MUSIC

-Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy-, x2 LPs of long-form, lyrical, groove-based free improv by acclaimed guitarist & composer Jeff Parker's ETA IVtet is at last here. Recorded live at ETA (referencing David Foster Wallace), a bar in LA’s Highland Park neighborhood with just enough space in the back for Parker, drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Anna Butterss, & alto saxophonist Josh Johnson to convene in extraordinarily depthful & exploratory music making. Gleaned for the stoniest side-length cuts from 10+ hours of vivid two-track recordings made between 2019 & 2021 by Bryce Gonzales, -Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy- is a darkly glowing séance of an album, brimming over with the hypnotic, the melodic, & patience & grace in its own beautiful strangeness. Room-tone, electric fields, environment, ceiling echo, live recording, Mondays, Los Angeles. Jeff Parker's first double album & first live album, -Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy- belongs in the lineage of such canonical live double albums recorded on the West Coast as Lee Morgan’s -Live at the Lighthouse-, Miles Davis' -In Person Friday & Saturday Night at the Blackhawk, San Francisco- & -Black Beauty-, & John Coltrane's -Live in Seattle-.

While the IVtet sometimes plays standards &, including on this recording, original compositions, it is as previously stated largely a free improv group —just not in the genre meaning of the term. The music is more free composition than free improvisation, more blending than discordant. It’s tensile, yet spacious & relaxed. Clearly all four musicians have spent significant time in the planetary system known as jazz, but relationships to other musics, across many scenes & eras —dub & Dilla, primary source psychedelia, ambient & drone— suffuse the proceedings. Listening to playbacks Parker remarked, humorously & not, “we sound like the Byrds” (to certain ears, the Clarence White-era Byrds, who really stretched it).

A fundamental of all great ensembles, whether basketball teams or bands, is the ability of each member to move fluidly & fluently in & out of lead & supportive roles. Building on the communicative pathways they’ve established in Parker’s -The New Breed- project, Parker & Johnson maintain a constant dialogue of lead & support. Their sampled & looped phrases move continuously thru the music, layered & alive, adding depth & texture & pattern, evoking birds in formation, sea creatures drifting below the photic zone. Or, the two musicians simulate those processes by entwining their terse, clear-lined playing in real-time. The stop/start flow of Bellerose, too, simulates the sampler, recalling drum parts in Parker’s beat-driven projects. Mostly Bellerose's animated phraseologies deliver the inimitable instantaneous feel of live creative drumming. The range of tonal colors he conjures from his extremely vintage battery of drums & shakers —as distinctive a sonic signature as we have in contemporary acoustic drumming— bring almost folkloric qualities to the aesthetic currency of the IVtet's language. A wonderful revelation in this band is the playing of Anna Butterss. The strength, judiciousness & humility with which she navigates the bass position both ground & lift upward the egalitarian group sound. As the IVtet's grooves flow & clip, loop & repeat, the ensemble elements reconfigure, a terrarium of musical cultivation growing under controlled variables, a tight experiment of harmony & intuition, deep focus & freedom.

For all its varied sonic personality, -Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy- scans immediately & unmistakably as music coming from Jeff Parker‘s unique sound world. Generous in spirit, trenchant & disciplined in execution, Parker’s music has an earned respect for itself & for its place in history that transmutes through the musical event into the listener. Many moods & shapes of heart & mind will find utility & hope in a music that combines the autonomy & the community we collectively long to see take hold in our world, in substance & in staying power.

On the personal tip, this was always my favorite gig to hit, a lifeline of the eremite records Santa Barbara years. Mondays southbound on the 101, driving away from tasks & screens & illness, an hour later ordering a double tequila neat at the bar with the band three feet away, knowing i was in good hands, knowing it would be back around on another Monday. To encounter life at scales beyond the human body is the collective dance of music & the beholding of its beauty, together. —Michael Ehlers & Zac Brenner

Pressed on premium audiophile-quality 120 gram vinyl at RTI from Kevin Gray / Cohearent Audio lacquers. Mastered by Joe Lizzi, Triple Point Records, Queens, NY. First eremite edition of 1799 copies. First 400 direct order LPs come with eremite’s signature retro-audiophile inner-sleeves, hand screen-printed by Alan Sherry, Siwa Studios, northern New Mexico. CD edition & EU x2LP edition available thru our EU partner, Aguirre records, Belgium.

