The most ambitious and productive Voigt ambient alias (over the likes of All, Mint, and Tal), Gas took on slightly different shades throughout the years, though we are definitely not dealing with a Primal Scream-like volte-face from release to release. From Gas through Königsforst, there is a gradual decline in harshness, but the finale Pop is the starkest overall. No track, ranging from five to 15 minutes in length across the series, was given a title, and the primary distinguishing factor between them is whether or not a submerged beat, typically in the form of a four-four, is present. The shifts are slight, detectable only through total immersion. It’s not like there is a signature moment amongst the 20 tracks, or the Gas equivalent of a “1/1″ or “An Ending (Ascent),” as with Brian Eno’s ambient releases. The closest to standouts or instantly identifiable moments include the third track of Pop (its nearly subliminal, downcast melody reminiscent of Blade Runner, had Vangelis focused instead on a sewer-level view of Los Angeles’ damp streets), the following track of the same album (for its simultaneously lulling and disquieting chime-like effect), the fifth track of Zauberberg (for its oscillating stomp), and the first track of Königsforst (the most physical production, full of friction, the best candidate for terrifying a paranoia-prone sleeper in the middle of the night).

Fit for zero gravity clubbing, forest sleepwalking, or lucid dreaming, these discs make for the most affecting ambient techno released during the late ’90s and early 2000s. Each album is bound to suck you into its own dreamworld, where lapsed shoegazers and chillout room veterans go to die, within a matter of seconds. The set is appropriately a Kompakt release, not just because the person behind the label and the music is one and the same; practically everyone who has contributed to the label’s annual Pop Ambient series is a Voigt descendant.

Selected Gas tracks
Gas, track 2
Gas, track 5
 
 
 
 

Zauberberg, track 5
Zauberberg, track 6
 
 
 
 

Königsforst, track 2
Königsforst, track 5
 
 
 
 

Pop, track 3
Pop, track 4
 
 
 
 

Some of Voigt’s Pop Ambient appearances
All - “Alltag” (from Pop Ambient 2001)
Mint - “All (Remix)” (from Pop Ambient 2001)
Tal - “Tal ‘90″ (from Pop Ambient 2002)
All - “Alles Fließt Nichts Bleibt” (from Pop Ambient 2002)
All - “Logopedie 99″ (from Pop Ambient 2004)
Gas - “Nach 1912″ (from Pop Ambient 2007)
All - “Sag Alles Ab” (from Pop Ambient 2008)

Of the five albums Shaw recorded for Columbia — all of which were collected in the superb Mosaic box set The Complete CBS Studio Recordings of Woody Shaw — only Rosewood and the burning Stepping Stones: Live at the Village Vanguard have gotten proper CD reissues. The third album, 1979’s Woody III, is a long-out-of-print gem that deserves to be heard. Another large ensemble record similar to Shaw’s previous Columbia albums, the album features his longtime working ensemble of sidemen including tenor saxophonist Carter Jefferson, trombonist Steve Turre, altoist James Spaulding, drummer Victor Lewis, bassist Clint Houston, and pianist Onaje Allan Gumbs, as well as such guests as trombonist Curtis Fuller, pianist George Cables, and others. Interestingly, Woody III is at least partially a concept album with the first three cuts working as a kind of suite about the three generations of Shaw’s family. In fact, rather than just denoting that this was his third album for Columbia, Woody III was actually named after Shaw’s just-born son Woody Louis Armstrong Shaw III. These are swaggering, frenetic, and deeply intelligent performances that find Shaw at the summit of not just his career but his artistic and technical abilities as well.

Shaw went on to record two more albums for Columbia with 1980’s For Sure! and 1981’s United, and though those albums were by no means uncommercial, there seems to be a sense in interviews Shaw gave in later years that from Columbia’s perspective he had either missed the fusion trend — a trend arguably on the decline by the late ’70s that Shaw never quite embraced — or simply was too cerebral for mainstream consumption. Subsequently, Columbia dropped Shaw from the label.

In a darkly ironic twist, the year Shaw left Columbia, they signed a then largely unknown 19-year-old New Orleans trumpet prodigy and (like Shaw) former Jazz Messenger named Wynton Marsalis, who would not only go on to bring Columbia some of its biggest jazz sellers but his own well-documented disagreements with the aforementioned Mr. Davis. Which isn’t to take anything away from Marsalis’ achievements either artistically or commercially, as he was a true phenomenon and devotee of Shaw’s in his own right.

