MUSIC

Cut in three days in 1975, Doug Firebaugh’s Performance One captures a young songwriter alone in a Roanoke, Virginia motel room, chasing Nashville dreams through cosmic Americana haze. Self‑written and performed, with only a single pedal steel guest, it first appeared on a small grey‑market label. This Numero Group 50th‑anniversary remaster preserves its faded, wandering beauty.

Sooj — a collaborative project between members of Duster and Dirty Art Club. Picking up where their 2024 two-sider Anhedonia II b/w Ecstasy Cowgirl left off, Crusher sees Duster’s slowcore drift dissolve into Dirty Art Club’s sample-heavy, collage-minded production. The result is neither band, nor side project, but something more elusive — a third space built from tape hiss, chopped memory, and late-night signal bleed. Across its runtime, the album avoids the gravitational pull of nostalgia. Instead, it hovers in a liminal present — part collaboration, part escape route.

A band that played so loud their entire fan base went deaf and never spoke of them again. Formed in 1993 in the go-nowhere exurb of San Jose, California, Super Static Fever played only a handful of gigs in their brief two year existence, punishing spectators with a tinnitus-inducing wah-wah wall of Marshall-stacked distortion. Their sound was a mix of Melvins-esque sludge, Swervedriver’s melodic crunch, and latter-day Black Flag’s penchant for volume, as heard from the stock stereo of a hot-boxed 1985 Ford Econoline. Unfinished tapes from two ear-bleeding sessions are all that survived the ensuing 25 years since their indifferent break-up, mixed by the exacting Steve Albini as the band’s one condition for reissue. The package reeks of the ’90s computer-crippled D.I.Y. aesthetic, with VHS blur and opaque white screened on chipboard. A record that just barely does, and probably should not, exist.

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

Operating in a basement studio at the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, pipeline man Howard Neal and his appropriately named Shoestring label was Alton, Illinois' answer to a question no one asked. Pressed in minuscule numbers and barely outside the 62002 zip code, the singles by The James Family, Jimmie Green, Pete & Cheez, and Carletta Sue are prime examples of cosmic midwestern disco in search of a break. This heavy weight 10-song LP is housed in a tip-on sleeve, and includes an essay and imagery that complete the picture of this pure expression of small-town soul.

Gorgeous and hypnotic Tanzanian dance music from the legendary Kiko Kids Jazz, a group that formed in the 1950s and produced a unique sound that stood out among the explosion of Tanzanian guitar bands in the run-up to the country's independence. Kiko Kids Jazz is the first LP album from Mississippi. With the endorsement of bandleader Salim Zahoro (1936-2021), who completed the collaboration shortly before his death at the age of 85, this is the first LP release of one of the most locally loved and innovative bands of the time. Remastered from the original tapes and pressings. The album explodes with funky, pastoral guitar music grooves inspired by the exciting music scene of acoustic and electric dance bands in Dar es Salaam and Nairobi, as well as the poetic strains of Taarab and Arabic music. A full-size color insert (8 pages) is included. Officially licensed by Mzuri Records.

