Cosmic | Balearic Vinyl 428 Items

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.

Deep Downtempo / Cosmic Throb / Sensitive Soft Rock It’s a strange world we’re living in and these addictive cuts mirror it well. Dancing all night in cheerful melancholy with two strictly limited edits. The A-side renders gothic synth pop at cruising tempo, spinning a web of tape delay as your mind unravels. A bassline throbs, pistons hiss and a paranoia takes hold of an icy vocal. Lose yourself in the otherwhere. We step into a pristine wilderness on the B-side, stately pads gliding over a supple rhythm section while tender chimes tug at your heartstrings. Emotion abounds on an instrumental which never was. Big boys do cry, and this dove’s weeping over broken wings.

Soundclash or romance? Androo versus Bony Fly have composed six tracks finely balanced between the care given to sound experimentation and the explosive ardor of the dancefloor. Love Affair EP was born from this particular research, the fruit of a common passion for dub music, dancehall and its infinite variations. Radical and popular, the EP carries within it this generous and spontaneous quest for dance, naturally provoking body movements. It is also combined with a particular attention to sound textures, subtle and harmonious, whose multiple references (to jazz in particular) testify to an overflowing curiosity

Who is Harvey Couture? Some say he’s a survivor of French pop music’s sun-soaked synth-pop era of the early 1980s, others that he’s a more suave and stylish Serge Gainsbourg for the nu-Balearic era. There were even rumours circulating that he’s a musical mobster from the Cote D’Azure: a shadowy member of the mafia who deals in synths, drum machines and fretless bass guitars rather than guns, money and drugs.

In truth, not even Leng Records knows much about the man behind the moniker, though his vividly kaleidoscopic, retro-futurist debut album, Scellé En Cristal, does offer a number of crafty clues. Whether listeners will make the necessary deductions to solve the mystery remains to be seen; regardless, it’s the music that matters, and on that score Scellé En Cristal simply cannot be faulted.

Rich in humid, afternoon-bright musical delights, the set sees our publicity-shy hero mix and mangle a multitude of musical influences – think proto-Balearic European synth-pop, Prince style purple funk, immersive ambient, early INXS style synth-rock, the electronic end of zouk and much more besides – with constantly colourful and imaginative results.

Couture is most at home adding his variously seductive, sexy and sleazy vocals to bubbly, upbeat and mid-tempo numbers that combine delay-laden drum machine beats with surging synths, fluid bass, stylish guitars, lashings of leftfield pop nouse and plenty of tongue-in-cheek Gallic flair.

For proof, check the throbbing, off-kilter alien-funk throb of ‘Les Portes De La Perception’, the bustling, percussion-laden cheeriness of ‘Crème Solaire’ and the loose-limbed, toe-tapping brilliance of ‘Je Ne Peux Pas’, where chiming, steel pan style melodies and pots-and-pans percussion hits jostle for position with sliding fretless bass notes and flash-fried guitars. Check to ‘Passion’, a swaggering slab of bustling electrofunk/synth-rock fusion rich in ‘Rockit’-style scratches and restless synth-bass.

The influence of languid, sunset-ready European pop records of the 1980s – those cuts that would later become sought-after amongst dusty-fingered collectors of Mediterranean music – is another recurring feature of Couture’s cultured but joyous debut album. It can be heard amongst the drowsy guitars, yawning bass and tumbling lead lines of ‘Look Within’, the pleasingly laidback ‘Invincible Line’, the elastic bass, fluorescent synth sounds and stuttering machine drums of ‘Marche’.

Yet Couture is no one-trick pony. Horizontal and loved-up moments of a more downtempo hue can be found scattered across the album, with the enveloping ambient awe of ‘Les Portes’ – all swelling chords, gentle melodies and atmospheric field recordings – and slowly unfurling ‘Whale Song’ both lingering long in the memory.

Harvey Couture may not be ready to step out of the shadows just yet, but his music most certainly is. We have a feeling that Scellé En Cristal is just the start of the mystery monsieur’s musical journey.

