Back catalogue: All genres

Review: Stop us if you've heard this one before. Lee "Scratch" Perry walks into a Quasi Dub Development recording session somewhere in New York. He begins to freestyle in that surrealist, escapist, hallucinogenic kind of way we still love him for, and the results eventually make their way onto 2014's record, Little Twister. The rest, as they say, is history. Or maybe not quite. Four years after the world lost Perry's enigmatic poetry and pioneering contributions to dub, Pingipung, the label that carried that aforementioned LP, unearths the tape of one track from the collection the bosses clearly feel deserves more attention. 'Let's Communicate' is as intoxicating now as it was back then. Then contemporary UK dub don Elijah Minnelli steps up to deliver an alternative version that stands up on its own. No mean feat.

Review: Unusually adept, jazzdancey sonic handicraft from new Rekids signee, Quiet Village. If we at Juno could issue some kind of official rosette or emblem for 'wicked production skills'- on par with a master builder's sextant-engraved headstone - then we'd award Quiet Village with one such memento in a heartbeat. 'Reunion', pressed onto vinyl for the first time here, hears a loose yet effortlessly rhythmic drum break furl, dance about a smooth, nighttime jazz progression for sax and piano. It's giving visions of a down-and-out PI in an 80s neo-noir/romantic drama genre fusion, except this protagonist has just tuned into Rinse FM for the first time - and Rinse FM, in this alternate reality, exists in the 80s. The 'Reprise' version is equally as evocative, sans-ing the drums to allow space to listen to just the melodics, just the overarching ambiences. It's as if Quiet Village know that the true force of the tune, its essence, rests in the core mystique of the aforementioned instrumental combo; the ghost of the drums may continue to play back only in our minds, yet we continue to dance.

Review: ***B-STOCK: Creasing to corner of outer sleeve but otherwise in excellent condition***


The new album by Quantic - aka. multi instrumentalist, DJ, composer and producer Will Holland - is in many ways an evolution. Now twenty years into his career, Dancing While Falling is the British-born, New York-based artist's most live sounding, euphoric and, in his own words, grown-up release to date. Capturing the beginnings of every good person's revelatory movement from an individual to a collective spirit, Holland originally began the album in his Brooklyn studio, before realising that he didn't just want to make a record that reflected his 'singular pandemic wormhole', but rather one that tapped into the essential togetherness of the human condition. So too does this record explore themes of connection felt through, and made more intense by, the antagonistic bouts of loneliness that characterised COVID-19. Influenced by legendary artists in the scene like Bohannon and Larry Levan, Quantic wanted to make a disco -eaning album at first; "I'm really interested in Latin music and Afro Caribbean rhythms and I think there's a really amazing point in history where the emergence of those rhythms and its combination with American soul sparked what we now know as disco," he says. This PIAS extended edition comes one year on from its initial 2023 release, Quantic here expands on his work by adding a ream of extended versions.

Review: Half a century young, the third album from America's genuinely iconic leather-clad glam queen Suzi Quatro was a bit of sidewinder, seeing her switch from the brash rock pop fusion of her first two LPs to take in a funk influence, still working under the winning production duo of Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn. Check the title track and its echoes of Sly & The Family Stone or Steve Wonder, wonderfully twinned with Quatro's sassy vocal attitude, for evidence of the stylistic refresh, her distinctive and groove-heavy bass playing pushed further into the centre of the sound. 'Can't Trust Love', meanwhile, is a headnodding, blunted delight, too, while the futuristic synths of 'Strip Me' are closer to Herbie Hancock's Headhunters than The Sweet in vibe. Well ahead of its time, this is timeless stuff.

Review: Portland, Oregon's Graham Jonson urges our hurries once more with Heard That Noise, an anemological study in ascendant post-rock and psych. Jonson crafts intimate, zigzagging and west windy songs, ploughing the grey, sludgy boundaries of folk, pop, and noise. Following a subtle tangent from SoundCloud renown to 2021's The Long and Short Of It, he now follows that record up through a desultory reflection on breakups, memory, and creative rediscovery; Phil Elverum, Dijon and Nick Drake glance through the sonic cloud cover as ancestral muses, while the record blends warmth and discordance, where sweet ballads unravel into distortion; serene moments jolted by sonic "jump scares."