MUSIC

In the late 1980's, Kramer brought Daniel Johnston into his Noise New York recording studio and produced the LP that remains - to this day - his masterpiece; "1990". Prior to these recordings (his very first in a "professional" studio), Daniel was an underground/'outsider' artist with an extraordinary catalog of cassette-only releases, a small but infinitely loyal cult following, and a fast-widening range of established artists covering his songs and proclaiming him to be the best songwriter of his generation. They were right. "1990" (originally released on Shimmy-Disc) brought his rapturous songs to new ears. In American Indie Music, there was the world before "1990", and the world after. It was a watershed moment in the musical arts. There was nothing else like it. There still isn't. Daniel's place in history will be studied for centuries to come. He had many disciples, but no peers. His songcraft stands alone in the American songbook. Following the global success of "1990", Kramer travelled to West Virginia the following year and produced "ARTISTIC VICE", a very different LP of songs featuring a full band that Daniel had been performing concerts with while living at his parent's home. The recordings were made in their garage over the course of 3 days on a barely functional 8-track tape machine. The resulting LP was the perfect follow-up to "1990", and set Daniel on a path that would bring him a major label deal with Atlantic Records, and the attention he'd always deserved both as a songwriter and as a visual artist. It wasn't long before his drawings began to appear in art galleries, and eventually his work was featured at the renowned Whitney Biennial. The rest is history. Daniel left us on September 11, 2019. We will never see the likes of him again, but we can experience his music anew with "I KILLED THE MONSTER", available now for the very first time on Vinyl following its initial 2006 CD-only release. Kramer re-Mastered all 21 songs from the original CD, and hand-picked 11 of his favorite songs for this limited-edition Vinyl LP release. The Cassette and Download versions include all 21 songs. (Note: This is the first Cassette release from Shimmy-Disc since the 1990's. We love Cassettes. TAPE, is where it all began. We are thrilled to bring this archival format back to the Shimmy-Disc catalog. Nothing sounds as good as tape, and we have spared no expense in bringing the highest quality product to the avid Cassette collector.) This "Various Artists" compilation of songs by Daniel Johnston filters the Texas genius's snow-globe sad-pop confections through the mercurial lens of indie rock and anti-folk. Daniel's painfully honest lyrics and gently ecstatic melodies easily lend themselves to the interpretations of others, whether it's the genius collaborations of Danielson & Sufjan Stevens ("Worried Shoes") or Jad Fair & Kramer ("True Love Will Find You in the End"), the honest-to-goodness real-life realities of Kimya Dawson ("Follow That Dream") or Jeffrey Lewis ("Adventures of God As a Young Boy"), or the proto-psychedelic pop of R. Stevie Moore ("Cathy Kline") and home-grown Shimmy-Disc artist Lumberob, or Kramer himself with the definitive version of the song he considers Daniel's very best, "Bloody Rainbow". Produced by Kramer in 2005/2006, the LP closes with his daughter Tess singing Daniel's seminal tearjerker, "It's Over". Recorded when she was 13 years old, it's the perfect song to bring the curtain down on this indispensable LP.

Sergeant is the avant-pop band of composing cineast Benjamin Cools and search-singing actor Ferre Marnef. For a long time they only burst out exclusively on stage, but now they have gathered their sampled selves at the abyss of pop music anyway. The songs on the record sound like a "date gone wrong" between post-punk and krautrock, but mostly like the kind of indie rock that Warp thought was cool for a very brief time in the 00s. Through the Paris of the 70s (Gainsbourg!) and the industrial Ruhr, they take you on a trip brimming with Dadaist collages and abstract punk. Their self-titled debut is released by the Ostend-based experimental music label STROOM, run by Ziggy Devriendt (aka Nosedrip). For this record, the musicians sampled themselves - Sergeant calls that method DJ Shadow in reverse. From their archive, they drew a mountain of analog loops, which they then meticulously montaged into nine poetic songs. In the tracks, 1 Fender Mustang, 1 Microkorg, 1 Rdr Rhythm DR-670 and dozens of flutes are ground through effects, processors and DIY recording techniques. For Cools and Marnef, making music is getting sound layers and textures moving. Like editing a movie, Sergeant cuts the sonic scenes into one. 
 Sergeant's home base is Brussels, the metropolis on the verge of bankruptcy, and that is audible in the density and rushy contrasts on this pop record. Cools and Marnef operate in the world of film, theater and music. Previously they have been involved with bands such as Soldier's Heart and De Nooit Moede, and in theater they share a history with Tibaldus, Desnor, Bosse Provoost, Ezra Veldhuis, Buren, ... 
 The mixing is the work of the Antwerp godchild Milan Warmoeskerken (Milan W.) who produced other people's music for the first time. With his eye for detail and balance, he created a deeper layer in Sergeant's music.