Although Shaw would continue to record for various labels up until his tragic death in 1989, he never quite achieved the commercial success he deserved. Nonetheless, he is remembered as a titan of jazz. While all of Shaw’s albums should be readily available, the very personal aspects of Woody III — and the searching, free flowing improvisations captured therein — make it an especially unique document deserving of reissue.

Listen to “Escape Velocity,” a track from Woody III that was included on 2005’s Stepping Stones: Live at the Village Vanguard [Bonus Tracks] .

Essentially born of the Washington-based twee pop scene that earlier spawned the influential Beat Happening, Crayon was actually a bit more punk than twee. Featuring Brad Roberts (guitar/vocals), Sean Tollefson (bass/vocals) and Jeff Fell (drums), Crayon sounded something like a mini-Nirvana minus the anger. They were cute, but they weren’t cutesy.

Enigmatically listed as Brad on the band’s releases, Roberts’ voice may have sounded like the Peanuts character Linus, but his fuzzy, distorted guitar had the urgency of punk rock and the melodicism of pop. In that sense, albums like Crayon’s superb 1992 Moominland EP and their 1994 full-length Harriet Records debut Brick Factory (check out the AMG review here) seem like missing links between UK indie pop bands like the Pastels or the Vaselines and American indie bands like Tsunami and the more abrasive Unwound. Unfortunately, Roberts left the band in 1994 and Tollefson and Fell went on to form the equally twee, but less punk-influenced Tullycraft.

There are rumors of a possible anthology in the works, but as of now, Crayon’s music, truly a lost classic of ’90s indie rock, is sadly out-of-print and virtually impossible to track down.

Check out Crayon’s Myspace.

Listen to some Crayon:

“Penny Lock” off Julep: Another Yoyo Studio Compilation


“All the Stars” off One Last Kiss


“Forever Nearly True” off Yo-Yo a Go-Go

The title track, written by McGriff, Theus, and producer Sonny Lester, sets the tone for the whole platter. The saxophone section lays in the cut and is prodded on by a driving, funked-up, hard soul groove by the expanded rhythm section (a B3 album with a bassist wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t standard procedure either). Solos by both McGriff and Mitchell are choppy and punchy in the extreme. The trumpter is amazing here, offering a small taste of the sound he displayed on 1969’s Collision In Black. But it’s the next two tunes, both McGriff originals, that push the LP into the red zone and keep it there. “Keep Loose” takes the organist head-to-head against Schwartz’s electric six string and forces a showdown. McGriff is like an out of control soul singer (James Brown in a concert setting comes to mind) incessantly forcing his band to play faster, and greasier, choppier, on chorus after chorus. He ups the intensity level until there is nowhere to go but over the ledge. He takes them there on “Heavyweight,” the very next number, a swinging boppish blues. The horns actually keep the track grounded as McGriff gets terse, dense, and finally unhinged — he’s more adventurous in this solo than he had been before; then he doubles, then triple times the entire band! He brings Bushnell’s bass up the ever-narrowing stairs of the riff until they become a single player, all groove, grit, and grease. McGriff’s cover of Aretha Franklin’s “Think” keeps the exuberance level high. As the horns move right into the Memphis soul vamp, McGriff again plays the part of a vocalist: charging up and down the melody on his keyboards, popping in slippery side chords and harmonic flourishes. Tate’s drums swing freely yet forcefully, and the bass and guitar lines are simply nasty. The readings of Kenny Burrell’s “Lock It Up,” and Billy Strayhorn’s “Take The ‘A’ Train,” are the closest things to “straight” jazz here, though they’re full of razored edges and hard angles. The reading of Neil Hefti’s “Girl Talk” features the horns strolling leisurely on the melody and vamp, but McGriff goes into overdrive again and his solo hits the stratosphere. The Worm is a monster album through and through. Not only is it a revelatory example of McGriff on the WILD, it marks one of the first places where the new funky urban soul met jazz and blues and evolved into jazz funk.

