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Nothing to declare Not in the bags under my eyes I can see you standing there But still there’s nothing to reply The world’s my fin de claire My Spanish castle in the sky I can see it floating there But still there’s nothing to define If I’m worlds away I’m Holding mountains in my hands Starlight ain’t never gonna let me down Until I stumble like a drunkard back to town Then I end up where you are Keeping the sanctuary warm Don’t ask me who I am Don’t ask me where I was Nothing to declare Not in the valise of my mind All the documents are there But still there’s something to decide? The world’s my fin de claire the waters beckon me to dive I can tell the pearl’s in there and still there’s nothing I can find If you let me go I’ll fall as far I can fall Starlight ain’t never gonna bring me home Until I wake up like a baby in the womb Then I’ll wonder who you are Keeping the conversation light Don’t ask me how I know Don’t ask me how I know Don’t ask me how I know Don’t ask me how I know https://youtu.be/CHQrIMo0xak?si=hDAGs5EnoWNHZzaj

Ernest Hood’s Neighborhoods was released some two decades after the Portland, Oregon born and raised musician’s first forays into field recordings. These very recordings, and those captured over intervening years, define the universal sound and aural images of childhood, a theme memorialized by Hood’s privately-pressed opus of 1975. Bandcamp / Links

For a long time, I'd come across these discs without really understanding what connected them, apart from a button and that famous logo designed by René Dessirier. Then, with a little more digging, I discovered the "self-production" link. For choirs, schools, folk singers, young pop groups, popular homes and even great composers who engraved unique copies of certain recording sessions... The French equivalent of the English "Derby Service", the Kiosque d'Orphée, formerly at 7 Rue Grégoire de Tours in the 6th arrondissement, was taken over by Georges Batard in 1967 and moved to 20 Rue des Tournelles in the 4th arrondissement of Paris. The adventure lasted until 1991. Georges Batard was a sound engineer who used a Neumann tube engraver to engrave acetates from the tapes he received, before printing the precious vinyls in the press factories of the day, where he was able to produce very small runs of between 50 and 500 copies. Of course, there were other structures for releasing his records, such as Voxigrave or, later, FLVM, but none of them had so many records in their catalog. Le Kiosque d'Orphée was neither a label nor a publisher, but a structure that allowed you to press your own vinyl, at a time when it was quite an adventure to get your first 45 rpm or 33 rpm album released! Georges Batard was described as passionate and conscientious. His son, bassist Didier Batard, wrote of him: "Georges was passionate about recording and reproducing the stereo sound of his great passion, music. He paid close attention to distortion rates, signal-to-noise ratios, response curves, rise times and other damping factors in audio equipment. He was looking for the exact reproduction of concert hall sound in his living room (with the same sound level, if possible...). In the late '50s/early '60s, he found other sound enthusiasts in AFDERS (Association Française pour le Développement de l'Enregistrement et de la Reproduction Sonores). He became its honorary president. Every Saturday afternoon, its members met to test au- dio equipment. Their opinions were published in the monthly Revue du Son. All you had to do was send in your tapes and choose the number of record copies you'd like to take home with you, so you could finally share your creations and, in a way, exist. You could opt for a generic sleeve, available in several colors, directly customizable with your name and credits, or you could design your dream sleeve yourself in your living room or at a printer's. This "Do It Yourself" temple gave birth to some superb pouches. Stencilled, hand-written, illustrated with paintings, drawings, illustrations by friends or girlfriends of the time, photo prints hastily stuck in the middle of a blank, white sleeve, on which the traces of time would leave their imprints, so that collectors and the curious would come and buy them decades later, with the promise of a musical discovery, unfortunately not always fulfilled... What most of these records have in common is the youth of their songwriters, whether or not they've had a career. Stories of buddies, of getting by and dreams of glory made up this catalog. Most of them were amateur productions, both in terms of the level of the musicians and the quality of the recordings, made on a two-track or, the ultimate luxury, a 4-track in a teenager's bedroom or parents' living room. It was the beginning of the home studio, thanks to the advent of the Revox portable tape recorder. A bit of a shaky DIY system, but, in return, the luxury of setting no limits: one-sided tracks, no outside censorship, no artistic director, no manager, no Barclay or EMI/Pathé Marconi logos... When you finally had your own record, you could give it away or sell it to friends, family or after concerts. You could also drop it off at the nearest record shop, with undisguised pride. It was also a calling card that could be sent to radio stations or music labels, in the hope of launching a career...

i96y, [10.01.2024 01:30] Many of the protagonists in this story tried to sign with labels, but in those days, bridges were not so easy to build between one's hometown, or even one's village, and the major or more specialized label that might have released these records. At the time, the advertisements published in the press by the Kiosque d'Orphée opened up the field of possibilities for provincial composers. It was now possible to make their own record, without having to go through the process of signing with a label. Some of the composers who have gone on to make a career have used this channel to release their first record or parallel projects (Claude Engel, Dominique A, Andy Emler, Michel Deneuve, Claude Mairet, Mick Piellard, Tristan Mu- rail...) and sometimes even single or very limited pressings of work or promotional copies (Bernard Parmegiani, Jef Gilson...). This album is the conclusion of a long investigation, begun six years ago. It took a long time to find the records, scattered all over the place, in the homes of collectors and sometimes the musicians themselves, and then to listen to them, sometimes painstakingly, to unearth these moments of grace. From this work, 23 tracks remain, but there are dozens of others that could have been included, so we had to choose, and the choice had to be as universal as possible. This selection is obviously not objective, but I hope you'll like it. Today's music is raw, touching and powerful. https://bornbadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/kiosque-dorphee-une-pop-e-de-lautoproduction-en-france-1973-1991

'The atmosphere which General Strike conjure together suits an old fashioned, cold war-ish scenario of technology. Their 'Interplanetary Music' is the space pop of George Pal and 'The Day The Earth Stood Still', of computers built like Blackpool Tower in order to struggle through simple trigonometry, of 'The Jetsons' and I.G.Y. They go no further than Expo 67, the world's last gasp of optimism. And although there are dark and disquieting moods set in this mosaic which their listeners have pieced together, it is made with a humour which is true to the spirit of adventure which those references apply. The sanitation merchants who make up most of the world's record-makers today would forbid our ears from hearing these strangely electric keyboards, earthworked textures, bizarre chatterings of percussion, and voices that seem like puzzled robots. Cataloguing the sound in that way makes it all seem a bit of a joke, but it isn't: laughter is encouraged, but it's serious music, made with a great deal more serious spirit than the great and disheartening mountain of music which today implores you to hear and not listen.' (Richard Cook) Bandcamp / Links