Third chapter of the “Milano Undiscovered” series, curated by Fred Ventura, takes us on a journey through the vibrant Milanese techno and house scene of 1988-1992.

This latest installment unveils a treasure of unreleased demos, showcasing the productions that emerged from the city’s flourishing underground during this era. Inspired by the pioneering sounds emanating from Chicago, Detroit, London and Sheffield, a wave of Milanese producers embarked on a creative odyssey, crafting their own unique sonic interpretations of the electronic dance music landscape. More

Hot on the heels of the first influential volume - Milano Undiscovered 1982-1986 – here’s the uncommon sophomore release. The city of Borsa and fashion has been always struggling for an underground identity, collecting a series of rough contaminations between post-punk and dance music. The new compilation is undoubtedly a step forward, a second chance for many of the early artists involved. Altogether with some illustrious emerging names of the local electronic scene, here’s a definitive collection of contemporary Italo disco and synth pop tracks from the future past. Enjoy ! More

Pioneers, that’s what we call them. Not properly a giant team, but a bunch of forward thinking producers. In the heyday of the italo disco there was some forward thinking, a new way to address the club scene. 1985 is the golden year and if you want to get to the core of the synth-pop experience look no further ! This previously unreleased compilation collects a series of unbelievable tracks. An outstanding vision featuring la crème de la crème of the early 80s scene. All the way from electro wizard Alexander Robotnick to the astonishing performance of vocalist Mya Fracassini, through the French connection of Bigazzi brothers of Mon Bijou. More

Originally released in 1982 this pure electro-jam was a surgical trait d’union between the italo-disco phenomenon and the American boogie. The frantic vocal version is paired with the instrumental on the b-side. Scientific Saturday night fever with vocoder and the likes ! More

Killer rendition of the classic Led Zeppelin stomp, arranged by famous dj & producer Massimo Barsotti. Programmed by none other than Maurizo Dami aka Alexander Robotnick, this robotic version is delivered with alien vocals and cold as ice synth lines. Still a favorite for many international djs. More

This was the sole release of ghostly electro wizards Zed, released in1983 by the mysterious couple of J.K. Eller and J.P. Enten. Universal love meets artificial intelligence in this feverish number. More

Selected from Alexander Robotnick’s hits catalogue and released in this form for the first time, this is a unique compilation featuring all Robotnick’s electro anthems originally released on Fuzz Dance label. A must have for all the italo-disco and synth-pop freaks out there ! More

“‘A La Sala,’ I used to scream it around my house when I was a little girl, to get everybody in the living room; to get my family together. That’s kind of what recording the new album felt like. Emotionally there was a desire to get back to square-one between the three of us, to where we came from–in sonics and in feeling. Let’s get back there.” - Laura Lee Ochoa

The title makes it clear. A La Sala (“To the Room” in Spanish), the fourth studio album by Khruangbin, is an exercise in returning in order to go further, and do so on your own terms. It extends the air of mystery and sanctity that’s key to how bassist Laura Lee Ochoa, drummer Donald “DJ” Johnson, Jr. and guitarist Mark “Marko” Speer approach music. Yet if 2020’s Mordechai, the last studio album Khruangbin made without collaborators, was a party record whose ensuing post-lockdown tour enhanced the band’s musical reputation far and wide, A La Sala is the measured morning after. It’s a gorgeously airy album made only in the company of the group’s longtime engineer Steve Christensen, with minimal overdubs. It is a porthole onto the bounties powering Khruangbin’s vision, a reimagining and refueling for the long haul ahead. A La Sala scales Khruangbin down to scale up, a creative strategy with the future in mind.

It is also a response to the unique moment Khruangbin finds itself in now: following a decade spent cultivating extraordinary music paths, beginning a year when they'll perform for more people, in more iconic spaces, staging a live show that pushes a creative envelope peculiar to them alone. (Look for the band at major festivals and venues near you.) 2024 feels like both marker and pivot, cementing Khruangbin’s stature as a commercially and critically successful group that continues to be guided by creative possibilities.

