MUSIC

The studio at 122 West Loveland Avenue was not an unfamiliar space for Steve Okonski, the leader of his eponymous trio Okonski. Ever since the Colemine label set up shop in Loveland, Ohio it has been a host to a number of groups passing through town, including Durand Jones and the Indications who all of this trio’s members have connections to. After setting aside some time in winter of 2020, Okonski, trained initially as a classical pianist, invited Michael Isvara “Ish” Montgomery and Aaron Frazer to work on an album that was initially planned to be beat driven and fully composed trio instrumentals. After finishing this first session with some improvisations, a second week was booked in the summer of 2021 to try and capture some more of that spontaneous energy. During this session, the tracks were all improvised and recorded live to a Tascam 388 during several late nights at the Colemine HQ. They were structured to allow the group’s collective intuition to fully shape the melodies and arcs of the music. The album opens with Runner Up, where a triumphant yet melancholic melody in the piano leads to a more reserved B-section driven by the drums and bass of Frazer and Montgomery. As you journey through the remainder of the album you are met with a plethora of evoked and explored emotions. The calmness one has walking down a moonlit street after midnight, the connection one has for a person who comes into their world for just a moment or a lifetime, and the nerves and catharsis one feels when starting upon a new, unknown journey. Magnolia closes with Sunday, a track that was recorded late into the night at the close of their first recording session. Without the spontaneity of Sunday, the remainder of Magnolia would likely have never come to fruition. Magnolia was composed from the heart and from the spirit of those in the studio those late nights in Loveland. It is the culmination of an emotional and artistic release that was not afforded or recognized before the band sat at their instruments, and because of that it is introspective, meditative, spiritual, and new.

Introducing the 1st Volume of Super Biton of Segou’s Afro.Jazz.Folk collection, led by Malian conductor Amadou Bah, also known as “The Armstrong Malian”. Mieruba is thrilled to present this collaboration with Deviation Records, showcasing the diverse musical roots of 1970s Mali, combining Afro-Latin percussion, Mandingo songs, jazzy brass, and funky guitar. . . The Super Biton orchestra has been around since the 60s. Like Ségou, the Super Biton orchestra has always set itself apart from what was being done in Bamako and other major African cities. Ségou is a crossroads between the Bambara, Peul, Mandingo and Somono cultures, and Super Biton has drawn on all these traditions to create a repertoire that is extremely rich in rhythms and lyrics. The Ségou orchestra developed and integrated amplified instruments that mingled with brass instruments, in particular electric guitars, symbols of modernity at the time. It opened up to Cuban music, with congas and bongos completing the orchestra's sound, as some of the musicians had completed their training in Cuba. The group developed a unique sound, a perfect balance between tradition and modernity, thanks to its modern, sophisticated compositions. As a result, Super Biton triumphed at the 1972, 1974 and 1976 National Biennials and has become the best-known and most sought-after Malian orchestra outside the country's borders. Afro Jazz Folk Collection presents previously unreleased tracks by the legendary orchestra that have been confided to Mieruba by members of the orchestra in order to bring them back into the limelight.

Formed in 1968, Mauritania's National Orchestre was the official band of the post-colonial desert country. Led by the young Hadrami Ould Meidah and trained in Guineau Conakry under the guidance of the Bembeya Jazz, the Orchestre National was both musical group and idealogical symbol - sharing many of the aspirations of the young country. To the Mauritanian classical music, with its rigid and complex modal system, the group unabashedly added electric guitars and brass sections. Traditional epics were adapted with contemporary sounds. Multi-lingual compositions honored the diverse ethnic groups throughout the country. The life of the National Orchestra would parallel the events shaping the nation, lasting from 1968 to 1975 - shortly before the military coup which would spell not only the end of the Orchestra, but the end of a democracy. Recordings are hard to come by. Aside from the few copies of the 7" that still exist, no other commercial releases were ever made. The remaining legacy of the Orchestra consisting of live performances and radio broadcasts, was nearly destroyed during the coup d'etat of 1978. Under orders to burn any and all recordings related to the Daddah regime, the radio archive was looted by loyal military forces. During the chaos, one heroic radio engineer snuck into the archives and salvaged the reels of the music contained here which were sequestered in his home for the past decades. Working with Hadrami Ould Meidah, radio archivists, and former members of the band, these selections highlight some of the remaining recordings of the prolific L'Orchestre National de Mauritania.

First released in 1964 under the expert production of Blackwell for Island Records, this remarkable album captures the essence of Jamaican soulful jazz through the extraordinary talent of Ernest Ranglin. As a pioneering guitarist and composer, Ranglin delivers an impeccable performance that blends the rich traditions of jazz with the vibrant rhythms of Jamaica.

Accompanied by a highly swinging rhythm section, featuring Malcolm Cecil on bass and Alan Ganley on drums, the album explores a captivating variety of moods and tempos. Ranglin seamlessly moves through fast-paced, catchy numbers, mid-tempo grooves, and heartfelt ballads, showcasing his versatility and masterful command of his instrument. The inclusion of subtle Latin flavors adds an additional layer of warmth and rhythmic complexity, making this collection a true sonic journey.

This release not only highlights Ranglin’s unique sound but also serves as a testament to the innovative spirit of Island Records during the 1960s. Jazz aficionados and new listeners alike will find themselves immersed in the timeless appeal of this record, which continues to inspire musicians and music lovers around the world.

Rediscover the soulful melodies and infectious rhythms of Ernest Ranglin’s work with this exceptional album—a jewel of Jamaican jazz history that remains as fresh and captivating today as it was over half a century ago.

Born Alice McLeod into a musical Detroit family, Alice Coltrane began playing piano at age seven and later studied with Bud Powell in Paris. Upon returning to the States, she joined vibraphonist Terry Gibbs' group and eventually shared a bill with the John Coltrane Quartet. In 1965 the two wed in Juárez, Mexico and played alongside one another until her husband's last performance in May, 1967.

A Monastic Trio, created in the year following her husband's passing, is Coltrane's first recording as a band leader and features six original compositions. While John's spirit can be felt throughout – from the song titles ("Ohnedaruth" was his adopted Hindu name) to the personnel (Jimmy Garrison, Rashied Ali, and Pharaoh Sanders were frequent collaborators) – the album showcases Alice's immense talent for fusing spiritual free-jazz and new age with classical, Eastern, post-bop and gospel.

As the late Amiri Baraka writes, "'I Want to See You' is a monastic piano concerto. With echoes of Europe ... it has a solemnity and majesty to it.... Yes, monastic is the word. The piano broods in its earth imagination."

Mostra Collettiva by Complesso Gisteri—the elusive 1972 gem born from the inspired partnership of Alessandro Alessandroni and Oronzo De Filippi—returns to vinyl for the first time ever. Originally released in microscopic quantities and long considered a holy grail of Italian library music, the album has now been lovingly restored and reissued in its most faithful analog form.

