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Key importers/translators of Japanese Kankyō Ongaku to the Western world, Visible Cloaks present a fine new bouquet of digital flowers pruned in-the-mix with help from Lifted’s Joe Williams and arranged with input by Félicia Atkinson, Yoshio Ojima, and Satsuki Shibano. Ryan Carlile & Spencer Doran’s Visible Cloaks have been instrumental in bridging the rarified world of ’80s Japanese environmental ambient and its modern offshoots since their self-titled debut of 2015. Their ‘Fairlights, Mallets and Bamboo’ mixtape and original productions inspired by that particular time and space - circa the emergence and application of game-changing musical technology - have been indispensable for discerning diggers and ears. Their first album since 2019, ‘Paradessence’ now marks the duo’s return to a sound they helped bring to wider interest, displaying cross-border/generational binds between experimental scenes in Japan, US, and EU across an intricately crafted and romantic spirited album defined by its technical sorcery and sense of adventure. Benefitting from the energy of their collaborators and time out to sharpen and reassess their sound, ‘Paradessence’ feels like the most fully realised iteration of Visible Cloaks’ illusive world building. 14 succinct pieces open out a fantasy playground where prior spars Yoshio Ojima & Satsuki Shibano chime into the pitch bent, shatterproof contours of ’Shapes’ and again with Félicia Atkinson’s french vox in ‘Thinking’, before Satie-esque piano phrases are refracted into hyaline hyperprisms glistening with Joe Williams touch on ‘Zinna’. The shearing shape of ‘Balloon’ impresses in its hyperreal tactility, and the synthetic wind-swept strings of ‘Swirl’ brings us teasingly close to oneiric dimensions also touched on in ‘Telescoping’, suffused with ultrasonic insect sounds that lend a frisson of waking dream detail for the susceptible.
While we await their sophomore full-length, Di Hotel Malibu, Thee Marloes treat us to a show-stopping two-sider. The A-side, “Under the Silver Moon,” is a stone-cold two-stepper that captures both the bitter and the sweet of long-distance love, set against a breezy musical backdrop. The musicianship and production pull you in from the first snare hit, while frontwoman Natassya Sianturi’s honeyed vocals conjure vivid imagery through metaphor and prose. On the B-side, “Through the Changes” reveals the most tender side of the band’s sound. Both powerful and delicate, the song reflects on how we imagine - and grapple with - what comes after death. Natassya yearns for company and conversation with a love who has passed, at times recalling shared memories, at others questioning the act of continuing to speak to and think about them. Her delivery is so intimate it’s impossible not to feel every word, as the band provides the perfect, understated backing.
Big Crown is proud to present Thee Marloes’ sophomore album, Di Hotel Malibu. It arrives as a widening of the frame — a confident step away from the lines that once neatly held their sound, and toward something more porous, conversational, and deeply Indonesian. It’s been two years since Perak, the Surabaya trio’s debut for Big Crown Records, introduced their unique sound. This new record doesn’t abandon that lineage so much as stretch it, showing how much they have grown as a band since the release of their debut and all the experiences that came with it. Composed of vocalist and keyboardist Natassya Sianturi, guitarist and producer Sinatrya Dharaka and drummer Tommy Satwick, Thee Marloes have always worked as a unit, their songs shaped by shared reference points and a lived-in sense of groove. On this album, that collective language expands. The arrangements move across a broader spectrum, with new instrumental colors, unexpected rhythmic turns, and a looser approach to structure. The band describes it as a response to the last two years of living: social realities, love lives in flux, and all that success has brought into their lives. The album opener “Under the Silver Moon” is a stone cold two-stepper that addresses the bitter and the sweet of long-distance love affairs over a breezy musical backdrop. “Six Years” is a page from singer Natassya Sianturi’s life and her struggle to take the step of leaving a comfortable and stable daytime job to follow her dreams of a full-time career in music. “Harap Dan Ragu” explores life, death, and the emotions that orbit them, opening with an earworm guitar riff that ushers in Sianturi’s honeyed vocals, this time in her native language of Indonesian. The album continues to switch vibes and tones track to track with the darker, more introspective “The More”. The gorgeous musicianship and pulsing drums are met with the deeply poetic lyrics that walk the line between futility and unbreakable resilience. Thee Marloes dip into their drop dead gorgeous ballad bag with “Through the Changes” with a powerful yet delicate song about how we imagine and deal with what comes after death. “Boru” sung entirely in Batak, a traditional language from North Sumatera, goes further into asserting heritage as a foundation and mission statement for the group while “I’d Be Lost” takes us back to the dancefloor with a light and lovely profession of love. In the end, Di Hotel Malibu is the result of the best type of inspiration: the global attention Thee Marloes have earned, and the chance to play their homegrown music for fans around the world has put wind in their sails. Enjoy the record, then catch them as they tour the globe. Soul Music from Surabaya, another Big Crown Sureshot.