Electric guitarist and composer David Torn announces "now i imagine a place not the same," an expansive new double LP out May 29 via Kou Records. Produced by Randall Dunn (Sunn O))), Thurston Moore), the album revisits the raw electricity of Torn’s early processing language while carrying it forward with the perspective of decades of exploration. Visceral yet weightless, it deepens his long-standing dialogue between alternate tunings, looping systems, and touch-sensitive electronics. Melody, noise, and atmosphere move through one another in a continuously shifting field of tone. A pioneering figure in electric guitar processing, Torn has exerted a quiet but far-reaching influence on both film scoring and contemporary electro-acoustic music. In addition to his own scores, he has made formative creative contributions to works by Carter Burwell, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Cliff Martinez, Howard Shore, and Mark Isham. Across these collaborations, his guitar language helped shape a cinematic vocabulary that feels atmospheric, psychological, and texturally alive. Beyond film, Torn’s presence spans an unusually broad range of artists, including David Bowie, Madonna, John Legend, Tori Amos, k.d. lang, Don Cherry, Bill Bruford, Tony Levin, and David Sylvian. His recordings for ECM Records further defined an immersive, spatial approach to processed guitar that continues to resonate across generations. Tracked in close collaboration with Dunn, the sessions privilege immediacy and physical presence. Each piece unfolds as composition-minded improvisation, with Torn treating everything within reach as musical material: strings, pickups, amplifiers, external electronics, voice, resonant surfaces, and the surrounding space itself. As Torn writes: “My approach to these peri-composerly improvisations was pretty basic: everything in my view, grasp, and reach became an instrument for tone and feeling. Strings, pickups, electronics, the amplifiers, even a stone or two — anything could enter the music. Sometimes a sound would appear suddenly; sometimes an accident or interruption would open the door. The important thing was trusting that shape and feeling would emerge, and following it until the music revealed itself whole.” Rather than composing toward fixed outcomes, Torn allows form to emerge through feedback and repetition, absorbing intended and unintended sounds into a living structure. Foundational tools from his formative processing years — alternate tunings, looping logic, tube saturation — return not as nostalgia but as active materials. Intimate yet expansive, "now i imagine a place not the same" captures an artist fully inhabiting his singular language: melodic, exploratory, and grounded in touch and electricity. It is not a retrospective glance backward, but a declaration in the present tense. The physical edition of the record is accompanied by a series of original paintings by legendary fantasy artist Arik Roper, whose work appears across the front cover, gatefold interior, and a commissioned portrait of Torn. The record also includes a concrete poem written by Stephen O’Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate, Burning Witch) in honor of Torn, alongside liner notes by Randall Dunn reflecting on the sessions that shaped the recording.

Reverend Baron’s singular troubadour soul may best understand the capacity music has to span the distance between points on a map and pages in a calendar. Daniel, the acoustic instrumental follow-up to 2022’s Karma Chief label debut, From Anywhere…, expands the world beyond LA’s concrete canyons and overpasses to the bustling, churning sea of life that is Mexico City, to the sparse, rolling landscape of Red Cloud, Nebraska. In each locale, the constant companion was a nylon-stringed acoustic guitar — with a well-traveled history of its own. “It was my father’s guitar,” recalls Danny Garcia, the man behind the Reverend. “I found out a few years ago that it was my grandfather’s as well.” Ever-present since his childhood, the Mexican acoustic has taken on increased meaning for Garcia with each passing year. Hours upon hours spent playing, traveling, and breathing meaning into its fretboard have made it both a tool and talisman. “There’s the obvious bloodline and family and link…that link through history,” confides Garcia. “It’s kinda the only family heirloom I have.” Over the last while, all this playing (or “noodling” as Danny puts it) had Reverend Baron chasing a sound — one which belies the guitar’s origins. It’s a sound he would hear from time to time, and when it came to record Daniel, it would be his true magnetic north (or south as it were). Spinning through Daniel, and you will hear echoes of Antonio Bribiesca and Luiz Bonfa's guitar tones. Dig deeper and you’ll see the bones of Townes Van Zandt and Nick Drake guitar textures as well. While not claiming their virtuosity in his playing, the soul and vulnerability that have become calling cards for the first two Reverend Baron albums complement these influences. There is a warmth in Daniel that takes center stage in these acoustic meditations. From brief, fluid moments like “El Monte” and “How Glad” to the high-lonesome “Muchacho,” the songs drift like cumulus clouds over a deep blue skyway. Their graceful float is in stark contrast to the album’s origins. The studio Garcia was using for his intended second release on Karma Chief was a victim of the LA wildfires in January of 2025. “[The fires] halted work on my record,” says Garcia. “So I ended up leaving and went to Mexico City for a few months, and so worked quite a bit [on Daniel] there.” With his striped-down set up -- featuring his guitar, a few microphones, and a laptop -- the time in Mexico City set the tone for the project. “I just came into this space because it seemed like I could just do it…it seemed like it was time, and I didn’t have to force anything.” After leaving CDMX, Reverend Baron spent a few weeks in Red Cloud. While all the traveling and miles energize Garcia, this small midwestern village’s peaceful and unassuming nature was the ideal spot to focus and create. “LA is home and has its own cultural juice, which I love…Nebraska is very quiet. No one disturbs you, and I can just work and concentrate for weeks [there].”  Daniel’s 11 tracks criss-cross the laylines of border music and folk, but categorizing them along a fault line or genre tag misses the point. These acoustic numbers move with a deliberate ease, never overstaying their welcome. The songs respond to time and distance with equal parts reflection and transparency; both mirror and window to the soul. Daniel is Reverend Baron’s conversation with his bloodline, influences, and the stops along the way.  By the album’s closer, “Velasco,” Daniel’s conversation becomes your invitation to search for a path along that great sonic continuum housed within a song.

