The two Saturns, from 1966; plus a third, previously-unreleased volume of five originals and four standards.
‘More of a collection of statements than a style. Some of the tunes, with their odd juxtapositions of mood, could be mistaken for silent film scores. Perhaps they were audio notebooks, a way to generate ideas which could be developed with the band. Regardless, they serve as compelling standalone works. The fingering reflects Sun Ra’s encyclopedic knowledge of piano history as his passages veer from stride to swing, from barrelhouse to post-bop, from march to Cecil Taylor-esque free flights, with a bit of soothing candelabra- swank thrown in. Sunny’s attack is mercurial, his themes unpredictable. His hands can be primitive or playful, then abruptly turn sensitive and elegant. As with the whole of Sun Ra’s recorded legacy, you get everything but consistency and predictability.
‘The listener also experiences something rare in the omniverse of Sun Ra recordings: intimacy. His albums, generally populated by the rotating Arkestral cast, are raucous affairs. With the Monorails sessions, we eavesdrop on private moments: the artist, alone with his piano.’

From 1982, this was the last of the El Saturn studio albums.
Open, upful and swinging, including the only recordings of Blue Intensity and the title-track Celestial Love, besides a bouquet of other Ra originals, and a couple of Duke Ellingtons featuring the one and only June Tyson in full effect.
Surely the arrangement of Charlie Chaplin’s Smile, with Tyson and Gilmore upfront together, will cheer you up a bit.

Another unmissable Ra LP — previously impossible to find — from the same 1972 sessions as Space Is the Place. The opener Pan Afro is a modal tear-up bossed by Gilmore’s saxophone; the title track is a hugely enjoyable, side-long, Ra-led space chant.

‘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.

From 1964, with Pharoah Sanders sitting in for John Gilmore (away working with Paul Bley, Andrew Hill and Art Blakey); also flautist Harold Murray and the brilliant bassist Alan Silva. The debut of The Shadow World.

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.”