Suche:two make one

Black Truffle is pleased to announce its first release from celebrated London-based Canadian composer Cassandra Miller. Though her body of mature work stretches back almost twenty years, many listeners were introduced to Miller through the success of her astonishing 2015 Duet for Cello and Orchestra, which sets an imperturbable two-note cello part against a series of increasingly dense orchestrations of an Italian folk melody; in 2019, it was selected by The Guardian as one of the ‘best classical music works of the 21st century’. Traveller Song / Thanksong, the first release of her music on vinyl, presents a pair of compositions for voice and ensemble that exemplify Miller’s gently absurd, strikingly beautiful, and utterly unique work.

Like many of Miller’s compositions, these pieces originate in existing music. Traveller Song (2016/2018) begins from a 1950s song of an anonymous Sicilian cart driver recorded by Alan Lomax and Diego Carpitella, which Miller recorded herself singing along to, going on to then record herself singing to her own layered voices. Miller’s untutored voice is an unsteady, wavering wail that has, in her words, ‘more in common with a quasi-shamanistic keening than anything Sicilian’. Heard sometimes alone, sometimes layered, her pre-recorded voice is accompanied by a chamber sextet drawn from London’s Plus-Minus Ensemble. In the first section, Miller’s exposed warble is set to a spare piano accompaniment, somehow both faintly preposterous and magisterial. Following the voice note for note, the piano part often makes use of almost mechanical sequences of parallel chords, reminiscent both of Satie’s Rosicrucian period and the abrupt harmonic movements of a chord organ. The orchestration then opens up to guitar, clarinet, and sliding strings, a delicate environment for Miller’s voice, which, especially when it begins to be layered, generates a powerful sense of intimacy. In its concluding minutes, the folk roots of the original melody return in the form of a glorious full ensemble setting dominated by accordion, clarinet, and strummed guitar. Thanksong begins from recordings of Miller singing along to the third movement of Beethoven’s late quartet in A minor (Op. 132), the ‘holy song of thanks’ the composer wrote to express his gratitude for (temporarily) recovering from illness. Recording herself singing along repeatedly to each of the individual parts of the quartet, Miller created an aural score where each member of the string quartet listens to their own part on headphones, playing by ear. Performed on this recording by Montreal's Quatuor Bozzini, with whom Miller has a decades-long relationship, they are joined by the British soprano Juliet Fraser, who sings material from the Beethoven quartet ‘as slowly and quietly as possible’. The atmosphere of the opening of Beethoven’s Dankgesang, of hushed reawakening and thoughtful reflection, is sustained throughout the fourteen minutes of Miller’s piece, building at points almost to sentimentality before the five individual parts again fall back into a gentle burble of unsynchronised melodic gestures. Like Traveller Song, here the use of the voice is a long way from the mannered performance of much contemporary music, reaching for a human and bodily presence more connected to the reality of the everyday, albeit suffused with wonder. Presented in a stylish sleeve adorned with photography by Lasse Marhaug and liner notes by Cassandra Miller, this is a key release from a major contemporary composer whose work challenges and dazzles in equal measure. .

Founding member of Buffalo Springfield and folk-rock supergroup Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Stills' first solo album, Stephen Stills, earned a gold record, is the only album to feature both Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton, and climbed to #3 on the album charts. Stephen Stills’ single "Love the One You're With" became his biggest solo hit, peaking at number 14 on the Billboard Hot 100 and is the first track on this collection. 14 tracks from Stephen Still’s First US Tour, previously unissued and recorded Live at The Berkeley Community Theater in 1971, featuring David Crosby on two songs. In 1971 Stephen Stills embarked on a US tour, opening each show with an intimate acoustic first set, and closing each night with a riveting electric set featuring the Memphis Horns. These historic, previously unreleased recordings took place over two nights at the Berkeley Community Theater, with David Crosby joining him on vocals and guitar for "You Don’t Have To Cry" and "The Lee Shore." These recordings find Stills at peak performance in both vocal delivery and musicianship, effortlessly incorporating alternate instrumentation on his instantly recognizable tracks, including a seamless medley of “49 Bye Byes" and "For What It’s Worth” unexpectedly played on piano. Hand-picked by Stills from his personal archives, this album captures timeless and era defining performances. Fans who were lucky enough to catch his historic debut trek, dubbed “The Memphis Horns Tour,” were treated to the balladeer, the raving troubadour, the acoustic bluesman, the soul driver, and by far the most passionate music maker. Backed by a loyal cast of friends, including his usual steady rhythm section—drummer Dallas Taylor and bassist Calvin “Fuzzy” Samuels—along with keyboardist Paul Harris, guitarist Steve Fromholz, and percussionist Joe Lala, these Northern California shows were one of the most unique and intimate stops on the tour This album, rather than being an artifact from a bygone era, sparkles and stimulates. It cajoles you into thinking, feeling and—most importantly—moving. Stephen Stills Live At Berkeley 1971 is a cornucopia of priceless sound—and all of it bears the distinct and loving fingerprint of Stephen Stills.

EACH COPY Personally SIGNED BY LEN FAKI

Len Faki has always been a defining character of the techno underground. His unique approach to DJing, the consistent work as a producer and the quality output of his label Figure has all shaped the current environment.
Starting out as a clubber in the 90's, his inspirations have always reached back to the first encounters with electronic music, when new worlds opened and everything seemed possible.

While these experiences have always influenced Faki's productions and used to be released under many different aliases back in the day, they have been waiting since to be made into a proper album under the Len Faki moniker.

After quickly climbing to the top of the international DJ circuit, busy touring schedules never quite allowed for it. Finally faced with the opportunity of a long overdue creative break, Faki decided tackle the life-time venture with the necessary dedication and focus.

