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Teppana Jänis was born in the village of Uuksujärvi in Suistamo on 21 June 1850. After becoming blind in the late 19th century, he went house to house, supporting himself by playing the kantele, a traditional Finnish and Karelian plucked string instrument belonging to the southeast Baltic box zither family. He performed at dances and in schools, and also participated in the Suistamo kantele and runosong competitions in 1911.
In the summers of 1916 and 1917, the young folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen (1890-1969) made collecting trips to Border Karelia. His aim was to collect kantele tunes, laments and shepherd melodies, which were confusingly few in the archives. The 1916 trip was financed by the Finnish Literature Society, who provided a phonograph for recording purposes. In 1917, the trip was financed by the Kalevala Society and the recording was carried out using a parlograph. During these two summers, Väisänen recorded kantele players in the parishes of Suojärvi, Korpiselkä, Suistamo, Tuupovaara, Kitee and Impilahti. Väisänen met Teppana Jänis in both summers and transcribed 22 kantele melodies from him. He recorded 14 of these on wax cylinders.
This LP, titled simply ‘Teppana Jänis’ fuses and intertwines the original raw cylinder recordings with replayed pieces by Kantele player and researcher Arja Kastinen together with the now late Finnish folk musician Taito Hoffrén, taking into account the additional information and notes found in Väisänen's sheet music manuscripts. Warm thanks to the Finnish Literature Society for permission to use the archive recordings, to Risto Blomster for his invaluable assistance, and to the Karelian Cultural Foundation.
Yavireri - a Matsigenka word that can be understood as “those who live in the depths” - describes the spirits of the forest and those who, from within the jungle, sustain a way of life rooted in listening, vision, and oral tradition.
This recording is the result of two years of continuous coexistence by Hankel Bellido with Matsigenka communities of the Lower Urubamba in the southeastern Peruvian Amazon. Amongst the rivers, trails and campfires, Bellido recorded the songs, stories and soundscapes where the natural, spiritual, and acoustic worlds intertwine. The Matsigenka inhabit deep territories of Megantoni National Park, an area considered among the most biodiverse and culturally significant in the region. Their language, unwritten, is transmitted through songs, whispers and advice; their spirituality flows through visions, animal-spirits, and the memory of the forest.
The main voice of the recording is Edith Auca Ríos, an oral teacher and guardian of songs. Through her interpretations, a sonic worldview unfolds: where one sings to greet the day, care for children, converse with birds, bid farewell to the dead, or return from the invisible world. All recordings were captured in situ, walking or navigating alongside the communities, with no script or objective. It is not a folkloric reconstruction nor an academic document, rather a sonic witness to everyday life in the margins.
An outstanding treasure trove - some 20 years in-the-works - of vintage pop and chaabi bangers from Egypt and Lebanon via NYC cornershops and offies - aka Bodegas - and mobile phone shops, culled from tape and collated by Gary Sullivan ov WMFU and the blog Arabic Singles Going Steady, for DINTE Gary Sullivan gives the lowdown: “A series of random discoveries in the mid-1990s led me to abandon American and British pop and focus on non-English-language music, predominantly Arabic, for the next two decades. Feeding my ears required biking down to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, or hopping on the subway to Steinway Street in Queens, where I would pop into a handful of the local bodegas and immigrant-run cell-phone stores, some of which offered music from North Africa and the Middle East on cassettes and compact discs. When CDs spiralled into obsolescence in the mid-2010s, I reluctantly made the switch to vinyl, concentrating on 45s and intentionally filling holes not well represented in the digital era – more artists than not hadn’t made the transition from analog in the 1980s. This meant focusing on singles by a lot of artists I’d not heard of, and it quickly became evident just how much of the era – from approximately 1960 to 1974, when 7″ records were all but abandoned in Egypt and Lebanon – had been forgotten. What also became evident was the breadth of popular music issued by even hegemonic titan Sono Cairo. The consensus is that state radio and music publishing ignored traditional folk, shaabi, and other lowbrow pop in favor of the exalted art song we associate with Oum Kalthoum, Abdel Halim Hafez, and Farid al-Atrash. While this active neglect of the broadest Arabic pop spectrum is mostly true, I accumulated a not inconsequential number of what I can only describe as “novelty” records by mostly one- and two-hit wonders. From catchy gimmicks like the “doktor, ya habibi” of Maha’s “Doktor” and the “boom boom boom” of twins Thunai Badr’s “Love Raid,” to the Monty Python-level silliness of Sayed Mandoline’s fake Italian crooning and maniacal laughter in “I Present to You the Mandolin,” these were sounds I was genuinely surprised to hear.= Even more remarkable were the songs recorded in English: Karim Shukry’s celebratory “Ramadan” and Motyaba & Nada’s civil-rights plea “No Black No White” are two of my favorites, and thus included in the present collection. The tracks compiled here are often as beautiful as they are beguiling, but while the intention was to absolutely put together a solid listen, it was also my hope to slightly expand our understanding of Arabic music of this period beyond not just the usual suspects, but also subjects – and treatment of same.”
