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맑은 소리의 모음집입니다. 이번 앨범은 소리가 많이 작습니다. 볼륨을 키워서 들어주세요-! 감사합니다. This album is very quiet. Please turn up the volume-! Thank you.
Herman Chin Loy wants the world to know the truth about his musical vision, realized in a series of fantastic records released throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s. And how his mission was interrupted in the early 1990s.
“I would like to start off by saying: what about the half that has never been told, who so bold, for the price of gold. The first part is like a Jamaican proverb, but who so bold, for the price of gold, is the part that I put in, because it is all about gold. My mission on this earth is all about the music. But if you want to know the truth, follow the money!”
Herman’s musical trip had a wonderfully sunny start, before ending in acrimony and intrigue. Follow the money indeed… He started by selling records for Leslie Kong, then opened his own One Stop record shop, before moving on to KG’s electrical appliance store in Halfway Tree and deejaying at their discoteque, the Lotus A Go Go.
“It was the age of Aquarius! Whatever was in the air, or what got my attention at the time would find its way into the music, cos I was very creative.”
So Herman turned his keen ears towards record production. The Aquarius and Scorpio labels had a fine run of hit tunes, known for their unusual arrangements and imaginative productions. Many cuts featured Herman himself talking over them. Others were moody instrumentals, for which Herman invented the name Augustus Pablo.
“The name came out of my head. Augustus Pablo – it sounded real not normal! Horace Swaby is the one that I really put the name with, but before that it was Lloyd Charmers, he did some songs for me under that name. Well Horace Swaby came back to me and said can I use the name on my own productions, and I said sure, go ahead. Cos I was not interested in money per se, I was interested in helping others along.”
Kingston in the early 70s was on fire with new music, and Herman put on the afterburners to release Aquarius Dub, probably the world’s first dub LP.
“People always used to come to the store and they want to buy the dub music, but they couldn’t get it easily, so I said let me put all these things together as an LP, and let’s put no label on it so it looks like a dub [plate], and let’s sell it as a dub album. And I was the first one to do that, for sure. I remember when I took the record down to sell it to Randy’s, well they just scoff at it to some degree. Well if people didn’t want to sell my music, then I would just say ‘fuck off with you’, I’ll just sell my music myself, from my own shop and nowhere else.”
Herman then opened the Aquarius Records shop on Constant Spring Road, with a busy bus stop right outside providing a captive audience. Big speakers were placed out in the street, and Herman acted as a vibes man and entertainer, running in and out of the shop and dragging customers inside. As the crowds grew bigger, Aquarius became extremely influential, and the energetic Herman could make or break the latest tunes.
“Well once we get going now, the Aquarius record shop sells more records than anyone in Jamaica. And the people get to know me and come to hang out to see what we play. And soon all musicians start gathering there, like Tommy McCook and the Wailers and everyone, cos Aquarius was the place to be.”
In one infamous incident, Peter Tosh was hanging around outside the shop, when plain-clothes police grabbed the spliff he was smoking and dragged him back to Halfway Tree police station, where he was brutally beaten. Herman and Tommy McCook were the ones who bailed him out.
“Peter Tosh was feisty and got in some trouble sometimes, but then we all did – heheheh. I had always hung around with the bad boys.”
Herman had by now brought his brother Lloyd into the business, and together they opened the Aquarius Studio, fitted out to an extremely high standard by Rosser Electronics, from Swansea in Wales. The studio is probably most remembered today for the recordings made there by Bunny Wailer and Peter Tosh. But it was also the seedbed for some interesting offshoots into jazz and soul, with Herman always pushing up against the boundaries of what was conventional. Interestingly, Herman retains a huge affection for Lee “Scratch” Perry, and the mystic experiments that came out of his Black Ark studio.
“Well Scratch was a mad guy, a crazy dude. When we were a youth, the two of us make some records with a bit of screaming and shouting on top. So I come with “here is the news, the great bugga wugga from arugga”, and some other foolishness, just like Scratch, who come with the Chicken Scratch. It was a youthman thing. Then later he came into the shop one day looking like Haile Selassie. And I say “bloodclaat Scratch, you can’t go around looking so”, and he take off him cap and looked inside and pull out some cigarette butt he found in there. And he had a girlfriend name Pauline, and when the two of them fall out, he threw everything out of the studio that had the letter P on it! He was one crazy dude.”
Herman was developing his own unique world view derived partly from a rejection of conventional politics, alongside a distinctive reading of the Bible.