After the first two Earthly Tapes & a handful of EPs, Earthly Measures drops its first full-length album with Mente Organica’s El Espacio - a beautifully crafted album with glorious textures, steady grooves, calming vibes & a dancefloor filler or two. Born in Bogotá, Colombia – producer & multi-instrumentalist Mente Organica has slowly been making a name for himself within the folktronica/Latin scene. Following multiple album and EP releases over the past few years, El Espacio marks his first release on wax and the music stands out from anything he has done before. These 8 tracks surprise & reward the listener as individual harmonies at first, and finally, as a whole and immersive symphony. From 'Pablo Bebe’, a track he wrote which is inspired & dedicated to his best friend – to ‘Close the Door’, written in the depths of quarantine, reflecting isolation, loneliness & introspection, & ‘Yoga’ - a song written with his father that can be easily heard filling the dancefloor as well as easy bedroom sessions, this album truly does feel like his most personal work yet. Eagle’- an utterly unique track born in Pucon, Chile, after meeting opera singer Katy Prado - blends sensibilities of 60s psychedelic rock vocals with Mente’s signature electronica. ‘Dame Un Segundo’ is the lobby track of the album, with Balearic vibes: chilled, jazzy & floaty. Title track ‘El Espacio’ pays homage to Mente’s influences growing up - think Massive Attack, Thievery Corporation & Air - giving us that Trip Hop vibe. ‘Huanini’ is a real groover - a low-key dance track that evokes that ‘start of the night’ feeling of excitement, with heavy experimentation of granular synths. Finally, rounding the album off with melodies of hope, delight and positivity, ‘Partida’ reminds us that there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

