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Ellen Arkbro’s fourth album, Nightclouds, collects five improvisations for solo organ, recorded across Central Europe in 2023–24.
"Nightclouds is more unabashedly Romantic and introspective than her previous efforts, though it remains firmly rooted in the rigor and precision that have come to define Arkbro’s concept. Extending her previous explorations of spatialized harmony, tactility, and texture,
Arkbro draws equally on sacred music, ECM–style jazz, and downtown minimalism, conjuring a cool intimacy and tone. Her decelerationist chordal improvisations envelop the listener in dirge-like washes, while her close miking reveals the rough haptic grain of the reeds, bringing the listener both inside and outside the sound. Evoking Kjell Johnsen and Jan Garbarek’s duets, or La Monte Young and Tony Conrad’s take on Euringer and Harmer’s cowboy song “Oh Bury Me Not,” Nightclouds channels spiritual pathos through a rigorously restrained architecture.
Following up on last year’s Sounds While Waiting (W.25TH, 2024), a selection of stereo mixes documenting Arkbro’s spatial organ installations, Nightclouds shifts direction, focusing on instant composition and improvisation. Elegant, simple chordal scaffolds support rich, ever-shifting textures; listening closely necessitates surrender to sustained irresolution. Bookending a collection of short pieces are two variations on the titular composition, “Nightclouds,” which is a sly nod to British jazz guitarist Allan Holdsworth: The first take slows down and stretches out a continuously modulated harmonic progression, while the short closing version simply loops three chords. Situated between these tracks are “Still Life” and “Chordalities,” two short works recorded at the Temple de La-Tour-de-Peilz in Vevey, Switzerland. The second half of the album is given to “Morningclouds,” a sprawling work recorded in the reconstructed Gedächtniskirche (Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church) in Berlin. Arkbro’s concise musical vocabulary and formal architecture evoke a sense of emotional ambivalence, simultaneously uplifting and mournful, guiding the listener through a spectrum of feeling with a cool and distant beauty. Nightclouds stands as a profound statement in Arkbro’s evolving body of work, at once introspective and expansive, the album reaffirms her singular ability to transform harmonic simplicity into deeply affecting sonic landscapes, inviting listeners into a space of contemplation and emotional depth.
In the vibrant streets of Tembisa, South Africa, amidst the sprawling urbanity connecting Johannesburg and Pretoria, the story of Moskito began. Formed in 2001 by Mahlubi “Shadow” Radebe and the late Zwelakhe “Malemon” Mtshali, the group first emerged as a powerhouse of pantsula dancers. However, their undeniable passion for music soon led them down a new path—one that would cement their place in kwaito history. Spending countless hours on the street corners of their township, where they were born and raised, Shadow and Malemon danced and sang with an infectious energy that attracted crowds. It wasn’t long before the duo decided to channel their talents into a kwaito group, and after adding friends Patrick Lwane and Menzi Dlodlo, Moskito was born.
(Pantsula dancing emerged in the 1950s among Black South Africans in townships and continually evolved until it became intertwined with kwaito music culture. The stylized, rapid foot movements and characteristic low-dancing became associated with kwaito as it took over South African urban culture into the early 2000s.)
With limited resources, the group displayed immense creativity, recording demos using two cassette decks and instrumental tracks from other artists. They would rap and sing over an instrumental playing on one deck while the second deck records their performance. Their determination paid off when they submitted their demo to Tammy Music Publishers, who were captivated by Moskito’s style.
“Kwaito was the thing ‘in’ at the time. If you did music you did kwaito. We wanted to fit in and actually it was easy,” says Radebe. “We didn’t have engineers in the group, so the first time in a real studio was with Percy and Thami to record Idolar.”
That same year, the group released their debut album, Idolar, under Tammy Music. The album was an undeniable success reaching gold status selling over 25,000 units and earning them a devoted fan base across South Africa and neighboring countries like Botswana, Swaziland, Namibia and Zimbabwe. Moskito collaborated with industry legends such as Chilly Mthiya Tshabalala, who was known for his work with Thiza and Spoke ”H.” They drew inspiration from Thami Mdluli a.k.a Professor Rhythm, who had dominated the disco scene back in the 80s and 90s. Mdluli helped with musical arrangements and executive produced the album and signed on producer-engineer Percy Mudau, while Shadow and Malemon took pride in composing most of their songs. Like many of the rising kwaito artists of the time, they didn’t have music production or engineering backgrounds so they required support from engineers together their ideas down on tape.
