1. Milonga de pelo largo 3:44
2. Para hacer musica para hacer 5:05
3. Pongamos muchas balas al fusil 3:56
4. Si te vas 2:30
5. Montevideo Blues 3:51
6. Hermano americano 3:24
7. Sentimiento 2:48
8. Un color 3:40
9. Chamarrita el chiquero 3:26
10. Hay veces. canta canta canta 5:09
11. Que dira el Santo Padre 2:57
12 Sendero de Rosas 1:40
13 Rubio es el color 2:26
14 Deja esa vieja tristeza 2:40
15 19 de octubre 1:58
16 Hay veces 2:17
17 Canta, canta, canta 2:34

Gastón Ciarlo "Dino" - Voz
Eduardo "Pocho" Díttamo - 1ª Guitarra
Néstor Barnada - Guitarra Y Voz
Horacio "Niño" Costa - Bajo
José "Pepe" Martínez Díaz - Batería
Julio César "Lelo" Surraco - Percusión

Dreams, Fantasies & Nightmares:
"This Uruguayan artist's real name was Gastón Ciarlo. In the mid-sixties, he played guitar and sang in a band called Los Gatos who played U.K. and U.S. covers (not the Argentinian band).
After two singles for RCA, he recorded a solo album for the small Eco label. Then he joined Montevideo Blues, played on their 1972 album which mixed blues and local Uruguayan rhythms.
His next band Los Moonlights was a mainstream pop act.
He went on to record beyond the timespan of this book. To date, none of these albums have been reissued."



Montevideo Blues

or

Montevideo Blues

Lossless

1. Canción De Un Tiempo (1971, LP Sondor 33124 editado en 1972) 1:53
2. Lógrame 2:37
3. Mañana Ya No Estarán 2:31
4. Nosotros Hoy 3:55
5. Ya 2:10
6. Solo Voy Despertando 6:28
7. Reflexión En Sol Menor 2 4:19
8. Tenía Una Vez 4:20
9. Despiertas 3:14
10. Cuerpo 6:36
11. Nebulosa (1970, single Sondor 50145 lado A) 2:17
12. Reflexión (1970, single Sondor 50145 lado B) 2:38
13. La Búsqueda (1971, single Sondor 50166 lado B) 2:43
14. Los Pesos (1971, single Sondor 50166 lado A) 2:46
15. La Plaza (1975, single Sondor 50262 lado A) 4:40
16. María Mañana (1975, single Sondor 50262 lado B) 4:29
17. De Mi Cerro (1976, single Sondor 50306 lado A) 2:58
18. En La Ventana De Un Bar (1976, single Sondor 50306 lado B) 2:57

Eduardo "Eddy" Patrón - Vocals
Rubén Laborde - Guitar
Jorge Silva - Guitar
Carlos Souza - Bass
Yamandú Pérez - Drums

Dreams, Fantasies & Nightmares::
"Formed in 1969, this progressive Uruguayan group played high volume and primitively produced hard rock on their singles. Their album was more progressive with long guitar solos from Silva and rhythmic drumming from Pérez. The stand-out cuts are Solo Vey Despertando, notable for Silva's superb guitar, Ya and Mariana.
In their later years, their progress was blighted by line-up changes. Unfortunately, their album has not been reissued to date."



Genesis

or

Genesis

Lossless

1. Cellokonzert Nr. 1 (1985-86): I. Pesante. Moderato
2. Cellokonzert Nr. 1 (1985-86): II. Largo
3. Cellokonzert Nr. 1 (1985-86): III. Allegro vivace
4. Cellokonzert Nr. 1 (1985-86): IV. Largo
5. Klingende Buchstaben für Solocello
6. Vier Hymnen: I. für Violoncello, Harfe und Pauken
7. Vier Hymnen: II. für Violoncello und Kontrabass
8. Vier Hymnen: III. für Violoncello, Fagott, Cembalo und Röhrenglocken
9. Vier Hymnen: IV. für Cello, Kontrabass, Fagott, Harfe etc

1. Ritual für großes Symphonieorchester (1984-85)
2. (K)ein Sommernachtstraum für großes Orchester (1985)
3. Passacaglia für großes Orchester (198)
4. Faust Cantata 'Seid nüchtern und wachet' (1982-83): I. Folget nun
5. Faust Cantata: II. Die vierundzwanzig Jahre
6. Faust Cantata: III. Gehen also miteinander
7. Faust Cantata: IV. Meine Liebe
8. Faust Cantata: V. Ach, mein Herr Fauste
9. Faust Cantata: VI. Doktor Faustus klagte
10. Faust Cantata: VII. Es geschah
11. Faust Cantata: VIII. Diese gemeldete Magistri
12. Faust Cantata: IX. Also endet sich
13. Faust Cantata: X. Seid nüchtern und wachet

Malmö Symphony Chorus
Malmö Symphony Orchestra
James DePreist - Conductor

AMG:
"Cellokonzert Nr. 1: 'I have no sense of the fatal inevitability of evil, even in the most terrible situations. There is no such thing...'
From the sound of his music, one would never guess that Schnittke had 'no sense of the fatal inevitability of evil'; his works seem to profess a faith in disaster that would shame Beelzebub himself. And yet one gets occasional intimations that the strength required to so feverishly preach the catastrophic could only be derived from a strangely safe haven, a stance of staunch if secret optimism. Hence when Schnittke had his first major stroke in the summer of 1985, one imagines the particularly cruel toll it must have taken. Having been declared clinically dead - his heart stopped beating three times - Schnittke eventually recovered into an enormously creative 'late phase' of composition. But something had changed in the music, almost polarized. The sick fun of doom and debacle was gone, replaced on the one hand by a more tortured and unfathomable darkness, and, on the other, by an almost sublime new simplicity, cryptic and imposing.
The First Cello Concerto is an extraordinary work just on its own merits, but also happens to have been written during the summer of 1985; it was composed both before and after the stroke, and so bears the remarkable role of fulcrum in Schnittke's career. Even more so than the celebrated Viola Concerto, completed just days before the affliction, the First Cello Concerto is a touched work.
A monumental endeavor for huge orchestra, in four movements and lasting some 40 minutes, the concerto was written for Schnittke's close friend, Russian cellist Natalia Gutman; the solo part is indeed feverish, and exhausts the performer both technically and emotionally. The work in general - at least in its first three movements - largely adheres to Schnittke's concerto-archetype of 'I-against-the-World' (as scholar Richard Taruskin writes); the soloist ever-seeks to weave a sincere, plangent melos, to sing and weep its uninterrupted fill, and perpetually suffers both the mockery and raw violence of the orchestra. Thus the first movement founds its vast sonata-form around the conflict of soliloquy vs. blitzkrieg; the following Adagio resurrects the soloist into ephemeral lyrical fabric which is eventually stretched and torn; and the brief and bitter third movement casts the cello through a gauntlet of hopelessly fated march-pastiches and mock-heroics before obliterating itself altogether.
But then, in an uncharacteristic step, another movement follows, a broad and sweeping hymn which actually appears to transcend the brutal ruckus before it, for an almost celestial vision of fortitude. And here, impoverished by emergency, that site where the composer must stand in order to plunge into the quagmire of his mind is forced to speak itself. It is an optimism that is all the more wrenching for being so potently repressed elsewhere - but, in its awesome fidelity to the unlikely and the graced, it is an optimism nonetheless. Schnittke himself attests to the sense of miraculous: 'Suddenly I was given this finale from somewhere, and I've just written it down.'

