A next-level three-tracker, intense and roiling, featuring a mesmeric six-minute instrumental, with Thierno Sarr grooving out on the top string of his bass, adding an elusive Manding flavour to the deep Mbalax mix.

The implacable, alien Son Of Sleng Teng — a beast of of a tune, lumbering and snuffling, one-of-a-kind — bleeping, buzzing, knocking, dripping, reverberating… and unresolved in nine minutes.

Extra to the LP, with a magnificent, epic, head-scrambling remix, more spaced and spooked than the original. Shackleton’s dream liturgy fully unfolds — an eerie, garbled sublimity, a kind of black-magic plainsong.

First time out for this plaintive roots, recorded at Tuff Gong in 1979, and featuring Wailer Al Anderson’s fine acoustic guitar playing.

‘The Dark Of The Psychic Unknown’.

An immersive, slashing, ecstatic thumper, just about getting Mars on the radio; and a kind of unhinged marimba and thumb-piano variation, grubbing around manically in half-memories of African polyrhythm.

Fine roots from 1986, with a dose of Burning Spear in the singing. Produced by the Blackheart Man, favoured by Shaka.

Limber, improvisational twelve-minute version, never before released, complete with an instrumental cut.

Nine minutes of Tuff Gong jazzy dread, set to the b-line Bunny copped for Amagideon.

A stunning new production by the Rhythm And Sound ace, drawn from his recording sessions with a griot clan of Sabar drummers from Kaolack, led by Bakane Seck, with guest players and vocalists.

‘Psychological Drama’.

The absolute bee’s knees in chilled, atmospheric, vibesing reggae.
From the elusive 1980 Studio One LP Showcase, like the terrific flip ‘Oboe’ (presumably a spliffed-up ‘Obeah’).
Beautifully limber, expansive production-work, dubwise from the off, featuring ace percussion, scrubby guitar by Eric Frater, and Mittoo zoning clean out.
Released on its Jack Jones for the first time, and sounding predictably deadly on 12”, though you’ll wish it ran for miles.
Total one-of-a-kind murder.

Crucial Arthur — with a deadly Walter Gibbons mix.

Groovy version of the Deodato-CTI Gershwin interpretation; with a Willie Lindo. The dub does the trick.

The twitching, mangled corpses of Lemon and Tamiko Jones, left for dead by Frank Timm on the altar of cut-and-loop disco-house. Brilliant, rooted, and ecstatic.

You can’t make sense of this, clicking through mp3s, on tin-pan computer speakers. Put the record on, though, and set the controls for the heart of the bloke next door, and it’s terrific. The drum-less, throbbing, droning, wailing, sawing, twinkling reconnaissance of Nothing, with massive, unnerving swoops, throttling and surges.
Beatrice Dillon and Kassem Mosse.
Great photos by Anne Tetzlaff on the sleeve.

Silent Servant from Sandwell District on call; and a Ventress.

A second killer Trilogy EP from DJT in Japan, advancing the legacy of Chain Reaction.
Serious, emotionally reined-in music; structurally minimal, linear and open-ended, without the puppeteering routines of most dance music… but all the more enthralling and grooving, with hefty bass. The sense of monumental, weather-distressed, darkening dread is counter-balanced by this forward momentum, and expertly dubwise light-and-shade, with layered detail.
The reverberative, gong-like tolling of the opener gives way on the flip to machines starting up in a cavernous space, like vast beating wings, with a tumping bottom end, over nine minutes.
In-between is a more atmospheric and tentative interval, with slowly roiling synths and near-and-far, morse-code percussion.
Ace.