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The band Unknown Mortal Orchestra sometimes enjoys making purely instrumental music. In addition to the vocal-based records they’re more well-known for, they’ve also begun to make an instrumental series called the IC where they spend time in a chosen city and improvise and collaborate on non-vocal music. Recently the band spent time in Colombia to make music and initiate their new keyboard player Christian Li. The resulting sessions have become IC-02 Bogota, a musical document of the time they spent in that exciting city and the possible background music for some strange parties and night drives in your future.
Gilla Band Ireland’s favourite Avant-punk quartet has re-issued The Early Years EP, a collection of out of print 7” singles and covers originally released on Any Other City Records and The Quarter Inch Collective and then on Rough Trade Records in 2015. The re-issue features new artwork based on the original colour blocks plus The Cha Cha Cha has now been remastered alongside the rest of the tracks and is ready for the dancefloor once again.
Fan fave (and live setlist staple) featured on the collection is an eight-minute cover of post-dubstep mastermind Blawan’s absurdist banger and demented earworm “Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage” that, simply put, is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before or since.
"My career has been a lesson in patience," says Annahstasia, having cultivated her musical language between blazes of intimacy and independence across different lives, locations, and iterations, loves lost and gained, expectations evaded and recreated. The rising troubadour's proximity to love — for and from others, in society at large, and deeply within herself — guides the spirit of her soulful, poetic folk songcraft. Love is the elemental constant, alongside her distinctly resonant voice, shading the singer-songwriter's music since her earliest self-taught recordings, back when a 17-year-old Annahstasia Enuke was discovered and propelled into the pressures of an industry that nearly stifled her greatest strengths. Artistic resilience, gratitude, and dedication to process have yielded Tether, Annahstasia's full-length debut on art-forward indie label drink sum wtr, a collection of beaming torch songs, orchestral hymns, and astral anthems that feel lived-in, drawn from the human experience and the spectrum of love.
Annahstasia assembled the pieces of Tether slowly and with deep intention; she's carried these songs with her on the road, sang them for friends and strangers, and evolved them over time alongside her personal revelations. "The song is written, and then I have to live with it and see if I really believe what I'm saying," she explains. She brought material to sessions at the storied Valentine Studios in Los Angeles, joined by producers Jason Lader (ANOHNI and the Johnsons, Frank Ocean, Lana Del Rey), Andrew Lappin (Cassandra Jenkins, L'Rain, Luna Li), Aaron Liao (Liv.e, Moses Sumney, Raveena) and a range of accomplished musicians, including featured guests aja monet and Obongjayar. The recording became instinctual, done only in live takes to capture the feeling of the room, the community of the music. The sequencing was just as essential; she arrived at a flow with shifting energies and poignant arcs. The instrumentation swells, at times understated and others supremely lush, and through each arrangement, Annahstasia's voice rings true, open-hearted, and free. "I've come into the power of my voice as a medium," she says. "As a tool of expression, I am able to shape the emotional space around me."
Lyrically, Annahstasia embraces the nuance of poetry, inviting listeners to engage in words laced with meaning, whether ruminations on romance or social constructs. She sees the opener "Be Kind" more as a poem than a song, "a reflection upon the beauty of the mundane and the grandeur of everyday life…a reminder to myself and others to be kind to each other." The track's minimalist atmosphere picks up where 2024's Surface Tension EP left off, with her vocals left bare and up-front, exploring the capacity of her gift with newfound latitude as strums, strings, and keys enter the frame.
The palette expands for "Villian," welcoming drums, brass, and horns into a sweeping nod to healing. "We are all made of both shadow and light. From some angle, we have all been the villain of the story," she adds, suggesting that often, the only way to move on is through understanding that "we are all trying our best, negotiating survival." At its triumphant peak, above gospel-like shouts, she delivers the reprise with a smile: "Take it / Take it back / This dull knife of memory / I still hear your voice inside my head / Says that I'm the villain of the story."
Album centerpiece "Slow" emerges from a chance connection with London-based Nigerian musician Steven Umoh, aka Obongjayar. After exchanging DMs, Obongjayar came to one of her shows, and the two artists talked for hours afterward; "he was like a lost brother," she says. Later, they wrote and demoed the track in the living room of her Airbnb in London, where they huddled around a single ribbon microphone. "I'm just playing the guitar, and our eyes are locked; it was very sensual and intense." Emboldened by one another, their voices orbit and coalesce, trading verses on the signals the universe sends us ("I heard it on the wind / To go slow"), harmonizing the last stanzas ("What's the worst that can happen / If we just let it happen"). Without proper album plans at the time, the song sat for a while; then, in another cosmic chance, Obongjayar happened to be in town during the Tether sessions. Annahstasia reflects, "It was a beautiful experience to have us all in the room. The artistry, the moment, a real acceptance of African art where these two Nigerian musicians are coming together and making something very tender and pretty outside genre expectations."
Later, Annahstasia finds a kindred spirit in aja monet, the NY-based surrealist blues poet and her new labelmate, who lends stunning prose and voice to "All is. Will Be. As it Was." Given only the prompt of "open air," monet wrote the lines on the ride to the studio. Together with Annahstasia on guitar and Ashley Fulton on piano, they captured the piece in its purest form as if bottling a breeze.
Annahstasia described the EP prelude to this culminating set as a "romantic war," and the artist truly thrives amidst and after drama. She taps into a punk sensibility for "Silk and Velvet" — "I'd say it's punk in the sense that it is really dry, really stark and selectively dissonant." A clashing of cello and piano mirror pointed lyrics about "living with the hypocrisy of having revolutionary ideologies but consumerist tendencies." The tension comes full circle on "Believer," a song she's been trying to get right for years, now finally recorded in the right place with the right people. Nearly every instrument on Tether returns in full force; towering percussion, jagged guitar lines, and howling singers encircle Annahstasia at the mic as she enters a fantasy of rock stardom. "I love how in making a record, you get to make a film and pick which direction to take it. Now I have this version that I blast in my headphones, play air guitar, and pretend I'm performing it for 100,000 people." The sheer power of Tether is the result of patience, and it's not hard to picture such a dream realized in good time.
