem ausgelassen klingt auch „In Re Budd“, das dem verstorbenen Ambient-Urgestein Harold Budd gewidmet ist. Arthur erfuhr von dessen Tod an jenem Tag, als er diesen feierlichen Ohrwurm komponierte, dessen Synkopen deutlich komplexer sind, als sie auf den ersten Blick wirken. Auf einem präparierten Klavier gespielt, wobei die Filzstücke dem Track zusätzlichen Bounce verleihen, setzt Jeffes hier auf einen Afro Cuban Cafe-Vibe – was wunderbar zum widerspenstigen Geist des verstorbenen Budd passt.

Und schließlich wäre da noch das bereits erwähnte „Welcome to London“, das seinen Titel erhielt, als sich die Welt gerade wieder zu öffnen begann und die Menschen auch wieder Fernreisen antreten durften. Jeffes, der somit nach langer Zeit endlich wieder einen Fuß auf britischen Boden setzen konnte, war sofort beeindruckt von filmischen Soundtrack-Qualitäten (à la John Barry) dieses Stücks, als er mit dem Taxi von Heathrow nach West-London fuhr und zur Musik die opulente, in Dämmerungslicht getauchte Metropolenkulisse auf sich wirken ließ. Hier kann man deutlich die eingangs erwähnte Zuversicht raushören – und dazu vielleicht auch einen Hauch von bissiger Ironie: „Robert Raths hat der Sache noch eine Nuance hinzugefügt, die ich interessant finde, weil doch so viele Londoner ursprünglich gar nicht aus London stammen. Man schlägt also in London als Zugezogener auf, man weiß noch nicht, zu welchem Lager man sich zugehörig fühlen soll, und dann wird man auf der Straße überfallen und ausgeraubt – und in dem Licht betrachtet, hat dieses ‘Welcome to London’ doch einen eher sarkastischen Beigeschmack.“

Penguin Cafe kündigen heute ihr fünftes Studioalbum Rain Before Seven... an, das am 7.Juli 2023 bei Erased Tapes erscheinen wird.



Eine zuversichtliche Grundstimmung durchzieht das fünfte Studioalbum von Penguin Cafe, Rain Before Seven…, wobei es sich keinesfalls um jenen extrem selbstbewussten, fast schon prahlerischen Optimismus handelt, sondern eher um so eine auf bescheidene Art hoffnungsvolle Grundhaltung, die man den Menschen auf der Insel ja häufiger nachsagt. Auch wenn alle Anzeichen das Gegenteil behaupten, spürt man hier sofort diese Gewissheit, dass sich alles doch noch irgendwie zum Guten wenden wird. Vermutlich zumindest.



Der Titel des Albums geht auf eine alte Bauernregel zurück, wobei die gereimte Vorhersage – „… fine before eleven“: ab 11 Uhr also wieder alles klar – auf ein baldiges gutes Ende hindeutet, vollkommen unabhängig davon, was die Wissenschaft sagt: „Ich habe diesen Spruch in einem Buch entdeckt. Davor hatte ich ihn noch nie gehört“, erzählt Arthur Jeffes, der Kopf von Penguin Cafe. „Er hat so einen dezent optimistischen Beigeschmack, und das gefällt mir sehr. Man verwendet ihn heutzutage kaum noch, aber der Reim beschreibt tatsächlich Wetterphänomene in England, die vom Atlantik aus über die Insel ziehen.“



Angefangen beim leinwandgroßen und schwärmerischen Eröffnungstitel „Welcome to London“, der mit einem Augenzwinkern auf Morricone anspielt, bis hin zum „Goldfinch Yodel“, jenem „Maibaum-Banger“ (um es mit Arthurs Worten zu sagen), mit dem das neue Album ausklingt, zieht sich ein angenehmes Gefühl von Leichtigkeit und Lebensmut durch den Longplayer, unterfüttert mit der Ausgelassenheit exotischer Rhythmen. Alles wirkt spielerisch und verspielt, und selbst der Titel ist eine Anspielung – auf A Matter of Life… aus dem Jahr 2011, der letzten Veröffentlichung, deren Titel in eine Ellipse mündete Jenes Debütalbum von Penguin Cafe diente einst als Bindeglied und Brücke – zwischen dem legendären Penguin Cafe Orchestra, das einst Arthurs Vater Simon Jeffes leitete, und dem gefeierten Nachfolger, als dessen Mastermind seither Arthur verantwortlich zeichnet.



