A terrific album by the Hen Ogledd conspirator, and collaborator with the likes of Derek Bailey, Bill Orcutt and Jon Butcher.
A telyn rawn is a harp strung with wound and pleated horse hair. (Tristram Shandy would have a field day.) It’s maybe a millennium old; passing into obscurity around two hundred years ago.
“All the music on this album is improvised. I designed and built a long forgotten instrument, engaged with historical texts and poetry, learnt the techniques and music from the Robert ap Huw manuscript and researched the importance of the horse and horse cults in Welsh culture. All these interventions were a means to improvise historically informed music and re-evaluate the legacy of the harp in Wales but ultimately served as a jumping off point so as to create new possibilities.”
The music is warmly compelling: polyphonic, convivial, rootsy, evocative, often mesmeric, sometimes banging.
Ancient Welsh folk veers into koto and kora, Appalachian dulcimer and Norwegian langeleik; the wheezing, wailing, rocking traditions of drones and sawing from Louisiana to Albania are streamed into the Valleys, and out again, changed.
Handsomely presented, too. Hotly recommended.

‘This third solo album is a deep, widescreen exploration in classic Brazilian song with all the subtlety and delicacy you’d expect from the pioneers of Musica Popular Brasileira, coupled with a thoroughly 21st century sensibility and sonic innovativeness. Layers of intricate instrumentation and arrangement make for spellbound, excavatory listening.
‘Recorded following Gomes’ move from Rio to Lisbon, the album is imbued with a sense of unease and cultural dislocation. A number of songs based on the Samba Ostinato explicitly celebrate Brazil’s musical heritage and culture.
‘Led by Gomes’ gentle and dreamy voice, the music is often reminiscent of mighty trailblazers like Caetano Veloso, João Bosco, or Edu Lobo, though it takes unexpected lines of flight into more experimental territory. An element of drone underpinning the whole album takes full charge on Fllux and Transição; and the finale is molten, raging hardcore.
‘A sun-drenched, balmy dream from start to finish.’

All the stuff he did for Smash.

Yellow vinyl.

Legendary, underground French rock from 1980, ranging from lo-fi fuzz to full-blown prog. Each song is presented as the hallucination of a possessed six-year-old. Featuring the fourteen-minute Theme Guerre.

Taut horror soundtrack from 1963: dramatically orchestral, with jazzy intervals.

In its entirety for the first time ever, the soundtrack of the wonderful French TV cartoon series, aired between 1968 and 1974. The GRM luminary goes to town: ‘a fascinating and bizarre collage of wacky electro pop (à la Jean-Jacques Perrey), drones, musique concrète, classical, and dadaist sound experiments seamlessly mixing into a cohesive and cinematic listening experience.’

Late-60s psych folk — a massive underground smash in South Africa — with the calypsofried drug-sick masterpiece Sugar Man.

Recorded in 1971, up the road from us at the Lansdowne Studios, this was the Sugarman’s last shot at the big-time.