the frightnrs download album free rar The frightnrs download album free rar. Completing the CAPTCHA proves you are a human and gives you temporary access to the web property. What can I do to prevent this in the future? If you are on a personal connection, like at home, you can run an anti-virus scan on your device to make sure it is not infected with malware. If you are at an office or shared network, you can ask the network administrator to run a scan across the network looking for misconfigured or infected devices. Another way to prevent getting this page in the future is to use Privacy Pass. You may need to download version 2.0 now from the Chrome Web Store. Cloudflare Ray ID: 66b19d339ce64979 • Your IP : 188.246.226.140 • Performance & security by Cloudflare. The Tragic Turn Of The Frightnrs' First — And Last — Record. The Frightnrs. Left to right: Chuck Patel, Richard Terrana, Dan Klein, and Preet Patel. Kisha Bari/Courtesy of the artist. At the moment when Dan Klein, singer of the retro reggae outfit the Frightnrs, saw the finished cover of his band's first full-length album, Nothing More to Say , he was sitting in his apartment in Windsor Terrace, situated in a narrow strip of blocks between Brooklyn's Prospect Park and Greenwood Cemetery. On the cover, Klein is crouching, all sharp angles: hunched shoulders, bent elbows and knees. His bandmates, Rich Terrana, Chuck Patel and Preet Patel stand in a row to his left, upright, their jackets just as wrinkled at the joints as Klein's, just lived-in enough, the level of worn that comes from breaking them out for special occasions and big gigs. Their frontman's eyes are fixed to the ground, but Terrana and the Patels gaze at the lens, the vibe calmed by the violet rendering of the original photo. First Listen. First Listen: The Frightnrs, 'Nothing More To Say' The cover reflects the thought and care the Frightnrs have put into their streamlined, vintage sensibility that emerged as the Jamaica, Queens-based group found its footing in a scene shaped by "years of ska-punk crossover and a lot of fake, white-rasta stage antics," as Klein put it. "We wanted to come across as the Rat Pack," he said of the musicians' aesthetic and penchant for '70s rhythms that distanced them from their peers. "We wanted to be sharp. We wanted to wear suits, be dark, get down to business, all ' This is New York .' We looked like a soul band, and we also enjoy a lot of Motown, doo-wop, blues and gospel music, and I think that comes out in our music." There's an effortless cool to the cover of Nothing More to Say that matches the music inside, and a discussion of this — of "cool" as a state of being, a vibe, a reflex or an instinct — brought an intense shine to Klein's eyes. "Because of circumstances, this record is particularly significant, because it's going to be our only record," he said. "Everybody wanted to make sure it's just right. It turns out we already had some pictures from last year that were very much appropriate for what we're going for. It didn't even occur to anybody that we'd want to use those. I'm really relieved. Those pictures were the right ones." That afternoon, Klein, having long since lost the ability to crouch the way he does on the album cover, was sitting upright thanks to the chair he now spent his days in, a position that facilitated breathing with the help of a machine that routinely filled his lungs. As he looked again at the artwork — which Gabe Roth, the founder of Klein's label, Daptone Records, had finalized just a few days before — the comment was made that the guys come off as the epitome of cool, that they don't even look like they're trying to nail the shot. "Really?" Klein paused. The machine clicked. He breathed. "I'm trying really hard." The cover art of Nothing More to Say . Courtesy of the artist hide caption. The cover art of Nothing More to Say . Courtesy of the artist. Nothing More to Say was supposed to be a collection of triumphant firsts for the Frightnrs, for Daptone, for everyone involved in the project. It is the Frightnrs' first full-length album, and it follows three EPs, the most recent of them being Inna Lover's Quarrel , which Mad Decent put out last September. It is the first reggae album released by Daptone, the first deviation for the Bushwick-based label — best known for championing artists with hard-lived stories to tell, like Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings and Charles Bradley — from its brassy, funk-laden foundation of soul (save for its recently launched rock imprint, Wick Records). It is the first record produced by Victor Axelrod, a.k.a. "Ticklah," for the label, which is a doubly special event considering his close Daptone ties: An organist / piano player / man-on-the-keys of different persuasions and a prolific reggae composer based in Brooklyn, Axelrod has been around since the days before the Dap-Kings and Antibalas, back when members of both outlets played together as the Soul Providers in North Brooklyn in the late '90s. It is also singular for being the first album Daptone will release following the death of one of the artists who made it. On June 8, Klein, in spite of the concerns of his family and caregivers, went to Prospect Park to see Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings perform. Axelrod, who plays with the Dap-Kings for special occasions, joined them onstage that day, having heard about the difficult year Jones was having; she's in the process of battling cancer for the second time. Klein sent a simple "Nicely done, sir!" text to Axelrod following the gig. He succumbed to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as ALS or Lou Gehrig's Disease, in the hours following the performance. The illness had first seeped into his muscles, making them feel strained and foreign, in the summer of 2015, just days after he and the Frightnrs began recording Nothing More to Say with Axelrod at Daptone's House of Soul studio. "Things were moving along and going well, but there was this lingering issue of, 'What the hell is wrong with Dan? Why is he being such a drag?'" Axelrod recalls in a conversation several weeks after Klein's death. "It was during that week in the studio that his symptoms started to manifest to the point where he was really struggling to sing and was complaining about feeling lousy and weak the whole time. This continued for the rest of the summer into the fall, when we were recording his lead vocals, but it wasn't until the end of November that we all learned what was going on with him." ALS is a brutal and efficient disorder in which fatigue and weakness are eventually followed by loss of motor function and muscular degeneration, but its invasion of the body offers no exact timeline. Immediately following Klein's diagnosis, the Frightnrs, Axelrod and Daptone found themselves challenged on two fronts: by their own stubborn standards for creating a superlative record with Daptone's trademark throwback vibe, and by the mechanics it takes to do that on an intimidating and tragic deadline. From November onward, pressure forged the backbone of Nothing More to Say : The Frightnrs' time with Klein was finite, as was their opportunity to cut the record with Axelrod, and they needed to work through their anguish before Klein lost his ability to breathe, and to sing. Axelrod says urgency was in the air long before anyone knew Klein was sick: Now that the Frightnrs, Axelrod and Daptone had found each other, they didn't want to wait to get Nothing More to Say out of the House of Soul and onto turntables. "The profound change in the energy surrounding the album was that it went from the normal process of working on music to meet a label deadline to working on the album as quickly as possible in an attempt to have it released before Dan passed away," he says. "It was a horrible feeling to work with. It felt ugly and surreal for all of us in the final months of completing the record. We got through it and did everything we needed to do. I just think it felt like we all had 50-pound weights strapped to our chests while we did it." Axelrod spent two days snaking wires and finagling mics to zero in on the time-traveling sound of Nothing More to Say . His microscopic approach to the technical minutiae isn't simply the process of a perfectionist: It's both reflective of Axelrod's commitment to a band he's believed in for years and an economical strategy, considering the suffocating deadlines and Klein's declining health. Through the window by the soundboard at the House of Soul, one can see into the recording room, where Klein cut his vocals in the same spot that Amy Winehouse sang her way through some of Back to Black 's most beloved tracks and Sharon Jones gave voice to Give the People What They Want just before her own fight against a deadly illness nearly derailed her career. Music Interviews. Soul Singer Sharon Jones: 'The Cancer Is Here, But I Want To Perform' "It's not uncommon to have very little time to record with a group of people and therefore rush through this initial process, only to have some possibly deep regrets later," Axelrod says of his meticulous preparations.