| Kwanyin Records – kwanyin 028 415.61MB FLAC |
Saturday, February 22, 2025
VA - 1999 - Harmony Of The Spheres 2xCD
| Drunken Fish Records – DFR-50 692.25MB FLAC |
A reissue is often described as though it were a transparent container: the same music returned to availability in another format. Harmony of the Spheres demonstrates why that description is inadequate. The 1999 double CD contains the same six major works issued in Drunken Fish’s 1996 triple-LP box, but it does not produce the same experience. The original demanded six separate encounters, one artist occupying each vinyl side. The listener lowered the needle, entered a world, reached the runout groove, stood up, turned the record or replaced it, and consciously crossed into another orbit. The double CD removes most of those physical borders. Three sides become one disc, three more become another. What had been six planets now forms two long hemispheres of sound.
This distinction matters because listening architecture changes musical meaning. On vinyl, Bardo Pond’s “Sangh Seriatim” was a complete side and therefore a complete territory. The silence and manual action after it reinforced the sensation that its procession had reached the boundary of its world. On the 1999 CD, the piece ends and Flying Saucer Attack’s “Since When” begins without the listener leaving the chair. Bardo Pond’s saturated bodily mass does not disappear into the ritual of flipping a record. It remains suspended in short-term memory while Flying Saucer Attack begin dissolving matter into hiss, distance and overloaded signal. The transition becomes compositional even though the artists did not collaborate.
That new continuity is the real subject of the CD edition. Disc one joins Bardo Pond, Flying Saucer Attack and Jessamine into a nearly seventy-minute passage from body to atmosphere to mechanism. Disc two moves from Roy Montgomery’s multiplied guitar devotion through Loren Mazzacane Connors’ fractured revolt and into the exposed mortal ritual of Charalambides. The original sides remain intact, but their borders have become permeable. Each work begins altering the interpretation of the one before it.
The reissue’s catalog number deepens this numerical strangeness. The original was DFR-25; the CD is DFR-50. Drunken Fish’s catalog had doubled between editions, and the release that once occupied one numbered position reappeared at its mathematical multiple. This may be accidental, but Harmony of the Spheres is exactly the kind of object that makes accidental ratios feel meaningful. Its ancient philosophical source imagines number, interval and cosmic movement as aspects of one concealed order. Here the music travels from twenty-five to fifty, from three records to two discs, from six sides to two sequences, while retaining the same underlying duration. The body changes; the proportion survives.
The compact disc also makes the title literal in a way the vinyl edition could not. The old idea of celestial harmony was founded upon number: orbital relationships translated into imagined musical proportion. A CD stores sound numerically, sampling a continuous vibration and reconstructing it through a precisely timed digital system. Music that repeatedly seems organic, cosmic, handmade and physically unstable is now carried by calculation. Bardo Pond’s distortion, Flying Saucer Attack’s tape fog, Connors’ torn guitar and Christina Carter’s voice all become encoded information. The ancient dream that number might conceal music meets a modern device that actually rebuilds audible music from numbers.
Yet the CD does not sound spiritually cleaner because it is digital. These recordings are full of material resistance. Amplifiers overload. Tape and distortion obscure sources. Fingers strike, bow and scrape strings. Voices disappear into surrounding frequencies. The apparent purity of digital storage preserves music devoted to impurity. That contradiction prevents the set from becoming a demonstration of technological progress. The CD can reproduce the sounds reliably, but it cannot tame what those sounds are doing.
The front image appears almost to acknowledge this conflict. A rectangular engraving floats inside an enormous black field. Human figures, instruments, circular diagrams, celestial forms and a monstrous open mouth have been packed into one unstable vertical scene. It resembles an illustration from a book whose religious, scientific and theatrical systems have become entangled. The circles may be planets, drums, targets, speakers or diagrams of vibration. The musicians appear to summon order while the mouth below threatens to swallow the entire arrangement.
On the twelve-inch box, that image participated in a large tactile environment with screened surfaces, a substantial booklet and vellum divisions. Reduced to CD dimensions, it becomes less like an altar and more like a secret manuscript. The black border grows psychologically larger because the central image has become physically smaller. The listener must lean toward it. Monumentality becomes intimacy.
The back cover provides the reissue’s clearest visual theory. Artist names and track titles sit above a nearly invisible system of orbital rings. The circles do not illustrate one central hierarchy in which a star performer occupies the middle and lesser artists revolve outside. They overlap and extend beyond the frame. The diagram implies that each body may be the center of another system not fully visible here. A compilation can only capture the portion of each artist’s orbit passing through this temporary field.
