Posts Tagged ‘Grapefruit’

Six disc boxset that includes everything recorded by psychedelic band July, including their first album in both stereo and mono versions, a compilation of demos from before their debut entitled The Second Of July and the reconvened group’s previously unissued recordings in the 21st century…how a psychedelic flop turned to gold over a 30 year gestation period…

In the swinging late 1960s the notion that July, who lasted less than a couple of years in their original incarnation, would be the subject of a 6 disc collection 40 years later on would have been laughable at best. They were shunned when their album was cruelly dismissed in 1968, just as the psychedelic surge began to falter. A diffuse reception in the music press, with one critic even calling it the worst album ever and a waste of vinyl, didn’t help one bit. With that, July were yesterday’s news almost as soon as they arrived.

The record didn’t bother the charts and after a gimmicky non-album single Hello, Who’s There? they ceased operations. But the band and LP would not die, with the latter gradually, but crucially, clawing its way to acclaim in retrospect as a vinyl “buried treasure” over the passing of the years. In response to this backdated respect and in some pretty unlikely circumstances, 40 years later, July reformed. In the 21st century they recorded and gigged to a very favourable response, with the songs from that derided debut being rapturously received by those present.

The crucial pairing of Tom Newman and Peter Cook first came together in a band called the Dreamers. Like a lot of musically minded youngsters in the UK in the early 60s, they were in the thrall of the Shadows, but as the decade continued they were naturally drawn towards the beat sound. They changed the name of the group to the Tomcats and were joined in this initial version of the band by the rhythm section of Alan James and Chris Jackson (this exact configuration would crop up again in 2009 as the reformed July). Unfortunately this line-up split in 1965 with Cook dropping out. But an amended version of the band, one that featured members of Ealing rival band Second Thoughts Tony Duhig and John Field, had a great deal of success in Spain as Los Tomcats.

Newman reconnected with Cook at the dawn of the psychedelic area, as the Tomcats returned to the UK. The influence of the Beatles and goings on at the UFO Club on Tottenham Court Road loomed large in their compositions. Adding Cook to the existing Tomcats line-up, the band began to rehearse this new material the Newman/Cook team had assembled. The Tomcats were signed by Spencer Davis’ management agency and this lead to a deal with Major Minor, an Irish record company label distributed through the larger Decca organisation. Around the time of the album, the band was retitled the band July to move away from the now dated beat music connotations of the Tomcats name. Cook was manoeuvred out from the LP sessions by Field, if the sleeve note is accurate. His songs were still used and he appears to have only remained as part of the band as a sort of Brian Wilson-style song-smith figure.

The self-titled debut album, in mono and stereo takes, take up the first two discs of this set. I have to say the mono version edges it for me, it appears just that bit sharper. Any way you hear this record though, it’s still a classic of the UK psychedelic era, pristinely assembled and charmingly naive. July starts off with two excellent offerings in My Clown and Dandelion Seeds, which were also issued together as the two sides of the first July single. They may take a fair bit from the Beatles and Syd Barrett in terms influence at times, but the overall effect is marvellous. There’s a solid beat base to the latter which give their more outré ideas the ideal jumping off point. This is something that must have been honed to perfection in the slog of the Tomcats years.

The acoustic undercurrent to Hallo To Me adds a smart undertone to a Pink Floyd-alike tune and both You Missed It All and The Way possess some prime freaky guitar work and are delightfully trippy. To Be Free also takes on the then-fashionable Eastern sitar/drones, but incorporates them into a very accessible pop context. July never lost sight of the need for a cracking melody, as on Chris Jackson’s up-tempo and rocky Crying Is For Writers. The spritely Friendly Man has some great racing bongos and A Bird Lived ends the long player in a very cool, stop start way.

The first disc, the mono take, adds the single versions of My Clown, Dandelion Seeds and The Way, plus that non album single Hello, Who’s There?, which takes the Small Faces’ more “Cor Blimey” efforts as a starting point. As a rule July the album is beautifully arranged, but the “forced stereo” version that Epic made for America met with band disapproval and instead a “newly-enhanced” stereo mix is the one included here as disc two.

