HALF TERM REPORT

COVID-19, WHILST being a nightmare, has given me time to process some positive thoughts. I had put on some acts that would not have ordinarily happened. Antoine's London show was pulled, but thanks to a team effort, our show went ahead as planned. Jeb and Huw both met Chris, who was in a much better place to assist them than me. I caught Jeb spin some choice music with Chris and Fritz just before lock-down. A consummate gent as ever, he gave me my last handshake.

A second Torn Sail LP has become a reality and all I need is Huw to pop my copy in the post and wait about a fortnight. Excited. A big buzz for me last year was hearing Farel's Friday in July. George Koutalkieris then sent me a link to a new cut, and I was blown away. So pleased to see that same cut Early Morning Ferry precede an LP proper on Nunorthern Soul. It's the most accomplished piece on the sampler twelve and I'm proper made up. That said Huw's pal BJ Smith's breezy cover of the Prefabs mighty All the World Loves Lovers suffocates the song in summer. The world can be small and beautiful with enough quality musicians in it.

Music to forget COVID-19 has thankfully been a steady stream. Eclectics label is going from strength to strength with 2 twelves sent out and 2 in the pipeline. Of the 2 I've got Max Manetti's remix of Visions by Statues is the best. A haunting quality that teases out the vocal and still manages to scream out summer. And artwork by Santi Oviedo, whose mix series Brisa: Music for Tea can not be more highly recommended. Another label going down the Qrates route that needs support to realize releases is Balearic Social. Come payday I will be investing in it coz Misterioso by Expositions is brilliant. What was always a cottage industry is in greater decline when music this good takes an age to sell a 100 units. Begin has been posting some more of his mighty fine music on Bandcamp, most notably Super Barrio. There's enough for 2 twelves by my reckoning. Fingers crossed. We need lots more vinyl.

Or lots more cassettes. Another sleeve designed and crafted by Santi is Bobby Lee's Shakedown in Slabtown cassette. Only heard Sacred Swimming Hole then bought this pre-order on sight. The Rhizosphere DJ mix by Skyrager lovingly released by Good Morning Tapes is delightful, as is Manu Archeo's Cosmic Empathy mix released on Paesaggi records. Great mixes for contemplative long lock-down soaks, of which there have been many.

A few sevens have dripped through the pressing plants and fallen my way. I'm loving Saskia's understated synth pop gem, You Left Your Soul Behind on Stroom. My kind of bedroom bound gold dust. Thanks to Jason Boardman for sharing Maxado & Alex Figueira's Quando Sera. The flute version is glorious. Flower records spoiled me with 2 singles. Groovin' by Reggae Disco Rockers hits the spot whilst the brilliant Coastlines, West Coast, maintains their very high standard of sock free might. Would love to play all this music loud on a bloody great big beach, but instead it just wafts breezily into my modest outdoor space.

I have decided to invest more time and energy into SFH despite my misgivings about musical direction, live performance, and age. With no work-spar it is difficult, but music loving supersedes my love of art despite not having a piece of paper to suggest so. I realized this in Big Hands a few years ago when talking to a young band. I never get that buzz talking to folk in galleries. I only pursued study to improve my fanzine writing and worked to buy records and books and it sort of all spiralled out of control. Addictive personality in full effect. There will be a big announcement soon. Well, big, by my sorry standards.

11. FLUXABILITY

By Jean-Luc Razza

for Sock Free Hideaway

I WAS introduced to Jean-Luc Razza by the already much lamented Krossfingers, and I thought he was perfect for a marathon-mix, which is just as well coz that was exactly what he proposed. This interpretation of a SFH is that marathon and really takes us on a rewarding epic-journey, with enough undulating soft breezy passages to satisfy the horizontally inclined, and enough subtle intensity to reward anyone desiring unexpected harmonies. Less unexpected now. Jean-Luc, a massive thank you for truly going above and beyond the call of duty and digging out so much sun-kissed vinyl. The rest of you, enjoy your afternoon on the hammock ...

https://www.mixcloud.com/david7322/jean-luc-razza-fluxability-mix-for-sock-free-hideaway/

In his own words;

I’m from Mayo (West of Ireland) living in Cork city.

