#stephen riley

Wadada Leo Smith

Doyen Wadada Leo Smith was steadfast in celebrating his ascension to octogenarian early, opting to embrace the entirety of the year through a series of opulent and edifying releases on the Finnish TUM label. The pandemic pushed back, delaying several until after his December 18th birthday. The titles in the world as of this writing are all nigh essential, including the three-disc solo, Trumpet, the mix-and-match Sacred Ceremonies with Milford Graves and Bill Laswell, The Chicago Symphonies, conceived and scored for his all-star Great Lakes Quartets, and A Love Sonnet for Billie Holiday, which enlists pianist Vijay Iyer and drummer Jack DeJohnette in an album-length paean to the star-crossed chanteuse. The remaining titles are thankfully set to drop in February.

Joe McPhee

McPhee has an invariable and inviolable place on this list, year-end, year out. The passing of his brother Charlie in June 2020 was the biggest blow that year, but he kept a busy release schedule into the next across a variety of projects including the sensibly solo Route 84 Quarantine Blues and a handful of exciting ensemble ventures, among them: Flow Trio’s Winter Garden (ESP), the Blue Reality Quartet with Michael Marcus, Jay Rosen and Warren Smith, and The Sweet Spot, aptly titled in its assemblage of McPhee, Fred Lonberg-Holm, Michael Bisio and Juma Sultan, who turns 80 in April and appears to still be going strong.

Julius Hemphill — The Boye Multi-National Crusade for Harmony (New World)

Physical box sets are still plentiful and popular these days; this one managed to easily match the ask of its exorbitant price with the copious riches of its contents. Curated by the late Hemphill’s erstwhile student Marty Ehrlich, it is an “inside baseball” survey of the maestro’s work from the invaluable perspective of previously unreleased recordings. Vintage duets with musical soulmate and cello wunderkind Abdul Wadud? Check. String ensemble reimaginings of Charles Mingus compositions? Check. The list goes on, and Hemphill shines with scintillating consistency in every context, whether he is playing notes or not.

John Coltrane — Love Supreme Live in Seattle (Impulse)

It is hard not to harbor ill will towards the late Joe Brazil, who sat on the tape source that yielded this release for 43-years and subsequently left hungry listeners the world over in the dark as to its treasures. Yes, the balance is suspect, preserving Elvin Jones’ drums in stentorian clarity while recessing Coltrane to something of a muted, off-mic guest on his own gig. And yes, it is sidemen McCoy Tyner and Pharoah Sanders who subjectively shine most brightly in their respective solo features. But this is still very much a late-period Coltrane concert and one of plum circumstance and topical focus. The titular devotional suite receives a singularly expansive reading, one steeped in energy music extrapolations that set it starkly apart from both its earlier studio and Antibes renditions. Essential listening.

Stephen Riley

Another regular in these end of annum assessments, Riley’s now my depending-on-the-day favorite under-fifty saxophonist, simply because he aged out of the under-forty bracket. I Remember You astutely teams him with an old teacher, guitarist Vic Juris, who lamentably passed away several weeks post-session. Original Mind is similarly incandescent in its capture of a duo concert with pianist Ernest Turner at a Canadian patron’s home. Both deliver on the deep listening, colloquial improvisation that is not as common as it should be given the immense possibilities such intimate engagement accords.

James Brandon Lewis

Science no longer carries the pervasive cachet in public consciousness that it once did. Lewis’ music exists as an exhilarating rejoinder to this depressing directional turn. Inspired and shaped by the intricacies of molecular biology, his working quartet with pianist Auran Ortiz, bassist Brad Jones, and drummer Chad Taylor is proudly egghead on their sophomore album, Code of Being (Intakt), completely sidestepping pretentiousness for an abiding soulfulness and improvisational cooperation. Jesup Wagon (Tao Forms), is a sister project in that regard, working from a broader palette trading piano for cornet, cello, guembri and mbira in aural homage to African American scientist/inventor George Washington Carver.

Cecil Taylor

Taylor’s been gone almost four-years, but the archival wing of his discography is still yielding riches. Lifting the Bandstand (Listening Foundation) applies attention to a dynamic quartet as diverse in membership as it was in sound. Göttingen and Music for Two Continents – Live at Jazz Jamboree ’84 (Fundacja Sluchaj) feature two large ensembles: the first a sprawling variation on Taylor’s workshop venture, the second an iteration of his Euro-American orchestra bolstered by the heavy horn firepower of Frank Wright, Enrico Rava Tomaz Stanko. Corona (Corbett vs. Dempsey) frames a 1996 reunion duo with Sunny Murray with vocal choir while Live in Ruvo di Puglia 2000 (Enja) unearths a solo first set from a momentous concert with the massive Italian Instabile Orchestra. The master’s legacy lives.

Haasan Ibn Ali

A half-century’s worth of whispers and rumors finally came true this year with the release of two archival repositories returning pianist Haasan Ibn Ali to the limelight. Metaphysics dusts off his long-thought-lost quartet session for the Atlantic label with a twenty-something Odean Pope bringing Philly tenor heat. Retrospect in Retirement of Delay takes a deep and welcome dive into the solo side of Ali’s ivories-gilded expression through an extended program of standards and originals. Both are essential post-bop documents, indicative of a fiercely original improvisor who died tragically absent his due.

Fresh Sound

Strange that the most consistently satisfying jazz reissue label is this Spanish one that operates largely independent of stateside copyright considerations and still manages to produce product that frequently puts its domestic counterparts to pasture. This year signaled the launch of another series, “Rare and Obscure Jazz Albums,” which is absolute truth in advertising, returning seminal sides by the likes of reedist John La Porta and the Sandole Brothers (older sibling Dennis, a teacher of Coltrane) to circulation in two-fer form. Bassist Vinnie Burke, guitarists Jimmy Gourley and Arv Garrison, vibraphonist Bobby Montez, and pianist John Dennis (a contemporary of Haasan Ibn Ali) received similar regal treatment through their regular reissue line.

NoBusiness

This Lithuanian label is similarly persistent and dependable in its mission of balancing new free jazz and improvisation releases with impeccably curated archival editions. Most ambitious on their docket this year, Joel Futterman’s Creation Series: five densely packed discs of solo performances by the improvising pianist, doubling sparingly on curved soprano saxophone and creating arrestingly involving worlds of sound. Undulation, a fifth entry in the ongoing Sam Rivers archival series, documents a regrettably truncated fusion-infused tributary of his discography, while the Chap Chap series, revitalizing the work of key Japanese and Korean improvisers, highlights historical performances by saxophonist Mototeru Takagi and brassman Itaru Oki.

Ezz-thetics

A passing of torch in remastering engineers from the prolifically nonpareil Peter Pfister to the so-far worthy Michael Brandli, did little to decelerate the latest iteration of producer Werner Uehlinger’s Hat Hut label. The purview is still a balance of new recordings of creative improvised music and modern classical proponents and carefully refurbished and curated combinations of classic free jazz sessions from labels like ESP, Impulse and Fontana. Vocal detractors may question the legality and ethics of retooling these sacred texts, but there is no denying the proof of the enhanced fidelity on projects like New York Eye and Ear Control and Celebrating Bird at one hundred, the latter which adds further luster to iconic concert and studio sides by centenarian Charlie Parker.

Ches Smith’s We All Break — Path of Seven Colors (Pyroclastic)

Ches Smith had a cultural appropriation problem. Certain audience members started attributing the Vodou rhythms laced inventively through his music as his own creations. The drummer addressed the erroneously assumed authorship head on, forming a band with the Haitian musicians who had inspired him. This handsome, but still economical, box documents two of the ensemble’s iterations separated by a span of a half-decade and the outcome is one of the finest cross-cultural collaborations of improvised music in recent memory. Smith’s kit is a frequent fulcrum, but the singers and percussionists that surround him in both settings are on equal, if not more prominent footing in the figurative and literal dances that ensue. Everybody wins.

Natural Information Society with Evan Parker — descension (Out of Our Constrictions) (Eremite)

Originally released on vinyl, but beyond my scope in that format for reasons noted below, the CD edition of this double album as licensed by Eremite to the Aguirre label brought the music into my orbit and it has never really been absent since. Josh Abrams first assembled the ensemble back in 2010 and like the “ecstatic minimalism” it espouses, there’s malleability to both instrumentation and direction that feels simultaneously deeply organic and mesmerizingly optimistic. Recorded at London’s Café Oto in the summer of 2019, the concert finds Evan Parker augmenting the core instrumentation of harmonium, drums, bass clarinet and Abrams’ anchoring guembri. It is an inspired addition, as the saxophonist mostly sheds his usual acerbic accoutrements for a sonorously sustained euphoniousness that’s utterly disarming.