Colemine is proud to present the newest 45 from Aaron Frazer's 'Into The Blue' LP. This one is a special one. Two cuts featuring the rhythm section of the legendary Cold Diamond & Mink, the backbone of the Finnish soul label Timmion. The A-side is a new cut, "It's A Shame". And it might be a shame this one didn't make the LP, cause it's a banger. Expertly chopped and arranged by Aaron and producer Alex Goose, the cut features tight drums, Aaron's trademark silky falsetto, and beautiful string arrangements. You'll be humming the hook for days to come. The B-side is the album closer on 'Into The Blue' and for good reason. Really feels like a sweet and soulful send off at the end of a movie. Lamenting the ups and downs of love, feeling foolish in the face of failure, but continuing to try nonetheless. Feels like a lost sample brought into the here and now expertly by Aaron and Goose.
Tennessee's Oliver James, a time-capsule of classic R&B sound, returns to the Colemine label with two new tunes pressed onto one must-have 45. The A-side features his first new track since 2022. '1-2-3' is an upbeat soul stomper à la Memphis and Stax. Nick DeVan and Vincent John (Eraserhood Sound) co-wrote the track; they finalized the instrumentals but were stumped on the lyrics. That's when James was called in, and he used his time working at a church to shape the lyrics that eventually became this number. The B-side was a collaborative effort with Nashville's gritty-funk ensemble The Gripsweats. It's an earnest song with lyrics inspired by James & DeVan's commiseration. "I'm no stranger to love that I used to know'," laments James; his favorite line of the song. Cushioned by lush string and horn arrangements, 'Nothing Is Forever' is a melancholy and heartfelt foil to the A.
Tennessee's Oliver James, a time-capsule of classic R&B sound, returns to the Colemine label with two new tunes pressed onto one must-have 45. The A-side features his first new track since 2022. '1-2-3' is an upbeat soul stomper à la Memphis and Stax. Nick DeVan and Vincent John (Eraserhood Sound) co-wrote the track; they finalized the instrumentals but were stumped on the lyrics. That's when James was called in, and he used his time working at a church to shape the lyrics that eventually became this number. The B-side was a collaborative effort with Nashville's gritty-funk ensemble The Gripsweats. It's an earnest song with lyrics inspired by James & DeVan's commiseration. "I'm no stranger to love that I used to know'," laments James; his favorite line of the song. Cushioned by lush string and horn arrangements, 'Nothing Is Forever' is a melancholy and heartfelt foil to the A.
Following the massive success of their sophomore album Fading Forward, Les Imprimés, by popular demand, press two standout tracks from the album on the coveted 7” format. The A side, “You & I,” is a feel-good, upbeat homage to the kind of love that endures “through the chaos and the blunders.” Punchy drums and keys create an undeniable two-stepper for frontman Morten Martens’ vocals to float above. Dreamers dream and dancers dance as Martens paints a picture of a devoted, understanding love that few are lucky enough to find. On the B side, Les Imprimés offer their take on the classic slow jam. “Miss The Days” unfolds gradually, with slow pulsing drums and building instrumentation that evoke longing and nostalgia. Martens sings of simpler times impossible to forget—moments free of adult responsibilities, when “it was you and me, hand in hand, sometimes wasted…” Ama Li joins him on vocals, transforming the track into a killer modern take on the classic soul duet, a tune sure to resonate far and wide.
