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This double album retrieves a radio broadcast of the Grateful Dead dated 1970. The title refers to a concert in San Diego, California, without giving further indications: what is certain is that the repertoire includes some songs recorded for 'Workingman's Dead' (' Dire Wolf ',' Black Peter ', outtake' Mason's Children ') released in June of that year as well as covers of Otis Redding's' Hard To Handle', Rascals' 'Good Lovin' 'and Buddy Holly 'Not Fade Away', to country and western 'Me and My Uncle', to traditional 'Cold, Rain and Snow', 'I Know You Rider' and 'Goin' Down The Road Feeling Bad’ , framed by numerous jams.

No. 7 on Rolling Stone's list of the 50 greatest live albums of all time. The Grateful Dead's quintessential live energy exploded on this classic album released in 1969.

For a legacy filled with legendary performances, the Grateful Dead Live at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco on August 13th 1975 stands out. The band only played 4 shows during that entire year! (Remarkable for a band that toured non-stop for decades) and at their August 13th show, they rolled multi-track tape (which allowed for the band decades later to properly mix the show). Because the Great American Music Hall holds less than 1,000 people (another unique thing about this show), it was an invitation only performance in which the band debuted their recent studio album Blues For Allah in a live setting. Although One From The Vault has been available on CD nearly continuously since 1991, the vinyl version was only available for less than a year (and in Europe only) in the early 1990’s. This deluxe vinyl reissue marks the first time this legendary show has been available anywhere in over 20 years and the first time in America.

Following on the heels of Light In The Attic’s vinyl LP release of One and Two From The Vault comes the final release in the trilogy of From The Vault releases by the Grateful Dead. These releases are distinguished from the more abundant Dick’s Picks series in that Dick’s Picks are “direct from the soundboard” recordings, while the From The Vault series were professionally recorded on multi-track tape and then mixed down (decades) later for release. Recorded live at the Capitol Theatre (Port Chester, NY) in 1971, this is the worldwide vinyl debut release of this seminal show featuring the 5 piece line-up of Pigpen, Garcia, Weir, Lesh, and Kruetzmann (Mickey Hart had temporarily left the band at that point), freshly remastered in 2014 by Joe Gastwirt for your pleasure. 20 classic songs on 8 sides of wax, this show has previously only been available on CD; this is the first ever vinyl LP release! The band played six shows over the course of seven nights at the Capitol Theatre in February of 1971, and this was the second of that run, recorded on the 19th. Their previous two studio albums had been their landmark recordings of Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty, and while songs from those albums were certainly featured, the Dead debuted seven brand new songs on this night–all of which went on to become Dead “standards” including “Playing in the Band,” “Greatest Story Ever Told,” and two absolute classics: “Bird Song” and “Deal.” Essential Dead.

Grateful Dead played an extended set on Saturday night at Woodstock. Introduced by their friend Ken Babbs, the band took off with “Saint Stephen,” a song from their classic Aoxomoxoa album. A major shock to rhythm guitarist Bob Weir (the result of touching his ungrounded microphone and guitar at the same time) blew the power out momentarily, ensuring that the second verse of the song was not captured by either the film or audio recording. Perhaps it was this shock that forced the band to abandon the song halfway through, ducking into a cover of Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried” instead.

WRWTFWW Records is very honored to announce the official reissue of Grauzone’s essential 1981 maxi single with timeless classic "Eisbär", proto-techno beast "FILM 2", and romantic synth ballad "Ich Lieb Sie", just in time for the 40th anniversary of the Swiss band’s formation. The three-track vinyl is sourced from the original reels, cut at 45rpm, and comes with its iconic artwork on a 350gsm sleeve. Ich möchte ein Eisbär sein…Written by Martin Eicher after a nightmare in which he saw talking polar bears on the walls, and with music by the Grauzone crew consisting of Martin and his brother Stephan Eicher, Marco Repetto, Christian "GT" Trüssel, and Claudine Chirac (on saxophone), "Eisbär" is the most recognizable title from the band, a sublime mix of ingredients reflecting the transitional era it comes from - the raw energy of punk music still palpable, combined with the audacity of early electronics, the warm groove of a disco gem, beautifully fragile lyrics, and one of the best basslines ever. It became a mega hit, totally unplanned, but how could you resist such a track? "FILM 2" is the ultimate b-side monster, a menacing all-instrumental pre-techno masterpiece, slowly building to a magnetizing frenzy. An instant underground favorite, it was famously heard played at both speeds depending on the scenes and DJs you were frequenting, 45rpm as it was first intended, and 33rpm for the cosmic experience (search Daniele Baldelli’s Cosmic C75 1982 mixtape online for a great example of this). The maxi single ends with "Ich Lieb Sie", a synth-pop meets doo-wop ballad, a true love song oozing with innocence. Simple, stylish, and just right. At the crossroads of post-punk, new wave, pop, and electronic experimentation, the Eisbär maxi offers three songs that are technically different but hold the same spirit, the perfect embodiment of Grauzone’s music - wild, unpredictable, and youthful, yet sophisticated, catchy, and ingenious. The magic recipe for the good stuff. Stephan Eicher went on to be, arguably, the most successful Swiss musician ever, with an international career extending from pop chanson to experimental escapades and collaborations with Moondog, artists Sophie Calle and John Armleder, and author Martin Suter among many other luminaries. Marco Repetto flourished as a techno and ambient producer, releasing multiple projects including releases on Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label. Grauzone and WRWTFWW will continue to collaborate on the band’s 40th anniversary reissue campaign, with numerous projects planned for the year, including a vast selection of music, visuals, and literature never available before.

