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viewing 1 To 7 of 7 items
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LP
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JMM 210LP
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Glyn Bigga Bush has been producing electronic and sample-based music since the early '90s when he formed Rockers Hi-Fi, going on to release numerous albums. Since the turn of the century he has produced and DJ'd as BiggaBush as well as various side projects such as Lightning Head, the Dandelion Set, and the Magic Drum Orchestral. Bigga's latest project Sunken Foal Stories represents a departure from much of his other work in that it is not primarily based on beats. Instead, his working method was to go with fascinating samples, accidental juxtapositions, and irregular loops -- inspired by pioneers of sound such as Faust and the audio experiments of Julian House, as well as early stereo test records, soundtracks, and library music. The 21 concise tracks of Sunken Foal Stories link into two 15-minute segments on the LP. Bush explores the random elements created by overlaying disparate samples, where chimes of baroque psychedelia clash with ascending classical strings, or a haunting Eastern European folk song is looped into an eternal cadence of longing. Various voices float over the speakers, lost poets, disturbing therapists, dreaming vampires, chuckling cabaret singers. Sourced almost entirely from charity shops and car boot sales, the source material speaks of a forgotten yet relatively recent period, when stereo was something new and exciting, when home entertainment first came into its own and suburban homes thrilled to the exotic sounds of home organs, primitive beatboxes, LPs bought in unusual holiday destinations and "glamorous" soundtracks. The result is a journey into a familiar yet strange world of sound, as witnessed by these early reactions: "A genre spanning melting pot that touches on intimate and thought-provoking aspects of record sampling."; "Cut up collaged sonic curios '50s noir sketches '70s medieval electro modal pulp detective finds covert sound lab break-in beatnik folding time minimalist go-go half imagined torch songs."; "21st century cultural decay meets Alice In Wonderland."; "... like a journey to a place and time long gone, a place of love and harmony. It will put you back in touch with the art of storytelling via beautiful soundscapes and melodies."; "Spirits of instruments and sounds come across and alive throughout the entire album reminding you why you fell in love with music."; "A disconcerto, soundtracking the hive-mind's motion picture dreamtime." "Nosferatu's cocktail party."
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LP
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MANU 001LP
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Manuela, the London-based project comprising vocalist and songwriter Manuela Gernedel and multi-instrumentalist and producer Nick McCarthy (Franz Ferdinand, FFS), present their self-titled debut album. Austrian Manuela and her British-born husband Nick have been making music together on-and-off ever since they first met at a youth club summer party in the late '90s in Bavaria, Germany, where they both grew up. They moved to Glasgow together some years later after Manuela was offered a place at Glasgow School of Art to study painting. While living in Glasgow, Manuela performed with the short-lived band White Nights, who released one 7" EP via Paul Thomson's NEW! label. Nick went on to join Franz Ferdinand, selling millions of records and touring the world, all the while continuing to make music with Manuela as Box Codax together with their long-term friend Alexander Ragnew, releasing two well-received albums Only An Orchard Away in 2006 and Hellabuster in 2011 (GOMMA 151CD). The album was recorded after Nick concluded touring the Franz Ferdinand and Sparks collaboration FFS at Sausage, Nick's studio in London, and was co-produced and mixed by Sebastian Kellig. The album features players and friends old and new including Jim Dixon (Django Django), William Reese (Mystery Jets), Roxanne Clifford (Veronica Falls), and Paul Thomson (Franz Ferdinand), among many others. Manuela is a joyous gem of addictive, eclectic, off-the-wall, and instantly refreshing DIY pop.
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LP
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LE 004LP
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LeRoy presents Bambadea, a little over a year after the Munich-based artist's debut offering, Skläsh (LE 003CD/LP, 2015). Skläsh made a huge splash. Countless trend-savvy media outlets dubbed it an electrified joyride and likened it to the discovery of an all-new orbital speed. Bambadea is an album born out of personal elation and European Weltschmerz. Accordingly, Bambadea sounds both desolate and sun-drenched, gloomy and ecstatic - a paradoxical state that actually has a subversive element of indetermination to it. These tunes feel both warm and cool, sexy and somber, sometimes even both high and heavy-hearted. Seen in this oscillating light, "Advantage Of Nothing", with its slow-moving bolero vibes is, well, pretty hardcore. It's a disturbed, sweetly insane tune with a wicked dash of Brian Wilson-ism. Underneath, there's a steady downbeat push, a breezy marine glaze, as if time was indeed suspended for an instant: A lacuna, the kind of blank space that adds three-dimensional depth to the inter-locked syncopation of these tracks - and that makes Skläsh's tunes almost seem clunky and clumsy in comparison. Album opener "Quirly Stu" sounds like Neil Young's fingers let go of his guitar for a second, only to roll a cigarette while watching a tarred drum. And then, still in the same breath, the process of burning off as metaphor - for dealing with nichts ("nothing"), and nichtsein ("non-being"). Only to in- and exhale in the next moment ("Happened From The Void"), send enormous puffs of smoke into the blue skies above - and see: "Love Is In The Air". Growing increasingly denser and more atmospheric, "Half The Way" encloses the listener like a sonic tunnel, and it's true. The flute that enters the picture towards the end is just that - a small tunnel filled with air in rhythmical motion. And yet, while sunbathing and feathering one's thoughts in the gleaming light, there are ghostly voices, scraps of conversation amid the ebb-and-flow that perpetually hits these coastlines, an aquatic hustle and bustle, full of underwater sounds that ultimately forms a maelstrom around "Coral Girl". It's the sheer intricacy of these tunes that makes Bambadea feel everything but aloof, everything but calculated or trying hard. This is pure pop as primeval force, the sound of eons combined to one big, harmonious ostinato.