„Ich glaube, das wirklich Neue an seinem Ansatz bestand darin, spannende und schräge Ideen zu nehmen – und dann seltsame Dinge damit anzustellen“, meint Arthur, „dabei aber konstant im Blick zu haben, dass es hinterher auch schön klingt und emotional ansprechend bleibt.“ Dieses Ethos lebt weiter in der Musik von Penguin Cafe: „Dazu haben wir uns entschlossen, als ich daran anknüpfte, schließlich spielen wir die Sachen meines Vaters und machen dazu auch neue Musik, die im selben Klanguniversum angesiedelt ist. Das bedeutet, dass ich gewissermaßen moralisch dazu verpflichtet bin, den ursprünglichen roten Faden im Auge zu behalten – und dafür zu sorgen, dass wir nicht plötzlich in Richtung Thrash-Metal abbiegen.“



Dennoch waren die rhythmischen Elemente, die zum Teil sogar an elektronische Sounds erinnern, noch nie so präsent und tonangebend wie auf Rain Before Seven…, was durchaus auch dem Co-Produzenten Robert Raths geschuldet ist. „Find Your Feet“ etwa hat ein Beat-Fundament, das weit über einen bloßen Pulsschlag hinausgeht. Abgemischt von Tom Chichester-Clark, blitzt an Stellen wie diesen etwas auf, das Arthur selbst als „fast schon elektronischen Vibe“ bezeichnet, um dann ganz aufgeregt zu ergänzen: „Es geht vor allem auch einfach ums Spaßhaben, was auf den letzten drei Alben nicht so zu hören war.” Extrem ausgelassen klingt auch „In Re Budd“, das dem verstorbenen Ambient-Urgestein Harold Budd gewidmet ist. Arthur erfuhr von dessen Tod an jenem Tag, als er diesen feierlichen Ohrwurm komponierte, dessen Synkopen deutlich komplexer sind, als sie auf den ersten Blick wirken. Auf einem präparierten Klavier gespielt, wobei die Filzstücke dem Track zusätzlichen Bounce verleihen, setzt Jeffes hier auf einen Afro Cuban Cafe-Vibe – was wunderbar zum widerspenstigen Geist des verstorbenen Budd passt.



Und schließlich wäre da noch das bereits erwähnte „Welcome to London“, das seinen Titel erhielt, als sich die Welt gerade wieder zu öffnen begann und die Menschen auch wieder Fernreisen antreten durften. Jeffes, der somit nach langer Zeit endlich wieder einen Fuß auf britischen Boden setzen konnte, war sofort beeindruckt von filmischen Soundtrack-Qualitäten (à la John Barry) dieses Stücks, als er mit dem Taxi von Heathrow nach West-London fuhr und zur Musik die opulente, in Dämmerungslicht getauchte Metropolenkulisse auf sich wirken ließ. Hier kann man deutlich die eingangs erwähnte Zuversicht raushören – und dazu vielleicht auch einen Hauch von bissiger Ironie: „Robert Raths hat der Sache noch eine Nuance hinzugefügt, die ich interessant finde, weil doch so viele Londoner ursprünglich gar nicht aus London stammen. Man schlägt also in London als Zugezogener auf, man weiß noch nicht, zu welchem Lager man sich zugehörig fühlen soll, und dann wird man auf der Straße überfallen und ausgeraubt – und in dem Licht betrachtet, hat dieses ‘Welcome to London’ doch einen eher sarkastischen Beigeschmack.“

The incongruous, yet glorious, creative partnership between Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood was well underway when the two singular artists reunited to record 1972’s Nancy & Lee Again, a follow-up to their bestselling duet debut, Nancy & Lee. Nancy, the eldest daughter of Frank Sinatra, had been working with the Oklahoma-born songwriter since 1965, when she topped the pop charts with “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’.” Over the next five years, the two artists forged a prolific relationship in the studio, with Hazlewood writing and producing many of Nancy’s solo hits. Soon, the duo found success with a series of duets, including “Sand,” “Summer Wine,” and “Some Velvet Morning” – all of which appeared on their highly-influential 1968 debut.

