Thrilling, earthy twists on Ethio Jazz and co — born of authentic engagement and love —  with a knockabout spirituality and body-rocking grooves, by this quintet led by Swedish saxophonist Lina Langendorf.
Gilles has been spinning it.
Check it out!

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.’