Excited about the new project, he also took the time and energy needed to expand his production methods. Finding new techniques allowed him to truly bring all his different influences to the surface. The process was one of following his own heart, occasionally challenging and surprising himself. Naturally the result emerged as two parallel experiences, which are now presented across two discs. Both still carry all the signature features of Faki's style but with added layers of depth and detail. There's that special contrast of dark and heady grooves, paired with dreamy melodies that transport the listener to places beyond the mind. But we also see all strains of his previous work being incorporated, mixed and molded into something new altogether.

While the first disc focuses on the kind of techno, which Faki has been brought up by and given back to for so many years of his life, the second is more loose and experimental, with forays into house, ambient and broken beats - the sounds he has always kept very passionate about.

It creates two distinct experiences, showcasing the entire breadth of Faki's cosmos. Where some ideas stay straight and kick hard, like the neon bleep opener Tor 8 or joyfully booming Astra, others take the newfound freedom to inspire a wistful broken beat ballad such as Hymn (In the Name of Fantasy) or the soulfully subdued Drum & Bass closer Voices.
Many songs even exist as pairings, with their respective counterpart on the other disc. For example, the duo of Shri Yantra/Yantra, where similar soundscapes have been looked through different lenses, making for a more straight-laced or shuffled rhythm. Also noteworthy are Faki's appearance as a veritable house producer on Hymn (In the Name of Freedom) as well as the inclusion of two very personal pieces:
The Halide tracks were made in remembrance of Faki's late mother, who passed away during the final production stage of the EP. These delicate tracks capture the intense sadness Faki was feeling at the time and helped him to process his grief and eventually to finish off the album.

By doing so Faki has given us a complete artistic statement, one that proves him to be as curious and driven now as ever, taking his sound to all-new realms.

A.R. Kive collates the three most astonishing works from that most miraculous of duos - A.R. Kane - comprising the ‘Up Home’ EP from 1988 that signified the band’s dawning realisation of their own powers and possibilities, their legendary debut LP ‘sixty nine’ (1988) and its kaleidoscopic, prophetic double-LP follow up ‘i’ (1989).

In founder-member Rudy Tambala’s new remastering, the music on these pivotal transmissions from the birth of dream pop, have been reinvigorated and re-infused with a new power, a new depth and intimacy, a new height and immensity. Vivid, timeless and yet always timely whenever they’re recalled, these records still force any listener to realise that despite the habits of retrospective myth-making and the
safe neutering effects of ‘genre’, thirty years have in no way dimmed how resistant and dissident to critical habits of categorisation A.R. Kane always were. Never quite ‘avant-pop’ or ‘shoegaze’ or ‘post-rock’ or any of those sobriquets designed to file and categorise, A.R. Kive is a reminder that those genres had to be coined, had to be invented precisely to contain the astonishing sound of A.R. Kane, because
previous formulations couldn’t come close to their sui generis sound and suggestiveness. This is music that pointed towards futures which a whole generation of artists and sonic explorers would map out. Now beautifully repackaged, remastered and fleshed out with extensive sleeve notes and accompanying materials, ‘A.R. Kive’ reveals that 35 years on it’s still a struggle to defuse the revolutionary and inspirational possibility of A.R. Kane’s music.

A.R. Kane were formed in 1986 by Rudy Tambala and Alex Ayuli, two second-generation immigrants who grew up together in Stratford, East London. From the off the pair were outsiders in the culturally mixed (cockney/Irish/West Indian/Asian) milieu of the East End, with Alex and Rudy’s folks first generation immigrants from Nigeria and Malawi, respectively. The two of them quickly developed and fostered an innate and near-telepathic mutual understanding forged in musical, literary and artistic exploration. Like a lot of second-generation immigrants, they were ferocious autodidacts in all kinds of areas, especially around music and literature. Diving deep into the music of afro-futurist luminaries such as Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Lee Perry and
Hendrix, as well as devouring the explorations of lysergic noise and feedback from contemporaries like Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, they also thoroughly immersed themselves in the alternate literary realities of sci-fi and ancient history (the fascination with the arcane that gave the band their name), all to feed their voracious cultural thirsts and intellectual curiosity.

It was seeing the Cocteau Twins performing on Channel 4 show the Tube that spurred A.R. Kane into being - “They had no drummer. They used tapes and technology and Liz Fraser looked completely otherworldly with those big eyes. And the noise coming out of Robin’s guitar! That was the ‘Fuck! We could do that! We could express ourselves like that!’ moment”, recalls Tambala - and through a mix of
confidence, chutzpah, ad hoc almost-mythical live shows and sheer innocent will the duo debuted with the astonishing ‘When You’re Sad’ single for One Little Indian in 1986. Immediately dubbed a ‘black Jesus & Mary Chain’ by a press unsure of WHERE to put a black band clearly immersed in feedback and noise, what was immediately apparent for listeners was just how much more was going on here - a
tapping of dub’s stealth and guile, a resonant umbilicus back to fusion and jazz, the music less a conjuration of past highs than a re-summoning of lost spirits.
The run of singles and EPs that followed picked up increasingly rapt reviews in the press, but it was the ‘Up Home EP’ released in 1988 on their new home, Rough Trade that really suggested something immense was about to break. Simon Reynolds noted the EP was: Their most concentrated slab of iridescent awesomeness and a true pinnacle of an era that abounded with astounding landmarks of guitar-reinvention, A.R. Kane at their most elixir-like.

If anything, the remastered ‘Up Home’ that forms the first part of ‘A.R. Kive’ is even more dazzling, even more startling than it was when it first emerged, and listening now you again wonder not just about how many bands christened ‘shoegaze’ tried to emulate it, but how all of them fell so far short of its lambent, pellucid wonder. This remains intrinsically experimental music but with none of the frowning orthodoxy those words imply. A.R. Kane, thanks to that second generation auto-didacticism were always supremely aware about the interstices of music and magic, but at the same time gloriously free in the way they explored that connection within their own sound, fascinated always with the creation of ‘perfect mistakes’ and the possibilities inherent in informed play.

