Search:younger brother

If you were smart enough to get your grubby paws on the first Scrap Metal compilation, you probably have a pretty good idea of what you’re in for with our second installment. Featuring long-lost gems from ultra-rare 45s and private press singles—plus one previously unreleased banger—Scrap Metal 2 maintains a steady NWOBHM course. Packed with infectious outliers and supremely talented one-and-done metal warriors from the crucial British movement of the late ’70s and early ’80s (and some killer American obscurities inspired by them), this collection delivers all the fist-pumping, riff-mongering and flashy solos of heavy metal’s golden age. As always, every track has been officially licensed and every artist gets paid. As a late entry into the NWOBHM sweepstakes, JJ’s Powerhouse was formed in Merseyside, England, by guitarist Jon “J.J.” Cox with members of his previous band, Quad. Much like the opener to the original Scrap Metal comp, you can hear early Metallica coursing through this legendary ripper. Coincidentally, this ultra-rare 45 was released in ’83, the same year as Kill ’Em All. Taking their name from a 1978 sci-fi novel by Marion Zimmer Bradley, Welsh super troopers Storm Queen reveled in animal-print clothing and flying Vs. The Motörhead-meets-Priest anthem “Raising the Roof” is the flipside to their only single, which the band self-released in 1982. Led by guitarist Dave Morse, Storm Queen’s earliest lineup included bassist Bryn Merrick (RIP), who would go on to join The Damned. Roaring out of Birmingham, England, in 1975, Jameson Raid palled around with fellow Brummies Black Sabbath and named themselves after a failed 19th century attack that helped kick off South Africa’s Second Boer War. Their three-song 1979 debut featured the infectious “It’s a Crime,” which comes across like a deadly hard-glam version of Budgie. Still fronted by vocalist Terry Dark, they’re going strong as of 2022. A.R.C., a punky proto-metal group from the UK, released the boozy single “Home Made Wine” b/w “The Chase” in 1979 and—as far as we know—were never heard from again. They’re not to be confused with a gang of Tolkien enthusiasts also called A.R.C., who released two NWOBHM singles in the early ’80s and actually were heard from again. Nonetheless, the A.R.C. we have here was led by a thirsty lad named Klaus Brunnenkant, who liked to rock n’ roll all night and party every day. Both sides of Metropolis’ sole single bear the legend, “Unauthorized duplication shall result in getting your ass beat.” This San Jose metal squad released their only single in 1986 and dedicated it to Metallica bassist Cliff Burton, who had recently been killed in a bus accident. “The Raven” is the serpentine NWOBHM- and Edgar Allan Poe-influenced flipside to “Time Heals Everything,” and yeah, you can hear the guitars going out of tune on the solo, but that’s part of the charm. Of the two dozen or so metal bands that have called themselves Prowler over the years, we’re pretty sure this particular Prowler is the only one from San Diego. These dudes take a thrashier approach than most of the bands here on Scrap Metal 2: “Temporary Insanity” strikes a deft balance between early Anthrax and early Testament, with just enough hard rock swing to keep it from getting overly staccato. Self-released in ’86 as the band’s only single, the song is the flip to “I Love It.” Not much is known about Christian Steel beyond this: They put out their only single in 1983, which boasted “Need Your Love” as the flip to “I Don’t Want To.” The former, included here, sounds kinda like a dizzy, more metallic version of ’70s Jersey rockers Starz, who famously influenced the likes of Mötley Crüe, Poison and Twisted Sister. Ohio guitarist/vocalist Marty Soski’s career dates back to at least 1969 with the Inside Experience track “Be On My Way,” which we unearthed for our own Brown Acid: The Third Trip. This time, we’ve got a monster Soski cut that he recorded under the name Black Rose. Released in 1982, the absolutely smokin’ “Sidewinder” was the A-side on the band’s sole single. The main riff isn’t far off from Y&T’s major-label banger “Mean Streak,” which was released the following year. When Dark Age titled their 1987 album The Youngest Metal Band in the World, they weren’t even sort of kidding. Legend has it that “Star Trippin’,” which was released as a single a year earlier, was written by guitarist CJ Rininger when he was just 12 years old. His brother Dave, the vocalist, was two years younger. Old photos of the band—complete with pineapple haircuts—seem to bear this story out. Either way, the song is pure flash metal, conjuring Sunset Strip sleaze all the way from Ohio. By now, all you heads know Los Angeles magic men Sorcery from their storied appearance in—and soundtrack for—the death-defying Ozploitation flick Stunt Rock. What we have here in “Whales” is a previously unreleased track from the same 1978 recording sessions. It’s a little bit Zeppelin, a little bit prog, and a whole lotta thundering riffage. Why this languished in the vaults for so long is anyone’s guess. Better late than never!

