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For their second album 'The Foel Tower', Quade holed up in an old stone barn in the cradle of a Welsh mountain valley.
The valley was a stark and windswept backdrop with little daylight, as the band would huddle around crackling fires each evening. “There was very much a feeling of being on the complete fringes of society,” the band says. “The last vestiges of settlement before the unrelenting barren moors that loomed over us.”
It was an environment that would shape the band – a Bristol four piece made up of Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly – and the record they have made. It’s an album that is as dreamy as it is melancholic, and as quiet and tender as it is forceful and potent – gliding across genres like winds blowing over those wide-spanning Welsh hills – to arrive at something the band half-jokingly, yet somewhat accurately, describe as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock.”

Quade is a band but it’s also a very close-knit group that have been friends since childhood who use this musical vehicle for interpersonal explorations and connections. “We’ve individually experienced a lot of difficulty over the last several years and Quade has represented a space to shelter from these,” the band says. “This means we often communicate extensively with each other about the issues affecting us individually and collectively. These conversations and concerns are central to The Foel Tower.”

In many ways, the making of this record – or any Quade record – goes way deeper than the simple writing, construction and recording of music. It is a profoundly deep and meaningful experience. “A key theme of the album relates to why we connect with specific places in the way that we do,” the group says. “We often remove ourselves to isolated valleys, sheltered from some of the painful personal struggles that we have experienced as a band. These become spaces in which we collectively purge ourselves of some of these difficulties hoping to make Quade a physical and emotional place of solace. This album celebrates these places that we’ve been able to retreat to and recuperate.”

It is a deep, dense record that is stuffed with musical, cinematic and literary influences – from Ursula La Guin and Cormac MacCarthy through to RS Thomas and Yeats – but despite the heavy, introspective and anxious nature of some of the material, it is also a record that is remarkably deft, agile and considered.

Made with producer Jack Ogborne and mixer Larry ‘Bruce’ McCarthy, there is a pleasing duality to the final sound of the record. One that feels fragile and intimate but also powerful and forceful, as introspective as it is expansive, and a record that is as detailed and textured as it is wide open and spacious.

The album title also pays homage to the place that shaped it so greatly. Within this remote Welsh valley stands the Foel Tower, a stone structure filled with valves and cylinders that can raise and lower the level of the reservoir to draw off water. Which it can then send as far as 70 miles to Birmingham. However, in the late 1800s this land was occupied by local farmers and families in the hundreds until the British Government acquired the land, cleared the valleys, and promptly displaced them in order to begin serving the vastly expanding industrial English city. The band dug into the history and politics of this and wove it into the themes they were already thinking about, using what the Foel Tower stands for as something of a contemporary metaphor. “This tension was something that we wanted to explore without the haughty judgement of our more metropolitan lifestyles,” they say. “And to explore how this specifically relates to ourselves: how can we envisage a genuinely ecological future for ourselves – one that is accessible, affordable and in harmony with endangered rural practices.”

What makes The Foel Tower such an incredible record is that it feels born of a time, place and situation that only existed in that very moment. It’s a snapshot of those 10 days spent in rural Wales and all the feelings and anxieties the band were experiencing at that specific time, magically caught on tape. “The album very much feels tied to this valley for us and the conversations and experiences we shared there,” they say. “It brings up a great deal of poignancy for us, an emblem of some fleeting respite from the strains we all have to experience. But there’s also deep sadness knowing how transient these moments are – in fact, there’s just a great deal of sadness in this album. But it’s also a record that while personal, resigned, and emotionally burdened, is ultimately hopeful.”

Casquiat and Controller 7 have united on DATUM Recordings for this high class new 45rpm which works as a fine weapon for your record bag or equally well as some superb home listening. Casquiat goes first with 'Set It Off' which has raw drum breaks and direct bars delivered over some wild guitar riffs, slamming hits and old school vocal chops. Controller 7's 'Dope On Plastic' is a percolating funk joint with old school hip-hop energy and some evocative bars that recall the likes of Beastie Boys. Add in smart horns, JB yelps and scratching and you have a real party starter.

American Standard is the second studio album by American post-grunge band Seven Mary Three. It was released in 1995. The album would be Seven Mary Three's breakthrough success, rising to number 24 on the Billboard 200 and was certified platinum in the United States and Canada. Many of the songs were rerecorded versions of tracks off Seven Mary Three's independent debut, Churn. The album's biggest hit single was "Cumbersome" (#1 on Billboard's Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks, #7 on Hot Modern Rock Tracks, and #39 on the Billboard Hot 100).Other Billboard-charting singles were "Water's Edge" (#7 on Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks and #37 on Hot Modern Rock Tracks), and "My My" (#19 on Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks).

