MUSIC

Wyoming-born troubadour Jeb Loy Nichols returns to Timmion Records with This House is Empty Without You, a timeless collection of soul-rooted songs that radiate warmth, wisdom, and quiet intensity. Backed once again by Timmion’s house band Cold Diamond and Mink, Jeb delivers a full-length that sits comfortably among the label’s finest – steeped in southern soul traditions, but carried by his unmistakable voice and lyrical touch. From the gently loping opener “First Night Away from Home” to the closer “Time On My Hands,” the album unfolds like a good summer book, best enjoyed with a warm breeze on your face. Nichols has a way of making things sound effortless – like he’s singing just for you, from the porch or the back room – but listen closely and you’ll find songwriting full of depth, subtly arranged with organ swells, snapping drums, and deep-pocket grooves. Alongside the breezy mid-tempo romantics of “Here With You,” other standout moments include the rootsy southern shuffle of “Good Morning Monday,” the heart-tugging “Coming Home Love,” and “Step In,” a mellow groove about rediscovery and reunion. As always, Cold Diamond and Mink provide the perfect analog foundation – all soul and no filler. Together with Nichols – and Emilia Sisco, whose gospel-drenched background harmonies grace several tracks – they’ve crafted a record that draws from classic influences but sounds unmistakably personal and present. A masterclass in understated soul, This House is Empty Without You proves that Jeb Loy Nichols isn’t just still here – he’s still growing, glowing, and finding new ways to tell the truth.

Cut in three days in 1975, Doug Firebaugh’s Performance One captures a young songwriter alone in a Roanoke, Virginia motel room, chasing Nashville dreams through cosmic Americana haze. Self‑written and performed, with only a single pedal steel guest, it first appeared on a small grey‑market label. This Numero Group 50th‑anniversary remaster preserves its faded, wandering beauty.

