Dead Oceans Vinyl, CD & Tape 154 Items

The trio's collective musical DNA, the years spent constructing it in Houston's local-meets-global cultural stew, ensures the band continues to sound like no one but itself. A cascade of crisp melodies 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. Yet there's a freshness to A La Sala's instrumental interactivity, less concerned with getting further out than going deeper in, a profound desire to celebrate the world's external wonders. Where prior albums strived towards music's polyglot edges, such inquiries now sound like beloved intimacies. Here, Khruangbin's sonic touch-points - whether spaghetti-western film scores (on "Fifteen Fifty-Three"), West African discos (on "Pon Pón"), G-funk fantasias ("Todavía Viva"), living room dancing moments (the first single, "A Love International"), or even ambient found-sounds (on "Farolim de Felgueiras” and throughout the album) - are ingrained characteristics. This is who they are! Unique and huge (and growing), ambitious and driven. Khruangbin's aspirations and commitment to playful creativity even extends to A La Sala's vinyl packages, of which there will be seven distinctive covers and color-sets. Designed by the band using Marko's multitude of travelog photos, the images are windows from the band's living room onto a set of daydreams, scenes of impossible skies, external glances that illuminate what is going on inside. Each cover image comes with a matching color vinyl. These too are all about looking out and looking back, in order to better look ahead.

The trio's collective musical DNA, the years spent constructing it in Houston's local-meets-global cultural stew, ensures the band continues to sound like no one but itself. A cascade of crisp melodies 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. Yet there's a freshness to A La Sala's instrumental interactivity, less concerned with getting further out than going deeper in, a profound desire to celebrate the world's external wonders. Where prior albums strived towards music's polyglot edges, such inquiries now sound like beloved intimacies. Here, Khruangbin's sonic touch-points - whether spaghetti-western film scores (on "Fifteen Fifty-Three"), West African discos (on "Pon Pón"), G-funk fantasias ("Todavía Viva"), living room dancing moments (the first single, "A Love International"), or even ambient found-sounds (on "Farolim de Felgueiras” and throughout the album) - are ingrained characteristics. This is who they are! Unique and huge (and growing), ambitious and driven. Khruangbin's aspirations and commitment to playful creativity even extends to A La Sala's vinyl packages, of which there will be seven distinctive covers and color-sets. Designed by the band using Marko's multitude of travelog photos, the images are windows from the band's living room onto a set of daydreams, scenes of impossible skies, external glances that illuminate what is going on inside. Each cover image comes with a matching color vinyl. These too are all about looking out and looking back, in order to better look ahead.

"Into The Blue is the clearest portrait of who I am as an artist. It's me through and through," says multi-instrumentalist Aaron Frazer. A daring blend of soul, psychedelia, spaghetti western, disco, gospel and hip-hop, Into the Blue represents the impressive range of Frazer's sonic talents. Frazer maintains the unmistakable falsetto and classic songwriting he's known for, but plants Into the Blue firmly in the now with a hip-hop mentality at its core, weaving together genres and production techniques to form something new. Into The Blue was conceived, like so many classic records, out of actual heartbreak. Frazer moved cross-country from Brooklyn to Los Angeles and embarked on a journey that's reflected in the album's themes of grief, loneliness, and searching for healing. "Into The Blue really means heading into the unknown. That has been the last year of my life and I'm still in the blue," Frazer explains. "But there are also songs here that celebrate love and the giddiness of a new relationship and all that. That's part of a breakup to me, processing the whole thing, remembering the things that were right as much as the things that were wrong." Frazer wrote on every track and played several live instruments on the album. The title track, "Into The Blue", is a haunting, resolute anthem, combining cinematic strings and tough-as-nails breakbeats as Frazer heads west. "Here I go, to a place where the broken heart knows," he sings. "It's all I can do. Back into the blue." "Payback" is an explosive dancefloor heater, featuring shimmering tambourines and driving bass lines. Northern soul drums meet snarling fuzz guitar, hurdling towards its epic conclusion. The album features moments of towering arrangements, recalling David Axelrod and Ennio Merricone, balanced by rawness, incorporating iPhone recordings and one-take vocals. For Into the Blue, Frazer enlisted Grammy-winner Alex Goose as coproducer, known for his crate-digging samples and collaborations with hip-hop artists like Freddie Gibbs, Madlib and Brockhampton. Frazer also experimented with samples for the first time on a record, drawing from unexpected sources like 90s R&B group Hi-Five. Though Into the Blue is born out of heartbreak, Frazer hopes it leaves listeners with a sense of optimism. "You know, you can still laugh on a day when you're grieving," he says, "there's no peaks without valleys," he says, but Into The Blue sees Aaron Frazer at new heights.