After many years of artistic collaboration, the long-awaited album, KILLING TIME, bringing together London-based MC Killa P and Italian Bass music collective Numa Crew, has finally arrived.

Killa P, a name synonymous with potent lyricism and raw energy in the Grime scene, delivers a vocal masterclass throughout his debut long-player, soundtracked by the stellar production of the Numa Crew. Together they expertly navigate genres including dubstep, grime, dub, and jungle, while maintaining a distinct and cohesive musical identity.

Not simply a collection of individual tracks, Killing Time is a meticulously crafted journey through sound system music. There are no stylistic boundaries, as the long-player encompasses the entire musical spectrum that unites the Italian crew with the London-based MC, with Killa P free to showcase his evolution as an artist. Alongside them, the album also brings together a diverse cast of friends and collaborators, vocalists, and producers, each adding their own unique flavor.

From the pulsating dubstep-infused Boys in Blue, a searing commentary on social inequality, to the reggae-tinged steppa tune Love Inna We Heart featuring Charlie P and Long Range, a plea for unity and love, Killa P's lyrical dexterity shines.

Tracks such as Champion Sound, Badman City Pt.2 featuring the French Ragga legend Big Red, and No Laugh featuring Big Chain and Bristol’s Buggsy are a nod to Killa P's roots, beautifully showcasing his mastery of grime's signature sound, while the sped-up tempos of the Fleck collaboration Jungle Leng, and Can't Get Me Down featuring Ras Demo, inject a jolt of Junglist attitude. Different Life is a vibrant ‘carnival’ jam, that infuses grime and dancehall moods and sees the great Lady Lykez on the second verse.

The album wraps on a contemplative note with Dreaming, a collaboration with Abstract Sonance, and Heartless, featuring Killa’s son GK on production, revealing an introspective note that adds yet more depth to Killa P's artistry.

As the album’s second track, Family, proclaims: ‘man a deal with family, not friends’ - a fitting line to define the album as a whole… An ode to the unity and strength of family.

„Life has never been easy, so keep moving“ is the opening line of Making moves, the title song of SANTROFI‘s new album. Four years ago their celebrated debut ‚Alewa‘ introduced this 8 piece Highlife collective powerhouse from Accra to the world.

After five solid years on the road, SANTROFI is now ready to release some fresh material. co-produced and mixed by four-time Grammy Award winner Jerry Boys (REM, Ali Farka Toure, Buena Vista Social Club, Orchestra Baobab, Kronos Quartet). The band has continued an intense tour schedule, with 2024 seeing their first shows in the USA as well as a Japan tour of with 13 sold out shows 2024. where.

Making moves is both a celebration of SANTROFI’s roots and a leap into the future of Highlife. The opening track Amina is a Ghanaian childhood game turned Highlife Funk. It draws from the past, pushing it into the future. The title song Making moves sees Santrofi team up with the current booming Afrobeatscene in Ghana: It features Ghanas Newcomers Kofi Jamar and Arathejay. The song talks about trying to survive on the sometimes crazy streets of Accra without loosing your mind. Su nkwa sees Santrofi celebrating their love for typical Sikji Highlife music. And the nostalgic No money, no honey sums up yet another common truth from the streets of Accra. From the opening Highlife funk of Amina to the Ghanaian-childhood-game-turned- boogie-banger Gyae me how, this record will get you dancing.

Led by producer-bassist Kojo Ofori, SANTROFI unites 8 of Accra’s most gifted musicians with a passion for both vintage highlife grooves and a hip hop sensibility. Members of the band have played with leading Ghanaian artists including Ebo Taylor, Pat Thomas, Ambolley, AK Yeboah and highlife pioneer AB Crentsil with whom they recorded just before he passed away - watch out for that!

SANTROFI have shared stage and studio with rising stars of Ghana’s vibrant urban music scene such as Kidi, Yaw Tog, Black Sherif, AratheJay and even Nigerian superstar Wizkid (who has made Accra his second home). The upcoming album sees the band teaming up with some of the most exciting talents in Ghana‘s such as AratheJay and Kofi Jamar.

