Jazz / Soul / Funk
1777 products
Another masterpiece from the golden age of jazz-rock by Takeshi Inomata, a master drummer who has always been breaking new ground with an eye on the times. This is a so-called instructional record produced as part of the “Method” series, but its musicality is funky and groovy, as if to provoke the listener. The band leads Sound Limited, a famous group that played a role in the development of jazz rock in Japan, and pushes the boundaries of groove with their ever-changing stick work. The band's diverse selection of songs, from covers such as “Runaway Child” and “Smack Water Jack,” to “Sleeper” and “Seven Four,” composed by Norio Maeda, a close friend who also arranges for the band, and the drum solo “Drum Concert,” which is overwhelmingly powerful, is filled with seamless grooves. The album is filled with a high-density groove. Another masterpiece from the golden age of rock. This is a so-called instructional record produced as one of the “Method” series, but the musicality of the record is so funky and groovy that it seems to provoke the listener. Leading the Sound Limited, a famous group that played a role in the development of jazz-rock in Japan, the band pushes the limits of groove with its ever-changing stick work. The band's diverse selection of songs, from covers of “Runaway Child” and “Smack Water Jack,” to arrangements of “Sleeper” and “Seven Four” by Norio Maeda, a close friend, and the overwhelmingly powerful drum solo “Drum Concert,” were filled with a seamless, high-density groove. The album is filled with a high-density groove.
The trio is made up of three trios and one vocalist: Yosuke Yamashita Trio, Itaru Oki Trio, Yuji Ohno Trio, and Kimiko Kasai, Trio by Trio Plus One. The original was released as one of the Victor “Jazz in Japan” series. Just by looking at the lineup of musicians, one can feel an extraordinary atmosphere in this special work. Yamashita, who was leading the scene as the darling of the times, and Oki, who came to Tokyo from Osaka in the mid-1960s and attracted a great deal of attention. Oki, who moved to Tokyo from Osaka in the mid-1960s and attracted much attention, and Ohno, whose supple musicality covered a wide range of genres from modern jazz to new jazz. And Kasai, who is just now blossoming. It goes without saying that each of their performances is powerful and attractive, but it is important to note that this album contains a performance by a seven-piece band consisting of the Oki Trio, Ohno Trio, and Kasai, which has never been recorded before or since.

The acclaimed and highly sought-after LP by Hailu Mergia and the Walias, Tche Belew, an album of instrumentals released in 1977, is perhaps the most seminal recording released in the aftermath of the 1974 revolution. The story of the Walias band is a critical chapter in Ethiopian popular music, taking place during a period of music industry flux and political complexity in the country. Hailu Mergia, a keyboardist and arranger diligently working the nightclub scene in Addis Ababa, formed the Walias in the early 1970’s with a core group of musicians assembled from prior working bands. They played Mergia’s funk- and soul-informed tunes, while cutting 45rpm singles with various vocalists. While the Walias performed at top hotels and played the presidential palace twice, their relationship with the Derg regime was complex, evidenced by the removal of one song from the record by government censors. Decades later, Hailu Mergia was surprised to see the album fetching more than $4,000 at online auctions (it helped that the most popular of all Ethiopian tunes “Musicawi Silt” appeared on the record). Now everyone has the chance to listen again―or for the first time―to this timeless pillar of Ethiopian popular music.
Absolute K.O. bout of free jazz poetry by a spry, 85 year old Joe McPhee, adapting his renowned improvised practice to words - juxtaposed with Mats Gustafson’s sparing brass and electric gestures. It’s an utterly timeless and transfixing salvo, another shiny notch for Smalltown Supersound’s brilliant Le Jazz Non Series.
*300 copies limited edition* As a common ligature to the OG free jazz scene of ‘60s NYC, with formative binds to its European offshoots and the experimental avant garde, Joe McPhee is a true force of nature who has represented jazz at its freest over a remarkable lifetime. In duo with Swedish free jazz and noise standard bearer Mats Gustafson, he upends expectations with an astonishingly vivid and upfront example of his enduring contribution to freely improvised music. In 11 parts he variously reflects on everything from the neon sleaze and scuzz of NYC to contemporary US politicians and laugh out loud imitations of his previous sparring partners such as Peter Brötzmann, with a head-slapping immediacy that leaves you reeling, spellbound.
