A fizzing, ranging showcase of six different Italian artists, in the third of this series.
A breakbeat symphony by Modes; swingeing Acid from Train To Eltanin; hybrid footwork by DJ Plant Texture. Nothus makes a belated series debut with some fiercely bottled d&b; Marco Segato is wildly live and direct; Soreab pounds together grime and rather grumpy samba.
Clear vinyl snazzily presented with a transparent matt graphic insert, in a plastic sleeve.
A tonic for the troops.

Barney ‘Blair’ Perry was the Blackbyrds’ guitarist for their first two albums. He wrote the mighty Walking In Rhythm. Here he is in 1978 with another killer piece of jazzed-up, how-we-roll, funky disco; massive on the two-step scene.

Six songs juxtaposing torrents of sliced and processed audio with the warmth of the human voice.
With Norah Jones, Josh Mease, Clare Manchon, Natalie Beridze, Pascal Le Boeuf, and Desmond White. 
‘Answers the question of what a collaboration between Björk and Venetian Snares would sound like, if both were more aware of the drawbacks of both diatonic tedium and ceaseless harmonic wasteland, respectively.’

Four experiments in Pisan beat science — fleet and swirling at the limits of its dancefloor idioms, but faultlessly grooving with the hypnotic charge of classic techno, and flashing a precious combination of exquisite, confident melodicism and ruthless intensity.
Beautifully presented in stickered yellow sleeves with PVC covers, inserts and stamped inners.

Another irresistible instalment of reanimations.
Brandy Tool is ambient but hypnotic; Miss You Anymore patches angelic, stone-cold-classic RnB straight through to the G-Phone; Babylon is melancholic, slo-mo grime; the stripped Girls Need Love Too is equal parts sweet and spooky.

Chinafrica was Wayne Chin’s next project, after his group Creole disbanded in the early-eighties.
Two shark-attack do-overs of foundational tunes, startlingly different: a deadly, sick, atmospheric Declaration Of Rights, with shades of Wackies; and a sprightly, in-your-face, digi Baba Boom Time, originally stepping out on Thunderbolt in 1987.

Ace vocal excursion on Augustus Pablo’s monumental 555 Crown Street rhythm, from 1979.
Notwithstanding his unforgettable Fuckerys A Gwaan, that’s gotta be Jah Bull’s finest moment, on the flip.

The same super heavyweight rhythm as Open The Gate Bobby Boy and Noel Phillips’ Youth Man… not forgetting the deadly Brixton Incident 12”, by Roy Rankin & Raymond Naptali.
Junior is playful, maybe a little dazed. The dub is killer; cavernous and moody.

Two magnificent, seething sides of rawly militant witness by the Black Morphologist of Dub.
Nuh Skin Up sets his livid, reeling reasoning to a churning, hypnotic Soul Syndicate rhythm, teeming with star-wars bleeps and lasers, and sick, parping synths.
‘The memories of some bad things will never erase… We’re angry. You make us angry.’
Felt We Felt The Strain picks up the pace with no alleviation of hurt and fury. It’s a dubwise steppers, sharpened by Chinna’s guitar, with unheimlich organ; haunted throughout by a kind of swirling white noise in the background, like a tornado of tortured souls.
Long-term Shaka staples in these extended mixes.
Utterly singular, compelling and unmissable; more timely than ever.
‘Nuh skin up’; ‘be serious’.

Fresh, funky and expertly percussive, troubled but warmly engaging — a trio of upful, atmospheric house excursions to mark the debut of this collaboration between Bristol luminaries.
‘Planet Spanner itself is acid-edged, with radiant chords, layers of rolling percussion and psychotropic FX unfurling from a nasty bassline. Things go deeper on the flip in two solo productions, moody and dubbed-out, with tough drums.’
Hand-stamped, in silk-screened sleeves.
Deep Street round three.