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In Latin, the word Gemini denotes “two together” or “twins”. In astrological terms, Geminis are noted for, amongst other things, being curious and versatile. For San Diego’s 9-piece (mostly) instrumental combo The Sure Fire Soul Ensemble, Jazz and Funk have always been the two genres that they’ve consistently and effectively melded together, forming the bedrock of their sound. Exercising their stylistic curiosity and versatility, they’ve expanded upon this foundation on their new 11-song long player for Colemine Records.
Recorded between late 2021 and early 2024 at The Kitchen II in their homebase of Lemon Grove, California, SFSE steer their “introspective party music” into fresh sonic realms. While their breakbeat-heavy brand of funk-soul-jazz is still the cornerstone of their sound, as displayed in tunes such as “Makin’ Moves”, “The Grifter” & “Don’t Trip”, they’ve begun to take more and more cues from library music labels such as KPM Music, spiritually-leaning jazz labels such as Tribe & Black Jazz Records and exotica-adjacent jazz artists such as Cal Tjader and Dorothy Ashby. Now leaning more into the “introspective” part of their sound, particularly on “Mother Earth”, “Freddie” and the title track, they evoke the spirits of Freddie Hubbard, Phil Ranelin, Wendell Harrison, Bubbha Thomas, Chester Thompson and even Cannonball Adderley at his headiest & most cosmic (listen to Adderley’s “Soul Zodiac” & “Soul of The Bible” albums for reference). “Corporatocracy” takes it a step further with an extended tabla solo, which floats in and rides the percussive wave before kicking into its funk-driven, modal vibe.
With their current lineup of Tim Felten on keys, Jake Najor on drums, Omar Lopez on bass, Kiko Cornejo Jr on conga/percussion, Aquiles “Lito” Magana on guitar, Wili Fleming on trombone, Sheryll Felten on percussion, and both Jesse Audelo & Travis Klein on saxophone & flute, SFSE maintains their commitment to keeping it funky, but dares to go where they haven’t gone before and, as a result, breaks intriguing new ground in their overall sound.


For fans of: King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, Altin Gün, Derya Yıldırım & Grup Şimşek
Şatellites blast back into orbit on Aylar delivering a bold evolution on the psychedelic folk-meets-groove sound they established on their acclaimed debut album.
Heavily influenced by the wave of psychedelic rock fused with traditional folk music that swept across Turkey in the 60s and 70s, Şatellites’ self-titled debut album received international acclaim. The record earned support from outlets such BBC Radio 6 Music and FIP in France, and were invited to record live sets for both Gilles Peterson’s Worldwide FM, and KEXP in Seattle.
Since their debut, Şatellites have evolved from a studio project into a full-fledged touring band. Over time, the lineup has shifted, enabling the group to recreate their studio sound live. Their expanded lineup now includes Tsuf Mishali on keys and synths, known for his work in proggy psych bands, and the animated Tal Eyal on percussion. Rotem Bahar has also stepped up as the band’s full-time vocalist and frontwoman, adding a fuller, grittier edge to the group’s sound. Behind the drumkit, Lotan Yaish brings dynamic energy to the rhythm section.
After two years of touring, this cohesive and reinvigorated lineup entered the studio with renewed purpose and closer musical bonds. Aylar (Turkish for “moons” or “months”) showcases more ambitious arrangements, extended compositions, intricate harmonies, and unexpected twists, reflecting the band’s commitment to innovation and their passion for the original wave of Turkish psychedelic music.
The album opener, “Tisladi Mehmet Emmi” serves as a gateway to their expanded sound. This reimagining of a traditional Türküler—a Turkish folk song by the prolific saz-playing singer-poet Aşık Ali Doğan—transforms it into a modern psychedelic funk masterpiece. Kluger’s saz and Mishali’s synths intertwine seamlessly, underpinned by Ariel Harrosh’s infectious basslines and Yaish’s dramatic drumming, all culminating in Rotem’s husky, emotive vocals. Lyrically, the track narrates two elderly men lamenting the state of the world—a timeless theme.
One of the album’s standout surprises, “Midnight Sweat” reveals a darker, sultry side of the band. Rotem delivers a steamy late-night lullaby over a slinky disco-rock groove. Developed collaboratively, the track began as a sketch by bassist Ariel Harrosh, before Itamar added a melody and Rotem crafted lyrics in Turkish. The song tells a passionate love story, punctuated with sensual imagery.
