MUSIC

This was it. This IS it. A true Big Bang for the scene as we know it today, materia prima out of which Príncipe came to be. "Vol. 1" was originally dropped in September of 2006 (first day of school) by Marfox, N.K., Jesse, Pausas, Fofuxo and Nervoso, then collectively known as DJs Di Guetto. With maximum respect for Nervoso's previous (and fiery) path, this was the next level, introducing a new generation capable of improving upon standards and in turn inspiring a still younger generation famously represented by Piquenos DJs Do Guetto: Firmeza, Lilocox and Maboku. The original compilation included 37 tracks, but we feel this selection of 13 perfectly captures spirit, sound and fierceness, a leap forward from straight kuduro and other crystallized styles that fed neighbourhood parties. Testing ground as well as tested ground, sureshot killers. Direct transport to the outskirts of Lisbon and the afro-portuguese experience with a sense of purpose, a mission if you will, the certainty of being part of a highly regarded heritage, the vision of fresh forms and details to continue carrying the torch, a futuristic and real transcendence of life conditions and limitations. Raw, uncompromising, respectful, true positive expression that branched out in all the beautiful ways we were blessed to be exposed to and later helped develop. Africa redesigned, repurposed in the bedroom and for the street, seeking to impress peers and make people happy in the dance. Not always understood and even marginalised within the more conservative-minded strands of the African music scene, this "guetto" style quickly became associated with trouble, even causing Nervoso (a few years older than the bunch) to suspend his DJ activities. There was a sense of danger in these grooves but maybe also of a type of freedom that was not merely artistic, a representation of the less glamorous aspects of the community. With the crew's permission we reissued "Vol. 1" 10 years ago as a free download package. Now presented in its compact version, it reappears with its power of expression intact, a beacon indicating the future, never a museum piece, prefiguring all the forthcoming new music and new artists to be undisclosed as our catalogue expands. A quick but fundamental touch-base.

The second part of the famous collaboration between two UK based electronic pioneers: John Bolloten aka The Rootsman and Bryn Jones aka Muslimgauze. For this album the original The Rootsman material from his albums “Into The Light” and “52 Days to Timbuktu” was remixed and deconstructed by Muslimgauze. As always with Bryn Jones, all material is inspired by Arab culture. We hear distorted dub rhythms, sawn-off loops, traditional music, male and female voices and then distorted rhythms again. Closing your eyes, you can find yourself in the middle of an eastern city, walk along its noisy streets, admire the ancient architecture. This noise can tell amazing stories! First vinyl edition. Originally in 1999 on CD by Third Eye Music.

Music From Memory are excited to present 'hyphea', a new album by Montreal based artist Phoebé Guillemot aka RAMZi. Featuring ten mind-melting tracks ‘hyphae’ is RAMZi’s latest sonic quest and is based around sketches she originally made as a score for a documentary about mushrooms called 'Fun Fungi' (directed by Frederic Lavoie). Recorded between November 2021 and May 2022, writing 'hyphea' began as an attempt to transcend boredom and frustrations imposed by severe restrictions during the pandemic. For Phoebé the album was a way to reconnect with her alter ego RAMZi; who's energy brought her back to uniquely mystical feelings and hope for future magical adventures. RAMZi is a wild spirit from the forest and refers to a parallel autonomous world that keeps evolving. In Phoebé’s own words: “The music remains as a doorway to that world. It has never been about me, I always see that entity bigger than myself. The process of writing 'hyphea' was rather intuitive. I don’t think about styles of music before producing tracks. Those are more like an adventure in itself, each one set in a different ecosystem.”

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.

The debut album of Istanbul born, Berlin & Copenhagen based artist Nene H (real name Beste Aydin) titled ‘Ali’. In this record Aydin has used her background as a classically trained pianist and her deep, foundational knowledge of musical theory to synergise contrasting electronic compositions and the mental process of mourning the death of a loved one. Born as a tribute after the passing of her late father, Aydin has found catharsis through a personal odyssey, the reflection of which can be seen through these 8 tracks. Raised in a traditional Turkish family and now living in Germany with its westernized lifestyle, informs the intersections of identity and duality that Aydin exists and creates from within. This consolidation of identity has pushed her to seek solitude and confidence in the power of being able to represent the process of her existence in the scene as a Middle Eastern woman with Muslim upbringing.