Under the alias Complesso Gisteri, Alessandroni and De Filippi explored a warm, pastoral palette that distills everything collectors cherish about early-70s Italian soundtracks and library sessions. Alessandroni’s unmistakable guitar style—lyrical, shimmering, instantly evocative—sets the tone throughout, weaving effortlessly around De Filippi’s expressive keyboards, from rich piano passages to the crystalline touch of spinet and harpsichord, an emblematic signature of the era’s finest Italian productions. The duo enriches these intimate arrangements with flute flourishes and the ethereal vocal textures of Giulia De Mutiis, whose wordless melodies elevate several pieces into dreamy, almost cinematic vignettes. The compositions radiate joy and romanticism, painting images of pastoral calm, sun-dappled landscapes, and rustic Italian charm. A long-hidden treasure, rediscovered and made available to collectors and music lovers for the very first time.

A landmark debut released in 1976, Jaco Pastorius’s first solo album forever changed the history of the electric bass. Featuring an all‑star lineup including Herbie Hancock, Michael Brecker, David Sanborn, and Don Alias, it remains a timeless masterpiece that continues to be regarded as the ultimate bass bible.

‘Of the Earth’ was entirely written, produced, performed and mixed by Shabaka. It’s a deeply personal album which establishes Shabaka as a new form of instrumentalist/producer and shows the musical range that connects his dance based work from groups Sons of Kemet and The Comet Is Coming to the intricate textural sound world of his recent solo works (‘Perceive its Beauty, Acknowledge Its Grace’, ‘Afrikan Culture’) .Beats and loops made on portable devices whilst on the road lay a foundation for choral flute melodies to soar within. Sequences of electronic rhythms outline a story of diasporic progression and words contextualise the record’s lyrical framework. Shabaka raps on the album - “I’ve never rapped before but was actually inspired by André 3000’s courage in exploring new dimensions with fearlessness and sincerity; I decided to find my voice on this album”.A self imposed saxophone hiatus ended mid 2025 with a performance for South African drum maestro Louis Moholo’s memorial concert. This album marks Shabaka’s first recording made after a year and a half not playing the saxophone and a reckoning as to what his time on flutes primarily has shown him to be the future for his relationship with the instrument.Shabaka says of an initial inspiration for the album - “D’angelo’s Brown Sugar was the first CD I bought and it sparked a lasting curiosity about the emotional possibilities allowed by the self produced and performed album. This record is my celebration of freedom in creative self expression. Before the pandemic I could only play the clarinet and saxophone and knew nothing about music production (or how to play the flute), so this has been a journey of learning and a reflection on the music that’s been created as a result.”

Groggy, engrossing new work from Ulla under their newly minted U.e. tag, riffing to the sublime on a set of (mostly) acoustic reveries that tap into the kind of smokey vapours favoured by the likes of Vincent Gallo, Voice Actor, Jonnine. Oh aye, it’s a special one.

A new year, label, album and handle for Ulla, a multifaceted artist who has draped our pages with wonder, under numerous aliases and collabs, for almost a decade. On ‘Hometown Girl’ they distill transience and flux into a quiet set of chamber works subtly resembling the room recorded nuance of their ‘Jazz Plates’ side with Perila - here taken a step further into more elusive, low-lit dimensions.

In a mode that’s wistful and melancholic, listening to the album’s dozen discrete pieces feels like leafing thru a journal of hand-written notes, reflecting on the feelings that come with separation from loved ones and displacement from familiarity. Ulla performed and recorded all of the instruments themselves, lending a tangible tactility to layered arrangements of woodwind, keys, strings, drums and voice, lightly speckled with electronics and perfused with open window field recordings. 

They locate a crackling frisson of personality in the voice notes and day-dreaminess of their mottled inscapes, gauzily demarcating lines between past and present selves. In that aesthetic and approach we can also hear similarities to Jonnine’s blue-skied ‘Southside Girl’ or crys cole’s poetic sensuality, often leaning into the domestic surreal.

A frayed, opening salutation ‘Good Morning’ signals a delirious half hour in Ulla’s company, variously swaying to the downstroked jazz swing of a ‘Lavender (NF)’ spritzed with clarinet, whilst ‘Froggy Explorer’ stirs the air like Jan Jelinek on a barely-there tip. The Basinski-esque fritz of degraded loops really snags the imagination along with a twinkling nightlight ‘Ball’, as the album opens out into its most fully resolved songs with a closing couplet of disarming wonders ‘Drawing of Me’, and a blurry ‘Mute’ that feels like Ulla 〜almost〜 reveals too much before retreating back into the shadows.

Henri Guédon is an artistic legend from Martinique. Musician, painter, sculptor and one of the main architects of modern Caribbean/Antilles music. Taking the music to truly new and progressive territory from the late 1960’s onward. Karma, his 2nd album is one of the holy grails of the Caribbean cosmic Latin/Jazz scene, near impossible to find in this day and age. Released in 1975 on a small Parisian label, La Voix Du Globe, a label releasing Algerian, Moroccan and Egyptian records, the album was an anomalous release in their catalog. Karma was a convincing and unswerving statement following his stunning landmark debut LP (Cosmozouk Percussion). Incorporating African, Latin and West Indies styles (Gwoka, Mazouk, Biguine, Bel-Air, Bomba...) with cosmic synths swirling all over intense roots percussion. The songs are propelled with a spiritual Jazz vibe mixing with deep ethno-folk music from Martinique and Guadeloupe. The LP belongs to the same vein as as Marius Cultier, Louis Xavier or William Onyeabor for its totally original take on a hybrid music.

Announcing Perseverance Flow, the latest album from acclaimed Chicago-based ensemble Natural Information Society (NIS), release date 2024-10-24. After a trilogy of double LPs by expanded manifestations of the band that began in 2018 with Mandatory Reality & continued through Since Time Is Gravity (a Pitchfork Best Jazz & Experimental Album of the Year selection & Mojo’s #1 Underground Album of 2023), NIS returns to its core formation of Lisa Alvarado on harmonium, Mikel Patrick Avery on drums, Jason Stein on bass clarinet, & composer/multi-instrumentalist Joshua Abrams on guimbri for one continuous 37 minute composition across a single LP. As the rocket boosters on spaceship earth sputter closer to burnout, lower your stylus into a soundfield that grows stronger the deeper you travel into it; a dose of the medicine many of us look to music to deliver awaits you inside.

One of the deep contemplations of this natural information (thanks Bill Callahan) is the wide range of source materials Abrams draws from over the band’s more than 15 year history: Ideas from minimalism, modal jazz & traditional musics are regularly reimagined in these compositions. The 2021 double LP descension (Out of Our Constrictions), with guest soloist Evan Parker, reflected aspects of Abrams’ love of party music, Chicago house, & John Coltrane. *But even veteran travelers with the NIS best brace themselves for the Perseverance Flow.

Speaking to the history & the inspirations behind the album, Abrams offers: “We played the piece for a year in concert before the recording. At Electrical (Audio Studios, Chicago) we went in at 11 & were done in time to pick our kids up from school.” Abrams continues: "In a reference world, I imagine Perseverance Flow like a live extended realization of a Jaylib lost instrumental as remixed by Kevin Shields. Or vice versa. I also think it has sympathies to some of the more rhythmically intricate dance musics out of Chicago & Lisbon.”

