Jazz / Soul / Funk
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In 1958, John Coltrane had yet to take the modal post-bop plunge. He was still a hard bopper, although his "sheets of sound" solos were certainly among the most interesting, creative, and distinctive that bop had to offer in the late '50s. Stardust contains some highlights of two bop-oriented Coltrane dates from 1958: one is a July 11 session with trumpeter/flugelhornist Wilbur Harden, pianist Red Garland, bassist Paul Chambers, and drummer Jimmy Cobb; the other is a December 26 session with Garland, Chambers, trumpeter Freddie Hubbard, and drummer Art Taylor. At both sessions, Coltrane's playing is quite engaging. He is a lyrical, expressive ballad player on "Then I'll Be Tired of You," "Stardust," and "Time After Time," but he swings fast and aggressively on "Love Thy Neighbor" (the only track on this 39-minute program that isn't a ballad). At both sessions, Coltrane is well served by Garland's piano and Chambers' bass. When Coltrane was playing alongside those jazzmen in Miles Davis' 1955-1957 quintet, he enjoyed a strong rapport with both of them -- and that rapport wasn't any weaker in 1958. It is no coincidence that Prestige's A&R department united Coltrane with Garland and Chambers so often; Prestige knew how compatible all of them were. Although not quite essential, Stardust paints a consistently attractive picture of Coltrane's 1958 output. ~ Alex Henderson
Clube da Esquina 2 is a 1978 album by Brazilian singer-songwriter Milton Nascimento. The album serves as a continuation to the Clube da Esquina album and retained the collective approach, stylistic diversity, and experimental elements of its predecessor, spread across two LPs. Musically, the album reflects the Brazil’s social contradictions, exploring themes of hope and despair, beauty and hardship, and the tension between historical trauma and uncertain futures. The album featured a broader range of collaborators, including Brazilian artists like Elis Regina, Chico Barque, and Lo Borges.
Outstanding and limited compilation of Turkish Jazz-Funk rarities. The release explores what happened when Western music styles such as modal jazz, bossa nova, fusion and funk met Arabic folk music, tone scales and rhythm structures in the late sixties and seventies in Turkey and Egypt.
Afro-jazz ancestral healing at the crossroads of tradition and tomorrow
Matsuli Music is proud to announce the first vinyl reissue of Philip Tabane’s Sangoma ("Spiritual Healer") since its 1978 release. Remastered from the original tapes with lacquers cut by Frank Merrit and pressed on 180g heavyweight vinyl at Pallas in Germany, this definitive edition re-asserts the power of one of South Africa’s landmark recordings. Featuring new liner notes by cultural critic Kwanele Sosibo and artwork restoration by Siemon Allen, Sangoma returns in full force through an extended Malombo line-up, fronted by Tabane's spellbinding guitar - ancestral, timeless, and unbound.
Philip Tabane (1934–2018), the mercurial guitar genius of South African music, forged a sound that was as rooted in the spirit world as it was in daily life. With the Malombo Jazzmen of the 1960s, Tabane disrupted Western notions of “jazz,” bringing the resonant rhythm of cowhide malombo drums into the foreground. While outsiders and the uninitiated often reached for labels like “primitive yet sophisticated,” Tabane and his collaborators named it more truthfully: “music of the spirit.”
By the time of Sangoma, Tabane stood at a crossroads. Fresh from a period of three years’ touring in the United States where he graced the Newport Jazz Festival, and played alongside Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Pharoah Sanders and others, he brushed off comparisons with characteristic self-assurance: “No, I don’t play like Miles. Miles plays like me.” Back home in South Africa, and with a newly signed international distribution deal with WEA Records, he harnessed this momentum into a larger band setting, capturing a rare intensity.
The result was Sangoma—an album that bridges contradictions: expansive yet intimate, celebratory yet haunted by exile and return. Tracks such as “Sangoma,” “Hi Congo,” and “Keya Bereka” are not simply performances but living testaments, songs that would remain in his repertoire for decades. Unlike the moody, immersive character of much of his work, here Tabane is on the move—urgent, restless, uncontainable. As he announces on the second track, “Maskanta wa tsamaya” (“something that kicks ass”).
More than four decades on, Sangoma is both an historical document and a timeless invocation. From his home in Mamelodi to the world and back again, Tabane’s spiritual healing endures—raw, electric, and unbowed.
NooPop Records proudly presents 'Naissoo Freeform Quintet,' led by keyboard maestro Tõnu Naissoo.
Recorded in Tallinn during two electrifying, improvisational sessions in July 2024, this LP captures the infectious energy of funk, the adventurous spirit of free jazz, and infused with a nostalgic nod to the psychedelic era.
This album is a celebration of dynamic percussive rhythms and exploratory sound of Bass Clarinet, Rhodes, Moog Source and ARP Odyssey, offering a unique blend of past and future musical influences.
Whether you're a jazz aficionado, a groove enthusiast, or simply a lover of innovative music, "Naissoo Freeform Quintet" is an essential addition to your collection. Join us on this cosmic expedition and discover the infinite possibilities of sound that await in the astral realms of plate reverb and tape delay.