Adrian Sherwood returns with the mutating rhythmic soundscapes of The Grand Designer, a four track EP and the latest instalment in On-U Sound's long-running and much-loved 'disco plate' series.
The title track and lead single is out today, and serves as a trailer for a forthcoming full-length album, with different instruments filtered through Sherwood's bank of effects over an irresistible groove, and typically deft percussive detail.
"Let's Come Together" flips the same rhythm into a mystical dub, with sadly departed friend and collaborator Lee "Scratch" Perry providing typically off-the-wall vocal interjections. It also serves as a reminder of the wealth of collaborative projects Sherwood has released in recent years, releasing critically acclaimed new albums not only with Perry, but also Horace Andy, Sonic Boom & Panda Bear, African Head Charge, Spoon, Creation Rebel, Pinch, and more.
"Russian Oscillator" perhaps cleaves closest to the Sherwood & Pinch records, experimental electronics weaving in and out of heavy sound system sonics and a ruffneck dancehall adjacent swing.
The EP closes with "Cold War Skank", a left hand turn off the highway into scorched desert blues, distorted slide guitar patterns over widescreen film score atmospherics.
Available as a strictly limited and collectable 10" vinyl, mastered and cut by Frank Merritt at The Carvery, housed in a classic On-U disco plate sleeve, with cover collage by Studio Tape-Echo.
After five years spent largely confined to the United States, Ron Trent is set to return to global touring in 2025. To mark the occasion, he’s partnered with Rush Hour to release Lift Off, a brand-new album of music recorded at different points over the last decade.
Arriving almost 35 years since he wowed the world with his game-changing debut, the Afterlife EP, Lift Off was inspired by Trent’s desire to ‘let the imagination speak for itself’ while exploring the diverse influences that have shaped his unique musical perspective. A departure from his previous album, 2022’s downtempo masterpiece as Warm, What Do The Stars Say To You, the 10-track set features a mixture of epic instrumentals, inspired collaborations and vocal cuts whose music was written with certain singers in mind.
While Lift Off features music that ripples with Trent’s familiar aural trademarks –rich rhythms, warm chords, impeccable instrumentation, inspired arrangements, and lashings of heady hand percussion – it sees the long-serving producer explore a variety of sounds and tempos, in the process blurring the lines between dance music’s past, present and future. In his words, it’s a vision of what dance music can become, where nods to new wave, alternative and slow jams sit side by side with up-tempo dancefloor workouts rooted in R&B, jazz-funk, house and sunset-dance.
Presented on two double vinyl albums and a single digital download release, Lift Off contains some of Trent’s most magical and sonically detailed music to date. For proof, check the lilting synth-strings, enveloping chords, samba-soaked percussion, vibrant electronics, elongated organ solos and starry synths sounds of ‘Woman of Color’, the Wally Badarou-inspired ‘Hot Ice’, the alternative Balearic love song ‘And Fly Away’, and the alternative 80s/New Order-influenced ‘Just Another Love Song’, where his own hazy vocals catch the ear.
From the start of the project, Trent wanted to create music with musical collaborators and hand-picked vocalists in mind. Two regular collaborators make an appearance, with fellow Chicagoan (and Jungle Wonz member) Harry Dennis delivering a delightfully poetic spoken word vocal on the incredible ‘Her’ – a subtly Latin-tinged epic that’s amongst Trent’s most picture-perfect concoctions to date – and fellow Rush Hour artist Lars Bartkuhn adding virtuoso jazz guitar solos to the equally inspired ‘Street Wave’.
Perhaps more headline-grabbing is the inclusion of legendary disco-boogie vocalist, producer and arranger Leroy Burgess, who accepted Trent’s invitation to write and perform vocals on an instrumental he’d written with him in mind, ‘Let Me See You Shining’. Combining Trent’s usual spacey synths, rolling grooves and ultra-deep musical sensibilities with nods to his guest singer’s synth-heavy boogie and proto-house works of the early to mid 1980s, the track features a typically expressive and soulful lead vocal from the New York great – a genuine musical meeting of minds that’s worth the admission price on its own.
Effortlessly soulful, atmospheric, musically on-point and bursting with vivid aural colours, it offers a neat summary of the sonic delights littered throughout Lift Off – a killer collection of sophisticated and forward-thinking music for the head, heart and feet.
Jagjaguwar is proud to release the long lost Julie Doiron album 'Broken Girl', expanded to include her first two 7"s. It was originally released in 1996 by Doiron after her band--the psychedelic folk group Eric's Trip--had crumbled around her, under the temporary moniker "Broken Girl". The name did nothing to hide her feelings regarding the breakup of her band and the relationships that she shared with its members; neither did the songs on the record. The twelve songs from the original album come across like an epitaph for a departed lover. 'Broken Girl' was indeed a new beginning for Doiron, both as a solo artist as well as a record label executive. The first two Broken Girl 7"s (both included on this reissue), as well as the self-titled full-length were released on her own label Sappy Records, a label which went on to release her Juno Award-winning 'Julie Doiron & the Wooden Stars' full-length as well as releases by Moonsocket, Orange Glass, Snailhouse, and Elevator to Hell.
