Nicolas Masson (tenor saxophone, clarinet), Roberto Pianca (guitar), Emanuele Maniscalco (drums).

Gorgeous, unheralded, sweet soul from Chicago.
School-friends Clifford Curry and LaSalle Matthews started the group in 1965, with Walter Jones and Robert Thomas, all in for the long haul. They waited till 1970 for a hit — I’m Still Here, produced by Syl Johnson for Twinight — and had to ride out the label’s demise before signing to Curtom’s new Gemigo imprint in late 1973. (Super People was 1975.)
Unmistakably Chicagoan and stamped by Curtis, classically schooled but on the cusp… with its roots in the chivalric harmonies of doowop, its bad self in dapperly distraught r&b balladry, and its eye on the new social consciousness of soul and funk.
Typical Numero loveliness.

‘Visceral, sonically bold works exploring the many possibilities of writing for strings, including howling glissandi, clustered pizzicatos and tremelos, the clatter of bouncing bows, and rich dynamics and colour.’

Everton is compellingly beside himself, over a dazzling, bare-bones, digi do-over of the rocksteady classic Tonight.
Previously unreleased.
Fire.

‘Her unique pianistic voice in a varied programme of almost exclusively original music, composed by herself and her colleagues – tenor saxophonist Uli Kempendorff, Marc Muellbauer on double bass and drummer Heinrich Köbberling. A deep respect for the jazz tradition, especially the post-bop and modal jazz of the 60s, permeates this session, and with the quartet’s modern twist, the stage is set for highly expressive soloing and profound interplay.’

Previously unreleased music by the electroacoustic music pioneer, from 1973-1992.
Commercials, commissions and secrets.
Photophonie itself was made for a photographic exhibition by Alain Willaume. Il Etait Une Fois was commissioned by the GMEB; Trans-Voices by the American Center, Paris. Leica is by way of a jingle for the camera company.

Killer, epic, driving techno, mined and honed from classic Trax.
Silk-screened sleeves, very limited; it’s a must.

‘A whole new level of weird,’ according to Warp’s sales notes: ‘Lopatin describes Garden Of Delete as a ‘self- portrait’... Musically the album contains a plethora of ideas spliced together seamlessly: great rushes of death metal and distorted R&B pop vocals, for example, all woven together with typically OPN broken chord synths and sleek sound design.’