Klingende Buchstaben: All of Alfred Schnittke's music thrives on violent oppositions - between the real and the false, the present and the past, the here and the hereafter. Perhaps one the composer's more novel dichotomies is that between the 'strict' and the 'free.' In itself, this tension is nothing new in music: one sees it in the act of improvising on a ground bass or the development of motives within a tonal framework. And in Schnittke's case, one perceives the deep influence of Anton von Webern's notion of 'fest und locker,' balancing abstract pre-compositional plans with the unpredictable immediacy of invention.
But Schnittke takes this opposition to rather extreme and eccentric degrees, as one can see in his brief 1988 work for solo cello, Sounding Letters. Written for the 40th birthday of the composer's close friend and biographer, cellist Alexander Ivashkin, the five-minute score takes its 'strict' aspect from Ivashkin's actual name, using Germanic letter/note equivalencies to form monogrammatic themes (for instance: A-l-E-x-A-n-D-E-r), and then making these into melodic or serial sequences. This practice - heavily exploited by Bach, Schumann, and Schnittke's much-adored Alban Berg - has became a hallmark of Schnittke's own style, as much a constructive device as a strange kind of homage to a quasi-occult tradition (Schnittke founds his Viola Concerto on dedicatee Yuri Bashmet's name, and his Fourth Violin Concerto employs no less than four names, among them fellow-composers Sofia Gubaydulina, Arvo Pärt, and Edison Denisov.)
This procedure obviously gives the composition a strict - one might even say 'indifferent' - pre-compositional plan, almost an obstacle to invention, putting into the world of music something never intended for it. But what makes Schnittke's use of this musical monogramming so odd is his apparent disinterest in 'musicalizing' this material: rather than dissolving it into a pliant musical development, Schnittke' seems to let it remain solid and slightly alienated. In the process he builds a work with sounds anything but 'strict,' and thus the other side, the 'free'-Sounding Letters unfolds like an extremely prosaic, rambling recitative. Its awkward and halting speech sounds like a vocal fumbling with words (which it is in a sense), and creates an aloof, but surely deliberate atmosphere. Hence, by the end of this strange score, one has a sense of polarities, but not necessarily a balancing between them. But this is perhaps Schnittke's best gift - to place brazen oppositions in a meticulous un-balance, to create a synthesis through mutual alienation.

Vier Hymnen: 'Nothing is harder, yet nothing is more necessary, than to speak of certain things whose existence is neither demonstrable nor probable.' - Herman Hesse, The Glass Bead Game
Alfred Schnittke's stunning irresolution is perhaps the most disquieting element of his work, especially because he seems to profess it so intensely: every work is born out of some illusion, and ultimately passes through disillusionment before entering a kind of musical death-pangs, which itself may or may not be an illusion. Still, it's one thing when Schnittke openly plays the ironist - when he writes works which explode a pretty pop-tune or squash some faux-Romantic cliché like a bug; here, we at least know what's fake and what's less fake, unreal, and just a shade less unreal.
But in works like Schnittke's Four Hymns, written in a five-year period between 1974 and 1979, we're on much thinner ice. These are, on first and possibly last encounter, sincere and serious works. Each is more or less a kind of inward religious music, a profession of faith; each moves in slow and studied pace; and each cultivates an intensely focused state, close to a musical meditation. These works are miles away from the diabolic stylistic carnival of Schnittke's Symphony No. 1, written in 1972; as riotously junky and sprawling as that work was, the first of these hymns is as Spartan and penitential. With its strange, ritualistic grouping of cello, harp, and timpani, this hymn seems the antithesis to much of Schnittke's better known, 'polystylist' works: its slow, unwavering tread says 'I am speaking,' and its employment of an actual old three-part Russian hymn ('Holy God') gives it a weathered, rooted authenticity.
And yet, nestled into the process of this 12-minute piece is a perspective which reveals cracks. The entire score is a set of six variations which gradually unveils the old hymn in its entirety only by the fifth variation; the last one seems to close the book gently and cryptically, burying the song back into the ground. This sense of gradually approaching some ancient artifact is given bizarre, rapt treatment by Schnittke: the cello plays gnarled pizzicati, the timpani grumble in funereal treads, the harp plucks out gossamer-like pedals and accents; each instrument takes on the animus of some living character, comforting us (to our surprise) with their apparently heartfelt vigil.
Still, the irreducible strangeness - one might even say estrangedness, as in homelessness - of this austere score refuses to let it partake in the naturalness, the sense of custom, which is the pillar of liturgical music. And in this sense, we leave this first hymn, perhaps purified of mind, let in from the cold noise outside for a bit, but not from the problem of illusions and their immanent faltering. For Schnittke, even something as earthy as an age-old hymn seems to be an enterprise in risky magic, and endeavor to speak of improbable, non-demonstrable things with the equivocal hope that they may someday be born from their sheer imagination.

Ritual: This work is an enormous dirge for an augmented orchestra, slightly over eight minutes in duration, and composed in memory of those who perished in World War II. The request to have it written came from the Yugoslavian Embassy in Moscow, and opinions among those who hear it may be sharply divided on the score. It features some fine effects and evocative, original orchestration. It also has trappings of political inspiration that may not suit everyone; for example, Schnittke chose to quote the Internationale as indicative of the work being a musical act of mourning. However, one can understand that a Russian composer in the early 1980s might regard this (or may have been forced to appear to regard this) approach as a moral indicator that the forces of good hover over the sadness that naturally comes with the horrors of war. For many listeners, this implication will be cloying or misleading, implying that the occupation of Soviet troops in Eastern Bloc countries was completely dissimilar to the terrors inflicted on Europe by a mad, Nazi tyrant. Nonetheless, as the new millennium wears on, these sorts of concerns will likely become less immediate. It should also be noted that the composer was from Moscow, and lived under prevailing political pressures to fashion his material in such a way that did not put his own well being in jeopardy.
In Ritual, Schnittke steers clear of the cheekier side of his polystylism, a method that imposes different musical styles upon one another. This work features a continual crescendo, beginning with almost inaudibly low brass playing, and leading to an explosion of percussion. There is something martial in the first big peak of the tutti orchestra, sounding like an attempt to imitate one of Messiaen's celestial epiphanies by military band. It is often ponderous material, but also with definite value. No other composer grafts Russian and German sounds in this way, and this (comparatively) concise score does not sound half-baked at all; as if he lives in two distinct aesthetic worlds concurrently, comparable to some of Stravinsky's compelling French/German stylizations. Though he is not an avant-garde composer, he is an imaginative one, and this score does feature a heartfelt evocation to remember those so unfortunate, even if its homage is hammy and populist. There is no doubting the composer's integrity, and his craft as an artist is excellent. Ritual may have flaws, but it is engaging and never callous. Readers should make time to give the work a listen.

