MUSIC

Greasy Mike is back with LP number four! Another rambunctious array of wigged out mayhem! Don't worry, there aren't any silly jokes on this record. It's all music with a wiggle and a giggle. In fact, it's 14 frantic flippers fraught with frivolous fun-filled frolics. All good clean fun. Featuring: Pat & the Wildcats, Bobby Bunny & the Jackrabbits, Jim Doval & the Gauchos, Johnny Beeman, Diablito, Adolphus Bell & the Up Starts, The Apollos, The Royal Jokers, Lue Renney, The Zanies, Hank Mankin, Sid Ramin, Jim Backus and Friend, and The Fabulous Continentals.

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.

Nothing But Net presents “Perceptions”, the debut LP from Los Angeles producer/beat maker Jamma-Dee aka Dyami O’Brien. Jamma-Dee has been a figure in the west coast modern funk and boogie scene, both as an accomplished DJ and music producer, having released records under his own name and producing for the likes of Joyce Wrice, Mndsgn and others. From a musical upbringing in Los Angeles, Dyami’s adolescent obsession with record digging and beatmaking eventually led him to Dam-Funk’s renown Funkmosphere parties where he built friendships with key players in the LA funk scene and began to make a name for himself as a DJ and producer. In the second half of the 2010’s he released a series of EPs on Arcane and hosted the legendary Soul In Paradise show on NTS radio. His first full-length, “Perceptions” is a long time in the making. Beginning with studio experiments nearly a decade ago, a version of the album found its way to producer and Nothing But Net label boss Onra, who helped guide the project to completion. The album artwork was created by outsider soul music conceptualist and painter, Mingering Mike, whom O’Brien felt compelled to reach out to after discovering his work years earlier. Thematically, the artwork, record, and its title touch on very modern themes: the alienation of life in a world of instant-gratification, an overly-connected society of masks, distorted realities and shifting identities. Musically, “Perceptions” is the culmination of a life lived under the groove. Featuring a long list of collaborators, including Benedek, Mndsgn, Koreatown Oddity, the legendary Craig T. Cooper and fellow NBN labelmate, Devin Morrison, the double album touches on all of O’Brien’s musical influences. Album opener “Up N Down” sets the scene with it’s syrupy g-funk impressionism, before “Jamma’s Jam” bounces out of the speakers through an auburn-colored sunset haze of lush Rhodes chords and sparkling vibraphones. “It Takes A Freak” and “Datafile Groove” shuffle westward, re-imagining New Jack Swing grooves through a distinctly Californian lens. Elsewhere, the album touches on classic deep house rhythms (“Tic Toc” and “Silly”) and crystalline, downtempo R&B and UK street soul (“Joy”, “Saturday”).“U.R.” features legendary L.A. guitarist Craig T. Cooper laying down a network of stunning, silken guitar lines with absolute class. Over the course of these 15 tracks, Jamma Dee consolidates, renovates and perpetuates the sound of his influences. “Perceptions” is a masterclass in modern funk and soul production.

“Forever Forever” is the new album by Genevieve Artadi, the LA-based singer-songwriter, producer, archer and Dr. Mario enthusiast (“I keep my Switch in my back pocket most days”). A creative tornado, Genevieve is known for being the force in KNOWER, Expensive Magnets and her former band Pollyn, signing to Brainfeeder to release a sparkling solo album “Dizzy Strange Summer” in 2020. The following year she also collaborated with Thundercat, Raedio and Louis Cole on ‘Satellite Space Age Edition’ for the Insecure Season 5 soundtrack (HBO). “Forever Forever” encompasses a truly kaleidoscopic range of influences, making it impossible to pin down stylistically. Rooted in jazz, but winding up at alternative rock or avant pop, it’s in the lineage of legendary boundary-testers Stereolab and Talking Heads.

Genevieve hails from the scarily talented crew that includes Louis Cole, Pedro Martins, Sam Gendel, Sam Wilkes, Jacob Mann and Chiquita Magic, bearing a similar foundation of classical and jazz traditions offset with a healthy punk attitude and passion for musical hybridity and fusion. She admits that being surrounded by these talented individuals is motivation to create in and of itself.

Drawing on the spiritual teachings of Thích Nhất Hạnh – the Vietnamese Thiền Buddhist monk known as the “father of mindfulness”; Ram Dass (guru of modern yoga); Eckhart Tolle and Jiddu Krishnamurti, Genevieve reflects on her relationships, growing up and her adventures in life on this new album. “‘Forever Forever’ is an album about the love I have for the people in my life, attempting to express with a lot of care different sides of it: reassurance, acceptance of change, ruptures, joy.”

