Search:white star

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.

2022 Repress

The legendary gig that Joe Strummer, singer from the Punk Rock band 'The Clash' attended and inspired his writing their classic 'White Man In Hammersmith Palais' took place on the 05th June 1977.
At the Hammersmith Palais venue on Shepherd's Bush Road W6, London during the height of Punk Mania. The full line up for the show were all Jamaican artists Dillinger, Leroy Smart, Delroy Wilson (all the first time from Jamaica) and Ken Boothe.
'Ken Boothe for UK pop reggae' who had already scored some hits with 'Everything I own' and 'Crying Over You' in 1974. Joe Strummer was expecting Roots, Rock, Reggae but the Sound System this evening 'Admiral Ken Sound' was playing 'Four Tops all night' as in soul and northern soul that were staple crowd pleasers at the time to warm up the audience, but in Joe's eyes the music should have reflected more Jamaican roots based music. The song also deals with bigger issues of black and white unity, but some people including the Punk Rockers.
'They're all too busy fighting, for a good place under the lighting'. Joe Strummer himself was looking for fun. 'I'm the Whiteman in the Palais....Just Looking for Fun'

The artwork supplied by Punk Artist MAL-ONE has used the two posters that were made for this gig, the reggae promoters 'Star Promotions' poster, that contained a picture of Ken Boothe and the venue's own poster that used text to announce it's line up for that evenings performance. Alongside these lost relics he has also combined the groups own poster for the 'White Man In Hammersmith Palais' single that incorporated the use of rifle target sights, perhaps enhancing the air of violence contained in the songs message.
MAL-ONE has collaged these together joining the two stories as indeed the song lyrics reflected. People often forget that the songs release was in fact as year after the actual gig, we have tied this release to the 40th anniversary of the song's release. Joe Strummer was one of the few voices from the Punk Era that used his lyrics as a weapon to tell the events that were happening around him and their relevance to those times.
The song itsel a Clash Classic and also a Punk Anthem, released on the 16th June 1978. We have compiled this album with songs by these artists, most of which you would have heard that night. As a post script to this story when the Hammersmith Palais sadly closed its doors for the last time after 82 years' service in 1999, the owners thought it fitting to present Joe Strummer with a sign from the venue's entrance. Mr Strummer's understated reply 'I guess I'll have to send a man with a van round to pick it up'.
Hope you Enjoy the set....

Demon Records is proud to present a new ‘Best Of’ collection that gathers together twelve
highlights from across the Box Tops’s career.
• Formed in Memphis in 1967, the Box Tops were fronted by Alex Chilton (who later went on to lead
Big Star) and are best known for their blue-eyed soul and psychedelic pop-rock sound on hits
including ‘The Letter’, ‘Cry Like A Baby’, ‘Choo Choo Train’ and ‘Soul Deep’. Alongside those classic
singles, this new collection also includes a selection of lesser known fan favourites including ‘Neon
Rainbow’, ‘Sweet Cream Ladies, Forward March’, and their cover of Procol Harum’s ‘Whiter Shade
Of Pale’.
• Pressed on 140g vinyl and housed in a printed inner sleeve featuring new liner notes by Alan
Robinson. Also available as a comprehensive 2CD edition.

Here at last is the reissue of the most sought-after track by French New Beat band French Theory. Originally released in 2008, this tribute to Boccacio (the revered temple of New Beat and EBM, located in Belgium) struck at the heart of the movement’s soul. It quickly gained cult status for its gloomy atmosphere, heavy industrial beats and catchy melodies that propelled the classic New Beat sound into the 21st century.

Out of print since then, it’s back in a limited edition, with the added energy of a powerful remaster by cult techno and acid master Thomas P. Heckmann (Trope, Drax, etc.), plus a brand new diversion exclusive to this vinyl on the flip. Get ready to wave the white glove again, and get lost in the music!

French theory is the New Beat alias of Guillaume U. Chifflot, one of the few French techno veterans in the New Beat & Techno-house genre, who started releasing tracks in the early 90s on his own multimedia label n9. Relaunched in the mid-2000s, the label releases techno and electronica, while pioneering an upgrade of New Beat in the wake of the Techno Body Music movement.

