World Of Echo Vinyl, CD & Tape 10 Items

World Of Echo are proud to announce the long-awaited reissue, on 17th February, of the self-titled debut album by Bristol's Movietone. Originally released in 1995 by Planet Records and reissued on CD in 2003 by The Pastels' Geographic Music imprint, this is the first time Movietone has been reissued on vinyl. An expanded double-LP edition, it includes the extra tracks from the 2003 CD (their first two singles, and an unreleased demo of "Chance Is Her Opera"), and adds three more unearthed gems: demos of "Alkaline Eye" and "She Smiled Mandarine Like", and an early take of "Late July", recorded in a garden by Dave Pearce (Flying Saucer Attack) in 1993. Taken together, this is the definitive collection of music from the first phase of one of Bristol's most remarkable groups.Movietone was the cumulation of a series of events, explorations, and discoveries, starting at secondary school - the group's core membership of Kate Wright, Rachel Brook, Matt Elliott and Matt Jones met at Cotham School in Bristol. As for many other groups, their early years were all about experimenting, and finding ways to 'make do', a DIY sensibility that would inform Movietone through their decade-long lifespan. From formative rehearsals in a shed in the garden of Brook's family home, to recording early material to four-track in Redland Library, and on into the Whitehouse and Mr Grin's studio sessions for their debut album, Movietone's music fell together in a creatively unpredictable, yet conceptually rigorous manner.By the time they released Movietone, they'd found a home with Bristol's Planet, run by author Richard King and James Webster, who had both released their first two singles, "She Smiled Mandarine Like" and "Mono Valley". There was other music happening around them in Bristol, too, from the Jones brothers' avant-rock outfit Crescent (who were Movietone's closest conspirators), through Elliott's jungle/electronica project Third Eye Foundation, and Brook and Elliott's membership of Flying Saucer Attack. A closely...

Able Noise are a cross-continent duo based between The Hague (nl) and Athens (gr), built around the experimental baritone guitar and drum playing of George Knegtel and Alex Andropoulos. After a few formative attempts at collaboration, they officially came together as the Able Noise we see now in 2017, uniting over shared thoughts on art and performance encountered while studying at The Royal Academy of Arts in The Hague. Their first recorded work, a seamless 30 minutes of glistening post-rock anti-formalism, emerged in low-key fashion in 2020 as a cassette through Glasgow’s famed Glarc label. Numerous European wide tours and left-of-centre festival appearances led the pair back to the studio for the recording of debut LP, High Tide, to be released via World of Echo on 1st November.

The shift to a studio environment was a significant one, since Able Noise was primarily conceived as a live band, thinking of and writing for the live concert experience specifically. Consider their practice an Active Performance of sorts, one that seeks to challenge understandings of the medium of the live arena, how its properties and limitations can be addressed creatively, and the dialogical relationship between performer and the audience. Those who have caught them live will have witnessed very physical yet malleable performances, shaped each time by the context at hand, be that the time of day, the acoustic properties of the space, and the shared energy of the assembled patrons.

True to this approach, the pair have embarked upon the recording of their debut album with a similar exploratory impetus. In a studio without a physical audience to confront, the questions are suddenly quite different: how does one create a definitive recorded music initially rooted in improvisation, how is that recording then listened to and understood, and, without the spectacle of performance, how is it possible to work with the sense of hearing alone. Unsurprisingly, the music of High Tide is significantly different to that of an Able Noise live set. Minimalism has been traded for a detail-oriented approach, the limitations of two sets of hands suddenly lifted by the possibilities of multi-tracked thinking, post-production and various processing techniques. Real-time gives way to fragmentation, distortion and dilation, and the shift is notable - High Tide is a woozy and often disorientating listen that plays quick and easy with conventional notions of structure, at once both centreless and impressionistic, yet somehow guided by an imagined formless space.

Reliant much less on their own capabilities - and limitations! - as musicians, Knegtel and Andropoulos heartily invited the contributions of friends from both their local Athenian music community and those made while playing the UK, with the important disclaimer given that anything played during the recording session will not sound the same once on record. The result is duos, trios, quartets and sextets playing in different experiences of time, and on dynamic scales vastly different from one another, brought to equal footing.

Critically, the wholesomeness of their creative communion belies the darker theme of inertia that the pair acknowledge runs throughout the album, a sense of bodies of very different weights and momentums existing alongside each other, either adapting to or clashing with one another. In short, the outside world can’t help but seep in, even as you create within your own hermetic universe - the feeling of hopelessness amidst endless political and social strife, obsolescence in the face of technological development, time’s inexorable march. These are things we’ve all felt, and while High Tide, like much before it, doesn’t provide any definitive resolution for these challenges, it does present its own set of unique possibilities written in the shared language of its creators.

