MUSIC

ortland, Oregon-based musician Graham Jonson started early: playing piano as a toddler, finding the music of J Dilla in fifth grade, and self-releasing singles by age 16. First appearing under the name quickly, quickly in 2017, his project’s profile has since grown fervently with fans in the beats-oriented corners of SoundCloud, YouTube, and Reddit. Some of his early tracks tally north of 10 million plays on Spotify. The figure isn’t meant to flex as much as it is to point out that Jonson’s work has resonated without the traditional industry levers; he is a wunderkind DIY internet success story, but, by his own assessment at the present age of 20, he’s only now getting serious. With The Long And Short Of It, his Ghostly International debut, Jonson reinvents his project as a full-fledged songwriter, vocalist, and arranger, playing nearly everything from drums to keys and guitar. The resulting sound straddles jazz, hip hop, R&B, and psych-pop while suggesting a wholly genre-less path forward. Recorded during and after a short-lived move to Los Angeles, songs find Jonson cool and comfortable, navigating the planes between anxiety and apathy, distance and desire with lyrical vulnerability and introspection. A student of the Stones Throw catalog (his favorite is Madlib’s Quasimoto), Jonson remains rhythm-driven at heart, trusting his instincts in this new palette of organic instrumentation and verse-chorus structure. Tracks glide and bump with tasteful care to tempo as his scene-building and storytelling knack comes into focus. Jonson’s past material often suited passive listenership, the kind of bedroom-produced beat music that offers secondary utility and function as a companion to primary activities. The Long and Short of It showcases an evolutionary step into a style that uses chops cultivated in that niche that demand a more active listenership. That attention is rewarded with earworms, dazzling production flare, and earnest, genre-spanning songwriting. Opener “Phases” launches on the radical wisdom of the album’s sole vocal feature, courtesy of renowned poet and activist, Sharrif Simmons, who contributes a psychedelic poem spanning cosmic existentialism — something he wrote off the cuff during a session. As the fiery spoken word unfolds, a frenzy of drum grooves from Micah Hummel and strings from Elliot Cleverdon rise higher into the mix, all setting the stage for Jonson’s debut at the mic and keys. The back half of “Phases” shifts into a hypnotic instrumental, the drums interlocking on guitar lines, pausing for a spacious break before reassembling twice as potent, riding into a blissful, cathartic saxophone solo by Haily Naiswanger. The next track, “Come Visit Me,” was penned for Jonson’s girlfriend, a simple, sweet homesick plea for her company in Los Angeles, where he was secretly struggling to adjust. Ultimately he would move back to Portland after 11 months and scrap much of the music he wrote in LA, unhappy with the material’s reliance on sampled drum breaks and synths. He held onto a few bits though, including this tender dispatch, building it out into a bass-grooving slow jam, adding a verse from his perspective two years later. “Shee” was written on his girlfriend’s guitar and every line glows with uncomplicated adoration. He is captivated in this daydream, which drifts off into a haze of strums and hums. We wake to the looping drums of “Leave It.” Above the pattern, layering piano and guitar, Jonson pokes holes in himself — his “cognitive dissonance,” being “too jaded” to see what’s right in front of him – the notions blurring back into that haze on an outro of sublime ambient psych-jazz. Jonson returns to the piano for “I Am Close To The River,” the place he goes to break a creative rut, as he was the morning this bittersweet melody entered his mind. He says the song is loosely based on a psychonautic experience he had along the Willamette River. Once home, he put the song to paper, over time arranging a bucolic mix of shimmering chimes, saturated percussion, and orchestral strings from Elliot Cleverdon. A highlight on the record’s b-side, “Everything is Different (To Me)” features all the traits of the new quickly, quickly in one ambitious suite: a catchy guitar loop, a classic hip-hop drum break, a swell of strings, and sly chord progression changes, all in clever contrast to Jonson’s lyrics detailing bouts with lethargy. The album ends on a series of questions in the poignant “Wy,” a delightful resignation. Jonson, lonely in LA, spins the hypochondriac wheel and checks off concerns that seem to plague internet dwellers; his neck hurts, his hands are shaky, his stomach feels off. He dismisses his need to self-diagnose and opts to lean into the moment through music. A billowing outro builds on airy synths, his contemplative guitar strums, and a soothing water droplet sound. The comedown is “Otto’s Dance,” a brief instrumental reverie nodding to one of his favorite Brazilian albums, Milton Nascimento and Lô Borges’ Clube Da Esquina. That’s The Long And Short Of It, a summary of transition, self-validation, and a great leap forward in a young artist’s life.