Driving anywhere in Texas can cost you half a day, easy. For example, it'll take you over four hours just to get from R&B singer Leon Bridges' hometown of Fort Worth down to Houston, where the psychedelic wanderers in Khruangbin hail from. The state is vast, crisscrossed with rugged expanses of road flanked by limestone cliffs and granite mountains, forests of pine and mesquite, miles of desert or acres of sprawling grassland, all depending on what part you're in. And it's all baking under the Texas Sun that lends its name to Bridges and Khruangbin's new collaborative EP. "Big sky country, that's what they call Texas," Khruangbin bassist Laura Lee says. "The horizon line goes all the way from one side to another without interruption. There's something really comforting about that." On Texas Sun, these two members of the state's musical vanguard meet up somewhere in the middle of that scene, in the mythical nexus of Texas' past, present, and future-a dreamy badlands where genres blur as seamlessly as the terrain. It calls equally to the cowboys boot-scooting at Billy Bob's in Fort Worth, the chopped-and-screwed hip-hop fans rattling slabs on the southside of Houston, the art-school kids dropping acid in Austin, the cross-cultural progeny who grew up on listening to both mariachi and post-hardcore out on the Mexican borders of El Paso. All of these things, overlapping in a multicolored melange, purple hues as vivid and unpredictable as one of the state's rightfully celebrated sunsets. A journey through homesick reminiscences, backseat romances, and late-night contemplations, the kind of record made for listening with the windows down and the road humming softly beneath you. Like the highways that inspired it, Texas Sun is guaranteed to get you where you're going-especially if you're in no particular hurry to get there.

Khruangbin has always been multilingual, weaving far-flung musical languages like East Asian surf-rock, Persian funk, and Jamaican dub into mellifluous harmony. But on its third album, it's finally speaking out loud. Mordechai features vocals prominently on nearly every song, a first for the mostly instrumental band. It's a shift that rewards the risk, reorienting Khruangbin's transportive sound toward a new sense of emotional directness, without losing the spirit of nomadic wandering that's always defined it. And it all started with them coming home. By the summer of 2019, the Houston group_bassist Laura Lee Ochoa, guitarist Mark Speer, drummer DJ Johnson_had been on tour for nearly three-and-ahalf years, playing to audiences across North and South America, Europe, and southeast Asia behind its acclaimed albums The Universe Smiles Upon You and Con Todo El Mundo. They returned to their farmhouse studio in Burton, Texas, ready to begin work on their third album. But they were also determined to slow down, to take their time and luxuriate in building something together. Musically, the band's ever-restless ear saw it pulling reference points from Pakistan, Korea, and West Africa, incorporating strains of Indian chanting boxes and Congolese syncopated guitar. But more than anything, the album became a celebration of Houston, the eclectic city that had nurtured them, and a cultural nexus where you can check out country and zydeco, trap rap, or avant-garde opera on any given night. In those years away from home, Khruangbin's members often felt like they were swimming underwater, unsure of where they were going, or why they were going there. But Mordechai leads them gently back to the surface, allowing them to take a breath, look around, and find itself again. It is a snapshot taken along a larger journey_a moment all the more beautiful for its impermanence. And it's a memory to revisit again and again, speaking to us now more clearly than ever.

The trio's collective musical DNA, the years spent constructing it in Houston's local-meets-global cultural stew, ensures the band continues to sound like no one but itself. A cascade of crisp melodies 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. Yet there's a freshness to A La Sala's instrumental interactivity, less concerned with getting further out than going deeper in, a profound desire to celebrate the world's external wonders. Where prior albums strived towards music's polyglot edges, such inquiries now sound like beloved intimacies. Here, Khruangbin's sonic touch-points - whether spaghetti-western film scores (on "Fifteen Fifty-Three"), West African discos (on "Pon Pón"), G-funk fantasias ("Todavía Viva"), living room dancing moments (the first single, "A Love International"), or even ambient found-sounds (on "Farolim de Felgueiras” and throughout the album) - are ingrained characteristics. This is who they are! Unique and huge (and growing), ambitious and driven. Khruangbin's aspirations and commitment to playful creativity even extends to A La Sala's vinyl packages, of which there will be seven distinctive covers and color-sets. Designed by the band using Marko's multitude of travelog photos, the images are windows from the band's living room onto a set of daydreams, scenes of impossible skies, external glances that illuminate what is going on inside. Each cover image comes with a matching color vinyl. These too are all about looking out and looking back, in order to better look ahead.