Written with no big plan in mind, Reverend Baron's "Overpass Boy" becomes a Los Angeles meditation, an eight song prayer of poetic topography. The album gives the city its own sound, and its own songs to hum.Recorded in several different locations of LA, and loosely sketching the story of a young wanderer, the album is an easy current of observations and longings. Slices of soul and doo-wop emerge in stacked harmonies, while the percussion and grooves are the blooms that could only come from East LA. Garcia's investment to vocal tenderness and instrumental high style strikes our universal center. His soft serenade reconnects us to something misplaced.Playing almost every instrument on the album, Garcia's spirit is tailored into the sound, designing an amalgam of tones and frequencies as idiosyncratic as the singer himself.Traversing the alleys, passing the sous-chef's cigarette smoke, under the shaking bridges, behind a velvet curtain in a good suit, with a slide guitar in the rain, the titles quilt together for us: Every promise out here walks and waits in the little hours. Jackie and Jimmy drive away and we're left in that little valley, suspended.

Phil Ranelin and Wendell Harrison JID016 is the sixteenth installation in the Jazz Is Dead catalog. This album features seven original songs by Adrian Younge and Ali Shaheed Muhammad, alongside Detroit jazz rebels Phil Ranelin and Wendell Harrison. The legendary horn players who founded the independent label Tribe Records in the ‘70s. Phil Ranelin and Wendell Harrison JID016 presents a poignant batch of new material that celebrates the lasting impact and ethos of Tribe, to create “a new dimension in cultural awareness.” All songs produced by Adrian Younge & Ali Shaheed Muhammad. Recorded and mixed by Adrian Younge at Linear Labs, the preeminent analog studio of Los Angeles, CA.

Henry Franklin JID014 is the fourteenth installation in the Jazz Is Dead catalog. This album features eight original songs by Adrian Younge, and Ali Shaheed Muhammad, alongside the guiding force behind the venerated Black Jazz record label, Henry Franklin. Henry Franklin JID014 is a masterful showcase of Franklin’s range and lasting impact; a continuation of the maestro’s impeccable legacy as a Los Angeles born upright bass player. This album was awarded an NAACP Image Spirit award for "Jazz Album of The Year” in 2023. All songs produced by Adrian Younge & Ali Shaheed Muhammad. Recorded and mixed by Adrian Younge at Linear Labs, the preeminent analog studio of Los Angeles, CA.

Apr 02, 2021 (EST) CD JID006cd 4062548020762 $6.00 Apr 02, 2021 (EST) LP - Black JID006lp 4062548020519 $15.00 TOTAL Gary Bartz JID006 is the sixth installation in the Jazz Is Dead catalog. This album features eight original songs by Adrian Younge, Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Gary Bartz, the alto saxophonist that pioneered a new style alongside Miles Davis during his electric era. Bartz' solo work has been sampled by hip hop artists such as A Tribe Called Quest, Black Sheep & Jurassic 5. Gary Bartz JID006 pulls inspiration from the heaviest parts of Bartz sampled catalog. All songs produced by Adrian Younge & Ali Shaheed Muhammad. Recorded and mixed by Adrian Younge at Linear Labs, the preeminent analog studio of Los Angeles, CA.

Roy Ayers JID002 is the second installation in the Jazz Is Dead catalog. This album features eight original songs by Adrian Younge and Ali Shaheed Muhammad, in collaboration with, Roy Ayers, the 1970s godfather of Neo-Soul. Roy Ayers JID002 echoes the sentiments of Ayer's 1970s classic period (which produced the oft-sampled “Everybody Loves The Sunshine,” “Searchin’” and “We Live In Brooklyn, Baby”). All songs produced by Adrian Younge & Ali Shaheed Muhammad. Recorded and mixed by Adrian Younge at Linear Labs, the preeminent analog studio of Los Angeles, CA.