Simeon ten Holt's landmark minimalist opus Canto Ostinato has a known magnetism. The piece's captivating harmony and winding structure prove an adventurous enterprise for any like-minded players embarking down its path, and it was at this very threshold that Metropolis Ensemble's Andrew Cyr, musician/composer Erik Hall, and the members of Sandbox Percussion all found each other. Their ensuing undertaking marks a world-class collaboration that yields an expansive and beautifully detailed new presentation of ten Holt's iconic work. In 2023 the New York Times shined a light on Simeon ten Holt, the late Dutch composer mostly unknown to the American contemporary classical audience. Featured in the story was Erik Hall in his Michigan studio, whose enthrallment with Canto Ostinato had resulted in his acclaimed solo recording on the label Western Vinyl. Taking notice was Metropolis Ensemble artistic director/conductor Andrew Cyr. He promptly relayed the album to Sandbox Percussion—each of them GRAMMY-nominated ensembles sharing over a decade of work together—and invited Hall to join them in re-orchestrating the piece for an outdoor summer solstice performance at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Now jointly feeling the piece's pull, the team crafted a sweeping new large-ensemble arrangement over six months, bringing into its orbit The New School's Sandbox Percussion Summer Seminar, as well as composers David Leon, Ben Wallace, and Ledah Finck and the Bergamot Quartet. The result was a luminous adaptation of the score, complete with mallet percussion, woodwinds, strings, and piano, garnering a recommendation from NPR's Morning Edition and culminating in sunrise and sunset performances for an enchanted audience. The project's momentum carried straight into the studio, as a new recording became imperative—a permanent document of the team's collective ardor for the composition. Spearheaded by Metropolis Ensemble, produced by Cyr and Hall, and arranged by Hall, Leon, Wallace, and Sandbox Percussion’s Jonny Allen, the interpretation extracts and reframes every line, motif, and arpeggio from the original score, expanding ten Holt’s piano manuscript into a prismatic chamber array. Recorded by GRAMMY-winning audio engineer Mike Tierney, the performance was captured in New York, 2025. Sandbox Percussion's array of mallet instruments maintains a unified and gracefully athletic expression of the piece's duration, while David Leon's octet of woodwinds overlay a kaleidoscopic tapestry. Eighteen strings—led by award-winning violinist Kristin Lee—provide cinematic, otherworldly depth. And Erik Hall's concert grand piano threads through it all, a passionately reverent preservation of the piece's keyboard origins. Altogether, a breathtaking new form for Simeon ten Holt's already-monumental opus, each element serving the whole while driving towards a rapturous resolution. Canto Ostinato, long beloved in its native Netherlands, is still a flame just beginning to burn in the US; a world just beginning to be discovered. But its gravity is certain. And the cohort of Metropolis Ensemble, Erik Hall, and Sandbox Percussion is honored to bear the torch and help continue to draw listeners everywhere to Simeon ten Holt's masterpiece of minimalism.
Virga III is the third installment in Eluvium’s inspired experimental series – and the first in nearly five years. In unmistakable contrast to the dense, ominous sprawl of Virga II, the works that make up Virga III offer an almost divine reprieve. The nervous tension, loss of control, and patient recontextualization that inspires each volume of the Virga series manifests in unique ways. As composer and Eluvium architect, Matthew Robert Cooper describes, “While Virga I was brought to me by a temporarily evacuation from my house to my garage during a winter snowstorm – and Virga II by a phantasmal dream sequence during the height of a global pandemic – Virga III takes its inspiration from the worlds found in minor green spaces, culverts, and other miniature biological ecosystems operating within our daily deluge of cruel rhetoric, unspeakable violence, unending disruption and devastating disparity. A reflection on the micro and macro universes that surround us.” The songs on Virga III are composed and performed by Cooper, as always, but in the Virga universe, he essentially feels a unique collaboration within himself. As Cooper explains, “The Virga series affords me an opportunity to return to an older version of myself, but with a new level of understanding. Practicing more patience interacting with these built musical systems and recordings, I hesitantly duet with my past self in a new performance or manipulative layer, only after digesting the first for as long as possible, to a point of it conjuring new and uncharted feelings, in hopes of curating a sense of therapeutic self-awareness and discovery. A mixture of the exploratory mindset against a painterly emotional resonance, gradually unfurling itself unto itself.” The Virga III vinyl format is pressed onto crystal clear colored vinyl and housed in a full-color heavyweight old-style tip-on jacket. It is limited to a one-time pressing of 1,000 copies worldwide.
