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8 years after the official reissue of the LP “An Eye For An Eye” by Byrne & Barnes, Favorite Recordings proudly presents this new single release. The 7inch first includes the classic “Love You Out Of Your Mind”, extracted from the WestCoast classic LP, which was a one-stop collaboration between Robert Byrne and Brendan Barnes, however both display incredible music career and went on to produce for famous artists such as Pointer Sisters, Patti Austin, Earth Wind & Fire, or Phil Collins to name just a few. The song parades all the elements of the AOR style: a jazzy sometimes fusion approach, with modern soul and groove flavors. The other side features an exclusive and unreleased track by Robert Byrne, dug by the original executive producer up in his archives for our great pleasure. “Do You Wanna Make Some Love” is also nurtured with Westcoast and AOR vibes, while leering to Boogie and Disco influences. We have no doubt it will delight all the Byrne & Barnes music lovers and many more.

Just a little over two years since the release of his debut album Opening the Door, Jack re-emgerges with a new full length album. On Blue Desert, the Australian-born Vancouver-based multi-instrumentalist, singer, songwriter and producer wades deeper into the stylistically prismatic pool of his own creation: melancholy dub-funk, jangling psychedelia, moon-burnt sophisti-pop and stained glass folk mutations float freely together.

Entirely self-produced at Mood Hut Studios in Chinatown, Vancouver between 2022 and 2024, the album picks up where Opening the Door left off; the songwriting concise and refined, the voice front and centre on almost every song, the pensive mood irresistible and dense.

The apparently effortless melodic interplay of voice, guitar, synthesizers and bass that Jack is well known for is ever present but despite the clear-eyed harmonies and energetic rhythms there is a shadow that quietly haunts the album. The lyrical buoyancy of his early EPs and even some of the more explicitly sunburnt instrumental moments of his last record have continued to fade and peel like paint. Regret, remorse and melancholy are woven into almost every turn of phrase; the self-deprecating longing of Tracey Thorn and Sade Adu can be heard alongside the plaintive echos of Mark Hollis and Arthur Russell. The Mood Hut Records founder and NTS host digs deeper in all the directions that he only brushed upon on Opening the Door, creating a kaleidoscopic index of his omnivorous listening habits: from Underworld to Kate Bush, Disco Inferno to Bryan Ferry, Julian Cope to Arthur Verocai.

The LP will be released on Jack’s own Mood Hut Records on November 1st and will be followed by a live tour in the UK and Europe in November and December, featuring a string of dates opening for revered Los Angeles artist Jessica Pratt. - Mood Hut Records, Vancouver

Produced by Jack Jutson at Mood Hut Studios, Chinatown Vancouver Mixed by Jack Jutson and CZ Wang Saxophone by Linda Fox Strings on Falling Down a Well by Aiden Ayers Bass on Down the Line by Diego Herrera Additional synth on Red Cloud by Liam Butler Artwork by Mela Melania + Jack Jutson

400, 10" marbled pink, hand stamped, individually numbered records, single press only.

