‘Dedicated to Jaimie Branch, this features a compacted version of Mazurek’s long-running Exploding Star Orchestra, including guitarist Jeff Parker, vocalist Damon Locks, drummer Gerald Cleaver, and pianists Angelica Sanchez and Craig Taborn.
‘Drop the needle and immediately find this crew deep in a chromatic funk fantasy of outer-space grooves and Bartokian riffs. MC Damon Locks brings the Deltron 3030 energy while pianist Craig Taborn and Angelica Sanchez face-off from behind Wurlitzer pianos and Moog synthesizers. Parker is in absolute space shred mode.’

Irresistible mid-eighties dancehall vibes from Music Mountain Studios.

Dark, spooked, early-seventies worries from PU — disguised as M. Zalla, in the throes of his fascination with psychedelia and electronics — with titles like Mondo in Crisi, Problemi Sociali, Azione Sindacale and Mafia Oggi.
Drum-machines, Moog and EMS Synthi.
Still acutely germane; musically and temperamentally.
Demdike Stare has called it the first techno record.

His first solo LP, from 1973, brilliantly produced by Willie Hutch. Highlights include three killers: the sublime, expansive, funky protest of Just My Soul Responding; the achingly beautiful Sweet Harmony; and The Family Song, a two-step classic.

In its entirety for the first time ever, the soundtrack of the wonderful French TV cartoon series, aired between 1968 and 1974. The GRM luminary goes to town: ‘a fascinating and bizarre collage of wacky electro pop (à la Jean-Jacques Perrey), drones, musique concrète, classical, and dadaist sound experiments seamlessly mixing into a cohesive and cinematic listening experience.’

“We try to reach within free jazz the same sort of rhythmic cohesion as in bop… based not exactly on tempo, but something which feels like tempo. A kind of underlying pulse.”
This is Dharma’s first LP: from the same neck of the woods as the Cohelmec Ensemble, a mixture of spiritual jazz, free jazz and electric Miles — especially for its keyboards — infused by the anti-authoritarian politics of collectivism and anti-hierarchism.
Saxophonists Jef Sicard and Gérard Coppéré are moonlighting from Claude Delcloo’s Full Moon Ensemble.

A symphonic layering of phone-taps by Scanner and TT, aka DJ Sprinkles.
Plus some deep, glitchy Ambient by the label-boss, with piano and harpsichord.

The great drummer with Wadada Leo Smith (who chips in a seventeen-minute tribute to Alice Coltrane) and Bill Frisell.

When Cyro Baptista moved to New York in 1980 from his home city of São Paulo, he brought with him an arsenal of percussion instruments, including the cuica (friction drum), surdo (the booming bass drum associated with samba), berimbau (single-string bow with resonating gourd), and cabasas galore, in the next few years deploying them most notably in numerous ensembles curated by John Zorn, who helped set up this studio session in 1982.
As you might expect from someone whose infectious grooves have graced the work of Herbie Hancock, Astrud Gilberto and Cassandra Wilson, Baptista expertly fires off cunning polyrhythms, even traces of thumping samba, with restless fluency. Bailey the wily old fox skirts and eschews the bait, which is quickly conjured away and newly fashioned. The guitarist homes in on the delicious squeaks of the cuica and the twanging drones of the berimbau with truly awesome tonal precision. You could sing along if you wanted, after a caipirinha or two. And he gets almost as many different sounds from his instrument as Baptista can from his kit – check out the stratospheric plings and string-length fret-sweeps of Tonto, which sound more like a prepared piano than an acoustic guitar.
Wonders abound, from the berimbau/bent-string exchanges that open Quanto Tempo to the delightful collision of howling cuica and spiky bebop on Polvo, and the spare, preposterous Webernian samba of Improvisation 3.
These days, ‘improvisation’ often appears without its customary qualifier ‘free’. If there were ever a case to be made for its reinstatement, this album is the best supporting evidence. Freedom means you’re free to get into the groove, free not to, free to play with each other, free to play against each other. Sometimes frustrating, even scary, but more often than not in the hands of these two great masters it’s hilarious, exhilarating and utterly irresistible.

A year after Os Tatuís, José Bertrami returned to the studio, this time stripping back to a trio. Again featuring Claudio Henrique Bertrami on double bass, and with Jovito Coluna on drums, the José Roberto Trio recorded their one and only album in 1966, featuring compositions by Baden Powell, Manfredo Fest, and Marcos Valle. The LP also featured three of Betrami’s own compositions: the wistful Lilos Watts, the groovy Kebar, and the dazzling Talhuama.
Another jewel from the golden age of the Brazilian bossa jazz trio — Bossa Três, Milton Banana Trio, Tenório Jr,,  Bertrami’s own Bossa Jazz Trio — ushered in by the Tamba Trio, and nourished along the way by jazz greats from Nat King Cole to Bill Evans,