Suche:when nothing remains

Whitney did more than turn Whitney Houston into a pioneering sensation known around the world by her first name. Originally released in June 1987, the singer's blockbuster sophomore record became the first album by a female artist to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart — a position it claimed for a total of 11 weeks en route to selling more than 10 million copies in the U.S. The Diamond platinum effort also contains four No. 1 Hot 100 hits that, when combined with the three chart toppers from her 1985 debut, gave her seven consecutive No. 1 singles — an accomplishment that no other artist has accomplished. Commercially and creatively, Whitney stands on hallowed ground — especially now that the record plays with a sound that puts into perspective just how extraordinary, engaging, and vital Houston's music remains.


Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl at RTI, Mobile Fidelity's 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP of Whitney invites listeners to experience the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee's pivotal album in audiophile quality for the very first time. Free of the dynamic limitations and tonal flatness prevalent on prior vinyl and CD pressings, it lets the music breathe and reveals the copious detail, nuance, and texture within the immaculately produced songs. MoFi's SuperVinyl profile offers further advantages in the forms of a nearly inaudible noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superb groove definition.

In addition to featuring extreme clarity and immediacy, this numbered-edition reissue does wonders for the attribute that inspired more than 20 million people around the globe to add Whitney to their record collections: that inimitable voice. Houston's trademark mezzo-soprano — an acrobatic instrument equally capable of taking off on fantastic flights and unwinding for hushed meditations — benefits from the fantastic airiness and transparency afforded by this meticulously restored edition. Whitney has never sounded or looked better. The crossover landmark deserves nothing less.

Issued just two years after Houston's breakthrough debut, Whitney immediately signalled the genre-defying singer's intent to continue to push ahead and expand her palette. Shot by photographer Richard Avedon, the album cover depicts an iconic image of Houston — captured with a gleaming smile, bright eyes, teased-out afro, toned arms, and a right hand that appears to wave a friendly hello — whose active, athletic profile stands in contrast to the extremely formal sit-down shot of her that graces her '85 record. The change is telling: Whitney overflows with unfettered joy, rhythmic vibes, and deep-seated emotions that forever endeared her to the hearts and minds of countless listeners — and which set the standard for the wave after wave of divas that followed in her footsteps.

It's no coincidence that the first track on Whitney is the declarative "I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)." Like Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" and Madonna's "Material Girl," the feel-good smash is one of the quintessential '80s gems — a lithe, melodic, celebratory release of pent-up energy and loneliness that glides across club floors, shouts to the rooftops, and shrugs off any concerns about vulnerability or embarrassment. Houston's swooping voice moves in sync with the sleek beats and dipping-and-diving synths. She practically takes her fellow musicians by their hand and leads them in a blissful dance that nobody would dare sidestep. Focusing on Houston's singing — a task made challenging only because of the impossible-to-ignore hooks and grooves — showcases the virtuosic facets of not only her register but her control, discipline, smoothness, and warmth.

That she replicates those feats for the entirety of the nearly 53-minute-long album makes Whitney that much more special. Houston reaches back and channels her childhood gospel training on the R&B-flared "So Emotional"; effortlessly slips into Quiet Storm mode on the duet with her mother, gospel great Cissy Houston, on "I Know Him So Well"; flirts with smooth jazz and collaborates with tenor saxophonist Kenny G on the lush "Just the Lonely Talking Again"; conjures dreamscapes and shadow-boxes with supple funk on a romantic cover of the Isley Brothers' "For the Love of You"; and, for the majestic power ballad "Didn't We Almost Have It All," displays the sky-scraping reach of her vocals amid a grand arrangement made even bigger by Houston's sweeping performance and triumphant finish.

Houston's once-in-a-generation talents weren't lost on the adoring public, radio deejays, or industry experts. In addition to harbouring four No. 1 hits and receiving nominations for four Grammy Awards, Whitney generated another Top 10 success in the guise of the Afro-Cuban-leaning "Love Will Save the Day." The album also netted Houston four American Music Awards; two Billboard Music Awards; back-to-back People's Choice Awards; a Soul Train Award; and various other accolades. It all makes the crux of the Washington Post's July '87 review of the album appear prophetic: "Her voice sounds stronger still and the songs are varied but so consistent she could garner 10 Top 10s out of a field of 11."


That claim still holds true. A brilliant fusion of pop, R&B, smooth jazz, and soul, Whitney is a showstopper – and one of the key reasons Houston is the most-awarded female artist of all time.

11th album by the one-of-a-kind collective: psychedelia and free form jazz (not jazz) trigger a sophisticated excursion into weird textures with drastic turns. Dislocated dense music full of secret connections!

Kammerflimmer Kollektief – "Schemen"

Before reason prevails, invoked by those who want everything to remain as it is, Kammerflimmer Kollektief disrupts the established supply chains of sound. It seeks more interesting ways to assemble them. Trusting in this, because of the fact that every sound that still comes out of a guitar, a bass, a harmonium, drums and electronic devices has already been taken into the common mangle of meaning anyway. Enough of all that. Here, nothing is explained. Here we speak in schemes. Polished and jerky.

The images that Kammerflimmer Kollektief conjures up therefore happen not in the focus of consciousness, but rather in its outer realms. In those to which one does not give one's full attention at the moment, but which are nevertheless perceived. For example, when a leaf falls from the ground back up to the tree in the corner of your eye, and for an instant you think this is possible, before you realize it was a small bird flying into the tree; it is in just such irritating moments between perception and realization that the art of the Kollektief also unfolds. On "Schemen", familiar fragments float gently around their core – a Fender Rhodes tone, a bass figure, a guitar motif, a masterful drum shuffle, a moment of icy stasis borrowed from the harmonium playing of Christa 'Nico' Päffgen. Triggering brief associations, they slowly rush off in other directions through free jazz-informed editing work, whereupon such zones can also arise in which perception has a few tricks ready and earlier experience suddenly breaks into the now in a completely different way. Half suspected, half seen.

Half-music like Can from Cologne – also masters of improvised editing – sometimes produced a few decades ago in their in-between moments. The first minutes of "Future Days" for example, which fade in gently, sketch a barely graspable figure emerging from all directions of the room. Kammerflimmer Kollektief also engages in similarly open moments of development. Loosely, it eludes the first formative impressions, keeping itself ready for moments that do not follow any logic of appointment. This looseness in handling makes Kammerflimmer Kollektief so fluidly audible, even when dissonant peaks and free playing arise. What Karlheinz Stockhausen is to Can's understanding of composition, the recordings of The Cocoon are to Kammerflimmer Kollektief. The Cocoon, a meeting of garage psychedelics from the Hannover area with free jazzers from the Galaxie Dream Band, whose album "While The Recording Engineer Sleeps", recorded in 1985 in unguarded moments, operates in a very similar way with decentralized perceptual ambivalences and only appeared more or less secretly four years later on Wilhelm Reich Schallspeicher. Other traces of "Schemen" lead to the debut album of Quicksilver Messenger Service. The guitars of Gary Duncan and John Cipollina, which refer to themselves in an unforced manner, are instructions to let go. They don't want to be traced in every note as a solo, but they give their music a sense that the essential takes place off center, in the mutual and intuitive gift of loving attentions. Consciousness-free.