“Hot Jazz” ventures into cinematic territory, as the band flexes their jazz and funk chops. The hard-hitting groove is destined to energise breakdancers. The bağlama and flute riffs, steeped in minor scales and modal nuances, infuse the track with a distinctive Middle Eastern character.
Elsewhere, Aylar delivers genre-bending highlights such as “Gizli Ajan”, which opens with a percussive intro reminiscent of the Incredible Bongo Band’s “Bongolia.” This instrumental jam has become a live favorite. “Yok Yok” reinterprets an Erkin Koray classic with a prog-tinged punk-rock flair, transitioning through four distinct sections before concluding with a rousing 9/8 Zeybek rhythm.
The album’s most ambitious cover is their cosmic folk-funk rendition of Hakki Bullut’s ballad “Ikmiz Bir Fideniz” is followed by the original instrumental “Beş Kardeş” (“Five Brothers”), a smoky, 5/4-time piece led by Itamar’s reverb-drenched bağlama.
The album closes with a dynamic duo: “Zülüf Dökülmüs Yüze” a cosmodelic disco-fuzz take on a classic Türküler by Neşet Ertaş, and “Zülüf B (Reprised)”, which deconstructs and reassembles the groove. Starting with a foreboding proto-metal pace, the track builds to a dramatic, high-tempo finale.
If Şatellites’ self-titled debut laid the blueprint for their sound , Aylar marks their transformation into a fully realised musical force.With this album, Şatellites step confidently out of the shadows of their Anatolian psych heroes to craft a modern yet timeless record, expanding their influences while deepening their connection to their roots.

Strut proudly reintroduces a classic from the Topomic catalogue, Ice’s ‘Each Man Makes His Destiny’, officially available on vinyl for the first time.
After relocating from the United States to Paris, Ice began performing regularly in the city’s Barbès district, a vibrant area with a large North African immigrant community.
The band’s heavy Afro-funk sound caught the attention of producer Pierre Jaubert, leading them to become the resident session musicians at his independent Parisound studio.
Immersed in the local influences, Ice began integrating African-inspired chants, textures, and rhythms into their distinct funk style. In 1973, the group recorded their debut album, ‘Each Man Makes His Destiny’, a psychedelic funk exploration that hinted at the evolving sound that would later define them as the Lafayette Afro-Rock Band and, eventually, Ice once more.
Produced by Jaubert, the album brings some powerful social commentary on claustrophobic tracks like ‘Too Little Room’ and ‘Suicide’, under-pinned by a determination to succeed despite the adversity.
Remastered by The Carvery.

In 1970, The Family Stone were at the peak of their popularity, but the maestro Sly Stone had already moved his head to a completely different space. The first evidence of Sly’s musical about-turn was revealed by the small catalog of his new label, Stone Flower: a pioneering, peculiar, minimal electro-funk sound that unfolded over just four seven-inch singles. Stone Flower’s releases were credited to their individual artists, but each had Sly’s design and musicianship stamped into the grooves–and the words “Written by Sylvester Stewart/Produced and arranged by Sly Stone” on the sticker.
Set up by Stone’s manager David Kapralik with distribution by Atlantic Records, Stone Flower was, predictably, a family affair: the first release was by Little Sister, fronted by Stone’s little sister Vaetta Stewart. It was short lived too–the imprint folded in 1971–but its influence was longer lasting. The sound Stone formulated while working on Stone Flower’s output would shape the next phase in his own career as a recording artist: it was here he began experimenting with the brand new Maestro Rhythm King drum machine. In conjunction with languid, effected organ and guitar sounds and a distinctly lo-fi soundscape, Sly’s productions for Stone Flower would inform the basis of his masterwork There’s A Riot Goin’ On.
The first 45 came in February 1970: Little Sister’s dancefloor-ready “You’re The One” hit Number 22 in the charts–the label’s highest showing. The follow-up, “Stanga," also by Little Sister, made the wah pedal the star. The third release came from 6IX, a six-piece multi-racial rock group whose sole release, a super-slow version of The Family Stone’s “Dynamite," featured only the lead singer and harmonica player from the group. Joe Hicks was the final Stone Flower stablemate; his pulsing, electronic "Life And Death In G&A” is one of the bleakest moments Sly Stone ever created on disc (Hicks’ prior single for Scepter, “Home Sweet Home,” the first released Stone Flower production, is also included).