This is especially appropriate because the six artists were never members of one unified scene. Bardo Pond came from Philadelphia’s heavy psychedelic underground. Flying Saucer Attack developed its rural, home-recorded signal world in Bristol. Jessamine emerged from the Pacific Northwest. Roy Montgomery carried New Zealand post-punk, folk, drone and solitary guitar practice into a radically personal language. Loren Connors had spent years reducing blues and improvisation to spectral gestures. Charalambides transformed folk intimacy, silence and free exploration from Texas outward. Drunken Fish did not document a local movement. The label recognized gravitational resemblance across distance.
The original box made that recognition visible before history had fully confirmed it. By 1999, only three years had passed, but three years moved quickly within the independent music networks of that decade. The artists’ catalogs had expanded. Listeners had begun connecting psychedelic rock, drone, private folk, home recording, post-rock, improvisation and minimal guitar music in ways that would become increasingly familiar during the following decade. What appeared in 1996 as an unusually intuitive gathering could already be heard in 1999 as a map whose routes were continuing beyond the box. Later criticism would describe the collection as a landmark and unusually prescient, but the CD arrived while that prescience was still becoming visible. :contentReference[oaicite:2]{index=2}
The reissue therefore changes the work’s temporal position. The vinyl box was an event in the present tense. It said: these six artists belong inside one object now, even though no convenient genre adequately explains why. The CD says: this event deserves to remain available because its relationships are beginning to matter beyond the original moment. Reissue becomes an early form of historical recognition.
That recognition creates an unavoidable tension between rarity and access. A limited object derives part of its emotional power from care, scarcity and physical specificity. Owners may have searched for it, saved money, carried the heavy box home and lived with the knowledge that relatively few copies existed. A CD edition cannot reproduce that encounter, and pretending otherwise would cheapen both formats. But protecting the exclusivity of the box by allowing the music to disappear would confuse the scarcity of an object with the value of the art inside it.
The 1999 edition chooses transmission. It does not counterfeit the original experience by producing a miniature imitation of every physical component. It accepts that another body will create another relationship. The CD is lighter, cheaper, easier to ship, easier to play continuously and less vulnerable to the surface damage that can gradually alter long quiet passages. It can enter more rooms. The original box remains what it was, while the music acquires another route through the world.
Disc one gains particular force from this route. “Sangh Seriatim” begins with the body: bass, drums, voice, flute and guitar moving as one narcotic procession. The title’s sense of ordered succession becomes prophetic because the entire disc is now arranged seriatim, one sphere following another without manual interruption. Bardo Pond make repetition feel communal and biological. Even at their most distorted, the music retains the sensation of several people breathing inside the same physical event.
Flying Saucer Attack then weaken the certainty of those bodies. “Since When” is divided into four indexed sections, making its internal stages visible on the CD player’s display. The listener can watch numbers change while the sound itself makes boundaries difficult to perceive. This is another specifically digital paradox: the machine reports exact divisions inside music devoted to indistinction. Part one becomes part two at a precise second, but the atmosphere crosses that border without presenting identification papers.
The track indexing permits navigation, yet the strongest experience may come from refusing to use it. Played without intervention, the four movements form a study in information appearing and disappearing through noise. Melody exists behind damage, rhythm gathers beneath atmospheric debris, and the recording seems to alternate between remembering and forgetting itself. The CD promises perfect retrieval while the music stages failed reception.
Jessamine’s “22:30” completes the first disc by giving uncertainty a motor. After Bardo Pond’s organic procession and Flying Saucer Attack’s collapsing transmission, Jessamine sound like a system assembling itself from the remaining particles. Repetition becomes less geological and more architectural. Drums, bass, guitar and electronics establish a machine whose stability is continually troubled by improvisational activity.
The title is itself numerical, resembling either a duration or a point on a twenty-four-hour clock. The listed track runs longer than the title suggests, which adds another tiny displacement between number and experience. Time can be measured precisely while still being felt inaccurately. Twenty-three minutes inside Jessamine’s structure may seem brief when attention enters the pulse, or enormous when the listener waits for conventional development. Disc one ends by revealing that the clock and consciousness are not operating according to the same system.
Changing to disc two is the CD edition’s one major required physical intervention. This remaining break becomes more important because most of the original side changes have vanished. The listener leaves a first disc dominated by bands and enters a second disc that gradually narrows toward exposed individual or duo expression. The two CDs are not officially titled, but they begin to resemble collective and solitary hemispheres.
