Ace organ-driven rocksteady cut of Love Is A Message, recorded at Treasure Isle on Bunny Lee’s ticket, by youngsters Jacob Miller, Lawrence Weir and Lassive Jones aka Delroy Melody.
They were going by the name The Young Lads, but Jones remembers Striker’s strong advice: “there are too much Lads group, you boys are going to school, you boys are School Boys.”

‘An extraordinary gift. Maxine Gordon’s rigorously researched, jazz-inflected, genre-bending account of the many dimensions of this prodigious life provides an occasion to appreciate Dexter’s resounding musical genius as well as his wish for major social transformation’ (Angela Davis).

A second helping as sublimely pleasurable as the first, with Prince Buster, Rupie Edwards, Derrick Harriott, Dobby Dobson and Joe Higgs amongst the singers.
‘Enthralling to anyone,’ according to The Guardian.

The recording debut of Baptista from Nagoya in Japan — ‘impulsive and driving but earthy and dark, buzzing with dense energy like a jungle yet spacious like the hall of a mountain king’ — topped off with a remix by Hodge.

Brainy but intensely pleasurable piano-saxophone/clarinet duets; judiciously allusive, searching and rigorous.
Ortiz is a protégé of Muhal Richard Adams whose playing riddles Noncarrow with rumba, Messiaen with Monk, Yancey with yambu. Don Byron is a favourite of ours way back to Tuskegee Experiments and his revival of Mickey Katz.
The opening tribute to Catalonian jazz pianist Tete Montoliu — who smuggled flamenco into post-bop — is twinned with something from Musica Callada, by Federico Mompou, a kind of Catalonian Satie. (“The complexity of simplicity,” Ortiz calls it. “Mompou’s music doesn’t land the way we expect it to, and the resolution is like a door to what’s happening next. Mompou’s pieces have a lot of these doors, and they give a lot of space to creativity.”) There are interpretations of Black And Tan Fantasy (by way of Thelonious Monk Plays Duke Ellington), Benny Golson’s Along Came Betty and Geri Allen’s Dolphy’s Dance; and a luminous arrangement of a Bach violin partita for solo clarinet. Byron chips in compositions dedicated to Lorraine Hansberry and Andy Capp; Ortiz some twelve-tone serialism and a tune based on ‘the triangular relationship within a series of three notes’.
Invigorating music; brilliantly recorded.

Precious, timely, moody reflections on migrating from Côte d’Ivoire to Moss, in Norway, over ruff breakbeat funk supplied by the nimble bass-playing of Maimouna’s old man (from Kambo Super Sound), and the expert conga and kit-drumming of Stliletti-Ana (from Jesse, in Helsinki). Even in their delirium, b-boys and girls will savour traces of the Incredible Bongo Band, in the chorus. Over the eight minutes, and going deeper on the flip, the mix lifts off into a cosmic steppers dub, featuring Gilb-r alongside Sotofett on keyboards, with no let up for the dancefloor in energy and vibes.

“It was in 2001 / I got the letter / A letter that said / I would travel to a cold world / Not knowing what would happen / I was full of loneliness / No country / Everyone was different / Not only skin colour / The way people spoke / The way people behaved / That’s the adventure / Obey / This is the story we’re told / The key to success / So we can do everything for our parents / Who need us / Desperate for a better life / That’s the adventure.”

Three knockout EPs, in hand-stamped, poly-lined sleeves.

Lovely singing by the Hombres over a limber, spaced-out Upsetters rhythm you could listen to for hours. The dub attenuates the political reasoning with cruel brilliance.

The genre-slaying, polyharmonic, polyrhythmic ‘universal music’ of Hermeto Pascoal and his bassist Itibere Zwarg, performed in 2001 by a workshop comprising twenty-nine of Rio de Janeiro’s most exceptional young musicians.
An overlooked masterpiece amongst recent Brazilian recordings: invigorating and marvellous; warmly recommended.

Multi-reedist Tony Coe was born in 1934, four years after guitarist Derek Bailey. He cut his teeth as a career jazzman with Humphrey Lyttleton, before an extended stint with the Kenny Clarke/Francy Boland Big Band. On this rare 1979 duo outing, he sticks to clarinet. And though that instrument has an illustrious jazz pedigree, Coe’s playing here is something else.
It’s worth noting that the clarinettist has also played under the baton of arch-modernist Pierre Boulez, the kind of composer Derek Bailey enjoyed taking to task in his book Improvisation. You might think the Frenchman’s uncompromising serialism and the free playing Bailey defended with such passion all his life would have little in common, yet both men were hugely influenced by Anton Webern. It’s an influence you can hear right through Bailey’s career in his obsessive exploration of tight parcels of registrally-fixed pitches, notably those trademark ringing harmonics. Meanwhile, Coe’s meandering semitones and sinuous arabesques here recall both Boulez’s clarinet writing in Domaines, and the harmonic world of Boulez’s own teacher Olivier Messiaen.
Still, no traditional classical musical notation could ever render the extraordinary rhythmic subtlety and timbral complexity of this music. It’s at one and the same time dazzlingly virtuosic — Coe and Bailey are on stellar form throughout, and have enough sense to, yes, accompany each other where needs be — and supremely lyrical and spacious.
An absolute delight.