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Nils Frahm has unexpectedly confirmed details of a new collection of solo piano music, his first album since 2022’s three-hour Music For Animals. Day will be released by LEITER on March 1st, 2024, and it will be available on limited edition vinyl as well as via all digital platforms. Recorded in the summer of 2022 in complete solitude and away from his studio at Berlin’s famed Funkhaus complex, it is preceded by a single, ‘Butter Notes’, out on January 19. Day may come as a surprise to those who, over the last decade, have watched Frahm shift slowly away from the piano compositions with which he first made his name in favour of a nonetheless still-distinctive approach that’s considerably more instrumentally complex and intricately arranged. In addition, in 2021, having spent the early part of the pandemic arranging his archives, he released the 80 minute, 23-track Old Friends New Friends, a compilation of previously unreleased piano music intended to enable him to ”start over” with a clean slate. Judging from the extended, ambient nature of Music For Animals, it proved a successful gambit, but Frahm has never been able to resist returning to his first love, and those who enjoyed earlier acclaimed albums like The Bells, Felt and Screws will once again revel in Day’s familiar, personal style. Day, which contains six tracks, three over the six-minute mark, is the first in a pair of albums Frahm has lined up for 2024. In keeping with their nature, however, he won’t be making a song and dance about the release. Instead, he’ll resume his ongoing world tour, which has already included fifteen sold-out dates at Berlin’s Funkhaus as well as a show at Athen’s Acropolis. It will continue with shows all over the world, among them several sold-out dates at London’s Barbican in July 2024, where he previously curated a weekend of music, film and art, Possibly Colliding, in 2016. The album is best enjoyed in the manner in which it was recorded, in the intimacy of a peaceful, cosy room. There are muffled pedal creaks on the cyclical, quietly jazzy ‘You Name It’ and, during the palliative ripples of ‘Butter Notes’’ arpeggios, the sound of dogs barking in the streets outside. The compassionate, hesitant ‘Tuesdays’ and emotionally ambiguous ‘Towards Zero’ linger with the poignant persistence of Harold Budd’s earliest work, while ‘Hands On’ is a sometimes brighter, airier tune that sets its own, deliberate pace, and, as he has on occasions before, ‘Changes’ sees Frahm employing elements of his instrument’s construction in a ‘prepared piano’ fashion. Characterised by its confidential mood, Day confirms that, while Frahm is arguably now best known for elaborate, celebratory concerts calling upon an arsenal of pianos, organs, keyboards, synths, even a glass harmonica, he’s still a prolific master of affecting simplicity, tenderness and romance.