The core NIS ensemble heard on Perseverance Flow always address Abrams’ writing with the discipline of orchestra musicians & the creativity of improvisers. But this time around, instead of inviting living legend status musicians Evan or William Parker or Ari Brown as honored guests to solo freely over the composed materials, Abrams’ invited guest collaborator was the medium of the recording studio itself. Situated at the board with engineer Greg Norman, Abrams pushed post production techniques found only sporadically on earlier NIS records deep into the heart of the music, distorting & reshaping instruments to subtly &, at times, aggressively mutate timbre & texture, color & time.

Refracting the band’s signature mesmerizing chains of overlapping rhythmic patterns through the sonic funhouse of dub makes Perseverance Flow the most formally experimental NIS album to date. Now a soundworld fully unique to itself is listening to itself, consoling & humoring itself, & consoling & humoring you. A destruction myth & a creation myth of a soundworld together at once —”energetically nutritious” (October 2025 Issue 500 The Wire) supernatural information society.

“Perseverance Flow is skipping rope in slo-mo. A dance of co-operation to rally guts & humors & keep marching through pouring tears” (Abrams).

Release date 2025-10-24. 1st eremite edition pressed on premium audiophile-quality 140 gram vinyl at Fidelity Record Pressing from Kevin Gray/Cohearent Audio lacquers. Mastered by Helge Sten (Deathprod). 1st 300 direct order copies include eremite’s signature retro-audiophile inner-sleeves, hand screen-printed by Siwa Studios, Northern New Mexico. CD & EU vinyl edition available from our partner Aguirre Records.

"An outstanding Chicago bassist, Joshua Abrams regularly contributes to a host of bands, drawing on roots from hip-hop to free jazz. He also leads a singular project, Natural Information Society (NIS), a band that stretches across time, origins, technologies and sources, and one which has mutated significantly in its 15-year history, documented on a series of Eremite LP releases. Abrams also plays guembri, the bass lute of the Gnawa people of North Africa, introduced to free jazz circles by Moroccan master Maleem Mahmoud Ghania, who in the ’90s stepped outside traditional circles to play with saxophonists Pharoah Sanders and Peter Brötzmann and percussionist Hamid Drake, the latter an occasional member of NIS. Recent NIS recordings include two double-LP sets, Since Time Is Gravity, by an 11-member Community Edition and descension (Out of Our Constrictions) by the current core quartet of Abrams, Lisa Alvarado (harmonium), Mikel Patrick Avery (drums) and Jason Stein (bass clarinet), with Evan Parker (soprano) joining them on a single 75-minute piece.

With Perseverance Flow, Abrams, as composer and producer, takes NIS in another direction, composing a piece for the quartet’s distinctive members and instruments, then editing and processing the results into a serene, pulsing, repeating work with regular shifts and time markers, transforming instrumental identities into novel sounds and short modular phrases. There’s a melody that’s regularly an extended and shifting ostinato, there’s another that’s a high-pitched soprano, more minimal still and not readily traceable to an originating sound, though the bass clarinet may be the likeliest contender. These alterations are such that only percussion and guembri are frequently identifiable. Stein’s bass clarinet only becomes strongly evident as itself nine minutes in. A certain repeating jump-start suggests a grand piano’s bass figure or the clicking of an MRI machine, yet this technological dream with its resonating soprano melody remains so fiercely human and fundamentally American that the album forms loose affiliations with music as far flung as Santo & Johnny’s “Sleep Walk” and Harry Partch’s Delusion of the Furies. The submerged instrumental identities contribute to the dream-like state, as if original sonic personalities have gone to sleep, and the results suggest a sustained techno-lullaby, a kind of mechanized bliss, a harbinger, perhaps, of the music currently most needed". --Stuart Broomer, New York City Jazz Record

"Joshua Abrams leads the Natural Information Society quartet into battle, or at least toward it, on the joyfully meandering instrumental album Perseverance Flow. Proceeding in a march of trancelike, intoxicating repetition, Abrams and his bandmates embark on a 35-minute pilgrimage to the place where jazz, contemporary classical, and multinational folk convene, achieving singularity in a state of ritual rhythm." --Pitchfork

"Spacemen 3 used to promote their music as being for the 'fucked up children of the world,' in addition to the more famous part about taking drugs to make music, etc. Natural Information Society could be described in a similar fashion, except they make music for the fucked up adults of the world, the kind who still take drugs and are baffled by their peers bending over backwards to make 'the kids' think they’re cool by slobbering over music clearly made for children. If you count yourselves among the former, the Chicago band’s latest is made for you: sophisticated psychedelia pulsing with rhythmic intensity and rich with droney waves of harmonium. Made up of a single slow-burning, 37-minute long jam, the movement here is subtle yet in its own way aggressive and sharply focused, carefully drawing the listener into the widening gyre at the center of the band’s humane, organic trance." --Mariana Timony, Bandcamp Daily Essential Releases

"The piece, called “Perseverance Flow,” began slowly, with Abrams playing rhythmically on a gimbri—a Sub-Saharan, three-stringed, skin-covered box—in his lap. Alvarado, on hand-pumped harmonium, let the reeds make chords that filled the room. Mikel Patrick Avery, on a drum kit, launched a bass drum’s beat through mists of percussion, and on bass clarinet, Jason Stein made sounds like swells and piercing winds. It was rhythms intersecting rhythms, and the room felt like an ocean, the seas shifting, tide coming in. But then, after an hour that felt like minutes, Alvarado’s chords led us home safe, the sounds calming, the room still vibrating, the chords resolved, the world a different place." --Robert Sullivan, Vogue

Anyone who’s studied meditation or watched a Formula 1 race knows you can travel great distances without going anywhere at all—and enjoy the process of not getting there. There’s pleasure in following a circuit so frequently and so closely that everyday bits of the landscape become landmarks (we always pass that bullet-holed stop sign on this route) and a pang when those landmarks change (they replaced the stop sign!). Natural Information Society’s music operates on similar principles, drawing together the thrum of Moroccan gnawa, the austere profundity of Philip Glass, and the circular structures of John Coltrane at his most spiritual into a sound that doesn’t progress so much as it rotates. Its pleasures come from the steady accumulation of repetitions and all the little tweaks and evolutions and devolutions that composer Joshua Abrams and his band have built into their music.

Perseverance Flow is Natural Information Society’s first non-collaborative record since 2023’s jazz-fractaled Since Time Is Gravity. That album presented a more relaxed version of the group, unfurling its music as though rolling out a dusty Turkish carpet. Perseverance Flow’s tight focus—one theme looped ceaselessly, with modest embellishment, for 35 minutes—feels like a microscopic view of that same rug. The phrase is initially tight and loping: a two-note harmonium riff, a lightly heraldic bass clarinet, Abrams’ clip-clopping guembri, a little one-two drumbeat, all of it held together as tightly as pencils bundled by a rubber band. The group performed the piece live for a year before recording, which gives the album a warm and lived-in feel despite its formal constriction; imagine the Sun Ra Arkestra in big-band mode, playing a single bar over and over until achieving liftoff. Taking equal inspiration from Jamaican dub and Chicago dance music, Abrams edited the one-take performance in post-production, dropping in tonal tweaks and rhythmic inversions with a jeweler’s eye for detail.