Sam Hall’s new album as ghost orchard, ‘rainbow music’, is a collage of patience and meditation. The record was written in two halves, between the summer of 2020 and the spring of 2021, and is filled with nuances as quietly imperceptible as the seasons, or the profound movement of time, where one day looking back you realize your whole spirit has shifted. Where 2019’s critically revered ‘bunny’ was a love letter to a romantic relationship, ‘rainbow music’ documents the culmination of Hall’s first personal experience with loss in several forms. At the end of 2020, his longterm childhood pet passed away, and with it the last continuing threads of familiarity between being a kid and adulthood. Still based in the Grand Rapids, Michigan town he’d grown up in, the static ease of familiar living seemed to be coming apart at the seams, as friends moved on to bigger cities, relationships shapeshifted and in a short period of time, another kitten he’d adopted passed away prematurely, leaving Hall to question the trajectory in which he himself was headed. Recorded in the house that Hall currently lives in, ‘rainbow music’ is a timestamp of this environment. A myriad of shows used to take place at the residence, and the space still reverberates with the residual echoes of people as they pass though. Hall remains fascinated with the remnants of things left behind, and his home is replete with furniture and miscellaneous objects that reflect the core of his compositions: sonic maximalism paired with attention to detail. His music feels steeped in this place he has painstakingly decorated, where, much like the songs of ‘rainbow music,’ each individual object provides its own history and underlying connectedness to part of a greater collection. Bristling with the familiarity of being a stranger in someone else’s living quarters, amidst all their belongings and hoarded treasures, the album’s linear qualities remain rough around the edges, like gradually filling in the color of someone you’re just getting to know. “I love creating rooms,” Hall emphasizes, and this record “feels more inside of me than anything.” The oldest (and only proper love song), “soot,” was the first song to come after a period of static creativity, and effectively opened a floodgate that inspired him to finish half of ‘rainbow music’ in the forthcoming two months. Each track weighs with its own impact, as Hall grapples with endings and beginnings side by side, a rebirth that Hall equates to be as cathartic as crying. Many came about in a sudden stream of consciousness: the bare-boned structures of “rest” were recorded entirely in a day, and was an immediate reaction to his pet’s death and a way to process those feelings. More upbeat “maisy” and glitch-filled “cut” also came together tangentially to one another. “I feel more secure in my relationship to music,” Hall muses. With his previous work, “I was trying different things on, but ‘rainbow music’ feels more certain: this is me for better for worse at this period of time.” There’s a push and pull across the eleven songs, a sort of immediacy that’s made even more effective by Hall’s retrospective reflection. “comfort (rainbow)” was written in half prior to most of the grief that would alter Hall’s life, and was completed months later by the tuner who fixed the upright piano in his house. Produced almost entirely by Hall, the only further collaborator was Bennett Littlejohn (who has also contributed to Hovvdy and Katy Kirby’s projects), and these specific touches are integral to the cohesive footprint of ‘rainbow music’s miniature universes. Hall has previously described his work as “memory storage”, and in a way ‘rainbow music’ functions as an hourglass measuring out spoonfuls of both the past and future. An oscillating palette of instruments flit between acoustic guitar, piano and even fluttering drum and bass, where synths patter like barely discernible heartbeats and vocals feel more like an instrument than decipherable words. Hall has never released the lyrics to his music, but throughout the album’s insular quality sometimes you can hear smidges of the outside world from far away; a call and return echoed by repetition where meaning is sketched out in a dreamscape and a subtle darkness always surrounds the fringes. Like “songs in the key of life,” the title ‘rainbow music’ refers to the myriad of colors and qualities within Hall that are refracted throughout. It’s a symbolization of hope and the aftermath, the flickering light at the end of the tunnel (or “when a rainbow shows up after a big storm”). “Wish I could have fun anymore,” Hall ruminates on “dancing”, as well as confessing he “wish he made more upbeat bangers.” But reality packs more of a punch, and this collection of songs sees him finally be at peace with the current state of affairs. Relatable to anyone who has contemplated what it means to settle down, or even just catch your breath in an era where anguish is commonplace, the release of ‘rainbow music’ is a happy ending in its own right, a marker of survival that remains close to the bone.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…" Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within." "I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them. "Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone." "People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something. "That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me." In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

Giving sequence to the smooth noir Guerrinha first discovered in 2018’s "Wagner" LP (self-released), "Cidade Grande" expands the midi jazz quartet to an ensemble. Whereas "Wagner" dealt in firmly sculpted motifs, here we approach fusion territory, improvisational fury, while somehow still treading in a thick, longing, atmosphere. Themes will erase themselves between Joe Zawinul and Koji Kondo while erratic snare rolls à la DeJohnette froth continually. One feels surrounded, at one and the same time, by the vulgar elegance of office buildings and the stillness of one's own childhood bedroom, pitch black except for a portable videogame's screen, way past bedtime. Tracks "José pt. I" and "II", opener and closer of "Cidade Grande", offer glimpses into our opaque protagonist. In stripped-down keys and synth arrangements, windy soliloquies out of Rheji Burrell’s APTs overtake Hejiran landscapes. José is damned to megalomania—just like any other inhabitant of the big city, Guerrinha would add.