The word "amateur" originates from the Latin word "amator," meaning "lover" or "admirer". This Latin term is derived from "amare," which means "to love". The French adopted "amateur" from Latin, and the English then borrowed it from French, initially retaining the sense of someone who loves or is devoted to something. Over time, the English usage of "amateur" also developed a meaning related to a lack of professional skill or experience. How did a word derived from love become a slur? Is love really so defenseless? They say love conquers all, but in reality isn’t love quite ridiculous? It has no intention, no motive, no agenda. How could it possibly prevail? It can’t be bought or sold, or so they say.Its mere existence can't be proven or even measured. What an impossible thing. Trying and failing, time and time again, no wonder cynicism always seems to win. I see “amateurism” as a delighted, even foolish, protest. Protest against everything. Of what’s expected of someone, or expected of someone to desire or strive for. To be elite, to be expert, to be professional, to be a master, to excel and succeed. Where’s the joy in that? I just want to have fun. I want to want. I want to love. And keep doing it, forever. I want to have fun, even when it’s tiring and sometimes even heaven is boring as hell. I want to be bad. I want to do my own thing. “I vant to be alone”. I want to be someone so dedicated to their passion that it starts to seem like there’s something wrong with them. All the way. We can take it all the way, and never get it back. ” - Molly Nilsson Amateur is the 12th studio album by Molly Nilsson. Deep in the teeth of a career that threatens to tip into something resembling a “legacy,” Molly Nilsson celebrates with an album recorded instinctively, quickly and bursting with so many moments of emotional brilliance and clarity it may be her greatest yet. Hers has been a career spent reaching out, perennially powerful in her earnestness, a warrior ridiculously defenceless and armed with a glittering sincerity. Shearing herself of the machinations of the music industry, recording at home, writing direct to the heart. Amateur is a jubilee for losers. A treatise in 13 songs, Amateur states clearly that we should live our life with eternal curiosity, offers us an open hand of comradeship out of the rat race. The songs on the album are both some of the most personal of Nilsson’s career and the most anthemic. First single How Much Is The World asks us to re-evaluate value in the face of a Neo-liberal system squeezing the life out of our loves. Pulsing opener Die Cry Lie satirises the commercialisation of emotion in the form of a shout-along diss-track. With a pounding rhythm track held down by gorgeous chord changes, heartbreaker Valhalla carries the torch for the main themes of the album: never growing up, making mistakes with kindness, moving on. When the drums crash in on the line “It’s going to get better now, you’ll see, going to be much better off without me” there is a world of feeling swirling about in the vocal delivery. One reading of the track might be that it’s a break up song but the subtext is classic Molly Nilsson: by living truthfully, making mistakes, we’re active agents against the myriad oppressions of the world. All The Way takes the theme for a run into the eternal sunset. It’s a manifesto for living fully. “Take it all the way, and never get it back” - it’s the process that’s the important point. The journey not the destination. Big Life, follows on like a part 2: An ode not only to Molly Nilsson’s career of endless gigs, endless connections with people, it’s a massive ode for following your dreams, doing it yourself. Closer The Bitter End is a powerful anthem for friendship, another definition of love infused in Nilsson’s work, A beautifully poignant ode to comradeship til the end, it seems to be the songwriter approaching aging, approaching life’s inevitability with the same vigour and earnestness, the same love of life she enjoyed at the onset of her career. There are moments on Amateur shrouded in reverb, slightly out of focus, forcing the listener to step deeper into the Mollyverse.. Nilsson’s open-armed beseeching to the world permeates every beat, every chord. These are songs exploding with life: the chunky, aggressive bassline on the punker Get A Life can’t hide its massive, catchy chorus. The sweeping Swedish Nightmare might be a tongue-in-cheek self-reference, but at its heart it’s a song about the duality of living life large, what is a dream, what is a nightmare? Molly Nilsson says you can’t have one without the other, and why would you want to? Here’s to making mistakes.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

For the third time, they had been sent to this forsaken land. It was neither east nor west, neither north nor south. They said it had once been a kingdom, somewhere in the heart of the old continent, something they had pieced together from the ruins scattered across jagged hills sprouting here and there from the ground. Everyone else went islands, dived to the seabed, drilled at the poles, and explored waste in the east, but these two were sent here again, as if someone were trying to get rid of them, just to keep them out of the way.

What were they really supposed to find here? They wandered the land, aimless and bored, like the last bird watching from the sky. Sometimes they landed, took samples for the lab, and then caught a nap by the river bend. They avoided the hot fumes of active volcanoes. Compared to those on other planets, these were more like small, whispered fumaroles, but even so, they had to be careful.

They felt as if they had stepped into a scene from a movie they had once glimpsed. A mad and exhausted conqueror screamed and wildly flailed his arms on a ridiculous wooden raft in the middle of a raging river. It was somewhere in the south of this planet, deep in the jungle. There were many movies made on this planet, but only fragments of the reels survived, and this one quickly became iconic.

When a trumpet sounded in the distance and flooded the land with a booming murmur, when all the fumaroles hissed together, and when wind rolled in, covering the land in heavy fog, both of them knew the third expedition would not be like the previous ones.

At that moment, Kult Masek and Petr Vrba were flying over the land that was once called České středohoří.

‘Unearthed Technology’ is the new EP from Introspekt, following on from her critically acclaimed debut album ‘Moving The Center’.

