If Jean Logarin did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him. Never mind your outsider composers; never mind your library music. Never mind your merely unreleased records. Jean Logarin's music, like some recent unearthings by Belgium's Ultra Eczema label, exists at a remove from publicity so complete that it was nearly not among us, and has never been before. Like any obscurity, its immediate appeal might be that this music could count as a more genuine artifact of its time than any more commercial product, by virtue in part of its being outside of history. Jean Logarin's music is definitely outside of history, but it is no artifact. It is so deeply consonant with the best contemporary electronic music that it is hard to believe it isn't brand new. But the biographical details, however elusive of our usual channels of verification, speak for themselves: Logarin studied under Andrew Rudin during the early '70s; his interest in electronic music further developed while working as a studio assistant for engineer Max Tanguy, an associate of famed Krautrock producer, Conny Plank. Through Tanguy, Logarin met percussionist Hans Schule, an eccentric whose shady wealth bankrolled a series of recording sessions at Tanguy's studio. Together with Logarin's then-girlfriend, Llissa Zuckovich, Tanguy, Schule and Logarin proceeded to compose in the studio several hours' worth of finished pieces whose original purpose and intention have only become cloudier with time. There was no serious attempt made to release it, and only vague talk of attempting to sell it for commercial usage. The music on Makes You Feel is, then, from a historical perspective, purely a vanity project. A vanity project within a vanity project, even: None of the pieces were given titles by Logarin, and the name "Temporal Marauder" does not pre-date this release. The album was compiled, its presentation determined, by its own first fan. And here is where the story strains credulity, because it requires believing that Jean Logarin one day met, by chance, accordionist and composer Guerino Raglani, who even then was uncle to a young Joseph Raglani, today trafficking in romantic, Kraut-tinged electronics under his own name. Two years ago, the elder Raglani passed onto his nephew a set of DAT transfers of his old tape reels, among which were (what have proven to be the only known) copies of Logarin's studio recordings. The younger Raglani, so the story goes, flipped out -- became 'nearly scared,' in his own words -- and demanded to know more. His uncle shed what light he could on how he came into possession of the tapes (a funny story in itself), but it took an extensive search to find any accessible trail to Logarin. While Jean and the rest of the erstwhile group were pleasant enough when located, and happy to lend their support to the belated discovery of their work, each was mostly surprised anyone would want to go to the trouble; particularly Logarin, who declined the invitation to be involved in the project beyond its approval, and encouraged Joseph to come up with the album's names and titles himself. So, the project became Raglani's, and it bears the impression of his own aesthetic stamp, drawing from a range of references he and Logarin discovered they had in common. One may search for further information about Jean Logarin beyond these and a few other bare facts, but only in vain; he does not wish to be known. But to anyone who supposes that music this enjoyable and exciting, however buried, would've already been found by now if it actually existed, I would suggest that it has arrived at just the right time to be heard. And to those who will inevitably question if Logarin himself is real, the only straight answer is that we have his music. How could he not be real?" --Michael Ferrer. Images from Jean Logarin's diary. Layout by Jeremy Kannapell.