Styles changed so quickly in the 1960s, so that something that was cool and cutting edge six months prior would quickly become hopeless outdated. By 1968 UK psychedelia it its purest form was spent and July paid the price with the album disappearing without making a mark. The band were forced to come up with hit single material which resulted in the so-so Hello Who’s There? single. When that suffered exactly the same fate as the LP and My Clown, July came to a halt. James left, but the trio of Cook, Newman and Jackson formed a new group under the Tomcats name, playing live in the early 1970s.

After the new Tomcats foundered Tom Newman carved out a highly successful career as a producer, helming a diverse selection of records from Hatfield And The North’s debut album to Cast Of Thousands by the Adverts. His most fruitful collaboration though was with Michael Oldfield, for who he produced the smash hit Tubular Bells LP. Concurrently to his production work he also conducted his own solo career, issuing a number of LPs from 1975 to 2015.

Whilst this was happening, the July legend was beginning to gather steam. Critical re-appraisal put their album firmly up there with the best of the original psychedelic scene and psych crate diggers rattled around the record fairs and second-hand shops, hoping to net a mint copy now worth a small fortune. Naturally enough, collectors were also interested if there was any further July material apart from the album itself. In the mid-90s Tom Newman discovered some demo tapes the Tomcats/July had cut just prior to the debut LP. Small modifications were added and, cashing in on this upswing of interest, the album The Second Of July was released in 1995. This makes up the third disc of this set.

This selection gives us some “unissued at the time” tracks, plus simpler versions of the album material. The Stamping Machine has some sharp and acidic guitar blasts and the streamlined version here of A Bird Lived is very agreeable too. It’s more in a more straight-ahead, 60s pop/rock mode which really helps it swing. Among the non-LP tracks Look At Her is a lovely light piece of folk pop sike and I See a highly-phased, fast paced gem. The Girl In The Cafe again mines Pink Floyd’s more pop elements to good effect and the yelled vocal/heavy guitar of You See Me, I See You form a formidable combo. There’s a nice solitary feel to on the strum of Move On Sweet Flower and an early but very cool cut of Hallo To Me ends this set nicely.

After the building momentum of the original July album and The Second Of July, the line-up of Newman, Cook, Jackson and James reunited in in 2009. Looking to do something more than just play their old material, they duly set down a new album. Though it’s not necessarily a bad recording I can certainly see why Temporal Anomaly, disc four of this set, has remained unissued. Completed as a prospective Tomcats project, this record overall comes over more in a standard pop/rock sound.

They do manage on a few occasions the kind of light trippy touch of the July album, perhaps best on the more measured and reflective Magical Days and Don’t Let Me Down. But elsewhere an average rock/pop sound dominates, with a bit too much sub-metal guitar soloing and riffage taking away from otherwise decent songs. Approaching cutting a new record 40 years on must have been a daunting proposition, but the sad fact about Temporal Anomaly is that it too often sounds ordinary, dragging their feet on ground where July in their 60s pomp flew. Apparently James and Jackson thought so too and Temporal Anomaly remained in can. Definitely one for the completists really, which is why it is presented here I suppose.

Many of the songs from Temporal Anomaly were re-cut for July’s official comeback record Resurrection. They were good offerings, so deserved another go at getting them right. Whilst there’s still a little bit too much of unnecessary guitar showing-off along the way, this LP gets much closer to being a convincing update of July’s original sound. Set opener Dreams prospers here with more subtle guitar work and I Like It is given a much more beneficial treatment than the bluesy setting of the version on TA. The circular chug of Can I Go Back Again pleases and King Bee manages to scoop their blues and psych roots together into a wonderful breadth of noise. The song Regeneration might be a little more rock again, but supplies a nice upbeat ending to what is a good album.

The final disc here brings us right up to date with a brand spanking new double album length July recording The Wight Album (recorded at Newman’s new studio on the IOW). This one is also being released separately on double vinyl. The pressure of following up those 60s recordings now enshrined in legend lifted, they sound far more relaxed and at ease, revealing a fully refreshed July for 2020. This is a work of depth, imagination and talent. For instance, the song Sophie is simply heart-breaking, the wavering vocal and psychedelic whirls adding joy to a poignant lyric. July embellish their tunes with little touches here and there, like the modern dance beats on The Devil Inside (which seems to have a little of the theme to Get Carter! about it) and It’s A Fine Line, plus synth washes on the odd Disco Klingon and the catchy chant of We Are The Masters. But neither undermine the attempt to put the record firmly in the same context as their debut LP all those years ago. The July spirit of the 1960s remains intact, re-energised and fortified by years of bitter experience. As if to prove the point early July song The Game is a real beaut, being recorded for the very first time after Newman vaguely remembered it during the sessions.