2025 Repress

It was only in 2018 that New York techno mainstay Joey Beltram revealed that he was the man behind 'SW37', a record which had been an underground classic since it first started doing the rounds in 1998. It remains an evergreen favourite almost 30 years on, which is why Damon Wild's Synewave is reissuing it here. The A-side is gloppy, dubby techno with impish percussion darting about the mix and drunken hits bring an off-kilter edge. On the flip, 'SW37B' is stripped back to pure deep techno serenity with deft ambient pads and a sense of unrelenting meditation that locks you in the here and now.

CENTRAL's new release is already here! On the B-Side, DJ KAWASAKI has edited the extra-hit “Samurai” to make it an even hotter dance track!
Both sides of the album are perfect for the field!

CENTRAL, a salsa band that has suddenly gained attention after releasing two singles and a full-length album last year, but is actually a group of seasoned salsa veterans, has already released a new single! This time around, CENTRAL has released a cover of “Brazilian Rhyme,” one of Earth, Wind & Fire's many classic songs that still remains a dance floor favorite, with a Latin arrangement that is full of CENTRAL's signature style. The groovy bass, shimmering electric piano, percussion, and outstanding horn arrangement make you want to dance and scream, “This is CENTRAL! The B-Side features DJ KAWASAKI's edit of “Samurai,” a definitive mellow salsa track that has now become a WANT-requested item from all over the world, sublimated into an even hotter dance track!

This summer, dance hard to CENTRAL's salsa!

4 leftfield club belters by our man Robert Crash on his own label!
200 copies

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

An electrified meeting of minds, Candy Girl is a lost 1975 session by jazz pianist Mal Waldron, recorded in Paris with core members of the mighty Lafayette Afro Rock Band, the American funk unit who had made France their home and whose deep grooves would later be mined by generations of hip-hop producers.

By 1975, Waldron was a decade into his self-imposed exile from the United States—a transformed musician who had reassembled his sound in Europe and Japan after a devastating breakdown in the early '60s. His post-1969 output had stripped jazz down to its core elements: modal intensity, locked grooves, and hypnotic repetition. Candy Girl doesn’t interrupt this trajectory—it extends it, wrapping Waldron’s minimalist mantras around the funked-up chassis of the Lafayette rhythm section.

Originally released in microscopic quantities on the Calumet label and long shrouded in obscurity, Candy Girl was recorded spontaneously in the studio of French producer Pierre Jaubert, whose Paris HQ had become the workshop for both avant-garde jazz (Archie Shepp, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Steve Lacy) and psychedelic funk (Lafayette Afro Rock Band AKA Ice). This session finds Waldron jamming freely with bassist Lafayette Hudson, drummer Donny Donable, and keyboardist Frank Abel on clavinet, Moog and more—laying down raw, unfiltered instrumental funk with an experimental edge.

Highlights include the low-slung vamp of “Home Again”, the crisp, break-laden groove of “Red Match Box”, and the mesmeric swirl of the title track “Candy Girl” —a minor-key electric piano waltz with hints of cosmic soul. There's even a deep cut for the crate diggers: the somber yet meditative “Dedication to Brahms”, where Waldron deconstructs the Romantic composer’s third symphony into a sparse jazz reverie.

Unlike his polished sessions for Japanese labels or the avant-garde swing of his earlier Prestige work, Candy Girl feels more spontaneous, even accidental — and that’s part of its power. It’s a document of Waldron as bandleader, collaborator, and explorer, captured in the midst of a vibrant, cross-cultural scene in mid-70s Paris. Never officially issued with a cover and barely released at all, Candy Girl is a rare convergence of two underground traditions: Waldron’s Euro-exile electric jazz and the raw, sampled-future funk of the Lafayette Afro Rock Band. Now finally resurfaced, it deserves its rightful place in both stories.

The second phase of Invisible Inc’s 10-year anniversary celebrations has landed, hot on the heels of the scorching Phase 1.