“Musicism is because you have socialism, communism and capitalism, so I thought Musicism would be a good thing to forge people together, to stop them yelling at each other and murdering each other. I thought it would be a good place for everybody to come together. Then I started a little thing down by Trenchtown there, where I was getting people from Rema and from Jungle to get together, but it mashed up in a little while because in the heat of the moment the guns would bark, and for the sake of my life I opted out of that, you know. But Musicism was a thought, so I continued to have an album called Musicism, and you’re talking about people like Linval Thompson, Sugar Minott. I was saying to the people of Jamaica, let’s not vote JLP, let’s not vote PNP, let it be that Musicism is a place where it’s not politics, and where people can talk to each other, so Musicism was birthed out of that.. So we had all sorts of things going on with the Musicism label, and I would put an album with the vocal and then have another album with the dub, because I was into business, I was into making money, but what drives me into the music was the music itself, because I really love the music.”
This reissue is of two extremely rare LPs that came out on Musicism in 1983, a couple of years after dub had declined in popularity as an album form in Jamaica. They were released in the generic 12-inch sleeves of the American label TK Disco, which had recently ceased trading, picked up on Herman’s travels to Miami. The labels were either blank or stamped with the wrong song titles from a similarly obscure vocal compilation. A handful of copies were exported to London and the U.S., and the remainder were sold exclusively by the Aquarius shop.
“In the studio we used to work really fast in them days, especially with Karl Pitterson. Karl Pitterson was one of the most efficient engineers you would ever find, and him and me had a great understanding. So the studio ran real fast. Then there was this guy Steven Stanley who was just a little youngster when he start with me, but he went on to Compass Point and working with Chris Blackwell. He was a little uppity, a bit prideful, although he didn’t even recognise that, but still he was a really good engineer. So we had these people to work for me, and it didn’t take long to do what I did. So it’s strange that we did these things so fast, so many years ago, and they still have a public that wants to hear them today.”
Herman also had an eccentric label called Selection Exclusive which mainly released 12 inch singles with hand-stamped titles on the labels, or sometimes no title at all, wrapped in more of those generic TK Disco sleeves. If this wasn’t enough to throw off even the most serious collector, instead of the expected version on the B-side, there would often be a totally different tune from 10 years earlier, sometimes with Herman whispering smokey rhymes over the top.
“Selection Exclusive was birthed where I was selling this dub album exclusive, but it was expensive. So I don’t think much people knew about these records, but the collectors knew, and these records were selling for hundreds of [Jamaican] dollars more than a normal LP. So this dub album come out and I give it to the sound systems, I give it to Gemini and Merritone, so that they play it all the time. I never give my records to the radio station. And I made so much money out of this album, that it was exclusive expensive!”
Finally, it was a family dispute with Herman’s brother Lloyd that derailed the Aquarius and Musicism train. The outcome was that Lloyd took the studio and Herman kept the record shop.
“I go to court twice and lost all of that money, and my brother won control of the studio. But then they try to write me out of history. And I get so upset when I really think about it. I’m not saying I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. We all need to repent. You see, I have to tell the truth: what about the half that’s never been told! But there was some skulduggery going on then.”
Nowadays there are no record shops on Constant Spring Road. The block which housed Aquarius is now home to Usain Bolt’s Tracks And Records restaurant. Herman joined the steady exodus of Jamaicans to Miami, and today finds him using his verbal dexterity and irrepressible energy to sell Sorrel drinks filled with medicinal herbs, ginger and turmeric. But his music is still out there, circling the globe through speakers and headphones...
“I always want my music to be on a higher plane, like to carry some message. And a dub album gives plenty of space for the message. Just because there are no words, it doesn’t mean that it don’t communicate. If you listen carefully, you will hear it properly, and so the message will reach down through the years, and spread to the people again. This is a spiritual conversation, cos I have reached to a different spiritual plane!”
Diggory Kenrick
Before morphing into the excellent psych trio, B.F. Trike, Hickory Wind (from Evansville, Indiana), released one brilliant, and extremely rare, country psych album in 1969. Just 100 copies were pressed for the Gigantic label, and originals have been known to change hands for a small fortune. The album features excellent vocals, plus an interesting mix of fuzz guitar, and droning organ, as well as some wonderfully melodic songs. This reissue also features four bonus tracks from the B.F. Trike album session, recorded for RCA Records in Nashville, Tennessee in 1971. The B.F. Trike album, however, remained in the vaults for 25 years, before it was finally uncovered and given its just recognition in the mid-nineties. </p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/K3IzI2EcBpU?si=-aZLG1UwEr0lp9_M" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Roman Hiele (1991) is a Brussels-based musician and composer whose work explores the boundaries between improvisation and electronic composition. His music unfolds as a living system of shifting harmonies, fractured rhythms, and unexpected turns.