'Broken Girl' was a watershed for Doiron, showing her to be the sort of songwriter and performer that Eric's Trip only hinted at. Achingly beautiful and showcasing her vocal style and personality as a songwriter, the reviews immediately put her in the same class as Leonard Cohen in terms of importance as a Canadian solo artist. The album was self-recorded in the same home-y manner as the classic Eric's Trip albums which helped--along with albums by peers Sebadoh, East River Pipe and Smog--define the bedroom aesthetic of the early '90s. While some rock scribes would call it lo-fi, the fidelity of the recordings that Doiron and her Eric's Trip mates employed in the first half of the '90s was clearly the most appropriate medium. The close-mic'ing of everything from the vocals to the swirling guitars and peaking drums created a sense of real intimacy (while avoiding a lot of the awkward pitfalls that so many confessional songwriters run into) and suburban claustrophobia. It is very easy to see the four-piece as a Nick Drake-like entity who had been raised on the far East Coast of Canada in Moncton, New Brunswick on the SST catalog (Eric's Trip took their name from the Sonic Youth song from Daydream Nation) and whose nucleus was a four-fold of independently-minded co-dependents with no need for a producer or other intermediary to the recording process which might break the spell for even a moment.
Initially released in a scant edition of 1,000, 'Broken Girl' went immediately out of print and has become a highly sought-after collector's piece.
"Fellow Canadian songwriter Leonard Cohen once titled an album Songs From A Room. Montreal-based Julie Doiron apparently took up residence there and removed whatever furniture was left behind."--Rob O'Connor, Rolling Stone
"My career has been a lesson in patience," says Annahstasia, having cultivated her musical language between blazes of intimacy and independence across different lives, locations, and iterations, loves lost and gained, expectations evaded and recreated. The rising troubadour's proximity to love — for and from others, in society at large, and deeply within herself — guides the spirit of her soulful, poetic folk songcraft. Love is the elemental constant, alongside her distinctly resonant voice, shading the singer-songwriter's music since her earliest self-taught recordings, back when a 17-year-old Annahstasia Enuke was discovered and propelled into the pressures of an industry that nearly stifled her greatest strengths. Artistic resilience, gratitude, and dedication to process have yielded Tether, Annahstasia's full-length debut on art-forward indie label drink sum wtr, a collection of beaming torch songs, orchestral hymns, and astral anthems that feel lived-in, drawn from the human experience and the spectrum of love.
Annahstasia assembled the pieces of Tether slowly and with deep intention; she's carried these songs with her on the road, sang them for friends and strangers, and evolved them over time alongside her personal revelations. "The song is written, and then I have to live with it and see if I really believe what I'm saying," she explains. She brought material to sessions at the storied Valentine Studios in Los Angeles, joined by producers Jason Lader (ANOHNI and the Johnsons, Frank Ocean, Lana Del Rey), Andrew Lappin (Cassandra Jenkins, L'Rain, Luna Li), Aaron Liao (Liv.e, Moses Sumney, Raveena) and a range of accomplished musicians, including featured guests aja monet and Obongjayar. The recording became instinctual, done only in live takes to capture the feeling of the room, the community of the music. The sequencing was just as essential; she arrived at a flow with shifting energies and poignant arcs. The instrumentation swells, at times understated and others supremely lush, and through each arrangement, Annahstasia's voice rings true, open-hearted, and free. "I've come into the power of my voice as a medium," she says. "As a tool of expression, I am able to shape the emotional space around me."
Lyrically, Annahstasia embraces the nuance of poetry, inviting listeners to engage in words laced with meaning, whether ruminations on romance or social constructs. She sees the opener "Be Kind" more as a poem than a song, "a reflection upon the beauty of the mundane and the grandeur of everyday life…a reminder to myself and others to be kind to each other." The track's minimalist atmosphere picks up where 2024's Surface Tension EP left off, with her vocals left bare and up-front, exploring the capacity of her gift with newfound latitude as strums, strings, and keys enter the frame.
The palette expands for "Villian," welcoming drums, brass, and horns into a sweeping nod to healing. "We are all made of both shadow and light. From some angle, we have all been the villain of the story," she adds, suggesting that often, the only way to move on is through understanding that "we are all trying our best, negotiating survival." At its triumphant peak, above gospel-like shouts, she delivers the reprise with a smile: "Take it / Take it back / This dull knife of memory / I still hear your voice inside my head / Says that I'm the villain of the story."
Album centerpiece "Slow" emerges from a chance connection with London-based Nigerian musician Steven Umoh, aka Obongjayar. After exchanging DMs, Obongjayar came to one of her shows, and the two artists talked for hours afterward; "he was like a lost brother," she says. Later, they wrote and demoed the track in the living room of her Airbnb in London, where they huddled around a single ribbon microphone. "I'm just playing the guitar, and our eyes are locked; it was very sensual and intense." Emboldened by one another, their voices orbit and coalesce, trading verses on the signals the universe sends us ("I heard it on the wind / To go slow"), harmonizing the last stanzas ("What's the worst that can happen / If we just let it happen"). Without proper album plans at the time, the song sat for a while; then, in another cosmic chance, Obongjayar happened to be in town during the Tether sessions. Annahstasia reflects, "It was a beautiful experience to have us all in the room. The artistry, the moment, a real acceptance of African art where these two Nigerian musicians are coming together and making something very tender and pretty outside genre expectations."
Later, Annahstasia finds a kindred spirit in aja monet, the NY-based surrealist blues poet and her new labelmate, who lends stunning prose and voice to "All is. Will Be. As it Was." Given only the prompt of "open air," monet wrote the lines on the ride to the studio. Together with Annahstasia on guitar and Ashley Fulton on piano, they captured the piece in its purest form as if bottling a breeze.
