MUSIC

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.

Like in the days of Steely Dan, Harry Nilsson or Prince releasing a classic album every year (or less), ten years ago Mac DeMarco released the mini-LP Another One only about a year after the meteorically successful album Salad Days. An eight track release that expands the arsenal of Mac’s already impressive catalog, Another One was conceived and recorded entirely by Mac at his house in Far Rockaway, Queens, and displays the maturity of Mac’s progression as a songwriter: a little bit more refined, a little bit more sophisticated than his previous albums, but nonetheless chock-full of the guts and soul of any classic Mac release. The overall feeling of the mini-LP is lost love, or perhaps love never found, a topic that the world never tires of, and one that Mac can move through without it being a dour and somber experience. The record leaves you with the same satisfaction as an old Bogart movie: he’s still the hero, but he doesn’t quite get the girl. Great singer/songwriters don’t need to reinvent themselves; they just need to keep going and let the songs out in the world, and with that, Mac DeMarco gave us Another One. This limited edition 10 year anniversary pressing collects both Another One and newly remastered Another One Demos on 2 LPs housed in a gatefold jacket and pressed on clear and blue Far Rockaway vinyl. Includes a 12 page booklet with new liners written by Mac, and previously unpublished photos from the era by Laura-Lynn Petrick.

Mac DeMarco’s debut full length, 2, released in 2012, cleaned up the songwriter’s warped take on soft rock and brought it to a broader audience. Given DeMarco’s affinity for keeping things lo-fi — 2 was the first time he’d bothered to record demos — it’s revealing to hear these songs in their most embryonic form. The performances here are a little looser and the sound a little hazier than on the actual LP, lending an atmosphere of dreamy vulnerability, especially to ballads like “Annie” and the Lennon-esque “Sherrill.”

맑은 소리의 모음집입니다. 이번 앨범은 소리가 많이 작습니다. 볼륨을 키워서 들어주세요-! 감사합니다. This album is very quiet. Please turn up the volume-! Thank you.

Mac DeMarco’s debut full length, 2, released in 2012, cleaned up the songwriter’s warped take on soft rock and brought it to a broader audience. Given DeMarco’s affinity for keeping things lo-fi — 2 was the first time he’d bothered to record demos — it’s revealing to hear these songs in their most embryonic form. The performances here are a little looser and the sound a little hazier than on the actual LP, lending an atmosphere of dreamy vulnerability, especially to ballads like “Annie” and the Lennon-esque “Sherrill.”

"Moondog's jovial H'art Songs was the first release not to incorporate his name in the title, but the record that forever proved his genius. A rare vocal album recorded by Moondog when he was in his sixties, these ten art songs blur the boundaries between classical and pop music. Moondog called this series of art songs 'H'art songs' -- Hardin's art songs. The musical content is on a higher level than most popular music, but has an appeal to a wide range of tastes, from the pop to the classical listener. This collection of piano pop songs written and recorded in 1977 made Moondogs' stunningly eclectic discography even more chaotic musically, it also featured some of his most mesmerizing wordplay. Telling tales that can be interpreted as metaphors for how to live -- sometimes political, sometimes autobiographical, sometimes nature loving - they are always intriguingly poetic, and helped push this album to the very top of all Moondog's releases."

JACKSON C. FRANK is the highly regarded debut and the only official album he ever released, produced by friend and fellow musician PAUL SIMON in England and released on Columbia Records in 1965. Jackson has been called the most famous folk singer of 1960s that no one has ever heard of and his influence was felt more in England, where his album was a hit, rather than in the U.S., where his record was a commercial failure at the time of its release. His most famous song “Blues Run The Game” has been covered by scores of musicians including Simon and Garfunkel, Counting Crows, Colin Meloy, Bert Jansch, Laura Marling, and Robin Pecknold, while Nick Drake also recorded it privately.

Wyoming-born troubadour Jeb Loy Nichols returns to Timmion Records with This House is Empty Without You, a timeless collection of soul-rooted songs that radiate warmth, wisdom, and quiet intensity. Backed once again by Timmion’s house band Cold Diamond and Mink, Jeb delivers a full-length that sits comfortably among the label’s finest – steeped in southern soul traditions, but carried by his unmistakable voice and lyrical touch. From the gently loping opener “First Night Away from Home” to the closer “Time On My Hands,” the album unfolds like a good summer book, best enjoyed with a warm breeze on your face. Nichols has a way of making things sound effortless – like he’s singing just for you, from the porch or the back room – but listen closely and you’ll find songwriting full of depth, subtly arranged with organ swells, snapping drums, and deep-pocket grooves. Alongside the breezy mid-tempo romantics of “Here With You,” other standout moments include the rootsy southern shuffle of “Good Morning Monday,” the heart-tugging “Coming Home Love,” and “Step In,” a mellow groove about rediscovery and reunion. As always, Cold Diamond and Mink provide the perfect analog foundation – all soul and no filler. Together with Nichols – and Emilia Sisco, whose gospel-drenched background harmonies grace several tracks – they’ve crafted a record that draws from classic influences but sounds unmistakably personal and present. A masterclass in understated soul, This House is Empty Without You proves that Jeb Loy Nichols isn’t just still here – he’s still growing, glowing, and finding new ways to tell the truth.

