The illustrious saxophonist’s 1971 recording was his debut as leader, originally released five years later by Arista-Freedom. With Joseph Bowie, Don Moye and Charles Bobo Shaw. Grooving, spiritual; great stuff.
Another tremendous album from Dublin. It kicks off with a devastating reclamation of The Wild Rover — waste, shame and regret restored — and closes with a compelling original, about a community of women living rough (in nests) on the plains of the Curragh, County Kildare, in the nineteenth century. The centrepiece is a dread version of the Appalachian song Katie Cruel, about a sex worker, by way of Karen Dalton. There are revivals of old-time fiddle music from Montana and Missouri; moments of heavy metal hornpipe.
“Drone is a big part of traditional music because the Uilleann pipes are indigenous to Ireland, so we’re ramping up that history and taking it as far as we can.”
Hotly recommended.
Previously a super-scarce JA blank. Hail the almighty Don D’s scorching solo — flashing a split-second premonition of Rico on Message To You, Rudy.
The 1994 return of pioneering electronic guru Richard ‘Heldon’ Pinhas to the forefront of the French underground scene. The fruits of a two-year collaboration with John Livengood from Red Noise and Spacecraft, inspired by Norman Spinrad’s novel Rock Machine. First vinyl issue.
A quintet, with DJ Harrison from Stones Throw on keyboards, drummer Corey Fonville (Christian Scott, Nicholas Payton), bassist Andrew Randazzo, Marcus Tenney on trumpet and Morgan Burr on guitar. Freaking, hiphop-inflected jazz-funk, with its roots in Weather Report, Return To Forever and early Earth Wind And Fire.
Live street funk at its hottest. Sizzling versions of most of the early singles; plus three vocal cuts from the fabulous Betty Barney, who continued to work with the brothers right through the 1970s.
Gorgeous singing by Carlton (from Carlton & The Shoes and The Abyssinians), with tasty nyabinghi drumming in the accompaniment.
“I was writing songs but I didn’t record until 1968. I did one song for Lee Scratch Perry. He gave me £5 and then I didn’t hear anything more about it. Then I went down to Mrs Pottinger, did one song for her named Live and Love on the Gay Feet label. It was played on the radio for a couple of days and it wasn’t going anywhere really because she had some good artists down there at the time and they did some songs that were doing well, so my song wasn’t getting much promotion and it wasn’t being played. I think I heard it twice on the radio and then I didn’t hear it anymore.”
A stupendous, exhilarating mix of Afro-Latino roots, out-jazz and rollicking dance rhythms by this top-notch twenty-piece, from 1988. Killer.