Jeff Parker synthesizes jazz and hip-hop with an appealingly light touch. The longtime Tortoise guitarist has a silken, clean-cut tone, yet his production takes more cues from DJ Premier than it does from a classic mid-century jazz sound. In the early ’00s, when Madlib ushered a boom-bap sensibility into the hallowed halls of the jazz label Blue Note, Parker conducted his own experiments in genre-mashing in the Chicago group Isotope 217, dragging jaunty hip-hop rhythms into the far reaches of computerized abstraction. More recently, Parker enlivened quantized beats and chopped-up samples with live instrumentation, both as leader of the New Breed and sideman to Makaya McCraven. Inverting rap’s longtime reverence for jazz, Parker has gradually codified a new language for the so-called “American art form” with a vocabulary gleaned from the United States’ next great contribution to the musical universe.

Parker’s latest, the live double LP Mondays at the Enfield Tennis Academy, was largely recorded in 2019, while his star as a solo artist was steeply ascending. Capturing a few intimate evenings with drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Anna Butterss, and New Breed saxophonist Josh Johnson at ETA, a cozy Los Angeles cocktail bar, the record anticipates his 2020 opus with the New Breed, Suite for Max Brown. Yet Mondays amounts to something novel in 2022: It lays out long-form spiritual jazz, knotty melodies, and effortless solos over a slow-moving foundation as consistent as an 808. The results are as mesmerizing as a luxurious, beatific ambient record—yet at the same time, it’s clear that all of this is happening within the inherently messy confines of an improvisatory concert.

Across four side-long tracks, each spanning about 20 minutes, Parker and Johnson trade ostinatos, mesh together, split again into polyrhythmic call-and-response. Butterss commands the pocket with a photonegative of their lead lines, often freed from rhythmic responsibilities by the drums’ relentlessness. Bellerose exhibits a Neu!-like sense of consistency, just screwed down a whole bunch of BPMs. His kit sounds as dusty as an old sample, and his hypnotic rhythms evoke humanizers of the drum machine such as J Dilla or RZA. You could spend the album’s 84-minute runtime listening only to the beats; every shift in pattern queues a new movement in the compositions, beaming a timeframe from the bottom up. Bellerose’s sensitive, reactive playing, though, is unmistakably live. We can practically see the sweat beading on his arm when he holds steady on a ride cymbal for minutes on end, or plays a shaker for a whole LP side.

He begins the understated opener “2019-07-08 I” with feather-soft brush swirls, but on the second cut, he sets Mondays’ stride, as a simple bell pattern builds into a leisurely rhythmic stroll. Thirteen minutes in, the mood breaks. Bellerose hits some heavy quarter notes on his hi-hat; Butterss leans into a fat bassline; saxophone arpeggios, probably looped, float in front of us like smoke rings lingering in the air. It’s a glorious moment, punctuated by clinking glasses and a distant “whoo!” so perfectly placed we become aware of not only the setting, but also the supple knob-turns of engineer Bryce Gonzales in post-production. Anyone who’s heard great improvisation at a bar in the company of both jazzheads and puzzled onlookers knows this dynamic—for some, the music was incidental. Others experienced a revelation.

Lodged in this familiar situation is the question of what such “ambient jazz” means to accomplish—whether it wants to occupy the center of our consciousnesses, or resign itself to the background. The record’s perpetual soloing offers an answer. Never screechy, grating, or aggressive, each performance is nonetheless highly individual. Even when the quartet settles into an extended groove, a spotlight shines on Johnson, Butterss, and Parker in turn, steadily illuminating a perpetual sense of invention. Their interplay feels almost traditional, suggesting bandstand trade-offs of yore, yet the open-ended structure of their jams keeps it unconventional.

Mondays works in layers: Its metronomic rhythms pacify, but the performers and their idiosyncratic expressions offer ample material to those interested in hearing young luminaries and seasoned vets swap ideas within a group. In 2020, Johnson dropped his first record under his own name, the excellent, daringly melodic Freedom Exercise, while Butterss’ recent debut as bandleader, Activities, is one of the most exciting, undersung jazz releases of 2022. Akin to Parker’s early experiments with Tortoise and Chicago Underground, Johnson and Butterss’ recordings both revel in electronic textures, and each features the other as a collaborator. Mondays captures them as their mature playing styles gain sea legs atop the rudder of Parker’s guitar.