Genevieve also emphasizes the importance of anime in her life: “It has inspired me to adopt a bold, full-hearted attitude to my music but also my life more generally,” she acknowledges, referencing a few favourites: Naruto (“It’s changed my life”), Attack on Titan, Rurouni Kenshin, Hikaru No Go, and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures.

Half of the songs for “Forever Forever” were originally written for big band, with Genevieve having struck up a relationship with the Grammy-nominated Norrbotten Big Band from Sweden with whom she has been a composer in residence and performed live many times. Consequently, she says that she listened to Duke Ellington and Gil Evans with Miles Davis in pursuit of a creative spark. “The rest I think is just everything from my past that is in my subconscious,” she says. “Random flashes of inspiration from Chopin, Bach (I was learning some 2-part inventions during the lockdown), Debussy, Nancy Wilson, Björk, Ryan Power, Nobukazu Takemura, The Beatles, Dionne Warwick…”

With an accompanying tongue-in-cheek video that goes hard in an 80s hair metal style, the first single ‘Visionary’ climaxes with suitably epic solos from Pedro Martins (guitar), Chiquita Magic (synth bass), Christopher Fishman (piano) with Louis Cole and Daniel Sunshine doubling up on the drums. “It’s a celebration of love, expressing gratitude to ‘the other’ who was first to be brave enough to jump into a relationship when I had lost hope,” says Genevieve.

Genevieve’s relationship with the Brazilian guitarist and Thundercat collaborator Pedro Martins is also evident in the music, with Genevieve drawing inspiration from Brazilian legends of the ‘60s-’70s such as Beto Guedes, Toninho Horta and Elis Regina that Pedro brought into her orbit.

Recorded on location in Mexico at El Desierto Studio on a recommendation from Thundercat keyboard maestro Dennis Hamm, Genevieve travelled with best pals Chiquita Magic (keyboards, vocals), Pedro Martins (guitars, vocals), Chris Fishman (keys), Louis Cole (drums, synth bass), Henry Halliwell (additional production) and Daniel Sunshine (engineer) to elevate her demos. “The band made the music come alive with their skills, making all the written stuff more musical, adding ambient layers, choosing sounds that were perfect for the songs,” says Genevieve. “They played beautiful solos too. I loved watching them get so into it because all of them have musical visions I respect.”

“My previous albums were made at home, so this was a big jump”, she explains. “But I felt like it was the right move for these songs and, thankfully, it ended up better than I imagined. El Desierto is a big, beautiful wooden house in a forest designed for music, with everything we could possibly need. There was a camp vibe because we all slept there, had meals together, played on the crazy instruments everywhere, jammed and practiced day and night, and partied in the kitchen after sessions.”

First making waves with the almost cult level ‘Hype Williams’ project, and then more recently solo and as part of the group Babyfather, the new 8 track LP sees Dean Blunt step back into the shadowy role of producer for a new band called Blue Iverson. It’s a vibesey one, this; digging a vein of smoke-hazed living/bedroom feels in eight parts that could almost be passed off as a Dam-Funk jam. Well, almost, but there’s still something off kilter and economical about the fidelity and mixing of the recording that hints it’s from the UK, or is even made to sound like the private pressed soul obscurities picked out by PPU. Hotep strongly reminds of those lush soul bits from Yves Tumor’s Serpent Music or even selected Letherette cuts released on Alex Nut’s namesake label. The image of Lauryn Hill on the sleeve is a cherry on the cake.