In the same way that a diamond’s symmetrical shine is both easy to admire and requires an eyepiece to appreciate in full, Perseverance Flow’s charm is shaped by the tiny variations built into the score. Once the theme is established and allowed to settle, harmonium player Lisa Alvarado flips her pattern, playing a palindrome of the simple rise-and-fall melody. The shift is so smooth it can take a moment to notice it’s happened, and even then you might second-guess the extent of the change. Drummer Mikel Patrick Avery loosens his percussion a few minutes later, playing something that sounds like pebbles sloshing in a plastic bucket. The soft shuffle is soon absorbed—whether actually or just by a kind of aural illusion—into the original pattern. Abrams anchors the sound with his Moroccan guembri, occasionally halting the steady limp of the primary line to tie a fluid knot without losing a step.

While it’s not unusual for repetition to turn a musical phrase inside out, similar to the way a word loses its meaning once you’ve said it a few times, Perseverance Flow’s emotional register stays constant. The phrases gradually begin to lengthen—at one point, Alvarado’s harmonium sounds more like an accordion playing a Cajun song in slow-mo—which gives the piece enough momentum to stay grounded. At no point does it even glance in the direction of chaos; you could probably thread a needle with the sound wave. Around the 19-minute mark, the entire ensemble pulls up together in a way that suggests a vamp, then immediately falls back into the pattern without anyone losing their place. It’s such a weird little thrill that, if you’re properly locked in, it feels like peaking in sync with a 2 a.m. bass drop.

While the instrumentation wouldn’t be out of place at your local roots festival, the dance music influence on Perseverance Flow is undeniable. Abrams’ frequent switches and intertwined notes mimic the braided bass hits and glitchy rhythms of footwork without ever leaving the aesthetic context of gnawa. Little clap-back rhythms pop up occasionally. At one point, something that sounds like a bag of shells being dropped on a snare drum introduces a new back-and-forth to the theme that matches the harmonium and brings the piece’s shuffle closer to something like hip-hop. It’s a canny way of making sure the listener’s body stays tuned in to what could easily become cerebral; you will not nod your head more insistently to a piece of experimental music this year.

Two-thirds of the way through, Avery pounds what sounds like a heavily padded kick drum in double time, just off-beat and distant enough to make it feel like the thump of a poorly insulated club. Abrams picks up the new rhythm and follows it, and for a few moments, the band seems to be playing both the main Perseverance Flow theme and a separate dance song at the same time, though the theoretical line between the two is impossible to find. Eventually, that intervention fades, too, revealing that each of the musicians is off doing their own thing, and despite that, feeling more like an ensemble than ever.

Music like this sometimes gets called “durational,” or likened to the theoretical impermanence of Zeno’s Arrow—an object that appears constant yet is recomposing itself in every moment. It is hard, listening to Perseverance Flow, not to think of the Buddhist notion of becoming, or something like philosopher Henri Bergson’s conception of the élan. Both of which are fair descriptions and logical reactions to a music that seems to do nothing but go in circles with academic confidence. But merry-go-rounds go in circles, too. As do pinwheels. You want durational? Major League Baseball teams play 162 games every season, usually for the same few thousand people. Despite the weight of the intellectual concepts and the elegance of the score, despite the band’s association with the cream of Chicago’s always-rich avant-garde scene, this record is no less approachable than an afternoon Cubs game. Appropriately enough, it gets better with each spin, too. --Sadie Sartini Garner, Pitchfork

Tara Clerkin Trio present their self titled debut LP on Laura Lies In. Similar to that directorial effect of filming at double speed and then slowing down for playback, the record ambles with assurance, expertly paced.

Opening with a jovial cacophony before the beatific ‘in the room’ confidently relieves, washing away any unease with an innately alien familiarity.

Coming to with the padded percussive patterns of 'Helenica', taking a moment to remember where you are in this temporal smudge. The serene contemplation of 'Any of these' signals we're homeward with a dependable afterglow, a friend you don’t need to thank for a good weekend.

A record existing disconnected from the daily getyadowns, a holiday from life, optimism as resistance against mundanity, something extraordinary amongst the ordinary, positively grey.

Recorded and produced by Dominic Mitchison. Mastered by Rupert Clervaux.

Morgenmusiken by Green Cosmos – A Cosmic Jazz Journey Unearthed

In the late 1970s, four young musicians from Marsberg, Germany—despite the absence of a local jazz scene—came together to form Green Cosmos, a quartet whose sound drew equally from John Coltrane’s spiritual fire, world music traditions, free jazz, and Indian classical influences.

Morgenmusiken marks a pivotal stage in the group’s evolution, moving beyond the ballad-driven character of their debut Abendmusiken—reissued earlier this year by Frederiksberg Records—toward freer, more meditative soundscapes. Across seven previously unreleased tracks, the album blends “cosmic music” with “live compositions,” reflecting the band’s distinctive approach to spontaneous creation. Sessions often began in silence and meditation, gradually unfolding into collective improvisations.

The lineup featured Michael Boxberger on saxophone, Benny Düring on piano, and twin brothers Alfred and Ulrich Franke forming a rhythm section frequently described as having a “telepathic connection.” Joined by sitar master Narayan Govande, they shaped a sound that balanced freedom with improvisation, space, and silence. “Silence might be the most beautiful part in music,” the band once reflected. “One single note can make more of an impression than 100 notes.”

With this ethos, Morgenmusiken invites listeners on a journey both meditative and expansive - a discovery of music that feels timeless.

January 2nd, 2023. Aside from being the second of a new year, it was a pretty ordinary night at ETA in Los Angeles, where guitarist Jeff Parker - alongside his ETA IVtet with saxophonist Josh Johnson, bassist Anna Butterss, and drummer Jay Bellerose - had been holding down a regular Monday gig since 2016. At the time, nobody knew it was the first gig of the last year that ETA would be open for business.

Over seven years of holding down that residency, Parker’s ETA ensemble evolved from a band that played mostly standards into a group known for its transcendent, long-form (sometimes stretching out for 45 minutes or more) journeys into innovative, often uncharted territories of groove-oriented, painterly, polyrhythmic, minimalist and mantric improvised music.

With that musical growth, the crowds for Parker and his band at ETA grew across the years too. What started as a sparse gathering of weeknight drinkers, friends, family, and Chicago expats (coming to get a shot of nostalgia for the atmospheres Parker used to create at Rodan across the ‘00s and early ‘10s) grew into a Los Angeles nightlife staple with a packed house and a line down the block for every show.

By January 2023 interest in Parker’s music was stronger than ever, coming off successes with the December 2021 International Anthem/Nonesuch release of Forfolks – a collection of solo guitar works – and the October 2022 Eremite release of Mondays at the Enfield Tennis Academy, a double LP chronicling the ETA IVtet’s distinct, expansive approach to improvisation across four side-length tracks recorded and mixed live by engineer Bryce Gonzales.