(K)ein Sommernachtstraum: 'The piece should be played in a concert of Shakespeare settings, though it has no direct connection with Shakespeare. Yet it is not for that reason that it is called (K)ein Sommernachtstraum ('(Not) A Midsummer Night's Dream'). And that is all there is to say about my Mozart-Schubert related rondo'
You have to love a composer who speaks in such a tangled, self-negating way about his music, especially a piece as provocative - some might say obnoxious - as (K)ein Sommernachtstraum. Yet Schnittke often writes music as he writes words - as a series of negations which cancel each other out. Material grows out of combat and reversal, out of the scary holes between material, out of the ambiguous stuff between the lines.
This 'ambiguous stuff' in (K)ein Sommernachtstraum comes, as Schnittke said above, from Mozart and Schubert - but not quite. Schnittke adds: 'I should like to add that I did not steal all the 'antiquities' in this piece; I faked them.' This fake Viennese Classicism free-floats in the composer's works of the late 1970s and 1980s. Some works carry the fake Mozart-Schubert mark as fatal wound, like the Violin Concerto No. 4 and Concerto for Viola and Orchestra; other works, like Schnittke's famous String Trio, entirely inhabit the Mozart-Schubert complex like a squatter in a burnt out building.
In the case of (K)ein Sommernachtstraum, Schnittke had actually written its main structure out completely the year before, as a Gratulationsrondo ('Congratulatory Rondo') for violin and piano, celebrating violinist and friend Mark Lubotsky's fiftieth birthday. This little chamber work comes off almost perfectly as a sonata-rondo movement from the 1780s, complete with catchy primary and secondary themes, a development, 'ideal' modulations, and a complete recapitulation.
Yet not everything sits right: under the surface of this Rondo, Schnittke marks this work as a forgery, with parallel fifths, congested bass lines, odd major-minor shifts, and so on. And it is these signatures of the inauthentic that ferment into the Molotov cocktail of (K)ein Sommernachtstraum. With the help of a huge orchestra, Schnittke here magnifies the cracks in his classical mask; tiny fissures become gaping holes, filled with the most garish and unseemly dissonances, and the most suffocating agglomerations of themes and motives. Solid 18th-century melodies now spin into raunchy, vicious circus marches; solos come from unseen soloists; modulations occur in five keys at once. The whole affair reeks of carnival, and carnival's intent on literally turning the world upside down.
But carnivals are also loads of fun, and Schnittke manages to tread the line between horror and a good time. The atmosphere reminds one of The Sorcerer's Apprentice - not composer Paul Dukas' work, but Disney's animation of it in Fantasia, where a single broom comes alive, multiplies uncontrollably, and turns from cutesy creature into a sprawling monstrous menace.
Inevitably, things lead to disaster - you must pay for your fun - and (K)ein Sommernachtstraum climaxes on a disgusting smear of cluster chords and sleigh bells, after which the opening melody returns, bearing deep trauma. The effect of this piece (its 'what') is as clear as a stop sign, and certainly explains to some degree Schnittke's popularity. But understanding the 'why' of a piece like this isn't simple; Schnittke has confessed many times to loving the music he parodies, especially that 'Mozart-Schubert' sound. Perhaps he rails not against the music itself, but the world that uses it, a world far more harmful than Schnittke's own audacious pastiches.

Passacaglia: The composer has written about this piece as a reaction to wonderment at the nature of waves, how their shape and nature are indelible, while 'the sea never reveals its structure to us.' Originally intended for orchestra and tape, the composer was forced to contend with the limited electronic resources available in Moscow in 1979 - 1980, so no way of completing the score as Schnittke envisioned it was available. At this time, there was no opportunity to go to Western Europe to complete the work, due to political tensions. Instead of the score being compromised, it reveals the astonishing craft of the composer, who managed to capture many, if not all the intended effects, through the orchestra alone. By description alone, some listeners may jump to the conclusion that the result will resemble a Debussyian, impressionist style loosely derived from the early twentieth century composer's La Mer, but the effect is more attuned to the sound of Olivier Messiaen, though clearly Russian. Schnittke also manages to stratify the Messiaenic and Russian sounds so that they work concurrently. This is part of a technique he has referred to as polystylism, though normally this manner of writing is reserved for humorous effect. His Passacaglia is not; it is alarming and cathartic.
Schnittke is not a cutting-edge composer, but his voice is distinct. He manages to create sounds that have a heavenly quality in this piece, gradually ascending in a way that barely resembles many previous orchestral accomplishments, wherein inert sheens of strings amass into cerebral heights, creating an atmosphere that is as pensive as it is ecstatic. Expressive tension is clearly his strong suit, sometimes reminiscent of Charles Ives' explosions of national conscience, almost to unwieldy degrees. Audiences should not look forward to being comforted, but there is little to dislike about this composition. It is fluid, interesting, and possessing.

Seid Nuchtern und Wachet (Faust Cantata): This enormous work requires a large orchestra, chorus, organ, and four solo singers. It is a prequel to an opera and came about when the Vienna Singing Academy requested a work for the 1983 Vienna Festival. For the libretto, Schnittke chose the last chapter of an adaptation of the second book of Faust by Johann Spies. About 35 minutes long, the score does not reflect the more mischievous tendencies of the composer. This may be because his past experiences with Austrian audiences have been filled with controversy, even outward hostility. It is a straightforward, secular cantata, with occasional, unpredictable, and engaging escalations in tension.
The Faust Cantata is made up of ten parts without breaks in between. There are explosive strains of ideas that can leave even prepared audience members breathless. This is especially the case with part seven, 'Es geschah,' featuring the contra alto and choir. It describes the devil's murder of Faust and the accompaniment is nearly seismic, particularly in the percussion and winds. Even if the work itself frequently morphs from engaging to ponderous, parts are hair-raising, immaculately crafted moments, with the finest instincts for Russian-tinged melody. Some listeners will be enraptured by the entire piece, while others will enjoy it as a body of music with some good sections in it. They are certainly there. Listeners who are beginning to become acquainted with the catalog of Schnittke should wait until his other works have been given sufficient attention. This cantata will otherwise mislead many listeners, because he has written many pieces with a cohesive brilliance and the smiling heart of the benevolent and talented prankster. Those who believe that he can only write music of impish delight must reconcile that opinion to this earnest and often compelling score."



Ritual/(K)ein Sommernachtstraum/Passacaglia/Seid nüchtern und wachet (Faust Cantata)...

or

Ritual/(K)ein Sommernachtstraum/Passacaglia/Seid nüchtern und wachet (Faust Cantata)...

