JuJu - 'A Message From Mozambique' (Black Fire)

And that message is, loud and clear, 'we are teeming with life and energy'. Except JuJu aren't from Mozambique, they're from Richmond, VA and some form of this band still exists today, still based around saxophonist Plunky Nkabinde. 1972 was a great era for merging free jazz and African nationalism, or perhaps I should say continentalism; the iconography is made clearly visible on the cover and clearly audible throughout the heavily percussive LP of searing jazzjams under review here. If one didn't know better, this photo could pass as the bizarro Art Ensemble of Chicago (from around this same era), but the music is much more built around flow than space, showing that facepaint alone does not indicate sound. Compositionally, A Message From Mozambique is spread across the whole band, and the six cuts here have distinct personalities. Nkabinde's '(Struggle) Home' opens up with 16 minutes of rapid, toe-tapping melodic jamming, creating the sound that I remember the most about this record. It's driving, with two percussionists and fast, thunderous piano runs from Al-Hammel Rasul and much soloing from Nkabinde; free, yes, but the dissonance fits within a widely defined space and the overall motion is harmonic and energy-producing. Rasul's beautiful 'Soledad Brothers' would seem to pull things down a notch, except this open piano framework allows vibes and smaller percussive elements to run amuck between the chords. It's rising and falling cadences are beautiful and propelling, wrapping up the nervous energy into the centre of the soundstage and harnessing the group power in a quieter, more focused form. It's my favourite cut on the record and a tragedy that it's only five minutes long. A more 'traditional' group jam comes with the wonderfully titled 'Make Your Own Revolution Now', which feels most at home against the ESP/skronk scene of the preceding few years. The drums and piano tend to dominate here, but when Nkabinde and flautist Lon Moshe come in, they make their presence felt through fast, dynamic exaltations. The remainder of side two pulls away from western jazz entirely, being drum/percussion workouts that are sometimes deceptively minimal-seeming ('Freedom Fighter') or more explicitly exploring the influences of indigenous music (the traditional 'Nairobi/Chants' which does involve some spirited vocalisations). JuJu's success is in synthesising these genres in such a palatable way - certainly we've heard it before in ways more impressionistic (the aforementioned Art Ensemble, or the work of Don Garrett) or more futurist (later Ornette Coleman), but this is an Afro-jazz record that is remarkably fun and I daresay even 'accessible', at least for a free jazz entry. That JuJu and Nkabinde never became household names, nor even enshrined in the same canon as other figures from this time (Archie Shepp, Frank Wright, etc.) may be due to this balance being slightly more 'fun' that one would expect; yet both the playing and compositional sense are as strong as anything else from the era.

Andrew Hill - 'Point of Departure' (Blue Note)

The lineup shifts slightly here for this, the third Andrew Hill album of 1964 - the vibes are gone, but we add two saxes and a trumpet, and a young Anthony Williams replacing Elvin Jones on drums. That substitution is felt immediately, for his touch is a bit lighter, and the album starts with 'Refuge', which gives lots of space for Hill and Richard Davis and leaves the brass instruments silent for long stretches. It's Eric Dolphy on alto (and later bass clarinet) and his playing throughout this record is fairly crisp, angular at times, and even a bit sneaky. Again, I'm impressed with Hill's approach to harmony, as he throws some chords in underneath the saxes that must be diminished or 7ths or 9ths or something, cause they seem to question the direction of the piece as a whole. Davis is great because he knows what to do with this – when to play with Hill and when to play against him. To make a bad analogy to football, Hill is like a brilliant midfielder, occupying the centre of the recording and controlling the flow, moving ideas between the rhythm section (defenders) and the brass (the forwards). There aren't many places where Kenny Dorham, Dolphy and Joe Henderson are all playing together, but when they do it's from a place of balance. What's impressive is how much this tries to extend the melodic, formal language of jazz without resorting to a total breakdown of structure. 'New Monastery', for example, actually swings, but while Dorham is declaring a melodic statement, Hill is colouring each rising trumpet burst with cluster of moody piano chords, which has an effect that is thought-inducing without being disconcerting. There's no reason not to occasionally let the groove carry a few phrases, or to have a solo here or there - but this is forward-thinking jazz, of course, a new avant-garde which seems to have been largely overlooked and one that's lovely because it doesn't need to make such a point of this. Dolphy is a nice presence here but it's not like he steals the album, apart from maybe some of the soloing on side two, and Joe Henderson has a really nice interplay with Dorham, especially on the last cut ('Dedication', which takes a somewhat more somber tone). There's a lot more out there, as his Blue Note career spanned the 60s; also I'm curious to know how his art developed further, and particularly how he may have sustained himself into the 80s and other periods where being a composer's jazz composer wasn't necessarily the easiest path financially. But sadly these are the only two records in the accumulation so once again we have to move on.