"Naissoo Freeform Quintet" is a rare gem for collectors and music lovers alike. Grab yours before it’s gone and embark on this stellar journey!
Swan Song
The vinyl LP at the heart of this éthiopiques 31 [tracks 2 to 11] was one of the very last vinyl records ever released in Ethiopia. But above all it represents, we felt, the absolute masterpiece of the Ethiopian Groove – the Swan Song of Swinging Addis. The album leaves a clear idea for posterity of the level of sophistication and mastery that modern Ethiopian music had achieved, before being crushed under the Stalino-military heel of the Derg – as the bloody revolution that was unfolding came to be called.
Ethiopia 1976.
The Revolution that broke out in February 1974 rolled on in a ruthless march. The whole of Ethiopian society was utterly stunned. The bouquets of flowers handed joyfully to the first tanks of the coup d'état were to wilt very rapidly. From September 1976 to February 1978, 18 months of Red Terror (the name given by the junta itself) spilled blood throughout the country. This fratricidal conflict took its heaviest toll among students and youth. The shift from feudalism to a cruel and primitive Stalinism left the country's citizens deeply traumatised, and snuffed out any pretence of activism, whatever the sector of society. This ice age was to last for seventeen long years.
ሙሉቀን፡መለሰ Mulukèn Mellèssè Muluqän Mälläsä
It was three tracks by Muluken that served as the opener for éthiopiques-1 more than 25 years ago. Seven more tracks appeared on éthiopiques-3 and 13, all accompanied by The Equators, which was soon to become the Dahlak Band.
The first track, Hédètch alu, also the very first piece that Muluken ever recorded, left audiences both unsettled and amazed. Reflecting the singer's extremely young age (he was just 17 at the time), this angelic voice mystified many, who thought they were in fact listening to a feminine voice. He was not yet 22 when he released his last vinyl record in 1976 with Kaifa Records (KF 39LP), one of the very last to be issued in Ethiopia, before the cassette tape became the dominant medium for music distribution – and before the new revolutionary regime put a stop to all independent musical life, via an unspeakable barrage of prohibitions and other persecutions.
Mulu qèn, literally, “A well filled day”. This tender maternal intention wasn't enough to ward off the cruelty of fate. His mother's premature death drove Muluken to leave his native Godjam, in northeast Ethiopia, to live with an uncle in Addis Ababa. Born Muluken Tamer, he took his uncle's last name – Mèllèssè.
The spelling Muluken appeared in his administrative records. Transcription of Amharic to the Latin alphabet, both in Ethiopia and for scholars, gives rise to controversies and quibbles that can never be neatly settled. French allows for a closer approximation of the original pronunciation, thanks to its battery of accent marks, confusing as they may be to anglophones.
Between rather accommodating administrative record-keepers and the various versions that pop up in interviews given by the artist, Muluken's year of birth oscillates between 1953 and 1955…
1954? One thing is certain: the artist's talent made itself known very early indeed, because he got his start in 1966-67, at the age of 13 or 14. Photos from the period attest to his extreme youth. It's a strange sort of initiation for a very young teenager to become a sensation in the heart of Addis's nightlife at the time, Woubé Bèrèha – the Wilds of Woubé. And what's more, in the club of the Queen of the Night, the Godjamé Assègèdètch Alamrèw herself, the very same that was portrayed by Sebhat Guèbrè-Egziabhér in his novel-memoir Les Nuits d’Addis Abeba2… The legendary female club owner who is remembered to this day by the capital's ageing boomers.
Muluken first tried his hand at the drums, before he grabbed the microphone. He emigrated briefly to the Zula Club, across the street from the old Addis Post Office, one of the ground-breaking bars of the burgeoning musical scene, before joining the Second Police Band in 1968, for around three years. He spent a few months with the short-lived Blue Nile Band founded by saxophonist Besrat Tammènè. As the musical scene grew increasingly successful, and pulled slowly but decisively away from its institutional ties, Muluken released his first 45rpm single in February 1972 (Amha Records AE 440). It was included in two LP Ethiopian Hit Parade compilation albums in September of the same year. All in all, Muluken released eight two-track 45s and the same number of original cassette tapes between February 1972 and 1984, the year that he departed for permanent exile in the USA. After converting to Pentecostalism in 1980, Muluken gradually abandoned all secular musical activity. In 1985, at the end of a concert in Philadelphia, he decided to quit concerts and recording for good. Mèlakè Gèbré, the historic bass player from the Walias band who was playing with him that night, recalls that everything appeared so irredeemably diabolical in Muluken's eyes, that it was to be the end of his contribution to Ethiopian Groove.
The end of the story, the beginning of a legend.
Dahlak Band, forgotten by History
Aside from his personal history and vocal talents, it must be remembered that Muluken Mèllèssè was one of the biggest names in the musical innovations that marked the end of the imperial period. These éthiopiques aim to convince those who are just discovering this hidden gem... As for Ethiopians themselves, they are to this day captivated by this singular and atypical figure in the Abyssinian pop landscape – even though he withdrew from public life some 40 years ago. Incorrigible devotees of poetic twists, of more or less hidden meanings, Ethiopians appreciate above all the care Muluken took in choosing his lyrics and the writers who penned them, such as Feqerte Haylou, Alemtsehay Wodajo and, here, Shewalul Mengistu (1944-1977). Love songs, written by women, a far cry from the conventional drivel that pleases sappy sentimentalists.