The first two minutes of Sun June's third album, Bad Dream Jaguar, is a reverie - Laura Colwell's voice floats above a slow-burn, sparse synth, conjuring a tipsy loneliness, a hazy recollection, a disco ball spinning at the end of the night for an empty dance floor. Sun June's music often feels like a shared memory – the details so close to the edge of a song that you can touch them. And as an Austin-based project, their music has also always felt strangely and specifically Texan – unhurried, long drives across an impossible expanse of openness, refractions shimmering off the pavement in the heat. But on Bad Dream Jaguar, Sun June is unmoored. The backdrop of Texas is replaced by longing, by distance, by transience, and a quiet fear. The only sense of certainty comes from the murky past. It's a dispatch from aging, when you’re in the strange in-between of yourself: there's a clear image of the person you once were and the places you inhabited, generational curses and our families, but the future feels vast, unclear – and the present can't help but slip through your fingers.There's a mix of hi-fi and lo-fi; some songs, like "Texas," which the band had to learn at a breakneck pace ahead of their recording session, was recorded on a first take, live in the room, while "Eager" and "Easy Violence" feature early vocal takes from Colwell, the final songs built atop the demos. The latter track details staying up all night, being a menace to society, falling into bad patterns, but is followed by "John Prine," a drumless, piano-based ballad, a mash of pedal steel manipulated to sound closer to synths.Sun June's records have always been deceptively airy sounding in the face of melancholia, belying its densely textured foundation in a sense of ease. The layers on Bad Dream Jaguar don't tangle but they float, sheaths of divergent and luminescent sonics hanging together as the sun goes down, darkness seeping in. The record exists in the chasm between giving up and going all-in. And a flicker of quiet confidence powering through, a small hopeful glow at its core.

From the academy of deep soul and no ego, Reverend Baron delivers visions of liquor store East LA, the off-the-freeway dry mirage of slow motion graffiti and lonely seagulls. A nylon stringed zen fog with themes of woozy love, layered dimensions of nostalgia and glazed neighborhood tales that roll in with a natural ease. After notching a permanent status in the skateboarding orbit as Danny Garcia, he transferred his effortless style, dedication and authenticity into music. Practicing a philosophy of demystifying the process and doing it yourself, he has become a proficient multi-instrumentalist, engineer, and producer of his own and other artist's music. All streams of curiosity converge into the river. An enigma, Reverend Baron emerges from the proverbial gray overpass with no sense of urgency. He takes a sharp gaze at his surroundings and processes them through a factory of depth and gentle swag to yield a sound that sits as easy as fallen molasses on the bodega shelf. The songs are an unassuming invitation to either walk through the doorway or lean on the wall outside, either way something beautiful and rare.

An exploration of misplaced desire and all-consuming romantic obsession, told through a series of beautifully constructed leftfield pop songs. La Porte, the second studio album by Charlotte Kouklia aka Charlène Darling, finds the artist and her group building a self-contained musical world via French and English language vocals, and a minimalist backing of guitar, organ, bass and drums.

At times recalling the feminist post-punk of The Raincoats, the avant songcraft of Brigitte Fontaine, or the psychedelic vignettes of Cate Le Bon, in truth Charlène Darling sounds like herself. The arrangements are playfully experimental, dubbed out percussion bubbling over the stripped back instrumentation, or rough tape edits disrupting lush harmonies, but never losing sight of the earworm hooks that make these songs so addictively listenable. Step through the door and walk right in.

Charlotte is one quarter of the band Rose Mercie. After a beguiling series of DIY tape and CD-R releases, her first widely distributed solo album, Saint-Guidon, was released in 2019.

The manc undergrowth continues to sprout new nodes on this killer double album - production by Michael J. Blood, vocals and songs by Samizdat, a real dense cloud of tunes on a tip somewhere between classic Theo Parrish mixes - heavy on the EQ - and Darren J. Cunningham’s Thriller edits, with a mumbled, punk swagger all its own. Like all MJB gear; sleep on it, weep on it. Honeyed and screwed, this one carries thru a long tradition of spiky, anti-establishment expression, augmented by MJB’s genius production and Samizdat's blunted - almost slurred - vocal delivery; mystical, itchy and red-eyed. The duo embody a deviant aesthetic, but guide you thru their narcotic vapours with ease. Like some screwed Ugly Edit, it’s all slow, clipped and hazed to fuck, pitched, and extended, all abrupt endings and no-starts, just over an hour of the special stuff. Yeah these two weave in and out of each other like nothing else. “I seek to fold into Blood’s productions as I believe in the collaborative idea of euphoria, like being touched by each other’s inflections. We try to celebrate and to re-appropriate the notion of what it is to be artistic outside of a “creative industry”. The sam part of the word means “self.” The whole samizdat—translates as: “We publish ourselves”—that is, not the state, but we, the people.“ Aye. Whatever DIY means, surely this is it.