If you were smart enough to get your grubby paws on the first Scrap Metal compilation, you probably have a pretty good idea of what you’re in for with our second installment. Featuring long-lost gems from ultra-rare 45s and private press singles—plus one previously unreleased banger—Scrap Metal 2 maintains a steady NWOBHM course. Packed with infectious outliers and supremely talented one-and-done metal warriors from the crucial British movement of the late ’70s and early ’80s (and some killer American obscurities inspired by them), this collection delivers all the fist-pumping, riff-mongering and flashy solos of heavy metal’s golden age. As always, every track has been officially licensed and every artist gets paid. As a late entry into the NWOBHM sweepstakes, JJ’s Powerhouse was formed in Merseyside, England, by guitarist Jon “J.J.” Cox with members of his previous band, Quad. Much like the opener to the original Scrap Metal comp, you can hear early Metallica coursing through this legendary ripper. Coincidentally, this ultra-rare 45 was released in ’83, the same year as Kill ’Em All. Taking their name from a 1978 sci-fi novel by Marion Zimmer Bradley, Welsh super troopers Storm Queen reveled in animal-print clothing and flying Vs. The Motörhead-meets-Priest anthem “Raising the Roof” is the flipside to their only single, which the band self-released in 1982. Led by guitarist Dave Morse, Storm Queen’s earliest lineup included bassist Bryn Merrick (RIP), who would go on to join The Damned. Roaring out of Birmingham, England, in 1975, Jameson Raid palled around with fellow Brummies Black Sabbath and named themselves after a failed 19th century attack that helped kick off South Africa’s Second Boer War. Their three-song 1979 debut featured the infectious “It’s a Crime,” which comes across like a deadly hard-glam version of Budgie. Still fronted by vocalist Terry Dark, they’re going strong as of 2022. A.R.C., a punky proto-metal group from the UK, released the boozy single “Home Made Wine” b/w “The Chase” in 1979 and—as far as we know—were never heard from again. They’re not to be confused with a gang of Tolkien enthusiasts also called A.R.C., who released two NWOBHM singles in the early ’80s and actually were heard from again. Nonetheless, the A.R.C. we have here was led by a thirsty lad named Klaus Brunnenkant, who liked to rock n’ roll all night and party every day. Both sides of Metropolis’ sole single bear the legend, “Unauthorized duplication shall result in getting your ass beat.” This San Jose metal squad released their only single in 1986 and dedicated it to Metallica bassist Cliff Burton, who had recently been killed in a bus accident. “The Raven” is the serpentine NWOBHM- and Edgar Allan Poe-influenced flipside to “Time Heals Everything,” and yeah, you can hear the guitars going out of tune on the solo, but that’s part of the charm. Of the two dozen or so metal bands that have called themselves Prowler over the years, we’re pretty sure this particular Prowler is the only one from San Diego. These dudes take a thrashier approach than most of the bands here on Scrap Metal 2: “Temporary Insanity” strikes a deft balance between early Anthrax and early Testament, with just enough hard rock swing to keep it from getting overly staccato. Self-released in ’86 as the band’s only single, the song is the flip to “I Love It.” Not much is known about Christian Steel beyond this: They put out their only single in 1983, which boasted “Need Your Love” as the flip to “I Don’t Want To.” The former, included here, sounds kinda like a dizzy, more metallic version of ’70s Jersey rockers Starz, who famously influenced the likes of Mötley Crüe, Poison and Twisted Sister. Ohio guitarist/vocalist Marty Soski’s career dates back to at least 1969 with the Inside Experience track “Be On My Way,” which we unearthed for our own Brown Acid: The Third Trip. This time, we’ve got a monster Soski cut that he recorded under the name Black Rose. Released in 1982, the absolutely smokin’ “Sidewinder” was the A-side on the band’s sole single. The main riff isn’t far off from Y&T’s major-label banger “Mean Streak,” which was released the following year. When Dark Age titled their 1987 album The Youngest Metal Band in the World, they weren’t even sort of kidding. Legend has it that “Star Trippin’,” which was released as a single a year earlier, was written by guitarist CJ Rininger when he was just 12 years old. His brother Dave, the vocalist, was two years younger. Old photos of the band—complete with pineapple haircuts—seem to bear this story out. Either way, the song is pure flash metal, conjuring Sunset Strip sleaze all the way from Ohio. By now, all you heads know Los Angeles magic men Sorcery from their storied appearance in—and soundtrack for—the death-defying Ozploitation flick Stunt Rock. What we have here in “Whales” is a previously unreleased track from the same 1978 recording sessions. It’s a little bit Zeppelin, a little bit prog, and a whole lotta thundering riffage. Why this languished in the vaults for so long is anyone’s guess. Better late than never!

One for the G-funk heads, this album is on a limited run 300 2LP only.

For their eighth reissue, NBN Archives dips right back in the Bay Area, unearthing a G-Funk gem by San Francisco rapper Tha Dangla. “Straight Max’n” originally came out in 1996 on G-Note Records and produced entirely by G-Note who delivers nothing but smoothed out productions fitting perfectly with Dangla’s funky flow. Despite being considered a Gangsta Rap artist, Tha Dangla remains positive and uplifiting on most of the tracks. The eponym track “Straight Max’n”, “Dangla’s Love” and “Homies Dedication” feature Iyesha Johnson and Latonya Coleman on background vocals, adding a nice touch of R&B to the project.

Unfortunately « Straight Max’n » was his first and only album as Ramadan "The Dangla" Smith was shot and killed in 2007. He was the younger brother of Edward "The Fast 1" Smith and first appeared on his solo album “Down 4 The Cause” that came out the same year on G-

Barely heard in his lifetime (1961-2002) but hailed as an outsider hero of ur-punk since 2009’s ‘Cosmic Lightning’ compilation, J.T. IV strikes back!

15 unheard-of tracks found on an obscure cassette tape make the schizo split in his music - rabid rock & roll fantasy and cold-eyed acoustic introspection - an epic. ‘The Future’ is J.T. IV’s mad magnum opus.

The 2009 comp LP, ‘Cosmic Lightning’, cast his tragic silhouette up on the big screen
for all to see: the lost boy, alone in the world, standing before the mic and releasing
his inner star with glee and vengeance, his antisocial visions flying high atop a raging
funnel of distorted guitars and blunt rhythms. Or couched, childlike, within a heart
breaking billow of acoustic guitars - a schizophrenic split that only magnifies the
display of his deep emotions.
‘The Future’ goes even further, excavating fifteen recordings from a previously
unheard-of cassette entitled ‘The Best Of Johnny Zhivago Retrospective 1979–1993’,
and adding four more uncollected tracks from his slim (and impossible to find
anyway) discography.
Of these nineteen tracks, eight are covers - and J.T. IV’s picks, from Velvets to Mott
the Hoople, Roxy Music, Lee Hazlewood, The Kinks, Eno and Stephen Sondheim,
sharpen our image of the misfit adrift; on the outside looking in, but maybe just a few
steps away from his goal.
‘The Future’ unfolds like an epic, as both sides of J.T.’s persona - the street-smart,
damaged rocker and the heart struck poet of the scene - live on together in the best
performances of his short career.
A punk of the old order, John Henry Timmis IV was born in 1961 into a dysfunctional,
abusive and eventually broken family. By the mid-70s, he was desperate to get out,
running away from his mother’s home several times while still a teenager living in the
greater Chicagoland area. At wit’s end, she had him committed to the Menninger
Clinic for a year or so. Released on his own reconnaissance, he began his meteoric
ascent to the mythic level of self-aggrandizement in which he appears here. Inspired
by the underground, proto-punk sounds in the air (the likes of which any sharp-eyed
young thing might chance upon in the back pages of Creem, Crawdaddy, Trouser
Press, etc.) and desperate to be heard himself, J.T. presented like the scabby
younger brother of Bangs and Laughner: born only to rock, his musical conception a
rabid personality crisis of proselyte elitism and nihilist excess.
Now, 20 years on from his passing, ‘The Future’ is ever farther away from the world
in which he struggled so mightily - but his stinging iconoclasm, whether screamed
from Marshall amps or mic-ed up close, feels ever more powerfully infused with his
unique breadth of illness and essence.
These songs represent the two sides of J.T. - and while they emanate from the 80s,
they find themselves potently renewed in the polarized world of today, making ‘The
Future’ a worthwhile destination for everyone who ever had a heart touched by the
transgression and freedom promised by rock & roll.

