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Ever since jazz took its bop and free turn, each generation solved this eternal equation: how do you reconcile serious music and simple pleasure? On each of these occasions opinion was divided between orthodoxy and hedonism.

Trained in the theoretical rigours of classical music and jazz, experts on their instruments, and brought up on hip-hop culture, techno and house club scenes, Matthieu Llodra and Arthur Donnot - composers of KUMA – go against the conventional rules because they like to challenge their musical boundaries.

"Honey & Groat" is just like a bear (KUMA in Japanese, emblem of the band): behind the sweetness and apparent placidity, plenty of power. The resulting urban groove is reminiscent of 70's soul jazz with a contemporary sound: where instrumental talent meets pop simplicity.

Auf dem zweiten Album des in Chicago lebenden Produzenten und Sozialarbeiters Dominic Voz verschmelzen Ambient, Klassik, Spoken Word und dekonstruierte Dance Music zu einem Werk von viszeraler Schönheit und berauschenden Ideen. 'Right To The City' setzt sich mit Themen der urbanen Anfechtung und Enteignung auseinander und zelebriert unser gemeinschaftliches Gefüge angesichts der sozialen Schichtung und der endemischen Gewalt des heutigen Kapitalismus. Das Album ist die erste gemeinsame Veröffentlichung von Accidental Records, dem Zentrum für experimentelle Veröffentlichungen des renommierten Elektronikmusikers Matthew Herbert, und Beacon Sound aus Portland, einer festen Größe für großartige und innovative Musik aus dem pazifischen Nordwesten und darüber hinaus. Auf 'Right To The City' sind mehrere Kollaborateure vertreten, darunter Patricia Wolf (Balmat) und Jonathan Sielaff von Golden Retriever (Thrill Jockey).

The latest album from Randy Randall, guitarist and multi-instrumentalist
of tireless Los Angeles experimental punk duo No Age, Sound Field Vol
2020, continues the iconoclastic weirdo ripper's series of audiovisual
urban excursions in a contemplative set of ambient compositions
exploring the abandoned expanse of pandemic-era Los Angeles
"Vol. 2020 is named as such (and not 'Vol. 2') because of the massive psychic
shift that occurred at the beginning of the global pandemic and subsequent
lockdown," says Randall. The project took root in the earliest days of lockdown, as
the absence of perennial, man- made din revealed the secret lives and hidden
contours of the world without us: The cacophony of birds on empty boulevards;
the rhythmic click cycles of unmanned escalators; PA announcements
reverberating back into themselves across abandoned transportation terminals;
nocturnal choruses of wildlife reverberating across hillsides under a planeless
sky.We listened inwards, too, recontextualizing ourselves as we reckoned with an
abrupt and collective halt never thought possible in our lifetime, as if someone
had pressed mute on the world. Little did we know what would come. With no
choice but to confront the present, we gave ourselves over to a brief moment of
fear mixed with wonderment, alone, together.

Durty Geeks are a band at the boundary between Soul, Funk and Hip Hop born in 2013. The lineup is quite uncommon in the Italian
music scene, despite the usual four elements: Federico “Piezo” Pezzotta, on the electric piano, keyboards and synths; Francesco “Frenz” Crovetto, founding member and drummer of OTU; Gregorio "Greg" Conti, bass player also part of Verbal and Bangarang!; Edoardo “DJ Edo” Fumagalli, on the turntables and samplers.

The Durty Geeks sound universe is an illegitimate son of Hip Hop, but without the main element ‐ the voice ‐ replaced by scratches and
samples. This produces an instrumental form that winks at the American soul and funk of the 60s and 70s, as well as the Italian compo‐ sers who in those same years signed cult movie soundtracks: Piccioni, Nicolai, Bacalov, Trovaioli to name a few.

From “La Dama Rossa uccide sette volte" to "The Mack", the sound flows like a second feature film screening. A sequence shot that
does not indulge in the past but that leads straight into modernity thanks to the more contemporary interventions of synth and scrat‐
ches, and to sporadic experimentations in electronics.

The first EP "We Gun Make It" was released in 2014, an exploration of the american imaginary linked to weapons, between urban and
rural contexts, containing 3 tracks, self‐produced and printed by CORPOC.