Under the presidency of Bradley Zero, London's prestigious label , which has produced numerous masterpieces and is also focusing on contemporary jazz, has collaborated with labelmate Vels Trio keyboard player Jack Stephenson-Oliver. The latest work by SAUL, a collaborative project by producer Barney Whittaker (aka Footshooter). Includes songs featuring guests such as Ezra Collective saxophonist James Mollison and South London MC Natty Wylah. It is a supreme jazz album that blends the vibes of bedroom pop/soul that are familiar to the LA crowd with the energy and blackness of spiritual jazz. In the second half of this year, he will perform with Kamasi Washington, one of the great icons of contemporary jazz, so it's a must-see!SAUL enlist the help of talented friends for their new EP - a feel good, summer-ready soundtrack, bursting with uplifting synths and groove-heavy broken beats SAUL, is a joint project from the minds of Jack Stephenson-Oliver (keys player of fellow Rhythm Section INTL signee, Vels Trio) and producer Barney Whittaker, aka Footshooter. With the success of their individual projects - Vels are soon to embark on a tour across the UK and Europe and Footshooter is growing from strength to strength following releases on Astral Black and Dance Regular - it’s exciting to hear what the duo will think up next. When the two of them get together their jam sessions result in a fusion of jazz and broken beat. Atmospheric keys and synths interweave with programmed drums, laying the perfect ground for the all star cast of featured artists assembled for this record. Collaboration is a key element to the creative output of SAUL, shining a light over individual and collective talents. Their second release, Mutualism, promises a stellar line-up of musical interaction. In the words of Barney, “the feature performances are all very different, the way they worked on the tracks really brought each one to life in a big way”. The project starts with the sounds of sunrise. Opening with The Light, is Allysha Joy, a member of another group on Rhythm Section’s roster, 30/70. She crafts uplifting melodies that move gracefully through bouncy Rhodes chords. This track shines with sun-focused energy and up beat grooves that provide the perfect soundtrack for long summer festival days. On Coalesce, featuring South London MC Natty Wylah, lofty, cloud-like atmospheres are built above classic Moog synths. The hypnotic bass and lead notes are equal parts hopeful, eerie and curious, matching the optimistic promise offered by Wylah’s hook: ‘don’t you want to find somewhere better?’. Subjects flow from party-focused lyrics to poetic streams of consciousness as Natty adopts a dreamy sung delivery by the end of the track. The Ep comes to a serene close with a feature from ‘aden’ - recipient of the 2021 Fred Perry x Nicholas Daley Music Grant. The early image of sunlight may have faded, but the energetic focus of the project never dies. Swirling synths circle around sharp bass stabs, with a driving bassline taking over into the hook. Other major features include the unmistakable tone of Lex Amour. During Flowers, her laid back, spoken style is accompanied by a slowed down G-Funk-inspired instrumental. With an illustrious list of collaborators already to her name (such as Kojey Radical, Wulu, George Riley and Ego Ella Mae) and sell out shows across the country, she makes her lyrical prowess evident. Lex effortlessly switches between rhythmical flows to hypnotic layered melodies - elevating the production to another level in the process. The synergy between producers and vocalists is evident; the collaborations equal far more than the sum of their parts. In ‘Mutualism’ we see Saul’s vision fully come to fruition. The synergy is apparent, the possibilities - endless and the respect - mutual. Aside from the Vocal guest appearance, Mutualism is also packed with instrumental cameos. SAUL turn to Ezra Collective’s sax player James Mollison on the track Can’t Wait. The seasoned five-piece are set to perform alongside the modern day jazz pioneer Kamasi Washington later this year. Mollison shows his range on this song as energy flows from soaring highs to long sustained lows, allowing a hint of dub influence to come to light. SAUL’s newest release signals two musicians at the height of their artistic expression, drawing resources and influences from wherever is inspiring them most. This collaborative methodology produces a sound that is constantly evolving, illuminating new faces and sounds with each project that passes.