France, 1990. Fun Radio, NRJ, Skyrock set a new pace, and their crushing hegemony irrevocably marks the end of the free radio utopia. The giants become vital in the hit industry and carry on fuelling France’s greatest invention: la variété. A quintessentially French version of British dance pop with a very specific tang to it, too coy to emulate trendy clubs’ and rave parties’ music, europop cautiously tests the waters of what will soon turn into a tsunami : house music. Is house the soundtrack of the 90s? In Europe, it gave steam to comeback bands just as much as to the most memorable formations of the decade, while in France it paved the way for the global success of French Touch. “Real” house music emerges in early 80’s Chicago (where the Warehouse club, which allegedly gave its name to the genre, closes down in 1983). England’s acid house and Belgium’s new beat, its European offshoots, fed the cravings of tabloids in 1988 and 1989. The house music we’re interested in though, the type bound to soon overwhelm European charts, is already pretty far away from the afro-american music born in Chicago. So far away it inherited a new name: dance music. Just like it had been the case with disco a few years back, house and techno aren’t exactly in the good books – acid house and new beat even less so. And it’s precisely the genre’s mainstream iteration this compilation focuses on; the house en français, which strives to get on board the running train in 1990. The house which sports the all-over jean look, bandana, cap, chewing gum, peugeot 205 complete with snazzy beats on the radio. The big deal big fuss type, miles away from the original, underground house. It might not have been born in the nineties, but that’s clearly when house music became mainstream. What underpins house music might even be what is to define the decade to come: jingles and pin’s, megaclubs and clips. That and the hits. Very soon house is everywhere: on the air of the big radio stations and on TV, creeping in as far as kids’ programs. The French may not even notice, but they’re all listening to it. Meanwhile, music producers smell the gravy and, willy-nilly with the earnest, enlightened amateurs, propose their very own club versions, cross breeding French variété and house. The result: a chart and club ready ersatz that is to quickly seduce young audiences. Hits, that’s what we want – or tubes for the French, like in House Tube, one of the landmarks of this compilation. The tracklist, like the soundtrack to a club night that never happened, fictitiously reconstructs the fleeting moment when house made its arrival in France, bridging the gap between variété and eurodance. House quiproquo House music barges in like a UFO on European land. With the arrival of this repetitive, yet transgressive music, tabloids freak out, while widespread incomprehension over the genre inspires dubious misconceptions. The media are happy to suckle on the music’s popularity, though well hidden behind the veil of decorum: NRJ airs a remake of a famous new beat track, Rock To The Beat, in which, however, “ecstasy” is swapped for “fantasy”. Dechavanne, thoughtful as usual, calls fans junkies and nazis on his tv show, Ciel Mon Mardi – though the show’s theme song is nothing else than a house track. The footage became a classic, and the comments, sampled by producers, provided the vocals for a flagship new beat track (Dr. Smiley – L’Echo Dechavanne). The Dechavanne episode is representative of the general confusion surrounding this barbarian music; skepticism remained high, even (if not more so?) in the musical world. In fact, it’s the subject of the unequivocal House Tube: “House tube, bouse tube ; on n’aime pas vraiment le house tube House soupe, bouse soupe ; on n’aime pas vraiment le house soupe” That is: “House hits, house shit; we don’t really dig house hits House soup, shit soup; we don’t really dig house soup” The success of house music inspired many exasperated reactions, just like House Tube (the B-side of a deodorant ad’s theme). Laurent Castellvi, surprised that the joke-track he composed at the time still sparked interest, told us: “At the beginning of the nineties, house was all over the radio. It annoyed me a little that most tracks were based on the same two chords. House Tube is a joke, it’s me sitting at the piano playing two chords. And that’s what the lyrics say.” On the other hand and following up with the next track, Fred de Fred was clearly in the know. The Frenchman had moved to the epicentre of the English commotion, Sheffield, a few years prior to the arrival of house. That’s where Warp (Autechre, Aphex Twin) originated – and at the time Warp still went by the name FON, Fred already hung around in their studios. Robert Gordon, Fred’s pal and co-founder of the label, signs the remix of one of his 1989 tracks, Sous Sous. In 1991, he composes a record of songs, and when it comes to pairing a suitable club remix single, Fred knows what’s up. Je T’Aime En Amour, sleek rock, mutates into a syncretism of french chanson and nearly rave breakbeat (here provided in its “2020” version). Fred de Fred is exemplary of the variété-club crossover driving this record; his career started within the collective ZNR, he crossed paths with the likes of Alain Bashung and then the Stone Roses, was close to Warp, and ended up signing a record on Barclay. Studio sharks Electronic musicians are often referred to as “producers”. This emanates from the delimitation of roles in the making of recorded music, traditionally assigned as singer, songwriter and producer. The latter takes care