Such crossroads are familiar for iconic artists throughout the rock era — your Dylans, Stevies and Bowies, up thru turn-of-the-century Radiohead, all have navigated these straits. On A La Sala, Khruangbin also pulls exploration inward, spurning the din of the crowd’s expectations, mapping a personal direction home. The trio’s collective musical DNA and the years spent constructing it in Houston’s local-meets-global cultural stew ensure the band carries on sounding like no one but itself. A La Sala may in fact be Khruangbin’s purest distillation. A cascade of crisp melodies still emanates from Marko’s reverb-heavy electric, dancing gently around Laura Lee’s minimalist almost-dub bass triangles, while DJ’s drums serve as the tightened-up pocket and unwavering dance-floor on which all this movement takes place.

Where prior album-by-album growth seemed to point the narratives towards music’s polyglot edges, such inquiries now sound like known intimacies. What once seemed like sonic invocations — spaghetti-western film scores, found-sounds, dancing moments more living room than rooftop disco — are ingrained characteristics. This is who they are! And there’s a freshness to the instrumental interactivity on A La Sala that’s less concerned with getting further out than going deeper in. That depth is not about therapeutic self-reflection, but a profound desire to celebrate the world’s external wonders.
A La Sala invites intimate intercontinental partying. The first single is, after all, called “A Love International.” “Pon Pón” holds the band’s table at the West African discotheque; yet the joy now moves to the corner left of the dancefloor, where the back-and-forth between Laura Lee’s bass, DJ’s hi-hat, and Marko’s tuneful rhythm scratches, is a marvel of knowing head-nods. There’s “Hold Me Up (Thank You),” a familial sweetness in its spare lyrics, feeding off the rhythm section’s sturdy funk shuffle, and a chorus on which Marko’s guitar evokes both sides of the Atlantic in confident unshowy rhythms. They’re on “Todavía Viva” too, next to DJ’s noir-soul rim-shots, synth strings and a pregnant pause that is Laura Lee’s favorite moment on the album, the mood kin to the band’s glorious live interpretations of G-funk fantasias. And the rocked-up miniature, “Juegos y Nubes,” demonstrates Khruangbin’s Houston-born superpower to culture-mix, a dancing mood less concerned with worldly glamor than communal grooving.

“I read something long ago, attributed to Miles Davis. He said, ‘When they play fast, you play slow. When they play slow, you play fast.’ And it's definitely how I've approached looking at music: Don't follow the trends. And if the trend is this, then do something else.” - Marko

From the get-go, Khruangbin’s journey has been emphatically its own: a sound and visual representation with few precedents, ignoring pop expectations, relying only on internal inspirations, and a multitude of visions. It’s a mindset of penetrating the self, connecting to the surrounding world, modeling your own life experiences. This ethos is threaded throughout A La Sala, audible in the album’s form and function. (It’s even visible in the vinyl version’s physical package, which will be released as a set of seven distinctive covers and color-sets — more on which in a sec.)

The building blocks for the album’s 12 songs were jigsaw pieces found in Khruangbin’s creative past. Having stockpiled ideas originally set down as off-the-cuff recordings (voice-memos made at sound-checks, on long voyages, as absentminded epiphanies), they began fitting those pieces together in the studio. Which parts were apt? Which could be massaged and stretched out? Which inspired new sections or rhythms or musical interactions? Once more, Khruangbin’s familial DNA kicked in. Layer-by-layer, the intimate work, rework and re-rework bore new fruit. They also brought back a strategy once foundational to their records: seeding an album with field recordings.

Some results fold directly into A La Sala’s down-home feel. “Three From Two” and “May Ninth” are wistful mid-tempo numbers, with guitar melodies that reside somewhere between Bakersfield and by-the-riverside, cues that, for all its borderless inclusivity, another core Khruangbin value is being steeped in American roots. And in the landscape that music comes from. Like all albums prior to Mordechai, Marko made sure environmental sounds — natural and man-made — appeared as textures. (At times philosophically: the group recorded while cricket chirps played in their headphones, presumably for terroir.) It’s how A La Sala achieves such interconnected set-and-setting-ness.

Other results are more metaphorical, especially in Khruangbin’s flirtation with ambient spaces. The dramatically beatless “Farolim de Felgueiras” and “Caja de la Sala” both feature only Marko’s unmistakable guitar dueting with Laura Lee’s Moog, lightly layered with sounds of shoes on stone steps, and cicadas in an open field. The closing “Les Petits Gris” more fully reduces and fleshes out the ambiance, with a piano and a simple single-note bass pattern, Marko’s plaintive spare guitar echoing the melody of a ballerina-turning music box. It feels an apt way of ending — as a passing of this particular moment, preparation for the next one, soon-come.