New album by Steamhammer - British blues-rock band STEAMHAMMER
was formed at the end of 1968 by Martin Quittenton (guitar), Kieran White
(vocals, harmonica, guitar), Martin Pugh (guitar), Steve Davy (bass) and
Michael Rushton (drums)
Their first album "Reflections" (AKA "Junior's Wailing") was released in 1969. Pete
Sears played piano on this album before he joined Rod Stewart on his four early
classic recordings. Pugh also played on Rod Stewart's first solo album, "The Rod
Stewart Album" (AKA "An Old Raincoat Would Never Let You Down") with Ron
Wood, Mickey Waller, Martin Quittenton and Keith Emerson. After "Reflections",
Quittenton and Rushton both quit the band to be replaced by Mick Bradley
(drums) and Steve Joliffe (sax, flute), who gave a jazzy influence to the band in
their second album, "Mk. II" (1969). Shortly after this release, Joliffe left the band,
which continued as a 4 piece in their third album "Mountains" (1970), which was a
returning to the blues- rock of the first album. After a major turnover, Pugh and
Bradley invited Louis Cennamo (bass) and, along with special guest Garth WattRoy (vocals), recorded "Speech" in 1971. This last album was released
posthumously, after Bradley's death in 1972.Now, exactly 50 years after the
release of "Speech" and 53 years after Pugh and Sears collaborated on the band's
first LP, Steamhammer will release a new album, "Wailing Again". Featuring beside
1968 founder member Martin Pugh (guitars) and Pete Sears (bass, keys &
background vocals), member of Jefferson Starship from 1974 to 1987, Manfred
Mann's Earth Band - drummer John Lingwood, who joined Steamhammer in 1972,
and Phil Colombatto (vocals & harmonica).

New one by Montreal singer-songwriter Deb Edison, working once again as The Submissives and willfully unchanged from 2016's Do You Really Love Me? cassette (Fixture). Six years into the most tumultuous period in global history since WWII – a pandemic, right-wing infiltration, attempts at government overthrow, climate catastrophe looming, a near-complete loss of the moral compass, conspiracies lording over facts natural resources running out – and Deb's still here, staring a hole through the floor/your head. "No one ever changes," she coos on "In a Pinch," and these songs are a textbook example of that sentiment, and her artistic embodiment of psychosexual desire, ready to shatter some lives and walk away looking for the next one. "I'm waiting for your signal/I'm several years older," she drones on "Sick Kinda Love," further reinforcing a long-held stance that the obsession, internalization of feelings, and the human power dynamic of The Submissives are on the menu once again. You'll find whatever it is you want to find in here, just dig in. Deb might even be talking about you, though there's a good chance she's not, and if you don't have the goods you can be sure she's gonna be doing all she can to passively drive you away. "Chirp Like a Bird" reads as Deb's bottom-looking-up retort to Whitehouse's "Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel," and might even be more severe, because she doesn't need microphonic feedback and screaming to intimidate. If you're in for surface thrills, scrape up the Shaggs-esque rock stumble, swooping viola, and behind-the-beat bash tapping out each of these eleven tracks. This is how it is; you get what you get, and you might be upset, but that's all on you. You'll never get to the bottom of this sketch. TRACKLIST: A1 Wanna be your thing A2 When it was all new A3 In a pinch A4 Sick kinda love A5 Chirp like a bird A6 I'm a mirror B1 Goodbye Betty B2 Four five B3 Isn't you B4 Think of me B5 Sweetly

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.

Black White Splatter Vinyl

When two musicians intensively work together for a period of time, at some point the whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts. If Paul Boex and Dave Miller hadn't already reached that status under their Abstract Division moniker, they certainly have now, with the release of Midnight Ensemble, their first full length album.

Those who have followed the duo since their early days of playing dj-sets together, know that it's hard to define their style anywhere beyond techno or even electronic music, as it is ever evolving and always dependent on the time of the day or night. When listening to this album, the resemblance between their unpredictable selection behind the decks and the eclectic range of subgenres on this album is more obvious than ever before. Midnight Ensemble could be interpreted as an ode to nightlife; a reminiscence of all that happens between dusk and dawn, captured and compressed into about one hour of music. An hour in which they so delicately time their changing of styles and tempos, always reading the room and always being one step ahead of the crowd.