Alum of Belgium’s legendary Insane Music series and Hawai’s ’SNX’ boxset, Patrick Stas takes his Stroom bow with a posthumous archival survey of melancholic delicacies made under multiple pseudonyms. The haunting work of Patrick Stas (1995-2020) is emblematic of the early ‘80s Belgian tape scene’s creative fecundity and dare-to-differ DIY discipline. As a musician and co-founder of tape label Home Produkt, he was a key part of a home-brewed movement whose rhizomic organisation forged links between outlier artists across the region and would naturally lay the roots for independent, experimental musicks to follow. Although originally intended for release in 2018, ‘If Paul K .'s Life Was a Movie, This Would Be the Soundtrack of His Death’ sadly sees the light of day as a posthumous dedication to his personalised oeuvre as Stas passed away in late 2020, leaving these 10 songs as spellbinding testament to a creative life well lived. Pulled from exceedingly rare cassettes and unreleased demos, the cherry-picked goods spell out Stas’ web of styles spanning gloaming post-punk goth with early band General Thî et les fourmis to his wavey organ dub as Albert Et Guido and solo kinks under the Paul K alias. Each imparts a fine flavour of various aspects to Stas’ musical personalities, but linked by a puckered taste for neo-gothic lowlands vibes that resonate his peers such as Bene Gesserit, Tara Cross or Enno Velthuys and share a certain twist of foggy nostalgia for Belgian ballrooms that dials up comparison to noted mayo admirer Leyland Kirby in his Intrigue & Stuff phase, even with protoplasmic traces of new beat in its slow pacing typical of Belgian dance music.

"People who are sort of more the outcasts of society tend to tell it like it is" – Scott Seskind, 2015. Sky Girl is a mysteriously unshakeable companion, a deeply melancholic and sentimental journey through folk-pop, new wave and art music micro presses that span 1961-1991. A seemingly disparate suite of selections of forgotten fables by more or less neverknowns, Sky Girl forms a beautifully coherent and utterly sublime whole deftly compiled by French collectors DJ Sundae and Julien Dechery. From Scott Seskind's adolescent musical road movie to Karen Marks' icy Oz-wave, the charming DIY storytelling of Italian-American go-getter Joe Tossini and the ethereal slow dance themes of Parisian artists Nini Raviolette and Hugo Weris, Sky Girl resonates on a wide spectrum historically, geographically and stylistically. It unites in a singular, longing, almost intangible ambience. If the names sound wholly unfamiliar that doesn't matter, the nature of the compositions swiftly nurtures an intimacy with these lonely, poignant, openhearted wanderers. Most were available in a very limited capacity at the time of their release, some were never really released at all - Gary Davenport declined to release Sarra after he split with the girl for whom the track is named - years later a friend convinced Davenport to allow him to put 100 copies online to sell and DJ Sundae was quick enough to snare one. Beyond their scarcity, these tracks are bound together by a certain raw beauty that's achievable when music is made and no one is listening. Sky Girl comprises of fifteen officially licensed songs, a two year international scavenger hunt through long-folded home label operations, the depths of internet forums and traceless acetates. Both compilers are well trained record sleuths - DJ Sundae's labels Hollie and Idle Press have reissued Arthur Russell affiliate Nirosta Steel and DIY relic Pitch, while Julien Dechery previously compiled 'Fire Star', a retrospective on Tamil film composer Ilaiyaraaja, for Bombay Connection. Released by Noise In My Head offshoot Efficient Space, Sky Girl is enriched with artwork from Perks and Mini mutant Misha Hollenbach and appropriately elegant sleeve notes courtesy of Ivan Smagghe.