Lolina’s Relaxin Records serve proper synth-pop peaches from London’s fuzzy underbelly by the mysterious Great Area, set to pique attentions of Bar Italia, Broadcast, Carla Dal Forno, Victor De Roo or Susu Laroche fans... Puckered with instantly memorable hooks and subtly shimmering with micro-dosed textures, ‘Follow Your Nature’ is one for connoisseurs of lokey pop with a contemporary but knowingly retro slant. Indicative of a wider subculture that’s back-pedalling into the present future, Great Area’s 2nd album follows introductions made on the xquisite releases label in ’21, and a song on the Left Alone label’s compilation ‘Everything Was Supposed to Be So Easy’ with their most substantial - if exactingly succinct - suite of songs for modern dreamers and pop music cherry-pickers. With no one song ever outstaying its welcome, the elegant effortlessness of ‘Follow Your Nature’ betrays a mind for fine-tuned songwriting under the hood. Classic synth-pop levels of efficiency are evident on every tune, with the cantering title song measuring distance between The Raincoats, Broadcast, and Carla Dal Forno via uncanny traces of smeared electronics, and ‘everytime’ recalling the off-the-cuff style of Relaxin Records’ label boss Alina Astrova (aka Hype Williams’ Inga Copland) as much as Bar Italia’s baroque indie pop or the new-old lustre of Victor De Roo’s Kontakt Group delicacies. One listen to the loping goth-pop jangle of ‘so very’ or the wrong-end-of-telescope grand sashay to ‘dust’ and the Eastern-facing ’shipping’ will either have you properly snagged or shrugging, there’s no mid ground.

Morgenmusiken by Green Cosmos – A Cosmic Jazz Journey Unearthed

In the late 1970s, four young musicians from Marsberg, Germany—despite the absence of a local jazz scene—came together to form Green Cosmos, a quartet whose sound drew equally from John Coltrane’s spiritual fire, world music traditions, free jazz, and Indian classical influences.

Morgenmusiken marks a pivotal stage in the group’s evolution, moving beyond the ballad-driven character of their debut Abendmusiken—reissued earlier this year by Frederiksberg Records—toward freer, more meditative soundscapes. Across seven previously unreleased tracks, the album blends “cosmic music” with “live compositions,” reflecting the band’s distinctive approach to spontaneous creation. Sessions often began in silence and meditation, gradually unfolding into collective improvisations.

The lineup featured Michael Boxberger on saxophone, Benny Düring on piano, and twin brothers Alfred and Ulrich Franke forming a rhythm section frequently described as having a “telepathic connection.” Joined by sitar master Narayan Govande, they shaped a sound that balanced freedom with improvisation, space, and silence. “Silence might be the most beautiful part in music,” the band once reflected. “One single note can make more of an impression than 100 notes.”

With this ethos, Morgenmusiken invites listeners on a journey both meditative and expansive - a discovery of music that feels timeless.

