A singing trio from Charente-Maritime, reviving folk songs from the neighbouring department of Vendée, on France’s western seaboard. Mostly recorded at home, with guests playing accordion, violin, piccolo and contrabassoon, and cigar-box guitar.

In his liner notes, old admirer and collaborator Alasdair Roberts registers ‘a deepened richness’ in these new recordings, ‘unfolding with a patient confidence… considered and poised.’
‘There’s a greater complexity and subtlety to their unique three-part harmonising, too. Their voices mesh in even stronger — almost telepathic — ‘fraternité’ than ever before: now commanding and mighty as a full-rigged counter-vessel, now gentle and lulling as a mother’s cradle-croon, or a whisper in a lover’s ear.’

Trá Pháidín are a nine-piece from Conamara, Galway, a wild coastal region of West Ireland, where Gaeilge remains the first language. They make a joyful noise — a unique and unpredictable blend of traditional Irish folk, post-rock, jazz, and Dadaist absurdity. 
Their album An 424 is a freewheeling, dialectical consideration of the 424 bus route and its passengers, passing up and down the coastline from the Gaeltacht into anglophone Ireland, and vice versa, and taking in wondrous locations like Cuan na Gaillimhe / Galway Bay, An Bhoirinn / the Burren, na hOileáin Árann / the Arann Islands, Aillte an Mhothair / the Cliffs of Moher, Portach Mhaigh Cuilinn / the bogs of Maigh Cuilinn, Bóthar Loch an Iolra / Eagle lake road, Cuan Casla / Casla Harbour, Cuan an Fhir Mhóir / Greatman’s Bay, Cnoc Mordáin / Mordáin hill, Sléibhte Mhám Toirc / the Maamturk Mountains, Na Beanna Beola / the twelve pins…
‘This is a topic you could write a PhD about (and maybe someone already has),’ says the band. ‘But if you are someone who grew up or lives in this region, you have a particular understanding at this stage of how complicated Gaelic psyche is and the kind of spectrum of identity along bóthar Choise Fharraige. With the landscape in mind, this bus journey is a great meditation on the various topics of life.’
Listen out for flights of wild improvisation filled with brass, woodwinds, harp, and fiddles… and hard-nosed grooves.

A terrific, bountiful seasonal single — with Bonnie Prince Billy in his cups on one side, and Mike Heron from The Incredible String Band on the other, with a Boxing Day ghost story. Beautifully sleeved, limited.

‘New levels of excellence… a poetic incantation of British identity far brighter than Michael Gove’s proposed GCSE history syllabus *****’ (The Sunday Times). ‘Magnificent ****’ (The Guardian).

Gorgeous, downbeat, giddy with reverie, longing and loss. Led by Inigo’s guitar, banjo, ukelele or harmonium; with classic brass-band charts. Recorded by James Blackshaw’s engineer; mastered by Rashad.

‘Bridging the gap between American primitive pioneers John Fahey and Leo Kottke and the California Modernists… the private side of the solo guitar movement from 1966-81.’ 40-page booklet, usual Numero class.

Male folk singers mithering and dithering all the way from 1970 to 1983: very introspective, sombre, spare and intimate, most of it originally pressed privately, plenty of it beautiful and haunting.

‘A psychoacoustic odyssey through the American South, influenced as much by Dock Boggs as by Luc Ferrari. This isn’t ‘avant-folk’ as per, but more expansive avant-garde compositions using components of traditional music as tools for storytelling. There are banjos, but they bounce around the stereo field in hypnotic patterns; there are autoharps, but they’re bowed, left detuned by time and humidity, and augmented with sounds of screeching cicadas.
‘Check out the haunted, ambient interpretation of the murder ballad Omie Wise, featuring fourteen different versions of the song time-stretched and overlaid with pedal steel by Tongue Depressor’s Henry Birdsey. It’s a wild listen!’

Wonderful early recordings, some of his very best, from a small club, six yards by twelve, in 1973.

His debut LP, a little over-produced by Jack Clement for Poppy in 1965; including precious first goes at songs like Tecumseh Valley and Waiting ‘Round to Die.
‘It seems a lot of people in Nashville write by phrase, or by the line. As opposed to writing by the word. A lot of my best songs are where every single word is where it’s supposed to be… For the Sake of the Song was written by the word. I once sat down and wrote out the rhyme scheme for that song, and it was amazing. Pretty complex. But it didn’t seem that complex when I was writing it.’

Previously unreleased, elemental drafts of some his greatest songs (plus a couple which never saw the light of day). Startlingly intimate and beautiful. Hotly recommended.