Muluken is equally acclaimed for his perfectionism when it came to music, the opposite of the overly casual approach that is all too common. He remained a faithful partner of musicians who came from a lineage that borrowed from several inventive and pioneering bands (Venus, Equators, Dahlak). Amongst them were certain artists who began their musical lives with Nersès Nalbandian at the Haile Sellassie Theatre and who come of age in around 1973 – at just the wrong time, you might say. Among them were the pillars Shimèlis Bèyènè (trumpet), Dawit Yifru (keyboards) and Tilayé Gèbrè (sax & flute). Most notably Tilayé Gèbrè, certainly one of the most important musicians, composers and arrangers of his generation, of the end of the imperial era, and of the early years of the Derg.
It was only in 1981 that a miraculous opportunity arose for Tilayé to escape the Stalinist paradise of the dictator Menguistou Haylè-Maryam. Once again it was Amha Eshèté (1946-2021) who provided a solution. The spirited and courageous producer, who had been in exile in Washington since 1975, succeeded, thanks to his incredible perseverence, in bringing the Walias Band to the USA. It was, in fact an extended Walias Band comprising ten musicians3, six of whom chose to slip away after a few concerts and the recording of an LP (The Best of Walias, WRS 100). Tilayé Gèbrè was one of these. He has been living in the USA ever since. There he joined the then-nascent Ethiopian diaspora, which lived largely unto itself, and was making only very modest headway in the American musical market. It seems unfair that Tilayé Gèbrè and the Dahlak Band were not able to benefit earlier from the public recognition that they do deserve.
A similar draining away of the top-rate talents would lead to the reorganization of the major groups of the “Derg Time”. The remaining artists spread themselves around between Ibex Band (renamed Roha Band), Ethio Star Band and a remodeled Walias Band. That spelled the end of the Dahlak Band.
With this record, produced by the essential Ali Abdella Kaifa a.k.a. Ali Tango, we can appreciate everything that the Derg not only destroyed, but also prevented from flourishing. This gem of Ethiopian-style afrobeat came out in 1976 (and, by way of a parenthesis, before the FESTAC 1977 in Lagos, which was attended by an impressive delegation of Ethiopian musicians — although Fela was already personna non grata in his own country). Despite everything that might distinguish this ethio-groove from Fela’s music – no colonial axe to grind, no question of political confrontation with the authorities, no claims to negritude or Africanism for the Ethiopian musicians, and less extrovertion! –, this LP fits beautifully into the saga of intense and electrified soul of the new “African” groove that Fela and Manu Dibango embodied so well from that point onwards.
In restoring this record to its place in the afrobeat epic, it can be seen that, if nothing else, the timeline bestows a legitimate pedigree and a historical primacy to works that had no international impact when they were originally released.
Warning! Masterpiece!
FRANCAIS
Le Chant du Cygne
L’album 33 tours au cœur de ces éthiopiques [plages 2 à 11] est l’un des derniers vinyles publié en Ethiopie, mais surtout il nous paraît être le chef-d’œuvre absolu de l’Ethiopian Groove – le Chant du Cygne du Swinging Addis. Il laisse à la postérité une idée claire du niveau de sophistication et de maîtrise qu’avait atteint la musique moderne éthiopienne avant d’être écrabouillée sous la botte militaro-stalinienne du Derg – le sigle qui signe la sanglante révolution en cours.
Ethiopie 1976.
La Révolution qui a éclaté en février 1974 avance à marche forcée. La société éthiopienne tout entière est brutalement étourdie. Les gerbes de fleurs offertes avec allégresse aux premiers tankistes du coup d’état ont très vite fané. Entre septembre 1976 et février 1978, 18 mois de Terreur Rouge (ainsi consacrée par la junte elle-même) vont ensanglanter le pays. La jeunesse estudiantine paiera le plus lourd tribut à ces vindictes fratricides. Passer d’une féodalité hors d’âge à un stalinisme primitif et cruel traumatisera pour longtemps chaque citoyen et étouffera toute velléité d’agitation, dans quelque champ de la société que ce soit. Cette glaciation durera dix-sept interminables années.
ሙሉቀን፡መለሰ Mulukèn Mellèssè Muluqän Mälläsä
C’est Muluken qui a ouvert éthiopiques-1 avec trois titres, voilà 25 ans et plus. Sept autres titres sont parus dans éthiopiques 3, 10 et 13, tous accompagnés par The Equators, qui deviendront bientôt le Dahlak Band.
Le titre inaugural, Hédètch alu, également premier morceau gravé par Muluken, a troublé et bluffé le public. Trahissant l’extrême jeunesse de l’interprète (il avait alors 17 ans), cette voix séraphique a mystifié plus d’un auditoire qui pensait avoir affaire à des accents féminins. Il n’a pas 22 ans lorsqu’il publie en 1976 son dernier vinyle sur Kaifa Records (KF 39LP), l’un des tout derniers publiés en Éthiopie avant que la cassette ne devienne le médium roi de la diffusion musicale – et avant que le nouveau régime révolutionnaire ne mette un terme à toute vie musicale indépendante par une innommable batterie d’interdits et autres persécutions.