Roy Montgomery opens the second with “Fantasia on a Theme by Sandy Bull,” and the CD format alters the scale of its solitude. On vinyl, Montgomery occupied a complete side equivalent to the band sides surrounding him. On the CD, his layered guitar follows almost immediately after the listener changes discs, becoming the new system’s creation story. One person multiplies until he produces enough internal voices to replace an ensemble.
The fantasia is also about transmission across generations. Sandy Bull’s example passes into Montgomery without being copied literally. The theme becomes permission, and permission becomes another composition. This is precisely what the reissue itself accomplishes. It does not preserve the original package unchanged. It receives the box’s organizing principle and reconstructs it within another medium.
Montgomery’s later return to this piece as “Fantasia on a Theme by Sandy Bull (Slight Return)” confirms that the composition was never a sealed monument. It continued orbiting its maker, available for simplification, revision and renewed performance. A theme survives not through immobility but through the capacity to produce further variation.
Loren Mazzacane Connors breaks that expansion into four sharply defined pieces. The CD display names “Flames,” “The Gathering,” “Revolt!” and “Fand (A Tear)” separately, allowing the listener to select them as independent tracks. Yet playing them in sequence reveals that their meaning depends upon consequence. Fire leads to assembly, assembly to uprising, uprising to grief. The final tear prevents the revolt from being romanticized as pure liberation.
This sequence also resists the cosmic abstraction suggested by the collection’s title. The spheres may possess mathematical order, but human history contains violence, fracture and mourning. Connors introduces a world in which harmony cannot mean peace or pleasing agreement. His guitar tears the surface, forcing the collection to account for dissonance as a necessary relationship rather than a failure of order.
Charalambides close the disc with “Naked in Our Deathskins,” and the CD’s continuous architecture makes the entrance feel like the aftermath of Connors’ revolt. Tom and Christina Carter do not resolve the violence. They remove nearly everything that could distract from vulnerability. Voice, guitar, breath and silence reveal the mortal organism beneath the compilation’s cosmic language.
The plural “our” becomes crucial here. Deathskin is not the isolated property of a doomed individual. Every performer and listener arrives clothed in it. The body that changes records, presses play, adjusts volume and eventually stops hearing is part of the system. Harmony of the Spheres may imagine immense cosmic relationships, but its final work returns every abstraction to finite flesh.
This ending changes under digital repetition. A vinyl side reaches its locked or open runout and leaves the needle physically circling after the music has ended. A CD stops, returns to its menu or begins again according to the player’s settings. One medium ends in mechanical rotation; the other ends in numerical instruction. Neither is neutral. The silence following Charalambides has been shaped by the machine producing it.
The FLAC archive on this post creates a third version of the 1999 edition. The original CD translated six vinyl sides into two optical discs. The archive translates those discs into files capable of existing without either the vinyl box or the compact-disc package. Unlike the earlier catalog-number MP3 archive connected to the 1996 post, this lossless folder explicitly preserves the CD audio without lossy data reduction. The archive now contains two legitimate digital lives of the same music: a smaller MP3 representation of DFR-25 and a much larger FLAC representation of DFR-50.
Keeping both matters. The later file does not make the earlier one meaningless, just as the CD did not erase the triple LP. Each documents a different point in the music’s movement. The MP3 carries the logic of compact circulation and the early history of the blog’s uploads. The FLAC carries a lossless version of the official CD reconfiguration. The posts become less like duplicates than parallel observations taken from different positions.
This is closely related to the idea behind the title. A sphere cannot be completely represented by one flat image. It must be approached through several projections, each preserving some relationships and distorting others. The triple LP, double CD, MP3 archive and FLAC archive are projections of one musical body. None contains the total experience, but together they reveal dimensions that a single edition would conceal.
The vinyl box teaches segmentation, scale and ceremony. The CD teaches continuity and transmission. The MP3 teaches portability and survival through compression. The FLAC teaches preservation through abundance, accepting a larger file so that more of the digital signal remains intact. The object does not possess one true form standing above the rest. Its history is the movement among forms.
The 1999 edition may therefore be the most conceptually revealing version even though it is not the most physically spectacular. The original box declares itself extraordinary before the needle drops. The CD must prove its importance through use. Its achievement becomes apparent only when the listener notices that three separate artists have begun forming one vast composition without their individual recordings being altered.