This album is a reflection of that skill, starting its journey with soothing, moodsetting ambient, followed by timeless pieces of Detroit and dubtechno. A daring electro cut providing a refreshing break from the four to the floor tradition, only to be followed by the stripped down sound the duo is so comfortable with.

The final minutes consist of experimental breaks, one last banger to pull out the last bits of energy that is left and a beautiful outro, which concludes the allnighter vibe. There are no open endings, it doesn't make you want to stay in the dark forever. Rather it makes you want to close your eyes one last time before walking outside to see the sun come up again before going home, overwhelmed and satisfied.

Perc returns to Perc Trax with 'Dirt', one of his most raw and uncompromising works to date. Across three versions of the track, one remixed in collaboration with rising US star EAS, Perc fuses together dry looped techno with caustic industrial sounds and just a splash of rave euphoria.

Opening up the release is the original mix of 'Dirt' layering searing top end percussion over cropped breakbeats before dropping unexpectedly to an unmistakable classic piano riff. The riff has been completely replayed and reproduced rather than sampled and provides the kind of sudden jolt that Perc's productions are famous for.

On the B-side Perc teams up with Los Angeles DJ and producer EAS who returns to the label for the first time since his devastating remix of Perc's own 'Dumpster' in early 2021. Perc provides the beats and EAS serves up the 303 lines, as the hedonism of the original mix's piano drop is swapped for a screw faced slice of warehouse acid.

Rounding off the release is Perc's own 'Crowd Mix' which focuses on the beats with additional layers of percussion and atmospheric crowd samples filling the space taken by the piano hook and acid lines of the first two mixes.

'Dirt' will be released as a hand-stamped white label release in a stickered black paper sleeve. The release was mastered by regular Perc Trax mastering engineer Matt Colton at Metropolis studios with Adult Art Club handling visual presentation and design.

David Lovato’s first outing as LOVA, the superb Gypsophilia EP, was one of NuNorthern Soul’s most lauded and cherished releases of 2021 – a gorgeous collection of emotive, sun-soaked sounds from the mind of a producer who got his chance on the imprint after handing a USB of tracks to Phil Cooper at Hostal La Torre in the summer of 2020.

Now, the EP returns for 2022 in expanded form, with a trio of fresh, mood-enhancing remixes joining the three original tracks featured on last year’s release. It’s those – ‘Cecilia’, Lovato’s glistening, emotionally resonant musical tribute to his baby daughter, mid-tempo nu-disco gem ‘Echoes of Memories’ and the stunning, sunset-inspired ‘Esperanza’ - that form the first half of the EP, with a trio of reworks following in hot pursuit.

Long-time friends of the label Leo Mas and Fabrice, an Italian duo famed for their brilliant Balearic reworks whose individual and collective histories stretch right back to the late 1980s (Mas, for example, was one of the resident DJs at legendary White Isle venue Amnesia at the back end of that decade). Given this shared Balearic history, it’s fitting that they step up first and give their spin on ‘Cecilia’. Making the most of Lovato’s stunning, reverb-drenched guitar licks, dreamy chords and atmospheric pads, the pair delivers a shuffling, club-ready interpretation underpinned by a locked-in dub disco groove. It’s a fine take on a track brimming with positivity and joy.

Hear & Now, an Italian duo best known for delivering a trio of brilliant albums on Claremont 56, give their interpretation of ‘Echoes of Memories’. Beginning with a mixture of quietly colourful chords, enveloping sonic textures and hazy guitar motifs, the mix gently builds as it progresses, with the pair introducing a pitched-down house groove, chiming electronic melodies and alluring elements from Lovato’s original version. Like much of Hear & Now’s work, it sits somewhere be-tween Balearica, slow-motion electronic disco and the Rimini-friendly dream house sound that marked out Italian club cuts at the turn of the ‘90s.

To close out the EP, rising star Danilo Braca – an Italian producer based in New York City who began DJing in his home country way back in 1996 – gently leads ‘Esperanza’ towards the dancefloor. Braca is a member of production duo Synth & Soda, whose 2020 remix of DJ Harvey presents Locussolus track ‘Berghain’ was selected by the man himself as the winner of an online competition. On this solo revision, Braca wraps a punchy, Latin-tinged house beat in cascading melodic motifs, bubbly synthesizer arpeggio lines, rising and falling electronics and pads so sumptuous you might want to marry them. Simultaneously morning fresh and sunset-ready, Braca has delivered a classic-sounding chunk of Balearic nu-disco/deep house fu-sion.

