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.

A fourth quartet of masked mongrels. First up, a slo-mo heart-melter, spiked with scraps of misty-eyed soul; then Soul Seeker keeps things rolling with swinging 2-step drums and bittersweet vocal snippets. On the flip, the outer limits of the LA beats sound get nasty with foundation dubstep — a mid-tempo slugger from another planet, on a mission to scrunch rude boy’s bass-cones into the dust — before U & I draws the EP to a close, in an anthemic haze of vapour-wave synths and skeletal percussion.

Soulful UK-roots bomb from 1980.

Sensational French-language do-over of the 45 Faybiene had recently cut for Jack Ruby (following up her hit Prophecy), before moving in 1977 from Kingston to Montreal with Joe Cooper (who plays organ on Police & Thieves).
Zonked, sublime and rugged like Half Moon in Toronto, with a crazy whistling effect throughout, and spaced-out dub.
Bim.

Faybiene Miranda was one of a kind — a Joni Mitchell fan from Panama City who co-published with Mutubaruka. Soon after Tropical Energy broke up she toured the UK with Benjamin Zephaniah, reading her poetry. Before her death in 2013 she was living in Brooklyn, amongst Steel Pulse crew.