1. Klopfzeichen, Pt. 1 23:31
2. Klopfzeichen, Pt. 2 21:34
3. Cluster & Farnbauer - Live at the Wiener Festwochen Alternativ 1980 15:56

Dieter Moebius - Synthesizer
Roedelius - Synthesizer
Conrad Schnitzler - Synthesizer

Wiki:
"Kluster is a German experimental musical group whose work often resembles later industrial music.
The original Kluster was short-lived, existing only from 1969 until mid-1971 when Conrad Schnitzler left and the remaining two members renamed themselves Cluster. The trio originally met when Moebius was working as a steak chef in Berlin, and was invited to join a band by Roedelius and Schnitzler, who were at that time engaged in the joint venture of the Zodiak Club, a Berlin nightclub they had founded. The band was based in West Berlin. They are often categorized as Krautrock. Although all three members played many different instruments on the three albums they recorded, the lineup is sometimes described as consisting of Moebius on drums, Roedelius on cello and Schnitzler on keyboards. Unorthodox instruments such as car batteries and electricians' signal generators were also used. Kluster had minuscule sales during the time they were active. Only 300 copies each of the first two LPs were pressed and sold. Each of the members gained a much larger following as a result of their later works and reissues on LP in the 1980s and CD reissues released in 1996 and 1997 garnered much more respectable sales figures. Today Kluster is considered a seminal and influential band from the formative years of the Krautrock movement.
Since then Kluster has been revived twice, with Schnitzler as the only common member. The second lineup lasted from 1971 until 1973, and two albums have been archivally released from that period. Another lineup came into being in 2007, and have released four albums so far, as well as a lone track for a compilation. However, Schnitzler's death in 2011 brought an end to the band."



Klopfzeichen

or

Klopfzeichen

1. Yearnin' 5:05
2. On Green Dolphin Street 5:17
3. Satin Doll 5:43
4. Manha de Carnaval 6:02
5. 'Round About Midnight 4:38
6. Funky Blues 5:14

Joe Sample - Piano
Ray Brown - Bass
Shelly Manne - Drums

AMG:
"This Japanese East Wind LP (which was made available domestically on the now-defunct Inner City label) features pianist Joe Sample, bassist Ray Brown and drummer Shelly Manne exploring five jazz standards plus Sample's 'Funky Blues' in purely straight-ahead fashion. One of Joe Sample's finest sessions as a leader, this obscure outing is highlighted by his renditions of Oliver Nelson's 'Yearnin',' 'On Green Dolphin Street' and 'Manha Do Carnaval'."



The Three

or

The Three

1. Plague 2:59
2. Every Screaming Ear 0:17
3. The Shameful Stain 4:52
4. Preaching to the Converted 5:18
5. Phones Where Your Tongue Is 0:05
6. Nerveware No. 8 2:36
7. Little Johnny Stinkypants 6:51
8. Don't Call Too Late My Husband's a Baker 3:22
9. Beta 14 Ok 1:41
10. In His Feet Were Burned Because of Many Waters 3:21
11. Phones Where Your Guitar Is 0:13
12. I Kick My Hand 3:31
13. Dead Silence 5:23
14. Ironwood 2:51
15. Take Your Ears as the Bones of Their Queen 5:05
16. Our Soldiers Are Soft Pianos 5:05

Yves Duboin - Sax (Soprano)
Dave Douglas - Trumpet
Rob Henke - Trumpet, Voices
Michael Lytle - Clarinet (Bass), Clarinet (Contrabass)
Nick Didkovsky - Guitar
Marc Wagnon - Sampling, Vibraphone
Greg Anderson - Bass
Leo Ciesa - Drums

AMG:
"Nick Didkovsky blends heavy metal guitars with experimental saxophone, clarinet and trumpet parts on his fifth album."



Skin

or

Skin

1. Patio Custodio (Bulería) 4:46
2. Cositas Buenas (Tangos) 4:27
3. Antonia (Bulería Por Soleá) 6:30
4. El Dengue (Rumba) 4:04
5. Volar (Bulería) 5:32
6. El Tesorillo (Tientos) 4:41
7. Que Venga el Alba (Bulería) 4:13
8. Casa Bernardo (Rumba) 4:14

Paco de Lucía - Guitar, Lute, Mandolin
Alain Pérez - Bass
Alejandro Sanz - Tres
Tomatito - Guitar
Pirana - Percussion
Angela Bautista - Choir/Chorus, Palmas, Vocals
Montse Cortés - Choir/Chorus, Palmas, Vocals
Guadiana - Choir/Chorus, Palmas
El Potito - Choir/Chorus, Palmas, Vocals

AMG:
"On his first outing in five years, and the first of the new century, flamenco guitarist Paco De Lucia has given us one of the most sublime recordings in his long career. This collection of 'Good Little Things' (Cositas Buenas) is a step away from Nuevo flamenco, and back to the grain of the source music itself. It is a record full of handclapped rhythms, organic spare percussion, and burning, passionate songwriting and singing. The various singers - including Paco himself - wail, chant, moan, and ecstatically intone his new songs to the sheer rough-hewn grace of his playing. Most tracks are done in the canonical style of guitar, and voice with handclap accompaniment, but there are two - the smoking, burning black soul of 'El Dengue' and 'Que Venga el Alba,' on which he is accompanied by another guitarist. On the album's final cut, 'Cassa Bernardo,' a rumba, Jerry Gonzalez adds his mariachi trumpet to the proceedings. Cositas Buenas is an album that careens across the history of flamenco. While rooted in antiquity, it nonetheless points the way to a new music, one that extrapolates rhythm and harmony and adds syncopation, texture, depth, and multi-layered harmonics to the original framework. It is transcendentally beautiful if overwhelming in its passion and the sheer joy of performance. Indeed, Cositas Buenas sets a new standard for modern flamenco music and acts as the true bridge between the ancient and the future. No one but a master who cares nothing for his laurels could have articulated such a work."



Cositas Buenas

or

Cositas Buenas

1. As If It Were the Seasons! (Song to Make the Sun Come Up) 23:52
2. Song for Christopher 20:59

Joseph Jarman - Bassoon, Fife, Recorder, Sax (Alto), Sax (Soprano)
Joel Brandon - Flute
Fred Anderson - Sax (Tenor)
John Stubblefield - Sax (Tenor)
Muhal Richard Abrams - Oboe, Piano
John Jackson - Trumpet
Lester Lashley - Flute, Trombone
Charles Clark - Bass, Cello, Koto
Thurman Barker - Drums, Percussion
Sharon Scott - Vocals

AMG:
"This set is one of the legendary early AACM releases. Joseph Jarman (heard on alto, bassoon and soprano in addition to fife and recorder) is featured shortly before he became a member of the Art Ensemble of Chicago. Some of his sidemen would become well-known (pianist Richard Abrams, tenors Fred Anderson and John Stubblefield), while others remained obscure or short-lived (bassist Charles Clark, drummer Thurman Barker, flutist Joel Brandon, trumpeter John Jackson and trombonist Lester Lashley). The two lengthy group improvisations (Sherri Scott adds her voice to 'Song for Christopher') contrast sound and silence, noise with more conventional sounds, 'little instruments' with powerful saxophones. Certainly not for everyone's taste, the truly open-eared will find the innovative results quite intriguing."


