Folk / Roots
301 products

Country, township jazz, and pop hits from the height of Zambia’s freedom movement.Vocalist, guitarist, and bandleader Alick Nkhata moved effortlessly between lonesome country slide, big band pop, and air-tight vocal harmonies, all with roots in Bemba and other African traditional songs and rhythms. It’s a dizzying, inclusive, expansive blend from an artist and music archivist who became the voice of his nation’s fight for freedom. The lyrics and music represent the times - lonesome country laments like “Nafwaya Fwaya” and “Fosta Kayi” drift along the railways to urban centers and copper mines. “Nalikwebele Sonka (I Told You Sonka)”, sung in “deep-Bemba” pairs honey-soaked yodels with a warning about the downward spiral of unemployment in townships, while Mayo Na Bwalya’ (Mother of Bwalya) is a mother’s plea to a traditional songbird for guidance of her wayward son. Songs like “Shalapo,” “Kalindawalo Na Mfumwa,” and his biggest hit, “Imbote,” infuse piano, big band horns, and even early electronic instruments into stunning syncretic pop masterpieces. Despite Nkhata’s role in Zambian independence and his influence on future generations of African artists, this LP is the first time his music is being reissued on vinyl. We’re honored to work closely with Alick Nkhata’s family, as well as with collectors around the world who provided some of the rare recordings. Music archivist, researcher, and NTS host Jamal Khadar wrote in-depth liner notes spanning the history of Zambian independence, and noted Zambian author and translator Ellen Banda-Aaku provides careful and deeply researched lyric translations. On high-quality black vinyl with deluxe 12-page booklet with unpublished photos, lyrics, translations, and liner notes written by NTS radio host Jamal Khadar.





From Tsugaru, the birthplace of Tomokawa Kazuki and Mikami Hiroshi, comes Osorezan, Itako, Nebuta, Kesho Jizo... A super intense work left behind in 1978 by Furukawa Mibu, the Orpheus (mind) of Mutsu, who sings of the magical machinery that connects this world and the next! A shocking analog LP reissue!
Mibu, who is also a poet, pretends to be the dead in order to live on as the skin of his younger brother (Mibu), who died at the age of three. The song becomes a prayer and a cry, dancing wildly through this world and being sucked into the afterlife. Fringe music with such intensity. The soul is revived precisely because it is analog. This incredible masterpiece was selected as one of the "New Masterpieces of Japan 1970-89" in the November 2011 issue of "Recocolle," and is too good to be forgotten! This elusive album, produced in 1978 and only available as an independent release, is finally being reissued!
Comes with a 20-page explanatory booklet, "Mibu: To the Wind and Earth of Tsugaru"




Creatively visionary and groundbreaking on numerous terms, 1973 'Os Tincoãs' revolutionized Brazilian music by harmonizing Afro-religious singing, heavenly vocal harmonies, and frawing on Yoruba mythology, Samba, Capoeira chants and spiritual songs.
Over five decades since its original release, Os Tincoãs (1973) remains a cornerstone of Brazilian music, blending Afro-Bahian traditions with mesmerizing harmonies and poetic lyricism. Now, this timeless masterpiece is being rediscovered by a global audience, celebrated for its cultural richness and profound influence on MPB (Música Popular Brasileira).
Formed in Bahia, the trio—Mateus Aleluia, Heraldo do Monte, and Dadinho—crafted an album that transcends time, fusing Candomblé rhythms, samba, and folkloric storytelling. Tracks like Deixa a Gira Girá and Ojuobá are spiritual journeys, while Cordeiro de Nanã showcases their ethereal vocal interplay. The record stands as a bridge between tradition and innovation, inspiring generations of artists from Caetano Veloso to contemporary global acts.
"Os Tincoãs didn’t just sing—they channeled the soul of Bahia. Their music is a sacred dialogue between past and present." — Music Critic, The Guardian
"A harmony so pure it feels like a prayer. This album is Brazil’s answer to The Staples Singers or Ladysmith Black Mambazo." — Pitchfork