Jowe Head - 'Pincer Movement' (Hedonics)

That's an aesthetic I like - a strange cover, strange title, and contents that are definitely rock music but, well... strange. But it's fun! I know Head more from Swell Maps than Television Personalities, and that makes this feel rather contiguous since these songs are murky, deconstructed and generally kinda fucked up. Plus, it opens with 'Cake Shop Girl' which is also on Jane From Occupied Europe and actually on Head's second solo LP a few years later, too. I guess he really liked that song. I do too - it's fast, nervous, and cryptic while being sort of catchy at the same time. Pincer Movement's 'Loco Train' could also be a Swell Maps song, and maybe it is - I find all those Maps compilations confusing and their entire discography beyond the two proper albums is just a blur to me. Anyway, there are only a few full-fledged 'songs' on Pincer, with a lot of little ten second interstitials tying them together.  And some are just loose structures to jam over, though it's a Swell Maps style of jamming - not guitar solos or melodic improvisations, but textural jamming, if that makes any sense. 'Quatermass and the Pulpit' is a great example of that - a looping beat, with vocals chanting 'Kyrie elision!' and percussion sounds get freaky (both acoustic and electronic), various other treated instruments whirl and jigjag, and the whole piece turns into a psychedelic gel. It could easily keep my attention for 20 minutes, yet it ends after 5 (which is a classic showmanship manoeuvre).  There's a theme set by the titular pincers - songs about sea life, crustaceans, and mermaids abound. 'Mermaid', for example, is a dubby number occasionally erupting into layered shrieks, with all manners of odd keyboards, wind instruments and other affected experiments overtop of the pulsebeat. 'Wimoweh' is a cover of 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' and it's a mad descent into layered tones and insanity. 'Crawfish' appears on both sides, first the 'Son of' and then the full version, and it's probably the album's most memorable track, herky-jerky and bold. Things get borderline goofy - 'Glass Animal Colony' seems to privilege the vocal hysterics over the textures - but everything is moved through quickly, which leaves me wanting more. By golly, Pincer Movement is great, a document of an unapologetically experimental time for art-rock in the UK (1981) and one that holds up well especially against the never-ending revivals of post-punk mannerisms. The band members all have great pseudonyms such as 'Phones Sportsman' and 'Prince Empire' -- plus, 'Crawfish' is technically an Elvis cover. And this can be yours for a relatively inexpensive price - for some reason this record has never become that collectible.

Dead Kennedys - 'Plastic Surgery Disasters' (Alternative Tentatcles/Faulty Products)

Plastic Surgery Disasters, with it's Michael Wells cover, for some reason actually horrifies me. I'm fine with other great gross-out covers, including the original Big Black Headache, but something about this really upsets me. But the music? Well, it's underrated, at least by me. I always forget how good Plastic Surgery Disasters is, as it's overshadowed by the fresh fruit of Fresh Fruit and the cohesive controversy of Frankenchrist. Middle DKs is, well, confident. The surf-lick guitars are moving slightly more in the heavy metal direction (listen to 'Bleed for Me' if you don't believe it), and the hardcore thrash edges of the In God We Trust EP are toned down (though the production/mastering not much better). Jello's voice has never sounded more waddly-good, and the opening cut, 'Government Flu' is majestic. By this point he's mastered the ability to ratchet up the hysteria, and it saves otherwise mediocre songs like 'I am the Owl'. Some of the vitriol might be misplaced - 'Terminal Preppie' feels more like material Descendents should be covering, and 'Trust Your Mechanic'/'Well-Paid Scientist' are back-to-back assaults on expertise. I almost want to accuse Dead Kennedys of subtlety here, as 'Moon Over Marin' is more poetic than an environmentalist rant should be. It's also one of the best cuts of the DKs career, with an anthemic guitar line that belies the sarcasm everything else is rooted in. This LP is either played to death or again mastered badly, but do I really want a Dead Kennedys record to sound like a booming arena-rock masterpiece? Let the buzz and distortion wash over everything like a, well, 'Buzzbomb'.