As If It Were The Seasons

or

As If It Were The Seasons

1. Peace Loving Man 4:52
2. Kiss of Confusion 4:45
3. Listen to the Silence 4:50
4. Love Bomb Side 7:39
5. Billy Boo Gunman 7:14
6. Indian Summer 5:55
7. Just Above My Hobby Horse's Head 2:55
8. Wait a Minute 5:50
9. Postcard 2:55
10. Everyone's Leaving Me Now 4:45
11. Ever Since a Memory 4:25
12. Nobody But 4:03
13. Peace Loving Man 6:29
14. Listen to the Silence 3:58
15. New Day 5:16

Brian Godding - Guitar, Piano, Organ, Vocals
Jim Cregan - Guitar, Vocals
Brian Belshaw - Bass
Barry Reeves - Drums

AMG:
"Brian Godding and Jim Cregan were still Blossom Toes' chief songwriters on their second album, but the LP stands in bold contrast to their debut in sound and attitude. Having scuttled the orchestras and developed their chops in the two-year interlude, the record bears the influence of heavy California psychedelia and Captain Beefheart with its intricate, interwoven guitar lines and occasional gruff dissonance. The more serious instrumental approach spills over to the lyrics, which are somber and at times even gloomy, occasionally reflecting the social turbulence of the late '60s, with their uncertain tenor and references to ominous 'peace loving men' and 'love bombs.' Far less uplifting than their debut, the weighty approach is leavened by the close harmonies and sparkling guitar interplay. While not as memorable as the first album, it's above-average late-'60s psychedelia that almost acts as the downer flip side to the stoned, happy-face ambience of their early work."



If Only For A Moment

or

If Only For A Moment

1. Poinciana (Song of the Tree) 7:48
2. Latin Lady 8:25
3. Odara 7:28
4. She Is Michelle 6:13
5. Where Is the Love 4:53
6. Evil Eyes 4:20
7. Bolero 7:23

Gato Barbieri - Sax (Tenor)
Eddie Martinez – Keyboards
John Barnes – Keyboards
Eddie Watkins – Bass
Leon Ndugu Chancler – Drums
Bill Summers – Percussion
Armando Peraza – Bongos
Jose Areas – Timbales

AMG:
"While it's true that the first chapter in Gato Barbieri's musical life - at least on records - had been that of an explorer, from his vanguard outings on ESP with Don Cherry and Dollar Brand to his showcasing the music of his native Latin America on Impulse, Fania, and Flying Dutchman as it intersected with modern jazz, it is the third chapter that concerns this release. Barbieri became deeply interested in commercial music and its possibilities for Latin jazz and the funk and salsa scenes in the early and mid-'70s. Caliente!, recorded with a very large group, was his first step in that direction in 1976 and it was a smash hit. Jazz purists may have decried its slick production and its lack of ensemble improvisation, but the set was generally well received. Ruby, Ruby followed suit in early 1978, and then Tropico popped out only three months later. This set features another large group with no less than three arrangers and a slew of different percussionists and backing vocalists on virtually every track. Carlos Santana makes an appearance on 'Latin Lady,' one of the best cuts on the set, and the Santana band's percussionist, José Chepitó Areas, is here, as well as Leon 'Ndugu' Chancler, Armando Peraza, and funkmaster Bill Summers to name a few. Another beauty is the lushly orchestrated ballad 'She Is Michelle,' (written for his wife). Production by David Rubison is over the top. There are swells of strings, overdubs galore, and a full-on chorus to add atmosphere on cuts such as the reading of Caetano Veloso's 'Odara.' The cover of 'Where Is the Love' is also a bit indulgent - even for Gato at this stage, but it was aimed at scoring in the charts, and it did. Throughout, Barbieri's harsh, emotive tone is soaring over the top in virtually every arrangement, and it is that playing that drew listeners to this meld of funk, jazz, Latin, and Afro Cuban rhythms, disco and pop. The final track, a Barbieri reading of Ravel's 'Bolero,' with Eddie Watkins' bass pumping it along in triple time, has to be heard to be believed - Barbieri transforms it into a carnival tune that loses none of its drama and pathos."



Tropico

or

Tropico

Piano Sonata No. 1
1. Lent - Beaucoup plus allant 4:33
2. Assez large - Rapide 5:51

Piano Sonata No. 2
3. Extrêmement rapide - Encore plus vif 5:29
4. Lent 9:11
5. Modéré, presque vif 2:05
6. Vif - Très modéré...Très librement... 10:42

Piano Sonata No. 3
7. Formant 2: Trope. Glose 2:12
8. Formant 2: Trope. Texte 1:21
9. Formant 2: Trope. Parenthèse 3:12
10. Formant 2: Trope. Commentaire 3:28
11. Formant 3. Constellation - Miroir 15:41

Idil Biret - Piano

AMG:
"Pierre Boulez composed his First Piano Sonata in 1946. The Piano sonata was not as common to the first half of the twentieth century as it was to the nineteenth, and Boulez rarely wrote in a genre that had already been well explored. After Beethoven left behind his legacy of thirty-two sonatas, the most interesting developments have not been in the sonata style. This trend in avoiding territories evincing daunting musical genius has been called 'the anxiety of influence,' denoting why many composers would steer clear of the sonata genre after Beethoven. It is difficult to hear a sonata without Beethoven coming to mind, and it is equally difficult to avoid making a comparison to Beethoven under those circumstances.
That being the case, the great piano works of composers such as Schumann, Chopin, Liszt, Brahms, and others centered on sets of variations, fantasies, and other structures that did not immediately bring to mind the foreboding Beethoven Comparison. This angst did not seem to grasp Boulez. While history has welcomed him into the Western canon for his lasting contributions to music, he seems to have always known that his place was among the great names. While other composers may have written one or two sonatas after maturing as artists and then finally, painfully producing them in a heightened state of anxiety, Boulez wrote, published, and relentlessly promoted his First Piano Sonata at the age of twenty-one. It also contains direct references to Beethoven. Boulez has been recognized as an iconoclast and a great talent, and perhaps this stems from his fearlessness. He stood up to everyone who got in his way during the twentieth century, and in the case of his piano sonatas, he did not back down from Beethoven either.
One advantage that Boulez had over the other post-Beethoven composers was a disparity of language. By 1948 he had crystallized serialism, which took Schoenberg's twelve-tone method further than even Webern, whom Boulez had pronounced the most important composer of the twentieth century. He took this proclamation to extremes, adding that the history of Western music was entirely encapsulated in the work of Webern, who had died in 1945, and that listening to music before his was not a relevant pursuit. As extreme as this position was, it lent Boulez the courage to produce this shockingly, eerily beautiful sonata. Hearing this work brings to mind the few musical prodigies of history whose work from this young age has maintained our interest: Mozart, Schubert, and perhaps a couple of others. Not only does Boulez consolidate a serialist language that has almost no precedent, except for one piece by his instructor, Messiaen's Mode de valeurs et d'intensités. In reference to Beethoven's final piano sonata, Boulez's First Piano Sonata is cast in two similarly contrasting movements. The intensity of the work is fierce, and it has a delicacy of phrasing that is normally ascribed to mature masters. It is slightly less than eleven minutes in duration, and like all the music he would publish in his lifetime, explores the remotest nuances of seriousness. Boulez was a very serious young man about music. He was willing to humiliate people, even his own teacher (he once publicly referred to Messiaen's Turangalila Symphony as 'brothel music.') Much of his middle-age involved making gestures of apology for his youthful outbursts, but Boulez possessed a charisma that overpowered most other people. His First Piano Sonata contains comparable charm and integrity.

