Out of print on vinyl since 1977, Bennie Maupin’s solo debut, The Jewel in the Lotus, makes its welcome return to the format this month via ECM’s Luminessence reissue series. A counterpoint to the playful funk of Hancock’s Headhunters, The Jewel in the Lotus swings the pendulum well beyond Mwansishi’s heady explorations into more earthy, deeply spiritual turf.
A true headphone journey and an aural balm for a world that’s spinning a bit too fast.
Dedicated students of the pop underground, Lightheaded inhibits a wide-eyed coexistence with formative heroes from the Glasgow indie school, sixties sunshine pop and plenty of like minded stalwarts from their Slumberland label. Don’t call it naivety, but the band’s shambolic guitar pop dreams up their own hypothetical, optimistic world: lyrical themes of umbrellas, gardens and sunsets take center stage.
Released twenty years ago in 2005, The Campfire Headphase places a premium on self-exploration and reflection to recognize what has made the rest worthwhile–to marvel at the minute when the macro is just too damn much.
Waltz For Debby captures the symbiosis of the Bill Evans Trio beautifully — a live documentation of three musicians whose relationship with each other eclipses being bandmates for something far more powerful and cosmic. It’s the kind of confluence that happens once in a lifetime for most musicians, and that’s if they’re lucky. It’s the sound of stars aligning; it’s the sound of capturing lightning in a bottle.
Amid Pink Floyd’s inevitable implosion initiated by Dark Side of the Moon’s monumental success, the groundwork was laid out for the eventual collapse of the prog-gone-hitmaker behemoth. Buffered in chaos, Richard Wright quietly put to tape what can credibly be argued the best Floyd-adjacent solo record, Wet Dream.
If you’re wondering where to head after Dadawah and Heart of the Congos, this ain’t a bad next step. Man from Higher Heights is a roots reggae jammer shrouded in mystery. It’s potent brew of reverent nyabinghi rhythms, synth, brass, and sinuous fuzz guitar will elevate you above the heat and humid murk to your own higher heights.
When it comes to Stereolab, the fact that nobody else can make music quite like them should be justification enough for their return. Instant Holograms on Metal Film is a record for the faithful: stately, relaxed, flush with rhythmic and instrumental detail. To slip inside is to rejoin our previously scheduled program with minimum interruption.
From the archives of Micron Music, Every Mouth Must Be Fed: 1973-1976. A toppermost three year overview of the Kingston, Jamaica based label, the roots collection highlights selects from the likes of Joe Higgs, U Roy, I Roy, Tommy McCook, Junior Byles, King Tubby and others, featuring an effortless array of early reggae and dub.
It has become a futile exercise to attempt using any other synonyms for “prolific” when it comes to the output of songwriter Glenn Donaldson. From the DIY outset of excellent Reds, Pinks & Purples debut Anxiety Art in 2019, we have been gifted a dizzying number of proper albums, EPs and various assorted outtakes (for those counting, that’s over 200 songs in the six year stretch). With The Past Is A Garden I Never Fed, Fire Records collects fourteen rarities and previously unreleased tracks from the sprawling RPP archival vault.
Greetings from Todos Santos, Mexico. I’m back down here for a few days having first visited during the pandemic era in August of 2021. We’ve been listening to this massive, humid, playlist that I compiled just prior to that trip on repeat via the bluetooth speaker on the beach: Lust For Listening. All heaters, summer crate style. Think: 88°F, salt water, Mexican lagers and mezcal. In my bag I’ve been re-reading a tattered copy of Graham Greene’s prophetic 1955 expatriate novel, The Quiet American. The more things change, the more they remain the same …
Aux Meadows, the Oakland-based trio of Steve Dawson (dobro, lap steel), Joe Imwalle (synths, piano) and Chris Royalty (guitar, bass), touch down for this latest installment of the Lagniappe Sessions. As noted in our Midyear Review, the group’s latest LP, Draw Near, is one of our favorite records of 2025, a sentiment that is only reaffirmed by the following three covers. Here, the trio works up Another Green World era Eno, Sonic Youth’s mid-90s high watermark “The Diamond Sea,” and “the killer” himself — Jerry Lee Lewis.