‘sixty nine’ the group’s debut LP that emerged in 1988 had
critics and listeners struggling to fit language around A.R. Kane’s sound. As a title it was telling - the year of ‘Bitches Brew’, the year of ‘In A Silent Way’, the erotic möbius between two lovers - and as originally coined by the band themselves, ‘dream pop’ (before it became a free-floating signifier of vague import) was entirely apposite for the music A.R. Kane were making. Crafted in a dark small basement studio in which Tambala recalls the duo had “complete freedom - We wanted to go as far out as we could, and in doing so we discovered the point where it stops being music”. There was an irresistibly dreamy, somnambulant, sensual and almost surreal flow to ‘sixty nine’s sound, but also real darkness/dankness, the ruptures of the primordial and the reverberations of the subconscious, within the grooves of remarkable songs like ‘Dizzy’ and ‘Crazy Blue’. Alex’s plangent vocals floated and surged amidst exquisite peals of refracted feedback but crucially there was BASS here, lugubrious and funky and full of dread, sonic pleasure and sonic disturbance crushed together to make music with a center so deep it felt subcutaneous, music constructed from both the accidental and the deliberate, generous enough to dance with both serendipity and chaos. ‘sixty nine’ remains - especially in this remastered iteration - ravishing, revolutionary.

The final part of this ‘A.R. Kive’ contains 1989’s astonishing double-LP ‘i’ which followed up on ‘sixty nine’s promise and saw the duo fully unleash their experimental pop sensibilities over 26 tracks, plunging the A.R. Kane sound into a dazzlingly kaleidoscopic vision of pop experiment and play. Suffused with new digital technologies and combining searingly sweet and danceable pop with perhaps the duo’s strangest and boundary-pushing compositions, the album did exactly what a great double-set should do - indulge the artists sprawling pursuit of their own imaginations but always with a concision and an ear for those moments where pop both transcends and toys with the listeners expectations. Jason Ankeny has noted that “In retrospect, ‘i’ now seems like a crystal ball prophesying virtually every major musical development of the 1990s; from the shimmering techno of ‘A Love from Outer Space’ to the liquid dub of ‘What’s All This Then?’, from the alien drone-pop of ‘Conundrum’ to the sinister shoegazer miasma of ‘Supervixens’ — it’s all here, an underground road map for countless bands to follow.” Perhaps the most overwhelmingly all-encompassing transmission from A.R. Kane, ‘i’ bookended a three year period in which the duo had made some of the most prophetic and revelatory music of the entire decade.

After ‘i’ the duo’s output became more sporadic with Tambala and Ayuli moving in different directions both geographically and musically, with only 1994’s ‘New Clear Child’ a crystalline re-fraction of future and past echoes of jazz, folk and soul, before the duo went their separate ways. Since then, A.R. Kane’s music has endured, not thanks to the usual sepia’d false memories that seem to maintain interest in so much of the musical past, but because those who hear A.R. Kane music and are changed irrevocably, have to share that universe which A.R. Kane opened up, with anyone else who will listen. Far more than other lauded documents of the late 80s it still sounds astonishingly fresh, astonishingly livid and vivid and necessary and NOW.

Producer Scrappy Jud Newcomb and Cleaves teamed up for the third time in early 2022 between Covid surges to record a new batch of songs, Slaid's first in five years.

Familiar themes of struggle and resilience will be a surprise to no one. As Scrappy puts it, "This album speaks to the hopeful, the hard working, the battered, confused, and the sad. But above all to the believers in the city of freedom that we heard in the stories of our youth and all those FM radio hits."

The first single, "Through the Dark," was co- written with Slaid's long- time collaborator and life- long friend, Rod Picott ("Broke Down," "Take Home Pay").

Slaid describes it simply as "a song about offering comfort in hard times."
Joseph Hudak of Rolling Stone calls Cleaves "a master storyteller, one influenced not by the shine of pop-culture but by the dirt of real life."

"More than 20 years into his career, Slaid Cleaves just keeps getting better . . .

There are few contemporaries that compare. He's become a master craftsman on the order of Guy Clark and John Prine." - Austin Chronicle

You can't get Deeper if you're standing still. That's intentional, says the Chicago quartet's Nic Gohl. "Does it feel good when you're listening to this song? Does your body want to move with it?" These are the questions he asked himself as he and bandmates Shiraz Bhatti, Drew McBride, and Kevin Fairbairn were writing and recording Careful!, their third record and Sub Pop debut. "I wanted these to be interesting songs, but in a way where a two-year-old would vibe out to it," Gohl adds.

"It's pop music, basically." That "basically" qualifier is working pretty hard, as fans of 2020's Auto-Pain might suppose. On Careful!, they're not reimagining their sound so much as testing its limits. If you want to, you can hear echoes of David Bowie's Low in the snapping rhythm and gray-sky synths of "Tele," but you can also hear a bit of Auto-Pain in the nailed-in, stippling lines being spit out by Bhatti's drum programming and McBride's synthesizer.

"Fame" seems to stumble together and nearly fall apart, the dialed-up noise making the beat feel maniacal and a little invincible, the whole thing a series of short, snipped, autonomous gestures that are by now Deeper's trademark. "Build a Bridge" pushes in the opposite direction, using a prickly guitar line to launch into big, smeary art-pop, its emotional palette clear, well-defined, and easy to latch onto.

On "Sub," Gohl sings above and below the melody like Ian McCulloch, bellowing and wondering and ruminating and rounding into swaggering confidence that the band rises to meet. It's festival headliner music that still feels like it was written in a garage. That fraternal interdependence is near the center of Deeper's music. The musical and lyrical devotion to mutuality makes this restlessly curious, stylistically broad album feels like the most coherent portrait of who Deeper is. Or, as McBride ultimately frames it, "Careful! is about looking out for one another."

You can't get Deeper if you're standing still. That's intentional, says the Chicago quartet's Nic Gohl. "Does it feel good when you're listening to this song? Does your body want to move with it?" These are the questions he asked himself as he and bandmates Shiraz Bhatti, Drew McBride, and Kevin Fairbairn were writing and recording Careful!, their third record and Sub Pop debut. "I wanted these to be interesting songs, but in a way where a two-year-old would vibe out to it," Gohl adds.