Huayno has its roots in the Andes during the colonial era, when indigenous peoples began to blend their music with influences brought by European settlers. During this process the Spanish guitar naturally became very prevalent, incorporating the tunings, finger-style and rhythms of the traditional Andean harp along with it.
The late Alberto Juscamaita Gastelú, known as Raktako, was a renowned guitarist, composer and mentor to generations of guitarists from his home in Ayacucho, southern Peruvian Andes. His unique style also blended techniques from the Spanish lute and other instruments brought by colonisers, such as the violin and accordion. For over a century, Raktako preserved Ayacucho's musical traditions and the Andean guitar form.
In 2022, the last disciple of Raktako, Gustavo Yashimura, shared with Sound of the Andes' Hánkel Bellido a series of astonishing home recordings made by Raktako between approximately 1930 and 1940. These recordings, made with the sparsest of equipment, had never been published before and represent an invaluable cultural treasure. The guitarist, who lived for over 100 years and passed away in 2023, had been largely forgotten until recently, when the Ministry of Culture of Peru officially recognised him as Meritorious Personality of Culture. His legacy, which includes a profound influence on Peruvian music, especially the Ayacucho guitar tradition, is finally being acknowledged.
Rare documentation of Afro-Pacific funerary ceremonies recorded in 2023 - not solemn, or Frank Sinatra, but heartical, rousing chants, songs and drums to raise the spirits and send brethren into other dimensions. Proper send-offs. "The gualíes, alabaos and levantamientos de tumba are burial rites typical of the Afro-Colombian Pacific communities. The rituals are performed to accompany the dead and their relatives when a member of the community dies, helping the deceased children (gualíes) or adults (alabaos and levantamientos de tumba) in the passage of their souls to eternity. The main objective of these practices is to alleviate and help in the management of grief related to death, based on acts of solidarity that allow us to reaffirm ourselves as communities and unite among family members, friends, neighbours and in general with all those who participate.For the Afro-descendant communities, death is a gateway to the other world, a place where the spirits, our ancestors, are present. We understand death as part of life itself and a necessary step "to enjoy the eternal presence of the Lord". For many of us, there is no doubt that there is a relationship between the living and the dead that does not end with the death of the person, but is simply transformed. Among the Afro communities of Medio San Juan, death means reunion with the Creator, triumph over sin. The Chocoan researcher Ana Gilma Ayala sums the alabaos as a way of "accompanying not only the mourners but also the deceased. For us, in our worldview, there is the idea and it is very African - that there is a road to the afterlife, a road on which the deceased needs accompaniment. So one way of accompanying them is through prayers and songs" According to Father Gonzalo Torres, the idea of links between the living and the dead is linked to our African heritage: "these manifestations are based on the idea of the African muntú, of the large extended family, which is not only lived here but is also transferred to the afterlife. And those who leave remain waiting for the one who stays. And for the same reason you always have to say goodbye to them rather than mourn them - although at some point you also mourn them, you first say goodbye to them so that they can leave peacefully, so that they can rest, so that they can wait for you in peace and not disturb the community" Thus, understanding that death is a step, the journey of a path towards the next life, preparation and accompaniment are necessary. The passage to the afterlife lasts several days beginning on the day of death, when the soul leaves the physical body, and ending nine days later when the soul is ready to leave this world. That is why the performance of each of these rites, the gualí for a child, and the wake, the novena and the raising of the grave or completion of the novena for an adult, are so important for us, as it is our way of saying goodbye and interceding before God for the souls of those who have passed away."
Self-proclaimed as one of DINTE’s faves, the Pinoy Rock mixtape, originally broadcast on NTS, is graduated to cassette with nearly 90 minutes of haunted country blooz and folk rock from beyond the usual hotspots.