Not long after the critical acclaim and chart success of Nancy & Lee died down, however, Hazlewood unexpectedly relocated to Sweden, leaving his musical partner in the proverbial dust. America, meanwhile, was in the midst of a cultural shift, as the Vietnam War waged on. By the turn of the decade, the musical landscape had changed significantly. “Trivial music and not profound music became unimportant,” recalls Nancy, speaking to Hunter Lea. “It was a tough time.” And yet, despite the circumstances, the stars somehow aligned for the duo to record some of their most magnificent music together.

Returning to Los Angeles for the project, Hazlewood – who reprised his role as producer – chose to take a new direction with the duo’s sophomore album. Nancy recalls, “It was more dramatic; it was more fun to do, more challenging to do…. It was more grandiose.” For the lush, orchestral arrangements, they collaborated with Larry Muhoberac (an original member of Elvis Presley’s TCB band, whose early ‘70s credits also included Barbra Streisand, Neil Diamond, and Lalo Schifrin) and Clark Gassman, who had worked on Hazlewood’s 1970 LP, Cowboy in Sweden. Backing vocals from brothers John and Tom Bahler, who remain two of the most recorded singers in history, added additional texture to several songs.

The big sound that Nancy describes above is exemplified in the album’s cinematic opener, “Arkansas Coal (Suite).” Clocking in at nearly six minutes long, the dynamic overture tells the tale of an ill-fated coal miner (sung by Hazlewood), while Nancy adjusts her vocals to sing as both the miner’s daughter and his wife. Hazlewood’s knack for vivid, nuanced storytelling shines throughout Nancy & Lee Again, particularly in “Paris Summer,” which details the conflict that a married woman faces, as she engages in a passionate affair. Another highlight is the country-inspired hit, “Did You Ever,” which was released as the album’s lead single. After it landed at No.2 on the U.K. pop charts, the song served as an alternate title track in several countries, including LP pressings in the U.K., Germany, and Canada.

One of the most emotionally-charged moments on Nancy & Lee Again is a cover of Dolly Parton’s “Down From Dover.” The heartbreaking tune tells the tale of a pregnant teenager, who has been abandoned by her lover and her family and ultimately gives birth to a stillborn baby. While Parton’s 1970 version was sung from the teenager’s point of view, Hazlewood and Sinatra transformed the country song into a duet. Hazlewood, who offers the man’s side of the story, sings in a notably deeper octave than his signature baritone.

Another poignant selection is “Congratulations,” which describes a soldier coming home from Vietnam. “His face has grown old and his eyes have grown cold/And they tell you of where he has been/Congratulations, you sure made a man out of him,” Hazlewood sings, pointedly. Nancy, who performs as the vet’s wife, argues that the song had a deeper meaning for her duet partner. “Lee started out a hawk, he was an army guy, so he was all for the war in the beginning. We didn’t talk about it, but at some point, he changed radically. ‘Congratulations’ was almost like an apology from him. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but it was as though he was saying ‘I’m really sorry.’”

The song “Friendship Train” could also be interpreted as an apology of sorts – this time to Nancy. “You’ve been hurt and I’ve been hurt/Now we’re living pain,” the tune opens. When Hazlewood moved to Sweden without telling his longtime musical partner, Sinatra was understandably upset. “I felt pretty betrayed. I mean, who does that? Who just up and disappears like that? I’ll never understand it,” she reveals. But the uplifting duet – a slice of ‘70s pop perfection – offers reaffirming words of love between friends. “Lee felt things very deeply and tended to express his feelings in song instead of in real life,” explains Nancy.

The 10-track album closes with the stripped-down “Got It Together.” Backed by an acoustic guitar, the song is equal parts playful and candid, as the duo has an impromptu, spoken-word conversation about their lives. “I wish that we’d quit getting so old,” laments Nancy, who later shares her wish to have children (she would do so in the next few years). Hazlewood, meanwhile, attempts to remedy his past wrongdoings – this time asking his partner, “Can I go back to Sweden?” With that, Nancy gives her blessing.