He is also well known for his sampling of Sekito Shigeo's ‘The Word II’ and collaborations with Haruomi Hosono. Originally from British Columbia, Canada, Mac DeMarco is now a Los Angeles-based musician, and this cassette is a demo version of his mini-album A One, which was released a year after his highly successful 2014 album Salad Days. The eight-track psychedelic/mellow jungle-pop masterpiece shows his maturity as a songwriter, as he was 25 years old at the time!

A milestone masterpiece in the history of indie-pop, recommended for a wide range of music lovers! Famous for sampling on Sekito Shigeo's ‘The Word II’ and collaborating with Haruomi Hosono, the demo material from Mac DeMarco's debut album 2, released in 2012, is now available on cassette. A masterpiece that brought the songwriter's distorted approach and preoccupation with soft rock to a wider audience.

Insignificance consists of rock plus multiple musical allusions, layers of discreet noises, great playing from all the players and, to top it off, funny pop tunes laced with lyrical arsenic. As the moving finger of O'Rourke points (and clicks...just kidding! Insignificance is an all-analog affair), moments will come and go -- to remind you of other moments. Moments will arrive that have no precedent. And different, conflicting emotions will flash within you. He'll have total control of you, the helpless listener.

Bill Fay's 1970 debut album ‘Bill Fay’ exists within the folk-rock and baroque pop traditions, yet casts a distinctly different shadow. Backed by Mike Gibbs' arrangements featuring rich strings and brass, it occasionally evokes the opulent orchestral pop of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and beyond. Yet beneath that splendor lies a poetic sensibility that contemplates societal unease and the transience of human existence, creating a constant tension between light and shadow. Though it received little commercial attention at the time, revisiting it reveals a sound that resonates with Nick Drake and the Scudder Scene, yet possesses a darker, more solitary quality. This is an album woven in the sunless corners of its era, where Bill Fay's quiet prayers and shadows intertwine.

“My favorite singer in the place was Karen Dalton. She had a voice like Billie Holiday’s and played the guitar like Jimmy Reed.” – Bob Dylan Karen Dalton's 1969 Capitol debut is finally back in print! Light in the Attic is thrilled to present a brand new edition of this heart-wrenching & bluesy introduction to the intoxicating world of Dalton and her deep well of musical secrets. World-weary and filled with the blues, Dalton’s unsurpassed interpretive depth and emotional range were like no other. Recorded for Capitol in 1969, It’s So Hard To Tell Who's Going To Love You The Best spans generations of classic American songwriting–covering classics by Lead Belly, Fred Neil, and Tim Hardin. While no longer with us in the physical, Karen’s growing musical presence is stronger than ever and worthy of re-examination by both the converted and the uninitiated alike. This new re-release serves as the definitive, all-analog version of Dalton’s stunning debut, featuring remastered audio from the original Capitol masters, the original 1969 artwork in an expanded gatefold jacket, unseen photos by album photographer Joel Brodsky, and an essay interviewing Karen’s friends and music collaborators, from album producer and bassist Harvey Brooks to musician Peter Stampfel of the Holy Modal Rounders.

“Produced in 1970 by the legendary Joe Boyd, Just Another Diamond Day has long been considered a holy grail for Brit-folk record collectors, with original copies of the album fetching over $1,000 at auction. It shouldn't take many listens to realize why it's so highly regarded; Just Another Diamond Day is, in its own humble way, nearly a thing of perfection.” PITCHFORK 9.0

Vashti Bunyan’s legendary debut album from 1970 finally gets a UK vinyl repressing. Produced by Joe Boyd for Witchseason Productions and originally released on Philips in 1970, the album features contributions from Fairport Convention’s Simon Nicol and Dave Swarbrick and The Incredible String Band’s Robin Williamson. The songs mostly concern the events that took place when Vashti and her lover travelled to the Hebrides in a horse and cart to join up with Donovan’s artistic community but by the tiime they got there that community had all left. This story has been brilliantly told in Kieran Evans’ rarely seen 2008 film Vashti Bunyan: From Here To Before.