As ever, the selections enamour to a lesser-raked zone of interest bound to resonate with lovers of this sound’s roots in US prisms, and appears like a parallel to the sorts of far away but strangely familiar sounds surfacing via reissues of Leong Lau or DJ Sundae & Julien Dechery’s Sky Girl’ set.
Admittedly we, and probably many others, have no clue to vintage Filipino music, slo it’s a pleasure to allow DINTE do the heavy lifting, presenting a carousel of laid-back, hook-laden charms sung in Filipino and Tagalog and mostly erring to Western tunings, but also laced with subtle traces of their far South Eastern heritage.
Pastoral folk rock sits shoulder to shoulder with soulful ballads, purring folk shares space with more symphonic works that unusually recall Arabic classical, while psych rock power jams give way to balmy chuggers, eyes-closed lead guitar solos, and slow but hard blues rock and slide guitars, all with DINTE’s reliable seal of approval.
Available on vinyl for the very first time: “The Trance Of Seven Colors” by master Gnawa musician MALEEM MAHMOUD GHANIA and free jazz legend PHAROAH SANDERS. Produced by BILL LASWELL and according to The Attic “one of the most important albums of Gnawa trance music released in the ‘90s”.
Originally released in 1994 on BILL LASWELL’s AXIOM imprint, “The Trance Of Seven Colors” is the meeting of two true musical masters: MALEEM MAHMOUD GHANIA (1951 – 2015), son of the master of Gnawa music MALEEM BOUBKER GHANIA and the famous clairvoyant and "moqaddema" A'ISHA QABRAL, and a master of the traditional Gnawa style in his own right. MAHMOUD learned this craft as a youth along with his brothers, walking from village to village, performing ceremonies with his father BOUBKER and was one of the few masters (Maleem) who continued to practice the Gnawa tradition strictly for healing (the central ritual of the Gnawa is the trance music ceremony – with the purpose of healing or purification of the participants). With 30 cassette releases of music from the Gnawa repertoire with his own ensemble and performances at every major festival in Morocco, including performing for the King in various contexts, MAHMOUD GHANIA was also one of Morocco's most prominent professional musicians.
In 1994, BILL LASWELL and PHAROAH SANDERS went to Mocrocco, equipped with just some mobile recording devices, to record GHANIA and a large ensemble of musicians (to a good part family members) in a very intimate set up at a private house with the legendary free jazz musician contributing his distinctive tenor saxophone sounds that gained him highest praise as a truely spiritual soul right from the days of playing with JOHN COLTRANE and his wife ALICE and on seminal solo albums like „Karma“.
The aptly titled „The Trance of Seven Colors“ ranks among the best Gnawa recordings ever released , made it onto the list of “10 incredible percussive albums from around the world” by Thevinylfactory.com and is 25 years after its original CD release on finally available on vinyl!
DINTE keep shelling Gary Sullivan’s killer picks with a survey of jiggy SE Asian hip hop to follow his ‘Bodega pop’ set of Arabic zingers: this one featuring an hour of late ‘90s, early ’00s rap and R&B from Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia, Philippines, Myanmar and Indonesia...
“"While on a work trip to Chicago in the mid-2000s, I was craving a bowl of pho. A bit of sleuthing led me to hop on the red line “L” up to Argyle Street, ground zero of Chicago’s Little Saigon. In the 1960s, Chicago restaurateur Jimmy Wong invested in property on Argyle Street with a vision to build the city’s new Chinatown, a kind of mall with pagodas, trees, and reflecting pools. In 1971, the Hip Sing Association, a labor/criminal organization, established itself in the area, and along with Wong, they bought up 80% of the buildings on a three-block stretch of the street. Wong reportedly broke both hips in an accident, leaving his dream to wither; in 1979, Charlie Soo of the Asian American Small Business Association brought it back to life.
Soo expanded the area into a vibrant mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Southeast Asian
businesses, pushing for renovations, including an Argyle station facelift and the Taste of Argyle festival. At the time I exited the station and crossed the street to get a better look at a shop with a poster for A Vertical Ray of the Sun in the window, the area was home to some 37,000 Vietnamese residents.
Opening the door, I was gobsmacked by a cavernous Southeast Asian media store, bigger than any I’d been to in Dallas, Montreal, New York, or Seattle. I spent some time at the bins, pulling out collections by some of my then-favorite singers — Giao Linh, Khánh Ly, Phương Dung — before approaching the register to ask the young woman behind the counter if the they carried any Vietnamese rap. It was a longshot, I knew, but if such a thing existed on physical media and anyone carried it, it would be this place.