Double LP - gatefold, tip-on sleeve, black vinyl - edition of 500 worldwide. RIYL: Hallelujahs, Nagisa Ni
Te, Roy Montgomery, Grouper, Manuel Gottsching. With IV, World Of Echo inaugurates a series of reissues by Japanese guitarist,
Naoki Zushi. Perhaps best known for his stellar guitar contributions to psych folk group, Nagisa Ni Te, Zushi has had a parallel career,
for several decades, slowly releasing solo albums that spotlight his exultant guitar playing. Originally released to CD only by Shinji
Shibayama of Nagisa Ni Te’s Org imprint in 2018, IV has Zushi playing and writing at a peak, its six songs slowly unfurling with a kind
of paradoxical understated grandeur. This is psychedelic guitar music at its most paced and considered, yet given to flights of
inspiration, and in this respect, Zushi sits within a lineage of guitarists who’ve used their instrument both as textural anchor and
improvisatory tool – think of figures like Phil Manzanera and Robert Fripp, but also Roy Montgomery, Liz Harris of Grouper, even Tom
Verlaine on his instrumental solo albums. Like those artists, Zushi locates moments of deep emotional resonance amidst luxuriant
textural and melodic exploration. Zushi’s history stretches back to the mid 1970s. While for many, he first appeared on the scene as a
founding member of noise legends Hijokaidan, alongside Jojo Hiroshige, his musical contributions predate that encounter. He started
out playing progressive rock and improvised music, making home recordings of when he was in high school. He was a member of
Rasenkaidan (Spiral Staircase) alongside Hiroshige and Idiot (Kenichi Takayama), the group that soon mutated into Hijokaidan
(Emergency Staircase). Zushi and Takayama would soon form Idiot O’Clock, in 1982; Zushi also led his own Naoki Zushi Unit, starting
in 1983. But for many, Zushi’s first significant appearance on record was as a member of Shinji Shibayama’s mid-eighties psych-pop
group, Hallelujahs, whose sole album was recently reissued on vinyl. That group mutated into Nagisa Ni Te, and Zushi has played a
significant role as their lead guitarist for several decades. His own solo music has appeared sporadically – Paradise (1987),
Phenomenal Luciferin (1998), III (2005) and IV, with a few recent, meditative offerings, For My Friends’ Sleep (2021) and Nocturnes
(2022). With IV, though, Zushi achieved something remarkable, a kind of extended exploration of the time-altering properties of
echoplexed, hypnotically spiralling guitar interplay. The opening ‘Mirror’, “a song about the mirror inside me,” Zushi explains, starts out
as a lush psych-folk song, slow and gentle, but soon takes to the skies with a cat’s cradle of Fripp-esque guitars, before thick, droning
chords sweep the song to a drowsy coda. ‘Nocturne’ weaves silver skeins of guitar melody around a cyclical chord pattern; it gathers
energy and quiet intensity through insistent repetition. The rest of the album explores the nuance Zushi can draw out of simple
elements, building on what ‘Mirror’ and ‘Nocturne’ offer – the profundity of a chord change; the melancholy of a few quietly sighed
words; the exhilaration of a guitar solo bursting out of the speakers; the subtle shifts in emotional register offered by tone and touch.
Throughout, there’s something quiet, yet ineffable, shading the contours of the songs, such that it makes perfect sense when Zushi
says, “What I want to express through music may be ‘sense of mystery’.” A few of the songs had their basic parts recorded at LM
Studio and Studio Nemu with Shibayama and Masako Takeda joining on bass and drums, respectively; much of the album, however,
was tracked at Zushi’s home studio. That seems appropriate for a collection of songs that are expansive in their intimacy. Asked what
drove the sessions, Zushi answers, “I thought I’d make IV an album that particularly focuses on the guitar play.” And focus it does, as
Zushi’s sky-scraping, soaring, elemental tone is front and centre throughout. But these are no guitar heroics; rather, Zushi uses the
guitar as conduit and diviner, a tool for spirit location, and IV is his most eloquent expression yet of such singular magic.

The Cat’s Miaow return to World Of Echo with Skipping Stones: The Cassette Years ’92-’93, their second compilation for the imprint, and the fourth in a loosely defined series of reissues associated with the group (also including The Shapiros’ Gone By Fall: The Collected Works of The Shapiros and Hydroplane’s Selected Songs 1997-2003). It’s a smart selection of songs by one of Australia’s finest independent pop music groups, whose initial run, across the nineties, was as mysterious as it was bewitching. A generous double album featuring thirty-five songs drawn from The Cat’s Miaow’s history, Skipping Stones lets listeners in on a bunch more secrets.