Joni Mitchell Archives, Vol. 2 (Rhino/Warner Bros.)

More of Joni as I tend to dig her most. Just a guitar or piano within reach and a repertoire threaded with both originals and folk covers that serves as a means of reciprocal satisfaction between her and audience(s). This second dispatch from singer/songwriter’s dusted-off and voluminous archives leans more to the former stripe. Delicate pathos and winding turns of veiled phrase and phrasing are still populous and personal no matter their sourcing. Fidelity is expectedly variable, but surprisingly listenable across the coffee house stages, TV and radio studios, living rooms and Carnegie Hall. Joni is vulnerably and venturously Joni throughout.

Baligh Hamd — Instrumental Modal Pop of 70s Egypt (Sublime Frequencies)

An invaluable hour-long survey of one of the undisputed innovators of Egyptian orchestral pop music, this assiduously assembled compilation still only scratches the surface of Hamdi’s vast discography. Similar to Salah Ragab in his openness to Western music forms and instruments as additives to a fundamentally Arabic musical foundation, Hamdi’s reach was wider, deeper, and more prolific. The sides gathered, sourced from 1970s albums, revel in intricate quarter-tone constructions and grand ensemble gestures that also benefit from the presence of ace instrumentalists like guitarist Omar Khorshid, organist Magdi al-Husseini, and accordionist Faruq Salama to interpret them. It is the kind of keenly programmed teaser disc that begs for an expansive box set follow-up.

Pastor TL Barrett & the Youth for Christ Choir (Numero)

A Chicago spiritual staple, Pastor TL Barrett recognized that rolling with the idiomatic changes instigated by soul music and proactively involving youth in his vibrant Southside ministry were crucial strategies in successfully spreading the gospel. Barrett recorded a string of albums in the 1970s that are optimal candidates for the royal Numero Group treatment. This CD edition gathering four of the finest of them along with a fifth disc of extras is an effective antidote to the “exorbitantly-priced vinyl blues.” The music is keenly indicative of that contemporaneous “Trojan Horse” tactic of cloaking religious teachings in musical trappings popular with secular circles to create a supercharged alloy equally appealing to audiences suited to both Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings.

Smokey Hogg — The Texas Blues of… (Ace)

Texan Smokey Hogg left a lot to be desired as an accommodating bandleader. Ruled by an idiosyncratic rhythmic compass that rivaled the likes of Jenks “Tex” Carman or John Lee Hooker, he often left his sideman struggling to conventionally accompany him. Keeping up with and catering to his quixotic whims just came with the gig. This compilation, the fifth from the UK Ace imprint, captures more of the weirdly satisfying gestalt Hogg was miraculously able to maintain much of the time. His vocals and guitar spill and slosh over valiant, often futile, backing and somehow stay compelling through a confluence of swagger and ad-lib invention. Solo sides confirm the scrupulous method undergirding his outward-facing arbitrariness. File under music ill-suited for fence-sitters.

V/A — Shake the Foundations: Militant Funk & the Post Punk Dancefloor, 1978-1984 (Cherry Red)

The UK-based Cherry Red imprint has cobbled a cottage industry out of curatorial box sets that also serve as enlightening aural textbooks around musical genres and idioms. This three-disc set applies a research lens to a loosely defined species of funk-influenced post punk that sprang up in British clubs at the cusp of the 1970s. Backbeats and corpulent, rolling bass lines abound, vying with jangly guitars, staccato synths and the occasional compact horn section to express attitude and anomie without sacrificing the vital supremacy of epic grooves. Simple Minds, Jah Wobble, Vicious Pink, Furniture, Perfect Zebras and forty-four other bands get single track opportunities to impart their parts in shaping the scene.

Dollar Vinyl

It is a not-so-secret secret that I have lived nearly the entirety of my adult life without a turntable. That has not precluded the procurement of vinyl, but it has necessitated playing it on borrowed equipment. The reasons behind the admittedly odd abstention fall to spatial considerations and spousal appeasement, but my wife signaled a sea change when she reversed past proclamations and gifted me a record player for my 50th birthday. Since then, it has been self-determined limitations of selectivity and a preference for dollar-priced vinyl with specific priority placed on vintage belly-dancing and Hawaiian/country steel guitar recordings. The specimen below is an especially enjoyable envoy from the first category and made all the better by the presence of a surf-meets-Anatolia guitarist in the accompanying band who arguably was on a steady diet of Omar Khorshid albums at the time.

Unleash the Archers

As a writer who professes a wide purview when it comes to ingesting music, I can still be stubbornly parochial towards certain genres. This is true of metal, where dabbling in unfamiliar bands is something done only rarely and sparingly. Unleash the Archers came to my attention during a lapse in defenses. Initially chafed by their sci-fi-meets-sorcery bombast and theatrics, these traits, amplified through unabashed earnestness that feels gloriously grounded in their British Columbian roots, are now aspects I unreservedly adore. Iron Maiden and Queensryche are indelible antecedents, but Brittany Slayes’ stratospheric pipes, twining melody-musclebound guitars, a Spinal Tap-style, revolving bass chair, and the math-meets-meteorological event that is often Scott Buchanan’s properly pummeled cans make for a reliably engrossing, fist-pumping, power metal result.

Twenty-five more in loosely stochastic order:

Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed - Ritual & the Dance (Astral Spirits)

JD Allen – Queen City (Savant)

Nicole Mitchell/ Tomeka Reid/ Mike Reed – Then There’s This (Astral Spirits)

Ben Goldberg – Everything Happens to Be (Bag Productions)

Roscoe Mitchell/ Sandy Ewen/ Damon Smith/ Weasel Walter – A Railroad Spike Forms the Voice (ugEXPLODE)

Claire Chase – Density 2036 (Corbett vs. Dempsey)

Jamie Branch – Fly or Die Live (International Anthem)

Lee Morgan – Complete Live at the Lighthouse (Blue Note)

Roy Brooks – Understanding (Reel to Real)

Ray Russell – Forget to Remember, Live Vol. 2 1970 (Jazz in Britain)

Sun Ra – Lanquidity (Philly Jazz/Strut)

Lloyd McNeil – Tori (Baobab/Soul Jazz)

JR Monterose – JR is Alive in Amsterdam (HSM/Ultra Vybe)

Spontaneous Music Ensemble – Question & Answer 1966 (Rhythm & Blues)

Juju – Live at 131 Prince Street (Black Fire/Strut)

Don Cherry – The Summer House Sessions (Blank Forms)

V/A – Zanzibara 10: First Modern Taarab Vibes from Mombasa & Tanga 1970 – 1990 (Buda Musique)

V/A – Edo Funk Explosion, Vol. 1 (Analog Africa)

V/A – Habibi Funk Vol. 2: An Eclectic Selection of Music from the Arab World (Habibi Funk)

Costantinos Kostas Bezos – Jail’s a Fine School (Mississippi)

Bad Brains – Rock for Light, Original 1983 Mix (ORG)

Keith Hudson – The Black Breast Has Produced Her Best, Flesh of My Skin, Blood of My Blood (Mamba/VP)

Neil Young – Way Down in the Rust Bucket (Reprise)

Reverend Robert Ballinger feat. Willie Dixon – King’s Highway (Bear Family)

Paul Desmond — The Complete 1975 Toronto Recordings (Mosaic)

Given the magnitude of hardship this year’s wrought on living musicians, it may appear a bit perverse to lead this list with a dead one. Even so, this immersive set’s become an old reliable when it comes to achieving aurally-sourced solace. Desmond, the arch and affluent altoist, leaning into a Canadian club residency with ace sidemen while making good on his gentleman’s agreement with absent Dave Brubeck to abstain from piano accompaniment. The leader’s lady-killer instincts are assiduously evident in the amorously-oriented song choices as his dulcet, tranquilizing tone seduces and delights, night after night.