‘Have you heard Vietnamese rap?’ she replied, her tone of voice and facial expression betraying a comically exaggerated level of distaste. I admitted my ignorance but assured her that I had long cultivated a high threshold for cheesy pop music of all kinds and genuinely tended to like hip hop from around the world.
She rolled her eyes and pointed to an area I had missed. I walked toward a far corner of the store and knelt over a small box on the floor sparsely populated with CDs, VCDs, and cassettes. I pulled out half a dozen Vietnamese hip hop compilations and a strange-looking CD with a cavalcade of odd typefaces in a queasy multitude of colors: THAILAND RAP HIT, it boasted, with 泰國 “燒香" 勁歌金曲 below it. The information on the back provided an address in Kuala Lumpur and the titles in Thai and English translation. The first track included three simplified Chinese characters after the English-language version of the title, “The Chinese Association”: 自己人.
WTF was going on here? Walking back to the register, I waved the CD, asking “What’s up with this one?” She gave me a look. I placed it on the counter so she could bask in the cover’s full glory. She shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s Thai rap?” She looked disappointed in me when I said I’d take it.
It turned out to be a Malaysian pressing of half-Chinese Thai hip hop artist Joey Boy’s third album, Fun Fun Fun from 1996, and it completely changed my sense what the genre could sound like. The rapper’s self-assured, effortless, silly-but-cool rapid-fire delivery weaved in and out of the most bizarre, antic beats I’d ever heard. The six Vietnamese hip hop CDs were a mixed bag, mostly “serious” sounding mimicry of US rapping over predictable production, but the highs were very high. When I got home and listened to it all, I made a point to find as much hip hop from this part of the world as I could.
The tracks collected here provide a limited but potent reflection of the two-decade ascendency
and ultimate world-takeover of hip hop, as it displaced rock and its endless variants for millions of listeners. This not a fair and balanced overview of regional production: I’ve only included tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. Nor is this a biggest or most important artists collection; instead, I’ve tried to recapture the pure visceral thrill of that first time I heard Joey Boy, choosing bangers that sound like nothing else, from nowhere else."
—Gary Sullivan”
Collecting pop songs, poetry, solo folk performances and corridos, 'In Search of Revolutionary Voices' provides a cracked window into Mexican life at the turn of the century.
There's something magical about wax cylinder recordings - it almost doesn't matter what sounds are dubbed on them, the medium itself adds so much character. This anthology was inspired by a paper from musicologist Dr. Fatima Volkoviskii, who excavated the University of California, Santa Barbara's cylinder audio archive to examine the performance practices of Mexican singers. And we get a pretty wide selection of material: there are zarzuelas, Spanish musical theater excerpts with spoken dialogue and sung scenes, a little like a cross between pop, opera and folk, such as Rosete and Camcho's 'Agua, azucarillos y aguardiente'; corridos, poetic ballads that were popular during the Mexican Revolution, like J. Morales & Cortazar's foggy 'Los amores de un charro'; and weirder, more unexpected deviations.
Our favorite moments come from Rita Villa, whose harp-like recordings - 'Czardas' and 'Bagatelle' - sound like long-forgotten library cues, and Quinteto Jordá, who impresses with the noisy orchestral cut 'El Amor es la vida'. Like all good Death is Not the End anthologies, it's a history lesson.
Pick a small spot (a point) in front of you (a small knot of wood, a dog down the way). And tightly focus on this spot. And now slowly unfocus your gaze. Widen your gaze. Pan out without moving your eyes. Take it all in.
A smeared and pixelated surface, swelling of contour and light. (Monet’s seepages of light, Altman’s overlapping nomadic dialogue.) Once you have unfocused with little to no center of attention, slowly close your eyes. And please feel very free to notice the light. All of the light that your eyes knocked back as you dilated your focal point. This exercise can be repeated a few times. Unfocusing does not always come easily. And it is probably best to not put too much effort into it. Best to not employ too much pressure.
And we will not put too much pressure on this exercise to help us explain away the humidly, saturatedly psychedelic canopy of moan-‘n-twang and slackelastic-groove of The Dwarfs Of East Agouza’s Sasquatch Landslide.
