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The recording date of this solo outing by pianist Bill Evans has been listed as both September 1968 and December 1969; the latter seems the more logical entry. This is Evans' final Verve album. He plays five long solos (including a fourteen-and-a-half -minute exploration of "Never Let Me Go"). The repertoire includes "Here's That Rainy Day," "A Time for Love," "Midnight Mood," and "On a Clear Day." This set is recommended to Bill Evans completists who already have many of his other recordings.

180g heavy vinyl. Recorded in 1958, exactly one year before the legendary 'Portrait in Jazz' album, this is Bill Evans' second album as a leader. With Sam Jones on bass and Philly Joe Jones on drums, the cover features endorsements and signatures from Miles Davis, George Shearing, Ahmad Jamal, and "Cannonball" Adderley, four of the biggest jazz players of all time. Peace Piece', which is described as "quieter than silence", is Evans' quintessential masterpiece, expressing deep lyricism and life in a beautiful silence.

This masterpiece album, featuring a live performance by jazz pianist legend Bill Evans, bassist Eddie Gómez, and drummer Marty Morell at the former Tokyo Postal Savings Hall in Tokyo on January 20, 1973, has been reissued on vinyl. This is his first recording on the Fantasy label. It includes a variety of songs, from quirky tunes to overlooked classics and familiar standards, but it is a unique album with only one of Evans' own songs, "T.T.T.T. (Twelve Tone Tune Two)."

180g vinyl. Recorded live at the Village Vanguard, this set rounded out what became known as an early "full" portrait of Bill Evans by following Sunday at the Village Vanguard with most of the rest of the music he played on June 25, 1961. Very little in the annals of piano-trio jazz ever reached the clarity of execution that Evans made his own with the recordings from this single date. With bassist Scott LaFaro and drummer Paul Motian, Evans reached a rapport that sounded whisper-intimate, rolling into gentle cascades and then rhythmically pouncing juts. On the keys, Evans sounds at once completely walled-off and nakedly open as he takes on "My Foolish Heart" and the title melody. The chords are voiced ever so oddly, as are the bass and drums. Coming as it did several months in the wake of the successful first episode in Evans's Vanguard, Waltz for Debby just made it all the more obvious what a wonder the world had in this trio and its leader. --Andrew Bartlett

Reissue including 2 bonus tracks ! You Must Believe in Spring has been recorded with bassist Eddie Gómez and drummer Eliot Zigmund in August 1977 and released in February 1981, shortly after Evans's death in September 1980. Unlike most posthumous releases of the pianist's recordings, this material had been authorized by Evans for release. It has aptly been described as "one of Bill Evans' most beloved recordings and features possibly the best-sounding audio of any album he ever did." It was Evans's first album for his new label, Warner Brothers, but it was also the last one with his longtime bassist Gómez, who left to pursue other musical projects.

Bill Fay's 1970 debut album ‘Bill Fay’ exists within the folk-rock and baroque pop traditions, yet casts a distinctly different shadow. Backed by Mike Gibbs' arrangements featuring rich strings and brass, it occasionally evokes the opulent orchestral pop of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and beyond. Yet beneath that splendor lies a poetic sensibility that contemplates societal unease and the transience of human existence, creating a constant tension between light and shadow. Though it received little commercial attention at the time, revisiting it reveals a sound that resonates with Nick Drake and the Scudder Scene, yet possesses a darker, more solitary quality. This is an album woven in the sunless corners of its era, where Bill Fay's quiet prayers and shadows intertwine.

Bill Fay is one of English music’s best kept secrets. At the dawn of the 1970s, he was a one-man song factory, with a piano that spilled liquid gold and a voice every bit the equal of Ray Davies, John Lennon, early Bowie, or Procol Harum’s Gary Brooker. He made two solo albums but his contract wasn’t renewed, which left his LPs and his reputation to become cult items. But he never stopped writing, the music kept on coming. Now, in his late sixties, he has produced Life Is People, a brand new studio album that shows his profoundly humanist vision is as strong as it ever was.