The only track recorded after the pandemic began, closer “2021-04-28” sculpts the record’s loping structure, giving retrospective shape to the preceding hour of ambience. In the middle of the song, Parker’s guitar slows to a yawn; the drums pipe down. After a couple minutes of drone, Bellerose slips back into the mix alongside a precisely phrased guitar line strummed on the upper frets, punctuated by saxophone accents that exclaim with the force of an eager hype man. Beginning with a murmur, the album ends with a bracing statement, a passage so articulated that it actually feels spoken.

Mondays drifts with unhurried purpose through genres and ideas, imprinted with the passage of time. The deliberate, thumping clock of its drumbeat keeps duration in mind, and, as with so many live albums, we’re reminded of how circumstances have changed since the sessions were recorded. Truly, life is different than it was in 2019—and not just in terms of world politics, climate change, the threat of disease, or the reality that making a living in music is harder than ever. Seemingly catalyzed by COVID-19’s deadly, isolating scourge, jazz has transformed, hybridized, and weakened tired arguments for musical stratification and fundamentalism. Even calling Mondays a “live” album is a simplification, considering how Parker and other top jazz brains have increasingly availed themselves of the studio—including, in a sparing yet dramatic way, on Mondays.

Near the end of the first track, the tape slows abruptly. The plane of the song opens to another dimension: This set, Parker seems to be saying, can be manipulated with the ease of a vinyl platter beneath a DJ’s fingers. Parker’s latest may be his first live album, but it’s also the product of a mad scientist, cackling over a mixing board. Time is dilated, curated, edited, and intercut, and the very live-ness of a concert recording turns fascinatingly, fruitfully convoluted—even when the artists responsible are four players participating in the age-old custom of jamming together in a room. --Daneil Felsenthal, Pitchfork, 8.4 Best New Music

Turn to Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy and you’re in another world. Recorded live (it’s apparently Parker’s first live record) between 2019 and 2021 at a bar in Los Angeles’ Highland Park neighborhood that’s named for the principal setting of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest(and Parker’s ETA 4tet named, in turn, for the room). As producer Michael Ehlers points out in a press sheet, It is “largely a free improv group —just not in the genre meaning of the term.” Mondays… will include all the things that free improvisation leaves out, modes, melodies, key centres and regular (though often multiple) rhythms; in effect, the musicians are free to include the conventionally excluded.

It’s a kind of perfect opposite of Eastside Romp – clear tunes rarely define a piece, there’s no solo order, actually few solos, no formal beginnings or endings – instead substituting the extended jam for the tight knit composition. It’s a two-LP set, each side an excerpt from a long collective improvisation, a kind of electronic jazz version of hypnotic minimalism with Parker and saxophonist Josh Johnson both employing loops to build up interlocking rhythmic patterns and a kind of floating, layered timelessness, while bassist Anna Butterss and drummer/ percussionist Jay Bellerose lay down pliable fundamentals.

Often and delightfully, it answers this listener’s specific auditory needs, a bright shifting soundscape that can begin in mid-phrase and eventually fade away, not beginning, not ending, like Heaven’s Muzak or the abstract decorative art of the Alhambra. It can sound at times like, fifty years on, Grant Green has added his clear lines to the kind of work that over 50 years ago filtered from Terry Riley to musicians from jazz, rock and minimalism. Though the tunes are described as excerpts, we often have what seem to be beginnings, the faint sound of background conversation and noise ceding to the music in the first few seconds, but the “beginnings” sound tentative, like proposals or suggestions. The most explicit tune here is the slow, loping line passed back and forth between Parker and Johnson that initiates Side C, 2019 May-05-19, the earliest recording here.

The music is a constant that doesn’t mind omitting its beginnings and ends, but it’s also, in the same way, an organism, a kind of music that many of us are always inside and that is always inside us. All kinds of music stimulate us in all kinds of ways, but for this listener, Jeff Parker’s ETA Quartet happily raises a fundamental question: what is comfort music, what are its components, and could there be a universal comfort music? Or is comfort music a universal element in what we may listen for in sound? Modality, rhythmic and melodic figures/motifs, drone, compound relationships and, too, a shifting mosaic that cannot be encapsulated? The thing is, any music we seek out is, in our seeking, a comfort, whether it’s a need for structures so complex that we might lose ourselves in mapping them, or music so random, we are freed of all specificity, but something that may have healing properties.