A tortured songwriter and struggling addict who jolted the tired Chicago DIY scene with his own brand of primal despair, Trey Gruber and his band Parent were on track to join the ranks of Twin Peaks, Mild High Club, and Whitney. His death in 2017 at the age of 26 brought it all to a halt. In his final years Trey wrote and recorded hundreds of previously unheard demos, dandelions in the cracked concrete of 21st century disconnect, an alphabet’s worth of which have been compiled by his family and friends for his only album: Herculean House Of Cards.

"Kurayami" the newest single from Mei Semones features some of the mathiest riffs and one of the most bombastic musical climaxes of her career thus far. An exhilarating track to cap off a star-making year for Mei.Mei on the new songs:"Kurayami" means "darkness" in Japanese, and this song is about growing up in Michigan and reminiscing on what it was like hanging out with my friends. Being a kid was really fun and I was happy, but I remember there was a point where we started to lose our innocence and I think this song is about that feeling. It's one of the more technically difficult songs I've written, and it took some practice to get to the point where I could sing and play it at the same time. There's lots of fun tempo changes, odd meters, wide interval arpeggios, and fast licks, and I think the band arrangement is really creative too.Get used to it: "Get used to it" is about the beauty in solitude and being alone, how to move on from something that was important in your life but still leave space for it, and my love for the guitar and music. It's the second song I wrote on my nylon string, and the changes and melody are somewhat inspired by Thelonious Monk. The instrumentation is more minimal than our other songs -- just me (guitar & vox), upright bass, and drums. We were going for a live jazz trio sound, so there's not really any layers or anything. It's just a straightforward recording of the 3 of us playing the tune, and I think that was the best way to capture the feeling behind the song.

Over the course of his career, Sufjan Stevens has blurred distinctions between the major and the minor, between the details that color our existence and the big events that frame our lives. He has turned historical footnotes of States into kaleidoscopic pop, and rendered the immeasurable grief of loss with intimacy and grace.His new album Javelin — Sufjan's first solo album of songs since 2020's The Ascension and his first in full solo singer-songwriter mode since 2015's Carrie & Lowell — bridges all these approaches. Sufjan uses the quietness of a solitary confession to ask universal questions in songs we can share communally. Accompanying the CD and LP formats of the album is a 48-page book of art and essays. With a series of meticulous collages, cut-up catalog fantasies, puff-paint word clouds, and iterative color fields, Sufjan builds order from seeming chaos and vice versa. And toward the middle of it all are 10 short essays by Sufjan, another window into the process that informed Javelin.

Los Angeles–based artist Sam Wilkes is known for his genre-defying solo work and collaborations in the experimental and jazz community. His debut release for Psychic Hotline, “I Know I’m Not Wrong” b/w “Learning to Fly,” is part of the label’s ongoing Singles Series. Stepping away from his bass guitar, Wilkes explores new territory on a borrowed Fender Stratocaster, lent to him by longtime friend Brian Robert Jones (Paramore, Vampire Weekend). On the very night he brought the guitar home, Wilkes recorded a live, loop-based version of Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly” in a single take, later layering in bass and background vocals. A process more about exploring an instrument than making a record. A few weeks later on his last night with the Strat, Wilkes recorded what would become the A-Side: his reimagining of Fleetwood Mac’s “I Know I’m Not Wrong.” “I just wanted to document what was happening without any other intention. Half of my time on bass is spent trying to make it sound not like a bass, so actually getting to play a different instrument felt incredibly liberating,” says Wilkes. Both arrangements are intuitive and spontaneous. Captured without pretense, the result is a pair of understated songs, perfect for a summer drive.

