Mental baile future-funk.
Impossibly, round two ratchets through higher gears than round one. The cutting and scratching skills are brutally imperious, by turn eviscerating in split seconds a trembling flock of far-flung musical prey. Out of the wreckage looms the apotheosis of apocalyptic Techno Scratch terror; the ebulliently vengeful prophesy of forebears like Grand Wizzard Theodore and the Knights of the Turntable.
Blisteringly hot.

‘Dave Cudlip’s debut album, inaugurating the highly promising, experimental label Klang Tone (spawn of the estimable Stroud record shop): a stunning and unique combination of ethereal ambient soundscapes, undulating rhythms, and atonal sound collage, with Harmonia and Autechre looming amongst its forebears.’

Artfully printed on differently-shaded coated and uncoated stocks, perfect-bound with marbled-style end papers, this 196-page hardback contains 79 poems written by Molly Drake from 1935 until her death in 1993; plus lyrics, a 14-page introduction by her daughter, precious family photos, diary extracts, song manuscripts and handwritten notes by Molly, as well as the essay Give Me A Place To Be, which previously appeared in the tribute to her son, Remembered For A While.
Also 26 short recordings across two CDs, performed by Molly, taped at home by husband Rodney in the 1950s and 1960s: her own exquisitely poignant, heavy-hearted songs,  steeped in loss and wonder, and a treasurable, posh kind of ‘Englishness’ (not the usual bollocks). Have a listen to I Remember.
Joe Boyd has called this compilation ‘the missing link in the Nick Drake story’, but that’s to do it down.
A beautiful Christmas present.

‘Palestre is a study of higher-dimensional spaces and altered states of consciousness. It explores parallel dimensions and temporal anomalies from a perspective that blends mythology, modern physics, ADHD, transcendental music and club culture.
‘Sciogli Assurdi was recorded between art galleries, clubs, squats, and folkloric festivities in 2018.’

Searing, deep soul; with laxative breaks-n-beats bass, not lost on Ghostface Killah.

Epic, grooving, extravagantly creative, perfectly attuned blends of complex mbalax drumming, field recordings, thumping kick-drum, and cosmic, bubbling, jamming synths and electronics.
The opening is suitably liminal, haunted by a diachronic sense of times past, present, and to come: ancestral ghosts, scratched playback, scraps of old recordings, voices strangulated or just out of range; puttering drums; futuristic, kosmische keys. Part II picks up the pace; III gives the drummers some, and heightens the atmosphere of enchantment. Jon Hassell’s Fourth World music courses through a kind of Dream Theory In Dakar.
Toco SOS, the second side, is a thumping, throbbing, mesmeric future-classic; perfect for fahr’n fahr’n fahr’n on the Autobahn… in a spacecraft. Expert hand percussion, call-and-response singing, bin-trembling foot-drum, spaceways keys. Sleekly funky as prime Popol Vuh.
Both sides range expansively by way of Berlin, where Lamin resided for a few years: you can hear something of T++’s brilliant, landmark HJ record on the A, and elements of Mark Ernestus’ crucial Ndagga project, on the B.
Half an hour of stunning music; in a beautiful sleeve, with mirror lettering, and an intricate spot-gloss rendition of salt crystals, laid over a photograph of the salt mines at Lac Rose, outside Dakar.