Beautifully presented in die-cut, screen-printed jackets, with printed inner sleeves.
‘The infinitely wise drum-driven solar chant of Children Of The Sun, with the profoundly meditative & deeply relevant-to-now space chant They Plan To Leave.’ 
Both from Ra To The Rescue.
Tiny run.

Beautifully presented in die-cut, screen-printed jackets, with printed inner sleeves.
‘Two versions of one of Ra’s most enduring compositions. The classic take featuring vocals by David Henderson, and an alternate instrumental version never before released on vinyl, featuring the almighty John Gilmore on the drum kit!’
Tiny run.

Sensational price for easily the most outstanding release on RSD 2025, imperiously superseding Shandar’s selection of edits. 

The Arkestra at its magnificent peak, in its very first performances outside North America (complete with dancers, light-shows, and psychedelic projections of New York and Chicago, moon rockets, Egyptian Gods and plumed African warriors).
‘Plenty of fiery avant-garde action,’ notes Daniel Spicer in The Quietus. ‘Much of this emanates from Ra’s solo interludes. On piano, he remains a suis generis genius of spontaneous creation, drifting from wistful melodic daydreams to sudden irruptions of violent intensity and back again.
‘Around this time, at the turn of the 1970s, he had also begun his tumultuous explorations of the recently purchased Moog synthesizer. Here, Ra approaches the synth not as an electric guitar substitute, as contemporaries such as The Mahavishnu Orchestra’s Jan Hammer were then doing, but as a furious generator of alien sounds and timbres as though beamed in from some far galactic outpost. There are also group improvisations of boiling energy – often conducted by Ra using a lexicon of theatrical gestures – which forge ahead into the most coruscating free jazz, with saxophonists John Gilmore and Marshall Allen straining at the horn’s limits.
‘And yet, for all that, the shows were approachable, enjoyable and, above all, fun. Across the four hours of music, a wide range of moods are touched upon. There are the many anthemic songs and chants – such as Satellites Are Spinning and We Travel The Spaceways – delivered in vocalist June Tyson’s sweet, down-home tones with enthusiastically ragged call-and-response choruses by the rest of the Arkestra spelling out Ra’s sci-fi philosophy. There are wafting space-ballads; muscular, big band hard-bop workouts; and percussion-heavy rainforest modal jams. Each of the two evening programmes feels like a meandering yet comprehensive journey into the deepest recesses of Ra’s imagination, calling in on all his obsessions and preoccupations.’

‘New and archival recordings all orbiting around the intergalactic soundscape introduced by Sun Ra. Ra’s own a capella I Don’t Believe in Love, recorded by Ra at home in Chicago during the 1950s, kicks the program off. This intimate private recording is followed by two intense new solo improvisations by French guitarist Raymond Boni, one acoustic and one electric, inspired by seeing the Arkestra preparing for a gig in Arles in 1976. The first side wraps up with Jason Adasiewicz’s riveting unaccompanied vibraphone workout on Ra’s Lanquidity and Where Pathways Meet. With a completely different take on Lanquidity, Side Two begins with four wild remixes by legendary Cologne techno pioneer Wolfgang Voigt, using layered samples from the LP. Hailing from the intersection of free jazz and out rock, Ken Vandermark’s band Spaceways Inc., with bassist Nate McBride and drummer Hamid Drake, continue with a Ra medley, in collaboration with the Italian band Zu. And where the program started in disbelief, love-skepticism, it concludes with Joe McPhee’s emphatic loving embrace on Cosmic Love, a classic tenor/synth sound-on-sound recording from 1970.’
With cover art by Emil Schult, who designed classic 1970s LPs for Kraftwerk. Very limited.

Likely recorded in Chicago around 1956; originally released on Saturn. Ra is co-composer on both sides; it could be him playing the harmonium.
‘I had two main vocal groups at the time,’ he once recalled. ‘One was called the Cosmic Echoes. And the Cosmic Rays, too. It was around the same time that John Gilmore joined the band. I saw the possibility that they could be really great so I began to coach them; they were connected with a barber shop, but I taught them other things.’ ‘We’d go down to the barber shops and rehearse some groups,’ added John Gilmore. ‘Sun Ra had them singin’ some beautiful stuff. I think he probably was saving them from themselves. He heard them, heard their potential, snatched them off the street, and started making them do something constructive.’