Chris Dingman — Peace (Inner Arts)

An intensely personal project where abundancy of content arose not out of ambition but rather necessity and is made all the more affecting for it. Dingman designed and played the nearly six hours of solo vibraphone music on this set for his hospice-sequestered father with sole purpose of providing comfort and calm. Reflection after his parent’s passing moved him to release it into the world with the hope that it could do the same for others. Intention accomplished.

 Joe McPhee — Black Is the Color (Corbett vs. Dempsey)

It’s been a distressing year for nearly everyone, but particularly for McPhee, who lost his brother Charlie to illness. Even amidst ongoing emotional tumult, his fecundity felt undiminished. AC/DC on the British OtoROKU label offers another entry with the English organ trio Decoy. Of Things Beyond Thule, Vol. 2 is a smashing CD sequel to its vinyl predecessor with Dave Rempis, Tomeka Reid, Brandon Lopez and Paal Nilssen-Love comprising the super group. A reissue of the seminal She Knows… with Scandinavian power trio The Thing on the Ezz-thetics label and Black is the Color compiling early concert material in surprisingly sharp fidelity from the Corbett vs. Dempsey imprint cover the archival end of things.

 Sonny Rollins — Rollins in Holland (Resonance)

The Saxophone Colossus holding court with Dutch compatriots in 1967. Most conspicuous is daredevil drummer Han Bennink, who even at this early stage straddles swing to European Free Jazz from behind his kit. Rollins shifts between comparatively pithy studio salvos and effusive concert excursions that once again cement his supremacy in the strenuous realm of long form improvisation. Seven decades as a musician makes for a bank vault-sized cache of bootlegs, but this one, refurbished and authorized remains something special.

 Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)

Like McPhee, Riley’s a perennial resident of my pantheon. This date realized a long-standing wish to hear him in the company of cornetist Kirk Knuffke backed by the freeing simplicity of bass and drums. Both men have aerated, instantly recognizable tones and pliancy in phrasing that provides practically endless possibilities in tandem. Riley’s also instrumental as featured guest on Pierre Dørge’s Bluu Afroo, a slightly preemptive Ruby Anniversary celebration of guitarist’s multinational New Jungle Orchestra.

 Sam Rivers — Ricochet & Braids (No Business)

The auspicious launch of a Sam Rivers archival series last year was among the Lithuanian No Business label’s greatest achievements. Two more seminal entries came down the pike in 2020: Ricochet featuring Dave Holland and Barry Altschul of particularly fine vintage, and Braids spotlighting another pivotal Rivers ensemble in Hamburg with low brass wizard Joe Daley. There are four more to go, which should target the end of 2022 for the series’ completion.

 James Brandon Lewis — Live at Willisau & Molecular (Intakt)

Lewis is the type of compelling artist tapped for accolades like Down Beat’s Rising Star award, despite having been active as an accomplished improviser for over a decade. Delayed exposure is common collateral to a career path in improvised music though, and the saxophonist hasn’t let slow-to-cotton critics slow him down a bit. A deal inked with the Swiss Intakt imprint has so far yielded Live at Willsau, which finds him in fiery duo with Chad Taylor, and Molecular, a studio venture with an all-star quartet that will hopefully become a working band again in 2021.

 Susan Alcorn — Pedernal (Relative Pitch)

Pedal steel may feel like a nascent voice in improvised music, but in actuality Susan Alcorn and her peers have been plying it as a viable vehicle for some time. While Pedernal is somewhat perplexingly her first album as clear-cut leader, impediments to an earlier debut seem inconsequential given the ample amount of thought and design evident in the end product. Strings wielded by Michael Formanek, Mary Halvorson and Mark Feldman weave with the wide gamut of Alcorn’s aqueous sonorities across intricate pieces further stamped by Ryan Sawyer’s peripatetic drums. The results are at once daring and distinguished.

 John Scofield — Swallow Tales (ECM)

ECM has an enviably accomplished record when it comes to matching the austerity and formality of its sound design to artists’ objectives. Case in point this stark, but not standoffish trio set that’s as much (electric) bassist Steve Swallow’s offspring as it is Scofield’s. Drummer Stewart is the third point in the triangle, but he sagely defers to his elders, leaving them to a dance of differently gauged strings that expertly balances motion and space.

 Corbett vs. Dempsey

John Corbett is emblematic of that rare breed of music monomaniac who balances obsessiveness with altruistic generosity. He’s personally responsible for bringing dozens of rare and classic recordings back into circulation, first through the fondly remembered Unheard Music Series and more recently via the CvD concern. This year, another stack was added to that sum with Milford Graves & Don Pullen’s The Complete Yale Concert 1966 (including the rarified Nommo), Alexander von Schlippenbach’s Three Nails Left, Tetterettet by the ICP Tentet, Peter Kowald’s self-titled FMP debut as a leader and the madcap New Acoustic Swing Duo from Willem Breuker and Han Bennink as standouts.

 Whit Boyd Combo — Party Girls & Dracula (the Dirty Old Man) (Modern Harmonic)

Vintage skin flick soundtracks have rarely if ever received an even-handed shake in terms of relative artistic merits. Tarred with the same smut brush as the visuals they were constructed to accompany, they’re routinely viewed as just as disposable. The Whit Boyd Combo doesn’t exactly dispel this dictum, but it does lay down some funky and at times refreshingly fractious freewheeling horns over organ, bass, and drums driven beats on this late-60s session tape excavated by the folks at Modern Harmonic. The companion Dracula (the Dirty Old Man) isn’t quite on par, but it’s still a solid vessel for competently crafted fossilized grooves.  

 Robbie Basho — Songs of the Avatars (Tompkins Square)

Real Gone Music whet the appetite earlier this year with the release of Songs of the Great Mystery, a “lost session” from Basho’s tenure at the Vanguard label. Songs of the Avatars ups the ante substantially by granting outsider access to a six-hour survey of the dearly departed fingerstyle guitarist’s personal tape trove. The aural riches are ample and include Basho exploring familiar proclivities (Indian, Native American and Japanese interpolations) alongside unexpected new ones (ballet and cantata) with passion and conviction to burn along the way.

 Jimi Hendrix — Live in Maui (Experience Hendrix)

Posthumous Hendrix is a seemingly inexhaustible resource as each year repackaged and repurposed treasures are released into the marketplace. Fortunately, familial heirs are the ones doing the sowing and this lavish set documenting musical and extra-musical particulars of the icon’s reluctant conscription into cosmic hippie scam does right by him. Given the windswept conditions near the Haleakala Crater it’s a minor miracle that he, Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell mesh as well as they do, and while the footage included can be frustrating in its fragmentary presentation, it’s still a thrill to see and hear them jamming in amiable and ebullient form.

 Joe Maneri, Udi Hrant & Friends — The Cleopatra Record (Canary)

Details on this one could easily serve as grist for a credible short film screenplay with perhaps Jim Jarmusch directing. Brooklyn, 1963: A group of marginalized ethnic musicians relegated to playing wedding gigs gets conscripted for an afternoon recording session. The cheaply packaged and provincially distributed results are destined for the anonymity of dime store cut out bins. Except that the band includes two geniuses: Joe Maneri, who would go on to become a master microtonal improviser/composer and Udi Hrant Kenkulian, one of most revered modern doyens of the Turkish oud. Available over at Bandcamp for a pittance.

 Ayalew Mesfin — Good Aderegechegn, Che Belew and Tewedije Limut (Now Again)

Adding up Buda Musique’s 30-volume Ethiopiques series and a host of other more modest enterprises, it’s obvious that there’s never been more access to vintage Ethiopian music than now. This trilogy of discs from the Now Again label covering vocalist/keyboardist/bandleader Ayalew Mesfin’s catalog restores one of the last untapped reservoirs to circulation. Tight horns, choppy, fuzz and wah-wah drenched guitars and chugging bass fuel dance floor burners while Mesfin’s pipes work memorable magic on a string of melancholic, melismatic ballads.

 Kent & Modern Records Blues into the 60s, Vol. 1 & 2 (Ace)

Ace’s appellation as a music label of enviable reach and import has never been an erroneous assignation. This pair of compilations investigates the urban, but far from urbane, blues scene surrounding Los Angeles as documented by the Kent label in the 1960s. Comparatively longer-in-tooth legends like T-Bone Walker and Big Jay McNeely jockey with younger, fame hungry artists like Larry Davis and Little Joe Blue in negotiating a West Coast argot that’s heavy on electricity channeled through guitars and organs. McNeely’s ripping “Blues in G Minor” is one of several snarling sonic wolves in non-descript sheep’s titling.