Mitch Hedberg has a great joke about the Sasquatch: “I think Bigfoot is blurry. That’s the problem. It’s not the photographer’s fault. Bigfoot is blurry! And that’s extra scary to me, because there’s a large out-of-focus monster roaming the countryside.”
Sasquatch Landslide. A landslide of hazy configurations. Blurriness, far from a lack of detail, is an embroidering of detail, a horizontal expansion of surface and swarms of light. The name “Sasquatch” derives from the Salish word se'sxac, which means “wild men.” And Sasquatch Landslide is wild. Everything is unravelling. Offset. Décalage. A whole host of slippery tempos and pulses as the organs, guitars and saxophones loiter and lope over a skipping hop of beats, and everything emerges always mid-stream. It is all middle with no halfway point, no dead center, no bullseye. Everything twangs, moans, sweeps, slips, swings, skitters, slides, and grooves out of nowhere. And the almost-human voice with no mother-tongue.
There is something ecstatic (an elatedly miniscule frenzy) going on here but it is pushed beyond the ecstatic: a joyous-grotesque rolling right past trance to dance. Psychedelias appear out of the infra-spaces in between the apparitions and overlapping ‘regimes’ and registers—pushed and squeezed far beyond the recognizable. And these spaces groove joyously hard like some kind of illusive House music, houses completely submerged in molasses. BigFoot-work? (Oh my!) There is not a place to throw your anchor here in the furrowing humidity. That does, and it does, sound like some kind of landslide.
A psychedelic encounter is a brush with the marvel of otherness. The point from which we speak of other, becomes other itself, in an ever-storm of other-production that shreds ideas of knowing and understanding what we think is going on. Time unhinged from the clock. Space unhinged from the frame. An unpinpointing hallucination, a hot get-down, an untethered throw-down of oscillations, fiercely, joyously, exuberantly incomprehensible. Listening to Sasquatch Landslide, a wildly unhinged reverie.
Eric Chenaux and Mariette Cousty
Condat-sur-Ganaveix, February 2025
Ayalew Mesfin stands aside the likes of Mulatu Astake, Mahmoud Ahmed, Hailu Mergia and Alemayehu Eshete as a legend of 1970s Ethiopia. Mesfin’s music is some of the funkiest to arise from this unconquerable East African nation.
Mesfin’s recording career, captured in nearly two dozen 7” singles and numerous reel-to-reel tapes, shows the strata of the most fertile decade in Ethiopia’s 20th century recording industry, when records were pressed constantly by both independent upstarts and corporate behemoths, even if they were only distributed within the confines of this East African nation.
Though Mesfin was forced underground by the Derg regime that took control of Ethiopia in 1974, he has returned almost 50 years later with this triumphant set albums – the first time that his music has been presented in this form.
These albums give us a chance to discover a rare and beautiful moment in music history, in anthologies built from Mesfin’s uber-rare 7” single releases and from previously unreleased recordings taken from master tapes. Each individual album contains an oversized 11” x 11” 16 page book that tells the story of modern Ethiopian music and Mesfin’s role within it. An OBI wrapped “box set” of all five albums is available at a discounted price. The box set only contains one booklet.
Good Aderegechegn (Blindsided By Love) gives us a chance to discover a rare & beautiful moment in music history, in an anthology built from his uber-rare 7” single releases. Contains an oversized 11” x 11” 16 page book that tells the story of modern Ethiopian music and Mesfin’s role within it.