Created between Palm Springs, California and Hilo, Hawai'i, V is the first double album from the Hawaiian-New Zealand singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer Ruban Nielson's Unknown Mortal Orchestra band. Designed to play as one continuous movement and road-tested on dry California freeways, V is the definitive Unknown Mortal Orchestra car record. It's also the fifth full-length album Ruban has released in twelve years. Across fourteen sun-bleached songs - written solo or with his brother Kody - Ruban draws from the rich traditions of West Coast AOR, yacht rock, weirdo pop and Hawaiian Hapa-haole music. Over a laidback blend of singalong anthems and cinematic instrumentals, he evokes blue skies, afternoons spent lounging by hotel swimming pools and the alluring darkness that lurks below perfect, pristine surfaces. It's a duality expressed in the dilapidated sunset blues and the salt-corroded soul Ruban explores through tracks like 'Layla' and 'Nadja.'During the pandemic's early days, Ruban reunited with Kody at a cousin's wedding in Hawai'i. With assistance from their father, Chris Nielson (saxophone/flute) and longstanding Unknown Mortal Orchestra member Jake Portrait, they brought everything Ruban had been thinking about together. The result was V, due for release on March 3, 2023, through Jagjaguwar. When they talked about records that moved them in that spine-shivering manner, Ruban started thinking about the 70s AM radio rock and 80s pop songs that had lurked on the edge of his subconscious mind for most of his life. He wanted to write his version of records like that, leading to the two glorious uptempo singles Unknown Mortal Orchestra released in 2021, 'Weekend Run' and 'That Life'.However, the golden good times never last forever. Not long after, health issues began to plague his extended family. Putting his recordings aside, he helped his mother and his uncle move home from New Zealand and Portland to Hawai'i, and began dividing his time between Hawai'i and Palm Springs. During this period he reconnected with his relatives, reassessed his past, and started to look at things with fresh eyes. Hawai'i brought back memories of the darker side of his parents' lifestyle as entertainers. On those trips, he heard those classic AM radio rock records everywhere. They were inextricably intertwined with the palm trees, swimming pools, and glamorized hedonism he’d internalized from his childhood. There's a type of music in Hawai'i called Hapa-haole (Half white). You can hear it expressed in signature Unknown Mortal Orchestra style through the humid guitar-led atmosphere of V's penultimate song, 'I Killed Captain Cook'. Although the songs are presented in a traditional Hawaiian manner, they’re mostly sung in English. Having been influenced by Hawaiian music since Unknown Mortal Orchestra's first album, Ruban saw a space for himself within the tradition. When he reflected on his success, he realised he had the responsibility and platform to represent Hapa-haole music on the global stage.

DIY pop master from Saitama, JAPAN. love psychedelic pop/anime/dreamy pop

When he‘s not writing or recording, Baba Stiltz immerses in fearless fiction by the likes of Denis Johnson and Dodie Bellamy; prose where pedestrian details become transcendent in aggregate and the inner lives of marginal characters are examined as though they were kings. A similar thesis runs through „Paid Testimony“, the essential second tape of minimalist guitar music from the FilipinoAmerican-Swedish artist. In recent years, Stiltz has made like Lee Hazelwood‘s Cowboy In Sweden in reverse, making annual pilgrimages from Stockholm to California and reconnecting with his roots via a guitar and a Fostex 4- track. He‘s drawn to the less glamorous corners of the golden state, an observant habitué of unkempt streets and dive bars stretching from LA to Vacaville. It‘s a long stretch from the jetset techno clubs where Baba originally plied his musical trade, but it‘s where he finds characters and ideas worth writing about. The characters on „Paid Testimony“ are on the edge and on the run. Surrounded by flawed men with big schemes since childhood, he extrapolates characters who plot bank heists and order milk and vodka in AM hours, the type of confrontation- prone characters who „say some shit, make everyone uncomfortable and then just split.“ To focus on the rawness of this document would discount the humor and sympathy with which he treats his characters, not to mention the subtly- psychedelic songwriting recalling David Berman, early Smog, the original indie rock minimalist poets. On the final song, Stiltz looks back on the city that raised him, „Stockholm,“ referencing „young professionals carelessly living“ before adding „I can‘t say I‘m not jealous even though I live my life just like they do.“ There‘s an honesty in the small details revealed on „Paid Testimony“, and a defined sense of place, be it Stockholm, Sacramento or some dim barroom across from the Bank Of America. Baba doesn‘t quite fit in anywhere. This outsider quality has often been used as a marketing tool, yet here, it lends a writerly aspect to the proceedings, an unreality to the everyday.

