repress
Play that funky music white boy! In 1977, San Francisco singer-songwriter Matthew Larkin Cassell privately pressed and distributed his debut LP "Pieces" to little fanfare. It took over two decades and being sampled by Madlib for listeners everywhere to recognize Cassell's unique combination of soul, funk, and rock as ahead of its time. Even now, 45 years after its release, the record sounds fresh.
Vinyl LP[23,49 €]
As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"
Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."
"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.
"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."
"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.
"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."
In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."
=
Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."
His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.
"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.
=
Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.
"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."
Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."
One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.
"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."
=
Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."
Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.
Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."
The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.
"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.
"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."
"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.
"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."
=
"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"
Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.
"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."
The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.
"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"
The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.
"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."
In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."
Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.
"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.
"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.
"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."
=
Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.
Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.
On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."
For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."
Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?
"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."
Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.
Broken Hearts and Dirty Windows: Songs of John Prine, Vol.2, the follow up to the original 2010 tribute record, is set for an October 8th release. With tracks from Sturgill Simpson & Brandi Carlile revealed so far, the release adds to an esteemed legacy for Oh Boy Records, which is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year.
Cassette[11,72 €]
As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"
Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."
"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.
"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."
"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.
"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."
In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."
=
Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."
His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.
"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.
=
Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.
"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."
Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."
One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.
"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."
=
Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."
Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.
Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."
The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.
"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.
"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."
"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.
"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."
=
"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"
Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.
"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."
The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.
"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"
The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.
"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."
In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."
Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.
"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.
"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.
"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."
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Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.
Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.
On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."
For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."
Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?
"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."
Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.
WHITE VINYL[23,11 €]
Limited Edition Nora Steiner und Madlaina Pollina malen das Bild einer Welt, die wir schon lange nicht mehr so eindrücklich und reflektiert wahrgenommen haben. Aufbruch, Licht und Schatten und die Bedrängnis der Gegenwart, ausgedrückt in bezauberndem Indie-Folk-Pop, der Zähne zeigt und enorme Dynamik entwickelt. Mal erinnert ihr zweistimmiger Gesang an First Aid Kit, ihre kompositorische Zugänglichkeit lässt an den perlenden Pop von Boy denken, dann wieder geleitet uns das Duo an düstere Abgründe, wie sie auch Emily Jane White beschreibt. Allerdings sind dies nur ungefähre Orientierungspunkte. Dass die beiden aus der Schweiz kommen, ist grundlegend für deren Debütalbum "Cheers", denn "Cheers" heißt nicht nur Prost, "Cheers" kann ein Anfang und ein Ende sein, eine Begrüßung und auch ein Abschied. Dabei spielen Steiner & Madlaina gekonnt mit Ambivalenzen. Mal fließen ihre Songs lieblich daher, dann türmen sich die Instrumente walzenartig auf. Durch die analogen Sounds und teils surfigen Gitarrenklänge gewinnt "Cheers" an Wärme und transportiert einen unterschwelligen 60er-Jahre-Charme. Im Zentrum des Ganzen stehen aber immer die Stimmen von Steiner & Madlaina, die so perfekt harmonieren, dass man die Vertrautheit und langjährige Freundschaft der beiden herauszuhören meint.
'Youngest Daughter' is the debut album from folk-pop quartet GUISE. Spear-headed by singer songwriter Jessica Guise, it follows the release of 'The Fun Part' EP released on XMR March 2020. The album is produced and mastered by husband Frank Turner and features guest appearances from Emily Barker, Callum Green and Lukas Drinkwater. Will be released on CD, white vinyl and download. Live shows and festival appearances planned for throughout the year to support the release. As well as shows in Germany in September and main support to Will Varley on his UK tour in May 2022. *Release Timeline: Track 1 ‘Don’t Come Back’ - released as a single + IGT 25th February 2022 First single ‘Don’t Come Back’ isn’t a song about one particular person so much as a string of disastrous decisions. It’s about the brutal transience and sheer depressing turnover of romantic entanglements I found myself in living in London during my 20s, and about crashing headlong into people who just bounce off and bounce along like dodgems. It’s also about sometimes being the dodgem myself, and not giving myself too much of a hard time about it. Featuring Callum Green on drums and dear pal Lukas Drinkwater brought his marvellous upright bass to the party, and a stunning acoustic guitar solo. Track 2 'I Know When You Leave' - 25th March 2022 - IG track I wrote the words to ‘I Know When You Leave’ on a bus in Italy, and the tune came to me later back in London, Separation from the person I love is a pretty normal part of my life, but that doesn’t make it easy all the time; things are generally just a bit worse when we’re apart, and that’s what this is about. Recorded almost completely a cappella, with a subtle measure of floaty keys tumbling in towards its crescendo, ‘I Know When You Leave’’s barren instrumental landscape adds to the sense of longing and isolation at the track’s core. Features Emily Barker on backing vocals.