The Wight Album ends with a rollicking three song finish, which rivals their 60s pomp. Home would make a fine single, samples of whistles and playground noise, the band glisten and a beautiful crushed voice sings – this is a truly wonderful, multi-layered epic. Next comes Once When We Was Free, a piano driven piece of rock not unlike their original inspiration the Fabs’ later efforts and Right Place, Wrong Time’s wry lyrics play against the July legend well – this has almost a new wave sound and provides a very good conclusion to the set. The Wight Album is full of invention, good tunes and knowing words – an excellent recording for a band now over 50 years into their career.

July The Complete Recordings provides everything one would need if starting from scratch. Six CDs might seem like a lot for a band who only made a slight mark in 1968, but the mono and stereo versions of the July album are different takes of a landmark record and 2013’s Regeneration has its moments. The Wight Album is excellent and The Second Of July gives one a decent look behind the scenes at the pre-July outfit. As usual we get the band’s impressions and their history in the booklet included and the whole thing is contained in a clamshell box.

I know that some would carp at shelling out for a 6CD set for a 60s psych band who only had one LP released at the time (one that most psych buffs will probably already own) and yes, this set is one to weigh up. However the unreleased LPs Wight Album is a real goodie and Regeneration is at least worth having, so if you haven’t got The Second Of July compilation it probably is worth a go. There’s a lot of great, overlooked music here – July were certainly the real thing, UK Psychedelia at its very apex.

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Flamin groovies box cover

Coming up on February 22nd! The Flamin’ Groovies: “Gonna Rock Tonite!” The Complete Recordings 1969-71 is a 3CD clamshell box set reissue of three peerless albums – ‘Supersnazz’, ‘Flamingo’ and ‘Teenage Head’ – taken from the original master tapes and embellished with bonus outtakes, alternative versions and single mixes!

Irrespective of musical direction, sales figures or personnel changes, The Flamin’ Groovies have always had greatness attached to their name. Cyril Jordan’s mid-Seventies revamp of the band was certainly a huge influence on entire generations of skinny-tied power poppers, but the Groovies took their first tentative steps on the long and winding road to cult stardom back in the late Sixties, when lead singer, original band leader and rock’n’roll aficionado Roy Loney battled for the upper hand with young pup and Beatles obsessive Jordan.

After the tentative, privately-issued 10” mini-album debut Sneakers, The Groovies made the transition from San Francisco also-rans to genuine contenders with a trio of peerless albums – Supersnazz, Flamingo and the particularly magnificent Teenage Head – for major labels (Columbia’s Epic imprint and Buddah subsidiary Kama Sutra). Bolstered by sundry outtakes, alternative versions and single mixes, those three albums now appear under one roof for the first time with Gonna Rock Tonite!, a complete anthology of the band’s studio work during the pivotal 1969-71 timeframe: halcyon days that ended in late 1971 when Loney abruptly quit the group he’d formed just a few short years earlier.

Bursting with creative tension, wilful diversity and absurdist wit, Gonna Rock Tonite!climaxes with the classic albumTeenage Head, a brazen attempt to out-Stone the Stones that saw one critic describe it at the time of its mid-1971 appearance as “close to being the best hard rock album ever released by an American group”. The definitive issue of these definitive recordings, Gonna Rock Tonite! is a 3-CD set taken from the masters and housed in a striking clamshell box. It includes a 20-page booklet that also features a new 7,500 word essay on the band.

from Teenage Head (1971)

Kiran Leonard.