Tropical boogie meets mellow house on Space Ghost’s new album Aquarium Nightclub: An homage to the natural world set against the richly-diverse backdrop of Oakland.. After Space Ghost’s first album Endless Light took to international airwaves and echoed out of cities from London to Los Angeles, his forthcoming release Aquarium Nightclub brings back his signature lo-fi aesthetics with a fresh hit of inspiration from the natural world. Melding irresistible vintage synths with a meditative groove, Aquarium Nightclub is a journey of sorts. Taking listeners on a tropical tour through 80s house drums, lush synth landscapes, and deep bass melodies, the thirteen-track LP is as adventurous as it is restrained. “I was watching nature documentaries while I was making the tracks, sampling some of the audio. I was imagining living in that world, diving underwater with fish, or swimming alongside a shark in shallow waters. It brought the tracks to life and pushed them further,” he says. Growing up in a small town a few hours from California’s East Bay area, Space Ghost (Sudi Wachspress) moved to Oakland ten years ago to study at the California College of the Arts. In a city known for its vibrant cultural fabric and its experimental music scene, Space Ghost represents a new generation of young artists. His DJ collective Late Feelings, launched in 2013, has allowed him to find his own groove amongst monthly all-vinyl dance parties, where he plucks influences from various corners of the world. “I became obsessed with the feeling I got from today’s Italian sound. Other styles like Burrell Brothers’ underground house or Larry Heard’s smooth pads mixed in with bubblegum pop and African boogie while making the record. Aquarium Nightclub is relatable but still different.” More complex than last year’s release, Aquarium Nightclub shows off Space Ghost’s artistic hunger and unique sonic signature. Kicking off with “Sea Snake Island,” a track that is best described as late 80s house melancholia is a beautiful dance of shimmering keys, drum machines, and sounds of the jungle. The single “Sim City” ft. Morgan is a classic Chicago house beast; dark but uplifting with heavy bass undertones, fuzzy drum pulse, and plenty of mysterious synth melodies. Other tracks like “Ocean Odyssey,” “Night Dive” and “Aquarium Nightclub” plunge into an ambient world of slow 80s funk, though always rooted in the Bay Area sound. “These are not your typical dance tracks,” Space Ghost says. “With the song ‘Aquarium Nightclub,’ I imagined what it would be like inside that club, with everyone dancing to a slow watery song in a mellow peaceful groove.” A product of record-collecting and dance party hosting, Aquarium Nightclub is a glittering postcard from Atlantis. Profound yet undeniably groovy, its mesmerizing tropical undertones promise a safe journey back to the endless days of summer. The album artwork is designed by Space Ghost himself and the LP comes as a limited edition version printed on a silver laminated sleeve. The first 100 LP copies further include an album poster designed and risograph printed by Space Ghost.

New imprint Silver Triplet enters the world with a rocket of a collaborative album from two of electronic music’s most free-spirited mavericks. Combining the surrealist punk ethos of Scotch Rolex and the bass heavy psychedelia of Shackleton, Death by Tickling is ten tracks full of wild and unpredictable changes, incorporating odd time signatures, cosmic synth freak outs and dubbed out space vibrations. At times the album lulls the listener into a zoned out trance whilst at other times it startles with its ferocity, Death by Tickling has the whole range in its Helter Skelter approach. Produced in their studio in Berlin, both artists’ sonic signatures can be unmistakeably recognised on this album. Scotch Rolex is best known for his work with Kampala based artists MC Yallah and DUMA's Lord Spikeheart. With releases on Nyege Nyege’s Hakuna Kulala label, Rolex draws on dancehall, trap, Japanese traditional music, gabber, grindcore, Gqom, and Kuduro to unique and exciting effect. The same energy permeates this new release, but with a new elements of shamanism and deconstructed rhythms. Meanwhile, the founder of Skull Disco, Shackleton, has been carving out his own brand of esoteric ritual trance music for the best part of two decades on labels such as Honest Jon’s, Hot Flush and Perlon. This record sees him taking Rolex’s raw beats and devil may care trickery and exploding it through a dub effect rack into outer space. It is an hour of out-there music which will appeal to those who like it challenging and adventurous. At the same time, you could get the impression that there is even a savage humour or a cosmic joke underlying the whole endeavour, hence the title, Death by Tickling. To round off the package, the brilliant artwork is courtesy of Zeke Clough who can always be depended on to bring the unexpected.

