MUSIC

John Ondolo spent his life traveling between Tanzania, where he was born, and Kenya, where he recorded a string of singles for independent labels in the late 1950s and early 60s. Unlike most guitarists from the region, Ondolo used open tuning (a favorite of American blues guitarists), creating a hypnotic drone over which he laid down endless rhythmic variations on his main themes. Inspired by the exploding pop music scene in Nairobi, the newest rock and roll imports from the US, and the Abakuria tribal music of his youth, Ondolo transposed traditional instruments and rhythms to his guitar, playing it more like a traditional harp at times, and inventing a sound totally unique in the recorded history of African guitar.  This album brings together John Ondolo’s rare early 78rpm recordings in the first-ever overview of this innovative but overlooked artist. The music traces Ondolo’s creative output, from the resonant acoustic guitar masterpiece Tumshukuru Mungu to the relentless guitar and flute (!) interplay of Kenya Style to his later electric guitar, bass, and drum recordings with the Jolly Trio, all tied together by Ondolo’s unique rhythmic sense and vocal style. The breadth and variety of Ondolo’s recordings may be a result of his sporadic recording history. Unlike more famous artists, Ondolo wasn’t sucked into the Nairobi nightlife scene of the early 60s, instead traveling from his farm in the foothills of Kilimanjaro on occasion to record. An outsider and devout Catholic whose music was sometimes at odds with the style of the times, he later left music entirely, shifting to film and driving a mobile cinema van for the Tanzanian government, introducing socialist and Pan-African films to the countryside. An accident in his mobile cinema led to the loss of his left arm, though he continued his travels. He died in 2008 in Dar Es Salaam, leaving behind two wives and 11 children.  Over a decade in the works, Hypnotic Guitar of… includes an insert with lyrics and translations, as well as notes by Tanzanian musician and historian John Kitime. Expertly restored and mastered by Michael Keiffer and pressed on 160gm black vinyl at Smashed Plastic in Chicago. Licensed from the Ondolo family in Tanzania.

The term “private” is used quite liberally in the promotion of rare groove compilations these days. The team at Tramp Records tends to be rather defensive when it comes to such terms. Although, and this should not be misunderstood as arrogance, label boss Tobias Kirmayer & his crew have been doing nothing else for 22 years, strictly speaking. Every compilation series from the Upper Bavarian label, be it the “Movements,” “Feeling Nice,” “Praise Poems,” or “Can You Feel It” series, specializes in independently produced music from the 1960s, 70s, and 80s released on small private labels. This means extremely time-consuming work to track down the musicians, write down their stories, and, last but not least, invest a high four-digit amount to release such compilation projects as deluxe (double) LPs and CDs.

The industrious creators of the label have already released seven volumes in the Peace Chant series. Parts 1 to 6 were single LPs with predominantly American tracks. Part 7 was the first to be dedicated to purely German productions. Furthermore, the decision was made to release a double LP with a gatefold cover, not least to accommodate the extremely comprehensive accompanying text and images.

The 8th edition once again focuses on German productions. It includes rare (Fences), unreleased (Music Community), but also the odd €10 record. The mere fact that a record is rare/expensive doesn't make it interesting for Tobias Kirmayer and his team. They are primarily interested in the music. And if a song convinces them, it makes it onto the shortlist. In fact, many established reissue labels too often ignore records or individual songs and don't re-release them simply because they are not sought after by collectors. Kirmayer and his fellow campaigners have made it their mission to combat this injustice. A good example of this would be Sabanone, a title by Büdi Siebert's formation with the wonderful name HerrGottSax. The original LP costs around €15.

In addition to presenting the music in combination with detailed information about the artists, the label has another concern close to its heart. For the sake of the environment (short delivery routes) and to support the domestic economy, the CDs and vinyl LPs are manufactured in Germany”. And the record was pressed on BIO🌿VINYL in the most environmentally friendly way possible. But enough talking. Have fun exploring!

Self-proclaimed as one of DINTE’s faves, the Pinoy Rock mixtape, originally broadcast on NTS, is graduated to cassette with nearly 90 minutes of haunted country blooz and folk rock from beyond the usual hotspots.

As ever, the selections enamour to a lesser-raked zone of interest bound to resonate with lovers of this sound’s roots in US prisms, and appears like a parallel to the sorts of far away but strangely familiar sounds surfacing via reissues of Leong Lau or DJ Sundae & Julien Dechery’s Sky Girl’ set.