Kiran Leonard was born in Saddleworth, Greater Manchester in 1995, a fortnight after Oasis lost their famous chart battle with Blur. This is nicely symbolic because Leonard couldn’t be further removed from the cliched indie-lad template. His dad, a former folk singer, encouraged him to learn the mandolin when he was five. From there he graduated to the guitar, and at 10 years old he was devouring his older brother’s prog, noise and jazz records while recording his own music on the computer with a cracked copy of Ableton. “I didn’t really care about learning how to play other people’s songs,” he says. “I just preferred to fuck about. I used to record a lot of absolute shite… and never stopped.”

Leonard’s 2012 debut album Bowler Hat Soup – on which he played virtually everything himself – careened confidently from lush chamber pop to chewy prog via deranged music-hall stomps, placing its 16-year-old narrator on the Pyrenean ski slopes of Port Ainé or in the midst of an ancient battle. Yet Leonard now dismisses the lyrics of Bowler Hat Soup as “mostly bollocks”. Whereas heavier new album Grapefruit is only “half bollocks”, with entertaining salvoes of nonsense wordplay such as Ondör Gongor (named after a legendarily tall Mongolian man) nestling alongside the likes of Half-Ruined Already’s more unsettling exploration of the human psyche.

“That’s based on a Werner Herzog short film called Last Words,” he explains. “There’s an anecdote in the film about two people with leprosy: a man with no legs and a woman with no arms. So the man used to walk around on the woman’s back and together they formed a full-length avatar, and as a result entered a common-law marriage. It’s an example of co-dependence taken to extremes. So essentially the song is asking: Am I actually in love with this person or do I just want their limbs?”

Evidently there is a high level of intellectual curiosity at play here, so it may not be a surprise to learn that Leonard is in the second year of a degree course in Spanish and Portuguese at Wadham College, Oxford. He has been reluctant to talk about his academic life in interviews, but given we’re drinking in a 14th-century tavern in the shadow of the Bodleian Library, it’s a difficult topic to avoid. Mainly, Leonard is concerned that people might think he’s another posh-boy rocker in the Mumfords mould. “But Oxford’s not what people think it is. There are 22,000 students here and they didn’t all go to Eton.”

With his grungy jumper and blunt Lancastrian vowels, nobody is likely to mistake Leonard for a member of the Bullingdon Club. His music is clever and quixotic but it’s also governed by purist punk ethics. He doesn’t use effects pedals and has only recently taken to carrying a spare guitar with him to shows because he didn’t want to look flash. That doesn’t mean he lacks ambition; he compares his next album after Grapefruit to Pet Sounds and he’s already mapped out its narrative arc, even though he’s yet to write all the songs.

Leonard’s Manchester musical peers include the likes of Dutch Uncles and Everything Everything, who can be heard loudly praising his work at every opportunity. But pinning him down to one particular scene is difficult. The best comparison is with someone like Jim O’Rourke, whose refusal to play the game allows him to move between orchestral pop, post-rock and avant-garde spheres at will.

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Kiran Leonard is just 20 years old, but if you were looking to paint him as a wide-eyed ingénue, you’ve already missed the boat: Such is his experience and tireless work ethic he’s already coming to resemble a veteran. A rangy young man from Oldham, Greater Manchester, Leonard picked up the mandolin aged five, and wrote his breakout 2013 song “Dear Lincoln” a manic piece of psychedelic pop, like Van Dyke Parks reincarnated in the body of a hyperactive English schoolboy when he was 14 years old. Leonard is an intellectual sponge drinking up an ocean of knowledge. His frame of reference encompasses playwright Samuel Beckett and the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, the mangled productions of Death Grips and the brainbox pop of Elephant 6, while “Pink Fruit” – the second song on this, his second LP – is a sprawling song suite with more twists and turns in its 16 minutes ,The crux of its peculiar lyric? An erotic encounter between a woman and a squid.

It’s a lot, right? Right. Grapefruit is by turns astounding, accomplished and difficult to digest, an album shouldering ambitions so big that you fear that at any point it might give way at the knees. Undoubtedly, Leonard is an autodidact of amazing talent and energy. At times his idiosyncratic performance style resembles Dirty Projectors’  see “Don’t Make Friends With Good People,” with those wandering, pointillist guitar lines, that voice that leaps boldly across octaves, as if participating in some tipsy parkour. Elsewhere, he recalls a fellow British outsider, Richard Dawson, whose take on the narrative folk tradition is both wild-eyed and whimsical. The lolloping, rusty groove of “Öndör Gongor” is a fractured song-story sketched in enigmatic strokes – a strapping maritime fantasy set “in the night of the shotgun,” in which sharks lurk as “a clatter of shins hit the dock” and a mysterious orb named Ethel waits, hungrily. The song ends with staccato blasts of guitar and a chanted shanty-like coda, although how all this relates to the subject of the song’s title – a giant who lived in early-20th century Mongolia – is left unaddressed.