Mondays introduced the world to the ETA IVtet’s signature sound with a gathering of unnamed recordings from dates between 2019 and 2021. Parker’s new ETA IVtet offering stays true to that formula in some ways – as he returns to Gonzales’s archive of analog captures to gather four long recordings totalling around 80 minutes – while zooming in on a more particular moment in his journey. The Way Out of Easy provides us a macro-lens view of the ever-refining, infinite organic essence of the ensemble as they stretch out across a single night of soundmaking on January 2nd, 2023.

The engineer Gonzales is well known for the high-end audio gear he builds as Highland Dynamics, and even designed a custom mixer to be able to record the ETA IVtet, specifically, while only taking up a single space at the bar. In his liner notes for The Way Out of Easy, he colors his process and approach: “There are many different ways to make recordings and they all have their place. But for this band, the most important thing to consider is: not doing anything to get in the way of what they are saying to each other.” He refers to the simple schematic he used for capturing these performances – “basically only 4 level controls for one microphone per player” – which allows us an incredibly pure, honest, transparent and transporting experience of the music as it unfolds and is created in real time.

The set begins with an extended take on Parker’s composition “Freakadelic” – a tune he originally recorded for his 2012 Delmark release Bright Light in Winter. The B-side piece “Late Autumn” finds Parker swaying in alliterative, arpeggiating cycles, using just a few plucked notes as he lays the compositional foundation. At first it almost sounds like an echo of the humble tunes he wrote alone with his guitar on Forfolks, but in this space his ensemble joins him to help build a beautifully multi-textured, gently-shifting four-dimensional construction out of a simple idea. On “Easy Way Out,” Butterss’s bobbing bass line leads, paddling the ensemble into a placid expanse of tender psychedelia while Bellerose dusts off the drums like an archaeologist unearthing ancient artifacts.

It had become customary for the IVtet to end their shows every week with a standard or a tune – a practice that Parker embraced for wanting to give the audience something warm and familiar to take home after a long night of taking them out on creative limbs. Some of Parker’s more common calls were “This Guy’s In Love With You” by Burt Bacharach, “1974 Blues” by Eddie Harris, or “Peace” by Horace Silver. In this set, the IVtet closes not with a familiar song, but a familiar sound in the form of a dub/reggae groove (given the name “Chrome Dome” by Parker in post), developing spontaneously out of lyrical ad libs by Johnson on solo saxophone.

In early December of 2023, ETA co-owner Ryan Julio was forced to make a sudden announcement that the venue would permanently shutter at the end of the year. On December 23rd, Parker and the band played at ETA for the last time.

On July 22nd, 2024, the ETA IVtet gathered to perform together for the first time since then, playing for a sold-out crowd of several hundred listeners – a smiling Ryan Julio among them – at Zebulon in Los Angeles. Gonzales was there, recording with his compact analog setup just behind the band on stage. The space may be gone but its spirit lives and the music moves forward into new vessels.

'Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes' is the debut album from Gregory Uhlmann (SML, Anna Butterss, Duffy x Uhlmann, Perfume Genius), Josh Johnson (SML, Jeff Parker ETA IVtet & New Breed, Meshell Ndegeocello, Anna Butterss, Leon Bridges), and Sam Wilkes (Sam Gendel, Louis Cole, Chaka Khan). The three improviser/arranger/producers’ impressive individual credits encompass such a wide stylistic pendulum swing that a collection of group music from the trio could mine any number of musical territories with masterful results. In these 11 instrumental songs, the trio explores a spacious lyrical curiosity that could be described as a jazz-informed take on progressive electro-acoustic chamber music.

Conceived during two live shows at ETA and a session at Uhlmann’s house in Los Angeles, the album maintains a focus on beauty, melody, and movement as the pieces unfold, with the trio pushing their instruments and highly-dialed effects to sculpt otherworldly sounds with the collective sensibility of a rhythm section. The ethos of these instant compositions is arrangement-minded improvisation that showcases the mournful beauty of Uhlmann’s fingerpicked electric guitar, the hybrid rhythm-lead of Wilkes’ bass chording, and the textural harmonic worldbuilding of Johnson’s effect-laden alto saxophone.

The trio’s explorations are rooted in more than just musicality, though. The arc of the group’s story is one of friendship and mutual admiration. Uhlmann and Johnson have known each other since their formative days as teenagers studying jazz. Shortly after first meeting in an educational setting, they would connect for nascent musical probing via low-stakes get-togethers back home in Chicago. They didn’t even know at the time that they had both taken lessons from a mutual guiding light – legendary guitarist/composer Jeff Parker.

After high school, they headed in separate directions – Johnson to Jacobs School of Music in Bloomington, Indiana; Uhlmann to Cal Arts in Santa Clarita, California – but reconnected quickly upon migrating to LA, where shared opportunities for studio work as well as revolving-cast free improvisation at small clubs around the city naturally cemented their loose partnership. Uhlmann was both playing and programming, creating platforms for collaboration at the Bootleg Theater, while Johnson’s transition from student-of to collaborator-with Jeff Parker was well underway via their weekly gig at Highland Park’s ETA. In the immediate periphery of all of this was bassist Sam Wilkes, a serial collaborator well known in the LA creative music scene’s cross-pollination trenches.

“I was playing with some musicians who went to Cal Arts,” says Wilkes. “I started going up there regularly, and Greg had this great band called Fell Runner. A group I was in split a bill with them at the old Bootleg Theater and it really solidified my appreciation and deep respect for the band and for Greg’s playing. They were doing things that were completely unique. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Wilkes and Johnson’s first collaboration came after years of knowing one another in LA, but the musical connection and respect was similarly instantaneous. “It was a session for Louis Cole Big Band,” recalls Wilkes. “Everyone went around on this one tune and took 4 bars, and Josh took this really, really unique 4-bar solo that really stood out. After the session, Louis looked at me and said ‘Josh Johnson!’ and I was like ‘I know!’

In 2021, even before Uhlmann and Johnson began working on what would become SML, Wilkes and Uhlmann played together on an album by Miya Folick, which left them feeling like there was more music to be made together. Uhlmann suggested booking a live date as a trio with Johnson at ETA. With engineer Bryce Gonzales at the controls, the group worked through a short list of prepared material, augmented with passages of improvisation. “We all agreed that it was important to have a nice melodic repertoire to use as a starting point to freely improvise,” says Wilkes. “Landing zones, essentially, while we’re out in the field.”

Those landing zones include a stunning cover of “The Fool On The Hill,” perhaps the eeriest McCartney ballad in The Beatles’ songbook. Johnson’s tender rendering of the classic vocal melody unites the raindrop-leslie-plonk of Uhlmann’s electric guitar and the quietly grooving drone thump of Wilkes’ bass so comfortably that any move could feel natural by the time the trio opens it up for improvisation at the two-minute mark. What follows is a sublime take on the purring consonance only occasionally found in the best moments of the ECM or Windham Hill catalogs. Even more incredible is the fact that this particular recording of the tune documents the first piece of music this trio played together, from the opening moments of their first performance at ETA.