Finally! The sixth studio album Dinosaur Jr. have recorded in the 20 years since their triumphal rebirth. There have been several live and/or closet cleaning collections to keep us punters sated for the five years since Sweep It Into Space, but there is nothing quite like having a full slab of new Dino tunes to fry your ears. And There Near has all knobs set to Extra Crispy. Created in short, intense bursts over the course of a year at Amherst's Bisquiteen Studio, There Near was recorded almost entirely by Dino's core trio -- king of the thunder tubs, Murph, human tornado Lou Barlow on bass/vocals and the inimitable J Mascis on guitar/vocals -- with a bit of piano and organ work by local master musician, Ken Mauri. And the album roars from start to finish. Trying to define the essence of Dino's sound is never easy. It's an instantly recognizable blend of loose vocals, sharp guitars and an animalistic rhythm section, but these parts combine into a whole far more magical and exciting than its components. In strict rock-write terms, you might call the approach “post-core power balladeering,” but what use is that? Dinosaur Jr. invented their formula for noise/pop jiggering around the same time Husker Dü were trying out some of the same ideas, all of which got made popular by a band they inspired called Nirvana. But that's an old and much-told tale. J's guitar tone throughout There Near is even more animalistic than usual, perhaps owing partly to the fact he's playing through a recently acquired 70's Mesa Boogie MK 1 amp. “I bought the same amp that Chris Dixon had when we made our first album,” J says. “Chris recorded us at his house with his amp. It has a real interesting sound I haven't gotten for a while. And it's something I was trying to get back to on this album. The Stones started using Mesa Boogies in the '70s after they heard Santana playing through them. Then The Clash copied The Stones, etc. As the years went on into the MK 2 and so on, the Boogie got more metal sounding. But the MK 1 has a souped-up Fender sound. You always hear how Rick Rubin always makes bands he's producing sit down and listen to their first album and say let's get back to that sound. So I just gave myself his advice." Asked about the philosophical opacity of his lyrical approach, J says. “I'm not always sure what a song is 'about' when I'm writing it. I guess the meaning will present itself at some point. I'll use whatever words work. And a lot of it will be influenced by whatever esoteric mumbo jumbo I'm reading at the time. I try not to think too hard about any of it. I think it's a drag that Spotify shows all the lyrics to a song. What's the fun of that? Japanese labels always wanted us to give them lyrics to print. I wouldn't hand them over so they'd just have to try and figure them out. It has always been better to make up your own version of lyrics to songs by the Stones or R.E.M. or whoever. I mean, R.E.M.'s whole thing was about mumbling. I never understood why they caved to pressure and started enunciating." “Someone suggested this album sounds more upbeat, but I guess that's to do with my delivery, because lyrics like 'No Friends' might make you think otherwise. But I usually write in the third person. It's all just make believe.” While it's true There Near does present a slightly softer lyrical edge on some of J's songs, even a relatively gorgeous ballad like “Put It Down” eventually explodes in a shower of fiery guitar distentions. It's just what happens. Meanwhile the two tunes provided by Lou -- “Blowin' Up” and “No One's Ready” -- may have less frenzied musical settings, but their lyrics sound like pointed and timely attacks on our current regime. As is so often the case, Lou's melodic constructions have a friendly mien, but his lyrics cut like knives. There Near continues Dinosaur Jr.'s string of classic albums. The new songs are sure to sound amazing with their monstrous riffs blaring from live stages amidst their historical brethren. Can't wait to catch them live, but in the meantime There Near will be a constant companion. The nearer the better. --Byron Coley

