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World music pioneer Adam Rudolph and his groundbreaking Go: Organic Orchestra join forces with Brooklyn Raga Massive to create monumental new album
3LP 130 gram Classic Black vinyl LP (cut and pressed by Leandro Gonzalez at Stereodisk) packaged in a full color swinging gatefold jacket with artwork by Nancy Jackson
The members of the adventurous BRM collective are deeply steeped in the traditions of Indian classical music. They refuse, however, to be restricted by it; the idea behind the collective, birthed in 2012 in a Prospect Heights bar, is to open the often rigid and hierarchical culture of the music to experimentation and cross-cultural collaboration. This collaboration marks the collective’s most ambitious effort to date in the musical movement that the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and New Yorker have recognized as a “Raga Renaissance.”
“This album feels like the culmination of everything I’ve been reaching for throughout my career,” says Rudolph, no small claim from someone who’s been a pioneering voice in jazz and world music for more than 40 years. “Through my music I want to hear the humanity of all these different musicians shine through, and with their voices bring forth something that’s never existed before.”
According to BRM guitarist David Ellenbogen, who co-produced Ragmala, the possibilities offered by Rudolph’s music scratched the very itch that led many of them into BRM’s more exploratory fold to begin with. “I always had a theory that Indian Classical, jazz, West African music and so on could have a synergistic relationship,” Ellenbogen says. “But after spending decades looking through record libraries, I found very few recordings lived up to the potential of these great traditions. I've spoken to other musicians on this album and they said the same thing when they heard these tracks: This is the music we've been searching for."


Julien Dechery, expert digger behind the sublime ‘Sky Girl’ comp and survey of Ilaiyaraaja’s ‘80s Tamil film music, supplies a second mixtape for Good Morning Tapes, this time shifting focus toward North India and covering songs and scores drawn from films rooted in Hindustani classical, Devotional, and folk traditions, reframed through a downtempo, trip-hop and ambient perspectives during the the mid-1990s to 2000s.
‘Warmth in Cool’ revisits the parallel paradigm of downtempo film music for a beautifully transportive raft of melismatic vox, FM synths, sitars and balmy downbeats calling to mind everything from a North Indian answer to Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel to Ganavya’s new age spiritual jazz-fusion channellings of Alice Coltrane.
The vibe palpably seduces to the horizontal with a flawless tapestry of romantic film cues and new age synth diversions, immaculately arranged for psychic immersion and spiritual alignment. Definitely one for the lovers, and fans of Time Is Away or DJ Sundae’s finest, storytelling mixtapes.
As the 1940s began, South Asian cinema entered a transformative phase. Playback singing, still a new idea in the previous decade, quickly became standard practice. Actors no longer had to sing, and singers no longer had to act, opening the door to a wave of dedicated vocal talent that redefined the sound of the industry.
Voices like Noor Jehan, Shamshad Begum, and Suraiya rose to prominence, becoming household names across the subcontinent. Behind them, composers like Naushad, Anil Biswas, and Ghulam Haider were expanding the sonic palette of film music, blending ragas with Western orchestration, folk tunes with jazz-era instrumentation. Harmoniums, sarangis, violins, accordions, and clarinets filled out increasingly complex arrangements, while ghazals and qawwalis continued to influence mood and structure.
Although the post-Partition years are often considered to be Bollywood’s “Golden Age,” thanks to filmmakers like Raj Kapoor, Bimal Roy, and Guru Dutt, the music started its peak just before the divide. By 1947, Naushad and others were producing some of the most emotionally rich and musically intricate work in the industry’s history, compositions that would prove challenging to surpass in the decades that followed.
Yet this high point came during a time of immense upheaval. The Second World War, the Bengal famine, and the crumbling of colonial rule all loomed large. Film songs often reflected the uncertainty, sometimes mournful, sometimes romantic, sometimes defiant. And when the Partition finally came, it fractured the world that had created this music. Artists became refugees, studios were split, and careers were thrown into flux. Noor Jehan, who would go on to become Pakistan’s most iconic singer, recorded many of her most beloved songs in Bombay. Khursheed, another major star, faded from public life after migrating. K.L. Saigal, a towering figure of the 1930s and '40s, died in Lahore just months before the split.
This collection spans those final years before Partition, a time of creative flowering and looming catastrophe. Like Part 1, these songs were sourced from immigrant-run music shops in New York and New Jersey. They are fragments of a vanishing world, each one a snapshot of the art, longing, and resilience that defined this extraordinary era.
— Gary Sullivan (Bodega Pop)
"It may surprise some that, after two decades of silent films, when Alam Ara broke the silence in 1931, it and every South Asian talkie that followed was what we in the West think of as a “musical.” Music had been integral to the culture’s staged drama going back to the Gupta Dynasty — sometime between the 4 th and 6 th Century CE. Since its inception, South Asian cinema drew heavily from Marathi, Parsi, and Bengali musical theatre and silent film screenings were often accompanied by live music to mimic a live staged experience.