The Isley Brothers “Knowledge is power. I’m a witness to that. Our parents wanted us to have a complete musical education. They exposed us to everything, classical to country, standards, show tunes.” Ronald Isley, Mojo Magazine, 2000 The Isley Brothers have delighted audiences since the 1950’s and are celebrating their eighth decade in show business. Morphing from their roots in gospel and doo-wop through funk, rock and then, finally, into slow-jam R&B, the Isley Brothers remain one of the most fascinating groups of all time.
This album contains some of the most life-affirming music ever recorded: Ronald Isley’s keening yelp offering strength and sensitivity as it is supported by brothers Rudolph and O’Kelly. Our collection picks up their story in 1969. By this time, they had been recording for 12 years for many legendary labels, from RCA, to Atlantic, to Motown.
The brothers decided to go it alone on their own label, T-Neck. The repurposed Isleys broke onto the scene with the US R&B No.1/Hot 100 No. 2, ‘It’s Your Thing’. The album of the same name was a Top 30 smash and the group’s decision was vindicated. ‘It’s Your Thing’ marked a meeting point of influences: Sly Stone, James Brown, gospel and one-time group member Jimi Hendrix, laying the template for the Isleys’ next decade, from the gritty rock covers of Givin’ It Back to the era-defining ‘3 + 3’ (with the formal addition of the two younger Isleys, Ernie and Marvin, plus brother-in-law Chris Jasper).
After the 1972 release of ‘Brother, Brother, Brother’ (featuring the classic ‘Work To Do’) T-Neck moved to CBS leading to their first Platinum-selling album (1973’s ‘3+3’). Produced with Malcolm Cecil and Robert Margouleff, ‘3+3’ was practically prescribed to every soul boy in the UK (witness Wham’s cover of ‘If You Were There’). For the Isleys to take their old R&B hit, ‘Who’s That Lady’ and turn it into hard-rocking psychedelic soul was a blazing statement of their
intent. Their version of Seals and Croft’s pretty ‘Summer Breeze’ became one of their biggest hits, with Ronald and Ernie stamping their authority on the ballad. A period of phenomenal success followed. For every standout ballad (‘For The Love Of You’, or ‘The Highways Of My Life’), there was strident, take-no-prisoners political funk - as typified by ‘Fight The Power’, a US R&B No. 1 in 1975.
It was written by Ernie on the same day as another of their greatest moments, ‘Harvest For The World’.
This collection is a beautiful overview to the group, a most fabulous re-introduction to old friends. This era is affectionately known by the Isleys as the ‘gold and platinum years’ - one listen and you will understand why.

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.

Rance Allen, from Monroe Michigan, with older brother Tom on drums and younger brother Steve on bass recorded their first record and won a talent contest in Detroit and were subsequently signed to Stax's Gospel Truth label in 1971. After four albums Rance signed to Capitol and made his most highly acclaimed album 'Say My Friend'. It was produced by the Mizell Brothers (responsible for iconic albums on Donald Byrd, Bobbi Humphrey, Gary Bartz and Johnny Hammond). 'Reason To Survive' and 'Peace Of Mind' were the two singles, and both these 7' versions have been impossible to find. Original copies are expensive and extremely sought after. Expansion can now deliver both A sides back to back remastered from the original tapes in all their glory. The full album is available on CD from Soul Brother Records.

“I wanna wake up brand new” Enumclaw lead-singer / guitarist Aramis Johnson sings to begin Save the Baby, their massive-sounding debut full-length, out via Luminelle Recordings. The album is a swing for greatness; a collection of life-affirming and deeply personal songs about the importance of chasing after your dreams. Enumclaw is Aramis, guitarist Nathan Cornell, drummer Ladaniel Gipson, bassist (and Aramis’ younger brother) Eli Edwards. Working alongside producer Gabe Wax (Soccer Mommy, Crumb, Fleet Foxes), Enumclaw's Save the Baby delivers an album where on each track the band plays with dynamics while taking their songwriting to the stratosphere. Save the Baby is an album about stepping into your purpose, about the determination it takes to not give up on yourself in the midst of heartbreak and setbacks. It’s not a stretch to imagine a younger version of the band getting a glimpse of the future and freaking out by knowing their destiny of making it as a rock star has landed on their doorstep. For fans of all things J Mascis / Dinosaur Jr, Built to Spill and all things 90's Pacific Northwest.

The first album of Web Web is very uncut, raw, live and direct. Oracle is the first output of a German Supergroup. Check the musician credits below and you'll get the score. The initial idea was to record a spiritual-jazz type of album, with all its imperfection as far as intonation, sound, influences of tunes... just like from their big jazz-heroes in the 70ies (e.g. Strata East, Black Jazz).