Boulez wrote his Second Piano Sonata at the age of twenty-three in 1948. Like the first sonata, Beethoven is an important subject in the second one as well. The German master's Hammerklavier fugal subject from the Op. 106 is quoted on the first page. Boulez's Second Piano Sonata reflects such a rigorous understanding of Beethoven's style that it breaks through the academic stranglehold on Beethoven scholarship. This is not to say that Boulez's 1948 work eschews the value of academia's cumulative knowledge on Beethoven, but rather it rejuvenates Beethoven's artistic relevance again. Boulez does so by displaying a flawless, trained eye for how a Beethoven piano sonata is structured, as Brahms did in his Op. 1. Themes, development, and recapitulation are handled with rigor and panache. In direct homage to the Hammerklavier fugue, Boulez's Second Piano Sonata frequently proceeds in imitative counterpoint. Throughout the work's four movements, the composer will not let the alert listener forget for an instant that he knows Beethoven's Op. 109 as well as anyone, and can use it to make a very fine piano work of his own. For listeners who are not familiar with his serialist syntax, Boulez's demonstrations to this effect may require careful and patient scrutiny. While the textures he creates could not be called gorgeous, they definitely are engaging. The young French composer's music was serious to the point of being acerbic. The 'animal warmth' that Schoenberg complained about in older music is certainly not there, but it does have a level of heat. There is not much in terms of luxuriance, but the Second Piano Sonata contains oceans of meaning and comprehensibility. It is so strenuously interconnected that following its many courses can be an intense challenge. The listener may feel dared to keep up with the internal associations, though that gauntlet was thrown down specifically for the academics to pick up. Boulez's mission was what fascinated historians, and his attack on the academic grip on Beethoven was actually directed towards composers. It was the composers' fears of comparison to Beethoven that made them leave the German master's legacy to the scholars for their exclusive exploration. Boulez also attacked composers who did not reconcile themselves to the twelve-tone method, calling their music 'useless.' He once led a crowd to boycott a performance of Messiaen's music. Messiaen was Boulez's teacher, a gracious and generous man by all accounts, though not progressive enough for his famous pupil who has often been intent on whipping an unsatisfactorily self-satisfied twentieth-century into shape. His Second Piano Sonata is indicative of this sort of energy and self-assurance. One can listen to it for its mind-boggling sophistication and discover that there is more to hear with every listen. Perhaps more pleasurably, one can hear in it a young genius for whom music holds an overwhelming importance that bears not even the rumor of a competitor. It seems unimaginable that any cause could fail with Boulez among its officers, and that love of music inspires confidence and the imagination.

With his Piano Sonata No. 2 (1948), Pierre Boulez began expanding his use of serial techniques beyond the realm of pitch to other musical elements such as rhythm and dynamics. This led him to the notion of 'perpetual expansion,' a sort of open form in which works might vary extensively from performance to performance and exist in a constant state of revision. He derived this concept from the great French poet Stéphane Mallarmé, whose Livre was such a free-form collection, begun in the early 1870s but left unfinished at the poet's death in 1898.
The Sonata No. 3 is the first such open form work, begun in the mid-1950s, revised in 1963, but never completed in the usual sense. The sonata is usually described by the composer and other commentators as having five movements or 'formants' ('Antiphonie,' 'Trope,' 'Constellation,' 'Strophe,' and 'Séquence'); however, only two, Formant 2: 'Trope' and Formant 3: 'Constellation-Miroir,' have been published. The other three are regarded as 'works in progress.' Boulez gave the Sonata its premiere on September 26, 1957, at Darmstadt, where he regularly taught in the late 1950s and early 1960s. There remains some controversy as to whether Boulez or Karlheinz Stockhausen -- whose Klavierstücke XI, also an open form work, was likewise premiered at Darmstadt in July 1957 -- was the real revolutionary in this area.
Boulez described his Sonata's form and inspiration in the article 'Sonata, que me veux-tu?' (Sonata, What Do You Want Of Me?). The 'Trope' movement, which appeared in print in the form of a spiral booklet, consists of four sections: 'Texte,' 'Parenthèse,' 'Commentaire,' and 'Glose.' These can be played in several different orders. 'Texte,' probably the simplest of the four sections, is often featured first, whereas 'Commentaire,' with its scherzo-like playfulness and dramatic chords (including a particularly long-held one at its end), sounds most like a normal conclusion.
The sheet music of 'Constellation-Miroir' consists of nine large sheets in six 'constellations' -- three of 'Points' (structures concentrating on single notes, printed in green), two of 'Blocs' (structures based on chords and arpeggios, printed in red), and a short 'Mélange' (featuring both single notes and chords). 'Constellation-Miroir' would normally be played in the order 'Mélange' - 'Points 3' - 'Blocs II' - 'Points 2' - 'Blocs I' - 'Points 1,' as opposed to an unpublished version of the movement which is played in reverse order. Elements within each of the six sections can be arranged in several different ways. Boulez likens the structure to a map of an unknown city in which the performer 'must direct himself through a tight network of routes.' The music of 'Constellation-Miroir' alternates between spare, delicate passages and more assertive, granitic sections; it is a remote and enigmatic movement, with considerable space between its gestures."



Piano Sonatas Nos.1-3

or

Piano Sonatas Nos.1-3

1. Lucifer
2. Salve Oimel
3. Another Room
4. Trip
5. Harmagedon Dragonlove
6. Tired
7. Witches Meeting
8. Red Lebanese Pt. 1
9. Red Lebanese Pt. 2
10. Run Off

Cord Wahlmann - lead vocals, harmonica
Harald H.G. Thoma - guitar, vocals
Robert J. Schiff - bass
Andreas F. Cornelius - drums

discogs:
"Progressive / psychedelic / blues / freak band from Saarbrucken, Germany. They existed from 1968 to 1972 and then reformed for a few years in the beginning of the 1990's."



First

or

First

1. Beneath the Ice 7:29
2. Rusalka 7:16
3. Siren Song 8:29
4. Light and Shade 11:55
5. Missa Cantata 5:17
6. Dei Gratia 9:25

Katja Cruz - Vocals
Carolyn Hume - Piano

cduniverse:
"An album of incomparable beauty matching piano wizardry of Carolyn Hume and vocal wonder of Katja Cruz. Singing their wordless song, they create the haunting, mysterious, mesmerizing atmosphere full of suspense and ghostly images."