Mulu qèn, littéralement Une journée [bien] remplie. Ce baptême tout maternel ne suffira pas à conjurer un funeste sort. Le décès précoce de sa mère conduira le jeune Muluken à quitter son Godjam natal, dans le Nord-Ouest éthiopien, pour vivre chez un oncle à Addis Abeba. Né Muluken Tamer, il prendra le nom de cet oncle pour patronyme – Mèllèssè.
C’est la graphie Muluken que retiendra l’état-civil. Les transcriptions de l’amharique en alphabet latin, en Ethiopie comme pour les linguistes, sont l’objet de controverses et autres chicanes jamais unanimement résolues. Le français permet de s’approcher au mieux de la prononciation originale grâce à sa batterie d’accents qui déroutent tant les anglophones.
Entre un état-civil éthiopien accommodant et les variantes parsemant les interviews de l’artiste, l’année de naissance de Muluken oscille entre 1953 et 1955…
1954 ? Ce qui est sûr, c’est que le talent de l’artiste s’est exprimé ultra précocement puisqu’il fait ses débuts en 1966-67, à 13 ou 14 ans. Les photos de l’époque attestent son extrême jeunesse. Singulière initiation pour un très jeune teenager que d’enfiévrer le quartier chaud de la noctambulie addissine d’alors, Woubé Bèrèha – le Maquis de Woubé. Et dans le club de la reine de la nuit qui plus est, la Godjamé Assègèdètch Alamrèw herself, celle-la même qu’à croquée Sebhat Guèbrè-Egziabhér dans son roman-témoignage Les Nuits d’Addis Abeba2… Une tenancière légendaire dont se souviennent encore les vieux boomers de la capitale.
Muluken tâte d’abord de la batterie avant de s’emparer du micro. Il émigrera brièvement au Zula Club, en face de la vieille Poste d’Addis, un de ces bars pionniers de l’effervescence musicale, avant de rejoindre le Second Police Band en 1968, pendant trois ans environ. Quelques mois au sein d’un éphémère Blue Nile Band monté par le saxophoniste Besrat Tammènè et, le succès grandissant, la scène musicale se dégageant lentement mais fermement des institutions, Muluken sort son premier 45 tours en février 1972 (Amha Records AE 440), repris en septembre de la même année dans deux LP compilations Ethiopian Hit Parade. En tout et pour tout, Muluken publiera huit 45 tours deux titres et autant de cassettes originales entre février 1972 et 1984, année de son départ pour un exil définitif aux USA. Converti au pentecôtisme depuis 1980, Muluken abandonne petit à petit toute activité musicale profane. En 1985, à la fin d’un concert donné à Philadelphie, il décide d’arrêter pour de bon concerts et enregistrements. Mèlakè Gèbré, le bassiste historique du Walias band qui l’accompagnait ce soir-là, se souvient que tout semblait si irrémédiablement démoniaque aux yeux de Muluken que c’en était fini désormais de sa contribution au groove éthiopien.
Fin d’une histoire, début d’une légende.
Dahlak Band, oublié de l’Histoire
Histoire personnelle et magie vocale mises à part, il faut retenir que Muluken Mèllèssè fut l’un des derniers très grands noms de l’innovation musicale produite durant la fin de l’époque impériale. Ces éthiopiques se veulent convaincantes pour ceux qui découvrent cette pépite... Quant aux Ethiopiens, ils sont toujours captivés par cette personnalité singulière et atypique du paysage pop abyssin – en dépit de son effacement public depuis quarante ans. Amateurs impénitents de poétique contournée et de sens plus ou moins caché, ils apprécient par-dessus tout le soin mis par Muluken dans le choix de ses textes et de ses paroliers, telles Feqertè Haylou, Alemtsèhay Wèdadjo, et Shèwalul Mengistu ici (1944-1977). Chansons d’amour écrites par des femmes, loin des conventionnelles niaiseries chères aux cœurs d’artichaut.
Muluken est aussi reconnu pour son perfectionnisme en matière de musique, à l’opposé d’une désinvolture trop coutumière. Il demeure le complice fidèle de musiciens issus d’une filiation qui emprunte à plusieurs Bands pionniers autant qu’inventifs (Venus, Equators, Dahlak). On retrouve parmi eux des éléments qui ont commencé leur vie musicale sous la direction de Nersès Nalbandian au Théâtre Haylè-Sellassié Ier et qui arrivent à maturité vers 1973 – au mauvais moment si l’on ose dire. Les piliers Shimèlis Bèyènè (trompette), Dawit Yifru (claviers) et Tilayé Gèbrè (sax & flûte) sont de ceux-là. Tilayé Gèbrè en particulier, certainement l’un des musiciens, compositeur et arrangeurs parmi les plus importants de sa génération et de la toute fin de l’ère impériale, puis du début du Derg.