Admittedly we, and probably many others, have no clue to vintage Filipino music, slo it’s a pleasure to allow DINTE do the heavy lifting, presenting a carousel of laid-back, hook-laden charms sung in Filipino and Tagalog and mostly erring to Western tunings, but also laced with subtle traces of their far South Eastern heritage.

Pastoral folk rock sits shoulder to shoulder with soulful ballads, purring folk shares space with more symphonic works that unusually recall Arabic classical, while psych rock power jams give way to balmy chuggers, eyes-closed lead guitar solos, and slow but hard blues rock and slide guitars, all with DINTE’s reliable seal of approval.

DINTE keep shelling Gary Sullivan’s killer picks with a survey of jiggy SE Asian hip hop to follow his ‘Bodega pop’ set of Arabic zingers: this one featuring an hour of late ‘90s, early ’00s rap and R&B from Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia, Philippines, Myanmar and Indonesia...

“"While on a work trip to Chicago in the mid-2000s, I was craving a bowl of pho. A bit of sleuthing led me to hop on the red line “L” up to Argyle Street, ground zero of Chicago’s Little Saigon. In the 1960s, Chicago restaurateur Jimmy Wong invested in property on Argyle Street with a vision to build the city’s new Chinatown, a kind of mall with pagodas, trees, and reflecting pools. In 1971, the Hip Sing Association, a labor/criminal organization, established itself in the area, and along with Wong, they bought up 80% of the buildings on a three-block stretch of the street. Wong reportedly broke both hips in an accident, leaving his dream to wither; in 1979, Charlie Soo of the Asian American Small Business Association brought it back to life.

Soo expanded the area into a vibrant mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Southeast Asian

businesses, pushing for renovations, including an Argyle station facelift and the Taste of Argyle festival. At the time I exited the station and crossed the street to get a better look at a shop with a poster for A Vertical Ray of the Sun in the window, the area was home to some 37,000 Vietnamese residents.

Opening the door, I was gobsmacked by a cavernous Southeast Asian media store, bigger than any I’d been to in Dallas, Montreal, New York, or Seattle. I spent some time at the bins, pulling out collections by some of my then-favorite singers — Giao Linh, Khánh Ly, Phương Dung — before approaching the register to ask the young woman behind the counter if the they carried any Vietnamese rap. It was a longshot, I knew, but if such a thing existed on physical media and anyone carried it, it would be this place.

‘Have you heard Vietnamese rap?’ she replied, her tone of voice and facial expression betraying a comically exaggerated level of distaste. I admitted my ignorance but assured her that I had long cultivated a high threshold for cheesy pop music of all kinds and genuinely tended to like hip hop from around the world.

She rolled her eyes and pointed to an area I had missed. I walked toward a far corner of the store and knelt over a small box on the floor sparsely populated with CDs, VCDs, and cassettes. I pulled out half a dozen Vietnamese hip hop compilations and a strange-looking CD with a cavalcade of odd typefaces in a queasy multitude of colors: THAILAND RAP HIT, it boasted, with 泰國 “燒香" 勁歌金曲 below it. The information on the back provided an address in Kuala Lumpur and the titles in Thai and English translation. The first track included three simplified Chinese characters after the English-language version of the title, “The Chinese Association”: 自己人.

WTF was going on here? Walking back to the register, I waved the CD, asking “What’s up with this one?” She gave me a look. I placed it on the counter so she could bask in the cover’s full glory. She shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s Thai rap?” She looked disappointed in me when I said I’d take it.

It turned out to be a Malaysian pressing of half-Chinese Thai hip hop artist Joey Boy’s third album, Fun Fun Fun from 1996, and it completely changed my sense what the genre could sound like. The rapper’s self-assured, effortless, silly-but-cool rapid-fire delivery weaved in and out of the most bizarre, antic beats I’d ever heard. The six Vietnamese hip hop CDs were a mixed bag, mostly “serious” sounding mimicry of US rapping over predictable production, but the highs were very high. When I got home and listened to it all, I made a point to find as much hip hop from this part of the world as I could.

The tracks collected here provide a limited but potent reflection of the two-decade ascendency

and ultimate world-takeover of hip hop, as it displaced rock and its endless variants for millions of listeners. This not a fair and balanced overview of regional production: I’ve only included tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. Nor is this a biggest or most important artists collection; instead, I’ve tried to recapture the pure visceral thrill of that first time I heard Joey Boy, choosing bangers that sound like nothing else, from nowhere else."