If you think it is impossible to play a funk groove (or even drill) over a pulsing Highlife clave: SANTROFI will prove you wrong. Listen to the phrasing of SANTROFI‘s horn section, hear the Highlife clave running through every bar of their music. Santrofi are pushing Ghanas Highlifegrooves into the future without loosing its sweet soul. And don’t forget to come and see them Making moves live in your city.

After five solid years on the road, SANTROFI is now ready to release some fresh material. co-produced and mixed by four-time Grammy Award winner Jerry Boys (REM, Ali Farka Toure, Buena Vista Social Club, Orchestra Baobab, Kronos Quartet). Led by producer-bassist Kojo Ofori, SANTROFI unites 8 of Accra"s most gifted musicians with a passion for both vintage highlife grooves and a hip hop sensibility. Members of the band have played with leading Ghanaian artists including Ebo Taylor, Pat Thomas, Ambolley, AK Yeboah and highlife pioneer AB Crentsil with whom they recorded just before he passed away - watch out for that!

TERMINATor, the Seattle and New York based trio, are made up of albie, Lauren Rodriguez, and Veronica Dye. The group sits on the edge of no wave, punk, noise, and sweeping experimental.
TERMINATor united in 2017 under the mission of undermining traditional sound aesthetics and expectations. Consequently, part of the emergence of TERMINATor’s superbly unusual approach was the fact that each member learned their instruments as the project developed.
After releasing singles and the visual EP, “Rat (Hopefully the Boy),” TERMINATor has finally debuted their full length album. “Placate Boring Flesh” emphasizes musical texture over traditional melodies.
Even through growth and refinement of their sound, TERMINATor stays ever consistent in beginner’s mind within their idiosyncratic approach to composition. Discordant, angular, and atonal, TERMINATor weaves in and through itself. The group shines in their live performances, inviting their audience into a beautiful auditory disorientation of roaring textural bravado. TERMINATor sits on your temple in a balance of angular and sweeping shapes moving through coarse soundscapes.
Bottom line, TERMINATor is truly here to destroy.
“An instinctual curiosity guides their songs into unusual and interesting places, as is evident on Placate Boring Flesh. TERMINATor affectionately sucker-punch your expectations about how young modern women rock.” - The Stranger
“Placate Boring Flesh stands as one of the most exciting rock records to come out of the city in a while” - KEXP
“This Seattle-based trio’s record is an experimental, floating world of sound. Dreamlike (but not dreamy) in the most darkly surrealist way—like translating a Leonora Carrington or Miro painting to music.” - Maximum Rock N Roll"

American Standard is the second studio album by American post- grunge band Seven Mary Three. It was released in 1995. The album would be Seven Mary Three’s breakthrough success, rising to number 24 on the Billboard 200 and was certified platinum in the United States and Canada. Many of the songs were rerecorded
versions of tracks off Seven Mary Three’s independent debut, Churn.

The album’s biggest hit single was “Cumbersome” (#1 on Billboard’s Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks, #7 on Hot Modern Rock Tracks, and #39 on the Billboard Hot 100).Other Billboard-charting singles were “Water’s Edge” (#7 on Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks and #37 on Hot Modern Rock Tracks), and “My My” (#19 on Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks).

American Standard will be available as a limited numbered edition of 1000 copies on black & clear marbled vinyl and contains an insert

While music traditions are often defined by established and protected sets of characteristics, popular music in South Africa betrays a willingness to adapt homegrown styles and an enthusiasm to adopt new influences. Musical currents like marabi, goema and mbaqanga help define what makes indigenous jazz unique, but it’s the eclecticism and hybridisation found in South African crates that keeps vinyl archaeologists like Fred “Voom Voom” Spider digging deeper. If we consider jazz to be a global musical dish, it follows that South Africa brings a distinct sonic salsa to the table. Spider calls it “Chakalaka Jazz” after the local tomato, onion and chilli relish that frequently accompanies South African meals. It’s the essential ingredient that unites and spices this diverse selection of tracks spanning the years 1969 through 2003. Featuring locals, exiles and expats with a reverent nod to the golden years of the 1970’s, these rare musical treasures are held together by that magical South African flavour.