Where Phase one focussed on the dub-style, electronic and ambient side of the label’s output, the second volume leans slightly more towards the ‘psych’ side of the label and is aptly titled “Resonance: Ten Years of Psychedelic Sounds From The Soul Of Invisible Inc”

Pianist Mischa Cheung will give the world premiere performance of the Piano Fantasies programme on October 31, 2025, at Dai-ichi Seimei Hall in Tokyo. Piano Fantasies features twelve newly arranged piano works from four of SQUARE ENIX's most beloved game series: FINAL FANTASY, KINGDOM HEARTS, CHRONO TRIGGER, and Secret of Mana. The concert marks the first public performance of the complete programme, giving audiences the chance to experience the full musical journey as conceived for the album. Produced by Merregnon Studios, Piano Fantasies presents new interpretations of SQUARE ENIX's iconic soundtracks. The album features cover artwork created by the in-house art team at SQUARE ENIX and will be released on CD and vinyl in collaboration with German label Black Screen Records.

Chris Menist pares his sound right back for A book of imaginary beings, his fourth Awkward Corners outing with a project of electronic and abstracted global grooves. Experimenting with simple melodies and uncluttered arrangements, as well as taking inspiration from the Borges' short stories alluded to in the title, the project took shape in the early part of 2025, in the shorter days and dark evenings of January.

The initial challenge was to knock a basic track into shape each evening after work, then refine it later. There's a melancholy in the air in late winter, compounded by the creeping threat of national and geopolitical instability. Ulla, Natural Information Society, Jabu, Torso and Dawuna formed some of the background soundtrack as each tune took shape.

The track titles came after sitting with the sounds for a while, giving shape to images of people, creatures and their stories for a book that is yet to be written.

Two former friends sets the tone for the album perfectly as a minimal electronic piece with a slowly simmering synth bassline underpinning the groove whilst the trademark Awkward sound of the Shahi Baaja enters drenched in effects. It's the first demonstration of Chris' unique ability to create a world from apparently very little.

Dance of the silver beetles is completely unique in that we can hear chopped up Illimba samples seemingly playing backwards and forewords sometimes alone, sometimes together in duet with Chris' conga rhythms. Add to that a more conventional Illimba melody and added shaker percussion and you have one of A book of imaginary beings most curious chapters.

Anxious shadow puppets is closer to the Awkward Corners sound from previous albums as electronic pulses move around the arrangement with the urgency that the track title suggests. Chris' percussive roots move to the fore with the congas that tie down the Paradise Bangkok Molam International Band's sound. Here, the bassline is more playful and works together with one of Chris' many African Illimbas.

Fans of Chris' adventures on his Roland 808 will dig A leopard with no spots, although the minimal mood continues to flow through on this track. The lolloping, but hard-hitting rhythm track provides the grounding for strange and twisting feedback-sounding tones to work the soundscape.

Abandoned boy (left in charge of the family business) is Awkward Corners at his atmospheric best. Drift off to the sublime sounds of Chris exploring the Shahi Baaja, whilst a soft, repetitive synth line and abstracted pads give the listener that feeling of meditation and peace.

Flamingo with bandaged neck is A book of imaginary beings' perfect coda and is exclusively Shahi Baaja draped in reverbs and delays. It feels like the resolution and the closing of a book that – as of yet – remains unwritten.

Awkward Corners is Chris Menist, a musician, DJ and writer. It started life as a small project in Islamabad, where Chris was living at the time. Initial recordings were made with local musicians in Pakistan and then subsequently in Thailand. This culminated in the Sweet Decay LP that came out on Finders Keepers' Disposable Music in 2014, and in turn led to a limited tape release on Boomkat/Reel Torque of original compositions and re-edits of Thai 45s the same year. Chris released – Dislocation Songs – his second LP proper with Shapes of Rhythm in May 2020, collaborating on many of the tracks with award-winning performer Sarathy Korwar. The LP was picked up by many radio stations including NTS, Resonance FM, BBC 6 Music, Balamii and many more. It made Tom Ravenscroft's LPs of 2020. Amateur Dramatics, Chris' second LP arrived just a year later in 2021 and was a more ambitious project featuring more jazz-focussed compositions and featuring Tamar Osborn and Kitty Whitelaw. Shortly after that came another pivot with the heavier, dancefloor-friendly EP Somebody Somewhere. Somebody Somewhere is Dancing in a Field brought the House (yes House!) vibes, whilst Hector Plimmer turned in a remix of No Words in the same club mood.