Gypsophilia Remixed is the latest volume in NuNorthern Soul’s Myths of Ibiza series of EPs, which all feature specially commissioned artwork from illustrator Emily McGuinness. This time round, McGuinness’s distinctive artwork depicts Tanit, the ‘protector goddess’ of Ibiza. A warrior deity of dance, fertility, creation and destruction, her spirit is said to watch over the island’s West Coast, particularly the area around Atlantic and the mysterious Es Vedra rock.

Limited White Vinyl

nearly ten years ago, toureau releases his last single and there were people who said there was nothing more to come... but it was worth the wait because sometimes things need their time - especially the good ones! so 2022 is the perfect mment to reanimate with müller one of germanys hottest and legendary techno labels, join the forces and start a new chapter.
"telecommande"(french for remote control) is a perfect summer tune with some emotional trancey melodies for the festivalseason. munichs deejay gigolo martin matiske interprets this track in his own unique detroit-infected electro-style a la dopplereffekt and brings back some 80s-retro to the floors. on the flipside AFUs felix bernhardt shows us the "stompy" side of techno and the
perfect sound for the next megarave. last but not least italys rising star vicky montefusco who already releases on marc houles "items&things" presents his own groovy and deep minimalistic remixversion. This release comes in a limited white coloured vinyl edition with a beautiful coverartwork and pictures of famous photographer ralf peters, who already has exhibited
his art in miami, zurich or tokyo...

Right On Time - Trojan Rock Steady is the 2nd part of the exclusive Music On Vinyl’s Trojan compilation series, which celebrates the best works from the legendary reggae label Trojan Records. It was compiled by Laurence Cane-Honeysett, who also wrote the linernotes. Some of Trojan’s finest are featured on this compilation; as there are The Gladiators, The Melodians, The Gladiators, Ken Boothe a.o.

From one of the most colourful and vibrant eras of music, comes “DISCO FLOORFILLERS”, a 28 Track DoubleLP set featuring some of the biggest hits of from the era.
Amongst the 24 top 10 hits, Artists/Bands include Chic, McFadden & Whitehead, Earth, Wind & Fire with The
Emotions, Shalamar, The Whispers, Sister Sledge, Edwin Starr, The Real Thing and Gladys Knight & The Pips.
The set also includes the #1 singles by Anita Ward, The Village People, Carl Douglas and George McCrae!

There is a moment on Sides, the new album from Richmond, Virginia-based duo Lean Year, in which a hospital room floor is filled with white chrysanthemums. This imagery, based on an opiate-induced hallucination experienced by vocalist Emilie Rex's mother as she recovered from surgery, is a perfect encapsulation of the band's second album: dreamlike and beautiful, yet burdened with cold, stark reality. Sides is a harrowing journey through realms of grief and memory, a meditation woven into a tapestry of synth pads, woodwinds, and Rex's instantly recognizable voice. The duo of Rex and Rick Alverson - who also works as a film director (The Mountain, Entertainment, The Comedy) - originally set out to write an album about conflict, but during the writing and recording process, they were confronted with a number of personal tragedies. Alverson lost both of his parents in rapid succession, Rex's mother received a cancer diagnosis, and the couple's beloved family dog, Orca, died. These events transformed the album into an exploration of loss - an attempt at processing the painful, complex, and private emotions that bubble to the surface when confronted with death. "We thought we'd do a concept album called Sides where we could reflect on all of the division in the world, and some in our own families, but then COVID transformed everything / everyone, and we suffered our own specific losses. The record became about loss and grief," Rex explains. "In this way, the title Sides was still appropriate: our individual grief and collective grief, the margins of before and after, the act and feeling of during and enduring. It felt like straddling a threshold between two opposing sides - the moment before conflict and the moment after it passes, life and death, the act of living and the memory of the act. Grief feels like a contention between what you knew and what you now know, and often both feel real and unreal at once." Sides - produced by Alverson alongside Erik Hall (In Tall Buildings) and featuring contributions from Elliot Bergman (Nomo, Wild Belle) and Joseph Shabason (Destroyer, The War on Drugs) - as a distinctly cinematic quality, perhaps due in part to Alverson's other career. Moments of jazz, slowcore, and dirgelike R&B find their way into the sorrowful, ambient suite, lulling the listener into a state of calm while the lyrics speak of ghosts, childhood, and mortality. Despite the gravity of the subject matter, Sides succeeds in mastering a balancing act between pathos and pop. Each song is indelible and haunting, with melodies that have the kind of broad appeal reminiscent of Karen Dalton, Aldous Harding, and FKA twigs.

