Thrillingly uncontainable, uproarious, wildly creative music, teeming with passion, protest, sex, orality, dread, blues, and the gospel truth. With Roland Kirk newly enrolled, Mingus passes his bass to Watkins… and it all kicks off. We can’t recommend this record strongly enough. It will do you good.

LP from Speakers Corner.

‘I am trying to play the truth of what I am. The reason it’s difficult is because I’m changing all the time.’ From 1957, hard on the heels of Pithecanthropus Erectus — hotter fire, and another masterpiece, featuring killer soloing from CM. On Haitian Fight Song: ‘I can’t play it right unless I’m thinking about prejudice and persecution, and how unfair is it. There’s sadness and cries in it, but also determination. And it usually ends with my feeling ‘I told them! I hope somebody heard me!’’ Reincarnation Of A Lovebird is here, too.

From 1960; ostensibly before Mingus heard Charlie Parker.
A host of stellar players — including Eric Dolphy, Booker Ervin, Max Roach, Marcus Belgrave, Slide Hampton, Yusef Lateef — in variously large ensembles, reading mostly tight, post-Duke scores.
Kicks off startlingly with a mash-up of Take the A Train, in the left channel, and Exactly Like You in the right. ( On the flip, Do Nothin’ Till You Hear From Me is likewise bundled with I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart.)
The great Mingus art songs Eclipse — hymning black-white relationships — and Weird Nightmare are here. Apparently vocalist Lorraine Cusson fluffed the last line of Nightmare — singing ‘Bring me a heart with a love of gold’ instead of ‘Bring me a love with a heart of gold’ — but Mingus was so happy with the take, he let it go.

‘In 1969, the Art Ensemble of Chicago arrived at the Théâtre du Vieux Colombier in Paris and a new fuse was lit. Their multi-instrumentalism made use of a varied multiplicity of ‘little instruments’ (including bicycle bells, wind chimes, steel drums, vibraphone and djembe: they left no stone unturned), which they employed according to their inspirations. The group’s stage appearance shocked as well. They wore boubous (traditional African robes) and war paint to venerate the power of their free, hypnotic music, directly linked to their African roots. They were predestined to meet up with the Saravah record label (founded in 1965 by Pierre Barouh), already at the vanguard of as-yet unnamed world music. Brigitte Fontaine’s album Comme à la Radio, recorded in 1970 after a series of concerts at the Théâtre du Vieux Colombier, substantiated the union of this heiress to the poetic and politically committed chanson francaise (Magny, Ferré, Barbara) together with the Art Ensemble of Chicago’s voodoo jazz and the Arab tradition perpetuated by her companion Areski Belkacem…’

Remarkable 1966 lineup, with James Spaulding, Lee Morgan, Howard Johnson and Kiane Ziwadi in the brass line — the title track reminds you where the Hypnotics are coming from — and McCoy Tyner, besides.

‘Classic Vinyl Edition.’

Duets with Stan Tracey.

From 1963, following stints for Jackie McLean on One Step Beyond and Destination… Out!, this is maybe the great trombonist’s best record, with Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, and Tony Williams — all involved with Miles around this time — and Cecil McBee. Four Moncur originals: bold, free, forward-looking music; but expansive and assured, never forced. ‘Some other stuff’; not full of itself, but a bit different. Try The Twins — dedicated to his two brothers — for a better sense of his musical good humour.

Triumphant risk-taking from 1963 — in the same group of key, reaching Blue Notes as Unity and Dialogue — showcasing the great trombonist’s own tricky, moody, shape-shifting compositions, including a strongly evocative Monk tribute. It’s thrilling to hear Lee Morgan stretch out like this; Jackie Mac really goes for it, too. Not to mention Bobby Hutcherson, Bob Cranshaw and the dazzling drumming of Tony Williams, just seventeen.
‘Classic Vinyl Series.’