Been collecting records years and years. I co- run a night called Not How, When! with Flukey Flukes and Sonny Emerald. We started it in 2008 and have had many guests over to various venues in Cork like Phil Mison, Abel Nagengast, Andi Hanley, Jan Schulte, Tako Reyenga and many more.

As well as Cork we travel around and guest at other underground parties. Most memorable in past years were Backwards (Limerick), One Night Love Affair (Galway), Bierhaus (Galway), Hang Dai (Dublin), A very special 3 hour set on Red Light Radio (Amsterdam) and the superb Dynamic Range Music Bar (Zaandam). Just doing some Radio at the moment in Cork on Radio Otherway and like everyone, hoping we get back to being able to dance together soon.

SONGS THEY NEVER PLAY ON THE RADIO

 

6. SPACEMEN 3 : In the church of the poisoned mind.

PART 1

MY OCD, hypochondria, and poor mental health have meant the last few months have been hard. In retreat I was initially submerged in other people's mixes and nostalgia, but lately I've hidden in the cassette world of my own fucked up late teens. 

Acid house was strange to me at first. I loved a lot of the music but hated the tribalism and easy fashion. Peers who generally wore suits on nights out disappeared to shit places like Blackburn, dressed like an ill-fitting Bananarama, after sitting tripping in the pub for an hour, hiding in their walk-man's. 

Not folk I could relate to in any way. What was being conveyed in Off-Beat magazine and the music press about all the love and unity wasn't corresponding to my actual experiences. When I finally began tripping, I was on a far higher plane. My music was much more potent and everything in society was going to change. The Spacemen 3 had taken over much of my life. I stopped attending church coz in all truth; I felt I was receiving communion through their music. I didn't like Revolution all that much, but loved the soft gospel washes and fuzzy drones that got bolder and bolder, becoming fully realized songs on Honey and Lord Can You Hear Me?

To counterbalance the seriousness, I'd still play the clown and fuck myself up. Hence, my entry into the club. I was very lucky that a shop existed called Musicworld in my local town that seemed to stock everything. So much Spacemen related back catalogue was bought there. Glass originals no one had gone near. I wasn't in a proper mental state to venture out to Eastern Bloc on many occasions. Their re-work of Red Crayola's Transparent Radiation is simply majestic. Moving the psychedelic centre of the universe to Rugby is no mean feat. Hats off!

Consequently, there's a lot of sadness stirring as I reread the lofty pretentiousness of my late teens, made manifest in these notebooks that accompany the cassettes. It's not unsurprising to learn that covid has meant I have had time to scrawl through these notebooks and listen to these cassettes. For someone uneducated, I was both deeply angry and analytical. I dropped out of school late so still had a bit of brain I guess. I was furious that the Stone Roses were sweeping everything aside, as I sat on the floor, in the Hacienda, zoning out to the Spacemen 3. The Monday club was far livelier the week before when the local band played, but not as brilliant.  

I was devastated at missing what was to be their final show at the Reading Festival. They were on Friday afternoon and my coach was late. I was in a right state watching New Order later that night. Think I had the Stooges in my headphones at some point. Their interviews along with fellow West Midlands icon Lawrence's were my favourites coz unlike Morrissey, whose cleverness was selfish, they were turning me onto music that changed my perceptions forever. Unlike many acts, re-working covers punctuate throughout, and, looking beyond classic albums, meant I was constantly in charity shops through their pre-internet heydays.  

According to my notes, I was very angry with the management at work. I'm guessing their biggest crime was being alive, as I was in part responsible for sending my own father (a manager), to an early grave. This was possibly why I fucked myself up. I identified with the Spacemen 3, and Mudhoney, and had a cordial relationship with Paul Smith, who managed Blast First records. They always responded to my letters, admittedly in the Spacemen's case only when I bought something. Sonic Youth in contrast, were like acid house luminaries. Very sharp and imposing characters. 

