‘The Voice of the People’.

Stephen Cohen’s hushed, affective, dazed underground folk, recorded in Oregon in 1979. Lovely music, beautifully presented by this Japanese reissue label to watch. Guerssen vinyl.

A terrific, bountiful seasonal single — with Bonnie Prince Billy in his cups on one side, and Mike Heron from The Incredible String Band on the other, with a Boxing Day ghost story. Beautifully sleeved, limited.

‘Jesus fucking shit! These jamz claw so hard at the tatties below methinks the Lord misnamed them, having intended to say trembling BALLS’ (Will Oldham). ‘My kind of band… Highly recommended’ (Joe Boyd).

‘brilliant… concise, deeply romantic, totally original ****’ (Mojo); ‘freewheeling and delightfully quirky ****’ (The Guardian); ‘CD Of The Week… terrific’ (The Observer); ‘like nobody ****’ (Sunday Times).

‘New levels of excellence… a poetic incantation of British identity far brighter than Michael Gove’s proposed GCSE history syllabus *****’ (The Sunday Times). ‘Magnificent ****’ (The Guardian).

‘Hair-raisingly good… incandescent’ (The Observer).

Entirely exclusive music, unique to this release, with a radiant silk-screened sleeve: four from The Marble Downs sessions with Will Oldham, a Scott Walker to start; and a side of unaccompanied folk singing.

Superb first album from Andy Cabic, Devendra Banhart, Otto Hauser et al.

‘Bridging the gap between American primitive pioneers John Fahey and Leo Kottke and the California Modernists… the private side of the solo guitar movement from 1966-81.’ 40-page booklet, usual Numero class.

Male folk singers mithering and dithering all the way from 1970 to 1983: very introspective, sombre, spare and intimate, most of it originally pressed privately, plenty of it beautiful and haunting.

‘Gram Parsons had been orbiting the idea of Cosmic American Music for some time. In ‘68, he’d parted ways with the Byrds and was looking to take air with a new project. “It’s basically a Southern soul group playing country and gospel-oriented music with a steel guitar” he told Melody Maker, on the subject of The Flying Burrito Brothers. So it was that when A&M’s Burrito Brothers debut The Gilded Palace of Sin made it to shelves in February of 1969, early adherents to the Cosmic American gospel were already echoing its message from areas flanking Gram Parsons’ Southern California hills and canyons. There was F.J. McMahon in coastal Santa Barbara, Mistress Mary further inland in Hacienda Heights, and Plain Jane of Albuquerque, New Mexico…’

A trippy, littoral compilation of blissed-out folk-funk, Balearic, AOR, and softly fizzing electronica, from long-forgotten early 70s cassettes, right up to date.