Scheduled to arrive in late February, reservations are being accepted. The editorial board released on CD from in 2010 by British singer-songwriter Bill Fay has been re-released in analog form from . He left two great works on Deram, 1970's Bill Fay and 1971's Time Of The Last Persecution, but little was known at the time. In the 1990s, his work gained cult popularity, and when it was reissued in 2005, his secular folk and pop hymns gained new fans and his career began. Re-evaluated. This work is a collection of 1970s demos and home recordings released in 2010. In addition to these songs, this reissue includes rework by contemporary artists who were heavily influenced by Bill Fay's music such as Kevin Morby, Mary Lattimore, Julia Jacklin, and Steve Gunn.

Bill Fay has always sung about attempting to understand the most universal questions: those of nature, spirituality, humanity. His songs are “calming hymns for another chaotic time”, he says. His influence can be traced through many artist’s work, and so it only seemed right to celebrate this with a collection of newer voices interpreting his timeless tracks. Originally released in 2010 by David Tibet (Current 93), Still Some Light was released as a double CD, made up of 70’s album demos (Disc One) and 2009 home recordings (Disc Two). This year, for the first time, this collection of recordings will be pressed to vinyl and released digitally, presented alongside contemporary reimaginings of the tracks by Kevin Morby, Steve Gunn, Julia Jacklin and Mary Lattimore. Bill Fay’s words and melodies remain unaffected by the passing of time and changing trends; and here alongside the original recordings, these reinvented versions still calmly guide us through another moment of chaos.

The temptation to mythologize Bill Fay can be overwhelming; Fay was, for decades, as prolific as he was under-appreciated. Fay’s unsung-hero status has changed slowly, steadily, on the order of almost twenty-five years. With each new album comes new hosannas and evangelizers — Jeff Tweedy, Kevin Morby, Adam Granduciel and Julia Jacklin, to name just a few. The Bill Fay Group, in particular, is Fay’s most significant collaborative work; he records as a member of a larger group here, and the result summons a grander sonic scale, an elegant counterweight to Fay’s instincts for the understated. Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow brings to bear the galactic qualities of early rock, the intricacy of jazz improv, and Fay’s earthy folk magic. Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow has a patchy release history: recorded between 1978 and 1981, it was not released until 2005, when it appeared on CD with limited streaming and no vinyl companion. A 2006 reissue brought the album onto vinyl but with a truncated sequence and nine songs missing. Now, finally, Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow arrives in full worldwide. Available on streaming services worldwide and pressed to a double-album vinyl edition, it features the album’s original 22 songs and includes rare and previously unseen photographs from Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow’s original recording session. In the words of Gary Smith and Rauf Galip, missing Bill Stratton, and abbreviated from the forthcoming album notes: We chose five songs to record as finished pieces: Life, Spiritual Mansions, Cosmic Boxer, Strange Stairway, Isles of Sleep, all recorded in two studio sessions. We sent them out to try and get a record deal. There were few really independent labels back then and Punk was in the record labels’ ears. No deal. And now, Dead Oceans who have a lot of faith in Bill’s music wants to re- release the ‘Tomorrow’ album. A double vinyl package. Is there any more unreleased music for the fourth side? Of course. So, we’ve been opening old boxes, finding CDRs, cassettes, a musical archaeological dig. This is our choice from all the music we found. Fly Like a Bird.

