Compact Disc


"4CD homage to 4 drummers who have been a constant inspiration since the day I bought my first drum set back in 1972 - they are H = Han Bennink, E = Ed Blackwell, M = Milford Graves, P = Phil Seamen. It is a series of solos and duos with Alex Ward, Gabriel Wonck, Alan Wilkinson and James Allsopp." "My homage to the four drummers I came across on the day I bought my first drum kit and who have remained a constant source of inspiration to this day.  I am not trying to be them - just trying to convey what they have inspired in me over the last five decades. For each I have put together a specific drum and cymbal set up, attempting to get close to the sound I associate with each of them, and likewise chose the musicians for the duets accordingly.  The photgraphs are the first images I saw of them - hearing them came later.  I saw Blackwell and Graves live a couple of times, Bennink many times (and played with him on four occasions). Seamen? Not live - he passed away on Friday 13th October 1972 - but one of the first concerts I attended in London was the Phil Seamen Tribute concert at 100 Club on 31st May 1976 (when I saw John Stevens, Ginger Baker and Brian Spring for the first time).  Thanks to Alan, Alex, Gabriel and James and to all at OTO for their support in helping me realise this project. And especially to Shaun Crook who recorded, mixed and mastered all the material."

Steve Noble – HEMP

By the early '70s, Milford Graves had more or less stopped gigging. Having learned his lesson the hard way in multiple-night runs like a legendary Slugs' residency with Albert Ayler, he knew that the level of energy that he put out during a performance would be difficult to sustain over the long haul. A concert was a kind of absolute ritual for him, after which he would be totally spent, emotionally and physically. Graves rarely left anything on the table. Any musical performance was an opportunity to present an amalgamated version of all the things he had learned. He was an innovator and a teacher at his core, and the concert venue was one of his first classroom settings. In March 1976, Verna Gillis invited Graves to perform on WBAI's Free Music Store radio show. For the date, he chose to present a trio lineup which he had been occasionally playing – featuring two saxophonists who were dedicated to the drummer's vision. Hugh Glover is almost exclusively known for his work with Graves, while Arthur Doyle would gain exposure later for an obscure record that he made two years later, Alabama Feeling, which would become a highly collectable item among free jazz enthusiasts. Originally released in 1977, Bäbi remains one of Graves' most seminal recordings. The music played by the trio was ecstatic. Extreme energy music, buoyant and joyful. It relied on Graves' new way of approaching the drum kit, in which he had opened up the bottoms of his skin-slackened toms and eliminated the snare. Graves' art was always unblemished by commercial interests, and this album is its finest mission statement. First-time vinyl reissue. Sourced from the original master tapes.

Milford Graves – Bäbi

LP / 2CD
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Space in the Sun was one of Akio Suzuki’s major sound projects, a unique construction completed in 1988 and located on the merdian line, which took around 18 months to build. Its purpose was to allow Suzuki to spend one day, on the autumnal equinox, purifying his sense of hearing in nature. This release comprises a 44 page book containing plans and materials from the time alongside texts, and two CDs of environmental recordings created on site at Space in the Sun. To date only tiny fragments of the recordings made between those massive clay brick walls have been used in performances and no environmental recordings of the objective of the project, i.e. the space itself, have been released. The first disk consists of the first release of “person-less” field recordings made at the same spot that Akio sat at during the event (recorded in 1993, 60 minutes). The second disk consists of a performance that took place in the space. Space in the Sun’s earthen walls have since been demolished, so these recordings represent a return to life of their soft echo, an experience accessible nowhere else. CD1: A record of the space (60:00) An unedited one hour cut, taken from one of the three different recordings of Space in the Sun. Recorded by Yoshihiro Kawasaki. CD2: Playing in the space: Throwing and Following (41:30) A record of a performance by Suzuki at Space in the Sun using tree branches and small pebbles.