"It's pop music, basically." That "basically" qualifier is working pretty hard, as fans of 2020's Auto-Pain might suppose. On Careful!, they're not reimagining their sound so much as testing its limits. If you want to, you can hear echoes of David Bowie's Low in the snapping rhythm and gray-sky synths of "Tele," but you can also hear a bit of Auto-Pain in the nailed-in, stippling lines being spit out by Bhatti's drum programming and McBride's synthesizer.

"Fame" seems to stumble together and nearly fall apart, the dialed-up noise making the beat feel maniacal and a little invincible, the whole thing a series of short, snipped, autonomous gestures that are by now Deeper's trademark. "Build a Bridge" pushes in the opposite direction, using a prickly guitar line to launch into big, smeary art-pop, its emotional palette clear, well-defined, and easy to latch onto.

On "Sub," Gohl sings above and below the melody like Ian McCulloch, bellowing and wondering and ruminating and rounding into swaggering confidence that the band rises to meet. It's festival headliner music that still feels like it was written in a garage. That fraternal interdependence is near the center of Deeper's music. The musical and lyrical devotion to mutuality makes this restlessly curious, stylistically broad album feels like the most coherent portrait of who Deeper is. Or, as McBride ultimately frames it, "Careful! is about looking out for one another."

Minor Science—aka UK-born, Berlin-based musician Angus Finlayson—makes his Balmat debut with Absent Friends Vol. III, the third installment in a shape-shifting series across a variety of formats and platforms. And with it, he pushes forward his vision of ambient music as neither static vista or merely mood-setting atmosphere, but rather a dynamic matrix of textures, sensations, and even rhythms.

The first two Absent Friends—a 2014 set for Blowing Up the Workshop, and a 2017 cassette and web player for Whities (now AD93)—were hybrid affairs, part DJ mix and part collage, mostly featuring music made by other people. Then, in 2020-21, Finlayson developed the project into a live show of his own material. Armed with hundreds of bespoke stems created in his studio—idiosyncratic FX chains, feedback loops through cheap rack gear, heavily post-processed field recordings, found voices, etc.—he would improvise on four CDJs, mixer, FX, and live synths, extending techniques he learned as a club DJ into a live context, accompanied by visuals by Stockholm-based artist Paul Witherden.

Absent Friends Vol. III is an album of studio versions of the music developed for the live show. But in Minor Science’s world, even a category as simple as “studio versions” is slightly opaque. “Most of these tracks weren’t ‘composed’ in the studio,” Finlayson explains: “The sounds started out as stems and source material for the live show, and might not have been intended to go together—but then through performance, they settled into shapes that worked. I then recreated those performances in the studio.” That organic process of ideation and realization might help explain the unusual coherence of the album, in which sounds and textures flow seamlessly from one to the next, sometimes seeming to stand still, and sometimes looping back. There are virtually no melodies, few recognizable motifs or riffs, yet the eight-track album nevertheless moves with a distinctive logic and a determined sense of purpose, from the frozen-in-time shimmer of the opening “Introduction” through the early cuts’ studies of space and light; from the seemingly autobiographical “Summer Diary” through the rushing trance (yes, trance) arpeggios of “Contingency” and on to the dulcet denouement of the closing “Gather Your Party (Dispersed Mix).”

This release heralds the launch of a new 7” series from Mr Bongo. In partnership with London-based DJ and digger, Miche, the series will feature his latest discoveries, as well as choice cuts, taken from his 'With Love' compilations. For the inaugural offering, we take a trip to hazy San Francisco, California, in 1977. Smoke, Inc. were an emerging band in the Greater San Francisco Bay area and a regular fixture in the buzzing live music scene. They had a strong following and were in rotation in most of the Bay area clubs, as well as opening for numerous prestigious acts such as Sly & The Family Stone, Taj Mahal, The Pointer Sisters and Toots and The Maytals. Members of the group worked with Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Wonder, Frank Zappa, Martha Reeves & The Vandellas, and many others considered the cream of the crop of the music world.

Smoke, Inc. featured Roy Schmall on keyboards and vocals, Stan Terry on lead vocals and harmonica, Michael 'Ollie' Schotka, on bass and vocals, Keith Stafford on drums and vocals, and Archie Williams Jr on guitar. They went on to release one 12" EP and two 7" singles. One of those 7’s included 'Waitin' For Love’. It was first released in 1977 and came out on the band's own self-titled imprint. It has gone on to become their rarest and most sought-after recording, now fetching up to an astonishing £2,500 on Discogs. It is a breezy, feel-good, modern/crossover soul beauty, with an infectious sing-along chorus, floaty flute solo, and packed with pure, uplifting dancefloor energy. The B-side features a cover version of the Holland Dozier & Holland-penned classic 'It's the Same Old Song’, made famous by the Four Tops.

Miche enthuses, “I included this gem on my first ‘With Love’ compilation and knew that it deserved its own dedicated reissue complete with original artwork. I’m delighted to get the chance to make that happen for this incredible, soulful AOR glide from a band that is well due another round of appreciation. It’s very rare, and consequently very expensive, so here it is for you all to spin and add to your record collections.”

46 years since its original release, it is our privilege to help Roy and the gang’s light shine once again and let a whole new audience relish the beautiful sounds of 'Waitin' For Love'.