A real gem for collectors and fans of PINK FLOYD. On this double LP, world stars of rock history have joined hands to bow down to one of the greatest bands in music history with their versions of the legendary work "THE WALL". The complete THE WALL album interpreted by IAN ANDERSON, ADRIAN BELEW (King Crimson), ALAN WHITE (YES), RICK WAKEMAN (YES), ROBBY KRIEGER (THE DOORS), STEVE LUKATHER (TOTO), BILLY SHERWOOD (YES), TOMMY SHAW (STYX), DWEEZIL ZAPPA and many more.
Sub Pop debut by accomplished Greek artist Σtella, produced by Redinho (Swet Shop Boys).
‘Up And Away’ is an eclectic, compelling modern pop album showcasing Σtella’s skilled songwriting and the influence of classic love songs, Greek folk, and contemporary electronic-music production.
Σtella makes her Sub Pop debut with the mesmerizing ‘Up And Away’, an oldschool pop paean to the pangs and raptures of love. From the Greek folkinflected get-go, we’re swept up in Σtella’s world - and it’s quite the captivating place to be.
The singer songwriter joined forces with artist and producer Tom Calvert (aka Redinho), and it was a match made in Athens; the results are heavenly. Tom caught one of Σtella’s gigs on a visit to the city. He reached out, they started hanging out, and the pair soon clicked creatively. Both mention chemistry when asked about their collaboration and it’s clear, from what we hear, they had it in spades. The meld is seamless.
Σtella’s songs have always riffed on American and Greek mid-century pop but ‘Up And Away’ doubles down on the vintage aesthetic. Tom says he styled the record “as if it was a rare gem from the ’60s found in a box of records in Athens,” and Σtella notes she was ready for a more “deeply Greek touch - it felt comfortable and right, smoothly fusing with the pop.” The bouzouki appears on a full five tracks played by Christos Skondras who, she says, “was brilliant at improvising,” while Sofia Labropoulou on the kanun “brought an insane amount of dreaminess to the last two songs. Having these amazing musicians play for ‘Up And Away’ - I couldn’t be more grateful.”
While not exclusively a confessional artist, Σtella is always intimate - when she sings, it’s personal. She writes “about things I feel passion for. Stories about me, about others, about all that’s there in love and war.” Σtella was “in a very emotional state at the time, which came through in the lyrics and vocals.” And it’s true, her honeyed voice - layered in those unmistakable harmonies of hers - thrillingly runs the gamut from tender to terse, by turns bracing and smitten, aching and forlorn. But it’s the lyrics that feel key. Across her output, Σtella has proven herself a strong storyteller, and ‘Up And Away’ is no exception (the guise of the medieval bard she assumes on the cover is telling). Past releases have been studded with gem-like vignettes - a diverse array of stories set tightly together to form non-linear narratives unified by emotion. Her latest feels singular in that it seems to trace a longer-form tale across songs, with each track escalating the record’s erotic arc.
By the end of the album, ‘Up And Away’s core concerns are clear: the conflicting and conflicted emotions inherent in love, that live on in ways we can’t always understand or control. Love is like this record: when it’s over, you still feel it for time to come.
Loser Edition LP pressed on blue vinyl.
In 1994, Sator released the cover album "Barbie-Q-Killers" where the band made their own versions of "obscure" punk songs!
The album quickly became a favorite among the band's fans and the demand for a sequel have followed the band ever since.
Now, the wait is over! We proudly present the album "Return of The Barbie-Q-Killers" the long-awaited sequel, which is the band's tribute to bands like Redd, Kross, Devo, Blitzkrieg Bop, 999, The Waves, Pointed Sticks, The Undertones, The Boys, Zero boys, The Last, Unnatural Ax, White Flag, Screamers, The Go-Go's, The Young Lords, Darby Crash Band, The Normals and many more!
Saturday Night pogo rules OK!
Sound Like: the nomads, wilmer x, docenterna, ksmb, dundertåget, mimikry, the scams, union carbide productions
Deluxe reissue of their 1989 sophomore album pressed on pale blue colour vinyl.