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Grapefruit is a gnarlier-sounding record than its predecessor, its lurching guitars and skittering, free percussion. It is at its most digestible, however, when Leonard plays it orchestral. “Caiaphas in Fetters” is a beautiful confection of strings and fluttering guitar that finds him posing questions to a lover: “Ask yourself/Do you feel as I feel?” “Half Ruined Already,” meanwhile, is a finger picked love song in which two participants – one legless, one armless – come together in one romantic whole. It was inspired by a Werner Herzog short about a couple who met in a leper’s colony, but succeeds in taking such grim subject matter and alchemizing it into warm sentiment. At the other end of the scale is the somewhat opaque “Exeter Services,” which flips between quizzical improv and skidding emo, all flail and gasp and rickety cathedrals of language built to collapse: “I’m in the Catskills! Total duality! All of Ophelia! Absolute anarchy!”

Grapefruit is 57 minutes long and feels packed to the rafters, as if Leonard is a hoarder of ideas and song fragments, unwilling or unable to let anything go. Take “Pink Fruit.” In its 16 minutes, it flits between noisy spazz-rock, folk shambling, woodwind interludes, short-wave radio tinkering and free percussion. I’d stop short of calling it confused – even when it’s getting wild, there’s enough recurring lyrical cues to suggest its maker is working to a detailed map. But he can be rather an impatient guide, and while the ground it covers is startling and often picturesque, Grapefruit is an album you feel led through, rather than being left to explore or inhabit. Perhaps in this regard, at least, Kiran Leonard still has things to learn.

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Thanks to Pitchfork,

Kiran Leonard

The Manchester multi-instrumentalist’s art rock via prog, folk and psychedelia has earned him comparisons with everyone from Jeff Buckley to Dirty Projectors. He released his second LP in March, but you get the feeling that even the 20-year-old’s cast-offs are special.

Low Four welcomes this mercurially talented 20-year-old from Oldham who has already notched up two critically acclaimed albums with the second, Grapefruit released earlier this year.
31 videoed minutes
The Session features. versions of Ondör Gongor, Don’t Make Friends With Good People, Secret Police, Geraldo’s Farm.

This record is called ‘abandoning noble goals’ partly in reference to a lyric in the last song but also to reference the fact that i had two central motifs for this record – first joy, and then honesty – and i failed at fulfilling both of them. in june i decided i wanted to make an ‘ep of joy’ as soon as i finished my end-of-year exams, like a cathartic release. i also wanted to do this because the last two albums i put out (the pend oreille LP and “terreiro do paço”) are probably the two bleakest records i’ve ever put out in my life. they’re just overflowing with introspection, and hopelessness, and pessimism, and unsureness. this ‘ep of joy’ didn’t end up transpiring but the last two songs on this album (both of which were written in the past month), are related in part to this aforementioned cathartic release, and trying to articulate the joy of coming out of, say, a bout of low self-esteem (this is what the song ‘visions of worthless shortcomings’ is about).