This definitive reissue of Nancy & Lee Again also includes two bonus tracks. Both are stylistic departures for the duo – but fit right in with the psychedelic pop of the era. The first one, “Think I’m Coming Down,” is a harmony-filled reflection on a toxic relationship. “I think that was one of Lee’s drug things. I don’t mean that he used drugs; I mean that he was trying to be part of that culture. Trying to be hip,” explains Nancy, who delivers an emotive vocal performance on the solo track. Also included is “Machine Gun Kelly,” penned by a staple of the 70s singer-songwriter movement, Danny Kortchmar (James Taylor, Carole King, Linda Ronstadt). Recorded several months after the release of the album, the song found Nancy reuniting with Billy Strange, who arranged many of her solo albums, as well as Nancy & Lee. Sinatra and Hazlewood first performed “Machine Gun Kelly” during their residency at Las Vegas’ Riviera Hotel in February 1972 (later released as a concert documentary on Swedish television). While the recording has long remained a career favorite of Nancy’s, it would be decades before it was officially released.

Nancy & Lee Again remains a creative high point in the careers of Sinatra and Hazlewood and, upon its release, garnered rave reviews from Billboard, Record World, and Cash Box, among others. Yet, Nancy & Lee Again never received the spotlight it so utterly deserved. “We didn’t have label support at all in those days,” recalls Nancy. “Without the strength of a label, records die. We were old. We were old-fashioned. We were just not what was happening. It’s a very ageist kind of business.” Nevertheless, she adds, “I think it’s a very good album. I think it’s timeless.” Now, after years of being a sought-after rarity, this gem in the Sinatra-Hazlewood canon can finally get its due.

Five decades later, Nancy’s legacy only continues to grow, as new generations discover her impressive catalog (which boasts nearly 20 studio albums – her duets with Hazlewood among them – and dozens of charting singles, including the theme song to the 1967 James Bond film, You Only Live Twice). In 2020, Sinatra was recognized by her peers when “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’” was inducted into the GRAMMY® Hall of Fame. That same year, Sinatra partnered with Light in the Attic for Nancy Sinatra: Start Walkin’ 1965-1976, a definitive survey of her most prolific period. LITA has also reissued Sinatra’s classic debut, Boots, and her iconic, 1968 album with Lee Hazlewood, Nancy & Lee. The label looks forward to celebrating Nancy over the coming years with a variety of special releases, exclusive merchandise, and more.

The incongruous, yet glorious, creative partnership between Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood was well underway when the two singular artists reunited to record 1972’s Nancy & Lee Again, a follow-up to their bestselling duet debut, Nancy & Lee. Nancy, the eldest daughter of Frank Sinatra, had been working with the Oklahoma-born songwriter since 1965, when she topped the pop charts with “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’.” Over the next five years, the two artists forged a prolific relationship in the studio, with Hazlewood writing and producing many of Nancy’s solo hits. Soon, the duo found success with a series of duets, including “Sand,” “Summer Wine,” and “Some Velvet Morning” – all of which appeared on their highly-influential 1968 debut.

Not long after the critical acclaim and chart success of Nancy & Lee died down, however, Hazlewood unexpectedly relocated to Sweden, leaving his musical partner in the proverbial dust. America, meanwhile, was in the midst of a cultural shift, as the Vietnam War waged on. By the turn of the decade, the musical landscape had changed significantly. “Trivial music and not profound music became unimportant,” recalls Nancy, speaking to Hunter Lea. “It was a tough time.” And yet, despite the circumstances, the stars somehow aligned for the duo to record some of their most magnificent music together.

Returning to Los Angeles for the project, Hazlewood – who reprised his role as producer – chose to take a new direction with the duo’s sophomore album. Nancy recalls, “It was more dramatic; it was more fun to do, more challenging to do…. It was more grandiose.” For the lush, orchestral arrangements, they collaborated with Larry Muhoberac (an original member of Elvis Presley’s TCB band, whose early ‘70s credits also included Barbra Streisand, Neil Diamond, and Lalo Schifrin) and Clark Gassman, who had worked on Hazlewood’s 1970 LP, Cowboy in Sweden. Backing vocals from brothers John and Tom Bahler, who remain two of the most recorded singers in history, added additional texture to several songs.

The big sound that Nancy describes above is exemplified in the album’s cinematic opener, “Arkansas Coal (Suite).” Clocking in at nearly six minutes long, the dynamic overture tells the tale of an ill-fated coal miner (sung by Hazlewood), while Nancy adjusts her vocals to sing as both the miner’s daughter and his wife. Hazlewood’s knack for vivid, nuanced storytelling shines throughout Nancy & Lee Again, particularly in “Paris Summer,” which details the conflict that a married woman faces, as she engages in a passionate affair. Another highlight is the country-inspired hit, “Did You Ever,” which was released as the album’s lead single. After it landed at No.2 on the U.K. pop charts, the song served as an alternate title track in several countries, including LP pressings in the U.K., Germany, and Canada.