Il faudra attendre 1981 pour que se présente une miraculeuse occasion d’échapper au paradis stalinien du dictateur Menguistou Haylè-Maryam. Une fois encore, c’est Amha Eshèté (1946-2021) qui trouve la solution. Génial et courageux producteur désormais en exil à Washington depuis 1975, il parvient, au prix d’une persévérance inimaginable, à faire venir le Walias Band aux USA. En fait, un Walias élargi à dix musiciens3 dont six choisiront de prendre la tangente après quelques concerts américains et l’enregistrement d’un LP (The Best of Walias, WRS 100). Tilayé Gèbrè sera de la partie. Il vit toujours aux USA depuis lors. Il y a rejoint une diaspora éthiopienne alors naissante, quasi autarcique et modérément conquérante du marché musical américain. Il nous paraît injuste que Tilayé Gèbrè et le Dahlak Band n’aient pu profiter plus tôt de la reconnaissance publique qui leur revient.
Pareille hémorragie de talents de premier ordre conduira à la refonte des groupes majeurs du “Derg Time”. Les éléments restants vont se répartir entre Ibex Band (renommé Roha Band), Ethio Star Band et un Walias Band remanié. Fin annoncée du Dahlak Band.
Avec ce disque, produit par l’essential Ali Abdella Kaifa dit Ali Tango, on mesure tout ce que le Derg a non seulement détruit, mais aussi empêché de s’épanouir. Ce joyau d’afrobeat à l’éthiopienne est paru en 1976 (entre parenthèses : avant le FESTAC 1977 de Lagos où se rendra une imposante délégation de musiciens éthiopiens — mais Fela était déjà personna non grata dans son pays). Malgré tout ce qui peut le différencier de Fela – aucune revanche coloniale à prendre, pas question d’affrontement politique avec le pouvoir, aucune revendication de négritude ou d’africanité pour les musiciens éthiopiens, et moindre extraversion ! –, ce LP s’inscrit en beauté dans la saga de la soul intense et électrisée du nouveau groove “africain” que Fela et Manu Dibango symbolisent si bien désormais.
En resituant ce disque dans l’épopée de l’afrobeat, on se rend compte que la chronologie rend au moins leurs lettres de noblesse et leur historique primeur à des œuvres sans impact international au moment de leur parution.
Attention ! chef-d’œuvre !
On “Cold Sweat,” James Brown famously called to “give the drummer some.” In 1974, Philadelphia vibraphonist Khan Jamal called to Give the Vibes Some, with superb results. Pianist and composer Jef Gilson’s PALM label gave Jamal the platform he needed to deliver a thorough exploration of contemporary vibraphone. After launching PALM in 1973, Gilson quickly demonstrated that he would only produce records not found anywhere else. Give the Vibes Some, PALM number 10, was another confirmation of this guiding principle.
Raised and based in Philadelphia, Khan Jamal took up the vibes in 1968, after two years in the army during which he was stationed in France and Germany. Decisively drawn to the instrument by the work of the Modern Jazz Quartet’s Milt Jackson, Jamal studied under Philadelphia vibraphone legend Bill Lewis and soon made his debuts in the local underground.
Early in 1972, Jamal made his first recording, with the Sounds of Liberation. The band attempted an original fusion of conga-heavy grooves with avant-garde jazz soloing. Saxophonist Byard Lancaster, an important figure in Jamal’s development, contributed much of the solo work. Later in 1972, Jamal made his leader debut with Drum Dance to the Motherland, a reverb-drenched, never-to-be-replicated experiment with live sound processing. Both albums appeared on the tiny musician-run Dogtown label.
“We couldn’t get no play from nowhere. No gigs or recording sessions or anything. So I took off for Paris,” Jamal recalled in a Cadence interview with Ken Weiss. “Within a few weeks, I had a few articles and I did a record date. It didn’t make me feel good about America.” That was in 1974, while Byard Lancaster was recording the music gathered on Souffle Continu’s recent The Complete PALM Recordings, 1973-1974.
Jamal’s record date delivered Give the Vibes Some. At its core, it was an exploratory solo vibraphone album, even if two tracks added (through technological resourcefulness?) a très célèbre French drummer very much into Elvin Jones appearing under pseudonym for contractual reasons. Another track, for which Jamal switched to the vibes’s wooden ancestor, the marimba, added young Texan trumpeter Clint Jackson III. The most notable article published on Jamal during this stay in France was a Jazz Magazine interview. Jamal’s last word there were “The Creator has a master plan/drum dance to the motherland.” “Give the vibes some” could be added to this programmatic statement.
Inspired by the foothills of the Sierra de Guadarrama mountains north-west of Madrid, his home since August 2022, Milo Fitzpatrick presents Sierra Tracks the new album from his expansive, cinematic, chamber-jazz project Vega Trails.
Having cut 2022’s beautifully resonant debut album ‘Tremors in the Static’ as a duo, alongside saxophonist Jordan Smart (Mammal Hands and Sunda Arc), Milo now substantially expands upon that blueprint with his follow-up, ‘Sierra Tracks’, which, as the title suggests, was conceived at his new home in central Spain and adds piano, vibraphone and strings to the mix.