The second extended EP by London synth cyberneticians 3 Electro Knights is Rave One, which is human and machine in hot synergy. If Blixa Bargeld played the synthesizer he would probably come up with something like the crazed lead on Rave One. I Move In Another Dimension is a remix of very limited lathe cut single, which Rough Trade shops described as “Electro sqwonk and clatter meet Patti Smith style beat poetry’. This, the “Mandy” remix ups the psychedelic energy, with Mandy referring to the acid drenched Nicholas Cage starring film of the same name. The flip side track, I_tense, is a 14 trip into territory somewhere between Berlin School synth and early Aphex Twin driven by perhaps the greatest synthesizer ever made, the Roland System 100m, and was recorded in one take with no overdubs Very limited copies – 250 only – on white vinyl with orange swirl. The sleeve design is by acclaimed graphic designer Asif Khan. Destroy/Exist wrote of their cassette album Sketches For Another Future: “Through krautrock, psychedelic, synthpunk, and modern electronica passages, 3 Electro Knights fully realize their analog electronic sound, exposing their warm connection with their synths.” 3 Electro Knights are Daren Pickles (Supercharger, bushpilot), Nik Clifford (Jesus Licks, bushpilot) and Ross Holloway (bushpilot).

823 is a multifaceted Perth-based record label, fashion brand, and artistic community, founded by Australian producer and all-around creative, Ta-ku (846k monthly listeners on Spotify). With an ethos of attention to detail and appreciation for the everyday things in life, 823 doesn’t stick to any particular genre. 823’s releases include Cabu’s (800k Monthly Listeners on Spotify) “So Far To Go” EP, Ta-ku and matt mcwaters’s duo project “Black and White,” which featured Masego collaboration “Flight 99” (14 million streams on Spotify), their debut release with Australian producer and instrumentalist Kuzich, and multiple sold out clothing capsules. “All Things Considered Vol. 1” set off a collaborative series of curated compilations, featuring both budding and well-established artists around the world including Idealism, Wun Two, pastels, SwuM, Jinsang, Saltyyyy V, and more. “All Things Considered Vol. 2” sees the continuation of this project, this time in partnership with fellow Perth-based powerhouse, Butter Goods.

Butter Goods is a Perth clothing brand rooted in skating culture and style, but drawing inspiration from hip-hop, jazz, and music at large. Butter Goods has been featured in major publications, including GQ, Complex, and HYPEBEAST. They’ve collaborated on releases with Peanuts and Puma, and have reached international levels of popularity. Butter Goods co-founder Garth Mariano’s deep love for and eclectic tastes in music drive his creativity, and are front and center in his partnership with Ta-ku and 823 on “All Things Considered Vol 2,” where the two team up to curate a wide-ranging compilation.

Arriving on September 2nd, 2022, “All Things Considered Vol. 2” is an exploration of Ta-ku’s and Mariano’s extensive and often overlapping musical palettes in two parts. The record pays homage to the love of instrumental music and hidden gems of new school jazz and funk that act as a source of inspiration and nostalgia for the both of them. The collaboration brings together over a dozen producers and instrumentalists from Sydney to Chicago, including Jadu Jadu, Gnarly, Tenderlonius, silentjay, and more. Side A is curated by Ta-ku and 823. It’s as much a love letter to the past as it is a nod to the future of beat-making. Featuring sample heavy, drum looped beats, sprinkled with the occasional ear candy for the attentive listener, it presents cruisy soundscapes & easy listening. Side B is curated by Garth and Butter Goods. It’s a raw and eclectic companion to Side A, leaning heavily into the texture and grit of multi-layered jazz and funk-driven beats.