One of the most emotionally-charged moments on Nancy & Lee Again is a cover of Dolly Parton’s “Down From Dover.” The heartbreaking tune tells the tale of a pregnant teenager, who has been abandoned by her lover and her family and ultimately gives birth to a stillborn baby. While Parton’s 1970 version was sung from the teenager’s point of view, Hazlewood and Sinatra transformed the country song into a duet. Hazlewood, who offers the man’s side of the story, sings in a notably deeper octave than his signature baritone.

Another poignant selection is “Congratulations,” which describes a soldier coming home from Vietnam. “His face has grown old and his eyes have grown cold/And they tell you of where he has been/Congratulations, you sure made a man out of him,” Hazlewood sings, pointedly. Nancy, who performs as the vet’s wife, argues that the song had a deeper meaning for her duet partner. “Lee started out a hawk, he was an army guy, so he was all for the war in the beginning. We didn’t talk about it, but at some point, he changed radically. ‘Congratulations’ was almost like an apology from him. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but it was as though he was saying ‘I’m really sorry.’”

The song “Friendship Train” could also be interpreted as an apology of sorts – this time to Nancy. “You’ve been hurt and I’ve been hurt/Now we’re living pain,” the tune opens. When Hazlewood moved to Sweden without telling his longtime musical partner, Sinatra was understandably upset. “I felt pretty betrayed. I mean, who does that? Who just up and disappears like that? I’ll never understand it,” she reveals. But the uplifting duet – a slice of ‘70s pop perfection – offers reaffirming words of love between friends. “Lee felt things very deeply and tended to express his feelings in song instead of in real life,” explains Nancy.

The 10-track album closes with the stripped-down “Got It Together.” Backed by an acoustic guitar, the song is equal parts playful and candid, as the duo has an impromptu, spoken-word conversation about their lives. “I wish that we’d quit getting so old,” laments Nancy, who later shares her wish to have children (she would do so in the next few years). Hazlewood, meanwhile, attempts to remedy his past wrongdoings – this time asking his partner, “Can I go back to Sweden?” With that, Nancy gives her blessing.

This definitive reissue of Nancy & Lee Again also includes two bonus tracks. Both are stylistic departures for the duo – but fit right in with the psychedelic pop of the era. The first one, “Think I’m Coming Down,” is a harmony-filled reflection on a toxic relationship. “I think that was one of [Lee’s] drug things. I don’t mean that he used drugs; I mean that he was trying to be part of that culture. Trying to be hip,” explains Nancy, who delivers an emotive vocal performance on the solo track. Also included is “Machine Gun Kelly,” penned by a staple of the 70s singer-songwriter movement, Danny Kortchmar (James Taylor, Carole King, Linda Ronstadt). Recorded several months after the release of the album, the song found Nancy reuniting with Billy Strange, who arranged many of her solo albums, as well as Nancy & Lee. Sinatra and Hazlewood first performed “Machine Gun Kelly” during their residency at Las Vegas’ Riviera Hotel in February 1972 (later released as a concert documentary on Swedish television). While the recording has long remained a career favorite of Nancy’s, it would be decades before it was officially released.

Nancy & Lee Again remains a creative high point in the careers of Sinatra and Hazlewood and, upon its release, garnered rave reviews from Billboard, Record World, and Cash Box, among others. Yet, Nancy & Lee Again never received the spotlight it so utterly deserved. “We didn’t have label support at all in those days,” recalls Nancy. “Without the strength of a label, records die. We were old. We were old-fashioned. We were just not what was happening. It’s a very ageist kind of business.” Nevertheless, she adds, “I think it’s a very good album. I think it’s timeless.” Now, after years of being a sought-after rarity, this gem in the Sinatra-Hazlewood canon can finally get its due.