Light And Shade

or

Light And Shade

1. Tristess 5:00
2. To Get Along Alone 5:44
3. We Must Do Something Before The End Day 3:22
4. Lady Of The Sand 6:41
5. My Time 0:36
6. If 4:00
7. Song To France 2:09
8. They Make Money With The Stars 3:42
9. [hidden track] 1:15
10. Il N'Y A Pas Si Longtemps De Ca 5:18
11. Many Songs Have Been Lost 1:43
12. In A Simple Way 3:41
13. Ride Across My Bed 5:52

Robert Lelievre – Vocals, Guitar
Thomas Puggaard-Muller – Lead Guitar
Henning Verner – Piano, Organ, Vibraphone [Vibes]
Arne Wurgler – Bass, Cello
Michael Puggaard-Muller – Drums

Wiki:
"In October 1969, Lelièvre and High Crossfield bass player Arne Würgler formed what was to become Lélievre’s most notable musical constellation: The progressive rock band Pan. Lelièvre and Würgler enrolled four other Danish musicians: Brothers Thomas and Michael Puggaard-Müller (guitar and drums), jazz-organist Henning Verner (who previously had performed with Dexter Gordon), as well as singer and lyricist Niels Skousen who initially shared the vocals with Lelièvre but left Pan already in January 1970. Pan released their first single "In a Simple Way" / "Right Across My Bed" in January that year, followed by their eponymous titled debut album in May. All music and words on this album are written by Lelièvre, with two songs in French and the rest in English, and the arrangements and production are tight in order to fit the sophisticated blend of rock, blues, folk, jazz and even small drops of classic. At the time of its release, Pan was hailed by the Danish press, and Dagbladet Information even named it "the best Danish rock album released so far". With time the album has gained status as one of Danish rock history’s classic albums. It is listed as the fourth best Danish rock album of the 1970s in Politikens Dansk Rock, the reputed encyclopedia of Danish rock music.
Pan was very much in the public eye in 1970. They played numerous concerts and festivals in Denmark and Germany and featured in two Danish radio broadcasts and one national television show. The two radio broadcasts were recorded and released on CD in 2004 by Danish label Karma Music under the title Pan on the Air – Danish Radio Sessions 1970. They also wrote 20 minutes of instrumental music to the Swedish film Deadline and played the roles of a touring band in the film. However, despite the success on stage and in the media, the Pan album didn’t sell well, and the band slowly disintegrated during the late autumn of 1970."



Pan

or

Pan

Let's Hide Away and Dance Away with Freddy King
1. Hide Away – 2:43
2. Butterscotch – 3:04
3. Sen-Sa-Shun – 2:54
4. Side Tracked – 3:07
5. The Stumble – 3:14
6. Wash Out – 2:38
7. San-Ho-Zay – 2:40
8. Just Pickin' – 2:33
9. Heads Up – 2:33
10. In the Open – 3:11
11. Out Front – 2:40
12. Swooshy – 2:19

Freddy King Gives You A Bonanza Of Instrumentals
13. Manhole 2:22
14. Freeway 75 2:51
15. Low Tide 6:24
16. The Sad Nite Owl 2:25
17. Funnybone 2:37
18. Nickleplated 2:30
19. King-A-Ling 3:00
20. Surf Monkey 2:29
21. Freddy's Midnight Dream 2:28
22. Fish Fare 2:30
23. Cloud Sailin' 2:26
24. Remington Ride 5:48

Freddie King – guitar
Gene Reid – saxophone
Clifford Scott – saxophone
Fred Jordan – guitar, rhythm guitar
Willis Williams – bass guitar
Sonny Thompson – piano
Phillip Paul – drums

Wiki:
"Freddie King (September 3, 1934 – December 28, 1976), thought to have been born as Frederick Christian, originally recording as Freddy King, and nicknamed "The Texas Cannonball", was an influential American blues guitarist and singer. He is often mentioned as one of "the Three Kings" of electric blues guitar, along with Albert King and B.B. King, as well as the youngest of the three.
Freddie King based his guitar style on Texas and Chicago influences and was one of the first bluesmen to have a multi-racial backing band onstage with him at live performances. He is best known for singles such as "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" (1960) and his Top 40 hit "Hide Away" (1961). He is also known for albums such as the early, instrumental-packed Let's Hide Away and Dance Away with Freddy King (1961) and the later album Burglar (1974), which displayed King's mature versatility as both player and singer in a range of blues and funk styles.
King had a twenty-year recording career and became established as an influential guitarist with hits for Federal Records, in the early 1960s. He inspired American musicians such as Jerry Garcia, Stevie Ray Vaughan and his brother Jimmie Vaughan and others. His influence was also felt in UK, through recordings by blues revivalists such as Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and Chicken Shack. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2012."



Just Pickin'

or

Just Pickin'

1. Preach 4:11
2. Yume 9:26
3. Good Morning 6:50
4. Teinen Pushiganga 3:00
5. Toi Hibiki 7:09
6. Eureka 16:20
7. Hahen Fukei 3:48

Tsugami Kenta - Sax (Alto), Sax (Soprano)
Kikuchi Naruyoshi - Sax (Soprano), Sax (Tenor)
Otomo Yoshihide - Guitar
Masuko Tatsuki - DX-7, Effects, Noise, SH-101
Mizutani Hiroaki - Contrabass
Yoshigaki Yasuhiro - Bodhran, Drums, Percussion, Trumpet
Phew - Vocals
Kondo Yoshiaki - Vocals

AMG:
"Since the disbanding of his 1990s group, Ground Zero, Otomo Yoshihide has made it a life philosophy to keep his fans in a constant state of surprise. After his conversion to ultra-minimalist electronics and his return to jazz (but still a very warped form) with his New Jazz Quintet, he offers Dreams, billed to Otomo Yoshihide's New Jazz Ensemble. Even though the membership is similar, the difference between the quintet and the ensemble (the quintet plus Sachiko M on sine waves and Masuko Tatsuki on electronics) is night and day. Dreams is a set of soft, adult jazz-pop songs - or at least they would be if the bandleader was anyone but Yoshihide. Phew lends her sensual voice to six of the seven pieces. In 'Eureka' she duets with Togawa Jun, who in turn performs solo in 'Preach.' Jun is a high-pitched, broken, off-key singer, absolutely irritating. She makes Phew's presence all the more delectable. Only one of the songs is a Yoshihide composition. The others are taken from the repertoire of Eto Naoko, Yamamoto Seiichi, and, surprisingly or not, Jim O'Rourke. Dreams is a beautiful album filled with fragile melodies and odd arrangements, but it is so different from what one can expect, you will have to come to terms with it and shed your expectations before you can freely appreciate it. 'Yume' and 'Toi Hibiki' are touching pieces. Yoshigaki Yasuhiro's hesitating trumpet solo in 'Eureka' recalls Mel Collins' sax solo in King Crimson's underappreciated 'Islands.' The chaos crescendo that follows it for the next seven minutes and the unchained maelstrom of noise that is 'Hahen Fukei' save the project from sticking like bubblegum - although that last-minute wake-up call sounds just a bit gratuitous. Another stroke of genius."