Compiled by Fred Spider, Notes by Calum MacNaughton, Executive Producer: Franck Descollonges for Heavenly Sweetness

Over 19 tracks, Wayfaring Strangers: Cosmic American Music mines gold from dollar bin country-rock detritus to reconstruct events as seen from the genre's wild west - Americana's vast private press substructure. As progenitor and contemptuous poster boy for the music that came to be Cosmic American, Gram Parsons found himself mired in a recording career spent mostly in scouting the perimeters of chart success. "He hated country-rock," Parsons collaborator Emmylou Harris would later reflect. "He thought that bands like the Eagles were pretty much missing the point." Parsons had been orbiting the idea of Cosmic American Music for some time. In 1968 he'd parted ways with the Byrds and was looking to take air with a new project. "It's basically a Southern soul group playing country and gospel-oriented music with a steel guitar" he told Melody Maker, on the subject of The Flying Burrito Brothers. So it was that when A&M's Burrito Brothers debut The Gilded Palace of Sin made it to shelves in February of 1969, early adherents to the Cosmic American gospel were already echoing its message from areas flanking Gram Parsons' Southern California hills and canyons. There was F.J. McMahon in coastal Santa Barbara, Mistress Mary further inland in Hacienda Heights, and Plain Jane of Albuquerque, New Mexico, each responding by committing their own private readings to tape before day one of the 1970s. Parsons himself might've disdained them, had he even been aware of such minor ripples, shimmering at the edges of his desert oasis. But these were true believers all the same, given over fully to his roots music concept, each filling vinyl grooves with non-rock instrumentation like fiddle, banjo, and pedal steel guitar, the last undoubtedly Cosmic American Music's most distinguishing stringed signifier. Only too predictably, big labels did the grunt work of confining and defining the movement, as ABC, United Artists, RCA, and more played catch-up with Asylum's raptor rock juggernaut, via backwoods crossover also-rans with names like Gladstone, American Flyer, and Silverado. Twang reigned, the shitkickers kicked shit, and the vaguely western-sounding guitar records piled up. Country-rock became "the dominant American rock style of the 1970s," as Peter Doggett's comprehensive Are You Ready for the Country put it much later. Wayfaring Strangers: Cosmic American Music picks up and dusts off golden ingots from the dollar-bin detritus of that domination, to reconstruct events as seen from the genre's real Wild West-America's one-off private press label substructure.

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

After the recent release of the first pre-single, "One Of These Days," the new and fifth studio album by Mother’s Cake, titled “Ultrabliss”, will be released on October 18, 2024, via Embassy of Music (available for pre-order starting July 17).
Inspired by Stanley Kubrick's cult film “A Clockwork Orange” (1971) and largely free from structural constraints of traditional songs, the Austrian band unleashes their musical imagination with the finest jams and dancefloor fillers. “Ultrabliss” unites nine extremely varied tracks with elements of classic rock, krautrock, and prog-rock that are sure to please fans of Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd, as well as followers of the Red Hot Chili Peppers or British indie icons like Franz Ferdinand, the Arctic Monkeys, or Kasabian. Like its predecessor “Cyberfunk!”, “Ultrabliss” was recorded at Sevenarts Studio, Überlärm Studio, and Moonwalker Productions Studio, and once again sonically brought to life by singer, guitarist, and songwriter Yves Krismer in collaboration with Manuel Renner and Raphael Neikes. Neikes, who plays guitar and keyboards live, has become the fourth band member. Founding drummer Jan Haußels has amicably left the band after the album sessions and will be replaced by Alex Kerbl on drums from now on.

After the recent release of the first pre-single, "One Of These Days," the new and fifth studio album by Mother’s Cake, titled “Ultrabliss”, will be released on October 18, 2024, via Embassy of Music (available for pre-order starting July 17).
Inspired by Stanley Kubrick's cult film “A Clockwork Orange” (1971) and largely free from structural constraints of traditional songs, the Austrian band unleashes their musical imagination with the finest jams and dancefloor fillers. “Ultrabliss” unites nine extremely varied tracks with elements of classic rock, krautrock, and prog-rock that are sure to please fans of Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd, as well as followers of the Red Hot Chili Peppers or British indie icons like Franz Ferdinand, the Arctic Monkeys, or Kasabian. Like its predecessor “Cyberfunk!”, “Ultrabliss” was recorded at Sevenarts Studio, Überlärm Studio, and Moonwalker Productions Studio, and once again sonically brought to life by singer, guitarist, and songwriter Yves Krismer in collaboration with Manuel Renner and Raphael Neikes. Neikes, who plays guitar and keyboards live, has become the fourth band member. Founding drummer Jan Haußels has amicably left the band after the album sessions and will be replaced by Alex Kerbl on drums from now on.