Alga Marghen presents two previously unpublished seminal works by Bill Fontana, "Suite For Toy Tape Recorder" from 1968, and "Wave Spiral" from the early '70s. These recordings come directly from the archives of Philip Corner who also curated this LP edition and contributed the liner notes. 1968: In the basement Music Room of the New School For Social Research, Philip Corner was teaching "Analysis of New Music," a class he inherited from Malcolm Goldstein and before him Richard Maxfield and of course all the way back to the famous founder John Cage, present in the spirit of living history. The "Suite For Toy Tape Recorder" was a series of little reels of 1 7/8" tapes, unique experiments by means of "working-with" and so "transcend" by "making use-of" those little cheap tape-recorders. A sensitive ear that listened to hum and hiss and all the other characteristic distortions; and recorded these materials via a kind of physical phonogène of musique-concrete perspective, his thumb's friction as the reel was running fast-forward in order to create tape loops in contrapuntual collision. Side B presents "Wave Spiral, for 5 Rin Gongs," a 21-minute blissful piece recorded in the early-'70s and first presented in Australia in 1977. This work shows how Bill Fontana's research evolved toward working with the distinct physical dimension of different frequencies. An exploration of how sound becomes simultaneously its own material and the force acting upon it. The piece unfolds as an investigation of how frequency itself becomes sculptural. Across its 21-minute duration, the rin gongs generate sustained waves that spiral outward and inward simultaneously, their overtones interacting with the listening space that Fontana would describe as a "definition of motion interacting with a particular acoustic environment." The spiral manifests itself here not through cycles within cycles of tape loop manipulations like on Side A, but through the acoustic behavior of metallic resonance in space. This sound is rendered as tangible phenomenon, frequency made visible through its physical impact on the listening environment. These recordings have remained unheard for decades, only existing in Philip Corner's archive. Their publication allows the world to trace the development of an artist discovering that to work with sound was to investigate its physical dimensions, to understand that frequency and space are inseparable, that sound sculpure begins not with installation but with the fundamental recognition that all sounds exist as waves interacting with architecture itself. Edition of 232.

Drag City reissues Land of Plenty, the recorded debut from Chicago guitar duo Bill MacKay and Ryley Walker. Captured live during a January 2015 residency at the Whistler, these performances showcase two kindred spirits in full creative flight, blending their influences into a seamless, intuitive exchange. Meeting only a year before the recording, MacKay and Walker found common ground in artists as varied as Albert King, Laura Nyro, Nick Drake, Bert Jansch, Ali Akbar Khan and Jimi Hendrix. Across six-strings, twelve-strings and requinto, they weave a dialogue that draws from blues, folk, jazz and global traditions, folding them effortlessly into each other in real time. The set brims with interplay, each player listening and responding with precision and imagination. The stereo mix keeps their guitars distinct while capturing the shared headspace where improvisation and composition meet. Live recording adds an extra charge, amplifying the richness and detail in their sound. Originally released on Whistler in 2015, Land of Plenty stands as one of the most dynamic and engaging acoustic guitar records of its era — a document of two musicians discovering just how far their combined energies could take them.

アルバムについて On Dreams ’24 / ’25, Scottish composer Bill Wells turns his nocturnal imagination into a sequence of delicate musical miniatures. The album brings together 24 short pieces, most of them under two minutes, unfolding in just under half an hour like a quietly drifting dream diary. The album is split into two parts. On the Dreams 2024 side, Norman Blake lends his voice to Wells’ dream-born melodies. Blake, best known as a founding member of Teenage Fanclub, recorded the songs with Wells in a single afternoon at his home, capturing their fragile immediacy in direct and unadorned performances. For Dreams 2025, Aby Vulliamy — one of Yorkshire’s best kept musical secrets — takes over vocal duties. In mid 2025, Wells sent her a batch of demos; Vulliamy recorded them at home and sent them back to him. The result is a second chapter that feels more introspective, intimate and gently surreal. The songs themselves are born directly from dreams. Wells wakes from the dream, records it on his mobile and later shapes it into a brief, lyrical composition. One piece, Mackenzie’s Return, was inspired by a dream in which Elvis Costello marched through the streets of a suburban town complaining that he had run out of song ideas, a detail that perfectly captures the album’s blend of humour, strangeness and quiet melancholy. Dreams ’24 / ’25 is not a collection of fully formed pop songs, but rather a series of fleeting emotional snapshots: soft voices, simple motifs, and melodies that appear and vanish before they can fully settle. It is an album that rewards close listening, inviting the listener into a private, half-lit space somewhere between memory and imagination. The album features striking cover artwork by Annabel Wright.

Billie Holiday's 1956 Carnegie Hall performance, which has been called the best of Billie Holiday's later years, is reprinted on 180g heavyweight vinyl!
A live album containing the 1956 Carnegie Hall performance, which is often called the best of Billie Holiday's later years. The gig was held to promote Billy's autobiography, Lady Sings the Blues, interspersed with readings by Gilbert Milstein. The original was released in 1961, about two years after Billy died on July 17, 1959 at the age of 44.