As with any 823 release, the project is as visual as it is sonic. The artwork and visualizers are a celebration of Garth’s love of thrift culture and old nature documentaries, fused with 823’s design aesthetic of bringing everyday inspirations to the forefront. CRT style visuals are paired with 90’s spin, slide and fade away transitions. When partnered with the music, each visualizer could easily work as the intro for an episode of a VHS series of nature docos.

1st single, “senzu bean,” arrives on July 7th and kicks off Side A, showcasing Ta-ku’s hip-hop-centric tastes. Sydney producer Jadu Jadu teams up with UK-based TAMBALA, apltn, and Makzo for a vibrant instrumental. From a head-nodding bassline beneath fuzzy synths, to soft horn licks sprinkled over electronic drums, “senzu bean” is sonically rich and multilayered.

2nd single, “Too Much” by UK producer saaaz arrives July 20th. It’s a moody and low-tempo beat that builds itself up over time, complete with cryptic vocal samples and syrupy drums and bass. Also off of 823’s Side A, “Too Much” maintains a laid-back hip-hop theme but with saaaz’s signature and definitive lo-fi twist.

3rd single, “Goodmorning” from Baro Sura and silentjay of Melbourne arrives August 3rd, kicking off Butter Good’s Side B. The track is bright from start to finish and is a sun-filled track perfect for closing out the summer with. Final single, “Fool’s Gold” by Los Angeles producer L.Dre arrives August 17th. The infinitely creative beatmaker layers soft hums and the sounds of crashing waves over crisp drums and an infectious bassline. Together, it makes for a beat that sounds like it was made outside, under the sun, and is best enjoyed in the same way.

Focus track, “Seventh Wonder” by Tenderlonius, comes off of Side B, and is a window into the ideas and palettes on both sides of the compilation. The beat slowly fades in, one sound at a time, until it reaches a full-fledged groove, soaked in synths, bass, and horns, that’s impossible not to move to.

On the whole, “All Things Considered Vol. 2” is a forward-focused, sonic journey into the minds behind two of today’s great creative brands, and is as artistically eclectic and varied as those minds are, and a proud follow-up to its first volume.

LP contains A2 poster on uncoated stock.

Standout favorites of RidingEasy Records’ Brown Acid compilation series, White Lightning’s stellar discography of rare and under-appreciated heavy psych, proto-metal rock gets a vital revival for new generations to learn how swinging, swaggering and often blazingly fast rock’n’roll is done.White Lightning was formed in Minneapolis, MN in 1968 by guitarist Tom “Zippy” Caplan and bassist Woody Woodrich after leaving garage psych band The Litter (themselves popular standouts from the Nuggets and Pebbles series of garage rock rarities.) Originally a power trio, the band later expanded to a 5-piece in 1969 while shortening its name to Lightning. The quintet’s brilliant and rare 1970 self-titled album on Pickwick International’s P.I.P. imprint provides 6 of the 10 tracks on Thunderbolts of Fuzz.The original White Lightning trio only released one 45-rpm single “Of Paupers and Poets” during their existence (on local Hexagon label in 1968, later reissued by major label ATCO Records in 1969.) A long out-of-print posthumous album released in 1995 gathered unreleased recordings, 3 of which are found here. This rounds out this collection of recorded highlights from the band’s rocky history.
Taking their name from a particularly potent type of LSD, White Lightning laid out from the start that it was not cute and cuddly 70s rock. In fact, the band’s aggressive tempos are like punk rock way before punk. However, their dirty blues groove and musical prowess shows the band was more than unrefined ne’er-do-wells, they had true versatility.
Drummer/lead vocalist Mick Stanhope later relinquished his drum throne to take center stage as lead singer of the expanded lineup. Throughout its initial 1968-1974 run, the band had 10 different lineups, with Caplan, Woodrich and Stanhope the most consistent members — though the band points out that no one member has played in all 11 incarnations of the group. For more facts and information visit thelitter-lightning.
Album opener “Prelude to Opus IV” is a wailing rocker with blazing double-kick drum, sizzling melodic riffs and Jim Dandy howls jam packed into an epic 4 minutes that serves enough testament to the band’s greatness, nothing more need be heard or said. However, the would-be hits keep coming as the Led Zeppelin meets Black Oak Arkansas thwack of “Hideaway” and “Born Too Rich” come screaming out of the speakers. “When A Man Could Be Free” shows the band could also reign in the fury, at least a little bit, for a warm Southern rock style ballad. “Borrowed and Blue” echoes the stately poetry of Electric Ladyland-era Hendrix with a dash of The Who’s rollicking psychedelia. “1930” is, quite simply, insane. Searing twin guitars with incredible fuzz-drenched tone, a warm and buzzing bass line bounce atop drummer Bernie Pershey’s unrelenting bass drum triplets while Stanhope ravages his lungs with soulful abandon. The album closes with the aptly titled “Before My Time” a barnstorming boogie rock instrumental the proves the band vanished long before receiving their due.