They were inspired by South African kwaito icons like Trompies, Mdu, Mandoza, and Arthur Mafokate, alongside international heavyweights like Snoop Doggy Dogg, Dr. Dre, 2Pac, and R. Kelly, Moskito created a sound that was uniquely theirs—a perfect blend of local flavor and global influence.
Salamanda is the collaborative alias of South Korean producer/DJ duo, and close friends, Uman Therma (Sala) and Yetsuby (Manda). Together they create avant-garde electronic music inspired by minimalist concepts, harmonious rhythms and the work of American composer Steve Reich.
Across the eight tracks of Sphere, their debut for Small Méasures, the pair conjure spherical worlds inspired by bubbles, refracting light and planet earth. Soundscapes laden with percussive elements ebb and flow as arpeggiated stanzas cede to misty synths and shimmering plates, conjuring images of solitary temples sat in vast open plateaus.
“For Sphere, we came up with an abstract concept and image to explore more diversity and encourage imagination. Each track is related to different kinds of sphere we found or imagined. From the big round planet embracing every creature to dancing little bubbles underwater, fragments of ideas floating around, exploding tomatoes, and movement of lights flashing and tickling the eyes…
Or the tracks can be about completely different types of spheres in other people's perspective. We hope Sphere can unleash the imagination and take you on a delightful journey of music.’’
Moin follow their EOY-topping 'You Never End' with a pithy jazz-pilled appendix, bringing back poet Sophia Al-Maria and adding Ben Vince's circuitous horns to offset Valentina Magaletti's gummiest live rhythms. Next level biz, obvs - crucial listening whether you're into Slint, Tara Clerkin Trio, Mica Levi/Spresso, Bark Psychosis or Still House Plants.
Not exactly a continuation, 'Belly Up' is a fresh bite cooked from similar ingredients. Moin bent out the tabs last year on their third album, emulsifying the post-punk and hardcore oils that smeared their early plates with modish funk and disintegrated, industrial-strength noize. Joe Andrews, Tom Halstead and Valentina Magaletti cogitate over the same themes here, but train their senses on jazz, assembling brittle and mutable modernist shapes around impeccably springy live syncopations.
Raw, direct opener 'See' is a case in point; Qatari-American artist, writer and filmmaker Al-Maria's droll non sequiturs helped cement the aesthetic of 'You Never End' and make a welcome return, now inserted between Magaletti's sluggish marching band extemporisations and prolific collaborator Ben Vince's transcendent sax loops. Andrews and Halstead keep it restrained, tagging on deadened hardcore tangs and a nasal keyboard vamps that maps the London topography between 4Hero and Tirzah. Vince appears again on 'I'm Really Flagging (or I Trusted U)'; what sounds like a clip from the same ad-libbed workout surges next to flimsy synths and cheeky samples. It plays like a sequel, still rallying around Magaletti's exaggerated, tom-heavy patter, suggesting alternate routes to the finale.
The boxy, no-wave curdled funk that characterized 'You Never End' is reheated on 'X.U.Y.' and evaporated into a quiescent mantra, but Moin's most ambrosian moments appear when they reduce the heat. 'You Leave Me Breathless' sounds as if it's a loose, unplanned rehearsal, with AutoTuned crows melting over a long, limber patchwork of paradiddles from Magaletti. And the trio don't completely ignore the rave backroom, banging together grungy Akai-coruscated samples and 808 State synths on the greyscale 'I Don't Know Where To Look'. As always, they don't exactly boot us back to the '90s - Moin make us wonder what it might have sounded like if there was access to a different array of technology.
'When the Distance is Blue' is Macie Stewart’s International Anthem debut. The Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist, composer, and improviser describes the collection as “a love letter to the moments we spend in-between”—a letter realized via an intentional return to piano, her first instrument and the origin of her creative expression. Here Stewart creates a striking and cinematic work through collages of prepared piano, field recordings, and string quartet compositions, one that gives shape to a transient universe all its own while tracing the line of her musical past, full circle.