Disc one is not merely Bardo Pond plus Flying Saucer Attack plus Jessamine. It becomes mass passing into signal and signal acquiring mechanical consciousness. Disc two is not merely Montgomery plus Connors plus Charalambides. It becomes solitary expansion, historical fracture and mortal exposure. The CD discovers two long arcs hidden inside the six-side arrangement.
This is what a worthwhile reissue can do. It need not add bonus tracks, alternate takes or explanatory scholarship to produce new meaning. Sometimes changing the path is enough. Remove four required physical interruptions and the listener hears relationships previously broken by ritual. Reduce a large box to a smaller object and the image changes from monument to encrypted message. Divide six sides into two discs and another symmetry emerges.
Harmony does not require simultaneous sound. None of these six artists play together, and the pieces retain their separate personnel, recording conditions and intentions. Their harmony occurs through memory. Bardo Pond continues resonating while Flying Saucer Attack begin. Montgomery remains present inside Connors’ flames. Connors’ tear changes the exposed body of Charalambides. The listener becomes the medium in which the pieces finally overlap.
The 1996 box made six worlds visible. The 1999 edition teaches those worlds how to travel together. That is not a lesser achievement or a repetition of the original. It is the second half of the idea.
Thursday, February 20, 2025
VA - 1994 - Ambient 4 - Isolationism 2xCD
Nirgiv – 8 39810 727.31MB FLAC
Tracklist:
1-1 KK Null / Jim Plotkin – Lost (Held Under) 7:44
1-2 Jim O'Rourke – Flat Without A Back 4:47
1-3 Ice – The Dredger 6:36
1-4 Raoul Björkenheim– Strangers 4:42
1-5 :Zoviet France: – Daisy Gun 7:38
1-6 Labradford – Air Lubricated Free Axis Trainer 3:22
1-7 Techno Animal – Self Strangulation 6:04
1-8 Paul Schütze – Hallucinations (In Memory Of Reinaldo Arenas) 8:17
1-9 Scorn – Silver Rain Fell (Deep Water Mix) 5:25
1-10 Disco Inferno – Lost In Fog 5:02
1-11 Total – Six 5:34
1-12 Nijiumu – Once Again I Cast Myself Into The Flames Of Atonement 9:10
2-1 Aphex Twin – Aphex Airlines 6:18
2-2 AMM – Vandoevre 7:28
2-3 Seefeel – Lief 6:07
2-4 'O'Rang – Little Sister 6:59
2-5 E.A.R. – Hydroponic 6:18
2-6 Sufi – Desert Flower 6:23
2-7 David Toop / Max Eastley – Burial Rites (Phosphorescent Mix) 5:59
2-8 Main – Crater Scar (Adrenochrome) 6:09
2-9 Final – Hide 7:27
2-10 Lull – Thoughts 8:02
2-11 Thomas Köner – Kanon Part One: Brohuk 10:35
VA - 2011 - Bridges 2x12''
Self-released – none 221.39MB FLAC
TRACKLIST:
A Jim Denley & Espen Reinertsen – Bergerslagbrook
B Burkhard Beins & Jon Mueller – Netterden Channel
C Mats Gustafsson & Nate Wooley – Rhine
D Eric Carlsson & Steven Hess – Waal
Wednesday, February 19, 2025
Monday, February 17, 2025
Vanligt Folk - 2025 - Dischorealism
iDEAL Recordings – none
Dischorealism was initially intended to be a conceptual work about ”milk” but we quickly got tired of the idea and the result was partly something completely different. Nevertheless, partly the same in the sense of sucking the life out of somebody, exploiting and over consuming trust in any form. Dischorealism explores the cost of dual nature and circulates around themes such as friendship, sex, violence and drug abuse.
Dischorealism is IMAGE and SOUND and a collaboration between Vanligt Folk and videoartist Tobias Toyberg. This is the SOUND part of the collaboration.
Bambi - 2025 - TRAP OR DIE
| Baila Ella Records – Not |
Michalina Włodarczyk (born 28 October 2003), known professionally as Bambi, is a Polish trapper and songwriter.
In 2018, Bambi appeared in the blind auditions for the inaugural season of The Voice Kids with the song "Sweet Creature" by Harry Styles. The song's performance resulted in 3 coaches' seats being turned around. She was invited to the teams of Tomson and Baron, Dawid Kwiatkowski and Edyta Górniak. Bambi chose Tomson and Baron. She did not make it to the live episodes, having been eliminated at the battle stage…
On 1 January 2023, Bambi signed a contract with Bailla Ella Records, which is owned by Young Leosia. On 10 February, she released her first full-fledged single under the BE banner entitled "IRL", which topped the Polish charts, resulting in a gold certificate 3 months after the premiere.