Dreams https://hotfile.com/dl/239658388/67c1c3d/TmShd-Drms-0.rar.html

or

Dreams

1. Assault & battery part I 5:36
2. The golden void part II 4:33
3. The wizard blew his horn 2:00
4. Opa-loka 5:40
5. The demented man 4:20
6. Magnu 8:40
7. Standing at the edge 3:45
8. Spiral galaxy 28948 3:55
9. Warriors 2:05
10. Dying seas 3:05
11. Kings of speed 3:25
12. Motorhead 3:03

Dave Brock - guitar, synthesizer, bass (4),vocals (1,2,5,6, 11)
Nik Turner - Tenor and Soprano saxophone, flute, vocals (7, 10)
Simon House - Violin, Mellotron
Lemmy - bass guitar
Simon King - drums, percussion
Allan Powell - drums, percussion
Mike Moorcock - vocal (3, 9)

AMG:
"Hawkwind's fifth studio album found the band enjoying a rare oasis of stability after the multitudinous personnel shifts of the past five years. Only the recruitment of a second drummer, Alan Powell, disturbed the equanimity of the lineup that created the previous year's Hall of the Mountain Grill, although it would soon be time to change again. By the end of the year, bassist Lemmy had departed, vocalist Robert Calvert had rejoined, and the group's career-long relationship with United Artists would be over. In the meantime, Warrior on the Edge of Time ensured that it was brainstorming business as usual. Decorated with a magnificent sleeve that unfolded into the shape of a shield, Warrior on the Edge of Time delivered some of Hawkwind's best-loved future showstoppers - Simon House's far-reaching 'Spiral Galaxy 28948,' the frenetic 'Assault and Battery,' and the monstrous 'Magnu' all made their bow here, while the accompanying 'Kings of Speed' single was certainly a big hit in the youth clubs of the day, even if it did steadfastly avoid the chart. Remarkable, too, is 'The Golden Void,' a stately bolero set, indeed, on the edge of time and buffeted by one of the band's most impressive ever instrumental performances. A handful of tracks do betray their age. Michael Moorcock's echo- and effects-laden recitation of 'The Wizard Blew His Horn' is impossibly overwrought, although it's worth sitting through simply for the segue into the throbbing 'Opa-Loka'; in fact, the entire album is presented with minimal breaks between tracks, to deliver a seamless treat that - in the light of Hawkwind's next musical moves - has since seen Warrior on the Edge of Time described as the band's last true 'classic.' It isn't, but you can easily see why people think it might be."



Warrior On The Edge Of Time

or

Warrior On The Edge Of Time

1. God Is One 1:42
2. Power And Glory 7:57
3. Revelation 3:43
4. Naima 4:28
5. Fatherhood 4:15
6. Contemplation 4:08
7. Feel Free 9:20
8. Time Is Running Out 3:55
9. Jihad 7:24

Rene McClean – Alto Saxophone, Tenor Saxophone, Flute
Olu Dara – Trumpet, Horn (Alto)
Earl McIntyre – Trumpet (Bass)
Nathan Page – Guitar
Doug Carn – Piano, Organ, Synthesizer
Walter Booker – Bass
Ira Williams – Drums
Jean Carn – Vocals
Olu Dara – Vocals
Rene McClean – Vocals

AMG:
"Keyboards, oboe, reeds, vocals, composer. Though a versatile musician and expressive pianist, Carn attained more notoriety in 70s for writing lyrics to classic jazz anthems. Carn began keyboard lessons as a child and was soon playing piano and organ, plus alto sax. He studied oboe and composition at Jacksonville University from 1965 to 1967, then finished his education at Georgia State College in 1969. He worked briefly with Lou Donaldson, Stanley Turrentine and Irene Reid, then became popular in mid-'70s with albums for Black Jazz label. He penned lyrics for such songs as 'Infant Eyes,' 'Adams Apple' and 'Revelation.' His wife at the time, Jean Carn later became R&B star as single act; she changed name spelling to Carne. Carn eventually did two albums with Earth, Wind And Fire but was not as successful working with them as Ramsey Lewis."



Revelation

or

Revelation

1. Symphony No. 2 19:45
2. Symphony No. 7 ("Epilogue") 30:41

Berliner Funk-Orchester
Michail Jurowski - Conductor

AMG:
"Intended to be the last in his series of symphonies, Kancheli's Symphony No. 7 was written in 1986 on a commission from the Czech Philharmonic, which gave the work its first performance under Vaclav Neumann's direction on December 11 of that year in Prague. After some revisions, the work's final version was presented for the first time in Berlin on March 24, 1992, by the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Olaf Henzold.
The score of the Symphony No. 7 has an epigraph by the Georgian poet Galaktion Tabidze: 'This was long ago...' This epigraph, along with the work's subtitle ('Epilogue'), gives the symphony an air of the retrospective. Many of the elements familiar from Kancheli's earlier symphonies, particularly the abrupt juxtaposition of quiet, static music with aggressive, militaristic passages, remain in evidence here. The work begins assertively with dramatic brass fanfares and cymbal crashes. Quiet woodwinds try to break through, and eventually do, leading to more mournful music. After another militaristic passage, an almost sentimental tune in waltz rhythm emerges. The music remains peaceful for a time, but turns tumultuous again with a violent march. The march winds down, and the symphony ends plaintively."



Symphonies Nos. 2 & 7

or

Symphonies Nos. 2 & 7

Jun Inouye - vocals
Takayuki Inouye - lead guitar vocals
Hiroshi "Monsieur" Kamayatsu - rhythm guitar, vocals
Katsuo Ono - steel guitar, organ
Mitsuru Kato - bass guitar
Shochi Tanabe - drums
Masaaki Sakai - tambourine, vocals

AMG:
" The Spiders may be the most renowned 1960s Japanese vocal rock group, certainly among collectors outside of Japan. Like many non-English-speaking nations, Japan generated many bands playing in the British Invasion style, and The Spiders were among the first and foremost. In the last half of the 1960s, they had some Japanese hits, cut about half a dozen albums, and even made some attempts to breach the English and American market. Singing in both Japanese and fractured English, their sound was heavily imitative of American and particularly British groups, mixing in some California vocal group harmony and psychedelic influences. Mixing original material and covers of overseas rock hits, the songwriting and musicianship was frankly not on the level of the outstanding groups from other countries. What attracts cultists to their records these days is a peculiar manic intensity found in much of their work, as well as odd mixtures of styles and fractured song structures that, to Western ears at least, can sometimes sound like an off-the-wall mangling of familiar forms.
The Spiders had been playing for about half a decade before reaching their acknowledged peak. Drummer Shochi Tanabe formed the band in 1961, and at the outset they played in an American country music style, at one time also including a female singer. Their first recordings were instrumental guitar rock; some of these, such as their cover of 'Wipeout,' are included on the Big Beat anthology GS I Love You: Japanese Garage Bands of the 1960s. By 1966, however, they were recording in a vocal beat group style reflecting the influence of bands like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Animals. Signed with Philips, they cranked out half a dozen albums and numerous singles between 1966-1970.
Although their biggest Japanese hits were far more ballad- and pop-driven than much of their original material, they did branch out from the basic mid-1960s R&B-pop-British Invasion style on some of their outings. They used a cheap-sounding sitar and Association-derived harmonies on 'Kuroyuri No Uta,' mimicked Jimi Hendrix on 'End of Love,' and showed a Beach Boys influence in 'Summer Girl.' The best of their recordings are collected on Big Beat's compilation Let's Go Spiders!, which only draws from the years 1966-1968.
The Spiders did actually tour Europe in late 1966 and made an attempt to crack the Western market, issuing a British single, appearing on England's Ready Steady Go pop music television show, and playing the legendary Star Club in Hamburg. They also did a show in Hawaii in mid-1967 and released a couple of singles in America. They made no commercial impression overseas, however, though they continued to enjoy success at home. In early 1971 they broke up, although beginning in the early 1980s they occasionally re-formed for reunions."



The Spiders Story

or

The Spiders Story