Limited to 500 copies. Nobody—and I do mean nobody—has a funkier band than Syl Johnson! His famous Chicago outfit cooks up such powerful rhythms that there isn’t an R&B band in all the land that can come close to touching them. When Syl’s out front in the spotlight, delivering his dynamic vocals while his funky, funky band lets loose with their unstoppable rhythms, I defy anybody with two working ears not to head straight to the dancefloor.
Limited to 500 copies. Will Syl Johnson ever run out of soul? No way, baby. He’s got a bottomless supply! Syl’s inspiring voice and his mighty band, the Pieces of Peace, are a match made in soul heaven. Hit songs “One Way Ticket To Nowhere” and “Get Ready” are just two of the highlights from this LP, adding to his sky high stash of smashes. They’re joined by a super-funky “Annie Got Hot Pants Power,” the uplifting “We Do It Together,” and “Thank You Baby,” and revivals of Jackie Wilson’s “That’s Why,” and the Temptations’ “The Way You Do The Things You Do,” transformed so completely that you’d swear they were written specifically for Syl.
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Culling together records from a host of short-lived indie labels, Do You Know What Soul Is? finds Syl Johnson at his most industrious. Heard here developing his chops as a writer/producer, Mr. Johnson knows what soul is.
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Every side of every 45 from Syl Johnson's formative years on the Federal Label. Recorded between 1959 and 1962, My Gift is an exemplary collection of early R&B that blends Chicago blues with fiery soul. Cut from the original master tapes, these early recordings are presented pristine fidelity.
Joseph Washington Jr.'s 1983 holiday LP puts a soulful, funky, suave ribbon on nine frosty Christmas cuts. In that season of music's traditional descent into threadbare schmaltz, Merry Christmas to You restores joy and wonder to a blizzard of bland. Under this tree, find undiscovered classics for our cynical age: the buoyant "Jesus’ Birthday," the hot and bothered soul of "Merry Christmas," the ridiculously catchy wallet-opener "Shopping." The world of records produces just a precious few yuletide keepers: Spector's A Christmas Gift for You; Fahey's The New Possibility; Guaraldi's indelible Charlie Brown Christmas. Down another nog and file Joseph Washington Jr. comfortably next to those.
2LP version boils the Scientists catalog down to 22 essentials, plus unpublished photographs, discography, and fold out Perth Punk family tree. The Scientists went through many incarnations in their 9 year history but are remembered mostly for the lineup that existed from 1981 to 1985. Kim Salmon, Tony Thewlis, Boris Sujdovic and Brett Rixon together had the peculiar chemistry that produced the classics, Swampland, Happy Hour, the Blood Red River mini LP and We had Love. With a sound that was swampy, primal and modern-urban all at once - as much in the tradition of rock and roll and punk rock as it was a rejection of those things, the Scientists' formula was as universal as it was specific to their own experience. They were about what it was like to be young and living in modern times in an Australian urban/suburban environment. The themes of getting wasted on alcohol and drugs, driving round in hotted up cars, being trapped in crap jobs and paranoia were their subject matter. Machine throb bass and drums with jagged car wreck guitars were their modus operandi. Fitting into no place or time they spurned all but the most rudimentary and elemental of rock structures along with other peoples modes of embellishment. They rejected the contemporary sound and look and so consequently were never able to carry around baggage that would allow them to date. "The Scientists turned my head around and made a man out of me! They grew hair on my palms and made my socks stink!"—Jon Spencer "They wrote fantastic singles and looked like they just crawled out of the ooze. What more could you ask for?"—Warren Ellis "The Scientists proved to me that rock n roll could be played by gentlemen in fine silk shirts half unbuttoned and still be dirty, cool and real."—Thurston Moore
Teeming with the energy and grit of pre-Giuliani Manhattan, Blonde Redhead's long out-of-print early recordings have finally crawled their way out of the '90s basement thanks to Numero Group who will issue the set on Sept. 30. Weighing in at 37 tracks, Masculin Féminin compiles the band's first two albums for Steve Shelley's Smells Like Records (self-titled and La Mia Via Violenta), their period singles, extant demos, and radio performances across four LPs. Dozens of previously unpublished photographs illustrate two lengthy essays on this essential New York band's formative years. This is the latest installment in Numero Group's 200 Line series which has also included releases from Unwound, Bedhead, Codeine, White Zombie and The Scientists.
Deluxe 5LP boxset includes a 108-page book features previously unpublished photographs and a 20,000-word essay. Years before Beavis and Butt-head headbanged "Thunder Kiss '65" and "More Human than Human" into the eternal rock video canon, there was primordial White Zombie - a quintessential, diabolically loud byproduct of Manhattan's underground rock scene, born of artschool rendezvous and squalid apartment circumstance. It Came from N.Y.C. is the most exhaustive attempt so far to document the band's wondrously ugly birth. Getreintroduced to White Zombie as New York noise-rock, a grotesque creation that clawed and threatened its way to crossover metal glory. On June 3rd 2016, Numero resurrects White Zombie's eternally out-of-print early EPs and LPs as It Came From N.Y.C. spread across five LPs or three compact discs, all 39 tracks have been remastered by guitarist J. Yuenger and packaged alongside the original lurid artwork. The accompanying 108-page book painstakingly documents White Zombie's punishing progression through scores of unpublished photos, period discography, a T-shirtography, and tales from the terrifying early years that stitch together the sordid story of a band whose true power eclipsed its mainstream heyday. White Zombie lives. Don't be afraid.
A decade ago, Dante Carfagna issued a somewhat anonymous LP under the Express Rising heading. That self-titled affair went in and out of print before 2003’s summer gave way to fall, thanks in part to its release by the frustratingly obscure Memphix label, but thanks more to how it broke new ground for the instrumental rap generation’s interest in the sub-sub-basement of record mining. The album’s blurry boreal cover captured Carfagna’s mysterious persona. Though he’s been attached to such seminal compilations as Chains and Black Exhaust, a grip of Eccentric Soul titles, and the recent electronic soul collection Personal Space --and though his signature “Records I barely like but maybe you will” approach to writing helped build the Wax Poetics brand--Dante remains a tough man to pin down. He doesn’t even have a working doorbell. Which may be a good thing, as he recorded his second album in the middle room of his third floor walk-up in Chicago’s Dog Patch neighborhood. A notorious homebody, Carfagna cut much of this second self titled LP after a long nights of Camel filters and bottled New Glarus—while watching his neighbors departure for morning straight-world commutes. Reaching back to 2008 and an Akai four track, these 11 songs break from the foraging tradition employed by Dante’s debut, swapping out breakbeats and samples for guitar, Wurlitzer, banjo, steel guitar, synthesizer, and an arcane drum machine. Reached for comment, Carfagna had this to say about himself and about Express Rising: “My last record came out ten years ago. Much has changed and much has not.”
One-take ambient instrumental travels, composed in strict committee by the trio of Kevin Blagg, William Suran, and Dante Carfagna. Recorded spontaneously in rural Arkansas, bulging sub-woofers lope through fissures of skeletal banjo and pitched down pedal steel, while delicately arranged basins of synth and guitar reverberate, providing a steady stream of granular epiphanies. Utterly faded, yet still possessing crystalline clarity, these twelve songs continually attain summits rarely reached within the span of four-minute transmissions.