Bert Jansch - 'It Don't Bother Me' (Transatlantic)

One of Glasgow's finest exports (better than Tennent's), Jansch's second album is a classic example of 60s folk, delivered in a straightforward fashion and with adorably awkward liner notes. ("In this song the meaning is maybe too deep for me to describe.") His fingerpicking is stunning as always and if he's trying to create the Bohemian image of a sexy late 60s folk star, he's done a great job. Beyond the cover photo, the essence of cool, Jansch isn't afraid to flex his vocal chops (on 'My Lover', he essentially delegates the guitar shredding to Renbourn and spends his energy crooning) and to emote with a genuine honesty. The title track is a great one, where he also draws on the phrasing and adds a level of honesty to lyrics would could come off as escapist or snotty if sung by someone else; here, it feels like a statement of purpose and a worthy claim to the album title. The liner notes offer 'no comment' on 'Anti Apartheid', I guess letting the song speak for itself; 'To separate the colours and break the rainbow sign / To ask the finest painter to draw a crooked line / would only slow the journey to here another time' is a beautiful lyric, one that can be completely removed from the context of political protest, and tick the box for social consciousness, even though being against apartheid wasn't exactly a gutsy position to take. Renbourn appears again on 'Lucky Thirteen', also writing it, and the ending rendition of '900 Miles' is done on a scratchy banjo, the tonality of which works beautifully with his voice. There's no presence of rock music's influence here, at least not that I can tell, though maybe I'm not great at separating folk scene 'tude from rocker style. It's not until Pentangle that Jansch really experiments with genre-melting and that's a long ways away, alphabetically. In the meantime we got a glut of these to get through, and while all are enjoyable, it's going to be tough to keep writing something unique about each one.

Ornette Coleman - 'The Shape of Jazz to Come' (Atlantic)

The sleeve boasts of a full dynamic-frequency spectrum, and it's true that this erupts in blistering mono, on the great Atlantic Recording Corporation of 1841 Broadway NYC, and you know, The Shape of Jazz to Come isn't a completely inaccurate title! Wanky wannabe-Stanley Crouches can argue til blue in the face about what was the first "free jazz" record, throwing up this one vs Cecil's first, as if it really matters who came before whom. (I'd put my money on Lennie Tristano anyway, if I cared about this debate). To my ears, The Shape of Jazz to Come sounds a lot less like Ascension than you might think, given its reputation. In fact, it starts out sneaky, with 'Lonely Woman' staking out a mellow, creeping blues that is radical only in its loss of centre. Donald Cherry is the cornetist and he's given pretty much equal time with Coleman's alto; there's not much low end apart from Charlie Haden so the whole record has a light lift to it. Cherry's technique is impeccable if not yet the original world-pulse freakbeat he would cultivate 12-15 years later. But the real "crazyness" begins on track 2, 'Eventually', which I would imagine at the time just sounded like two endless solos on top of each other. What glues it all together is Haden and Billy Higgins; while now we might see this rhythm section as holding things back from complete collective improvisation, I appreciate the grounding. I mean, there are riffs throughout, distinct chordal patterns composed by Coleman and adhered to despite the openness. 'Chronology', the closing cut, is certainly related to the hard bop at the time, though more exploratory and bright. In a jazz fantasy, Sonny Rollins could step right in here, and I wish he did at points because a fifth member could push things into a really high gear. 'Focus on Sanity' (a great title particularly when sandwiched between 'Peace' and 'Congeniality') is maybe the most discordant, but in some ways it feels reductive to only view this record by placing it in some quantifiable measure of innovation. Of course, with a bold title like that, I guess you're asking for it. One of the reasons this is a pure pleasure to listen to is the fidelity - I love the way these records sound, a blast from sixty years ago but sounding as true as today. Kudos to Bones Howe for his production techniques, however minimal they might be. Of course the title of this record has become legendary, parodied by Refused in their Shape of Punk to Come (a record that I missed out on but keep intending to go back and discover) and especially by the long-forgotten midwestern avant/punk band, the New Magnificent Cumshots, whose demo cassette The Shape of Jizz To Come (boasting the identical cover to this apart from the word 'jizz' pasted over 'jazz') never actually saw the light of day.

The David Boykin Outet - 'Evidence of Life on Other Planets vol. 1' (Thrill Jockey)