it’s difficult to talk in detail about how you feel when the feelings aren’t overwhelmingly positive, as they inevitably aren’t from time to time, but i think honesty’s a really important skill for a songwriter to develop that i hope to develop as i get older/less self-conscious (i hope the two run in tandem??). for me the absolute king of honesty in songwriting is daniel johnston – a man who is exactly what he says he is, in song and in person. i remember i once sent him some fan mail when i was maybe 15; i’d been listening to his song “grievances” on repeat, and there’s a line in it where he’s talking about running into a girl he has a huge crush on (who he often references by her real name … can you IMAGINE writing a song for a girl you’re interested in and referring to her by her REAL NAME?), and the line he sings is “you were standing there like a temple”. and i just thought that was a totally perfect encapsulation of how it feels to be in the company of someone you’re really attracted to, that hyperbolic awe and complete worthlessness of the self. and i write this letter to him, a facebook message, i say to him: “you know, i really think that’s a beautiful lyric”, and in his reply he says to me (and i quote): “thank you kiran / very beautiful lyrics that came from very painful emotions”. and i just thought … well, shit, to say something like to a complete stranger, it just about sets the high watermark for honesty among songwriters doesn’t it. and the thing about his forwardness and his openness is that it really does help too. if i ever feel lonely, or upset about something, or unhappy, all i need is to listen to tracks from “don’t be scared”. “she said i was a real loser / at least i’m real / and being real sometimes / is a losing game”. i obviously don’t want to faithfully emulate his writing style but a lot of my songs lyrically are either very hollow, or very obscure and distant, and i wanted to try and write songs that were more honest and straightforward, in the hope of their composition being therapeutic and maybe to communicate even an iota of the feelings daniel johnston is able to communicate to his listeners in his songs. i wrote a song that was openly political for the first time (you can find more info on that on the ‘working people’ track page), and also with ‘visions of worthless shortcomings’ and particularly ‘eunuch’ tried to be more honest about introspective stuff. ‘eunuch’ actually ended up being a song about trying to be daniel johnston-level honest and failing. the last line of the song, and the motto for the whole record (and the title source of the EP) is “honesty is a noble goal until it comes too close”, because i believe both parts of that statement to be true.

by the way, this record also has the subtitle of “the ‘sorry grapefruit isn’t out yet!’ ep” (cause i’m sorry grapefruit’s not out yet! it’s coming early next year. i promise). and another reason the EP failed at both of its goals is the inclusion of the tracks ‘after the rain came in’ and ‘o hospideiro’, which are older (atrci: written nov 12, recorded jul 15; o hospideiro: recorded mar 15) and so kind of detached from the mental processes that were instrumental in the composition of the three middle tracks. again, you can find more info on them on the track pages.

-kiran (early hours of 01/08/15)

credits

released August 13, 2015

kiran leonard: acoustic guitar, banjo, bass guitar, drum kit, electric guitars, field recordings, finger cymbals, frying pan, mandolin, melodica, muesli packet, piano, reed organ, sandpaper, synthesiser, tambourine, tenor guitar, toms, toy megaphone, violin, voice

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Kiran Leonard has signed to Moshi Moshi and shares here the lead single, ‘Pink Fruit’, to be taken from his forthcoming album, ‘Grapefruit’. ‘Pink Fruit’ is the album’s 16 minute long centrepiece and is released as a one-sided etched 12” vinyl single. Sixteen minutes of twisting turning experiment rock music with ditch dirty guitars and all manner of diversions taking in nods to Shellac, Jeff Buckley, Slint and La Monte Young along the way. Bodes very well for upcoming Grapefruit long player.

The first single from Kiran Leonard’s new album ‘Grapefruit’ out on 25th March 2016. Get this track immediately when you pre-order the album, Also available on one-sided limited edition 12″ etched vinyl: smarturl.it/PinkFruit

© The Vinyl Factory, best 7" vinyl recors of 2015, artist name,

Although he’s been creating music for a few years now, Kiran Leonard (not to be confused with singer-songwriter Kieran Leonard}, who – coincidentally – was a ‘One To Watch’ for 2015! this year has changed direction somewhat and succeeded in creating his own utterly majestic and unique sound.

Following 2013’s Bowler Hat Soup, it was almost hard to believe that this year’s EP Abandoning Noble Goals was by the same guy. At just 20 years of age, Kiran Leonard has already proved himself to be a wonderfully innovative artist.

After a run of festival dates this summer (including wowing me at Green Man), and plenty of airplay particularly from 6Music’s Marc Riley, Leonard’s most recent single ‘Pink Fruit’ is 16 minutes of angst-driven musical bliss. Oozing a dream-like, emotion-strewn cacophony of sound, it’s reminiscent of underrated ’90s grunge outfit Slint, and flows with an eerie, distorted charm. It’s a stupendous work of art that you really must let your ears devour.

With his new album, Grapefruit, due out in March 2016, I’m sure we’ll be hearing a lot more of this unique artist in the new year.

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