That instantaneous cualidad simpático is what makes this trio special. What we’re hearing is a friendship between high-level improvisers translated into musical moments and executed with such curious precision that the lines between supposed opposites – composition and improvisation, jazz and chamber music, ennui and contentment – are delightfully blurred.

“Frica” is, perhaps, the track on which that blur is most evident. The tune incorporates the staccato stutters and repetitions heard throughout the album, but doubles down with a subtly disorienting post-production chop by Johnson, which accentuates the trio’s live trance by introducing a floating phrase cut-and-mix. The fact that these concepts are employed intuitively, pre-edit, throughout Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes is precisely what makes the post-production shine. It can be difficult to discern what is a slip of the sampler and what is live, turn-on-a-dime action, and it’s exactly that mystery which draws us in.

“Marvis," the album opener, makes that clear from the jump. This fresh spin on a tune from Johnson’s solo album 'Unusual Object' checks many of the same boxes as “Frica” on the production level, but it’s all in service of a truly demented low-key groove. The trio is in lock step here, but it’s unclear how many legs are doing the stepping and just whose legs are taking which steps.

Conversely, the Uhlmann composition “Arpy” is a slow-paced, descending four chord meditation teeming with the life provided by the guitarist’s causally precise reverberated triplet repetitions and held down by Wilkes’ sturdy bass chording, which occasionally wanders into flamboyant high register flourishes. Johnson’s soft alto treatment morphs in tonality throughout, eventually settling into something more aurally reminiscent of an Ondes Martenot or some gently twisted echo of Clara Rockmore.

All told, 'Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes' is a beautiful snapshot of three endlessly interesting players at the top of their game, rendered in such a skilled manner that its inherent mastery flows effortlessly, making passive atmospheric immersion as pleasant and stimulating as deep focused listening. 

Different Rooms is a collection of songs and musical motifs we composed, edited, and collaged in the weeks between late 2024 and early 2025. Most of the recorded material was performed during that editing process, except for live performances taken from improvisations we recorded with Jeff Parker and Josh Johnson some time in 2023.

In our typical process, much of our material is collaged and combines moments of live improvisation, field recordings, and in-studio experimentation. This record, however, marks an evolution in our approach to studio production.

Our studios are side-by-side. When we were writing this album, you might have found us tracking viola stacks in one studio while, in the other, we were writing through-composed themes and rearranging the material. Granular synthesis and tape manipulation are key tools we use to create variation and movement in a composition. This process often yields surprising results, capturing the emotion but expressing it in unexpected ways. It feels essential that we embrace a bit of chance.

In contrast to our first album, Recordings from the Åland Islands, we wanted this music to feel very present. Where Recordings was intended to transport you to another place, Different Rooms is meant to meet you where you are. It’s a decidedly urban album. The field recordings were captured on train platforms, in city streets, in rooms at home, and intentionally paint a quotidian sonic image, blurring the line between what you hear in your own environment and what is on the record.

The song cycle is set in palindromic sequence, figuratively, with certain pieces (reflected) by a reprised or recurring motif that is often reimagined with new instrumentation.

The sonic and temporal abstraction between what is performed in real-time versus what is recorded, manipulated, and collaged reinforces our intent to collect the works under the title Different Rooms, which literally expresses the way the material was recorded in different rooms while reminding us that our shared experience of present time is also one that is asynchronous, historied, and complex.

Alabaster DePlume often asks a simple question: what do people need? In his work, at his shows, in his collaborations, the Mancunian singer-saxophonist and poet-philosopher poses this to the people around him. What are people looking for? In recent years, the same reply kept coming up: healing, healing, people need healing. But why, and what does it mean to heal, especially in a world where the very idea is often commodified and sold as a luxury? If people were coming to his music for something so mysterious, he ought to figure it out. Maybe he ought to try some healing himself.

“For a long time, I've always tried to give responsibility for my value to someone else,” DePlume told me on a recent phone call. It seemed he’d become so caught up in the work of forging connections, and thinking about the effects of his work on others, that he’d lost a sense of himself. “I was working on that,” he explained.

This experiment in healing included slowing down, reading, reflecting, and even taking up the practice of jiu-jitsu. DePlume wrote poetry, too, including the book 'Looking for my value: prologue to a blade', seventy pages of verse rooted in its title’s great search, in finding strength of self within a community, alongside meditations on the paradox of the blade. “The blade, that divides, is whole,” he writes in the introduction. “Healing is the forming of a whole, and a whole is singular, more itself, as in more one, as in more alone.” A blade could be used to attack, to shave, to sever, but it could also be used to cut oneself loose—in the process of getting free.

“What's the opposite of sleep? It’s trying to sleep,” he told me. “And so what's the opposite of looking for my value? It is knowing my value. It simply is there. My dignity is there. I don't need anyone else to know my dignity, or me, to know it. I know it first. I can't seek it from another. I stand for it.”

Selections from the poetry book ultimately became the lyrics across half of the tracks on 'A Blade Because A Blade Is Whole', DePlume’s latest full-length work for the reliably great International Anthem label: eleven songs of agency and survival and presence; of confronting life’s pains rather than trying to avoid them; of banishing escapism. In sum, it documents his learning of the fact that dignity and self-determination are prerequisites for becoming whole, which is to say, for healing. If a blade were broken it would not serve its purpose; it must be unbroken, it must be whole, to be of use.

In the Alabaster DePlume songbook, the celestial ease of his instrumental tracks can sometimes feel like a trojan horse for a voice that is disarmingly honest about the heaviness of existence. Opener “Oh My Actual Days” is true to form in that sense, with DePlume’s tenor sax and Macie Stewart’s ghostly strings playing together like a slow march towards an inner reckoning, one that’s beautiful because it is true. The punchy and contemplative “Thank You My Pain” makes a rhythmic refrain from his titular lyric, inspired by the Vietnamese monk and peace activist Thích Nhất Hạnh, who urged the importance of listening to one’s own pain. “Hello my little pain, I know you are here,” Nhất Hạnh would say. “I am home to take care of you. I do not want to cover you up with consumption anymore.” While writing A Blade, DePlume “watched loads of him on YouTube.”

Then there’s the gorgeous swell of “Invincibility,” an ode to self-respect that feels a bit like a choir of angels led by a trickster, a group contemplating: how do we live with the forces that seek to destroy us? The whole song feels like a heavy exhale, or like the feeling of reaching the surface after a long while underwater. “If I meet with my feelings, they cannot destroy me,” he told me. “When I allow myself to embody them, physically, then I live through that feeling and I meet with it and I make peace with it and I find that my feeling is me, and I welcome it. It is a sense that I cannot be destroyed by my feeling. I am invincible.”

“Form a V” is the closest DePlume comes to a monologue, and also his song most indebted to his jiu-jitsu practice. “I’ve only been doing it for the past two or three years,” he told me. “But now I don’t know how you get by without it.” The song takes inspiration from a tradition where a whole dojo will stand in the shape of a V, facing just one lone individual, who is then attacked quickly and repeatedly by each of the others. “The title is a challenge to the world,” DePlume explained. “Go on, form a v—I am ready.”