An even deeper pass through the archives of The Cat’s Miaow, Skipping Stones is a welcome follow-up to 2022’s Songs ’94-’98, which pulled together material from seven-inch singles and compilations. Diving into the four cassettes that the group released over a two-year period, Skipping Stones is full of surprises, rich with unexpected and inspired detours, while reminding everyone just how clear and distinct The Cat’s Miaow’s music was from the very start. Looking in from the outside, they always felt like a group that knew just what they were doing, but intuitive as they are, they weren’t forcing anything: these songs always sound exactly what they need to be, rough edges, playful moments and all.

It's also a fascinating snapshot of one arm of the ‘international pop underground’. While they were clearly listening to music from the US, UK and elsewhere – there are glimpses of Galaxie 500, Spacemen 3, Beat Happening, and The Pastels in some of the songs here – The Cat’s Miaow also feel, consciously or not, part of a continuum of Australian underground pop that takes in The Particles, The Lighthouse Keepers, The Cannanes, The Honeys, Even As We Speak, and The Sugargliders (who they would cover several times). Like those before them, The Cat’s Miaow balanced opposing forces in their music: naivete and knowingness; fragility and strength; worldliness and world-weariness; play and seriousness; heartache and pleasure.

The four cassettes that Skipping Stones draws from – Little Baby Sour Puss, Pet Sounds (both 1992), From My Window, and How Did Everything Get So Fucked Up (both 1993) – were released or assisted by Toytown, a Melbourne cassette label of rare taste, savvy and intelligence, run by Wayne Davidson. Toytown felt like the perfect early home for The Cat’s Miaow, their cassettes rubbing shoulders in the label’s catalogue with brilliant groups like Sukpatch, The Ah Club, Kitty Craft, and Land Of The Loops. The local context is just as important, too, with The Cat’s Miaow sharing their time and creative vision with friends in The Ampersands, Stinky Fire Engine, Girl Of The World, Super Falling Star, Pencil Tin and The Sugargliders. And cassettes were an important form of exchange – cheap, easy to reproduce, not too expensive to send interstate or overseas, they were the most accessible DIY format for any group starting to spread the word about their noise.

All of this is to say, the thirty-five songs here landed in several different contexts, national and international, which goes part-way to explaining the group’s curious cosmopolitanism, the style and spirit in their sound. The Cat’s Miaow may have been bedroom dreamers, but their songs were richly informed, with the sweetest of girl-pop moves sashaying into walls of tremolo-d and distorted guitar, jangling six strings tangling with melodic bass that’s pure Peter Hook/Naomi Yang, while the gentle trickle of a drum machine or the earthy twitch of brushes on drum skins provided the spine for Kerrie’s and Bart’s lovely, unforced singing.

There are a clutch of gorgeous songs here that would reappear in a different form on later releases, classics like “The Phoebe I Know”, “Third Floor Fire Escape View”, “Not Like I Was Doing Anything” and “You Left A Note On The Table”, but plenty of other magic too, all of it finding its way to vinyl for the first time (some tracks appeared on compact disc via the compilations A Kiss and A Cuddle [Bus Stop, 1996] and Songs For Girls to Sing [Drive-In, 1997]). Remarkably, The Cat’s Miaow have also recently released a split single with Rocketship featuring newly recorded material and returned to the stage for their second-ever gig.

But this double LP on World Of Echo feels like the very core of the thing – some of the most heartbreakingly beautiful, effortlessly lush and deeply moving pop music you’re likely to hear.

Not far off two years from the day, Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source. Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges. As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves. The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.