—Gary Sullivan”

Another cassette-only mixtape taking in Soviet punk selections, 1985 to 1992, issued in partnership with Philadelphia's World Gone Mad.

After "Bristol Pirates" in '19, it's pirate radio all over again! From "Death Is Not The End", a great place to dig up antique music from all over the world, from pre-war blues to immigrant music and South American folklore, comes a super-impressive compilation of pirate radio commercials from the heyday of London stations between 1984 and 1993. Attack! This is a collection of about 10 years of pirate radio advertisements from the station, which is well known as a regular program on NTS Radio, and includes material provided by Simon Reynolds and the Pirate Radio Archive. "I find a recording of a pirate radio DJ set somewhere and listen to it whenever there's a commercial break. Most of the time, however, the people who recorded them stopped the tapes when the ads came on. It is truly a feat of hard digging, and the fact that most of the clubs, pubs, businesses, DJs, and promoters mentioned here no longer exist is a stiff antique... It is a historical documentary of the past, far from the present, and "the nostalgia associated with them has a certain It is a historical documentary about a past far removed from the present, and "the nostalgia surrounding them has a certain socio-historical significance" (Luke Owen, Death Is Not The End). This is a very valuable film that contains 40 air check scenes.

After "Bristol Pirates" in '19, it's pirate radio all over again! From "Death Is Not The End", a great place to dig up antique music from all over the world, from pre-war blues to immigrant music and South American folklore, comes a super-impressive compilation of pirate radio commercials from the heyday of London stations between 1984 and 1993. Attack! This is a collection of about 10 years of pirate radio advertisements from the station, which is well known as a regular program on NTS Radio, and includes material provided by Simon Reynolds and the Pirate Radio Archive. "I find a recording of a pirate radio DJ set somewhere and listen to it whenever there's a commercial break. Most of the time, however, the people who recorded them stopped the tapes when the ads came on. It is truly a feat of hard digging, and the fact that most of the clubs, pubs, businesses, DJs, and promoters mentioned here no longer exist is a stiff antique... It is a historical documentary of the past, far from the present, and "the nostalgia associated with them has a certain It is a historical documentary about a past far removed from the present, and "the nostalgia surrounding them has a certain socio-historical significance" (Luke Owen, Death Is Not The End). This is a very valuable film that contains 40 air check scenes.

A special cassette-only Halloween drop in the form of part one of a two-part Japanese post-punk, goth & new wave mixtape, the first in a tranche of globally-focused mixes reissued in partnership with Philadelphia’s punk archivists World Gone Mad.

Collecting pop songs, poetry, solo folk performances and corridos, 'In Search of Revolutionary Voices' provides a cracked window into Mexican life at the turn of the century.

There's something magical about wax cylinder recordings - it almost doesn't matter what sounds are dubbed on them, the medium itself adds so much character. This anthology was inspired by a paper from musicologist Dr. Fatima Volkoviskii, who excavated the University of California, Santa Barbara's cylinder audio archive to examine the performance practices of Mexican singers. And we get a pretty wide selection of material: there are zarzuelas, Spanish musical theater excerpts with spoken dialogue and sung scenes, a little like a cross between pop, opera and folk, such as Rosete and Camcho's 'Agua, azucarillos y aguardiente'; corridos, poetic ballads that were popular during the Mexican Revolution, like J. Morales & Cortazar's foggy 'Los amores de un charro'; and weirder, more unexpected deviations.

Our favorite moments come from Rita Villa, whose harp-like recordings - 'Czardas' and 'Bagatelle' - sound like long-forgotten library cues, and Quinteto Jordá, who impresses with the noisy orchestral cut 'El Amor es la vida'. Like all good Death is Not the End anthologies, it's a history lesson.

Two tracks taken from his first and third album released early/mid 90's - both previously never released on vinyl. Space was newly mixed by Ryoji Ikeda for this EP.

Ryoji Ikeda was born in 1966 in Gifu, Japan. He lives and works in Paris, France and Kyoto, Japan. He's one of the most influential minimal electronic musicians and sound artists of our time and also works as a cutting edge visual artist

A compilation of DEEP gospel from the 1960's and 1970's. all culled from the vaults of DJ Jumbo. This is the real stuff - all guitar forward ballads that address existential issues. limited edition with silver foil covers and artwork by Lonnie Holley!

