Volume 4 of our shelf rifling dive into the deep Fruit Tree Records collection is loosely based on a ‘deep cuts’ theme which includes outtakes and alternate session cuts, lesser appreciated album tracks, live versions and hard to find rarities. These era spanning selections cover Blues Rock, Americana, Jazz, Indie, Soul and Folk and include some rare Bob Dylan in addition to other legends like Neil Young and Stevie Wonder with nuggets from their back catalogue. The full track listing with purchase information is below:
Tracks – Fruit Tree Records – The Fruit Cellar Vol. 4
Talk about a confident mission statement of a beginning. ‘Who’s That’ comes marching in on top of a strutting soul beat that definitely means business. One-two, one-two, one-two with funky blues keys sitting on top of the rhythm and a fanfare of soul horns joining in just as our main man begins to demand information on “who’s that baby?” He is telling it like it is and taking down names, “when the going got tough you were nowhere to be found,” but the undeniable impression is that this man’s head is in a good place and he wants to shit to get real and start happening. Openers do not come much more assured and this improbable debut artist has laid the table out for some tasty delights that are about to be served. If the opener had an assured strut, then ‘That’s The Man’ waltzes in wearing sunglasses indoors. It has a syncopated bang to the riffing, the kind that is potentially begging for a hip-hop producer to cut up and dramatically repurpose. Not that anything else is needed on these tracks, this is a masterclass in modern interpretation of soul music born out of the school of gospel, it is overloaded with hooks, textures, beats, and passion. On that, ‘Gone With The Wind’ disguises itself as a detour onto smoother soul playing surface but, even here, there is room for a groovy piano intersection that echoes with the motion of a northern soul dancefloor.
By the time we hit the title track it feels like the previous northern references were just a tease, because this one is an out-and-out Wigan Casino era pumping floor filler. “It’s all I can do, just to hold on to, electric love” Wallace sings as the dizzying momentum of the frantic, energised beat sends him into a tailspin. There is no respite though, ‘Top Shotta’ may spend more than a minute of its intro with nothing more than our man singing over a piano line, but it is those fat low keys at the bass end of the keyboard smashing out a groove begging for the heartbeat drums and handclaps that eventually join the party. If we can just pause now briefly, you need to know that this excitement is being generated by Brother Wallace, a West Point, Georgia-bred singer, pianist, and soul revivalist who began singing early and was playing piano by the age of six. At age fourteen he was directing choirs before becoming a music teacher in adulthood. He has taken a long route to a debut album which finally took some positive turns when Dan Taylor, of the pure soul rockers The Heavy, had a chance encounter with Wallace and took on the driving role of co-producer and co-writer, generating the momentum that we feel today on this sensational release.
And back to the music, ‘No God In This Town’ is the first time we take our foot off the gas, as Brother Wallace proves he has the versatility to handle that southern gospel style; a mournful church organ underlays a track that cannot help but feel rousing as the horns and the bereft emotion rise while our singer laments the towns spiritual void. Then he announces, correctly, “I’m a man on a mission” as the furiously maniacal beat of ‘Who Do You Love’ shoots out of the starters block. If there is anyone unable to answer these questions as our man advances, they had better get out of the way quick. Eight tracks in and as the Brother hits ‘Any Day Now’ he begins to uncover even more refined fabrics in his dressing up box. This one is so smoky it is almost out of view, a song that floats in the air and caresses your mind rather than submerging you with rhythm, although the Motown beats of ‘A Patient Man’ soon redress that balance. The electric keys that drive ‘Midnight Valley’ evoke a dimly lit jazz club atmosphere, although the lived-in grit of Wallace’s voice keep us anchored in the soul world before ‘Jealous’ sees our man let his guard down, unafraid to show vulnerability.
‘Hope Of Fools’ demonstrates again what a rhythmic instrument the piano can be when played the Brother Wallace way, it reminds me of those classic early Bill Withers tracks. ‘Let’s Get Together’ is a credible stab at something inclusive, positive, celebratory, and even anthem worthy, it throws every winning ingredient into the melting pot. You might reasonably expect this to be the end (and it is on some versions) but instead ‘Honey’ delivers a final downpour of sweet stuff before we close with ‘Me And My Running Shoes,’ a wholly unexpected two minute brush with authentic slide guitar blues, it is almost as if Brother Wallace is warning us, especially with that choice of footwear, not to pin him down. He sure can switch to any direction in the blink of an eye and no matter where he heads, his conviction will ensure it never feels like a wrong turn. Soul music done right like this just feels so good and if you do not believe me, plug in to ‘Electric Love’ and then try and say I am wrong without sounding foolish.
