MUSIC
7147 products
Released in 1972 and long out of reach, Belle Gonzalez’s only album is one of those rare records that feels like a secret passed from hand to hand. Her voice is gentle yet full of presence, carrying songs that drift between British folk and the soft sway of Brazilian rhythms. It’s music that feels both of its time and strangely timeless, the kind of record you play once and then can’t forget. After decades in obscurity, Belle finally returns, restored with care and ready to be heard the way it always should have been.
Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.
Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.
Ted Lucas’ Images of Life is a retrospective tracing the full scope of the Detroit songwriter’s work, drawing on hundreds of hours of tapes preserved by Lucas himself. Spanning early band recordings through to previously unheard later material, it captures an artist constantly reshaping his sound. Disc one, Strange Mysterious Sounds (1965–1970), documents his time with The Spike Drivers, The Misty Wizards and The Horny Toads, moving from garage rock into psychedelia. Rainy Days (1970–1974) shifts to intimate, acoustic solo recordings in the vein of his OM album. The final disc, Impossible Love (1979), presents a long-lost second album, revealing a more polished, hook-driven approach without losing his distinctive voice. A deep and revealing archive of a singular talent.
“The Ruins of Things Unfinished” is the new album by Slow Leaves, the project of Canadian singer‑songwriter Grant Davidson. Featuring contributions from respected Canadian musicians such as Kris Ulrich and Roman Clarke, the record blends warm acoustic guitar textures with Davidson’s gentle vocals and carefully layered arrangements.
Caught between the Canyon and the Caribbean, Cathy Hamer's pair of extremely private LP's got lost in the Me Decade's hippy hangover. Tracked in '79 and '80 at Roanoke, Virginia's custom bluegrass powerhouse Threshold Recordings, these 11 originals breeze through all colors—folk, country, yacht, etc—of the cosmic American rainbow. Remastered LP comes housed in a tip-on
Nick Drake’s final masterpiece, Pink Moon, released in 1972. It is an album of eternal resonance—a solitary soul’s delicate balance between a quiet prayer and a silent resignation.
Released in 1969, Five Leaves Left is Nick Drake’s debut album. Produced by Joe Boyd and recorded at Sound Techniques in London, the record features leading figures of the British folk scene, including Richard Thompson and Danny Thompson. Widely regarded as a landmark of British folk, the album showcases Drake’s delicate vocals, intricate guitar work, and beautifully arranged strings.
Jeb Loy Nichols is at it again with a brand new 7" that pairs two sides of his soulful storytelling. On the A-side, the exclusive cut “Do The Get Together” makes its debut – a slow-burning southern soul dancer that gently calls people closer, both on the dancefloor and beyond it. With warmth, patience, and a steady groove, Nichols invites connection without force, offering a quiet reminder that togetherness can still feel natural and unpretentious. Driven by Cold Diamond & Mink’s deep-pocket rhythm and understated analog textures, “Do The Get Together” unfolds with ease. The groove never rushes, allowing Jeb’s voice to guide the message with soft authority and lived-in wisdom. It’s a song that feels tailor-made for late-night spins, where movement and meaning find common ground. On the flip, “First Night Away From Home” brings listeners back to the opening chapter of Nichols’ latest album This House is Empty Without You. Warm, melodic, and intimate, the track captures that mix of vulnerability and quiet resolve that defines Jeb’s songwriting. Together, these two sides form a perfect 7" pairing, pressed for those who value soul that speaks gently but stays with you.
Winston Hightower “100 Acre Wood” [klp315/prnl65] Winnie’s world hasn’t always been easy Some say he could have been famous but there were complications. He had a brush with success but life got in the way. “Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” So it was up to Winston Hightower to grab it, hold it and make himself heard One man in love with the sound of American lofi. What is in the ashtray of Winston Hightower’s ‘Day in the Life’? 14 songs that give carefree camouflage to a wistful heart - it's radiant throughout. 33RPM
Marking 25 years since its original release, The Big Romance is reimagined by David Kitt as a version he fully owns. Originally released in 2001 on Blanco Y Negro, the album fused acoustic instrumentation with electronic and hip-hop influences, becoming a defining moment in Kitt’s early career. Unable to secure a reissue from Warner Music, who retain the original masters, Kitt returned to the material using period-appropriate tools — 90s samplers, synths and the same guitars and basses — to rebuild the record. Working again with producer Ken McHugh, he revisits the album’s core with decades of experience. This edition features all ten original tracks alongside additional material, including ‘Saturdays’. Recreated at his home studio in Ballinskelligs, the result stays close to the original while refining its sound.