 V/A — A Stranger I May Be: Savoy Gospel 1954-1986 (Honest Jons)

This astutely-sequenced set stands out in the particularly plentiful playing field of this year’s gospel reissues. The mighty Savoy label started out as a jazz venture before branching out into other African American musical idioms. The compilers at Honest Jons parse the program chronologically across three-discs and leave the heavy-lifting of context and artists biography to a lengthy essay. Choirs, ensembles, bands, and moonlighting R&B singers all make appearances directing their talents to devotional and invocational celebrations of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

 Sun Ra

One of the highlight roundtables at Dusted this year was a Listening Post ruminating on the Sun Ra Arkesta with and sans Ra on the occasion of the band’s new release Swirling. I got to play the (hopefully uncharacteristic) part of curmudgeon in those exchanges principally because while I respect the ensemble’s longevity absent their lodestar leader, there’s still an explicit void extant that tends to eclipse my actual interest. The Ra reissue docket for 2020, which included excellent editions of Celestial Love and A Fireside Chat with Lucifer from Modern Harmonic, When Angels Speak of Love on Cosmic Myth, Heliocentric Worlds, Vols. 1 and 2 from Ezz-thetics, and Strut’s Egypt 1971, which collects Dark Myth Equation Visitation, Nidhamu and Horizon alongside a bevy of contemporaneous unreleased recordings, only bolstered the bias. 

 Fresh Sound Records

Still the standard for thoughtfully and lavishly curated jazz reissues, Barcelona-based Fresh Sound kept commensurately prolific pace throughout the year. Gary Peacock - The Beginnings surveys the recently deceased bassist’s early work as a versatile California-stationed sideman. Remembering does similar service to rare concert recordings by Belgian guitarist Rene Thomas while The Complete 1961 Milano Sessions offers truth in advertising by compiling woodwind savant Buddy Collette’s sojourn on Italian shores with (mostly) indigenous sidemen.

 V/A — Sumer is Icumenin (Grapefruit)

An overdue sequel to Dust on the Nettles (2015), which apparently commands on princely sums on Discogs these days, this set encompasses 4+ hours of cherry-picked vintage British freak folk. Second helpings from stalwarts of the style such as Comus, Steeleye Span and Fairport Convention join Albion offerings from obscurants like Vulcan’s Hammer, Mr. Fox and Oberon in celebrating the weird crossroads of ancient Britannic and 1960s counterculture influences. The cant is more to The Wicker Man side of the spectrum with Magnet’s bucolic canticle “Corn Rigs” the ringer in that regard.

Twenty-five more in mostly stochastic order:

Aruán Ortiz - Inside Rhythmic Falls (Intakt)

Brandon Seabrook/Cooper-Moore/Gerald Cleaver — Exultations (Astral Spirits)

Cecil Taylor & Tony Oxley — Birdland, Neuberg 2011 (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Horace Tapscott w/ the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra — Ancestral Echoes: The Covina Sessions, 1976 (Dark Tree)

Damon Smith — Whatever is Not Stone is Light (Balance Point Acoustics)

Frank Lowe & Rashied Ali — Duo Exchange: Complete Sessions (Survival)

Dudu Pukwana — and the “Spears” (Matsuli Music)

Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl — Artlessly Falling (Firehouse 12)

Burton Greene — Peace Beyond Conflict (Birdwatcher)

Albert Ayler — Trio 1964: Prophecy Revisited (Ezz-thetics)

JD Allen — Toys/Die Dreaming (Savant)

Charles Mingus — At Bremen 1964 and 1975 (Sunnyside)

The Warriors of the Wonderful Sound — Soundpath (Clean Feed)

Kidd Jordan/Joel Futterman/Alvin Fielder — Spirits (Silkheart)

Roland Haynes — 2nd Wave (Black Jazz)

Quin Kirchner — The Shadows and the Light (Astral Spirits)

Thelonious Monk — Palo Alto (Universal/Impulse)

Black Unity Trio — Al-Fatihah (Salaam Records/Gotta Groove)

Gary Smulyan — Our Contrafacts (Steeplechase)

Joni Mitchell — Archives Vol. 1: The Early Years (1963-1967 (Rhino)

Elder Charles Beck — Your Man of Faith (Gospel Friend)

Sarhabil Ahmed — King of Sudanese Jazz (Habibi Funk)

V/A – The Right to Rock: The Mexicano and Chicano Rock ‘n’ Roll Rebellion 1955-1963, Episodio Uno (Bear Family)

V/A – Hillbillies in Hell: Country Music’s Tormented Testament (1952-1974) ~ Revelations (The Omni Recording Corporation)

Positive No — Kyanite (Little Black Cloud)

Kyanite by Positive No

Who recommended it? Tobias Carroll

Did we review it? No.

Tim Clarke’s take:

Positive No braid tight bursts of guitars, bass and drums into upbeat yet agitated shapes. There’s a touch of Blonde Redhead’s Kazu Makino in Tracy Wilson’s vocal delivery, or My Bloody Valentine’s Belinda Butcher, especially on expansive opener “Elevator Up.” At just under half an hour, the urgent economy of Kyanite’s songwriting makes all the more sense when you learn that it’s the band’s final album, released on Valentine’s Day this year. As their parting gesture, nothing is wasted, everything invested. As one of the song titles says, “Get In, Get Out. Don’t Linger. Go On.”

 Raspberry Bulbs — Before the Age of Mirrors

Before The Age Of Mirrors by Raspberry Bulbs

Who picked it? Jonathan Shaw

Did we review it? Yes, Jonathan said, “Even in its heaviest metal moments, on ‘Reclaimed Church’ and excellent closing track ‘Given Over to History,’ the record’s punk vibe cuts and grins. It insists on a deadly aesthetic seriousness, and at the same time, it’s tugging the rug out from under its own feet.”

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

Raspberry Bulbs splices punk’s antic venom with metal’s storm and roar, shifting from one mode to the other inside individual tracks, sometimes measure to measure. Consider “Doggerel” which kicks off in a pogo-ing furor, rattling violently over rapid oi band rhythms, everything clipped and percussive, even the vocals, though hoarse and splintered. Midway through, a sirening guitar riff intercedes and the singing turns ominous and measured; all the sudden it’s metal. “Midnight Line” pulls the opposite trick, beginning in clanging, feedback-morphing guitar and larynx shredding howl, then introducing a punk rock palm-muted chug and anthemry. It’s a volatile mix, at times nearly playful, at others agonizingly heavy, at still others (the “Intervals” mostly) surprisingly lyrical.  I lean towards the punk-er tracks—"They’re After Me” and “Doggerel”— metal fans may feel otherwise.

 Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes. Derek said, “Knuffke and Riley are a directly collaborative pairing now and their partnership politely demands many more dates like this one.”

Justin Cober-Lake's take:

Saxophonist Stephen Riley has put together a quartet with a singular idea of playing these classic tunes on Friday the 13th in relatively straightforward and spacious renditions. Their take on Eddie Vinson's “Four” has Riley and cornetist Kirk Knuffke trading long solos. The rhythm section does its job, but it's a horn players' record. The album comes alive most when Knuffke and Riley interact more immediately. On Oliver Nelson's “Hoe Down,” they reveal how great a partnership they have, initially matching each other on the main melody before spiraling off. “Round Midnight” could have been too obvious a choice, but the combo's personalized take on the standard works out. Everyone sounds at ease enough within the song that they take a few more risks, and the horn players supplement each other nicely with more harmonic considerations. The album ends with a trio of spirited numbers, and in each case Riley and Knuffke play off each other's solos with a sharpness that by now makes sense. Riley's listening to Monk and playing like Rollins (hence the title track) as he and his group find ways to make old bop sound new.

  Gil Scott-Heron and Makaya McCraven—We’re New Again, A Reimagining (XL Recordings)

Who recommended it? Jenny Kelly.

Did we review it? Yes. Arthur Krumins notes, “McCraven lays down a lush musical backdrop that allows Scott-Heron’s words to have emotional impact.”