Japan’s musical past is a vast, interlinked web of scenes that rarely travelled far beyond its borders at the time. Yet the country’s funk, soul, and early city‑pop experiments of the 1970s and ’80s remain some of the most inventive recordings of the era, these cuts were sleek, melodic, and often startlingly ahead of the curve.‘Tokyo Pulse,’curated by Tokyo turntablist and archivist DJ Notoya, digs deep into that world and emerges with a set that feels both revelatory and overdue. This latest volume continues the labels’ ongoing excavation of Japan’s groove‑driven heritage. The presentation is characteristically meticulous: sleeve design by Manuel Sepulveda (Optigram), detailed notes from Notoya himself, and a mastering chain that runs from Nippon Columbia’s engineers in Tokyo to a final vinyl polish in Paris. Most of the tracks have never been issued outside Japan, which gives the compilation the thrill of discovery as opposed to the comfort of familiar canon.
The opening cut, Naomi Chiaki’s ‘Yoru E Isogu Hito’ (1978), sets the tone with a slow, shadowy glide, half soul ballad, half late‑night city drift. Chiaki, better known for her work in the kayōkyoku tradition, shows how fluidly Japanese pop singers could slip into funk‑leaning territory when the right musicians were behind them. Yumi Murata’s ‘Ranhansha’ (1979) sharpens the edges. Murata (who would later collaborate with Ryuichi Sakamoto) brings a cool, controlled vocal to a track built on clipped guitar, nimble bass, and a rhythm section that feels primed for a smoky basement club rather than a glossy studio. L‑E‑V‑E‑L’s ‘Bagdad No Atari Nite’ (1981) nudges the compilation into the next decade, where the production becomes smoother and the grooves more refined. This is a bridge between the earthy funk of the late seventies and the polished city‑pop sheen that would soon define Tokyo’s mainstream. Side one closes with GAM’s ‘Lake In The Forest’(1980), a gentle, reggae‑tinged piece featuring musicians associated with the cult Arakawa Band. Its breezy sway and pastoral calm offer a moment of respite, a reminder that Japanese groove music often absorbed global influences in unexpected, highly personal ways. It is also, for me, one of the outstanding highlights of this set, fusing its Jamaican sensibility with some sweet melodic manipulations worthy of the most commercially tuned-in jazz funk purveyors of the day.
L-E-V-E-L
The flip side jumps forward to the late eighties, that big drum and fretless bass sound as effective a time stamp as any release data, with Nami Shimada’s ‘Mitsumeteirunoni.’ This is a mid‑tempo electro‑funk track that captures the era’s fascination with dance‑floor gloss, visions of shoulder pads and rolled up jacket sleeves are hard to shake. Shimada, who would later gain international attention through her work with Soichi Terada, anchors the track with a poised, crystalline vocal. Bread & Butter’s ‘Memory’ (1974) pulls the mood back into the seventies with a ‘Shaft’ like wah-wah intro that breaks down into a sultry simmering thing of soul warmth capped by an aching harmonica figure. The lineup reads like a miniature history of Japanese pop innovation: Haruomi Hosono, Ray Ohara, Tatsuo Hayashi, and Shigeru Suzuki all contribute, each of them central to the evolution of modern Japanese music; from Happy End’s folk‑rock revolution to the studio wizardry of Tin Pan Alley and the electronic breakthroughs of Yellow Magic Orchestra. Minoru Koyama’s instrumental ‘After Image’ adds a cinematic, fusion‑leaning dimension, full of drifting electric keys and widescreen atmosphere. It is the kind of track that could easily soundtrack a lost art‑house film. Chikara Ueda & The Power Station’s ‘Island Cuckoo’ (1979) brings a breezy, Brazilian‑inflected funk energy. This one is certainly light on its feet, rhythmically playful, and instantly charming. The compilation ends on a reflective note with Higurashi’s ‘Anata Wa Doko Ni Irundesuka’ (1974), a tender blend of folk and funk that closes the record with a quiet emotional resonance.
‘Tokyo Pulse’ is a worthy piece of musical cartography although the fact that it plays as an infectiously retro laced funk odyssey from start to finish should not be overlooked. It traces the threads connecting Japan’s funk, soul, folk, and early electronic scenes, revealing how porous and inventive the country’s musical culture was during these decades. The curation is sharp, the mastering immaculate, and the sequencing thoughtful enough to feel like a journey rather than a survey. For collectors, historians, and anyone fascinated by the ongoing re‑evaluation of Japanese music, this is essential listening. It is a vivid snapshot of a city whose musical imagination has always been far broader than the world realised at the time.
