A terrific, fresh techno EP by Robin Stewart. Minimalist and dubwise, but fizzing with physical energy, and loaded with thrills and spills, like fairground ghost trains clanking and rattling through Rome, at a clip.
Check it out!

‘Regrows dub techno from the seeds,’ says Boomkat, ‘with a set of twisted warehouse melters that apply advanced dub logic to pointillistic technoid rhythms.
‘The off-grid, lolloping kicks are interesting enough on their own, but it’s how Stewart treats them that makes opener Stomach pop, sinking them in swirling, lysergic goop rather than drowning them out with rinsed tape FX. The oscillating, demonic subs that heave just beneath the surface don’t muddy things completely, they crack the sunroof on the top end, letting the industrialized foley clanks and hoarse vocaloid stutters boot us towards an unexpected destination. And although Compact is more trad on the surface — a gated peak-time roller, natch — Stewart’s canny processing makes the kicks tickle more than they thump. Everything builds up to the title track, where Stewart freezes mind-rinsing dissociated echo spirals into their own rhythmic forms that push against the relentless double-time thuds, weaving phantom polyrhythms out of thin air while spectral voices whisper overhead.’

‘Ghost musick… operating in the margins and intersections of folklore, experimental electronics, dreams and nightmares… Think of it as a rampant yearning, a manic laughter, but mostly as a feeling of some somnambulistic thirst for adventure and journeys into the unknown, a feeling that is grounded deep inside the heart of the continent.’

‘Shines a light on a little-heard, spooked German underground, working below the radar on mostly small-run releases. Lower Franconia’s Baldruin lays the mystery on thick, his fevered tracks here using flutes, electric organs and shaken children’s toys to create an opaque ambience. Close neighbours Brannten Schnüre voyage into similarly uncharted territory, providing laceworks of fragile folk melodies and sloshes of breathy drone offset by detached vocals. Like Brothers Grimm armed with analogue synths, Freundliche Kreisel supply the title track’s sinister fairy tale, while the oblique textures of Kirschstein’s mystically-themed efforts betray roots in Amon Düül’s hallucinogenic psychedelia and Novy Svet’s neo surrealism. A very dark delight’ (Mojo).

Paradigmatic yet forward-looking township jazz from 1975.
Braiding Wes Montgomery into marabi, the legendary guitarist leads a stellar line-up of musicians including Kippie Moeketsi, Barney Rachabane, Gilbert Matthews, Dennis Mpale, and Sipho Gumede.
The opener glances sideways at the commercial success of Abdullah Ibrahim’s recent Mannenberg — but the real magic follows on, when the players cut loose in their own, new directions.
This is the first vinyl reissue. Sleevenotes by Kwanele Sosibo feature interviews with key musicians, and previously unpublished photos.

Encouraged by the Art Ensemble of Chicago, the trumpeter Baikida Carroll upped sticks in 1972, moving from Missouri to Paris. He travelled with several colleagues from the Black Artists Group: saxophonist/flutist Oliver Lake, trombonist Joseph Bowie, drummer Charles ‘Bobo’ Shaw, and trumpeter Floyd LeFlore. Inevitably, they soon crossed paths with Jef Gilson, who invited Carroll to record for his young Palm label, in June 1974. Carroll brought along Lake, and the Franco-Chilean pianist Manuel Villaroel, from the group Matchi-Oul, which had already appeared on Futura in 1971. The lineup was completed by the great Brazilian percussionist Naná Vasconcelos, fresh from the triumph of his own debut LP as leader — the terrific Africadeus, for Saravah.
The first side is knockout: everybody plays a range of percussion and bells on the opener — its own iteration of space jungle love — embedding stately interventions by woodwind and brass; before the wildly funky free-jazz of Forest Scorpio, with raging saxophone and keyboard, and monster groove. The second half is thrillingly hybrid and one-of-a-kind: more reflective, intimate, and spaced-out — increasingly hallucinatory — with an improvisatory feel for dissonance and repetition which beckons Terry Riley and György Ligeti into the mix.
The original Palm artwork is scrupulously reproduced, and an eight-page booklet contains rare and previously unpublished photos. The more expensive LP is from an edition of just 175 copies, with see-through vinyl, and a silk-screened wraparound sleeve, numbered and signed by the artist Stefan Thanneur.
Hotly recommended.

An imperiously fuck-you, stoned, fuzzed-out garage stomper; first issued on the Dot label in 1965.
Produced by Dave Hassinger, guiding force behind the Electric Prunes; arranged by Jack Nitzsche; written by Donovan (for Dana Gillespie). Karen nails it.
This is the slightly longer of the two Dot issues. The instrumental on the flip adds freakbeat guitar.

‘This fifth LP in the series opens with a banger: Street Dance by Bonnie Jean, in the style of Shirley Ellis’ The Nitty Gritty, with Darlene Love & The Blossoms clearly audible on background vocals. The Hollywood-based Doré imprint is also the source of You Really Never Know Till It’s Over by The Vel-Vetts, One Way Street by The Swans, a soulful update of The Teddy Bears’ To Know Him Is To Love Him by the Darlings, and He’s Groovy — featuring lead vocals by Sheilah Page, formerly of groups such as the Bermudas, Becky & The Lollipops, The Majorettes, Joanne & the Triangles and Beverly & the Motor Scooters — by The Front Page & Her.
‘Other highlights include The Sweethearts’ Supremes-influenced No More Tears, the sophisticated slowie Lonely Girl by The Lovettes (that’s them on the front sleeve), My Heart Tells Me So by The Del-Phis (an early incarnation of Martha & The Vandellas), Brenda Holloway’s lovely pre-Motown Constant Love, and the Fran-Cettes’ terrific interpretation of Heart For Sale.’

‘Sublime, ethereal minimalism: the first drawing together of Onogawa’s soundtrack compositions, plotting a decade of music for films by cult filmmaker Gakuryū Ishii.
‘Sequenced into an album by Onogawa himself, this retrospective spans a fertile period of collaboration with Ishii, through soundtracks for three remarkable films — August in the
Water (1995), Labyrinth of Dreams (1997), and Mirrored Mind (2005) — where the cinema is texturally and sensually imbued with the spiritual, ambient, dreamlike quality of Onogawa’s music.
‘The sound Onogawa conjures for these films is elegant and patient, often spare or essential in form, but saturated in a strange and otherworldly, poetic emotion and atmosphere. Boundaries are crossed between New Age and science fiction, passing through blissfulness, melancholy, and paranoia, towards enchantments of mood and colour.
‘It’s notable that the compositions on this album straddle the millennium, with a fitting mix of divine and uncertain themes. New listeners might hear links to Mark Snow’s work for the X-Files and Millennium, or the soundtracks of certain future-facing and future-fearing Japanese anime or cyberpunk.
‘Onogawa’s music adds great depth and tenor to the sensory experience of the films themselves, but it stands just as strongly as a listening experience on its own terms; a virtuosic example of Ambient that changes in hue when turned in the light. Remarkably, like Ishii’s films, Onogawa’s work has never been widely available outside of fervid underground fan posts, usually sourced from extremely limited and private CDs limited to Japan.
‘This retrospective seeks to remedy that, presenting Onogawa as one of the great composers of the last three decades.’

“This is killer,” says Ben UFO.

The oldest form of North Indian classical music still performed today — dhrupad — played by Madhuvanti on an instrument she built herself, recorded at home.
Two ragas; over ninety minutes.
Full-color gatefold, with extensive liner notes.