Five decades later, Nancy’s legacy only continues to grow, as new generations discover her impressive catalog (which boasts nearly 20 studio albums – her duets with Hazlewood among them – and dozens of charting singles, including the theme song to the 1967 James Bond film, You Only Live Twice). In 2020, Sinatra was recognized by her peers when “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’” was inducted into the GRAMMY® Hall of Fame. That same year, Sinatra partnered with Light in the Attic for Nancy Sinatra: Start Walkin’ 1965-1976, a definitive survey of her most prolific period. LITA has also reissued Sinatra’s classic debut, Boots, and her iconic, 1968 album with Lee Hazlewood, Nancy & Lee. The label looks forward to celebrating Nancy over the coming years with a variety of special releases, exclusive merchandise, and more.

Hailing from Essex, the six-member band officially formed in 2015. What originally started off as a few studio sessions between producer Tom and vocalist Alex Osiris, soon turned into a full-blown musical project. The established band line up was finalised after the additions of producer and musicians Tom Donovan, Cameron Morrell and Jonny Poole for what was meant to be a one-off festival performance which subsequently turned into a full-time project due to the undeniable chemistry shared on and off stage. The addition of in-house production and live instruments allowed the band to develop their alternative style of hip-hop that is truly unique and undeniably authentic.

Die 1980 in Oldham gegründete Band, Inspiral Carpets, erlangte Ende der 80er/Anfang der 90er Jahre als Teil der Madchester-Szene neben Bands wie The Stone Roses, The Charlatans und The Happy Mondays große Bekanntheit.

Sie haben fünf Studioalben veröffentlicht:
"Life" (1990), "The Beast Inside" (1991), "Revenge of the Goldfish" (1992), "Devil Hopping" (1994) und "Inspiral Carpets" (2014), mit denen sie vier UK Top 20 Alben und UK Top 20 Singles erreichten. Zu ihren erfolgreichsten Singles gehören "This Is How It Feels", "She Comes In The Fall", "Saturn 5", "I Want You" und "Dragging Me
Down".

Zum ersten Mal seit ihrer 2003er Compilation "Cool As" erscheint jetzt eine neue Singles-Kollektion: "The Complete Singles" enthält alle ihre größten Hits, sowie Kollaborationen mit Mark E. Smith & John Cooper Clarke.
Die 2LP enthält 24 Songs auf schwarzem heavyweight Vinyl im
Widespine Sleeve.

Eli Brown steps up to unveil his highly anticipated debut release on Drumcode.

The UK artist hailing from Bristol has long been on Adam Beyer’s radar. He made his debut on Drumcode’s sub label Truesoul in 2019, teaming up with Will Clarke for their standout EP, ‘Our Love’. Since then, Eli Brown’s sound has continued to evolve and develop, with his signature dark and subversive sonics exhibiting on labels such as on Filth On Acid, We Are The Brave and his Arcane imprint earning high praise in techno circles.

His maiden contribution to Drumcode is in the form of his high-octane four track EP ‘Deep Down’. The title track ‘Deep Down’ has been a go-to weapon for Adam Beyer who’s been slaying it at Awakenings, Ultra Europe x Resistance and Loveland. It’s a dynamic, vocal-led production driven by a squelchy psy-laced synth line. ‘Nazareth’ is a pumping acid-infused stomper that galvanised the masses at Tomorrowland. Brown draws inspiration from Detroit for ‘Can’t Stop The Feeling’, a track that delicately balances an exuberant soul vocal with a nostalgic rave vibe. The EP rounds out with the thrilling highlight, ‘Pressure’, as 90’s house chords and gritty synths combine with a luring vocal hook for an ecstatic conclusion to the EP. It went down a treat when Beyer played it at Drumcode’s Off Sonar party in June.

Tom Jenkins hails from the high country of the South Wales Valleys, surrounded by the ex-coal mining communities and rugged landscape where he works on a sheep farm. Having previously been signed to Xtra Mile with his rock band Straight Lines (released two albums and toured with Motörhead, The Presidents of the USA and many more) he’s back with his second solo album. Written and recorded during lock down Jenkins worked alongside life-long friend and producer Todd Campbell between an old barn on the farm and Todd’s studio in the local area. The album features guest appearances from Phil Campbell (Motorhead), Marc Ford (The Black Crowes) and Paul Mullen (YOURCODENAMEIS:MILO, The Automatic) , Elijah Ford ( Gary Clark Jnr) and a few others that he has shared the road with over the years. Various singles from the album to be released throughout the year.