I have been reading a lot in recent weeks about how there is an uprising in pop music of new young acts who are doing it right. They are leaning in to the performing and production aesthetics that gave the form such potency and variety in its sixties and seventies heyday, as well as placing emphasis on musicality, style and non-generic personality. In other words they are rejecting the formulaeric tropes that makes so much of the current chart music landscape a bland, uninspired and largely unloveable environment. That it is a young persons movement is welcome because, so often when similar groundswells of resistence have appeared, you look at the actual people involved and it always seems to comprise of former members of bands from earlier decades or seniors having a belated roll of the dice. Which is all perfectly valid and often delivers some magic, but that this latest unconnected collective appears to be populated by the youth, that does give me hope for the years ahead. The art of the pop song pioneered by the Beatles, Kinks and Rolling Stones etc will have a future if this kind of forward flow can still occur at ground level. America’s Ray Bull are one such example of a band that are treating the form with the respect and craftsmanlike quality it deserves. If you want to know more we have just published a review of their new album on this site and furthermore, you can get a copy of that album here: https://amzn.to/42Z18d1
Eel Men – When I Get Rich
In the UK the mod sounds of popular music as minted in the sixties, re-positioned in the punk years then persuasuvely re-sharpened by Blur’s British music manifesto ahead of the Britpop boom is another design classic that never dies out. Not that it troubles the charts much these days but all the same, it is exciting to come across a band like Eel Men and hear that the energy and the attitude, not to mention the thrill of a bangin’ new single with a snotty cutting edge, still exists among what is left of the grass roots music scene. They are a North London band about to release a 10″ EP called ‘Glass Hammers’ which includes this track. It is a middle finger to the ludicrousness of the never-ending quest for more, the thought that life might suddenly make sense once a certain threshold is reached, and the quiet realisation that it rarely resolves that way. Check out the forthcoming new release here: https://eelmen.bandcamp.com/album/glass-hammers-ep
Sharp Class – Faith In The Brakes
Drinking from a similar fountain of inspiration are Sharp Class who, with this driving slice of three minute perfection, are proudly wearing their allegiances on their made to measure sleeves. I have no issue with a band giving such an up front nod to The Jam because, ultimately, what they are showing loyalty to is an attitude and a lifestyle that has music high, or even top, on the list of priorities. That was all Paul Weller’s breakthrough band were doing and he did not hold back on proudly displaying the effects Steve Marriott and Pete Townshend had on his sound and look. ‘Faith In The Brakes’ is the first single and title track from the bands upcoming third album. It is said to be a song about someone stuck in an extreme tunnel vision mentality but whether or not it was insipred by personal experience, it is that very focus and assuredness in what they are about that makes Sharp Class such a hot proposition. Get ready to buy the album via this link: https://amzn.to/4uHoD6p
Kathleen Halloran – Showstopper
We are moving into a rootsier rock sound with this one as Kathleen Halloran shows some love for the scuzzy glam and decadence of the early seventies. It is available on her debut solo album ‘Nobody’s Baby’ which represents the moment she is stepping out of the shadows, having been an in demand touring guitarist, and finally forging a musical identity of her own. It is a debut built on clarity of purpose: sharp songwriting, unforced emotional weight, and a refusal to hide behind virtuosity even though she easily could. Roscoe James Irwin’s production gives the record its warm, lived‑in glow, but the spine is Halloran’s own. You can get the album via this link: https://amzn.to/435JCnr
The Black Keys – She Does It Right
This is a track from the new Black Keys ‘Peaches!’ album which sees them turning their hands to a set of covers. It was cut live in the room while Dan Auerbach was caring for his father during his final illness. What began as friends jamming to lift the weight off his shoulders hardened into a raw, unvarnished document of the band reconnecting with the blues that first lit the fuse. Across these reinterpretations (from George Thorogood to Junior Kimbrough) you can hear the duo shedding polish, chasing feel over finesse, and rediscovering the grit that once defined them. That is especially evident on this Dr Feelgood cover, a jerky stimulant fuelled thrash in its original form, it is now a “let’s spend the night together” piece of cranked up blues rock filth – and I mean that as a compliment. You can get yourself the album via this link: https://amzn.to/3OVurKt
Tidetied – First Of Spring
Finally this week another new band that I strongly urge you to keep an eye on. I featured their superb song ‘Valley’ in the third volume of our ‘Fresh Juice New Releases’ Mixcloud shows (see the Music Mixes page on this site) and now this newly available live performance further enhances the evidence that there might be something pretty damn good going on here. They came together a couple of years ago from the debris of Thomas Haywood’s post‑Blinders project Whitehorse, whilst John McCullagh and Nathan Keeble joined from other Sheffield loose fits. For now they have been finding their footing on the live circuit but the music coming out has moodiness, poetry, dynamics and some handsome melodic flashes so keep a watch in this direction https://tidetied.com/
Ray Bull offer a persuasive case that any path to great music counts, especially given that the New York duo did not start as a band. They were actually art‑school kids at Cooper Union, Aaron Graham with his images, Tucker Elkins with his films, circling ideas that were generally unrelated to music making. It took a chance reunion at a Brooklyn gallery years later for them to realise that had both been quietly edging toward songwriting. They moved into a Bushwick loft, and the boundaries between their art forms dissolved almost immediately. That fusion of disciplines became their calling card. Their ‘Did You Know’ series, equal parts Photoshop trickery and surreal storytelling, spread fast, as did the ‘Songs That Are The Same’ fusions which revealed uncanny overlaps between pop hits. On a musical level alone, this was all fantastically engaging stuff. It was no surprise to me to find that Taylor Swift songs could be easily married to other peoples’ hits, but was the match making potential of White Stripes ‘Seven Nation Army’ and Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ widely known? Or ‘Running Up That Hill’ and ‘Titanium’? I have one of my own; ‘It’s Raining Men’ by The Weather Girls and Jethro Tull’s ‘Beggar’s Farm.’ Same song, but I digress.
