COH as in Jean Cohen (saxophones), EL as in Dominique Elbaz (piano) and MEC as in the brothers François and Jean-Louis Méchali (bass and drums) — joined by the American clarinettist and flautist Evan Chandlee for this debut album, originally released by Saravah in 1969.
“We wanted to avoid that kind of ‘free’ which is characterized by pounding drumming and a saxophonist freaking out in the high register, that type of music that kicks off suddenly then stops without us being able to sense the motivation. There is never any difference in intensity: nothing is destroyed, nothing is created, nothing is elaborated, nothing is questioned — when, even on the simple level of sound, there is so much that can be done.”
With French roots running back through the music of Jef Gilson, and pitched at the time somewhere between ESP and Actuel/BYG, with full-blooded nods to the likes of Cecil Taylor, John Coltrane and Walt Dickerson, this is expert, exuberant music-making, searching out its own way.
Ten tracks, even-handedly improvised and composed, beautifully played; intense and free-spirited but always engaging, attentive and communicative. 
Top-notch sound; heavyweight gatefold sleeve with obi-strip; twelve-page booklet.

Their second LP, from 1971, with guitarist Joseph Dejean from the Full Moon Ensemble propelling the music forwards, as pianist Dominique Elbaz stands down.
The sound swells and contracts dramatically across the eleven tracks and interludes, with fresh senses of break-down and silence, and new intimacy. There is some Steve Lacy to its fierce repetition of key phrases; some Sharrock to Dejean; sparing experimentation with effects; portions of central African polyphony (Boa Constrictor), summer-breeze funk (Desert Angel), and plenty of characteristically rootsy prog and cosmic skronk.

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.

‘The first collaborative release by Pretty Sneaky and long-time friend and co-conspirator Koldd, aka Norman Levy.
‘Seven themes lysergically weave field recordings of bird calls and wind/water together with pastoral synth lines and resonating modular patches on occasion sideswiped with a bass-heavy thump and stripped back percussion.
‘A mysterious offering for outward-bound heads with lodgings on the dance floor. The sort of thing you might play for your friends after a night out, which blows them to smithereens.’

Eleven exuberantly swinging, startlingly fresh jazz ragas by an ensemble combining hard-core Bombay jazz messengers, Bollywood royalty, and sitar master Ustad Rais Khan.
This is indo-jazz fusion direct from the source: an extremely rare glimpse of the same Bombay jazz scene that gave us Amancio D’Silva. Nothing kitsch here: by turns rollicking and lyrical, this is edgily committed and heartfelt music-making.
Never reissued since its 1968 release by EMI India, Raga Jazz Style is a collectors’ holy grail of Indian jazz; and this is a highly impressive inaugural salvo by Outernational Sounds, using original masters and beautifully rendered facsimile artwork, with 180g vinyl pressed at Pallas, in Germany.
Very warmly recommended.

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.

Sweet soul from Baltimore, produced by none other than George Kerr and Bunny Sigler.
The opener Count To Ten was their big hit, grabbing a couple of bars of Smokey Robinson; Candy is treasurably cannibalistic (‘her heart’s made of caramel’ etc); that’s a secret-weapon version of War (What Is It Good For?).