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A revelatory discovery in the Tinariwen archives, Kel Tinariwen is an early cassette tape recorded in the early 90s that never received a wider release, and sheds new light on the band's already rich history. Not having yet developed the fuller band sound that they became internationally established with, Kel Tinariwen features their trademark hypnotic guitar lines and call-and-response vocals weaving in between raw drum machine rhythms and keyboard melodies that almost evoke an Arabic take on 80s synth-pop. There's distinct parallels with the sounds found on this tape and the work uncovered in recent years by cratedigger labels such as Awesome Tapes From Africa, Sahel Sounds and Sublime Frequencies.
In the summer of 1991, four members of Tinariwen travelled to Abidjan in Ivory Coast to record the band’s first official release, Kel Tinariwen. They were Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni, Hassan Ag Touhami aka ‘Abin Abin’, Kedou Ag Ossad and Liya Ag Ablil aka ‘Diarra’. The project was the brainchild of Keltoum Sennhauser, a painter, poet and songwriter of mixed parentage (her father was a Sonhrai, her mother a Touareg), who grew up partly in Bamako, partly in the Kidal region of north-eastern Mali, the homeland of all the members of Tinariwen. Like so many Touareg from that region, Keltoum and her family had been forced to emigrate by the droughts that tore the Touareg world apart in the mid 1970s and 1980s, as well as all the oppression and suffering that had followed independence in 1960. Keltoum became deeply involved in the Touareg struggle for freedom and self-determination and saw music in general and music of Tinariwen in particular as an essential part of that struggle.
Kel Tinariwen was never heard outside of the local community that traded cassettes back in 1992 - an activity that was important to the movement, as Keltoum explains: “I think the cassette played crucial role as a tool of communication, a tool that was very dear to us. It served to raise awareness and awaken the consciences of those who felt that everything was already lost, or that we didn’t have the wherewithal to win our struggle. It allowed the Touareg world to develop its own conscience and move forward. In our milieu, the only thing that can make us question ourselves is music. Because we listen to a lot of music, we love music, we love poetry. We don’t read. We’re not a people who read. So, the only reading we have, about ourselves and about the outside world, is music.” Thirty years later, the album is finally seeing an official release, on vinyl, CD, and cassette to pay homage to its original format.
(LP / 180g / Tip-on jacket / limited to 200 copies)
■ TRACK LIST
SIDE A (SAM GENDEL)
01 IN THE DUNES
02 REEDS
03 PENSIVE FROG
04 PIPE
05 COPYEXERCISE
SIDE B (SHIN SASAKUBO)
01 CARNET
02 OPUS
03 FONTAINEBLEAU
04 HUMAN LOOPER
05 NADJA
Ten Numero-minted, dance floor ready dive bombers from disco’s all-too-brief heyday, previously swept under rug by the whitewashed glitz and glam of the era. Chugging grooves, bubbling synths, soaring strings, and sonorous voices are guaranteed to light up your night, on living room rugs and dance floors alike.
Svitlana Nianio and Oleksandr Yurchenko are musicians with a long history in the still-mysterious
Kiev Underground. Nianio’s first group Cukor Bela Smert [Sugar, The White Death] were active
from the late 80’s through to the early 90’s, and following an intense period of touring, collaboration,
experimentation and a string of mixtapes and self-published recordings, Nianio’s first official solo
album ‘Kytytsi’ was released in 1999 by Poland’s Koka Records. Oleksandr Yurchenko, a longtime
collaborator and a pivotal figure in the Kiev music scene, was instrumental in creating the Novaya
Scena, a loose conglomerate of artists who encouraged each other to excavate both the sounds of
the West and Ukrainian tradition. ‘Znayesh Yak? Rozkazhy’ (‘Know How? Tell Me’) is the duo’s most
fully realised collaboration, an enchanting, complete world in which Yurchenko’s instrumentation
and playfulness with form frames Nianio’s otherworldly soprano, recalling Liz Fraser steeped
in contrapuntal melody and hymnal improvisation. Originally made available on a self-released
cassette in 1996 (re-issued in 2017 by Ukraine’s Delta Shock label) where the album was twinned
with ‘Lisova Kolekciya’ (re-issued on LP in 2017 by Skire) this is the debut release of ‘Znayesh Yak?