The Worm

Keep Loose

Heavyweight

Think

Lock It Up

Girl Talk

Blue Juice

Take The ‘A’ Train

While all four are monsters, it’s his first two records that are regarded by many jazz and funk fans as stone classics. Dance of Magic and Dark of Light were both issued in 1973 on Buddah’s Cobblestone imprint and did respectably well, but came to bear legendary status as the years passed due to their remarkable weave of improvisation, funk, soul, and electric jazz. Connors’ stellar cast of players included Airto, Stanley Clarke, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Gary Bartz, Carlos Garnett, Eddie Henderson, Billy Hart, and Cecil McBee. These are wildly sophisticated and ambitious recordings, yet they are surprisingly accessible. They were resurrected on wax as replica reissues at the beginning of the present decade and can be obtained quite inexpensively. On CD, however, it’s a very different story. In 1995, both albums appeared in remastered form on a single disc as part of a reissue campaign from Sequel (you can check the original AMG review here). They were also briefly available around the same time from P-Vine in Japan. The CD has been out of print since 1996 and fetches outrageous prices at auction. If ever there were a case for a CD package, it’s this one.

Here are samples from both albums contained in the Sequel package.

Dance of Magic

Morning Change

Give the Drummer Some

Dark of Light

Butterfly Dreams

Laughter

Black Lightnin’

Starting out as Factory Records wunderkinds, the Railway Children had little in common with the sound of their labelmates New Order and Happy Mondays when they signed to the iconic label soon after forming in 1984. Fronted by singer/songwriter and matinée-idol looker Gary Newby, the band were less Madchester ravers and more Smiths-influenced indie kids with a bit of a New Romantic flair that was often obscured by an inclination toward thoughtful, melancholic anthems.

Combining melodic guitar-based indie-pop with a bit of blue-eyed soul, their 1987 debut Reunion Wilderness and the 1988 Virgin Records sophomore effort Recurrence fit comfortably next to the work of such like-minded contemporaries as the influential Scottish ensemble Orange Juice, as well as more theatrical outfits like Haircut 100 and ABC. However, it was just such comparisons — combined with the misconception that Newby was nothing more than a lightweight teenbeat idol — that dogged the band throughout their career, and they never quite gained the respect they deserved.

In a kind of bittersweet twist, the band’s 1990 effort Native Place brought them not only their biggest hit with the dance-oriented “Every Beat of the Heart,” but also increasing label pressure to go for a more commercial sound. Ironically, a corporate takeover of Virgin by EMI in the early ’90s left the band without a label and, facing the oncoming tsunami of grunge, Newby simply decided it was time to take a break.

Although Newby did release the 1997 album Dream Arcade under the Railway Children moniker, he eventually moved to Japan and began focusing on production work.

Unfortunately, barring several compilations and a 2002 U.K. bonus track edition of Reunion Wilderness, the Railway Children catalog is out-of-print.

Visit Gary Newby’s website.

Check out the Railway Children’s gentle pop sound:

“The First Notebook” (Reunion Wilderness)
“Brighter” (Reunion Wilderness)
“A Gentle Sound” (Reunion Wilderness)
“Somewhere South” (Listen On: The Best of the Railway Children)
“Monica’s Light” (Listen On: The Best of the Railway Children)
“In the Meantime” (Listen On: The Best of the Railway Children)
“Every Beat of the Heart” (Native Place)

Born in Europe, Viola and his family moved between England and Rome before settling in the United States. Though he performed music as a child, Viola attended the Tisch School of the Arts and started his professional career as a video editor and animator after studying to be a film director. His experience in these disciplines continues to inform his music not only through his layered sounds and vivid lyrics, but also through the music videos he produces to accompany his pieces. Though his most famous work to date is “The Sad Song” (which attracted the attention of everyone from Massive Attack to fantasy author Neil Gaiman), all of Viola’s music is notable for both its intricacies and whimsy. The Sad Song EP was released on the French label Because Music in February, but if his MySpace page is any indication, he’s far from finished with his musical aspirations. Head there to hear more, or click here to see (and hear) his music video for “Silent Night”.

Originally released in 2006, The Beautiful Lie is as grandiose and far-reaching as Rufus Wainwright’s Want One, but it steers away from the kitschy theatrics that Wainwright so happily embraces. String sections, horns, keyboards, pedal steels, woodwinds, and Spanish guitar all make an appearance, as does an old instrumental loop that sounds as though it’s being cranked out of a phonograph (“Until Tomorrow Then,” one of the singer’s most interesting compositions to date). Ed Harcourt’s music won’t please those who only prefer intimate, minimalist ballads, but if you’ve got the stomach for ornate chamber pop, feast your ears on the samples below. The Beautiful Lie makes it stateside debut on June 3rd.