As one of NTS Radio's longest-standing presenters, Chris continues to hold down the Paradise Bangkok show. Playing drums and percussion since he was a kid, Chris is the percussionist for The Paradise Bangkok Molam International Band as well as co-founding the record label of the same name. Chris has curated compilations for labels such as Finders Keepers, Soundway and Dust-To-Digital. He has been featured on the Boiler Room, Vinyl Factory Collections, played at the Four Tet curated Nuits Sonores festival, and has put together an edition of Volumes which featured unreleased Awkward Corners compositions.






[d] 04: All the Goodbyes (You Tried to Defer) [Original]





[j] 10: Abandoned Boy (Left in Charge of the Family Business) [Original]

Jessika Kenney ist Sängerin, Komponistin, Autorin, Klangkünstlerin und Lehrerin, deren Engagement für Improvisation, Poesie und Klangforschung eine einzigartige Perspektive hervorgebracht hat. Ihre Erkundungen von Klang, Raum und der Metaphysik des Klangs wurden in vielen Kontexten und an vielen Orten präsentiert, darunter in der Seattle Public Library, im Nottingham Contemporary und im Benton Museum. Zu ihren Kollaborationen und Projekten gehören eine umfangreiche Diskografie mit Eyvind Kang, das letzte aufgezeichnete Vokalwerk von Alvin Lucier, Auftritte mit Melati Suryodarmo, die Komposition der Vokalmusik für A24s Midsommar und die Chorleitung für SUNN O)))'s Monoliths and Dimensions. Jessika Kenney, bekannt für ihren einzigartigen Umgang mit der Stimme, hat in den letzten zwei Jahrzehnten neue Klangwelten geschaffen, die auf intensiven Studien, rituellen Praktiken und einer ungezähmten Ausdruckskraft beruhen. Von ihren gefeierten Kollaborationen mit Eyvind Kang bis zu ihrer Vokalkomposition für A24s ,Midsommar" bewegen sich Kenneys Arbeiten an der Schnittstelle zwischen dem Heiligen, dem Klangvollen und dem Unsichtbaren. Auf Uranian Void wendet sich Kenney nach innen und spürt den Konturen von Erinnerung, Resonanz und Wahrnehmung nach. Mit verschwommenen Sinuswellen, Hydrofonaufnahmen, einem Ghazal von Hafez und Originaltexten ist das Album eine Meditation über Liminalität, in der Schimmer und Schatten gleichermaßen vibrieren. Kenneys Stimme webt sich durch alles hindurch: manchmal flüsternd, manchmal strahlend , immer präzise. ,Dieses Album ist eine Übung in Transparenz innerhalb der Dunkelheit", erklärt Kenney. ,Es geht darum, offen zu bleiben für Zweifel , für Nachhall, für das, was jenseits unserer Wahrnehmung liegt." ,Uranian Void" wurde von Randall Dunn (SU NN O))), Kali Malone, Annea Lockwood) produziert und aufgenommen, dessen charakteristische räumliche Details und Tiefe dem Album seine immersive Klangarchitektur verleihen. Jeder Ton, jeder Atemzug und jede Resonanz wird mit Intimität und Dimension wiedergegeben und verstärkt Kenneys Erforschung von Präsenz und Abwesenheit. Fragmente, die während Besuchen in Spokane, ihrem Elternhaus, aufgenommen wurden, bilden die Grundlage des Albums. Im Studio transformiert, werden diese zu beschwörenden Vierzeilern - leise, aber eindringlich - die den subtilen Puls von Ort, Zeit und Körper offenbaren. Echos der Vergangenheit verschmelzen mit der Gegenwart , als ob die Wände selbst sich erinnern und mitschwingen würden. Uranian Void ist Musik für Schwellenbereiche - eine Einladung, sich mit dem Unsichtbaren und Kaum hörbar. Mit dieser kraftvollen und poetischen Aussage bestätigt sich Kenney als eine der visionärsten Vokalistinnen der Gegenwart.