Finally! The sixth studio album Dinosaur Jr. have recorded in the 20 years since their triumphal rebirth. There have been several live and/or closet cleaning collections to keep us punters sated for the five years since Sweep It Into Space, but there is nothing quite like having a full slab of new Dino tunes to fry your ears. And There Near has all knobs set to Extra Crispy. Created in short, intense bursts over the course of a year at Amherst's Bisquiteen Studio, There Near was recorded almost entirely by Dino's core trio -- king of the thunder tubs, Murph, human tornado Lou Barlow on bass/vocals and the inimitable J Mascis on guitar/vocals -- with a bit of piano and organ work by local master musician, Ken Mauri. And the album roars from start to finish. Trying to define the essence of Dino's sound is never easy. It's an instantly recognizable blend of loose vocals, sharp guitars and an animalistic rhythm section, but these parts combine into a whole far more magical and exciting than its components. In strict rock-write terms, you might call the approach “post-core power balladeering,” but what use is that? Dinosaur Jr. invented their formula for noise/pop jiggering around the same time Husker Dü were trying out some of the same ideas, all of which got made popular by a band they inspired called Nirvana. But that's an old and much-told tale. J's guitar tone throughout There Near is even more animalistic than usual, perhaps owing partly to the fact he's playing through a recently acquired 70's Mesa Boogie MK 1 amp. “I bought the same amp that Chris Dixon had when we made our first album,” J says. “Chris recorded us at his house with his amp. It has a real interesting sound I haven't gotten for a while. And it's something I was trying to get back to on this album. The Stones started using Mesa Boogies in the '70s after they heard Santana playing through them. Then The Clash copied The Stones, etc. As the years went on into the MK 2 and so on, the Boogie got more metal sounding. But the MK 1 has a souped-up Fender sound. You always hear how Rick Rubin always makes bands he's producing sit down and listen to their first album and say let's get back to that sound. So I just gave myself his advice." Asked about the philosophical opacity of his lyrical approach, J says. “I'm not always sure what a song is 'about' when I'm writing it. I guess the meaning will present itself at some point. I'll use whatever words work. And a lot of it will be influenced by whatever esoteric mumbo jumbo I'm reading at the time. I try not to think too hard about any of it. I think it's a drag that Spotify shows all the lyrics to a song. What's the fun of that? Japanese labels always wanted us to give them lyrics to print. I wouldn't hand them over so they'd just have to try and figure them out. It has always been better to make up your own version of lyrics to songs by the Stones or R.E.M. or whoever. I mean, R.E.M.'s whole thing was about mumbling. I never understood why they caved to pressure and started enunciating." “Someone suggested this album sounds more upbeat, but I guess that's to do with my delivery, because lyrics like 'No Friends' might make you think otherwise. But I usually write in the third person. It's all just make believe.” While it's true There Near does present a slightly softer lyrical edge on some of J's songs, even a relatively gorgeous ballad like “Put It Down” eventually explodes in a shower of fiery guitar distentions. It's just what happens. Meanwhile the two tunes provided by Lou -- “Blowin' Up” and “No One's Ready” -- may have less frenzied musical settings, but their lyrics sound like pointed and timely attacks on our current regime. As is so often the case, Lou's melodic constructions have a friendly mien, but his lyrics cut like knives. There Near continues Dinosaur Jr.'s string of classic albums. The new songs are sure to sound amazing with their monstrous riffs blaring from live stages amidst their historical brethren. Can't wait to catch them live, but in the meantime There Near will be a constant companion. The nearer the better. --Byron Coley

On their debut self-titled album, Women embraced sonic brashness that deeper examination revealed to be tinted with sly pop melody. With their second album "Public Strain", the band has honed a sound truthful to that reverb drenched noise while allowing the pop sensibilities to surface into clearer focus.This exact balance of delicate and dense is a pervasive thread throughout the album, reflecting the contradiction of the band's environment buried in urban sprawl framed by prairie landscape. Whether twisting through the urgent krautrock of "Locust Valley", an exercise of harmony through simplicity, or climaxing with the bittersweet melody of "Eyesore", the album somehow builds luminous contrast out of a palette of grays.

Before Robert Johnson, before Lead Belly, even before Bessie Smith, Gertrude “Ma” Rainey defined what it meant to sing the blues, belting out lusty, downhome songs with a charismatic force that comes through loud and clear today. A century after her landmark music, Mother of the Blues, The Complete Paramount Recordings 1923-1928 captures this powerhouse artist in all her glory with a five-CD, 118-track set that blows away the cobwebs, bringing these electrifying works into the present in irresistible fashion. Born in 1882, Rainey was a touring performer who starred in tent shows and theaters, singing in a variety of styles, including minstrel songs and vaudeville material. For underdog Paramount Records, she was a blues artist whose sensual presence infused every note of her songs. While Paramount discs have a reputation for substandard sound quality, Mother of the Blues does a remarkable job of cleaning up the music without losing any of its earthy immediacy. Among the highlights are songs that would inspire a diverse array of performers in decades to come, such as “See See Rider,” “Walking Blues” and “Stack O’ Lee Blues,” as well as a handful of previously unreleased takes. Numerous players who would emerge as major jazz and blues artists in their own right provide backing, including Louis Armstrong, Fletcher Henderson, Tampa Red and Coleman Hawkins. There’s also a large-format, hundred-page book with a slew of information and photos. Mother of the Blues is a remarkable document, but you don’t need to know any history to get the picture. Just listen and feel the heat.

