Poor Isa — Ruben Machtelinckx and Frederik Leroux — playing woodblocks and prepared banjos; joined by Evan Parker, and Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach.
Wonderful, moody, questing music, beautifully presented, in thick grey cardboard sleeves with foil stamping. Individually hand-numbered, in a first edition of just 150.
These are the last copies.
Strongly recommended.

Clement ‘Minkie’ Moore at Harry J’s in 1980, revisiting the tough Wickedness rhythm — also favoured by Yabby You and Alric Forbes — this time to sing. Babs Gonzales died in 1980 but his genius flourishes in the insouciant exchange between a scatting, I-Do-My-Thing Minkie and some fat, newly-added trombone.

One of the top, top Barringtons on Jah Life. Heavy Channel One rhythms, each quite different; with banging dubs.
Barrington has a rather general go at his dad, mister One-Foot. ‘You are my father, so give me tings, give me tings.’ ‘You don’t buy me no shoes so I can do the boogaloo.’

Beautifully stark and intense steppers cut of the Heptones classic, complete with two dubplate mixes. All previously unreleased.

Three edgy, hard-nosed Wackies steppers.
The propulsive version of Home To Africa here is new to the world, from the original session tapes; and twinned with a nuggety version dusted down and polished especially for this release by Lloyd Barnes himself.

‘Eight tracks of jagged electronics, heavy basslines, and fractured spoken word collide in a body-jerking soundclash that is both raw and vital.’

Good On Paper enjoyed ‘Baldauf’s crisp, distanced tones accompanied by Roe’s ominous, pulsating programmed bass line and four-to-the-floor whack, coaxing pure pop out of tension and incongruity.’ Electronic Sound Magazine hailed the LP as ‘a blistering, club-forward workout’, with ‘top-drawer, nose-bloodying electronics,’ positioning the Stroud duo as ‘rather like a wonky Tom Tom Club with added grit.’

The ‘un-muting’ or ‘sonic restitution’ of African instruments held in Western museum collections, this project began with a recording session in October 2023 at the British Museum in London, when Hoyt was granted access to instruments from the Department of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas. These recordings were then developed in his studio, blending in African and Western instruments from his own collection.

‘This record is not an album but a diagram, a blackground score for a people who have never stopped dancing. Instruments exiled into the vitrines of empire, their voices stilled by taxonomic theft, now murmur and hum again. This is restitution by vibration, and the sounds you hear refuse to be forgotten, to be fixed, to refuse to die. You won’t find Western time signatures here; you’ll find time folding, spilling, catching fire. His compositions bespeak an afro-sonic-philo-sophy, more drastic than gnostic. These desperate times call for desperate pleasures.’