In an era of rampant, man-made climate chaos, “solastalgia” (the longing and distress experienced by individuals as a response to environmental change/degradation) has emerged as a useful, semi-viral concept — a catch-all term for the pervasive sense that the world as we know it is far from well, and only growing less so. But, for many of us, a problem, a trap, an ineffable hollowness, exists at the very crux of this concept/premise: how can we mourn (or even sense the loss of) that which we have never known? Especially for lifelong urbanites estranged from nature, who nevertheless grasp the severity and complexity of the problem—how might they remember? How might they mourn? Perhaps indirectly—that is to say, in an exploratory and non-dogmatic fashion—Green-House, a project birthed by Olive Ardizoni and now officially a duo project featuring long-time collaborator and confidant, Michael Flanagan, seeks to address this gap in understanding. Six Songs for Invisible Gardens, the debut Green-House EP whose 2020 release coincided with the depths of Covid-19 “lockdown,” responded to the rampant heartsickness of human and plant life, especially in non-rural areas. The packaging of the cassette release famously included wildflower seeds for the listener to scatter. This gesture (at once simple and daring, especially when one considers the logistical element) exists as testament to the sincerity and seriousness of Ardizoni’s convictions. Music for Living Spaces, the first full-length Green-House LP, followed in 2021— a refinement of the formula that enshrined Six Songs as a cult, eco-ambient hit. Out October 13, 2023 on Leaving Records, they have returned with the LP A Host For All Kinds of Life, a third entry in a series of releases whose titles have incidentally all revolved around the “for” construction: an unofficial canon of offerings, or maybe rather instructions as to how the music contained therein might, could, and should operate in/on the listener’s life and “living space(s).” Decidedly the most expansive Green-House release — one need only consider the LP’s title and the kaleidoscopic, fractal cover art designed by Flanagan—A Host For All Kinds of Life troubles the very notion of “ambient music,” a category with whom Green-House has always existed in some degree of tension. What if a song’s seeming softness constitutes its biting edge? What if easeful, contemplative pleasure can radically alter our mindset? Our very role as worldly subjects? Drawing on the works of Lynn Margulis and our burgeoning understanding of the evolutionary role of biological mutualism (associations between species in which both species benefit), A Host For All Kinds of Life is a deeply entrenched and politically grounded song suite. And there are indeed discrete songs here, with defined structure, momentum, and sway; see the gilded, sixties-evoking melodic arabesque of the record’s ninth and penultimate track, “Everything is Okay” (which incidentally ends with the release’s only human voice—a tender message left for Ardizoni by their mother). In conversation, Ardizoni speaks often of the centrality of joy—that Green-House’s very existence can be traced to a conscious decision they made to not only choose joy as an act of rebellion, but to find that joy in whatever plant life they could access in their immediate environment. In this sense, all of Green-House’s releases (and A Host for All Kinds of Life especially) embody a radicality that may elude the casual or first-time listener. To choose, model, and express joy in an ailing world requires courage, a courage that must be jealously guarded and constantly replenished. A Host For all Kinds of Life encourages the listener to slow down, take stock, tune in to the more-than-human world around them, and gather their courage and joy in light of the uncertainty to come.

In an era of rampant, man-made climate chaos, “solastalgia” (the longing and distress experienced by individuals as a response to environmental change/degradation) has emerged as a useful, semi-viral concept — a catch-all term for the pervasive sense that the world as we know it is far from well, and only growing less so. But, for many of us, a problem, a trap, an ineffable hollowness, exists at the very crux of this concept/premise: how can we mourn (or even sense the loss of) that which we have never known? Especially for lifelong urbanites estranged from nature, who nevertheless grasp the severity and complexity of the problem—how might they remember? How might they mourn? Perhaps indirectly—that is to say, in an exploratory and non-dogmatic fashion—Green-House, a project birthed by Olive Ardizoni and now officially a duo project featuring long-time collaborator and confidant, Michael Flanagan, seeks to address this gap in understanding. Six Songs for Invisible Gardens, the debut Green-House EP whose 2020 release coincided with the depths of Covid-19 “lockdown,” responded to the rampant heartsickness of human and plant life, especially in non-rural areas. The packaging of the cassette release famously included wildflower seeds for the listener to scatter. This gesture (at once simple and daring, especially when one considers the logistical element) exists as testament to the sincerity and seriousness of Ardizoni’s convictions. Music for Living Spaces, the first full-length Green-House LP, followed in 2021— a refinement of the formula that enshrined Six Songs as a cult, eco-ambient hit. Out October 13, 2023 on Leaving Records, they have returned with the LP A Host For All Kinds of Life, a third entry in a series of releases whose titles have incidentally all revolved around the “for” construction: an unofficial canon of offerings, or maybe rather instructions as to how the music contained therein might, could, and should operate in/on the listener’s life and “living space(s).” Decidedly the most expansive Green-House release — one need only consider the LP’s title and the kaleidoscopic, fractal cover art designed by Flanagan—A Host For All Kinds of Life troubles the very notion of “ambient music,” a category with whom Green-House has always existed in some degree of tension. What if a song’s seeming softness constitutes its biting edge? What if easeful, contemplative pleasure can radically alter our mindset? Our very role as worldly subjects? Drawing on the works of Lynn Margulis and our burgeoning understanding of the evolutionary role of biological mutualism (associations between species in which both species benefit), A Host For All Kinds of Life is a deeply entrenched and politically grounded song suite. And there are indeed discrete songs here, with defined structure, momentum, and sway; see the gilded, sixties-evoking melodic arabesque of the record’s ninth and penultimate track, “Everything is Okay” (which incidentally ends with the release’s only human voice—a tender message left for Ardizoni by their mother). In conversation, Ardizoni speaks often of the centrality of joy—that Green-House’s very existence can be traced to a conscious decision they made to not only choose joy as an act of rebellion, but to find that joy in whatever plant life they could access in their immediate environment. In this sense, all of Green-House’s releases (and A Host for All Kinds of Life especially) embody a radicality that may elude the casual or first-time listener. To choose, model, and express joy in an ailing world requires courage, a courage that must be jealously guarded and constantly replenished. A Host For all Kinds of Life encourages the listener to slow down, take stock, tune in to the more-than-human world around them, and gather their courage and joy in light of the uncertainty to come.

