Buscar:we do it for love

Last year's Big Time brought Angel Olsen to a deeper, truer sense of self than ever before. Borne from the twin stars of grief and love, the album delivered beautiful sense of certainty, the sure-footed sound of an artist fully, finally at home with herself. But within that wisdom comes the realization that there is no finish line, no destination or static end point to life while you're living it, and Forever Means collects songs from the Big Time sessions that hold this common theme. They are, in Olsen's words, "in search of something else." "I was somewhere traveling," says Olsen, "stopped for a few days and wandering the city, and I was thinking `what does `forever' really mean? What are the things I'm seeking in friendship or love, and how can `forever' be attainable if we're always changing?'" Sitting with the reality of that entropy, Olsen realized "maybe the secret to ongoing love is to embrace change as part of love itself, that forever must have something to do with playing, looking, constantly searching things out for yourself, never letting yourself think you're finished learning or exploring." `Forever'", says Olsen, "remains curious while trying also to be kind and honest." All this packs into the four precious songs that comprise Forever Means, songs from Olsen's roads traveled and the ones ahead. "Nothing's free / like breaking free" Olsen sings, comfortable with the costs of her clarity, her heart and voice fixed on the present, the future, the not-yet-known and the beautifully unknowable

Long before today's 'rebellious' pop idols, singers Frank Sinatra,
Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. plus Actor Peter Lawford and
Comedian Joey Bishop had entered showbiz legend as the
genuinely hellraisin' Rate Pack. The handle proved a gift to
journalists chronicling the life and high times of the all-male quintet
whose leading lights were, without a doubt, three of the greatest
entertainers of the 20th Century. Captured on this 3LP compilation
album are some excellent musical memories performed at their best

Die neuseeländische Musikerin und Produzentin Princess Chelsea präsentiert ihr kommendes "nervous breakdown album" "Everything Is Going To Be Alright", das im pastoralen Aotearoa Neuseeland aufgenommen wurde und eine Art Trostspender ist. Es sind keine traurigen Lieder, sondern die beiden Eröffnungs- und Schlusstracks erzählen von Chelseas Genesung und sind als kathartischer Hörgenuss für alle gedacht, die es brauchen könnten. "If you feel you want to die / trust me darling / it just takes time", singt sie in "Time". In der Zwischenzeit zeigen Chelseas sorgfältig geschichtete Gesangsmelodien über Mellotron-Flöten und Harfe, verwoben mit Live-Cello und Violine, ihre Fähigkeiten als Arrangeurin und Produzentin. Princess Chelseas cineastischer, verträumter Pop hat sich in elf Jahren, fünf Alben, einer EP und elf Singles weiterentwickelt. Ihre Vortragsweise und ihr Songwriting zeichnen sich dadurch aus, dass sie eine fast naive Ernsthaftigkeit mit zynischem, augenzwinkerndem Witz und akustischen Funken überlagert. Ihr Grunge-Girlgroup-Song "I Love My Boyfriend" aus dem Jahr 2018 und ihr von Nancy & Lee inspiriertes "Cigarette Duet" aus dem Jahr 2011 haben ihren Bekanntheitsgrad durch den Einfluss einer neuen TikTok-Generation in das öffentliche Bewusstsein gerückt. Für dieses Album wurden Chelseas Instrumentalarrangements von ihrer Live-Band inspiriert, die die Schlafzimmerdemoaufnahmen mit einem überraschenden Sound interpretiert hat. Es klingt anders, als man vielleicht erwarten würde. "The Forest" wurde live in einem Take mit Chelsea und der gesamten Band im beliebten neuseeländischen "The Lab" aufgenommen und zeigt dynamische Gitarrenwände und eine leidenschaftliche Gesangsperformance. Es ist eine markante Abweichung von ihrem bisherigen Schaffen und stellt eine weitere Einführung in das dar, was sie seit der Veröffentlichung der verträumten und doch düsteren Single "Everything is Going To Be Alright" im Februar als ihr "Gitarrenalbum" bezeichnet hat. Chelseas Fähigkeiten als Arrangeurin und Produzentin kommen auf dem Album voll zur Geltung, aber oft in Form von komplizierten Gitarrenarrangements, die an The Cars und die Breeders ("Forever is a Charm") und an klassische neuseeländische Flying Nun-Bands der 80er und 90er Jahre ("Love is More") erinnern. Obwohl das Album eine deutliche musikalische Entwicklung darstellt, sind ihre Markenzeichen immer noch da - klassische 80er Jahre Synths (Yamaha DX7, Roland D-50), vielschichtige Melodien, orchestrale Instrumente, verträumter Gesang, verdrehter Pop, der oft Vergleiche mit Julee Cruise oder Enya gezogen hat.