East London record shop World of Echo debuts on the other side of the counter with a reissue of Two Wishes, the solitary 12" by Anglo-German collective, Mutabor!. Seemingly lost to time, Mutabor! were first brought to World of Echo's attention when drummer/singer, Gary Asquith, played at the shop's first birthday celebrations while promoting one of his other bands, Rema Rema. And so the story goes... Mutabor! emerged wraith-like from the monochromatic grit of Berlin's art punk underground late in 1981 when Asquith left London to set up temporary residence in the city following a chance meeting with Malaria's Bettina Koster backstage at a Birthday Party gig at the Lyceum earlier that year. Beguiled by the possibilities of collaboration, musical and otherwise, he was soon to make his own contributions to what was an already fecund scene. Partnering with Koster, and Gudrun Gut and Manon Duursma also of Malaria!, Mutabor! were publicly birthed via an impromptu performance at punk rock polestar the Risiko. Asquith found himself playing percussion in what would be a first, while the rest of the band ossified in front of him in typically idealistic post-punk democracy. Little documentation of the performance survives beyond that which exists in the memories of those playing - that itself shaky enough - though there was clearly sufficient encouragement for them to commit to a recording session. Later that winter, the four booked time at Music Lab, the studio operated by Harris Johns, for what would ultimately be their only studio visit. Two songs were laid to tape, and soon after a photoshoot was to take place at Koster's flat, resulting in a handful of images that, along with the music, comprise the sum total evidence of the band's existence. 1001 Nights and Treats both found their way to Peter Kent, a co-founder of 4AD who had recently left the label with the ambition of starting his own imprint. Entitled Two Wishes, the two track 12" was to be the first and only release on Loaded. It seems that Mutabor! were to represent a series of firsts and lasts, a trend that continues now as they open the World of Echo imprint. It's fitting to think of Mutabor! in these prescient terms given how they sounded. Berlin at that time shared a spiritual axis with New York, the conceptual & aesthetic discordance of no wave and a nascent off-beat dance culture underpinning much of the respective creative activity. There are shared signifiers, but even in that context, Two Wishes sounds oddly out of step, moving to its own unusual rhythm. 1001 Nights stutters along on a tribal beat that seems to run independent of skronking sax, spidery guitar lines and deadpan vocal incantations, the ghosts of two songs meeting in some kind of incompatible voodoo union. On the reverse, Treats slows down and dims the lights further, as Asquith sardonically recites desirous threats as an increasingly malevolent sax and guitar grinds behind him. No surprise the darkness within the music given the parent bands and the backdrop of a crepuscular early 80s Berlin, though there remains a complex compositional element to these songs that suggests a broader spectrum of emotion - desire, romance, and ultimately, infinite possibility. Recut and mastered, Two Wishes is now presented with the original front cover artwork alongside additional imagery, including a 16 page booklet, all culled from Asquith's own archive. A brief bolt of energy at a crucial juncture in music history, Mutabor!'s story is emblematic of the mutli-verse of post-punk and the creativity its ideology necessitated.

UEVPD - Usage/Efficiency/Variance/Platform/Domain - is the solo project of Dominic Goodman, a former member of Mosquitoes and currently one half of Komare.

The self-titled UEVPD debut LP, released on 22nd November via World of Echo, consists of eight sequentially numbered electro-acoustic tracks made over approximately five years, living recordings that have morphed in shape over time, each systematically stripped back to their elemental form before being deemed complete. From the outset, Goodman purposefully deployed a relatively limited array of equipment and adopted a determinedly minimalist approach to composition, a practice in restraint that privileges detail and nuance. Field recordings, made using a combination of dynamic, condenser, contact and electret microphones, geophones and hydrophones, were allied to a basic modular/analogue synth setup, allowing for little in the way of excess or indulgence.

The results are markedly defiant, displaying an expert exercise in control and restraint that lets in little light but plays a great service to space and time. This is patient, claustrophobic sound design that bears out the value in attentive listening, a meditation on the acceptance of passing time, change, growth, death and regeneration. As such, listeners might connect associative lines with the likes of Pan Sonic and Mika Vianio’s solo work, Emptyset and Civilistjavel (who’s Tomas Bodén shows up on mastering duties here), though this remains distinctively Goodman’s vision, a continuation of his interests shown in Mosquitoes and Komare that further pushes out into the murky unknown.

UEVPD is released digitally and on vinyl in an edition of 250, each in hand printed, die cut sleeves.

In spring, Again. But it's true this time. In Spring is the second record by Tara Clerkin Trio, a Bristol-based group who appeared to emerge from below the radar of near-all in early 2020 and in the presence of one of the most captivating records of that year. This latest 23 minute, four song collection, recorded in various stages and locations over the last twelve months, does nothing to detract from those first impressions, refining the woozy and shimmering oddness of their debut into an avant-pop sensibility that is increasingly their own. If the group did arrive fully formed, what that form was did feel supple and hard to grasp. They were, in a sense, essentially new sounding, or at least ghosts between the established lines, and with this new record have doubled-down on their inherently Delphian instinct. At its heart, In Spring is a record of subtle contrasts, experimental yet familiar in its intimacy, obviously modern though tied to certain lineages, and driven by a pop logic which is also free-form and seemingly improvised. Their approach to sound is perhaps the guiding principle here, less concerned with genre as it is texture and feeling, drawing from jazz, folk, modern composition, trip hop and downtempo electronica, yet evading all of those categorisations. Tara Clerkin Trio are too generous of heart to be ripping up any rulebook, they simply seem oblivious to its need. Their geography does provide some context. Bristol's progressive sonic heritage inescapably bleeds into these four tracks, the enclave of open-minded artists around Planet Records in the mid 90s perhaps the closest point of comparison. There's that same magpie spirit which is both futuregazing and aware of its past, though is mostly set on finding its own path. This is in essence what defines Tara Clerkin Trio, feeling their way through freedom of instinct and curiosity, forging their own desire lines. Not so much taking the road less trodden, just walked at their own winding pace. "Done before, And I'll do it again" Ringing in my head While I try To feel.