I was also very shy, but so desperate to feel a part of something. Looking back, not fitting in at all, has done me no great harm. When I play these cassettes, they sound very eclectic still. A lot of US imports, ambient, and nearly always a Spacemen 3 track. Jack Barron, Dele Fadele, Everett True, John Robb and Simon Dudfield were my portal in. Snub TV was all I watched. Over and over. 

I hated Andrew Collins for slating Sonic Boom's Spectrum LP. Making a prison out of records and drugs was also what I was doing. No wonder I was angry at the criticism levelled at him. There was no doubt that he had taken over Brian Jones as my guru, and both led me to make some shockingly bad decisions in life.

PART 2

RECURRING WAS a one sided LP as far as I was concerned. Uncharacteristically, I even bought a CD to hear their Mudhoney cover of When Tomorrow Hits. An almighty version. Big City fittingly became a clubland smash at the century's end when after all I got was ridicule for namedropping them constantly throughout the 90s. Jason Pierce, with his more commercial songs, split the band I loved. Spectrum was a conciliation. 

Their debut Soul Kiss was astounding and made that year's Reading Festival headliners, the Inspiral Carpets, organ derived pop, sound utterly childish. I stayed in my tent in protest when the Inspirals were playing, but did venture out on the Sunday to watch Spiritualized. I was hyper-critical. Noting that the sit down gig had no energy. By contrast, I saw Spectrum at the International play a mesmerizing Friday show to a packed audience. Albeit, by being billed as Sonic Boom. The pre-show music, which included Julian Cope's unheralded but brilliant My Nation Underground, created a lot of energy. 

By 1994's second long player Undo the Taboo, they kept in step with so much subtle techno I was playing, yet remained a cult. I997's Forever Alien sort of makes that explicit. Its first two sides share some resemblance with song structures of the past, but the last sides are far more experimental, signalling Sonic's road ahead.

These albums are truly mind-blowing and are all way ahead of their time. I was angry with Pierce and wasn't reconciled until I heard Ladies and Gentlemen. I think him getting fucked over by Richard Ashcroft gave me the closure I needed. I even began playing side 2 of Recurring and was blown away.

Attending the Spiritualized Sunday show at the Hacienda (shortly before its closure), seemed fitting, but I was still a bit disappointed in support Spring Heel Jack. They seemed too stylized, and I recall being sober enough to watch Tiger Woods win his first masters later in the evening. Not something I was capable of doing in 1989. I even ditched the lifestyle and went back to my local parish church.

I was so overcome with emotion when I realized all the great music I've been turned onto by wonderful people still sounded magical straight. Still does.

THANK YOU FOR ENDING

MY YEAR, thankfully, petered out whilst so many folks capitulated to forces of darkness. With their moral compasses smashed and their ears turned to cloth, their red-faced anger is now all they have left. At the turn of the millennium, me and Rob cobbled together fanzine pieces titled Mentalism : Bitter and Twisted in the 21st Century which were ahead of their time. The dehumanization that characterizes modern living was felt by us earlier than most. What did we have a beef with? Everything. Thanks to the power of music, I found my way back to the light.

Fantasy Love re-issued Oscar Weathers wonderful We're Running out of Time just before the years, end. It's a warm twelve that is relentlessly groovy. Athens of the North rivalled it by skittlin' 3 want-list gems in one go. Unfortunately, the pressing on Al Charles Outstanding is poor. Fortunately, I have no such beef with Sonia's Easier to Love and Jean & Trevor's Back together Again. Absolute bombs.

2019 saw the big-hitters Lexx and Psychemagik deliver the long-player goods. Cosmic Shift saw Lexx bring the summer to life. So much goodness but my favourites are Too Hot and Hot Weather. The latter features Harriet Brown's  silky vocals. Gorgeous. Also check out Apiento's Down that Road to hear that voice radiating warmth into the cold winter nights. Was surprised to learn from Paul Hillery that Psychemagik's Valley of Paradise was an organically derived piece of studio orchestration and not an edit. Played as a whole, I Feel how this Night should Sound is truly epic. La Paix Est Une Fleur absolutely soars and I begin to heal. I owe these artists more than they'll ever know.