Jonathan Shaw’s take:

The word “reimagine” has a sexy resonance, and for that reason, it’s often too casually used. But in the case of We’re New Again, the word is warranted. Drummer and producer Makaya McCraven doesn’t just remix Gil Scott-Heron’s final record, I’m New Here (2010); McCraven shuffles the track list, adds some relevant recordings of Scott-Heron’s voice, and creates entirely new arrangements, moods, and musical accompaniment for the earlier album’s songs. It’s ballsy — I’m New Here is justly recognized as a masterpiece, and it’s marked by a stylistic austerity. On that record, Scott-Heron sang and spoke and recited his poetry over minimalist beats, a strummed guitar, or his own piano playing. McCraven attentively reimagines the tunes, working with polyphonic, post-Bop ensembles; busy hip-hop soundscapes; gospel and funk quotations. Remarkably, none of the richness of Scott-Heron’s vocals and none of the complexity of his poetry get obscured. More often, McCraven inventively intensifies the impact of Scott-Heron’s songs. And the reordering and recontextualizing of the tracks reveals a different narrative, grounded in the resilience and the suffering of Scott-Heron’s upbringing and too-short life. You listen and you feel it. It’s a terrific record.

Six Organs of Admittance — Companion Rises (Drag City)

Companion Rises by Six Organs of Admittance

Who recommended it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes. Jenny said it’s “straight-down-the-middle Six Organs, not as loud and abrasive as the first Hexadic disc, not as reticently wisp-y as the older folk-derived records.”

Patrick Masterson’s take:

Back when Dusted was still a dot-com, we talked about making a site-specific canon for our 10th anniversary, a kind of “Dusted 500” field guide. There was a shared spreadsheet and talk of a benefit show and a mixtape comp and so on that never amounted to anything for myriad reasons, but I can promise you Ben Chasny would’ve figured into it somehow — and nearly a decade on from that, my promise stands. The latest (30th? Let’s call it 30th) Six Organs of Admittance record is a beautiful slow burner that shows why, all astral spirits and slow-rolling starlight guitar plucks that is, as Jenny rightly notes, a Six Organs line drive. My belief after numerous spins since early February — mostly in the mornings, for which this music also seems suitable accompaniment — is that, like the rest of Chasny’s oeuvre, it will appeal to anyone who likes guitars or reads this. On the off chance you stumbled in here or haven’t heard this record yet: Welcome. It’s always been this way.

Patrick Masterson

 Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

Who recommended it? Ian Mathers

Did we review it? Yes. Ian said, “it’s more a record of solidarity and mutual support than it is anything more prescriptive.”

Patrick Masterson’s take:

L.A. quintet Spanish Love Songs occupy a very specific point on what I like to think of as the Bar Band Spectrum, where one end is a bottom-rung covers-only collective found in just about any weeknight dive pre-COVID playing for beer money out of boredom and modest ambition… and the other end is Bruce Springsteen. This band isn’t as ramshackle as, say, Ladyhawk, nor have they yet hit a glass ceiling à la the Constantines; they sound to me more like Beach Fossils or Single Mothers, where everything from their songwriting to their slightly glossy production suggests they’re as ready as they’ll ever be for arena life. And what a record to make the case, too: Brave Faces Everyone is the sound of Run for Covers Records growing up or early onset Gen Z realizing a glass of wine after everything is, in fact, a coping mechanism for adulthood in a profoundly uncaring world. It’s got a big, young heart to match its big, old sound. It says, loudly, that in the increasingly untethered reality of 2020, we are all losers forever — but there’s still a “best of it” to be made if you wanna and the bravest face is an optimistic one. I’ll rock with that (from the quarantined confines of home and the other side of another lousy livestream, of course).

Patrick Masterson

Squirrel Flower — I Was Born Swimming (Polyvinyl)

I Was Born Swimming by Squirrel Flower

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? Nope.

Arthur Krumins’ take:

Making the most of a dour mood, Squirrel Flower squeezes disaffection from her vocal delivery. The instrumentation is reminiscent of a less noisy Built to Spill, or maybe Julie Doiron, and is effectively now a retro indie rock sound originally from the late 90s or early 2000s. The jamminess of some of the drawn out riffs feel both pretty and sad, and could be a good soundtrack to a rainy drive. The heaviness is well developed without being bogged down. The lyrics catch your attention with their plainspoken narration of conflict (“You slap me, I’ll slap you right back” she repeats in “Slapback”). A fitting album for looking your troubles head on while still being totally surrounded by them.

 Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz)

Waterless Hills - 'The Great Mountain' by Waterless Hills

Who picked it? Bill Meyer

Did we review it? No.

Arthur Krumins’ take:

A dissonant flow that steadily increases in intensity starts this record, which is a live recorded improvisation. The combination of aching, modal violin by dbh with slightly overdriven cascading electric guitar by C Joynes makes for a feel reminiscent of “Venus in Furs” by the Velvet Underground. The percussion by Andrew Cheetham, a drum kit plug some extras like a hung Chinese gong, creates texture and mood. Sometimes there’s just a steady counting of time in the background, at other moments waves of cymbals crash and make a cacophonous emphasis as the music rises and falls. The overall effect of the jams is hypnotic, like getting absorbed in a swirling light show. The players’ sensitivity to the musical interplay of their instruments, combined with a masterful looseness, makes it a trip worth taking.

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead (Self-released)

Who recommended it? Ian Mathers.

Did we review it? Yes. Ian Mathers notes, “tipping towards the slightly industrial/EBM side of the genre, We Mirror the Dead gains a kind of gloomy propulsion without losing any of the atmosphere or intensity of [the band’s] prior work.”

Jonathan Shaw’s take:

The Gothic is not famous for stylistic restraint, and neither are the various contemporary subgenres that have inherited goth music’s romance of dark interiors, painfully fraught feeling and highly stylized self-fashioning. A few recent acts have cut against the grain of those established maximalist textures: see the grim industrial rancor of Street Sects, and the more experimental, sample-based austerities of Wreck and Reference. Well Yells’ music feels similarly stripped down to a pulsing electronic essence. But the record is more interested in the strobing spaces of Clubland than in decrepit factory ruins, and the darkwave gloss of We Mirror the Dead presents a more conventional relation to goth’s sensations. At its best—as on album opener “Kill the King”—the music of Patrick Holbrook, sole member of Well Yells, snaps and glimmers with compelling dread and arch sophistication. Holbrook’s breathy tenor is a useful counterpoint; his vocals are vaguely reminiscent of the best of those other habitués of Clubland, the British New Romantics (remember Bronski Beat?). It’s good stuff, somehow simultaneously polished and dirty.

  Lucinda Williams—Good Souls Better Angels (Thirty Tigers/Highway 20 Records)

Who recommended it? Justin Cober-Lake

Did we review it? No.

Bill Meyer’s take: I haven’t listened much to Lucinda Williams; the one record I have by her, Sweet Old World, is 28 years old. The first thing that hit me when I listened to Good Souls Better Angels is what’s changed. Williams’ voice is much rougher, and she’s adjusted the music correspondingly, adding Hendrixian guitar flourishes to “Bone of Contention” and coarsening the domestic violence scenario “Wakin’ Up” with bad-trip electronics. The next is how pissed she sounds. Violent boyfriends are bad enough, but having a charmless sociopath for president is even worse. Fortunately, bile hasn’t overwhelmed her writing chops. Big-sounding roots rock isn’t really my thing these days, but if I feel the need to change that, Good Souls Better Angels is a good place to start.  

  Wire — Mind Hive (Pink Flag)

Who picked it? Andrew Forell

Did we review it? Yes, Andrew said, “Mind Hive is concise yet full of restless intelligence, musical ideas and willingness to push boundaries.”  

Derek Taylor’s take:

I tapped Wire late and left early. That truncated exposure lends a narrow vocabulary in describing their music contextually, pre- and post-reunions. This latest missive sounds alternately like what I remember and at least several zip codes removed with a heavy lean into synths. “Be Like Them” and “Primed and Ready” fall in the former category, while “Off the Beach” trades gangly ennui and menace for what almost resembles instrumental optimism until the lyrics stack dutifully into another ode to the disaffected and disconnected. “Oklahoma” feels inscrutably weird. “Hung” drops as the album’s extended, incremental, post-industrial dirge. There’s additional insulation sheathing this Wire, an inevitable adjunct of ascendancy to elder status, but the current foursome is still dependably conducting current.

 Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)

Who recommend it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No.