Loving turns like the little guitar phrase that, like a kind of leitmotif, is repeatedly ghosting more or less unchanged through all of the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums. A Coricidin induced, very catchy slide idea filtered out of ancient Æther, which – who knows – maybe even centuries ago found its way from somewhere to America – the old, the eerie – and from there wafted on through the ages to southern Germany, to a smoky studio in the Upper Rhine lowlands. A memory of which even the memory no longer knows what it once reminded. Unsaid, then forgotten.

In Kammerflimmer Kollektief you will also find a friend of slowly building, unhurried music, which probably would have been appreciated by the old Franz Mesmer, who 200 years ago, after tranquilizing treatments, sometimes used to play for his patients ambient melodies on the enormous glass harmonica. However, in order not to surrender completely to the flow of one's own life energy, as Mesmer had in mind with his therapies, Kammerflimmer Kollektief occasionally adds hectic tensions, gently embraced by the droning of a sine wave generator, as if a trance could briefly refesh. This old analog sine wave generator is new in the Kammerflimmer assortment of sounds. So, the art of the Kollektief likes to dock occasionally in modern times, yet with the past in mind. Mental states begin to flicker between imagination and certainty, between culture-bound art expression and coincidences: A cawing and scraping can always just be a cawing and scraping with Kammerflimmer Kollektief, the way Andy Warhol's mushroom eater just eats a mushroom.

Heike Aumüller's cover works, which illustrate all the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums, additionally act as amplifiers of unexplained refractions. Her style consists of eye-corner art that remains so, even when looked at directly. Her shots remain disquieting because they do not jolt themselves into a reassuring order, even in retrospect. Rather than evading the fear that arises when looking at them by trying to impose some irrational rhyme or reason, that fear must simply be endured. This strategy of endurance is equally applicable to the music. The trick is to let parts be parts without compulsively seeking delusional patterns that lull us into a false sense of security and in doing so, possibly delude ourselves. In this context, freedom means not having to anxiously attach a fantasized superior meaning to everything. "Schemen" has an conspiracy disintegrating effect.


b A2 Zweites Kapitel (ruckartig) [feat. Heike Aumüller]

Ron Carter and Richard Galliano decided to risk intercontinental
collaboration for the second time after 1990, when they recorded their
acclaimed album "Panamanhattan" in Paris
Here the French accordion master, whose fingers fly over the keyboard with
acrobatic ease and can make the instrument weep in melancholy or rejoice with
joy. There the American bass wonder, whose deeply tuned strings enhance more
than 2,500 (!) recordings and are among the cornerstones of the complete artistic
works of Miles Davis, Eric Dolphy, Archie Shepp, Herbie Hancock, Aretha Franklin,
Roberta Flack and Antonio Carlos Jobim. Two who have already gained hero
status in their own worlds and can actually only lose when they transgress into
each other's terrain. "Believe me, there is nothing more real than to go on stage
with a gambler," Carter raved about the refreshed liaison with his Gallic buddy.
The two rediscovered the once lost central thread in March 2016 at Jazz Week in
Burghausen as a short intermezzo during a joint appearance with the WDR Big
Band. The provisional climax was then the recording made in Theaterstu?bchen
in Kassel on October 29. Galliano recalled: "Before we got going, I said to him:
"Can you believe it? Twenty- seven years have passed, we are still the same and
I'm still playing the same accordion. To which Ron just responded: "And we have
still same fingers!" With these 20 nimble tools, the two protagonists of the
musical joint venture interact without fear of contact. Neither remains in his
accustomed position. Like two intrepid mountaineers, they balance over a
yawning abyss, perform daring maneuvers and clear the way for each other time
and again. The longer the intimate wanderings of subtle nuances and sensitive,
dancing elegance last, the greater the familiarity seems to be. "Richard really
seizes every rhythmic and harmonic chance," the American marveled about his
French partner. And he replies gallantly: "Ron still looks so young, fresh and
elegant like three decades ago. And he is still enthusiastic, straightforward and
comes straight to the point." An often thoughtlessly used image rarely fits better
than on this very special evening: Ron Carter and Richard Galliano create a
universal musical language, whose vocabulary consists of notes. Risk- free
enjoyment

It started, as it so often does, with two old friends hanging out.

John Shima and C P Smith were joking around one evening in their home city of Sheffield. At some point, Smith challenged Shima that, if the latter could produce a record using nothing more than a small modular synth setup, then Smith would release it on his Central Processing Unit label. As heads will know, while Shima has drops on imprints like FireScope and Subwax Excursions to his name, he had never previously released anything via CPU. Shima accepted, and thus we now have his CPU debut, the four-track EP CPU Modular 1.

The specific setup that Shima worked with for these tracks was Smith's Doepfer A-100P6 Suitcase, a small but mighty combination of modules and programmers. It's no surprise that Shima was able to familiarise himself with the equipment in double-quick time - after all, Shima was an early adopter of the Eurorack modular format back in the day. What emerged from the CPU Modular 1 sessions was a quartet of devastatingly effective DJ tools, mid-set rollers which will get the dance moving something crazy.

Opener '003' kicks the EP off as it means to go on. There's something at once stiff-necked and buoyant about the rhythms here, all thwacking Roland tones and snares which crack like someone whipping a length of sheet metal. While the beat barrels unyieldingly onwards, the programming in the tuned modulars is more exploratory and even trippy, full of delay-laced bleeps and flighty rhythmic motifs. It comes together for a cracking mix in the vein of artists like Jerome Hill and London Modular Alliance. Second A-side cut '010' is no different, the street-beat groove and grumbling low-ends underpinning all manner of modular wizardry.

CPU Modular 1 is really timeless stuff, a set of percussion-heavy, future-focussed beats which recalls Smith's own CPU drop 'DJ Tools Vol.1 - 808 Tracks'. '011' kicks of CPU Modular 1's second-half with a dose of Drexciyan dystopia, playing an atonal loop off of an insistent bass wiggle and neurotic hi-hats. Even when Shima tightens or slackens the modulars here, '011' remains unyielding, a dose of pure 'Wip3out' energy that you could happily groove to all day long. The EP closes out with '005', a gnarled, gurgling production which still retains the dancefloor punch of the rest of the record.

For his Central Processing Unit debut, John Shima was tasked to produce four tracks using a single small modular setup. Unsurprisingly given the pedigree of this seasoned machine-funk pro, Shima aced the assignment.

Trees Speak is an experimental rock band that transcend mainstream influences by incorporating elements of Avant-garde, Neo-psychedelic, Minimalism, art and electronic - along with violin-bowed guitar, Theremin and a glut of effects pedals, and it's an ear-bending rush of lush soundscapes.