"This is the time that we, who have benefitted from the Last Poets shouldbe able to say, 'it's the Last Poets. It's them we should be honouring, because we did not honour them for so many years_"

KRS One wasn't just addressing the hip hop fraternity when he uttered
those words by way of introducing the video for Invocation - a poem
written thirty years ago, around the time of the Last Poets' last significant comeback. He was speaking to everyone who's been affected by the word, sound and power issuing from the most revolutionary poetry ever witnessed, and that the Last Poets had introduced to the world outside of Harlem at the dawn of the seventies.

In 2018 the two remaining Last Poets, Abiodun Oyewole and Umar Bin
Hassan, embarked on another memorable return with an album -
Understand What Black Is - that earned favourable comparison with theirseminal works of the past, whilst showcasing their undimmed passion andlyrical brilliance in an entirely new setting - that of reggae music. Trackslike Rain Of Terror ("America is a terrorist") and How Many Bullets demonstrated that they'd lost none of their fire or anger, and their essential raison d'etre remained the same.

"The Last Poets' mission was to pull the people out of the rubble o f their lives," wrote their biographer Kim Green. "They knew, deep down that poetry could save the people - that if black people could see and hear themselves and their struggles through the spoken word, they would be moved to change."

Several years later and the follow-up is now with us. The project started when Tony Allen, the Nigerian master drummer whose unique polyrhythms had driven much of Fela Kuti's best work, dropped by Prince Fatty's Brighton studio and laid down a selection of drum patterns to die for. That was back in 2019, but then the pandemic struck. Once it had passed, the label booked a studio in Brooklyn, where the two Poets voiced four tracks apiece and breathed fresh energy, fire and outrage into some of the most enduring landmarks of their career. Abiodun, who was one of the original Last Poets who'd gathered in East Harlem's Mount Morris Park to celebrate Malcolm X's birthday in May 1968, chose four poems that first appeared on the group's 1970 debut album, called simply The Last Poets. He'd written When The Revolution Comes aged twenty, whilst living in Jamaica, Queens. "We were getting ready for a revolution," he told Green. "There wasn't any question about whether there was going to be one or not. The truth was many of us still saw ourselves as "niggers" and slaves. This was a mindset that had to change if there was ever to be Black Power." He and writer Amiri Baraka were deep in conversation one day when Baraka became distracted by a pretty girl walking by. "You're a gash man," Abiodun told him. The poem inspired by that incident, Gash Man, is revisited on the new album, and exposes the heartless nature of sexual acts shorn of intimacy or affection. "Instead of the vagina being the entrance to heaven," he says, "it too often becomes a gash, an injury, a wound_" Two Little Boys meanwhile, was inspired after seeing two young boys aged around 11 or 12 "stuffing chicken and cornbread down their tasteless mouths, trying to revive shrinking lungs and a wasted mind." They'd walked into Sylvia's soul food restaurant in Harlem, ordered big meals, then bolted them down and run out the door. No one chased after them, knowing that they probably hadn't eaten in days. Fifty years later and children are still going hungry in major cities across America and elsewhere. Abiodun's poem hasn't lost any relevance at all, and neither has New York, New York, The Big Apple. "Although this was written in 1968, New York hasn't changed a bit," he admits, except "today, people just mistake her sickness for fashion." Umar is originally from Akron, Ohio, but had arrived in Harlem in early 1969 after seeing Abiodun and the other Last Poets at a Black Arts Festival in Cleveland. That's where he first witnessed what Amiri Baraka once called "the rhythmic animation of word, poem, image as word- music" - a creative force that redefined the concept of performance poetry and stripped it bare until it became a howl of rage, hurt and anger, saved from destruction by mockery and love for humanity. When Umar's father, who was a musician, was jailed for armed robbery he took to the streets from an early age where he shined shoes and raised whatever