Annahstasia described the EP prelude to this culminating set as a "romantic war," and the artist truly thrives amidst and after drama. She taps into a punk sensibility for "Silk and Velvet" — "I'd say it's punk in the sense that it is really dry, really stark and selectively dissonant." A clashing of cello and piano mirror pointed lyrics about "living with the hypocrisy of having revolutionary ideologies but consumerist tendencies." The tension comes full circle on "Believer," a song she's been trying to get right for years, now finally recorded in the right place with the right people. Nearly every instrument on Tether returns in full force; towering percussion, jagged guitar lines, and howling singers encircle Annahstasia at the mic as she enters a fantasy of rock stardom. "I love how in making a record, you get to make a film and pick which direction to take it. Now I have this version that I blast in my headphones, play air guitar, and pretend I'm performing it for 100,000 people." The sheer power of Tether is the result of patience, and it's not hard to picture such a dream realized in good time.
Moin follow their EOY-topping 'You Never End' with a pithy jazz-pilled appendix, bringing back poet Sophia Al-Maria and adding Ben Vince's circuitous horns to offset Valentina Magaletti's gummiest live rhythms. Next level biz, obvs - crucial listening whether you're into Slint, Tara Clerkin Trio, Mica Levi/Spresso, Bark Psychosis or Still House Plants.
Not exactly a continuation, 'Belly Up' is a fresh bite cooked from similar ingredients. Moin bent out the tabs last year on their third album, emulsifying the post-punk and hardcore oils that smeared their early plates with modish funk and disintegrated, industrial-strength noize. Joe Andrews, Tom Halstead and Valentina Magaletti cogitate over the same themes here, but train their senses on jazz, assembling brittle and mutable modernist shapes around impeccably springy live syncopations.
Raw, direct opener 'See' is a case in point; Qatari-American artist, writer and filmmaker Al-Maria's droll non sequiturs helped cement the aesthetic of 'You Never End' and make a welcome return, now inserted between Magaletti's sluggish marching band extemporisations and prolific collaborator Ben Vince's transcendent sax loops. Andrews and Halstead keep it restrained, tagging on deadened hardcore tangs and a nasal keyboard vamps that maps the London topography between 4Hero and Tirzah. Vince appears again on 'I'm Really Flagging (or I Trusted U)'; what sounds like a clip from the same ad-libbed workout surges next to flimsy synths and cheeky samples. It plays like a sequel, still rallying around Magaletti's exaggerated, tom-heavy patter, suggesting alternate routes to the finale.
The boxy, no-wave curdled funk that characterized 'You Never End' is reheated on 'X.U.Y.' and evaporated into a quiescent mantra, but Moin's most ambrosian moments appear when they reduce the heat. 'You Leave Me Breathless' sounds as if it's a loose, unplanned rehearsal, with AutoTuned crows melting over a long, limber patchwork of paradiddles from Magaletti. And the trio don't completely ignore the rave backroom, banging together grungy Akai-coruscated samples and 808 State synths on the greyscale 'I Don't Know Where To Look'. As always, they don't exactly boot us back to the '90s - Moin make us wonder what it might have sounded like if there was access to a different array of technology.
For fans of: Glass Beams, Derya Yıldırım, LA LOM, and hip hop producer Oh No’s
Ouzo Bazooka enchant on Kapaim, drawing listeners through a maze of hypnotic, head-snapping grooves, cosmic string bending, and swirling guitar explorations. As trailblazers of the new Middle Eastern psychedelia movement, the band fuse traditional folk sounds with gritty soul, funk, and rock. Their latest release is a testament to their boundary-pushing spirit, offering a soundscape that is both otherworldly and deeply rooted.
Across five albums and a decade, Ouzo Bazooka have gained acclaim for their pioneering blend of Middle Eastern sounds, psych, and surf rock. The band has achieved international recognition for their music and performances, from the UK all the way to Japan, including The Great Escape, Fuji Rock, and Sziget Festivals. At one point, they played over 150 shows annually, solidifying their reputation as a powerhouse live act. Their critically acclaimed EP, Songs From 1001 Nights, was hailed as "a soaring adventure in exotic reverb and swirling lysergic synth hooks”.
Core member and multi-instrumentalist Uri Brauner Kinrot—musician, composer, and producer—has been active in the international music scene for over two decades. He has played in acclaimed and diverse groups such as Balkan Beat Box, Firewater, Shotnez, and Boom Pam, who also collaborated with Anatolian rock legend Selda Bağcan, and recorded frequently with Kutiman. Kinrot’s ear for production and arrangement has led him to work with internationally recognised artists, including Israeli-Persian musician Liraz.
Launched as a solo project, Ouzo Bazooka quickly morphed into a full-fledged group. However, Kapaim (Hebrew for “palms”) sees Kinrot refining the Ouzo Bazooka sound back into a largely solo endeavour. With more space to experiment, the mostly instrumental album is beautifully arranged and given room to breathe. The bass grooves, wonky synth motifs, head-nodding percussion, and soaring guitar solos create a hypnotic and uplifting experience.
Opening the album, “Asia” begins with an almost pensive bassline that initiates a languid groove. As drums, guitars, and synths join, the melody feels both thoughtful and nostalgic yet hopeful. The consistent bassline conveys a sense of roots and continuity as the song evolves.
The title track, “Kapaim”, urges listeners to clap along to a groove as solid as steel, fusing the legendary New Orleans instrumental funk of The Meters with snake-charming synths and cosmic Anatolian guitar licks.
An otherworldly intro gives way to a tight bass-and-funk groove reminiscent of Bob James’ heavily sampled “Nautilus” on “Seed”, before Kinrot makes a rare vocal appearance, imagining himself as a seed at the centre of the universe.
Having played a key role in the global instrumental movement, Kinrot stands among peers such as JJ Whitefield, Shawn Lee and Kutiman. The album recalls the cinematic depth of David Axelrod but with a distinctive Middle Eastern/Mediterranean touch. Fans of Glass Beams, Derya Yıldırım, LA LOM, and hip hop producer Oh No’s sample-heavy tour of Turkish, Lebanese and Greek psych, Dr. No’s Oxperiment, will find much to love.