Presented in a gloss laminated gatefold sleeve, which features the original LP plus a bonus disc with all the A and B sides, some compilation tracks and an outtake, plus a 12-page booklet containing previously unpublished lyrics and tons of contemporary reviews and photos.
Completely remastered for your listening pleasure.
In 1989, while the musical world was fêting serial-killer worshipping noise bands, white boys with dreadlocks and the first glimmers of techno, one band – The Wolfhounds – was describing the times and the country exactly as they were. Or at least as they saw it.
Well, not exactly. The privations of finding enough money to live on, a semi-permanent roof over your head and perhaps the hope of real change were all there in the lyrics along with the multitudinous shards of ideas in the music, both raging and reflective – but there was also a sense of magical realism and authentic personal circumstance imbued in it all.
Formed as a frantic noisy fusion of sixties garage and independent post-punk in Romford in 1984, by 1986 it was the band’s misfortunate to be corralled with the jangly and quirky bands of the era-defining C86 tape, given away free with the NME that year. The frustration of being lumped with the lumpen was already spilling over into a heightened creativity that would see the band release three LPs in 18 months, the first and perhaps most fully realised of which was Bright & Guilty.
The band’s sense of melody saw three singles taken off it, and all received plentiful radio play that resulted in enthusiastic audience responses when the band toured with My Bloody Valentine and the House of Love shortly after the LP came out. This renewed attention also saw them being threatened with legal action by the food company satirically targeted by one of the singles – Happy Shopper.
The band’s magpie listening habits also saw the first glimmers of an interest in sampling with the track Cottonmouth, hip hop in the drum rhythms of Invisible People and Son of Nothing, discordant post- hardcore in Non-specific Song and even percussive hints of Tom Waits’ Rain Dogs in Charterhouse.
The album’s lyrical themes have sustained the relevance of these 30-something year-old songs. The dictatorship of the class system over the economy is touched on in Charterhouse, the unfairness of housing policy in Rent Act and Red Tape Red Light, the desperation of not having enough money to even seek employment in Useless Second Cousin. But there is contemplation and mystery, too: Rope Swing’s nostalgia for pre-teen childhood, Invisible People’s detailing of intangible weaknesses.
Of all their peers, The Wolfhounds post-C86 output stands up straight and proud, and you’ll find echoes of their sound in Fontaines DC, Idles and many others – but not performed with the brashness, vigour and uniqueness of the originals.
Formed in 1968, Nazareth rose from the pubs and clubs of their native Scotland to become one of the most successful rock bands in the world, notching up a string of hit records along the way. Hard-working, honest, sincere, and unaffected by the vagaries of fashion, this band of the people have influenced many great artists. Half a century later, and having sold in excess of 20 million albums around the globe, the legendary Nazareth are still rocking hard!
Cinema, originally released in 1986, is Nazareth’s 16th studio album, which will be reissued on white coloured vinyl, as well as on CD with bonus track.
From Pacific City Discs, to you the listener, this summer, a DJ mix of fantasy and splash-energy is coming to you in a small edition of vinyl. Fantasy writer/recording artist, Francesco Cavaliere, while visiting his seaside childhood vacation location, was extended an impromptu invitation, to DJ an 80s swimming club. He had this to say about his experience:
“I was at Shangri-La and a boy and girl from the bathhouse in silver swimsuits and sand-colored streaks waved me over with a drink and asked me if I would like to DJ the next day during my lesson on the beach at Tana del Pirata! I then and there I laughed but then I accepted (I had nothing at home just my mp3 player and a Nokia with music inside) The next day there was a little wind on the beach and the umbrellas swayed to the left. From the heat they could catch fire, white flames, instead the sea was rough and that wind with very long wrists cheered us up, blowing gaseous clouds in our faces. Perfect for the day ahead. After the first few pieces, I began to see that a group of kids jumped into the adjacent pool trying flips bombs and candle dives. Someone at the bar was playing Altered Beast .. so sipping a drink with ice I imagined DJ werewolf repeating catchy pieces while a kite half cobra half skyscraper inflated above us.”
This Impromptu Disc is fresh now, for you to frolic with this summer, while entertaining a daydream in the midst of entering a body of water while witnessing an apparition in the sky.
Selected and compiled by Francisco Cavaliere
Artwork by Spencer Clark
Groove Armada’s iconic Back To Mine compilation from the Millennium gets a long-awaited re-issue 22 years after its original release. As Groove Armada celebrate 25 years of touring with their final ever world live tour, which includes nine huge dates across the UK, it’s a chance to relive Groove Armada’s eclectic and expert curation.