Twoonky, the brothers duo from Brescia (Italy) formed by Michele and Simone Bornati, is back on Macadam Mambo for a second album. After their brillantissimo ‘Dezzo’ from 2019, which was well noticed by the underground scene, the new opus ‘Ottico’ won’t leave you static. This is the kind of masterpiece that the more you listen, the more you love. At the opposite of grandiloquent music that would have immediate effect, ‘Ottico’ is much more subtile, surfing on a cool wave of styles, a collage of vibes going from 70’s Kraut to 90’s Trip-Hop, where the analog sounds of guitars, synths, distorded voices, saxo, samples and electronics FX match so well, creating an ensemble in the unique mutant flow of the Twoonky’s that makes it so intemporal and so modern in the meanwile. It’s not about being curious, it’s about being open on crossing boundaries, like they are used to do with their unique place called Spettro in Brescia, where all the avant-garde of the electronic scene is coming to perform. ‘Ottico’ could be a kind of representation of the spirit of Spettro, and possibly one of the most interesting release of 2023. We don’t know why, but it’s true, Italians do it better ☺

The cult Canadian band lands on Mood Hut for an album of sunburnt It's difficult to imagine a more topical band name than Freak Heat Waves, though the Canadian duo have been using it for over a decade. A hard-to-pin-down staple of the country's eclectic DIY scene, Steven Lind and Thomas Di Ninno are as Montreal weirdo as they are Vancouver stoner. Their fifth album is their first for Mood Hut, which gives a hint as to where their heads are at these days. Cementing a gradual shift from wiry punk to vintage post-disco, Mondo Tempo finds the duo getting stuck into a style of humid machine funk that pairs samples and sequencers with live drums and distant vocals. It's a clever formula that should prove irresistible to any fan of the smoked-out sound Mood Has cultivated over the past decade, bringing the label's indie rock origins to the fore. If this is your first Freak Heat Waves release, on first listen, opener "The Time Has Come" could come off as Pender Street Steppers pastiche: dusty drums, flamboyant sax sample, semi-ironic disco guitar lick, muttered vocals. But it also sounds unusually lush and open. The reverb on Lind's ultra-baritone voice lends him a dollar-bin Barry White smoothness, and the drums fall into a funky pocket you can't get from a straight-up drum machine. Both of these elements are key to Freak Heat Waves' unusual appeal. On "Endless," Lind stretches out his vowels into hilariously exaggerated syllables—like "helpleeesss." His laconic drawl contrasts the precocious hi-hats and snares, which are panned left and right as if your head was inside the bass drum. The warmed-over quality of Mondo Tempo can might read lo-fi, but the duo create a rich and detailed word within their sepia-toned confines. Starting out sprightly and meandering from there, Mondo Tempo gets slower as it chugs along, with a particularly druggy back half. Highlights like "Off My Mind"—whose meditative beat and wailing diva samples sound like a synth funk band covering 808 State—and "Altered States" make a clear connection between Mood Hut and and the band's DIY punk past. After all, Mood Hut and the Vancouver scene built around it was started by members of rock bands who brought their instrumental chops and pop instincts to chilled-out house music. Freak Heat Waves reverse engineer that from the opposite perspective, making idiosyncratic dance jams out of off-kilter rock music. The title track is a great example, a stark climate change warning disguised as a chill-out room jam. With Lind warning about "One degree / Worldwide / Have we begun to reach the breaking," it would be painfully preachy if it weren't couched in such a seductively lazy beat—encapsulating the mix of paralyzing fear and resignation felt by so many of the world's young people. 
Lind's over-the-top baritone can make Freak Heat Waves feel like a stoner comedy sometimes. But any sense of irony falls away on album highlight "In A Moment Divine," which is the finest song ever released on Mood Hut. A collaboration with Cindy Lee, formerly of Calgary noise rock band Women, "In A Moment Divine" pulls together the band's lo-fi disco, synth pop and even progressive house into a unique torch song with a hint of breakbeat. Strings breathe in and out on the meek verses, while a sequencer somewhere between New Order and Sasha frames the more desperate choruses. When everything drops out to leave just those synths, the result is elegant and beautiful—heartbreak captured in the sputtering notes of a machine. Firing on all cylinders, here Freak Heat Waves reveal themselves as priests of a syncretic religion combining dance music and DIY punk, pointing to a future in both dance and straight-up pop. Which way, Canadian men? The beauty is that Freak Heat Waves don't have to choose, and they never have. Whether Mondo Tempo is a true fork or just a diversion, Lind and Di Ninno continue to go their own way, making a well-worn West Coast sound feel fresh all over again.