This quintet is actually an outet, and if you are wondering why it's because Boykin is gonna take you to the outer reaches of the stratosphere, man. To prove it, he's thrown on a pair of Zubaz and he's playing his saxophone on a rock, to remind you all of how spiritual and connected-to-nature a jazz saxophonist can be. If he's trying to buy into the whole myth who can blame him? He's in Chicago and there's a hell of a scene there to grow up in. The picture makes him look pretty young and you'd think there wasn't a band since none of them are pictured, but this is very much a group deal. Boykin takes the center a few times for some tenor soloing but lots of the tunage is shared, particularly with the flautist, Nicole Mitchell. There's no point where this thing erupts - it's more concerned with constructing an atmosphere, one of spacey flowing melodic interplay. The tones hover around like a spaceship, with the drummer relegated to atmospheric percussion for most of side 1. 'Astro Lilly' does remind me of something off late 50's Sun Ra, only maybe better recorded. It's gotta be an influence, I guess, with the space imagery, and John Gilmore worship -- but I can't help but feel this is more of a chill out, down in the dirt, salt of the earth kinda record instead. Each track ends with such lackluster applause I'm amazed they kept it on the record -- it's like most of the audience was out in the lobby or something. I jest; there's no reason to rag on the David Boykin Outet, for their only sin is really being too rooted in the post-skronk anti-tradition, and that's no crime if you ask me. There's a lot of nuanced playing and the final track, 'Hypnotic', may not quite live up to its name but it's at least catchy, painting images of smoky air, wooden floors and brown trousers. There's a lot of vocalising but it's recorded sorta weirdly, so it's easy to tune out, though I like it. It's been twelve years since this was recorded and I haven't heard anything about Mr. Boykin so who knows where he is now. It's kinda weird this is on Thrill Jockey - almost like they owed someone a favour or something? I mean, the design/layout of the sleeve is practically shocking compared to the aesthetic they usually push and you think they were putting out Jim Shepard records around the same time as this ... what a funny world we live in. I remember this guy came to town once but it was a solo sax show so I skipped it.

Gato Barbieri - 'In Search of the Mystery' (Get Back)

This is an ESP classic from '67 that Get Back lovingly reissued on 'HQ 180 GRAM PURE VIRGIN VINYL' and it sounds great. Barbieri's deep, sexy sax tone resonates with that wide vibrato throughout. It's almost as wide as Ayler's yet it's modulated totally differently. Where you get a guttural energy from Albert, Gato kicks it out no less emotional, yet with totally different emotions. It's hard for me to look at this cover picture and not see something crafty in Gato's expression. So whenever I listen to this, I can't help but think that he'd be the wrong saxophonist to leave your girlfriend with alone, let's say you're at a party together and they're chatting by the keg. I'm sure he's a standup guy in real life but 'In Search of the Mystery' is free jazz's seduction music. The whole of side 1 really burns slowly, like a flickering candle that won't go out. Sirone is on bass (I love his work with the Revolutionary Ensemble); here, he's joined by Calo Scott's cello and there's times when I'm not sure who's doing what. You'd think there'd be some great interplay between the two, and while there are moments (mostly occuring on the second side), they really play second (and third) fiddle to Gato's deep reeds. It's the B-side, with 'Obsession no. 2' and 'Cinematque' that gestures towards more dissonant, grating Braxtonisms (though not too much - there's still something politely accessible about it all). I don't know if he found the mystery but I always want to listen to this in the late hours of the evening. A chillout/comedown record? But fiery as well, just not abrasive in the slightest. Barbieri's later Latin experiments scare me away but he forever gets a pass from me for Escalator Over the Hill and Liberation Music Orchestra, so he kept the right company.

American Analog Set - 'Promise of Love' (Tiger Style)

Source: Paul's, bought new when it came out.

After The Golden Band, the American Analog Set changed labels and direction a bit with 2001's Know By Heart. That's a more sing-song approach, with Andrew Kenny emerging as a frontman (whereas one would have to be a true nerd to pick him out from their previous records). Promise of Love maybe turns and looks backward a bit, as there's some long, drawn-out jamming at the ends of songs like 'Come Home Baby Julie, Come Home' (which is just totally fucking ace, by the way), and the thick organ swells that hearken back to The Fun of Watching Fireworks. Though 'Fool Around' has just the slightest rockstar attitude in Kenny's singing; close your eyes and imagine it's Huey Lewis. The title track is as close as AmAnSet ever get to writing a punk rock stomper, though it's still gentle (but not fey); hey guys, maybe listen to '12XU' a few times before trying this again? The last song, 'Modern Drumming' ends with a 'Health and Efficiency'-style demo tape of the opening track. Maybe one of the reasons I love this band is that they play their instruments like robots but they're still full of feeling. The cover cops out on the LP format by concentrating the nice two-layer print-job in the center at the same size it is on the CD, with craploads of "padding" (as it's called in CSS) - the photo on this post is the CD version but it's close enough that I'm not gonna bother scanning. I never bought their last album but I've been digging Kenny's stripped-down, all-songs-sound-the-same Wooden Birds album.

American Analog Set - 'The Golden Band' (Emperor Jones)

Source: Bought at Paul's, new, when it came out.

You'll find lots of love for the American Analog Set at Dislocated Underbite Spinal Alphabetised Encourager Templates - without apology, without shame, these are records we keep going back to: pop music of the highest class. And this may be their finest statement, a midpoint of their career, shifting from shut-in navel-pickers to the more lyric-oriented later records. Lyrically we're dealing with cities, cultures, and a context long-gone from my life but I still connect with the moody buzzing keyboards and basslines of the 'New Drifters' suite or the subtle but essential handclaps in 'The Wait'. After a million listens these songs still sound like the familiar new. 'The Golden Band' is heavy breathing and household appliances; 'A Good Friend is Always Around' equals fallen leaves crunching underfoot. It ends with 'Will the Real Danny Radnor Please Stand?', which steps along with a maudlin elegance, perhaps the eulogy for my own adolescence. A treasure.