After co-writing a top five song for Kitty Wells, Mommy For A Day, Buck ended
1959 with a hit of his own, Under Your Spell Again. The next six years brought
many more; Foolin' Around, Under The Influence Of Love and Heartaches By
The Number. However, Owens’ popularity had peaked by the late 1960s. So,
in 1969 he embraced the small screen and became co-host of Country Music
TV programme, Hee-Haw. The arrival on the scene of Country-Rock pioneers
the Flying Burrito Brothers in the late 1960s gave Buck Owens another share
of reflected glory. They loved the raw Hillbilly feel of his music, developed to
compete with the string-laden ‘Countrypolitan’ sound so popular in the early
1960s in the hands of Eddy Arnold, Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline.

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Kristian Matsson has never remained in one place for very long. Having spent much of the last decade touring around the world as The Tallest Man on Earth, Matsson has captivated audiences using, as The New York Times describes, “every inch of his long guitar cord to
roam the stage: darting around, crouching, stretching, hip-twitching, perching briefly and jittering away…Mr. Matsson is a guitar-slinger rooted in folk, and his songs are troubadour ballads at heart.”

Now, Matsson returns as The Tallest Man on Earth with Henry St., his sixth studio album following 2012’s There’s No Leaving Now, full of “vivid imagery, clever turns-of-phrase, and devastating, world-weary observations” (Under The Radar) and 2015’s Dark Bird Is A
Home, his “most personal record… surreal and dreamlike” (Pitchfork). Henry St. notably marks the first time he recorded an album in a band setting. “My entire career I’ve been a DIY person––mostly fueled by the feeling that I didn’t know what I was doing, so I’d just do everything myself.”

But now, longing for the energy that’s only released when creating
together with others, Matsson invited his friends to come and play.
Nick Sanborn (of Sylvan Esso) produced Henry St., which includes contributions from Ryan Gustafson (of The Dead Tongues) on guitar, lap steel and ukulele, TJ Maiani on drums, CJ Camerieri (of Bon Iver) on trumpet and French horn, Phil Cook on piano and organ, Rob
Moose (of Bon Iver, yMusic) on strings and Adam Schatz on saxophone.

Recorded in a little bedroom studio out in Durham, North Carolina, Amelia Meath and Nick Sanborn's debut LP as Sylvan Esso arrived in 2014 at the juncture of pop and experimental. Even now, years later, the LP remains an urgent and fitting introduction to a push-and-pull that would go on to inform the duo's sound - a thoughtful headiness that also wants you to get out on the dance floor. A blend of analog and digital, Meath and Sanborn were two unexpected puzzle pieces fitting together with singular ease, producing a ten-track LP that was both minimalist and shimmering, with dark undulations rippling beneath the synthy-surface and crystalline quality of Meath's voice. Before all of the international touring and festival headlining and critical acclaim, Sylvan Esso was just a shot-in-the dark of musical chemistry gone right. The original album bio for the self-titled presciently sets the stage for the thesis that has gone on to guide Meath and Sanborn's writing since then: "a collection of vivid addictions concerning suffering and love, darkness and deliverance" arriving as "a necessary pop balm, an album stuffed with songs that don't suffer the longstanding complications of that term." And so, even as the band continues to evolve and becomes amorphous, there's still that argument about what pop can be at its core. This is just the beginning of that conversation captured on tape.

In 2015, when we launched Hip Dozer, we were overwhelmed by the amount of talent that was still championing this old school way of making beats and the incredible creativity that was circulating in the scene.

In a period where hip hop was evolving so much and going further (sometimes for the better but also for the worse), it was obvious to us that we had to defend this rising scene of young beatmakers who were so attached to the roots of old-school beatmaking but who were always taking it to another level.

It's been 7 years since we created Hip Dozer Records with our first anniversary compilation and that's what makes this compilation so special every time. Its purpose remains the same and will always be to champion the art of beatmaking that we love and to help showcase new artists in the scene.

This year we are lucky enough to have some of our favourite talents from the scene on board with artists like Saib, Flughand, Phoniks, Cookin Soul, SoulChef and Wun Two.

We would like to say a huge thank you to all the artists who have been involved in this project and who have been as enthusiastic as we are in making it happen. It has been such a pleasure since the beginning of this adventure and this is only the beginning. Much love to all of you who listen and support wherever you are.