The first full length album is "Also Starring", 9 tracks plus 5 skits mixed by Tommaso Colliva (Muse, Afterhours, Caliber 35 etc.) which
constitutes an instrumental journey through B‐movies filmography, citing cinema subgenres such as wuxia, blaxploitation and italo hor‐
ror.

2022 Repress

Feel Fly is the alter ego of Daniele Tomassini: DJ and producer, composer of sound for theater and cinema, member of multiple hybrid projects, both live and studio. Based in Perugia (IT), the co-founder of the monthly party Afro Templum, has been for years an active organizer of musical and cultural events in the underground city scene. Raised between the walls of the historical and transversal Norman Club, he is currently a resident of the Tangram and Numbers parties at Perugia’s Urban Club, which led him to share the console with many important national and international artists. An avid collector of synths, keyboards and any noisy toy he can lay his hand on, after appearances on on “Roots Underground” and his own"Too Romantic” it’s now time for his first full length release “Syrius” on “Internasjonal” co-produced and mixed by Prins Thomas. “In the mystical crescendo of soft cosmic-melodic carpets and expansive Balearic pulses, Feel Fly tinges his sounds with Neo Disco, House, Synth-pop and Italo incursions. A slow pilgrimage permeated by immersive and dreamy beats that envelop you .” Prins Thomas , April 2019

On his fourth solo album, much as in Oh! (2020), the French composer, pianist and vocalist follows his ongoing exploration of the crossroads between poetry and songs, piano and synth, old-time verses and contemporary sounds. Inspired by the rhythms, effects and speech patterns of urban music, he also delivers, with a warm and moving voice, the texts of three poetesses from the past.
Since 2013, Ezéchiel Pailhès has been crafting a unique French synth pop. On his first three albums, he switched between songs inspired by poetry, instrumental ballads and electronica with hummed
choruses. This latest record is a collection of eleven new songs, two of which he wrote: "Opaline" and "Ni toi, ni moi" (neither you nor me). The others are adaptations of poems written in the 16th, 18th and
19th centuries by French poetesses Louise Labé (1524-1566), Marceline Desbordes-Valmore (1786- 1859) and Renée Vivien (1877-1909).
Poetesses from the past...
From classical music to songs, poetry adaptation is an old French tradition. "My universe has always embraced the musicality of this literary genre," the artist recalls. He actually started this project in 2017 with poems and sonnets by William Shakespeare, Pablo Neruda, Victor Hugo and above all Marceline Desbordes-Valmore, who can be heard again on songs such as "Dors-tu?" (Are you sleeping?),
"Élégie" or "L'attente" (The wait). A figure of romanticism, the author left her mark on the early 19th century through the quality of her texts and her formal inventions, particularly praised by Balzac, and
apparently a decisive influence on Verlaine and Baudelaire. "Marceline's poetry is very musical," says Ezéchiel admiringly. "Her use of rhythm and repetition sounds great and takes on a new perspective when set to music. In fact, she wrote some of her texts with singing in mind.”
“Ces longs secrets dont l'amour nous accuse, Viens-tu les rompre en songe à mes genoux ? Dors-tu, ma vie ! ou rêves-tu de moi ?”
“These long secrets for which love accuses us, Do you come to my knees to break them in a dream?
Are you sleeping, my life! or do you dream of me” (“Dors-tu ?”, after “Les pleurs” (the tears), 1833)
Besides her, we find the more famous, and rebellious, Renée Vivien, whose texts inspired three songs, "Regard en arrière" (Looking backwards), "Mélopée" (Melopoeia) and "La fille de la nuit" (The
night girl). Sometimes nicknamed "Sapho 1900", this figure of lesbian culture and, more broadly, of female genius, combined in her work the themes of desire, dreams, melancholy and the relationship with nature.
“Ta forme est un éclair
Ton sourire est l’instant Tu fuis, lorsque l’appel
T’implore, ô mon Désir !”
"Your shape is a spark of lightning
Your smile, the very moment
You flee, when the calling
Begs you, O my Desire!"
(After “Parle-moi, de ta voix pareille à l’eau courante” (Speak to me, with a voice like flowing waters) and “Ta forme est un éclair” (Your shape is a spark of lightning), Renée Vivien, 1901)
Lastly, with "Tant que mes yeux" (As long as my eyes), Ezéchiel was inspired by a 1555 poem by Renaissance poet Louise Labé, whose main topic explored female love, physical and spiritual desire,
and the torments and pains they generate.
" At the start of the project ", Ezéchiel continues, " I was interested in many poets, men and women, past and present, before my selection was narrowed down to these three female authors. Their works,
often written in difficult or secret conditions, express a raging romanticism, a passionate soul, fuelled by desperate and tormented love. I found it interesting, as a man coming from another world and time, to face this otherness, to trade viewpoints. Obviously, I could loudly claim that the album was the result of a concept, that it reflects today's world, and that it allows me to explore the notion of gender,
giving visibility to the work of a few women, while at the same time pairing these ancient texts with a more modern and rhythmic music, and obviously, there is some truth in that. But more than anything, I
wanted to serve the text itself, to express the emotion and connection I felt with these works.”
Today's rhythms and prosody...
Ezéchiel Pailhès combines texts from French literature with electronic music, its effects and rhythms, as well as a form of scansion that echoes rap, R&B or the current fusion between hip hop and pop,
which is part of our musical background and that of younger generations. "I wanted to cross-reference texts from the beginning of the century with this type of music. I wanted to use today’s techniques to tell the tale of different daily lives and experiences.
The album is thus marked by contemporary electronic orchestrations, in which he drops his favourite instrument, the piano, and his digital collage technique to use more extensive synth melodies, enhanced by drum machines, bringing a gentle and bright vibe to the romantic texts. Lastly, we can hear slight digital tones of Auto-Tune, which Ezéchiel uses sparingly and inventively.