The first-ever official vinyl edition, completely remastered by Josh Bonati. The turn of the millennium ushered in an apex visionary phase for English esoteric duo Coil. Relocating from the city to the coastal quiet of Weston-super-Mare freed them to follow even more fringe obsessions, fully untethered from peer influence. During a single six-month stretch in 2000 they released the devious underworld sequel to Music To Play In The Dark, arcane drone summit Queens Of The Circulating Library, and a malevolent hour-long synthesizer exorcism prophetically titled Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. This latter work remains one of the group’s most miasmic and mind-expanding creations, on par with Time Machines – a sustained divination of shuddering, psychoactive noise, rippling with the motion sickness of an all-seeing eye. Thighpaulsandra characterizes the album as “an exercise in brutality,” born from a thorny patch of his Serge modular unit that Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson found entrancing. Processing this sliver of electronics into a ravaged labyrinth was a trial and error process, aided by Christopherson’s visual sense of sound, stretching and manipulating it for maximum spatial disorientating. Frequencies nauseously crawl across the stereo field, burrowing into the ear like a sinister brainwashing experiment. An outlier / centerpiece is the 13-minute alien tribalist sea shanty, “I Am The Green Child,” guided by John Balance’s sung-spoken free verse concerning vengeance, oblivion, and insanity, culminating in the memorable refrain, “We're swimming in a sea of occidental vomit.” But the rest of the record seethes in unhinged instrumental chaos, divided into 18 micro-movements of a composition called “Tunnel Of Goats.” Intended to scramble the functionality of a CD player’s shuffle mode, the piece throbs, thrashes, and flatlines in compressed frenzies of twisted synthesis, at the threshold of some bottomless purgatory, forbidding and unknown.

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."

sound of the drizzle hitting the skylight, summer bonfire at la caillère, chimes in le bono’s cinerary garden, pat patrol’s phone beep beep, a jogger, a tap, patrick’s bees, the oven before cooking the pizza, a regional express train, a hst, a belt sander…

Recorded in Lary 7’s legendary apartment studio Plastikville over nearly a decade, Larynx is the first full-length retrospective of the East Village icon’s hybrid music and engineering practice. The record mobilizes 7’s array of homemade instruments, which he ‘frankensteins’ together from offcast and outmoded bits of technology. An ode to the long-lost Canal Street junk shops he frequented in the 1970s and ’80s, Larynx brings together numerous thrift finds and sonic inventions used in his theatrical performances and installations. To play “le concretotron,” a board covered with twenty years worth of unspooled magnetic tape, 7 runs a tape head topographically over the flattened strips, picking up snippets of their recorded contents. The spring tree, another of his contraptions, is simply turned on and left to its own devices; feedback loops cause the amplified coils to resound in space and slowly increase in volume. The track “Mechano-Bleep” features a pattern generator constructed from a telephone sequence switch, 150 oscillators from an electric accordion, a sewing machine motor, and an early computing system called a “select-a-board.” Meanwhile, antiquated electronic instruments abound—7 employs the Ondioline, a precursor to the synthesizer; a Philicorda organ; and a homemade Trautonium, among other gadgets. Following Delia Derbyshire of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and Raymond Scott of Manhattan Research, 7 adopts a painstaking editing process that is entirely analogue. With lacquer cut directly from reel-to-reel and mastered by Paul Gold, Larynx is, in 7’s words, “the sound of the twentieth century going haywire.”

Long awaited follow up to the "True Story of Abner Jay" LP. Abner Jay was a man who had a grand sweeping vision of what folk music was. In his lifetime, his expression of what folk music could be encompassed some serious stylistic variations. Sometimes he was a one man band traveling troubadour playing an electric banjo, harmonica, & drums who tried to hoodwink audiences into believing that he was 150 years old & the standard bearer for authentic Americana. Sometimes he played in electric straight up R&B bands such as "Koko Joe & the Jobhunters". Culled from a mix of Abners' 45's & LPs spanning the period 1964 - 1973, including Abner's first LP. We hope that this release will help to further the current wave of understanding that Abner Jay is an important artist who deserves a wider audience than he ever received during his lifetime. This edition features a revised track listing for maximum pathos and depth. Licensed from Brandie Jay, Abner Jay's daughter. 160g black vinyl in heavy jacket.