Long-heralded in musician circles for her versatility, Stewart stands as a distinguished, go-to collaborator across genre and style, with a collaborative CV that reads like a dream year-end list—performing strings for Makaya McCraven or Japanese Breakfast; singing harmonies with Tweedy; arranging for Alabaster DePlume, Resavoir, Mannequin Pussy, or SZA; co-leading the jagged art-rock experimentation of Finom, her duo with songwriter Sima Cunningham. This varied-yet-distinct sound has led to a name recognition that goes beyond the devoted liner note enthusiast.
“Macie Stewart has had a hand in making some of the best
tracks of the past five years transcendent.” (Pitchfork)
'When the Distance is Blue' finds her gathering those threads and focusing those sensibilities into an 8-piece song cycle. The first sessions were recorded with IARC house engineer Dave Vettraino at Chicago’s Palisade Studios in early 2023. The piano was prepared with coins and contact mics, creating harmonically and texturally rich sounds to explore and improvise alongside.
Those improvisations eventually became nestled within a growing collection of Stewart’s field recordings. 2023 was a year marked with extensive touring, during which she collected dozens of aural snapshots from airports, stairwells, and crowded markets, effectively compiling an audio journal of her travels. Weaving their way throughout the record, those recordings form a collage of sound, movement, and memory.
“I wanted to recontextualize these recordings and evoke a nostalgia for something I wasn’t able to name,” says Stewart. That recontextualization was deepened by further performances and improvisations by Lia Kohl, Whitney Johnson (Matchesse), and Zach Moore, all recorded at Comfort Station in Chicago. It’s fitting for such a fervent collaborator that these collaborations began to bring the musical scope of 'When The Distance is Blue' into focus.
“Spring Becomes You, Spring Becomes New” begins with a series of unmetered and searching prepared piano repetitions before blooming into a rhythmically pulsing waltz of ennui à la Margaret Leng Tan’s approach to the material of Cage or Crumb. Electronically enhanced sustaining notes merge with droning violins in a dense teapot upper register, then are slowly paired away to reveal the inner layer of consonance and comfort, as the metallic rhythms of the prepared piano are co-opted by pizzicato plucked strings. When the sound of the piano re-enters it’s in its natural, unprepared state and in service of a simple melody—a slow-moving earworm, the final repetition, carrying the dynamic piece to its end. “This piece reminds me of a cross country train ride through different sceneries and landscapes,” says Stewart. It’s the feeling when you’re witnessing everything pass outside your window, knowing you may never set foot there.”
What’s more, this conceptual train ride is one that touches on many of the themes throughout the record—traveling through pieces like “Tsukiji”, which consists of field recordings taken during a walk through the crowded Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo, or “Stairwell (Before and After)”, a serendipitous collage of piano improvisations overlaid with vocal improvisations recorded in a beautifully reverberant stairwell in Paris, France.
In the album’s final piece, “Disintegration,” Stewart’s through-composed quartet arrangement bends and contorts in a microtonal descent. Raw harmonics scrape and pull, whistling flute-like across desolate valleys, as strings spiral into an unknown beyond. From this stripped, warped place, we face the inevitability of transformation, and embrace the possibilities of change.
'When The Distance is Blue' is a companion piece for moving through life. A source of solace when we are unsure where we will land. The album draws its title from Rebecca Solnit’s book of essays, 'A Field Guide to Getting Lost'. Stewart, too, contends with the longing for all that lies out of reach, and gives shape to that longing throughout this contemplative collection with a musical lexicon which lands somewhere between Alvin Curran’s 'Songs and Views from the Magnetic Garden' and Claire Rousay’s 'A Softer Focus'.
Manchester trumpeter, band leader and Gondwana label boss Mathew Hallsall is right at the forefront of today's thriving jazz scene. He has an enviable discography that takes in a wide range of jazz styles and the spiritual eastern leaning sounds of When The World Was One make it one of his best. It's the sort of mellifluous record that swells all round you, lifting your spirits filling you with joy and hope. Helping that be the case are the heavenly harps and shimmering piano chords, koto and bansuri flute payed by his Ensemble, but centre stage is always given to Halsall's own beautiful, heart aching trumpet playing. From bold heights to vulnerable lows, this is as good as jazz gets.