From the epic five-minute opener, ‘Largo’, onwards, there’s a cinematic feel to ‘Sierra Tracks’, as each piece unfolds according to its own sweeping narrative, often wonderfully evocative of the mountains’ wide-open spaces, and also sometimes elaborately arranged with cello, orchestral strings, vibraphone and piano, to evoke their awe-inspiring natural splendour. ‘Reverie’ has a refrain that fades in and out, like a daydream”. ‘Els’ is more firmly rooted in folk melody, while ‘Dream House’ and ‘Sleepwalk Tokyo’ boost a sense of otherworldliness.
Remixed and remastered with bonus material and released on vinyl for the first time. Deluxe 2LP edition with artwork re-imagined by Ian Anderson of The Designers Republic.
"If I could watch any jazz band in the UK, any, I would choose Matthew Halsall's band, just love what he's been doing over the last few years... It's always high level, spiritual jazz music" – Gilles Peterson
Matthew Halsall is a Worldwide Award winning and MOBO nominated trumpeter, composer, producer and DJ. Since 2008, Matthew has released seven critically acclaimed studio recordings and has been a key figure in the rise of a new jazz sound in the UK. In addition to his own releases Halsall has collaborated with many DJs and producers, most notably DJ Shadow and Mr. Scruff, and in 2013 Matthew’s music was selected by Bonobo for his Late Night Tales compilation. Halsall is also the founder of Gondwana Records, a genre bending independent record label featuring a wealth defining albums by the likes of Portico Quartet, GoGo Penguin, Hania Rani and Mammal Hands. His own rich music draws on the spiritual-jazz of Alice Coltrane and Phaorah Sanders, contemporary electronica and dance music alongside his travels in Japan, the traditional art and music of which, has left a lasting impression on his compositions.
Sending My Love (2008) and Colour Yes (2009) were his first releases and document Halsall’s first great bands featuring the likes of flautist Chip Wickham, saxophonist Nat Birchall, harpist Rachael Gladwin, bassist Gavin Barras and drummer Gaz Hughes. Joyful, life-enhancing albums, drawing on UK jazz and spiritual jazz influences but with a decidedly modern bounce, they introduced Halsall’s music to the world gathering support from the likes of Gilles Peterson and Jamie Cullum, Mojo, Straight No Chaser and beyond. But Halsall was never completely happy with how the records were presented and as part of Gondwana Records 10th anniversary decided to revisit the recordings, meticulously remixing and remastering them for vinyl and commissioning new artwork from Ian Anderson, one of his favourite designers. These then are the definitive editions of the records. Sending My Love comes complete with the beautiful bonus track This Time, while Colour Yes features the equally striking It’s What We Do and Ai.
“I am very proud of these early recordings. They represent the starting point of my musical journey in Manchester and showcase some of the cities finest musicians such as: Nat Birchall, Chip Wickham, Rachael Gladwin, Adam Fairhall, Gavin Barras and Gaz Hughes. They are also the very first recordings my brother and I decided to release on our record label (Gondwana Records). Listening back they sound full of energy and joy and really reflect how I was feeling at that precise moment. But as much as I loved the music, I was never 100 percent happy with the sound of the mixes and mastering. So I decided to go back to the original tapes to remix and remaster them and present them the way I'd always wanted, and along the way we unearthed a couple extra unreleased tracks, which we decided to include as bonus material. Myself and my brother also decided to bring in Ian Anderson of The Designers Republic to re-imagine the artwork and we are super blown away by the results!" — Matthew Halsall, Oct 2019
Land Back!
An unadulterated opening statement intoned by Saul Williams three times, as he joins Carlos Niño & Friends in sound ceremony underneath oak and black walnut trees in Coldwater Canyon Park, Los Angeles, on December 18, 2024.
The performance, which was organized by Noah Klein of Living Earth on the grounds of longstanding conservationist organization TreePeople, was the first of its kind for longtime friends and collaborators Williams and Niño. The two have been in contact since 1997 and have worked on a variety of projects together, but had never been moved to present in this way. For the occasion, Niño assembled and directed an ensemble of frequent collaborators including Nate Mercereau (Guitar Synthesizer, Live Sampling with Midi Guitar, Sample Sources), Aaron Shaw (Flute, Soprano Saxophone with Pedals, Tenor Saxophone), Andres Renteria (Bells, Congas, Egyptian Rattle Drum, Hand Drums, Percussion), Maia (Flute, Vibraphone, Voice), Francesca Heart (Computer, Conch Shell, Sound Design), and Kamasi Washington (Tenor Saxophone).
Williams’ inspired poetics both fit seamlessly and guide clairvoyantly the electro-acoustic ecosystem created by Niño & Friends – a constellation of deep connections and intersecting linkups from complementary sound makers. There’s the dialogue between not just Niño & Williams but Niño and Renteria’s reciprocal percussions; the intergenerational woodwind counterpoint between Washington and Shaw; the hovering harmonics of Maia’s vibraphone in aerial resonance with Heart’s digital designs. Heart’s sounds also make a beautiful analogue to synth-guitarist Nate Mercereau, whose live sampling and manipulation techniques turn fleeting moments of sonic presence into musical architecture in real time. Deepening the dimensionality of this constellation, Mercereau and Niño are several years into a shared musical simpatico that has yielded dozens of powerful collaborations, making their particular interaction on this recording as spiritual and transcendent as it is subtle and implicit. And there is yet another connection to be highlighted still.