Even the seven different covers that adorn A La Sala’s various vinyl editions offer a throughline from the music into Khruangbin’s current frame. Designed by the band using Marko’s multitude of travelog photos, they are windows from the band’s living room onto a set of daydreams, scenes of impossible skies, external glances illuminating what is going on inside. These are also directly related to David Black’s images of DJ, Laura Lee and Marko which accompany A La Sala, and to Khruangbin’s live staging reinvention. It’s all about looking out and looking back, in order to better look ahead.

“All the little moments you capture. You don't see how impactful they are until you hear what eventually comes of them. A lot of those scraps end up being the thing — and you don't realize it until it's ‘The Thing.’” - DJ
credits
releases April 5, 2024

Produced by Mark Speer & Steve Christensen
Written, Arranged & Performed by Khruangbin
Art Direction: Tiny Frees
Mixing: Steve Christensen
Mastering: Chris Longwood More

Note: limited edition picture disc

A cult 12? EP from 1987 by legendary Japanese erotic actress Kaoru Kuroki, repressed for the first time on sexy picture disc vinyl.

A total of 4 tunes, including “???? (The Age Of Innocence)”; a strange synth-pop track based on an Okinawan folk song, “A Love Note For You”; an erotic poetry reading she wrote herself, “?????? (Birth From Time)”; a killer techno-pop track that could work as a hidden gem for DJs and ???? (Chinatown Love) ???; an erotic serenade dedicated to Chinatown.

Picture disc in the colorful cover.

Licensed by TEICHIKU RECORDS CO.,LTD; original master tapes. More

Ever since he made his first trip to Japan to DJ, Optimo Music founder JD Twitch has been bewitched by Japanese music, and particularly the vibrant, imaginative, and often far-sighted sounds which emerged from the island nation during the 1980s. Now he’s put years of digging in Japanese record shops to good use on Polyphonic Cosmos, the latest release on his compilation-focused Cease & Desist imprint. Subtitled ‘A Beginners Guide to Japan In The ‘80s’, the collection offers a personal selection of Japanese gems recorded and released between 1981 and ’86 – a period when advances in recording and musical technology offered the nation’s artists and producers a whole new tool kit to employ. When combined with the unique musical culture of Japan, where local traditions are frequently fused with Western styles to create timeless, off-kilter aural fusions, this embrace of locally pioneered music technology had spectacular, often unusual results. Eight years in the making, Polyphonic Cosmos provides an endlessly entertaining musical snapshot of Japanese music of the early-to-mid ‘80s with all of the open-minded eclecticism and sonic twists that you would expect from the Glasgow-based DJ. Compare and contrast, for example, the gently breezy, morning-fresh folk-plus-electronics bliss of ‘???? Baranikyoku (Fellini&Rota)’ by World Standard – the most familiar alias of long-serving musician/producer Sohichiro Suzuki – and the hallucinatory, slow-motion tribal rhythms, post-punk rhythms and tape delay-laden electronics of Imitation’s ‘Exotic Dance’. Or, for that matter, the tipsy mid-‘80s electronic reggae of Pecker’s ‘Sha La La’, the grungy but melodic post-punk strut of ‘You Go On Natural’ by Earthling (a track Twitch accurately describes as “sheer unrelenting groove”), and the unearthly, swirling sonics, new age instrumentation and flotation tank vocals of prolific (and seemingly mysterious) act Geinoh Yamashirogumi’s ‘Rimme Kohkyogaku Meiki’. It’s a credit to JD Twitch’s curatorial skills that the quality never dips, and sonic surprises lurk around every corner. Consider for a moment the hard to describe, far-sighted audio immersion of D-Day’s ‘Ki-Ra’ – all languid post-pop guitar, enveloping chords, spoken word vocals, shuffling 808 beats and marimba melodies – and the two contributions from video games soundtrack specialist (and driving instrumental synth-pop specialist) Hiroyuki Namba. The collection naturally includes some selections that have long been favourites in Twitch’s DJ sets – see Masumi Hara’s ‘Your Dream’ – as well as a handful of tracks from artists who may be more recognisable to those with only rudimentary knowledge of Japanese musical culture. The great Yasuaki Shimizu, whose work as Mariah has become far better known in recent years thanks to reissues of some of his most magical albums, is represented via ‘The Crow’, a picturesque chunk of horizontal, hard-to-define jazz-not-jazz smokiness, while the collection fittingly concludes with a sublimely funky, oddball electronic workout from Yellow Magic Orchestra legend Ryuichi Sakamoto (the frankly incredible ‘Wongga Dance Song’). More

