VA - Bubblegum Music Is The Naked Truth

Ah, bubblegum music. You'd think that in this day and age, this chewy, sticky genre would get the respect it deserves, right? I mean, sure, lots of folks who groove to '60s soul and garage may give lip service to the pleasures found in aurally masticating a wad of sugary cud, but do they actually take this stuff SERIOUSLY? This reviewer does...

Not too solemnly, though, as befits a style of music that was the missing link between mid-'60s teenpunk and early-'70s glam. Bubblegum pop/rock, specifically whipped up to appeal to kids too young to wrap their heads around—and blow their minds to—hard psych, is celebrated here in all its gooey glory: a tasty re-ish of a compilation first released in 1969 by Buddah Records, one of the prime purveyors of pop (bubblegum division). The British label Rev-ola has lovingly included a buzzin' dozen of the fourteen tunes on the original album, along with an additional seven sweet ditties.

Most of the big bubblicious names are here: The 1910 Fruitgum Company, The Ohio Express, and The Lemon Pipers keep cool company with the likes of The Shadows Of Knight and Salt Water Taffy. From "Yummy Yummy" and "Chewy Chewy" to "1, 2, 3 Red Light" (covered by the early Talking Heads) and "Indian Giver" (nicely redone by The Ramones years later—those New York punks knew a tasty piece of gum when they chewed one), these studio concoctions go beyond their creators' intentions of appealing/pandering to susceptible youth. With bright melodies, double-entendre nursery rhyme lyrics, and occasional garage grit, a type of pop once dismissed as disposable fluff has ultimately never lost its flavour one bit. Chew on!

WE NEVER LEARN: The Gunk Punk Undergut, 1988-2001

Well, well—what do we have here? Why, it's the first book to chronicle the emergence of possibly the most submerged (in terms of "alt-nation" popularity and commerciality) rock subculture of the '90s. Eric Davidson, lead snot-spewing singer of Ohio's New Bomb Turks, has interviewed and written about the groups and movers and shakers of what he's colourfully labelled "the gunk punk undergut": lo-fi garage bands which were too wildly raunchy to subscribe to a strict "'66-only" approach, but too rootsy for hardcore punk purity.

From the U.K.'s Thee Headcoats (led by the ridiculously prolific Billy Childish) to The Mummies out of San Francisco (some nutcases who performed in, you guessed it, sweaty mummy costumes), a crazed commitment to rockin' noise is the common thread among the many diverse gunky groups. None of these sounded like the alt-rock bands which resonated with the indie-loving public at the time, mainly because the gunk-punkers were too uncompromisingly raw, savage, and unapologetically non-arty. Finally, close to a decade ago, The White Stripes, coming out of Detroit's garage-rock underbelly, had the wide-ranging impact that their predecessors/compatriots couldn't/wouldn't muster. With We Never Learn, educating yourself in the fun and frantic times that were had in the gunk punk world is, like the music, a total and bonafide blast!

BOB ANDY & MARCIA GRIFFITHS - Young, Gifted & Black

It’s about time! That’s what I have to say about this latest set of Universal reissues of original albums that feature classic Trojan singles. As a fan of the song “Young Gifted & Black” by Bob & Marcia since childhood, I’m very pleased with this release in particular.

Marcia Griffiths started with Byron Lee’s Dragonaires in 1964. Later, as one of the I Threes, she gave sweet trio harmony to Bob Marley during his Island years. Along the way, she recorded her best-known singles, “Feel Like Jumping” (divine!) and “Electric Boogie” (unfortunately huge). Bob Andy was a songwriter and a former member of the Paragons (“The Tide is High”) by the time this album was recorded in 1970.

Their best-known hit, the title track, was a radical reworking of Nina Simone’s powerful paean to black pride, given mass appeal by Trojan, who furnished it with a delicious string arrangement in England, guaranteeing its message a mass audience. The choice of unlikely covers shows how the duo had a keen ear for the underrated classic (“Private Number” by Judy Clay and William Bell, and “Get Ourselves Together” by Delaney & Bonnie), and totally surprising (who would have thought Simon & Garfunkel’s “Keep the Customer Satisfied” would work in a Jamaican context?). Their versions of “Put a Little Love in Your Heart” and “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” are more typical, but no less appealing.

This is a superb pop/rocksteady record, right up there with other duet albums like the aforementioned Delaney & Bonnie’s Home, and Bobbie Gentry & Glenn Campbell’s collaboration. 

