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“I did this piano/Rhodes recording, played live, without overdubs. I believe your approach to sound could match very well these tracks….”
That’s how Giovanni Di Domenico’s collaboration with Rutger Zuydervelt started, though the first seeds were planted when the duo did a short live improv together in 2019, and Giovanni joining Hydra Ensemble on stage in 2022.
Painting a Picture / Picture a painting is -as the title suggest- an album of two long-form pieces, swapping the working method for each - one takes Giovanni’s recordings and has Rutger processing and adding to it, while the other one started with Rutger creating its foundation (with manipulated sounds of the first piece), and Giovanni building upon it. This resulted in two meandering tracks that are clearly linked, like two sides of the same coin.
The cover, a painting of an empty canvas, is made by Christiaan Kuitwaard. A beautiful and ultimately fitting visual addition to this mysterious release.

Described by the Wall Street Journal as “one of modern music’s most compelling vocalists,” New York-born and Tamil Nadu-raised singer and multi-instrumentalist ganavya shares an ambitious new album, "Daughter of a Temple", via LEITER. The album follows her performance at SAULT’s acclaimed live debut in London in 2023, where, according to The Guardian, her “voice had a delicate emotive heft that could turn stoics into sobbing wrecks.” Her first single for LEITER, "draw something beautiful," was released earlier this year in July.
For "Daughter of a Temple", ganavya invited over 30 artists from various disciplines to a ritual gathering in Houston. Consequently, the album features numerous contributors, including renowned musicians such as esperanza spalding, Vijay Iyer, Shabaka Hutchings, Immanuel Wilkins, and Peter Sellars. The results—an innovative and deeply moving blend of spiritual jazz and South Asian devotional music—were initially recorded by Ryan Renteria and then further edited and mixed by Nils Frahm at LEITER's studio in Berlin in 2024.

A key work from the golden era of Impulse! Records, Love in Us All is a 1974 masterpiece by spiritual jazz seeker Pharoah Sanders, now reissued on vinyl. As the title suggests, this album is a sonic journey of devotion and transcendence toward the “love within us all.” A powerful balance of mysticism and compassion, chaos and serenity—this is truly music shaped by love and the cosmos. An eternal resonance, more vital now than ever.


Get onboard with this explosive encounter of Japanese folk songs and latin rhythms!
"For Japanese people, min'yō is both the closest, and most distant, folk music” explains band-leader Katsumi Tanaka. “We may not feel it in our daily, urban lives, yet the melodies, the style of singing and the rhythm of the taiko drums are engrained in our DNA”.
Initially indifferent to min'yō, a tragic event in recent Japanese history set Tanaka on his current path: “Following the Tohoku earthquake of 2011, I reflected on my life, work and identity. A fan of world music, I began searching for Japanese roots music I could identify with. Discovering mid-late 20th century acts like Hibari Misora, Chiemi Eri and the Tokyo Cuban Boys, I was captivated by their eccentric arrangements and how they mixed min'yō with latin and jazz music.”
Lead singer Freddie Tsukamoto fell for min'yō after hearing a song from his hometown on a TV competition whilst in a restaurant. It was a revelation – until then he had been an aspiring jazz singer yet was uncomfortable singing in English. The restaurateur told him a min'yō teacher was his neighbour and the two connected. Tanaka and Freddie formed Minyo Crusaders in 2011 in Fussa, a city where the US military Yokota Air Base is located, in western Tokyo.
Recruiting other local musicians versed in afro and latin rhythms, they began hosting jam sessions at the Banana House, a building that was previously part of the military base and that used to house US soldiers. The band started recording their music, and their debut album "Echoes Of Japan" was released in 2017. It received huge acclaim in Japan and abroad, and was also released by British label Mais Um in 2019. Several European tours followed, as well as some US and South America gigs.
In this second opus, the Minyo Crusaders take us on a trip to Japanese folk songs fused with latin rhythms. Their unique arrangements breathe new life to classics like Kiso Bushi, Sado Okesa or Soran Bushi, among many other min'yō songs from all over Japan that were originally performed by Japanese fishermen, coal miners and sumo wrestlers hundreds of years ago. The magical groove created here proves once again that the Minyo Crusaders are one of the most dynamic representatives of the current Japanese world music scene. Yoi Yoi, Enjoy!
Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald's dream project Rhythm & Sound, which brought legendary reggae singers into the modern era, released the See Mi Ya remix series in 2006. The highly anticipated 2025 reissue of this masterpiece, remixed by Carl Craig and Basic Channel, is finally here!
Originally released in 1996 as the M series, Vainqueur's outstanding and universal masterpiece of minimal techno has been repressed in 2025 and includes a remix by Maurizio.
Originally released in 1993 as the M series, Vainqueur's outstanding and universal masterpiece of minimal techno has been repressed in 2025 and includes a remix by Maurizio.
unification of techno and dub reggae. An outstanding universal masterpiece of sound dub/minimal techno released in 1994 by German Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald's Basic Channel, repressed in 2025.
Derek Bailey’s incredible debut solo showcase is given a necessary, expanded reissue as part of Honest Jon’s reissue series of important releases on Bailey and Evan Parker’s Incus Records. The original LP of finger-flaying improvisations and Bailey’s takes on works by Gavin Bryars and Misha Mengelberg is now augmented by an extra disc of farther improvs, including a solo show at York University in 1972. The late, great guitar pioneer’s Solo Guitar remains pivotal testament to his endeavours in dismantling modern instrumental music and freeing it to more curious routes of expression, much in key - so to speak - with the US free jazz and improvised music which it evolved from. Love it or not, this record remains a totem of late 20th centre musical exploration. “Recorded in 1971, Solo Guitar Volume 1 was Bailey’s first solo album. Its cover is an iconic montage of photos taken in the guitar shop where he worked. He and the photographer piled up the instruments whilst the proprietor was at lunch, with Bailey promptly sacked on his return. The LP was issued in two versions over the years — Incus 2 and 2R — with different groupings of free improvisations paired with Bailey’s performances of notated pieces by his friends Misha Mengelberg, Gavin Bryars and Willem Breuker. All this music is here, plus a superb solo performance at York University in 1972; a welcome shock at the end of an evening of notated music. It’s a striking demonstration of the way Bailey rewrote the language of the guitar with endless inventiveness, intelligence and wit.”



