Claremont 56 Cosmic | Balearic 4 Items

The magic and majesty of Holger Czukay’s late career works for Claremont 56 is being celebrated on a new compilation. The former Can bassist – a musical maverick renowned for his freewheeling approach to composition, recording and promotion – released a string of inspired tracks on Paul Murphy’s label between 2009 and 2012, typically delivering hard-to-pigeonhole workouts, bona-fide epics and radical reinventions of some of his most beloved tracks.

The collection has been a labour of love – fitting given the sonic details and inventive musicality that marked out the late artist’s solo career – for Claremont 56 founder Paul Murphy AKA Mudd, who first reached out to Czukay after witnessing his now legendary live performance at the Roundhouse in 2009. As Murphy details in his introductory liner notes, it led to a productive working relationship between the pair that included collaborative recording sessions with Ben Smith in Czukay’s legendary Innerspace Studio – a former cinema in Cologne in which much of Can’s music was recorded.The impact of that Roundhouse gig on Murphy is reflected in the fact that two of the tracks on the collection are based on that celebrated performance. There’s ‘Ode To Perfume’, a languid and solo-laden version of one of Czukay’s most celebrated solo records that ratchets up the original’s inherent dreaminess, and a jaunty take on quirky kraut-pop number ‘Photosong’ featuring a spoken introduction recorded at the concert in question.

Murphy’s ability to coax Czukay into delving into his archives is evident across the compilation. Opener ‘A Perfect World (Remix)’ is an eccentric, ever-building masterpiece originally recorded in 1984 – but later re-imagined for Claremont 56 – featuring vocalist Sheldon Ancel and former Can band-mates Jaki Leibezeit and Michael Karoli, while ‘Fragrance’ is a subtly re-wired slab of picturesque Balearic kraut-dub which was initially recorded as a coda for ‘Ode To Perfume’ but lay unreleased for decades.

Then there’s ‘Let’s Get Cool’, a bright and breezy, French horn-sporting 2009 take on 1979 avant-disco classic ‘Cool In The Pool’; ‘My Persian Love (Remix)’, a 2010 re-take of one of his earliest solos recordings; and the near 18-minute brilliance of ‘Music Is A Miracle’. Originally recorded for his fans in the 1980s – but only released three decades later – this widescreen epic not only features drums by Jaki Leibezeit and a fine spoken word vocal by Czukay, but also numerous nods to some of his most revered tracks.

It's fitting, too, that two of the most potent cuts feature Czukay’s much-missed wife and musical muse Ursa Major: the dense, trippy and fittingly out-there ambient soundscape ‘In Space’, and the mesmerising ‘Music To be Murdered By’. Partially inspired by hearing painfully out of tune violin practice through his studio windows, the track was originally recorded for an unreleased album but finally found a home on Claremont 56’s 10th anniversary box set ion 2017. A genuinely spaced-out and mind-mangling slab of organic dub in Czukay’s distinctive style, it delivers a fine curtain call to the iconic artist’s endlessly inventive career.

Jean-Philippe Altier’s first full-length excursion as Jpye, 2021’s Samba With You, was heralded a contemporary Balearic pop gem – a superbly summery, sun-kissed set full of atmospheric instrumentation, colourful synth sounds, strong songs and star turns from a wide variety of musical friends and guest performers.

Bleu Your Mind, his hotly anticipated follow-up, takes a similar sonic approach to its predecessor, with Altier being joined in the studio by friends old (vocalist e11e, keyboardist Michael T and fellow Twonk members Leonidas and Renato Tonini all reprise their roles from ‘Samba With You’) and new (Da Roc and Iamrobd) on a set that effortlessly mixes and matches elements of nu-disco, jazz-funk, laidback synth-pop, Italo-disco and Balearic beats. Those who savoured ‘Samba With You’ will feel at home right away, as e11e sings softly and sweetly atop the gentle Latin infused shuffle, dusk-ready instrumentation and chiming vibraphone solos of ‘Freedom Ain’t Free’. French composer and keyboardist Da Roc make’s his first appearance on the following track, the duelling electric pianos and synths of sun-splashed instrumental Balearic pop gem ‘You Freak Out’, before e11e returns on the throbbing and suspenseful ‘Shiver’– a re-imagined and genuinely glassy-eyed cover of Marie Laure Sachs’ sleazy 1978 Italian disco jam of the same name. So, it continues, with Altier and his collaborators painting scintillating sonic pictures in kaleidoscopic colours. Impeccable arrangements and pin-sharp instrumentation work in perfect harmony with seductive grooves that pack plenty of subtle swing. Even more impressively, ‘Bleu Your Mind’ is an album that genuinely rewards repeat listens, with each successive spin revealing more musical touches and cannily crafted melodic motifs. As a result, highlights come thick and fast throughout, from the delay-laden jazz-funk-goes-electrofunk fizz of ‘Xcuse My French’ (with Da Roc), and the humid afternoon heat of ‘Va Là-Bas’ – a gorgeous and immersive, sunset-ready affair produced alongside Renato and featuring dazzling kets from Michael T) – to the slow-motion Gallic/Italian reggae-pop of ‘Tutto OK’ (a nod to the tropical-tinged reggae sounds created in France during the 1980s), and the slap-bass sporting, smoothed-out (but low-down) grooves of Renato hook-up ‘Take Off’.