Boy Harsher, Portishead, Thom Yorke, Radiohead, Beak>, ERAAS, SUUNS. Over the past seven years, Public Memory's distinctive use of analog synthesizers, electronic beats mixed with organic percussion, lo-fi sound design, and gritty ambience has created a singularly eerie and shadowy world. The first seconds of Public Memory's new record, Elegiac Beat, thrust us immediately into that world. We are in media res, with a feeling of sudden movement from a sensible point A to B. Given some time however, we realize that there is something askew–a bit of brightness here, some shadows pushed aside, some jazz and funk amongst the dub and Krautrock. This is an unfamiliar, ambiguous mood that pushes Public Memory towards new ground. We still drift past the clouded lights and hollowed out buildings of previous albums, but with an occasional bounce in our step now, a bit of golden haze around the edges. First single "Savage Grin" cements this clearly. The track has a jazzy, trip-hop flavor, albeit filtered through Public Memory's narcotic, hazy lens. We could be in a hotel lounge in the alps somewhere on holiday, or out of time in a majestic, sparkling ballroom. But we still have the feeling of being haunted, or perhaps even hunted in some way. This feeling intensifies and comes to a head towards the ever-darkening end of the track, leading directly into "Afterimage", in which someone almost imperceptibly sings "I hear them coming" in a twisted, auto-tuned flail. Second single "7 Floor" begins with flanged drums and damaged synthesizer stabs, evoking a kind of apparition floating towards us in the mist. As the track moves on there is, similarly to "Savage Grin", a contrast in feeling between a cold exterior roaming and an interior, warmer, human place. This time however, we move from the colder to the warmer as the synths from the track's beginning make way for a Rhodes-style organ and backing string synth, infusing an unexpected sense of peace. But like "Savage Grin", the track moves to its end through an in-between place beyond the haze. Faded and distant synthesizers meld with voices–human, or perhaps otherwise–that beckon us, or perhaps warn us. We can't be sure which. Third single "Far End Of The Courtyard" brings us closest to classic Public Memory territory with hip-hop beats, chopped and screwed samples, lo-fi ambience, and ghostly electric pianos complementing the vocals. There is darkness, perhaps more here than in the previous two singles, but with a crucial moment of uplifting lightness so subtle it may be missed upon first listen. As an inverse to both "Savage Grin" and "7 Floor" we end with brightness, the jazzier side of the record pushed to the forefront as the track fades away on that golden haze. In the end though, the haze may be just that: a vapor, a mist, a slight dusting of some other world on top of the degraded one Public Memory so effectively portrays. Elegiac Beat is between two places, and as it straddles the line between the two, we are uncertain if the light it brings shines directly from the sun, or if it is dimly reflected through that majestic ballroom world. For fans of 1990s Bristol trip hop, coldwave, and Thom Yorke's The Eraser

In 1972, a foursome of design students set out to make a record. This was, in many ways, a strictly creative endeavor. The quartet — composed of Dave Pescod, Alan Lewis, Phil Rawle, and Ted Rockley — were all trained, not as musicians, but as creatives. Art school heavyweights, the four were well-versed in the methodology of intentional experimentation, in the delicate balance of pushing the limits without completely unmooring oneself from a guiding creative intention. Emboldened by a high-brow familiarity with thoughtful experimentation and all the non-conviction of non-musicians, Bowes Road Band’s stint in the world of popular music yielded a record that is as much mind-melting as it is a direct product of its time. Their sprawling LP “Back in the HCA” embodies the exigence “art for art’s sake,” but it is for art’s sake that this record, however off the deep end it seems to travel (hear: “Doctor, Doctor”), remains a unified, and stunning, body of work. The LP’s do-ityourself garage rock noisemaking meets highfalutin creative processes. “Back in the HCA” is warbling psychedelic freakout (“Two Fingers,” “Doctor, Doctor”), Donovan-esque English countryside folk stylings (“Inside My Head,” “Goodbye to Rosie”), and avant-garde jazz improvisions (“Grass is Grass,” “Tomorrow’s Truth”) in one luminous release.

Originally an 9-track LP, Jakarta, Uno Loop, and Bowes Road Band decided to mine the six most cohesive tracks for the reissue, though the extras may be released somewhere down the line. Cohesion efforts aside, “Back in the HCA” stands alone in its singular conception of a genre-bending continuum — it evades definition. That said, the LP can easily be situated in the sonic environment in which it was conceived. By the end of the 60s, England was crawling with blues-based rock outfits that were starting to venture into prog rock territory. You can hear this popular dint cast over the folkier side of the LP. But Bowes Road Band was armed with their non-musicianship: they existed completely liberated from the motivating yet ultimately paralyzing lust for stardom. Enjoying this liberation, Bowes Road Band was utterly free to make noise. This freedom meant drawn out sax interludes amidst sweetly folk stylings (“Grass is Grass”) and Shaggs-like fuzzed-out freakouts that spiral into a void (Doctor, Doctor). This freedom also meant straight-forward tuneful cuts like “Goodbye Rosie” that conspicuously introduce heavily distorted auto-organ accompaniment mid-track amidst poignant lyricism. Bowes Road Band crafts a unified sound and then cracks it open.

With a completely off-the-radar status, Bowes Road Band could only press 50 copies of the record — 10 for each of them and 10 for the school. The band’s lifespan was to end there, or so they thought. “Back in the HCA” was the accidental fruit of a Berlin flea market treasure hunt by Jannis Stürtz, DJ and co-founder of Habibi Funk and Jakarta Records. After finding and sharing the LP with a few colleagues, Stürtz managed to get in touch with the band, get ahold of the master tapes collecting dust in Ted Rockley’s attic, and start the reissuing process. The record is still adorned with its original cover art designed by Alan Pescod, both reminiscent of bygone school days and the Zoom calls of yesterday — in short, reunion. Its re-discovery was happenstance and ought to be listened to as such. That is, “Back in the HCA” was not made to be listened to on a broad scale, or, at least, was not made with this goal in mind; it is neither in its time nor of its time. Of course, the group explicitly cites the folk tunes of the English countryside, the distorted rock groups that reigned during the record’s conception, and the fringes of psychedelic music that only the uber-underground might recognize (e.g., “Dreaming of Alice”). Yet still with these obvious influences, “Back in the HCA” always existed beyond the domain of both traditional musicianship and conventional commodification. Bowes Road Band’s DIY musicality beams through in technicolor across “Back in the HCA.” The vinyl includes an 8-page booklet detailing the albums creation and interviews with the band.