A testament to Kinrot’s incredible talent - not least his meticulous arranging, production skills, and ear for soul, funk, and psychedelic rock, as well as his ability to blend musical traditions across cultures and eras - Kapaim carries a deep emotional resonance. It is Ouzo Bazooka’s most personal and addictive album to date, radiating joy, creativity, and a spirit of boundless freedom.
CASSETTE ONLY. Another tape reissued in our ongoing programme with Philly's World Gone Mad. 39 late 70s/early 80s Finnish punk tracks in 80 minutes. Mostly rare material from limited singles.
#showbusiness all of my love and gratitude towards my big beautiful family. I wouldn’t be able to do none of this without my mama, everything is dedicated to her. Big thanks to my papa for always trying to motivate me to do better and for showing me growth is forever! N for my new lil brobro Zi! 1 more Libra in the world makes it a better place. Thank you to my sisters for always being the best sisters a brother can have. Encouraging me endless nights and day, trying to always re-familiarize me with the sparkle of life. Biggest love to my nieces for being such a source of joy in my life, and always making me the proudest uncle. Biggest love and thanks to my big brother Naavin aka the real backbone to everything we got goin on. Thank you for never giving up no matter how it looks. You’ve changed so many peoples lives with your care and admiration for music. As well as with your loyalty and love you show to us all on the daily, thank you bro. I can never take this for granted! Thank you to my big brother Abraham, for all the same things, and helping bring these whimsical ideas to real life! Real years we put into doing what we actually wanted to and look how its turning out;) Biggest love to all my family at GW for all the work and love you guys have invested ;);) biggest love to AK47 aka Anysia Kym the goat, my big sis! Every slap up sesh we end up making a new genre of heat, thank you for your friendship and love always!! Also for goin dumb on the what u bouta do beat!!!!! Real #Emoters !!super thanks 2 da family Thelonius London & Jacob Rochester, 2 producers I’ve been a big fan of for a long time!! Thank yall for believing in me! Biggest thanks to duendita, forreal an artist of the century! Such a miraculous voice, glad 2 have ran it up again twin! Love you always!! Biggest thanks 2 my brother L-boy, Laron, producer prodigy, have known about bro since I WAS in high-school, like high waters type shit. Bro you are literally the best, it’s all yours! Biggest thanks 2 my brudda 454 for that godsent verse on what u bouta do! Grateful to have met u n ran it up across the map witcha twin! Another #aotc. Big thanks 2 my bradda Shungu for the slaps! Real life legend, been listening since I was younger, real full circle. Thank U 2 my twin Raine always for trying to motivate me and make sure I do mo self loving. Biggest thanks 2 my bradda Harrison #sgb! Biggest love & thanks to all my rap camp bruddas, my nigga thebe, Niontay, Tony, Haile, besides da rap shit yall forreal teach me everyday how to improve as man and that shit means the world. I can’t wait to share it all with yall, love yall forever! Biggest thanks 2 salami rose Joe Louis, ever since I’ve found out about ur music, I’ve been addicted n it really helped a lot last year! Thank u for contributing 2 dis project ;)) Super big thanks 2 my brudda Venna, modern day jazz Legend! Came thru so clutch wit da last minute sax, which really gave the album some depth! Thank you always bro! Biggest love to my bruddas across seas, Marky Mark William Lewis & ma bwooy Jespfur! Appreciate u guys always and miss ya! REDLEE! Thank you for being another big brother to me when a young nigga fr needed guidance!!! Thank you for always pushing me musically as well! N also for introducing me to all the homies that are now basically my blood family in UK!! Big love 2 my big sis Faith for always lending an ear to the 5000 diff iterations of the project! N for being such a good friend 2 me! Biggest love n thanks 2 my Puerto Rican cousins Sha & Matt for all the talks and hardworking that went towards the art for the project. That shit truly means the world fam! Thank you 2 the homies Nicholas & Ryosuke for bringing these songs 2 the real world and allowing other people to live in them. Biggest love 2 my twin Misako 2 for saving my life last year! Big love 2 my whole Japan squad #ACAB Biggest love 2 my whole Aussie squad too! YALL inspired the fuck outta me! Biggest love to Tzadi for the amazing artwork, for my music to be attached to something that looks so grand and special like that means the world to me. Biggest love 2 my fam at Astor club for keeping ya boy above ground literally. Biggest thanks n love 2 ma bwoy Gabe for the amazing mix on dis jawn!!!!! Ik it look fun but it aint! Ik there’s way more ppl I should prolly shout out
There are poets like the great Mary Oliver, who might suggest that one’s primary function when moving through the world, for as long as they have life and the ability to move through the world, is to play close attention to that which others may foolishly call small, or quotidian. The brain and heart are both containers, with as much space as you wish for them to have, and to live is to create collections of found affections. Sounds from your beloved and familiar blocks, movements of the trees and the people beneath them, the way someone you adore may hold you for a few lingering seconds before releasing from a hug and vanishing into a crowded crosswalk. To think of our living, our making, and our loving in this way means that, at least for some of us, we may be propelled forward by the prospect of what’s next. What moment we can hold and place in our overflowing pockets.