More low-key but equally praiseworthy is Steve Cobby's Sweet Jesus long player. His intimate video-clips let us peek into his musical universe, but the final result still disarmed me by being a creation of pastoral elegance. Chauffeur De Camion sets the benchmark high on side a but finally gets eclipsed on the final track Truer than Words. Hard to recognize the same man in terms of style who made the brilliant Saudade in 2014, but the quality is still identical. 

I've been lucky enough to hear the 2nd Torn Sail album Leisue & Technology. Without giving away too many spoilers, only 2 tracks Sadness All Over and A Beautiful life are reminiscent of the songs contained on the majestic debut. I also hear a third is in the can. Buses spring to mind. Magic buses. A special mention needs to go to Seance Centre who not only produced 2 gems but also turned me onto my only contemporary cassette purchase and The Students. Coincidental that like Efficient Space and Be With who jointly put out reissue of the year to propel the talent that is Steve Hiett, the label intended to release Robert Oumaou's work to introduce him to a wider audience.

Sadly, both passed away before seeing the warm reception these releases both received. Compiled from 3 LP's Gwakasonné's Vwayajé is dynamite. W3 and Nirvacina are the highlights, but the whole collection is accomplished and a truly fitting tribute to Oumaou. Not to be outshone, Smokey Haangala's 76 set Unka Ma Kwacha is truly hypnotic and cements the label as serious hitters. Check out Lungowe for the full effect. As if these offerings weren't enough, they turned me onto a wonderful cassette by C R Gillespie called Tlon. Both warm and subtly atmospheric the artist sent me some lavender that also gave it healing properties. I needed healing and still do. The Students LP Students in Summer was their last gift to me and is the best indie LP I'd not heard. The quality of both the record and pressing is top-notch, but when I proudly waved it at Antoine, he couldn't hide his disdain. He may find an original or more than likely have one or two already. For us mere mortals, this is essential.

  

As 2020 begins, I already own an amazing Steele Bonus cassette. Ideal Mix-Tape 26 is simply great. Just check out Tapes Summer Jam on Em. Fantastic. As if that's not suggesting the year is off to a flyer Beats in Space are releasing a new Andras LP Joyful. Check out River Red for an instant moment.

I think this year will be better. A lot better.

SONGS THEY NEVER PLAY ON THE RADIO 

 5. Blisters and bruises; Icerink records.

PART 1 

COINCIDING WITH my first real taste of introspection, the Icerink label, run by the boys from Saint Etienne, and a subsidiary of Creation, came into being. Unlike Sarah records, this label had some reprobates on its roster and was all the better for it. John Robb was a Sounds journo who I was used to seeing frequently and the promo of his band's Sensuround debut Blind Faith contained a Doors sample which was given a Creation records catalogue number. It's as rare as hen's teeth, but somewhat imperfect.  

However, once plugged by Justin Robertson, the Icerink version lost the sample but gained a whopping Dean Thatcher remix. The oscillating swing between guest vocalist Tracey Carmen and Robb's voices, dark and light, euphoria and gloom, night and day, was made starker, and it became arguably the most epic progressive track of the era. Robb, with an apology to Jon Savage, penned some memorable sleeve notes that also infused a bit of energy in what was a pretty drab time to be alive. 

I saw them support MBV at the Ritz and thought pop stardom awaited. With such a strong stage presence, it was little wonder that he was feted by Jockey Slut to grace the cover of their second edition. Had entertainment been preoccupied with intensely glorious oddballs and not the exploitation of labour, their story could've been very different.  

Alas, their second and final single When I Get To Heaven pushed hard on the euphoria button without letting in the dark forces until the third track. Had they been from continental Europe and not Mancunian, they may have got away with it, but as it was, they sank without a trace. The overlooked third track Deep Inside Your Love (Hulme mix) crawls and snakes out of the woodwork and the blurb got it right by noting that it sounds just like The Residents covering Hank Williams.