Across the first half of the record, when the sax comes in short phrases, it feels like a highlighter over lines in DePlume’s poetry book. Other times, it plays out like an extension of his voice. “Playing the saxophone feels like singing,” he said. A transfixing run of instrumentals on the second half of the record includes “Prayer for My Sovereign Dignity,” an anthem for self-possession. “Believing in yourself feels ridiculous,” he says. “It's ridiculous, but that's what it takes. That's what's required. To stand for yourself is absurd. Let us do the absurd that is standing for ourselves. There is this prayer going on in the background—you can't quite tell what the words are, but it's basically, I'm praying for my sovereign dignity but I don't need to pray for it. It's not going to be given to me. I already have it.”

Where DePlume’s previous material was drawn from collective sessions, improvisation, and editing, A Blade was tightly composed, arranged and produced by DePlume himself. From there, he brought his compositions to a cast of players and co-arrangers, including Macie Stewart (strings), Donna Thompson (backing vocals), and Momoko Gill (strings and backing vocals), for sessions at the collective arts space Total Refreshment Centre, where he has long been involved.

Born Gus Fairbairn, DePlume is a man of many past lives. He played “rock band type music” as a teenager, and started playing improvised music around 2008. He is compelled by how improvising allows him to “put faith in others.” He taught himself the saxophone around the time that he became employed as a support worker assisting men with mental disabilities; he once called playing music with them “one of the best breakthroughs for me as an artist.” His debut as Alabaster DePlume came in May 2012, while he was still living in Manchester. He moved to London in 2015 and took up residency at Total Refreshment Centre, where he was encouraged to put on a monthly concert, leading to the series Peach, releasing a namesake album that year, too. His music, from the start, has been imbued with his politics and values; he was maybe arrested once during a protest with the environmental group Extinction Rebellion. His proper international breakthrough came in 2020 with 'To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1', after nearly a decade of steadily releasing records.

On a phone call in the fall of 2024, we barely speak about any of this though. For at least an hour, we mostly just speak about his recent trip to Palestine, and how could we not? DePlume had traveled to Bethlehem in the spring for a conference hosted by a local Lutheran pastor, before meeting up with musicians from a community arts space, the Wonder Cabinet, and the independent radio station, Radio Alhara. “Palestine is a place where people make records,” he says. “I want to normalize the dignity of that. It's not like, oh, I'm going to make a thing about Palestine. I am just there, and I'm making a thing.”

At the end of 2024, DePlume prefaced A Blade with a collection of recent works: the poetry book and a three-track EP partially recorded in Bethlehem, and in collaboration with Palestinian musicians. There’s “Honeycomb” and “Cremisan,” both recorded during his “Sounds of Places” residency at Wonder Cabinet; “Cremisan” documents the conclusion of a daylong performance presented by Wonder Cabinet and Radio alHara, June 1, 2024, described as “a cry from the Cremisan Valley (Bethlehem, Palestine) to Rafah (Gaza).” The EP’s final recording, “Gifts of Olive,” references the soul-wrenching poem “If I Must Die” by Refaat Alareer, professor of English literature at the Islamic University in Gaza, who was killed by an Israeli airstrike in 2023.

To suggest that dignity is a human right we are all entitled to is to say: by nature of being alive, every human life has worth. Contemplating the very concept of human dignity also raises the daily indignities that are so normalized in a world of suffering. The lack of access to clean water, air, housing, healthcare. Without the basic necessities of life, we cannot know dignity. And how can people know dignity if they are living under a constant state of military attack, if they are living as the target of a genocide?

“The album was written before the genocide started, but I had Palestine on my mind all the time,” DePlume explains. “This question of dignity, sovereignty, and the work of healing. It has a relevance in what's being perpetrated there by the Israeli state, and taking responsibility for my place in that. I pay my taxes here in the United Kingdom—I am contributing to, as a white Englishman, the country that brought the Balfour Declaration, that brought the Sykes-Picot Agreement, that supports and enables the colonization and the settler-colonial project in Palestine. It is my issue, and I have a position where I can speak about it.”

“Dignity” has roots in the Latin dignitatem: worthiness. And instilling the plain truth of every human life’s worth has been a recurring commitment in DePlume’s work. “They can’t use us on one another if we don’t forget we’re precious,” he sang in 2022, summing the emotional core of his 2022 album 'GOLD', concerns of shared humanity that play out into the new works as well.

“We make stories in our lives,” DePlume says. “Oh, I need my story. Oh, something bad happened, and I need to heal upon that. Then I will be healed and all will be good, happily ever after. But no, it is work that needs doing all the time. We all are wounded in our many different ways. And there are degrees of healed, or wounded. Basically, we are either doing one thing or we're doing the other. How do I know I am not destroying myself? I only know that when I am working on healing.” 

FFO: Jimi Tenor, Meridian Brothers, The Comet Is Coming, The Mauskovic Dance Band, Sun Ra Arkestra, Idris Ackamoor & The Pyramids

Psychedelic dub, Afro-Latin rhythms and cosmic grooves come together on La Chooma’s self-titled debut for Batov Records. Drawing on Moroccan Gnawa, Colombian cumbia, Afrobeat, Jamaica dub & roots, and cosmic jazz, the six-piece ensemble create deep, hypnotic music rooted in global traditions and shaped for contemporary dancefloors.

Having already captivated local audiences with their hypnotic, organic live performances, La Chooma – now a six-piece ensemble – have been steadily building an international following. Initial singles “Magic Plant” and “Huachuma” earned support from tastemakers including BBC Radio 6 Music’s Deb Grant and Tom Ravenscroft.

“Magic Plant” distills the band’s signature blend of hypnotic grooves, lush percussion and woozy synths, like Jimi Tenor lost in the Colombian Amazon. A dreamlike, dub-infused trip driven by organic rhythm and cosmic textures. “Huachuma” picks up the thread, fusing Afrobeat percussion, swirling basslines and psychedelic flourishes into a hallucinogenic jam made for a tropical dancefloor.

“High Grow” conjures images of The X-Files set in Addis Ababa, with Ethio-jazz-style synths dancing and tripping across a relentless Mulatu-inspired bassline and Afrobeat drums, all drenched in foreboding dub delay. Perfect for dark, smoke-filled rooms in the small hours.

Like the lost child of Idris Ackamoor & The Pyramids and The Comet Is Coming, “Lonely” hits like a sledgehammer of cosmic synth funk and intense Afro-rock drums, riding an acoustic bassline that breaks into a frenetic solo after a minute. The drums constantly threaten to overwhelm, but open up for the spiraling synths to peak half way through the track.

“Cozumel” follows seamlessly, moving to a slightly slower groove built on a deep electric bassline and irresistible four-to-the-floor Afro-Latin rhythms. Synths rise in harmony with the haunting call of the hand-carved Egyptian kawala flute as the energy builds in the third minute before the tension finally releases. There’s something in the music’s spiritual core and soulful presence that recalls the groundbreaking work of Jamaican legends Count Ossie and Cedric Brooks, who fused jazz with Rastafari drumming.