The album, which was one of the biggest ever selling editions of the Back To Mine Series, will be available on double heavyweight vinyl for the first timers well as a limited collectors edition in Pumpkin orange. This release marks the first of many reissues of iconic Back To Mine titles.
The Groove Armada special edition package features 12 tracks featured on the seminal album in one of the best loved compilation series’. Despite the length in time since its original release, the album remains timeless with an inspired selection ranging from A Tribe Called Quest, Barry White, Tears For Fears to the compilers themselves.
For nearly two decades, Groove Armada have been established as one of the planet's best loved and biggest selling dance acts. As comfortable on the big stages as they are in sweat soaked basements, the boys cross genres and styles with ease. This translates perfectly into their addition of Back To Mine which boldly, yet effortlessly traverses a multitude of sounds that you wouldn’t imagine could be the perfect match. Collectively, the album is colorfully funky, soulful, and incredibly smooth.
From their house to yours, listening pleasure is guaranteed.
· One of the biggest ever selling editions of the Back ToMine series repressed for the first time.
· Groove Armada will be embarking on their final live tour around some of the UK’s most iconic venues in 2022 & several festival appearances.
· Marketing campaign celebrating 25 years of the Back To Mine series and the start of back catalog reissues
· Available on heavyweight double vinyl only, Including collectors coloured orange vinyl edition.
· Features legends such as Barry White, A Tribe Called Quest, Tears For Fears and Groove Armada themselves.
MOVEMENTS Vol.11 – A bag full of rare rhythm & blues, mod-jazz, soul, and mid 70s funk.
Side A starts with rhythm & blues and jazz from the 1960s. The first three tracks were pulled from hopelessly obscure 7" singles. Macy & Company are responsible for the first 'aha' moment. Their version of "Sixteen Tons" would have certainly astouned even Tennessee Ernie Ford. A truely fantastic version indeed! "Snatchin' It Back" completes the first side with a furious bigband jazz cut.
Side B is all about mod-jazz. "Undun" is just like "Big Boy" a sure-shot for any dancefloor. Rare Groove DJs will have a lot of fun spinning these tunes in a club. Admittedly, the next one is a strange cut. "See How You Are" was recorded on a whim when they two composers were spontaneously pulled into a studio. High time for 'aha' effect #2. Many bands have tried their hands on a cover version of the Lee Morgan jazz classic, one of them being Mr. Palumbo. Listen closely to Dianne Elliott's contribution as it is a highlight for sure despite the fact von Frau Elliott.
Side C begins with 'aha' effect #3 and a fantastic cover version of Gerald Wilson's "Viva Tirado". "Blue Jamaica", is the second track on Movements 11 were a vibraphone is the lead instrument. "Bawana Jinde" is a wild, wailing blast of percussive instrumental explosion while "The Creeper" is the perfect choice to finish this side.
Side D is reserved for proper 1970s funk. The flip side of Reunion's sole 45rpm single was included on a previous Tramp compilation album. "A Brighter Day" has not been compiled yet. "Real Life", "Syrene" and "Breezy" are all prime examples how mid 70s funk has to sound . A dream for B-Boys and B-Girls.
Those of you who have been enjoying the detective work of the people behind the label over the past 18 years know that the Movements series can be easily considered as the flagship compilation series on Tramp. So, after having listened to the entire selection of this brand new volume we sincerely hope that we will have achieved our aim to surprise, delight, and enlighten you once again!
Die Geschichte von The Boppers begann wie ein Märchen über ein paar Teenager aus Stockholm, die zur falschen Zeit am richtigen Ort waren.
Sie gründeten die Band 1977, als der Punkrock auf der ganzen Welt explodierte, und ihre Interpretation des Doo Wop und Rock n Roll der 50er Jahre hätte nicht unpassender sein können, aber sie weigerten sich, sich anzupassen und machten daraus einen Erfolg.
Ihr Debütalbum 'Number One', das hauptsächlich Coverversionen ihrer 50er-Jahre-Lieblingslieder von Roy Orbison, Dion & Belmonts usw. enthielt, verkaufte sich in Schweden über 450 000 Mal! Eine Empfehlung für Fans von Bands wie Rockpile, Drifters, Darts, Dion, Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, Marcels, Blasters, Stray Cats oder Coasters!
Stix Records, a sub-label of Favorite Recordings, proudly presents the long awaited reissue of Version Excursions, first album by The Dynamics. Originally released in 2007 and highly hard to find today, it could be considered as a modern reggae classic.
