The sublime 2001 swansong of James Stinson, of Drexciya. ‘By turns luminous and melancholic, low-key and sensuous, wry and soulful’ (Pitchfork).

The first volume is a mid-seventies masterpiece, Americana touching on Copeland, Ives, and Brian Wilson, with AR ‘re-awakened to the bright-sound and magical qualities of the bubblegum and easy-listening currents in American popular music.’ Volume 2 is a moving, pastoral orchestral work, conducted here by Julius Eastman. Also included are two of Arthur’s most elusive compositions, recorded live in 1975: Reach One is a minimal, hypnotic ambient soundscape for two Fender Rhodes pianos; Sketch For Face Of Helen commemorates his colloborations with Arnold Dreyblatt, recorded with a keyboard, tone generator and — with echoes of Moondog — recordings of a tugboat rumbling across the waters of the Hudson River.

A live recording of a concert given at the Theatre de l’Est Parisien.
Stretched-out but closely textured and highly evocative, more bluesy than before, and brooding with Milesian intensity. 
There is a strong spirituality to all of Cohelmec’s music  ... but here they go deep.
Try Teotihuacan. Killer.

Soul Jazz back in Port-au-Prince after twenty years, to record again with the Drummers of the Société Absolument Guinin. Mesmeric rhythms and beats traditionally used to induce spirit possession in the Vodou religion — ‘dynamic and riveting in their intricacy and power,’ said the Quietus about the first volume.

Some nice low-slung electro-funk in amongst a cheerful smorgasbord of styles from Milo Smee, who runs Power Vacuum; ‘all brought together with the clear and succinct Kruton sound. Choppy rhythms, synth solos, medieval samples and a whole lot of history is poured into this release. So grab your goblet and slurp down some Kruton.’

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.

“We started with a cosmic idea that we were taught from a very young age – that the stars and planets make a sound, that deep in outer space there is audible harmony.”
Book Of Sound is the brilliant, richly resonant exploration of these interstellar low ways. By turns urgent and contemplative, funky and reflective; varied in its textures, but entirely of one piece. Underpinned by cosmology, held in place by meditation, swirling with notions of history, science, theology, ancestry — this is a heady conceptual brew. But the music speaks loudest: ‘the sound of surprise’, magnificently retrieving Spiritual Jazz from the knacker’s yard.
It’s a deeply Chicagoan record. “It’s got the vibe of the lake,’ continues trombonist Cid, “the vibe of the prairies opening up to the west.” Also the Sun Ra albums recorded there in the 1950s, and — of course, being the dad of all seven ensemblists — Phil Cohran’s wonderful albums from the 1960s.
“You know, it’s tough trying to satisfy everybody with our music. It’s hard enough satisfying ourselves, let alone the jazz scene, the hip hop guys, what have you. With this album we just dropped all that as a consideration, and tuned into deeper principles.”

Recorded in 1971, Solo Guitar Volume 1 was Bailey’s first solo album. Its cover is an iconic montage of photos taken in the guitar shop where he worked. He and the photographer piled up the instruments whilst the proprietor was at lunch, with Bailey promptly sacked on his return.
The LP was issued in two versions over the years — Incus 2 and 2R — with different groupings of free improvisations paired with Bailey’s performances of notated pieces by his friends Misha Mengelberg, Gavin Bryars and Willem Breuker.
All this music is here, plus a superb solo performance at York University in 1972; a welcome shock at the end of an evening of notated music. It’s a striking demonstration of the way Bailey rewrote the language of the guitar with endless inventiveness, intelligence and wit.

Recorded in 1974, at the Royal Hotel in Luton, with Braxton playing soprano and alto saxophones, and Bb and contrabass clarinets. Two volumes were planned; only one was issued, till now. This was an early transatlantic meeting between leading free improvisers. Many of Braxton’s signature techniques and ideas were gestated in such sessions. It still brims with inquisitive musical creativity and knockabout jazzbo allusiveness.

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.

Almost preposterous, this beautiful snapshot of a US expat community fetched up in Dimona, Israel, in the second half of the seventies, holding faith with its love of Chicago soul and spiritual jazz.