Ted Lucas’ Images of Life is a retrospective tracing the full scope of the Detroit songwriter’s work, drawing on hundreds of hours of tapes preserved by Lucas himself. Spanning early band recordings through to previously unheard later material, it captures an artist constantly reshaping his sound. Disc one, Strange Mysterious Sounds (1965–1970), documents his time with The Spike Drivers, The Misty Wizards and The Horny Toads, moving from garage rock into psychedelia. Rainy Days (1970–1974) shifts to intimate, acoustic solo recordings in the vein of his OM album. The final disc, Impossible Love (1979), presents a long-lost second album, revealing a more polished, hook-driven approach without losing his distinctive voice. A deep and revealing archive of a singular talent.
This album was compiled from original sources that have been lovingly restored and mastered. It represents a mere fraction of Connie's recorded repertoire.
Alex Zhang Hungtai stands in stillness on 'Dras', but it's the kind of stillness that contains entire ranges of possibility. Recorded in 2019 inside Montreal's Saint Joseph Oratory (right before a piano demolition, no less), these nine pieces sat dormant on his hard drive through pandemic years until something finally clicked. What emerges now feels like watching someone trace the contours of their own interior landscape, each melodic line a careful negotiation with the unconscious. This is only a saxophone record in the barest sense.
The terrain here is tactile and unforgiving. On the title track, difficult melodies get torn apart and molded into emotive drones, dissonance interlocking where tones cut paths through the senses with metallic sheen. "El Khela" refracts into spectral layers that pull with eternal gravity, while "Estado" finds solace inside its own haze, rhythms barely audible but guiding forward with their cadence smeared against grey walls. These are small moments that become cathartic sonic breaths, each one revealing new passages through psychic geography.
There's beauty encased in the subtle repetitions of opener "Erg,” and in the glowing progressions of "White Dwarf." Zhang's saxophone becomes a dowsing rod for the uncharted, with electricity running through the album's veins while his breath anchors everything to something wordlessly human. The digital manipulation applied to those church recordings doesn't obscure that human element of 'Dras'. It transforms the raw material into something that navigates between external space and internal landscape.
By the time closer "Mazil" arrives, Alex Zhang Hungtai lets his saxophone speak its full resonance. Low, guttural expressions open up like chasms beneath melodic constellations floating in thick gravity. There’s a finality here even though something in these passages feels weightless. This is music permeated with inner dialogue, a wordless spell dancing above the psychic abyss. Tonal sequences disintegrate into narcotized sonics, a sharp elegant edge that cuts without drawing blood. This lonely work of exploration becomes something communal. 'Dras' is a map for traversing the space between where we are and where we might go.
Helado Negro returns with This Is How You Smile, an album that freely flickers between clarity and obscurity, past and present geographies, bright and unhurried seasons. Miami-born, New York-based artist Roberto Carlos Lange embraces a personal and universal exploration of aura – seen, felt, emitted – on his sixth album and second for RVNG Intl.