The tragic tale of Billie Holiday involves a fractured childhood, a seemingly endless series of abusive men, and addictions to heroin and alcohol, all played out in the public eye after targeting by the FBI. Nevertheless, her huskily expressive voice is timeless and the way she brought blues phrasing into jazz was hugely influential. The 1956 release Lady Sings The Blues took its name from her shocking autobiography and the disc finds her on fine form throughout, the landmarks including the immortal "Strange Fruit," the defiant "God Bless The Child," the mournful "No Good Man" and the great title track. Classic Lady Day all the way!

Assembling a 'Kwaidan'-style anthology from chewed scraps of noir, horror and dystopian sci-fi movies, billy woods chronicles Black American angst on 'GOLLIWOG', running circles around his peers and arriving on the AOTY for fans of Ka, EARL, Aesop Rock, Westside Gunn or Cannibal Ox. Featuring production from El-P, The Alchemist, DJ Haram, Saint Abdullah, Shabaka Hutchings and others.

The English language is violence, I hotwired it woods coolly quips on 'Jumpscare', tossing out run-on cadences to juggle polyrhythms between beatless double-bass and vaudeville Pan Sonic-esque electrical interferences. Within a track, he fully establishes the concept for 'GOLLIWOG', an album that surveys the full spectrum of horror, splicing together creaking floorboards, ticking clocks, industrial clanks, Herrmann-esque stabs and detuned pianos, maniacal screams and blood-curdling laughs to accompany knotty tales of corporeal terror. It's horrorcore in a sense, cobbling together its scenery with the same congealed raw materials as Necro or Prince Paul, but woods uses the schlocky formula to lighten his death blows, landing some of the deepest lyrical lacerations of his lengthy career so far; 'Dead Body Disposal' it ain't. "Daddy longlegs stride your home like Cecil Rhodes," he nicks, equating the fear of (harmless) spiders with the terror of a real-life boogeyman - the coloniser of Zimbabwe (where woods' father was born), no less. And the track ends with a seemingly throwaway vocal sample: "a horrid sight, the blackest gnome." A description of the titular character from American author Florence Kate Upton's 19th century children's book 'The Adventures of Two Dutch Dolls and a Golliwogg', it's actually a clue to unpicking the album's title. What's fear, exactly, ponders woods, and what's merely ideology? And how does all of this become entertainment, let alone throwaway cutesy fodder for kids?

American horror as a genre has long broadcast the innermost fears of a nation who wears its ideology so boldly that it almost vanishes. Way back in the early 20th century, H.P. Lovecraft's racism manifested in stories of an ancient evil lurking beneath the New World's disturbed earth; later on, in the wake of the contraceptive pill and the subsequent free love movement, promiscuity was met with death and mutilation in an endless slew of slasher movies; and during peak neoliberalism, a taste for "torture porn" offset the stasis of safe liberal suburbia. woods accepts the history of horror, and proposes a true Black American Gothic archetype; just like Jordan Peele's 'Get Out' bolted together familiar tropes to signal how psychologically traumatic the Black experience can be within manicured white confines, woods bundles various cultural spikes to fabricate a more dangerous lyrical weapon. On 'BLK ZMBY', the ubiquitous zombie myth - a Haitian folkloric invention that was famously repurposed by George Romero in the '60s as a critique of American capitalism - is used as packaging for a barrage of knowledge that wraps references to Fela, Dune and Usual Suspects in thorny post-colonial theory. In Romero's 'Night of the Living Dead', the Black lead character spends 90 minutes fighting off zombies only to be shot in cold blood by beer chugging rednecks; now, woods' Black zombies have taken over the asylum, ignoring accountability and poisoning the water supply while the third world's corpse is sucked dry. "Zombies go home to platters of prawn and escargot," woods says, not letting Biggie off the hook. "New mothers struggle while the zombies suckle like baby goats."