At the core of Hiele’s practice lies a deep fascination for contrast, where his soundscapes act as both anchor and disruption, sharpening the emotional depth of images and spaces, a sensibility that extends into his collaborations with filmmakers, visual artists, and designers.
His new album, Emo Inhaler, on Stroom is an emulsifying force, blending these threads into a single, fluid whole. The record condenses compositions born from improvisatory explorations and electro-acoustic experimentation. Recorded and concluded across various studios and train coupés, Emo Inhaler is expansive, yet tightly woven, creating a singular sonic identity that explores Hiele’s own world of musical off-key vignettes, balancing between light and sinister. With Emo Inhaler, Hiele reaffirms his place as one of Belgium’s most adventurous and distinctive contemporary voices.
“I’ve been partying since 1984,” says Jamal Moss, the living Chicago legend known by his dedicated cult following as the one, the only, Hieroglyphic Being. “40 years later, it’s drastically different - everybody’s angry!” So sets the stage for Dance Music 4 Bad People, the artist’s first album for Smalltown Supersound. Tapping back into the same cosmic frequencies responsible for the prolific house virtuoso’s most vital work, the album sees Moss coaxing nine anthems for those up to no good from out of the ether. With driving drum machine workouts and low-slung synth sexuality, Hieroglyphic Being pays homage to human fallibility, drawing focus on the revolutionary potential of house music and club culture that is so often lost to the chaos of the present. “I have yet to walk into a club and see everybody hug and say: Let’s forgive each other, let’s move forward and make the world a better place,” he levels. “With all these conversations about sexuality, ethnicity, politics, whatever, when you walk into an environment with the music, you are supposed to celebrate all of that. Let it be and come together.” As the tongue-in-check title suggests, Moss looks to the eternal quality of his art to throw moral compasses into disarray, speaking truth to the evil energies that have permeated the club industrial complex of today while challenging black and white notions of good and bad that are so easily instrumentalized for the persecution of those at the fringes. For Moss, this is a tension he has observed since he started hearing the sound pioneered by Ron Hardy at the legendary Muzic Box, back when Chicago house music was born. “Back then, especially during the Reagan era and the police brutality of the so-called crime and crack epidemic, the one thing I noticed in my community was that house music actually helped us escape from all that negative stuff and make everybody in the environment support each other more.” Experiencing house as a great leveling force, the origins of the cosmic dance prophet the Hieroglyphic Being would become can be traced back to the club as an essential site of acceptance. “If there was anybody of a certain walk of life, politically, sexually, ethically, financially, we didn’t care,” he asserts. “We were just there to be free of all that shit.” It’s this loose vitality that Moss understands to be in severely short supply in the dance music scene today. “Festivals and clubs profess to propagate safe spaces, but you’ve probably seen it firsthand: you look around and a good percent of people in the club are not happy.” Taking aim at the entire ecosystem, from the malaise and malcontentedness of modern audiences to the false solidarity and commodification of minority positions within the commercial entity of dance music, Moss offers up the raw, unrefined power of the tracks collected on Dance Music For Bad People as an antidote to these evil forces. You can hear this negativity fleeing in fear from the surging drums of ‘U R Not Dying Ur Just Waking Up’ and ‘Dispatches From The B4 Life,’ or teased into submission by the sensual low end gurgle of ‘The Secret teachings Of The Ages’ and the ambling bassline of ‘Reality Is Not What It May Seem.’ On the dense cacophony of ‘The Art Of Living A Meaningless Existence,’ Moss sounds ready for spiritual war, armed with restless sequencing and bursts of high voltage static. But it’s Moss’s ability to capture fleeting moments of transience that provide us insight into the esoteric knowledge hinted at by his track titles. The lysergic tempo change of ‘I Am In A Strange Loop’ stretches out its rippling organ to revel in its celestial detail, while the nervous, metallic twangs of ‘Awakening From the Daydreams’ are gradually tempered by soft, crystalline flourishes. This same shimmer shines through the blown out wall of sound of ‘The Map Of Salt & Stars,’ illuminating the shade with stark clarity. These are glimpses of a master at work, constantly tweaking his sound towards a purer feeling and his thought to a higher understanding. As the American empire crumbles, the Hieroglyphic Being strides forward with a clear vision to broadcast a sage warning. “If you let other people dictate to you how you are supposed to feel about someone else, it goes into a dark space, especially when there’s nothing good you can say about them,” he says. “Get out of your comfort zone and reach out to people so you can learn more about them.” Though this temptation to judge can be irresistible, Moss believes in the primordial power of the Chicago house sound. Rather than condemn some as bad and others as good, Dance Music 4 Bad People helps us all to recognise each other through the smoke and strobe light. The Hieroglyphic Being speaks through the sound with a message of optimism and hope. “Everybody should be loved, adored, respected, no matter the path you take.”