Akio Suzuki / 鈴木昭男 – Only Just Once, Space in the sun / いっかいこっきりの「日向ぼっこの空間

2CD
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Kumio Kurachi is a Japanese singer-songwriter who has been active since the 1980's. This is his 11th solo album and only the second to be released outside of Japan following ‘Sound of Turning Earth’ (2018) on bison.Though his songs are written and performed primarily on guitar, “Open Today” is a return to Kurachi’s full, multi-instrumental recording style - featuring drums, bass, strings, keys and Kurachi’s rich, distinctive vocals in multiple voicings. Incredibly, all instrumental performances and arrangements were performed and recorded by Kurachi himself - marking a brilliant return to the fully fleshed out visionary world we fell in love with on Supermarket Chitose (Enban, 2006).The super fine detail and dense landscapes of ‘Open Today’ should come as no surprise really - Kurachi is an illustrator by trade and it bleeds right through to his music. Even to the non-native speaker Kurachi’s vocals hold centre stage - at times enormous and thundering over urgent guitar and toms, then switching to softly spoken words amongst keys. Frequently Kurachi multiplies, whether multitracking himself or summoning voices for the characters he writes from sightings on train platforms or supermarkets. His lyrics - translated to English for both formats - are more like poetry, and though written about the mundane they quickly become surreal, bringing the quality of dreams into the everyday. The hours spent on buses, trains or walking home towards a cheap flat - familiar to us all - are catalysts for microcosms of detail. Again, we shouldn’t be surprised - Kurachi is well known in Japan for winning the national championship of NHK's "Poetry Boxing" in 2002, which also might explain his amazing Discogs photo.Poet, illustrator, multi-instrumentalist - Kurachi is thought of by many as a genius. He’s worked with Jim O’Rourke, Tori Kudo, Eiko Ishibashi and Taku Unami (who did the mastering on this LP). There are lines to be drawn between Kurachi and Kazuki Tomokawa or Kan Mikami, but also Francis Plagne and Fairport Convention. Ultimately though there is nothing else like it - it’s a brand of strange songcraft that’s totally captivating.

Kumio Kurachi – Open Today

Henry House is a recurring dream song. Combining closely tuned instruments and sinetones, tape-music editing techniques, field recordings, and voice, this eighty-minute, five-part song cycle is an evolutionary step away from the spontaneity of the free jazz/noise aesthetic usually found in the music of Nate Wooley. Henry House expands on the ecstatic, durational work found in Wooley’s Seven Storey Mountain, a six-part composition that has been premiered over the last ten years by an ensemble that now includes multiple drummers, guitarists, a twenty-one-person choir, and the composer on amplified trumpet. But its ritual is more serene, more natural, slower.  Henry House is the first long-form piece that doesn’t feature Wooley’s trumpet. It is also the first to be constructed around his poetic writing. Wooley weaves a strange funeral mass for a fictional everyman from isolated phrases culled from essays, poems, and non-fiction written by Wendell Berry, John Berryman, Joseph Mitchell, and Reiner Stach. After organizing the fragments into a dream narrative, Wooley rewrote the text dozens of times, manipulating the stitched-together story until only glimpses of its sources remained.  These texts become a slowly developing story of care and too much care in living. They are spoken by Mat Maneri and Megan Schubert and set amidst masses of instruments. The outer and middle movements explore the interactions between slowly shifting sine tone frequencies and massed, slightly detuned instruments—vibraphones, brass, pianos—to affect a warmly wobbling harmonic pad that undulates and revolves under Maneri’s performance of the text. The remaining movements move quickly, combining field recordings with hard cuts of Schubert’s singing voice constructed into a massive, tape-affected choir interspersed with her readings.

Nate Wooley – Henry House

In October 1962 John Cage and his great interpreter/co-visionary David Tudor visited Japan, performing seven concerts and exposing listeners to new musical worlds. This legendary "John Cage Shock", as it was dubbed by the critic Hidekazu Yoshida, is the source of this series of releases, three CDs and a "best hits" double LP compilation. Recorded primarily at the Sogetsu Art Center in Tokyo on October 24, 1962 (with two performances from October 17 at Mido-Kaikan in Osaka), all recordings in this series are previously unreleased. A major historical trove, unearthed. The performances on this tour featured Cage and Tudor with some noteworthy Japanese musicians playing pieces by Cage and a number of other composers. Volume 1 begins with Toru Takemitsu's "Corona for Pianists" (1962), played by Tudor and Yuji Takahashi, an indeterminate piece scored using transparencies, a sign of Cage's influence on younger Japanese composers of the era. Following this is "Duo for Violinist and Pianist" (1961) by Christian Wolff, written specifically for David Tudor and violinist Kenji Kobayashi. The final piece, a near-twenty-minute realization of "Variations II" (1961), is a rare example of the rougher side of Cage, work that presaged much of the live electronic music and noise of the following decades, an aspect of his oeuvre which is woefully under-represented on this album. Cage and Tudor, using well-amplified contact microphones on a piano, deliver an electrifying performance, alternating distorted stretches of harsh 60s reality with bountiful silences.