John Davis - 'Blue Mountains' (Shrimper)

I usually try to post an image that actually looks like my copy, but in this case I'm lazy so I'm just using the only one I could find, which is the CD cover I guess.  The only difference is that instead of the title appearing left of the flower picture, it is split to be above and below.  So, imagine.  And then imagine a world where the effeminate open-folk stylings of John Davis are given a more solid indie-rock backbone, but enough to (mostly) maintain the spacious fragility of his songwriting.  Side 1 has two hit singles, or they would-be if anyone ever heard them - 'Jeep Cherokee' and 'I'll Burn'.  I should probably add that in addition to the general public having to hear these, they would have to really welcome a change in popular tastes to be proper "hits". But I find them catchy as hell; toe-tapping, too.  In between you get 'I Took Flight' which is about as beautiful and lyrical as anything I've ever heard from Davis.  'Sadness, well I knew ye...' and that's a lovely couplet;; but then, the aforementioned 'I'll Burn' which is (possibly) about Davis being thrust into a deep-fryer!  Blue Mountains is such an excellent fucking record that it brings a smile to my face every time I hear it.  It's a mixture of the studio stuff, recorded with Shrimper producer-god Bob Durkee, and some home recordings which resemble the fragile freakpulse of Pure Night.  There's nothing on these besides guitar or maybe organ ('Tethers' ends side 1 in a beautiful malestrom of darkness).  Flipping the record over we get more of a studio side, with some really singsong jams - 'The Way You Touch Me Makes Me Laugh' and the really underreated 'Ready', which reminds me of Warn Defever's songwriting for His Name is Alive from around the same era.  I'm not sure if John Davis was making a stab at commercial success here, though the hit Folk Implosion song that predated this may have had some influence.  Despite the more regular rhythm and hi-fi production, it still feels really homemade and honest.  His lispy vocals are rather uncompromising, though that word usually means an extreme/aggressive aesthetic and here, they're just, please forgive me, really wimpy. But my gosh, I love Blue Mountains, and Davis has been silent ever since which truly, truly saddens me.  You can't help but love a record with a song called 'I Freaked Out Like a Big Truck', and of course I have a major major soft spot for the whole Shrimper/Inland empire/bi-fi scene (though Davis is a New Englander as this title indicates).  This scene (which also includes Refrigerator, Simon Joyner, and the Mountain Goats, all of whom I love and will get to eventually) strikes a perfect balance and came at the right time; clearly people making amateurish-yet-sophisticated, romantic-yet-contemporary songs in their bedroom is still prevalent, and the democratising of this all these days, via myspace and the death of the music industry etc -- make the bi-fi scene  even more awesome to me, because it was happening in the mid-late 90s..  I think what did it for me (besides the fact this music hit me when I was aged 16-20, which was perfect formative timing) is the way these artists also took over the means of production.  Dennis Callaci dubbing tapes for Shrimper is a zillion times more inspiring to me than uploading tracks to Soundcloud.  Maybe this self-created scene seems better to me because it wasn't so easy; the Internet wasn't used, or maybe only in the most infant form; I realise this shouldn't make the music itself inherently better, but I'm just trying to figure out my own biases, I guess.

Ornette Coleman - 'Town Hall 1962' (ESP/Base)

Though the Coleman/Cherry/Haden/Higgins 4tet is the one that made Ornette famous, this next trio with David Izenzohn and Charles Moffet is a far more remarkable group, in my opinion. Actually, I think this is one of the most "underrated" bands of all time, perhaps because Izenzohn and Moffet were less famous that Cherry/Haden (both before and after) their work with Coleman. Or maybe I just have weird taste. Anyway, Town Hall 1962 showcases this trio and also two compositions for string quartet. This is the sixth release on ESP disk which means it didn't hit vinyl until a few years after the concert happened. It's a weird split release, with 'Doughnut' and 'The Ark' showcasing the trio, 'Sadness' being the string quartet + Ornette, and 'Dedication to Poets and Writers' being the quartet alone, though composed by Coleman. This makes the whole thing feel a bit disjointed and ambitious, like Ornette was trying to stuff all of his interests into one concert/record. The trio work is bright and sassy, though the recording is very much a live concert hall feel. Both cuts are drenched in natural reverb; the sharp sonorities of the sax cut through which leave Izenzohn and Moffet a bit underrepresented, but if you listen for them it's pretty rewarding. The side-long 'Ark' moves through a variety of shiny textures and bold motifs; it gets chaotic and ellipical at points, and there's one passage where it sounds like someone whistling but I think it's just Izenzohn bowing his strings to generate harmonics. There's a lot more bowing in his approach to bass playing (as compared to late-50's Haden) which might be another reason I enjoy this band so much. It's a very open sound, and somehow busier than the quartet recordings I just listened to. Now, the string quartet pieces are both beautiful and severe. 'Sadness' is aptly named - a somber, mournful integration of saxophone and strings, which doesn't so much cry as brood. 'Dedication' is lengthy but fluid - rooted in minor keys, constantly ascending and descending - it is far more contrapuntal than other Ornette classical-influenced compositions I've heard, though I guess that would only be Skies of America, which I haven't heard in ages (though I remember fondly). 'Dedication''s busyness comes as a sharp contrast when paired with 'Sadness'; I like the more minimal approach to string pieces, but the many glissandos and runs of 'Dedication' allow it to attain a thunderous, psychedelic quality. Town Hall 1962 is never a record I hear anyone talk about, despite it's place as an early ESP side, as I guess the neoclassicism puts it slightly out of step with the thunder of New York Eye and Ear Control, Spiritual Unity, etc., but I think there's a lot of joy (and 'Sadness') to extract from it.

