Spine-tinglingly yearning, yet dignified, rootical rocksteady classic — one of Phil Pratt’s top tunes, limpidly delivered by Lynn Taitt — with an ace Tommy McCook version.

Of this Jamaican pianist’s whole heap of recordings — running all the way back to Clue J and the Blues Blasters, at Studio One — here is one of our clear favourites: a quartet date (including Montego Joe on congas) in 1972, kicking off with a scintillating go at Richard Evans’ Montevideo, copped off Ahmad Jamal, and featuring an unmissable, funked-up commandeering of the title track.

‘One thing is certain about a Sun Ra performance: You never know what to expect. Last week at the Chicago Jazz Festival, he presented a huge troupe of musicians, dancers and acrobats in a veritable circus of improvisation’ (John Litweiler, Chicago Tribune, September 9, 1988).
The entire show as originally broadcast by National Public Radio in the same year.

Three previously unreleased transmissions: two salvaged from the hallowed tapes of Strange Strings, his hardcore 1966 masterwork; whilst Calling Planet Earth / We’ll Wait For You — from the same time as Universe In Blue, five years later — is twenty-four minutes from a triumphant show at Slug’s, featuring June Tyson and heavy Ra synths on two Arkestra evergreens.

Late-sixties recordings from Sun Studios — chez Ra — in Philadelphia.
The first-ever release of six works; plus revivals of 1950s classics Sunology and Ancient Aiethiopia; and an early treatment of Why Go To The Moon.

In 1961 Sun Ra took off from Chicago – where he had established the Arkestra, his dedicated ensemble and the vehicle for his mission to better the planet – and with a scaled-down version of the band he landed in NewYork. Their first recording session was in Newark in October of that year. The Futuristic Sounds Of Sun Ra, recorded for the Savoy label, is a beautiful document of the material they’d honed during a long residency at the Wonder Inn at the end of the Chicago period. Among tracks left in the vault from that day in the studio were these two great ballads sung by Ricky Murray, both of them redolent of the bright popcraft that had long been part of Ra’s repertoire, with classic Afrofuturist themes of navigating outer space and altered destiny cloaked in sweet songs with tart arrangements.
“Marshall Allen especially liked playing I Struck A Match On The Moon,” recalls Ricky, “because he got a chance to light up a cigarette while we were singing.”