Web Web's idea was to record a jazz jam session while to found and proclaim being a fictive band, a formation, which did not exist, while telling people, it would be a secret jam session recording of the Seventies. The prompt problem they were facing: Oh, we never would be able to play concerts, doing interviews, or placing photos on sleeves or post likeness images online. So they decided to reveal their real identities:

Web Web are: Roberto Di Gioia (Piano, Synth, Percussion), Tony Lakatos (Tenor- and Sopranosaxophone), Christian von Kaphengst (Upright Bass) and Peter Gall (Drums).

Roberto Di Gioia (Mastermind of Web Web): - The four of us set up very close in a big room, so we could hear and feel each other the best way. The music became more intensive, improvisations became more dynamic and it was impulsive .

The album Oracle' was recorded on one day, only first takes were used!

We want to keep the burning spirit and the loose vibe we had during the recording session. And we play concerts the wild and free way we recorded this album. Web Web will be on tour 2018, but playing a few concerts in 2017.
Furthermore, one main decision to blab their real identities was: The second Web Web album is recorded in June (with guests like the famous and unique Gembri-player and multiinstrumentalist and singer Majid Bekkas from Morocco).
Both albums were engineered, recorded and mixed by Jan Krause (Beanfield, Poets Of Rhythm).

Roberto Di Gioia: - Tony was tuning his Soprano too high, and his (overdubbed) tenor way too flat!
My synthesizers were somewhere in between...HA! We exactly had the sound we had in our minds, we had it exactly there were we wanted it: a bit of Sun Ra here, a bit of Horace Tapscott there. On some tunes Tony's soprano just sounds like a trumpet, since due to his weird tuning the soprano develops different frequencies in relation to other instruments.

Oracle' is the first live jazz release on Compost. Produced by Roberto Di Gioia and Michael Reinboth.

Roberto Di Gioia has been working with numerous jazz-legends, such as Woody Shaw, Art Farmer, James Moody, Johnny Griffin, Charlie Rouse, Clifford Jordan, Clark Terry, Roy Ayers, Gregory Porter and many more.

From 1990 to 2008: member Klaus Doldingers Passport. As a pianist he made recordings with Udo Lindenberg (MTV-Unplugged, 2011), Charlie Watts ( Music Of The Rolling Stones , 2005), Console ( Reset The Preset , 2003), The Notwist ( Shrink 1998, Neon Golden , 2002). Since 2007 he is working together with Samon Kawamura and Max Herre as KAHEDI: Max Herre ( Hallo Welt , 2012), Joy Denalane ( Gleisdreieck , 2017), u.v.m...His own group MARSMOBIL (produced by Peter Kruder) will release his fourth studioalbum in winter 2017.

Tony Lakatos originates from the world famous Lakatos-familiy from Budapest, Hungary. His father was a famous violinist, as well as his younger brother Roby. He started playing saxophone when he was 15 years old. Tony studied at the Bela-Bartok-Conservatory in Budapest, and made his degree in 1979. Since then he played on over 350 jazz albums (!!), to name a few: Al Foster, Kirk Lightsey, Randy Brecker, George Mraz, David Witham, Terri Lyne Carrington, Anthony Jackson. Tony was a member of Jasper Van´t Hofs PILI PILI. Since 1993 he is working with the HR Radio-Bigband as a soloist.

Christian von Kaphengst learned the piano at the Peter-Cornelius-Conservatory in Mainz when he was 6 years old. From 1988 to 1995 he studied upright-bass at the - Musikhochschule in Cologne. He was touring with his own Jazzquartett - Cafe du Sport to Pakistan, India, Turkey and West-Africa. Since 1999 he regularly plays with Patti Austin and The New York Voices in Europe. Von Kaphengst played with the greatest musicians, such as Randy Brecker, Nat Adderley, Roy Hargrove, Joe Sample, Charlie Mariano, Katja Ebstein, Xavier Naidoo, Roachford, Yvonne Catterfeld.

Peter Gall won some important German awards already when he was a youngster, like - Jugend Jazzt . He was touring with the famous - Bundesjazzorchester conducted by German jazz legend Peter Herbholzheimer. He studied at the Berlin University Of Fine Arts and at the Jazz Institute Berlin with John Hollenbeck. Gall made a masterclass at the Manhattan School Of Music with John Riley. He has been working with Seamus Blake, Ben Street, Gabriel Rios, Jasmin Tabatabai, Thomas Quasthoff, Peter Fessler.

Saxophone player Jakob "Dino" Dinesen and bass player Anders "AC" Christensen have been household names on the Danish jazz scene since the nineties, where they played together in the now legendary Once Around the Park. Here they are joining up with drummer Laust Sonne. Sonne is one of the most versatile musicians in Denmark and he has been the drummer in the popular Danish rock band, D-A-D, for over 20 years. He has also played drums in the avant jazz rock outfit, Bugpowder, and has made a career for himself with his own rock band, Dear. He has also recorded two solo albums and in 2007 he received the prestigious Danish music award, Ken Gudman Prisen. Anders "AC" Christensen has been a member of Paul Motian's ensemble and has played in Polish jazz legend Tomasz Sta?ko's band. In Denmark, he has played with the Hess brothers in Spacelab, for over 25 years. In 2009 he made his only solo album so far, 'Dear Someone', featuring Aaron Parks and Paul Motian. "AC" is highly in demand among Danish jazz musicians and he has even played in a lot of rock bands, like Sort Sol and The Raveonettes. Jakob Dinesen has made a long string of albums in his own name and has received several prizes. He has played with loads of internationally acclaimed jazz musicians, such as Paul Motian, Kurt Rosenwinkel, Eddie Gomez, Ben Street, Tony Allen, Nasheet Waits and Steve Swallow. He has also been a member of the acclaimed Danish jazz groups Hugo Rasmussen Allstarz and Beautiful Day and has played with Danish musicians as distinct as Thomas Blachman, Thomas Helmig and Lars H.U.G.. The three musicians have known each other for many years. In their younger days, they often ended up together, playing late night jams and gigs at parties. The corona outbreak in the first half of 2020 finally brought the three musicians together again, as most of their other plans were cancelled because of the virus. As a blessing in disguise, they began to play together again, in the rehearsal room. They found, and created, a space for their thoughts and ideas. A space for listening and playing.