“Until Tomorrow Then”
An apocalyptic ballad that crackles and pops like a Victrola record.

“I Am The Drug”
Should Amy Winehouse not pull it together in time, this song would be a great theme for the upcoming James Bond movie.

“Visit From The Dead Dog”
A mid-song trumpet solo turns this ghost story into a bright piece of jazz-pop.

“Braille”
One of Harcourt’s several duets; alternately beautiful and haunting.

“The Pristine Claw”
Just a man, his guitar, and perhaps some Iron & Wine influence.

His connection with Slum Village (he’s been producing tracks for them since 2002) and his Motor City roots make him an easy comparison to the late James Yancey, and while there are certainly similarities in their styles, Black Milk is much more than just a Dilla protégé. He’s a smart artist with an ear for melody, as likely to invoke Just Blaze as he is the left coast, which makes him well-suited to work with a number of MCs, the variety in his beats able to match the variety in the others’ flows. His preference is Detroit rappers, and his records are full of collaborations with Phat Kat, SV members, and Guilty Simpson (with whom he’s planning a full-length, alongside Sean Price), but as his recent — and very excellent — mixtape with Bishop Lamont, Caltroit, showed, he’s got the skills to produce for (and spit with) MCs around the country.

His latest project, The Set Up, which came out in March, pairs him with fellow Detroiter Fat Ray (with whom he worked in the group B.R. Gunna) and shows how far he’s developed even since Popular Demand, one of 2007’s best releases. Black Milk easily holds his own on the mic, but it’s what he does on the boards that’s most impressive. “Lookout,” with its emphasis on percussion, bounces against Fat Ray’s fluid delivery, making melody out of rhythm, while “Nothing to Hide” mixes what could easily be disparate elements (soul samples, spacey Madlib-esque keys, and triumphant horns) into something completely seamless. The beats can be complex and strange at times, but Black’s insistence on well-constructed, interesting, tuneful production makes them both approachable and memorable, and makes the album an early contender for year-end best-of lists.

• “Lookout” (From The Set Up)
• “Take Control” (From The Set Up)
• “Sound the Alarm” (From Popular Demand)
• “Run” (From Guilty Simpson’s Ode to the Ghetto)
• “Survival Kit” (From Phat Kat’s Carte Blanche)

While it is true that these albums do fit into the larger ’80s jazz trend of looking backward to the music of the ’60s, a lot of that had to do with the aesthetics of the time which were a reaction against the ’70s trend of electric, rock-influenced jazz. All of which is to say, that yes, the Harrison/Blanchard albums were deeply influenced by acoustic modern jazz and specifically the music of Miles Davis’ classic late ’60s sextet, but also by such cerebral and boundary-pushing jazz luminaries as Ornette Coleman, Woody Shaw and Joe Henderson. Further, as evidenced by the title cut to New York Second Line, Blanchard/Harrison were at once taking jazz back to its roots and propelling it forward again with a youthful inventiveness that hadn’t been heard on record in some time.

Notably, in 1986, Blanchard and Harrison released two live tribute albums to another great jazz duo with Eric Dolphy & Booker Little Remembered Live at Sweet Basil, Vol. 1 and Fire Waltz: Eric Dolphy & Booker Little Remembered Live at Sweet Basil, Vol. 2. Featuring the late trumpeter and saxophonist’s rhythm section of pianist Mal Waldron, bassist Richard Davis and drummer Ed Blackwell, these albums were a distinct honor for Blanchard/Harrison at the time and based on the cuts, a deserved one.

Ultimately, Blanchard and Harrison went their separate ways after 1988’s Black Pearl with Harrison retaining a low, but active, profile and Blanchard going on to become the sound of director Spike Lee’s films — even pairing with Branford Marsalis for the highly influential soundtrack to Mo’ Better Blues. And while both artists progressed creatively since their time as duo — notably Blanchard’s epic 2007 paean to the hurricane-ravaged New Orleans A Tale of God’s Will (A Requiem for Katrina) was nominated for a Grammy — there is still something fresh, brash and vigorous about these early recordings. The Blanchard/Harrison albums deserve reissue/re-evaluation.

Check out some of the Blanchard/Harrison tribute to the Eric Dolphy/Booker Little quintet.

Aggression
Booker’s Waltz
Number Eight (Potsa Lotsa)
Bee Vamp