Sometimes, Mitski says, it feels like life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what’s truly hers, what can’t be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. “The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people,” Mitski says. “I wish I could leave behind all the love I have, after I die, so that I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I’ve created onto other people.” She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will continue to shine that love long after she’s gone. Listening to it, that’s precisely how it feels: like a love that’s haunting the land. Love is always radical, which means that it always disrupts, which means that it always takes work to receive it. This land, which already feels inhospitable to so many of its inhabitants, is about to feel hopelessly torn and tossed again – at times, devoid of love. This album offers the anodyne. “This is my most American album,” Mitski says about her seventh record, and the music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. But “maybe it’s beyond witnessing,” she says. At times, it feels like the album is an exercise in negative capability – a fearless embodiment and absorption of the pain of other bodies. When I ask her what the album would look like, if it were a person, she says it would be someone middle-aged and exhausted, perhaps someone having a midlife crisis. But through the daily indignity and exhaustion, something enormous and ecstatic is calling out. In this album, which is sonically Mitski’s most expansive, epic, and wise, the songs seem to be introducing wounds and then actively healing them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star. Mitski wrote these songs in little bursts over the past few years, and they feel informed by moments of noticing – noticing a sound that’s out of place, a building that groans in decay, an opinion that splits a room, a feeling that can’t be contained in a body. It was recorded at both the Bomb Shelter in East Nashville and the Sunset Sound Studios in Los Angeles. The album incorporates an orchestra arranged and conducted by Drew Erickson, as well as a full choir of 17 people - 12 in LA and 5 in Nashville - arranged by Mitski. And for the first time, it felt important to Mitski to have a band recording live together in the studio, to create this new sublime sound. Working with her longtime producer Patrick Hyland, the album has a wide-range of references, from Ennio Morricone’s bombastic Spaghetti Western scores to Carter Burwell’s tundra-filling Fargo soundtrack, from the breathy intimacy of Arthur Russell to the strident aliveness of Scott Walker or Igor Stravinsky, from the jubilation of Caetano Veloso to the twangy longing of Faron Young. From the first track, the album introduces and then heals a wound. “Bug Like an Angel” finds the divine in the ordinary, in the boozy drowning of sorrow. The narrator sings from the strange comfort of rock bottom: “sometimes a drink feels like family.” And suddenly, that choir of angels sings: “FAMILY!” This first track introduces a cosmic paradox: “The wrath of the devil was also given him by God.” This is an album in which dark and light exist in the same gesture, the same broken prayer. Like the Buddha inviting the demon Mara in for tea, The Land embraces brutal, daily pain — the necessary toll of transcendent love. In “Buffalo Replaced,” the wail of a freight train replaces the vibrations of the long-gone stampeding buffalo. Here, hope itself is personified, anthropomorphized into a sleeping creature, and our narrator wonders if life would be easier without her. But then, as though in response, “Heaven” offers a beautiful moment of passion, preserved like a fossil in time even though the “dark awaits us all around the corner.” This oasis is aggressively interrupted by “I Don’t Like My Mind,” a song from the perspective of someone in extraordinary pain. They are begging to keep their job, while actively keeping terrible traumatic memories at bay. Without their employment, these memories might take over, consuming them as relentlessly as the cake that they ate one “inconvenient Christmas.” The toggling between hope and despair in these four songs is masterful — the good, the bad, and the ugly in America’s backyard. This mythology continues to deepen with the stunning “The Deal,” in which someone is so burdened by their soul that they beg for it to be taken from them. Soon, the singer’s soul is revealed to be a bird perched on a streetlight. In a coup of songwriting, the narration does not switch into the newly-souled bird’s voice. No, we stay with the soulless “I.” The bird calls down: “You’re a cage without me. / Your pain is eased but you’ll never be free.” This song reinforces the album’s tug-of-war between the intoxication of love and the pain of isolation. Close on its heels is “My Love Mine All Mine,” an instant classic and the beating heart of the album, wherein the singer imagines their love shining down on the earth from the moon, long after the speaker is gone. “It’s just witness-less me,” she sings on “The Frost,” which suddenly takes us from the anticipation of loss right into the aching loneliness of it. On the subject of witnessing, Mitski says: “I’ve always been the person on the outside watching. And I’ve also done that with myself... outside of myself, witnessing myself, watching myself.” She thinks that she might have adopted this habit as a condition of being a woman of color, and that it’s led to the occasional post-apocalyptic fantasy of being the only person left in the world. We talked about Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape, in which a man is profoundly alone, with only an archive of old tapes to keep him company. He remembers the seismic event of an old sexual encounter, but now it’s: “Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited.” The Land repeatedly offers that same hypothesis. Without love, is there anyone here? After the alien lift of “Star” comes the album’s showdown. “I’m Your Man” feels as inevitable, bloody, and haunting as a Sergio Leone duel scene. The “Man” in the title isn’t some fella proclaiming devotion, Mitski says, but rather the man inside her head, the haunting patriarch who treats her like a dog and can destroy her at whim. Despite his confidence and swagger, he is tracked down by a pack of hounds — who have unionized in the name of catharsis. After this violent reckoning, a Fowler’s Toad calls out in what sounds like a human scream. The night settles into silence. The earth might be uninhabited. We glide into the liberating closer, “I Love Me After You,” in which someone is truly alone but truly free. King of all the land. “I don’t have a self,” Mitski observes. “I have a million selves, and they’re all me, and I inhabit them, and they all live inside me.” Loving all of these selves does not yield the easy burst of a pop song. It’s the “long, complex, deep love, that you can never get to the end of, that’s always evolving, like a person. And there’s just no end to it. It feels like space travel.” The album is full of the ache of the grown- up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It’s a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything, and everyone, is crying out, screaming in pain, arching towards love. Maybe this is what our best artists do: take a spaceship into the furthest reaches of pain, in order to bring back the elixir that we already had inside us. The unknowable known of love. “You have to go to both worlds all the time,” Mitski says, by which she means the mysterious world of making and the brutal world of living. This album is an act of hyperlocal space travel. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning us and then rejecting us. To love this place — this earth, this America, this body — takes active work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Caught between the Canyon and the Caribbean, Cathy Hamer's pair of extremely private LP's got lost in the Me Decade's hippy hangover. Tracked in '79 and '80 at Roanoke, Virginia's custom bluegrass powerhouse Threshold Recordings, these 11 originals breeze through all colors—folk, country, yacht, etc—of the cosmic American rainbow. Remastered LP comes housed in a tip-on

Caught between the Canyon and the Caribbean, Cathy Hamer's pair of extremely private LP's got lost in the Me Decade's hippy hangover. Tracked in '79 and '80 at Roanoke, Virginia's custom bluegrass powerhouse Threshold Recordings, these 11 originals breeze through all colors—folk, country, yacht, etc—of the cosmic American rainbow. Remastered LP comes housed in a tip-on

Born in the ashes of WWII, the only girl of seven children, they called her Pinky. She grew up in the windy plains of the Texas panhandle, singing in the church choir and dreaming of being on the stage one day. Just 18, she met the love of her life and soon married rodeo cowboy Cole Tex. Sharing a common thirst for adventure, they traveled the country roads together. He wrote the songs and Pinky sang them, performing in small roadhouses and honky-tonks all over the southwestern states. These are some of the few recordings that still exist.

