Hard on the heels of Alfred Panou, here is another totally knockout Saravah 7”, beautifully reissued by Souffle Continu.
Second from top in Jazzman’s list of the best-ever European 45s, this starts out as an ultra-moody head-nodder, way east of the river Nile, before switching gears into a squalling, sawing, hard groove.
It’s a must.

Truly a bridge from the sixties into a new age, these are landmark, militantly spiritual recordings, with Ron Carter and co, including Andy Bey tearing up the mic, in New York, 1970-1. It’s a must.

Red hot NTU Troop; recorded by Radio Bremen.
Firing versions of Ju Ju Man… Celestial Blues… an unmissable twenty-five minutes of I’ve Known Rivers…

‘This non-academic essay is the first book from Permanent Draft, an all-female record label and micro-press founded by musician Valentina Magaletti and poet and novelist Fanny Chiarello, dedicated to promoting contemporary female, non-binary and transgender artists.
‘Essentially a huge, though non-definitive overview of 2,371 womxn in the global experimental sound and music scene: written in playful and compelling prose, and stylishly presented with photos, illustrations, and discographies.’

‘I pushed myself to write songs and dances uninfluenced by the sophistication of contemporary musical languages, pieces that might have been played on archaic instruments a thousand years ago.’

The fourth Snakeoil; the second (following on from 2015’s You’ve Been Watching Me) to feature a quintet line-up adding guitarist Ryan Ferreira to the core lineup of clarinettist Oscar Noriega, pianist Matt Mitchell and drummer/vibraphonist Ches Smith.
Reviews seem unanimous that it’s the best yet.
‘Characteristically action-packed in the Berne tradition (following on from AACM and his muse Julius Hemphill): powerful, dynamic, often fast-moving — yet also very clear in all its teeming detail. “We somehow achieved more sonic space by adding another player,” says Berne. It’s an impression maintained even when producer David Torn takes up his own guitar in a cameo at the climax of the modestly-titled Sideshow (in reality a 26-minute epic journey), soloing amid thunderous timpani, over a serpentine melody outlined by sax and clarinet.’

‘Minimalism is usually cool, detached, frictionless and mathematical. The music made by percussionist Bex Burch is not any of these things. What she calls ‘messy minimalism’ shares some characteristics with the music of Steve Reich and John Adams, but this is minimalism that isn’t afraid to break into a sweat and get its hands dirty (quite literally, given that Burch actually builds her own instruments from scratch). She mainly plays a gyil, a marimba-like tuned percussion instrument she learned while studying music in Ghana.
‘Burch’s first solo album lands her in Chicago, enlisting trumpeter Ben LaMar Gay and members of Tortoise. Sometimes, the results sound like an earthier Philip Glass: Dawn Blessings pairs her dreamlike, two-note gyil pattern with violinist Macie Stewart’s beautiful harmonies; Don’t Go Back to Sleep sees Burch’s gyil fractionally out of phase with a synthesiser, then spins into hypnotic but disorientating minimal techno.
‘Other tracks get wilder. There are drum circles, water drums and birdsong; tracks that exploit the acoustics of a California canyon. Pardieu turns a three-note xylophone riff into a compelling funk groove; Fruit Smoothie With Peanut Butter is a wonderfully chaotic drum circle that sounds melodic despite not featuring any tuned instruments. Best of all is You Thought You Were Free?, which layers clattering percussion over the wailing siren of a tornado warning relayed over Chicago until it sounds like a freakish fusion of the Master Musicians of Joujouka and Fela Kuti’ (The Guardian).

Alone at the piano, feeling his way with the fewest moves right to the heart of a deadly selection of all-time-great jazz songs, plus a few of his own. Veteran of all those classic Horace Silver, Max Roach and Ntu Troop recordings, his baritone voice is mostly reined in here, but rivetingly, acutely soulful.

Slower and funkier than the Gary Bartz excursion a few years earlier — with Bad Wilbur Bascomb popping away on electric bass, not Ron Carter — this unmissable 1974 version of Celestial Blues was a game-changing revive in the early nineties, a cosmic crossing of Bill Withers, Sly and Brian Jackson, threading trip hop and Jazz Dance through to Madlib.
‘C’mon meditate! Let’s contemplate!’

Recorded in 2000, with more or less the same lineup as Shades Of Bey, and the same richness of repertoire and textures. There are two Milton Nascimento classics, standards like I’ll Remember April and Little Girl Blue, and the sultry original Tuesdays In Chinatown. Top-notch Bey, supported by Ron Carter, Geri Allen, Mino Cinelu and Steve Turre. First time on vinyl. Warmly recommended.

An electrifying, previously unreleased studio album, recorded in 2003, this stunning solo piano suite condenses Mseleku’s visionary overstanding of South African music into a flowing, pulsing statement in six parts. With jazzwise echoes of marabi, amahubo, maskanda and Nguni song forms binding it to the deep music of Mseleku’s Zulu heritage, Beyond The Stars provides what Blue Note recording artist Nduduzo Makhathini describes in his liner notes as ‘a divine summary’ of Bheki’s life story: ‘a sonic pilgrimage from the beautiful and organic landscapes of Durban, to the vibrant energy of London and ultimately toward the inner dimensions of one’s being.’
A magnificent start by new label Tapestry Works.