Andy Jenkins always assumed Nick Sanborn was going to get rid of his guitars, anyway.
In March 2021, Sanborn had mostly finished construction at Betty’s, his studio outpost with partner Amelia Meath in North Carolina’s cozy Piedmont woods. Both busy pieces of their respective but intertwined music scenes in Richmond and Durham, Jenkins and Sanborn had been fans of one another for years but had never formally collaborated. Jenkins had spent the last several years gathering songs for the follow-up to his 2018 solo debut, Sweet Bunch; the new ones were intricately rendered odes to the assorted assurances and anxieties that can come with finding some measure of contentment as you cross into yours 30s. He’d even played them all during two outdoor concerts in Richmond, folks scattered throughout his backyard to listen. Sanborn reckoned that was enough rehearsal. Don’t send demos, he suggested; simply drive the two hours down, and live and work in the studio for two weeks while spring drifted into the South.
As Jenkins rolled through his assembled tracks in Betty’s Studio B, Sanborn listened and allowed his imagination to run wild. Sanborn recalled a conversation with the songwriter Damien Jurado, where he said he’d once arrived at the studio of producer Richard Swift without dispatching anything in advance; that instinctive and improvisational strategy led to Maraqopa, a modern masterpiece. What could Jenkins and Sanborn conjure?
Sanborn flooded Jenkins with ideas—rhythmic shifts, keyboard flourishes, vocal effects—and looked for and listened to his responses. There was the double-time piano, a mistake dropped into “Too Late” they both loved. There was the Vocoder selection during “Emptiness Is,” a choice that allowed the pair to hang so much of the song on bass and drums alone. There was the sequence that bubbles beneath “Leaving Before,” a mirror of the lyrical nervous heart.
When Meath and Flock of Dimes’ Jenn Wasner were palling around the studio, Sanborn asked if they would mind singing on a few tracks. That’s Meath on “Blue Mind,” sweetly trailing Jenkins’ lines about being under love’s spell like she’s offering an incantation, and Wasner rising through the static dawn of “Lovesick.” “Andy wanted someone to make decisions he would never make,” remembers Sanborn. “It was this mining operation we got to do together.”
As the songs steadily cohered, though, Jenkins insisted it was finally time to drop his guitars. “I have never been,” he says now with a little laugh, “a particularly competent guitar player.” But Sanborn loved the idiosyncratic way his strums sat against his voice, so he stalled. He wasn’t much of a guitar player himself, so they’d need to wait for Jenkins’ longtime collaborator, an ace named Alan Parker, to come down from Richmond and replace those parts. When Parker did, he heard the same thing as Sanborn—yes, he was more technically proficient, but his overdubs didn’t have the same personality, the same narrative truth. Jenkins relented, so his guitars stayed, the anchor for most of these 11 tracks.
One notable exception: “Nobody Else,” the album’s brief but brilliant centerpiece, a testament to holding close to the people in your life, of not losing nobody else. It stems from a quiet moment Jenkins and Parker shared in an otherwise-empty studio. Parker (who, in the end, added leads and fills throughout the record) plays a rubber-bridge guitar, while Jenkins’ voice rises and falls like the waves of the maritime scene he limns, his curious voice making melodies from mere air.
It is the exception here, Jenkins stepping away from guitar to lean into an old friendship and render something exquisite in its ache.
Since Always came, in large part, from letting go—of self-perceptions, of expectations, of assumptions. Jenkins found space to trust himself as the guitarist for his own songs. Sanborn stepped into a new kind of production role, dreaming up ideas and filtering through them together. There was, in short, a very adult trust to it all, two fans working in tandem to make something. The process feels of a delightful piece with Since Always, a record where the loss and love, compromise and gain of adulthood come into full view.
Grayson Haver Currin
Ward, Colo.
January 2025

Zulu Guitar's Pioneering Tricksters
But for this compilation of rescued songs masterfully restored from rare 78 rpm shellacs, few could imagine the diversely beautiful roots of Zulu Guitar Music emerging during the period 1950 – 1965. Story-tellers and master musicians appropriate outlaw personae, re-purpose country and western, Hawaiian and other styles, to stretch and challenge our notion of “the Zulu guitar”.
Twenty-five songs (18 on vinyl) plunge us into the depths of the migrant experience. Translations in the liner notes offer us glimpses of pugnacity, melancholy and heartache, all coloured by the paternalism that circumscribed the singers’ apartheid-dominated lives.
The early mbaqanga undertow in many of the songs subverts the wanderlust of Country and Western music into a fugitivity burdened by nostalgia. Something irretrievable has been lost, prompting a blending of ideas and cultures to make sense through thankless acts of musical divination. Inadvertently they have been thrust into the role of the antihero, where outwitting competition for lovers is as important as evading the Black Jacks (apartheid’s municipal cops) and their informants.
Considering the politically repressive period that this music emerges from, we can surmise that the specificity in the storytelling went a long way towards evading censure. But even when words are absent, there is a narrative arc suggested by the musical expression.
With most of the master tapes wilfully destroyed or lost, modern transcription and restoration techniques from the original shellac discs present the original sound most likely more clearly than ever heard before.