This is the fourth volume in World Arbiter's Japanese Traditional Music series. The World Arbiter label presents 1941 recordings of the Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai -- masters of the shamisen. An extensive anthology of traditional Japanese music was created sometime around 1941-1942 by the Kokusai Bunka Shinkôkai (KBS), International Organization for the Promotion of Culture. KBS was established under the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 1934 for cultural exchange between Japan and foreign countries, representing genres such as gagaku (court music), shômyô (Buddhist chants), nô (Noh medieval theater play), heikyoku (biwa-lute narratives of battles), shakuhachi (bamboo flute music), koto (long zither music), shamisen (three-stringed lute music), sairei bayashi (instrumental music for folk festivals), komori-uta (cradle songs, lullabies), warabe-uta (children songs), and riyou (min'you) (folk songs). Considering that 1941-1942 was a most daunting time for Japan's economy and international relationships with Asian and Western countries, it is remarkable that this excellent anthology of Japanese music was ever completed and published, as it contains judiciously selected pieces from various genres performed by top-level artists at that time. The KBS' recording project is of unique historical importance and culturally valuable as a document of musical practices in traditional Japanese genres during the wartime. Few copies of this collection exist in Japan. This CD restoration is taken from a set originally belonging to Donald Richie, a writer and scholar on Japanese culture (particularly on Japanese cinema), who had given it to Ms. Beate Sirota Gordon, known for her great contribution to the establishment of Japan's Constitution during the period of U.S. occupation after WWII. Gordon's father, Leo Sirota, a piano pupil of Busoni's, fostered many excellent Japanese pianists at the Tokyo Ongaku Gakko (Academy of Music, forerunner of present-day Music Department of Tokyo National University of The Arts) during 1928-1945. Shamisen, a three stringed lute, is said to have been imported from China through Okinawa into mainland Japan (Sakai, Osaka) in the latter half of the 16th century. It began to accompany popular songs and contributed in bringing about a variety of genres of shamisen music in the early 17th century. In the late Edo period (early 19th century), small-scale shamisen vocal genres such as ogie-bushi, hauta, utazawa, and kouta were performed by geisha in ozashiki chambers. This disc includes the shamisen music enjoyed in ozashiki. Jiuta music is mainly performed in houses or ozashiki chamber in the Kansai area and said to be the oldest shamisen music genre, born soon after the instrument's arrival in Japan. Kumiuta (combined pre-existent songs) music is also heard on this disc. Full descriptions are included in a 36-page booklet in English and Japanese.
Ten years. Ten years of listening, searching, digging, sharing. Ten years of putting out records we felt mattered—because they told a story. Of a place, a moment, an impulse. Ten years of believing that music, especially the kind that doesn’t fit into any box, deserves more than just attention: it deserves care, time, and deep listening.
Bongo Joe started in Geneva, in a shop that became a label, in a city far more complex than it first appears. Beneath its polished banking façade, Geneva is layered and unpredictable. Beneath the luxury storefronts, the UN buildings, and the watch boutiques, thrives a unique scene shaped by migration, cultural collisions, political struggle, and dissonant sound. It’s here that we learned to improvise, adapt, and stay independent.
This is where the label was born—above all, to put music back at the center, in a time when everything moves too fast, gets monetized, sliced up, and repackaged. In that landscape, we believe a label should remain a space for curation, for storytelling, for quiet resistance — a place where we suggest rather than impose.
Over the past ten years, we’ve built a singular catalogue — a mosaic of archival revivals, contemporary projects, and unexpected encounters. Three main threads have shaped it.
First, the compilation of music from the past. Not to claim it, but to keep it moving. To shed light on forgotten repertoires, marginal histories, musical legacies too rich to be overlooked. To help them exist again, with dignity, and reconnect with new listeners who might never have had access otherwise.
Second, international collaborations. From Geneva, we’ve woven bonds with artists from all over the world — groups from Istanbul, Buenos Aires, London, Baku, Bogotá, Lilongwe, Les Gonaïves, or Amsterdam. Records crafted with love and boldness, in collaboration with like-minded labels, passionate curators, and artists who share our spirit. That international dimension makes us proud — it proves that you can create, exchange, and share sound sincerely, even from a city not exactly known as a musical capital.
And then there’s our local scene. Geneva, always. Because it’s where we live, where we grew up, and where we still believe in a city with a unique voice — full of friction, contradictions, and underground energy. We’ve supported projects from experimental circuits, squats, and clubs. Through our sub-label Les Disques Magnétiques, we’ve expanded the spectrum without losing the thread: defending the margins, giving space to those who don’t fit anywhere else.
Bongo Joe is also a musician. The label takes its name from George “Bongo Joe” Coleman (1923–1999), a street percussionist from Texas who stayed true to his independence for over thirty years. Turning down the offers of formal venues, he chose instead to play in the streets — banging out rhythms on an oil drum with raw charisma. His only album, recorded in 1968 in San Antonio, remains one of our most cherished records. Reissued by our friends at Mississippi Records, it carries a DIY spirit, radical freedom, and lyrical boldness far ahead of its time — a guiding light that continues to inspire us.