This is not just bar music, but music for a bar named for art that further echoes in the band’s abbreviated name. Socialization is enshrined here. There’s another crucial fiction, too, maybe closer, The Scope, the bar in Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49 with its “strictly electronic music policy”. Consider, too, the social roots reverberating in the distant musical ancestry, that Riley session with John Cale, Church of Anthrax, among many … or the healing music of the Gnawa … or the Master Musicians of Jajouka with Ornette Coleman on Dancing in Your Head. And that which is most “natural” to us in the early decades of the 21st century? … Jamming, looping, drones…So perhaps an ideal musical state might be a regular Monday night session with guitar, saxophone, loops, bass and drums…the guitarist and saxophonist using loops, expanding the palette and multiplying the reach of time, repeating oneself with the possibility of mutation or constancy. In some long ago, perfect insight into a burgeoning age of filming and recording, Jay Gatsby remarked, “Can’t repeat the past? Why, of course you can!”

We might even repeat the present or the future. --Stuart Broomer,

Reissue of the drop-dead classic album from 1978, Alimantado with Horace Andy, Lee Perry, King Tubby, Gregory Isaacs, Jah Woosh, Jimmy Radwell and Jackie Edwards. Recorded in several sessions, at the Black Ark, Channel One, Randy's and King Tubby's studios, it was the first album put out by Greensleeves, now reissued by the good Dr. himself on his Keyman label. Alimantado's graffiti, daubed round Westbourne Park and Notting Hill back in '78 survived longer than any Banksy could, without a sliver of perspex in sight.

"Another stone cold classic from the vaults of Taxi Records. The Cool Ruler, aka singer songwriter Gregory Isaacs. Perfectly crafted songs and precise rhythm construction by the Taxi Gang at Channel One Studio. Each song drifts seamlessly into percussive dubs with subtle sonic landscapes sculpted by the engineers Maxie & Ernest Hookim at the mixing board."

Never released outside South Africa since its original release in 1974, Outernational Sounds presents one of the most sought-after international jazz exclusives ever to appear on South Africa's famous Gallo imprint: the funky, spiritual and outward bound Habiba. Limited, fully licensed vinyl reissue of a lost modal classic by renowned pianist Kirk Lightsey and Black Jazz stalwart Rudolph Johnson. As the archives of South Africa's premier record labels steadily give up the treasures that were hidden in the darkness of the apartheid era, the incredible heritage of South African jazz is gradually finding an international audience. And while most of the laurels are naturally for South Africa's own overlooked musicians, the South African discography contains a few sparkling, nearly unknown jazz sessions by visiting players. Habiba is the greatest of them -- a raw, impassioned set led by bop pianist Kirk Lightsey, who had been a regular sideman for Chet Baker and Sonny Stitt, and saxophonist Rudolph Johnson, a key player at the storied West Coast indie Black Jazz. Visits to the apartheid state by respected Black musicians were hardly a common occurrence during apartheid's darkest years -- so how did a crew of crack American jazz players end up in the Gallo studios? The story starts with the now almost forgotten crooner, Lovelace Watkins. Sometimes billed as "the Black Sinatra", the Detroit-born Watkins sang standards, show tunes and ballroom classics on the Las Vegas circuit. In his 1970s heyday he was a huge star in the UK and in southern Africa, where he toured regularly. In 1974 he hired a jazz big band to accompany him on a tour of South Africa -- and among their number were Lightsey and Johnson, as well as Mastersounds bassist Monk Montgomery, West Coast trombonist Al Hall Jr., and Marshall Royal, musical director of the Count Basie band. The tour was a huge success, and during downtime from performing, members of Watkin's group independently record no fewer than three albums. Two of these LPs appeared on the IRC label, billed as the Mallory-Hall Band -- the third, on the more prestigious Gallo, was Habiba. Three tracks deep, the album is a heavy-duty excursion into post-Coltrane spiritual modernism, ranging from the modal, cerebral intensity of the side-long title track "Habiba", to the downhome breakbeat groove of "There It Is", and the dark glitter of minor key waltz "Fresh Air". Long one of the most desired global jazz LPs, and never before available outside South Africa, Habiba is a forgotten masterpiece of its era.

unification of techno and dub reggae. An outstanding universal masterpiece of sound dub/minimal techno released in 1995 as M-Series by Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald's Basic Channel, repressed in 2025.

unification of techno and dub reggae. An outstanding universal masterpiece of sound dub/minimal techno released in 1994 by German Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald's Basic Channel, repressed in 2025.

unification of techno and dub reggae. An outstanding universal masterpiece of sound dub/minimal techno released in 1993 by German Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald's Basic Channel, repressed in 2023.

