From 1961, featuring Charlie Rouse… though the stand-out is Just A Gigolo, by Monk solo.

Terrific 1963 date with Charlie Rouse, John Ore and Frankie Dunlop.
Originals and standards; nothing Monk hadn’t recorded before. Bubbling, chewy versions of Hackensack and Rhythm-A-Ning; a fabulous, seven-minute, solo Don’t Blame Me.
As Baroness Nica notes poshly on the sleeve, ‘this is the happiest of albums, leaving one with an extraordinary feeling of elation.’

Released to celebrate his centennial, here is the great jazz guitarist live in performance in Berkeley, California, in 1962; with Johnny Griffin, Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb.
All the recordings from these sessions — our absolute favourite Wes Montgomery — including two previously unreleased performances.
‘Montgomery seems never to have played anything lacking his innate mirth and happiness. In that he had an amiable Midas Touch that made his performances uplifting and immediately identifiable. Montgomery had a tangible simpatico with Kelly, both being superb blues and ballads players. When unison playing, the two are of one mind, that of swing and propulsion. Griffin’s presence adds a woody organicness that is both fecund and free (AllAboutJazz)’.

Generally considered his best studio album.
‘His solo on West Coast Blues is very nearly incredible’ (The Penguin Guide To Jazz On CD).
A quartet session from 1960, featuring wonderful accompaniment by Tommy Flanagan.

Terrific solo guitar recordings of the Catalan’s own compositions — in the flamenco tradition, but also nodding to Baroque music, specifically Bach.

Of this Jamaican pianist’s whole heap of recordings — running all the way back to Clue J and the Blues Blasters, at Studio One — here is one of our clear favourites: a quartet date (including Montego Joe on congas) in 1972, kicking off with a scintillating go at Richard Evans’ Montevideo, copped off Ahmad Jamal, and featuring an unmissable, funked-up commandeering of the title track.

Originally relelased on the Moondog label in 1955.

Originally released by Epic in 1953.

From the 1950s, when Moondog was homeless and busking in NYC. ‘His later records may be better known, but this is the real shit’ (Byron Coley, The Wire).
Startlingly remastered at Abbey Road.