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Over the past decade, the visionary musician ARTHUR RUSSELL has entered something close to the mainstream. Sampled and referenced by contemporary musicians, his papers now open to visitors at the Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center in New York, and his name synonymous with a certain strain of tenderness, Russell is as widely known as he’s ever been. Thanks to Russell’s partner Tom Lee and to Steve Knutson of Audika Records, who have forged several records from Russell’s vast archive of unfinished and unreleased work, the world now hears many versions of Arthur Russell. There’s the Iowa boy, the disco mystic, the singer-songwriter and composer, and the fierce perfectionist deep in a world of echo. While all of these elements of Russell are individually true, none alone define him. Now, after ten years of work inside the Russell library, Lee and Knutson bring us Iowa Dream, yet another bright star in Russell’s dazzling constellation. Blazing with trademark feeling, these nineteen songs are a staggering collection of Russell’s utterly distinct songwriting. Features contributions from downtown NYC musicians ERNIE BROOKS, RHYS CHATHAM, HENRY FLYNT, JON GIBSON, PETER GORDON, STEVEN HALL, JACKSON MAC LOW, LARRY SALTZMAN and DAVID VAN TIEGHEM, along with PETER BRODERICK, who makes a contemporary addition to this list: more than forty years after Russell recorded several nearly finished songs, Broderick worked diligently with Audika to complete them, and performed audio restoration and additional mixing. At once kaleidoscopic and intimate, Iowa Dream bears some of Russell’s most personal work, including several recently discovered folk songs he wrote during his time in Northern California in the early 1970s.

“Mohammad Reza Mortazavi is a virtuoso percussionist known for playing traditional Persian instruments such as the tombak and daf. After developing more than thirty new striking techniques and progressing to be one of the most prominent players in Iran, Mortazavi travelled to Germany, eventually settling in Berlin to record and perform regular concerts the world over. His acclaimed performances have taken in venues such as Berlin Philharmonie and Sydney Opera House. In recent years, he has been embraced by the experimental electronic music community, collaborating with Burnt Friedman, Fis and Mark Fell.

Ritme Jaavdanegi is Mortazavi’s sixth LP, and his first one available on vinyl. The album came together from recordings made in Berlin in June 2019, inspired by Mortazavi’s vivid reminiscence about profound experiences he had listening to music as a child. As he drifted in this time-slipping reverie, the phrase ‘ritme jaavdanegi’ or ‘rhythm of eternity’ came to mind, and he found the phrase itself to match the 11/8 metre he was striving for. As such, all eight pieces on this album adhere to this time signature, which in itself harks back to the Aksak, a rhythmic pattern based on the alteration of binary and ternary quantities executed in a fast tempo, intrinsic to traditional music from Iran, Turkey, Afghanistan and the Balkans.

In the same way these non-standard folk rhythms started to impact on Western music in the early 20th Century, so now you can hear an ever-increasing embrace of polyrhythms and metres that break away from the dominant 4/4 ideology. What’s most striking about Ritme Jaavdanegi, perceived through a lens of modern Western experimental music, is how Mortazavi’s virtuosic playing rivals the intensely programmed dynamics of electronica. His rapid, needlepoint drum hits bend their tonality in incredibly musical ways, but there is still an underlying focus on cyclical repetition that encourages the same ancient transcendental quality that so many contemporary artists strive for.”

Much of this album was recorded in Iceland. Breath warm from singing rises into frozen air. Atomized. A million bright blue crystals _ the fractal branching of the lungs _ drift back to earth. Radiant, refracting. Clear notes melt like perfect soft snow. Straight lines curve and curve again. Much of this album was recorded in Iceland, but Joan Shelley wrote these songs in Kentucky. That's the dirt clinging to their roots. The wind blowing through Osage orange and pine trees is the joy and ache and urgency of these songs. It's the silence and the music. It's the space between time and words and the stillness in Joan's voice. The world spins more slowly. Moss overtakes a fallen tree. Kentucky is where we plant seeds of regret and stay to watch them flower. Maybe Mark Twain said that Kentucky (always five years behind the times) was the perfect place to ride out the apocalypse. Maybe it's twenty years. Maybe it's apocryphal. That doesn't mean it isn't true. "And oh, Kentucky Stays in my mind it's sweet to be five years behind That's where I'll be When the seas rise Holding my dear friends and drinking wine..." Maybe the world outside has already vaporized. Maybe we're already living on borrowed time. Nathan Salsburg's guitar pours out clean as water through his fingers, turning over every smooth stone. Bonnie "Prince" Billy's harmonies stretch time tight enough to break without breaking. Joan's voice calls us back. Birds are singing outside. Insistent. Don't miss what's right in front of you.