Bongo Joe is also a collective story. It’s about people. A team that grew over the years: from Cyril and Vincent at the helm to a tight-knit crew — Juliette, Quentin, Margot, Laurent, Baptiste. Together, we’ve kept this strange, handmade machine running. We’ve hand-stamped sleeves, lost test pressings, pressed the wrong masters on CD, found test pressings again, chased down funding, hauled stacks of records to the post office by bike, crossed our fingers for pressings to arrive on time, cursed at customs delays, botched digital releases, and felt a thrill watching “our” bands play on the stages of major festivals and the most forward-thinking clubs. We’ve been through chaos and joy. Together, we’ve made it this far. And with nearly 150 records in the catalogue, we look back on the road travelled with a mix of pride and disbelief.
This compilation isn’t a summary. It’s not a best of. It’s a trace. A selection among many possible ones. A snapshot of what we’ve tried to do since 2015: believe in music as connection, as memory, as compass. Thank you to everyone who’s supported, followed, or inspired us. Thanks to the institutions who’ve backed us. Thanks to our longtime partners: bookers, fellow labels, record stores, publicists, distributors, printers, engravers, pressing plants, sound engineers, photographers, designers. And most of all, thank you to the artists — without whom none of this would mean anything.
Ten years is a little, and a lot. We’re not done yet.
It was recorded before coming to the United States by Indian classical vocalist Pandit Pran Nath (1918-1996) who had a great influence on the art world such as minimal music-Fluxus such as La Monte Young, Terry Riley, Henry Flynt etc. , 1968 The recording work Ragas Of Morning & Night (released from Gramavision in 1986) in India is finally officially reissued from the label of his direct disciple La Monte Young!
On the A side, the morning Raga Raga Todi, which is full of vitality suitable for awakening, is recorded, and on the B side, the night Raga Raga Darbari, which is swept away by the rhythm of a loose tabla, is recorded. At that time, there is an anecdote that Mr. and Mrs. Lamonte listened to the recording of Pandit Pran Nath around 1968 and fell in love with the voice and passed the seal, but when you see that this sound source was recorded in the same year, it was probably recommended by them in 1986. It was probably released by Gramavision in the year. A masterpiece of pure and crystallized meditative Kirana guarana from Ustad Abdul Wahid Khan (Pandit Pran Nath's master).
“The land of Kanada, Gopal Nayak, the romance of the Mughal courts, Mian Tansen, classicism,
blue notes, imagination, an ancient virtuosic performance tradition handed down for centuries
from guru to disciple, Ustad Abdul Wahid Khan, lifetimes of devotion – all of these together
and more make up Pandit Pran Nath ’s Darbari, a masterpiece, a gift to our time. ”
–La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela
A cosmic voyage into the unknown It’s hard to imagine El León Pardo, a loyal advocate of some of the most advanced projects in which folklore is the road map and the destination itself, without his kuisi. It’s hard to see him with his hands free. Always holding on to that ancestral instrument, that pre-Colombian flute that survived the conquest and has become a symbol of resistance, overcoming the ravages of time, the imposition of ideologies, dogmas and religions. Despite all that, the kuisi continues with its liberating sound, the power of its cry, its invitation to dance, its sound a cure and a blessing. That’s why it leads the way in this Viaje Sideral (“Space Voyage”), an astral journey in which the kuisi is the vehicle and the life force of the rhythm. Viaje Sideral feels like floating eternally in the infinite cosmos. This second long player from El León Pardo is inspired by humanity’s relationship with the stars, escaping to mythical planes and led into a trance by Caribbean percussions, analog synths, deep bass, electric guitars and the hypnotic vibrations of the kuisis and trumpets that complete the soundtrack of this voyage. Through these nine songs, El León Pardo continues to create a sound of his own, evolving in his intention to pay tribute to the psychedelia of the tropical world of the Caribbean in the 1970s and 80s, but this time also taking as reference artists like Terry Riley, Kraftwerk and Mad Professor, including the roots of ambient and electronic music with the characteristic sound of the kuisi, an encounter of dreamlike and astral sounds, with the music of the bandas pelayeras of the tropics and figures like Pedro Laza and Juan Lara. In this new universe the Cartagena trumpeter dialogs with the past, processing the ideas that have emerged over the years and morphed into his personal search that gives an identity to his ideas, nurtured by figures like producer Diego Gómez (Llorona Records, Discos Pacífico, Cerrero) who awoke his interest in electronic instruments, Edson Velandia and kuisi maestros like Juan Carlos Medrano and Fredy Arrieta. In his sound there is a particular feature, one that contains histories of personal experiences, accompanied by the kuisi, including ancient Zenú flutes dating from between 600 and 800 AD and which helped create the atmosphere of “Invocación.” “Viaje Sideral,” the song that gives the album its name, was born from a dream in which two stars speed towards the earth and an imminent collision. As the record continues, the stellar connection becomes clear with songs like “Urmah” with Edson Velandia, inspired by an article about extra-terrestrial races and how the Urmah were a race of hominid felines, the greatest geneticists of the universe; and “Cumbia espacial,” featuring rapping from N. Hardem, seeking to create that aura of immensity and consciousness of the infinity of the universe. So it is that between the earthly and the cosmic, El León Pardo offers a voyage under his command. Along the way we find elements that allow for escape through contemplation and the dialog between electronic and analog, connecting the synthetic aspects of the stellar universe, anchored to the earth and rooted in the unmistakable tropical sound of percussion and rhythmical woodwinds.