Arrestingly singular and deeply moving, this 1988 album by Choctaw, Assiniboine, and Texan poet, journalist, artist, activist, and musician Roxy Gordon (First Coyote Boy) (1945–2000)—whose long out-of-print work has been acclaimed by friends such as Townes Van Zandt, Leonard Cohen, and Terry Allen—sets his cold-blooded, bone-lean reflections on the complexities and contradictions of American Indian (and American) history and identity to atmospheric, synth-damaged country-rock that skirts ambient textures and postpunk deconstructions. The gatefold package of this first-ever reissue—a decade in the making and the first in an archival series—includes new and restored artwork and a chapbook, featuring forty-eight pages of lyrics, essays, photographs, and First Coyote Boy's extraordinary drawings for each song. (The chapbook is included in the LP edition only and also available for purchase separately.)"Roxy Gordon is a brother of mine. I don’t like the word 'poet'; it is usually used too lightly. Roxy, however, is a real one. God bless him and the buffalo he rode in on." – Townes Van Zandt"His work is strong. The word goes out. Can a change come on dove’s feet?" – Leonard Cohen"Roxy Gordon is one of the great outlaw artist American misfits. He writes like an angel and sings like livin' hell. His voice is as stone, true as the history of blood and dirt." – Terry Allen"Someday maybe Steinbeck will be my favorite writer again but, right now, it's Roxy Gordon." – John Stewart

Soave Records dusts off in limited edition the psych/synth album by Doctor Steven T. Birchall recorded in 1973 in Indiana, U.S.A. with the following equipment: VCS-3 (The Putney) by EMS, Ampex MM-1000 16 trk, dbx noise reduction, SpectrasSonics Console, Studer A80 Recorder, Eventide Clockworks, Instant Phaser, Cooper Time Cube, EMT Reverb. The absolutely penetrating high tones of the opening track 'Music Of The Spheres' announce us that we are on board, passengers in the hands, or perhaps better to say in the mind, of Birchall who aims to go beyond those "normal" boundaries that we call reality. It is a new world of music that still amazes after half a century. A higher stage of truth projected into the cosmos. Cover art by Earl. E. Hokens..

In the late 1980's, Kramer brought Daniel Johnston into his Noise New York recording studio and produced the LP that remains - to this day - his masterpiece; "1990". Prior to these recordings (his very first in a "professional" studio), Daniel was an underground/'outsider' artist with an extraordinary catalog of cassette-only releases, a small but infinitely loyal cult following, and a fast-widening range of established artists covering his songs and proclaiming him to be the best songwriter of his generation. They were right. "1990" (originally released on Shimmy-Disc) brought his rapturous songs to new ears. In American Indie Music, there was the world before "1990", and the world after. It was a watershed moment in the musical arts. There was nothing else like it. There still isn't. Daniel's place in history will be studied for centuries to come. He had many disciples, but no peers. His songcraft stands alone in the American songbook. Following the global success of "1990", Kramer travelled to West Virginia the following year and produced "ARTISTIC VICE", a very different LP of songs featuring a full band that Daniel had been performing concerts with while living at his parent's home. The recordings were made in their garage over the course of 3 days on a barely functional 8-track tape machine. The resulting LP was the perfect follow-up to "1990", and set Daniel on a path that would bring him a major label deal with Atlantic Records, and the attention he'd always deserved both as a songwriter and as a visual artist. It wasn't long before his drawings began to appear in art galleries, and eventually his work was featured at the renowned Whitney Biennial. The rest is history. Daniel left us on September 11, 2019. We will never see the likes of him again, but we can experience his music anew with "I KILLED THE MONSTER", available now for the very first time on Vinyl following its initial 2006 CD-only release. Kramer re-Mastered all 21 songs from the original CD, and hand-picked 11 of his favorite songs for this limited-edition Vinyl LP release. The Cassette and Download versions include all 21 songs. (Note: This is the first Cassette release from Shimmy-Disc since the 1990's. We love Cassettes. TAPE, is where it all began. We are thrilled to bring this archival format back to the Shimmy-Disc catalog. Nothing sounds as good as tape, and we have spared no expense in bringing the highest quality product to the avid Cassette collector.) This "Various Artists" compilation of songs by Daniel Johnston filters the Texas genius's snow-globe sad-pop confections through the mercurial lens of indie rock and anti-folk. Daniel's painfully honest lyrics and gently ecstatic melodies easily lend themselves to the interpretations of others, whether it's the genius collaborations of Danielson & Sufjan Stevens ("Worried Shoes") or Jad Fair & Kramer ("True Love Will Find You in the End"), the honest-to-goodness real-life realities of Kimya Dawson ("Follow That Dream") or Jeffrey Lewis ("Adventures of God As a Young Boy"), or the proto-psychedelic pop of R. Stevie Moore ("Cathy Kline") and home-grown Shimmy-Disc artist Lumberob, or Kramer himself with the definitive version of the song he considers Daniel's very best, "Bloody Rainbow". Produced by Kramer in 2005/2006, the LP closes with his daughter Tess singing Daniel's seminal tearjerker, "It's Over". Recorded when she was 13 years old, it's the perfect song to bring the curtain down on this indispensable LP.