"Into The Blue is the clearest portrait of who I am as an artist. It's me through and through," says multi-instrumentalist Aaron Frazer. A daring blend of soul, psychedelia, spaghetti western, disco, gospel and hip-hop, Into the Blue represents the impressive range of Frazer's sonic talents. Frazer maintains the unmistakable falsetto and classic songwriting he's known for, but plants Into the Blue firmly in the now with a hip-hop mentality at its core, weaving together genres and production techniques to form something new. Into The Blue was conceived, like so many classic records, out of actual heartbreak. Frazer moved cross-country from Brooklyn to Los Angeles and embarked on a journey that's reflected in the album's themes of grief, loneliness, and searching for healing. "Into The Blue really means heading into the unknown. That has been the last year of my life and I'm still in the blue," Frazer explains. "But there are also songs here that celebrate love and the giddiness of a new relationship and all that. That's part of a breakup to me, processing the whole thing, remembering the things that were right as much as the things that were wrong." Frazer wrote on every track and played several live instruments on the album. The title track, "Into The Blue", is a haunting, resolute anthem, combining cinematic strings and tough-as-nails breakbeats as Frazer heads west. "Here I go, to a place where the broken heart knows," he sings. "It's all I can do. Back into the blue." "Payback" is an explosive dancefloor heater, featuring shimmering tambourines and driving bass lines. Northern soul drums meet snarling fuzz guitar, hurdling towards its epic conclusion. The album features moments of towering arrangements, recalling David Axelrod and Ennio Merricone, balanced by rawness, incorporating iPhone recordings and one-take vocals. For Into the Blue, Frazer enlisted Grammy-winner Alex Goose as coproducer, known for his crate-digging samples and collaborations with hip-hop artists like Freddie Gibbs, Madlib and Brockhampton. Frazer also experimented with samples for the first time on a record, drawing from unexpected sources like 90s R&B group Hi-Five. Though Into the Blue is born out of heartbreak, Frazer hopes it leaves listeners with a sense of optimism. "You know, you can still laugh on a day when you're grieving," he says, "there's no peaks without valleys," he says, but Into The Blue sees Aaron Frazer at new heights.

Two of the acts boldly leading Texas music into the future have now delivered a second chapter of their groundbreaking collaboration, further extending the region's sonic possibilities. Singer/songwriter Leon Bridges, from Ft. Worth, and trailblazing Houston trio Khruangbin have joined forces for the Texas Moon EP, a follow-up to 2020's acclaimed Texas Sun project. While the five new songs are clearly a continuation of the first EP, they also have an identity all their own _ Bridges calls it "more introspective," while Khruangbin bassist Laura Lee says it "feels more night time." When Texas Sun was released, AllMusic called the results "intoxicating" and Paste noted that "their talents and character go together so well." Now comes the next stage _ a set of songs that touch on themes like love, faith, and death while exploring new dimensions of inventive, hypnotic grooves. Significantly, both parties' musical directions were clearly affected by their time working together. Khruangbin's most recent album, Mordechai, moved their own vocals much further forward, a change they readily admit was a direct result of working with Bridges. Meanwhile, since these recordings began, in addition to his genre-defying album Gold-Digger's Sound, Bridges has put out several other challenging, shared tracks, including work with John Mayer, Lucky Daye, and Jazmine Sullivan. Texas Moon represents a genuine and rare achievement, with two of the most respected and innovative acts of their generation truly collaborating to create something new. "As far as an essentially instrumental band, these guys are kind of the top for me," says Bridges. "I'm honored to have been the first singer that they've incorporated in their music." "It feels really special to me," says Lee. "It's not Khruangbin, it's not Leon, it's this world we created together."

everything is alive, slowdive's 5th record, is exactly what the title suggests: an exploration into the shimmering nature of life and the universal touch points within it. While there are parts of this record that could sit neatly next to the atmospheric quality of 1995's Pygmalion; everything is alive also manages to break down the boundaries of what's come before it. Spanning psychedelic soundscapes, pulsating 80's electronic elements and John Cale inspired journeys, the album lands immediately as something made for 2023 and beyond. For a genre that is often thought of as divisive, and often warrants introspection, here slowdive show their craft as the masters of it by pushing it outwards, beyond the singular; the end result being a record which feels as emotional and cathartic as it is hopeful.

Ali Farka Touré trekked the world, bringing his beloved Malian music to the masses. Dubbed "the African John Lee Hooker," one could hear strong connections between the two; both employed a bluesy style of play with gritty textures that elicit calm and fury in equal measure. While the influence of Black blues music prevailed, Touré created a West African blend of 'desert blues' that garnered Grammy Awards and widespread reverence. Though he transcended in 2006, Ali's musical legacy lives on through his son, Vieux aka "the Hendrix of the Sahara," an accomplished guitarist and champion of Malian music in his own right. On Ali, his collaborative album with Khruangbin, Vieux pays homage to his father by recreating some of his most resonant work, putting new twists on it while maintaining the original's integrity. The result is a rightful ode to a legend. Ali isn't just a greatest hits compilation. It's a lullaby, a remembrance of Ali's life through known highlights and B-sides from his catalog. It is a testament to what happens when creativity is approached through open arms and open hearts. "To me, music is magic, it is spontaneous, it is the energy between people," Vieux says. "I think Khruangbin understands this very well." The genesis of the album dates back to 2019, when Khruangbin, coming off their breakthrough album Con Todo El Mundo, was beginning to play to bigger crowds. The record was finished in 2021, as a global pandemic shuttered businesses and forced us to take stock of what Earth was becoming. Indirectly, Ali captures this as a moment of peace within a raging storm, a conversation between past and present without allegiance to suffering. Now, given Khruangbin's reach as a unit with legions of fans (including the likes of Jay-Z and Paul McCartney), they're poised to bring Malian music to broader groups of listeners.