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.

In the spring of 2020, Willem Ardui and Jean-Valéry Atohoun of blackwave. found themselves in a difficult creative and personal period and in need of a change of scenery to recharge. They find their peace in the cosmopolitan melting pot of Los Angeles, the City of Angels, and for Ardui and Atohoun also a city of dreams. A dreamworld in which they rediscover themselves as artists and as individuals.



The spark from which blackwave. had emerged in 2016 caught fire again during their 20-day trip to the American West Coast. With renewed passion, inspiration and vision, the duo writes and works on new music, as if in a daze, day and night, with no limits to the creative process. With about thirty demos in their pocket, Ardui and Atohoun fly back to Belgium. Three days later, the first covid-lockdown hits them cold and the regained enthusiasm slowly ebbs away. Another period of uncertainty began, and at one point it was even doubted whether the group would continue to exist...



But the towel is not thrown in the ring. blackwave. starts polishing the American demos and distills 11 tracks from them. These now make up 'no sleep in LA', their second full-length album and follow-up to 2019's successful 'ARE WE STILL DREAMING?' 'no sleep in LA' is about the highs and lows of the past years, the insights they have gained, the difficulties and the beautiful moments. Everything about the record feels a lot more mature as a result. Existential themes are explored more and more deeply. Doubt and uncertainty, depression, grief and loss, dreams and ambitions, nostalgia, love and desire, no stone is left unturned.



The album also exudes maturity on a musical level: it is more compact in length than its predecessor, but the instrumentation is more in-depth. Strings, horns, backing vocals and other session musicians enrich the genre-transcending sound of blackwave. Everything is arranged to perfection without being delineated. The common thread is the thoughtful and lively lyrics of the two frontmen, and the layered production of Willem Ardui. To this end, Ardui received help on a number of tracks from the likes of Paul Meany (Twenty One Pilots), MiSCHiEF BOY (Cantrell), Spencer Petersen (Sego), Tobie Speleman (incidentally mixer of the entire record), and even his younger brother Remco Ardui.



Celebrated guest features include Lute (signed to Dreamville, J.Cole's label), Abhi The Nomad (artist from Austin, Texas who met the duo in LA) and Caleborate (a good friend and old friend to blackwave. fans). Kirby, who has already collaborated with the likes of Beyoncé and Kanye West, co-wrote the song "I Miss" on the album.

After three studio albums and over a decade deep into the music game, THE INTERRUPTERS deliver their new album, In The Wild. This 14-track opus is the real deal; it's a story of survival, a story of resilience, by a band being bold and rejecting the easy impulses of simply repeating what's worked before. Together during lockdown, Aimee Interrupter, partner and guitarist Kevin Bivona, and his younger twin brothers, Jesse (drums) and Justin (bass), decided to put idle hands to work. After building a home studio in their garage together, Kevin stepped up and took charge of production duties to become "the accountable one" this time around. The record took shape in an unforced and organic fashion, and the recording process was evidently a fun one, which is reflected in the sound of the album, gliding across a spectrum of breathless punk rock, doo-wop, gospel, dancehall, and the band's customary nods to the lineage of two-tone. It's further evidenced in the uplifting spirit and the glittering rollcall of guests (Tim Armstrong, Rhoda Dakar, Hepcat, The Skints) involved too. Thanks to the cocoon of the intimate environment they'd built and relaxed working practices, the results made for the most personal Interrupters album to date, as well as being the one all four feel most connected to. The follow-up to their 2018 breakthrough album, Fight The Good Fight, which spawned multiple singles including "She's Kerosene", with over 50 Million streams to date. This smash-hit sent the band to the top of the radio charts across the globe, playing live with everyone from Dropkick Murphys to Green Day. It was Spring 2020 as they were headed out on an 8-week Hella Mega stadium tour in support of Green Day, Weezer, and Fall Out Boy in the U.S., when like the rest of the world, the band's plans went kaput. The forced time at home gave them a period of much-needed rest, followed by an injection of creative energy that led the band to write over 80 songs, curate a live album and documentary film about their lives and their first trip to Japan. THE INTERRUPTERS will be back on the road in mainland Europe in 2023.

After three studio albums and over a decade deep into the music game, THE INTERRUPTERS deliver their new album, In The Wild. This 14-track opus is the real deal; it's a story of survival, a story of resilience, by a band being bold and rejecting the easy impulses of simply repeating what's worked before. Together during lockdown, Aimee Interrupter, partner and guitarist Kevin Bivona, and his younger twin brothers, Jesse (drums) and Justin (bass), decided to put idle hands to work. After building a home studio in their garage together, Kevin stepped up and took charge of production duties to become "the accountable one" this time around. The record took shape in an unforced and organic fashion, and the recording process was evidently a fun one, which is reflected in the sound of the album, gliding across a spectrum of breathless punk rock, doo-wop, gospel, dancehall, and the band's customary nods to the lineage of two-tone. It's further evidenced in the uplifting spirit and the glittering rollcall of guests (Tim Armstrong, Rhoda Dakar, Hepcat, The Skints) involved too. Thanks to the cocoon of the intimate environment they'd built and relaxed working practices, the results made for the most personal Interrupters album to date, as well as being the one all four feel most connected to. The follow-up to their 2018 breakthrough album, Fight The Good Fight, which spawned multiple singles including "She's Kerosene", with over 50 Million streams to date. This smash-hit sent the band to the top of the radio charts across the globe, playing live with everyone from Dropkick Murphys to Green Day. It was Spring 2020 as they were headed out on an 8-week Hella Mega stadium tour in support of Green Day, Weezer, and Fall Out Boy in the U.S., when like the rest of the world, the band's plans went kaput. The forced time at home gave them a period of much-needed rest, followed by an injection of creative energy that led the band to write over 80 songs, curate a live album and documentary film about their lives and their first trip to Japan. THE INTERRUPTERS will be back on the road in mainland Europe in 2023.