When sound films arrived, actors with serious singing skills became the next wave of stars. Songs were performed live while shooting, with musicians hidden off-camera, to the side or sometimes even in trees. Playback singing — the practice of dubbing a real singer’s voice over a lip-syncing actor — didn’t become standard until the 1940s.
Thus, the biggest stars of the 1930s were also the greatest singers, with some, like Govindrao Tembe and Pankaj Mullick, excelling as both composers and vocalists. None, however, were more beloved than K.L. Saigal, whose emotional, untrained crooning captivated audiences across the subcontinent. Saigal’s voice inspired a young Lata Mangeshkar, who vowed to become India’s greatest filmi singer to win his heart. Sadly, Saigal grew increasingly addicted to alcohol, unable to perform without it, and passed away at age 42, seven months before the Partition. Lata never married.
This collection features some of the earliest songs from South Asian cinema, sourced from CDs and LPs found in Jackson Heights, Queens, Coney Island Avenue in Brooklyn, Lexington Avenue in Manhattan, and Oak Tree Road in Iselin, New Jersey — areas home to vibrant immigrant communities. South Asian immigration to New York and New Jersey surged after the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, which lifted non-European quotas. By the 1990s and 2000s, the region’s Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi media outlets flourished, especially in Jackson Heights, where such stores outnumbered the total number of regular record shops throughout the five boroughs.
The nascent period of sound film featured a limited palette of musical styles, predominantly Marathi Bhagveet, like the Ghazal, but with greater flexibility of subject matter and rhythm, and Rabindra Sangeet, the approximately 2,000 songs and poems composed by Bengali Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. But there was some evolution as well, with the success of South Asian cinema’s first woman composer, the classically trained Saraswati Devi, and the introduction of Western instruments including the piano and Hawaiian guitar.
While much of the music was dark and brooding, perhaps exemplified best by Devika Rani’s interpretation of Saraswati Devi’s “Udi Hawa Mein” from 1936’s Achhut Kannya (Untouchable Maiden), there were moments of brightness, such as R.C. Boral’s “Lachhmi Murat Daras Dikhaye” sung by Kanan Devi in Street Singer, an otherwise thoroughly depressing film from 1938 that cemented Devi’s and co-star K.L. Saigal’s superstardom.
This selection was chosen to emphasise a range of expressivity, instrumentation and style achieved even within the decade’s relatively limited scope, setting the listener up for the relative explosion of possibility in the 1940s, to be covered in the next installment of this series."
— Gary Sullivan (Bodega Pop)

Julien Dechery follows his class entry for The Trilogy Tapes earlier this year with a haul of late 90’s and turn-of-the-century South Indian bangers for Good Morning Tapes, in transition from atmospheric, Timbland-influenced downbeats to disco, jungle, digidub and trip hop, adorned with copious amounts of bollywood vox.





The extraordinary debut album from percussionist, drummer and producer Sarathy Korwar – “Day To Day” – fuses traditional folk music of the Sidi community in India (combining East African, Sufi and Indian influences) with jazz and electronics. It’s a collaborative release by Ninja Tune with The Steve Reid Foundation – a charitable trust established by Brownswood / Gilles Peterson with the dual objective of helping musicians in crisis and also supporting emerging talent. Sarathy is an alumnus of the Foundation’s development program, mentored by Four Tet, Emanative, Floating Points, Koreless and Gilles Peterson – all trustees of the foundation.
“Sarathy instantly caught my attention when he said he wanted to make an album that embraced both Indian folk music and jazz - two worlds that have had a big influence on me. His album succeeds in bringing these things together in an elegant way, but it’s his own style and ideas that come through the most in the music. Refreshingly different, this is a deep and powerful listening experience.” Four Tet
The Steve Reid Foundation commemorates the life and legacy of legendary percussionist/drummer Steve Reid. It is fitting that Sarathy’s album follows the lineage and spirit of Reid who himself left New York and took on a spiritual pilgrimage through Africa in the mid-1960s. For three years he journeyed through West Africa, playing with people along the way, including Fela Kuti, Guy Warren and Randy Weston. The musical roots and routes of the Black Atlantic have been discussed and documented extensively, but Sarathy is highlighting a different dispersal of people in the other direction, from East Africa to India. The Sidis travelled to India from Africa as merchants, sailors, indentured servants and mercenaries from as far back as 628 AD and have settled in India ever since.
Conceived on an extended trip to rural Gujarat, followed by sessions at Dawn Studios in Pune, Sarathy made field recordings of The Sidi Troupe of Ratanpur whose vocals and percussion form the backbone of “Day To Day”. The troupe features five drummers – their polyrhythms reflect their African heritage, in contrast to traditional Indian drummers who play in unison. Likewise, the Malunga bows (there are only 4 or 5 players in India) bear a striking resemblance to those found in Africa.