Total Annihilation Beach is the latest collection from Caveman LSD, one of the handful of monikers of Special Guest DJ / uon / sometimes just shy. Their releases under this name have always had the character of sonic transmissions – crushed sine-waves hurtling out of a wormhole, remote pirate radio bandwidths, whale-song picked up on radar, and so on. Here, the signal seems to come from a place whose remoteness is not defined by distance, but adjacency: these are alternate reality bops. What does it sound like? Kind of solarpunk, but dirty; not at all an artifact from a hopeless culture. Percussion at the forefront; warm timbres and tones – never have I heard this producer play with tabla and tambourine loops as they do in “Lost Hours,” the opening track of the EP. The buildup holds tension and dynamics tight, with a vocoder-smoothed moan – sampled from the caveman’s own voice, on the low – alternating between two notes; when the beat decompresses for the first time two and a half minutes in, one hears the amorphous and cavernous pads we know so well from shy. “Bottle Service Angels” picks up with another acoustic drum loop, and a clap entering 18 seconds in swings the rest of the track into your hips – there’s even an alternate percussion interlude sandwiched in the middle. The drums are turned over by a distorted and delayed wave, almost like a cop siren, which finds an answer in the track’s final seconds: we hear them blaring, but distantly (the demo version of this track, from spring 2020, was called “ACAB Beat”). The B side begins with a textured, heaving slab of ambience: “The Sun Will Sink Into the Ocean.” It is perhaps the sun one sees setting over “Total Annihilation Beach” – a phrase that came to shy while tripping on LSD in San Francisco, which felt to them like a post-apocalyptic haven for the rich. Seems on point. There is a machinic repetition to the track, but also sweeping curtains of sound that move like mist. But what comes at nightfall? Not cops, not raiders nor bottle service angels – nothing, actually. Just a void into which one lobs praise. “H6 Remix” adapts a Mesopotamian hymn to the divine wife of a moon deity, dated to 1400 BCE; the strings of the sampled oud playing it out are rich and trail beautifully with reverb. Caveman LSD’s gesture of remixing such a song reads sincere – the reality we inhabit is likely just as brutal as the one to which these transmissions belong; however, in both, honor exists. Love follows.

Ylia—aka Susana Hernández—had a remarkably productive 2020. In addition to releasing her debut album, Dulce Rendición, on Barcelona’s Paralaxe Editions, she penned compilation tracks for Lapsus Records, Hivern Discs, and Super Utu/Stars on Earth. But professional success can be deceiving: The following year was, personally speaking, terrible. Her grandfather died. Her father died. Her cat died. And she ended a relationship. “That’s a lot of things all at once, no?” she says. Her second album, Ame Agaru, is not necessarily a record of that year, but it is, she says, a response to those life events—a record of grief. The new album is clearly a continuation of the ambient investigations of Ylia’s debut, but it differs in key ways. Where Dulce Rendición was exploratory and faintly cosmic, Ame Agaru—a Japanese phrase meaning, roughly, “the rain lifts”— captures a melancholy sense of stillness. And where her debut was largely electronic, on the new album, Ylia has folded in a number of acoustic elements, even when they are not recognizable as such. Her partner, Alejandro Lévar, lends fingerpicked acoustic guitar to the glowing dronescapes of “Todos los Cuerpos”; multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Tete Leal adds flutes, clarinet, and soprano saxophone to “Ame Agari”—or “after the rain”—which opens the album with a moment of contemplative calm, the kind that follows an extended deluge. One track, the dub techno-influenced “Flowers in June,” grew out of Ylia’s live sets, but the rest are the fruit of improvisational sessions at home in Málaga, five minutes from the beach—jamming and then refining, searching for the ideal expression of a feeling as it was first captured. Searching for the spontaneity behind the stillness. In places, Ylia even incorporates piano, an instrument she has played since she was 10, yet has never included on one of her recordings before. For the most part on Ame Agaru, she seeks ways to fuse piano with synthesizers and electronic processes. But on the closing track, “El Único Adiós Posible,” she leaves us alone with the instrument in all its stark, unadorned beauty. It is a profoundly moving conclusion to an album defined by its economy of means and purity of expression: a cycle of life counted out in the passage of storm clouds and clearing skies.