DJ Haram handles the production on 'All These Worlds are Yours', dilating Shabaka Hutchings' transcendent improvisations with damaged '50s b-movie oscillations, rasping amp distortions and microtonal drones. "Today, I watched a man die in a hole from the comfort of my own home," woods recounts, accepting the day-to-day wartime horror-tainment we're fed on social media, 'Human Centipede'-style. "Trench fire, silent weapons, body horror, private booth," replies E L U C I D, woods' longtime Armand Hammer cohort. And woods coaxes out some of El-P's best production work in years on 'Corinthians', linking snippets of Lu Xun's 'Diary of a Madman' - that equates the Confucian ethical system with cannibalism - with the breakdown of late-stage Abrahamic morals that'll be closer to home for Anglophone listeners. "Best believe them crackers won't make it to Mars," he quips, double-underlining a verse that muddles St. Paul with Steven King, and Noah with the military industrial complex. By itemizing his own fears in a sequence of 'Cat's Eye'-style vignettes, woods launches hooks into the contemporary façade of terror-as-amusement, a fairground haunted house that's populated with very real demons. It's shockingly effective - the Pulitzer-ready rap album woods has been promising for aeons, and one of the very best things we've heard this year so far.

Assembling a 'Kwaidan'-style anthology from chewed scraps of noir, horror and dystopian sci-fi movies, billy woods chronicles Black American angst on 'GOLLIWOG', running circles around his peers and arriving on the AOTY for fans of Ka, EARL, Aesop Rock, Westside Gunn or Cannibal Ox. Featuring production from El-P, The Alchemist, DJ Haram, Saint Abdullah, Shabaka Hutchings and others.

The English language is violence, I hotwired it woods coolly quips on 'Jumpscare', tossing out run-on cadences to juggle polyrhythms between beatless double-bass and vaudeville Pan Sonic-esque electrical interferences. Within a track, he fully establishes the concept for 'GOLLIWOG', an album that surveys the full spectrum of horror, splicing together creaking floorboards, ticking clocks, industrial clanks, Herrmann-esque stabs and detuned pianos, maniacal screams and blood-curdling laughs to accompany knotty tales of corporeal terror. It's horrorcore in a sense, cobbling together its scenery with the same congealed raw materials as Necro or Prince Paul, but woods uses the schlocky formula to lighten his death blows, landing some of the deepest lyrical lacerations of his lengthy career so far; 'Dead Body Disposal' it ain't. "Daddy longlegs stride your home like Cecil Rhodes," he nicks, equating the fear of (harmless) spiders with the terror of a real-life boogeyman - the coloniser of Zimbabwe (where woods' father was born), no less. And the track ends with a seemingly throwaway vocal sample: "a horrid sight, the blackest gnome." A description of the titular character from American author Florence Kate Upton's 19th century children's book 'The Adventures of Two Dutch Dolls and a Golliwogg', it's actually a clue to unpicking the album's title. What's fear, exactly, ponders woods, and what's merely ideology? And how does all of this become entertainment, let alone throwaway cutesy fodder for kids?

American horror as a genre has long broadcast the innermost fears of a nation who wears its ideology so boldly that it almost vanishes. Way back in the early 20th century, H.P. Lovecraft's racism manifested in stories of an ancient evil lurking beneath the New World's disturbed earth; later on, in the wake of the contraceptive pill and the subsequent free love movement, promiscuity was met with death and mutilation in an endless slew of slasher movies; and during peak neoliberalism, a taste for "torture porn" offset the stasis of safe liberal suburbia. woods accepts the history of horror, and proposes a true Black American Gothic archetype; just like Jordan Peele's 'Get Out' bolted together familiar tropes to signal how psychologically traumatic the Black experience can be within manicured white confines, woods bundles various cultural spikes to fabricate a more dangerous lyrical weapon. On 'BLK ZMBY', the ubiquitous zombie myth - a Haitian folkloric invention that was famously repurposed by George Romero in the '60s as a critique of American capitalism - is used as packaging for a barrage of knowledge that wraps references to Fela, Dune and Usual Suspects in thorny post-colonial theory. In Romero's 'Night of the Living Dead', the Black lead character spends 90 minutes fighting off zombies only to be shot in cold blood by beer chugging rednecks; now, woods' Black zombies have taken over the asylum, ignoring accountability and poisoning the water supply while the third world's corpse is sucked dry. "Zombies go home to platters of prawn and escargot," woods says, not letting Biggie off the hook. "New mothers struggle while the zombies suckle like baby goats."