On a base level, the term ‘blood harmony’ is simple—it describes the specific sound two siblings make when they sing together. Given that Dave Hause has been writing and recording songs with his younger brother Tim for a while now, it made sense to use that phrase as the title for his fifth solo record. But this being a Dave Hause album also means there’s much more to it than that. Beneath the surface of Blood Harmony, in fact, are multiple layers of meaning relating to Hause’s role as a musician, a brother, a husband, a son and—having become a father to twins a few months before the release of 2019’s Kick—a dad. As such, Blood Harmony is a reassertion of what family means to him..

Repress incoming...

Far Out Recordings proudly presents Milton Nascimento's Maria Maria. Recorded in 1974 and unreleased until almost thirty years later, the album was written as the soundtrack to a ballet which dealt with the legacy of slavery in Brazil. Raw, atmospheric and emotionally charged, Maria Maria reveals one of Brazil's greatest ever songwriters at his creative peak. Featuring an all-star cast of fellow Brazilian legends including Nana Vasconcelos, Joao Donato, Paulinho Jobim, and members of Som Imaginario, Maria Maria holds what Milton considers to be the definitive versions of some of his classic songs, including 'Os Escravos De Jó' and 'Maria Maria'.

Originally released in 2003 as a double CD package, with Milton Nascimento's 1984 follow up ballet soundtrack Ultimo Trem, Maria Maria will be available on vinyl for the very first time from December 2019, with Ultimo Trem set for vinyl release early 2020.

Milton Nascimento possesses one of the most immediately recognizable voices in Brazilian music: high and sweet and as breathtakingly sublime as that of any soul singer. It was this voice that the legendary Brazilian singer Elis Regina fell in love with back in 1964, having heard Milton perform his song 'Canção do Sal (Sultry Song)' at a private party in Sao Paulo. Ellis went on to record the song in 1967 -giving Milton his first hit in Brazil and beginning a career that has spanned over 50 years.

Born in Rio on the 26th October 1942, Milton moved with his adoptive parents at the age of 18 months to Tres Pontas, a rural town in the state of Minas Gerais, 500 miles north of Rio. He began his musical career as a young teenager, singing in a crooner style he learnt from listening to Brazilian singers and US groups such as The Platters on the radio. Hungry for more opportunities to perform, Milton moved to Belo Horizonte, the capital of Minas Gerais, at the age of twenty. By the beginning of the 60s Milton had made a name for himself both as an accomplished singer and guitarist.

Milton became part of a local network of musicians, film makers, dancers, theatre directors and writers that included the journalist and song writer Fernando Brant as well as lyricist Marcio Borges and his younger brother Lo Borges. Together these four wrote and produced what would become Milton's milestone album, 'Clube da Esquina (Club on the Corner)'. The originality of 'Club da Esquina' shaped the local scene, and it reflects the essence of 'the Nascimento Sound'. Milton's religious upbringing as an Afro-Brazilian Catholic saw him exposed to church choral music from an early age. His love of this genre of music is apparent in both his celestial falsetto and vocal choral arrangements. This collection also displays his early fascination with evocative, non-verbal, scat-style singing, spare, harmonic guitar work and local folk music, jazz and rock.

In 1976, Milton and Fernando Brant teamed up with a new contemporary dance company called Grupo Corpo, whose Argentinian choreographer Oscar Araiz, would become a collaborator with the two musicians. Together, they conceived a show based on the composite life story of the daughter of a black slave called Maria. Nascimento wrote music to Brant's lyrics and "Maria Maria" was premiered in the main theatre of the Belo Horizonte Palacio das Artes that year. "Fernando wrote the lyrics for the ballet, but there were originally no lyrics for the theme song, "Maria Maria'". Milton and Fernando worked on the lyrics together, basing them on folk stories about black women of the countryside. Adds Milton "These memories are mostly things that we witnessed – Fernando and I – rather than what we experienced ourselves.

Milton's music is impressionistic, emotional and romantic. Relying on songs without lyrics as well as evocative vocalizing and choruses, Milton experimented heavily with Afro-Brazilian percussion and taped jungle sounds. His composing method for these recordings was highly unconventional: "I wrote the music for 'Maria Maria' in a tiny Rio apartment with friends and their kids running around and having fun! I love to be in noisy places, surrounded by people", he says.
The music on 'Maria Maria' was performed by an impressive group of young musicians who are today household names in Brazilian music, including Naná Vasconcelos (percussion and effects), Toninho Horta (guitars) and Paulo Moura (sax). Several vocalist including Naná Caymmi, Fafá de Belém, Beto Guedes, and Milton himself, had hits in years to come with reworkings of these songs.

Milton says his compositions follow his visions "like a movie", and he believes that reflects his long love affair with cinema. "I only began composing because of enjoying the movies so much," he says. "I wrote my first song "Peace for the Coming Love" after seeing 'Jules et Jim' (the cult 60s French film directed by François Truffaut), with my friend Marcio Borges. We went early in the morning and watched it four or five times in a row, then went to Márcio's home and wrote the song."

The songs also include solo spoken passages set to music, clearly influenced by this style of French art cinema. On the title track, Maria's story is narrated and translated to music through the use of African Percussion, drums and metal signifying the field slave tools of the day. 'Trabalhos (Works)' runs to work rhythms and whipcracks: no words, just pain. 'Lília' documents the beating of the slave woman. After 'A Chamada (The call)' and the triumphant 'Era Rei e Sou Escravo (I was a king now I am a slave' things begin to turn and Milton employs tropical jungle cries to symbolize freedom. 'Santos Catholicos x Candomble (Catholic Saints vs Candomble)' represents the battle between African and European religions through the music of both sides. Milton's heavenly falsetto pours into 'Francisco' and 'Pai Grande (Great Father)' and the outstanding 'Eu Sou Uma Preta Velha Aqui Sentada no Sol (I'm an old black lady, sitting under the sun)' conjures images of an old woman sitting deep in the forest, her memories painted in drums, piano and voices.