For their third release San Francisco based Indian duo Baalti bring the heat and delve into what they say is their most personally authentic release to date, disclosing the record reflects the various club sounds they’ve been enjoying and discovering over the past year. The five track EP which they’ve titled ‘Better Together’, stays true to their signature sampling of nostalgic South Asian flavours derived from classic Indian, Pakistani, and Bangaldeshi music but on this occasion fused with a backdrop of breaks and euphoric club music which perfectly aligns with Seb Wildblood’s All My Thoughts imprint to which the EP will be released on. The duo have kept a consistent emotive element to the music throughout the EP combined with the leftfield dance- floor sounds they’ve been vouching for more recently. About the release which will be their biggest yet, Baalti go on to explain: ‘With this record, we wanted to lean into clubbier energy that’s been inspiring, enriching and energizing us. We’re trying to connect where we come from to where we are right now, bringing sounds we grew up with to dance- floors and spaces we’re part of today. It’s our most sincere and complete expression yet, and we’ve tried to capture all of the feelings we had from a year of touring, living with our bffs, being in love, finding amazing communities through music, and getting more connected with each other as a duo.’ – Baalti

Light in the Attic’s Pacific Breeze series has supplied the world’s growing legions of Japanese music fans with an expertly curated selection of the most sought-after City Pop recordings—the mesmerizing and nebulous genre of Japanese bubble-era music of the ‘70s-’80s that encompasses AOR, R&B, jazz fusion, funk, boogie and disco. These familiar sounds are spun through the unique lens of optimistic, cosmopolitan fantasy colored by Japan’s affluence at the time. Much of the music has previously been nearly impossible to acquire outside of Japan and continues to captivate listeners with its unique blend of groove-laden escapism, even birthing wholly new genres such as Vaporwave. Pacific Breeze 3: Japanese City Pop, AOR & Boogie 1975-1987 marks the latest chapter in the famed series and features holy grails plus under-the-radar rarities. The collection bursts at the seams to reveal some of the greatest Japanese tracks ever laid to tape, pushing towards the edge of City Pop to reveal glimmers of the next waves of styles to spring forth from the country’s creative minds. The appearance of Pizzicato Five hint at the emergence of Shibuya-kei while the influence of hip hop and electro as an emerging global trend are also evident here through the prevalence of heavier programmed drum beats on tracks such as “Heartbeat” by Miho Fujiwara. This volume of Pacific Breeze, like its predecessors, is a female-forward offering with many tracks being voiced by women who would become household names in Japan as actresses and pop idols. Their songs here subvert the norm and brim with an innovative spirit that shatters gender roles in favor of sonic transcendence. Techno-pop classics from Susan, Miharu Koshi and Chiemi Manabe sit alongside sublime funk from Atsuko Nina and Naomi Akimoto while Teresa Noda slides into the mix with a sultry reggae jam. The genre span is stretched wider with hypnotic jazz fusion by Parachute and Hiroyuki Namba, a synthesizer fantasy from Osamu Shoji, and magnetic pop by Makoto Matsushita and Chu Kosaka. Although not front and center, the visionary members of Yellow Magic Orchestra are still very present on Pacific Breeze 3, with Haruomi Hosono, Ryuichi Sakamoto, and Yukihiro Takahashi taking up producer and musician roles on many of these tracks. Pacific Breeze 3 serves up a captivating musical journey that adds an essential chapter to the iconic compilation series.