The work of Lonnie Holley is, for me, a work of this kind of accumulation and close attention. The delight of finding a sound and pressing it up against another found sound and another until, before a listener knows it, they are awash in a symphony of sound that feels like it stitches together as it is washing over you. Tonky is an album that takes its name from a childhood nickname that was affixed to Holley when he lived a portion of his childhood life in a honky tonk. Lonnie Holley’s life of survival and endurance is one that required – and no doubt still requires – a kind of invention. An invention that is also rich and present in Holley’s songs, which are full and immersive on Tonky, an album that begins with its longest song, a nine minute, exhaustive marathon of a tune called “Seeds,” which begins with a single sparse sound and then expands. Chants, faint keys, strings, and atop it all, Holley’s voice, not singing, but speaking plainly about working the earth when he was young, the violence he endured in the process of it all, going to bed bloodied and in pain from beatings. The song expands into a metaphor about place, about the failures of home, or anywhere meant to protect you not living up to what it sells itself to be, even if you tirelessly work at it, work on it, work to make something worthwhile of it.
“Seeds” not only sets the tone for an album that revolves around rebirth, renewal, and the limits of hope and faith, but it highlights what Holley’s greatest strength as a musician is, to me, which is a commitment to abundance, and generosity. He is an incredibly gifted storyteller with a commitment to the oral tradition, such that many listeners (myself among them,) would be entirely content sitting at the feet of a Lonnie Holley record and turning an ear to his robust, expansive storytelling. But Tonky is an album as expansive in sound as it is in making a place for a wide range of featured artists to come through the door of the record and feel at home, no matter how they spend the time they get on a song.
Artwork by Nicola Tirabasso and Alison Fielding
Thanks to Jack Colleran, Henry Earnest, Finn Carraher Mc Donald, Margie Jean Lewis, Róisin Berkley, Luka Seifert, Diego Herrera, and Olan Monk
Recorded in Conamara and Dublin between 2021 and 2023.
On composing Tom Phillips' Irma
In February and March of 1977, for Brian Eno’s Obscure Records, I made a version of Irma. The following notes on the piece arise out of that involvement and try to show how the piece can be made into a performance state.
Irma is a curious score – it is printed on a single sheet 50cms x 50cms. The notation consists of fragments from Tom’s continuing treatment of the victorian novel by W. H. Mallock, which he calls A Humument, and utilises those short verbal fragments that refer to either ‘‘libretto’’, ‘‘decor and mise-en-scène’’ or ‘‘sounds’’. These 3 categories are arranged in separate sections on the square sheet with, at the bottom, a line of stave notation. At first sight it looks like a piece of indeterminate music – clearly there has to be some preparatory work done before it is performable and no-one would venture to perform directly from the score - but if it is approached in this spirit, like realising a piece by John Cage or Morton Feldman written during the 1950’s, the sounding results are either largely of a documentary
interest, or rely entirely on the gifted performer to make into a coherent sounding whole. True, one could say the same thing for a piece by Cage, such as Variations I, but there the
performer is given a number of precise parameters of sound within which he should work, whereas Irma needs to be re-composed rather than realised.
If the distinction between ‘‘composing’’ and ‘‘realising’’ is overlooked, and if only the materials present in the notation are used, then the result is likely to be impoverished and it is clear that, looked at in isolation as a self-contained work, the score is notationally very thin. So one either produces an impoverished piece of sounding music, or one takes the responsibility to look further. Tom does not say explicitly that one must go beyond Irma into the rest of his work, but he does say that one has to go outside the piece. On the score he writes: ‘‘Perhaps to treat the indications here given as if they were the only surviving fragments of an ancient opera, or fragments of eye and ear witnesses’ accounts of such, and given no knowledge of performance tradition of the time, to reconstruct a hypothetical whole which would accommodate them economically, would be an appropriate basis of approach to a production.’’ So, try to put it back together and try to fill in all the gaps between these fragments. This approach, which, incidentally coincides with an interest in such procedures within my own work, seems to be the most suitable. If the ‘‘composer’’ uses the sorts of methods that Tom evidently uses in producing pictures, in making A Humument (of which Irma is a part), and if he uses the notations of Irma as clues to lead him into whatever area seems likely to yield rich results, then a much more satisfactory outcome is likely – satisfactory both in terms of the quality of the sounding material and in terms of consistency with the rest of Tom’s oeuvre.
There are clearly many ways in which the various fragments of verbal notation can be used. One fruitful way was to take each of the fragments as the notes of, say, a critic at the only performance of the work (in a hypothetical past), perhaps jotted down on the back of an envelope (then torn into fragments in a rage, or through frustration at some element in the piece? Make the piece inadequate in some way?!). These elements, then, would have been memorable for some reason or other, or used as an aide-memoire to recall something else (even something outside the work). The elements could have occurred at evenly-spaced intervals throughout the performance, they may have all been featured in some way (loudly, as solos), they may have been the worst parts (being retained to damn the piece in a subsequent review, since lost or never written – the composer got wind of the review and murdered the critic, retaining the fragments as the only link with the crime. . .). On the other hand they could be used as discrete musical units quite separate from the main body of the work, which has to be looked for elsewhere. Whatever solution, or combination of solutions, is found it is evident that the composer and librettist are more or less obliged to move outside the work itself i.e. outside the printed score. (One of the original ideas I had, which was not very practical, was to see if I could use another opera called Irma. A possibility was one written by H. J. Banawitz first performed in 1885, which would have had the right period in terms of the connection with the W. H. Mallock original. This seems to have had few performances, perhaps only one, and seems to have disappeared. I thought of looking for the manuscript, treating it in the same way as Tom had treated the Mallock novel, and making a sort of ‘‘musical Humument’’ out of it. While that seemed to have some intellectual sympathy with Tom's work, it might not have sounded anything like an opera, and it did seem to me that one of the notions of Irma is that it is conventional to some degree. Indeed, while much of Tom’s musical work lies within the field of experimental music and graphic notation, his musical taste is conservative, and the greater part of the musical references in the main body of his work are to past, and historically respectable, composers like Brahms, Mozart, Fux, Scarlatti and so on.)