This Reissue has never before been releases as 2LP+CD and Poster. The Liminanas are a couple and a band. They have produced records in their own garage in Cabestany located in the south of France for about ten years. They played in Australia, the US and toured Europe regularly. United Kingdom included. The first opus of the now series “I have trouble in mind” was released on the initiative of Bill and Lisa Roe (iconic label “trouble in mind") in the US in 2014. It combines all the 45t , unreleased songs recorded by the couple for “Mojo magazine", tribute to Beach Boys, fanzines, micro labels. All the titles which were difficult to find and that fans were looking for. And now, here it is: I ve got trouble in mind vol 2.

Here's a vinyl reissue of a notable 1986 cassette release. Musically this is a slightly mind boggling delivery of psychedelic lo-fi/basement folk.

Confusion is good sometimes. It’s a way to start thinking about whatever you are confused about. This is what Ilhan Ersahin’s Istanbul Sessions do since 2008. They managed to fire the stages all across the world: from New York to Istanbul, from Paris to Sao Paolo, from London to Skopje... Questions they spread all these years where like: are they really turkish? is this really jazz? doesn’t it sound like a rock band? how come a jazz ensemble can really be like a band? How can they be so able to jam with any musician they meet on stage? And so on... It’s a simple fact Ilhan Ersahin, being one of the rare moguls of New York City underground scene via his club and record label (nublu), is traveling all around the world. It’s possible to see him jamming with Red Hot Chili Peppers in Sao Paolo, featuring Bugge Wesseltoft in Blue Note Tokyo and/or playing a beautiful oriental set with turkish gypsies in an elegant concert hall somewhere in Europe. His newyorker energy is with him all the time. How about Istanbul Sessions then? It’s a summary of all you read above. Master level musicianship meets a high eclecticism where the cliche of “east-to-west crossover” finds its true sense and power. A session is a meeting of a deliberative body to conduct its business. In this case, the business is music, and the music is another heavyweight long player from Ilhan Ersahin & crew. Upon listening to the record for the first time, one word overrides every other emotion and devours the mind: Cinema. More specifically, “cinematic.” Ersahin’s sax sounds like it was recorded in the fucking Alps. Or in the sweeping sand dunes and Oasis’s of the Middle East. It’s just that W I D E. On “Falling,” Ersahin’s sax is practically 3-dimensional. Double tracked and bathed in a healthy dose of reverb, the saxophone and rhythm of the band evoke a story-like narrative. From the mad-man trills strewn throughout the track, to the soaring, almost stadium anthem chorus. Clearly, it’s all about the (s)axe, and Ilhan Ersahin is YOUR axeman. History has a tendency to repeat itself, and for the third time ‘round, East meets West once again. And the results are more satisfying than that mammoth inter-racial orgy you’re always fantasizing of. Through Ersahin’s playing, you can hear the ghostly echoes of dead, pre-war jazz greats behind his frenzy-inducing saxophone playing. You can also hear the Siren’s call, the brooding beauty of the shrouded mystery that is the Desert. Devilishly hot and bothered, the dry night air caresses your face, stirring a primal urge that excites as you step out into the glow of the Turkish metropolis. An Istanbul session, awaits.

Compuma, a.k.a. Koichi Matsunaga, reaches back through time to 1970s Hawaii to perform a mind meld, his old-school Roland drum machines and present-era compumagic vulcanizing and reshaping Haku's original home-grown analog synth madness. Not merely a remix, this a synergistic reconstruction, a transformation at the molecular level in which Haku's source-code DNA is reborn in 2015.

England / Ohio’s Mat Sweet presents his latest album under the Boduf Songs moniker via The Flenser! Stench of Exist is at once his most accessible and most esoteric work to date; from the opium flow of the tracks, running headily into one another like tributaries to river, to the muted-industrial-electronic-effected drums underscoring the spiraling melodies and fluttering drones, to the clean and rich guitar, abstracted cycles and feedback walls, its whispered doom metal masquerades as a lullaby. Stench of Exist unfolds languorously, laced with mysterious electronic filigree. Gorgeously intimate, it transforms the minimal into maximal with layers of electro-detritus wreathed in lush guitar strums, street-side field recordings, reverberating pianos and softly crooned vocals. It is a record of rain and cities and nighttime. The collision of arabesque tonalities with electronic sound and ambience brings to mind the promise of Blade Runner—half-asleep at 4:00 A.M. and slightly medicated, with pyramids and flame-spewing cityscapes in downpour glowing against the fluttering eyelids in the almost-dreaming consciousness. A record for saturnine commuters, on headphones, after sunset.