Paris-born electronic music pioneer and 1970s GRM alumni Ariel Kalma joins with multinational New York trio Asa Tone (Kaazi, Melati ESP, Tristan Arp) for a series of intergenerational, electro-acoustic studio conversations, exploring elasticity within rhythm and winds… or as one early listener observed “space and time.”
Following a chance encounter at Ariel’s studio in the Australian rainforest during the pandemic, Melati & Kaazi began recording long live takes with Kalma, weaving in bioluminescent synth improvisations from Tristan Arp remotely. Revisited a few years later between the members of Asa Tone’s respective homes in New York & Indonesia, “○” is the document of a significant moment in the lives of all the album’s players; an ode to memory and connection in an era of crisis, illuminated via flickering fragments of steel flute, kantilan, modular synthesizer, xaphoon, tenor sax, EWI, field recordings of the surrounding rainforest, and the human voice.
Recorded, written and produced by Asa Tone & Ariel Kalma.
Ariel Kalma: Western Concert Flute, Xaphoon, Tenor Saxophone, Voice
Melati ESP: EWI, Kantilan, Voice
Kaazi: Hydrasynth, Opsix, Percussion
Tristan Arp: Modular Synthesizer, Moog Sub37, Percussion
Additional percussion on *3 by Miles Myjavec
Mixed by Tristan Arp, Kaazi and Ariel Kalma.
Mastered by Jose Arentes at GRAMA, Porto.
Art Direction & Layout : Melati ESP, Kaazi, Biscuit.
One of the most outstanding composers in the history of contemporary music in Okinawa, and also the representative of Marufuku Records, Tsuneo Fukuhara's representative works and beloved songs were recorded by top Okinawan singers such as Keiko Kinjo and Chieko Iha with contemporary arrangements, and included in the 1999 album “Okinawan Hits & Standards” (Victor/nafin label). “Shirahama Blues/Bossa Nova Jintōyo” is being released for the first time on 7-inch vinyl.
World music pioneer Adam Rudolph and his groundbreaking Go: Organic Orchestra join forces with Brooklyn Raga Massive to create monumental new album
3LP 130 gram Classic Black vinyl LP (cut and pressed by Leandro Gonzalez at Stereodisk) packaged in a full color swinging gatefold jacket with artwork by Nancy Jackson
The members of the adventurous BRM collective are deeply steeped in the traditions of Indian classical music. They refuse, however, to be restricted by it; the idea behind the collective, birthed in 2012 in a Prospect Heights bar, is to open the often rigid and hierarchical culture of the music to experimentation and cross-cultural collaboration. This collaboration marks the collective’s most ambitious effort to date in the musical movement that the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and New Yorker have recognized as a “Raga Renaissance.”
“This album feels like the culmination of everything I’ve been reaching for throughout my career,” says Rudolph, no small claim from someone who’s been a pioneering voice in jazz and world music for more than 40 years. “Through my music I want to hear the humanity of all these different musicians shine through, and with their voices bring forth something that’s never existed before.”
According to BRM guitarist David Ellenbogen, who co-produced Ragmala, the possibilities offered by Rudolph’s music scratched the very itch that led many of them into BRM’s more exploratory fold to begin with. “I always had a theory that Indian Classical, jazz, West African music and so on could have a synergistic relationship,” Ellenbogen says. “But after spending decades looking through record libraries, I found very few recordings lived up to the potential of these great traditions. I've spoken to other musicians on this album and they said the same thing when they heard these tracks: This is the music we've been searching for."