This long overdue compilation of Sly’s Stone Flower era gathers each side of the five 45s plus ten previously unissued cuts from the label archives, all newly remastered from the original tapes. In these grooves you’ll find the missing link between the rocky, soulful Sly Stone of Stand! and the dark, drum machine-punctuated, overdubbed sound of There’s A Riot Going On. I’m Just Like You: Sly’s Stone Flower 1969-70 opens up the mysteries of an obscure but monumental phase in Stone’s career.
Demdike Stare’s DDS label kicks off a new series of limited edition 12”s with the return of Shinichi Atobe, offering a slow evolution of his inimitable deep house, finely balanced with a new found sub-heavy bias while unlocking extra space in the upper registers.
Atobe’s third 12” since debuting on Chain Reaction in 2001 marks a subtle but crucial development of his style, leaning towards classically deep, dub house templates. On both sides he adds supple flesh and hypnotic emotive pathos to his stripped formula, resulting in some of the most immediate and enduring work in his canon thus far. It coincidentally also marks a decade since he first graced DDS with his debut album ‘Butterfly Effect’, followed by a tranche of cultishly acclaimed albums in the years since.
On the A-side pearl ‘Ongaku 1’ he steps out with a shimmering take on the effortless gait of M-Series blueprints, as derived from the deepest NYC house, delicately ornamented with cascading levels of detail. Precision-tooled kicks precipitate Prescription-via-Maurizio feathered dub chords, interlaced with a frisson of darker strings and synth melodies for the full goosebump. ‘Dub 6(six)’ on the flip whisks up a psychedelic lattice of arps and synth voices with ruder bass ballast, taking its sweet time before the kicks come to swing the ‘floor deep and wide.
Straight bullets, no messing.
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Anne, the second album By Toronto saxophonist and composer Joseph Shabason, is a tonal essay on degenerative illness. Delicately and compassionately woven with interviews of Shabason’s mother from whom the album takes its name, Anne finds its creator navigating a labyrinth of subtle and tragic emotions arising from his mother's struggle with Parkinson’s disease. Across the nine vivid postcards of jazz-laden ambience that comprise the album, Shabason unwraps these difficult themes with great care and focus revealing the unseen aspects of degenerative diseases that force us to re-examine common notions of self, identity, and mortality.
Shabason’s uncanny ability to manoeuvre through such microscopic feelings is mirrored by his capacity to execute a similar tightrope-walk through musical genres. His music occupies a specific space that is as palpable as it is difficult to pin labels to. On Anne’s second track “Deep Dark Divide” rays of effected saxophone shine behind clouds of digital synthesizer that echoes the sound of jazz in the late 80s, but with a Jon Hassell-esque depth of sensibility that consciously subverts the stylistic inoffensiveness of that era. There is detail and idiosyncrasy beneath Shabason’s dawn-of-the-CD-era sheen that elevates the album far beyond a mere aesthetic exercise.
Still, the sounds on Anne are not so experimentally opaque as to stand in the way of the album’s through-line of sincerity and emotionality. When dissonance is employed it is punctual and meaningful, like on album-middler “Fred and Lil” where a six-minute cascade of breathy textures builds suddenly to an agitated growl, only to abruptly give way to Anne Shabason speaking intimately about her relationship to her own parents. Snippets of such conversations see her taking on something like a narrator role across Anne while the sound of her voice itself is sometimes effected to become a musical texture entwined into the fabric of the songs without always being present or audible. The subsequent piece “Toh Koh” then drifts into playful disorientation as a lone female voice echoes the two syllables of the title, recalling the vocal techniques of composer Joan La Barbara, or even the light-hearted mantras of Lucky Dragons. From here the album veers back onto its aesthetic thoroughfare with “November” where Shabason lays muted brass textures atop a wavepool of electric chords provided by none other than the ambient cult-hero Gigi Masin, one of Anne’s many integral collaborators.
The serene tragedy of the album distils itself gracefully into the ironically titled album closer “Treat it Like a Wine Bar” wherein flutters of piano and mournfully whispered woodwinds seem to evaporate particle by delicate particle, leaving the listener with a faint emotional afterglow like a dream upon waking. There is a corollary to be drawn here with what it must be like to feel one’s own mind and body drift away slowly until nothing remains, while the collection of memories and abilities that we use to denote the “self” softens into eternity. On Anne, it is precisely this fragile exchange of tranquillity and anguish that Joseph Shabason has proven his singular ability to articulate.