Soft-spoken with the look of a slightly disaffected 1950s matinee idol, Aaron Frazer possesses a unique voice that's both contemporary and timeless. On Introducing... -- his debut solo album produced by The Black Keys' Dan Auerbach, co-released on Easy Eye Sound and Dead Oceans -- Aaron melds mid-`60s soul with Auerbach's particular sensibilities (`Over You'), songs with a message in the key of Gil Scott-Heron (`Bad News'), and uplifting tales of love told through a blend of disco, gospel, and doo-wop (`Have Mercy'). The Brooklyn-based, Baltimore-raised songwriter first came into the international spotlight as multi-instrumentalist and colead singer of Durand Jones & The Indications, but he's more than a revivalist act. "I didn't want Introducing... to be an exact recreation of an era or a style," Frazer says. "I'm excited to keep breaking some of the expectations around what exactly I'm supposed to be artistically and musically, or what this scene as a whole can be." On Introducing..., Aaron expertly calibrates consciousness-raising and the desire to be enveloped by love. Where previous records were written in a partial state of turmoil, Aaron's debut LP shows maturation and range. Introducing... is both loving and gracious, critical without losing hope, and a showcase of a young artist on a seriously soulful ascent.

Private Space, the group's third album, is a previously untapped vibe at the heart of The Indications. Pushing beyond the boundaries of the funk and soul on their previous releases, Private Space unlocks the door to a wider range of sounds and launches boldly into a world of synthy modern soul and disco beats dotted with strings. It's an organic, timeless record that's as fresh as clean kicks and familiar as your favorite well-worn LP. Developed after being apart for much of the year, Private Space is creatively explosive and delights in upending expectations. Its 10 tracks are both an escapist fantasy and a much-needed recentering after a tumultuous 2020. Throughout, The Indications highlight a collective resiliency - as well as the power of a good song to be a light in the darkness. Durand Jones and The Indications have long provided the soulful soundtrack for such deep thoughts, both on stage and on your turntable. But as the world slowly resets from the chaos of the past year, Durand Jones and The Indications' Private Space is arriving at just the right time.

In the fall of 2012, Jones left his small-town in Louisiana for the foothills of Indiana. Alto saxophone in tow he enrolled in the Jacobs School of Music at Indiana University. “Being a singer was never part of the plan,” Jones admits. But soon enough he found his way in front of a rowdy rock-n-roll band belting out a rambunctious rendition of “Dock Of The Bay,” to a basement full of drunken undergrads. That rowdy band unfolded into The Indications—comprised of Aaron Frazer (drums), Blake Rhein (guitar), Kyle Houpt (bass) and Justin Hubler (organ).

Inspired by a handful of dusty and obscure 45s bearing names like The Ethics, Brothers of Soul and The Icemen, The Indications set out to make a record steeped in heavy drums, blown-out vocals, and deep grooves. Gathered around a Tascam 4-track cassette recorder and a case of Miller High-Life, the group spent their Sunday evenings recording into the early hours of the morning.

With comparisons from Charles Bradley and Lee Fields to Al Green, the only thing that separates this band from those greats is their youth. Having now taken their raucous live show all across the US, the band have galvanized a following that are ready to take them to the next level.

"Into The Blue is the clearest portrait of who I am as an artist. It's me through and through," says multi-instrumentalist Aaron Frazer. A daring blend of soul, psychedelia, spaghetti western, disco, gospel and hip-hop, Into the Blue represents the impressive range of Frazer's sonic talents. Frazer maintains the unmistakable falsetto and classic songwriting he's known for, but plants Into the Blue firmly in the now with a hip-hop mentality at its core, weaving together genres and production techniques to form something new. Into The Blue was conceived, like so many classic records, out of actual heartbreak. Frazer moved cross-country from Brooklyn to Los Angeles and embarked on a journey that's reflected in the album's themes of grief, loneliness, and searching for healing. "Into The Blue really means heading into the unknown. That has been the last year of my life and I'm still in the blue," Frazer explains. "But there are also songs here that celebrate love and the giddiness of a new relationship and all that. That's part of a breakup to me, processing the whole thing, remembering the things that were right as much as the things that were wrong." Frazer wrote on every track and played several live instruments on the album. The title track, "Into The Blue", is a haunting, resolute anthem, combining cinematic strings and tough-as-nails breakbeats as Frazer heads west. "Here I go, to a place where the broken heart knows," he sings. "It's all I can do. Back into the blue." "Payback" is an explosive dancefloor heater, featuring shimmering tambourines and driving bass lines. Northern soul drums meet snarling fuzz guitar, hurdling towards its epic conclusion. The album features moments of towering arrangements, recalling David Axelrod and Ennio Merricone, balanced by rawness, incorporating iPhone recordings and one-take vocals. For Into the Blue, Frazer enlisted Grammy-winner Alex Goose as coproducer, known for his crate-digging samples and collaborations with hip-hop artists like Freddie Gibbs, Madlib and Brockhampton. Frazer also experimented with samples for the first time on a record, drawing from unexpected sources like 90s R&B group Hi-Five. Though Into the Blue is born out of heartbreak, Frazer hopes it leaves listeners with a sense of optimism. "You know, you can still laugh on a day when you're grieving," he says, "there's no peaks without valleys," he says, but Into The Blue sees Aaron Frazer at new heights.