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>


»Carpet Of Fallen Leaves« is an introduction to the folk-pop world of Eddie Marcon. It follows in the footsteps of other collections of Japanese artists on Morr Music, such as yumbo, Andersens, and the »Minna Miteru« compilations, »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves« draws together songs from Eddie Marcon’s twenty-two-year history, including fragile, yet rich in melody material, collected from a prodigious run of limited edition, self-released CD-Rs.
Eddie Marcon is the project of Eddie Corman and Jules Marcon, who met through their involvement in Japan’s underground music scene. Eddie was a member of noise-rock duo Coa, while both Eddie and Marcon were part of psych-rock collective LSD-March. Forming in 2001, Eddie Marcon’s sound is markedly different from these groups, though they do, at times, share a sense of psychedelic dislocation, through the gentle, limpid pace of their songs. But with Eddie Marcon, melody and gentleness is at the music’s core.
They’ve long marked out their own, unique territory within a worldwide community of psych-folk and folk-pop artists; sharing their music through a subterranean network of colleagues and friends, they count groups like The Pastels and The Notwist as their fans, and Eddie has collaborated with the likes of Shintaro Sakamoto, and Aki Tsuyuko (in Tondekebana, and with Marcon and Ippei Matsui in the quartet Wasurerogusa). Eddie Marcon have also recently worked with drummer Ikuro Takahashi, who’s played with groups such as Fushitsusha, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, and Nagisa Ni Te.
Across the songs on »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves«, Eddie Marcon’s songs are performed by Eddie on guitar, organ and vocals, and Marcon on bass; they’re variously joined by Takahashi, Yojiro Tatekawa (drums), Tomoko Kageyama (vibraphone), Yasuhisa Mizutani (flute), Madoka Asakura (vocals), and Ztom Motoyama (pedal steel). The arrangements are pared back to best serve the core of each song, and the playing is gorgeous – fluent but not showy; capable of great intricacy, but aware that simplicity is key to direct communication.
Songs like »Mayonaka No Ongaku« stretch their limbs languidly, the music shivering with beauty as guitar and cymbal drift across Eddie’s poised vocal delivery. »Tora To Lion« began as an improvisation, but it’s become a firm favourite of the group’s fans: as Eddie says, »it has become a very important song for us, to the extent that it can be said to be our representative song.«
Perhaps the most moving thing about »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves«, though, is the way it captures the subtle yet significant moments of everydayness that ask for our attention. »Shoujo«, a song for a beloved cat who passed away, possesses rare emotional resonance. »At the end of the song,« Eddie remembers, »I wanted to have her throat rumbling endlessly.« When the song was cut, a television voice appeared behind the purring, saying ›thank you‹. »For us, it felt like words from Poco-chan, and tears came to our eyes.«




In the Fall of 2022, Phil Cook found himself living alone in a small home at the edge of field and forest in North Carolina’s Piedmont. For most of Cook’s life he lived near the hearts of the towns he had called home, near the groan of traffic and hubbub of coffee shops. Such close quarters helped make the gregarious Cook a prolific collaborator, from co-founding Megafaun to working with The Blind Boys of Alabama, Bon Iver, Hiss Golden Messenger, and endless others. But Cook’s closest neighbor now was a trailhead, so he went and listened, enraptured first by the stillness and then by the manifold birds. He began leaving his windowsill slightly cracked each night, so that the dawn chorus greeted him. Cook began recording these tangled bird songs, and he slowly joined them. With the sun finally high, Cook would listen to the day’s recordings and improvise in real time on the instrument that remains the first and most steadfast love of his musical life, the piano. When Cook left that cabin after a year, he moved into a home of his own in Durham, with plenty of space for his two boys to play and for something he’d never actually owned—a proper piano. Over the next several months, Cook spent untold hours drilling down on these pieces. During lessons with the Southern gospel great Chuckey Robinson, the pianist had challenged Cook to sustain fewer notes, to stop clouding and crowding his melodies by using the instrument’s pedals as crutches. His music suddenly had more clarity, with the sounds and the feelings they ferried given more room to function. Cook dug into the danger and delight, into the idea that we twist our bodies into knots trying to understand what is best for our hearts. In April 2024 Cook returned to Wisconsin’s Chippewa Valley where he was raised. His lifelong friend and bandmate, Justin Vernon, had just finished an overhaul of April Base, the studio compound where Cook has worked on more than a dozen records during the last 15 years. Cook asked Vernon to produce Appalachia Borealis as simply as possible—merely to listen and offer feedback in two extended afternoon sessions, to talk about the right takes and make sure that they’d captured the heart. It, of course, got more complicated, as they experimented with the process. Vernon would add or subtract the bird songs to Cook’s headphones, seeing how they impacted his playing. Or they would route his notes through a massive reverb chamber, Cook responding in gossamer improvisations. Appalachia Borealis is a deeply poignant and personal set of 11 piano meditations, built with the emotional range of a full and open existence. Inspired by those windowsill improvisations, it reflects not only the turmoil and sadness of a fraught time for Cook but also the hope, light, and joy of looking for the other side. You can sometimes still hear the birds whose tune and time helped to inspire so many of these songs. Even when they’re not within earshot, their essence remains.


Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. “Everywhere your eye lands, there’s another curio to marvel over,” noted Pitchfork’s Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson’s recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his “strikingly original” 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, got into production projects (for Moses Sumney, Kid LAROI, and SahBabii), and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that’s universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn’t help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.
When asked to unpack the inputs of I Heard That Noise, Jonson cites the unpredictable vocal melodies and sound design of Phil Elverum (The Microphones, Mount Eerie), the raw emotion of Dijon, and the timeless cadence of Nick Drake. While drums were the focus of Easy Listening, he challenged himself to think outside of the beat with new material: “to see how much I could do with a song, specifically with production, without having a beat to it… there are moments with drums but it was more about the space in between.” Songs utilize visceral delay and distortion; sometimes, they melt out of frame before the peak or take sharp turns with sudden chord changes or sweeping jolts he likens to “jump scares” in film. “Experimenting with the idea of being comfortable, and then some crazy shit flies at you, takes you out of it for a second, and then maybe brings you back in.” What makes these non-linear choices effective is that Jonson remains a natural pop architect, knowing where to push and pull, add and subtract; and essentially, how to draw in and hold one’s attention.
Themes reach from recent experiences — a breakup followed by “periods of either being miserable or, like, living…trying to better myself” — to childhood memories. There’s a recurring low-frequency hum in his neighborhood; he and his friends have come to know it as the “Kenton Sound” (which gives his studio its name), and they’ve narrowed it down to some industrial testing site nearby. Every time it vibrates, he thinks of that time he heard “that noise” while skateboarding outside his mom’s house. Similar, but louder, scarier, a sky siren of sorts. “I remember all the dogs started barking in the neighborhood at the same time...a really weird, bizarre phenomenon.” The thought pattern, scattered with a cathartic headspace, led him to record the title track, where an abrasive intro dissipates into a sweet piano ballad about remembering and surrendering.
Jonson has a knack for interludes and outros, and he’s in full stride here; the opener’s ambient wobbles snap into the stomp of “Enything,” which at one point swelled with so much information he needed to get a new computer. Above bright and jagged guitar lines, harmonized with backing vocals from friend and past tourmate Julia Logue, Jonson playfully rattles through everything he’d do (“for you”). He’s quick to admit he often dreads the process of writing lyrics, yet the loose wordplay of “Enything” is proof his subconscious runs clever.
On “Take It From Me,” subtle sonic flourishes surround acoustic strums and tender keys as Jonson recalls the resignation of a night when a relationship’s end was imminent (“a great storm is coming over the hill.”). He explains, “I've always found peace in knowing that other people, even if I don't know their exact experience, may have the same feeling that I do.” The mantra-like reprise of “Take It from Me” carries that notion, a soft reassurance before the song washes away.
Kenton Sound’s ceiling can attest to the truth of “I Punched Through A Wall.” Jonson says in reality, the act emerged from a silly intrusive thought. The image (“The silhouette of myself”) lent a figurative scene to wrap real angst around. “I feel love like a cannon ball / I like being ripped apart,” he sings over one of the record’s sweetest, most pop-forward arrangements. As the chorus takes its final pass, a gentle piano phrase gets clipped by an outburst of power chords and feedback, repeating the lines twice as loud.
“Raven” crosses fable-like fiction with the sad story of a friend who lost his way; and just when the track’s innocent country twang settles in, he pulls the rug out with near-metal levels of heavy. The juxtaposition gets to the heart of I Heard That Noise. By excavating the extremes of his sound, Jonson not only brings the best out of himself but introduces myriad ways to engage with his music, which grows ever more inviting and boundless.
<p><iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=824606394/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 472px;">I Heard That Noise quickly, quickly</iframe></p>











</p><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 373px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1786378255/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://armlock.bandcamp.com/album/trust">Trust by Armlock</a></iframe><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 373px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1786378255/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://armlock.bandcamp.com/album/trust">Trust by Armlock</a></iframe>






ノスタルジックな深夜の音楽。20世紀前半のギリシャで流行した大衆歌謡であるレベティコの偉人であるGiorgos Katsarosによるスティール弦ギターとヴォーカルによる、時代を超えた魅力を放つ素晴らしい演奏をコンパイルした画期的編集盤が〈Mississippi Records〉と〈Olvido Records〉の共同でリリース。Katsarosの現存する初期の64の録音からリマスタリングされた貴重な10曲をセレクトした一枚。催眠的なメロディーが、親指で弾くベースラインの反復に支えられ、その深く悲しげな声が響き渡っています。