McPhee’s flow of rare, organic cadence, ranging from urgent to contemplative and dreamlike, is blessed with a unique turn-of-phrase that surely mirrors his decades of instrumental work. Gustafsson, meanwhile, dextrously takes up the mantle with a multi-instrumental spectrum of sounds, leaving McPhee unbound and able to float and sting on the mic. There’s obvious wisdom in his perceptively penetrative observations, as derived from a rich cultural life well spent, but also a playful naivety and levity in his ability to veer from almost melodic speech to explosive aggression and a knowing, bathetic wit. It’s perhaps hard to believe that McPhee only started incorporating and performing spoken word in his work in the past ten years, a half century since his declaration of “What Time Is It‽” announced his arrival on a legendary debut ‘Nation Time’ (1971), ushering in one of free jazz’s most singular characters in the process.

Whipped up in the dust of Rene & Rene's Tejano tornado "Angelito," the Dynamic label was just one among San Antonio record and real estate mogul Abe Epstein's enterprises. Dynamic's flagship outfit, the Commands, marched "No Time For You" up to the middle of the charts in 1966 with performance chops honed jet-sharp by the demanding Air Force Base circuit. That takeoff paved a runway for 20 more soulful Dynamic singles over an impressive 30-month campaign. Epstein's open-door policy brought a diverse cross-section of Texas talent into convergence within his General McMullan Drive studio, as whites, blacks, and Latinos alike suited up for service in whichever new group the call of duty called for. Epstein’s Alamo City melting pot is ladled out here in 28 of Dynamic's most intriguing dishes by the Tonettes, Little Jr. Jesse & the Tear Drops, Don & the Doves, Willie Cooper & the Webs, Bobby Blackmon & His Soul Express, and Doc & Sal. Our deluxe 2LP edition gatefolds into Lone Star pic sleeves, full-color dancehall photography, and rich ephemera, planting a new flag for soul in soil that’s seen its share of hoisted banners.







Across eight tracks that mesh jazz-laced, emotive, and spacious composition with fourth-world and adult-contemporary tonality, Toronto saxophonist Joseph Shabason sketches an auditory map of the transcendence, unity, conditioning, and eventual renunciation of his upbringing in an Islamic and Jewish dual-faith household. The resulting album The Fellowship bears the name of the insular Islamic community Shabason’s traditionally Jewish parents belonged to from a time before he was even born; a mental and spiritual push-pull which continued shaping, even controlling, his outlook well into his adulthood. As a listening experience The Fellowship follows a chronological arc that spans three generations covering his parents’ early lives, his own spiritual and physical adolescence, and his subsequent struggle to eschew the problematic habituations of such a conflicted past.
“Life With My Grandparents” commences The Fellowship in overcast hues. A cassette recording of a child’s voice pops in and out of a murmuring brass tone as both elements drift like memories receding forever into the past. “My parents grew up in really difficult households. Both of my father’s parents had just survived the Holocaust only six years before he was born.” Shabason explains, cutting right to the root of what might have led his parents to diverge from their inherited spiritual conventions. "My grandparents were deeply traumatized from having lost so many friends and family members, and even if the war hadn’t happened I don’t think they would have been particularly emotionally available.” Exchanging the gloom for tension, the anxiously experimental “Escape From North York” jolts the cadence forwards and backwards by way of skittering jazz percussion as a nauseated synth melody balloons into full-on terror, all while the melodic elements are ambushed from below by a flash flood of air-rending texture. The title (a play on John Carpenter’s Escape From New York) refers to the area of Toronto where Shabason’s parents were raised, and rebelliously fled in their twenties against their own parents’ wishes. The title track of The Fellowship swings toward relief and reflection, and buoys the mood up to something childlike. It is suffused with saxophone, upright bass, chorus-drenched guitar, and digitized pan flute; the kinds of 90’s jazz timbres that mark a time in Shabason’s adolescence when the dilemmas of his family’s faith were still obscured by comfort, community, and a dash of the forgivable naivete of early youth. At the same time, the piece shows Shabason at his most melodically athletic, darting around chord changes with fervor for the subject at hand.