Ian Mathers’ take:

Joe McPhee

Seventy-nine-years young and still a human dynamo of energy, empathy, and optimism, the Powerhouse from Poughkeepsie’s been a constant of these retrospective essays for as long as I’ve been writing them. I haven’t done a hard count, but his horns grace at least a dozen releases this year. Duos with Mats Gustaffson (Brace for Impact), Fred Lonberg-Holm (No Time Left for Sadness), and Paal Nilssen-Love (Song for the Big Chief) join the dyad denoted above in delivering dialogues as personal as they are potent. Tree Dancing assembles the super-group of Lol Coxhill, Evan Parker, Chris Corsano, and McPhee collectively and in component combinations with bassist John Edwards on board for a culminating cut, while Six Situations realizes a dream of bassist Damon Smith in teaming him with McPhee’s tenor and now dearly departed drummer Alvin Fielder. The Fire Each Time bundles six concerts of McPhee in the company of the DKV Trio from a 2017 tour that took James Baldwin and John Coltrane as lodestones. Saving perhaps the best for last, Invitation to a Dream comingles McPhee’s pocket trumpet and soprano with pedal steel guitarist Susan Alcorn and old confrere Ken Vandermark in a tripart colloquy delivered in crystal clear sound.

 Peter Brötzmann

A year younger and another fixture in my yearly firmament, Herr Brötz has always had ears attuned to the early pioneers of improvised music through the unabashed embrace of Sidney Bechet, Coleman Hawkins, and others. Those unerring affections erode some of the surprise from I Surrender Dear, an album of tenor-rendered jazz standards and originals, but also enhance the overall experience in how literally he makes good on the debt. It’s arguably his best solo album since 14 Love Poems and bolstered further by the focus on a single central member of his reed arsenal. Also of note, Fifty Years After commemorating the golden anniversary of Machine Gun with longtime confreres German pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach and Dutch drummer Han Bennink,

 Rob Franken Electrification — Functional Stereo Music (678 Records)

Four-hours of Fender Rhodes heaven recorded in elite Dutch studios between 1972 and 1981 that puzzlingly never found commercial circulation until last year as a six-LP series. The 2019 edition transfers the archive to three-CDs and only rarely flags as Franken’s fonky keys front guitar, bass, drums and a revolving cast of fellow aces fielding other instruments. Economy is the informal edict as morsel-sized originals alternate with covers of tunes by Herbie Hancock, Stevie Wonder, Atilla Zoller, and even Steely Dan. The utilitarian intimations of the title aren’t just lip service. Franken originally envisioned the music as an homage to the muzak strains common to “shopping malls, hotels, elevators, department stores, and airports.” Much of it sounds far better aligned with the kinetic cop and detective pot-boilers that populated television and cinema of the decade.

 Brian Groder Trio – Luminous Arcs (Latham)

Keeping a working improvising ensemble together is no minor accomplishment, yet Groder’s been able to maintain one in his name with bassist Michael Bisio and drummer Jay Rosen. This disc joins two previous albums in demonstrating both the depth of the musicians’ bonds and their shared zeal in exploring and capitalizing on them. Any novelty surrounding the particulars of a trumpet-led piano-less trio is fortunately long since lapsed. The precedence allows them to marshal their attention to shaping music that is simultaneously the sum and multiplication of the substantial parts.

 V/A — Pakistan: Folk and Pop Instrumentals 1966-1976 (Sublime Frequencies)

Seattle-based Sublime Frequencies weathered a stretch where the “weirdness” quotient of their audio excavations appeared to outweigh accompanying scholarship and attention to edifying annotations. This scintillating compilation suffers no such skew in the balance of carefully sourced sounds and accompanying copy to shore up the context. Sixties rock, specifically surf, is a through-line in the preponderance of reverb-riddled guitars and buzzing Farfisa organ on many of the tracks, but indigenous melodies and rhythms are also frequent fodder for enthusiastic appropriation. Best of all, there’s a pervasive sense of fun to the sequencing that makes it a handy soundtrack for soirees of all sorts.

 Jaimie Branch — Fly or Die II (International Anthem)

If her ascendant flight pattern is any indication, death, artistic or otherwise, isn’t even an option for Jaimie Branch. This follow-up to her meteoric (and long overdue) 2017 debut builds organically on previous cosmetic aspects (core quartet, cover art, etc.) while making progressive-pronged politics even more prominent. “Prayer for Amerikkka” doesn’t mince words in proffering a platform of resistance and the musical propellant to keep it confidently airborne. A robust touring schedule and well-earned media attention are only furthering Branch’s designs at getting the sounds into as many ears as possible.

 Sam Rivers

The Sam Rivers Archive Series is the brainchild of producers Danas Mikailionis and Ed Hazell. A projected eight-volume celebration of the music of the eponymous composer/improviser/educator/doyen curated from a vast trove left in the care of Rivers’ daughter after his passing in 2011, it’s also probably the jazz news that most set my heart aflutter with anticipation this year. The initial pair of entries, Emanation and Zenith, certainly live up to the promise in presenting clean fidelity concerts by a high profile trio with bassist Cecil McBee and drummer Norman Conners (pre-disco) and a workshop quintet involving tubaist Joe Daley, bassist Dave Holland and the eight-limbed drums juggernaut of Barry Altschul and Charlie Persip. Both discs are essential.

 Jimi Hendrix — Songs for Groovy Children (Experience Hendrix)

Not a long-lost Hendrix kids’ album despite what the jejune title might suggest. Instead, it’s four nearly complete concerts from the guitar deity’s iconic New Year’s Band of Gypsies engagement at the Fillmore East in 1969/70. Producer Eddie Kramer largely quashes his invasive impulses in mastering the tapes, leaving the only real minuses to manifest in the occasionally extra-loose interplay and Jimi’s decision to indulge Buddy Miles’ mic access to a regrettably arguable fault. Math done, there’s nothing stopping an instant trigger-pull for true believers, even folks who have it all already in bootleg form.

 Ezz-thetics

Fingers remain collectively-crossed that Werner X. Uehlingher will one day decide to write an autobiography of his countless adventures as a stalwart producer of improvised music. Ezz-thetics is just the latest chapter in the future tome’s story arc that started with the founding of the Hat Hut label back in 1974. The new imprint, named after a classic George Russell composition, balances reissue and archival releases with new ones, packing them with branding that memorializes the old while consecrating the new. Discs by Jimmy Giuffre (Graz Live 1961), John Coltrane (Impressions Graz 1962), and Albert Ayler (Quartets 1964 Spirits to Ghosts Revisted) are the marquee name highlights, but the entirety of the imprint’s releases to-date have had their merits.

 Stephen Riley

The tenorist is no longer my favorite under-forty plier on the instrument simply because he’s aged out of the bracket. Oleo builds on last year’s transparently veiled Sonny Rollins’ tribute Hold ‘Em Joe by adding the sturdy trumpet of Joe Magnarelli to the equation and turning the referential calendar forward to the saxophone colossus’ collaborations with Don Cherry. It’s a beaut from a brisk beginning sortie on “Ornithology” to lengthy slalom on the Ducal “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.” Tangerine Rhapsody is technically under Dutch drummer Snorre Kirk’s leadership, but it wouldn’t be nearly the album it is absent Riley’s supple and sagacious involvement.

 Milt Buckner & Jo Jones — Buck & Jo (Fremeaux & Associates)

Curious about what makes an individual improviser tick? Duo contexts are arguably the best aperture to gain edification and insight. Even better than solo or ensemble configurations, the dyad distills things down to solo and dialogue. This four-disc, four-hour-plus collection is a remarkable case in point and surprise that it even exists at all given its vintage let alone its scope. Thank French impresarios the Panassie Brothers who invited ur swing organist and ur swing drummer to indulge themselves with only the gentlest of producer-dictated strictures. The results are fascinating, whimsical, bombastic, and above all, endlessly entertaining. An epitome of intimately undertaken jazz tête-à-tête before it was anything resembling a regular thing.

