Review: Woman by Monica Lassen & The Sounds is a rare and beautiful album that has finally been reissued on vinyl in 2024. Originally released in 1970, the album is a mix of easy listening and jazz-funk with a distinctly cinematic feel. The lack of vocals gives the music a dreamy and evocative quality, perfect for soundtracking your own mental movies. If you're a fan of either easy listening or jazz-funk, or if you're just looking for something new and different, we highly recommend checking out this rare piece of Japanese music. It's a truly unique and special album that deserves a place in any music lover's collection.
Review: This new album from Les Truffles is as delicious as the thing they are named after, and as classy too. It's a deep dive into their smoky and seductive late night instrumental funk sound. The drumming is deft and feathery, the chords like puddles of bliss and the melodies hypotonic. Sometimes there is caution in the stick work to make for an unsettling mood, at others these sounds are warm and controlling for evening relaxation. Fans of El Michels Affair and Bad Bad Not Good will surely lap up this double album on Funk Night.
Review: The fifth instalment of Dischi Fantom's Sussurra Luce series presents an expanded version of Hanne Lippard's Talk Shop. Blurring the boundaries between text, music and voice, the Berlin-based artist creates a sensory experience through repeated loops of words and sentences. Lippard draws from the digital economy's commodification of the human voice and explores themes of efficiency, stress and anonymity in both public and private life. With a dada-esque approach, Talk Shop mixes orality, textuality and repetition in intriguing ways. It makes for a striking, immersive work of conceptual art and sound poetry.
Review: Welcome to the parallel musical universe of Miss Maria Teresa Luciani, a landscape of sonic architecture and theoretical composition constructed by a family of engineers that reinvented the wheel before the vehicle even began the journey. Imagine, if you will, the musical equivalent of Peter Cook's Archigram group or the soundtrack to Charles and Ray Eames' private sketchbooks, hinting at a new municipal, utopian metropolis just hours before the blueprints are suspiciously misplaced by the courier and mainstream pop building regulations piss on our asbestos bonfire. These 1972 constructions of progressive, cyclic, proto-industrial colour music were never intended for public habitation. These are the Sounds Of The City in a galaxy far, far beneath our radar and above your expectations that was never built. Pseudo-futurist pop music? Cubic folk? Tape-op-art? Si, grazie!
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