Underneath his mysterious metal mask, MF DOOM hides the cachet underground legends are made of. After his first group KMD’s sophomore album Black Bastards was shelved by Elektra in 1994, and his blood brother Subroc — one half of the sibling rap duo — passed away, surviving frontman Zev Love X slowly mutated into the supervillain MC known as MF DOOM, and the rap world is better for it.

The 1999 release of Operation: Doomsday marked MF DOOM’s official debut, reintroducing a mysterious figure who would soon become one of underground rap’s greatest voices. Within its 19 tracks, Operation: Doomsday reveals the confluence of DOOM’s tragic past, personal interests and daring creativity. His clever rhymes and remarkable schemes stood out against the landscape, and every sound he touched — from cartoon theme songs, to ‘80s soul, to rap classics and more — got reinterpreted into something brand new and surreal.

Decades later, MF DOOM is still celebrated for all facets of his work and influence. In the face of tragedy, DOOM re-infiltrated the rap game on his own terms, and crafted an instant cult classic. Operation: Doomsday stands as a testament to the power of betting on yourself against all odds.

The 90’s San Francisco underground electronic scene always commanded a great deal of love and respect here at OCD. It played an important role not only in the development of the global electronic music scene, but also in our personal, never-ending journey of discovery.

Back in 1996, between the early releases of one of the SF’s scene most important and pioneering record labels, Sunburn Records, an EP titled “Plum Pudding EP” by an artist called “Trailmix” appeared. It featured 4 tracks spanning between early hours progressive-house and more gentle, mellow breaks with a hint of electronica.
For many years it has been one of our most favourite record from that scene and era.

27 years later, we’re beyond stoked to have being able to successfully track down that gentleman by the name of Alan Aronoff (Trailmix) who, with no hesitation, allowed us to reissue that special EP on The Secret Sun.

Kristian Matsson has never remained in one place for very long. Having spent much of the last decade touring around the world as The Tallest Man on Earth, Matsson has captivated audiences using, as The New York Times describes, “every inch of his long guitar cord to
roam the stage: darting around, crouching, stretching, hip-twitching, perching briefly and jittering away…Mr. Matsson is a guitar-slinger rooted in folk, and his songs are troubadour ballads at heart.”

Now, Matsson returns as The Tallest Man on Earth with Henry St., his sixth studio album following 2012’s There’s No Leaving Now, full of “vivid imagery, clever turns-of-phrase, and devastating, world-weary observations” (Under The Radar) and 2015’s Dark Bird Is A
Home, his “most personal record… surreal and dreamlike” (Pitchfork). Henry St. notably marks the first time he recorded an album in a band setting. “My entire career I’ve been a DIY person––mostly fueled by the feeling that I didn’t know what I was doing, so I’d just do everything myself.”

But now, longing for the energy that’s only released when creating
together with others, Matsson invited his friends to come and play.
Nick Sanborn (of Sylvan Esso) produced Henry St., which includes contributions from Ryan Gustafson (of The Dead Tongues) on guitar, lap steel and ukulele, TJ Maiani on drums, CJ Camerieri (of Bon Iver) on trumpet and French horn, Phil Cook on piano and organ, Rob
Moose (of Bon Iver, yMusic) on strings and Adam Schatz on saxophone.

Potent, seductive, and raw, Love You Anyway, the new album from singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist Devon Gilfillian is an intoxicating, genre-blasting game changer. A musical polymath with a deep knowledge and love of vintage soul, R&B, rock and hip-hop, the Philly-born, Nashville-based artist’s second full-length LP re-imagines modern soul music by redefining its possibilities. With an incisive eye and unassuming swagger, Love You Anyway, ignites the mind, and makes the body move. Produced by Jeremy Lutito (Joy Oladokun, NEEDTOBREATHE) and recorded in Nashville, Love You Anyway, confronts as well as comforts. Chronicling Gilfillian’s journey as a Black artist living in the tumult of 21st century America, the album’s 10 original tracks, (all co-written by Gilfillian) are as much about fighting for what you believe in, equity and representation, as it is about love: finding it, making it, and channeling it into every facet of our lives.