“At the end of 2024 I was invited by Hanna Girma at Serpentine Galleries to write a piece of music for the first issue of their publication "Serpentine Reader" - a collection of texts from various authors on the theme of circulation.
I was immediately drawn to Hana Pera Aoake’s essay on listening to a river - there was a line that especially resonated with me about how rivers and other waterways in Hana's native Aotearoa are "conceptualised as both or either atua (gods) or living ancestors, who have their own life force and spiritual strength". In Japan, water is also deeply instilled in our culture as a sacred source - as one example, we cleanse ourselves with water at the entrance of a shrine, to purify the body and mind.
The composition is made of three studies relating to the three sections of a river, weaving together synthesizer soundscapes and field recordings from various sources of water between Yugawara, Kyoto and Osaka - starting with the upper section, the waterfall, travelling down to the middle, broader section where it slows in pace, and finally the lower section where the river eventually meets the sea.
Each study is in 3/4 time broken up into 9 cycles of 9 bars, and the set of three studies musically runs 12 minutes in total. The pace of each study relates to the velocity of the water in each section of the river - the first study incorporates different synth motifs, and the second and third are made of recycled material from the first.” - Hinako Omori
This Meditations Classic Logo T-shirt is inspired by Hinduism and the Sadhu. The body is a 6-ounce T-shirt made by Gildan. The Color is Orange.(not Red)
| S | M | L | XL | |
| Length | 66.0 | 70.0 | 71.0 | 72.0 |
| Width | 50.0 | 56.5 | 61.0 | 64.5 |
| Sleeve Length | 59.0 | 59.0 | 59.0 | 59.0 |
| shoulder width | 49.5 | 55.0 | 59.0 | 65.0 |
Through the dense blend of Japanese New-Wave, between moldy kimonos and punctured paper screens, along the rails of a sonic bullet train, this mini-LP reaches us, overflowing with purebred Punk-Funk, splinters of Soul and shredded Jazz. A gold nugget in a sea of sadness. Scattered energy trapped in a handful of vinyl grooves.
Detroit’s baddest yungers get down on their ones with a 2nd self-released volley of modern ghetto-tech and hyperlocal jit, reprising the road-ready sound of the late ‘90s and early ‘00s for new crowds hungry for this shit
Including a killer 2024 single indicative of what to expect in the tabla and jazz key puckered slam of ’SPANK!’, the 14-track ‘Honeypaqq Vol.1’ says its bit in a brisk half hour of scudding subs and sampler chops racked up at 160BPM. The levels are typically up there and lyrically lascivious from the bucking ace ‘Take Yo Panties Off’ to the ruthlessly sped-up R&Bop ‘Freak in Full Effect’, deftly reinterpreting and factoring the groundwurk of DJ/producers Funk, Assault, Rashad and Maaco for 2020s needs.
Since staking their sound with two LPs for Omar-S’ FXHE and a ruck of acclaimed live shows, Hi Tech have become standard bearers for a brand of ghetto house that found international favour some 25 years ago and long since long bubbled away in the background. The trio of King Milo, Milf Melly and 47chops aka Hi Tech are almost single-handedly responsible for renewed interest in this zone, paralleling the pace and intent of Chicago’s renowned footwork sound with similar but distinctively jazzy Motor City tekkerz.
Trust it twerks and fizzes in all the right places. Putative jit and deb dualities juke it out in the itchy but sublime ‘Norf Cold 304’s’, while they balance bebop and crunk in ‘New Jazz Schmell’ and snap to quicksilver electro-soul in ‘Empty Bus Stop’, or push out into that sort of weirdo scuttle that the 313 does so well on the spooked-out ‘Adultswim Doctor Etrange’ or ‘Queenbootyathenaaphrodite’, saving a superb sting in the tail for ’Shadowrealm.’