Ali Farka Touré trekked the world, bringing his beloved Malian music to the masses. Dubbed "the African John Lee Hooker," one could hear strong connections between the two; both employed a bluesy style of play with gritty textures that elicit calm and fury in equal measure. While the influence of Black blues music prevailed, Touré created a West African blend of 'desert blues' that garnered Grammy Awards and widespread reverence. Though he transcended in 2006, Ali's musical legacy lives on through his son, Vieux aka "the Hendrix of the Sahara," an accomplished guitarist and champion of Malian music in his own right. On Ali, his collaborative album with Khruangbin, Vieux pays homage to his father by recreating some of his most resonant work, putting new twists on it while maintaining the original's integrity. The result is a rightful ode to a legend.Ali isn't just a greatest hits compilation. It's a lullaby, a remembrance of Ali's life through known highlights and B-sides from his catalog. It is a testament to what happens when creativity is approached through open arms and open hearts. "To me, music is magic, it is spontaneous, it is the energy between people," Vieux says. "I think Khruangbin understands this very well." The genesis of the album dates back to 2019, when Khruangbin, coming off their breakthrough album Con Todo El Mundo, was beginning to play to bigger crowds. The record was finished in 2021, as a global pandemic shuttered businesses and forced us to take stock of what Earth was becoming. Indirectly, Ali captures this as a moment of peace within a raging storm, a conversation between past and present without allegiance to suffering. Now, given Khruangbin's reach as a unit with legions of fans (including the likes of Jay-Z and Paul McCartney), they're poised to bring Malian music to broader groups of listeners.

Durand Jones & the Indications aren't looking backwards. Helmed by foil vocalists in Durand Jones and drummer Aaron Frazer, the Indications conjure the dynamism of Jackie Wilson, Curtis Mayfield, AND the Impressions. Even with an aesthetic steeped in the golden, strings-infused dreaminess of early `70s soul, the Indications' sophomore LP, American Love Call, is planted firmly in the present, with the urgency of this moment in time. The Indications' 2016 self-titled debut was the product of friends who met as students at Indiana University in Bloomington, In., recorded for $452.11, including a case of beer. American Love Call, the band's sophomore LP is instead the record the Indications dreamed of making, fleshed out with strings, backing vocals, and a newfound confidence in songwriting. Blending a slew of influences from years spent crate-digging, guitarist Blake Rhein says the Indications approach songs in the same way hip-hop producers do, as likely to pull inspiration from `70s folk-rock or classic R&B as they are Nas' Illmatic. "Did I expect to do this shit once I got out of college? Hell no," Jones relays, laughing. "Totally not. But this is what God is telling me to do - move and groove. So I'm gonna stay in my lane."

Sometimes, Mitski says, it feels like life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what's truly hers, what can't be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. "The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people," Mitski says. "I wish I could leave behind all the love I have, after I die, so that I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I've created onto other people." She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will continue to shine that love long after she's gone. Listening to it, that's precisely how it feels: like a love that's haunting the land. "This is my most American album," Mitski says about her seventh record, and the music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. In this album, which is sonically Mitski's most expansive, epic, and wise, the songs seem to be introducing wounds and then actively healing them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star. The album is full of the ache of the grown-up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It's a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything, and everyone, is crying out, screaming in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning us and then rejecting us. To love this place _ this earth, this America, this body _ takes active work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Two of the acts boldly leading Texas music into the future have now delivered a second chapter of their groundbreaking collaboration, further extending the region's sonic possibilities. Singer/songwriter Leon Bridges, from Ft. Worth, and trailblazing Houston trio Khruangbin have joined forces for the Texas Moon EP, a follow-up to 2020's acclaimed Texas Sun project. While the five new songs are clearly a continuation of the first EP, they also have an identity all their own _ Bridges calls it "more introspective," while Khruangbin bassist Laura Lee says it "feels more night time." When Texas Sun was released, AllMusic called the results "intoxicating" and Paste noted that "their talents and character go together so well." Now comes the next stage _ a set of songs that touch on themes like love, faith, and death while exploring new dimensions of inventive, hypnotic grooves. Significantly, both parties' musical directions were clearly affected by their time working together. Khruangbin's most recent album, Mordechai, moved their own vocals much further forward, a change they readily admit was a direct result of working with Bridges. Meanwhile, since these recordings began, in addition to his genre-defying album Gold-Digger's Sound, Bridges has put out several other challenging, shared tracks, including work with John Mayer, Lucky Daye, and Jazmine Sullivan. Texas Moon represents a genuine and rare achievement, with two of the most respected and innovative acts of their generation truly collaborating to create something new. "As far as an essentially instrumental band, these guys are kind of the top for me," says Bridges. "I'm honored to have been the first singer that they've incorporated in their music." "It feels really special to me," says Lee. "It's not Khruangbin, it's not Leon, it's this world we created together."