Trees Speak - as much a sound laboratory as a rock and roll band - is the musical venture of acclaimed visual artist and musician Daniel Martin Diaz (formerly of Blind Divine and Crystal Radio). For the debut double-LP Trees Speak is joined by Michael Glidewell (Black Sun Ensemble), Gabriel Sullivan (XIXA, Giant Sand), Connor Gallaher (Myrrors & Cobra Family Picnic), Damian Diaz (Human Error), and Julius Schlosburg (Jeron White Acoustic Trio). The studio itself should also take top billing, because in the tradition of krautrockers Can and Bitches Brew-era Miles Davis, the band takes its winding, incandescent motoric rock and roll improvisations and edits them into coherent compositions using the mixing desk after recording. And that's where the sound lab half of the equation appears. The end result is flowing and droning ambient proto-punk reminiscent of fellow travelers NEU!, Stereolab, - Joshua Levine

Our intention is to create music with an unrehearsed minimalist approach performing simple beats, riffs, and sequences that take one inward. We attempt to create a sonic environment to set one's mind free and to become aware of the nuances of tone, melody, and structure. We organize our recording equipment with the same approach, in a transparent manner. Our recorded performances are never rehearsed. Our belief is that a brilliant rehearsal is a lost opportunity to capture a magical moment. We are chasing the mystery of music and tone. We let the musical performance sculpt its own destiny and create imperfect perfection. Our tool of creation is the anxiety one feels when they are unrehearsed or prepared for a performance. We believe this approach brings us closer to the authentic self. The result is genuine music without an agenda that captures the unfiltered spirit.
- Trees Speak


The music was recorded live in one room with no overdubs or repairs, only using edits to create arrangements. All tracks were written over a 5 day period at Sacred Machine Studio and Dust & Stone Studio.

Black Country Communion the rock supergroup comprised of vocalist/bassist Glenn Hughes (Deep Purple Black Sabbath, Trapeze), drummer Jason Bonham (Led Zeppelin, Foreigner), Derek Sherinian (Dream Theater, Billy Idol, Alice Cooper) and blues rock guitarist Joe Bonamassa.

Their fourth album, aptly titled "BCCIV" was originally released by Mascot Records in Europe in 2017. Just like its three predecessors, "BCCIV" was produced by Kevin Shirley, the band's unofficial 'fifth member'. Three Black Country Communion albums will be re-issued as part of the Black Country Communion Glow In The Dark Vinyl Series: On September 24, "Black Country Communion" and "2", and on October 22, 2021 their latest studio album "BCCIV".

The 10 songs on BCCIV will appeal to all fans of high quality hard rock, also those that admire singers of distinction. Hughes is not known as The Voice of Rock for nothing. In terms of content, 'BCCIV' expands upon the progression that took place between the first three albums. With an abundance of heavy riffs, undeniable hooks, melodic flair and infectious choruses, BCCIV is a spectacular album that gets bigger and bolder with repeated spins. Black Country Communion initially came to fruition when Kevin Shirley saw Glenn Hughes and Joe Bonamassa join forces on stage in Los Angeles in November 2009 for an explosive performance at Guitar Center’s King of the Blues event. Shirley then recruited powerhouse drummer Jason Bonham and keyboardist Derek Sherinian. The band is named after the industrial area in the British Midlands where both Hughes and Bonham were born and raised.

Forming off the back of contemporary jazz outfit Zeitgeist, Voronoi take the power and rhythmic complexity of heavier prog-metal and fuse it with the sophistication of classical music and jazz. A passion for science fiction thematically drives the band’s heaving and

chopping style, whereas artists such as Autechre, Car Bomb, Tigran Hamasyan and J.S. Bach help shape the rigid, experimental structure of The Last Three Seconds.

“Compositionally and stylistically we have moved into much heavier territory than our contemporary jazz foundations,” says Keyboardist Aleks Podraza. “It really shows. If you were to put this record against the first tunes we played together as Zeitgeist, it would be like introducing a much capable Thelonious Monk to a less hectic Dillinger Escape Plan.” 

As the first single off The Last Three Seconds, Gamma Signals serves as a toe in the water for the depth of things to come. The full-bodied riffwork captures the stop-start format of prog-metal heavyweights without being explicitly metal. Yet beyond this, glitchy, experimental electronics cut through the composition like a knife. The final product is something that captures the magic of the cosmos – a place where worlds orbit worlds, genres orbit genres. Each element remains different and unique, but still intrinsically tied to the other.

“Gamma Signals is about pulsars and how when Jocelyn Bell-Burnell first discovered them, the media thought they were aliens trying to contact us,” says Podraza. “Broadly, this song is about my love for and fascination with cosmology as a whole. That's a theme that runs through the veins of most of the album.” 

Those following Vorono’s career will need little convincing on the quality of The Last Three Seconds. Collectively, band members have performed and recorded with groups like The Cinematic Orchestra, KOYO, NJYO, Jenova Collective, The Often Herd, Mik Artistik’s Ego Trip, Wandering Monster and more. This in turn has garnered sizable attention at festivals such as Leeds and Reading Festival, Download Festival, Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club - not to mention Voronoi’s thrashing set at 2019’s ArcTanGent.

The cool and collected chaos of The Last Three Seconds serves as a snapshot of this live energy, as passion and fury hum at the end of every complex composition. From start to finish, the record is nothing less than executed perfectly, undoubtedly appealing to even the most seasoned of prog-lovers

’Angelo lost his shit over it. Aaliyah’s 3rd favourite track of all time is on it. David Bowie rocked up with it to a TV interview, declaring it “the most exciting sound of contemporary soul music”.

In 1996, Lewis Taylor released his self-titled masterpiece. A true modern classic, it’s an album that was years ahead of its time. Forget 25 years ago, it could easily have been made in 2021. An effortless blend of neo-soul, sophisticated pop, smart grooves and laid-back white funk, it enjoyed rapturous reviews from critics and music legends alike. But the album never managed to make an impact and given what was likely a token vinyl release at the time, the original records have long since been near-impossible to find. Lewis Taylor’s Lewis Taylor remains a holy relic for some and criminally unknown to most.

Lewis Taylor’s impeccable influences created a dazzling sonic palette: the LP as a whole suggests the visionary brilliance of Prince; the vocal stylings evoke the yearning power of Marvin Gaye; the effortless guitar playing shares the virtuosity of Jimi Hendrix; the haunting tones conjure Tricky; the innovative production and engineering invite comparisons to studio mavericks like Todd Rundgren and Brian Eno; the multi-layered, complex harmonies flash on Pet Sounds-era Brian Wilson; the dark, drama is reminiscent of both Scott Walker and Stevie Wonder; the complex arrangements create textures and moods with the feel of Shuggie Otis on Inspiration Information; the bold experimentation is akin to progressive artists like Faust and Tangerine Dream; the atmosphere is in conversation with Jeff Buckley’s Grace… and we could go on. That might all sound like marketing hyperbole, but not as far as Be With is concerned. It is a genuine wonder how an album this good could’ve passed so many people by.