Golden was this seemingly fey girl band but there was something a little darker at work below the surface. They had Micky Finn remixes when he was a buzzword on jungle cassettes and covered Pulp long before they became a household name. Debut standout Don't Destroy Me stands up with the best of the era.

There was something similar going on with Andrew Loog Oldham and Marianne Faithfull in 1964, but she had Jagger / Richards penning her hit, making her an overnight sensation. Anglo-American (Finn Family Dub) is a little less subtle and is a relentless piece of twisted dance-floor pop. An essential salvage from any mid nineties bargain crate. When reading the liners you get the feeling that after a few shandies all these by the wayside musical references were the brainchild of Saint Etienne too, but I did think they were dead cool at the time, because of it, before the cynicism set in. 

I-D Aug 91

I'm reminded of the time Natalie, who always gave Most Excellent related nights a bit of glamour, later confided in me that promoter Ross had to buy her dresses to keep her attending his nights. On the one hand, I thought 'yeah, genius', but on the other hand I'd have liked a night off myself. Reminding myself that it's the 'time of my life.' Luckily, it wasn't. 

PART 2

THE LABEL was allegedly committed to the glittery pop dream and creating pop stars, and in a weird way, that is what it did. Shampoo were a bit like the Monkees in that they were manufactured, but, whereas the sixties band tried to wrestle control from the poppy producers and session players, they instead rebelled against the pure punk aesthetics imposed on their debut. Arguably the most snarly song of the nineties, Bouffant Headbutt with its line 'you're fucking dead' sort of scared the pants off me. 

Co-written with Lawrence, the follow up Blisters and Bruises injected a pop influence that made them sound like Chequered Love era Kim Wilde. The blueprint for their success was formulated. Unfortunately, not on Icerink as Lawrence was/ is still the unluckiest man in pop. He put out a single on the label that was a precursor for his Novelty Rock album under the guise of Supermarket. Ray Keith turned in a remix that unsurprisingly still rocks but predictably it too sank without a trace. 

Massive kudos to Bob for releasing Earl Brutus's skull-fuck of a glittery stomper Life's Too Long, on the label. Not least because it is. He saw the remnants of World of Twist and If? And had his own mind blown and so kindly decided to blow ours. If this was twinned on a good sound-system with The Fall at their deranged best, people would go insane. And I do mean insane.  

 

     

For me, the story ends with the dubby majesty of Oval. Love Hour wrestles a great Human League song out of the hands of Martin Rushent and instead hands it to Burt Bacharach. Creating something saccharine yet somehow elegant in the process. A future pop classic even. Ginger Kilburn is the opus that plays like a swan-song for the label itself. Brilliant, but should be longer. 

The genius of Icerink was that (Lawrence excepted) it captured everybody at the zenith of their musical powers. John Robb and Shampoo may disagree, but in order to stay in the public consciousness, they had to become caricatures of themselves. Not even necessarily themselves. Whatever they first tested out on this label. That potency to my mind marks their musical zenith. Whilst their roster was falling to pieces, a compilation CD surfaced as a footnote featuring the usual suspects. If it ever gets a vinyl pressing, I might dive in. Icerink both looked at the past and future to create a scene inside a scene. 

Like Natalie, and Most Excellent, it tried to distance itself by putting a bit of sparkle into a landscape otherwise swamped in beige and the constant talk of excess.   

HALF TERM REPORT

WHEN MY mother fell back on January 20th, she taught me more in the following 3 days about the fragility of life than any record or book ever could. I was completely numb. It made the darkest days of my hitherto battles with life seem like a party. I kept looking at my records and putting my head in my hands, but ever so slowly I began hearing music again. Eventually I tried playing a toon, but it just sounded like a slab of plastic. I put my head in my hands again. 

Eventually I tried again and something magical happened and I was listening as intensely as I have ever done. It was a slab of plastic, but the escape it gave me was invaluable. I had amassed quite a few un-played records, so had a lot of cardboard envelopes to open and cellophane to remove until finally, in March 2019, resumed.