In the early 1980s, a particular alchemy between new musical technologies and significant social, cultural, and political transformations in Ghana gave rise to a new style of highlife. Drum machines and synthesisers appeared alongside lilting guitar lines and punchy horns, and the emerging Ghanaian diaspora began incorporating US disco and boogie, R&B, European new wave, and Caribbean zouk and soca into their music.

This style soundtracked the birth of a new, proud Ghanaian identity and captured the idiosyncrasies of a rapidly changing postcolonial society, marked by increased migration and wider access to global sounds and modern technology.

More than 20 years after the release of the heavy funk and Afrobeat-focused Ghana Soundz compilations, and following the success of 2009’s Ghana Special: Modern Highlife, Afro Sounds & Ghanaian Blues 1968-1981, Soundway is now shining the spotlight on the multifaceted, diasporic sounds of the ‘80s on new compilation Ghana Special - Volume 2, a collection of 18 burger highlife, electronic afrobeat, and reggae tracks.

Though Ghanaian to its very core, burger highlife emerged mostly outside of Ghana and just as the sun was setting on the country’s musical golden age. In the 1960s and 1970s cities such as Accra, Tema, Takoradi, and Cape Coast were home to thriving music scenes, and the loud horn sections of the big highlife bands, or the simpler, socially conscious palm wine music ruled the dance halls, locals drinkeries, and airwaves.

Back then music represented a powerful force, and an artist’s endorsement or dissent could make or break a politician. Perhaps to curb this power, the incoming military regime-imposed curfews and substantial import taxes on musical instruments in the early 1980s. These measures, coupled with a profound economic downturn and shifting musical preferences that saw DJs replacing large live bands, served as the final blow to Ghana's once-thriving music scene.

Musicians left Ghana in droves, scattering across West Africa, Europe, and North America. Thanks in part to its more permissive migration policies Germany became the heart of this scene, and the movement in fact takes its name from “Bürger”, the German for “citizen”. Less confined by genres than back in Ghana, artists in the diaspora were quick to engage with the different styles, working disco, boogie, and funk into their highlife melodies. Access to state-of-the-art studios and modern musical technologies also gave birth to all sorts of mutations: burger highlife in fact is less defined by one particular sound, than by the experimental approach and global outlook of its artists.

Tracks such as Ernest Honny’s experimental cut “New Dance” are an example of just how far artists strayed from original highlife arrangements. Honny, who started his career as a keyboard player with Dr K Gyasi’s band The Noble Kings, had moved to Benin in the 1980s, where he experimented with synthesisers and drum machines at one of Cotonou’s top studios. Similarly, Nan Mayen’s “Mumude” is a slick, 80’s pop track which was recorded in Germany, with only a slight echo of highlife in its opening Fanti lyrics.
This generation of artists found inspiration in sounds that transcended geographical boundaries: singer and guitarist Nana Budjei, who was originally from central Ghana but had moved to the UK in the 1980s, says that his radiant, sun-drenched 1988 track “Asobrachie” is “influenced by reggae maestros Bob Marley and Alpha Blondy, and traditional Akan folklore music”; on “Jigi Jigi”, the Kumasi-born, Sweden transplant Delips Apo draws on soca, latin, and zouk influences.

Throughout the 1980s Ghanaian artists kept producing increasingly innovative and experimental hybrids, winning over new audiences abroad. Though back in Ghana the new sound was initially met with disapproval by purists, it slowly became a symbol of a new, worldly and modern Ghanaian identity. The creativity and open mindedness that characterised burger highlife have gone on to shape the evolution of Ghanaian music since, giving artists the freedom to explore new global sounds while preserving a proudly Ghanaian soul. Ghana Special - Volume 2 stands as a vibrant tribute to the lasting legacy of this groundbreaking musical era. More