Be My Babyꨄ  romantic-reggae🌴✪

In Those Days is a dark-fantasy jazz/blues concept album built on the book of Judges—half film score, half rock opera, all one continuous world.

Obligé scores a crownless Canaan with smoky horns, upright bass, haunted guitars, and stormy drums: temple nightclubs for Baal, crooked odd-meter stealth for the left-handed assassin, noir prophecy under the palm tree, iron chariots rolling like war machines, midnight tension in Jael’s tent, Gideon shaking in a winepress, a daughter caught in the teeth of a vow, and a man who looks ordinary but tears down gates and pillars by a strength that makes no sense.

Some tracks play like pure score, others like songs sung from inside the story, but the same themes keep resurfacing—motifs slipping between sax lines and vocals, big-band blasts giving way to quiet, wounded prayers. This is Judges as a jazz-shadowed myth: no king, too many gods, and a handful of fragile people trying to stand up in the ruin.

Cue of the Wanderers

Buck Ramble at the Picture Show is not just a soundtrack — it is a séance.
A record made of celluloid ghosts, dusty marquees, missing reels, and outlaw sincerity, assembled from the fragments of Ramble’s strangest cinematic years.

Recorded during the decade when the studios didn’t know what to do with him — when he was too serious for comedies, too haunted for hero roles, and too poetic for drive-in westerns — these tracks capture the moment where the legend broke away from the films and became something larger.

Each song on this album was originally written for a different Buck Ramble picture:

some released in compromised form,

some recut for television,

some never screened outside of a single town’s closing night,

and at least one (Hell at High Noon) that survives only as a burned-through print in a county archive.


The music is larger than the movies that held it.
Where the budget ran out, the voice kept going.

This album collects those performances as they were meant to be heard — stripped of studio edits, laugh tracks, narration overdubs, and all the compromises that once buried them. What remains is the sound of a man acting with absolute seriousness inside films that were often collapsing around him, singing to audiences that may never have existed… and meaning every word.

In these songs, we hear:

the romantic outlaw who stole trains just to make love last,

the weary investigator who hunted sins older than the badge itself,

the villain who watched the canyon burn and called it beautiful,

the sheriff in moccasins who treated a comedy like it was scripture.


If the movies couldn’t contain Buck Ramble, the songs did.

Buck Ramble at the Picture Show plays like a lost theater rediscovered in the woods —
one final reel still spinning in the dark,
projecting a man who never stopped believing
that every story — even the broken ones —
deserves a song worth dying for.

Ride That Horse, Even If It’s Indoors

WILDE KATZ

A lost rider and a singing companion are swept into the oldest story ever told.

After a desperate ride through a midnight storm, Buck Ramble and his faithful tenor companion arrive on the outskirts of Bethlehem just as the angel appears to the shepherds. They were never meant to be there—yet somehow they are. Their arrival shifts the story, and the angel turns to confront them. If they want the world to remain whole, they must remain and make it right.

What follows is a sacred western journey seen through the eyes of a man and his horse who never expected to witness a miracle. They follow the angel’s command to Jerusalem, where the Festival of Lights fills the Temple with fire and song. There, in the arms of an old man named Simeon, they behold the Child who would someday call Himself the Light of the World.

The encounter changes everything. They ride back not with answers but with peace—carrying a quiet flame that was never theirs to earn. The final songs are not about what happened, but what remains: light for the weary, mercy for the broken, and peace for every stranger still out on the road.

Part Christmas album, part biblical epic, part sacred western myth, Festival of Lights is the story of men who stumbled into prophecy by accident—and stayed long enough to be transformed.

Summary Themes:

Doubt & faith

Accident & providence

Smallness & glory

Light carried through darkness

The gentleness of redemption

The way God works in ordinary men

Tone:

Cinematic, reverent, frontier, mid-century hymn, sacred Americana, biblical poetry, quiet emotional catharsis.

This isn’t just a Christmas album.
It’s a pilgrimage.
And somewhere in its journey, the listener finds themselves in the story too.

Peace to Every Stranger

WILDCAT

Western Noir — Mercy’s View, 1899

In the fading year of 1899, a Scotsman arrives in the frontier town of Mercy’s View searching for his missing brother. What he finds is silence, and what the town hides is a mine that needs bodies more than workers.

Leland Washburn — a private investigator known for spotless boots and spotless instincts — follows the trail into the earth, and into himself. Beneath the dust and manners, beneath the hymns and bookkeeping, he discovers a machine built on vanishing lives.

Washburn is a Western Noir instrumental score — part blues lament, part psychological descent, part forensic hymn. Muted trumpet replaces harmonica, tremolo guitar replaces saloon swing, and the frontier becomes a crime scene.

Composed and performed by Avaline Ingels, the music moves with the patience of a man cleaning a gun he hopes not to use. Every track is a step deeper into the mine—the case, the conscience, the miry mind.

No one leaves Mercy’s View clean.
Washburn least of all.

Mop the Floor with Me

Volant Records is a story-driven label and shared universe: cinematic concept albums, stutter-house, western sagas, haunted pop, and hymn-like instrumentals. Home to Jupiter Morrow, Avaline Ingels, Shadow Face, Buck Ramble, Choralith and more. All Worlds Reserved®.