Für Lacrimas Profundere, eine der innovativsten und erfolgreichsten deutschen Dark Metal-Bands der Gegenwart, ging es im Falle des neuen Studioalbums ‚How To Shroud Yourself With Night’ (VÖ. 26. August 2022, Steamhammer/SPV) vor allem um die vermeintliche Bürde ihrer 2019er Erfolgsscheibe ‚Bleeding The Stars‘. Denn deren Bilanz hatte indirekt riesige Erwartungen geweckt: „Album des Monats“ im ‚Metal Hammer‘, ‚Orkus‘ und ‚Dead Rhetoric‘, Top-10-Platzierungen in den anderen wichtigen Magazinen, dazu Charts-Einstieg sowie die bis dato erfolgreichste Headlinertour der Gruppe. Wer würde da nicht automatisch mit einer Fortsetzungsgeschichte liebäugeln? „Für mich ging es darum, sich vom Druck des Erfolges zu befreien und zu versuchen, die Messlatte höher zu hängen, dem Spiel voraus zu sein, sich selbst zu fordern und originell zu bleiben, anstatt auf Nummer-Sicher zu gehen und eine Art ‚Bleeding Part II‘ zu schreiben“, erklärt Gitarrist, Bandgründer und Hauptkomponist
Oliver Nikolas Schmid, der mit seinem Bruder und Texter Christopher Schmid erneut eine unverzichtbare Unterstützung fand. „Die neuen Songs klingen frisch, böse, überraschend und leidenschaftlicher als jemals zuvor. Zudem ist es das zweite Kapitel mit unserem Sänger Julian, der uns inspiriert und sich wundervoll eingebracht hat“, so Schmid weiter. „Wir haben verstanden, was ihm gefällt, und haben uns von alten Denk- und Vorgehensweisen gelöst. Noch nie waren wir eine solch eingeschworene Einheit und bereit, unseren eigenen Sound zu erweitern. Gerade deshalb ist ‚How To Shroud Yourself With Night’ unser mit Abstand mutigstes Werk geworden.“

One of the most rare and sought after soul lp’s from the mid 1970s, Love Is a Very Special Thing by Charles Williams receives a lush reissue from Svart Records. Originally released in Finland only, American singer and songwriter Charles Williams has remained in obscurity ever since, only known to die hard soul record collecting enthusiasts. Williams’ Love Is a Very Special Thing is an epic concept album that has only been reissued in Japan some years ago in a limited edition run and is still a hard to find, highly prized collectors item. Brilliantly crafted black funk and soul from the disco era, Williams was a highly talented soul singer and musician influenced by a wide range of styles, from soul stars Marvin Gaye, Barry White and Isaac Hayes to folk rock band Crosby, Stills & Nash. Williams’ soul music is neither easy listening nor disco, but brings to mind the best of the creative 1960s Motown artists and singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell and Judy Collins. Love Is a Very Special Thing began raising interest among soul collectors in the 1990s, when the internet brought record collecting into a new era. Williams’ name was discovered outside Finland and the prices soon went up. It’s no wonder: Love Is a Very Special Thing is as good as the best US soul albums of the era, but soul fanatics outside Finland didn’t have a clue about it, because it was released in Finland only, and as a relatively small pressing too. This new luxury edition by Svart Records is the LP plus a replica of the rare 7” Just As Long / Funky Music (1976) that has never been reissued until now. The CD has the single as bonus tracks. Get yourself acquainted with a rare piece of Finnish funk and soul history, and discover an artist whose music deserves to shine again.