‘Gebru is a true original,’ says the label. ‘Her playing is somewhere between Satie, Debussy, the liturgical music of the Coptic Ethiopian Church, and Ethiopian traditional music. It is some of the most moving piano music you will ever hear! All original compositions available for the first time on vinyl beyond the original early 1960s editions, which are completely impossible to find. Old school tip-on cover with gold foil printing. A must-have masterpiece for anyone who needs some spiritual comfort.’

‘Emahoy recorded these songs direct to cassette tape in her family’s home in Addis Ababa in the late 70s. She carried the master tapes with her when she entered permanent exile in Jerusalem in 1985. They stayed in her tiny cell at the Church of Kidane Mehret until her passing, in March 2023, aged 99.
‘I was on my way to see Emahoy and talk about the release of these songs when she passed away. While helping her family clear and pack her belongings, we found the original master tapes, from which this album is produced. Intimate, close, home recordings. You can hear Emahoy’s finger pressing down the stop button, the creak of her piano bench, birds out the window.
‘These are songs of mourning and exile. The Ethiopian Revolution of 1974 had changed her country so radically that Emahoy sang of missing home even though she was still physically in the country.
‘Emahoy wanted badly for these songs to be heard. She was proud of them, and even produced a tiny run of private press CDs sold at the gift shop of the monastery in 2013. But her family and those closest to her advised her against the release, worried about the intense backlash she’d receive for singing as a nun in the conservative Orthodox church.
‘Finally, these recordings get the release they deserve. We hope to do justice to the music and Emahoy’s legacy with this release — packaged in a reflective gold sleeve, with a sixteen-page booklet featuring lyric translations and photos of Emahoy’s life in the monastery in Jerusalem.’
(Cyrus, Mississippi Records).

‘A disciple of mambo innovator Perez Prado, the Cuban-born Modesto Duran was a pivotal figure in Latin dance music’s transitionary mid-century period. His gentle slaps can be heard across dozens of 1950s mega-sellers, from Esquivel to Belafonte, Eartha Kitt to Lena Horne. On his 1960 solo debut, Duran gathers a who’s who of conga-men, including Mongo Santamaría, Willie Bobo, and Juan Cheda, delivering a cinematic and percussive melange of afro-cuban, cha cha, and exotic jazz styles.’

Five years into the project, Yermande announced a thrilling new phase for this Dakar-Berlin collaboration; a giant step forward.
The group of players was boiled down to twelve for recordings, eight for shows; sessions in Dakar become steeply more focussed. ‘This time around I was better able to specify what I wanted right from the initial recording sessions in Dakar,’ says Ernestus; ‘and further in the production process I took more freedom in reducing and editing audio tracks, changing MIDI data, replacing synth sounds and introducing electronic drum samples.’
Right away you hear music-making which has come startlingly into its own. Rather than submitting to the routine, discrete gradations of recording, producing and mixing, the music is tangibly permeated with deadly intent from the off. Lethally it plays a coiled, clipped, percussive venom and thumping bass against the soaring, open-throated spirituality of Mbene Seck’s singing. Plainly expert, drilled and rooted, the drumming is unpredictable, exclamatory, zinging with life. Likewise the production: intuitive and fresh but utterly attentive; limber but hefty; vividly sculpted against a backdrop of cavernous silence.
Six chunks of stunning, next-level mbalax, then, funky as anything.

‘The surrealist, psychedelic brain-burps of notorious all-caps-tweeting wind-up-merchant Louis Johnstone aka Wanda Group. Twenty-six congealed morsels of spur-of-the-moment
sound-art executed with genuine economy of means, namely… a phone. An impulsive, scatter-brained trip into the inner circles of regional weirdness, secreting a creeping unease which really gets under your skin. Fragments of aural rubble haphazardly cohere into galvanising spacial tones and textures, punctured by Johnstone’s garbled Essex rantings. The long-distance stare of warbled tape loops is abruptly fractured by a drunken sing-along in a care home for the elderly. As hallucinogenic takes on the utterly mundane, there’s an obvious kinship with Lambkin’s nocturnal, straight-to-dictaphone sound-pieces. Dan Johannsen’s splintered classical collages on that PIG tape and the suburban soliloquies of Regional Bears alumnus Russell Walker also feel closely aligned.’ (All Night Flight)
With an A4 riso insert.

His 1963 recording with John Gilmore, Thad Jones, Frank Strozier, Jimmy Garrison, Elvin Jones, and co. Firing Trane-style modal jazz, a waltz, Night In Tunisia, brilliant soloing all round — it’s a classic.
‘Verve By Request.’

With Alice Coltrane, Wayne Shorter, Gary Bartz, Ron Carter, Elvin Jones.