But despite all the reference points, the similarities are really only skin-deep because the album sounds truly original. It occupies its own distinct, strange universe that feels dark and brooding one moment, bright and joyous the next. Ultimately, Taylor sounds like Taylor.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the credits, the album wasn’t the work of Lewis alone. Sabina Smyth gets an executive producer credit on the original sleeve, but in fact she worked with Lewis on the production and arrangements, did a lot of the backing vocals and she co-wrote Track, Song, Lucky and Damn with Lewis.

Lewis clarified all this in a Soul Jones interview with Dan Dodds in 2016. He explains how not giving Sabina the credit she was due at the time was an unfortunate consequence of where his head was at and he’s now trying to set the record straight.

Together they created an exquisite and sensually-charged record, with a freshness to the writing that makes the songs catchy, melodic-yet-deep and sometimes even funky. The music is predominantly guitar-led and a mixture of organs and synths, live drum loops and electronic percussion make for a sort of modern soul backing orchestra.

On the surface the album is gorgeously laidback, but beneath the lush, sometimes slick, production there’s a murkiness in the seriously gritty funk/hip-hop instrumentation. Lewis Taylor can be a claustrophobic listen. Even its one-word, often seemingly throw-away track titles add to the sense of unease. In its most positive moments, there’s still a sense that things aren’t quite right. The magic comes from this compelling tension.

The languid, strutting “Lucky” is a sensational opening statement. Sinuous electric guitar winds around the shaking percussion with a killer bass line rattling your bones, and Lewis’s voice is sublime. Its six-and-a-half unhurried minutes manage to distill the work of Marvin, Al Green and Bobby Womack because yes, it’s *that* good. Up next is the tough, dusty drum and jazzy, unsettling psych-guitar workout of “Bittersweet”. Aaliyah described it the “perfect song”, which says it all. By turns loping and soaring, tightly coiled and blasting free, 25 years on its discordant, swaggering majesty still sounds like future R&B.

The swinging, blue-eyed funk of “Whoever” oozes sophisticated sunshine soul for hazy days before “Track” sweeps in. The music tries to lift us up, beyond the reach of the vocals trying to drag us back down as Taylor sings “my mood is black as the darkest cloud”. The spare, dubby electro-soul of “Song” closes out the first half of the album with barely contained dread as it creeps towards the lush, synth-heavy coda.

The smouldering “Betterlove” eases us into the second half, coming on like a languorous response to the call of “Brown Sugar”, before sliding into the shuffling, softly-rocking “How”. Somehow the remarkable “Right” manages to both warm things up and smooth things out even more. Taut yet luxurious, it’s definitely not wrong.

“Damn” was to have been the album’s title track and you might also be able to hear its influence on D’Angelo’s Voodoo, maybe most obviously in the chaotic closing moments of “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”. Building to a screeching wall of noise that suddenly cuts dead, “Damn” sounds like the natural end to the album, with the celestial a cappella “Spirit” serving as a heavenly reprise.

When it came to the sleeve, art director Cally Callomon heard Taylor’s music as “sideways off-camera glances at a plethora of influences he had” and wanted to interpret that visually: “I went off into night-time London to see if I could find his song titles in off-beam low-fidelity photographs. I even found a shop called Lewis Taylor”. With a slide for each of the album’s ten tracks, nine of them are on the inner sleeve and the slide for “Damn” makes the front cover. It should’ve been the album’s title, but concerns over distribution in the US scuppered this.

One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, Andrew Lewis Taylor is an enigmatic figure and a hugely under-appreciated talent. A prodigious multi-instrumentalist who got his start touring with heavy blues/psych outfit the Edgar Broughton Band, he released two albums of psychedelic-rock as Sheriff Jack before Island signed him on the strength of a demo alone. But Taylor was destined to be one of those artists unable (or unwilling) to be pigeonholed and despite the best efforts of Island’s publicity department the music never sold in the quantities it needed to or deserved to. Island eventually let him go in the early 2000s and in June 2006, Lewis Taylor retired from music.

Typical for the mid-90s, this CD-length album was squeezed onto a single LP for its original vinyl release. Simon Francis’s fresh vinyl mastering now spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Pete Norman and pressed at Record Industry. The original artwork has been restored at Be With HQ and subtly re-worked to work as a double.

This sprawling psychedelic soul opus really is a forgotten should-be-classic. We know that there are those of you who know, and as for the rest of you, we’re a bit jealous that you’re getting to hear Lewis Taylor for the first time.

Thirty years after his disappearance, Miles Davis, both the man and his character, is still a subject for debate and controversy. And haven’t we heard that before with all artists? But when it comes to the importance of his contribution to music in the 20th century there is only unanimity.

Everyone says, sure, he was the greatest trumpeter. Other opinions are that he left the world of jazz behind him in 1965. It’s also said he was the catalyst of every decade from 1949 to 1989; that he revolutionised jazz, and brought it out of the ghetto; that he buried jazz; that he was the most important musician of his century... Each of those statements has its share of truth. Whichever way

you look at him, he remains a major figure in jazz and in 20th century music overall. Miles surpassed (or at least equalled) the importance of both Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington for the simple reason that he addressed not only the jazz world but all worlds of music, and that he created (among other things) a fusion of the spheres people knew as jazz, blues, rock and pop, and spoke to every audience, either in turn or collectively.

There was a dinner at the White House during which a perfectly respectable lady, married to a politician no doubt, asked Miles what he did for a living. With some annoyance Miles replied, “Well I’ve changed music five or six times, so I guess that’s what I’ve done ... now tell me what have you done of any importance, other than be white? [...] You tell me what your claim to fame is.” The provocative tone in Miles’ words lifted the veil over his refusal to be hassled, his revulsion against America’s treatment of Black people, and Miles’ awareness of his own importance in the world of music. Even when speaking, Miles maintained the art of synthesis.

In the beginning – this was 1944 – there was a concert in St Louis, Missouri where Miles heard Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie for the first time. “Man, that shit was terrible, I mean Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie ‘Yardbird' Parker, Buddy Anderson, Gene Ammons, Lucky Thompson and Art Blakey, all together in one band [...] that shit was all up in my body and that’s what I wanted to hear [...] and me up there playing with them.1” Miles was 18, he’d been playing trumpet for years and now he knew that this was what he wanted to play, and nothing else: to play with Bird! A year later he’d turned 19 and he was in New York, where he learned it all, up there alongside Bird and Dizzy.