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I honestly thought this was a parody album on first listen. Had to dig deeper than Wikipedia and translate some articles to learn this is straight up Polish pop, Rising Stars/Who's Got Talent division Bronze medalist stuff. Nothing I or probably anyone else on this site listens to.
But the music hit me like the first time I listened to Die Antwoord with the twist of being ultra-pop instead of anti-pop. The mixing and production on this album are as close to perfect as I can imagine. Speed rapping in Polish should be an Olympic event.
Srsly, I hate every style of song on this album but have never heard any of them performed or produced this well. Made me grin. Even the autotuning is enjoyably slick. I kept trying to dismiss this one but the longer I listened the more I noticed that every break, segué, opening and closing was perfect. Musical clichés set to 11 and performed/mixed at 110%.
Andy Emler - 2025 - Le Temps est parti pour rester
PEEWEE! – PW1016
Andy Emler's Music has this peculiarity, he composes to highlight the soloists who will interpret the work he hears. After some experiments in composition, for string orchestras, for brass instruments or even saxophones, a clarinet orchestra imposed itself on him.
Usually gathered as a quartet, this time it is eight clarinets that will be accompanied by Claude Tchamitchian, Eric Echampard and Andy Emler. Time has gone to Stay is an ode to this instrument offering a wide wealth of registers. The team, as virtuoso as it is facetious, promises an unforgettable concert both by the music and by the humanity that emerges from them when they are reunited.
John Surman - 2025 - Flashpoints and Undercurrents 2xCD
Cuneiform Records – Rune 515/516
Recently celebrating his 80th birthday and one of Europe’s foremost jazz musicians, John Surman is a masterful improvisor, composer, and multi-instrumentalist (baritone and soprano sax, bass clarinet, and synthesizers/electronics). For nearly 60 years, he has been a major force, producing a prodigious and creative body of work that expands beyond jazz. Surman’s extensive discography as a leader and a side man numbers more than 100 recordings to date and has featured dozens of prominent artists worldwide. Surman is most popularly known for his longstanding association with the German label ECM, who began releasing Surman’s recordings in 1979. Every period of his career is filled with highlights, which is why Cuneiform is exceedingly pleased to release for the first time ever this amazing document of the late 60s 'Brit-jazz' scene.
Surman lived in London during the 1960’s and thrived in the exploding music scene. ‘60s London was the world’s center of popular music, and Surman was a key figure in its core, working with dozens of notable jazz and rock musicians. First appearing on record on a 1966 Peter Lemer recording on ESP, during the 60s, Surman played with Mike Westbrook, John Mclaughlin, Dave Holland, Chris McGregor’s Brotherhood of Breath, Alexis Korner, Mike Gibbs and many others. He listened to everything and worked with scores of bands in London’s melting pot, playing everything from free jazz to hard bop, mainstream jazz, blues, the then-emerging jazz rock, and South African township music.
By the end of the 60s, the British Jazz emerging from London was recognized world-wide as one of jazz’s most vital and creative manifestations. In 1968, Miles Davis visited Ronnie Scott’s and subsequently recruited two Surman collaborators, Holland and McLaughlin, for his American band. Surman’s activities intensified; he appeared on at least 8 recordings, including a compilation live at Ronnie Scott’s, and then played the ‘68 Montreux Jazz Festival with his Octet, winning its award for best soloist. He began recording solo albums, his first in ’68 featuring pianist John Taylor and bassist Dave Holland. Surman would surpass these activities in 1969, his busiest year of the decade. He appeared on 11 recordings that year, including McLaughlin’s Extrapolation, and by the end of the year, he left England to begin working as part of a new, Belgium-based unit called The Trio, which would prove to be a watershed in Surman’s career, launching his international profile.
At the time of the recording released here, Surman had just finished recording his second album as a leader, How Many Clouds Can You See, so Flashpoints and Undercurrents is a unique chance to get an expanded view of his formative work as a leader and also at the early work of his musical compatriots who appear with him here. For this occasion, Surman led a ten-piece ensemble featuring the cream of modern British jazz players as well as two Austrian musicians.