We have repeatedly surprised you with unusual releases that sound uncharacteristic for wellknown artists Remember Merzbow with guitars, synth (almost said synth-pop) and drum machine? Well, Muslimgauze's turn came up. Emak Bakia – long out of print masterpieces from 1994. Even in the huge Bryn Jones' discography Emak Bakia really stands out of albums from the period due its rather unique (house-music related) sound and short, by the standards of Bryn Jones, tracks. Like a crossmix between Psychic TV (circa Towards Thee Infinite Beat) and Muslimgauze's trademark percussion and eastern vibes.

• Brilliantly remastered picture LP/CD with new stunning artwork! • Unique tribal dub-trance music influenced by arabic culture with a touch of post-industrial. • Hypnotic rhythms mixed with with eastern vibes. • Muslimgauze at it's best! • Released as picture LP in gimmix cover limited to 500 copies • Also available as black vinyl and CD A1 taken from VA - 110 Below - No Sleeve Notes Required (110 Below, 1995) A2 taken from VA - Assemblage Volume Two (Extreme, 1996) A3 taken from Nonplace Urban Field – Golden Star (Incoming!, 1996) B1 taken from VA - Le Sacre Du Printemps (Gonzo Circus, 1994) B2 taken from VA - X-X Section (Extreme, 1991) B3 taken from VA - Directions 2 (Direction Music, 1989)

NTS DJ, label boss and fabled collector Howard Williams lands on DDS with an etheric communique under his Japan Blues moniker, inspired by early C.20th Min'yō folk and avant-dub, richly spirited with field recordings and ghostly ephemera. Six years since his debut Japan Blues album ‘Sells His Record Collection’, Williams is back - and it’s been worth the wait. Based around enka and minyo recordings made with London based singer Akari Mochizuki and Tsugaru shamisen master Hibiki Ichikawa at London’s Earthworks studio back in 2018, Williams adds field recordings made while traveling through Japan, inviting The Dengie Hundred to co-produce, bringing his own sound worlds into the mix. The two spent several months shuttling ideas back and forth, processing mixes and adding environmental recordings, like snatched penny whistle melodies or the familiar whirr of an extractor fan. Singer Tamami Pearl is the final piece of the puzzle, providing an almost imperceptibly breathy aura to proceedings. The obsessively researched archivist’s resolve is still very much present, but the processing style and overall sound here is more faded than the Japan Blues of yore, transmuting discernible sounds into magickal textures that boil and bubble until all that’s left is vapour. On 'Sazanka, Hokkai Bon Uta', Japanese vocals are dubbed into bare syllables, juxtaposed with flute improvisations and muddy whirrs. Eventually, the instrumental elements turn to noise, like some shortwave radio transmission slowly falling out of range. Environmental sounds become uneven, clunking percussive currents offer a sort of dream logic, morphing into faint choirs. In the final third, Williams pulls away the veil almost entirely. The album's most compelling section is the side-long 'Soran, AIzu Bandai-San, Shimabara Lullaby'. If you've heard Robert Turman's 1981 album "Flux" - a reel-to-reel recorded slo-mo kalimba and piano masterpiece - you'll have an idea of how this one rolls. Williams and The Dengie Hundred work into the source material like modelling clay, dubbing and distorting shamisen twangs and echoing vocals into half-speed, dissociated dream visions. It's not Ambient by any means, but there are undoubtedly traces of Brian Eno's earliest, most crucial experiments. It's not Folk music either, but Williams' deep obsession with Japanese traditions allows him to integrate sounds holistically, provoking a conversation rather than simply cherry picking aesthetic decorations. He works like a dedicated DJ, giving The Dengie Hundred room to tweak the spaces in-between. Together, they create an atmosphere that's fiendishly hard to put into words, and even harder to forget. If you're into tape-damaged industrial experiments (think Skaters, Spencer Clark, Aaron Dilloway et al), the surrealist global exploration of labels like Stroom, or simply after a new perspective on Japanese folkways, "Japan Blues Meets The Dengie Hundred" is unmissable.