The trio's collective musical DNA, the years spent constructing it in Houston's local-meets-global cultural stew, ensures the band continues to sound like no one but itself. A cascade of crisp melodies 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. Yet there's a freshness to A La Sala's instrumental interactivity, less concerned with getting further out than going deeper in, a profound desire to celebrate the world's external wonders. Where prior albums strived towards music's polyglot edges, such inquiries now sound like beloved intimacies. Here, Khruangbin's sonic touch-points - whether spaghetti-western film scores (on "Fifteen Fifty-Three"), West African discos (on "Pon Pón"), G-funk fantasias ("Todavía Viva"), living room dancing moments (the first single, "A Love International"), or even ambient found-sounds (on "Farolim de Felgueiras” and throughout the album) - are ingrained characteristics. This is who they are! Unique and huge (and growing), ambitious and driven. Khruangbin's aspirations and commitment to playful creativity even extends to A La Sala's vinyl packages, of which there will be seven distinctive covers and color-sets. Designed by the band using Marko's multitude of travelog photos, the images are windows from the band's living room onto a set of daydreams, scenes of impossible skies, external glances that illuminate what is going on inside. Each cover image comes with a matching color vinyl. These too are all about looking out and looking back, in order to better look ahead.

'Live at Stubbs' features performances by Kelly Doyle, Ruben Moreno, The Suffers, Robert Ellis, and Khruangbin

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

“The art of the remix has been around for several decades, from the fervid imaginations of JA pioneers like Coxsone Dodd, Duke Reid or King Tubby to the disco enthusiasts of New York, such as Tom Moulton, who bequeathed us the modern iteration of the remix and provided a template from which most remixers still work. Moulton's first commercial remix, a reworking of BT Express' appropriately-named `Do It 'Till You're Satisfied', which stretched it from three minutes to a luxurious five, assisted the band in securing its first Billboard R&B Number One, as well as providing a pathway for remixers like Walter Gibbons, Larry Levan, Richie Rivera and Tee Sott, to completely reinvent the concept of a remix (and in some instances, deconstructing the idea of what comprised a song). It has subsequently been used as a marketing tool, a dancefloor-devastator, a gimmick (both cheap and expensive) or even as a way of reaching a different audience (think Tori Amos' `Professional Widow'). Khruangbin are no slouches when it comes to the remix themselves. They've been reworked before, in 2016, with the highly collectible EP on Boogiefuturo. But this time, they're taking it a step further with an album dedicated to the art. Entering the tight-knit world of a Khruangbin song can be a little daunting. They have created this entire universe in which the trio seem to function telepathically in the way the music is composed, arranged and played. To mess with their delicate eco-system can invoke feelings similar to that of an unwanted guest crashing a good-time party. "We write our music to be interpreted; this is another wonderful interpretation of the music," reassure Khruangbin. "There is something very vulnerable about letting others work on your music. But through the correspondence with the different artists, we gained a bigger connection to the songs themselves." The choice of remixers for this album is neither arbitrary nor accidental. They're not names picked randomly out of a hat or chosen via a throw of the dice. All have some connection to the band, sometimes personal friendships, musical connections, or simply mutual musical appreciation. Harvey Sutherland and Ginger Roots have both toured with the band, Kadhja Bonet and Ron Trent had their own mutual fan club going on, Knxwledge sampled `White Gloves' on a recent mixtape, Natasha Diggs and Soul Clap's Eli's are recent buddy-ups, Quantic is a mutual friend of Bonobo (crucial in the KB origin story), while I've known Laura for number of years; plus she is also godmother to one of Felix Dickinson's kids. Doesn't get much more intimate than that, right? Some of these remixes were specifically made so you can dance your ass off while getting down to the Khruangbin sound, while some might better be appreciated horizontally with headphones on, wearing fashionably loose clothes. The choice is yours. But all were made with love and respect for Khruangbin. "A good remix deconstructs, recontextualizes, or simply extends a good time," say the band. Amen and out." - Bill Brewster

CD includes Sugarshack Sessions.