Beyond its sophistication, the term "melopoeia" means a "sung declamation", a "recitative song", sometimes interpreted in a monotonous way. On this album, it could also refer to a sense of phrasing, which does not come from rap, but rather from jazz, Ezéchiel's first love. " In the past, I tried to hide my jazz culture, but it naturally came back on this new album, as can be heard, for instance, in Regard en arrière.” With its verses anchored in our literary memory, the following track "Mélopée", perfectly illustrates the album's vision. It manages to transcend eras, mixing past romanticism with a modern
prosody, fuelled by the nonchalance of hip hop and the warm chords of jazz.
“Qu’un hasard guide enfin mon désespoir tranquille
Vers l’eau d’une oasis ou les berges d’une île,
Où je puisse dormir, mon voyage accompli,
Dans la sécurité profonde de l’oubli”
"May chance guide my quiet sorrow, at last
To the water of an oasis, the shores of an island,
Where I may sleep, having traveled my way,
In the safe depths of oblivion".
(After “Sillages” (Trails), René Vivien, 1908)

First vinyl edition of these homemade electronic tracks, recorded in a primitive bedroom studio between 1993 and 1994 by Mahk Rumbae, a British born fan of synths and drum machines. A surprising crossover, as it alternates between the soft balearic sound heat and the urban indu-electro rigour.

“I think it’s a mistake to equate ‘perfection’ with flawlessness. To be human is to be perfectly flawed,” Johanna Warren observes while describing the joys of analog recording. Her new LP Lessons for Mutants was tracked live with a band to two inch tape—a revelatory new way of working for Warren. “Tape forces you to commit to a performance, eccentricities and all. The little glitches and anomalies that we’re tempted to ‘correct’ are often what make a thing magical.”

Lessons for Mutants is the prolific songwriter’s sixth solo LP and her second for Wax Nine/Carpark Records. The album’s running theme of metamorphosis (the title of the closing track, “Involvulus,” is Latin for “caterpillar”) reflects major changes in Warren’s personal life: after a decade of relentless touring, as the world was closing its borders, the American multi-instrumentalist unexpectedly found herself quarantining in rural Wales, where she’s now permanently homesteading.

