Charity Shop Gem of The Week

Some of the greatest moments in a record collector's career come in charity shops - it's where you can find treasure among the trash - it doesn't have to be worth a fortune to make your day either.
One of the best tips I can give a budding digger is to pay special attention to charity shops in far flung locations - there are hundreds of hungry diggers in the big cities waiting to snaffle up the best offers, but out in the sticks all sorts of records get donated and can sit around for weeks or years.
Check out our weekly installment documenting the best finds we've stumbled upon in our regular charity shop trawls.
e among the trash - it doesn't have to be worth a fortune to make your day either.

Time is a relative concept. It doesn't really exist except in our own hallucinated relationships with it. The application of days, digits and crudely effective instruments of time-keeping are just a tool to keep us worker bees down. So if we don't manage weekly updates it's not because we're lazy, it's because we are renegade mavericks playing by our own rules, rejecting the conditioning of this cruel world. Viva la remisness!

Wednesday 9 September 2015

Week 4: People in Sorrow

Offering little info upon its battered sleeve than the title and date of recording, this appears to be a late sixties live jam by Lester Bowie and his cohorts, with a somewhat abstract, somber bent. Eschewing the playful, upbeat jazz of other Art Ensemble... albums, both of the 20-minutes cuts on offer here are beautifully sparse, with the pops and clicks of the record grooves often more present than the music proper. A meandering marimba (?) propagates throughout, accompanied by the occasionally light percussion or brass, and an underlying (if not omnipresent) bass, with every instrument willing to give the others an abundance of space. The groups competence shines not in fast playing and difficult riffs, but rather in the ability of multiple instruments to emerge at once from a seemingly infinite nothingness in perfect harmony, a sudden burst of flowing bass and melodic trumpet that soon falls back into the intermittent wash of throaty sax purrs and lazy percussion. Even at its most active the music doesn't appear to actually be going anywhere - bass-lines and saxophone solos appear to have no discernible stat or end,  looping perpetually with neither repetition or variation, only to be unceremoniously lost in a creeping flux of bells or primitive yells. It sounds a world away from 'experimental' jazz as we have come to expect, invoking a far more ritualistic, organic form, and is utterly captivating throughout.

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