Aboriginal Australian blues, country, and gospel by the great Kankawa Nagarra, Queen of the Bandaral Ngadu Delta. These intimate recordings introduce the world outside Australia to Kankawa Nagarra, a beloved Walmatjarri Elder, teacher, human rights advocate, and environmental activist. Born in the traditional lands of the Gooniyandi and Walmatjarri peoples of North Western Australia, Kankawa grew up with the tribal songs at cultural ceremonies. When she was taken from her family to the mission, she was taught hymns and Gospel songs with the choir. On the pastoral lease where she was sent to work, Country music was everywhere. She first heard rock and roll on the station gramophone. But it wasn’t until many years later her musical journey truly began, when she stopped to listen to a busker outside a shop in Derby, Western Australia. It was the first time she’d heard the blues, and it awakened something in her. Through it, she found a medium to express all her thoughts and feelings, and it inspired her to turn these into songs. The empathy of her message extends from those she sees struggling around her to the entire planet being ravaged for profit. These twelve tracks, recorded live near her home of Wangkatjungka, WA, offer a cross-section of Kankawa’s entire musical experience - shifting gracefully between musical styles, languages, and moods, backed by the buzz of night bugs and call of daytime birds. In turns humorous, warm, and real about the hardships of life and the pillage of the land she holds dear, the record is the closest thing you can get to spending time with the great Kankawa herself. We are extremely grateful to release this record alongside Flippin Yeah Records and in collaboration with Kankawa Nagarra. High-quality vinyl comes with a four-page booklet featuring translations, stories, and track notes by the artist.

Jess Sah Bi is well-known as half of the legendary duo Jess Sah Bi & Peter One who brought homegrown Country-Americana to the West African masses with their smash debut Our Garden Needs Its Flowers in the mid-1980s. Touring stadiums and reaching listeners worldwide, their music has racked up millions of spins on YouTube and remains imprinted in the hearts of Ivorians of a certain age. ATFA reissued their album in 2018, garnering critical acclaim from publications including Pitchfork and Rolling Stone and reaching a new generation of listeners outside Ivory Coast (Cote d’Ivoire).

Sometime in the early 90s, Die Sahbi—or Jesse, as he known to friends—became gravely ill with an unknown ailment and almost died. He visited various doctors and all kinds of religious healers and nothing helped. One day he went down to an Evangelical Christian revival in his neighborhood. They prayed over him and he was delivered. He says, “Their prayers helped chase out whatever demons and unhealthy spirits were inside me. After that my illness went away. When I went to the United States a few months later on an exchange program I wanted to make music to thank God because I was saved.” He recorded an album of music praising God in order to honor a promise he made to himself at the depths of his desperation in the hospital. The album Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas [Jesus Christ Does Not Disappoint] came out in 1991 and sold around 3000 cassettes in Ivory Coast. The master tape was lost along the way so the recording has never been on digital platforms until now.

Jesse didn’t have much time to record while visiting South Carolina, hence the relatively short album, 6 songs including two reprises for filler. A local pastor connected him with a studio and some American musicians (Robert Fortner and Gary Davis) to help. They added acoustic guitar, percussion and keyboard accompaniment to Jesse’s soaring French and Gouro vocals, harmonica and finger-picked acoustic. The resulting recording is deeply soothing and contemplative music that perfectly compliments the songs already embraced by millions.

But he had to find the rest of the studio expenses—$600 total—which he secured drawing cartoons for UNICEF. Jesse is Ivory Coast’s first political cartoonist, a vocation for which he was widely celebrated at the time. It also made him a few enemies which lead to him leaving the country permanently a few years later.

Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas is Jess Sah Bi’s first and only gospel album. Fortunately, fans responded with enthusiasm: widespread radio airplay and concerts followed, along with a growing solo profile in the country. The first big gospel artists in Ivory Coast were the duo Mathieu et Constance, who emerged in 1989. There was a bigger gospel music movement in English-speaking counties like Ghana and Nigeria (Christians make up roughly 40% of the population in Ivory Coast, slightly less than Muslims).