of the recording per se; that is, he manages the project, rents the studio, hires the musicians (known as requins de studio – studio sharks – for accumulating studio sessions) and cashes in at the end. The artist in electronic music is the producer alone, who essentially combines all roles at once: totally autonomous in his home studio, he can do without musicians or singers. The moment we’re interested in is this transitory period in which the two types of producers coexist. On the one hand, the new producers, like Fred Rister with Everybody Dancing, who recorded in a shack on a 4-track recorder, according to the sound engineer. On the other, the revival of old brigade producers, always on the lookout for a hot deal. The producer behind Près De Toi is of the latter type – pursuing a long musical career though quick to forget Claire-An (and so did posterity). New beat’s heritage isn’t negligible : its pioneers fashioned the “new generation” producer formula, a one-man-band in his machine-filled home studio. They’re also the first to churn out major hits, hitting the floor of a few Belgian clubs and eventually making it to the European top 50. What seems like mad creative abundance (hundreds of tracks between 1987 and 1989) is in fact the work of a handful of Belgian producers, barely ten, hidden behind multiple aliases. Among them, Marc Neuttiens, Jack Mauer and Fabian Van Messen, who often work as a trio and produce some of the genre’s most iconic tracks. In the midst of which On Se Calme, produced under the name Bassline Boys, sampling none other than Christophe Dechavanne. It’s no coincidence then that Anne Zamberlan should knock on their door with in mind the idea of an antidrug track. She wants to make noise, they know how to make a hit. And the track has it all: proto-acid gimmicks, big beat, house piano, verses rapped with a hiphouse flow… It might have been great, but even a Virgin Megastore ad she appeared in two years later got her more success. À la folie, je danse This tale is also the one of the pioneers who brought house music to France, first on the radio, well before rave parties or Laurent Garnier’s nights in Paris. As soon as the early eighties, Robert Levy Provençal plays the edits of the young Dimitri from Paris on the airwaves of Radio 7. At the time they’re unusual: like one would use samples in hip hop, Dimitri loops soul, funk and disco tracks, creating extended mixes. He breaks down tracks, reducing them to a gimmick or a bass line, thus creating easy-to-mix tools for DJs and bringing them closer to the sounds of house and techno music. He soon becomes resident DJ on NRJ and hosts the popular show Hot Mix. Like his colleague RLP, Dimitri proposes a trailblazing selection, blending together French news and the odd new sound from the States. At the turn of the nineties, when europop wants in at the club, only these influencers master the dance side of things. There’s RLP, Bibi Fricotin, Dom T… And Dimitri, who becomes the assigned variété remixer, adapting dozens of songs that were never meant to make it into a club. The general tendency however is less to official remixes than to bootlegs: a “pirate”, unauthorised and often private remix – just like Jacques Dutronc’s Opium, stretched out into a nearly 7-minute-long mix. The nineties also set the stage for the first TV stars, the ones who become famous without anyone really knowing why. Take, say, Jordy, four years old. The kid, in his diapers, sings along a New York style, house piano production and somehow makes it to the top 50’s number 1. For years, Jordy plays out the role of the child star and demonstrates that dance music is a perfectly profitable affair: it fuels the radios turned juggernauts, and lands on TV, seeping through music programs… In 1989, Vincent Lagaf (a famous french TV host) dives in with Bo Le Lavabo. The pitch is simple: the TV host adapts a track well known overseas, Lil Louis’ French Kiss (without any direct reference), simply adding lyrics taken from a sketch. He’s rather clear on his intentions (“Well, that’s just how you make it to the top 50”) and has no mercy for a musical genre he clearly understands nothing about (“See? Easy.”). Single night stars The club is a democratic place where anyone can be a star for a night (a nineties remix of Andy Warhol’s famous saying, meaning to imply: never has fame been so near, yet so far). The ghost of stardom haunts all of these forgotten tracks… This is particularly true in the case of Techno 90, Fred Rister’s first band. The DJ hailing from Northern France takes part in the short-lived though seminal Maxximum radio and mixes everywhere on both sides of the Belgian border, quickly becoming a local celebrity. At the turn of the century, he starts collaborating with David Guetta – another DJ, slightly better known than Rister and a rising star of the Parisian club scene. Together they eventually co-sign a few global hits: Love Is Gone, When Love Takes Over, I Gotta Feeling. This tale is the story of French variété’s unforeseen encounter with the avant-garde, of DJs who rose to the status of pop stars and others who descended deep into the rave party scene. It’s all of these oddities our compilation seeks to recount, like a wacky TV show featuring anonymous stars, forgotten ghosts of a decade bygone (Jacques Dutronc, Jean-Francois Maurice) or yet to come (David Guetta), inspired though unlucky blokes plus a girl band. And somewhere in the shambles, the tracklist of our compilation, the B-side of dance music’s official story – what could have been France’s alternative hit machine.

