Superb singing, in Urdu, with reined-in accompaniment by Vijay Iyer on pianos and electronics, Shahzad Ismaily on bass and Moog.

Her 1956 Atlantic debut, key to the splitting of jazz singing into rhythm and blues and soul. Lavern was Memphis Minnie’s niece. Her stage-name in her teens was ‘Miss Sharecropper’.

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.

Irresistible duets from 1955 (with Again and Porgy & Bess to come).
Their stylistic incompatibility is the spark: spontaneity, love, respect, and consummate musicianship shine the brighter.

Terrific, propulsive, widescreen version of the Jon Lucien classic, flavoured with Curtis, featuring brilliant percussion by Montego Joe, alongside Ron Carter, Richard Tee, Ron Carter… Plus a Moondance excursion, on the flip.
One for the HJ pensioners massive.

Wonderful. ‘One of the greatest recordings of jazz history,’ Nat Hentoff wrote in Down Beat.
Try Louis’ opening duet with Velma Middleton, an extravagantly affirmative New Orleans blues about sex, sexual attraction, sexual exploitation, sexual violence and death. A massive, rumbling groove, with choice male-female banter, and extended soloing, sent from heaven.
‘He always had a sense of humour so lacking in musicians of today,’ said Sun Ra. ‘He is part of my destiny.’

With guests Kit Downes on hammond organ, and cellist Lucy Railton.
Jazz album of the month, in The Guardian: ‘an unusual path, combining spellbinding singing with wayward improv… Speak Low II foregrounds Cadotsch’s crystal-clear lyricism more than its predecessor without ever cramping the freedoms of her classy improvising partners. She brings a graceful accessibility to a personal and ingeniously offbeat setup.’

A no-frills, loving tribute — with Shirley’s longtime drummer Steve Williams and double bassist Curtis Lundy (brother of Carmen), formerly of Betty Carter’s group; also the fine pianist Alex Minasian and trumpeter Till Brönner.

Killer. Sublimely moody Latin jazz — our favourite recording by this great jazz singer — with expert accompaniment by Francy Boland, Kenny Clarke, Sahib Shihab, Ake Persson and co. On the flip, Just Give Me Time is a dynamic, full-flavoured bossa.

Classy gospel soul, with a drop of funk and a couple of heavy breaks.
Featuring the early-70s Fantasy gang including Bernard Purdie and Richard Tee; The Reflections doing backing vocals; ace horns; Van Gelder engineering.

Knockout, anthemic rare groove, from the 1979 album Life, Love And Harmony. Ultra-jazzy, classy, and exultant, this is Nancy Wilson at her very best. She even throws in a quickfire Louis Armstrong impression. That’s John Klemmer playing saxophone.
Backed with The End of Our Love, a northern soul floor-filler from 1968, hard to come by.
Ace.

A stunning complement to Theme De Yoyo!
Panou was an activist and actor, in Paris from Benin; he plays a refuse collector in Jean-Luc Godard’s Weekend. His texts here cross existentialism and Black Power like a knockabout Richard Wright, with an extra shot of anti-colonialism. Recorded by Pierre Barouh for Saravah, in the same months as its classic Comme A La Radio LP with Brigitte Fontaine, furthering the AEC’s rowdily brilliant elaborations of Leroy Jones’ Black Dada Nihilismus.
It’s a scorcher; hotly recommended.

The recording debut of this former Miss Indiana, future disco queen; with a nice Herbie.