Graham and Elkin’s audience ballooned: 600K on TikTok, half a million on Instagram, and tens of millions of streams for their own songs. Festival slots, support tours, and a sold‑out 2025 headline run followed. And so, after such a groundswell of appreciation and deserved attention, all roads have led us to this new album of original music, a collection that distils a half‑decade spent living, working, and shaping an identity together. It is a portrait of two artists wrestling with the persona they have built and the emotional truth underneath it. Often when someone comes to prominence via a vessel other than producing their own music, getting that aspect of their work accepted can be problematic. People can have a resistance if they sense that composing and building a presence in that way is not their core being; few have crossed between these poles with ease. The times when it does work, however, are like this; from the moment you hit play on opening track ‘You’re Still Here, So Am I’ there is a sense that we are in the realm of a vital, melodically eloquent, modern art-rock band from the US. Ray Bull had already proved with their previous activities that they understood music, that they can play and that they boast tonal range. Here though, they show that they can do something with these skills. They can express, there is something to say and stories to tell.
And when these two sink their teeth into a song it comes out packed with detail and intrigue. ‘Marry A Skater’ has production frills literally piling up on top of each other, not to mention an artisan’s song structure incorporating a slumbering chorus, an elegant middle eight and a nonchalance in the verses that suggest a shrugging of the shoulders at life choices in the lyrics. Lines like “you can marry a skater or go fuck the neighbour’s, its fine” and “go start your family, work at Morgan Stanley and rot, save up for the yacht” appear like withering put downs, but the song is heavily swayed by a sense of wonder at the uncertainties of embracing either conformity or chaos. Far from your basic pop songsmiths, even though each track has a winning immediacy so essential to the form. The same can be said of the title track, more of a guitar strumming indie anthem but still one constructed with chart-hit sensibilities and dramatic lifts akin to Britpop. The thing is, Ray Bull can easily insert these little reference points that might inspire comparisons to alternative savants such as Vampire Weekend or Spoon, but in doing so they also lay down a marker that challenges onlookers with the thought that they do not merely equal the work of their peers, they genuinely have the chops to surpass them.
If anything holds Ray Bull back it might simply be that they are too good at this. It should not be that way but sometimes versatility is a curse, I hope their audience meet them with open minds and arms. The deeper you go into this album the range just keeps on widening. We hear pensive electro pop, folksy ballads, routes into country textures and they even pitch themselves as fully paid-up members of the pop world. One of my most despised modern tropes is the overuse of synthetic, auto tuned vocals but when utilised by these two, even this production tick can sound like a valid, potently applied, production choice. They can do mainstream too, the rising chorus on ‘Under Your Eyelid’ would not sound out of place if played on a prime-time TV talent show. Basically, if this band ignite, it is not a stretch to imagine them becoming massive. Just listen to the perfection that is ‘All That You Are,’ featuring a vocal with strong echoes of Chris Bell’s ‘I Am The Cosmos,’ hinting that we are witnessing a uniquely joyous blend of artfulness within mass appeal of the most satisfying kind. I would love to see that success become ever more real, these two absolutely warrant it.