Mit "ELVIS Original Motion Picture Soundtrack" veröffentlicht RCA Records in diesem Sommer den Soundtrack zum neuen Baz Luhrmann-Film "ELVIS", der am 24. Juni in die Kinos kommt und Austin Butler sowie Tom Hanks in den Hauptrollen zeigt. "ELVIS" ist ein absolut episches Leinwandspektakel des visionären Filmemachers Baz Luhrmann, das das Leben und die Musik von Elvis Presley (Austin Butler) und vor allem seine komplizierte Beziehung zu seinem rätselhaften Manager, Colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks), beleuchtet. Der Soundtrack zeigt das außergewöhnliche Werk von Elvis aus den 1950er, 60er und 70er Jahren und würdigt gleichzeitig seine vielfältigen musikalischen Einflüsse sowie anhaltende Wirkung auf populäre Künstler von heute. Neben Musik von Elvis Presley, befinden sich Original-Soundtrack-Recordings von Austin Butler auf der CD als auch neue Reimagined Tracks von Künstlern wie Doja Cat, Maneskin, Swae Lee & Diplo, Chris Isaak & Stevie Nicks, Gary Clark Jr, Nardo Wick, Jack White uvm. Avec "ELVIS Original Motion Picture Soundtrack", RCA Records publie cet été la bande originale du nouveau film de Baz Luhrmann "ELVIS", qui sortira le 24 juin dans les salles et mettra en scène Austin Butler et Tom Hanks dans les rôles principaux. "ELVIS" est un spectacle à l'écran absolument épique du cinéaste visionnaire Baz Luhrmann, qui met en lumière la vie et la musique d'Elvis Presley (Austin Butler) et surtout sa relation compliquée avec son énigmatique manager, le colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks). La bande-son met en lumière l'oeuvre exceptionnelle d'Elvis dans les années 1950, 60 et 70, tout en rendant hommage à ses multiples influences musicales et à son impact durable sur les artistes populaires d'aujourd'hui. Outre la musique d'Elvis Presley, le CD contient des enregistrements originaux de la bande originale par Austin Butler ainsi que de nouveaux morceaux réimaginés par des artistes tels que Doja Cat, Maneskin, Swae Lee & Diplo, Chris Isaak & Stevie Nicks, Gary Clark Jr, Nardo Wick, Jack White et bien d'autres.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

2022 Repress
The Sound of Studio One can be identified by the great singers that it cultivated along the many great songs that these singers released. But as studio 1's dominance was slowly pulled away by the up and coming new breed of producers many of the artists would inevitably end up working for these new camps and so the songs and singers found a new audience. The reggae sound of the Studio 1 would make a great combination and the man to pull this was together Bunny Lee.
The 1960's in Jamaica was run by two main factions, Coxsonne's Studio 1 and Duke Reid's Treasure Isle. These two leading protagonists saw what some of the other great Sound System men like ' Tom The Great Sebastian' had not taken onboard, that when the tunes they imported began to dry up from the USA, their future lied in producing music. Tunes that suited the musical styles that the people of Jamaica still enjoyed. By the late 1960's thse supremacy was being challenged by the up and coming new producers on the scene, Lee Perry being one, and the other being 'Ghost of the Studios' himself, Bunny Lee. Bunny 'Striker' Lee may have inherited the moniker 'Striker' from his liking of a particular TV show called 'The Hitch-Hiker', but it would soon stand also for the considerable hits he would obtain as he was declared producer of the year in Jamaica in 1969, 1970,1971 and 1972.
For this release, we have compiled many of the great Studio hits that Bunny Lee recorded with the singers that had originally cut at the famed Studio 1. Bunny Lee's sprinkling of magic over some classic tunes....the sound of Studio 1 backed up this time Bunny 'Striker' Lee's set of star musicians The Aggravators. Proving you can't keep a good tune down, or a great producer pushing forward.....Bunny Lee strikes back....
Hope you enjoy the set.....

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

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Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

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"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

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Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

For Thee Sacred Souls, the first time is often the charm. The band’s first club dates led to a record deal with the revered Daptone label; their first singles racked up more than ten million streams in a year and garnered attention from Billboard, Rolling Stone, and KCRW; and their first fans included the likes of Gary Clark Jr., The Black Pumas, Princess Nokia, and Timbaland. Now, the breakout San Diego trio is ready to deliver yet another landmark first with the release of their self-titled debut on Daptone Records.