Inspired by the foothills of the Sierra de Guadarrama mountains north-west of Madrid, his home since August 2022, Milo Fitzpatrick presents Sierra Tracks the new album from his expansive, cinematic, chamber-jazz project Vega Trails.
Having cut 2022’s beautifully resonant debut album ‘Tremors in the Static’ as a duo, alongside saxophonist Jordan Smart (Mammal Hands and Sunda Arc), Milo now substantially expands upon that blueprint with his follow-up, ‘Sierra Tracks’, which, as the title suggests, was conceived at his new home in central Spain and adds piano, vibraphone and strings to the mix.
From the epic five-minute opener, ‘Largo’, onwards, there’s a cinematic feel to ‘Sierra Tracks’, as each piece unfolds according to its own sweeping narrative, often wonderfully evocative of the mountains’ wide-open spaces, and also sometimes elaborately arranged with cello, orchestral strings, vibraphone and piano, to evoke their awe-inspiring natural splendour. ‘Reverie’ has a refrain that fades in and out, like a daydream”. ‘Els’ is more firmly rooted in folk melody, while ‘Dream House’ and ‘Sleepwalk Tokyo’ boost a sense of otherworldliness.
For fans of: Glass Beams, Derya Yıldırım, LA LOM, and hip hop producer Oh No’s
Ouzo Bazooka enchant on Kapaim, drawing listeners through a maze of hypnotic, head-snapping grooves, cosmic string bending, and swirling guitar explorations. As trailblazers of the new Middle Eastern psychedelia movement, the band fuse traditional folk sounds with gritty soul, funk, and rock. Their latest release is a testament to their boundary-pushing spirit, offering a soundscape that is both otherworldly and deeply rooted.
Across five albums and a decade, Ouzo Bazooka have gained acclaim for their pioneering blend of Middle Eastern sounds, psych, and surf rock. The band has achieved international recognition for their music and performances, from the UK all the way to Japan, including The Great Escape, Fuji Rock, and Sziget Festivals. At one point, they played over 150 shows annually, solidifying their reputation as a powerhouse live act. Their critically acclaimed EP, Songs From 1001 Nights, was hailed as "a soaring adventure in exotic reverb and swirling lysergic synth hooks”.
Core member and multi-instrumentalist Uri Brauner Kinrot—musician, composer, and producer—has been active in the international music scene for over two decades. He has played in acclaimed and diverse groups such as Balkan Beat Box, Firewater, Shotnez, and Boom Pam, who also collaborated with Anatolian rock legend Selda Bağcan, and recorded frequently with Kutiman. Kinrot’s ear for production and arrangement has led him to work with internationally recognised artists, including Israeli-Persian musician Liraz.
Launched as a solo project, Ouzo Bazooka quickly morphed into a full-fledged group. However, Kapaim (Hebrew for “palms”) sees Kinrot refining the Ouzo Bazooka sound back into a largely solo endeavour. With more space to experiment, the mostly instrumental album is beautifully arranged and given room to breathe. The bass grooves, wonky synth motifs, head-nodding percussion, and soaring guitar solos create a hypnotic and uplifting experience.
Opening the album, “Asia” begins with an almost pensive bassline that initiates a languid groove. As drums, guitars, and synths join, the melody feels both thoughtful and nostalgic yet hopeful. The consistent bassline conveys a sense of roots and continuity as the song evolves.
The title track, “Kapaim”, urges listeners to clap along to a groove as solid as steel, fusing the legendary New Orleans instrumental funk of The Meters with snake-charming synths and cosmic Anatolian guitar licks.
An otherworldly intro gives way to a tight bass-and-funk groove reminiscent of Bob James’ heavily sampled “Nautilus” on “Seed”, before Kinrot makes a rare vocal appearance, imagining himself as a seed at the centre of the universe.
Having played a key role in the global instrumental movement, Kinrot stands among peers such as JJ Whitefield, Shawn Lee and Kutiman. The album recalls the cinematic depth of David Axelrod but with a distinctive Middle Eastern/Mediterranean touch. Fans of Glass Beams, Derya Yıldırım, LA LOM, and hip hop producer Oh No’s sample-heavy tour of Turkish, Lebanese and Greek psych, Dr. No’s Oxperiment, will find much to love.