Lead single “Grass is Grass,” out July 14 along with album pre-order, encapsulates the record’s range: the track unfurls into a sprawling sax-driven trip following a sundrenched, Donovan-esque intro w/ lyrics “naively about parks and gardens, not marijuana!” The keyed-down folk cut “Goodbye to Rosie” is single 2 and elevates stripped-down acoustics with golden tinges, out August 4th. Focus track “Tomorrow’s Truth” constructs the fuzzed-out underbelly of acid folk. Listen for echoes of late Beatles, Mark Fry, and Donovan (if they were armed by an unshakabele willful naiveté). Like Sgt. Pepper’s on a shoestring budget—take a trip to the underground with LP “Back in the HCA,” available everywhere physically and digitally on September 1st via Jakarta Records and Uno Loop.

Besides online promotion from label profiles, the album will be further promoted by external agencies within the UK and US.

"All The Old 45s - The Very Best of Deacon Blue" coincides with the band"s UK and Ireland tour of the same name, and charts their multi-million selling history - from bringing "Chocolate Girl" and "Dignity" to life in the corner of a Glasgow basement, to skyscraping, stadium-filling hits like "Wages Day" and "Real Gone Kid", via their swoon-inducing tribute to Bacharach and David ("I"ll Never Fall In Love Again"), their collective favourite single ("Your Swaying Arms"), and one of the most significant songs in the Deacon Blue canon, which followed a split in 1994 and the loss of two original members: 2012"s comeback single "The Hipsters" heralded a new lease of life for the group, and jump-started a second act that"s seen them more fired up, and prolific, than ever.

Following up on the incredible success of El Michels & Black Thought's Glorious Game album the duo treat us to another 7" with two of the standouts from the album. The A Side "Hollow Way" is a testament to the chemistry between Leon & Thought. EMA uses his signature sound with a new approach pulling records from his collection and sampling them. The result is a gritty lofi sonic backdrop that Black Thought flexes his lyrical brilliance on weaving a tune about guns and gun violence. The beat change at the end drives the point home, leaving any samples behind and lets the band remind people why they are one of the most in demand acts out there today. The B side "I'm Still Somehow" is a deeply introspective tune that Thought rhymes about vulnerability and overcoming challenges with heavy lines like "a happy black boy is like an alien" and "one crown, who was run down, somehow still standing tall". Michels again takes his ear and sensibility to the sampler, chopping up an old 45 that makes the perfect backdrop for this powerful and timeless song.

*BLUE VINYL REPRESS* Started during lockdown by three friends from Leeds, UK who wanted to make some crossover thrash, having been fans of the music for years, Pest Control is the classic story of DIY music straight from a time of crisis. Jack (from Death Metal bruisers Mortuary Spawn) joined soon after the release of the Demo in 2020 and the line up was complete with Pest Control’s first show commencing in their home town the week lockdown ended. Influenced by classic thrash giants such as Metallica, Testament etc. but with a healthy spoonful of crossover like Crumbsuckers, Ludichrist and Municipal Waste, the members grew up with one foot in the Leeds metal and hardcore scenes, taking the best from both worlds. Topping it all off, Leah's powerful vocal reminds one of the great Dawn Crosby from Detente. For the recording of the LP they were joined by Luke on second guitar and now have a permanent second guitarist in the shape of Joe Williams (Big Cheese, Fate) and will be seen touring Europe with the almighty Foreseen, having already played across the UK with Municipal Waste, Eternal Champion and as well as appearances at Outbreak and Wrongside Fests. With this LP the band have truly shown their technical chops from the fast and furious title track to the almost operatic thrash style of The Great Deceiver. There is a fresh range of ideas and most importantly catchy songs for the Crossover Thrash fan to sink their teeth into. Mastered by Arthur Rizk, who knows a thing or two about thrash metal excellence having worked with Power Trip and Fugitive, expect to have your brain well and truly FUMIGATED.

Selected Songs 1997-2003 compiles some of the finest moments in the recording history of Hydroplane, the Melbourne-based indie-pop three-piece that operated alongside The Cat’s Miaow through the second half of the nineties. It’s the third release in what feels, now, like a loosely planned series by World Of Echo, documenting the music made by this group of friends in Melbourne sharehouses (The Cat’s Miaow’s Songs ’94-’98, 2022), or in the case of The Shapiros (Gone By Fall, 2023), while traversing the International Pop Underground.

Hydroplane would be familiar to anyone already following these breadcrumb trails – Andrew Withycombe, Bart Cummings and Kerrie Bolton were the group’s core, all members of The Cat’s Miaow. With Cat’s Miaow drummer Cameron Smith itinerant, having moved to London, the trio used this opportunity to expand their music. It’s a subtle, but important shift. If The Cat’s Miaow was about the perfect, minimalist, two-minute pop song, Hydroplane’s music was far more open-ended, embracing the loops and drones, sampled house-y shuffle beats, the burbling of a Roland Jupiter-4 synth, all of which the trio joined, effortlessly, to their endless capacity for moving, elegant melodicism.

They may have only planned to release one seven-inch single, but the sound Hydroplane created was so bewitching, so compelling, that the project’s lifespan ran for around half a decade, and they ended up releasing three albums, including a self-titled debut recently reissued by Efficient Space, and seven singles. There are all kinds of compelling things happening in the music compiled here – the hazy repetition of the gentler side of Krautrock is in here, somewhere, which also suggests Stereolab at their most intimate and disarmed; the gently drifting guitars, gauzy and oneiric, set the songs adrift and floating, each one lost in its own imagined, distracted world. Songs like “The Love You Bring” set indistinct tonal floats across dance rhythms, in a way not quite heard since My Bloody Valentine’s “Instrumental” – but with the added gift of Bolton’s gorgeous voice.