To a degree, all musicians are a product of their environment, the places they record and the venues they play. For proof, check out the alumni of the n-wave era CBGBs venue in New York, Cabaret Voltaire’s Western Works studio in Sheffield or more recently London’s Total Refreshment Centre. We can now add to that list the Constellations Workshop in Colwick, Nottingham, a project that provides employment through making studio furniture, for out-of-work musicians. It was here, after-hours, that the music on Brown Fang’s impressive and ear-catching debut album took shape. Both members of Brown Fang, bassist John Thompson and guitarist Henry Scott AKA Henry Claude, have a long association with the Constellations Workshop. Though their musical projects are manifold – Thompson having toured with the likes of The Nectarine No9 and The Selecter, with Scott being both a mainstay of Nottingham jazz circuit and recording ambient music as Fang Jr – the work provided by the community-minded project has kept their heads above water and allowed them a space to record in when the shutters go down and the bandsaws get switched off. Yet the music showcased on Sherwood Pines is more morning-fresh and sun-kissed than industrial and sawdust-sprinkled. Combining the pair’s brilliant musicianship – think languid bass guitars and Pat Martino-esque jazz guitar licks – with saucer-eyed electronics, occasional downtempo drum machine rhythms and plenty of glistening special effects, the set’s eight tracks are as blissful and becalmed as an early morning saunter through Sherwood Forest on a misty autumn morning. For proof, check epic opener ‘Tracing Paper’, a slow-build ambient soundscape in which bubbly electronic lead lines and colourful chords sashay around Scott’s sparkling, laidback guitars, and the beguiling ‘That’s All You Can Think’, a subtle tribute to Steve Reich masterpiece ‘Electric Counterpoint’ in which slow-burn, stretched out synthesizer sounds wave in and out of a gradually evolving cycle of delay-laden electric guitar motifs. The band’s love of classic American minimalism – as well as a shared love of the Duratti Column and Robert Fripp – comes to the fore on ‘hdmi I Love You’, which boasts a deliciously dubby bassline, Tangerine Dream style synths and the deepest of ambient chords, while ‘I Nearly Married a Human’ and ‘Fridgewords’ balance bespoke electronics – languid, dewy eyed and comforting – with Scott’s gorgeously laidback, slow-release guitars. Every great album needs a triumphant conclusion, and Sherwood Pines is no different. You can hear everything that makes Brown Fang great on ‘Goodbye Donkey Jacket’, from the pin sharp, effects laden jazziness of Scott’s guitars and the fluid dexterity of Thompson’s bass, to the pleasingly spacey pulse of the synths and the gentle rhythms of the soft-focus machine drums. It’s a confident, ear-catching conclusion to a debut album that’s been years in the making.

MAT is proud to announce the forthcoming release of ‘The Side I Never See’, by Hugh Small & Brian Allen Simon. Hugh forms half of Scottish post-punk duo Vazz, whose work was the subject of a recent retrospective by Belgian label Stroom. Brian is known best for his solo project Anenon, under which name he has released four full length albums and multiple remixes for artists including Ryuichi Sakamoto. An improvised recording of Brian playing over the Vazz piece ‘Kazimierz’ catalysed this long-distance collaboration; 2000 feet up a mountain in Andalucia, Hugh heard the recording on a broadcast of Brian’s dublab LA radio show. Immediately taken in by Brian’s playing, the pair soon established contact and began discussing the possibility of working to create something new together. The rest, as they say, is history: the results are fully realised in ‘The Side I Never See’, a shimmering suite of ten compositions for piano, soprano saxophone, synthesizer and guitar. In Hughs words… ‘so, what is it? It’s Ambient-Punk, Abstract-Jazz, Disaffected-Classical, it’s whatever the fuck you want it to be!’ :-) ‘The Side I Never See’ will be released on Melody As Truth in early August 2021, as always on vinyl and digital. Mastered by Stephan Mathieu, Artwork by Michael Willis.

"Emotional Rescue presents the first ever reissue of Sugar Minott’s rare 12” of I Remember Mama. Recorded in Soho in mid-80s London, the Boogie meets Reggae song comes in vocal and instrumental mixes, as well as a wonderfully teasing long Discomix by NAD aka Dan Tyler (Idjut Boys). Having grown up and become a star out of Kingston, JA, with over 50 albums and hundreds of singles for the likes of Studio One and Black Roots labels, the legendary vocalist was a pioneer of the Dancehall and then later Lovers Rock sounds. Based in London for much of the 1980s, a chance meeting in the Wackies offices he met producer Steve Parr, who had recently opened the Sound Design Studio next door. Hatching the idea to create a label to showcase their capabilities, Parr played all the instruments except the distinctive sax by friend Andy MacDonald, while Minott’s delivery is at his prime, storytelling in the Jamaica tradition of hardship and praise. Released on 7” and 12”, they have striking differences. The “Sound Design” instrumental / version sees the studio team craft a disco meets reggae in a cod-style to wonderful, almost Balearic effect. The collaboration with Dan Tyler continues, as he again works his desk dubbing magic. Extending and editing between the two mixes, teasing the instrumental before finally bringing the sax and vocals together for a ‘discodub’ finale. "

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.