A testament to Kinrot’s incredible talent - not least his meticulous arranging, production skills, and ear for soul, funk, and psychedelic rock, as well as his ability to blend musical traditions across cultures and eras - Kapaim carries a deep emotional resonance. It is Ouzo Bazooka’s most personal and addictive album to date, radiating joy, creativity, and a spirit of boundless freedom.
For their third album on Bongo Joe, Madalitso Band takes a new direction.
After two records capturing the raw intensity of their live performances, the Malawian duo ventures for the first time into the possibilities of the studio — without ever compromising their signature style or energy.
Armed with their handmade babatone, a guitar, and their interwoven voices, Yobu and Yosefe craft a sound at the crossroads of banjo music, kwela, gospel, and African folk. An acoustic trance that’s both minimal and vibrant, deeply rooted in tradition yet undeniably fresh and contemporary. On Ma Gitala, they add new textures: layered vocals, playful percussion, melodic surprises, and guests from their close and family circles.
Always guided by instinct, the band reveals a more intimate and narrative side of their universe — full of memories, spontaneity, and close-knit complicity. An album that captures the joy and creativity of two artists who turned the street into a stage, and the stage into a playground.
For their third album on Bongo Joe, Madalitso Band takes a new direction.
After two records capturing the raw intensity of their live performances, the Malawian duo ventures for the first time into the possibilities of the studio — without ever compromising their signature style or energy.
Armed with their handmade babatone, a guitar, and their interwoven voices, Yobu and Yosefe craft a sound at the crossroads of banjo music, kwela, gospel, and African folk. An acoustic trance that’s both minimal and vibrant, deeply rooted in tradition yet undeniably fresh and contemporary. On Ma Gitala, they add new textures: layered vocals, playful percussion, melodic surprises, and guests from their close and family circles.
Always guided by instinct, the band reveals a more intimate and narrative side of their universe — full of memories, spontaneity, and close-knit complicity. An album that captures the joy and creativity of two artists who turned the street into a stage, and the stage into a playground.
This is a lovely and surprising treat indeed. Composer and multi-instrumentalist Tim Hodgkinson (Henry Cow and much more) partners with vocalist Atsuko Kamura (Mizutama Shobodan aka Polka Dot Fire Brigade and Frank Chickens) to present 37 compositions, expanding the usual sub-10-second acoustic life of classic haiku into a varied suite of compositions which place the gem-like poems, spoken and sung in both English and Japanese by Hodgkinson and Kamura, into gorgeous musical frames composed by Hodgkinson. "Haiku In The Wide World" lovingly embraces texts spanning the 17th to 20th centuries, revered examples of a long-established Japanese literary form, bringing these brief poems into the realms of musical art, setting them in an extended network of sonic inter-relationships. The instrumental textures, paradoxically sparse yet rich, crystalline yet warm, are provided by Hodgkinson’s own clarinet and other sound sources, as well as beautifully played and crisply recorded french horn, viola, violin, cello and acoustic guitar. The voices and instrumental sounds fuse with the poetic images, each throwing light and casting shadows on each, revealing hidden significances and building resonances across the arc of the release. The Japanese and English voicings of the haiku also provide further layers of significance, resonance and communication. The English translations, by poet Harry Gilonis, sparked Hodgkinson to initiate this project, a dancing, shifting terrain of life moving through the seasons and the comings and goings of the moon and sun. This project is a unique world, distinctly different from what either Hodgkinson and Kamura have previously accomplished. "Haiku In The Wide World" is a co-release, with ReR launching a UK CD version; EM Records provides both CD and 2LP versions. The tracks and sequence are the same for both labels, but the cover art is different — perhaps you should buy each version; "Haiku In The Wide World" is certainly worthy.
