CD from Sony.

This is a top-notch reissue, with scrupulous sound restoration, and a lyric sheet in card.
Intrepidly sourcing Cal Schenkel’s original cover photograph for maximum definition and colour, it’s never looked so good, either,
Highly recommended, even if you’ve already got a copy.

The original album cut AAA (fully analogue) from original master tape; and a bonus LP including previously unreleased alternate versions and outtakes from the recording sessions.

A lovingly presented, outer-disciplinary collaboration featuring Ben Lancaster playing Moog, Sean Roche on saxophones, and visual artist Justin Hibbs. The music is a no-nonsense jazz stomper with Sun Ra running through its veins, and an eastern flavour; in two quite different arrangements.

‘Twelve frenetic bursts of scrapyard detournement, meticulously stitched together with dubbed-out vocals and disjointed drum machines, at the limits of bedroom electronica and DIY. Originally released in 1982 on his own Record Sluts label, in a single run of five hundred copies. Recommended to fans of Suicide, 20 Jazz Funk Greats and early Cabaret Voltaire.’

The GRM don letting his hair down, in this 1982 soundtrack to the film Rock, performed on a TR-808 drum-machine, Synthi AKS, and Farfisa organ and clavinet. Nineteen shots mixing together electro, Radiophonics and John Carpenter. Bracing, brilliant, highly accessible; warmly recommended.

New minings of his mountains of work for the screen — dozens of documentaries, shorts, features, animations — and for dance, stage and television.

Coloured vinyl.

Unique improvised pop from 1974, by Jean-Jacques Birgé — one of the first French synthesizer players (ARP 2600) — and guitar virtuoso Francis Gorgé.
‘Have you ever imagined what a meeting between the Silver Apples and Sonny Sharrock would sound like?’

Instrumentals on electric guitar and organ. Tiny pressing from last year.

‘Bisk is back… as cheerfully unhinged as ever… absurd and exhilarating in equal measure. The Japanese producer’s drum programming weaves through knotty thickets of syncopated beats and white-noise bursts, chasing ghosts and dodging potholes. His samples are fragmentary dispatches from far-flung points, and any given musical phrase might shoehorn multiple worlds into wobbly union—free improv with easy listening, kindergarten recess with NASA Mission Control. Beneath each drum hit lies a potential trap door, and his melodies, if that’s what you can call his tangled scraps of electric bass and modal keys, ricochet like pinballs repelled at every turn by shuddering mechanical bumpers’ (Pitchfork).