The sources that were used, then, in making the piece apart from the score itself involved the following. I obtained the volumes of A Humument and noted all connection with music, with the role of Irma, and with the possible narrative; I looked at all the prints of Ein Deutsches Requiem after Brahms, which use elements from the Humument and refer directly to a musical work; I went through the catalogue of Tom’s work (Works. Texts to 1974); I went through Trailer, which uses the Humument, in fact a spin off from the main work; I went through all the other pieces of music that he has written to see if they could be used in any way; and I checked as many paintings/prints that I could which had a direct or indirect connection with either A Humument, Irma or with music. The painting The Quest for Irma (1973) which shows her in back view looking out to sea gave much information. It is the only portrait of her and she appears even here as anonymous, or rather, faceless. It gives a marine setting for the work (though since at least two pieces of music that I have written deal, to some degree, with marine incidents it might be argued that I might have been better off avoiding such a reference, but it is very blatant). She is looking out to sea from the Dorset coast and this attitude seems to be characteristic of her behaviour: ‘‘I tell you. . . that’s Irma herself. . . watching the waves fall. . . repeating certain sorts of verse. . .’’ So here we have an elusive heroine, obsessively watching the sea off the Dorset coast, given to repetition. Further checks within the Humument revealed a spate of marine references: ‘‘boat of dreams. . . lost on rocks’’; ‘‘the sad horizon of sea, hours she spent with her sadness on the beach’’; ‘‘see, see, the things. . . the things from the changed sea’’; ‘‘a cruise in an opium clipper’’; ‘‘marine engines and boilers’’; ‘‘ten years’ travel and sport in foreign lands’’; ‘‘a certain light flashed. . . among the eastern clouds’’; ‘‘sinking lights. . .’’ and so on. On the other hand, she is not in mourning since she wears a bright red dress.
One page of A Humument is almost a summary of the feeling of Irma and is certainly one that I tried to emulate. ‘‘. . . The whole history of it is so vague. . . eagerly, gradually the words that I heard I put aside as an opera, an insufficient one; still organ for what – me, me. . . I can’t quite tell. hardly books. . . it was the libretto of the music, of the music – I can’t tell. . . I can’t tell - but all was for the same thing to capture in drawing, and to express in music, thought and study. . . the loss. . . the least important. . . moon I myself am myself in search of an object for love? way? Yes and no – enter myself. . . associating me and me. It made me within me some mystery. . .’’
Other pages give more precise information about particular sounds, rhythms, timbres and so on. The instrumentation was, to a large extent, governed by the references to musical instruments that I found in all these sources. ‘‘Tube’’ suggested tuba. The piano is mentioned
many times, especially in connection with John Tilbury. The gong is specified – ‘‘suddenly a gong in series’’ – which also gave me the whole of a short percussion interlude between the second and third sections of the work. Strings were suggested by a phrase ‘‘the history viola’’ occurring in A Humument and this gave me a reason to feature the viola in some way, in fact using it in unison with the female voice, identifying the viola with the title of the opera. The fact of having strings is such a convention of normal orchestral scoring that it would really have needed a positive clue to the contrary to have excluded them, bearing in mind the relationship of the piece to musical convention.
I used the tuned percussion, and especially metallic instruments, from certain onomatopaeic syllables, like ‘‘ting’’, ‘‘ping’’, ‘‘ding’’ which I had originally considered using as a chorus of instrumental imitations, but decided ultimately to use the instruments themselves.
Two of the prints from Ein Deutsches Requiem after Brahms gave me a great deal of material for the second section of the opera, a slow duet between the two main characters. Print number 5 shows a number of parasols, both closed and open, and has the legend ‘‘. . . a sound was given up’’ taken from A Humument. That particular picture suggested itself since there is, within both the score of Irma and within the published Humument a fragment which reads ‘‘the first parasol sound’’, with the addition, in Irma, of ‘‘f, f’’ indicating loud. From the text of the Requiem printed on the picture, I could find the precise section of music in the
Brahms original which consists of a solo for trombone (in the score I use baritone horn for its greater flexibility and ease of pitching, but it uses the same range, and has the added advantage of resembling the French Horn, an instrument more closely associated with noble operatic melodies.). The ‘‘parasol sound’’, then, indicated that I should use that particular instrument. What it plays came from another source, from the score of Irma. which gives ‘‘quiet, high, intonation divine. . .’’ and ‘‘. . . drops the tone . . . various phrases. . .’’ all of which enabled me to have that particular instrument playing, with "divine intonation’’, a long melodic line consisting of a descending stepwise chromatic scale from top E down an octave, but very elongated. The other use of the Requiem was for the other half of the slow section, and used the following print, number 6, which refers to a sequence of rather chromatic chords in the original which I used as fragments, like the Irma score, inserting chords of my own between groups of those by Brahms to make a new sequence. So the whole of the second section uses references to the Brahms Requiem – in the first half to the harmonic content (vertical), in the second half to the melodic line (horizontal).
The last section of the piece, a chorus ‘‘Love is help, mate’’ uses a page of A Humument that is dedicated to Morton Feldman, though the actual results bear no relation to Feldman's music as such. What I did with that page was to look through some of Feldman's music to see if there was anything in it that was consistent with the way that I was approaching the score of Irma. It occurred to me to use a vocal piece for something that would be vocal within Irma and since Tom had dedicated another page to Christian Wolff – in fact a page of Trailer – and since Wolff and Feldman were close associates with Cage in the 1950’s, I used a piece called Christian Wolff in Cambridge (in spite of the fact that Tom had attended Oxford, and the Cambridge here refers to Harvard). This is a wordless choral piece which is hummed – and I used a lot of humming in the score, often as a means of separating discrete images – and consists of mildly dissonant chords. There were, however, one or two more consonant ones and I omitted those which sounded like ‘‘modern music’’, and so was left with one or two chords that I used, along with others interjected to produce a smooth flow, as the accompaniment to the melody of ‘‘Love is help mate’’. The addition of other chords was necessary because of the static quality of Feldman’s piece in which each chord is an isolated entity, and this mirrored what I was doing, on a larger scale, with the whole of Irma; taking isolated fragments and finding ways of reassembling them into a continuous whole. It could be said that I was doing to Feldman what Tom had done to Mallock since each of us extracted from a body of material what was needed for a particular circumstance, though my extraction was a good deal more cursory.
