The shimmering brilliance of his post-bop Blue Notes, crossed with the JBs and the Family Stone; all of it bathed in Afrofuturism.
We must save jazz from itself, Herbie is saying. Future-shock-treatment; the same surgery pioneered by Miles Davis MD. 
Game-changing music, with the fizz and urgency of a live setting; beautifully recorded.
Speakers Corner always does the business.

It opens with HH alone on concert grand, in a lyrical variation of Maiden Voyage, finally reprised by the band, then startlingly segued with Actual Proof, from the new-out Thrust album: already, the zero-gravity glimpse of a transmogrified jazz standard, sixties dues paid; and Herbie perversely tearing up a fender-rhodes future-classic, on acoustic piano…. then straight into Paul Jackson and Mike Clark, one of the very greatest rhythm sections of all time, setting Spank-A-Lee on fire, with Bill Summers on congas, Herbie returning on electric keys, guitarist DeWayne McKnight (prior to locking onto the Mothership)... the unmistakable opening bars of Watermelon Man, ushering Bennie Maupin into full flight… a slinky, skittering Butterfly… a rowdy Chameleon, with Herbie giving it some Sun Ra… and finally a delirious, twenty-minute, desert-island-disc version of Hang Up Your Hang Ups, funky as anything.

The two dubstep pioneers at the top of their game. Truly an album, the music is multi-levelled — dark as anything at times, but engrossingly varied and emotionally shaded, always on the move.

Cosmic jazz excursions on saxophone, flute, electric keys, synths and drums.
Supple, deep and spacious; sparklingly dubwise; intensely percussive.

An astounding compilation of the breakneck Shangaan dance output of the Nozinja studio in Soweto, recorded between 2006 and 2009.

Terrific new folk music from Dublin. Try the opener, the travellers’ song What Will We Do When We Have No Money? And the centre-piece, the furiously inward-turned immigrant song, Déanta in Éireann. The Granite Gaze… killer.
Hotly recommended.

The tussling vegetables in Mal Dean’s cover-sketch somehow befit perfectly this extraordinary duo of Bailey and the great Dutch drummer Han Bennink. Recorded in London in 1972, Incus 9 was their second record (after an ICP in 1969), becoming a blueprint and inspiration for generations of free-improvisers. It is paired here with a brilliant session from the following year, with the same power and friendly combativeness, and oodles of creativity, technique and humour. It’s obvious how much they loved playing together.

Epiphany \ i-ˈpi-fə-nē \ (1) a manifestation of the essential nature of something (usually sudden) (2) an intuitive grasp of reality through something (usually simple and striking) (3) an illuminating discovery or disclosure.
All three definitions apply perfectly to this span of music recorded at London’s ICA in July 1982. It’s a miracle of group interaction, wonderfully paced, moving steadily between moments of mounting intensity and tension. The passage about halfway through — when Derek Bailey’s harmonics ring out above a sheen of inside piano tremolos and shimmering electronics, topped off by Julie Tippetts’ soaring vocalese — is simply sublime. After which it’s fun to try and tell the two pianists apart. Are those runs Ursula Oppens, with her formidable technique honed from years performing some of the twentieth century’s most difficult notated new music, or are those Keith Tippett’s crunchy jazz zigzags? Are those intriguing twangs from one of Akio Suzuki’s invented instruments or could they be Fred Frith’s or Phil Wachsmann’s electronics? Bah, who cares?
There’s plenty of room for the more delicate instruments too, like Anne LeBaron’s harp picking its way gingerly through a pin-cushion of pings and scratches from Bailey and bassist Motoharu Yoshizawa. Of course, some performers are instantly recognisable: Tippetts, as lyrical and flighty on flute as when she sings, Phil Wachsmann, sinuous and sensitive on violin, and trombonist George Lewis, who, as John Zorn once put it, swings his motherfucking ass off.
So many magical moments abound, from the opening dawn chorus of Tippetts’ voice and Frith’s guitar swooping through a rainforest of exquisite piano cascades, to the Zen calm of the closing moments.
Epiphany, indeed.

Derek Bailey’s guests for Company Week at London’s ICA in July 1982 were contemporary classical pianist Ursula Oppens, folk/jazz singer-turned-improviser Julie Tippetts and her partner pianist Keith Tippett, violinist/electronics wizard Philipp Wachsmann, guitarist Fred Frith, trombonist George Lewis, harpist Anne LeBaron, and from Japan free jazz bassist Motoharu Yoshizawa and sound artist Akio Suzuki.

Altogether they performed the stunning extended improvisation Epiphany.
In different, more intimate lineups they detonated numerous Epiphanies.

Here, to start, Yoshizawa and Oppens (both on the keyboard and inside her piano) bounce ideas off each other like ping-pong balls.
Then Tippetts, Wachsmann and Bailey do extraterrestrial cubist flamenco; and Lewis and Frith rumble at everyone magnificently.
Tippett and Oppens kaleidoscope the entire history of the piano into just over fifteen minutes (Fourth and Fifth) with added seasoning from LeBaron and Wachsmann.
To close, Akio Suzuki — despite once describing himself as “pursuing listening as a practice” — makes one hell of a racket with his self-made instruments: a flute, a spring gong and his analapos (two single-lidded cylinders attached by a long steel coil, which he can manipulate and strike, besides vocalising into the tube). Yoshizawa and Bailey give him a real run for his money, and it all builds to an ecstatic, swirling, grinding climax, with Suzuki whooping and hollering wildly.

‘Bottling the vehemence bursting forth nightly in the downtown NYC loft scene, these 1973 recordings at Marzette Watts’s studio are furious, brutal, and poignant.
‘Mixed and mastered from the original tapes, this expanded 2020 LP edition restores sections of the original record inexplicably excised from the CD release in the nineties, adding more than double the playing time of the original LP, in fascinating variations.
‘Heavyweight vinyl; quality pressing.’

Coloured vinyl.

A compilation of ‘Burger Highlife’, the crossing of West African melodies with synthesizers and drum machines, disco and boogie, which took over Ghanaian airwaves during the 1980s. Dominant figures like Thomas Frempong and George Darko, alongside more elusive, nowadays hard-sought recordings by Aban and Uncle Joe’s Afri-Beat.