Ethnic Music Classics: 1925-48. Restocked. Outernational Records is pleased to announce the third volume of this legendary series is now available on the vinyl format. This series of archival 78 transfers was originally released in 1995 on CD only. Now for the first time on vinyl, a deluxe gatefold presentation and limited edition pressing. Reissue produced by Hisham Mayet (Sublime Frequencies) in conjunction with Yazoo Records. Compiled here are many of the greatest performances of world and ethnic music ever recorded. This volume represents a trip around the world, stopping at each port to sample one of that country's finest recordings of its indigenous music. Each of these recordings was captured at a period during the golden age of recording when traditional styles were at their peak of power and emotion. Included inside are extensive notes and beautiful period photographs that work together with the music to communicate an exciting sense of discovery. Early 20th century recordings from Poland, Spain, China, Angola, Turkey, Mongolia, Russia, the Congo, and elsewhere, compiled by archivist Pat Conte.

Ethnic Music Classics: 1925-48. This series of archival 78 transfers was originally released in 1995 on CD only. Now for the first time on vinyl, a deluxe gatefold presentation and limited edition pressing. Reissue produced by Hisham Mayet (Sublime Frequencies) in conjunction with Yazoo Records. Compiled here are many of the greatest performances of world and ethnic music ever recorded. This volume represents a trip around the world, stopping at each port to sample one of that country's finest recordings of its indigenous music. Each of these recordings was captured at a period during the golden age of recording when traditional styles were at their peak of power and emotion. Included inside are extensive notes and beautiful period photographs that work together with the music to communicate an exciting sense of discovery. Early 20th century recordings from Bulgaria, Puerto Rico, India, Mozambique, Ukraine, Trinidad, Kazakhstan, Ceylon, Tibet and elsewhere, compiled by archivist Pat Conte.

Olvido Records is proud to present African Steel, a follow-up to 2019’s African country-western compilation Bulwayo Blue Yodel. Here we have a compendium of beautiful songs highlighting the early years of the slide guitar in southern, central and eastern Africa. Featuring traditional and popular regional styles adapting the acoustic lap-steel guitar, African Steel reveals intriguing influences from southern American country and blues, Argentinian and European tango, and back to the Hawaiian origins of the instrument, long before the shimmering electric slide guitar of Docteur Nico, and the pedal steel mastery of Demola Adepoju of King Sunny Ade's African Beats. Ranging from up-tempo dance numbers, to plaintive bottleneck-blues style ballads, to a Ugandan string-band cover of a Jimmie Rodgers classic, each song presented here is a unique glimpse into the early years of the slide guitar’s incorporation into various African musical cultures. These fourteen songs have been carefully restored from rare shellac and lacquer discs to honor and celebrate a previously under-represented chapter in global music history, and includes a booklet with contextual notes and translated lyrics.

Nearly twenty-five years after disbanding, Gastr del Sol have unpacked their archive, stringing together an alternative view to their genre-melting 1993-1998 run. This assembly of previously uncollected studio recordings and beautifully captured unreleased live performances forms a spacious ode to the flux that was their métier; a further set of reinventions that continue to alter the manner in which we hear music, and literally everything else!

Eric Broucek was the ur-engineer of the most fertile era of DFA Studios, from about 2003 to 2008 (no one knows anything precisely about that time, as it’s all lost in the fog of chaos). His hand was on all of the remixes, LPs, dance 12s. He was there in that over-designed gear dungeon almost every day, recording, mixing, struggling to not roll his eyes at Tim and me. And somewhere in that fog, he quietly dropped limited runs of three 12-inch delayed reaction bombs on his own label Stickydisc Recordings—two under the name Babytalk, and one as Watussi with another DFA regular, Morgan Wiley.

Back in the day, Eric did not want his music released on DFA. He wanted to forge his own identity, which he did, sending out music that wandered from the DFA path with its uniquely wonky, upended and understated power. His music is so unlike everything else of that era, so profoundly singular, that it still sounds completely out of time.

A few years back, I started DJing the tracks again, and saw how the world was still surprised by what Eric had made, and the idea of this compilation was born.

So, in the end, Eric, we totally got to release your records anyway. We heart you, man.