Though tracking for the new album began in New York in 2018 in tandem with the sessions for 2020’s Chaotic Good, the majority of Lessons for Mutants was recorded in the UK surrounded by sheep, cows and a forager’s paradise of wild edible plants—a far cry from the urban jungle of LA that Warren had most recently called home. The body of work that emerged from this dramatic about-face is Warren’s most dynamic to date, shapeshifting seamlessly from searing punk screams to sparkly psych-folk soundscapes, from the bootleg ambivalence of Dylan’s Basement Tapes to cosmic stoner grooves reminiscent of Black Sabbath’s acoustic moments.

“Sometimes I can relate to myself/ I disassociate more than I’d like to, but what can you do?” Warren croons in “Tooth for a Tooth,” a wistful piano ballad that conjures the grainy romance of some smoke-filled 1940s jazz club. This kind of to-the-bone lyrical honesty has always been one of Warren’s strong suits, but these latest reflections are especially unflinching. Being forced to stop touring brought no shortage of self-examination for Warren, who quickly came to view her history on the road as an addiction from which she’s been detoxing. This sentiment dances through opening track “I’d Be Orange,” a drum-driven indie rock number replete with Beatles-esque male backing vocals: “Thirst for power, hunger for fame/ Always was a junkie for pain,” Warren confesses. This exploration of masochistic ambition and artistic martyrdom overflows into grunge anthem “Piscean Lover”: “It’s alright, we’re not ok/ We burn out not to fade away.”

“There’s this unspoken rule in modern music—modern life, really—that everything needs to be Auto-Tuned and ‘on the grid,’” Warren concludes. “This record is an act of resistance against that. There’s beauty and power in our aberrations, if we can embrace them.”

Sechs Jahre nach seinem Debütalbum "Butter", in denen der fleissige Produzent u.a. mit seinem Projekt TNGHT (zusammen mit Partner Lunice) vorführte, wie man EDM und HipHop zu einem neuen modernen Clubsound vermengt, bietet sein Zweitling "Lantern" alles, was wir uns gewünscht, aber niemals erwartet hätten. "Lantern" ist ein Fusion-Album, das alles kristallisiert, woran Hudson bislang gearbeitet hat, ein Entwurf seines Masterplans. Eine moderne Fusion von avantgardistischem Ansatz und urbaner Pop-Sensibilität, intensiv und dynamisch orchestriert. Ein zeitloser, in die Zukunft blickender, neuer Massstab für Pop und Soul Musik. Herausragende Beispiele dafür sind die potentiellen Singletracks "Very First Breath" mit dem französischen R&B-Sänger Irfane, der chorale Hurricane namens "Warriors" mit dem kalifornischen Mysterium Ruckazoid an seiner Seite, sowie die elegische Symphonie "Indian Steps" mit Antony Hegarty on vocals.

"I grew up loving all different kinds of music. I loved everyone from Elvis to the Eagles to Merle Haggard to Earth, Wind and Fire to Queen. As a songwriter, I’ve had not only the great opportunity but pretty decent success writing songs in multiple genres. I felt it was finally time to embrace the same opportunity not only as a writer but as a singer. It’s my voice that supplies the common thread of all the different types of songs I wrote for this album”, says Richard. Songwriter showcases four sides of Richard Marx with 20 brand new songs crossing four musical genres - Pop, Rock, Country and Ballads on red colored double vinyl. Co-writers on the set include Keith Urban, Darius Rucker and Burt Bacharach.

TRACKLIST: POP 1.. Same Heartbreak Different Day 2. Only A Memory 3. Anything 4. Moscow Calling 5. Believe In Me ROCK 1. Shame On You 2. My Love, My Enemy 3. Just Go 4. One More Yesterday 5. We Are Not Alone COUNTRY 1. Everything I’ve Got 2. Misery Loves Company 3. One Day Longer 4. Breaking My Heart 5. We Had It All BALLADS 1. Always 2. Still In My Heart 3. Maybe 4. As If We’ll Never Love Again 5. Never After

Anthology of some the earlyest french Hardcore producers.
Featuring Yann Dub from Brest, who passed away 10 years ago in Barcelona playin guitar in the a bar... Peace to him and his familly.