Private Space, the group's third album, is a previously untapped vibe at the heart of The Indications. Pushing beyond the boundaries of the funk and soul on their previous releases, Private Space unlocks the door to a wider range of sounds and launches boldly into a world of synthy modern soul and disco beats dotted with strings. It's an organic, timeless record that's as fresh as clean kicks and familiar as your favorite well-worn LP. Developed after being apart for much of the year, Private Space is creatively explosive and delights in upending expectations. Its 10 tracks are both an escapist fantasy and a much-needed recentering after a tumultuous 2020. Throughout, The Indications highlight a collective resiliency - as well as the power of a good song to be a light in the darkness. Durand Jones and The Indications have long provided the soulful soundtrack for such deep thoughts, both on stage and on your turntable. But as the world slowly resets from the chaos of the past year, Durand Jones and The Indications' Private Space is arriving at just the right time.

“It felt like we were in a movie that had a totally implausible ending ...”, so they had to return to keep this movie running.

everything is alive, slowdive's 5th record, is exactly what the title suggests: an exploration into the shimmering nature of life and the universal touch points within it. While there are parts of this record that could sit neatly next to the atmospheric quality of 1995's Pygmalion; everything is alive also manages to break down the boundaries of what's come before it. Spanning psychedelic soundscapes, pulsating 80's electronic elements and John Cale inspired journeys, the album lands immediately as something made for 2023 and beyond. For a genre that is often thought of as divisive, and often warrants introspection, here slowdive show their craft as the masters of it by pushing it outwards, beyond the singular; the end result being a record which feels as emotional and cathartic as it is hopeful.

Kevin Morby writes (and records, and imagines) at an almost incomparable clip, and his most recent album, This Is A Photograph, studies life, time and mortality through myriad lenses. It's a dynamic, buoyant record on big, heavy themes, so it only makes sense that Morby found he wasn't quite done with it on its completion. More Photographs (A Continuum) finds new nooks, corners and vantage points. "If This Is A Photograph is a house that you have been living inside of," says Morby, "then More Photographs is, perhaps, the same home just experienced differently. As if you, its inhabitant, have taken a tab of something psychedelic and now, suddenly, you've replaced your eyeglasses with kaleidoscopes." Here, Morby returns to his landmark album's bottomless themes with new wisdom, new imagination, and the winking, looping call backs that tie his full body of work together in uniquely special ways." Everything you once thought was familiar," he continues, "suddenly appears differently, shifting shapes, color and sonic landscapes." "Five Easy Pieces Revisited" captures the same moment from Bobby's point of view; "This Is A Photograph II" takes a similar tact, revisiting its predecessor from a different angle. "Triumph" explores more of the myths and deaths that surround Memphis, TN, this time inspired by Big Star's Chris Bell. And "Kingdom Of Hearts" arrives as an origin story to both This Is A Photograph and its new companion." With every collection of songs," says Morby, "I feel I must cast them out of me before moving onto the next project, and here I knew that what I had begun with This Is A Photograph was not finished. Releasing this collection is my tying a bow on that time and place in my creative life." With a luxurious nine tracks - three re-imaginings and six brand new songs - More Photographs (A Continuum) is prequel, sequel and primer to an already rich and generous record from one of our most luminous modern songwriters.

Kevin Morby writes (and records, and imagines) at an almost incomparable clip, and his most recent album, This Is A Photograph, studies life, time and mortality through myriad lenses. It's a dynamic, buoyant record on big, heavy themes, so it only makes sense that Morby found he wasn't quite done with it on its completion. More Photographs (A Continuum) finds new nooks, corners and vantage points. "If This Is A Photograph is a house that you have been living inside of," says Morby, "then More Photographs is, perhaps, the same home just experienced differently. As if you, its inhabitant, have taken a tab of something psychedelic and now, suddenly, you've replaced your eyeglasses with kaleidoscopes." Here, Morby returns to his landmark album's bottomless themes with new wisdom, new imagination, and the winking, looping call backs that tie his full body of work together in uniquely special ways." Everything you once thought was familiar," he continues, "suddenly appears differently, shifting shapes, color and sonic landscapes." "Five Easy Pieces Revisited" captures the same moment from Bobby's point of view; "This Is A Photograph II" takes a similar tact, revisiting its predecessor from a different angle. "Triumph" explores more of the myths and deaths that surround Memphis, TN, this time inspired by Big Star's Chris Bell. And "Kingdom Of Hearts" arrives as an origin story to both This Is A Photograph and its new companion." With every collection of songs," says Morby, "I feel I must cast them out of me before moving onto the next project, and here I knew that what I had begun with This Is A Photograph was not finished. Releasing this collection is my tying a bow on that time and place in my creative life." With a luxurious nine tracks - three re-imaginings and six brand new songs - More Photographs (A Continuum) is prequel, sequel and primer to an already rich and generous record from one of our most luminous modern songwriters.