-James Murphy

From the ashes of Moss Icon, Universal Order of Armageddon blasted out of Annapolis, MD in a fiery maelstrom of punishing riffs, syncopated breakbeats, and terrifying shrieks. Compiled here are the complete Gravity, Vermin Scum, and Kill Rock Stars recordings, remixed and remastered from the original session tapes, and housed in a deluxe gatefold jacket with a chunky 24-page book packed with photos, notes, and iconography from their 1993-’94 run. Armageddon IS now.

Even in this age of near-total Internet accessibility, Charlie Megira is a modern mystery. A casual search turns up little aside from a few cryptic articles. His brief career unfolded during a changing of the guard in the music industry, opening on the death of the compact disc and ending just prior to Spotify’s IPO. For an artist like Megira, living far away from a major music outpost, there was more chaos than structure for his recordings to exist and find an audience. This collection is the first attempt at putting the pieces together, compiling a life’s work of an artist whose spark almost shined unto the world.
His was a music both familiar and entirely alien at once. It touches on corners of darkness, an isolation both lonely and sweet, all wrapped in a cold glow that draws the listener into each note, each melancholy melody triggering unrecorded experiences. His various projects put out music which began as a junction point between Link Wray’s surf guitar and the theatrical psychobilly of The Cramps, took a turn towards goth-inflected post-punk, and towards the end of his career would sojourn back into his earlier musical fascination with late 1950s and early 1960s rock ‘n’ roll.

The Israeli guitarist recorded seven albums worth of material in 15 years during his all-too-brief 44 trips around the sun.Tomorrow’s Gone collects 24 of these tracks for a double album journey across his career, accompanied by a lavish booklet that documents his tragic existence. 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.

If Paradise was half as nice…by Fabio De Luca Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down. It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town. Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland. In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop. No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love. For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”. “Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

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.

International Anthem is proud to present 'Step on Step', a double LP collection of home recordings marking the de-facto eponymous debut album by enigmatic producer, arranger, and composer Charles Stepney (1931-1976). The music that makes up Step on Step was created by Stepney alone, in the basement of his home on the Southside of Chicago, sometime in the late 1960s and early 1970s, before his untimely death in 1976. A Chicago born and bred arranger, producer, multi-instrumentalist and songwriter, Stepney is known for his work with Earth, Wind & Fire, Deniece Williams, and Ramsey Lewis, and as a staff producer for Chess Records in the 1960s, where he was an essential creative force behind seminal recordings by Rotary Connection, Minnie Riperton, Marlena Shaw, Muddy Waters, Howlin Wolf, Terry Callier, The Dells, The Emotions, and many more. In the decades since his passing, the presence of his name in liner notes and on vinyl labels has become a seal of quality for record collectors, music historians, and aficionados, while his sound has been used by countless samplers in the hip-hop world including Kanye West, A Tribe Called Quest, The Fugees, MF Doom, and Madlib. But in comparison to the post-mortem renown of his sound, or the music he created and the artists he supported while he was alive, Stepney is a greatly underappreciated figure… a genius relegated to the shadows. One of the signature elements of his “baroque soul” sound is the epic, expansive, orchestral expression of his horn and string arrangements (in many cases brought to life by members of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra), as heard on Minnie Riperton’s “Les Fleurs,” or Marlena Shaw’s “California Soul,” or Terry Callier’s “What Color Is Love.” Hence making it even more special that his de-facto debut LP Step on Step, which sees its first wide release nearly five decades after his death, is a collection of stripped-down 4-track tape recordings featuring Stepney, alone, performing all instruments with minimal means. It is, as said by Chicago culture historian (and author of Step on Step liner notes) Ayana Contreras, “the uncut funk,” an unprecedented depiction of an imbued composer imagining and conceiving music (some of which would eventually become massive studio productions) in its primal state. Step on Step features 23 tracks, most of which are original compositions by Stepney that were never again recorded by him or any other artist. It also features prototypical, seedling-style demos of Stepney compositions for Earth, Wind & Fire, including “That’s The Way of The World,” “Imagination,” and “On Your Face,” as well as the original version of “Black Gold,” which would eventually be recorded by Rotary Connection (as “I Am The Black Gold of The Sun,” with lyrics by Richard Rudolph). And in addition to the wordless croons of Stepney original and early single “Daddy’s Diddies,” Stepney’s actual voice is heard on a couple occasions across the album, testing microphones and inputs on his tape machine. All of the otherwise unrecorded, previously unnamed original compositions contained on Step on Step were given their titles by Stepney’s daughters Eibur, Charlene, and Chanté Stepney, whose voices are also heard throughout the album, telling stories and sharing memories about their father. The Stepney Sisters, who produced this album over many years, have long been engaged in efforts to celebrate their father’s legacy and bring his work into brighter light. They’ve cherished the tape reels left behind by their father in the basement of their home, transferring the audio on multiple occasions, and originally compiling the recordings for an ultra-limited CD on their own DIY label (The Charles Stepney Masters) in the early 2010s. “We always talk about how we were trying to develop this and would go to different people and they would go ‘what is this raw stuff…’ It was just the first level of something that became something really great,” says Chanté. “To get this type of intimate look into an artist’s process is really unknown and unheard of… so I just really appreciate the opportunity to give this. I am very happy for my Dad that we’re able to share this with the world in this way, with this amount of respect.” This new double LP collection on International Anthem presents “a genuine, beautiful, deeply emotional and personal effort by three women to reconnect with their father and validate their own memories of his passion and brilliance,” says label co-founder Scott McNiece. And it’s a long-overdue fulfillment of Stepney’s unsatiated plan to release a solo album – which he once vowed to his daughters that he would do, and that he would name it: “Step on Step.”