Spencer Cullum has always sounded like a man slightly out of step with the era he has been handed, and today that dislocation feels almost poetic. The British‑born, Nashville‑based songwriter and pedal‑steel conjurer made his latest record, ‘Coin Collection 3,’in the quiet refuge of a garden‑shed studio; an improvised sanctuary from the static and spite that pass for public discourse these days. Out of that retreat came a set of songs steeped in haze and clarity all at once, music that drifts through his mind like weather yet still to contend with the hard edges of the world outside. But on this bank‑holiday Monday in Ipswich, those edges soften. The venue is a modest, yet ornate church tucked into the town‑centre patchwork, glowing as sunlight pours through its aged windows. The audience settles onto wooden benches with a kind of reverent curiosity. And in this pocket of calm, it suddenly feels like Cullum’s meditative, luminous sound has found its ideal habitat. An ancient place, shielded from the modern horrors but with the welcome additions of a bar, vinyl record stall and toilets, and ultimately a perfect space to listen, feel and breathe.
The trilogy of ‘Coin Collection’ albums that have established Spencer’s reputation as a purveyor of delightfully pastoral shades, is said to be concluding with this latest release. They have all featured music that shimmers with the radiance of dawn to dusk electric folk, originally patented around fifty to sixty years back, whilst magically shining with the gloss of a sound that is freshly minted. Their occasionally subdued tones and quiet-storm lightness of touch can underplay a little just how accomplished a musician Spencer is. Anyone who has heard the closing track on an album called ‘Echolalia,’ released last year where Spencer played as part of a loosely formed group, will need no convincing that he has a range way beyond the templates of these three albums. But much like another favourite musician of mine, Richard Thompson, witnessing him in action before your eyes indisputably demonstrates how little he showboats in the recording studio, focusing on the requirements of the music ahead of any self-aggrandisement. He switches between acoustic guitar and pedal steel throughout, also accompanying fellow traveller and Coin Collective cohort, Rich Ruth, in an opening set that casts a real Floydian ambience over the room with its velvety electronic repetitions.
They are playing as a trio on this tour, the line up completed by Annie Williams on divine backing vocals and guitar; later when introducing them Spencer says they are people “I admire and think the world of” but listening to the way they embrace his music, it sounds like a feeling that runs both ways. During a cooly collected version of ‘Imminent Shadow,’ from the first album released in 2021, the floating sonic climate is brilliantly lacerated by brief flashes of electronic key noise from the hands of Rich. He really grabs hold of these songs and locks into the moments when a detonation from his box of audio wizardry can smash them open like a piñata. Annie too is utilised a lot more than merely for backing. Halfway through the set Spencer steps back, inviting Williams to take some lead vocals, firstly on a beautiful cover of a song called ‘The Mermaid.’ Annie tells us that Spencer had sent it to her before the tour and she sang it so much every day even her five-year-old would be humming it. That is no surprise for it is a hauntingly wonderous hymn, originally found on an ultra-obscure private pressing folk album from 1980 by Brenda Wootton on a label called Burlington. If this is in any way indicative of how deeply Spencer explores the folk backroads of Britain, I am mightily impressed. ‘The Mermaid’ is a highlight of the set and a fantastic discovery too.
Make no mistake though, Spencer Cullum’s music is the star of the show. I have greatly enjoyed his albums but have to say, immersing myself around these pieces in a live setting has taken them to the next level; I suspect this is where his work truly gets to thrive and grow. He has a charming Essex boy way about him too, joking that a track on the new album called ‘Easy Street’ sounds like the theme to the comedy ‘Only Fools And Horses.’ It is hardly anything like it but all the same, after planting the thought in my head it was hard to unhear the comparison. Later there is similarly good-natured badinage with the audience involving “super double thumbs up” approving acknowledgments and before a mesmeric take on ‘Gavon’s Eve,’ Spencer explains his reading the lyrics being down to forgetting them the day before, hampering Annie’s attempts to sing accompaniment while he “Bob Dylan’d it.” A spellbinding ‘Betwixt And Between,’ Ruth’s guitar blooming like acid‑tinged light, Annie’s vocals brushing the air with Pentangle’s ghost, ushers Cullum into the final stretch. By the end he looks replenished, almost reborn, and we are no less transformed. It is hard to believe another bank‑holiday weekend will ever close with such a sense of awakening, unless these same musicians return to this sanctuary once more.
Words: Danny Neill Photos: Sophie Reichert
The latest ‘Spencer Cullum’s Coin Collection 3’ album is available here: https://amzn.to/42gpe2R
Volume six of our 2026 new music releases series ‘Fresh Juice’ opens with the irresistible vintage soul sounds of Mama’s Gun before embarking on a journey incorporating new sounds in Psych Pop, Garage Rock, Electro Pop, Folk, Americana and Singer-Songwriter before ending on some mesmerising freak-folk from the mysterious Bity Booker. So, why not join us as we continue our mission to prove that there are still plenty of freshly minted, visceral audio thrills to be found going forward.
