‘Eventually crowned Queen of the Norfolk Sound, Barbara Stant was just a teenager when she auditioned for Shiptown impresario Noah Biggs in 1970. A dozen sides were tracked throughout the decade, producing a body of work that stretched from deep soul to northern soul to sister funk. By 1978 disco was in overdrive, Noah Biggs was in the ground, and Stant’s career on hold. My Mind Holds Onto Yesterday is what remains.’

‘Teenage melancholy from the original Miami Sound Machine. Backed by the infamous FAMU Marching 100 Band and Frank Williams’ crack shot players The Rocketeers, I Am Controlled By Your Love compiles sides from Helene Smith’s ‘60s tenure with the Deep City, Lloyd, Reid, and Blue Star labels. A sweltering album of twelve deeply soulful, alternate universe hits from the First Lady of Miami Soul!’

A fourth LP of spiritual jazz by this feted nine-piece from Australia.
‘A stunning work, full of integrity and class… Essential’ (Echoes).
‘Wonderful record, full of some great Kamasi/Donald Byrd/even Art Blakey moments.’ (The Guardian).

Originally released in 1975. Featuring guest musicians Ken Boothe, Delroy Washington, Bob Davis, Gene Rondo, and former members of the Cimarons. .. and a sprinkling of Black Ark magic.

Aka the Clem Bushay All Stars, including Candy McKenzie, Dennis Bovell, Janet Kay, Jimmy Mack, Junior English, Moon Rocks and Zabandis…
From 1977.

The Dennis Bovell / Matumbi dub set from 1976.
‘The peak of the era’s UK roots dub. For dubbing at its wildest, check out Za-lon and its version Halfway To Za-lon’ (Steve Barker, The Wire).

A fabulous survey of early Congolese recordings, 1948-1963.
We can’t recommend it strongly enough.

Big Hands re-united with trumpeter Abraham Parker.
Trialled triumphantly in recent live shows, the opener comes good on the promise of the duo’s triumphant debut for Trule: gliding, hypnotic, and moody, with rueful, burnished brass interjections riding dubwise steppers.
Then a pair of distressed, halftempo d&b rhythms: a call to arms, and a troubled circling of the wagons. Waltz For Matis winds up proceedings with a deep, spooked Fourth World excursion, with skittering marimba.
Another ace EP.

A terrific compilation of vintage UK street soul — at its nexus with rare groove and lovers rock, so intensely nostalgic for us at HJ — by the same crew which put together the excellent For The Love Of You volumes.
A dozen gems here: treasurable DIY labels and whites teeming with raw longing and overproof sincerity, riding limber Soul II Soul-style grooves, wannabe Jam & Lewis, and crunchy, synthy, electro-soul. (The System were the US overmasters of this.)
Just a touch of cheese, a smidgen of sublimely out-of-tune singing, splashes of sploshy beatbox and dodge sampling, a brazen Roy Ayers pinch… components of loveliness.
Calling all midnight ravers and undercover lovers. You know who you are.

‘Minimalism is usually cool, detached, frictionless and mathematical. The music made by percussionist Bex Burch is not any of these things. What she calls ‘messy minimalism’ shares some characteristics with the music of Steve Reich and John Adams, but this is minimalism that isn’t afraid to break into a sweat and get its hands dirty (quite literally, given that Burch actually builds her own instruments from scratch). She mainly plays a gyil, a marimba-like tuned percussion instrument she learned while studying music in Ghana.
‘Burch’s first solo album lands her in Chicago, enlisting trumpeter Ben LaMar Gay and members of Tortoise. Sometimes, the results sound like an earthier Philip Glass: Dawn Blessings pairs her dreamlike, two-note gyil pattern with violinist Macie Stewart’s beautiful harmonies; Don’t Go Back to Sleep sees Burch’s gyil fractionally out of phase with a synthesiser, then spins into hypnotic but disorientating minimal techno.
‘Other tracks get wilder. There are drum circles, water drums and birdsong; tracks that exploit the acoustics of a California canyon. Pardieu turns a three-note xylophone riff into a compelling funk groove; Fruit Smoothie With Peanut Butter is a wonderfully chaotic drum circle that sounds melodic despite not featuring any tuned instruments. Best of all is You Thought You Were Free?, which layers clattering percussion over the wailing siren of a tornado warning relayed over Chicago until it sounds like a freakish fusion of the Master Musicians of Joujouka and Fela Kuti’ (The Guardian).

Fiery, head-banging deep funk by this Louisiana guitarist; originally out on Eddie ‘Goldband’ Shuler’s ANLA label, in 1967.

This Detroiter recorded three songs for Dave Hamilton, all of them funk classics.
Originally issued in 1971 on the trim New Day label, I Got Some is the most down and dirty of the trio.
Sampled by Gang Starr.

The word from Mississippi…
‘Relentless polyrhythms, call and response vocal poetry, melodic and layered horns, flute, and even accordion!!! A huge and rich sonic landscape, propulsive, energetic, and deeply soulful.
‘Every neighborhood in Dakar has its own Assiko band. They’re community groups, open to anyone who wants to join, as opposed to the legendary griot culture that only allows select families to take part.
‘These hyper-democratic bands can kick off a thousand-person street party at any moment. But they also operate as mutual aid groups, neighborhood security, impromptu after-school programs, and repositories of local music and lore.
The Assiko Band of Grand Yoff neighborhood is led by Djiby Ly (Wau Wau Collectif), who takes his role in the community seriously. He’s led iterations of the band for over a decade, and describes in detail each rhythm they play, its roots, travels, and contours. This Assiko band is particularly prolific and popular, and these recordings remind me of a good rock band - loose and rangy, you can hear the humor and warmth amongst the bandmates come through.’

‘This thirteen-track compilation exhumes forgotten brilliance from the Afroamerican underground of the 1970s. Awash in fuzzed-out guitars, wah-wah pedals, lysergic-soaked grooves, and enough inflation depression to fill the tank of a shag wagon, If There’s Hell Below imagines a world where Hendrix lived on and Funkadelic never crawled out of the garage.’
Transparent red vinyl.