Originally released in 2014, Strut re-introduces Hardcore Traxx: Dance Mania Records 1986-1997, the highly sought-after definitive retrospective of one of Chicago’s most important and innovative house music labels. Emerging as a raw alternative to the powerhouses of Trax and DJ International during the mid-‘80s, Dance Mania continued to represent street-level Chicago club music into the ‘90s, helping to pioneer the Ghetto House sound. Hardcore Traxx traces the full story of the label from its heyday. Founded in 1985 and managed by Ray Barney from Barney’s Distribution HQ on Ogden Avenue (moving later to West Roosevelt Road), Dance Mania hit the ground running with its second release in ’86, the incendiary ‘Hardcore Jazz’ EP by Duane & Co. Barney quickly became a trustworthy outlet for early house and acid productions by upcoming Chicago artists such as Lil Louis, Marshall Jefferson and Farley Keith aka Farkey “Jackmaster” Funk. The label set out its stall with a series of landmark Chicago releases including ‘7 Ways’ by Hercules, Li’l Louis’ ‘The Original Video Clash’ and international smash ‘House Nation’ by Housemaster Boyz. During the ‘80s, it cemented its reputation for uncompromising club records and DJ Tools with sounds spanning raw garage (Victor Romeo’s ‘Love Will Find A Way’), acid trax (Robert Armani) and quality house (Da Posse).
Into the ‘90s, Barney unleashed the groundbreaking ‘Hit It From The Back’ by Traxmen and Eric Martin, ushering in a primitive new sound around faster, stripped down rhythms and X-rated party-starting lyric lines. Barney remembers, “Guys used to call in and ask for music on Dance Mania – they were saying, ‘gimme some of that ghetto stuff’.’ Dance Mania producer DJ Slugo adds, “when we made Ghetto House... we made music for the b*tches. Music for the grinding sh*t and all of that.” The sound spawned a whole new
swathe of homegrown producers releasing a fast flow of no-compromise dancefloor bangers: Paul Johnson, DJ Deeon, DJ Funk, DJ Milton, Waxmaster and Slugo all became leaders of the scene. The influence of ghetto house became widespread, not least for Daft Punk, whose track ‘Teachers’ from their ‘Homework’ album in 1997 was effectively a tribute to Dance Mania. The new wave of productions also paved the way for the later Chicago juke and footwork scene Now revitalised under the leadership of Ray Barney and Parris Mitchell, Dance Mania remains a cornerstone of Chicago’s dance music culture. With Hardcore Traxx, Strut delivers the ultimate tribute to the label, featuring a meticulously curated compilation of its classics, Ghetto House anthems, and hidden gems. The release was produced in collaboration with Dance Mania and compiled by Conor Keeling (creator of the popular Daft Punk-inspired Teachers mix) with contributions from Miles Simpson of Ransom Note. The vinyl edition includes a comprehensive history of the label, artist interviews by DJ Chrissy Murderbot, and rare archival photos. 

Ten years. Ten years of listening, searching, digging, sharing. Ten years of putting out records we felt mattered—because they told a story. Of a place, a moment, an impulse. Ten years of believing that music, especially the kind that doesn’t fit into any box, deserves more than just attention: it deserves care, time, and deep listening.