In 1970 Barney Wilen assembled a team of filmmakers, technicians and musicians to travel to Africa for the purpose of recordi ng the music of the native pygmy tribes. Upon returning to Paris two years later, he created Moshi, a dark, eccentric effort fusing avantjazz sensibilities with African rhythms, ambient sound effects and melodies rootedin American blues traditions. Cut withFrench and African players including guitarist Pierre Chaze, pianist Michel Graillier and percussionist Didier Leon , this is music with few precedents or followers, spanning from extraterrestrial dissonance to earthbound, streetlegal funk. Wilen pays little heed to conventional structure, assembling tracks like "Afrika Freak Out" and "Zombizar" from spare parts of inde terminate origins. (Jason Ankeny, AMG)

Revelatory reissue of Barney Wilen’s ambitious jazz-fusion journey, Moshi (1972), presenting the legendary French jazzman and Miles Davis-sideman’s wildly ambitious effort fusing recordings of Pygmy tribes with African rhythms and stellar avantjazz leanings, sounding little like anything before or since its release. (boomkat)

Super rare and long out of print, the ground-breaking 1972 album from saxophonist Barney Wilen receives a reissue treatment of the highest order. Complete with a 20-page booklet and a never before seen DVD chronicling Wilen’s trip to Africa, this one is sure to be a delight for fans old and new. The deepest spiritual jazz grooves meet field recordings from the Upper Volta and b eyond, whilst psych rock influences collide with hypnotic and shamanistic percussion work. Truly one of the most out -there jazz records we’ve stocked for a long time! (bleep)

Originally issued by the seminal imprint Saravah in 1972, and among the most uncategorizable and sought after artefacts of the French avant-garde, Barney Wilen’s Moshi is nothing short of a masterpiece - long holding a coveted spot in the hearts of adventurous listeners and record collectors alike. A wild unkept cultural collage. A series of sonic experiments. A spiritual, psychedelic pilgrimage into the unknown - darting from one continent to the next, each of its tangents building toward a more optimist world view through ordered sound. Its scope remains as difficult to understand today as it was when it was released. Now brought back into the light by Souffle Continu, this is a moment to be celebrated far and wide. (Soundohm)

Deluxe reissue with additional artwork & remastered audio. 20-page booklet including rare pictures, sheet music & original liner notes. Bonus DVD with exclusive artwork of Caroline de Bendern’s movie « à l’intention de Mlle Issoufou à Bilma » documenting this incredible african journey.

In 1970 Barney Wilen assembled a team of filmmakers, technicians and musicians to travel to Africa for the purpose of recordi ng the music of the native pygmy tribes. Upon returning to Paris two years later, he created Moshi, a dark, eccentric effort fusing avantjazz sensibilities with African rhythms, ambient sound effects and melodies rootedin American blues traditions. Cut withFrench and African players including guitarist Pierre Chaze, pianist Michel Graillier and percussionist Didier Leon , this is music with few precedents or followers, spanning from extraterrestrial dissonance to earthbound, streetlegal funk. Wilen pays little heed to conventional structure, assembling tracks like "Afrika Freak Out" and "Zombizar" from spare parts of inde terminate origins. (Jason Ankeny, AMG)

Revelatory reissue of Barney Wilen’s ambitious jazz-fusion journey, Moshi (1972), presenting the legendary French jazzman and Miles Davis-sideman’s wildly ambitious effort fusing recordings of Pygmy tribes with African rhythms and stellar avantjazz leanings, sounding little like anything before or since its release. (boomkat)

Super rare and long out of print, the ground-breaking 1972 album from saxophonist Barney Wilen receives a reissue treatment of the highest order. Complete with a 20-page booklet and a never before seen DVD chronicling Wilen’s trip to Africa, this one is sure to be a delight for fans old and new. The deepest spiritual jazz grooves meet field recordings from the Upper Volta and b eyond, whilst psych rock influences collide with hypnotic and shamanistic percussion work. Truly one of the most out -there jazz records we’ve stocked for a long time! (bleep)

Originally issued by the seminal imprint Saravah in 1972, and among the most uncategorizable and sought after artefacts of the French avant-garde, Barney Wilen’s Moshi is nothing short of a masterpiece - long holding a coveted spot in the hearts of adventurous listeners and record collectors alike. A wild unkept cultural collage. A series of sonic experiments. A spiritual, psychedelic pilgrimage into the unknown - darting from one continent to the next, each of its tangents building toward a more optimist world view through ordered sound. Its scope remains as difficult to understand today as it was when it was released. Now brought back into the light by Souffle Continu, this is a moment to be celebrated far and wide. (Soundohm)

Deluxe reissue with additional artwork & remastered audio. 20-page booklet including rare pictures, sheet music & original liner notes. Bonus DVD with exclusive artwork of Caroline de Bendern’s movie « à l’intention de Mlle Issoufou à Bilma » documenting this incredible african journey.

"To The End" is a tremendous demonstration of power that impressively unites all elements of its predecessors and paints a frightening picture of war, death and destruction at the end of which nothing remains but ashes and the realization of a masterpiece. It is the beginning of a new era. Since early October 2020, smoke is laying over Northampton near London. The machinery is well-oiled, the plan excellent - MEMORIAM have recorded their fourth studio album! The speed the British machinery has been working at since their early days is just enormous and equally amazing. Only back in 2016 the band inaugurated the public about their existence. Since those days the machines never stood still. The British Death Lead Commando caused a big rumble shortly after the first rumors about where the journey would go. "The Hellfire Demos" hit the worldwide scene with their old school Death Metal and left speechlessly torn open mouths which are still raving about the enthusiasm of this achievement today. When "For The Fallen", the debut album, is unleashed on mankind via Nuclear Blast Records in 2017, the impression is even more powerful – Truly an historic act for metal history. But as mentioned, there is no stand still in MEMORIAM. Meanwhile emancipated from other bands, they write their very own piece of history. While the first album was still heavy, oppressive and marked by grief, the second album "The Silent Vigil" (2018) showed a more merciless and aggressive side. The same applies to the third strike "Requiem For Mankind", which stands unmistakably in the short but impressive tradition of all previous MEMORIAM works. After this concentrated Death Metal trilogy, all signs were pointing to upheaval. As if the band wanted to completely break away from their old roots, they looked for a new home and signed a worldwide record deal with the upcoming label Reaper Entertainment Europe. While drummer Andy Whale had to take a forced break due to health reasons, Spike T Smith - a close friend of the band - took over the job in the rhythm section. Nevertheless "To The End" follows the tradition of its predecessors without leaving any doubt that one of the strongest albums of 2021 lurks here. Once again the groove is monstrous, the riffs deadly merciless and the atmosphere oppressive, paralyzing, even overwhelming. Willett's aggressive vocals give the sound the proverbial icing on the cake.

10th Anniversary reissue of Cloud Nothings acclaimed and beloved debut album.
Clear w/ Opaque Light Blue Marble LP - Uncoated Jacket with Spot UV Gloss on Cover Photo, w/ download card.

It’s been 10 years since the release of Turning On, Cloud Nothings’ debut album. Singer-songwriter Dylan Baldi was just 18 years old when he began recording the album, creating each track in his parents’ basement in Cleveland, Ohio. Over one winter, Baldi produced an album of taut, lo-fi guitar-pop songs, playing each instrument himself. His music gained traction in the increasingly popular music blog circuit, allowing Baldi to book his first shows in new places, like New York City. He gathered a band together to play live, and Cloud Nothings were on their way.