As Green-House, musicians Olive Ardizoni and Michael Flanagan engage human nature and the natural world through joyous, dynamic synthesis. Overlaying frequencies and expressions like camouflage, their deeply layered collaborative process begins with either artist; Ardizoni is often drawn to melody, Flanagan to harmonics. The power lies in how their ideas helix together, achieving a depth greater than the sum of its parts. For their first LP with new label home, Ghostly International, Green-House grows and refines their vivid instrumental songcraft with uncharted, genre-defying freedom and movement, a more active, percussive, and emotion-filled energy, marked by flowing bodies of sound and sweeping vistas. Hinterlands tunes into the beauty of the world with defiant, radical sincerity.

Since 2020, across a catalog of acclaimed releases via the scene-creating Los Angeles imprint, Leaving Records, the duo has pursued a curiosity in environments, reaching for innate and faraway spaces by way of organic and synthetic instrumentation, high-definition sound design, and “idiosyncratic melodies crafted with the patient and methodical hand of a gardener,” writes Pitchfork. Green-House doesn’t fit neatly into any single category. Ardizoni and Flanagan aren’t aligned with New Age ideologies or spirituality, and the ambient tag feels increasingly limited given all that’s going on in their songs, which skew closer to the realms of IDM or even modern classical on their new album. What remains inherent is an open sense of wonder, “the idea of legitimizing certain emotions within music that often aren’t taken seriously in art, like happiness and joy,” says Ardizoni, whose eclectic personality shines through even without lyrics.

They welcome influences from all over; moments on Hinterlands evoke hypnagogic folk, tropical synth-pop, pan-flute mountain music, jazzy lounge, film scores, library sounds, and other forms of paradise-world-building. The duo simply makes the music they want to hear, earnestly dreaming of idyllic settings, their hope borne of necessity.

Like any artist living in Los Angeles, the 2025 wildfires disrupted any semblance of normalcy in creative life. However, they give careful consideration to how ever-looming environmental and political anxiety may relate to the project. “There's freedom in music, not requiring nuance in order to share an emotion or a fantasy or a utopian ideal with others,” Ardizoni says. “I'm an anarchist and an artist. I don't have to explain that. I can just put the emotion in and hope that it can be used as a tool, to be comforting or inspiring for people.”

As their third LP, Hinterlands is notably fuller, bigger-feeling than past work; brimming with kaleidoscopic guitar lines, bubbling synth textures, and an orchestral radiance that often registers as more than just two people. They bring up biomimicry — learning from and adapting alongside nature — as a formative notion. “When we’re talking about mimicry, it is also like projecting yourself as being larger in a certain way, in a sonic sense, sounding like a full band, but also as people, interconnected with a broader world,” says Flanagan. “This record is us letting go a little bit as well, giving ourselves the freedom to just write and see what happens, to let the music grow naturally.” Ardizoni adds, “We try to utilize what’s right in front of us, just being in an urban environment and making do with what's there in order to continue to foster that connection we have to the natural world.”