 Del Shannon — Two Silhouettes (Bear Family)

Preconceptions can prove obdurate edifices. Prior to my forty-eighth birthday this year I dismissed Del Shannon as one of the disposable princes of bubble gum pop on the rare occasions he entered my consciousness at all. “Runaway” remains an influential song, particularly in its use of musitron organ, but it’s hardly the makings of unassailable genius. Bear Family’s exhaustive single-disc survey levies a much more convincing appeal for the crooner’s embodiment of a nexus of odd congruencies as moonlighting jazzmen conspire with duck-tailed rockers and barbershop harmonists. Dennis Coffey and Hargus “Pig” Robbins show up as sidemen and there’s even an S&M-tinged canticle called “Torture” replete with whip cracks and a Greek chorus of moans, leaving one to wonder what Ward and June Cleaver made of it all?

 Sun Ra

Cosmic Myth and Modern Harmonic continue to advance the mantle apparently abandoned by the Art Yard label in keeping Ra-related albums in circulation. The erstwhile Mr. Mystery employed numerous vocalists throughout his career, even contributing his own less-than-stellar (pun intended) pipes to the cause on occasion. None among that eclectic number could match June Tyson, who brought joie de vivre to the lyrical manifestations of Ra’s cosmic-afro-centrism that was at once wholly believable and infectious. Saturnian Queen of the Sun Ra Arkestra does right by her memory by culling an hour’s worth of highlights from a vast and varied recorded archive. Monorails & Satellites (now in three volumes!) and newly minted editions of Pathways to Unknown Worlds and When Angels Speak of Love were also welcome arrivals.

 Derek Bailey/Han Bennink/Evan Parker — Topographie Parisienne: Dunois, April 3rd, 1981 (Fou)

The Topography of the Lungs trio in concert and at length with decent sound eleven-years after their initial seismic contributions to free improv. Bailey and Parker weren’t yet at irreconcilable loggerheads but there’s still a galvanizing and palpable tension that suffuses their interplay. Bennink can’t help being anything but Bennink, bashing away one moment and pattering at barely a whisper the next while keeping ears cocked with split-second focus to the contributions his compatriots. Duos combine with solos from Parker sweeten and season an already delicious aural pot.

 Fred Anderson Quartet — Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume V (FPE)

Leftfield guest Toshinori Kondo and drummer Hamid Drake were one half of Peter Brötzmann’s Die Like a Dog outfit when this 1994 concert was committed to tape. That take-no-prisoners context allowed his plangent, frenetic, effects-saturated brass free and ferocious rein. Anderson’s outlets didn’t usually involve electronics and its instructive hearing the adaptations to the roiling controlled-chaos within his customary cerulean-hued improvisations. Drake and bassist Tastu Aoki maintain a stout terrestrial tether enlivened by a revolving array of undulating grooves. Extra points earned for incorporating the original Velvet Lounge wallpaper scheme into the production design. Bottom line: I miss Fred.

 V/A — Hillbillies in Hell: Tribulations: Country Music’s Tormented Testament (1952-1974) (The Omni Recording Corporation)

Amusing alliterative appellation aside, this series has managed the no-meager-feat of avoiding diminishing returns while mining the same expanse of time over successive volumes. The fifth entry tilts the lens even more sharply toward the sort of fervent tent show revival circuit favored by fictional religious reprobates like Rev. Harry Powell and Elmer Gantry and comes up with a bonanza off-kilter cuts from names both famous (Hank Williams, Louvin Bros., Tex Ritter) and arcane (The Burton Family, Durwood Daily, The Sunshine Boys Quartet). Ernest Tubb’s “Saturday Satan, Sunday Saint” persuasively sums up the ecumenical ethos, but every song exudes its share of sinful charms.

  V/A — Sacred Sounds: Dave Hamilton’s Raw Detroit Gospel (Ace)

As a both prolific and preternaturally talented producer, Dave Hamilton’s usual purview was left-of-center soul and funk. Urban (but not urbane) gospel offered a less-publicized commercial side outlet and he brought comparable emphasis on authenticity and creativity to the various acts he championed. This compilation comprises all-killer-no-filler assemblage that lives up to the unvarnished signifier in the title. It’s nearly eighty-minutes of jangly guitars, tambourines, and impassioned sanctifying and proselytizing of all sorts, as suited for Sunday morning as Friday or Saturday night depending on the preferred mood of your personal household. I’ve enjoyed equal fun plying it in both.

 Art Pepper — Promise Kept

Laurie Pepper, like Sue Mingus and other jazz widows before her, remains a passionate arbiter and steward of her late husband’s recorded legacy. The title of this box set collecting a singular tributary of Art Pepper’s later career aspirations could just as easily serve as a signifier of that bond. In truth, it’s reflective of a pact the couple made with producer John Snyder and a string of studio sessions largely left unissued during the Pepper’s lifetime. Rivalries real and imagined are revealed across the recordings as the altoist wrestles with his insecurities and the realities of choices made and paid for as a consequence of his addictions and fictions. Straightforward and vital, the music avoids gestalt in remaining consistently strong and emotionally true.

 Paul Bley/Gary Peacock/Paul Motian — When Will the Blues Leave (ECM)

The prevailing mystery behind this twenty-year-old concert rests on the reason(s) why the fine folks at ECM left it in the can for so long. I don’t have an answer but rather a simple expression of gratitude that they finally decided to rectify the error and get the sounds out into the world. Bley, Peacock and Motian were already three-decades deep in the periodic associations that quietly helped open chamber jazz to free improvisation when they took to the Swiss stage. The ensuing masterful performance manages to feel simultaneously like three old friends shooting the shit and a trio of improvisatory experts operating at peak collective capacity.

 Prince — 1999 (Warner)

Residency in the Twin Cities for the better part of two decades has resulted in many boons, personal and vocational for this writer. As with any life lived, the red side of the ledger has entries, too. Folded among them is the frictional, frayed listening relationship I harbor with the region’s most famous musical export. Nearly three years after his premature passing Prince is still everywhere and everything here. That perpetual, and perpetually irksome, ubiquity is what makes this five-disc+DVD beyond-exhaustive box so refreshing to my patience-tested purview. It contains lots of impressive material from arguably his most creative and questing period. It also has plenty of songs that feel competent but quotidian by comparison. That blend of bliss and banality is as effective a corrective as I can think of to the cult of purple sainthood that persists around these parts.  

 And as is my habitual wont, 25 more in no hierarchical order… thank you for reading and Feliz Año Nuevo!  

Josh Abrams Natural Information Society (Eremite)

Michael Formanek’s Very Practical Trio – Even Better (Intakt)

Charles Gayle/John Edwards/Mark Sanders – Seasons Changing (Otokroku)

Dudu Pukwana/Han Bennink/Misha Mengelberg – Yi Yole (ICP/Corbett vs. Dempsey)

Nat King Cole – Hittin’ the Ramp: The Early Years (1936-1945) (Resonance)

Willem Breuker & Han Bennink – New Acoustic Swing Duo (ICP/Corbett vs. Dempsey)

Whit Dickey & Kirk Knuffke – Drone Dream (No Business)

Mark Turner & Gary Foster – Mark Turner Meets Gary Foster (Capri)

J.C. Heard & Bill Perkins Quintet – Live at the Lighthouse 1964 (Fresh Sound)

Stan Getz – Getz at the Gate: November 26, 1961 (Verve)

Rita Moss - Queen Moss 1951-1959 (Fresh Sound)

Bill Frisell & Thomas Morgan – Epistrophy (ECM)

Marion Brown & Dave Burrell – Live at the Black Musicians’ Conference, 1981 (No Business)

Jon Irabagon – Invisible Horizon (Irrabagast)

Tom Rainey Trio – Combobulated (Intakt)

Joe Lovano & Enrico Rava Quintet – Roma (ECM)

Tomeka Reid Quartet – Old New (Cuneiform)

Johnny Griffin & Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis – Ow: Live at the Penthouse (Reel to Reel)

Takahashi Miyasaka – Animals Garden (Kojima/BBE)

Tiger Trio (Joelle Leandre/Myra Melford/Nicole Mitchell) – Map of Liberation (Rogue Art)

V/A – Jambu: E Os Miticos Sons da Amazonia (Analog Africa)

V/A – Put the Whole Armour On: Female Black Gospel 1940s/1950s (Gospel Friend)

V/A –Alefa Madagascar: Salegy, Soukous, & Soul from the Red Island (Strut)

Horace Tapscott with the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra and the Great Voice of UGMAA - Why Don’t You Listen? Live at LACMA 1998 (Dark Tree)

DREAMDECAY — YÚ (Iron Lung) 

YÚ LP (LUNGS-085) by DREAMDECAY

Who recommended it?  Tobias Carroll

Did we review it?  No  

Ian Mathers’ take:

When this record first comes brawling and blaring out of the gate with the title track, it immediately brought to mind a couple of certified Dusted Approved Acts; namely, it sounds a bit like a hybrid of the rougher ends of Liars’ and Protomartyr’s discography. What ultimately makes YÚ such a strong (and distinctive) record on its own merits, though, is the band’s ability and willingness to work in different registers while still maintaining the same deadpan, noisy pulse, whether that’s the squalling “BASS JAM” or the eerie tones of “WITNESS/ALLOW.” The result is that the really relentless moments (like most of “JOY”) hit even harder, and in a tight 34-minute package the listener gets a precisely balanced and always compelling album that never loses its sense of either menace or triumph, as on the unexpectedly epic post-punk odyssey of “IAN.”