Bongo Joe started in Geneva, in a shop that became a label, in a city far more complex than it first appears. Beneath its polished banking façade, Geneva is layered and unpredictable. Beneath the luxury storefronts, the UN buildings, and the watch boutiques, thrives a unique scene shaped by migration, cultural collisions, political struggle, and dissonant sound. It’s here that we learned to improvise, adapt, and stay independent.

This is where the label was born—above all, to put music back at the center, in a time when everything moves too fast, gets monetized, sliced up, and repackaged. In that landscape, we believe a label should remain a space for curation, for storytelling, for quiet resistance — a place where we suggest rather than impose.

Over the past ten years, we’ve built a singular catalogue — a mosaic of archival revivals, contemporary projects, and unexpected encounters. Three main threads have shaped it.

First, the compilation of music from the past. Not to claim it, but to keep it moving. To shed light on forgotten repertoires, marginal histories, musical legacies too rich to be overlooked. To help them exist again, with dignity, and reconnect with new listeners who might never have had access otherwise.

Second, international collaborations. From Geneva, we’ve woven bonds with artists from all over the world — groups from Istanbul, Buenos Aires, London, Baku, Bogotá, Lilongwe, Les Gonaïves, or Amsterdam. Records crafted with love and boldness, in collaboration with like-minded labels, passionate curators, and artists who share our spirit. That international dimension makes us proud — it proves that you can create, exchange, and share sound sincerely, even from a city not exactly known as a musical capital.

And then there’s our local scene. Geneva, always. Because it’s where we live, where we grew up, and where we still believe in a city with a unique voice — full of friction, contradictions, and underground energy. We’ve supported projects from experimental circuits, squats, and clubs. Through our sub-label Les Disques Magnétiques, we’ve expanded the spectrum without losing the thread: defending the margins, giving space to those who don’t fit anywhere else.

Bongo Joe is also a musician. The label takes its name from George “Bongo Joe” Coleman (1923–1999), a street percussionist from Texas who stayed true to his independence for over thirty years. Turning down the offers of formal venues, he chose instead to play in the streets — banging out rhythms on an oil drum with raw charisma. His only album, recorded in 1968 in San Antonio, remains one of our most cherished records. Reissued by our friends at Mississippi Records, it carries a DIY spirit, radical freedom, and lyrical boldness far ahead of its time — a guiding light that continues to inspire us.

Bongo Joe is also a collective story. It’s about people. A team that grew over the years: from Cyril and Vincent at the helm to a tight-knit crew — Juliette, Quentin, Margot, Laurent, Baptiste. Together, we’ve kept this strange, handmade machine running. We’ve hand-stamped sleeves, lost test pressings, pressed the wrong masters on CD, found test pressings again, chased down funding, hauled stacks of records to the post office by bike, crossed our fingers for pressings to arrive on time, cursed at customs delays, botched digital releases, and felt a thrill watching “our” bands play on the stages of major festivals and the most forward-thinking clubs. We’ve been through chaos and joy. Together, we’ve made it this far. And with nearly 150 records in the catalogue, we look back on the road travelled with a mix of pride and disbelief.

This compilation isn’t a summary. It’s not a best of. It’s a trace. A selection among many possible ones. A snapshot of what we’ve tried to do since 2015: believe in music as connection, as memory, as compass. Thank you to everyone who’s supported, followed, or inspired us. Thanks to the institutions who’ve backed us. Thanks to our longtime partners: bookers, fellow labels, record stores, publicists, distributors, printers, engravers, pressing plants, sound engineers, photographers, designers. And most of all, thank you to the artists — without whom none of this would mean anything.

Ten years is a little, and a lot. We’re not done yet.

中東地域のネットカルチャーとグローバル・ベース／クラブ・ミュージックの接点を捉え続けてきた〈HEAT CRIMES〉から、注目のコンピレーション『REEL TALK - BEST OF DOUYIN TRACKS』が登場。中国のショート動画プラットフォーム「抖音（Douyin）」上で流通したサンプリング音源やクラブトラックをキュレートし、カットアップ、スクリュー、トランス、スピードコア、トラップ、アンビエントまでを雑多に飲み込む全20曲。ネット特有の速度感と無作為さ、そして奇妙なエモーションが交錯する、デジタル以降のサウンド・アーカイブとしての一枚。カルト的人気を誇るシリーズ最新章。