Late in the set, Williams shares an extended reflection on the Dutch East India Trade Company, the indigenous Lenape people on the island of Manahatta, the origins of Wall Street, and a prayer for the end of empire as he incites an epic crescendo from the ensemble, swirling behind the twin winds of Shaw and Washington, spirited by his repeated call “I’ve seen enough.” The smoke has only begun to clear from this emotional apex as Williams passes the torch to poet Aja Monet, who arrests the atmosphere with a soft apocalyptic reading of a piece from her notebook, “The Water Is Rising.”
As Monet finishes her poem and steps aside, Williams follows her foreboding words with a solemnly hopeful return – closing the ceremony with a parable about a firing squad, where one member's dilemma is a "system of belief" allowing for humanity in the heart of an oppressor.
SML is the quintet of bassist Anna Butterss, synthesist Jeremiah Chiu, saxophonist Josh Johnson, percussionist Booker Stardrum, and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann. Their second album, How You Been, finds the supergroup of prolific composer/producers pushing ever further into the hyperrealist, collectivist approach to music creation nascently explored on their debut Small Medium Large, which was lauded as “awe-inspiring” by Glide, “exuberant” by the Los Angeles Times, and “an exciting milestone” by Pitchfork.
How You Been represents a breakthrough in the musical language of the group. This new work was crafted via extensive post-production of recordings from a handful of shows in a similar fashion to their debut, but whereas Small Medium Large was constructed from analog tapes of the band’s very first (and very modest) shows at bygone Highland Park LA venue ETA, How You Been was built with a higher level of self-awareness and a far deeper pool of source material.
Behind the thrust of the first album’s success, the band approached every performance in late 2024 and early 2025 as a generative opportunity to hone their sound and document their expansion across a new landscape of audiences, venues, and cities. Despite the premeditation driving their commitment to record every moment, the band started every show without musical direction, improvising intuitively, completely. Within every performance is an impressive display of the band’s total trust in one another and confidence in their own instincts.
As SML has evolved and spread out in space-time, their fluencies, both as an improvising unit in performance and as a production team in the studio, have sharpened. At inception the band inspired disparate but distinctive artist comparisons like Essential Logic, Oval, Herbie Hancock’s Sextant, and electric Miles Davis, as well as assorted genre touchpoints like Afrobeat, kosmiche, proto-techno and new-jazz. With How You Been their work manages to both collapse and explode such derivatives, displaying a new, high resolution version of SML, fully-flowered into a new strain of sound, bound to incite its own copycats in due time.
“SML might signal a new iteration of jazz, or it might not be jazz at all, or it might not matter.” - Pitchfork
It’s important to note that SML’s sound wasn’t created in a vacuum. The band is part of an extensive community of creative musicians who collaborate in a multitude of ways, and that community has proven to be essential to a growing family tree of innovative, genre-expanding music. Los Angeles in the 2020s is a musical Petri dish in the same way that Cologne & Dusseldorf were for the birth of Krautrock; Canterbury for progressive rock in the late 60s; NYC for No Wave & the Downtown sound in the late 70s and 80s; Chicago for genreless, Tortoise-adjacent sounds in the 90s. The musicians of SML represent the core of a new school within the Los Angeles jazz and improvised music scene that seems to breed infinitely overlapping combinations, including Jeff Parker’s ETA IVtet and Expansion Trio, the Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes trio, Anna Butterss’s own band (as heard on 2024’s Mighty Vertebrate), and various other solo and ensemble projects encompassing every single member of the SML, respectively.
On How You Been the curatorial challenge of the capture-cut production employed by SML is met by the delightful happenstance of each member being a seasoned producer on their own merit. Accordingly, SML’s perspective on what is a moment to expand upon with the post-producer’s knife and glue is five-strong. Each member’s proclivities, penchants, and predelections get their chance to filter the always-evolving elements of the group concept.
“Chicago Four” uses a live recording from treasured Chicago haunt The Empty Bottle as its foundation. It begins with interlocking synth and percussion loops before the entry of Uhlmann’s wobble-effected electric guitar melody and Butterss’s picked bass counterpoint. Stardrum’s swinging traps slide in, catching up to a couple of added percussion layers, before Johnson adds distorted chordal hits that sound like hard horn samples from a golden era Bomb Squad or Rakim beat. It all intertwines perfectly and makes an otherworldly vehicle for Johnson and Chiu’s cascading keyed melody, which soars above and between, complimenting either side of a hypnotically shifting, infectiously repeating modulation.
