An intrepid, winning survey of Wackies’ precious first forays in Digi. Old boys Horace Andy and Milton Henry deal the aces. Step forward, Chris Wayne.
With three previously-unreleased sides.
Silk-screened sleeve.

‘A transcendental new music,’ wrote Lester Bangs, ‘which flushes categories away and, while using musical devices from all styles and cultures, is defined mainly by its deep emotion and unaffected originality.’

His neglected 1970 masterpiece.
The first side brings into focus the best things about Bitches Brew, with lethal menace; the second lays out a blueprint for Ambient and Fourth World.
Hotly recommended.

From one of his most creative periods, leading the Vibration Society — Ron Burton, Dick Griffin, Jerome Cooper and co — through one-of-a-kind, freewheeling, radiant wonders like The Inflated Tear (about his going blind) and Volunteered Slavery. Stevie’s My Cherie Amour pops up, trailering next year’s Blacknuss LP.
Kirk called it all ‘black classical music’.

The recording of a performance at Studio 104, Maison de la Radio, recycling One for Juan from Jimmy Heath’s Love And Understanding LP for Muse, and Watergate Blues and Smilin’ Billy, both from the Bros’ recent Marchin’ On LP.

‘That was the first Heath Brothers album. Stanley Cowell had started the Strata-East label with Charles Tolliver, and they engaged us to do a record. It was a family affair, and we adopted Stanley because we thought he was amazing. That was a different type of record for us. We recorded it while we were on tour in Oslo, Norway. We used to get on the train and travel around Europe, and we’d be playing in these cabins on the train. Percy played a bass with a cello body that Ray Brown created, Tootie and I played flutes, and Stanley played a chromatic African thumb piano. People would stop and listen to us on these trains going from one country to the next, and it was something that they liked. It was like a chamber-music group. So we decided to include that sound on the record.’

The version of Smilin’ Billy is a show-stopper.

‘Classic Vinyl Series.’

The return of Jim O’Rourke’s Moikai imprint, after an interlude of two decades.
‘Threading together twelve distinct episodes into a flowing whole, Spectral Evolution alternates moments of airy instrumental interplay with dense sonic mass, breaking up the pieces based on chord changes with ambient ‘Spaces’. At points reduced to almost a whisper, at other moments Toral’s electronics wail, squelch, and squeak like David Tudor’s live-electronic rainforest. Similarly, his use of the guitar encompasses an enormous dynamic and textural range, from chiming chords to expansive drones, from crystal clarity to fuzzy grit: on the beautiful Your Goodbye, his filtered, distorted soloing recalls Loren Connors in its emotive depth and wandering melodic sensibility…
‘Spectral Evolution is the quintessential album of guitar music from Rafael Toral.’

‘An affectionate update on the sort of tightly arranged hard-bop album that was a specialty of the Blue Note label from the mid-1950s through the mid-1960s. Frank Lowe has developed a thoughtfully muscular approach to the tenor saxophone that’s exceptionally resourceful and personal, and his bandmates… are similarly animated by both an exploratory bent and a love for the hard-bop tradition. This is Mr. Lowe’s finest album to date’ (New York Times).

‘Based in the south of France, Beduneau builds intricate self-playing installations and DIY electronics. Bringing a fresh and personal perspective to electronic and electroacoustic music, his work is intent on opening up dialogues about the social construction of disability, and other norms and conventions.
‘‘Clairon’ refers both to a medieval trumpet and to the beloved with whom this music was first shared, as a kind of impressionistic, though deeply moving sound-diary, during the stillness of the pandemic. The movement of air, pressure, resonance, and the physical properties of the trumpet are reimagined; organic ASMR tones, synthesized bird calls, and pirouetting melodies of pipes and bells score an imaginary biodome where chaos and harmony coexist.
‘Striking, singular, and boundary-pushing.’

Manuel Villarroel left Santiago in September 1970 to participate in the Contemporary Music Workshop in Berlin. He rapidly decided to remain in Europe, to pursue his musical career. The following year, the pianist formed a quartet in Paris with saxophonist Jef Sicard (from the Dharma Quintet to be), adding Gérard Coppéré (saxophone), William Treve (trombone), François Méchali (bass), and Jean-Louis Méchali (drums). With the arrival of Sonny Grey, a Jamaican trumpeter who had collaborated ten years earlier with Daniel Humair, they were ready.
On May 8, 1971, the Septet Matchi-Oul was in the studio for Gérard Terronès’ Futura label. recording seven of Villarroel’s compositions.

“I had to deal personally with my situation as an expatriate, without disavowing it. I tried not to betray my roots, I tried to translate into my music what was essential to me, to reflect my origins — Latin America, its musical and above all human feelings — while remaining faithful to jazz.”
‘Structured free music’, recorded for Palm in January 1975, with producer Jef Gilson at the helm, and the Chilean pianist Manuel Villarroel leading fourteen musicians, including Jef Sicard, François and Jean-Louis Méchali, and Gérard Coppéré, from the earlier Septet formation.
‘From togetherness to dissonance, we dance to Bolerito and shake it up to Leyendas De Nahuelbuta. As for the finale, it is a serpent which is bedazzling and impossible to pin down. To remind ourselves of this, let’s listen to it again.’