Growing up in Minnesota, life constantly took multi-instrumentalist and producer Lutalo Jones back and forth across the Mississippi River, through the beating heart of the Twin Cities, from their home in Minneapolis to school in St Paul. In 2021 Lutalo and their partner moved east, to settle among the green peaks of Vermont, having taken ownership of an area of land with the intention of building a small community for themselves. The aim is to accomplish a long-held dream: to live life differently, to invest in and create something tangible that can be passed on to future generations. The to-and-fro of that early life has been replaced by something altogether more steady, a burning desire to not get so caught up in the intensity of the world.It's this overwhelming potency of modernity that ripples through Lutalo's musical work. Their six-song debut EP, Once Now, Then Again, bristles with tension, despite the open laidback nature of the performance. The new EP – which follows a few well-received singles in 2021 and a run of live shows alongside Adrianne Lenker – spans both of Lutalo's contrasting worlds, the songwriting beginning in the Twin Cities before being finished in the serene surroundings of Vermont, and both environments leave their mark on Lutalo's rich and absorbing sound.For now, Lutalo's world consists of new pastures and new beginnings, the search for brightness in spite of all the dark. They remain optimistic in attitude, and steadfast in their belief that change can only happen when you believe in a better future. "At the same point you also have to recognize that this is also your time to be alive," Lutalo says, "and to try to find beauty in those moments and focus on the smaller details: to watch the water trickle down the stream, to see the ice as it melts from the rooftops."

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."

Lolina’s Relaxin Records serve proper synth-pop peaches from London’s fuzzy underbelly by the mysterious Great Area, set to pique attentions of Bar Italia, Broadcast, Carla Dal Forno, Victor De Roo or Susu Laroche fans... Puckered with instantly memorable hooks and subtly shimmering with micro-dosed textures, ‘Follow Your Nature’ is one for connoisseurs of lokey pop with a contemporary but knowingly retro slant. Indicative of a wider subculture that’s back-pedalling into the present future, Great Area’s 2nd album follows introductions made on the xquisite releases label in ’21, and a song on the Left Alone label’s compilation ‘Everything Was Supposed to Be So Easy’ with their most substantial - if exactingly succinct - suite of songs for modern dreamers and pop music cherry-pickers. With no one song ever outstaying its welcome, the elegant effortlessness of ‘Follow Your Nature’ betrays a mind for fine-tuned songwriting under the hood. Classic synth-pop levels of efficiency are evident on every tune, with the cantering title song measuring distance between The Raincoats, Broadcast, and Carla Dal Forno via uncanny traces of smeared electronics, and ‘everytime’ recalling the off-the-cuff style of Relaxin Records’ label boss Alina Astrova (aka Hype Williams’ Inga Copland) as much as Bar Italia’s baroque indie pop or the new-old lustre of Victor De Roo’s Kontakt Group delicacies. One listen to the loping goth-pop jangle of ‘so very’ or the wrong-end-of-telescope grand sashay to ‘dust’ and the Eastern-facing ’shipping’ will either have you properly snagged or shrugging, there’s no mid ground.

From the academy of deep soul and no ego, Reverend Baron delivers visions of liquor store East LA, the off-the-freeway dry mirage of slow motion graffiti and lonely seagulls. A nylon stringed zen fog with themes of woozy love, layered dimensions of nostalgia and glazed neighborhood tales that roll in with a natural ease. After notching a permanent status in the skateboarding orbit as Danny Garcia, he transferred his effortless style, dedication and authenticity into music. Practicing a philosophy of demystifying the process and doing it yourself, he has become a proficient multi-instrumentalist, engineer, and producer of his own and other artist's music. All streams of curiosity converge into the river. An enigma, Reverend Baron emerges from the proverbial gray overpass with no sense of urgency. He takes a sharp gaze at his surroundings and processes them through a factory of depth and gentle swag to yield a sound that sits as easy as fallen molasses on the bodega shelf. The songs are an unassuming invitation to either walk through the doorway or lean on the wall outside, either way something beautiful and rare.

thanks: all at dauw, ​a,a,a,e,t,b,l,j and r

Yes this album is about being trans Rat Jesu - Vocals, Guitar, Produciton (All tracks) Murrumur - Vocals (Poison.jpg, Frogs) 2004 - Produciton (Manic Goth Hoe... I Wish I Was) Yung Dieu - Produciton (Manic Goth Hoe... I Wish I Was) Maknaeslayer - Produciton (Poison.jpg) Mokshadripp - Co-Produciton (Euphoria//Nothing Left To Give) Schizoscriptures - Co-Produciton (Frogs)