Jesse didn’t have any intention of working in Christian music but he realized, “You don’t make music to make money—you want to send a message.”

In the years since Jesus-Christ’s release, gospel music in Ivory Coast has grown to become a key part of music culture in the country. Spiritual music appears in community actives across the public and private spectrum from religious gatherings and parties to television broadcasts and music festivals. And, as it has evolved and indigenized locally, gospel music has picked up elements of traditional Ivorian music, reggae and soul.

The album ultimately precipitated the demise of the duo, who were soon separated geographically as Peter One relocated to Nashville. He went on to become a nurse and release a successful solo album on Verve following the ATFA collaboration. Nowadays Jesse lives in the Bay Area and continues to record and perform music wherever and whenever he has the chance. He is publishing a new book of humorous cartoons in 2025 and his most recent album Never Give Up came out in 2020.

Eight songs originally released 1996 by Moll Tontrager Records and re-released on CD 1999 by The Catamount Company. ******************************************** Sarah Hennies, NPR June 15, 2023 "Strange evocations of country living are to be found on 1996's Notes Campfire." Like country music classics before, Souled American's 1996 release, Notes Campfire, is preoccupied with loneliness, longing and loss. There are cult bands and then there's Souled American. In 1988, the Illinois group arguably invented "alternative country" with the album Fe. While the alt-country sound is widely recognized as Southern roots rock with an indie-punk sensibility largely defined by Uncle Tupelo's No Depression released two years later — Souled American's early music feels as if it was formed in a vacuum, inspired by the timestretching space of reggae. But over the course of the following decade, Souled American's music grew increasingly slow, insular and esoteric. Although Fe, Flubber and Around the Horn are inarguably more accessible, upbeat and even sometimes fun, if you've never heard this music before, it actually makes sense to start at the end. Since the release of Notes Campfire in 1996, it's almost as if Souled American never existed: The band's albums have long been out of print, there have only been a handful of performances in the last 27 years (including the tiny towns of Laporte, Colo., and Centennial, Wyo.), there are no known live videos, and a long-running Facebook group of ardent fans boasts less than 100 members. Not for nothing, diehards have attempted to resurrect interest: In 1997, Camden Joy created the "Fifty Posters About Souled American" project (he ended up making 61); in 1999, tUMULt reissued Souled American's first four albums on CD; in 2006, The Mountain Goats' John Darnielle penned an essay about how Souled American's Flubber changed his life. Now, thanks to the efforts of longtime fan Tom Adelman (aka writer Camden Joy), the band's full discography is available digitally for the first time ever via Bandcamp. Driven by guitarist Chris Grigoroff's plaintive guitar strumming and Joe Adducci's skillful but idiosyncratic bass playing (consistently described as sounding "underwater") — not to mention the duo's nearly identical voices — Notes Campfire and its companion Frozen are atmospheric, languid and strange evocations of country living. It's a wonder that these songs work at all. The music is slow and loose with little regard for a consistent beat; the lyrics are poetic and frequently profound, but often cryptic and stunted. What ties it all together is the sound: Guitars twinkle and Adducci's bass slides and glides in and out of chord progressions in support of drawling, yearning and ultimately shockingly powerful voices. The eight-minute "Flat" burbles and gurgles along, always moving forward but going nowhere, evoking the landscape and feeling of their home in southern Illinois. Album highlight "Born(free)" spends most of the song repeating one line: "There's no love at all." On "Deal," Grigoroff sounds so beaten down ("The weight on me / I'm so weary") that he can't even sing in complete sentences. It's here that the band strays from Hank Williams; Souled American's narrators aren't so lonesome they could cry, they are loneliness itself. From the very beginning, the band members seemed to have the foresight that they would shrink and turn in on themselves. When Jamey Barnard left after the third album Around the Horn, Souled American simply continued as a trio with no drummer. Same with guitarist Scott Tuma — who, as a solo artist, has a sizable discography of folk-infused atmospheric music — when he split in 1996, Souled American became a duo. Reportedly, Grigoroff and Adducci have been working diligently on the follow up to Notes Campfire ever since. In a 2009 post to the Facebook fan group, Adducci's wife gave hope to its tiny but rabidly obsessed fan base: "They are working on it." Like country music classics before, Notes Campfire is preoccupied with loneliness, longing and loss, but also shares a title with the perky opening track of Souled American's debut album that begins, "I heard about your love, so you're alone today." Notes Campfire gives the impression that we've arrived back at the beginning and also reached the end. Where does the band go if they've turned inside out? What comes after when nothing is left? We've been waiting more than a quarter century to find out. Sarah Hennies is a composer based in upstate New York. She is currently a Visiting Assistant Professor of Music at Bard College.

