Hard bop from 1961: a quintet including Marcus ‘Gemini’ Belgrave, Ronnie ‘Doin The Thang’ Mathews, and Gene Hunt, from Horace Silver’s band.

‘Minimalism is usually cool, detached, frictionless and mathematical. The music made by percussionist Bex Burch is not any of these things. What she calls ‘messy minimalism’ shares some characteristics with the music of Steve Reich and John Adams, but this is minimalism that isn’t afraid to break into a sweat and get its hands dirty (quite literally, given that Burch actually builds her own instruments from scratch). She mainly plays a gyil, a marimba-like tuned percussion instrument she learned while studying music in Ghana.
‘Burch’s first solo album lands her in Chicago, enlisting trumpeter Ben LaMar Gay and members of Tortoise. Sometimes, the results sound like an earthier Philip Glass: Dawn Blessings pairs her dreamlike, two-note gyil pattern with violinist Macie Stewart’s beautiful harmonies; Don’t Go Back to Sleep sees Burch’s gyil fractionally out of phase with a synthesiser, then spins into hypnotic but disorientating minimal techno.
‘Other tracks get wilder. There are drum circles, water drums and birdsong; tracks that exploit the acoustics of a California canyon. Pardieu turns a three-note xylophone riff into a compelling funk groove; Fruit Smoothie With Peanut Butter is a wonderfully chaotic drum circle that sounds melodic despite not featuring any tuned instruments. Best of all is You Thought You Were Free?, which layers clattering percussion over the wailing siren of a tornado warning relayed over Chicago until it sounds like a freakish fusion of the Master Musicians of Joujouka and Fela Kuti’ (The Guardian).

Quite different to A Wonder Working Stone and Spoils, the ten songs here are ‘sparse, intimate and concise. The focus throughout is on Alasdair’s deft acoustic fingerstyle guitar and his voice. The songs are variously elliptical and gnomic, direct and personal, romantic and tender.’ With sparing, decisive contributions on clarinet and tin whistle — and from Crying Lion.

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

The legendary Library album by Sandro Brugnolini and Stefano Torossi, undercover in 1975 for contractual reasons.
Bad-ass headz vibes — madly sampledelic, super-funky, jazzy and widescreen — with the genies of Herbie, Barry White, Isaac Hayes and the Mizells, all in the mix.

A highly collectible, 1978 one-away by a group of high school friends in St Louis, featured on the recent Private Wax compilation. ‘A fantastic example of the Modern Soul sound which bridged the gap between Northern and Disco, introducing synthesisers alongside incredibly tight vocal harmonies and lush instrumental arrangements.’