This is a lovely and surprising treat indeed. Composer and multi-instrumentalist Tim Hodgkinson (Henry Cow and much more) partners with vocalist Atsuko Kamura (Mizutama Shobodan aka Polka Dot Fire Brigade and Frank Chickens) to present 37 compositions, expanding the usual sub-10-second acoustic life of classic haiku into a varied suite of compositions which place the gem-like poems, spoken and sung in both English and Japanese by Hodgkinson and Kamura, into gorgeous musical frames composed by Hodgkinson. "Haiku In The Wide World" lovingly embraces texts spanning the 17th to 20th centuries, revered examples of a long-established Japanese literary form, bringing these brief poems into the realms of musical art, setting them in an extended network of sonic inter-relationships. The instrumental textures, paradoxically sparse yet rich, crystalline yet warm, are provided by Hodgkinson’s own clarinet and other sound sources, as well as beautifully played and crisply recorded french horn, viola, violin, cello and acoustic guitar. The voices and instrumental sounds fuse with the poetic images, each throwing light and casting shadows on each, revealing hidden significances and building resonances across the arc of the release. The Japanese and English voicings of the haiku also provide further layers of significance, resonance and communication. The English translations, by poet Harry Gilonis, sparked Hodgkinson to initiate this project, a dancing, shifting terrain of life moving through the seasons and the comings and goings of the moon and sun. This project is a unique world, distinctly different from what either Hodgkinson and Kamura have previously accomplished. "Haiku In The Wide World" is a co-release, with ReR launching a UK CD version; EM Records provides both CD and 2LP versions. The tracks and sequence are the same for both labels, but the cover art is different — perhaps you should buy each version; "Haiku In The Wide World" is certainly worthy.
Bastard Science EP is a modular synthesizer-based work by Richard Scott, who is also known as a member of the band Twinkle³ and teaches at the Catalyst Institute, a creative arts and technology school in Berlin.
Richard began his musical journey in the early 1980s and released his first modular synthesizer piece in 1992. Since then, he has continued to release works both as a solo artist and in collaborative projects, while also contributing to the design and development of modular systems.
His work spans not only solo electronic projects but also improvisational sessions with acoustic instruments. He regularly performs concerts across Europe. In this EP, Richard explores new rhythmic possibilities, reflecting his belief that “Although music has expanded enormously over the past hundred years in terms of timbre, melody, and harmony—through contemporary music, jazz, and experimental electronic music—I feel rhythm is still relatively underdeveloped.”
An insert included with the record features an interview with Richard, in which he shares his thoughts on engaging with experimental music and the experience of generating sound through the modular interface.
The incessant brain bogglers zig-zag back to Diagonal with the nerve-gnawing acid pointillism of Right Frankfurt after a series of purple-themed 12”s with iDEAL and Hypermedium and the zinging Do These sessions with F.C.O.U. and Presto!?
Equivalent to an intravenous dose of acidic synthesis, Right Frankfurt nods to one of techno’s most efficient power centres with a PCP-on-Modafinil-strength reduction and concentration of early industrial techno tropes shorn of their skull-cracking beats and left to babble in an utterly alien coda.
It does so for 25 unrelenting minutes, which, if you asked my mum, all sounds the same. But, if you’ve ever appreciated the lissom fluidity of a strong acid or synth lead in the dance, you will notice and no doubt relish the piece’s tumultuous, microtonal variation, see-sawing up/down and around the frequency scale in highly visual knots that are perhaps best experienced in synch with the strobes of their live show.
We recently witnessed EVOL scare the bejesus into Berghain with this stuff, to the extent that there’s now a small cargo cult like gathering on the wastelands next door to the club who can do nowt but worship a discarded acid smiley keyring and speak in 303 tongues whilst cowering at the sight of Easyjets overhead.
God save the ravers.
“This is the time that we, who have benefited from the Last Poets should be able to say, ‘it’s the Last Poets. It’s them we should be honouring, because we did not honour them for so many years…”
KRS One wasn’t just addressing the hip hop fraternity when he uttered those words by way of introducing the video for Invocation – a poem written thirty years ago, around the time of the Last Poets’ last significant comeback. He was speaking to everyone who’s been affected by the word, sound and power issuing from the most revolutionary poetry ever witnessed, and that the Last Poets had introduced to the world outside of Harlem at the dawn of the seventies.
In 2018 the two remaining Last Poets, Abiodun Oyewole and Umar Bin Hassan, embarked on another memorable return with an album – Understand What Black Is – that earned favourable comparison with their seminal works of the past, whilst showcasing their undimmed passion and lyrical brilliance in an entirely new setting – that of reggae music. Tracks like Rain Of Terror (“America is a terrorist”) and How Many Bullets demonstrated that they’d lost none of their fire or anger, and their essential raison d’etre remained the same.