Long-time NuNorthern Soul contributor, B.J. Smith is a man in demand, dividing his time between solo work, playing guitar in Crazy P man James Baron’s popular JIM outfit, collaborating in a variety of well-regarded projects (Smith & Mudd, Bison and White Elephant amongst them) and composing for TV. Due to this impressive list of musical commitments, solo releases have been few and far between of late, with Smith’s most recent NuNorthern Soul release, a stripped back version of his Big Sur single, dropping late 2023.

It's been ever longer since he delivered a volume in his popular and ongoing Dedications To The Greats series, where the singer-songwriter and composer successfully turns his hand to other people’s songs. Since debuting the series on NuNorthern Soul in 2013 via revelatory and inspired covers of tracks by Mos Def and the Pharcyde, Smith has covered cuts by Outkast, Prefab Sprout and Soul II Soul.

On volume four, Smith’s first volume in the series for five years, he delivers a “cover of a cover” – a revolutionary and imaginative interpretation of Billy Swan’s ‘Don’t Be Cruel’, itself a version of a song first made famous by Elvis Presley. It was their mutual love of Swan’s version that brought Smith together with the release’s most prominent guest artist, Joe Harvey-Whyte, whose lilting, bittersweet and deeply emotive pedal steel performances can be heard across the EP.

Smith provides three contrasting takes. The EP is led by the ‘Mother Earth’ version, a slowly unfurling epic in which waves of effects-laden pedal steel and sun-splashed picking acoustic guitars usher in Smith’s eyes-closed vocalisations, settling into a groove reminiscent of his collaborative work with long-time friend and collaborator Paul ‘Mudd’ Murphy that showcases Harvey-Whyte centre stage to joyful effect. As the 14-minute epic progresses, we’re treated to long, languid electric guitar solos, percussion-laden slow-motion builds and hazy, stretched-out organ solos. It’s a breathlessly brilliant concoction that’s a million miles away from either Swan or Presley’s versions.

In contrast, the similarly epic ‘Earth Heart’ version – available in full vocal and instrumental takes – pushes the song front and centre. Following an extended build up, where Tamar Osborn’s gorgeous and fluid flute motifs rub shoulders with languid guitar solos and Harvey-Whyte’s pedal steel, Smith takes to the mic, delivering an emotive performance of the song’s heartfelt lyrics over a hushed, slow-motion groove. The track builds in waves as it progresses, with Smith layering up instrumentation as it rolls towards a fine conclusion.

Completing a superb package is the ‘Root Heart Version’, a Balearic-meets-Americana take built around shuffling drums, toasty bass guitar, extended pedal steel instrumentation, flashes of flute and Smith’s sun-bright acoustic guitar. Loved-up and more than a little saucer-eyed, it’s a bona-fide sunset delight.

Eines der größten Talente der britischen Blues-Szene. Er wurde bei den UK Blues Awards in den letzten drei Jahren in Folge (2020, 2021, 2022) zum „Young Artist of the Year” gewählt. 
Als Teenager verschlang er die Musik von Eric Clapton und Ray Charles – „Ray hat mich als Person und meine Einstellung zur Musik völlig verändert.” Von alten Delta-Platten über Soul-Künstler wie Sam Cooke, Bill Withers und den Stax-Sound bis hin zu Jazz-Sängern wie Billie Holiday und Frank Sinatra sowie Singer-Songwritern wie Van Morrison, Townes van Zandt, Bob Dylan, Nick Drake und zeitgenössischen Künstlern wie Ray LaMontagne, Norah Jones und Foy Vance.
Seine Musik hat eine zeitlose melancholische Qualität. Mit seiner Ehrlichkeit und Offenheit, die jeden ansprechen, schöpft er aus Angst und Verletzlichkeit, vermittelt dies jedoch mit einer weltgewandten Eleganz. Für Connor Selby sind keine Grenzen gesetzt. Das ist leicht zu verstehen, wenn man seine gefühlvolle Mischung aus Blues und seinen emotional introspektiven Songtexten betrachtet, die sein beeindruckendes Gitarrenspiel ergänzen. Die Songs auf „Connor Selby“ sind kleine Vignetten der verschiedenen Musikstile, die ihn inspirieren.