La Chooma draw dotted lines across time and space, finding hidden connections and shared frequencies, pulling threads together into a sound that hypnotises the mind and moves the body.

Jamaica's national treasure. Legendary Jamaican Jazz.

Internationally acclaimed guitarist Ernest Ranglin with piano genius Leslie Butler in a dazzling quartet. Recorded in 1965.

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Ernest Ranglin is a guitar player who represents Jamaica as well as one of the forefront personals who took Jamaican music to the world. As an arranger and a musical director, he contributed with his talent in the development of Jamaican music, including Ska and Reggae, from the origins. Musicians who have started their career at the time, still look up to him as a mentor and pay their respects. The internationally acclaimed guitarist Ernest Ranglin is currently pursuing his career without any musical boundaries at the age of over 80.

An unusual detour in the Robert Wyatt catalogue, Radio Experiment Rome was recorded in February 1981, when the ex-Soft Machine drummer had been invited to record some material in-progress for a radio broadcast. The tone of these sessions is characterised by a free-roaming experimentation, laying down eight-track recordings of vocals, piano, hi-hat, jaw harp and a variety of analogue tape effects. This is Wyatt unhinged and completely let loose from the agenda of proper album recording: there's no eye on a finished, commercially viable product here, and the scope of the project takes in jazzy soundscapes like 'Heathens Have No Souls', exquisitely melodic piano pieces like 'L'Albero Degli Zoccoli', vaudevillian vocal tuning experiment 'Billie's Bounce' and the politicised rant-poem 'Born Again Cretin', about the imprisonment of Nelson Mandela.

Shintaro Sakamoto's new album ‘Yoo-hoo’, his first release in about three and a half years, reflects his overseas live experiences over the past few years while showcasing a diverse sound incorporating blues, mood songs, 60s soul, surf instrumentals, funk, and more. Furthermore, the lyrics, captured through his unique perspective, are truly one-of-a-kind. The new album, containing ten tracks including the October digital single “To Grandpa” and the November digital single “Is There a Place for You?”, is now complete.

Like the previous work, this album was recorded primarily with members of the Shintaro Sakamoto Band: Yuta Suganuma on drums, AYA on bass & backing vocals, and Toru Nishinai on saxophone & flute. Guest player Mami Kakudo participates on marimba for two tracks. Recording engineer/mastering: Soichiro Nakamura. Artwork: Shintaro Sakamoto.

Recorded in concert at the University of Sheffield in March 2025, Reality Is Not A Theory is the first collaboration between Mark Fell and Pat Thomas. Major figures in British experimental music since the 1990s, Fell and Thomas have developed their rigorous practices from radically different backgrounds and perspectives: where Fell’s singular take on synthetic abstraction emerged from Sheffield’s electronic underground, Thomas is a virtuoso improvising pianist steeped in jazz and modernist art music who has simultaneously worked with sampler-based electronics for decades. As the record’s wonderfully academic subtitle explains, we are presented here with two sides of ‘algorithmic and improvised music for computer and piano’, exemplifying both players’ insatiable search for new (and sometimes uncomfortable) playing situations.

The performance begins with Fell’s electronics close to the timbres of acoustic percussion, attacks that suggest wood, metal or glass threaded along a rapid pulse while Thomas focuses on the lowest registers of the piano, deadening the strings. As Fell’s electronics start to ring out and occupy more harmonic space, Thomas turns to wide, repeated clusters, which slowly expand into patterns of chords. Like in his recent solo recordings and his trio work with Joel Grip and Anton Gerbal, Thomas’ playing combines extreme dissonance with a deep lyrical sense. Fell’s work gradually shifts its focus toward drum sounds, drawing on the microtemporal processes that have characterized his practice in recent decades. Heard together with Thomas’ probing piano, the computer sounds call up unexpected associations with the klangfarben antics of improv drummers like Paul Lovens or Tony Oxley. Throughout its second half, the music grows increasingly frenetic, as Thomas sounds out rapid, irregularly repeated figures and beautifully sour chords in the upper register, while Fell’s percussion develops into angular pan-pipe-like feedback and waves of glissandi.

With great confidence and patience, Fell and Thomas often let their individual contributions remain rhythmically distinct and unsynchronised, allowing unexpected correspondence and coincidence to guide the music’s development. Recorded in a hall named after Sheffield steel manufacturer and Master Cutler Mark Firth, the location might suggest a model for understanding how Fell and Thomas interact here: two workers in the same workshop, each immersed in their own part of the production process. Arriving in a striking sleeve designed by Mark Fell, with liner notes by Francis Plagne, Reality Is Not A Theory is an invigorating document of the meeting of two mavericks of contemporary music.

Two days after his 100th birthday, Marshall Allen started recording New Dawn, his debut solo album. A member of Sun Ra’s Arkestra since 1958, Allen assumed leadership of the band in 1995. Throughout his nearly seventy-year career, Allen has never released a solo album under his own name, and yet, instead of capping such a legendary output, New Dawn seems to herald a new beginning. A love letter to spacetime, it channels a century of musical intelligence into seven tracks, showing Allen at his most protean — freely moving from relaxed, transdimensional palettes to bluesy big band and beyond.

One of music’s vanguard avant-saxophonists, Allen continues to deliver durational feats during the Arkestra’s gigs. Still, the compositional energy contained on New Dawn is striking. Allen was approached with the idea of a solo record by Week-End Records’ Jan Lankisch. The Arkestra’s Knoel Scott — who has lived with Allen at the Arkestral Institute of Sun Ra since the 1980s — worked with Allen to pore over the archive of unrecorded material and develop this debut. Scott assembled some of Philadelphia’s brightest jazz stars as well as some Arkestra veterans for the sessions. New Dawn was then recorded over a couple of days in Philadelphia, with additional recordings added in the following weeks and months.

The title track “New Dawn” is the centerpiece of this impressive album and the arranger Knoel Scott wrote the lyrics himself. We are thrilled to have the incomparable Neneh Cherry, stepdaughter of legendary jazz musician Don Cherry, lend her unmistakable voice to this song.

Though greatly informed by the philosophy of Sun Ra and his Saturnian teachings — traverse jazz’s traditions, dig deep into spiritual geographies — New Dawn signals Allen as his own singular voice, one that’s swinging and bopping and reflecting into the future, with no sign of stopping. Week-End Records is proud to release this debut solo album by Marshall Allen.

“The one thing that I'm really looking forward to, and I think this is the best thing ever, is the fact that Marshall Allen is about to release, at the age of 100, his debut album under his own name. There is no greater feat of durability, working at your craft, and putting your ego to the back of the room while you're supporting other artists and performers.” – Gilles Peterson

“New Dawn is clearly an extension of Ra’s legacy and sound, but it’s also a masterful endeavour filtered through Allen’s tastes and approach.” – John Morrison, The Wire 

Jazz and Hip Hop have long been intertwined, so it’s refreshing to hear hip hop producers approach Jazz not through sampling, but by working directly within the genre’s wide‑open framework. Onra and Buddy Sativa pull this off beautifully, crafting a record that feels fresh while carrying a timeless, classic spirit. Love it.