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EMPTY CELLAR

Franke Ene

No Longer

    “No Longer is a suite of six absorbing, patient reveries on conflicted concupiscence and encroaching darkness by Berkeley songwriter Frank Ene, who composed the material in a period of solitude following the demise of his noise-pop group Pure Bliss. Ene abstained from socializing to write the songs, venturing outside mostly to work in the basement of a frame-shop or observe students on the nearby UC Berkeley campus, vintage self-help paperbacks stuffed in his pockets.

    When it came time to record, he opted to play nearly every instrument himself. ‘Some songs are affirmations,’ he said. ‘The saddest ones I can’t remember writing, as if someone entered my mind and body in a really brutal way.’ “Suffused with an atmosphere of slow-simmering tension, No Longer traffics in understated grooves reminiscent of latter-era Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, with Ene’s rich voice somehow sounding at once wispy and full-bodied.

    ‘Flesh In The Womb,’ one of the songs to feature songwriter and Fresh & Onlys guitarist Wymond Miles, channels the lasciviousness of Serge Gainsbourg as well as the beguiling sparseness of Dean Blunt. The lyrics to ‘Housing Alcove,’ a crushing meditation on childhood trauma, reveal competing, interconnected feelings of vulnerability and ambition (a duality captured by the evocative album art). A dynamic, repeat listen, No Longer stands among the most musically arresting and emotionally contoured Bay Area solo debuts in recent memory.” —Sam Lefebvre

    Empty Cellar is proud to release the newest album by Magic Trick, Other Man’s Blues—written and recorded while songwriter Tim Cohen split his time between two lives and two worlds, a horse ranch with his newborn daughter, and on tour or at Phil Manley’s Lucky Cat Studios in San Francisco.

    A book of songs Cohen had written while bouncing to and fro sufficed in lieu of rehearsal time with the thirteen other musicians who appear on the tracks: James Kim and James Barone (Beach House) on drums; Alicia Van Heuvel (Aislers Set) and Paul Garcia on bass; Joel Robinow (Once and Future Band / Danny James) on keys; Emmett Kelly (The Cairo Gang / The Muggers) on guitar; and omnipresent vocal harmonies from Alicia, Noelle Cahill and Anna Hillburg. The album is a loose, largely improvised affair, with many guest appearances and stop-ins. Allegedly tequila was centrally involved. It’s the principle that gave this project a name five years ago. Especially in this case, the players on the album define what shapes these songs take.

    A ghostly choir of female voices opens the album like a séance, with the spirit they conjure flitting about the ensuing ten tracks, from the baroque pop of “Forest of Kates” to the icy post-punk of “I Held the Ring.” There’s the air-tight R&B groove of “Startling Chimes,” the krauty “Purest Thing,” a jammy side-to-side trot that moves “First Thought” along, taking a detour into country before culminating in a glorious Grateful Dead-indebted coda. Throughout, it’s Cohen’s lyrics that are pushed to the front of the mix—collectively fleshed out, from his composition book.

    TRACK LISTING

    1. More
    2. Forest Of Kates
    3. I Held The Ring
    4. Scorpio
    5. First Thought
    6. Mockingbird
    7. Eternal Summer
    8. Purest Thing
    9. Startling Chimes
    10. Oysters

    Dylan Shearer

    Porchpuddles

      Empty Cellar Records is more than stoked to present the sophomore full-length LP by San Francisco's elusive pop wizard, DYLAN SHEARER, at once a continuation of his distinctive and infectious melodic sensibilities and an evolution, fully exploring the romance and isolation only hinted at in previous releases. "There is a new specter among us. Dylan Shearer's throaty baritone seems to have been borne on the slow-moving winds off some faraway coast. Plaintive and honest, his voice recalls Syd Barrett, Bill Fay, Skip Spence, and others whose words and melodies never seemed in a rush to get anywhere, yet always arrived fully formed in the listener's ear nonetheless.

      Porchpuddles, Shearer's second full length and first for San Francisco's hodge-podge Empty Cellar records, is rare in its perfect timelessness. Sounds are heard and understood perfectly, yet the combination of these sounds is beyond a simple pop understanding. Songs of longing and songs of seeming indifference are bedded together seamlessly. Perhaps, questions about the record's origin and its mysterious creator will abound, for taken at face value, Porchpuddles has little to no recognizable counterpart in today's one-hit warehouse. Indeed, there is a new specter among us; let us all welcome in the ghost of the present."-Tim Cohen.

      This first pressing (limited to 500 copies) comes in a classic uncoated tip-on sleeve. Keeping with the times, all LPs include a high quality download of the full album plus seven bonus tracks!

      The Sandwitches

      Mrs Jones' Cookies

      The latest full-length platter by The Sandwitches. San Francisco's Sandwitches have been plugging away at their craft for a couple magical years now, sprinkling their barbed, alluring electric folk briars across unsuspecting gardens in the Bay Area and beyond. Previous releases, such as the swampy ecstasy of "How To Make Ambient Sadcake" and last year's oceanic ouija board of an EP, "Duck Duck Goose!", captured distinct sides of the trio.

      "Mrs. Jones Cookies" is here now to unify their uniquely whimsical and creepy vision. "Mrs. Jones' Cookies" pours Sadcake's plaintive bounce into Duck Duck's celestial, mysterious drift, spiking the mix with a side they've previously only hinted at: a playfulness, a comfort. It's the sound of a band at ease with unease. Even when they're plumbing the most desperate depths, there's an unforced confidence in the lonely plucking of guitarists Heidi Alexander and Grace Cooper. The shared vocal duties are where these ladies truly and finally let loose. On "Lightfoot" and single "Summer Of Love", drummer Roxy Brodeur punches out lively, soul-flecked trots, as Grace and Heidi tickle the end of their high and low ranges, returning later to those highs and lows with extra force and bluster, shooting out the lights with aplomb.



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