Jim Kirchstein founded Cuca Records in 1959 to capture the undocumented musical talent of rural Wisconsin. Originally a tiny recording studio in the corner of a record store, the independent label quickly expanded in response to the success of its early releases. Despite its remote location in the hills of Wisconsin’s Driftless Area, the label’s growing popularity attracted a diverse group of artists and performers from Wisconsin, Michigan, and the Chicago area. The combination of the label’s remote location and the area’s cultural diversity created a unique catalogue that was often divergent from the current music trends. The country music that Kirchstein recorded is best described as “outsider country”—lo-fi, dreamy, and just a little too weird to make the charts. Driftless Dreamers tells the story of these artists and their takes on the term “country.” Driftless Dreamers takes its name after the Driftless Area, a geological region of the American Midwest untouched by the last continental glacial movement. The majority of the Driftless Area lies in southwest Wisconsin, but extends into the corners of Minnesota, Iowa, and Illinois. The area’s lack of glacial drift is what preserved the land’s rugged terrain of forested ridges, inhabited caves, carved river valleys, and some of North America’s last true prairies. As a preserved area, the Driftless is home to many species of rare wildlife species, unknown to the rest of the country. The area’s black, fertile earth is also very suitable for farming. In the 19th century European immigrants poured into Wisconsin and began to farm. Small agrarian communities dotted the hills of the Wisconsin Driftless. Agriculture was, and still is, the lifeblood of these communities, as is music. The mainly German and Irish immigrants established community bands to carry on the musical traditions that they carried with them from their homelands. The domination of farming as the main industry in the Driftless area encouraged these musical styles to develop into the country music that Jim Kirchstein would record in the 1960s. After a stint in the Navy, Jim Kirchstein returned home to the Driftless Area to pursue an electrical engineering degree at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Kirchstein lived on the eastern boundary of the Driftless in the sleepy town of Sauk City, close to his school in Madison. To support his new family, Kirchstein started selling records out of the basement of his brother’s hobby shop, located next to their family’s grocery store. Through his work at the record store Kirchstein soon recognized a need for a recording studio for the area’s local musicians. In 1959 Kirchstein founded the original Cuca recording studio in his basement record shop. Despite its remote location, the studio drew in a variety of artists from across the Midwest. The studio was also popular with local communities, whose mixed heritages produced a variety of folk and country genres. Jim Kirchstein intended for his recording studio to serve the local population’s need for both a creative outlet and historical documentation of their music traditions. As the label grew, Kirchstein created genre-specific sublabels, including Top Gun Country. The Driftless Dreamers series is a glimpse into this trove of recordings, focusing on the isolated interpretations of popular country music and the lonesome twang of outsiders. Driftless Dreamers in Cuca Country Volume 1 is a survey of the range of Wisconsin’s country music. This volume starts with a regional hit and ends with an echoing ballad from an untrained voice. Along the way we visit some family band bluegrass, teenage Nashville sound, rockabilly, and improvised bar tunes.

Mythology dissolves. Last vanishing points on the wide horizon. Barely visible. So where we stand now? Here or anywhere? Is it the global feeling yet, or a local one already? Are you having vivid fun when dreaming? Or all your nightmares became the lucid dreams? You do not remember? „MYTH0L0GY” - RSS B0Y 1 first solo album proper. After travelling the world for the decade with RSS B0YS , RSS B0Y 1 decided to go parallel path of the solo creations. He did not abandoned the band, actually not at all, as he is the only one surviving founder member of notorious „duo”, but B0Y 1 just needed to work in the new directions, much outside the „techno” vision-diminishing frame. Training in the new ways of making music, using brand new instruments, trying to think outside the box outside the all boxes. But probably most of all by inviting GUESTS from the various parts of the World, finally he feels enough freedom to make refreshed, next step. And mythology from the title is one of these effects coming out from the many meetings with the people - what we all have in common, who is our mutual friend, if anything, if anyone? Definitely it’s too early for the answers, but questions are told and floating in the air now already anyway. From famous Iranian „mythical” poem written years ago by Siavash Kasra’i here in recitation by Arash Bolouri (you can know him from recordings and concerts with master Sote) to points of view on a living in the present day post-pandemic Tokyo coming from emerging Japanese rapper Judicious Broski. From Polish winds and twists coming from the likes Wacław Zimpel (beside his succesfull solo career he is working closely with Shackleton and James Holden for example) or Adam Witkowski (Nagrobki!), to Malaysian traditional song performed in the highly unusual way by Marianne Mun; or the ancient Italian reminiscences flying from Damiano Notarpasquale. And even the cover-art made on the Indonesian Jawa island by talented Nawaawel - RSS B0Y 1 together with this community of guests they are producing unique amalgamate of vibrating thrills, memories and thoughts. Sometimes abrasive and glitchy, in other moments just beautiful and soothing. Maybe it all happens because sometimes it is enough just to stop for a while and do something in a different way. Looks like times are good for making things in better and deeper way. Saying more - times are demanding this. Good that RSS B0Y 1 want to join this way. Definite answers will never come. Feel absolutely free to find yours. Share them with the World.