Rozkazhy’ outside of Ukraine.
Recorded in an abandoned park in Kiev during a fertile period for artists and musicians following
the collapse of the Soviet Union, ‘Znayesh Yak? Rozkazhy’ sees Nianio and Yurchenko combine Casio
keyboard, hammered dulcimer, percussion, and Nianio’s unmistakeable soprano vocalisations to create
music sympathetic to the specific locations in which they chose to record. Yurchenko’s contribution
is perhaps more present on this recording than anything else we have heard from the duo. His
percussive dulcimer playing provides the basis on which Nianio can weave delicate keyboard lines
while playfully contorting her voice, shifting from a low register reminiscent of Nico to what could
be perceived as the call of a bird or an animal in distress. Whatever the intent, the effect is haunting
and beautiful in equal measure.
There’s a prevailing earthiness on the recordings, found in the warm hiss of the lo-fi means of
recording or the grinding, unspecified sounds that occasionally accompany the melody, like drones
created on the fly by hands trying to keep warm in the ice. A prevailing mood of fragility and beauty
seeps from these melodies, delicate moments of clarity spun by the two musicians. ‘Znayesh Yak?
Rozkazhy’ is a dream spun in twilight, a crystalline, private world where the listener feels both alien
and welcome.
Chicago pastor and activist T.L. Barrett’s rare gospel soul classic Like A Ship… (Without A Sail) is finally receiving a much-needed reissue. Long revered by record collectors, this album remains one of the holy grails of gospel soul. Self-released in 1971, Like A Ship was the result of Barrett channeling his passion for music, a determination to keep children off the streets, and his charismatic preaching (which attracted the likes of Earth, Wind & Fire and Donny Hathaway to his sermons at Mount Zion Baptist Church) into the production of the album, a project bolstered by the saxophonist and arranger Gene Barge of the famed Chess Records, and backed by a cast of players that included Richard Evans, Phil Upchurch and the rapturous vocals of the Youth For Christ Choir. Like A Ship… is filled with sanctified grooves and spiritual praise delivered with a righteous, infectious chorus.
Andy Stott’s radical 2011 bonecrusher returns on its first new pressing for almost a decade, still screwing the dance and heads like nothing else with its lo-sprung suspended takes on boogie dub and claggiest rhythmic thumpers.
The sludgy, slow-motion slug of ‘Passed Me By’ marked a pivotal point when Stott swam against the grain of prevailing currents of the post-dubstep era’s turn toward garage-techno and UKF- inspired percussive house. Working loosely adjacent to a then emergent witch-house sound, Andy screwed templates associated to Salem and Holy Other into a more muscular, thrumming style
of drug chug more in key with early Actress, arriving at his own distinctive sound that sent us reeling.
Between the intoxicating, syrupy gnarrr of ‘New Ground’ with its Proustian vocal motifs, and the head-wobbling Pennine weather system compressions of its titular curtain closer, it’s a stone cold classique; eliciting heads-down, wall-banging reactions in the side-chained thrum of ‘North To South’ and a lip-biting MDMA-buzz come up with the Thriller funk of ‘Intermittent’, while sore thumb ‘Dark Details’ gives shivering flashbacks to warehouse brukouts and ‘Execution’ curbs the high with a K-holing drag.
Delivering a narcotic, keeling dose of nostalgia that slings us back to late hours in the office
and blunted afters with the goodest kru, ‘Passed Me By’ was one of those records that made us reassess pretty much everything else around at the time, practically forcing us to play other stuff on the wrong speed if we wanted to DJ with it, or more simply letting it run and and slowly shift temporal perceptions and paradigms in the process. Ye ye we’re biased and all, but it’s the fucking GOAT.