Ardizoni and Scott Tenefrancia shot the images that appear within the droplets of the LP’s artwork on a trip to Yosemite and the Inyo National Forest; Flanagan later magnified the scenes through the water with macro photography, using the droplets as a series of lenses. The striking visual serves as a fitting metaphor for music that straddles the organic and the digital — a collection of auditory microcosms developed through imaginative fusion.

It begins in the languid heat of “Sun Dogs”, which nods to the coastal sway of Haruomi Hosono's Pacific album and Paradise View soundtrack with washes of keys, horns, and strings. “Sanibel” is pure shoreline bliss, named after the Florida island a young Ardizoni would visit, growing up on the nearby Cape Coral Island (“my first real experiences as a human exploring nature”). “Farewell, Little Island” borrows its title from the 1987 short animated film directed by Sándor Reisenbüchler, which depicts the drowning of a village by modern technology. The track’s buoyant, spiraling guitar samples, their first time exploring the effect, reminded them of the film’s paper-cut animation and of how the story balances serene splendor with tragedy.

“Dragline Silk” conjures a curious trip. Built on a bed of ascending synth and guitar chords bathed in spring reverb (stemming from their shared love for Jessica Pratt’s latest album) and named after the natural phenomenon of spiders that use static electricity to sail through the atmosphere, the track soars with grandeur. The Hinterland suite is the album’s centerpiece, three tracks traversing wide hilltop terrain, with flute and guitar playfully surveying the scene (“Hinterland I”) before more contemplative strums and astral synth and woodwinds take hold (“Hinterland II” and “III”).

Hinterlands’ sequencing takes the listener from sea to mountains to somewhere more abstract and fantastical; late highlight “Under the Oak” possesses an otherworldly calm on warbled keys, followed by “Bronze Age”, even more subdued. “Valley of Blue” ends the movement in melancholy, overlooking a blue flower field with swells of synthetic strings and oboe in the style of Final Fantasy (Ardizoni originally called it “Memory of a Chocobo”). These traces of sadness permeate the otherwise effervescent collection, reminders that, behind the wonder, lies often profound worry (after all, Sanibel Island was nearly wiped out in 2022). Green-House makes sense of these feelings through their art, with genuine tenderness and refreshing conviction.

As Green-House, musicians Olive Ardizoni and Michael Flanagan engage human nature and the natural world through joyous, dynamic synthesis. Overlaying frequencies and expressions like camouflage, their deeply layered collaborative process begins with either artist; Ardizoni is often drawn to melody, Flanagan to harmonics. The power lies in how their ideas helix together, achieving a depth greater than the sum of its parts. For their first LP with new label home, Ghostly International, Green-House grows and refines their vivid instrumental songcraft with uncharted, genre-defying freedom and movement, a more active, percussive, and emotion-filled energy, marked by flowing bodies of sound and sweeping vistas. Hinterlands tunes into the beauty of the world with defiant, radical sincerity.

Since 2020, across a catalog of acclaimed releases via the scene-creating Los Angeles imprint, Leaving Records, the duo has pursued a curiosity in environments, reaching for innate and faraway spaces by way of organic and synthetic instrumentation, high-definition sound design, and “idiosyncratic melodies crafted with the patient and methodical hand of a gardener,” writes Pitchfork. Green-House doesn’t fit neatly into any single category. Ardizoni and Flanagan aren’t aligned with New Age ideologies or spirituality, and the ambient tag feels increasingly limited given all that’s going on in their songs, which skew closer to the realms of IDM or even modern classical on their new album. What remains inherent is an open sense of wonder, “the idea of legitimizing certain emotions within music that often aren’t taken seriously in art, like happiness and joy,” says Ardizoni, whose eclectic personality shines through even without lyrics.

They welcome influences from all over; moments on Hinterlands evoke hypnagogic folk, tropical synth-pop, pan-flute mountain music, jazzy lounge, film scores, library sounds, and other forms of paradise-world-building. The duo simply makes the music they want to hear, earnestly dreaming of idyllic settings, their hope borne of necessity.

Like any artist living in Los Angeles, the 2025 wildfires disrupted any semblance of normalcy in creative life. However, they give careful consideration to how ever-looming environmental and political anxiety may relate to the project. “There's freedom in music, not requiring nuance in order to share an emotion or a fantasy or a utopian ideal with others,” Ardizoni says. “I'm an anarchist and an artist. I don't have to explain that. I can just put the emotion in and hope that it can be used as a tool, to be comforting or inspiring for people.”