For the first time this century, two missed masterpieces are coming available on vinyl. The band Souled American formed in Chicago in 1986 and recorded a total of sixty-six songs between 1988 and 1996. Though not ever popular themselves, their evolving hybrid of roots/rock music heavily influenced many more popular bands to come, among them Wilco, The Jayhawks, The Feelies, Califone, Counting Crows, The Mountain Goats, and Cracker. Their records became legendary, unavailable for decades. Some got to the Internet in 2023. Their last two albums Frozen and Notes Campfire will now be re-issued in limited, hand-crafted, 30th Anniversary Editions with a fresh abundance of stories, technical information, musician credits, and cartoons that detail the unexpected origins surrounding these two early classics of “ambient Americana.” These records sound at once both old and new with brilliant melodies and profound performances stacked in unusual patterns like soft-hued bricks.

“It rained more days than it didn’t. The beds of silt turned up notched pieces of quartzite and flint. Water came up through the floorboards in the sixteen-sided candle room. The house was empty except for what the flood brought in. Miles on the river of salt and silver in first light.”

***

The final document from the New England collective Old Saw is available as a 2xLP via Lobby Art Editions, with photography by Dylan Hausthor. Many of the known personnel from the last records circle back here on The Wringing Cloth to close out the ride with their signature fog and low burning momentum.

Like the sharpshooting carnival contestant who knows that the winning practice isn’t to aim for the red star itself, but rather to shoot out a perimeter around the star and thus remove it, Old Saw have historically dealt with forms by tracing their boundaries rather than going for the target outright. If the first three records hinted at but never touched song-shaped forms, The Wringing Cloth makes at least glancing contact while retaining the layered haze and drawl that threads their sound together.

Contrary to the often-used ambient tag, Old Saw shows up here in a markedly active and sculpted form — manipulating, unwinding, and pivoting with a strange and warped precision. What has always been uncanny about this music is that it arrives in a state at once familiar and obscured, like a memory weighed down with sensory information but no identifying details to place it. The Wringing Cloth walks off further into that geographical dream without time or language until it’s just a speck of light.

- JS

Superior Viaduct and our new artist label, W.25TH, are proud to continue to be the home for Cindy Lee with the physical release of the celebrated album Diamond Jubilee. Universally praised, shortlisted for the 2024 Polaris Music Prize, and already hailed by Pitchfork as the 3rd best album of the 2020s, anticipation and conversation around the record has been high. Cindy Lee is the performance and songwriting vehicle of Patrick Flegel (who previously fronted influential indie group Women). Over several albums, Flegel has combined delicate melodies and sheer beauty with moments of experimentation. With Diamond Jubilee, Flegel's undeniable songcraft comes to the foreground, embracing a more instant connection and accessibility. Timeless tales of love and longing, surrounded by sticky hooks, take the listener on an unforgettable journey.

Wyoming-born troubadour Jeb Loy Nichols returns to Timmion Records with This House is Empty Without You, a timeless collection of soul-rooted songs that radiate warmth, wisdom, and quiet intensity. Backed once again by Timmion’s house band Cold Diamond and Mink, Jeb delivers a full-length that sits comfortably among the label’s finest – steeped in southern soul traditions, but carried by his unmistakable voice and lyrical touch. From the gently loping opener “First Night Away from Home” to the closer “Time On My Hands,” the album unfolds like a good summer book, best enjoyed with a warm breeze on your face. Nichols has a way of making things sound effortless – like he’s singing just for you, from the porch or the back room – but listen closely and you’ll find songwriting full of depth, subtly arranged with organ swells, snapping drums, and deep-pocket grooves. Alongside the breezy mid-tempo romantics of “Here With You,” other standout moments include the rootsy southern shuffle of “Good Morning Monday,” the heart-tugging “Coming Home Love,” and “Step In,” a mellow groove about rediscovery and reunion. As always, Cold Diamond and Mink provide the perfect analog foundation – all soul and no filler. Together with Nichols – and Emilia Sisco, whose gospel-drenched background harmonies grace several tracks – they’ve crafted a record that draws from classic influences but sounds unmistakably personal and present. A masterclass in understated soul, This House is Empty Without You proves that Jeb Loy Nichols isn’t just still here – he’s still growing, glowing, and finding new ways to tell the truth.