Playing experimental music since the 90's, creating "Reverse Studio" in Paris in Y2K (we did a lot of cut with him...) and then moving away to Barcelona, cutting again... His brother took over with DK Mastering studio... His cutting machine is now in Belgium at Angström Studio... The story continues...
Explore Toi is Explore Toi Crew. Also early french Hardcore music producer, golden age where musicians were nameless... Everybody knows his label(s) as a CYBER Hardcore pure creation... Visual and musical artist.
Alive and kicking, active !

Big respect for this high ranking production, with locked grooves and remastering.

All tunes are improvisations from the 90's.

Don't miss !!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vessels promise an escape from responsibilities towards the landscape, they facilitate our avoidance of conscientiously feeling our attachment to the mainland. The visual nothingness of deep water and clean horizons fools the brain and delivers a treacherous feeling of independence.

We ignore the truths expressed by landscapes, so we mould them into urban projects for our strange desires. We clean up the irrationalities by which nature constructs itself. Then we look up to the skies, where the abstractions we have to draw in our minds should reside and inspire us.

We peer into the various shades of blue above the waters, the emptiness guarantees possibilities of our abstractions becoming realities. The apathetic stare into neat, straight horizons transforms our ancestral landscape into dirt and danger, when looking back to it.

To be on a ship under quarantine, is an upside down experience, for the promised escape has turned into a forced paralysis. The Lima flag (? - ? ?, in morse code), presented on the outer sleeve of this record, indirectly demands of all passengers to stay aboard and contemplate their escape from the land they now desire to return to.

These four piano pieces could be considered as a classical sonata (allegroadagio-scherzo-rondo). In a recital they are accompanied by four video pieces by artist Karl Van Welden. We picked the videos out of his extensive archive, choosing images intuitively while listening to the piano music. The theme of ships relating to quarantine thus came unannounced but of course, we were in the middle of the pandemic at the time.

Solastalgia was already waiting as a title for the new album before march 2020. I first came across the word in Underland, a book by Robert Macfarlane (2019). He defines the word as "The unhappiness of people whose landscapes are being transformed about them by forces beyond their control". These forces and this unhappiness are, I believe, what constitutes the modern human. Solastalgia, about the music We haven't found them yet, the words to talk to each other about the worrying signs of climate change. Feeling worried when walking on autumn leaves in the beginning of August should be completely normal. But how do we communicate about it? We don't want to be just the next hysterical doomer.

With this music I try to focus on the climate pain itself, gently inviting the listener to investigate their latent feelings of unease and growing concerns about the environment. As in real life, we circumvent the real issues because they are just too big, there are no words, no expressions yet.

This album tries, in four different attempts, to carve out a path towards communicating about a deeper pain that eventually will connect us all. My general method is to start with a comforting melody, full of fake nostalgia, which, after changing gear to autodestruct mode, morphs into a painful question mark.

The first part sets off with an idyllic melody, accompanied by repeated notes, as a far, muted echo of an alarm. The melody starts to explain itself painfully into a dissonant whirlwind in the high register, sounding not unlike Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit bravura. In the second piece a warm Beatles like melody (And I love her) gets confronted with the weird hippie mantra of a later Lennon song War is over, if you want it. Sentences get reduced to syllables and result in lonely notes that crash and shiver under the burden of too much meaning. Like Shostakovich's latest work, the Sonata for viola and piano.

The descending melody of Bach's Erbarme dich, Mein Gott is echoed in the upper and lower voicings of the third piece, juxtaposed to a typical, threatening Ennio Morricone Western dotted rhythm accompaniment. This rhythm eventually evolves into citing the 1972 Captain Beefheart early ecological warning song Blabber and Smoke (there's a big pane/pain in your window, it's gonna hang you all,... dangle you all). Towards the middle of the piece, the music explodes and the three layers get dispersed all over the keyboard in a virtuosic maelstrom towards another painful question mark. The bitter answer is going back to business with a barely noticeable citation of the first notes of the RZA's Liquid Swords album.

The final piece is some kind of mantra, the same 7/4 pulse all throughout the piece. The dampers of all A's and B's on the keyboard are released by the middle pedal, thus sustaining an ever present resonance. Melodic cells alternate in shifting quantifications with small, bell like percussive cluster playing. While composing this piece an image crept up: walking out of the church on Sunday morning, tolling bells enthusiastically moderating the churchgoers' small talk in the local dialect. Apparently I have tried to evoke this kind of conversation, but injecting it with fictitious alarming conversation topics, the contemporary.