On the third day at Betty’s, Chris Rosenau woke up with a hangover. The night before, Nick Sanborn had played an all-electronics duo set with GRRL in the basement of a Durham club called The Fruit, so Rosenau—his friend for two decades, occasional collaborator for half that span—had tagged along. They were, they half-joke, the two oldest people in the club, so they went at least a little bit hard. Flip this record over, and there’s Rosenau that night, vodka and soda (with limes, please) in hand and looking delightfully impish. The next morning, in the middle of making their second record together, they were a little slow to wake, even slower to fully rise. In October 2017, Rosenau had flown from Wisconsin to North Carolina to spend a weekend recording with Sanborn in his little home studio. After years of knowing one another, their collaboration seemed inevitable but also accidental, a music-festival lark that had immediate chemistry. As they were rehearsing with the windows and doors open in those first perfect days of Southern autumn, they realized they were actually already making a record. They kept the working mixes and titles from that weekend, as well as the bird songs and traffic sounds that drifted into the microphones. The result was 2019’s Bluebird, a little five-track wonder that made you feel like you were sitting in the living room between the two, smiling as they found their wordless rapport. Two years later, as soon as Sanborn had set up the basics at Betty’s, his residential studio in the woods near Durham, Rosenau returned. They had fun during round two, but the sessions were neither as carefree as that first attempt nor more focused in a way that felt compelling and new. The pair decided to shelve those pieces for then and try again when the time seemed right. (They have, by the way, returned to those tracks fondly; expect to hear them in the future.) Then there was a pandemic. There were tours. There were other records. There was life at large. By the time Rosenau ventured back to Betty’s to try again, in February 2023, four years had flashed past. Both Sanborn and Rosenau came prepared this time by, well, un-preparing. Rosenau borrowed an unconventional guitar tuning he’d never tried (DAEAC#D) from a friend. And Sanborn dismantled his live Sylvan Esso rig, rearranged it, and added new bits, hoping to eschew any muscle memory for a real-time exchange with Rosenau. They instantly knew it was working, with none of the past’s second-guessing in tow. On that first day, a Thursday, they made “Ghost Sub” and “Harm.” On that second day, they had a false start with a piece called “Kay,” Sanborn’s synths not quite fitting beneath Rosenau’s riff, before moving on to make “Deltas.” (Once again to the cover: That’s the chord structure alongside Sanborn’s setup, superimposed on Rosenau’s face.) Back to that third day. When the pair finally got back to bleary-eyed work, they decided to give “Kay” one more go. Sanborn set the electronics aside and sat down at the piano. There was a false start, preserved here, but what followed was a sublime aubade, like waking up tired only to be stunned and stirred by the light suddenly outside. It is the sound of stirring to life and loving it there, and it is the little jewel at the center of the six songs they recorded that weekend, the six songs presented here in the exact order they made them. They finished “Two” just before Rosenau split for the airport on Sunday afternoon; it is a long goodbye, sweet and sentimental and sad, a last talk from two friends who have enjoyed their time together. At the end of “Gentleguy,” the first track on Bluebird, Rosenau, after a long pause, says, “I think that’s pretty good.” His voice is pitched up by a trace of uncertainty, as if “think” and “pretty” are the most important bits of that sentence. When “Deltas” wobbles to its beautiful end toward the middle of Two, Rosenau comes in again, his voice almost boisterous: “That was…” The tape cuts, but you don’t need to hear what he says to know what he says. That was good, perfect, the thing we were looking for, just right, pal. This is the way Two feels start to finish—two friends, firm on their footing with one another, digging into their beautiful exchange. Grayson Haver Currin Bar-K Ranch, Colorado October 2025
Karate’s defiant and final studio album punctuates a 12-year discography that spanned harDCore-style catharsis to feedback-saturated improv. This ’04 classic skipped the Friendster migration for back-to-basics songwriting suffused with jazz phrasings and beat-inspired lyricism. Featuring Codeine/Come guitarist Chris Brokaw, Pockets is remastered from the original analog tapes and housed in a deluxe tip on sleeve with reproduction lyric sheet.
Over the decades, Numero has excavated a metric ton of recordings from the depths of Detroit. From all manner of mini Motowns we've uncovered soul, R&B, funk, disco, boogie, and by nature of proximity—gospel. Previous examinations of the Revival and Big Mack labels turned up more than a few new apocryphal hymns, and Great Lakes Gospel Vol. 2 compiles a dozen curious church groups devotionally reaching towards the genre's frayed edge. Get lost in ecstatic choir funk, pulpit rappin', direct-injection guitar solos, and the holy spirit, should it move you. Look around the room. You could start a church with this thing.