John Cage – Shock Vol. 1

"When I was around five years old in Kyoto, Japan, I followed my mother to our family’s Zen temple, where we listened to monks chanting. The chanting lasted a long time and became quite hypnotic. I almost fell asleep. These rituals were some of the first music I heard. "In 1972, I began studying with the great Indian master Pandit Pran Nath. His improvised style of singing was an important influence on me. I would take lessons from him when he stayed at La Monte Young’s studio on Church Street. I went once a week or when I could afford it. During these sessions, I learned to follow his singing with precise intonation. It was a difficult task but gradually I got into it with practice. I would get up around 5am and sing with tambura for at least one hour. After that I went to work. My lessons with Panditji were the best studies in music I had during my life. I realized singing is one of the most difficult ways of making music, more than playing most musical instruments. "In the mid-70s, I went to the Ethnic Music Festival in Queens, NYC, where I heard all types of ethnic music. There was some Macedonian women’s singing that was outstanding. They created fine tolerance in pitch by singing the same pitches together. This inspired me to try similar things out with male voices. "I started to develop group singing around 1976. After doing solo singing for a while, I noticed it was also interesting to sing with other people. I already knew Richard Hayman. He was running an artists’ bar called Ear Inn. I came across Imani Smith at a Sufi center in Manhattan. He was a Sufi follower and sang well. I wasn’t into Sufism but I was curious about their singing. I organized the male choir around modal improvisations from my solo singing. The interaction between the three voices singing closely in tune produced very clear microtonal partials. I later used this method in my pieces for bagpipes. "Singing in Unison was performed and recorded at The Kitchen, located in SoHo on Broome Street. It was a huge space with a lot of traffic noise. It’s been a long time but I still hear value in this work. Singing in Unison isn’t about New Age or avant-garde, it has to do with what we can communicate without words." —Yoshi Wada "Another stunning archival unearthing in this necessary series of historical recordings from Japanese drone/minimalist Yoshi Wada: Singing In Unison is a historically potent recording from a performance at The Kitchen Center, NY, on March 15, 1978 with Wada, Richard Hayman and Imani Smith using massively droning amplified and unaccompanied vocal chants to generate brain-massaging microtonal partials. The space was subject to heavy traffic noise, which comes through on the recording to great effect, with distant industrial sounds somehow falling into place in the background like the city itself has taken voice. Wada had studied singing with Pandit Pran Nath in the early 70s, when he was staying at LaMonte Young’s, and the music takes off on Nath, Young and Zazeela’s zoned tongue ascensions but w/a heady polyphonic/devotional feel that owes as much to early European religious music as it does to raga forms or even the Gyuto Monks. The trio pick out simple ascending and descending melodies, while moving parallel and just out of synch with each other in order to create areas of flux where the voices give birth to all kinds of sonic spectra. In many ways Singing In Unison comes over as a sort of ‘unplugged’ take on Wada’s pieces for invented bagpipes, locating his practice back in very dawn of the combinatory potential of music and language. This is a stunning recording, one that unites avant garde, psychedelic and folk-primitive techniques to dazzling effect, a form of ancient holy music set to levitate the future. Another massive side from Wada, beautifully presented with a fold-out insert featuring English and Japanese liners from Wada himself, very highly recommended!" —Volcanic Tongue  Composed by Yoshi Wada Richard Hayman, Imani Smith, and Yoshi Wada, voices Recorded on March 15, 1978, at The Kitchen, New York, NY

Yoshi Wada – Singing in Unison

From David Toop What are field recordings? “My memory is not what it used to be, David,” my grandfather, Syd Senior, said to me as we huddled round a fireplace in 1979. Thanks to a cassette tape I have the memory of his gradual loss of memory, hearing him speak of Queen Victoria’s funeral and the severity of patriotism back in those old days, 1901. Syd Senior is long dead, no longer part of the field of living relations but still within the field of memories that can be revived by technology, albeit an old one that squeaks like a mouse, hisses like a cat.Where is the field? The field is populated by all the ravishing, painful, poignant, nondescript moments of remembered life. Field recordings forget, just as memories forget. My recording of Ornette Coleman forgets that he fell asleep as we were talking together. I sat quietly, waiting for him to wake; the tape machine continued its work, oblivious.During lockdown, a warm spring day, I sat working in the garden. A small fox appeared close to me, started, retreated into the shelter of plants by my pond. I took a photo with my phone but when I looked at the image no fox was visible. Earlier that day I had been reading Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, a collection of short stories written by Pu Songling during the course of his life in the late seventeenth/early eighteenth century. In many of these tales, fox spirits inhabit the physical spaces of living humans in a variety of guises. Some are malicious; some benign. Their presence in the material world is wrong and yet accepted as either a temporary nuisance or a blessing that would later be regretted.“All the memories are very incomplete,” said Annabel Nicolson during a conversation I recorded with her in the early 1990s. “It’s like trying to substantiate something that was important to us . . . When I was younger I thought that didn’t matter. I thought everything could be transient because people would always be creating more . . . when you get older it seems rather different because you realise many wonderful things have just vanished. Which in some ways doesn’t matter but it also means that they can’t be shared with anyone other than those who were there.”

David Toop – Field Recording And Fox Spirits