Since the appearance of his cult breakthrough debut Tuli Banyo released on Hakuna Kulala in 2018, Ugandan conscious rapper and MC, Ecko Bazz has challenged perceptions of East Africa's burgeoning rap scene. His style is hard to categorize blending elements of grime, dancehall and US hip-hop and twisting politicized lyrics in Luganda that explore violence, religion, drug abuse or the poverty in the Ugandan slums. This personality anchors his debut album Mmaso, an explosive call to action that balances his manic presence with production from MC Yallah collaborator Debmaster, Kenyan club futurist Slikback, Berlin-based Japanese beatmaker DJ Die Soon and the inimitable DJ Scotch Rolex. Mmaso is driven by Ecko Bazz's kinetic performance on the mic. Anyone that's had the privilege of seeing him live will know what to expect, and his unadulterated flow is immediately focused on the grinding title track. The rapper alternates freely between sober truths and hyperactive screams, flipping between intensity from verse to verse. On Lwaky?, an anxious Debmaster beat underpins Bazz's visceral hedonism bending his rhymes in double and half-time and wrenching his voice gymnastically over 808 booms and claps. There's a pause for breath on the more intimate Mugulu e'yo or the relatively restrained Empungo Mubanga where Slikback provides a breathy and minimal midnight trap rumble to couch the rapper's surreal exuberance. With DJ Die Soon's Bikuba, Bazz mimics the bouncy lead synth to command a presence that refuses to let you forget that, even at his most claustrophobic, he makes music that lives at the club. That's never more evident than on Nkoowola, a standout that made it to Nyege Nyege - Soundcloud Music for the Eagles compilation. Bright, powerful and charged with rebellious energy that resonates through East Africa and beyond.

Deadstock, the first collaboration between German electro heavyweights Burnt Friedman and Mohammad Reza Mortazavi released on Nonplace. Extremely minimalistic. The sound design is restrained, percussive, and beautifully constructed. This is an artistic and stoic work of human-powered techno, with a definite surge of heat in the midst of dynamic tranquility.

The late 90’s was a busy time for Tokyo’s underground electronic scene for those in the know, but precious few releases ever matriculated outside its inner circles. The Shi-Ra-Nui label in particular hosted some of the most forward-thinking music of the era, including Jigen 1998 LP Blood's Finality / 狂雲求敗. Ostensibly drum and bass, Blood’s Finality dips into free jazz, Musique Concrète, and all out noise in its pursuit of artistic expression. Now widely available for the very first time on vinyl via ^ ^ (Double Circumflex), this historic piece of Japanese music history provides a key puzzle piece to a fertile time in experimental music.

Ryuichi Sakamoto's third solo work, released in 1981.
This work features Ryuichi Sakamoto's vocals extensively, as he believes that "singing is not about how good you are, but about your voice, and even if you are not very good at it, it is the best self-expression in music". Cutting by Bernie Grundman Mastering in the U.S. Domestic pressing, limited edition of complete production.
Produced by Ryuichi Sakamoto and Robin Scott Participating musicians: Adrian Breaux, Kiyohiko Senba, Yukihiro Takahashi, Haruomi Hosono, and others