As ‘Bleu Your Mind’ progresses, the musical details become more refined, the grooves drowsier and the mood more horizontal. This subtle shift can be heard in Leonidas co-production ‘Lazyjack’ – all chiming lead lines, languid bass guitar, snappy drum machine beats and glistening guitar motifs – the vocoder-sporting stoner funk of ‘Spinnaker’, and the yearning brilliance of ‘Fingers Crossed’. The album’s most emotive and immersive moment by some distance, ‘Fingers Crossed’ sees Altier and collaborator Iamrobd (also a fellow Twonk member) tease out a slow-motion groove in combination with lilting Spanish guitar solos, ultra-dreamy chords, twinkling pianos and delay-laden drum machine hits. Bittersweet and brilliant, it’s a track guaranteed to send shivers down your spine. By the time it fades out, via a sustained piano chord, you’ll be sat or stood in wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonder.

Since joining the label back in 2018, Hear & Now have quickly become one of Claremont 56’s most prolific and consistent acts. The Italian duo impressed with their debut album Aurora Baleare – a drowsy, mood enhancing masterpiece – and then went one better with 2020’s Alba Sol, a seductive and sun-kissed set that incorporated more nods to Hear & Now members Ricky L and Marcoradi’s 1990s deep house roots.

The pair have once more struck sonic gold with their third album, Milvus, a set whose colouful chords, unfurling melodies, warming instrumentation and sun-soaked vibes were mostly laid down during the various pandemic lockdowns of 2020. If it’s vivid, picturesque and immersive musical escapism you’re after, Milvus delivers and then some.

The album’s clear White Isle-friendly intent can be heard on opening track ‘Bassa Marea’, a yearning chunk of horizontal brilliance in which guest musician Marco Evengelista’s emotive flugelhorn sounds spar with slow-motion, eyes-closed electric guitar solos over billowing ambient chords and a tactile, thickset bassline. The pair’s ability to craft high-class, saucer-eyed Balearic soundscapes is a theme that’s returned to several times across the album, with ‘Abisso’– another near beat-free slab of touchy-feely dreaminess – standing out.

Ricky L and Marcoradi’s love of evocative, pitched-down excursions is another recurring theme. For proof, check out the chugging weariness of ‘Zanziblu’, where a lone whistle drifts across waves of heady chords and metronomic beats, the dub-fired Balearic reggae shuffle of ‘Coccobello’ and the bright aural colours of gentle title track ‘Milvus’, whose cascading piano motifs, echoing harmonica motifs and chunky dub disco grooves are as appealing as they are infectious.

While the prevailing mood is perhaps even more horizontal than their previous albums, Hear & Now have not completely abandoned the dancefloor. Two of the set’s standout moments are those where the pair actively explore their early ‘90s Italian dream house roots.

There’s the rolling haziness of ‘Levante’, where more emotion-rich electric guitar solos and ear-catching whistling softly spar with pulsing pads, club-ready house beats and chiming synthesizer motifs, and the breathlessly brilliant ‘Baiadriatica’, whose stirring, sustained opening chords should always be described as “rush-inducing”.

Rich in jangling piano riffs, fluid keys, squelchy bass and glistening guitars, the track is little less than a glorious 21st century update of the dream house sound first made famous by the likes of Sueno Latino and Key-Tronic Ensemble. Like the rest of Hear & Now’s absorbing and emotive third album, it’s a stunning, sunset-ready delight.

Leo Ceccanti should be a familiar name to all followers of the Claremont 56 label. Alongside sometime studio partner Gianluca Salvadori, he was responsible for two delightfully distinctive Almunia albums released on the label, 2011’s New Moon and 2013’s Pulsar. Both sets were filled with golden, sun-kissed sounds, psychedelic grooves and immersive, life-affirming soundscapes.

Now he’s decided to go it alone as Leo Almunia, delivering a debut album for Claremont 56 that’s every bit as alluring, wide-eyed and evocative as those he made with Salvadori. In keeping with his previous work, the album blends layered acoustic and electric guitars with toasty bass, dreamy synthesizers and grooves that variously touch on hypnotic house, chugging mid-tempo disco, sunset-ready Balearic beats and, on the glistening, life-affirming album highlight ‘Wishing Star’, loose-limbed jazz breaks.

What’s most significant about Ceccanti’s personal musical style is not the blend of stylistic influences he draws on – think psychedelic rock, progressive rock, jazz-rock, new age ambient and slow-motion disco – but rather the way he uses it to paint vivid aural images that genuinely linger long in the memory.

After opening with the duelling guitars and chunky dub disco grooves of ‘Sinking Fields’, Ceccanti sashays between magical moments of rush-inducing positivity, heart-tugging poignance and heady nostalgia.

Along the way, you’ll find numerous sonic highlights. On the intoxicating 21st century psychedelia of ‘Panerea’, jangling chords and eyes-closed psych-rock guitar solos ride a chugging, thickset electronic bassline, while ‘Il Cormorano’ is a metronomic, flash-fried workout rich in fuzz-tone guitar motifs, bluesy riffs and echoing instrumental touches.

He cannily joins the dots between Mid-West Americana and throbbing, psychedelic disco-chug on ‘Loveblind’, while ‘Minor Circle’ sits somewhere between Santana, the Pat Metheny Band and sunrise-ready Balearic blues. Arguably even better is the saucer-eyed brilliance of ‘Brillo De Luna’, where a dubbed-out electronic beat becomes enveloped in life-affirming acoustic guitar chords, exotic slide guitar motifs and string-bending solos. If John Lennon had ingested Mdma rather than LSD before writing ‘Across The Universe’, it would probably sound like this.

Then there’s the album’s crowning moment, closer ‘Can’t Hold a Lover’. A heart-aching, largely ambient instrumental that channels the loneliness and anguish felt by many of those separated from their nearest and dearest during the pandemic, it sees Ceccanti brilliantly wrap a variety of sun-bright guitar textures and solos around some of the loveliest synthesizer chords you’re every likely to hear. On an album packed with effervescent, mood-enhancing musical highs, it’s a rare moment of bittersweet bliss.