Two of the acts boldly leading Texas music into the future have now delivered a second chapter of their groundbreaking collaboration, further extending the region’s sonic possibilities. Singer/songwriter Leon Bridges, from Ft. Worth, and trailblazing Houston trio Khruangbin have joined forces for the Texas Moon EP, a follow-up to 2020’s acclaimed Texas Sun project. While the five new songs are clearly a continuation of the first EP, they also have an identity all their own—Bridges calls it “more introspective,” while Khruangbin bassist Laura Lee says it “feels more night time.” When Texas Sun was released, AllMusic called the results “intoxicating” and Paste noted that “their talents and character go together so well.” Now comes the next stage—a set of songs that touch on themes like love, faith, and death while exploring new dimensions of inventive, hypnotic grooves. Significantly, both parties’ musical directions were clearly affected by their time working together. Khruangbin’s most recent album, Mordechai, moved their own vocals much further forward, a change they readily admit was a direct result of working with Bridges. Meanwhile, since these recordings began, in addition to his genre-defying album Gold-Digger’s Sound, Bridges has put out several other challenging, shared tracks, including work with John Mayer, Lucky Daye, and Jazmine Sullivan. Texas Moon represents a genuine and rare achievement, with two of the most respected and innovative acts of their generation truly collaborating to create something new. “As far as an essentially instrumental band, these guys are kind of the top for me,” says Bridges. “I’m honored to have been the first singer that they’ve incorporated in their music.” “It feels really special to me,” says Lee. “It’s not Khruangbin, it’s not Leon, it’s this world we created together.”

On revelations of divine love, jason calhoun’s fifth release for Dear Life Records, Calhoun has assembled an especially potent album of work that whirrs, hums, and glows. Unlike his recent output centered around extended, hypnotic compositions, the fourteen tracks here immediately request your attention and curiosity. Their concision only underscores one of his greatest strengths: the ability to capture an evaporating, fleeting moment, and hold it close. The title is a nod to British Anchoress Julian of Norwich, whose collected writing of the same title is the earliest of any woman written in English. Here it serves as a unifying theme for Calhoun's particular palette of restless textures and tentative melodies. This is personal music, to be sure, but it also feels tactile, almost taffy-like in its presentation—and with such a potent combination, it is hard to resist a smile while listening. Like when the insistent pulse grounding 'last one' suddenly changes color as yawning tones reveal themselves, or how 'eye dilation' tiptoes into the room with each note sounding like a carefully chosen step. Though never precious or fussy, the album remains resolutely intimate. Calhoun puts it plainly: “Julian of Norwich says “‘All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well’. These days, I’ve been having my doubts that this is true. As no solution to the issue at hand, I look for the revelations of divine love in my life, and I find them--in my partner asleep on the floor in our studio, my survival of a social interaction with a stranger, being bad at chess. Don't ask me what they mean-I'm still figuring that out myself. Maybe we can figure it out together.” It is from this place of doubt, searching, and openness that the album finds its footing. When asked about the origin of the album's cover art, Calhoun explained, "I see this spot all the time on my commute home from work". A true statement of how the mundane and meaningful are interwoven, from someone who celebrates that union better than most. Unlike Julian of Norwich, Calhoun is no hermetic mystic himself-but in his daily life he works at an oncology center, doing routine but necessary work to provide treatment for those in need of it. While he might resist any analogizing, it is sincerely easy to say that Calhoun's body of work, which is only fortified by revelations of divine love, also offers care and company.