Connecters Vol. 1: Original Recordings, 1992–1999 marks the first public release by Larrison, the recording alias of Midwestern visual artist and musician Larrison Seidle. Composing, programming, and recording entirely on a Casio CZ-5000 during the halcyon days of early '90s homespun exploration and experimentation, Larrison inhabited a dreamworld of his invention, soundtracked by space age pop vignettes speckling with hypnotic, ebullient layered synthesizer melodies. Unfolding across 26 tracks, all newly restored and mastered from the original sources, Connecters Vol. 1 reinvents itself, song by song, transcending time and defying the fated obscurity of this brilliant, discreet music made three decades ago.
Market East finally shares their most important statement to the world in the form of their debut LP, French Street. The group, composed of Kurt Cain on vocals, Vincent John on vocals, bass, guitar and keys, and Maxwell Perla on vocals, drums and percussion, deliver their signature celestial three part harmonies over arrangements that have never sounded so rich and compelling.
French Street is extremely soulful and the vocals are lush, like if the Zombies recorded at Muscle Shoals. The lyrics are poetic and nostalgic, as the group wrote songs about their bygone “golden” years. Back then, the boys didn’t have much besides each other and their shared love of music. Vocalist Kurt Cain lived in a small rowhome in North Philadelphia on a nearly deserted alley named French Street. It was here that Cain, John, and Perla came together every week to escape reality and get high off sharing music. They developed a deep appreciation for all things 60s and 70s, from Simon & Garfunkel to the Moments, and everything in between.
All these years later, and Market East has created a classic record of their own. From the baroque pop of the title track and the roaring soul of “Roses,” to the Latin flavors of “Echoes of My Heart” and the orchestral flares of “Everyday, Springtime,” Market East shows their impressive range. Recorded to analog tape in Philadelphia, the record was produced by the band and Eraserhood Sound. Grab your copy of this timeless classic today.
Market East finally shares their most important statement to the world in the form of their debut LP, French Street. The group, composed of Kurt Cain on vocals, Vincent John on vocals, bass, guitar and keys, and Maxwell Perla on vocals, drums and percussion, deliver their signature celestial three part harmonies over arrangements that have never sounded so rich and compelling.
French Street is extremely soulful and the vocals are lush, like if the Zombies recorded at Muscle Shoals. The lyrics are poetic and nostalgic, as the group wrote songs about their bygone “golden” years. Back then, the boys didn’t have much besides each other and their shared love of music. Vocalist Kurt Cain lived in a small rowhome in North Philadelphia on a nearly deserted alley named French Street. It was here that Cain, John, and Perla came together every week to escape reality and get high off sharing music. They developed a deep appreciation for all things 60s and 70s, from Simon & Garfunkel to the Moments, and everything in between.
All these years later, and Market East has created a classic record of their own. From the baroque pop of the title track and the roaring soul of “Roses,” to the Latin flavors of “Echoes of My Heart” and the orchestral flares of “Everyday, Springtime,” Market East shows their impressive range. Recorded to analog tape in Philadelphia, the record was produced by the band and Eraserhood Sound. Grab your copy of this timeless classic today.
Emeralds, the sophomore long player from Parlor Greens, finds the trio serving up a beautifully curated sampler of what funky organ music can be. On Parlor Greens’ debut LP In Green We Dream, they announced their existence boldly to the welcoming arms of funky instrumental fans around the world. Now, two years later, they’re back to up the ante. Three true masters of their respective crafts: Tim Carman (Canyon Lights, formerly of GA-20) on drums, Jimmy James (True Loves) on guitar, and Adam Scone (Scone Cash Players, The Sugarman 3) on organ. Seasoned and soulful pros coming together to make infectiously funky instrumental jams.
Parlor Greens are truly in top form: tour tight and more confident than ever in who they are and where they’re going. The album’s opener, “Eat Your Greens,” kicks the doors off with a Charles Earland-inspired four on the floor beat, with Jimmy and Scone driving the tune down the tracks like an overloaded freight train, it simply cannot be stopped. On “Red Dog,” the group channels the absolute heaviest shade of early R&B with Jimmy’s crunchy guitar paving the way for both he and Scone to take scorching solos. “Lion’s Mane” shows a slightly more sophisticated side of the trio, with nods to one of Scone’s organ mentors, the incomparable Dr. Lonnie Smith. Not to be outdone by his bandmates, Tim Carman shows off why he plays the best shuffle this side of the Mississippi on “Letter To Brother Ben,” a gospel-tinged shuffler.