The melody that this accompanies comes from a number of sources. One of these is the stave notation and references to specific notes on Irma itself – about 60% of the notes in the melody – the rest being added by myself. One of the ideas for this came from Eric Sams’ researches into the ciphers in Schumann's music, and in particular from the fact that he originally found a clue to the cipher by finding 5-note melodic phrases in which the 1st, 3rd and 5th notes were C-A-A (Schumann’s wife was called CLARA) and this gave the possibility of finding what L and R became in the musical code, and thence other possible letters. Using this notion, using the notes given by Irma, and inserting between them other notes, the melodic lines are composed by myself but taking as a starting point the notation of Irma. The stave notation at the bottom of the score I found more usable in this way, and also as bass-lines, in transposition, rather than as originally given.
There are, obviously, some very direct references in the score, and it is the presence of these that ensure a very eclectic result: references like ‘‘the Ring’’, ‘‘the Emperor’’, ‘‘the International’’. The first of these, allied to a notation that refers to many ‘‘s’s’’ (German for E flat) suggested the opening of the Rheingold. The second, ‘‘Emperor’’, could have been a number of references – the ‘‘Emperor’’ Waltz (Strauss), the ‘‘Emperor’’ Concerto (Beethoven), the ‘‘Emperor’’ Quartet (Haydn) and so on. In the event I used the last two, and toyed with the idea of using the source for Haydn’s ‘‘Emperor’’ Quartet viz. his ‘‘Emperor Hymn’’ which became the Austrian national anthem, and which was, in its turn taken from a Croatian folk tune. I considered omitting all the musical references and only using the words of this latter ‘‘Vjutro rano se ja stanem Mal pred zorom’’ – and relished the fact that I would have been injecting something with precise semantic value, though one which I did not understand, but in the end omitted it for reasons of pronunciation difficulty. With ‘‘the International’’, I was delighted that it was misspelt (Internationale) and this made of it a lipogram (like the Ellery Queen story that omits the letter ‘‘t’’) and so I quoted the music leaving out the note ‘‘e’’. I had also considered the idea of the lipogram in another context. The original of A Humument is the Victorian novel A Human Document which leaves behind the letters AN DOC, and this gives a lipogrammatic anagram of NO ADC, that is, to avoid the notes A D and C in the piece as a whole. This seemed to be excessive, however, since it would have effectively ruled out one of the two vowels available in musical cryptography, and they are not easy to come by.
THE COMPOSERS NOTES ON THE WORKS
The Machines, which date from the period 1967-1972 represent a departure from the more traditionally “narrative” nature of the rest of my pieces. I use the word Machine to define a consistent process governing a series of musical actions within a particular sound world and, by extension, the listener’s perception thereof. One might thus regard the Welsh Rarebit as a Machine in which a process is applied to the conditioning and perception of the world of bread and cheese.
Autumn Countdown Machine presents the guaranteed dis-simultaneity of six pairs of bass melody instruments, each conducted by a percussionist playing in time with, and making minor adjustments to the setting of a bell-metronome.
Son of Gothic Chord presents four keyboard players’ mobilisation of a sequential chord progression rising through the span of an octave.
Jews Harp Machine presents various permutations of the articulations “Ging, Gang, Gong,Gung, Ho!”
Drinking and Hooting Machine presents some observations on the world of bottles and their non-percussive musical potential. The effect of this piece has been compared to that of a large aviary full of owls all practising very slow descending scales.
John White, March 1976
THE SQUIRREL AND THE RICKETTY RACKETTY BRIDGE
The piece, for one player of two guitars, was written at the request of Derek Bailey, the jazz guitarist, in 1971. I had worked closely with Bailey from 1963-6 in and around Sheffield as a member of a group which included Tony Oxley on drums and myself on double-bass. Since that time, I have lost all interest in jazz, and in improvisation, and since Bailey was involved in both I wrote a piece which uses a technique which Bailey would be unlikely to have evolved in his playing. The two guitars are played simultaneously, each one lying flat on its back, and they are arranged side by side so that the two fingerboards can be played with the fingers hammering down on them, like two keyboards. In addition, the score contains a number of ironic references to jazz and to its critical literature - short texts added to the ‘musical’ notations, somewhat in the spirit of Erik Satie, involving the performer in a hypothetical dialogue with the composer using fragments culled from particularly banal pieces of jazz criticism e.g. “ ‘there is an area up here’, holding his hand above his head, palm down,’ where musical categories do not exist.’ ”. The left hand of the player moves at an even pulse, like the walking jazz bass, at a tempo “between Lady is a Tramp” as a medium bounce, and Cherokee as an embarrassment to lesser, and more intrepid, musicians”, while the right hand punctuates this with short notes, like a highly selective, or extremely lazy, trumpet soloist. The title involves an oblique pun to do with the nut of the guitar, the guitar’s bridge, the faint noise of the music in between – that each attack gives two pitches rather than one – and an English children’s song about Billy Goat Gruff.
Derek Bailey recorded the piece on Incus Records in 1971, and this new version is a multiple one, four players on eight guitars, in which each player uses a pair of guitars which are characteristically different from those used by the others.
Gavin Bryars (1971)