TTT catch Basic Rhythm in neurotic hardstep flow on four cuts of the tightest D&B following his killer mixtape in this mode OG pirate radio DJ for Rude FM in the ‘90s, and multifaceted producer since the 2010s; Anthoney J Hart is a true survivor of the hardcore ‘nuum. ‘The Bounce’ chases up his superb ’23 mixtape, ‘Straight From the Bedroom’ with a high calibre selection of cuts relating to that session, nailing a dead tuff seam of millennium-era pressure that variously plays deep into, and fucks with, its classic form. Living up to his mantle, Hart’s ascetic production values keep everything chiselled and rictus, but with nuff funk in its flex, tying D&B back to roots in the rigidity of OG electro and betraying its foundational links to earliest dark garage and grime. The title tune shadowboxes with clinically compressed snares in dank negative space, and ‘Tubby’ ups the neuro factor with shearing synths and grinding, granite-cut bass wobble. ‘Fists in Pocket’ is pure early ‘00s warehouse menace straight out of a Loxy or Dylan DJ set, and ‘Unworthy’ rudely distorts the structure with noisier, eye-wobbling compression fuckry.TTT catch Basic Rhythm in neurotic hardstep flow on four cuts of the tightest D&B following his killer mixtape in this mode OG pirate radio DJ for Rude FM in the ‘90s, and multifaceted producer since the 2010s; Anthoney J Hart is a true survivor of the hardcore ‘nuum. ‘The Bounce’ chases up his superb ’23 mixtape, ‘Straight From the Bedroom’ with a high calibre selection of cuts relating to that session, nailing a dead tuff seam of millennium-era pressure that variously plays deep into, and fucks with, its classic form. Living up to his mantle, Hart’s ascetic production values keep everything chiselled and rictus, but with nuff funk in its flex, tying D&B back to roots in the rigidity of OG electro and betraying its foundational links to earliest dark garage and grime. The title tune shadowboxes with clinically compressed snares in dank negative space, and ‘Tubby’ ups the neuro factor with shearing synths and grinding, granite-cut bass wobble. ‘Fists in Pocket’ is pure early ‘00s warehouse menace straight out of a Loxy or Dylan DJ set, and ‘Unworthy’ rudely distorts the structure with noisier, eye-wobbling compression fuckry.

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

Nobukazu Takemura’s music is singular in its ability to create a musical sense of childlike wonder and curiosity with gracefully executed yet complex compositions. His pieces embody an innocence and the intricacies of self-discovery that every human is faced with as their worlds become more complex. An acclaimed artist and composer, Takemura is known for his idiosyncratic music and video artistry as well as his prolific collaborations including those with Tortoise, Yo La Tengo, DJ Spooky and Steve Reich. knot of meanings, Takemura’s first proper album in a decade, finds the Japanese artist wrestling with the rise of technological influence on art and culture in the modern era, in tandem with his own relationship to religion, and where those struggles meet. Like the colorful, irregularly shaped glasses on the cover, the album is a mosaic of technicolor elements that come together to form a complete picture, a dense portrait of interconnected struggles and triumphs.

For Takemura, the knot of meanings explores a universal and yet deeply personal and complicated knot, a metaphor for defining spirituality's role in life. “Personally, I see this knot as an opportunity to rebuild my relationship with God,” says Takemura. “I feel that the meaning of life is to find and rediscover this connection every day.” The knot acts as a further metaphor for the barriers between people, their connectivity tangled by developments in technology that drive division rather than create community. “Much of technology has unfortunately developed in a way that pursues convenience and promotes egoism,” Takemura continues. “The world has lost its center, people have become scattered, and culture has stagnated by repeating the same things.” Takemura’s search for meaning across the record is less in search of some preconceived idea of piety or heavenly ascension, but instead focuses on an optimism of originality.