“Every step of the way has just been so organic,” says drummer Alex Garcia. “Things just seem to happen naturally when the three of us get together.”

Indeed, there’s something inevitable about the sound of Thee Sacred Souls, as if Garcia and his bandmates—bassist Sal Samano and singer Josh Lane—have been playing together for a lifetime already. Produced by Bosco Mann (aka Daptone co-founder Gabriel Roth), Thee Sacred Souls is a warm and textured record, mixing the easygoing grace of sweet ’60s soul with the grit and groove of early ’70s R&B, and the performances are utterly intoxicating, with Lane’s weightless vocals anchored by the rhythm section’s deep pocket and infectious chemistry.

Hints of Chicano, Philly, Chicago, Memphis, and even Panama soul turn up here, and while it’s tempting to toss around labels like “retro” with a deliberately analog collection like this, there’s also something distinctly modern about the band that defies easy categorization, a rawness and a sincerity that transcends time and place.

7A Records announces the release of Dolenz, Jones, Boyce & Hart’s original studio and live albums. In the mid-1970s promoters were trying to reunite the Monkees, but with Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork unavailable, it was suggested that Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones team up with Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart to tour as ‘The Golden Great Hits Of The Monkees Show - ‘The Guys Who Wrote ‘Em & The Guys Who Sang ‘Em’’. The group signed a deal with Capitol Records to record a self-titled studio album of new material. They later released a live album from their tour of Japan. Both albums have been unavailable and out of print for many years. 7A Records have tracked down the original master tapes, that were presumed missing for at least 27 years, and remastered both albums for this release. Available as deluxe 2CD and 2LP sets, the CD version will include a big 40 page colour booklet featuring extensive liner notes and previously unseen photos. The 2LP version comes in a gatefold sleeve and is pressed on special 180g Green, Black and Yellow Quad Vinyl.

One of the most active bebop trumpeters, Kenny Dorham started in the big bands of Mercer, Ellington, Lionel Hampton, Billy Eckstine and Dizzy Gillespie and eventually landed in the Charlie Parker Quintet. In addition, he was a charter member of Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, recorded as a sideman with Thelonious Monk and Sonny Rollins and replaced Clifford Brown in the Max Roach Quintet. Throughout his career he can be heard playing trumpet on various recordings with Lou Donaldson, Sonny Stitt, Fats Navarro, Kenny Clarke, Mary Lou Williams and many more musical legends.

“Quiet Kenny” is a jazz masterpiece. Recorded by the great Rudy Van Gelder with a group of musicians playing at the top of their game, this title continues to be one of the most collectible Jazz LPs due to its high demand and short supply.


PLAYERS:

Kenny Dorham, trumpet
Tommy Flanagan, piano
Paul Chambers, bass
Art Taylor, drums

Propelled by his 1956 Lee Hazlewood-produced hit "The Fool," Sanford Clark was already a rockabilly legend in his own right by the time he swapped his hair gel and switchblade for a pair of cowboy boots on They Call Me Country. Recorded between 1965-67 and originally released as a series of singles for Phoenix's Ramco label, the 12 tracks on this LP borrow Bakersfield's outlaw sound and ignore Nashville's countrypolitan flair, standing as a true lost masterpiece of country music's third generation. Clark's booming baritone tells tales of bar fights, heartaches, and drinking til you can't stand, while Waylon Jennings provides a backdrop of fuzzed out guitar twang. Mastered from the original session tapes and back on vinyl for the first time since the Nixon administration.

1987 LP Ernie Wilkins and his 'Almost Big Band' led by tenor saxophonist, composer and arranger Wilkins and featuring pianist Kenny Drew, drummer Ed Thigpen and trombonist/vocalist Richard Boone Ernie Wilkins (1919 - 1999) made phenomenal contribution to the big band music in the last five decades by composing and arranging for such major big bands as those led by Earl Hines, Count Basie, Dizzy Gillespie, Tommy Dorsey, Harry James and Clark Terry.
Wilkins moved to Copenhagen in 1979 and in 1980 launched his own Almost Big Band which consists of top musicians from Europe and USA.

"Under leadership of Ernie Wilkins music never becomes a mere parade of soloists. He builds up a piece and gives it a form of unity...Listeners will keep finding fresh surprises." - Albrekt von Konow, Orkester Journalen