The title track is monster jugga jugga rare groove, proper rudeboy two-step. A 1976 special outing for the Hodges Bros and co, house band at Hi, where they backed Al Green, Ann Peebles and everyone.

The first of two LPs recorded by the vibes player for the Detroit label Tuba, after Riverside went under in 1964.
With regular trio partners organist Milt Harris and drummer Peppy Hinnant; and Wynton Kelly and George Duvivier dropping in.
Featuring a cracking version of Duke Pearson’s Christo Redentor, and grooving rug-cutters Possum Grease and Hot Sauce… besides the stone-classic Dingwalls-floor-filler The Man.

The French avant-garde quartet, four years in, improvising with instruments from Western, African, Middle-Eastern, and Far-Eastern cultures. Recorded for Futura in 1971, this is their sole album. “We just wanted the sound, the raw sound-texture, before being treated and shaped by any cultural code.”

Eight charged, intimate meditations by Julie Normal and Olivier Demeaux, playing a rickety ondes Martenot and an old church harmonium.
Gripping, detailed, stately improvisation — a bit like the ùrlars in classical bagpipe music — which nervily mixes the sternly doom-laden with precarious, other-worldly wonderment.
(The ondes Martenot is an amazing twentieth-century instrument — beloved by Messiaen, for example, and Varese. The theme-song of Star Trek is a vocal forgery of its sound. ‘J’aime cette fragilité qui côtoie la capacité de te décoller le tympan sur certaines fréquences inopinément,’ says Julie. ‘Je tiens une bombe dans les mains. J’aime son instabilité, son humanité.’)
Wood, breath, blood, eggshells… on the night of a purple moon.
Very warmly recommended.

Born in Burlington, Vermont, and conservatory-trained in the US, the cellist Tristan Honsinger moved from Montreal to Amsterdam in 1974, quickly linking with Han Bennink and Misha Mengelberg, and opening a long and fruitful musical relationship with Derek Bailey. Recorded in 1976, Duo displays a performative musical approach already characterised by the lack of inhibition which would later endear him to The Pop Group: he is knockabout, exclamatory, explosively rhythmic; burping Bach and folk melodies with spasmodic lyricism, in amongst the garrulous textures and accents of his scraping, bowing and plucking, and gibbering like a monkey; throwing out his arms and stamping the floor, grappling with his instrument like an expert clown, always on the lookout for new ways to trip himself up. You can hear Bailey revelling in the company, as he ranges between scrabbling solidarity and an askance skewering of his partner’s antics, on prepared (nineteen-string) and standard electric guitars — and a Waisvisz Crackle-box, for the garbled, quizzical, cross-species natter which closes The Shadow. Throughout, the spirited interplay between laconic, analytic wit and guttural, sometimes slapstick physicality is consistently droll, often laugh-out-loud funny; vigorously alert, alive and gripping.

Vernon Buckley and Gladstone Grant — by now The Mighty Maytones — produced by Sidney Crooks in the late-seventies.

Sonatas or concerti, says Threadgill: Come and Go for saxophone and cello; Poof for saxophone and guitar; Beneath the Bottom for trombone; Happenstance for flute and drums; Now and Then for tuba and guitar.
‘By this point, the group’s reliance on the serial intervallic system that was the basis of the group’s unique sound is more felt than prescribed, relying on the musicians to fill in the rest.
‘All the other hallmarks are here: unpredictable forms, percolating rhythms, the interwoven melodic strains; there’s really nothing else remotely like it.
‘The best part of it all is that Zooid is the one platform where one still gets to hear Threadgill really play. His keening saxophone wail retains that unmistakable gutbucket blues feel, with no small measure of church thrown into the mix.’

From 1991, the debut, milestone release of this lineup featuring dual tubas and dual electric guitars.

Prime Cuts from the legendary Scratch Perverts crew with an upful six-tracker, full of life and intelligence, and teeming with fidgety, DIY, turntablist energy.
For us it’s a bit like a raid on the racks at Honest Jons, over the decades… but fresh and bright. It kicks off with a headlong garbling of eighties jazz-funk, complete with synths, a vocoder, and some incipient Herbie, all sagging woozily into some nuts pitch control, before a mean beat-down. Some dubwise Channel One follows up, with almightily anthemic snatches of melody and unmistakable chords, almost breaking down under a barrage of skittering effects, scratching, laser-fire, strangulated melodica, and cowbell. Then three excursions in classic Detroit techno: moody electro funk, with a sprinkling of Harold Faltermeyer; hard-grooving minimalism, with a dash of It Takes Two; then a more industrial outing, with clattering percussion and gobbling synth. Finally an ambient interlude — overcast but twinklingly ambivalent — to close.
Ace. A lot of fun. Check it out.