The sprawling 18 pieces of knot of meanings sift, tumble and stutter against obstacles as they bloom with moments of distinct beauty. The album makes expert use of Takemura’s signature blend of electro-acoustic arrangements, inquisitive melodic fluidity and tonal poetry. Gentle vibraphone plonks are layered with synthetic horn lines. An electric piano follows guest vocalist doro’s melodies across “savonarola’s insight” where electronic strings lope beneath her on “the gulf” in steady, staccato harmonies that build and break tension. Pieces like “ladder of meaning” showcase just how diverse Takemura’s sound palette can be, an emotive compositional metaphor blending field recordings, text-to-speech allegory, glitching electronics and sparkling glockenspiel which explodes in waves on “iron staircase”. Cymbals and snare drums are used less as time-keeping rhythmic devices as they are drops of rain pattering against surreal landscapes or roiling thunder crashing into sparse arrangements. In resistance to stagnation and repetition, the compositions flow freely, but with resolute purpose in their movements. Musically and metaphorically uncovering joy in trying to answer a question only to find more questions.

Throughout the album, Takemura exudes an unpredictability that builds surprise from unlikely combinations of instruments, tonalities and harmonic motions that embody bewildering knots to untangle, held together with a youthful sense of wonder. “I attended a Catholic kindergarten as a child and cherished those early years, which laid the foundations for my future. This is in part why I have always used the keyword 'child' in my work as an adult,” notes Takemura. knot of meanings culminates his use of that child’s perspective, or as Takemura has used extensively, that “Child’s View” to explore deeper life philosophies to ecstatic ends. The meanings and mysteries contained within make for an enchanting excavation for those attuned to deep listening, a journey that rewards the kind of inquiring open-mindedness of the listener.

Egypt’s “official” popular music throughout much of the 20th Century was a complex form of art song steeped in tradition, well-loved by the middle and upper classes, and even accommodating to certain non-Arabic influences. It was highly structured by professional musicians working an established industry centered in the capitol, Cairo.

However, far from the bustling cosmopolitan center of Cairo, north and northwest, in towns like Tanta and Alexandria and extending across the Saharan Desert to the Libyan border, dozens of fully marginalized artists were developing a raw, hybrid shaabi/al-musiqa al-shabiya style of music, supported by smaller upstart, independent labels, including the short-lived but deeply resonant Bourini Records.

Launched in the late 1960s in Benghazi, Libya, Astuanat al-Bourini اسطوانات البوريني (Bourini Records) published some 40 to 50 titles from 1968 to 1975. Bourini released 7-inch 45 RPM singles by 15 artists, all but one of them Egyptian, igniting brief careers for Alexandrian singer Sheikh Amin Abdel Qader and the blind Bedouin legend Abu Bakr Abdel Aziz (aka Abu Abab).

The tracks compiled here comprise a full range of styles covered by the label, while highlighting some of its most gob smacking moments, from Basis Rahouma’s beastly transformation into a growling and barking man-lion by the end of “Yana Alla Nafsa Masouda,” to Reem Kamal’s hopeful-if-bitter handclapping party pivot “Baed Al Yas Yjini,” which descends into an almost Velvet Underground outro-groove of nihilistic dissonance.

All the tracks on this compilation were laid down in stark divergence from the mainstream Egyptian popular music topography of heightened emotions buoyed by lush arrangements. The contrast is most evident in Mahmoud al-Sandidi’s “Ana Mish Hafwatak,” wherein his voice weaves heavily but deftly through a constant accordion drone, and Abu Abab’s “Al Bint al Libya,” a sparse, slow-burning lament with minimal percussion, violin, and Abab’s nephew Hamed Abdel Muna'im Mursi on lyre.

Whereas the Egyptian mainstream was aspirational, attempting to reflect Egyptian culture at its most refined, the performances captured by Bourini were manifestations of everyday life lived by the mostly otherwise ignored masses.

More than half century old, this music has lost none of its urgency, presence, or relevance. We hear these artists as if they’d just joined us in our living room, and not on a stage decades ago surrounded by tens of thousands of long-forgotten acolytes.

An early 1982 masterpiece by Scientist, a dub alchemist also known as King Tubby's right arm. The jacket and title are amazing, but the content is heavy, crazy and humorous dub processing.

reissue of the 1976 historic collaboration between producer instrumentalist Augustus Pablo and dub engineer King Tubby.