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CD
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LE 003CD
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"It's more timeless than fashionable" is a line, or at least sentiment, that artists often spout about their own music -- more often than not, it's rooted more in fantasy or delusion than reality. But when LeRoy (the one-man project of Munich-based Leo Hopfinger) says it of Skläsh, an album crammed with krautrock dub, lo-fi funk, esoteric jams, and DIY sparseness, it seems almost irrefutable. Hopfinger reflects, "My approach to creativity is diverse. It's like collecting pieces of various puzzles... Tools, strange ambient sounds, noises, field recordings. I put unusual things together and try to feel how they react on different levels." The result is a vast, unpredictable, and rich sonic depth that often sounds like the work of multiple artists. "I try to spread the gap between abstract and pop as far as possible," Hopfinger says of the musical disparity of Skläsh. "I see this album more like a collection, a musical chronicle. Like a DJ who is digging some strange tunes, no matter which era they are from." There is a refined quality to the record; while it's diverse and stylistically broad (opener "Like a Disease" sounds like a long-lost Faust classic), there is a plain, straightforward approach to the album that evokes a long-lost bedroom recording dug up in parts over decades. As Hopfinger puts it, "I started to restrict things. To become very simple and focused... Straight up, no gimmicks... For me it is important to keep all the mistakes in the songs because they make the sound more human and sympathetic."
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LP
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LE 003LP
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LP version. "It's more timeless than fashionable" is a line, or at least sentiment, that artists often spout about their own music -- more often than not, it's rooted more in fantasy or delusion than reality. But when LeRoy (the one-man project of Munich-based Leo Hopfinger) says it of Skläsh, an album crammed with krautrock dub, lo-fi funk, esoteric jams, and DIY sparseness, it seems almost irrefutable. Hopfinger reflects, "My approach to creativity is diverse. It's like collecting pieces of various puzzles... Tools, strange ambient sounds, noises, field recordings. I put unusual things together and try to feel how they react on different levels." The result is a vast, unpredictable, and rich sonic depth that often sounds like the work of multiple artists. "I try to spread the gap between abstract and pop as far as possible," Hopfinger says of the musical disparity of Skläsh. "I see this album more like a collection, a musical chronicle. Like a DJ who is digging some strange tunes, no matter which era they are from." There is a refined quality to the record; while it's diverse and stylistically broad (opener "Like a Disease" sounds like a long-lost Faust classic), there is a plain, straightforward approach to the album that evokes a long-lost bedroom recording dug up in parts over decades. As Hopfinger puts it, "I started to restrict things. To become very simple and focused... Straight up, no gimmicks... For me it is important to keep all the mistakes in the songs because they make the sound more human and sympathetic."
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12"
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RMX 007EP
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So this EP exists because of nothing but Sarah Gonputh's voice track? How can you remix a song that does not yet exist? The BELP version is a tribute to a woman's voice; sepia-toned, wearing a long, pale raincoat in an industrial London from another time. Steril's bright, shiny version definitely uses Gonputh the most. Protein's version is the most reminiscent of the original reggae vibe -- something like acidofluorescentropical music. Everything good and dirty happens below the belt on Bartellow's version; Pacifico Boy's version is fit for a psycho-circus waltz ballroom; Eshna_TRON's version is the most hardcore thing ever.
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10"
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RWO 002LP
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45 RPM 10" pressed on blue vinyl. The frontman in the synthesizer with his iconic tie and his eight huge gloved hands; a headless octopus in a suit. His head is in the clouds, playing serenades under vectorized moonlight like melancholic cries for his long-gone lover -- "When is Becky coming back?" The journey in Becky Reynolds Band's universe is a unique one. Who is this band? Is it a trio? Is it a love triangle? It starts with frontman Mister Headless's assumed aesthetics of automatic tracks from kids' Casios. After a glimpse into his genius mind, Pissy Milly comes in and the rollercoaster rides begins. A musical fight begins between Milly and M. Headless. Is she jealous of Becky? Saxploitation is a confrontation. It's an intense push and pull and it locks and it falls apart again and locks back together. Where is Becky anyway? The singing diva is in the dressing room again. What if our musicians worked together? Milly's sound with Headless's longing in "Venetian Mirror" -- wow. It's intense and full and round and glowing. Too much for our poor lovesick man. He pushes Milly away. She comes back with revenge, though. It's a seduction plan through sound. She's gonna reach the clouds, too. She explores different skies, sounds, and timelines, searching and searching and searching. Will she find him? It may not be "The Easiest Way," but it's gonna be worth it. BELP feat. Becky Reynolds Band is candy for the mind. You can make it whatever you want. Music created and produced by Sebastian Schnitzenbaumer with contributions by Dennis Gross, Peter Tuscher, Sascha Luer, and Christa Brunne. Artwork by Sebastian Kempff.
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