With Larry Young, Elvin Jones, and Bobby Hutcherson.

‘Young is exceptional, very much on form, and Hutcherson makes an enormous contribution to a slower-paced and more meditative session than he’d normally favour’ (Penguin Guide to Jazz).
‘Bittersweet and beautiful, Street Of Dreams will be enjoyed by anyone who loves Idle Moments’ (All About Jazz).

‘By turns gleeful, sensitive, urgent and ruminative, this is a brilliant set that plays to the trio’s formidable strengths… Hearteningly delightful contemporary music-making’ (The Guardian).
‘A spare, de-cluttered, étude-like qualitymusic of sometimes unassuming but penetrating emotion and structural focus… full of the detail given to artists with powers of judgment to match the command of their instruments’ (Jazzwise).

‘Tony Williams was barely twenty-three when he put the Lifetime trio together in 1969, only five years past his stint as the engine of the Miles Davis Quintet. Emergency!, the group’s sprawling double-album debut, paired Williams with organist Larry Young and a little-known British guitarist named John McLaughlin, and the record still stands as one of the founding documents of jazz-rock fusion — loud, unruly, ahead of where the rest of the music was standing.
‘The original Polydor LP, mixed by Gene Radick and mastered by Lee Hulko, caught that ferocity on tape but never quite in the grooves; low end swallowed the drums, and the whole thing arrived compressed into something closer to sludge than three musicians clearly having the time of their lives…
‘Mastering engineer Michael Brändli did this thingamajig Reference restoration and set against the 1969 pressing the gap is not subtle. Williams’ drums, once smothered under tape hiss and organ bleed, now hit with real transient snap. His cymbal work—skittering, argumentative, never just keeping time—finally gets the room the LP never gave it. Young’s Hammond pulls apart into distinct registers instead of one low howl, and McLaughlin’s guitar sits up front without the digital harshness that dogged later reissues too…
‘The 1969 LP sounded like a fight recorded from the next room, three musicians throwing punches through plaster. Brändli’s remaster tears the wall down. Nothing about the performance has changed; everything about hearing it has’ (All About Jazz).

On harp and piano — with Pharoah Sanders (soprano sax), Vishnu Wood (oud), Rashied Ali (drums), Cecil McBee (bass), Charlie Haden (bass), Majid Shabazz (bells, tambourine), Tulsi (tamboura).
Transcendent jazz from 1970; full fathom five deep but compellingly accessible. Our favourite of all her records, and over the decades our first recommendation as an introduction to her work.
According to AC’s sleeve note, ‘Anyone listening to this selection should try to envision himself floating on an ocean of Satchinandaji’s love, which is literally carrying countless devotees across the vicissitudes and stormy blasts of life to the other shore.’

Over three hundred pages: numerous previously-unpublished photographs of Sun Ra and the Arkestra by Hartmut Geerken and Val Wilmer; a fully revised discography by Chris Trent, co-author of The Earthly Recordings Of Sun Ra; articles by Amiri Baraka, Chris Cutler, Robert L. Campbell, Salah Ragab and others; and newly gathered, full-colour images of hundreds of Sun Ra album covers, posters, handbills and ephemera, including reproductions of rare, hand-drawn, hand-coloured LP sleeves.
French fold cover, metallic foil blocking on cloth, hardback; 290mm x 245mm.
Fab. Pricey, but it’s a must, let’s face it (and Amazon has the previous, inferior edition for a grand).

His swansong, in 1962, setting his warmly bluesy, swooping beseechments within the new jazz bossa sound. With Willie Bobo on drums. Kenny Burrell is superb.

‘Charles Lloyd pays homage to his dear friend and longtime collaborator, master-tablaist Zakir Hussain. The album is built around studio recordings made in Mumbai in 2009 for an interrupted project featuring an expanded ensemble with drummer Eric Harland, Carnatic singer Vijay Prakash, Rakesh Chaurasia on bansuri, Sabir Khan on sarangi, Ranjit Barot on keyboard, and Niladri Kumar on sitar.’

This 1954 vocal LP was the trumpeter’s idea. Pretty much everyone in the studio was sceptical, but Baker stuck to his guns during the numerous takes required to iron out his tuning. ‘I thought it was bullshit,’ recalled his close collaborator, pianist Russ Freeman. ‘Louis Armstrong and Jack Teagarden sang like jazz singers. This was ballads. Totally meaningless.’ Metronome magazine pilloried Baker’s ‘abysmal vocal deficiencies’, like ‘a four-month-old baby’s lack of coordination because he can’t walk.’
Punters loved it. The same year, audience polls in Down Beat magazine made him best trumpeter and best vocalist, above Miles Davis and Nat King Cole. This LP became his best-seller, over the decades. Its version of My Funny Valentine is arguably definitive.

The sexual and racial politics of its reception run fascinatingly deep. Baker’s ‘white’, ‘effeminate’ singing style demurs a throw-down with ‘expressive’, ‘black’ machismo. (Bob Dorough, Mose Allison, and Michael Franks are fellow travellers.) ‘A lot of people thought — foolishly so — that because of the way I sang, I, y’know, liked fellas or something,’ Baker once remembered, nervously. According to his biographer James Gavin, the album made him the first jazz musician with a ‘strong homosexual following’. Pacific Jazz producer Dick Bock’s marketing survey in 1955 found that most of Baker’s fans were women who wanted to hear him sing. It was a massive hit in Brazil, too, coursing into the bossa nova movement via admirers like Joao Gilberto and Nara Leao.

His unmissable debut as leader in 1960, bringing with him Sam Jones and Jimmy Cobb from the Adderleys’ set-up. Highlights include the reclamations of three mighty Timmons originals — Moanin’, already recorded by Art Blakey, and Cannonball’s This Here and Dat Dere — and a near-solo rendition of Lush Life.
Unmistakable, irresistible jazz pianism — grooving, direct, gospelised, funky.

‘Verve Vault.’