Tracks – Fruit Tree Records – Fresh Juice 2026 Vol. 6
Soon to return on 8th May with a double album, ‘Process And Reality,’ that marks twenty years of Gun Outfit, this is a sneak preview of a track from the record that was made amidst the heat and uncertainty of wildfires. Something in the warm sounds capture that contrast of the familiar and the unknown, just as our senses open out like a valley appearing ahead evoke a sense of wonder and trepidation at the ever changing natural world. Of the song, the bands Dylan Sharp says it was “written in the wake of one of the endless iterations of fire, prior to the one that burned Altadena. It is not about the fires though. It’s about the futility of caring.” So, maybe this is the sound of a band retreating into their music if that be so, at least Gun Outfit appear to be in fine command of the one element in their lives that they do have some control over. The album can be found here: https://amzn.to/49n30Qp
Mod Lang – Try Your Love
It feels strange but also rather pleasing that one of the bands being touted as the bright young hopes in the pop world are making music essentially identifiable as sixties flavoured folk-rock. Or jingle-jangle guitar pop, or even classic Britpop leaning indie but whichever way you identify it, this is pop music that would do the music world a whole lot of good if it became, well, massively popular. But lets not get ahead of ourselves and besides, when did becoming massively popular ever do any band a lot of good? The really promising thing is this, for all the retro signposting of their clothes and style, the feeling you get when listening to Mod Lang is that it is the music they are really throwing creativity into, which means they have their priorities bang on. Keep an eye on them, or jump right in immediately and get the ‘Borrowed Time’ album, available here today: https://amzn.to/4uqHT88
Khun Narin Electric Phin Band – Sut Sanaen
The Khun Narin Electric Phin Band are about to return with their first new album in a decade, ‘III,’ which is due out on 15th May via Innovative Leisure. These exotic psychedelia merchants are a multi-generational ensemble from rural Thailand whose ecstatic performances have quietly become a global cult phenomenon. This is their take on one of the foundational melodic patterns in the musical tradition of the Isan people from Northeastern Thailand. The band originated as a celebration ensemble for rural ceremonies, particularly pre-ordination fire rituals. What begins as a spiritual procession often transforms into something more transcendent, musicians of all ages locked into spiralling repetition, rhythms surging forward, the entire village pulled into a shared state of euphoria. Obviously to English ears psychedelia is a fairly loose musical reference point, but it is hard to argue that the hypnotic sound does not take you on a head spinning trip just as the best music falling under that general umbrella can often do. Find out more about the forthcoming album here: https://www.innovativeleisure.net
Jason Joshua – A Real Good Woman
The first out and out soul music I am offering you this week and it is a really great one. Jason is a Miami born soul singer with the appropriate nickname ‘The Golden Voice.’ His is a classic sound that is undeniably fine in the authentic way it combines Latin Soul, classic R&B, Boogaloo and a true funk heartbeat that has the patina of something matured and refined. This single arrives ahead of a forthcoming album from Jason called ‘Terapia’ and it is high on my list of future releases to make sure I do not miss out on. Find out more via the link: https://mangohillrecords.bandcamp.com/album/terapia
Joan As Police Woman – Anyone
The more Joan keeps drip feeding teasers for her 12th June release of the re-worked, re-imagined and newly recorded take on classic debut album ‘Real Life,’ the more excited I am becoming to hear it. It is so rare for any artist to revisit older material, especially in a recording studio, and produce something that can bare any comparison to the original but you know what, she might just have done it with ‘Real Life Evolution.’ And I absolutely love the original. It is hard to pinpoint exactly what is elevating these versions beyond a nostaligic re-run but I suspect a big factor is this, Joan still sounds wholly connected to the material emotionally. I will leave it at that for now as I suspect a full length review on these pages will follow nearer the time but still, you have got to admit this is gorgeous haven’t you? Pre-order via this link: https://amzn.to/3PgZGj0
Gabrielle Cavassa – Diavola
Let us conclude this weeks ‘Fresh Juice’ with some sumptuous Jazz on the ever reliable Blue Note label. Here Gabrielle is accompanied in a live take by Gabe Schneider on guitar and it is one of those hypnotic takes where two musical performers lock into an impenetrable zone and seem to play as one. This is the title track from the singers debut album that is produced by a couple of Blue Note heavyweights in Joshua Redman and Don Was. The album stands as a textbook calling card first release for an artist that a label clearly has high hopes for. It balances original material with re-arrangements of other titles that emphasise the artists range and individualist style. Redman’s part in Cavassa’s career runs deep, for it was his manager a few years ago who first came across her singing at a New Orleans wedding. That it should lead to a debut like ‘Diavola’ makes it one of those magical stories in music that is usually left in the hands of fiction. This could be the launch of something very real indeed. You can buy the album via the link: https://amzn.to/3QUDMT9
I was saddened this week to learn of the cancellation of the Red Rooster Festival which was due to take place at the end of May. I was a little late to the party on this one, only finally attending what is, for me, quite a local event in 2023 and 2024. But it did seem like it had hit upon a healthy niche of vintage R&B, Americana and more Roots leaning acts and furthermore, the attendances looked pretty healthy. Admittedly Red Rooster was one of the smaller festivals on the circuit, but I assumed their bottom line in terms of ticket sales was calculated and attainable. I think maybe they suffered because a percentage of the attendees booked late but, from the evidence I saw, they did generally book when the time came around. I have a friend who came along on one of the days but only made the decision to go that morning. But if you are the organizer and it is your money on the line if those tickets do not sell come opening day, then it has to be accepted that this is not a risk most us would, or could afford to, take. Therefore, I have no grounds to criticize the decision to cancel due to ticket sales and lack of funding. It is just a shame, that is all.
I do wonder if I was part of the problem and therefore, potentially, represent a wider, largely invisible demographic? You will notice I attended in 2023 and 2024 but not last year so what was the reason for that? Well, I am sorry to admit to non-sports fans that last year I held off committing to Red Rooster because my football team, Arsenal, looked like they might get to the Champions League Final, which just happened to be scheduled for the Saturday night of the festival. As it turned out, Arsenal did not make the final last year but by the time I knew that it was a bit too late to re-shuffle things to incorporate attending a festival instead. Well, this year, as some of you might know, Arsenal are once again in with a chance of making it to the most prestigious final in European football competition and once again too, the final is scheduled for what would have been the closing Saturday night of Red Rooster. So, as it was last year, I had held back from a festival on the basis that it might have meant my missing a sporting occasion for my team. The last and only time in their history they got to that stage was in 2006 and they lost so, it is potentially a night I just might share in an experience no Arsenal fan has witnessed in their whole 150-year history.
Do you see the problem? And am I not completely off the mark to suggest it might have just been a small but significant factor in some numbers hesitating in committing to this festival? It is, after all, in the Southeast of England and football is, I believe, the number one national mass entertainment interest and on top of that, Arsenal are a North London club and have a huge fanbase in this part of England. I believe this all stacks up quite credibly, even though I can easily believe that many of the hardcore Red Rooster attendees would turn their noses up at the idea of even watching football, let alone prioritizing it over a music event. Regardless, having put this all out there I would like to take this opportunity to apologize if any actions of mine contributed, however indirectly, to this festival being cancelled. You cannot plan events based on the sporting calendar; I know that. If you did nothing would ever get booked because there are major sporting events happening every weekend, even every day at some times of the year.
Still, I come back to what this occasion represents; the Champions League Final is the biggest fixture in the football club season and if your team has even the slightest chance of taking part then, as a fan, you will not want to miss it. Arsenal genuinely do have a good chance of getting to the final this year, even more so than they did last season to be honest. On Wednesday they played the tougher leg of a two-leg semi-final, away from home in Spain, and came away with a deserved draw. Now they need to win at home in the second leg on Tuesday evening in London. If this happens you might notice some tangibly happier writing on Fruit Tree Records in the days that follow. If we are eliminated however, denied a place in the final for the second year in a row, then I guess all you football loathing cowboys mourning the loss of Red Rooster can say I got hit by the karma I deserved.
Champions League Semi Final 2025; The kind of scenes I am hoping are not repeated on Tuesday 5th May this year…
When it comes to harmony rich, densely textured, beautifully orchestrated pop music of a bright, warm, and luminous complexity, then the Beach Boys are arguably at the top of that ‘sunshine pop’ tree. It is a musical character that has never fully bloomed beyond its founders even though many have either tried to fully adopt it (Sagittarius, The Association, The Left Banke) or at least absorb it into their work as an influence (ELO, Teenage Fanclub, The High Llamas). What happens on even fewer occasions is the re-discovering of a Sunshine Pop classic that neither got its deserved amount of recognition in its time nor a gathering momentum of positive re-appraisal in the intervening years. We have that very thing here though, an album displaying a bold ambition and a taste for grand designs, sounding indisputably like it was built by a group of sonic architects who had the musical talents to pull such a bold scheme off effectively. So, prepare yourself to be amazed by Modesty Blaise and their expanded, three-disc, 25th anniversary edition of 2001 lost golden nugget, ‘Melancholia.’ Now, before we get into the back story though, there is a huge amount of music to be heard here so, should this band be a new name and you are unsure whether to continue, let me briefly describe how this album begins.
The intro is just over a minute of a piece called ‘Chorale,’ which is exactly how it describes, a gentle vocal assemblage of wordless, intoning voices of a solemn persuasion which step back to allow elegant strings admission before rising drums tentatively usher in an explosion of magnificently edifying pop splendour on ‘Carol Mountain.’ Extending to six minutes, this is orchestral, sophisticated, and melodic perfection in song. Deceptively simple and cohesive, it just packs so much into one tune; sumptuous verses and a significant chorus lift, glorious string arrangements, vocal breaks with potent harmonic variations, intervals built for cinematic effect, clearly defined central variations plus flawless opening and closing passages. It is quite simply a modern pop classic in the most relevant, to that term, sense and I go further by stating, if it were delivered from the hand of Brian Wilson, it would ride high as one of his best works. And this is only the beginning because ‘Melancholia’ is a musical opus boasting song suites, motif reprisals and unifying grand concept but what do we know of its creators?
Modesty Blaise – Photo by Gregory Jones
Modesty Blaise rose out of Bristol’s fertile indie‑pop scene having formed in 1993 by singer‑guitarist Jonny Collins and bassist David W. Brown, playing their first gig at The Mauretania in Bristol. A debut single, ‘Christina Terrace,’ came out in 1994 as a limited‑edition 7-inch produced by Edwyn Collins, guaranteeing collectable status by selling out just as local radio and television appearances gave a handy push. Further exposure, like inclusion in several end‑of‑year lists, cemented their name as a hot Bristol proposition. They grew a reputation for lavish, harmony‑rich arrangements influenced by sixties pop classicists and, in terms of access to a deserved mainstream pop audience, supporting Robbie Williams at London’s O2 Arena must have felt like an encouraging step. A Rough Trade compilation appearance, an ITV documentary centring on Jonny Collins and an ambitious BBC Radio session involving seventeen musicians kept the momentum moving. In 2001 with ‘Melancholia,’ they created the kind of work usually decorated with words like ‘masterpiece,’ which must have added to the frustration at its lack of availability in recent years. “For quite a while, people have been asking us why our biggest album wasn’t available to stream” recalled Jonny Collins. “We decided that, if we were going to do it, we’d do it properly. The remastering process was really interesting. The point was to reveal extra detail within the songs.”
Acknowledging their music was of a far more layered grain, Jonny added that “it’s been a longstanding thing within Modesty Blaise that, not only do we throw the kitchen sink in, we break in next door, rip out their sink, and throw that in too. But modern mastering has brought more clarity; we’re really happy with it.” They have certainly taken advantage of the space offered by three discs, especially on the ‘[de] Construction’ set that pulls out isolated instruments and vocal parts from the mixing desk, a process that few records truly warrant but there is so much buried audio treasure here the deep dive is, for once, a justified and rewarding indulgence. The third disc presents different single mixes and versions which again, given the progressions on an album essentially built around the pop song format, is another invaluable addition. There are bound to be times when the zippier versions heard here are all that is required.
Considering the self-confessed inclination to develop indefinitely in the studio, it is still noticeable how totally devoid of filler this album is. Even the tracks where three songs are built into one do not feel over long, despite looking like a marathon on paper. One of these is the suite ‘Old Woman – My Life Before You Came – Swivel Chair’ which shows the same capacity for realizing a vision as McCartney on ‘Abbey Road’s’ side two. There are delightful prog touches too, nothing cumbersome, more like the flighty current of Caravan as washes of keys and mellotron sound enhance the conclusion. ‘Even In My Darkest Hour’ also has a triumphant coda, where any one of the swirling keyboards, the ghostly theremin noise or the homely horn refrain would have been enough to make it a beguiling ending, but they throw all three in anyway. Our epic journey approaches its close on the thirteen-plus minute ‘The Love Suite,’ a bold creation that once again has a bit of everything but, crucially, it is everything you want. Brass, massive choruses, guitars freaking out, a united vision and an ecstatic shout to the top, it all serves to leave us totally overwhelmed by our stimulated senses, delighted, delirious and hungry for more in equal measure. Music this fully loaded with ideas doesn’t stay under the radar indefinitely, and with ‘Melancholia,’ Modesty Blaise look ready to claim the attention they have long deserved.
Fruit Tree Records 