The band has accomplished a great deal since Turning On, signing to Carpark Records, releasing seven albums, and headlining numerous international tours. Yet, their debut isn’t dusted over in the band’s history. Turning On still remains the stripped-back core of Cloud Nothings style: raw and grungy, filled with catchy earworms that are surprisingly pop. The album carries all the stored potential of someone ready to venture off into the world, a feeling that bursts with energy even 10 years later.

All the tracks on Turning On are eruptive and restless, its lo-fi quality embodying the desperate need to record an idea by any means necessary. Songs like “Hey Cool Kid” encapsulate Baldi’s talent for churning, hook-filled guitar. The vocals on songs like “Can’t Stay Awake” are distorted, with scattered lyrics that echo the angst of a teenage diary. As a whole, the album delivers dissonance and edge, without sacrificing the authentic romanticism of someone who is on the verge of something big and doesn’t know it yet.

The sensitive mountain » (la montagne sensible) is the nickname Alain Bashung came up with for Arnaud Rebotini. At the height of his fame, after the success of Fantaisie Militaire in 1998, Bashung readily agreed to create an album with Rebotini. The two men didn’t know each other; their record label had introduced them. Bashung brought in “Mortel Battement” and “Nocturne,” two poems by Jean Tardieu, which he recited in a voice simultaneously warm and flat, and Arnaud produced an impressionist soundscape that ended with an apocalypse of metal. Bashung was so proud of their collaboration that he offered to give several interviews to promote the record. Today, listening back to this moving Léo Ferré influenced "talking singing" exercise, it’s hard not to hear the template for L'Imprudence, the album that Bashung went on to record with Rebotini two years later. In a similar way, the album Organique sparked a productive partnership between Rebotini and filmmaker Robin Campillo, which resulted in their being awarded a César for Best Original Music in 2018. The director, who trusted Rebotini to create the soundtracks for his films Eastern Boys and 120 Beats per Minute, never kept his love for the 2000 record a secret.

Yet it’s an understatement to say that when it was released, Organique was not in the spirit of times. That year was all about the French touch. The funky samples of Modjo’s “Lady” and Superfunk’s “Lucky Star” ruled the sweaty dancefloors. Although Rebotini was familiar with the electronic scene, he had something else in mind when he set about creating Organique. Under his own name or under the pseudonyms Aleph, Avalanche, Black Strobe, Maison Laffitte, and of course Zend Avesta, he had already released several quite bizarre and experimental techno, house, or jungle maxi singles on pioneering labels like P.O.F., Source, and Artefact, run by his friend Jérôme Mestre’s, whom he had met back when both were working as record salesmen at Rough Trade’s ephemeral Parisian store. It was at Artefact, still financed at the time by Barclay and Universal, that he naturally proposed this record project, which was a bit "different." It was his first real album.

Arnaud Rebotini has never hidden his love-hate relationship with the electronic scene. He’s a fan of rave music, Rex, and later Pulp, but he listens mostly to metal and contemporary music, mainly American minimalists such as Terry Riley, Philip Glass, Steve Reich. He wanted to mix this genre with a more French aesthetic inspired by Debussy, whose unconventionality fascinates him. From the first suspended guitar note of Organique, you can pick up another influence, possibly poppier. In the style of Mark Hollis, the erratic leader of Talk Talk, whose only solo album’s silences and dissonances left their mark two years earlier, we hear the fingers touching the keys of the clarinet on “Ondine.” The instruments have presence, character. Nothing is smooth. Everything is organic.

Although it’s sometimes labeled as electronica because of Rebotini’s career, there’s nothing digital about Organique. No "pro tools" editing or samples, only programmed drums and some synth layering. And his guest vocalists. Playing the role of electro producer, he invited Bashung, of course, to join him on the album, but also Roya Arab, who Rebotini first spotted while she was playing in Archive, and her sister Leila, Gus Gus alum Hafdis Huld, Kat Onoma’s Philippe Poirier on the “Samuel Hall” inspired track “Qu’est ce qui m’a pris,” and former KaS Product member Mona Soyoc.

The frustration of a tour where he had "little to do on stage," the desire to sing himself, and the creation of the Black Strobe project, a haunting mix of blues and rock, stopped Zend Avesta from putting out another album. Eighteen years later, the Organique we rediscover today has lost nothing of its strangeness, nor beauty. When it came out, Bashung said, "What is interesting for a musician is to feel that you have a piece of wasteland in front of you, something to clear.” That remains true today.

The B-52's The B-52's on Numbered Limited Edition LP from Mobile Fidelity Silver Label
Ranked at #152 on Rolling Stone's List of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time Delightfully Campy, Intentionally Goofy, Lyrically Kitschy: 1979 Set Is Nothing But a Good Time
Mastered on Mobile Fidelity's World-Renowned Mastering System and Pressed at RTI (America's Best Record Plant): LP Bursts Forth With the Color and Vibrancy of the Brilliant Pop Within
The B-52's' Wild Planet and Cosmic Thing Also Available on Silver Label LP Boffo! Beehive hairdos, goofy sci-fi humor, lava-lamp kitsch, thrift-store fashions, party-starting tunes, unconventional perspectives, and the unique blending of the underground aesthetic with mainstream accessibility: The B-52's mix all this and more into a dizzying cocktail on their self-titled debut, which remains one of the most ahead-of-its-time, endlessly enjoyable, and vividly colorful albums ever released.
Ranked at #152 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, The B-52's has its roots in the band's improbable genesis, itself reflective of the record's gleeful moods and quirky charms. The five members first played after sharing a tropical alcoholic beverage at a Chinese restaurant, the ironic silliness and spontaneous irreverence indicative of the music on its breakthrough record. Not to mention how it mirrors the unusual hodgepodge of instrumentation: organs, walkie talkies, bongos, glockenspiels, tambourines, toy pianos, smoke alarms, and more!
Musically, the band proves just as adventurous and whimsical. Using pleasant harmonies as a backdrop and Kate Pierson's squealing organ as a starting point, the B-52's draw upon surf-rock grooves, beach-bound soul-pop, herky-jerky funk riffs, minimalist rhythms, and Ricky Wilson's unusual guitar lines to craft songs that tower above the sarcastic suggestiveness and campy declarations. Of course, the latter are plenty entertaining on their own, but there's no denying the dance-bound persuasiveness and melodic shimmy associated with the classic cult single 'Rock Lobster' and splendid cover of the ubiquitous Petula Clark standard 'Downtown.' You've never heard anything like this.

Indeed, the B-52s were about a decade ahead of the alt-rock revolution when they recorded this delightfully campy, intentionally goofy, lyrically tawdry, and undeniably harmonic 1979 new-wave set that comes off as the best dance party you might ever hear. This is 40 minutes of nothing but a good time.
Mastered on Mobile Fidelity's world-renowned mastering system and pressed at RTI (America's best record plant), Silver Label numbered limited edition LP presents the B-52's brilliant debut in a fidelity it's never previously enjoyed. So detailed and realistic are the timbres, accents, and harmonies, you'll think the band's bright outfits are appearing right in front of you. Plus, the LP is worth the cost alone for the iconic album cover, which spotlights those bouffant 'dos.

