A follower of the celebrated Cheikh El Afrite, young Raoul taught himself oud, and sang solo for his local synagogue choir — also drawing inspiration from the munchid singing of Sulamia, the largest Sufi brotherhood in Tunisia. In 1934, aged twenty-three, his first album was a smash. Maghreb audiences revered him for his fidelity to his own national traditions, undistracted by more fashionable Lebanese and Egyptian styles.
Ya Samra hymns a prettily-tattooed, blushing, date-flavoured brunette; in Aala Khadek the dirty rascal fancies himself to be a bee, closing in on the delicious nectar secreted in the beauty spot of his beloved.

Drawn from his six monumental singles for the Philips, Amha and Yared labels between 1970-73, revolutionising traditional Eritrean music via the innovations of amplified kirar, electric guitar and horns. Thick, deep declarations and considerations of love over a mixture of sombre and joyous tunes (with the hand-clapped beat often shifting into double-time near the end).
Co-released with Mitmitta Musika in Addis Ababa; handsomely presented in a tip-on sleeve, with extensive liner notes, translations and exclusive photos.
Fab.

The magnificent Moroccan singer in settings of eighth-century poems by the Sufi saint Rabi’a Al-‘Adawiyya.

Tear-up cumbias from this mighty label’s treasure-rooms, handsomely sleeved.

‘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.’

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

Afro-Funk, boogie and dancefloor prog banged out zealously by Rob ‘Roy’ Raindorf and an army band named Mag-2, from Ghana.

The guitarist’s debut album, inspired by a road trip through Brazil, taking in a Sun City Girls show in a remote former gay club, and a visit to a spiritual healer. He leads upright bass, drums, vibraphone, saxophone and percussion.

‘I decided that I would try to forge, in my own way, from my references, from my universe and from the collective intelligence and sensibility that surrounded me, fundamental melodies, repetitive, minimal, hypnotic rhythmic and harmonic patterns that would be crossed by some sort of improvisation, something that referred to a reality that existed before my individual history, that linked to the life of other places and other times.’

‘unique and beguiling…evocative and profound… music of rare depth’ (The Wire).
‘taps into the common ground between meditative, ambient and trance musics… delightful’
(Chris May, All About Jazz).