Rance Allen, from Monroe Michigan, with older brother Tom on drums and younger brother Steve on bass recorded their first record and won a talent contest in Detroit and were subsequently signed to Stax’s Gospel Truth label in 1971. After four albums Rance signed to Capitol and made his most highly acclaimed album “Say My Friend”. In 1980 The Rance Allen Group were with Stax Records where they worked on an album with Detroit artist/producer, Expansion artist, and current member of The Four Tops, Ronnie McNeir. Neither of the songs on this songs have previously been available on 7" 45. Both are taken from the album "I Feel Like Going On".

Across eight studio albums, DECAPITATED grew from the adolescent dream of teenagers from a small Central European town to one of the leaders of the metal genre. Each successive album further expands the band’s sound with genre-bending authenticity and integrity. As Metal Injection rightfully observed, “any self-respecting death metalhead knows the name well.”

DECAPITATED’s music is a weapon forged by four young men from a historic medieval-fortified town in Poland, which catapulted them to the top of a worldwide subculture. Like a rose in the devil’s garden, the DECAPITATED story builds triumph from tragedy. The gleeful grotesquery of extreme metal imagery and rifftastic bludgeoning beckons listeners to uncover broader truths.Upon the release of 2017’s Anticult, Metal Hammer declared DECAPITATED “a serious successor to the likes of Pantera and Lamb Of God – a band who can draw new legions into the metal world as its new champions.” Their diverse follow-up, 2022’s Cancer Culture, delivers on that promise.

Instantly recognizable devastation and deceptively sinister hooks abound. Freshly minted DECAPITATED anthems like “Last Supper,” “Hello Death,” “Just Cigarette,” “No Cure,” “Iconoclast,” and “Cancer Culture” shimmer with sonically sharp production and unrelenting bombast. There’s also a newly increased emphasis on melody, even venturing into darkly romantic territory. Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka (guitar), Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski (vocals), Paweł Pasek (bass), and James Stewart (drums) are at the top of their game, delivering the goods at peak performance. Jinjer vocalist Tatiana Shmayluk and Machine Head frontman Robb Flynn make guest appearances.

Set on the descending plains of a mountain range amid a dense forest, Krosno boasts a 14th-century Gothic church, a Subcarpathian museum, and stunning artisan glassware. In this Polish town, teenage music student Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka discovered records from bands like Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse, Metallica, and Machine Head. The guitarist and his younger brother, drummer Witold “Vitek” Kiełtyka, cofounded DECAPITATED in 1996, inspired by a wide range of technical death, blackened thrash, and local heroes, like KAT and the world-renowned Vader. Death and black metal reigned supreme in the Polish scene of the 1990s, where Behemoth originated as well. In fact, a Vader song called “Decapitated Saints” inspired the band’s moniker.
The organic musical chemistry between the Kiełtykas was akin to the brotherly connectivity and vibe driving Pantera, Gojira, and the classic era of Sepultura. In 2006, Kerrang! praised the first three DECAPITATED albums - Winds of Creation (2000), Nihility (2002), and The Negation (2004) – as “superbly conceived and executed eruptions of technical brilliance and razor-sharp songwriting that turned these youthful Poles into one of the genre’s most widely respected bands.” That year’s Organic Hallucinosis further perfected Vogg’s penchant for blending extremity with catchy hooks.

The rule-breaking ferocity and invention of the first four albums reinvigorated death metal, as DECAPITATED inspired a new generation of bands who followed suit. Sadly, this era came to a shocking end in late 2007. While touring Russia, the band’s bus collided with a large truck near the border with Belarus. Both Vitak and then-singer Adrian “Covan” Kowanek sustained severe head injuries. Tragically, Vitak passed away in a Russian hospital a few days later. He was just 23.Vogg summoned the courage to continue, in honor of his brother and what they created, and returned with a new incarnation of DECAPITATED and the fiercely adventurous comeback album, Carnival is Forever (2011) featuring new vocalist Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski. Blood Mantra (2014) introduced bassist, Paweł Pasek. Blabbermouth declared it “perhaps the most poised and gutsy” DECAPITATED album, adding “its courageous bends make it a turbulent but pleasurable ride.”

Cancer Culture sounds brilliant, modern, and tasty. “There is no place for any fake, plastic, bullshit drum machine or anything like that,” Vogg insists. “It’s all organic, pure, and clear, showing the true face of the band. Vogg and company entrusted the Cancer Culture mix to David Castillo at Sweden’s Fascination Street Studios / Studio Gröndahl (Sepultura, Carcass, Opeth, Katatonia), and legendary American producer Ted Jensen (Metallica, Slipknot, Pantera, Machine Head, Korn).
The devoted supporters who traveled to see DECAPITATED on international tours with the likes of Lamb Of God, Meshuggah, Soulfly, Fear Factory, and Suffocation over the years will recognize the ever-present pummeling backbone. Longtime fans and newcomers alike will connect to the variety of atmospheric depth throughout Cancer Culture’s ten boundlessly energetic and creative tracks.
“If you told me 25 years ago, in my neighborhood in the South of Poland, that I would be in Machine Head, sharing riffs with Robb Flynn,” Vogg marvels. “It’s simply incredible. It means that everything is possible in your life. That gives me the faith to believe that I can achieve even more in my career. The dreams we have when we are kids, things we can barely imagine, can happen.” Flynn contributes a hauntingly beautiful vocal to the Cancer Culture track “Iconoclast.” “Clean vocal singing is a really new thing in DECAPITATED,” Vogg notes. “It’s really unique and amazing.”

Driven by Vogg’s passion and integrity, the dual emphasis on creative invention and technical prowess maintains DECAPITATED’s stature as genre-leaders in 2022 and beyond. The band’s supporters continually demonstrate confidence and absolute certainty DECAPITATED will deliver.

Across eight studio albums, DECAPITATED grew from the adolescent dream of teenagers from a small Central European town to one of the leaders of the metal genre. Each successive album further expands the band’s sound with genre-bending authenticity and integrity. As Metal Injection rightfully observed, “any self-respecting death metalhead knows the name well.”