RODUCT DETAILS The previously unissued soundtrack to the 1964 noir, You’re Not From Around Here, discovered after 55 years in the Louis Wayne Moody archive. A hobo’s bindle full of twangy tremolo, reverb-drenched revenge, and existential echo. Songs of alienation, paranoia, dark alleys, betrayal, prison, prostitution, trains, gun play, feminine betrayal, and the dusty, lonely road of self discovery. A black and white affair trapped under the weight of a post-war technicolor allure, You’re Not From Around Here lives in a universe of moral ambiguity. Packaged in a replica of the original octagonal film canister, replete with rusted and glimmering varnishes alike, debossed logoture, and 36" x 27" fold out movie poster.

Benton County Relic is Cedric Burnside’s debut record for Single Lock. It was honored with a nomination for “Best Traditional Blues Album” at the 61st GRAMMY Awards. It was Cedric’s second nomination and Single Lock’s first. “Cedric Burnside carries the mantle — the joy and the burdens and the history of the North Mississippi hill country blues, a style like no other in Southern music.” - The Bitter Southerner Grammy-nominated Blues musician Cedric Burnside remembers his roots— NPR Weekend Edition “The Big Bad Burnside Sound is back… and how!”- MOJO “If you’re tired of typical I-IV-V fare, Cedric just might be your man, and Benton County Relic might be the tonic you’ve been wanting.” - Premier Guitar

Insignificance consists of rock plus multiple musical allusions, layers of discreet noises, great playing from all the players and, to top it off, funny pop tunes laced with lyrical arsenic. As the moving finger of O'Rourke points (and clicks...just kidding! Insignificance is an all-analog affair), moments will come and go -- to remind you of other moments. Moments will arrive that have no precedent. And different, conflicting emotions will flash within you. He'll have total control of you, the helpless listener.

A collection of outtakes from the First Blues sessions along with other tracks, live recordings & rehearsal cuts including Bob Dylan and/or Arthur Russell and a cameo by Don Cherry on kazoo.

Track 1 taken from rehearsal tapes December 9th 1975: Allen Ginsberg (Vocals) accompanied by the Blues/Sholle Band.

Tracks 2-4 taken from the Holy Soul Jelly Roll: Electric Music Poetry Improvised sessions.

Tracks 5-8 taken from the First Blues Hammond sessions.

Track 9-10: recorded live at Gerdes Folk City, June 16th 1984: Allen Ginsberg (Vocals), Don Cherry (Kazoo), Peter Orlovsky (Banjo + Lead Vocal on "Feed Them the Raspberries to Grow"), Steven Taylor (Guitar) & Mark Kramer (Bass).

Track 11: Session at Bob Dylan's Santa Monica Studio, February 23rd 1982: Allen Ginsberg (Vocals), Bob Dylan (Bass), David Mansfield (Mandolin, Guitar), Steven Taylor (Steel String Acoustic Guitar) & Arthur Rosato (Drums).

Issued under license from the Allen Ginsberg Estate. All songs written by Allen Ginsberg and published by May King Poetry Music administered in North America by Music of Virtual and for the Rest of the World by BMG Rights Mgt.

Superior Viaduct and our new artist label, W.25TH, are proud to continue to be the home for Cindy Lee with the physical release of the celebrated album Diamond Jubilee. Universally praised, shortlisted for the 2024 Polaris Music Prize, and already hailed by Pitchfork as the 3rd best album of the 2020s, anticipation and conversation around the record has been high. Cindy Lee is the performance and songwriting vehicle of Patrick Flegel (who previously fronted influential indie group Women). Over several albums, Flegel has combined delicate melodies and sheer beauty with moments of experimentation. With Diamond Jubilee, Flegel's undeniable songcraft comes to the foreground, embracing a more instant connection and accessibility. Timeless tales of love and longing, surrounded by sticky hooks, take the listener on an unforgettable journey.