DJ Haram handles the production on 'All These Worlds are Yours', dilating Shabaka Hutchings' transcendent improvisations with damaged '50s b-movie oscillations, rasping amp distortions and microtonal drones. "Today, I watched a man die in a hole from the comfort of my own home," woods recounts, accepting the day-to-day wartime horror-tainment we're fed on social media, 'Human Centipede'-style. "Trench fire, silent weapons, body horror, private booth," replies E L U C I D, woods' longtime Armand Hammer cohort. And woods coaxes out some of El-P's best production work in years on 'Corinthians', linking snippets of Lu Xun's 'Diary of a Madman' - that equates the Confucian ethical system with cannibalism - with the breakdown of late-stage Abrahamic morals that'll be closer to home for Anglophone listeners. "Best believe them crackers won't make it to Mars," he quips, double-underlining a verse that muddles St. Paul with Steven King, and Noah with the military industrial complex. By itemizing his own fears in a sequence of 'Cat's Eye'-style vignettes, woods launches hooks into the contemporary façade of terror-as-amusement, a fairground haunted house that's populated with very real demons. It's shockingly effective - the Pulitzer-ready rap album woods has been promising for aeons, and one of the very best things we've heard this year so far.

Hiding Places is a collaborative album from Brooklyn-based rapper billy woods and Los Angeles beat scene veteran Kenny Segal, set for release by Backwoodz Studioz on March 29, 2019. On its face, it seems an unlikely pairing; woods—who moonlights as ½ of dissonant rap duo Armand Hammer—is a chaotic force, the warped relic of an NY indie-rap wave that never happened. Meanwhile, Segal has been in L.A. for twenty years; from paying dues with Project Blowed to pushing the culture forward with Busdriver and Milo. All the while, his soulful, dreamlike production precariously tethered to earth by the right drums or rumbling bass. But look closer and it makes more sense. After all, Segal lent his production to a couple of songs on Paraffin, Armand Hammer’s critically-acclaimed opus, and the two veterans have more than a few shared collaborators: Open Mike Eagle, ELUCID, and Hemlock Ernst amongst them. Hiding Places finds both artists deep in the labyrinth. Segal’s lush soundscapes have a new edge, woods’ writing is, paradoxically, at its most direct. Hiding Places is a child’s game: funny and cruel, as brutal as a fairy tale. The album features contributions from both artists’ well of collaborators with ELUCID, Self-Jupiter, and MOTHERMARY making appearances.

Ten years after it was originally released, billy woods' sprawling fifth album - a claustrophobic road movie that chews over war, death and disappointment - finally gets a new lease of life.

The timing's great on this one, that's for sure. woods' 'GOLLIWOG' seems like a shoo in for album of the year, so what better time to dig up one of his best deep catalog offerings? 'Today, I Wrote Nothing' wasn't an easy sell at the time; it'd appeared shortly after 'Dour Candy', the rapper's celebrated collaboration with Blockhead, and 'Race Music', his first Armand Hammer album, but didn't just retread the same territory. Where 'Dour Candy' was tight and direct, 'Today, I Wrote Nothing' was sketchy and experimental, a collection of 24 eclectic ideas and asides rapped over dusty, jazz-inflected beats, ghosted soul samples and creaky field recordings. In many ways, it makes more sense now after albums like 2022's 'Aethiopes' and 'GOLLIWOG' have prepared listeners for woods' sharp, philosophical tongue and salty taste in beats.

Just check the Willie Green-produced 'Sleep' with its El-P-cum-BoC synths and rickety rhythms, or the Wire-sampling 'Scales', that skips from Shakespearean "murder-by-numbers" to a psychedelic instrumental workout. "Gas station, vacuum, rental car," woods slurs over a truncated loop of Captain Beefheart's 'White Jam', recounting a long, dangerous drug run. "Back in the back of the bar, demons spar." You can practically taste the blund smoke and gasoline as woods motors from place to place, spinning country in cheap motels on 'Bicycles' and trading macabre anecdotes around the campfire on the vaudeville 'True Stories'. Basically, if you've only heard 'GOLLIWOG', this'll be an easy second step into woods' vast canon.