From here the perspective moves from third to first person as Shabason unpacks his teenage years across a three song suite, the titles of which mark the exact years they are meant to sonically illustrate. Where the previous track floated ever upward on innocence and clarity, “0-13” dispenses with both by its final third at which point things have unraveled into aleatoric unease representing “the first chink in the armour,” as Joseph admits, “and the first time I really started to question everything I’d been taught.” By “13-15” the pendulum is fully back on the side of apprehension as galloping percussion, an unrelenting synthetic marimba, an off-key wood flute, and jittering electric guitar tell a story of doubt and anger, dressed in fourth-world atonality. “By that time,” says Shabason, referring to the age denoted in the track name, “I was smoking weed and really getting into my head. According to my religion, smoking weed was gonna land me in hell, and all my friends who drank were also on the path to hell. The whole thing seemed totally absurd. The idea of a God that was that petty and vengeful made no sense. Those thoughts just swirled and created this background dissonance that existed all throughout my early teens. Middle school was fucked.”
“15-19” is the sadness that follows outrage, when the dust settles and the pieces need putting back together, yet they simply won’t fit in light of a new found perspective. As such, this final movement is bathed in tragic, futile optimism. Under a bed of half-tempo RnB, muted trumpets glow like dying embers catching the wind. Shabason elucidates, “at that point, I’d discovered punk and hardcore and decided to be straight edge. It provided me with a community and a great cover for why I didn’t drink or do drugs. It felt like this really cool disguise. It kept me from questioning why I was doing it in the first place, but underlying it all was sadness. Why were my gay friends going to hell? Why did women have to be modest and not men? Why did God want to punish me for so many things? Was I going to hell because I had sex with my girlfriend? None of it made sense, but I was so completely brainwashed that I never thought to seriously question it. Instead, I just slipped up more and more, did drugs, fooled around, and tried to put the divine ramifications of my actions out of my head.”
“Comparative World Religions” is a caffeinated gamelan named for the college course that caused Joseph-- and so many other young people engrossed in inherited repressive ideologies-- to see the irreconcilable nature of his beliefs from the outside in. Like the class itself, it stands apart from the backdrop of The Fellowship by replacing the seesaw of religious ecstasy and uncertainty with the type of transcendence that can only be arrived at through factual illumination. Using mournful brass and glassy keys, the aptly titled “So Long” represents the slow walking away that Shabason had to do mentally and emotionally, even long after the illusion had been cracked open. “It took me at least another twelve to fifteen years to fully deprogram myself from all the guilt and shame that was bred into me by religion, but I think that I’m finally free from it,” says Shabason of his present-day outlook. “This song is a final goodbye to that life… an exhale and deep inhale before I start a new chapter.” On The Fellowship, as on prior albums that bear his name, Joseph Shabason does what only the best instrumental music makers can: tell a story with emotional clarity that conveys even the subtlest of feelings, all without singing a single word. As wordless as ever-- with as complex a theme as ever-- this album may be his most emotionally articulate yet. Most importantly, those lost in the woods of repression and self-doubt that organized religion can be at its worst now have The Fellowship to help guide them into a softer light.

A quarter century since their 1998 debut, No Fear of Time finally reunites one of the greatest hip-hop duos of all-time, Black Star. Group members yasiin bey and Talib Kweli first joined forces to deliver their iconic breakout, Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star, which quickly became one of hip-hop's most revered works and launched both already-rising stars into the stratosphere. Although each has since enjoyed success and acclaim in their individual careers, they've never realigned for a sophomore follow-up to that release until now. Produced entirely by renowned beatsmith Madlib, No Fear of Time has a future vibe with vintage soul. The 9-track album was recorded guerrilla-style in hotels and dressing rooms around the globe, and initially saw a non-traditional release, being made available exclusively on a subscription-based podcast platform. Now, the album is officially available on physical formats for fans worldwide to own and appreciate the triumphant return of Black Star.


Releasing now for well over a decade - Neue Grafik: known to friends as Fred, has successfully transplanted from Parisian rookie to one- man London Institution. Beginning as a solo producer and DJ, Fred spread his wings upon relocating to South London - at first with his Neue Grafik Ensemble and later with his now iconic twice-weekly Orii Jam - the latter of which has given agency to an entire new generation of musicians; spawning an aesthetic, nurturing a unique sound and becoming a launchpad for countless artists.
Dalston Tape Volume 1 is Fred’s attempt to fall back in love with beatmaking - taking it back to the roots of where the project began. I say “attempt” because he’s simply learnt too much and made too many friends along the way to make a mere DIY beat tape. Since his early MPC-led productions on Parisian label, Beat X Changers, Fred has learnt to play the keys to a concert hall standard, he has become proficient in double bass and built up a dense network of collaborators who he has composed, recorded, engineered and produced for both at home in SE London and in the iconic Total Refreshment Centre Studios in Dalston.