How Long Can It Last continues to expound upon Jeanines’ specialty: short bursts of sunshine pop driven by jangly guitars and earworm melodies. At times, How Long Can It Last sounds like lost singles from Dolly Mixture and Marine Girls, bursting with teen-verve giddiness, textured by a homespun fidelity that adds an immediate intimacy to the recordings. At other times, the album recalls something Johnny Marr would have recorded for The Smiths with a sped up tape machine. A thirteen-track record that clocks in at just over twenty minutes, Jeanines don’t waste any time. They enter their songs at their most exciting point, and they get out of them quickly, leaving you wanting more.
We hope you’ve enjoyed Tyler Wilcox’s All One Song series so far but we’re back with, well, something different: it’s a bonus Transmissions conversation between host Jason P. Woodbury and musician, writer, and podcaster Stephen Coates, host of the Bureau of Lost Culture.
Outré California. Via satellite, transmitting from northeast Los Angeles — the Aquarium Drunkard Show on SIRIUS/XMU, channel 35. 7pm California time, Wednesdays.
34.1090° N, 118.2334° W
Living legend Willie Nelson will once again be hosting his annual 4th of July Picnic this year, more than 50 years after the Lone Star State tradition kicked off. For those of us who can’t get down to Texas this Independence Day, this concert doc from ’74 will have to do. Don’t worry, it’s about as good a time as you can have — you can practically smell the reefer, sun tan lotion and BBQ as tens of thousands of fans enjoy a weekend of the burgeoning outlaw country scene’s best: Jerry Jeff Walker, Sammi Smith, Waylon Jennings, B.W. Stephens and many more.
For his All One Song appearance, guitarist Chris Forsyth selected “Lookout Joe,” which first appeared on Tonight’s the Night just about 50 years ago in the summer of 1975. It’s a darkly humorous tune that has all the hallmarks of Neil’s Ditch era—that seedy swagger, a druggy vibe, Ben Keith’s wild pedal steel and backing vocals, and some dangerous guitar work. It’s a deep cut, but it’s a deep cut that’s very much worth getting into.
The clock never stops, but sometimes music manages the impossible: slowing time for a moment. It’s in those vibrational encounters with music that we find peace and we find ourselves. In the spirit of sharing the stuff that moved us, we’re back with our midyear review. As always, the list is unranked and unruly; there’s more than enough here to guide you into those rare encounters with deep time.
It’s hot. 91 degrees today as I type this listening to records in my office in northeast Los Angeles. Preemptive 4th of July explosions abound after dusk, echoing the cities ambient social temperature. Like every summer, it’s all lit up. So let’s get to it: I’ve been bouncing between various books, films and records, some good, some great and some, well, trashy.
Amid Pink Floyd’s inevitable implosion initiated by Dark Side of the Moon’s monumental success, the groundwork was laid out for the eventual collapse of the prog-gone-hitmaker behemoth. Egos ran amuck, an aging band found familial responsibility eating away at creative time, and the specter of commercial viability lurked behind every brainstorming and recording session. Fury and slurry ensued; accusations of members not pulling their weight lobbed off; the active feuds and subdued passive aggression over the directions of their projects would become lore as the group eventually parted ways. Buffered in chaos, Richard Wright quietly put to tape what can credibly be argued the best Floyd-adjacent solo record, Wet Dream.
Dedicated students of the pop underground, Lightheaded inhibits a wide-eyed coexistence with formative heroes from the Glasgow indie school, sixties sunshine pop and plenty of like minded stalwarts from their Slumberland label. Following the New Jersey group’s excellent debut Combustible Gems last year, Thinking, Dreaming, Scheming! is a self-described more collaborative effort, including enlisting a handful of those formative heroes. Don’t call it naivety, but the band’s shambolic guitar pop dreams up their own hypothetical, optimistic world: lyrical themes of umbrellas, gardens and sunsets take center stage.
Mario Cascardo’s first few records, under the moniker Mario Maria, already captured a charming kind of Brazilian ingeniousness: João Gilberto-like vocals and airy guitars were filtered and fused through an old, broken laptop. It was lo-fi in the truest sense: not as an arbitrary aesthetic choice, but as the creative result of a technical obliqueness at the frontiers of capitalistic development. Cascardo’s more recent releases as Atletas, like others from his label Municipal K7, provide even stronger evidence that lo-fi is now happening at the margins, where artists are using their own global displacement as blueprint for new musical imaginations.
