Some of the most talented and musically genius artists never get their picture on the album cover, never get interviewed by the press and never have millions of drooling fans waiting for them at awards shows. For most of them, this is exactly how they want it to be. Why? They are session players.

One such session player is also producer, engineer and partner of Studio Brooklyn. Amon took a wealth of knowledge and experience, tossed in an ample dose of obvious passion and served it up on a worldly lush and exotic sound under the moniker Analog Players Society. Simply put, it is a vividly wild and entertaining hurricane of music which gains strength in the heart of Brooklyn.

Eclectically vibrant, deeply organic or as they put it “State of the art 1970’s technology…Nasty horns…Big drums… Sweaty dance floors…Paradise!” make up the heart and soul of Hurricane Season In Brooklyn. The nine track release combines infectious rhythms with a tribal intuition that will imbed itself in you, giving you a drive to dance and rhythm in your step you never knew you had.

Hurricane Season immediately submerses you in “Free.” The audible baptism drenches you in what seems to be an adventurous jam of fierce piano, bongo and horn infused experimentation. But even simply saying “experimentation” doesn’t quite don the appropriate understanding. Without the use of strong subliminal messages you become hypnotized in the rhythm and immediately surrender yourself to something larger than just music. Ever so slightly transitioning into the self-title track we’re given Cecilia Stalin’s vocals (which appear throughout the album). Her jazzy scat delivery beautifully weaves within the music. Analog Player Society taps into that unspoken language that finds the music from within.  This record is incredibly easy to lose yourself in. Each track speaks a dialectal of its own and contributes masterfully to the greater whole. The collective that is Analog Player Society is clearly a coming together of quality musicians who are not afraid to take a chance and they obviously love what they do. Continuing to impress, each song is a great listen. Even the covers of Shannon’s “Let The Music Play” and Wang Chung’s “Dance Hall Days,” done like I’ve never heard them before, are a breath of originality. Hurricane Season is more than nine tracks and just under forty minutes, it is a trance that you want to succumb to.

If you appreciate jazz, scat vocals, island rhythms or even music, than I implore you to listen to Analog Players Society’s Hurricane Season In Brooklyn. And if there is one thing to take away from everything I’ve just said it is that this collective is not about Amon, not about Stalin’s vocals or anyone else who contributed to the record. It is about the music and that is clearly defined in the stressed walls that confine the power and life Analog Players Society has given to notes from a variety of instruments. Dive head first into Hurricane.