With Stanley Clarke, Cecil McBee, Eddie Henderson, Carlos Garnett, Gary Bartz and Buster Williams.

With Barry Guy and Tony Oxley in 1971. Gatefold sleeve.

Sublimely beautiful, emotionally wide-open meditations on a wonky piano, exploring the same spare, enraptured equivocacy — getting lost in order to find or recover something — which you hear in Satie, Mompou, Cage, Duke, Monk, Masabumi Kikuchi…

‘Mashu leaves nowhere to hide, his playing is poised and coolly controlled, focusing on the beauty of simplicity and purity. 
‘The lo-fidelity plays a part too, these recordings are clearly diaristic, caught close up, granular and beautifully blown out in places, adding a level of cohesion to a genuinely special suite of music that melts so effortlessly into the everyday.’

Very warmly recommended.

‘A wobbly loop of found sound. Almost inaudible speech from an unidentified documentary. Lapping waves of folk guitar created at the edges of the player’s ability. A haunted melodica. Mumbled vocals that reinvent the singer’s uncertainties as a deliciously glum pose. Layer these up in the recording software of your choice. Labour in a back bedroom overlooking the railway line to summon ghosts.
‘Spirits arrive from West Yorkshire, from Glasgow and Dunedin, from the suburban Midwest. Rising from squats and university accommodation past, from damp rooms filled with old paperbacks, stale hash smoke and abandoned mugs of tea.
‘Even as you listen to this collection of home recordings, made over the last few years by South London duo Jemima, these ghosts crowd around. Born in the Seventies to chase the tape experiments and gentle strumming of the Sixties they crane their necks and edge closer to the laptop. When something this perfect comes along, even the most tranquillised must stir their stumps.
‘It’s lonely music created around a wine bottle with a candle in it, made too late to appear via Xpressway or Cordelia. Don’t imagine though, that it has no home in the now. These spectres remain close because they know they are still wanted. We need them as much as they need us.
‘This spell-binding LP is a window onto a half-lit world on a deeper plane of consciousness.’

First formed as the Underground Musicians Association in the early 1960s, Tapscott always wanted his group to be a community project. From its base in Watts, UGMA got down at the grassroots. They played for the people, organising fundraisers in parks and coffee houses, hosting teach-ins and workshops for young and old, and mixing it with radical theatre groups, firebrand poets, political radicals, Black separatists, community groups and churches. They lived communally, supporting each other and their people, and built an ark for the Black arts in the heart of the city. The group was renamed the Pan-Afrikan Peoples Arkestra in 1971, and soon after they established a monthly residency at the Immanuel United Church of Christ which ran for over a decade, while still playing all over Los Angeles and beyond. But through all this, they never released a note of music.
It was the intervention of Tom Albach, a fan of Tapscott and the group, that finally got them on wax. Determined that their work should be documented, Albach founded Nimbus Records specifically to release the music of Tapscott, the Arkestra, and the individuals that comprised it. The first recording sessions in early 1978 yielded enough material for two albums, and the first release was Flight 17. From the surging avant-gardism of Herbie Baker’s opener to the laid-back summertime groove of Kamonta Lawrence Polk’s Maui, or Roberto Miranda’s uptempo Latin jam Horacio, Flight 17 showcased the radical voices of the Arkestra’s members.
Available on LP for the first time in forty years, in a lovingly re-created gatefold sleeve, adding two tracks never before on vinyl, this is the first flight on wax of the West Coast’s foundational community big band — energised, hip and together.
Open up the gates and prepare for departure!