money he could to help feed his eight brothers and sisters. By the time he saw the Last Poets he'd joined the Black United Front and was ready to join the struggle. Once in Harlem, Abiodun asked him what he'd learnt in the few weeks since he'd got there. "Niggers are scared of revolution," Umar replied. "Write it down" urged Abiodun. That poem still gives off searing heat more than fifty years later. In Umar's own words, "it became a prayer, a call to arms, a spiritual pond to bathe and cleanse in because niggers are not just vile and disgusting and shiftless. Niggers are human beings lost in someone else's system of values and morals." And there you have it. It's not just race or religion that hold us back, but an economic system that keeps millions in poverty and living in fear - a system born from political choice and that's now become so entrenched, so bloated on its own success that it's put mankind in mortal danger. It was many black people's acceptance of the status quo that inspired Just Because, which like Niggers Are Scared Of Revolution, was included on that seminal first album. Along with their revolutionary rhetoric, it was the Last Poets' use of the "n word" that proved so shocking, but it would be wrong to suggest that they reclaimed it, since it never belonged to black people in the first place. There's never any hiding place when it comes to the Last Poets. They use words like weapons, and that force all who listen to decide who they are and where they stand. Umar's two remaining tracks find him revisiting poems first unleashed on the Poets' second album This Is Madness! Abiodun had left for North Carolina by then where he became more deeply enmeshed in revolutionary activities and spent almost four years in jail for armed robbery after attempting to seize funds related to the Klu Klux Klan. Meanwhile, the 21 year old Umar was squatting in Brooklyn and had developed close ties with the Dar-ul Islam Movement. A longing for purity and time-honoured spiritual values underpins Related to What, whilst This Is Madness is a call for freedom "by any means necessary," and that paints a feverish landscape peopled by prominent black leaders but that quickly descends into chaos. "All my dreams have been turned into psychedelic nightmares," he wails, over a groove now powered by Tony Allen's ferocious drumming. Those sessions lasted just two days, and we can only imagine the atmosphere in that room as the hip hop godfathers exchanged the conga drums of Harlem for the explosive sounds of authentic Afrobeat. Once they'd finished, the recordings and momentum returned to Prince Fatty's studio, since relocated from Brighton to SE London. This was stage three of the project, and who better to fill out the rhythm tracks than two key musicians from Seun Anikulapo Kuti's band Egypt 80? Enter guitarist Akinola Adio Oyebola and bassist Kunle Justice, who upon hearing Allen's trademark grooves exclaimed, "oh, the Father_ we are home!" Such joy and enthusiasm resulted in the perfect fusion of Nigerian Afrobeat and revolutionary poetry, but the vision for the album wasn't yet complete. He wanted to create a new kind of soundscape - one that reunited the Poets with the progressive jazz movement they'd once shared with musicians like Sun Ra and Pharoah Sanders. It was at that point they recruited exciting jazz talents based in the UK like Joe Armon Jones from Mercury Prize winners Ezra Collective, also widely acclaimed producer/remixer and keyboard player Kaidi Tatham, who's been likened to Herbie Hancock, and British jazz legend Courtney Pine, whose genius on the saxophone and influence on the UK's now vibrant jazz scene is beyond question. The instrumental tracks on Africanism are in many ways as revelatory and exciting as the Last Poets' own. It's important to remember that the kaleidoscope of styles and influences we're presented with here aren't the result of sampling but were played "live" by musicians responding to sounds made by other musicians. That's where the magic comes from, aided by Prince Fatty's peerless mixing which allows us to hear everything with such clarity. Music fans today have grown accustomed to listening to all kinds of different genres. Their tastes have never been so broad or all- encompassing, and so the music on this new Last Poets' album is as groundbreaking as their lyrics, and perfectly suited to the era that we're now living in. John Masouri