The bastard love child of Elvis and Lux Interior, Israeli guitarist Charlie Megira brewed a heady amalgam of ’50s trash rock, surf-y tremolo, and reverb-drenched goth during his all-too-brief 44 trips around the sun. He recorded seven albums worth of material in 15 years, primarily issued on CD-R, most of which is now unreadable or in a landfill. Armed with only an Eko guitar, a black tuxedo, and his signature wrap-around shades, Charlie Megira was a mold-breaking artist who disintegrated while we were all staring at our phones. We've chosen our 2 favorite cuts off his 2000 debut, Da Abtomatic Meisterzinger Mambo Chic. Hear as Megira channels the optimism of post-war America, narcoleptic surf, and the Twin Peaks soundtrack into a lo-fi masterpiece all his own. Sung in both Hebrew and English, Mambo Chic moves at a deliberate pace, unconcerned by the traffic of the modern world and wrapped in a blanket of Tascam 4-track hiss. On “Tomorrow’s Gone” Megira achieves the feat of being so far back in time that he’s somehow living in the future and waiting for the rest of us to arrive.

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."

Deep Magic、Corum、M. Sageなど、ドローン、ニューエイジ全盛期にサイケデリックなカセット作品の数々を残したポートランドの名レーベル〈Moon Glyph〉。昨今は、アンビエント・ジャズ系のリリースを中心にその最盛期をさらに更新している同レーベルの最新作品群を漸くストック。〈Fire Talk〉や〈Metal Postcard〉といったインディ系レーベルから作品を送り出してきたオーストラリア・パース拠点のエクスペリメンタル・ロック/ポスト・パンク・デュオ、Erasers（Rebecca Orchard & Rupert Thomas）が2022年11月に発表した最新カセット作品『Distance』。2021年半ばに数週間かけて自宅で作曲、録音されたアルバム。ハミングするシンセサイザーと重厚なオルガン・ドローン、サイケデリックなヴォーカルによる箱庭&催眠的なコスミッシェ・ドローン・ポップ作品！果てしない海岸線やなだらかな砂漠などを想起させる、広大な地形を想起させる内容となっており、ミニマルなマントラを主軸とした瞑想的な味わいの一本。これは格別です！！

“Let me fly you home. We can talk on the way”

Thorn Valley is a 20 song assemblage of various transmissions from the ever diffuse and widening DIY underground, released to mark the four year anniversary of World of Echo.

Available as a gatefold double LP pressed in an edition of 500.

Artwork by Matthew Walkerdine.

クレジット

As a grade-schooler listening to the radio in his dad’s car, Stimulator Jones thought Prince was singing “round spiritual ring” on the hook of “Raspberry Beret.” The adult Stimulator Jones, aka Sam Lunsford, now knows all the lyrics to “Raspberry Beret” – and can play the song on virtually any instrument, from bass to sitar – but when the time came to title his new album, he decided to name it after that misheard lyric. Round Spiritual Ring shows a more personal and vulnerable side than Stimulator’s debut Exotic Worlds and Masterful Treasures, with lyrics that touch on his struggles with depression and chronic pain. But Sam is an optimist at heart, and his album’s overarching message is that love and connection are the forces that will ultimately save us. Round Spiritual Ring also symbolizes the connectedness of everything, what Sam calls “repetitive forces in the world” – think DNA, the planets, or vinyl records.

Named for a familial forested retreat on Wisconsin’s Shell Lake, Scout Island is the vessel for Jungle Gym audio boss Jared Carrigan’s compact and compelling instrumental guitar vignettes. His latest, Laurentian Voyage, charts a rich trip down river through the North Woods of Minnesota and beyond, a formative landscape of his youth (recently revisited during Covidian isolation). The collection’s 19 tracks flow through twilight psych, sunset jangle, dockside devotionals, and whispering pines soft rock, a gallery of glimpses into scenes and seasons come and gone. Lean guitar figures ripple, riff, refract, and reverberate, framed by filtered drum loops, organ, synth, or bass. The mood softly sways between reverie and reflection but skews more autumnal as it unfolds, a sense of waning warmer days, a paler shade of light, campfires long since lit. Even so, the embers of memory cast their own warmth: faces, cabins, summers, music drifting out across the water. The clarity of fleeting moments, captured in snippets of strings and melody, slicing through choppy waves like the nose of a boat towards distant lightning.