And while the results are stronger than ever, the mood of this second cooking session was much different. The first time these three met in Loveland at Colemine’s Portage Lounge studio was marked by a certain freshness. It was new, it was the first time they had all played together. It was exciting, it was unknown territory. The session for Emeralds weighed much heavier on all three members. All three dealing with personal tragedies in their individual lives, the session truly served as a genuine moment of joy for the group. Just three talented musicians, writing and playing music now as friends in a familiar environment. No moment is the weight of the session more obvious than with the album’s closer, “Queen Of My Heart,” a tune Jimmy wrote for his mother shortly after she passed away.
So with a heavy and soulful heart, Colemine Records is beyond proud to present the sophomore effort from three maestros. Parlor Greens presents…Emer
“The Ruins of Things Unfinished” is the new album by Slow Leaves, the project of Canadian singer‑songwriter Grant Davidson. Featuring contributions from respected Canadian musicians such as Kris Ulrich and Roman Clarke, the record blends warm acoustic guitar textures with Davidson’s gentle vocals and carefully layered arrangements.
Big Crown Records is proud to present the sophomore full-length from Les Imprimés, Fading Forward. Spearheaded by self-taught multi-instrumentalist and producer Morten Martens, the album explores mortality, escapism, and a myriad of experiences associated with love.
Martens made a tremendous impression with his highly acclaimed 2023 debut Rêverie and has since cultivated a diehard fanbase whose demographics are as wide-ranging as the influences that shape his music. He mixes tones from ’60s and ’70s soul with arrangement nods to doo-wop records, takes drum energy from hip-hop, and covers the whole thing with vocal stylings drawn from ’90s and 2000s alternative. But it is Martens’ lyrics, emotion, and delivery that truly bring everything together and help him stand out from his peers. There’s an infectiousness and pop sensibility in the writing, executed with the utmost class and taste, giving Les Imprimés the rare quality of immediate attraction that only deepens with repeat listens.
Hailing from Kristiansand, Norway, Martens plays nearly every instrument on Fading Forward, produces and arranges the album, and of course sings. “It’s soul music, but I don’t exactly have the soul voice,” Morten explains humbly. “But I do it my own way, in a way that’s mine.”
Album opener “You & I” is Morten’s homage to his partner, who sticks it out “through the chaos and the blunders” with him. Punchy drums and cascading pianos make this one a proper two-stepper and an anthem for those lucky enough to find someone who understands them and helps them through the parts of life where they need it most. “Again & Again” slows the pace and deals with the heavier side of love and life, as Martens professes his resilience through the mishaps, heartbreak, and letdowns of love affairs gone wrong. “Untainted Love” brings the sweet side of new love center stage with a tune that plays on the title of the Gloria Jones classic. “Get Lost” leans into the metaphysical with an invitation to leave reality behind and spend time with Les Imprimés, where there’s room to dream. “Only Love” is built over a gritty drum break, with a chorus that is simple yet profound, and an arrangement that gives it the energy of a mantra. The album turns to the dancefloor on “With You,” an uptempo, uplifting tune about a fleeting encounter that leaves you pining for more. Martens longs for her, but joyfully—as if simply remembering that such a connection is possible is exactly what he needed. Martens is joined by guest vocalist Ama Li on “Miss the Days,” a slow-burning ballad that reckons back to simpler times when love felt easier. Fading Forward closes on a wholly somber note with “Paradise,” a tune that wishes freedom and peace to a friend who passed away.
In the small town of Kristiansand, Norway, there is a huge talent who spent much of his life laying low and playing in the background. Signing to New York’s Big Crown Records inspired Morten Martens to begin sharing his own music. The response to his debut Rêverie pushed him out of the studio and onto the stage, serving as inspiration to push his artistry to new heights—heights that are fully realized on Fading Forward.
Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.