With pop music’s volume knob adjusted for deflation in the early '70s, softness begat smoothness. Crewmen arrived from the worlds of jazz, folk, rock, and soul, all peddling a product that was sincere, leisurely, and lofty. A sound that was buoyant, crisp, defined. Sometimes classified as West Coast—and, later, Yacht Rock—the compass points of our Private Yacht expedition are the blue-eyed harmonies of Hall and Oates, the cocaine-dusted Fender Rhodes of Michael McDonald, and the combover strums of James Taylor. Here, at the glassy apex of rock’s softer side, 20 strong swimmers are gathered together. An album for both relaxation and reflection, where listeners can enjoy the present, a cool breeze, and a taste of the good life. As if fired from a cannon, the cacophony of ’60s rock left a ringing in some ears. Burned out or bummed out, fatigue had set in. Free Love had come at a price. Many young couples had become young families, with their bandleaders-turned-breadwinners gracious they’d purchased a station wagon rather than the customary van. As rock began to mellow and folk began to solidify, “Our House” became a work of nonfiction—with a mortgage. Some escaped the vortex of the collective cul-de-sac and lived to headbang another day, while others followed their collective hairlines, receding into the margins of the counterculture. Stretching an extension chord to the bonfire had always posed an obstacle for lackadaisical strummers. Likewise, plugging in poolside proved a new hazard. Others found it less of a bother to get an acoustic guitar in and out of rehab than an amplifier. Everywhere the wind blew, James Taylor and Carly Simon were soft rock’s power couple, with a combined catalog mellow enough to enjoy after the kids had been put to bed. This is not to say soft rock was a sacrifice. Rather, it reflected the refined tastes of the boomers: better wages, better dwellings, better drugs. Greater musicianship led to improved songwriting, chord voicing, and a deeper respect for harmony. Sometimes classified as West Coast—and, later, Yacht Rock—the architects of this sound were not exclusively Californians or mariners. These were stylistic tides felt in North Dakota and Colorado, along the Outer Banks and the Land of 10,000 Lakes. Softer fare could occasionally serve as a salve for city life, a coping mechanism for strong swimmers still treading the nations’ metropolises. With pop music’s volume knob adjusted for deflation, softness begat smoothness. Songs conceived on the Gibson Dreadnought were embellished with Fender Rhodes, hand percussion, and chimes. Crewmen arrived from the worlds of jazz, folk, rock, and soul, all peddling a product that was sincere, leisurely, and lofty. A sound that was buoyant, crisp, defined. Numerous artists were able to coexist along this narrow stylistic isthmus. There was Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young—and, eventually, Scaggs, Rundgren, Hall & Oates. All the while, James Taylor was still plucking away with a beautiful head of hair, no end in sight to where a capo could take him. The hands that hoisted the sail over the ’70s went down with the ship in the early ’80s. Feeding tributaries of Caucasian reggae, Salsalito, and Marina Rock, some ponds were drained while others stagnated, and others still overflowed. With the pop charts littered with shiny keyboards, sherbet guitars, and gated reverb, our celebrated strain of rock became a casualty of the gluttonous hair decade. Marriages capsized. Staring out from either coast, a thin membrane is almost visible, one that separates the calmness of the sky from the stillness of the sea. Likewise, it’s hard to distinguish the event horizon where acoustic forces swirled around thoughtful rock, creating the estuary subgenre to which this compilation is devoted. There, at the glassy apex of rock’s softer side, away from all of the commotion, exists a place for both relaxation and reflection, where listeners can enjoy the present, a cool breeze—a taste of the good life.

'Sweet England' along with its sister album 'False True Lovers', was recorded in the spring of 1958 when I was twenty-two years old. I had been living for the previous two years in London with Alan Lomax, the American folklorist, working for him as editorial assistant on his book The Folk Songs of North America and on his field recordings from America, Great Britain, Italy and Spain. The tracks that make up these two albums were recorded by Peter Kennedy and Alan in two days at Peter's home 'studio' in Belsize Park. English traditional music, at its best, expresses and provides everything in song that I need and feel, both musically and emotionally. Sweet England represents the first shaky steps of a journey that I have been on all my life, and that, happily, I still am." (shirley collins)