Ten years after it was originally released, billy woods' sprawling fifth album - a claustrophobic road movie that chews over war, death and disappointment - finally gets a new lease of life.

The timing's great on this one, that's for sure. woods' 'GOLLIWOG' seems like a shoo in for album of the year, so what better time to dig up one of his best deep catalog offerings? 'Today, I Wrote Nothing' wasn't an easy sell at the time; it'd appeared shortly after 'Dour Candy', the rapper's celebrated collaboration with Blockhead, and 'Race Music', his first Armand Hammer album, but didn't just retread the same territory. Where 'Dour Candy' was tight and direct, 'Today, I Wrote Nothing' was sketchy and experimental, a collection of 24 eclectic ideas and asides rapped over dusty, jazz-inflected beats, ghosted soul samples and creaky field recordings. In many ways, it makes more sense now after albums like 2022's 'Aethiopes' and 'GOLLIWOG' have prepared listeners for woods' sharp, philosophical tongue and salty taste in beats.

Just check the Willie Green-produced 'Sleep' with its El-P-cum-BoC synths and rickety rhythms, or the Wire-sampling 'Scales', that skips from Shakespearean "murder-by-numbers" to a psychedelic instrumental workout. "Gas station, vacuum, rental car," woods slurs over a truncated loop of Captain Beefheart's 'White Jam', recounting a long, dangerous drug run. "Back in the back of the bar, demons spar." You can practically taste the blund smoke and gasoline as woods motors from place to place, spinning country in cheap motels on 'Bicycles' and trading macabre anecdotes around the campfire on the vaudeville 'True Stories'. Basically, if you've only heard 'GOLLIWOG', this'll be an easy second step into woods' vast canon.

The out-of-this-world recordings of Dilson de Souza, leading a kind of tropical chamber jazz on leaves from a ficus tree. Dilson was from Barra do Pirai, in the Brazilian countryside; moving to Rio as a young man, where he worked in construction. He recorded his first record in 1954, for RCA Victor. He travelled to Quito around 1957, soon hooking up with Benitez & Valencia, who introduced him to the CAIFE label. Dilson played the leaf open, resting on his tongue, hands free, with his mouth as the resonator. Though a leaf can also be played rolled or folded in half, this method allowed for more precision, a tethered brilliance. A picked ficus leaf stays fresh, crisp and clean-toned for around ten hours. He could play eight compositions, four at each end, before it was spent. Biluka plays trills and vibratos effortlessly, with utterly pure pitch, acrobatically sliding into notes and changing tone on the fly. In Manuco, he leads Los Caníbales into a mysterious landscape on a rope pulled from an Andean spaghetti western, and corrals and teases them into a dialogue. A leaf, a harp, a xylophone, and a rondador — joined in Bailando Me Despido (Dancing As I Say Goodbye) by a saucy organ, doing sloshed call-and-response. In Anacu de Mi Guambra, Biluka shows his full range of antics, hiccuping melodically over a set of magic tricks. His expressiveness was boundless. The eucalyptus leaf is popular among Aboriginal Australians. In China, they’ve played leaves for 10,000 years. In Cambodia, people play the slek, a leaf plucked from either the sakrom or the khnoung tree. But ain’t nobody like Biluka, ever. Astounding music.

The long-overdue revival of Bim Sherman’s catalog begins here. These essential recordings will become widely available again for the first time in decades, opening a new chapter in the appreciation of one of Jamaica’s most distinctive voices and representing a major moment for reggae and dub aficionados around the world. This reissue series will not only preserve his legacy but will also offer listeners the chance to experience the depth and timeless resonance of Sherman’s work in its full glory.