This loose coalition with dance music, and the quiet experimentalism at the heart of Hydroplane, also gestures towards peers like Hood, Acetate Zero and Other People’s Children, and releases on renegade labels like Wurlitzer Jukebox and Enraptured. Like those groups and labels, The Cat’s Miaow were reconciling independent pop music’s past – sweet melody and melancholy, chiming and droning guitars – with the futures promised by DIY electronics and nascent digitalia, the interface of indie and IDM that led to some of the underground’s most blissful, texturally swoonsome music. All that is here, but also, the poise of the melodies is pure Cat’s Miaow, though, with Bolton’s voice sailing, pacifically, over some of the most pared-down, gorgeous music made during their decade.

It was a time, too, when such music could make waves – “We Crossed The Atlantic”, one of their early singles, was picked up by John Peel, who played it repeatedly on his legendary radio show, the song reaching #13 on his 1997 Festive 50. That the song itself was a cover of a tune by 1960s Australian beatnik-pop-poet Pip Proud felt even more perfect – a group of outsiders paying tribute to another outsider, played on the radio one of the few broadcasters brave and human enough to take a chance on this music. But it was a time where everything was up for grabs, and genres were flowing into each other: folk songs went drone; indie re-discovered noise; ambient pop floated, again, out onto the dancefloor. And while they may have been sequestered away in Melbourne, Australia, Hydroplane felt core to that scene, a quietly driving force.

Compiling material from across their brief but mercurial career, this double album perfectly captures the magic and mystery of Hydroplane’s dreamlike, perfect pop songs.

Monsieur Dimitri from Paris works his magic on Casbah 73's organic disco grooves with a remix treatment that surpasses all expectations.

'To Be Free' and 'Doing Our Own Thing' had a fantastic response when released on 12", at the end of 2019. It received wide support from people in the know like Red Greg, Danny Krivit, Folamour, Soul Clap, Kenny Dope and many others. The first pressing quickly sold out and the tracks were sounding strong on discerning dancefloors until, well, "The Thing" hit and everything stopped.

Despite this, the record has continued to grow by word of mouth, and so we thought it would be wonderful to have a 7" version with an edit or even a remix of the jazzy funky disco banger 'Doing Our Own Thing'. No one better than Dimitri from Paris for the job, one of the DJs who happened to tell us he loved the track. His two-part edit of 'Doing Our Own Thing' is a bomb that will make people dance for years to come.

With I Will Make a Baby in this Damn Economy, Fat Tony embodies the kind of quixotic figure he would rap about; a singular entity who’s motivated, confident, and hungry; a perpetual-motion-machine locked in a staring contest with his country. It’s the latest album in his catalog produced entirely by L.A-based producer Taydex since 2020’s Wake Up. Later that same year Fat Tony released Exotica, and ever since he’s demonstrated he is in his own lane as a professional rapper with the mind of a magician, as quick to conjure an image as pull it out from under you, deftly manoeuvring through so many details and references a listener feels as if they have witnessed the work of an illusionist. He paints these canvases inside of songs that rarely spill past three minutes; they’re pocket-sized diaries replete with acute observations, character studies, microdoses of storytelling, and single-minded ruminations on a topic that bud, blossom, and fade before too long. Fat Tony & Taydex’s I Will Make a Baby in this Damn Economy cements Tony’s status as someone whose albums are not so much lyrically-lyrical as they are picaresque.
As with any Fat Tony project, the bars are tight as ever, but are so fluid for the 34-year-old it’s almost easy to take for granted the details, warmth, and humanity inside his free-associative tales of day-one friends who’ve passed, edgelord grifters who want to spit game, and nights on ketamine. Taydex’s production sprints through disparate yet simpatico styles, dipping its toes into Pi’erre Bourne-esque bass (see lead single “Spectacular”), house (“Loosen Up”), and even hyperpop. Meditations on loss and grief are woven throughout, but Tony throws a few curveballs as well: Consider “Alexis,” which sweetly reflects on a long-term platonic friendship. Taydex finds a Teddy Riley-indebted New Jack Swing groove just deep enough for the feeling to land and underlines the song’s sincere candor. This is the appeal of Fat Tony writ-large: his boisterous voice and genial personality invite you to the party, then you stick around to hear what he’s saying, which is frequently more introspective and complex than one assumes.
Written and recorded in Taydex’s new studio in North Hollywood, Tony says, “We had much more freedom and flexibility in making this album and you can hear it. It felt like a family project.” If the album is comfortable and loose, it is also dense and substantial. The album’s final two tracks contextualize the immediacy of what came before it—the mezcal with ices drank, Paul Wall swangin’ through to drop knowledge, the Polaris Prize-winning rapper Cadence Weapon providing a vibe check. “Make a Baby” accounts for Tony who’s seen everything, and knows he’s met the one to be a father with, and yet chooses to take his time to get it done. Taydex’s beat recalls turn-of-the-century R&B and the millennial promise of an endless good time. Sombre closer “Jasper, TX” is Tony coming to grips with the story of James Byrd, Jr., a Black man from East Texas dragged to his death by three white supremacists in 1998. These songs are not only trademarks of Tony’s fastidious rapping—they are deeply personal examples of his approach to artistry and life itself, where every decision is made in the shadow of history.
It’s here the mission statement of I Will Make a Baby in this Damn Economy comes into focus—you get the sense he means it, he’s ready for it, he’ll fight for it. He’s waiting to take the world at its word.