The first record that captivated me was a reissue of Michael O'Shea's self-titled LP on AllChival records. No Journey's End is amazing and stayed on repeat for an age. I also played a lot of music that supported me in my teens after my father's death. What I now call my healing music.

An intriguing record that also captured my attention is by ind_fris titled Sink In. Its sparse and breezy compositions are intricate enough to really work on the senses. A properly stimulating record. Airplane Going Nowhere is my favourite track but I play it all the way through coz it's that strong. Must also mention FAREL's Friday in July, which is a delightful breezy affair. 

Reminiscent of the sun-kissed jazzy fare often found in the growing bin. Yorgos has sent over the duo's next song, and it's accomplished. Less jazzy but more breezy. Only hope something physical evolves from this material. Like a vinyl record. A sublime bit of vinyl came out on 5 Gate Temple records by Gossiwor and the winner is Domestic Saga # 2 (All is Lost). A proper epic journey of a track. Cheers Rem Gow, again!

Left Ear records have re-released a couple of beauty's. Lungile Masitha's Makoti is a proper pulsating beast that dates from 1985 but sounds like right now. On a mellower tip, the Abuja LP by Jay U Xperience is deep and mystical. Back to the Motherland sets this 1993 long-player off superbly and the experience is mesmerizing. Another label worth watching is La Casa Tropical, who dropped a bomb by P.V.P titled Si Ya Jola. Low-slung dynamite. 

On the 7 inch reissue tip, the pick of the crop has been Just A Star's Smiles on the buy on sight Backatcha label. Incredible. Another unique seven that has given me a lot of fun is the De Toesrisme EP by Paul Jansen & Zn. A Basso buy from Holland. Enough said. For a further taste of what's spinning on the turntable, check this - https://www.juno.co.uk/charts/dj/573189-Sock_Free_Hideaway/4783344-Chart/

2 books have also transported me to Chicago's house era. To say the epic and scholarly Do You Remember House? : Chicago's Queer of Color Undergrounds by Micah E. Salkind  is definitive is an understatement. Great first-hand accounts to boot. The book is tempered by last years Beyond Heaven : Chicago House Party Flyers from 1983-1989. Beautifully reproduced from the archive of Mario 'Liv It Up' Luna. So lucky to have had this escape from my reality. 

Spinning the Antoine Kogut Remixes twelve at first reminded me of what a great album he released and then of the time I tried booking Syracuse only to hit a stumbling block. I totally sat at ease with its magic, working my senses. But then, for some unfathomable reason, randomly got in touch with Antoine to see if he was playing the UK soon. I thought his label, Versatile, may have something planned.

 

I realized they hadn't and reminding myself about the fragility of life and all the plans I had stored up, asked him if he fancied playing Manchester. I needed a pet project to inject a good memory into my year, but this is proving to be a labour of love. I wanted Ménage à Trois to play Oldham Gallery, but never got the idea past the gallery's admin team. Music always reaffirms my faith in people and always gives me something solid to at the hold on to, so with sincerity of heart and in the words of ABBA I say 'thank you.'

TICKETS TO A DREAM

THE OBLIGATORY piece that no one reads but makes me feel better. The Soup Kitchen has bigged-up the magical Antoine Kogut and his massive talent superbly, so all I have to add is, thank you Test Pressing, and thank you Noise in my Head, for turning me onto it. Ménage à Trois is this mystical band who I've been buying cassettes off for years. They play art galleries and sometimes choose saccharine covers that they make sound wonderful. Otherwise they make perfect escapist popular music. Like Antoine, they have great taste as their very occasional mixes testify.

Anyone thinking of attending on the 17th July and in need of persuading, just run a bubble- bath and play Antoine's woozy long-player. Feel the air dissolve into bubbles and not the bubbles into air, then feel the weightlessness and ease that has suddenly become your life. It feels good, no?  I'm basically selling you a ticket to a dream. A dream whereby everything still feels good the day after. Not the sort of ticket that gets sold often... 

 Art-work by Ugo Bienvenu. Design by Steven Williams