Of all the things that can and should and will be said of Sam Wilkes’ & Jacob Mann’s Perform the Compositions of Sam Wilkes & Jacob Mann, let’s begin at the beginning and acknowledge that it is an aptly named record indeed. An ideal collaborative effort (which is to say, greater than the sum of its parts), here we have two longtime friends, two luminaries of the New Weird Los Angeles — the experimental, genre-encompassing underground—who have, at last, devoted a full-length record to their signature musical admixture. Since their meeting as USC music students (Wilkes studied bass, and Mann, jazz/piano), the two have, with a kind of ceaseless abandon, chased the music to the ends the earth — oftentimes quite literally; travel is a recurrent theme in Compositions’ track titles (Pre-board, Soft Landing, and Around the Horn), and the record’s second track, Jakarta, was sketched out in a hotel room in the city of the same name, where Wilkes and Mann were performing at a jazz festival in 2019. Having initially bonded over a mutual and abiding appreciation for the Soulquarians, the two have spent over a decade playing and traveling, together and separately, their styles coevolving all the while. Across its thirteen tracks, Compositions captures the relaxed creative flow of two consummate musicians. Most of the record’s sessions (“four-to-five-day summits” in an apartment studio, occasioned by “blasts of inspiration”) began with casual improvisation, and, indeed, roughly half of the final material was composed in this manner: Wilkes and Mann squaring off, a Yamaha DX7 facing a Roland Juno 106, alternating leads, two co-pilots with no set course. And though the songs are polished to a shine, there are artifacts of the intimacy of these sessions. Yes It Is concludes with a snippet of just-intelligible studio chatter: “…A flat minor, then A major.” A figuring-it-out-as-we-go moment that briefly renders explicit the warmth, friendship, and creative freedom that is the album’s heart. The duo has quipped that Compositions is Mann’s most “serious” project, while simultaneously being Wilkes’ most “light-hearted” — somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but there are certainly two distinct sensibilities at play across Compositions. Their aesthetics collide, coalesce, and diverge, often in a single song. Then the process starts anew. The album begins with the whimsical (exuberant, even!) glitched-out Cricket Club and ends on a note of quiet contentment with Wichita Wilkes, an Earth, Wind, and Fire x shoegaze fever dream. That Compositions coheres as well as it does is a testament to Wilkes’ and Mann’s shared vernacular. Both have expressed a tendency to communicate their musical ideas linguistically, posing questions like “what would the woodwinds be doing here?” Though only the two musicians are credited, the ensemble conjured by their combined imaginary feels infinite.

Our sub-label 333 returns again with... 333. Originally released on his seminal Ujama label in 1988, Prince Jazzbo's 333 (aka Mango Tree) features the foundation deejay riding an absolutely killer update on the famous MPLA riddim. One of the best 45s to come out of this late 80s digital era, no doubt.

333 returns to follow a reissue of the sub-label's eponymous 45 by Prince Jazzbo, with another crucial shot from his Ujama catalogue - a much-needed reproduction of the original Replay 45, complete with vocal & version. Fully licensed from the late great foundation deejay's family. A must.

A mixtape pulling together extracts from soundsystem tapes out of Manchester's storied street soul scene of the late 1980s to mid-1990s. Featuring DIY cassette recordings of sounds such as Broadway, Stereo Dan & Soul Control playing live at dances and blues parties in south & central Manchester from 1988 through to 1996.

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."

The new wave jazz album left in 1987 is the first analog reissue.

Under the sound production by Masanori Sasaji (ex. Mariah), the leftfield-avant-jazz work ('87) that was recorded has been reissued for the first time by reproducing the artwork of the time as much as possible!
Starting with the mysterious opening "Door" reminiscent of Mariah's "Door of the Heart", Avanwave "Meteorite Rain" with vivid organ riffs, and third-world bossa fusion "ASTRUD" with gentle bleak scat. Includes all 10 songs that mix experiments and standards.

Tracklist:
SIDE A
01. Door
02. Crazy 'bout The Boy
03. The Dangerous
04. Astrud
05. Meteor rain

SIDE B
01. My Cup Is Empty
02. Angel In The Night
03. Jumping Without Thinking
04. Jellyfish
05. Temptation

Yeah the pace with this lot is relentless and the vibes are loose as fuck, this time finding Michael J Blood & Sockethead in duo mode, feeding screwed street soul and emotional jams into the blunted, early-hours. This is actually their debut merger, following trio actions with Rat Heart on a couple of ace ‘True’ volumes in recent years. On ‘Eating Late’ MJB pulls Sockethead away from his wildest inclinations and into a deliriously stoned dimension, where gloopy synths and restless subs tumble in and out of time, ample levels of smudged, nostalgic romance included. Plotted for slow-release thru the night, the album starts with bleary-eyed immersion therapy ‘aaa(a)’ on a sort a tip between classic Move D/Reagenz and some Frictional slow jam, before nimbly proceeding into R&G sampler ‘Try to Keep’ and the delicately jazzy deep house ‘Blown Out’. The tart darkwave of ‘Breathe Properly’ and Sockethead’s peal on ‘Heat Of U’ are perhaps best enjoyed like Wambsgans eating a songbird, napkin over the noggin, while echoes of Gescom’s fractal Disengage flex on ‘Recto-Verso’ and ‘Swamptrix’ give up one of the most satisfying sessions in either artist’s run over the last few years. Collect them all eh?