History brackets Jan and Dean with friends the Beach Boys as
stereotypical young Californians – all-American surfers with bikiniclad girls on their arm. Yet they had a history before they fell in with
the Wilson brothers, beating Brian and company to the charts by a
matter of four years. Their success also helped Los Angeles emerge
as a musical centre of the United States. The major labels of the
time were based in New York and Chicago, and the city’s major
leisure industries were television and cinema. This album focuses
on the early years, including a couple of the rare Jan and Arnie
songs, to give the fullest possible background to a classic pop
partnership.

In a world of division, BEÃTFÓØT’s delayed second album is as an invitation to unite at a utopian celebration of life. Originally scheduled for release in October 2023 but postponed due to the ongoing Israel/Palestine war, the intrinsically-political ‘TOO CUTE’ has taken on more prominence than the Tel Aviv duo of Udi Naor and Adi Bronicki could have imagined.
“It's more urgent than ever for us to share this now, even though the album has been ready for a while,” says producer Naor. “BEÃTFÓØT are against any war, and believe that people should talk and not use violence - never,” he adds vehemently. “We feel the pain of Palestinians and Israeli loss of life, and are devastated by it. We hope the war will be finished soon and that peace and prosperity will come soon for both sides.”
While both Naor and vocalist Bronicki have been active in protests, charity work and community efforts over the past year - explicitly against the current government in Israel - such values of peace, acceptance, coexistence, inclusiveness and anti-hate from all sides are further instilled in the songs that form ‘TOO CUTE’.
“We're really trying to highlight that there are people here working tirelessly for a brighter future for our ill kids and our neighbour’s kids,” adds Naor, who is also co-founder of techno duo Red Axes. Having had to flee the country with his family, it’s through music that Naor and Bronicki have found hope.
In light of such conflict, the multi-layered yet sonically-bonkers record also enables escapism, which is needed more now than ever. Following their self-titled 2021 debut (released on DJ Tennis’ label Life and Death), ‘TOO CUTE’ is a refreshingly-ridiculous dark-rave rollercoaster which careers between hard-dance, big-beat, post-punk, techno, hyperpop, country and everything in between.
Things blast off at breakneck speed with the chaotic title track’s hyperpop snares, instantly-catchy lyrics (which feel ominously striking considering the war) and a stadium-ready chorus that erupts into rolling breakbeats, punishing EDM and even a nod to The Bloodhound Gang’s ‘The Magic Touch’. Somehow, we’re just three minutes into the record.
The tongue-in-cheek ‘HEART OF LEAD (TAKE IT OFF)’ still bangs despite its silliness, like if Kero Kero Bonito got in the studio with will.i.am. Later, ‘LEO’S SONG (THE SOCIAL MEDIA GUY)’s wittily satirical one-liners - “I just wanna get high with AI” - come thick and fast amid a barrage of glitches and guitars. ‘SUKC MY DIKC !!!’, meanwhile, pairs flute with pulsing hardstyle beats.
While their first record’s experimental explosion captured the pure carnage and energy of the BEÃTFÓØT universe in a conceptual fashion (though remaining polished in its own way), album two is primed to connect with a bigger audience thanks to its pop melodies, structures and songwriting.

Much of ‘TOO CUTE’ was written while the duo toured Europe for the first time, with rough sketches of tracks created in the moment during their incendiary live shows, and then recorded in planes and cars.
If their first record was a case of testing the vibes, album two is more assured and confident within their sonic world. “In the first album, we stepped into the club, metaphorically, and started making eye contact with everyone to figure out the energy,” Bronicki says. “But, this time round, I already had an idea of the story that I wanted to tell to these random people.”
And what is that story? “Radical silliness, or radical fun – that’s the essence of BEÃTFÓØT,” Naor confirms. “What we really want to do is goof around and have fun, and that brings out something very profound and honest,” he explains. A sense of nostalgic freedom is also at the album’s core, thanks to the removal of adult predetermined social constructs that decide how people should behave or look. “There’s a very honest and positive energy in holding onto your childlike wonder and trying to explore that with others,” Bronicki suggests, adding that “the adult world can be so wrong and angering”.
She feels this relates to both the album’s lyrics and the artistic state of mind that the duo always work to: “the goal is to feed a really thought-out and profound idea, but through a playful spoon,” she says. With this in mind, the recurring theme of ‘TOO CUTE’ stems from the duo’s “radical and lived experience of existing in a place that holds a lot of guilt and fear – because death is so imminent and prevalent in a very confronting way”. This is clearly represented on ‘FOOTYLICIOU$’, on which Bronicki screams “someone’s gonna die tonight!” before emphatically shouting “NOT ME!”
The album title is BEÃTFÓØT’s response to that: “We want to be a celebration of life, and that applies to all lives, of all backgrounds, including animals… that’s our guiding light,” Bronicki says.
“We create in the context of living in a country where the current government’s anti-democratic measures are limiting who is included in the celebration of life. Because different people are always being pushed out and excluded: whether it’s queers, Palestinians or people from different religions.”
BEÃTFÓØT - who have found a home among the LGBTQIA+ community - are fighting back against oppression. “We want everybody to come to the party and celebrate life together,” says Naor, setting out his and Bronicki’s mission… “and our goal is to widen that party as wide as it can go.”




c MANIAC ft. Princess Rani

e WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE ft. Bugle Boy



c MANIAC ft. Princess Rani

[e] WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE [ft. Bugle Boy]



[c] MANIAC [ft. Princess Rani]

[e] WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE [ft. Bugle Boy]