As their third LP, Hinterlands is notably fuller, bigger-feeling than past work; brimming with kaleidoscopic guitar lines, bubbling synth textures, and an orchestral radiance that often registers as more than just two people. They bring up biomimicry — learning from and adapting alongside nature — as a formative notion. “When we’re talking about mimicry, it is also like projecting yourself as being larger in a certain way, in a sonic sense, sounding like a full band, but also as people, interconnected with a broader world,” says Flanagan. “This record is us letting go a little bit as well, giving ourselves the freedom to just write and see what happens, to let the music grow naturally.” Ardizoni adds, “We try to utilize what’s right in front of us, just being in an urban environment and making do with what's there in order to continue to foster that connection we have to the natural world.”

Ardizoni and Scott Tenefrancia shot the images that appear within the droplets of the LP’s artwork on a trip to Yosemite and the Inyo National Forest; Flanagan later magnified the scenes through the water with macro photography, using the droplets as a series of lenses. The striking visual serves as a fitting metaphor for music that straddles the organic and the digital — a collection of auditory microcosms developed through imaginative fusion.

It begins in the languid heat of “Sun Dogs”, which nods to the coastal sway of Haruomi Hosono's Pacific album and Paradise View soundtrack with washes of keys, horns, and strings. “Sanibel” is pure shoreline bliss, named after the Florida island a young Ardizoni would visit, growing up on the nearby Cape Coral Island (“my first real experiences as a human exploring nature”). “Farewell, Little Island” borrows its title from the 1987 short animated film directed by Sándor Reisenbüchler, which depicts the drowning of a village by modern technology. The track’s buoyant, spiraling guitar samples, their first time exploring the effect, reminded them of the film’s paper-cut animation and of how the story balances serene splendor with tragedy.

“Dragline Silk” conjures a curious trip. Built on a bed of ascending synth and guitar chords bathed in spring reverb (stemming from their shared love for Jessica Pratt’s latest album) and named after the natural phenomenon of spiders that use static electricity to sail through the atmosphere, the track soars with grandeur. The Hinterland suite is the album’s centerpiece, three tracks traversing wide hilltop terrain, with flute and guitar playfully surveying the scene (“Hinterland I”) before more contemplative strums and astral synth and woodwinds take hold (“Hinterland II” and “III”).

Hinterlands’ sequencing takes the listener from sea to mountains to somewhere more abstract and fantastical; late highlight “Under the Oak” possesses an otherworldly calm on warbled keys, followed by “Bronze Age”, even more subdued. “Valley of Blue” ends the movement in melancholy, overlooking a blue flower field with swells of synthetic strings and oboe in the style of Final Fantasy (Ardizoni originally called it “Memory of a Chocobo”). These traces of sadness permeate the otherwise effervescent collection, reminders that, behind the wonder, lies often profound worry (after all, Sanibel Island was nearly wiped out in 2022). Green-House makes sense of these feelings through their art, with genuine tenderness and refreshing conviction.

Leaving Records presents Music For Living Spaces, the debut LP by non-binary Los Angeles-based artist Green-House. Olive Ardizoni helms the project, which made its debut with the charming 2019 EP Six Songs for Invisible Gardens. Music for Living Spaces represents an evolution of its predecessor’s minimalist compositions into songs that move with winsome melodies and emotional arcs. Though recorded during a pandemic, the transporting nature of Music For Livings Spaces offers a remedy for dreariness. Ardizoni states, “I’m trying to hit that part of the brain that’s affected by the emotional state that you’re in when you perceive something as cute.” 
 
Music For Living Spaces' first single “Sunflower Dance” sports a breezy, bucolic vibe. The track is intended to invoke the whimsical image of hamsters happily dancing in a field. Ardizoni brings an intentionality to these playful atmospheres. They state, “In our culture, we prioritize profound artistic expression through emotions like sadness or aggression, but cuteness, silliness or fun, are the things that we trivialize in our culture. We say that they’re childish and it gets invalidated.” The complex and radiant productions on Music for Living Spaces counter this view. Ardizoni continues, “Cuteness and joy are gateways to compassion. It’s the gateway to empathy and activating the network in your brain that boosts moral concern for other people in the world around you.” Despite its general sunniness, Music For Living Spaces does not solely rely on exuberant, colorful moods. “Royal Fern” is a sophisticated composition of voices calling and responding to each other in rippling waves, while towards the closing of the album we hear Ardizoni’s ethereal voice for the first time that carries a nuanced, contemplative aura that defies categorization. 
 