Bim Sherman—born Jarret Lloyd Vincent, in Westmoreland, Jamaica—holds a unique place in reggae history. Emerging in the mid 70s, his ethereal, haunting vocal style quickly set him apart from his contemporaries. He was soon collaborating with the top producers and musicians of the era, including Adrian Sherwood and the On-U Sound collective, bridging the gap between roots reggae and experimental dub and laying the groundwork for the fusion of Jamaican sounds with the vibrant underground scene in the UK. His career, from Kingston to London to Mumbai, was marked by an artistic daring and spiritual intensity that has earned him enduring respect across generations.

The centerpiece of this reissue campaign is Ghetto Dub from 1988, a record that distills Sherman’s artistry into its most potent form. Originally released in a limited number, the album embodies the stark yet soulful beauty of dub production. With its reverb-drenched drums, cavernous basslines, and echo-laden atmospherics, Ghetto Dub transforms Sherman’s various tracks into spectral presences that drift in and out of the mix. The arrangement and production—minimal yet profoundly textured—captures both the raw urgency of Jamaican street culture and the forward-looking experimentation of the UK dub scene. Each track unfolds like a meditation, balancing grit with grace, density with space. Ghetto Dub is more than an album; it is an immersive soundscape that reaffirms Bim Sherman as one of reggae’s most otherworldly and visionary figures.

The long-overdue revival of Bim Sherman’s catalog begins here. These essential recordings will become widely available again for the first time in decades, opening a new chapter in the appreciation of one of Jamaica’s most distinctive voices and representing a major moment for reggae and dub aficionados around the world. This reissue series will not only preserve his legacy but will also offer listeners the chance to experience the depth and timeless resonance of Sherman’s work in its full glory.

Bim Sherman—born Jarret Lloyd Vincent, in Westmoreland, Jamaica—holds a unique place in reggae history. Emerging in the mid 70s, his ethereal, haunting vocal style quickly set him apart from his contemporaries. He was soon collaborating with the top producers and musicians of the era, including Adrian Sherwood and the On-U Sound collective, bridging the gap between roots reggae and experimental dub and laying the groundwork for the fusion of Jamaican sounds with the vibrant underground scene in the UK. His career, from Kingston to London to Mumbai, was marked by an artistic daring and spiritual intensity that has earned him enduring respect across generations.

The centerpiece of this reissue campaign is Ghetto Dub from 1988, a record that distills Sherman’s artistry into its most potent form. Originally released in a limited number, the album embodies the stark yet soulful beauty of dub production. With its reverb-drenched drums, cavernous basslines, and echo-laden atmospherics, Ghetto Dub transforms Sherman’s various tracks into spectral presences that drift in and out of the mix. The arrangement and production—minimal yet profoundly textured—captures both the raw urgency of Jamaican street culture and the forward-looking experimentation of the UK dub scene. Each track unfolds like a meditation, balancing grit with grace, density with space. Ghetto Dub is more than an album; it is an immersive soundscape that reaffirms Bim Sherman as one of reggae’s most otherworldly and visionary figures.

Substrata was the third studio album by the Norwegian electronic artist Biosphere, released 25 years ago by All Saints Records in London. In 2016, Pitchfork ranked it at number 38 on its list of the 50 Best Ambient Albums of All Time. Here are ten alternative versions picked from the Substrata recordings sessions that took place between 1995 and 1996. David Stubbs´review of the original album in Melody Maker ,July 12th 1997: Biosphere, aka Norwegian Geir Jenssen, is transmitting from a cold, polar outpost of the imagination. "Substrata" is the best ambient album I've heard in an ice age, an album of terrifying, desolate and all-enveloping beauty, the music of a man who's stared too long and too hard at the Northern lights, a music of distant rumbles, tremors underfoot, stray radio signals, yawning chasms and indistinct, grainy images in the half-light when the mind begins to play tricks. "Poa Alpina" reminds me of recent, frightening TV footage of vast chunks of iceberg cracking and falling away into the sea under the duress of global warming. As for "The Things I Tell You", imagine what Oasis would have sounded like had they been born Eskimos. "Sphere Of No Form" is shot through with a frantic peal like the Mayday song of the world's last whale and, best of all, "Kobresia" looms with a vast, mournful, symphonic motif, like the ghost of the Titanic. Chill out has never been this chilling.