"end of an era" was produced over a period of 23 years. It began with a few short recordings of lightly processed sine waves that came to me via Asmus Tietchens and Achim Wollscheid. The work on these resulted in a first version and release of "time is the simplest thing" (Three Poplars 2003) which I was never fully satisfied with, so I continued working on it further until a definitive version was completed in 2018. I began work on "time and again ... and again" in 2013 when experimenting with analog electronics. Again I made a first version that I was not entirely happy with and picked up again and completed it in 2022 with the help of Ronnie Oliveras who engineered parts of the remix. The titles for the pieces are related to American writer Clifford Simak whose novels and short stories have been a source of inspiration since adolescent days.

Debut album by Ani Zinc, member of the Spanish experimental duo Diseño Corbusier and co-founder of the iconic record label Auxilio de Cientos. Originally released in 1986, this record is a showcase of her radical blueprint, comprising sound collages and voice experiments, and also welcomes the use of conventional instruments such as drum machines and keyboards, resulting a richer and more diverse outcome. First time reissue of this much sought-after record on the highly collectable Spanish experimental label Auxilio de Cientos.

Back in 1980, The Pump sessions prefigured Nocturnal Emissions. The same personnel (Nigel and Daniel Ayers + Caroline K) was later credited in the first NE performance in March 1981. Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire opened a path and a kind of DIY sound collage practice became popular in the underground. More punk than punk, right? With synth, bass, guitar and vocals, The Pump could almost be mistaken for a new wave band, but it was the start of a long, prolific and eclectic journey for Nigel Ayers, sole member of Nocturnal Emissions for quite a while now. Although it is not at all obvious, by 1980 Nigel had been exposed to a few dub tricks and mainly the otherwordly spatial sounds and breaks: «In the late 70s I became aware that dub producers such as Lee Scratch Perry, Prince Far I - and sound systems - were doing something with sound that was a very new and different approach. It was in the separation of recorded sound into very spatial elements, working very sculpturally with sound. I had absorbed the space concerns of Hendrix years before I got into dub, and the spatial elements within Gong, Hawkwind, early Pink Floyd, Velvet Underground, BBC Radiophonic Workshop, etc. When we did The Pump, we lived in Brixton and spent a lot of time absorbing dub in the streets and shebeens.» Growing up in the Peak District (northern England) during the 1960s didn't put one directly in touch with black culture or music. There was one black kid at school and «to see a black person you'd have to go to Manchester or Sheffield.» And mainstream culture tends to ridicule outsider forms and expressions, so a popular idea of reggae came through in things such as the novelty single "Johnny Reggae" by The Piglets, released in 1971. By that time, Nigel was already listening to a few reggae singles his dad brought home from Sheffield, where he worked. He remembers the labels being scratched and thinking it must be because the records were so rude, meaning lyrical content. His artistic inclinations led him to spend more time at home trying out his skills with Super8 films and pasting soundtracks onto them. One of the first he remembers was a loop worked out from side B of one of those singles (the traditional instrumental Version on reggae singles). First heard about tape loops from "Dr Who" on TV, a weekly show that imprinted strange sounds and sights on kids' minds since the first episode in 1963. More experiments followed, loops and cut-ups recorded to cassette with full conscience that non-musicianly, non-conventional approaches were sanctioned by such names as Captain Beefheart and Brian Eno. Punk made it easier for everyone aspiring to make a point with music, it created a context for rawness and spontaneity. «Punk was a necessary break from virtuosity, and a good thing. I dug punk, a lot of ideas about accessibility, tackling racism, sexism and species-ism, were brought to the foreground. And it created an infrastructure for the zine culture, and cassette culture, autonomous collectives & networked DIY.» Only the way most early punk bands recreated dub and reggae didn't strike a chord with Nigel Ayers: «That's more to do with questions of my own personal taste and preference, which is by no means fixed.» Things became more serious when "Tissue Of Lies" came out in 1980 and Nocturnal Emissions steadily became hot within the so-called industrial culture (or counterculture). Although never explicitly adopting a dub format, its techniques and inspiration certainly informed many of the more rhythmic tracks NE recorded over the years. «Personally I was trying to create something that integrated my own personal experience and had a focussed ethic in content, personnel, production and distribution. Women collaborators have been vital , for example, as active creators - not as set dressing. Caroline K (for example) had technical proficiencies that aren't often expected in a male-dominated music world, she ran her own studio and later became a telecommunications engineer.» Come 2010 and the love of dub finally surfaced explicitly on a very limited "In Dub" CDR. All the space is there, some might say also the industrial weight and - dare we say it - the weight of crumbling capitalism (notoriously visible after 2008). There's a sort of robotic pace in these dry statements of political commentary, not really the same as in 80s digital dancehall or 90s digidub. It sounds like the kind of autonomous zone dreamed about since the punk and cut-up years and informed by all the accumulated background in electronic music and knowledge and respect for dub pioneers. "In Dub Volume 2" appeared in 2020, also strictly limited, framed by the early stages of the COVID experience, expanding on the same sonics, gently dragging the listener along for a thoughtful ride. The music on both volumes was recorded at leisure over a period of roughly 12 years and it hovers timelessly above. Heavily synthetic, learned and respectful music, alienated and in sync with the desire to escape (even if temporarily) to an artificial and abstract safe zone. We now present carefully selected tracks from both volumes, given a proper boost for vinyl by Douglas Wardrop (Bush Chemists, Conscious Sounds).