Bugskull - 'Distracted Snowflake Volume One' (Pop Secret/Darla)

I think this is probably Bugskull's finest moment. It's not quite as messy (sonically) as the last few albums, but boasts a pop confidence not heard ever before. There's a more emphatic approach to the instrumental work as well, as the opening track 'Icecream Daydream' sets the stage, sounding like a looser Yo La Tengo circa Painful. The electronica aspects are much more personal than before; field recordings, affected keyboards and weird synth sequences create songs that are some of the most mystically odd electronic music I've ever heard. 'Goodbye' is like a bizarro Boards of Canada track, every bit as detailed and perfectionist. But it's also got the most song-based side of Bügsküll that we've heard to date. 'Grand Canyon' is a straight-up folk song, somewhat improvised lyrically, with the sound of wind (perhaps recorded at the Canyon itself?) that is deceptively simple; it's nuanced and honest, and a far cry from Crock's soup-maelstrom. And 'Winky's Wild Ride (The Quest)' is the best Bügsküll song ever - with probably the most forward vocal part, and also some magically ascending toneclouds - it's the essence of the sublime. The closer, 'Sun', starts like Charlemagne Palestine on a hot air balloon - warm to the touch, and occasionally flaring up before plateauing into a sophisticated mid-level psych workout. The percussion is Eastern-tinged hand drumming, a nice complement to the hard electro-beats that pepper the other parts of the record. The recording quality is stunning, letting the instruments breathe and find their own space -- but it could also be that over the years, Mr. Byrne has upgraded his equipment somewhat. The liner notes contain a silly/nonsensical story about a garden gnome that I could live without, but it sets a mood I guess, and the album more than delivers. All of these Bugskull records offer something to enjoy, but this one seems to take every aspect of what he does and do it better than the rest.

Tim Buckley - 'Happy Sad' (Elektra)

This is overall my fave Tim Buckley record. It's the transitional one, where he's arcing up towards the stratosphere, knees tensed slightly. Or maybe he just heard Astral Weeks and said 'I gotta get some of that." "That" being the sound of pure liquidity; a record of ebbs and flows that bursts free with joyous character and somehow looks ahead to the even more out-there futurism of Lorca, Starsailor and the funky stuff. If you don't believe me, listen to the urban bongo grooves of 'Gypsy Woman', which dominates side B with its dark voodoo. It's partially due to the band really finding its voice, with Lee Underwood's lead guitar going apeshit here and on other tracks; not really being familiar with the in-between album, Goodbye and Hello, I'm not so sure how gradual this change was. It's pure jazz and Buckley lets his voice take a backseat at times, but knows when to let it rip. 'Gypsy Woman cast a spell on me / no mama don't you lie...' rips out like Robert Plant's 'Whole Lotta Love' bullshit, but this anticipates it, and this band rips the head off anything Zep ever did. (Though, can I name a single member of Buckley's backing band without looking at the liner notes? Can anyone?) But 'Gypsy Woman's histrionics belies the true beauty of this record, which is in the gentle rumbling grooves of the calm tracks. And let's not forget to mention David Friedman's vibes, which utterly transform a song like 'Buzzin' Fly' into a transcendent gem. Love is in the air and it's simple but with a biting undercurrent. 'Strange Feelin'' nails this, and it's a hell of a one-two punch with 'Fly', possibly being the greatest one-two punch in the history of rock music where both songs contain trailing apostrophes. 'Love From Room 109' is the difficult beast, which takes on the extended form in a moody workout, recalling the other epic folk jams of its day ('Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands' and that song on the first Neil album come to mind) but with a somewhat more watery presence. Maybe this stuff influenced shit like Dave Matthews Band but to my ears it's a magical blend, where everything is just right. There's more contemplative photos of Buckley on the sleeve for the teenyboppers to stare at, though I'd like to know how this went over with the pop kids. While some tracks are certainly accessible, like the straight-up folk beauty of 'Sing a Song for You', this sounds like a band that realises it has no limits. They make not take full advantage of this freedom quite yet, but it's on the horizon.