Frederik Croene (August '22)

"A gang of stylish demons discover a wild animal pacing around a Berlin cellar, wearing only a hawaiian shirt and someone else’s blood. He doesn’t know what day it is, just that he went to a party several months ago and hasn’t been to sleep since. They lovingly rescue and rehouse the wretched creature in a glaas box where he’s content to howl his paranoid chants all day for their entertainment and now ours. This debut lays out a mangled inventory of fractured memories, haunted visions of broken people and places making a sacred ritual out of ruining themselves. These are hymns to so many nights gone so far wrong, from the graveyard sex to the extra bump you might have resisted had the urge to feel something not overtaken you… Employing an elevated and reinvigorated version of the ‘modern post punk with anarcho flourishes’ mode, with whirring synthesisers and creepy keys signpost into even more disorienting territory, GLAAS create a creepy and compelling soundtrack to the romantic nihilism of urban decay: disturbing lifestyle choices but make it sexy." - Bryony Beynon Featuring members of Clock Of Time, Exit Group, Cage Kicker, Idiota Civlizzatto, Lacquer and more. This is the debut LP from GLAAS. The LP comes housed in a sleeve with linocut artwork as well as an additional A2 poster from Raquel Torre and an additional lyric sheet.

The 16-track album opens with “War & Wonders'' as Smoke begins his journey foreshadowing an upcoming battle featuring impassioned flows and rhymes describing the violent challenges of urban living. The track opens with a storyline of Smoke getting knocked down from his ongoing battles and a woman calling his name to wake up. The narrative then progresses with latest singles “Shame On You” and “Common Sense” featuring SiR commenting on humanity’s unique simplicity and embracing our differences. At the core of the album, “Stay True” featuring John Legend accentuates the meaning of living your best life by staying true to your authentic self regardless of what life throws your way and the hardships you may face. Then “Good Thing” featuring Ty Dolla $ign offers an upbeat, positive track bringing light to companionship and finding joy in life through many avenues. Smoke wraps the project with rhythmic, jazz infused “Free Write” reflecting on the crusade of each track leading to the end of his battles, and bringing awareness to the grieving of his city from politics to systemic racism and his influence on making the situation better for future generations. War & Wonders spotlights poignant themes, necessary social commentary, and the hurdles we overcome in order to appreciate what we have in this life. For Smoke, he showcases Inglewood’s war on losing love, being in love, and battling himself as he is always being led in different directions. It is a continuous journey of learning, growing, self-discovery, and reinventing a better version of himself.

Noah grew up in Hokkaido. Japan's northernmost island, it's an idyllic, snowy place—and a wild, harsh one, too. But it wouldn't be long until, after a stint of living in Aichi Prefecture, found herself living in the tangle of urban centres that is Tokyo. Her production has always been experimental, everchanging, drawing influences from a wide range of styles resulting in a sound that is uniquely her own. Whether it's an R&B feel or the lo-fi magic of vaporwave, her tracks resound with energy and beauty. And, always, her voice weaves like a phantom, emotive, through these exciting soundscapes. Noire is Noah's latest full-length release since 2019's Thirty. Since her debut on FLAU, she has garnered praise from dozens of blogs and media outlets including Dazed & Confused, The Guardian and NYLON, to name just a few, and has worked with producers such as SELA. and kidkanevil.

Directly helping Noah to hone the sound which eventually became 2019's Étoile, her most recent album Noire is a collection of past tracks created between 2015-2020. Through jazz-inflected piano loops and a lo-fi vaporwave sound, alongside carefully considered beats, Noah's latest album showcases the joy of finding freedom in staying up late into the night, and the introspection that comes with it.

This never-before-heard work from Noah is the sound of an artist finding themselves, a maturation. The minimalist tracks—a cocktail of late-night jazz meets Portishead—feature gorgeous space for Noah's crooning vocals to breathe among sprinklings of sampled piano, flute and saxophone. From the emotive line, "The things I've left behind…" on 'Shadow', to the sleepy, far-off sounds of opener 'Twirling', the album showcases a lightness and a sensitivity to self: the joy of night twinned with the inevitable introspection that comes with staying up while the world sleeps.