Music For Living Spaces is a step forward for Green-House. Ardizoni states, “The intention of this project is to facilitate the connection between humans and nature. Instead of perceiving nature as something that's separate from us, or outside of our homes, we can recognize nature as something that is within us and in everything we do in our daily lives. You don't need to have access to the great outdoors to feel connected to the environment.”

A must-have for fans of Japanese environmental music such as Hiroshi Yoshimura, Satoshi Ashikawa and Yutaka Hirose! Organic new age music that is swallowed by the beauty of nature that sways gracefully! Leaving Records is proud to present the debut EP by Green-House, a project by local artist Olive Ardizon. "The six tracks are based on the concept of "communication between plant life and the people who grow it. Based on field recordings that capture the sounds of water and the voices and movements of plants and animals in nature, this is a superb new age/ambient work that breathes an aesthetic synth sound that encompasses the beauty and serenity of the pull that is common in Japanese environmental music. Artwork by Michael Flanagan.

A must-have for fans of Japanese environmental music such as Hiroshi Yoshimura, Satoshi Ashikawa and Yutaka Hirose! Organic new age music that is swallowed by the beauty of nature that sways gracefully! Leaving Records is proud to present the debut EP by Green-House, a project by local artist Olive Ardizon. "The six tracks are based on the concept of "communication between plant life and the people who grow it. Based on field recordings that capture the sounds of water and the voices and movements of plants and animals in nature, this is a superb new age/ambient work that breathes an aesthetic synth sound that encompasses the beauty and serenity of the pull that is common in Japanese environmental music. Artwork by Michael Flanagan.

Green-House's latest EP is a collection of unheard & rare recordings from 2021 & 2022. Imaginary department stores, Wendy Carlos-infused virtual classical, soundscape slices and bonus tracks are all situated radiantly along the spectrum of Solar Editions.

Languid yacht-soul from the mind of LA native AJ Greene and his Greenflow collective. Originally issued as a QCA-custom job in 1977, the group’s lone album appeared after years of performing their brand of Sausalito-friendly, seafood AOR up and down the West Coast. The LP’s standout track is ‘I Got’Cha’, with Greene’s sister Eleanor providing innocent “doodoo-doo-doo-doo”s around funky keys, muted trombone, and come-hither whispers.

Strut presents an exclusive new collaboration between UK jazz keyboardist Greg Foat and Venetian ambient / electronic maestro Gigi Masin on ‘Dolphin’. Recorded remotely during 2021-2022 the album took shape in the form of mutual compositions, gradually developed and embellished online. Final recording sessions took place at the majestic Chale Abbey Studios on the Isle Of Wight with Moses Boyd (drums), Tom Herbert (bass) and Siobhan Cosgrove (flute, clarinet) adding elements to several pieces. Tracks include the reflective, wistful single ‘Viento Calido’ and drifting ambient piece ‘Sabena’, a beautiful tribute to Gigi’s wife who sadly passed away during 2022. Greg Foat has recorded prolifically in recent years for Athens Of The North, Jazzman and Strut including acclaimed albums Symphonie Pacifique (2020) and The Mage (2019). Best known for his 1986 ambient masterpiece Wind and as a member of Gaussian Curve, Gigi Masin has enjoyed a revival in recent years through his Calypso album on R&S’s Apollo label and renewed touring. Dolphin represents Greg and Gigi’s first landmark recording collaboration together. “I first heard Gigi’s album Wind in 2016,” remembers Greg. “I was living in Miami and I heard it playing one Summer evening. Since then, it has always been in my mind to be able to record together.” Dolphin is mastered by Mark Ashfield at Cosmic Audio with newly commissioned artwork by Niul Foat. The LP comes as transparent vinyl in a thick card outer sleeve.