On Labyrinth, Heather Woods Broderick serves as our reflective host, subverting expectations of conventional songcraft with impressionistic language and quietly relentless explorations of the human experience that's at once light and dark, more circular and less linear. "Many of us yearn for stillness and peace, as an escape from the movement all around us," she explains when asked about the themes of the album. "Yet movement is perpetual, happening all the time on some level. It's as wild as the wind, yet eternally predictable in its inevitability. It is linear in part, but infinite in its circuitry. Our lives just punctuate it." Broderick began crafting Labyrinth in March 2020, when most forms of move- ment were brought to a screeching halt. The Maine-born, Los Angeles-based songwriter _ who, in addition to her work as a solo musician, built a life playing and touring with acts such as Sharon Van Etten, Beth Orton, Damien Jurado, and Efterklang _ was suddenly forced off the road for the first time in her career. She used this disruption as an opportunity to pare down her creation process and construct the scaffolding for Labyrinth in her apartment. Employing only the most crucial tools at her disposal, Broderick found herself opening different artistic doors as she focused on sharpening her recording skills, capturing the majority of the album on her own before finishing the remainder with co-producer D. James Goodwin. For all of Broderick's sage lyricism and vocal authority, Labyrinth never provides the listener with any easy answers. If the image of the labyrinth represents the enormity of modern life and the difficulty of navigating it, Heather Woods Broder- ick provides a guide to its endless kinetic wonders _ of being present, aware, and connected despite its disconnects. She describes the texture of its walls, its indifferent rhythms, and the inherent poeticism of feeling lost amid the dead-ends and unexpected turns. At this point in our history, perhaps that's all we need to keep moving.

Grey Vinyl

On Labyrinth, Heather Woods Broderick serves as our reflective host, subverting expectations of conventional songcraft with impressionistic language and quietly relentless explorations of the human experience that's at once light and dark, more circular and less linear. "Many of us yearn for stillness and peace, as an escape from the movement all around us," she explains when asked about the themes of the album. "Yet movement is perpetual, happening all the time on some level. It's as wild as the wind, yet eternally predictable in its inevitability. It is linear in part, but infinite in its circuitry. Our lives just punctuate it." Broderick began crafting Labyrinth in March 2020, when most forms of move- ment were brought to a screeching halt. The Maine-born, Los Angeles-based songwriter _ who, in addition to her work as a solo musician, built a life playing and touring with acts such as Sharon Van Etten, Beth Orton, Damien Jurado, and Efterklang _ was suddenly forced off the road for the first time in her career. She used this disruption as an opportunity to pare down her creation process and construct the scaffolding for Labyrinth in her apartment. Employing only the most crucial tools at her disposal, Broderick found herself opening different artistic doors as she focused on sharpening her recording skills, capturing the majority of the album on her own before finishing the remainder with co-producer D. James Goodwin. For all of Broderick's sage lyricism and vocal authority, Labyrinth never provides the listener with any easy answers. If the image of the labyrinth represents the enormity of modern life and the difficulty of navigating it, Heather Woods Broder- ick provides a guide to its endless kinetic wonders _ of being present, aware, and connected despite its disconnects. She describes the texture of its walls, its indifferent rhythms, and the inherent poeticism of feeling lost amid the dead-ends and unexpected turns. At this point in our history, perhaps that's all we need to keep moving.

Tape

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Like many debut solo albums from musicians in bands, Jared Mattson’s Peanut didn’t originally come from a need to break away. As a composer for the Mattson 2, Jared Mattson was working up a batch of new songs through the winter of 2019-2020, looking ahead to the next album he and brother Jonathan Mattson, the blitzkrieging drummer, would record. As the pandemic hit stateside, Jared holed up in his home studio and kept developing the new music. And during that process it became increasingly clear to them that this wasn’t shaping up to be the next Mattson 2 album. This was a Mattson 1 album.

Jared had been absorbing the guitar work on records by reggae stalwarts Aswad and Burning Spear, and also the Police’s Andy Summer and the ways he gives songs space. And Jared wanted a prominent bass sound, too, where the guitar itself sometimes settles into the passenger seat so that the bass can drive. Lyrically, the album taps into our rattled world, where anxiety, loss, violence, and regret are sometimes pierced by the promise of love. The time spent working on the album was a profoundly introspective time as he reflected on past relationships while living through and writing during the pandemic, he also never lost sight of this truth about himself: Life is great with music.

One of the album’s standout highlights is “Burn Down Babylon,” which is propelled by the bass’s funk-you-say groove. You don’t often encounter many pop songs with so blunt an opening line as, “I got punched in the face last night by a neo-Nazi,”—a true experience that was delivered many years ago in a bar brawl in Carlsbad, California. But to hear the music that goes along with this tale manages a vibe that is less melee and more backyard jubilee.