Up next from Mood Hut we have the debut LP from Local Artist aka Ian Wyatt. Previously known for his underground party starters Dancer and Touch Tone. This time Ian takes us further towards the intimate end of the radio dial, recording music as a way of processing the emotions of watching his father and partner battle cancer pre-pandemic. Themes of love, loss and life emerge in a moody brew to help you through. In Local Artist’s world, the sun is setting on our old selves. Tonight is a slow ritual of letting go to gradually make room for the new. We’ve been up all night. It’s almost dawn and beyond the horizon, we can trust the light that morning brings. RIYL - Jon Hassell, Laurie Anderson, Loose Ends, Sade, slow burns, ambient RnB, hypnotic funk, feeling better when you're feeling bad.

Kelz’s debut ‘5am and I Can’t Sleep’ delivers us a frothy dream-pop introduction to the mind of Vietnamese-American producer and multi-instrumentalist Kelly Truong. Written and recorded in the middle of the night in her Orange County, California home, these songs tell a nostalgic yet hopeful story following loss. For kelz, carefully looping beats, tinkering with synthetic waveforms, and interweaving guitar picking serves as a meditation--a mode of processing emotions and the inevitable passing of time. Front and center are her airy vocals, recorded in a whisper so as to not wake people in the other room. Each song folds in on itself like a wave’s undertow, reorienting infectious melodies from tracks previous. When asked about the tracks, kelz reflects on the process as “feeling like running towards something” but not knowing what it is. Escape with kelz on a long night drive with this effervescent electro-pop debut.

Fields Of Mist has been traveling to Munich for years and during a visit last year Packed Rich brought him to the studio and introduced us to each other. Smooth jams to calm down and enjoy some proper laid back west coast vibes.

Los Retros - Looking Back is 7 tracks recorded 2017-2018, written and produced by Mauri Tapia, aka Los Retros. “Likewise” and “Moon Ride” written by Chaisson Nuusolia & Los Retros. Mastered by Jake Viator. Cover art by Gabriel Alcala.

Growing up in Brooklyn, Carlos was a reserved adolescent who loved Beethoven and Al Green. As a teenager he sang his diary into a microphone. This project grew to become a critically acclaimed, collaborative touring group, Ava Luna. His early 20s were spent entrenched at the beloved DIY sanctuary, Silent Barn in Bushwick--making a living cutting hair and recording bands in a ramshackle studio inside an unrenovated mechanic’s garage. Since that time, he has cultivated a production career that includes credits from genre-expansive artists like Princess Nokia, Frankie Cosmos, Sneaks, Gustaf, Juan Wauters, and Palehound. Having ceded creative control of his band in favor of a fully democratic process, Carlos now explores his roots in a solo outlet, Carlos Truly. Navigating a multi-cultural family history with tracks largely produced by his real-life brother Tony Seltzer, Carlos sits in a charged, intimate space. His brother’s celebrated underground hip-hop sensibilities mingle securely with Carlos’s pot-smoking nerd energy. His vocals evoke the old soul singers his radio DJ father would spin at home, the irreverence and joy of NYC's DIY scene, and the heady sonic worlds of an imagination shaped by a lifetime in NYC. Out July 1, 2022

D.C.’s sleeper cell groove sensation Kenny Torrella aka Torrello debuts on 100% Silk’s revived mirrorball subdivision House of Silk with a starry 11-song suite of daydream disco and vacation mode motion: Out Of Office. These are classic off the clock anthems, for cutting out and cutting loose, island hopping through shades of vapor funk, leftfield luxury, and uptown filter house, sensual and interdimensional. Torrella’s eclectic palette of passions – smooth jazz, animals, Moodymann – feed into his joyous, jazzy sound, between memory and fantasy, escape and epiphany. A low altitude cruise over private marinas and white sands, where life’s white noise fades to pink, and inner rhythm takes hold.

The latest in their Beat Series, the Zenker brothers Illian Tape brings us the first collaboration between Munich based beat makers IROCC and Packed Rich suitably available as a Vinyl and Ilian Tape Rizla bundle. Smokers or not, there is an enticing vibe at play that we find hard to imagine anyone with even the mildest of head nod hip hop proclivities not enjoying. Ducked bass thuds and relaxed piano chords rest up easy against skweee chirps and pitch bent rhodes vibes, bring to mind a meeting of the finest Golden Age Boom Bap and the most laid back work of more recent heads such as Dorian Concept, Kiefer, Hud Mo, Nosaj Thing and Dâm-Funk. Chill the schnapps and juice, light one, apply stylus to vinyl....

Balearic boogie to deep house fans will be mesmerized by this superb bedroom chillout music! From the Spanish deep house label Saft comes Dam-Funk, a very popular modern funk project. Into midnight low tracks that will strike a chord with fans of PPU, Omega Supreme and Second Circle!