Alt. folker Will Oldham - better known as Bonnie 'Prince' Billy - is set to drop a joint record with gently psychedelic crew Trembling Bells

Just four years after their debut album Carbeth, Trembling Bells are amassing a formidable body of work at a startling velocity. Just twelve months after the release of their critically acclaimed third album The Constant Pageant, the Glasgow quartet return to share the billing with a similarly restless creative spirit. A few thousand miles separate Will Oldham and Trembling Bells' drummer and principal songwriter Alex Neilson, but their stories intersect as far back as 2005, when the young Leeds-raised Neilson found himself playing drums on Alasdair Roberts' No Earthly Man, with Oldham producing. In time, a friendship between mentor and student became one between two kindred musicians. Neilson augmented his work with free-psych-drone practitioners Directing Hand by playing with the Bonnie 'Prince' Billy band. The drummer's eagerness to experience new epiphanies yielded unforgettable memories. In Big Sur, he recalls, 'we took mushrooms at midnight, then visited a natural hot spring built into the dramatic cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The stars were as vivid as frozen fireworks.' All of which is worth dwelling on, because without that background of mutual openness and empathy, it's hard to imagine The Marble Downs existing.

Neilson recalls a conversation about a 'collaboration' in the summer of 2010, though stresses that it 'was nothing too formal at first'. By the end of that year, a limited-edition seven-inch New Year's Eve Is The Loneliest Night of the Year showed what an inspired match the vocals of Trembling Bells singer Lavinia Blackwall and Will Oldham made. The cut-glass precision of the classically-trained student of medieval music and the worldly, careworn tones of Oldham created an unlikely chemistry. It must have seemed that way to Neilson too. He set about assembling a cache of songs with the purpose of further harnessing that chemistry. The result is an album that has, once again, redrafted the boundaries of what Trembling Bells can achieve together. Indeed, genre-lines aren't terribly helpful this time around. Yes, Trembling Bells' love affair with traditional music remains a constant — most emphatically so on the unaccompanied Blackwall/Oldham two-hander, My Husband's Got No Courage In Him. Then there is Blackwall's musical setting of Dorothy Parker's poem Excursion Into Assonance — and the thorough-going new-found classicism of Neilson's increasingly assured songwriting. Albeit delivered with Trembling Bells' rain-lashed sense of abandon, Love Is A Velvet Noose sounds like a standard of sorts — a warped consequence of Neilson's increasing fascination with the songbooks of Cole Porter and Hoagy Carmichael. 'I'm not saying I stand any chance of emulating them,' he adds, 'but the appreciation is definitely there.'

The knowledge that Oldham and Blackwall would be sharing centre-stage on The Marble Downs gave Neilson extra impetus to flex his songwriting muscles. I Can Tell You're Leaving finds both vocalists on irresistible form, dissecting their dying relationship with no heed to the other's feelings. 'You treat me like a child,' sings Oldham. 'I need a man,' she responds, barely catching breath. 'Now like Merle Haggard, you'll see the fighting side of me,' he later promises. 'I guess that's one of the lighter moments on the album,' ponders Neilson, 'I was trying to get a Planet Waves-era Bob Dylan feel there, with the piano and walking bassline.'

Here and elsewhere, the band — Blackwall, Neilson, bassist Simon Shaw and guitarist Mike Hastings — has never sounded more psychically attuned to one-other. On the slow-reveal sonic establishing shot of I Made A Date (With An Open Vein), two minutes of manic modal chaos elapses before Oldham takes the narrative reins of a majestic call-and-response folk-rock epic. The electrifying free-folk portent of Riding — a revival of the Palace Brothers classic — is no less compelling, calling to mind the words of broadcaster Stuart Maconie when he praised Trembling Bells for their ability to invoke simultaneously 'the charm of folk music and the power of rock.' Ditto Ain't Nothing Wrong With A Little Longing, in which Neilson slams down a four-to-the-floor beat over a synergy of demonic krautrock keys and a dialogue between Oldham and Blackwall that scales Nancy & Lee levels of romantic intrigue.

With nine songs gone and one remaining, the album's sonic undulations find an arresting denouement in the form of an inspired cover. Adapted from Robin Gibb's 1970 solo masterpiece Robin's Reign, Lord Bless All sees Trembling Bells tease out the hymnal qualities of Gibb's original with a slow volcanic upswell which — on four minutes — explodes into heavy psychedelic technicolour. What pleases Alex Neilson when he listens back is 'a sense of a common vocabulary and identity being forged.' If, by that, he means that there isn't another band on the planet that quite sounds like Trembling Bells, it would be hard to disagree. The evidence is right here.

'I didn't know anything about Trembling Bells. I just heard them and was knocked out. I instantly became a fan.' Paul Weller

'Trembling Bells are my kind of band.' Joe Boyd

"Jesus fucking shit! These jamz claw so hard at the tatties below methinks the Lord misnamed them, having intended to say Trembling BALLS." Will Oldham

'A poetic incantation of British identity far brighter than Michael Gove's GCSE syllabus.' Stewart Lee

'This time, I'm attempting to reclaim the art of songwriting from the charity shop bargain bin.' Alex Neilson

Most of the musicians who gathered to record this fantastic spiritual jazz record for the Strata-East label on May 24th, 1974 had crossed each other's paths in various musical pairings over the preceding few years. Husband and wife team Dee Dee Bridgewater (vocals) and Cecil Bridgewater (trumpet) had been working together on albums like Frank Foster's "Loud Minority", and Roy Ayers' "Coffy" and "Virgo Red". Ten weeks before the "Freedom Of Speech" session, the couple had been joined in Tokyo by Cecil's brother Ronald Bridgewater (tenor saxaphone) to record Dee Dee's debut album, the beautiful "Afro Blue". Also in the studio on May 24th, 1974 was Donald Smith, (piano, vocals), fresh from recording on his older brother Lonnie Liston Smith's "Cosmic Funk" - on which Ronald Bridgewater had also played percussion. Cecil McBee (bass) was also there - just two weeks before, he'd completed his own Strata East date "Mutima", and in February he'd played on Mtume's "Rebirth Cycle" - with both albums also featuring Dee Dee Bridgewater on vocals. He'd also played on Lonnie Liston Smith's "Astral Travelling".

So 1974 was a huge year for all five of these people. Donald Smith and Cecil McBee were six months away from recording on Lonnie Liston Smith's massive "Expansions", with McBee fitting in a few Pharoah Sanders albums in between.

AND THEN, THE MYSTERY ... So with all this fervent activity, the question has to be asked ...Who was Billy Earl Parker Jr (drums), the leader of this session

Billy Parker remains unlisted as a musician on all major jazz sites. His only other recording appears to be as a percussionist on Charles Tolliver's "Impact" in 1975. Then there's nothing.