Often regarded as Japan’s first female singer-songwriter, Sachiko Kanenobu created an enduring legacy with Misora, a timeless classic of intricate finger-picking, gently soaring melodies, and rustic Laurel Canyon vibes. Originally released in 1972 on URC (Underground Record Club), one of Japan’s first independent record labels, the Haruomi Hosono-produced album remains one of the most beloved works to come out of Japan’s folk and rock scenes centered around Tokyo and Kansai areas in the early 1970s. Born and raised in Osaka in a large, music-loving family, Kanenobu picked up the guitar as a teen just as the “college folk” boom swept through university campuses in the Kansai area in the mid-60s. The Pete Seeger and American folk-leaning scene didn’t appeal much to her, however, and instead gravitated towards the British sounds of Donovan and Pentangle, teaching herself guitar techniques by listening to their music. Kanenobu made her songwriting and recording debut as part of Himitsu Kessha Marumaru Kyodan, whose sole single was released on URC in 1969. After years of being pushed aside by the label in favor of newer male artists who were more “folky” in a traditional sense, it was her friendship with the groundbreaking band and labelmate Happy End that ultimately helped her secure the opportunity to record a solo album. With Hosono on board as producer, Kanenobu spent seven days recording the songs that would become Misora, with most songs recorded in a single take. By the time Misora released in September 1972, Kanenobu was gone. She had left for America, eager to start a new life with Paul Williams, a music writer who had founded Crawdaddy Magazine in 1966. Without the artist to promote it, “_Misora_ was asleep for a long time,” she said. Meanwhile Kanenobu settled near Sonoma in Northern California, retiring from music and concentrating on raising her two children. It wasn’t until Philip K. Dick, the famed writer and family friend, heard Misora and encouraged her to get back into music, that Kanenobu felt the urge to pick up the guitar again. Soon new songs started flowing, and Dick helped finance a single for Kanenobu in 1981. He was committed to producing a full length when he died unexpectedly in 1982. While she enjoyed success (especially in Germany) with her hard-hitting group Culture Shock in the 1980s, and continued to release albums in American and in Japan in the 1990s, it’s Misora that keeps coming back to her. Every few years a new generation of fans discover the album. Devendra Banhart, Jim O’Rourke, Steve Gunn, and many others continue to tout its greatness. Kanenobu played a series of sold-out homecoming shows in Japan in 2018, playing Misora in its entirety. Surviving members of Happy End came out to support, some even playing in her backing band. Audience members included old and young, some young enough to be her grandchildren. “I love it,” she said. “They love Misora, they’ve heard it so many times. And here it rose from death…because for them, they can’t believe it—she’s still alive!”

Bill Fay has always sung about attempting to understand the most universal questions: those of nature, spirituality, humanity. His songs are “calming hymns for another chaotic time”, he says. His influence can be traced through many artist’s work, and so it only seemed right to celebrate this with a collection of newer voices interpreting his timeless tracks. Originally released in 2010 by David Tibet (Current 93), Still Some Light was released as a double CD, made up of 70’s album demos (Disc One) and 2009 home recordings (Disc Two). This year, for the first time, this collection of recordings will be pressed to vinyl and released digitally, presented alongside contemporary reimaginings of the tracks by Kevin Morby, Steve Gunn, Julia Jacklin and Mary Lattimore. Bill Fay’s words and melodies remain unaffected by the passing of time and changing trends; and here alongside the original recordings, these reinvented versions still calmly guide us through another moment of chaos.

For all the attention that was paid to her 2012 break-through Tramp, Sharon Van Etten is an artist with a hunger to turn another corner and to delve deeper, writing from a place of honesty and vulnerability to create a bond with the listener that few contemporary musicians can match. Compelled by a restless spirit, Van Etten is continuously challenging herself. Now, the result is Are We There, a self-produced album of exceptional intimacy, sublime generosity, and immense breadth.Most musicians are quite happy to leave the production end of things to someone else. It’s enough to live your music without taking on the role of producer as well. Yet Van Etten knew it was time to make a record entirely on her terms. The saying goes “fortune favors the bold” and yet this boldness had to be tempered. For this, Van Etten found a kindred spirit in veteran music producer Stewart Lerman. Originally working together on Boardwalk Empire, they gently moved into new roles, rallying around the idea of making a record together in Lerman’s studio in New Jersey. Lerman’s studio expertise gave Van Etten the freedom to make Are We There the way she imagined. Van Etten also enlisted the individual talents of her band, consisting of Heather Woods Broderick, Doug Keith and Zeke Hutchins, and brought in friends Dave Hartley and Adam Granduciel from The War on Drugs, Jonathan Meiberg (Shearwater), Jana Hunter (Lower Dens), Peter Broderick, Mackenzie Scott (Torres), Stuart Bogie, Jacob C. Morris and Mickey Freeze. It is clear from the opening chords in the first song, Afraid of Nothing, that we are witnessing a new awareness, a sign of Van Etten in full stride, writing, producing and performing from a place that seems almost mythical, were it not so touchable and real. Always direct, and never shying away even from the most personally painful narratives, Van Ettten’s songwriting continues to evolve. Many of the songs deal with seemingly impossible decisions, anticipation, and then resolution. She sings of the nature of desire, memory, of being lost, emptiness, of promises and loyalty, fear and change, of healing and the true self, violence and sanctuary, waiting, of silence. The artist who speaks in such a voice is urging us to do something, to take hold and to go deeper. Living in this way, the questions of life remain alive, as close and steady as breathing. Many of the ballads of old are as dark as pitch, and people for whom the issues of life and death were as vivid as flame wrote them. You could turn off the electricity, remove all the instruments and Sharon’s voice and words would remain. They connect her to the mystic stratum which flows just beneath the everyday, which is rarely acknowledged as the forces of distraction sweep our attention away.