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Remastered direct from the original master tapes, with previously unreleased outtakes and rarities — including Patti’s 1975 RCA audition tape.
A harum-scarum bloodbath of sixties rock, seventies motorik-fusion, and eighties punk.
‘The landscape Orcutt Shelley Miller inhabits lies deep in the stoner American bedrock, fed by volcanic riffage and hypnotic phrasing with rhythmic nods to the SoCal ’60s and atonal slash piled on a mid ’80s SST punk-fusionoid substrate, ultimately blasting a ‘big rock statement’ that treads the line between good times and blown minds.’
‘A wobbly loop of found sound. Almost inaudible speech from an unidentified documentary. Lapping waves of folk guitar created at the edges of the player’s ability. A haunted melodica. Mumbled vocals that reinvent the singer’s uncertainties as a deliciously glum pose. Layer these up in the recording software of your choice. Labour in a back bedroom overlooking the railway line to summon ghosts.
‘Spirits arrive from West Yorkshire, from Glasgow and Dunedin, from the suburban Midwest. Rising from squats and university accommodation past, from damp rooms filled with old paperbacks, stale hash smoke and abandoned mugs of tea.
‘Even as you listen to this collection of home recordings, made over the last few years by South London duo Jemima, these ghosts crowd around. Born in the Seventies to chase the tape experiments and gentle strumming of the Sixties they crane their necks and edge closer to the laptop. When something this perfect comes along, even the most tranquillised must stir their stumps.
‘It’s lonely music created around a wine bottle with a candle in it, made too late to appear via Xpressway or Cordelia. Don’t imagine though, that it has no home in the now. These spectres remain close because they know they are still wanted. We need them as much as they need us.
‘This spell-binding LP is a window onto a half-lit world on a deeper plane of consciousness.’
‘Their vividly definitive statement: haunting tones from an unusual combination of instruments, filtered through multiple layers of reverb and delay. Their music has strong stylistic affinities with the trippy ambience of cosmic and psychedelic rock, but the Taj Mahal Travellers were tuning in to other vibrations, drawing inspiration from the energies and rhythms of the world around them rather than projecting some alternative reality.
‘The electronic dimension of their collective improvising was coordinated, as usual, by Kinji Hayashi. Guest percussionist Hirokazu Sato joined long-term group members Ryo Koike, Seiji Nagai, Yukio Tsuchiya, Michihiro Kimura, Tokio Hasegawa, and the renowned, enigmatic electric violinist Takehisa Kosugi.
‘Films of rolling ocean waves often provided a highly appropriate backdrop for their lengthy improvised concerts. This is truly electric music for the mind and body.’
Warm, comfy and loose — unashamedly inchoate — for Capitol in 1967.
Nice Percy Mayfield version.
‘Venomous Tex-Mex R&B and early rock n’roll from San Antonio’s West Side scene. From 1961-67, Bexar county kingmaker Abe Epstein cut every teen combo to grace the Patio Andaluz stage, launching the careers of Doug Sahm, The Royal Jesters, Sonny Ace, The Dreamliners, and hundreds more throughout the decade.’
Jennifer Lucy Allan: ‘The heads know — forums and published books alike agree — that 76-77 is the best of the Can live years (Keele included). A couple of the tracks from this show have been included on fan-made ‘best of’ live bootlegs over the years. And wow, are they right.’
Peter Margasak, describing this album in The Wire: ‘The meticulous environments and rhythmic trenches Can had been building from the very start always cast a hypnotic spell, but when they had the freedom to inhabit the material without limitations they achieved the sort of transcendental brilliance that the greatest improvisations can deliver. We may recognise fleeting glimpses of studio tracks here and there, but they’re merely stepping off points for extended trips that convey much greater profundity, propulsion and ecstasy.’
From 1971, contemporary settings of Handel, illuminated by psychedelic guitar, flute and electric piano, and a break-happy, funky rhythm section. Carol Kaye plays bass; Cannonball Adderley conducts the 38-piece orchestra (fresh from his own Black Messiah sessions). The gospelised choral sections carry the swing, as seems right.
Her third Columbia, from 1970.
With Muscle Shoals crew on side one — Roger Hawkins, Eddie Hinton, Barry Beckett and co — and a lineup convening the Armenian oud-plyer Ashod Garabedian, Duane Allman and Alice Coltrane, on side two.
‘I love my country as it dies in war and pain before my eyes. I walk the streets where disrespect has been. The sins of politics, the politics of sin, the heartlessness that darkens my soul… on Christmas.’
Lost Treasures From The Vaults, 1959-69, Volume Three.
New Face In Hell… Pay Your Rates… Container Drivers… English Scheme… Gramme Friday…
The original album cut AAA (fully analogue) from original master tape; and a bonus LP including previously unreleased alternate versions and outtakes from the recording sessions.