The band composed of Bruno “Patchwork” Hovart (production & programming), Eric “Flab” True (programming) and a vocal trio made of Mr Day, Sandra “Mounam” and Stevie Levi, quickly became famous with a 7inch single series, displaying their unique recipe of covers from classic hits by Madonna, Curtis Mayfield or The White Stripes to name just a few. True to Rocksteady and Reggae’s timeless tradition, everything from Pop, Roots, Disco, Soul & Rock is distilled through their fuzzy hypnotic filters to create amazing cover versions.
Originally hailing from the villages of Cameroon, the halls of Harvard, the palaces of Versailles, the boweries of Bristol, or the squares of Provence, it’s then in Lyon that The Dynamics united and created their timeless music, both vintage and fresh. 15 years after its release, the album’s still a real success, with more than 350k listeners on Spotify every month. An achievement easily explained by the quality of the tracks gathered, which also brought the original release to become quite rare years after years, now selling for crazy prices on the second-hand market.
"Whole Lotta Love" (Led Zeppelin), "Fever" (Peggy Lee), "The Creator Has A Master Plan" (Pharoah Sanders), "Lay Lady Lay" (Bob Dylan), these are only a few of the Rock, Pop, Soul and Jazz most famous hits reimagined by The Dynamics. In addition to the original tracklisting, you'll find on our 2022 remastered edition their cover of "Music" by Madonna, previously only available as 7inch.
After John Squire left The Stone Roses, he formed The Seahorses in
1996 together with Stuart Fletcher, Chris Helme and Andy Watts. The year after they released their debut album Do It Yourself, which was produced by Tony Visconti. Visconti had his first hit with T. Rex’ “Ride A White Swan” and was involved in many David Bowie productions.
The album was well received and entered the UK Album Charts at
#2 and received a Platinum status. It featured three popular singles: “Love Is The Law”, “Blinded By The Sun” and “Love Me And Leave Me”. The latter was Liam Gallagher’s first song writing credit. Their success resulted in support slots with The Rolling Stones, U2 and Oasis. Unfortunately, The Seahorses aborded the recordings of their follow-up album to split up due to musical differences.
Do It Yourself is celebrating its 25th anniversary in 2022 and includes an insert.
Note vinyl rel date is later. 10 Year Anniversary Reissue. 2LP / 2CD featuring the album proper & demos of each song + rarities. Colored clear vinyl, includes digital download. Recommended If You Like: The original ‘151a’ release, of Montreal, Regina Spektor, Andrew Bird. They say that you spend your entire life writing your first album, piecing every formative moment, scribbled turn of phrase, and thematic epiphany into a fantastical collage. Multi-instrumentalist K. Ishibashi (aka Kishi Bashi) disproves that old adage. The title of Kishi Bashi’s 2011 debut album,‑151a, is a riff on the Japanese phrase‑“ichi-go ichi-e,” roughly translating to “one time, one place.” That’s exactly what this debut is: A singular time, an inimitable place, a launchpad for bigger and better things to come. “It’s a play on words that translates as a performance aesthetic of having a unique performance in time, with imperfections, and enjoying it while you can,” Ishibashi‑told NPR at the time of the album’s release. “The saying reminds me to embrace my mistakes and move forward.” From the deconstructed Beach Boys-esque doo-wop of “Wonder Woman” to the menacing marriage of Eastern Hues and Western operatics of “Beat the Bright out of Me,”‑151a‑is a mediation between opposing drives, offering possible reconciliation but never promising it. The album’s emotional wellspring, “I Am The Antichrist To You” was reimagined in 2021 when it was featured on the animated sci-fi sitcom‑Rick and Morty, introducing Kishi Bashi to a new generation of awestruck fans. Kishi Bashi uses‑151a‑as a vehicle to explore his cultural background. Using Japanese refrains as a compositional and textural device (the polyrhythmic grandeur of “Bright Whites”; the gleeful surrealism of “It All Began With a Burst”), Kishi Bashi celebrates his heritage with earnestness. Japanese phrases and couplets are sung as the response to Kishi Bashi’s resplendent calls, offering listeners a conversation that dovetails with the album’s themes of love, sentimentality, and self-discovery. Today, the “one time” and “one place” that151a‑inhabited seems further than ever, almost broaching celestial realms of time and space. But, rest assured, with each listen, the world that Kishi Bashi built springs back to life. The world of‑151a‑never left—it was just waiting to be rediscovered.