“Brood Board SHROOM” is a temporary touchdown on an alien planet where rhythm moves in timeless, breath-like undulations, with repetitions cut from a very different cloth than the lock-step polyrhythmic grooves of “Chicago Four.” The track’s opening lines evoke the soft throbs of the beloved ambient works of Aphex Twin (or perhaps a Robitussen-drenched take on Steve Reich’s Different Trains), before frothy curtains of textured sound drape into the mix, overlaying like distant, minimalist symphonies in a gentle, synthetic recreation of free time — slackening and accelerating as each layer of tonal pulses hovers to front-and-center or retreats into the distance. It’s a gut feeling rather than an academic exercise, and it’s all in the service of forward motion. “Plankton” occupies a similar space albeit in bite-sized form, centering Buterss’s low end melodicism and high-string visitations surrounded by skittering tonal chatter from their bandmates.
Of course, SML’s experiments with this kind of pulsating freedom are heavily balanced by muscular turns and body mechanics fit for the dancefloor. “Taking Out the Trash” is a perfect pace-setter for How You Been, a punchy nugget encapsulating the essence of SML. Chiu’s percussion synth establishes the groove before Stardrum and Butterss drop in on a heavy breakbeat. Uhlmann comes in with a searing, plucked staccato funk line on his guitar that would give Glenn Branca and Larry Coryell something to high five about. Things eventually trip into a total breakdown, with only the perc synth still looping. When the band explodes back in, the key has changed, and Johnson is letting loose on a wailing, distorted saxophone solo.
“Is there a way to dim the lights a little more?” Chiu asks at the start of the album’s closer “Mouth Words.” Moments later SML takes us out with a mid-tempo 4/4 groover dressed in swelling glissandos and punctuated by insistent, rapid-fire phrases from Johnson’s alto. As the final tune dissolves into a layer of arpeggiated chirps and sampled crowd sounds, Chiu’s voice is back again to say what we’re all thinking: “Very good. Thank you.”
Beastie Boys reissues raining down on your turntables these days! Ill Communication, coming at you from 1994, with all beats produced, lines rapped and instruments played by the Beastie Boys, spawned one of their most famous songs, Sabotage. But these guys gave us so much more: shortly after the release of this album, they coined the word mullet. This is your chance to acquire a piece of pop culture history!
Released in 1986 as the Beastie Boys’ debut album, produced by Rick Rubin, it fused hard rock guitar riffs with hip-hop beats. It became a landmark record as the first hip-hop album to reach No. 1 on the Billboard 200. This edition is a 180-gram heavyweight vinyl remastered reissue.
Pick a small spot (a point) in front of you (a small knot of wood, a dog down the way). And tightly focus on this spot. And now slowly unfocus your gaze. Widen your gaze. Pan out without moving your eyes. Take it all in.
A smeared and pixelated surface, swelling of contour and light. (Monet’s seepages of light, Altman’s overlapping nomadic dialogue.) Once you have unfocused with little to no center of attention, slowly close your eyes. And please feel very free to notice the light. All of the light that your eyes knocked back as you dilated your focal point. This exercise can be repeated a few times. Unfocusing does not always come easily. And it is probably best to not put too much effort into it. Best to not employ too much pressure.
And we will not put too much pressure on this exercise to help us explain away the humidly, saturatedly psychedelic canopy of moan-‘n-twang and slackelastic-groove of The Dwarfs Of East Agouza’s Sasquatch Landslide.
Mitch Hedberg has a great joke about the Sasquatch: “I think Bigfoot is blurry. That’s the problem. It’s not the photographer’s fault. Bigfoot is blurry! And that’s extra scary to me, because there’s a large out-of-focus monster roaming the countryside.”
Sasquatch Landslide. A landslide of hazy configurations. Blurriness, far from a lack of detail, is an embroidering of detail, a horizontal expansion of surface and swarms of light. The name “Sasquatch” derives from the Salish word se'sxac, which means “wild men.” And Sasquatch Landslide is wild. Everything is unravelling. Offset. Décalage. A whole host of slippery tempos and pulses as the organs, guitars and saxophones loiter and lope over a skipping hop of beats, and everything emerges always mid-stream. It is all middle with no halfway point, no dead center, no bullseye. Everything twangs, moans, sweeps, slips, swings, skitters, slides, and grooves out of nowhere. And the almost-human voice with no mother-tongue.
There is something ecstatic (an elatedly miniscule frenzy) going on here but it is pushed beyond the ecstatic: a joyous-grotesque rolling right past trance to dance. Psychedelias appear out of the infra-spaces in between the apparitions and overlapping ‘regimes’ and registers—pushed and squeezed far beyond the recognizable. And these spaces groove joyously hard like some kind of illusive House music, houses completely submerged in molasses. BigFoot-work? (Oh my!) There is not a place to throw your anchor here in the furrowing humidity. That does, and it does, sound like some kind of landslide.
A psychedelic encounter is a brush with the marvel of otherness. The point from which we speak of other, becomes other itself, in an ever-storm of other-production that shreds ideas of knowing and understanding what we think is going on. Time unhinged from the clock. Space unhinged from the frame. An unpinpointing hallucination, a hot get-down, an untethered throw-down of oscillations, fiercely, joyously, exuberantly incomprehensible. Listening to Sasquatch Landslide, a wildly unhinged reverie.
Eric Chenaux and Mariette Cousty
Condat-sur-Ganaveix, February 2025