“The record is about how we individually and collectively live from day to day. The everyday rituals and tasks that bind us together, it’s a celebration of the trivial and mundane,” explains Sarathy. The colourful handmade rag quilts that the Sidis make using everyday fabrics serve as a perfect metaphor for the record: “The Sidi women make these amazing collages of colour using everyday rags,” he says. “That’s how I see this album”.
Born in the US, Sarathy Korwar grew up in Ahmedabad and Chennai in India. He began playing tabla aged 10 but was also drawn to the American music that he heard on the radio and that leaked through the doorway of his local jazz music shop, Ahmad Jamal and John Coltrane were early discoveries. At 17, Sarathy moved to Pune to study for a degree in Environmental Science, but instead dedicated his time to music: practicing tabla under the tutelage of Rajeev Devasthali, translating his skills to the Western drumkit and playing as a session musician. Finishing his studies, Sarathy began to think about pursuing a career in music and moved to London, where he trained as a classical tabla player under the guidance of Sanju Sahai and graduated with a MMus in Performance from SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies) focusing on the adaptation of Indian classical rhythmic material to non-Indian percussion instruments.
Working the angles in London’s jazz scene, Sarathy connected with Shabaka Hutchings (Sons of Kemet, The Comet is Coming), Cara Stacey (Kit Records) and played with clarinettist Arun Ghosh. He was, however, itching to create under his own name and he started researching and formulating the concept for “Day To Day” and planning a trip to India to record the Sidis. It was late in 2014 when Sarathy heard about the Steve Reid Foundation. He applied with a three-minute video explaining his vision for the record and was accepted onto the project to be mentored by the foundation’s patrons: Four Tet, Floating Points, Gilles Peterson, Koreless and Emanative (aka Nick Woodmansey who mixed the album).
Following on from last year’s acclaimed Vrindavan 1982 by rudra veena master Z.M. Dagar, Black Truffle is thrilled to present a pair of archival releases from the Dagar Brothers, among the most revered 20th century exponents of the ancient North Indian dhrupad tradition. The vocal duo of Moinuddin and Aminuddin Dagar (sometimes referred to as the ‘senior’ Dagar Brothers to distinguish them from their younger siblings, Zahiruddin and Faiyazuddin Dagar), belonged to the nineteenth generation of a family of musicians in which dhrupad tradition has been kept alive through patrilinear transmission, each generation undergoing a rigorous education of many years’ duration that can include singing up to twelve hours each day.
Famed for the meditative purity of their approach to dhrupad, the Dagar Brothers helped to keep the tradition alive in the years after Indian independence in 1947, when the royal courts that had traditionally patronised dhrupad musicians were abolished. Many Western listeners were first introduced to dhrupad by the Dagar Brothers’ tour of Europe in 1964-65 and their LP in UNESCO’s ‘Musical Anthology of the Orient’ collection, both organised by pioneering musicologist and scholar of Indian culture Alain Daniélou. Documents from this tour are especially precious, as Moinuddin Dagar passed away in 1966. Unheard until now, Berlin 1964 – Live (released alongside BT114, a newly discovered studio session from the same trip) documents a concert held at the Charlottenburg Palace in September 1964.
Accompanied only by Moinuddin’s wife Saiyur on tanpura and Raja Chatrapati Singh on pakhawaj (a large double-headed drum), the brothers present stunning performances of two ragas stretching out over 65 minutes, exemplifying what a journalist at the time called the ‘pristine severity’ of their style. Much of each piece is taken up by the alap, the highly improvised exposition section where the notes of the raga are gradually introduced as the singing builds in intensity. As Francesca Cassio points out in her extensive liner notes, both performances are somewhat unorthodox in beginning with the raga scale being sung in its entirety, ascending and descending; this is probably, as she suggests, a strategy to introduce the European audience to the language of the music they are about to hear. From there, both ragas settle into alaps of breathtaking beauty, with the two brothers trading long solo passages that move gradually from extended held notes at the bottom of the scale to animated melodic variations as it ascends in pitch. Within the atmosphere of meditative attention, the range of melodic, rhythmic, and timbral invention is remarkable. Especially on the opening ‘Rāga Miyān kī Todī’, the final moments of the alap find the voices at a peak of intensity, their microtonal ornamentation taking on an ecstatic, warbling quality. Only once the wordless, free-floating alap is over and the composition proper begins to the brothers sing in unison, joined by the pakhawaj for a rhythmic section that in both ragas develops gradually into a propulsive display of melodic invention and metrical nuance. Accompanied by detailed liner notes and striking archival images, Berlin 1964 – Live is a rare document of these masterful exponents of one of the world’s most profound musical traditions.