“The Last Poets’ mission was to pull the people out of the rubble o f their lives,” wrote their biographer Kim Green. “They knew, deep down that poetry could save the people – that if black people could see and hear themselves and their struggles through the spoken word, they would be moved to change.”
Several years later and the follow-up is now with us. The project started when Tony Allen, the Nigerian master drummer whose unique polyrhythms had driven much of Fela Kuti’s best work, dropped by Prince Fatty’s Brighton studio and laid down a selection of drum patterns to die for. That was back in 2019, but then the pandemic struck. Once it had passed, the label booked a studio in Brooklyn, where the two Poets voiced four tracks apiece and breathed fresh energy, fire and outrage into some of the most enduring landmarks of their career. Abiodun, who was one of the original Last Poets who’d gathered in East Harlem’s Mount Morris Park to celebrate Malcolm X’s birthday in May 1968, chose four poems that first appeared on the group’s 1970 debut album, called simply The Last Poets. He’d written When The Revolution Comes aged twenty, whilst living in Jamaica, Queens. “We were getting ready for a revolution,” he told Green. “There wasn’t any question about whether there was going to be one or not. The truth was many of us still saw ourselves as “niggers” and slaves. This was a mindset that had to change if there was ever to be Black Power.”
He and writer Amiri Baraka were deep in conversation one day when Baraka became distracted by a pretty girl walking by. “You’re a gash man,” Abiodun told him. The poem inspired by that incident, Gash Man, is revisited on the new album, and exposes the heartless nature of sexual acts shorn of intimacy or affection. “Instead of the vagina being the entrance to heaven,” he says, “it too often becomes a gash, an injury, a wound…”
Two Little Boys meanwhile, was inspired after seeing two young boys aged around 11 or 12 “stuffing chicken and cornbread down their tasteless mouths, trying to revive shrinking lungs and a wasted mind.” They’d walked into Sylvia’s soul food restaurant in Harlem, ordered big meals, then bolted them down and run out the door. No one chased after them, knowing that they probably hadn’t eaten in days. Fifty years later and children are still going hungry in major cities across America and elsewhere. Abiodun’s poem hasn’t lost any relevance at all, and neither has New York, New York, The Big Apple. “Although this was written in 1968, New York hasn’t changed a bit,” he admits, except “today, people just mistake her sickness for fashion.”
Umar is originally from Akron, Ohio, but had arrived in Harlem in early 1969 after seeing Abiodun and the other Last Poets at a Black Arts Festival in Cleveland. That’s where he first witnessed what Amiri Baraka once called “the rhythmic animation of word, poem, image as word-music” – a creative force that redefined the concept of performance poetry and stripped it bare until it became a howl of rage, hurt and anger, saved from destruction by mockery and love for humanity. When Umar’s father, who was a musician, was jailed for armed robbery he took to the streets from an early age where he shined shoes and raised whatever money he could to help feed his eight brothers and sisters. By the time he saw the Last Poets he’d joined the Black United Front and was ready to join the struggle.
Once in Harlem, Abiodun asked him what he’d learnt in the few weeks since he’d got there. “Niggers are scared of revolution,” Umar replied. “Write it down” urged Abiodun. That poem still gives off searing heat more than fifty years later. In Umar’s own words, “it became a prayer, a call to arms, a spiritual pond to bathe and cleanse in because niggers are not just vile and disgusting and shiftless. Niggers are human beings lost in someone else’s system of values and morals.”
And there you have it. It's not just race or religion that hold us back, but an economic system that keeps millions in poverty and living in fear – a system born from political choice and that’s now become so entrenched, so bloated on its own success that it’s put mankind in mortal danger. It was many black people’s acceptance of the status quo that inspired Just Because, which like Niggers Are Scared Of Revolution, was included on that seminal first album. Along with their revolutionary rhetoric, it was the Last Poets’ use of the “n word” that proved so shocking, but it would be wrong to suggest that they reclaimed it, since it never belonged to black people in the first place. There’s never any hiding place when it comes to the Last Poets. They use words like weapons, and that force all who listen to decide who they are and where they stand.