DECAPITATED’s music is a weapon forged by four young men from a historic medieval-fortified town in Poland, which catapulted them to the top of a worldwide subculture. Like a rose in the devil’s garden, the DECAPITATED story builds triumph from tragedy. The gleeful grotesquery of extreme metal imagery and rifftastic bludgeoning beckons listeners to uncover broader truths.Upon the release of 2017’s Anticult, Metal Hammer declared DECAPITATED “a serious successor to the likes of Pantera and Lamb Of God – a band who can draw new legions into the metal world as its new champions.” Their diverse follow-up, 2022’s Cancer Culture, delivers on that promise.

Instantly recognizable devastation and deceptively sinister hooks abound. Freshly minted DECAPITATED anthems like “Last Supper,” “Hello Death,” “Just Cigarette,” “No Cure,” “Iconoclast,” and “Cancer Culture” shimmer with sonically sharp production and unrelenting bombast. There’s also a newly increased emphasis on melody, even venturing into darkly romantic territory. Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka (guitar), Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski (vocals), Paweł Pasek (bass), and James Stewart (drums) are at the top of their game, delivering the goods at peak performance. Jinjer vocalist Tatiana Shmayluk and Machine Head frontman Robb Flynn make guest appearances.

Set on the descending plains of a mountain range amid a dense forest, Krosno boasts a 14th-century Gothic church, a Subcarpathian museum, and stunning artisan glassware. In this Polish town, teenage music student Wacław "Vogg" Kiełtyka discovered records from bands like Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse, Metallica, and Machine Head. The guitarist and his younger brother, drummer Witold “Vitek” Kiełtyka, cofounded DECAPITATED in 1996, inspired by a wide range of technical death, blackened thrash, and local heroes, like KAT and the world-renowned Vader. Death and black metal reigned supreme in the Polish scene of the 1990s, where Behemoth originated as well. In fact, a Vader song called “Decapitated Saints” inspired the band’s moniker.
The organic musical chemistry between the Kiełtykas was akin to the brotherly connectivity and vibe driving Pantera, Gojira, and the classic era of Sepultura. In 2006, Kerrang! praised the first three DECAPITATED albums - Winds of Creation (2000), Nihility (2002), and The Negation (2004) – as “superbly conceived and executed eruptions of technical brilliance and razor-sharp songwriting that turned these youthful Poles into one of the genre’s most widely respected bands.” That year’s Organic Hallucinosis further perfected Vogg’s penchant for blending extremity with catchy hooks.

The rule-breaking ferocity and invention of the first four albums reinvigorated death metal, as DECAPITATED inspired a new generation of bands who followed suit. Sadly, this era came to a shocking end in late 2007. While touring Russia, the band’s bus collided with a large truck near the border with Belarus. Both Vitak and then-singer Adrian “Covan” Kowanek sustained severe head injuries. Tragically, Vitak passed away in a Russian hospital a few days later. He was just 23.Vogg summoned the courage to continue, in honor of his brother and what they created, and returned with a new incarnation of DECAPITATED and the fiercely adventurous comeback album, Carnival is Forever (2011) featuring new vocalist Rafał "Rasta" Piotrowski. Blood Mantra (2014) introduced bassist, Paweł Pasek. Blabbermouth declared it “perhaps the most poised and gutsy” DECAPITATED album, adding “its courageous bends make it a turbulent but pleasurable ride.”

Cancer Culture sounds brilliant, modern, and tasty. “There is no place for any fake, plastic, bullshit drum machine or anything like that,” Vogg insists. “It’s all organic, pure, and clear, showing the true face of the band. Vogg and company entrusted the Cancer Culture mix to David Castillo at Sweden’s Fascination Street Studios / Studio Gröndahl (Sepultura, Carcass, Opeth, Katatonia), and legendary American producer Ted Jensen (Metallica, Slipknot, Pantera, Machine Head, Korn).
The devoted supporters who traveled to see DECAPITATED on international tours with the likes of Lamb Of God, Meshuggah, Soulfly, Fear Factory, and Suffocation over the years will recognize the ever-present pummeling backbone. Longtime fans and newcomers alike will connect to the variety of atmospheric depth throughout Cancer Culture’s ten boundlessly energetic and creative tracks.
“If you told me 25 years ago, in my neighborhood in the South of Poland, that I would be in Machine Head, sharing riffs with Robb Flynn,” Vogg marvels. “It’s simply incredible. It means that everything is possible in your life. That gives me the faith to believe that I can achieve even more in my career. The dreams we have when we are kids, things we can barely imagine, can happen.” Flynn contributes a hauntingly beautiful vocal to the Cancer Culture track “Iconoclast.” “Clean vocal singing is a really new thing in DECAPITATED,” Vogg notes. “It’s really unique and amazing.”

Driven by Vogg’s passion and integrity, the dual emphasis on creative invention and technical prowess maintains DECAPITATED’s stature as genre-leaders in 2022 and beyond. The band’s supporters continually demonstrate confidence and absolute certainty DECAPITATED will deliver.

Demon Music is proud to bring together a selection of popular and exciting classic Northern Soul Anthems on a new 2LP thirty-three track collection. These are the original recordings by some familiar names and one or two that may have passed you by.

As the Sixties came to a close and the initial success of labels like Atlantic and Motown began to wane, there remained a dedicated fanbase of Soul devotees who would rather be out on the floor than wearing flowers in their hair. They continued to seek out new and previously overlooked releases, many on small labels that had never enjoyed chart success, making surprise hits of a few in the process.

Northern Soul could easily have passed into music history as a fad, something on the fringes of mainstream popular music; instead its popularity has remained and even grown. It is no longer the preserve of venues in the north of England (who had always attracted coachloads of devotees from across the nation), with Soul clubs opening in Europe, Asia, Australia and even - in perhaps the ultimate example of "coals to Newcastle" – America

Every few years Northern Soul enjoys a resurgence in popularity and welcomes a new generation of younger fans, keepers of the faith. This collection is for those with a passing interest and fans both old and
new - music fashions may change but the quality, the infectious excitement and the urge to get up and dance has endured in these fantastic records.