Wheat and Rust was American composer and electronic musician Tim Story’s fourth and final album for the tiny but influential Norwegian label Uniton/Cicada. It was released in 1987, just on the cusp of the greater renown he would enjoy the following year with his Glass Green record, and a Grammy nomination soon after. Rust Smudges, the artist’s latest work, is an unlikely deconstruction of Story’s own Wheat and Rust, a haunting acknowledgement of time passed and the artistic evolution that has propelled Story, 30 years on, through an unpredictably varied and idiosyncratic career. Rust Smudges is both a distillation of the artist’s recent audio installations that re-contextualize existing material into new forms and experiences, and his unabashed fondness for an audio process that he deprecatingly dubs ‘smudging’. Originally developed simply for his own enjoyment and inspiration, these tone poems are built essentially by submitting harmonically-rich, looped phrases of other people’s music to a process that freezes and ‘smudges’ them. The aural equivalent of watching a movie by viewing only one frozen frame every 5 seconds, with everything in between lost, the hazy apparitions that result cycle through hypnotic, constantly-evolving landscapes both enigmatically abstract and warmly familiar. For Rust Smudges, Story manipulated all 12 pieces of his ’87 release, creating two completely new ambient tracks. It marks the first time the composer has submitted his own recorded music to these unconventional processes, and his pairing of early work with an inherently fragile playback medium crystallizes – and subverts – the distances between youthful exuberance and the inevitable, humbling passage of time. Wheat and Rust’s original tracks proved ideal for the proceedings, Story’s trademark harmonic language was blooming by the late 80’s, creating in the smudges a warmly epic contrast to the icy blurs the digital synths impart. The stately, ambiguous progressions that result are profoundly ruminative - reducing active melodies and intricate arrangements into a deep largo of harmony and timbre the way memory softens sharp narratives into transitory pulses of feeling and recollection. In the process of reworking music from his past, Story manages to put his own melancholy ‘meta’ fingerprint on a cassette culture that was in its first generation when he and his fellow explorers first exploited it in the 70’s, out of necessity rather than choice. Available on digital and in a limited edition of 300 cassettes through Dais records, with an artist edition of handmade box sets (with Rust Smudged dubbed onto the original Wheat and Rust cassettes) available directly from Tim Story.

Since his recording debut as Choir Boy in 2016, Adam Klopp has crafted nostalgic anthems, tapping the sound of swirling 1980s synth noir and captivating, cinematic songs sweeping with pensive sorrow and glowing hope. As a former member of the Mormon faith, Klopp spent his youth both in the pews of his place of worship, but also churning through DIY punk venues, before leaving the sect in the thick of a mission in Tahiti. The duality of faith and fiction are central to the lush explorations on his debut album Passive With Desire. Recorded at Provo, Utah's Studio Studio Dada, the album's tracks permuted as bedroom sketches, awash with camp, the sting of loss, and allusions to halcyon days of nocturnal, electronic driven pop. Retaining elements of Klopp's original demos, Passive With Desire was recorded with a full band and polished with trumpet, strings, as well as archival samples calling back to Klopp's hazy youth. Engineered by Klopp, Bret Meisenbach, and Stephen Cope, Passive With Desire is the entry point to Choir Boy's world of emotive wit, novella kissed lyricism, and bouncy, synth-forward takes on traditional song writing bound by the universal themes of loss, desire, evolution, and exploration.

THE PLAIN TRUTH=we drifted through it, arguing.every day a new war crime, every day a flower bloom.we sat down together and wrote it in one room,and then sat down in a different room, recording.NO TITLE= what gestures make sense while tiny bodies fall? what context? what broken melody?and then a tally and a date to mark a point on the line, the negative process, the growing pile.the sun setting above beds of ashwhile we sat together, arguing.the old world order barely pretended to care.this new century will be crueler still.war is coming.don’t give up.pick a side.hang on.love.

THE PLAIN TRUTH=we drifted through it, arguing.every day a new war crime, every day a flower bloom.we sat down together and wrote it in one room,and then sat down in a different room, recording.NO TITLE= what gestures make sense while tiny bodies fall? what context? what broken melody?and then a tally and a date to mark a point on the line, the negative process, the growing pile.the sun setting above beds of ashwhile we sat together, arguing.the old world order barely pretended to care.this new century will be crueler still.war is coming.don’t give up.pick a side.hang on.love.

The inimitable GYBE returns with another soundtrack for our times. As the heretical anarcho-punk spirit of the title implies, Godspeed harnesses some particularly raw power, spittle and grit across two riveting 20-minute side-length trajectories of noise-drenched widescreen post-rock: inexorable chug blossoms into blown-out twang, as some of the band’s most soaring, searing melodies ricochet and converge amidst violin and bassline counterpoint. Field recordings and roiling semi-improvised passages frame these fervent epics, and two shorter self-contained 6-minute pieces find the band at its most devastatingly beautiful, haunting and elegiac. Poignant atmospherics, noise-drenched orchestration, drone, hypnotic swingtime crescendos, inexorably-layered towers of distorted clarion sound: STATE’S END encapsulates every beloved facet of the band. Twenty-five years on, this new album is as vital, stirring, timely and implacable as any in Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s storied discography. Recorded and mixed by Jace Lasek, the veteran award-winning indie producer (and co-founder of The Besnard Lakes) who works with Godspeed for the first time on this recording.