Debut release for Balearia Records with a 4 tracks Ep licensed from Irma Records. Incl. Leo Mas & Fabrice and Djale Remixes.

After spending some time on the Adriatic coast of Croatia, Fred wrote his 2018 album Long Way Home. Barbarella was one of the songs on the album. It was inspired by a morning set he did at Barbarellas, the infamous outdoor venue in Tisno. The kitsch disco vibes are also a wink to the cult B-movie of the same name. But it was the 7am in Tisno mix, featured on the alternate version of the album No Way Home that made the song popular. While there was no plan to release it as a single, Fred had the idea to contact I:Cube, one of his all-time favourite producers, to see If he would be interested in remixing it. The process took a little while but thanks to confinement, with more available time in the studio, the I:Cube Parisian Sleeze Version was born. Taking only a few elements from the original, he completely rearranged the track into a modern disco classic as only the Cube can do. This is one of those cuts that gets better every time you hear it. On the B-side, Fred’s Slow Down 2021 Version expands on the Balearic vibe at a slower tempo. Sounding a little bit like Sade on acid, with added samples from the 1968 Jane Fonda movie.

Two years on from the release of their remarkable debut album, New Moon,
Almunia return with a second full-length of chugging psychedelic dub disco, shimmering acoustic grooves and spine-tingling Italian Balearica.

One of life's most difficult arts is learning to let go. You can try to cling to control in the face of a turbulent world, but the only constant we can count on is change—the tendrils of cleansing fire wiping away the old, new life springing forth from the dust and ash. So what's the point? Give yourself over to the depths. Surrender to the flow. G.S. Schray's new solo album The Changing Account is an appropriate soundtrack for learning to cope with a world we can't count on. Each piece is full of elliptical melodies that swirl with the unstable logic of dreams. Flurries of piano, guitar lines, and other more alien instrumentation shimmer delicately, but before they coalesce into familiar shapes or rhythms they change, then change, then change again. Listening is a bit like falling asleep on a long road—with each passing song you're waking up somewhere new, trying to get your bearings in another strange world. How did I get here? Where are we going? It doesn't matter. Close your eyes, drift away again.

Part two of a two part set. Two years after Africa Oscura, considered by many to be the “dark side” of Sorgini’s masterpiece ‘Zoo Folle’ and partly recorded during the same session in 1974, Four Flies has decided to celebrate the album's modernity with a double 12” featuring 7 reworks by six of Italy’s most visionary DJs/producers. The original tracks have been reworked with different approaches, sometimes into full reinterpretations, and with demanding dance floors in mind. The result is a stunning collection of electronic reworks that preserve the spirit of the original versions while projecting them into the future.

Part one of a two part set. Two years after Africa Oscura, considered by many to be the “dark side” of Sorgini’s masterpiece ‘Zoo Folle’ and partly recorded during the same session in 1974, Four Flies has decided to celebrate the album's modernity with a double 12” featuring 7 reworks by six of Italy’s most visionary DJs/producers. The original tracks have been reworked with different approaches, sometimes into full reinterpretations, and with demanding dance floors in mind. The result is a stunning collection of electronic reworks that preserve the spirit of the original versions while projecting them into the future.

Digging deep through old and new, Basso captures arcane woodland fusion, serene electronic suites and wide eyed Balearic bliss on this first Growing Bin compilation. This collection celebrates those precious records which land in your life on their own terms. Even the most advanced digger will admit that chance is the secret ingredient in any successful haul.

Lips & Rhythm Records sail into 2021 with a hot little Balearic number from Bad Kids Beach Club, a new project from Jesse Sizmo & Seb Hall, featuring a bumping remix by Ibiza-based producer Camilo Miranda.

Following on from their holy grail house find for Cr002 - unearthing, unreleased tracks by Marshall Jefferson and Jungle Wonz as played by Ron Hardy at the Music Box, which Marshall subsequently recreated, Club Chi'll Records' next instalment is another Chicago house bomb. ‘Passing Runner’ melds the minds of Chicago native Lloyd Dev, the legendary Jungle Wonz member Harry Dennis and the CCR All-Stars (the Club Chi’ll Records in-house group), stirring up all the best elements of the Windy city’s vibe. Blending emotive pianos, shuffling percussion and weighty basslines, with perfectly complimented sax licks and deft synth lines. On the flip side ‘Passing Runner (Club Chilled)’ is a delightful, balearic tinged mix that gives listeners a licence to chill.