This experience adds unavoidable dimensions to his toolbox - resulting in something more akin to a miniature-magnum-opus than a simple beat-tape. Yes, we hear the influences of Pete Rock, Mad Lib, J Dilla and Al Dobson Jr but we also hear the musicality of D’Aneglo, James Blake and live contributions from an ever growing army of young graduates of the Orii School.
Beats are finely crafted, virtuosically finished and at times - excruciatingly short! So short it’s almost a flex - but a humble one at that. If this is what Neue Grafik can do on his lunch break imagine what he could do with enough time and budget!?
The “ Volume 1” suffix reassures us more is to come, and the “tapes” suggests that whilst these may be brief sketches , there’s nothing throw away about them - on the contrary, we’re witnessing an artist in full flow, moving solo as nimbly as he does with an orchestra, a man with too many ideas and not enough time offering us a brief glimpse into his musical world and reminding us that despite all he has learnt he is, at his core - a beat maker.
The only question which remains is whether he is intentionally teasing us with these bite size nuggets or inadvertently elevating the art-form to new heights. That, is for you to decide...
In 1970, The Family Stone were at the peak of their popularity, but the maestro Sly Stone had already moved his head to a completely different space. The first evidence of Sly’s musical about-turn was revealed by the small catalog of his new label, Stone Flower: a pioneering, peculiar, minimal electro-funk sound that unfolded over just four seven-inch singles. Stone Flower’s releases were credited to their individual artists, but each had Sly’s design and musicianship stamped into the grooves–and the words “Written by Sylvester Stewart/Produced and arranged by Sly Stone” on the sticker.
Set up by Stone’s manager David Kapralik with distribution by Atlantic Records, Stone Flower was, predictably, a family affair: the first release was by Little Sister, fronted by Stone’s little sister Vaetta Stewart. It was short lived too–the imprint folded in 1971–but its influence was longer lasting. The sound Stone formulated while working on Stone Flower’s output would shape the next phase in his own career as a recording artist: it was here he began experimenting with the brand new Maestro Rhythm King drum machine. In conjunction with languid, effected organ and guitar sounds and a distinctly lo-fi soundscape, Sly’s productions for Stone Flower would inform the basis of his masterwork There’s A Riot Goin’ On.
The first 45 came in February 1970: Little Sister’s dancefloor-ready “You’re The One” hit Number 22 in the charts–the label’s highest showing. The follow-up, “Stanga," also by Little Sister, made the wah pedal the star. The third release came from 6IX, a six-piece multi-racial rock group whose sole release, a super-slow version of The Family Stone’s “Dynamite," featured only the lead singer and harmonica player from the group. Joe Hicks was the final Stone Flower stablemate; his pulsing, electronic "Life And Death In G&A” is one of the bleakest moments Sly Stone ever created on disc (Hicks’ prior single for Scepter, “Home Sweet Home,” the first released Stone Flower production, is also included).
This long overdue compilation of Sly’s Stone Flower era gathers each side of the five 45s plus ten previously unissued cuts from the label archives, all newly remastered from the original tapes. In these grooves you’ll find the missing link between the rocky, soulful Sly Stone of Stand! and the dark, drum machine-punctuated, overdubbed sound of There’s A Riot Going On. I’m Just Like You: Sly’s Stone Flower 1969-70 opens up the mysteries of an obscure but monumental phase in Stone’s career.
Long-awaited analogue reissue of the second album from 1978 by Scandinavian Swedish diva Meta Ruth, a much-loved European/Brazilian jazz classic!
The second album from 1978, released by Meta Ruth, the proud diva of Scandinavia's Sweden, with keyboardist Nip Sylvens.
The album features two club jazz classics that have wowed many a floor: 'Zazueira' by Jorge Ben, famously performed by Elis Regina, and Neil Sedaka's 'Here We Are Falling Love Again', as well as Billy Joel's 'Just The Way You Are", Roberta Flack's "Feel Like Making Love", Marina Shaw's "Street Walking Women" and Carole King's "You've Got A Friend". A refreshingly cool arrangement with a great pop sensibility. Long-awaited reissue with obi!