For Greg Mendez, reflection doesnüft mean a static image in a mirror, or even a face he recognizes. Itüfs more a kaleidoscopic mirage, where paths taken shapeshift with the prospect of paths untread, and the subconscious merges with the intentional. On his self-titled new album, the Philadelphia-based songwriter and multi-instrumentalist investigates the shaky camera of memory, striving to carve out a collage that points to a truth. But there isnüft a regimented actuality here; instead, Mendez highlights the merit in many truths, and many lives, and how even the hardest truths can still contain some humor. While this is technically Mendezüfs third full-length album, his back catalog boasts an extensive range of EPs and live recordings. Heüfs a prolific and thoughtful songwriter, understanding the joy in impulse, and shying away from the clinical sheen of overproduction. 2017üfs ügüP/ _(c)_ /üPüh and 2020üfs Cherry Hell garnered acclaim for their quiet, lo-fi urgency, exploring themes of addiction and heartbreak with an intentional, authentic haze, and itüfs this approach that has solidified Mendez as a staple in the DIY community for years. Greg Mendez was written in fragments, some stretching across more than a decade, with Mendez reworking old ideas and arrangements, and others blossoming much more recently. The weight of time..and perhaps the anxiety in running out of it..clouds the album, as Mendez prods at some painful experiences from his childhood and early adulthood. The common thread connecting the characters is their evident imperfections, and the various degrees of damage they cause, both knowingly and unknowingly. But where do we draw the line between a good person and a bad person? For Mendez, itüfs never been that easy. Greg Mendez is an intimate dialogue between the chapters weüfve experienced, and how they can inform the reality we perceive. Itüfs a reminder that we are constantly shifting, ever-changing selves and that if we ruminate too long, we may find ourselves stuck in the seriousness of it all. Here, Mendez allows us to take the time to notice what happens outside of the framework we may have built for ourselves, and the beauty that can occur when we finally do.

Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.

Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.

Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.

Originally released on CD in 2002, this LP features archival recordings dating back to 1959 alongside recordings made by Hal Willner in January 2001 (Jan 7th - 10th).

For the first time ever on vinyl, ‘DIE ON ME’ has been re-mastered & newly edited by Kramer. Within this historic collection are the last voice recordings of the legendary Beat poet Gregory Corso.

Intimate and raw, he muses on his life in conversation with friends Allen Ginsberg, Marianne Faithfull, and the legendary Chicago writer Studs Terkel, discussing and reciting some of his most beloved poems. The recording process illuminates Corso’s thoughts on his own work in deeply revealing detail.

No other spoken-word LP shines a brighter light on its subject.

Marianne Faithfull playfully incites him to tell stories, and upon his request, graces him with her own recitations of his poems.

This LP is a unique compendium collecting the works of the single most underappreciated master of American poetry, produced by the late great Hal Willner.

Corso's closest friend Allen Ginsberg told Kramer, “People say that I’m the greatest American poet of the 20th Century. I tell them they’re wrong. GREGORY CORSO is a far greater poet.”

Gregory Corso died on January 17th, 2001 at the age of 70, just a few days after many of these historic recordings were completed.

Corso’s ashes were laid to rest in Rome on May 5th, 2001 at the foot of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s grave in the Cimitero Acattolico. John Keats lay nearby.

Gregory Corso was both the youngest and one of the most prominent members of the Beat generation, alongside notable figures like Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Born in 1930 in Greenwich VIllage, Corso survived a traumatic childhood which included orphanages, foster homes, reform school, prison and mental hospital experiences. It was during his prison term he was able to self-educate and develop a unique poetic style that combined classical language alongside the newer lexicons of modern verse.

He became involved with the Beat literary scene, meeting influential writers and traveling with them extensively. His first book of poetry, ‘The Vestal Lady on Brattle’ was published in 1955. His subsequent published output was sparse, as he would labour for years over a handful of poems.

His closest friend Allen Ginsberg told Kramer, “People say that I’m the greatest American poet of the 20th Century. I tell them they’re wrong. GREGORY CORSO is a far greater poet.”

In the words of Hal Willner Excerpted from the original liner notes* (2002):

“Michael Minzer and I had been trying to produce a Gregory Corso album for years. For our series that featured Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs, as well as Kathy Acker and Terry Southern, Gregory was someone we needed to include - besides, he was always my favorite poet to listen to. He had a wonderful, romantic, and beautiful voice; his readings never lost the sense of the unexpected and dangerous.” …

“Somehow the record that emerged is (in my opinion) incredibly beautiful, moving, sad—but not depressing, and often funny. Not to sound silly, but I felt that we had help with this record from some unknown source that guided and directed it. Just writing about how the record was made makes it even more amazing to me that it got done at all- and I’m very proud that it came together in this way. …”

"Another stone cold classic from the vaults of Taxi Records. The Cool Ruler, aka singer songwriter Gregory Isaacs. Perfectly crafted songs and precise rhythm construction by the Taxi Gang at Channel One Studio. Each song drifts seamlessly into percussive dubs with subtle sonic landscapes sculpted by the engineers Maxie & Ernest Hookim at the mixing board."