Electrifying extracts from a Sunday service in the last snake-handling church in the Appalachians: the trance-like rhythms of a demented kind of rockabilly punk, with duelling guitars, concussive trap drums, and possessed, howling vocals.

“I’d sworn to stay far away from the snakes at the service,” recalls the recording engineer, “but instead they were waved in my face as they coiled in the preachers’ hands, and I crouched down at the foot of the altar tending to the equipment. The pastor soon was bitten and blood splattered, pooling on the floor. The female parishioners hurriedly came to wipe up the mess, and it instantly became clear just what the rolls of paper towels stacked on the pulpit had been for. You can actually hear this moment transpire towards the end of the track ‘Don’t Worry It’s Just a Snakebite (What Has Happened to This Generation?)’. The congregation leapt to its feet and a mini mosh-pit formed. The tag-team preachers huffed handkerchiefs soaked in strychnine, as they circled like aggro frontmen and an elderly worshipper held the flame of a candle to her throat, closing her eyes and swaying. The church PA blew out from the screams as a bonnet-wearing senior whacked away at a trap kit that dwarfed her. It was the most metal thing I’d ever seen, rendering Slayer mere kids play.”

Only our favourite UK reggae LP of all time.
Uneasy, twisted, mysterious, deep dub music; utterly enthralling. Commercially speaking, couldn’t-give-a-fuck.
It’s like London calling the Upsetter and the Dark Prince in 1975-76, encircled by the National Front.
The story goes that the group dished out free copies — fresh from the pressing plant — at the Notting Hill Carnival in 1976 (before the rioting kicked off).

‘Bottling the raw energy of the scene in the 80s and early ‘90s; featuring its young stars Cheb Zahouani, Chaba Zohra and Abderrahmane Djalti. Newly remastered and including liner notes from Raï authority Rabah Mezouane, this compilation brings together eight cassette tracks from the electrifying period when Raï was evolving from more traditional sounds into mesmerising electro funk.’

Recorded by Jean Michel Jarre in 1972, during his work experience at G.R.M. (Groupe de Recherches Musicales), for a commission to provide sound for public spaces like airports and libraries. Fifteen tracks made with only two synthesizers (EMS VCS3 & Farfisa organ) in an experimental and very minimal style.
‘It was a crazy album, totally homemade, with rhythms that I made in my student room, with a minimum of equipment and at the same time electronic sounds that I stole from the GRM where I went at night after stealing the keys to the studios. It is a pirate record, in every sense of the word, in which we find what I did afterwards.’

Neil Ardley, Jack Bruce, Jon Hiseman, Dave Gelly, Jim Philip, Dick Heckstall-Smith, Barbara Thompson, Derek Wadsworth, John Mumford, Michael Gibbs, Tony Russell, Derek Watkins, Harry Beckett, Henry Lowther, Ian Carr, George Smith, Frank Ricotti…
‘The range, invention and depth evident on Le Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe outstrips most large ensemble jazz albums of the time; at times muscular and powerful, at others delicate and sensitive, the interplay of the musicians, arrangements and compositions make for a stand-out recording that bristles with confidence and energy.’

The first decent compilation of these Clement Bushay productions.
Downright crucial Jazzbo like Step Forward Youth and Every Nigger Is A Winner.

Her first solo cello album, ‘a deep exploration of the inner worlds of tuning’, recorded in the Eglise du Saint-Esprit church in Paris by Kali Malone and Stephen O’Malley.
‘Railton’s explorations in harmony emerge from a focus on the physical qualities of intervallic and chordal sounds, their textural qualities, degrees of friction, and inner pulsations. Composing in the moment guided by resonances within the cello’s body, her own, and their shared vibrational space, Railton gives sounds what they ask for: sounds of pure texture manifesting as a move through temporal transparency, sounds of rough texture marking regions of dimensionally dense space. Railton’s creative and highly refined use of just intonation harmony deforms sound’s inner movements in ways that suggest a mode of listening that actively supplies imagery of sounds implied or completely absent rather than merely savouring those fully present. Railton calls it ‘sing-along music’.’