Umar’s two remaining tracks find him revisiting poems first unleashed on the Poets’ second album This Is Madness! Abiodun had left for North Carolina by then where he became more deeply enmeshed in revolutionary activities and spent almost four years in jail for armed robbery after attempting to seize funds related to the Klu Klux Klan. Meanwhile, the 21 year old Umar was squatting in Brooklyn and had developed close ties with the Dar-ul Islam Movement. A longing for purity and time-honoured spiritual values underpins Related to What, whilst This Is Madness is a call for freedom “by any means necessary,” and that paints a feverish landscape peopled by prominent black leaders but that quickly descends into chaos. “All my dreams have been turned into psychedelic nightmares,” he wails, over a groove now powered by Tony Allen’s ferocious drumming.
Those sessions lasted just two days, and we can only imagine the atmosphere in that room as the hip hop godfathers exchanged the conga drums of Harlem for the explosive sounds of authentic Afrobeat. Once they’d finished, the recordings and momentum returned to Prince Fatty’s studio, since relocated from Brighton to SE London. This was stage three of the project, and who better to fill out the rhythm tracks than two key musicians from Seun Anikulapo Kuti’s band Egypt 80? Enter guitarist Akinola Adio Oyebola and bassist Kunle Justice, who upon hearing Allen’s trademark grooves exclaimed, “oh, the Father… we are home!”
Such joy and enthusiasm resulted in the perfect fusion of Nigerian Afrobeat and revolutionary poetry, but the vision for the album wasn’t yet complete. He wanted to create a new kind of soundscape – one that reunited the Poets with the progressive jazz movement they’d once shared with musicians like Sun Ra and Pharoah Sanders. It was at that point they recruited exciting jazz talents based in the UK like Joe Armon Jones from Mercury Prize winners Ezra Collective, also widely acclaimed producer/remixer and keyboard player Kaidi Tatham, who’s been likened to Herbie Hancock, and British jazz legend Courtney Pine, whose genius on the saxophone and influence on the UK’s now vibrant jazz scene is beyond question.
The instrumental tracks on Africanism are in many ways as revelatory and exciting as the Last Poets’ own. It’s important to remember that the kaleidoscope of styles and influences we’re presented with here aren’t the result of sampling but were played “live” by musicians responding to sounds made by other musicians. That’s where the magic comes from, aided by Prince Fatty’s peerless mixing which allows us to hear everything with such clarity. Music fans today have grown accustomed to listening to all kinds of different genres. Their tastes have never been so broad or all-encompassing, and so the music on this new Last Poets’ album is as groundbreaking as their lyrics, and perfectly suited to the era that we’re now living in.
Haswell laces up his n0!ze techno boots for a proper stomping and thistly set of modular bangers in his 6th outing with Diagonal, gnashing the heels of a ruder 10” for Skam, andan E-Mego issue of a UPIC session in duo with Florian Hecker.
‘Deep Time’ coughs up Russell’s typical mix of direct and obtusely playful tackle, serving dual purpose as his nervy response to the minute-by-minute fuckeries of geopolitics, and the inspiration of geologic revelations in his now-native Scotland. It all bristles with a livewire moxie that belies his decades in the game, bunkered in the fissures of art, music and technology, pulling and snapping threads that bind / divide body musics and radical experimental improvisational practices.
Eight severely rude bits deploy an arsenal of kit that warrants listing: “Used = Acid Rain Technology, ADDAC System, ALM/Busy Circuits, Apple, Audiofile Engineering, Beautiful Pieces of Outdated Technology, Cwejman, Epoch Modular, FANCYYYYY Synthesis, Future Sound Systems, MOTU, Neutrik, SnazzyFX, Super Synthesis, Tip-Top Audio, Waldorf …”
Cut to cut he navigates the gear with a personalised balance of upfront purpose and screwball mentality. Pronged by his extra musical cues he variously mirrors the turmoil of fiscal markets and crypto currency in the spiky waves of ‘International Globalisation’ and models ground-to-space warfare in ‘Satellite Killer’, whilst ‘Infinite Space’ scrambles proprioception in its warped space-time textures.
But most vital to the work is his fascination with, and perception of, scales of time, which guides the buckshot techn0!ze of ’Unconformity’, which takes its name from geologist James Hutton’s discovery of folds of rock that allow man to assert the age of Earth, and neatly contradict the in-the-moment fizz and crack of the set’s bangers, ‘Deep Time’ and bezzerker ‘Atropine.’