Coloured Vinyl

WRWTFWW Records is absolutely honored to announce the release of Kenji Kawai’s complete soundtrack to Mamoru Oshii's 1993 superb political thriller science-fiction mecha anime PATLABOR 2: The Movie, available on vinyl for the first time ever and housed in a beautiful heavy gatefold sleeve with obi, as well as on digipack CD. Both versions come with liner notes by the great Masaaki Hara.
A true soundtrack maestro, Kenji Kawai is behind the legendary soundscapes of cult animes and movies such as Ghost in the Shell, Avalon, Ring, Ip Man, and Seven Swords among numerous others. PATLABOR 2: The Movie (Original Soundtrack) is one of his most experimental offerings, an outstanding palette of emotion-filled ambient atmospherics and percussion mastery breathing beautifully through Kawai’s minimalism meets modern classical approach. His symphony of moods paints a delicate picture of urban isolation, a central theme in the movie, but doesn’t hide hints of hope for a joyful future.
PATLABOR 2: The Movie (Original Soundtrack) is an ideal companion to Kenji Kawai’s Ghost in the Shell soundtrack, already available on WRWTFWW Records.

Shen is a quartet from Tel Aviv, constantly switching between genres while searching for truth and patience in the process.
After dealing with urban experiences on their first album back in 2018, Shen has matured and started to explore the power of nature and the dimension of time with their latest offering, recorded at Kibbutz HaOgen, which is located on a kibbutz near Kfar Yona, far from the big cities of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.

2LP im Gatefold-Sleeve. 100% recyceltes & zufällig gefärbtes Re-Vinyl. "Black Screen Records, Videocult, Akapura Games und Komponist James Primate freuen sich darauf, euch erneut bei der akustischen Reise durch die seltsame "Rain World" zu begleiten. Nachdem der Soundtrack jahrelang ausverkauft war, wird er nun endlich neu aufgelegt. Dieses Mal auf 100% recyceltem & random-coloured "Re-Vinyl". Die Musik stammt von Videocult-Level-Designer und Komponist James Primate - mit Unterstützung von Lydia Esrig (die andere Hälfte des Chiptune-Duos BRIGHTMATE) und Rain World-Schöpfer Joar Jakobsson.Die Platte erscheint in einem Gatefold-Sleeve mit atemberaubenden Artwork von Allegra "Del" Northern. Zusätzlich enthalten ist ein 12" Kunstdruck mit weiteren Illustrationen von Del.

Isoviha was recorded four years ago, inspired by ideas that Sasu Ripatti (aka Vladislav Delay) had been reflecting on for a long time. This album is a counterpart to his two Rakka albums which were a personal reflection on the nature and sound-world of the northern Arctic wilderness, 1000 kilometres north of where he lives on the Finnish island of Hailuoto. It's an area he loves to explore, trekking out alone to enjoy its rugged power. However the sound world of Isoviha is a return to man-made civilization. Musically Isoviha presents a more complicated world than Rakka; overloaded and unpredictable, audio archaeology that layers and juxtaposes everyday sounds into intense sculptures of noise and drone. As a musical observation internally and externally, it's influenced by the heightened anxious intensity Sasu feels when returning from the empty wilderness. The ratcheting up of urban noise on Isoviha is built with insistent loops that seem to malfunction the faster they spiral and the dangerous overwhelming potential of ordinary objects and events: shimmering, hammering, crowds, radio distortion, ancient backfiring engines. It's hypermodern musique concrète, married to a jazz drummer's intuitive sense of rhythm. Going back even further in time but still tethered to the local, Isoviha also means 'the great wrath' and refers to a time in Finland under Russian occupation in the 1700s. A time when all the Islanders of Hailuoto were killed, apart from a single couple who were left to bury the dead. As if time is non-linear, the response to toxicity and madness that drives the album feels even more appropriate now than when it was written four years ago and confirmation that the horrors of the past still darken the present.