NOW Music is proud to present the newest addition to the ‘Yearbook’ series: NOW – Yearbook 1981. NOW – Yearbook 1981; a celebration of the eclectic and creative brilliance of the year in pop. 4 CDs of 85 tracks that defined the charts in 1981. Available on a 4CD special edition which is housed in ‘hard-back book’ packaging, including a 28-page booklet with a summary of the year, a track-by-track guide, a quiz, and original singles artwork, and as a standard 4-CD package. A limited edition 3LP set pressed in translucent red vinyl, limited to 3,000 units and a 4CD set

Hank Dogs – Andy Allan, his partner Piano and Lily, Andy’s daughter from a previous relationship - started out at folk clubs in London in the early 1990s before going worldwide in 1998 when legendary producer and late 60s Folk Rock guru, Joe Boyd declared them the first British act he'd loved in 30 years. Their debut album ‘Bareback’ saw them touring the US with Joan Baez and winning fans with their quiet, haunting sound featuring ethereal vocal harmonies, strong traces of blues and Celtic music and Allan’s fluid acoustic finger-picking recalling UK folk guitarists such as John Renbourn. Another part of their appeal, particularly in the States, was their ‘Carter Family’ image but then, when Andy and Piano split-up in real life, so did the band. A follow up album ‘Half Smile’ appeared in 2002 but this turned out to be their swansong. However, the story was not quite over yet.. a third unreleased album ‘Fiveways’ had been recorded before they went their separate ways and now it’s finally seeing the light of day on South London label Scratchy Records, plus the band are re-uniting for some long overdue gigs to celebrate the release. ‘Fiveways’ contains much of the Hank Dogs’ trademark English folk/US country-straddling sound. Piano’s voice bounces between early Suzanne Vega, Tracey Thorn and Mary Margaret O’Hara with occasional hints of Dolores Cranberry and Bridget St. John, while underneath the acoustic guitars run freeform tangled and Lily’s backing vocals add sky. Stand out track ‘Logic’ with its pensive lyrics and haunting guitar line recalls the way Suzanne Vega (her again) could sometimes make songs stand still in their tracks but it’s the dreamy ‘Nut’ that really captures the mood “You had me when I was sweet as a nut.. Not sweet enough” sings Piano. This is the sound of two ex-lovers still able to work together but unable to hide the odd dig here and there.. like a follow up album a couple of years later on from ‘Blood On The Tracks’. Andy sings a few songs too including the raggedy, swashbuckling ‘Gazetteer’ revolving around a ‘Pre-CBS Maple neck Sunburst bought off The Pretty Things’ and hinting at a whole lifetime of music biz escapades from watching his dad Elkan Allan produce 60s TV show ‘Ready Steady Go’ to a stint on bass in The Professionals along with Steve Jones and Paul Cook. Next year the story carries on with his long-running South East London ‘Easycome’ club night featuring in US TV queen Lena Dunham’s new Netflix series ‘Too Much’. Towards the end of the album an angelic setting of Dylan Thomas’s ‘Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night’ in the song ‘Nod’ recalls Christmas TOTP number ones from days gone by and captures Hank Dogs ability to transport the listener. This album is definitely one for the dreamers. FFO Pentangle, The Innocence Mission and William Blake

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

In a simultaneous act of defiance and impishness, Sham Family are etching their name in the wet concrete out front of the establishment. Hailing from the vibrant music scene of Toronto, Canada, the dynamic quartet is emerging as a prominent voice in the contemporary post- punk landscape.

To know Sham Family is to witness them perform live in the flesh. From the very first note, the room teeters between collective catharsis and a sort of beautiful, focused chaos. Blisteringly loud and remarkably lush, their live show is not only a testament to the meticulous craftsmanship of their music, but a downright physical feat. Broken strings, sweat, and the occasional minor lesion are collateral damage that only serves to strengthen their ultimate goal: deliver the loudest, most captivating show utte rly possible. Catching the attention of the newly formed Wavy Haze Records, spearheaded by indie icons Born Ruffians, Sham Family were the first non-Ruffians to join the label’s esteemed roster.
In 2022, they released their debut self-titled EP: a strikingly raw introduction to their leave-it-all-on-the-floor brand of shoegazey punk. The release quickly gained traction, propelling Sham Family onto stages across the United States and Canada. Now, Sham Family are gearing up to release their highly-anticipated full-length album, A Deaf Portrait of Peace, in 2024. Produced by the renowned Graham Walsh (METZ, Debby Friday, Preoccupations, Alvvays), the record promises to embody the propulsive ener gy of their live performances while venturing into uncharted sonic territories.