The soundtrack to Jim Jarmusch's 1986 film Down By Law is composed and performed by John Lurie, who also plays the pimp Jack in the movie. His world-weary avant-jazz pieces like "Please Come to My House," "What Do You Know About Music, You're Not a Lawyer," "Strangers in the Day," and "Fork in the Road" convey the film's seedy but humorous crime story.</p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cL5J0kRwGQc?si=Lr_tt6C9OrxfJKu5" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Village of the Pharoahs is the eighth album by American saxophonist and composer Pharoah Sanders, released in 1973. The key word, and concept, informing this album is percussion: of the 13 musicians appearing on Village of the Pharoahs, seven of them are credited with contributing drums or percussion… and there is a conga player. The centerpiece of Village of The Pharoahs is the three-part title suite, which stretches over 16 minutes. This is the work of a confident explorer willing to go anywhere and do anything.

AKARMA

In fact, Organisation was the first iteration of Kraftwerk and if the band had managed to overrule its record label, RCA, Tone Float would have been credited as such. But given that the album was to be released only in the United Kingdom, the label opted for the more Anglicized name, "Organisation". Tone Float is the only album produced under this name and is a seminal example of the genre. Audiences in West Germany were fortunate enough to watch and listen to the whole album, played live for German television station, EDF, and it is this broadcast featured here.

Caetano Veloso, one of the great masters of Brazilian music, released his first album "Irene", also known as "The White Album", in 1969, and his second studio album as a solo artist. Veloso and his ally Gilberto Gil were arrested and jailed for criticizing the military regime without any clear reason. This is the monumental album that he left behind just before his exile to London, England, and sent out to the world as his own message. Limited edition of 500 copies on clear vinyl.

2025 repress forthcoming in Feb. One of the brightest and most famous projects of the entire punk/new wave scene, No New York was released in 1978 on Island's sub-label Antilles. Featuring some of the most incredible rule breaking bands of the underground N.Y.C. art and music scene, the project - produced by Brian Eno - is a genuine snapshot of the massively creative N.Y.C. scene. Artists: Contortions, Teenage Jesus And The Jerks, Mars, D.N.A..

Miles Davis’s 1958 release, Milestones, is a universally acclaimed masterpiece that needs no introduction. Featuring a sextet that includes John Coltrane and Cannonball Adderley, the performances are rich in improvisation and tension. The title track “Milestones” marks a pivotal moment, breaking away from traditional hard bop chord progressions and introducing modal jazz techniques that would later be fully realized in the landmark album Kind of Blue. True to its name, Milestones stands as an essential milestone in the history of modern jazz.

Recorded in New Orleans and Kingston, this genre-defying album delivers innovative, timeless soundscapes for all listeners.

Lantern Records is proud to announce the release of Three The Hard Way, a groundbreaking collaboration between legendary dub engineer The Scientist, rising vocalist Maxie, and innovative producer Barnabas. This genre-defying album fuses deep reggae roots with modern production, creating a soundscape that is both timeless and forward-thinking.

Recorded in both New Orleans and Kingston, Three The Hard Way brings together the best of both worlds: the raw energy of southern soul and the pioneering spirit of Jamaican dub. The Scientist, renowned for his wild mixing techniques and mentorship under King Tubby, lays down the foundation with his signature heavy basslines and atmospheric effects. Maxie’s soulful vocals and Barnabas’ inventive arrangements add new dimensions to the classic dub template, resulting in an album that is as adventurous as it is accessible.

Three The Hard Way features ten tracks, each one a masterclass in sonic experimentation and collaborative creativity. From the hypnotic grooves of “Feed Back” to the haunting melodies of “Master Piece,” the album is a journey through sound that will captivate both longtime dub enthusiasts and new listeners alike.

A1 Part I - Acknowledgement

A2 Part II - Resolution

B1 Part III - Pursuance

B2 Part IV – Psalm

roduced and engineered by Jah Wobble at home in his bedroom (hence the title), the album was originally released in spring 1983, showing a different side in the bass player evolution. His proper 2nd album after a major label stint with Virgin - for his debut - and the stratospheric collaborations with Holger Czukay & The Edge. A mystical hybrid of dub fusion, ethereal wave and global beat, still ahead of his time.

Released for the first time in 1983 on the UK label Vista Sound, “Fight Against Corruption” sees Campbell backed by most of The Aggrovators musicians (Sly & Robbie, Earl “Chinna“ Smith, Jackie Mittoo, Winston Wright). The album was produced by the crucial Bunny Lee and Campbell, here, clearly skims some social criticism, but also does not disdain some more lovers tunes… another killer album to love forever!