CD from Sony.

Good grief, it’s actually The Chi-Lites, on a John John update of Sleng Teng.

A bit like Surf’s Up-era Beach Boys on serious downers, mixed with a more abstract, moody Spiritualized or Grandaddy: great spacious and warped sounds from the Montreal duo of Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas.

Soulful, rootical early set from the great man, with rich, brilliant backing from percussionists Trio Mocoto.

‘Committed to tape on February 20, 1979… a real declaration of identity for Loren. He was introducing himself publicly as a guitar player, although his approach was still very much dictated by the influence of the painter, Mark Rothko, who Loren once described as using a minimal palette to create vital art… The feel to this session is bluesy, in as much as Loren’s wordless vocals have a surface similarity to a hellhound’s, and while he was not using a slide, most of the notes he plays are bent to the edges of their known range. Fahey always said blues was ‘about’ anger, though there’s not really any of that here. I am more reminded of this Rothko quote. ‘You’ve got sadness in you, I’ve got sadness in me ... and my works of art are places where the two sadnesses can meet, and therefore both of us need to feel less sad.’ The first side is solo. On the second Loren is joined for a bit by Kath on hums and recorder. The music brims with sorrow more than anything else. And while it’s clear Loren was embracing an abstract avant garde aesthetic vis-a-vis his playing, the urge to communicate seems to lie at its roots. Whatever you choose to call it, this is the beginning of something quite beautiful’ (Byron Coley).

Numerous rarities and unissued gems, together with all her best sides: the essential Maxine Brown.

‘Berceuse Heroique back in the fray with the first of three twelves serenading sound system culture. An invocation of the long-lost spirits of pure, heavyweight, hardcore hedonism.
‘Border Control is a fight anthem against Brexit, fusing the industrial slant of Brummie techno with the jungle techno pressure of the early nineties. The Dillinja-esque bassline of Fortune Teller tolls the death knell for all tin pan speakers. Loose Cables is an uncanny ringer for one of Pinch’s most underrated tunes, The Attack Of The Killer Robot Spiders.
‘Pinch runs the voodoo down one more time. He sounds totally pissed off and more fresh than ever.’

Alone at the piano, feeling his way with the fewest moves right to the heart of a deadly selection of all-time-great jazz songs, plus a few of his own. Veteran of all those classic Horace Silver, Max Roach and Ntu Troop recordings, his baritone voice is mostly reined in here, but rivetingly, acutely soulful.

Slower and funkier than the Gary Bartz excursion a few years earlier — with Bad Wilbur Bascomb popping away on electric bass, not Ron Carter — this unmissable 1974 version of Celestial Blues was a game-changing revive in the early nineties, a cosmic crossing of Bill Withers, Sly and Brian Jackson, threading trip hop and Jazz Dance through to Madlib.
‘C’mon meditate! Let’s contemplate!’

Recorded in 2000, with more or less the same lineup as Shades Of Bey, and the same richness of repertoire and textures. There are two Milton Nascimento classics, standards like I’ll Remember April and Little Girl Blue, and the sultry original Tuesdays In Chinatown. Top-notch Bey, supported by Ron Carter, Geri Allen, Mino Cinelu and Steve Turre. First time on vinyl. Warmly recommended.

The original 1957 performance — kotos and marimbas alongside HP varieties like the Chromelodeon and the Harmonic Canon — with splendid artwork including rare documents and photographs.