   Kleistwahr — Music for Zeitgeist Fighters (Nashazphone)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Pv8pAKXXkA

Who recommended it: Joseph Burnett

Did we review it? Nope  

Eric McDowell’s take:

While it’s tempting — and entirely possible — to read Gary Mundy’s latest Kleistwahr project, Music for Zeitgeist Fighters, in light of its title as a soundtrack for the times, there’s also something otherworldly about these two side-long soundscapes. With its beautifully blinding tones and blistering textures, “Music for Dead Dreams” captures just the potent blend of pain and pleasure, gloom and hope that Dante witnessed on his journey through Purgatorio. Somewhere deep under the redemptive electronic roar a human voice lies buried, as tortured as it is awed. Bursting with cosmic paradox, the music seems on the one hand to speed ahead with the sensation of surfaces stripped away by immersive friction; on the other, it gives the listener that panned-back feeling of unutterable smallness, of being dwarfed by the infinite.  

“Music for Fucked Films” sends us back down to earth, if not quite to reality. Where side one’s propulsive energy comes in part from its unwavering trajectory, side two is a more uncertain (and more distressing) affair. While like its counterpart the piece begins by building slowly, with a dull mass of vocals cut with electric guitar, abrupt shifts and directionless fragments — pooling organ, tinkling piano, oscillating sirens — breed tension and doubt. But we’re talking about “Fucked Films,” not Hollywood. Nor is Hollywood what we need right now. 

Tift Merritt — Stitch of the World (Yep Roc) 

Who recommended it: Justin Cober-Lake

Did we review it?  No  

Ben Donnelly’s take:

Fifteen years in doesn't tend to be an auspicious time in songwriting careers. It often falls in the sour spot between the charms of breaking through and coming around again to provide veteran respect. With this batch of songs, Merritt, who emerged in the turn of the century No Depression country peak, does a lot more than plug away. For one thing, her singing voice on Stitch of the World has more of a warble than before, breathy yet more controlled, and it seems like she's expanded into register that's slightly higher than before. Her singing takes on a Dolly-like focus, clear and emotionally controlled. Something similar develops with her writer's voice as well. The ballads "Heartache Is an Uphill Climb" and “Something Came Over Me" feel like they've been around forever, with refrains that get to the heart of the matter and verses that leave enough imaginative space that one can sense them being covered in the future. The honky-tonk rockers are just as natural. "Proclamation Bones" shuffles along with whining slide guitar and chunky telecaster rhythms, capturing the rough melancholy of Exile-era Stones. And opener "Dusty Old Man" is the rare country song where the drumming is the lead. Stitch of the World captures a lifer presenting her best work yet, making the endurance look effortless. 

Anthony Pasquarosa — Abbandonato Da Dio Nazione (VDSQ) 

Who recommended it: Bill Meyer

Did we review it? Yes, Bill, who slipped it into the last Dust, called out “acoustic guitar figures that sound like they flew away from his 12 strings and up the walls of a canyon before they banked back and into your ears.”   

Justin Cober-Lake’s take:

Guitarist Anthony Pasquarosa goes for a period piece with Abbandonato Da Dio Nazione. His godforsaken country lies partly in history and partly in myth, coming as much from Spaghetti Westerns as from the actual late19th century western lore (as if we can tell those apart anyway). Pasquarosa primarily focused on his solo guitar work here, so the disc is far more in line with his primitive work than his punk influences, but is primarily driven by world-shaping. If the early recognition of his experiment (aided by gunshots and hoofbeats) yields a smile, the growing structures and intricate picking lead to deeper reflection. The questing “What Makes a Man” moves out of showdown territory, but it's the lakeside picnic before the black hats come back with reinforcements. As a film genre exercise, the album holds up on its own; I'd watch this movie today. But it's exceptional in its musical qualities, both in structure and performance, and something far more than the novelty that its concept might suggest. Maybe most important, it's just plain fun.

 Pharmakon — Contact (Sacred Bones)

Who recommended it: Olivia Bradley-Skill

Did we review it?  Yes, Joseph Burnett called Ms. Chardiet “one of the most exciting noise artists currently pouring molten lead into the world’s blackened ears” in his review.  

Mason Jones’ take:

At six songs and just 32 minutes, Contact is wisely kept at a manageable length, as Margaret Chardiet's latest missive is too intense for it to go any longer. The cover photo, showing hands grasping at a sweaty face and head as if they can't get enough, is the perfect representation of the album title and leads directly to "Nakedness of Need,” the first track. Slow, heavy tones and ominous thuds evolve into distorted, buzzing fields of anxiety as shrieks and ululations can't help but bring to mind early Diamanda Galas. Quieter, uneasy listening dwells in other songs, particularly the aptly-titled "Somatic,” a queasy interplay of tones that won't put you to sleep but may give you waking nightmares. Chanted vocals and pulsing electronics throughout the album make it feel like a blend of Master/Slave Relationship and SPK, among other early experimental forebears, but this is no retread of any sort. The fuzzy, pulsating sonics are like a modernized SPK, but it's Chardiet's tense vocals that are the core of Pharmakon's emotional power. That said, putting this album on requires a commitment, as that emotional output is aimed at the listener and you'll need to be ready to absorb it. While Pharmakon's previous album Bestial Burden had its share of powerful moments, Contact goes for the jugular more forcefully. At this rate listening to the next album will simply cause spontaneous combustion of the listener. Looking forward to it.

Stephen Riley & Peter Zak — Deuce (Steeplechase) 

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek did, observing that “(T)heir partnership is every bit as deserving of close consideration alongside the classic tandem associations in jazz.”  

Bill Meyer’s take:

Given that its title openly celebrates duality, it’s worth considering where this record fits on the spectrum bounded at one end by Matthew Shipp’s dictum that jazz is a verb and the other by the proclamation that jazz is dead. Saxophonist Stephen Riley and pianist Peter Zak aren’t pushing the boundaries that Shipp has, but there’s certainly nothing dead about their relaxed but entirely engaged explorations of material rooted in the aesthetics of the middle of the 20th century. Lightly blue-shaded but steeped more in love than melancholy, this music isn’t changing anyone’s life but it’s easy to enjoy. 

Shadow Band — Wilderness of Love (Mexican Summer) 

Wilderness Of Love by Shadow Band

Who recommended it? Ben Donnelly

Did we review it?  No  

Ian Mathers’ take:

From the gentle opening to “Green Riverside” on, it seems pretty clear what Shadow Band are up to, a type of folk-adjacent music that’s equal parts lysergic and medieval. Sure enough, much of Wilderness of Love succeeds on precisely those terms, with the likes of “Shadowland” and “Morning Star” presenting fine examples of the kind of work that’s akin to everyone from Espers to the Blue Rodeo/Sadies/Eric’s Trip side project The Unintended. Much of this record is successful in conjuring up a potent mood, which is maybe the most important concern. And between all the interesting instrumentation and stylistic choices scattered around the edges, that’s enough to make Wilderness of Love stand out, whether that’s giving a bit of Velvet Underground bite to the otherwise trad seeming “Mad John,” constructing “In the Shade” seemingly mostly out of room tone and drums that seem mic’d to capture mostly echo, or just doubling down on the sleek menace of the atypically long “Darksiders’ Blues.” 

Slowdive — Slowdive (Dead Oceans) 

Who recommended it? Ian Mathers

Did we review it? Ian's take went up earlier today, saying that "maybe more than ever before the band is concerned with manufacturing the purest, highest grade rush they can". 

Tobias Carroll’s take: