Judged By Its Cover – Cosmic Neighbourhood – Library Vol 1 (Test Pressing)

[Originally posted 26 October 2021, via @Selectsounds]

Rewind back to the start of this year and you’ll remember how far-off the thought of heading to a festival in the summer felt. The music and events sector was hit hard by the pandemic, with problems ranging from cash-flow to insurance and, of course, public health, leaving lots of events with no choice but to reschedule. 

Calendar position played a big factor in whether or not they got the green light, as the UK raced along its timeline towards the end of restrictions. We Out Here (WOH) – the brainchild of Gilles Peterson, Worldwide FM and Brownswood Recordings – took place at the end of August. It drew the long straw in terms of timings, which for me is ironic. I’d missed out on going to its launch in 2019 because it fell too close to Houghton – which has had its own string of bad luck. It shows how fragile these things are, which makes each one we do get to attend more special. And this was certainly the overarching feeling throughout the weekend at Abbots Ripton for WOH.

The digging 

Families and children are welcomed and generally the audience is older, favouring ‘the music’ over ‘the party’ more than other boutique festivals I’ve been to. After months of isolation, I’m sure I’m not the only one that was thankful for the slower pace at WOH – although the evenings were most definitely drenched in their own magic energy that ramped up the party spirit. 

Loads of people I admire were all milling around in the same field. Look one way and you’d see journalist Emma Warren, clutching her microphone en route to hosting a Q and A. Turn around and you’d spot DJ Paulette, the Secret Sundaze duo or if you’re lucky, even Gilles. This happened again when heading to the record fare tent, hosted by much-loved vinyl care brand, Near Mint. 

First, I was drawn to the Cold Cuts Hot Wax stall after recognising their logo – I’d been following them over the past year, so it was cool to meet the London-based shop and its enthusiastic owners. They were one of the few traders with a listening setup, with particularly good written descriptions on each sleeve. I did come back with some killer tunes, but not an entry for this blog series. And then I moved on to Kit Records.

Things were much calmer here. Owner, Richard Greenan, left me to my own devices as I browsed his selection. It didn’t take long to find the right record, ‘Cosmic Neighbourhood – Library Vol 1’ – but I didn’t know it was called that at the time. 

I saw a see-through plastic sleeve, with a colourful embroidered artwork depicting squirrels, trees and leaves inside. The edges of the ecru natural fabric were frayed, contrasting with the contemporary looking, colourful characters of the design. This was the album cover – there was no other cardboard covering for the record, or clues from the writing on the sticker. Perfect. 

When I bought it, Richard told me how lucky I was to snap up the limited release. I knew there’d be lots to find out about this one, and it didn’t disappoint. 

The listening

Somehow I managed to keep my new piece of wax safe for the rest of the weekend – camping in a bell tent helped. For the past few days I’d been wondering about what I might find when listening to it. I thought it could be old, even though the embroidery was free of stains, rips or other signs of age. Until WOH, I was new to Richard and Kit Records too, so didn’t have any context to help date it. 

Jingling bells, flute melodies and a cheery piano riff kick off as ‘Pine Wizard’ opens the album. They’re all slightly off beat, but purposefully so. As the record switches to ‘Overgrown Garden’, it opens with an electronic whir that has more in common with The Clangers than the latest Ableton presets, before more wonderfully organic melodies kick in. This time they’re tapped out on metal chimes.

As the record spins along its groove, different instruments (or collaged sounds?) are introduced on each track – never more than two minutes long – but the feeling remains the same. There’s something beautiful about the mystical ‘Fortune Teller’, which features backwards-run sampled voices, before launching into the Tudor-esque tones of ‘Caterpillar’. Some parts sound like they’d be echoing from a mythical creature’s party in the woods, while others could be straight from a spaceship. 

This is out of my comfort zone, but I can sense how special it is. I’m much more comfortable grabbing hold of a steady 4/4 beat. To make sense of it, my brain jumps to some main points of reference. These ranged from some of the more experimental sets I’d heard on NTS, mixed with the childlike warmness of Karen O’s ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ soundtrack, but with the eccentricity of Matthew Herbet in his ‘One’ trilogy era. With the sweet, woodland embroidery, I was also reminded of the minimal producer-illustrator duo, Masomenos.

The reveal

My references weren’t far off. Richard Greenan has a regular NTS slot, so I’m sure this album will indeed have been played on the show. 

But the release wasn’t old. In fact it was new-ish, released in March 2020 on – you guessed it – Kit Records. The version I had with the fabric artwork was one of the ‘test pressings’ and only 10 physical copies were available. Richard wasn’t telling fibs. My guesses of age weren’t far off though, as the piece is described as “straddling the new and old”, mixing retro psychedelia with modular electronics producing something that is “radiophonic and time-worn, yet still somehow sounds like the future”.

It’s made by Cosmic Neighbourhood, which is Adam Higton’s alias. He’s also a York-based visual artist, and is pretty established in his field with a very unique style. Most of the music he makes is a response to the artwork he’s created. For ‘Library Vol 1’ he made a black and white paper collage, which formed the cover for the main release, while the special test pressing embroidery remained super limited edition. This was pretty special to find out – without that art, I wouldn’t have grabbed that record, or started writing this piece today. 

This connection with music and art makes sense, helping to form connections in your head. You can’t make a musical ‘scratch ‘n’ sniff’ to quickly test out tunes on a shelf, and writing about actual sounds is difficult, for something so subjective. On a local level, Wigflex created its own world with its Spam Chop character and its collection of City Monsters, while radio/zine Pushkins Prefers is pushing it currently with its Terran Sounds show, which sees artists create work in response to an hour long mix. 

As this series goes on, not all of my picks will fit as well as this one, I’m sure – choosing a record to review based purely on the visual element, is taking Adam Higton’s work processes full circle. And I’m thankful for the stunning world of creativity it introduced me to as a result, and for being pushed out of my comfort zone. 

Special thanks to the crew from Nottingham’s ‘The Carousel’, for letting me join their team at WOH 🙂

Judged By Its Cover – AM PM by Das Ding DJ Overdose

[Originally posted 6 August 2021, on @Selectsounds]

Like a bottle of perfume or a well-arranged shop window, a record sleeve or package design has the ability to draw you in. To showcase the treats that lie inside, or sometimes, throw you completely off the scent. 

It’s the kind of shopping technique you’d probably use at TK Maxx – its whole “treasure seeking” brand is based on it. When the magpie inside you is drawn towards the brightest colours in the corner, you shop based on your gut instinct rather than preconceptions of ‘cool’. 

Strike lucky and the tag reveals it’s a Gold Label classic, or from a well-known high street brand. Sometimes, it’s an obscure fashion house you’ll never see again. When you walked into the shop that day you had no idea whether you’d come out with a slice of Versace or Skinny Dip under your arm, but here you are. That’s exactly what happens when you allow yourself to go for the ‘wild card’ when digging for tunes. 

It was Saturday back in May. The streets were glistening with an (almost) post-pandemic sheen, as the people of Notts relished in being able to enjoy the city centre again. I’d dropped into The Carousel to visit Take Away Jazz Records – Machinewoman’s pop up shop. Business was booming and I couldn’t squeeze in to the appointment-only store. But we did have a great chat that got me childishly excited, and set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

I was going to buy some records today, no matter what. Maybe it’ll be from a charity shop. Is Rob’s Records open yet? Before exhausting these options, I made the move to Rough Trade, perfectly placed on the bustling Broad Street.

Whatever your opinion is of the high street musical mainstay, it’s not known for stocking loads of electronic music. In the back-left corner there were two or three crates dedicated towards the stuff – I have managed to get some gems there in the past, however, including a surprise find from Banoffee Pies and a Beautiful Swimmers compilation. 

In a group of three, we descended upon that small back section. After flicking through the racks I grabbed Fever Ray’s self-titled album – essential – while my friend found a Late Night Tales compilation, equally as key. I was happy with my finds, of course, yet I wasn’t quite satisfied. I knew exactly what to expect from my Fever Ray wax; glad to have it in my collection, but was thirsty for something new. Something new (or old) is what I got.

Maybe I just hadn’t been in Rough Trade for a while, but to my surprise there was now a section of used records taking up about a quarter of the floorspace. My eyes lit up. Holding a fresh, crisp shrink-wrapped album has certain exciting qualities, but there’s something special about digging through old sleeves. What a delight. 

There were small attempts at labelling off genre sections but really, this was the kind of free-for-all digging I thrive off. I always try to leave with a ‘wildcard’ whenever I’m in a physical shop, and this was the perfect place to find it. With already a fair few records under my arm, I limited myself to choosing just one final gem. After skimming past a number of white labels, which are always a treat, my eyes settled on ‘the one’.

An antithesis to the standard black or white, semi-sheened sleeve, this had a brown cardboard cover. Flecks of paper making the textile created a subtly beautiful pattern, with the same appeal as today’s terrazzo hype. It wasn’t totally blank though – the centre label and a long, vertical sticker on the left side of the paper was a work of art. The colours grabbed me first, with rich navy tones complemented by a warm wash of peach.

The centre label looked similar to the yin yang symbol, made with bauhaus birds rather than a swirl. To the left, the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ similarities continued as two simplistic houses were shown, mirror images and filled with contrasting colour. 

Text was beneath the graphic, but the abstract typeface was unreadable at first. Was it Danish? Maybe from Italy or Europe? Sold.

We were excited by our finds, and straight away my partner, my friend and I held a listening party to hear what we’d just got. At that time, without the usual bars and clubs to go to, Covid-19 encouraged us all to indulge and remember some of the most simple, but gratifying pastimes. 

It wasn’t what I expected. Although really, I wasn’t sure what to expect. To summarise the whole EP, it’s four tracks of dark, brooding techno-tinged electro. It’s slow, most definitely made on analogue instruments, and reminded me of Kraftwerk – pulsating synths in minor tones, dusty – downright filthy – drum machines, at times very high pitched while other tracks had sounds that we’re almost like brass. 

Honestly, I’m not sure if I liked it at first, but I think it was all in the context.

My partner had just played some jackin’ house while my friend had picked up a Kylie Minogue and Giorgio Moroder collab. Following on from that with my record was like switching from dancing beneath the bright, sparkling sun to a murky, dominating stormcloud.

When you’re expecting that cloud and you’re kitted out for the weather, it’s a fantastic, life affirming experience. I just needed to listen to it again in the right conditions.

I took to the internet to find out more, learning this was produced by Das Ding and DJ Overdose. As it turns out, they’re both electro veterans. 

DJ Overdose is based in the ​​Netherlands, and has been making music for at least two decades. His discography includes a recent release on L.I.E.S, limited edition cassette tapes stocked at Rush Hour and a large body of work out on local label, RotterHague Records. Bandcamp feedback describes his work as “prolific and proficient, always.” He’s certainly earned his stripes.

The story for Das Ding is similar, but goes back way further. Best described by label Minimal Wave, “Das Ding is Danny Bosten, who was active in the early 1980s releasing his music and friends’ music via his own cassette label called Tear Apart Tapes.” The rest of the post describes more about the tape trading scene of the time, more about his label and dives into his time producing pirate radio shows and soundscapes. His music seems to have come back into the world after Minimal Wave contacted the artist, interested in re-releasing his work. I’m not sure if the tracks on my EP are vintage recordings, or new work he’s made now the project is revived again, but it’s a wonderful tale and lesson to all artists to keep plugging on – someone, somewhere will resonate. In a strange way, it reminded me of a local, similar story from February Montaine. 

And now, the label. AM PM by Das Ding DJ Overdose was released in 2018 on Go Finger. It’s hard to find much out about the imprint and it sadly looks to have stopped operating in 2019. I believe it was based in Madrid and launched in 2013, putting out 13 records in that time. The attention to artwork is apparent, though, and every release comes packaged with illustrated stickers, using the same bauhaus style but with different symbols and colours each time. The person behind the design is Yecco. 

Thanks to Yecco, I picked up that copy in the first place and now AM PM stands proudly in my collection. If I’d listened to it in the shop, I’m not sure if I would have bought it. But I’m so happy I did. A story of the only time when it’s acceptable to judge something on first impressions. Go digging blindly, it might surprise you 🙂 

Listen to it HERE. 
Follow Eileen HERE.