Three albums recorded on his brother’s farm in Accokeek, Maryland, in the early 70s. Quite different to his previous releases, the music remains raw and basic, but with vocals and acoustic guitars, mandolins, dobros and piano. ‘An organic blend of downhome music… imbued with a primitive spirituality. There is an unpolished, spontaneous feel to the music which sparks it greedily into life, and the Accokeek earth seems to be ground deep into every groove. You can even hear the frogs croaking outside the shack.’

45s and rarities — classics like Ace Of Spades — recorded for the Swan label of Philadelphia, 1963-67, at his brother Ray Vernon’s rough and ready studio in Washington DC. With younger brother, Doug, on the drums and Shorty Horton on bass, and Ray on second guitar.

The unique and magical sound of Los Siquicos Litoraleños (The Littoral Psychics), as fermented in the rural north of Argentina, land of gauchos, mate tea, chamamé folk music and Psilocybe Cubensis.
‘The contemporary group you keep hoping exist, but can never find. If you were to reach for spiritual comparisons, you wouldn’t be forgetting the most spirited moments from Sun City Girls, Butthole Surfers, Faust, Os Mutantes, Captain Beefheart or The Residents’ (Mark Gergis).

‘An extraordinarily lush, poignant collaboration… Bombscare bleeds mood, space, and texture as sounds ring out and echo into the distance. Hand So Small works like a literate lullaby as musical flourishes appear from thin air, a piano haunts the outskirts of the song, and Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker take turns singing about life “getting smaller.” So Easy (So Far) is perhaps the most traditional Low song, but Spring Heel Jack manages to make the band sound like they’re singing modern day Brothers Grimm tales. Way Behind is a stunning closer. It’s a truly exhilarating song that sounds like it was recorded in heaven, as Parker and Sparhawk again take turns singing angelically that they’ve left someone “way behind” over a jazzy electronic stew full of subtle found-sounds…
‘It’s too bad the collaborators didn’t compile an entire album’s worth of material, as these sixteen minutes seem magically fleeting. Bombscare couldn’t be a more superb collaboration between these innovative artists’ (AllMusic).
First reissue of the original release in 2000.

From 1980, Recife, Brazil: ‘crazed ethno folkrock; magical, gentle, jungle folk psych zones; hard-hitting, coke-dusted fuzz rock; insane mutant disco dancefloor groove; tweaked Americana; acid vocal raga trance.’

Their classic, influential, second Saravah, from 1974, joined by the great Brazilian percussionist Nana Vasconcelos. Leftist folk prog turned outernational psychedelic fusion. Try fourteen-minutes-long La Ville Pue.

The 35th Anniversary Edition of the Ash Ra guitarist’s early-eighties guitars-and-electronics breakthrough, with the original embossing to the cover.
A real game-changer: a momentous influence on Basic Channel, Carl Craig and so many others.
Perfect for zoning out.
It’s a must.

It says ‘Volume 1’ on the cover, and this debut is full of promise, but it’s a one-off, from Nigeria, 1973: African styles grooving together with Latin and Caribbean, US soul and funk, and psych rock.

His first professional studio session — in a cupboard set up to do jingles — produced many of his most famous sides and definitive versions. Stuff like Part Of The Problem, Bloody Knuckles, Teen Routines.

The CD is newly remastered, adding three out-takes and two alternate versions.

The CD is newly remastered — it sounds magnificent —  adding two out-takes and two extended versions. (The ending of Slim Slow Slider is startling.) Surely a must at the price.
Rhino vinyl.

This is terrific.
Brazilian post-punk, art rock and DIY from 1988, released here for the first time, by the duo Celso Alves and Kodiak Bachine (whose records with the band Agentss are desperately sought-after nowadays).
Dubwise and rhythmic, percussive and synthy, with tangy Brazilian roots, and a droll humour to its reflections on embalming, LSD and zombies, the music freewheels roughly and vividly from the truffling, chattering, tropical atmospherics of the opener, through to the machine-funk, Romeroesque terrors of the Greenhouse Massacres, to close. 
Sung in Portuguese and English, studded with Spanish, French and German, the lyrics are reproduced on an insert. Pressed at Pallas.
Ace. Check it out.