Durand Jones's Wait `Til I Get Over is a memoir and a love letter. It is the story of Jones's life, his growth and revelations, the wisdom of his hometown and the wisdom he could only gain once he left. In it, he writes through Hillaryville's contradictions: the pristine beauty and the ragged roads; his teenage desire to leave and his adult desire to honor his tangled roots; the plantation history and the ups and downs of the Black community that made homes of this reparation town. "Hometowns have a way of keeping a part of you," says Jones, "and if I'm making something young-me would be proud of, Hillaryville is a big part of that." Jones finds something transformative in his memories there and the life he has led since, ultimately claiming and embracing his whole self. The result is vulnerable, personal, touching on Jones's relationship to church life, to his mother, to his queerness, to his worth. "I wish I could tell my younger self `you don't have to stick to the dreams people have for you,'" says Jones, "'you can dream bigger. You are more than capable, you are more than able. I think about some nerdy punk kid in the rural south who needs to hear that now.'" Wait `Til I Get Over does exactly that.

LP version comes with download of the album."There's No Leaving Now", the newest record from Kristian Matsson's aptly titled moniker, The Tallest Man On Earth, finds the Swedish troubadour trading in the sense of urgency that fueled his first two records for a confidently relaxed approach. The results are paralyzing. Drums, piano, baritone guitar, woodwinds and pedal steel layer this collection of songs that never compromise virtuosity for immediacy. The songwriting is every bit as detailed and captivating as his previous work, but this time around, Matsson is showing a few more cards. The music of the Tallest Man on Earth has traditionally centered around the power of performance and has served as a reminder that directness is the best course of action. However,...

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Food for Worms, their explosive third record, sees shame enter a new, surreal landscape, as reflected in the cover art designed by acclaimed artist Marcel Dzama. It's suggestive of what is left unsaid, what lies beneath the surface, the farcical and fantastical everyday that we are living in, in a society where both everything and nothing is possible. On the one hand, new album Food for Worms calls to mind a certain morbidity, but on the other, it's a celebration of life; the way that, in the end, we need each other. The album is an ode to friendship, and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all odds - can share. For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but seeking to capture the world around them. Now they arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food for Worms, which singer Charlie Steen declares to be "the Lamborghini of shame records." The album crashed into life faster than anything they'd created before. The band recorded it while playing festivals all over Europe. That live energy, what it's like to witness shame in their element, is captured perfectly on record - like lightning in a bottle. The album marks a sonic departure: shame have abandoned their post-punk beginnings for far more eclectic influences, drawing from the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrical observations of Lou Reed and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld. They called upon renowned producer Flood (Nick Cave, U2, PJ Harvey, Foals) to execute their vision. Recording each track live meant a kind of surrender: here, the rough edges give the album its texture; the mistakes are more interesting than perfection. In a way, it harks back to the title itself and the way that with this record, the band are embracing frailty and by doing so, are tapping into a new source of bravery.

Lifted or The Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground Originally released 2002. "The first three are innocent in a way, because we didn't have an audience when we were making them," Oberst says. "But from Lifted on, I was definitely aware of an audience. Lifted was well-received right away, and then everything happened with Wide Awake and Digital Ash." Those two albums came out simultaneously. And their lead singles - "Take It Easy (Love Nothing)," from the austere, remote Digital Ash, and "Lua," from the warm, folky Wide Awake - debuted in the top two slots on the Billboard Hot 100. "First Day of My Life," also from Wide Awake, would later be voted the Number One love song of all time by NPR Music's reader's poll. Bright Eyes had officially broken through. It was a heady, exciting time, but also fraughtand tense, both because of the band's careening new fame, and because of the state of the world. When Bright Eyes made their Tonight Show debut in 2006, they chose to perform none of their shiny new hits, instead delivering a searing, harrowing rendition of their caustic anti-Bush anthem, "When The President Talks To God." These days, Oberst is still amusing himself by messing with the extremes Bright Eyes baked into this

"The first three are innocent in a way, because we didn't have an audience when we were making them," Oberst says. "But from Lifted on, I was definitely aware of an audience. Lifted was well-received right away, and then everything happened with Wide Awake and Digital Ash." Those two albums came out simultaneously. And their lead singles - "Take It Easy (Love Nothing)," from the austere, remote Digital Ash, and "Lua," from the warm, folky Wide Awake - debuted in the top two slots on the Billboard Hot 100. "First Day of My Life," also from Wide Awake, would later be voted the Number One love song of all time by NPR Music's reader's poll. Bright Eyes had officially broken through. It was a heady, exciting time, but also fraughtand tense, both because of the band's careening new fame, and because of the state of the world. When Bright Eyes made their Tonight Show debut in 2006, they chose to perform none of their shiny new hits, instead delivering a searing, harrowing rendition of their caustic anti-Bush anthem, "When The President Talks To God."