AKARMA

Now available for the first time on Vinyl, Sittin' By The Road Captures Blaze Foley on his earliest known recordings. Simple, straightforward and strong, the album contains a dozen tracks recorded during Blaze's 'treehouse' days in Georgia. Recorded in the mid-1970s on a home reel-to-reel machine, these songs showcase Blaze's talent in early form. Includes many of Foley's classic tunes plus three songs that did not appear on previous albums.

'Sweet England' along with its sister album 'False True Lovers', was recorded in the spring of 1958 when I was twenty-two years old. I had been living for the previous two years in London with Alan Lomax, the American folklorist, working for him as editorial assistant on his book The Folk Songs of North America and on his field recordings from America, Great Britain, Italy and Spain. The tracks that make up these two albums were recorded by Peter Kennedy and Alan in two days at Peter's home 'studio' in Belsize Park. English traditional music, at its best, expresses and provides everything in song that I need and feel, both musically and emotionally. Sweet England represents the first shaky steps of a journey that I have been on all my life, and that, happily, I still am." (shirley collins)

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.

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

Jess Sah Bi is well-known as half of the legendary duo Jess Sah Bi & Peter One who brought homegrown Country-Americana to the West African masses with their smash debut Our Garden Needs Its Flowers in the mid-1980s. Touring stadiums and reaching listeners worldwide, their music has racked up millions of spins on YouTube and remains imprinted in the hearts of Ivorians of a certain age. ATFA reissued their album in 2018, garnering critical acclaim from publications including Pitchfork and Rolling Stone and reaching a new generation of listeners outside Ivory Coast (Cote d’Ivoire).

Sometime in the early 90s, Die Sahbi—or Jesse, as he known to friends—became gravely ill with an unknown ailment and almost died. He visited various doctors and all kinds of religious healers and nothing helped. One day he went down to an Evangelical Christian revival in his neighborhood. They prayed over him and he was delivered. He says, “Their prayers helped chase out whatever demons and unhealthy spirits were inside me. After that my illness went away. When I went to the United States a few months later on an exchange program I wanted to make music to thank God because I was saved.” He recorded an album of music praising God in order to honor a promise he made to himself at the depths of his desperation in the hospital. The album Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas [Jesus Christ Does Not Disappoint] came out in 1991 and sold around 3000 cassettes in Ivory Coast. The master tape was lost along the way so the recording has never been on digital platforms until now.

Jesse didn’t have much time to record while visiting South Carolina, hence the relatively short album, 6 songs including two reprises for filler. A local pastor connected him with a studio and some American musicians (Robert Fortner and Gary Davis) to help. They added acoustic guitar, percussion and keyboard accompaniment to Jesse’s soaring French and Gouro vocals, harmonica and finger-picked acoustic. The resulting recording is deeply soothing and contemplative music that perfectly compliments the songs already embraced by millions.

But he had to find the rest of the studio expenses—$600 total—which he secured drawing cartoons for UNICEF. Jesse is Ivory Coast’s first political cartoonist, a vocation for which he was widely celebrated at the time. It also made him a few enemies which lead to him leaving the country permanently a few years later.

Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas is Jess Sah Bi’s first and only gospel album. Fortunately, fans responded with enthusiasm: widespread radio airplay and concerts followed, along with a growing solo profile in the country. The first big gospel artists in Ivory Coast were the duo Mathieu et Constance, who emerged in 1989. There was a bigger gospel music movement in English-speaking counties like Ghana and Nigeria (Christians make up roughly 40% of the population in Ivory Coast, slightly less than Muslims).

Jesse didn’t have any intention of working in Christian music but he realized, “You don’t make music to make money—you want to send a message.”

In the years since Jesus-Christ’s release, gospel music in Ivory Coast has grown to become a key part of music culture in the country. Spiritual music appears in community actives across the public and private spectrum from religious gatherings and parties to television broadcasts and music festivals. And, as it has evolved and indigenized locally, gospel music has picked up elements of traditional Ivorian music, reggae and soul.

The album ultimately precipitated the demise of the duo, who were soon separated geographically as Peter One relocated to Nashville. He went on to become a nurse and release a successful solo album on Verve following the ATFA collaboration. Nowadays Jesse lives in the Bay Area and continues to record and perform music wherever and whenever he has the chance. He is publishing a new book of humorous cartoons in 2025 and his most recent album Never Give Up came out in 2020.