What's doubly valuable about this release is that it contains a large amount of pieces never recorded elsewhere. Captured in excellent stereo sound, this release is a exceptional and hugely important document that will blow the minds of Brit-jazz fans and will open the ears, eyes and minds of those who don't know the great and distinctive work of these fine musicians!
VA - 2025 - To Say I Was Here: Arabic, Greek, Judeo-Spanish, and Turkish Speaking Jewish Recording Musicians, 1907-69
Canary Records – none
The discs that were the dominant commercial recording medium during the first half of the 20th century are composed of a mixture of shellac (the secretion of the Asian lac beetle), carbon, and over 80% finely ground stone. They are literal rocks that remember the music of people who are now gone. They remain monuments to their lives and the art of the performers who made them.
The practice of leaving stones on graves is a way of expressing the permanence of the meaning of the lives of the dead. The old, stone 78rpm discs are rarely revisited, but in listening to them again and surrounding them with context, we hope that the music can take root in the hearts of people living today. Experiencing them dignifies the musicians' contributions, expressions, and lives.
Each spiral-inscribed disc they left behind can be both a memorial to them, telling us that they were once here, and an opportunity to contribute to the permanence of the memories of the musicians and their audiences.
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"[Nagoski's work opens] up a counter history of modern life in which artists outside of the mainstream are granted a central role, and the affective labor they performed is recognized as constitutive to the communities they served. The archive of old records is a conduit to a history of American life that takes seriously immigrant communities and how they are given shape by listening practices. In turn, contemporary listeners (who may not identify with the groups represented) are encouraged to make the music live again as a form of aesthetic experience, but one that holds an invitation towards ethical contemplation.
...
The precise pathway between the post-Ottoman world and the outsider arts scene that Nagoski operates in is circuitous, abstract and suggests the outline of a science fiction narrative, or a utopian impulse. ... [The] music rejects political violence associated with identity politics and instead opens up a discussion of shared needs, as symbolized by the sociality that music uniquely provides—structuring community and providing the language of memory that gives life its mythic powers."
-- Jeremiah Lockwood, Reseach Fellow at the Lowell Milken Center for Music of American Jewish Experience at UCLA
Tracklist
1. Badriyya S‘ādeh – Maʿa s-salāmeh yā ḥilū (Peace Be Upon You) (03:29)
2. Ibrahim Effendi – Koniali (Sweetheart From Konya) (03:18)
3. Joseph Moskowitz – Turkish Melodies (03:03)
4. Shehadi Ashkar – Taxim Hujaz Car (03:17)
5. Moses Cohen – Wana Mali, pts 1+2 (What Is Wrong With Me?) (06:32)
6. Amalia – Turnam Nerdan Galior (Crane, Where Are You Coming From?) (03:14)
7. Moise Effendi & Smyrna Quartette – Telegrafin Teleri (Telegraph Wires) (03:07)
8. Isaac Angel & Stamboul Quartette – Bir Yun Oladjak (There Will Be a Day) (03:56)
9. Zaki Mourad – El helwa di wei keffa di, pts 1+2 (He Is the Best of Us) (06:45)
10. Isaac Algazi – Anna ke'av zedoni (Like a Cloud, My Wickedness) (02:53)
11. Amalia – Sabah Taxim (04:18)
12. Amalia – Ali Pasas (Ali Pasha of Ioannina) (03:09)
13. Jack Mayesh – Yo Soporta con Passencia (I Bear with Patience) (03:45)
14. Victoria Hazan – Mis Penserios Me Trusheron, gazel (My Thoughts Have Tricked Me) (02:59)
15. Victoria Hazan – Huzam Gazel (03:15)
16. Sarah Behar – Aman Doktor (Oh, Doctor) (02:21)
17. Louis Matalon – Konyali: Hani Benim Elli Dirhem Pastirmam (Sweetheart From Konya: Where is My 50 Drachma of Cured Meat?) (02:52)
18. Stella Haskil – Bir Allah (By God) (03:15)
19. Roza Eskenazi – Her Yer Karanlik (Darkness Pervades Everywhere) (03:13)
20. Roza Eskenazi – E Protomagia (The First of May) (03:08)
21. Hakki Obadia & Joseph Sugar – Debke Festival (02:19)
22. Hakki Obadia – Taxim Rast, viola (02:15)
Total length: 01:16:23
PARQUET COURTS
2012 - Light Up Gold
Dull Tools – none 189.23MB FLAC
2013 - Light Up Gold (2CD Rough Trade Edition) 669.17MB FLAC
What's Your Rupture? – WYR?0313
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