The tone always makes the music. But only those who actually make the sound An ancient-house-avantgarde dream has always been there since the legendary -Warehouse- days of Ron Hardy, to bring more sounds and tones constantly to an independent, repetitive development. And thus beyond the limits of an executive creative artist on the otherwise purely commercial sense what we call in common -beyond imagination-. -Raw Footage-, the latest album concoction of Chicago house legend Ron Trent (Prescription) on his new imprint -Electric Blue- works in the best sense of Stanislav Lem heroes Trurl & Klapauciusals, cruising like those two metal brains frantically invented by the universe of 4/4-Sounds to get insane tracks out of the new material matter located there, and put them together to brand new ones. This trackwerk varies as well as of course between classical Chi-Town to the context of contemporary, epic house dubs and lives in a perfidious manner from the interaction of various computer
modules that constantly spits out new and exciting interactions. In the end, the software sings only as digital output of great analog sounds, which may well be understood as a mocking voice to the majority of contemporary Homeboy wackiness formats.-Unpredictable- and less -cryptic- might fit here as a keyword excellent, where you kick out of the rough house plant a significant entertainment value must, without the need to posess necessarily the same nerves of steel. Anyone who has ever really wondered what House sound could be appropriate for a journey through the vastness of the universe is, gets there now at this point completely to his fullest expense. Trent 2012 and its tracks on this album reflect a lot about the revolutionary founder of -Spirit of music- from the mid-80s, who is recorded then as now but with inadequate slogans such as -light years ahead of its time-. For as
Trents body of work -Raw Footage- is also particularly scary genius material, although still of totally solid stress field and background from the musical spectrum between the Windy City and the Motor City engine bridled her.-But heres to the Future- For Sir Trent more than twenty years after -Altered States- and the relevant follow-ups, thats not really a problem!
Der Ton Macht immer die Musik. Nur wer macht eigentlich den Ton Ein uralter-House-Avantgarde-Traum war und ist es seit den legendären
:Warehouse: Tagen eines Ron Hardy, Sounds und Töne immer ständig neu zur selbstständigen, repetitiven Entfaltung zu bringen und somit die kreativen Grenzen des exekutiven Künstlers über die sonst im rein kommerziellen Sinne gängige Vorstellungskraft hinaus zu sprengen.
:Raw Footage:, das neueste Album-Machwerk von Chicago House-Legende Ron Trent (Prescription) auf seinem neuen Imprint :Electric Blue: kommt im besten Sinne der Stanislav Lem Heroen Trurl & Klapauciusals, und cruiost wie jene beiden Metallgehirne wie wahnsinnig durch das All der 4/4-Sounds, um aus dem dort befindlichen Materiematerial neue, wahnsinnige Tracks zu erfinden und zusammenzustellen. Dieses Trackwerk variert denn auch wie selbstverständlich zwischen dem klassischen Chi-Town-Kontext bis zu kontemporären, epischen House-Dubs, und lebt auf perfide Art
und Weise aus der Interaktion verschiedenster Computermodule, die dabei ständig neue aufregende Interaktionen ausspuckt. Am Ende singt eine digitale Software nur noch als Output großer analoger Sounds, die durchaus als Spottgesang auf den Großteil eitgenössischer Homeboy-Frickelei Formate verstanden werden dürfen.:Unberechenbar: und weniger kryptisch mag hier als Schlagwort vortrefflich passen, wo man dem rohen Housewerk ganz erheblichen Unterhaltungswert abgewinnen muss, ohne das man dazu unbedingt gleich Nerven wie Drahtseile benötigt. Wer sich je
eigentlich gefragt hat , welcher House-Sound so für eine Reise durch die endlosen Weiten des Universums angemessen sein könnte, kommt an dieser Stelle jetzt völlig(st) auf seine Kosten. Trent 2012 und seine Tracks reflektieren mit diesem Album zwar viel von dem revolutionären Gründerspirit einer Musik aus der Mitte der 80er-Jahre, die damals wie heute dennoch nur unzureichend mit Slogans wie ihrer Zeit um Lichtjahre voraus zu erfassen ist. Denn wie Trents Gesamtwerk ist eben auch :Raw Footage: insbesondere furchteinflößend genialer Stoff, wenngleich auch immer noch vom ganz und gar soliden Spannungsfeld und Background des musikalischen Spektrums zwischen der Windy und der Motor City her aufgezäumt. :But here's to the future: - Für Trent auch mehr als zwanzig Jahre nach :Altered States: und den einschlägigen follow-ups nicht wirklich ein Problem!

Duca Bianco is back with one of its special various artists' releases, and a mighty fine one it is too. This one finds four guest producers all with their finest studio tools sharpened and ready for action. Two of the artists are well known but use new alias - one is Israeli synth and psyche wizards Red Axes who work their magic as Der Sexa on 'Gabi Plane' and another is Beauty & The Beat party man Cedric Woo as CW. He gets nice and twisted here while the other two cuts - one from Italo king Franz Scala who builds slow new wave funk, and one from Manchester's renowned edit kings Talking Drums who offer some lovely leftfield madness on 'DMNB', all make for crucial listening.

Katie Munshaw really needed to finish the fucking quilt, and find a way to
sew herself into it
The lead singer of Ontario four-piece Dizzy has been thinking a lot about the way
things look and the way you can find comfort in disappearing into it all. She
describes the album, a bright indie-pop beast continuing the legacy built from two
previous shimmering records, as a "patchwork quilt" with each song a square, or a
sliver, of her life. "None of them have all that much to do with each other and yet
they wouldn't exist without one another," she says.
It makes for a colourful record that's intrinsically Dizzy - one that swerves
comparison, instead reflecting the shapeshifting and imperfect nature of its
musicians. Avoiding the spotlight yet more confidently themselves than ever.
Munshaw is satisfied with where this record finds Dizzy. The band's first record,
she says, was "formative" to what kind of musician she became, even though "I
was young and had no business making a record. The Sun and Her Scorch was
our rebellious teenage phase where we thought we could do it all ourselves, this
new chapter is about throwing our hands up saying 'we don't have all the
answers. I'm open to having somebody help me. Help us.'"
Listeners will find that Dizzy have made what sounds like their most confident
work to date; embracing the best parts of what has made fans fall in love with
them in the past while confidently stepping into the future and trying new things;
ready to show the world exactly who they are as artists - mask or no mask.
Heavily supported across DSPs, with prime playlist placements across Spotify,
Apple Music, Amazon, YouTube, Deezer and Tidal.
Plays on BBC Radio 1, Radio 2, Radio X.
Coverage on The Independent, Clash, Line of Best Fit, DIY, Dork, Brooklyn Vegan,
Gigwise, She Makes Music, Scientists of Sound, Cool Music & Things, Mystic
Sons and many more.