Finally, by backtracking one of those Zoom info pages, I found a summary of a "SUNY Rockland Community College" 2002 press release that no longer exists :

"Billy Parker's Fourth World Legacy Concert ...The concert, Billy Parker's Fourth World Legacy, is the eighth annual tribute honouring the late percussionist and RCC educator, Billy Parker. A long-time Rockland County resident, Parker began his affiliation with RCC in 1987, building its jazz program and maintaining his life-long tradition of teaching and inspiring others. A lifelong student himself, Parker was near completion of his doctorate in music education at New York University when he died in 1996.

But then people began to read this blog post, and in the comments, Aaron Fuller said :

"Billy Parker was my uncle. He was an incredibly talented, smart, and kind man. I'm very happy to see that folks are still enjoying his masterpiece. Just to give you a bit more information about him... He was born and raised in Buffalo, NY and then attended college at Michigan State University. He met my aunt in Lansing. They lived in NY and toured in Europe for quite a while. Sometime later they relocated to Nyack, NY and he ended up on the faculty of the community college while he pursued advanced degrees from NYU. He was an Ellington scholar. Although his name isn't well-known even among the most avid jazz fans, I think that if you were to talk to some of the great NY musicians that were around in the late 60s and 70s you would find that most knew him. He also had a huge impact as a music educator and I have no doubt that his former students are all over the place, continuing to put his love of the art into practice."

When Steve Lawler first sent us 'Crazy Dream,' he told us that he had made the record 'specifically with Turbo in mind,' thus sending us on a quasi-lucid journey down a rabbit hole of self-discovery from which we have only recently emerged. Most labels would simply talk up a nuts-to-the-wall floor-filler with a killer 'White Horse' bassline from an acid house legend and be done with it, but the fact remains that if we forgo an opportunity to learn more about ourselves as dance music imprint, we are doing our fans a disservice whether they could possibly be expected to realize it or not. We hired a board-licensed Forensic Poet to parse the track's lyrical references to nothing being 'quite as it seems,' 'feeling naked and confused,' and rising above 'the push and shove.' What was he trying to tell us The poet assured us that all it meant was that Lawler admires Turbo and thought the track would be a good fit, and that we should put our clothes back on, wipe the confused looks from our faces, and stop pushing and shoving one another because everything was exactly as it seemed. We paid him his $25 and did as we were told. For the remixes, we took a track made especially for us and enlisted a diverse cast of Turbo All-Stars to spin it into a release for everyone, a proprietary practice we call 'Human Alchemy: The Future of Generosity™.' Finland's Jori Hulkkonen, Belgium's Charlotte de Witte, and Argentina's DJs Pareja trace a beautiful global triangle for lovers of acid bangers, stripped-down techno, and tripped-out weirdness, respectively. At Turbo, giving party people what they need is more than just a crazy dream. It's a crazy reality.

This is France in the Mitterrand years: fashions fleet as fast as governments. In the early eighties, the happy-go-lucky gather the nectar of each and every new release.
Believing in a bright future for videotex, and loosened up by the sexy talks broadcasted on the budding pirate radios, the new generation dreams of dance floors and holiday clubs. French Boogie, which preserves the spirit of these years of boodle and bunkum, is the ideal soundtrack to their dreams.

What the web now refers to as French Boogie is some synthetic funk reflecting the spirit of those days when nothing was impossible, or so it seemed. Its syncopated flow heralded the dawning of French rap. Often considered as some kind of post-disco, inspired as much by black music as by new wave, this carefree pop music with bawdy lyrics indulged in simple pleasures: holidays, swank and sun were recurrent themes. Totally in tune with its time, it incidentally glorified luxury, success, and a certain consumerism embodied, for instance, in Bernard Tapie.

In popular clubs such as La Main Bleue in Montreuil, or L'Echappatoire in Clichy-sous-Bois - where Micky Milan could be seen behind the decks - an enthusiastic audience discovered this new sonic wave, influenced as much by French pop as by Sugar Hill Gang or Kurtis Blow. The artists who first launched the movement engaged in it wholeheartedly, but as often the case with new music trends in France, humour and casualness quickly became a decoy to impose a new style. This explosive mixture, in which startling and typically Frenchy French lyrics go along New-York-style tunes, is sometimes reminiscent of the kinky comedies directed by Max Pécas or Claude Zidi. On this prolific scene, partly originating from the Jewish community, everybody was looking for success, trying to hit the jackpot with what was to hand. Famous media personalities, one-hit wonders or John Does in quest of fame, all had a go at French Boogie - more or less successfully. Apart from « Vacances j'oublie tout » by Elégance, « Un fait divers et rien de plus » by Le Club, or « Chacun fait ce qui lui plaît » by Chagrin d'amour (produced by Patrick Bruel), very few songs became hits: the story of funk in France is that of a half-baked robbery.

In this myriad of new musicians, the very young François Feldman and Phil Barney pioneered a fresh and hybrid style. Other well-known artists like Gérard Blanc from Martin Circus (Attaché Case), Richard de Bordeaux (Ich), or Jean-Pierre Massiera (Anisette, Pirate Scratch Band, Mandrake, Scratch Man...) added an eccentric touch to this sound-wave, making it often entertaining, and sometimes showy.

Capture d'écran 2015-10-26 à 12.55.43Singers like Agathe (the author of 'La Fourmi' and of the hit song 'Je ne veux pas rentrer chez moi seule') were far more than just window dressing. They even tried to give an ironic and subversive twist to this rather harmless genre. The very vindictive rebel Gérard Vincent shared in this spirit, but as a whole, French Boogie became associated with nonchalance and sauciness. Thus, Stéphane Collaro, Gérard Jugnot, Alain Gillot Pétré and other TV clowns would clumsily contribute to this French variation on funky sounds. In a few but intense years, French Boogie gave all the tips to party with style.

If some hits made it possible for the happy few to get a real house under truly exotic palm trees, the wave actually ebbed away very quickly, leaving quite a few musicians stranded on the shore. Whether they were sincerely motivated, or simply opportunistic, they had failed. In 1984, French Boogie was already breathless, and got merged with other genres: on the one hand, rap and breakdance adapted its flow to a more urban world, especially with Sydney's show, H.I.P.H.O.P, and Dee Nasty's broadcasts on Radio Nova; on the other, italo, new beat and house began to rule over dance floors, even more strongly asserting the will to develop music for clubs.

Squeezed in between the age of disco and that of modern electronic music, French Boogie was a transitional phase, but it remains an amazingly refreshing testimony to the intermingling of pop and underground cultures. The genre was hastily categorized as anecdotal in spite of its pioneering synthetic groove and matchless bass lines. An attentive ear will discover the poetry of the ephemeral beyond the eccentricities of the genre, as well as a certain unexpected avant-gardism. At the origin of major music trends, always cheerful and catchy, French Boogie is what you need to party.