When “Please Come Here,” with an intro that slinks along like a Cadillac on a Sunday morning drive, kicks in, it’s typical of the album’s melodic pop flourishes, but the twist here is that the vocals are in Japanese (The Mattson 2 have toured Japan 20 times and covered many Japanese pop songs on 2018’s Vaults of Eternity: Japan). Ween’s “She Wanted to Leave” is the lone cover, but the way Jared reimagines the song makes it fits seamlessly within the album’s sonic template. The song’s inclusion was also a personal way to honor one of Jared’s best friends, who died from cancer two years ago. The two had always bonded over the song and marveled at its inherent beauty. Ultimately, Mattson’s solo debut unfolds like a string of fascinating clouds: These are not songs in a hurry; they shift around as they float by, and, most notably, they carry their unique kind of electric charge.

ElCamino, hailing from Buffalo, New York, had a huge 2022 with the release of his Bethlehem EP with Chase Fetti as well as two solo albums, Let There Be Light and ElCamino 3. ElCamino officially signed to Benny The Butcher’s Black Soprano Family imprint in 2022 and was featured on several acclaimed #BSF releases including “80 Bills,” “We Here” and “Saint Maurice” and the B$F album Long Live DJ Shay. Other collaborations with the likes of 38 Spesh, A$AP Ant, Curren$y, Harry Fraud, Jay Worthy and Keisha Plum have proven ElCamino to be one of the hardest-working artists in the game. His notable performance alongside Wiz Khalifa on “Back to Shore” off of the 38 Spesh and Harry Fraud Beyond Belief album was an easy fan-favorite. Here You Go is another high quality release featuring 9 new tracks with ElCamino standing alone and showcasing his supreme lyrical talent. Pressed On Splatter Colored Vinyl! Limited To 500 Copies Worldwide!

Toy Tonics presents a new producer team: Sound Support consists of two enthusiastic synth and house aficionados that everybody knows (in the scene): Lars Dales from Dam Swindle and Lorenz Rhode (keyboard wizard and producer genius).
Together they are doing extremely groovy, jazz infected dance music that connects the good things of 1990ies house with the indie disco of the 2000s.

Lars Dales & Lorenz Rhode connected through their mutual love for all things musically unusual. After years of having worked together on several projects, such as the Dam Swindle live show, they finally got around to making music together. The result has been nothing less than an avalanche of tracks, mostly made in 4 day coffee fueled studio sessions in Lorenz’ studio in Cologne. All reminding the big funk house tracks of the early 2000s. Yes a lot of Daft Punk is here, A lot of NYC disco influences. Larry Levan and Laurent Garnier, DJ Harvey and Masters at Work.. all influences on this record.

After their first two Sound Support EP’s on Prins Thomas’ label, Internasjonal, they’ve ventured out to House of Disco and other labels with a wide array of immensely enjoyable synth heavy tracks. 2023 sees these two venture more into house territory with releases on AUS music and Toy Tonics, two labels that have cemented themselves deeply into the underground scene. In any case, it’s clear that Sound Support have found its signature sound and there is much more of that to look forward to. Toy Tonics is the key label for the wildstyle house scene and Sound Support fit perfectly. Welcome!

WRWTFWW Records is overjoyed to announce Ar Ais Arís, the third album by Irish producer Gareth Quinn Redmond, following his amazing Satoshi Ashikawa-inspired Laistigh Den Ghleo released in 2019 and this year’s ambient-meets-Irish-traditional-music soundscape Umcheol. The 8-track LP comes as a limited edition of 500 copies worldwide with an artwork by Dublin artist Barry Gibbons and liner notes from Gareth Quinn Redmond himself. It is available in digital format as well.

Ar Ais Arís is Gareth Quinn Redmond’s fortuitous love affair with the art of tape loops - a practice he discovered while performing with Ross Chaney and Myles O’Reilly in late November 2020. Fascinated, he spent months experimenting with the technique: "By cracking open the shell of a cassette, cutting the tape and splicing the ends together, I created repeating sound loops of varying lengths. After reassembling and slotting the cassette into the Tascam Portastudio, I recorded and played back the sounds of the tape loop. These sounds were then manipulated using the pitch wheel to make subtle and warbly inflections to the recordings. This is achieved by speeding up or slowing down the playback speed of the tape, which offers dynamic contrasts in both mood and texture."

The result is 8 deliciously enchanting minimalistic tape loops creating a very rare kind of daydreaming environmental music full of accidental miracles and dusty soothing backdrops. It’s a very very very pleasant listening experience inspiring a feeling of enveloping warmth and gentle coziness, with an uncanny touch of spellbinding magic. Press play.

Gareth Quinn Redmond’s previous albums, Laistigh Den Ghleo, an ode to the work of Satoshi Ashikawa, and Umcheol, mixing ambient with traditional Irish music instruments, are still available on WRWTFWW Records - perfect occasion to complete the collection!