Kinzua debut a ritualistic, zonked outernational ambience, downbeat and cyberpunk bliss on Vladimir Ivkovic’s Offen Music - RIYL Morphosis, To Rococo Rot, CS + Kreme, Black Zone Myth Chant. Formed by Lucas Brell in Berlin and Leipzig’s Marvin Unde (Qnete), Kinzua emerge from the German club undergrowth with hypnotic slants of brownfield-pastoral electronica and meter-messing motorik pulses on their first release ‘None of the Above’. Smeared over a double LP, the hour-long album pitchbends with a properly lysergic quality as it executes its functions between the folksy crackle of ‘First Chapter’ and the grungy, viscous, post-D&B rolige of ‘Breath’. Rhythmic prompts ranging from klassic kosmiche to ‘90s UK armchair music and contemporary dembow dancehall underline Kinzua’s lines of melodic thought and dream-textured electronics in swirling permutations that feel in-the-moment but ever rolling towards an uncertain horizon. Kinzua act as spirit guides for the mind expanding new generation of trippers, with effortlessly oily grooves and keen attention to detail that suspend a sense of disbelief and mesmerise to their method. Seductive oddities such as ‘Domestic Affair’ follow to Detlef Weinrich-esque electro on ‘Elevator Moving Flor’ and ‘Heidi Peter’ echoes original Harmonia from a bleaker perspective, while supremely groggy drone in ‘Surface’ gives way to arid dancehall abstraction on ‘Sahara’, and ‘Gobi’ slopes off on a crooked outernational tip to a highlight of Laila Sakini-like scenes in ‘The Dancing Smoke’ starring vox by GiGi FM reciting from Baudelaire’s ‘Les Fleurs de Mal’.

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.

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. In 2006, Israeli garage-nik Charlie Megira took a sonic turn while partnered with Israeli multi-instrumentalist Michal Kahan. The duo wasted no time forging a new path, swapping Megira’s trademark reverb for echo, and guitar-noir for new wave. Their third album together, Charlie Megira And the Hefker Girl is an unabashed continuation of gothy ’80s archetypes employed by Joy Division, The Jesus and Mary Chain, and The Cure. With little impedance, the album fits into Megira’s ageless world of cross-pollinated genres and styles.

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."