For over five decades, Gary Marks, American singer, producer, pianist, and guitarist has written songs about politics, freedom and self awareness. The Gathering, his masterpiece album from 1974, was a folk and jazz mixture often compared to Tim Buckley. Lantern Heights Records has dedicated itself to putting together an album of Marks's most musically masterful, lyrically powerful works from the 1970s to the present - with international guest artists such as John Scofield and Chris McCandless. Brilliant cover work of art by Dario Campanile, internationally acclaimed Master Painter and creator of the Paramount logo.
Lucciole is Silvia Tarozzi’s luminous follow-up to the intimate reflections of Mi specchio e rifletto and the deeply rooted folk dialogues of Canti di guerra, di lavoro e d’amore with Deborah Walker. Here, Tarozzi draws together voices, memories, and musical lineages to create an album where avant-garde composition, personal narrative, and collective resonance exchange freely.
The album opens with a radiant brass ensemble—chosen for its popular, celebratory, spiritual sound—and closes with the Piccolo Coro Angelico, the children’s choir she has worked with for over fifteen years and calls “my best school of composition and a constant gym of hope.” Between these bookends, Tarozzi’s songs trace life’s transitions with a rare tenderness: childhood into adolescence, health into fragility, presence into absence.
Two central songs—her own “Lucciole” and a glowing live-in-studio cover of Milton Nascimento’s “River Phoenix”—honor a beloved friend whose life and presence evoke new horizons. “Corallo e perle,” inspired by a dream her grandfather had after her grandmother’s passing, becomes a gentle, dreamlike meditation on the persistence of love.
The strings, voices, and melodic contours that define Mi specchio e rifletto reappear here with new warmth and depth. Produced by Tarozzi in close collaboration with Marta Salogni, who engineered and mixed the album, Lucciole carries a clarity, intimacy, and sonic generosity that reflect their shared journey through the recording process.
At its heart, Lucciole is an album about small lights carried through moments of transition—an invitation to listen closely to the places where life changes, and to the people, living and remembered, who illuminate the way.
Lucciole is Silvia Tarozzi’s luminous follow-up to the intimate reflections of Mi specchio e rifletto and the deeply rooted folk dialogues of Canti di guerra, di lavoro e d’amore with Deborah Walker. Here, Tarozzi draws together voices, memories, and musical lineages to create an album where avant-garde composition, personal narrative, and collective resonance exchange freely.
The album opens with a radiant brass ensemble—chosen for its popular, celebratory, spiritual sound—and closes with the Piccolo Coro Angelico, the children’s choir she has worked with for over fifteen years and calls “my best school of composition and a constant gym of hope.” Between these bookends, Tarozzi’s songs trace life’s transitions with a rare tenderness: childhood into adolescence, health into fragility, presence into absence.
Two central songs—her own “Lucciole” and a glowing live-in-studio cover of Milton Nascimento’s “River Phoenix”—honor a beloved friend whose life and presence evoke new horizons. “Corallo e perle,” inspired by a dream her grandfather had after her grandmother’s passing, becomes a gentle, dreamlike meditation on the persistence of love.
The strings, voices, and melodic contours that define Mi specchio e rifletto reappear here with new warmth and depth. Produced by Tarozzi in close collaboration with Marta Salogni, who engineered and mixed the album, Lucciole carries a clarity, intimacy, and sonic generosity that reflect their shared journey through the recording process.
At its heart, Lucciole is an album about small lights carried through moments of transition—an invitation to listen closely to the places where life changes, and to the people, living and remembered, who illuminate the way.
This album was compiled from original sources that have been lovingly restored and mastered. It represents a mere fraction of Connie's recorded repertoire.