VA - John Armstrong Presents: South African Funk Experience

There have been endless collections over the years documenting various forms of global funk, mostly from west Africa, but this is the only collection of South African funk that I can think of, and it’s brought to you by John Armstrong, curator of the similarly-named Cuban Funk Experience. Armstrong has been a collector of South African music since the 1980s, and his deep knowledge shows in the detailed notes on each of his selections. 

The set he’s put together is not funk in the way we think of funk in the west, though there is definitely a strong black American influence to shake up the joyful tone that characterizes popular South African music. The Mahatolla Queens are wonderful as usual, whether on their own (“Asambeni Bafana”) or backing up Mahlathini (“Wozan Mahipi”). Ex-pats are represented as well, and Armstrong gives some spotlight to exiles in Britain such as Chris MacGregor (on the Joe Boyd-produced “Andromeda”) and Dudu Pukwana. As the World Cup starts to recede from memory, keep the party going with this one. 

THE DING-DONGS - S/T

Meet The Ding-Dongs, who sound like they hail from somewhere deep in the wilds of Arkansas...No, that ain't quite right; how's about some neglected one-horse town off a two-lane highway in Tennessee? Hmmm, nope, scratch that. How does the lovely and liberated, sophisticated cultural hotbed of Montreal grab you? Yippers, these here Ding-Dongs do indeed come from a punkabilly place found in the innards of that city's rock'n'roll underground. More importantly, their debut disc represents the raunchily raucous collaboration between charismatic rockabilly powerhouse Bloodshot Bill and great garage-punker Mark "BBQ" Sultan.

On this release on the fantastic Brooklyn-based Norton label ("Where the loud sound abounds" is their appropriate motto), The Ding-Dongs deliver the crude deep-fried rootsy goods in an unrelenting barrage of yelped vocals, twangy gi-tar, and pounded backbeat. The result is a breathlessly exciting romp that recalls the buzz put out by '80s/'90s Montreal rockabilly gods Ray Condo and his Hard Rock Goners, but utterly stripped-down AND souped-up. In other words, no musty revivalism here, just a ding-dong daddy of a damned good time!

ALICE CLARK - The Studio Recordings 1968-1972

First things first: cue track two, “Don’t You Care”, a vocal and instrumental tour-de-force that became an anthem of the early-'90s London club-jazz scene, when it was rescued from oblivion by rare-groove crate diggers. The same cannot be said about the mysterious Alice Clark, who recorded the track for her only album and then disappeared into total obscurity. Nobody really knows very much about her beyond fuzzy recollections from her sessions. What we do know is that she lent her powerful vocals to the Mainstream label, better known for jazz releases but looking in 1972 to tap into the soul market (also check out A Loud Minority: Deep Spiritual Jazz from Mainstream Records 1970-1973,  which came out last month).

Clark’s self-titled album, found here along with a couple of sides she had previously recorded with Warner, gets an extra boost from the Mainstream players, especially from exceptionally propulsive drums and horns, and arrangements from Ernie Wilkins. The thrill I get listening to “Don’t You Care” (penned by Bobby Hebb of “Sunny” fame) has made it my most-listened-to track of the year so far. What makes this album such a unique thrill—much tighter and jazzier than typical soul, from a singer too Lyn Collins-raw for jazz—is what made it so unmarketable when it came out. It's a shame; she should have been bigger than this. 

(As a postscript, if I had known in January that this would be released domestically, I still would have bought the expensive Japanese import after sampling a few tracks. You just can’t pass up a discovery of such urgent greatness as this. This will surely be in my year-end list—highest recommendation!)

ALASDAIR ROBERTS & FRIENDS - Too Long In This Condition

It is too often that the scholarly side of folk music presents itself as a sort of merit badge on the sleeve of the performer; where there’s some superfluous "Guantanamera" talk-down spoonfeeding us some sort of proof of authenticity in place of communicating the intricacies of a tradition through the music itself. Alasdair Roberts sings as if returned from the grave, spinning mock gospels and timeless ballads with the gravity of one who has seen all ages. His own songs play out as if they’ve been floating around the North for a few hundred years, betraying a deep knowledge of all manner of British music passed, so it’s no surprise that an album of traditional tunes will carry the weight of their age.

There’s no question that this album serves as a proper record of these songs—descriptive notes and Child reference numbers accompany each title, along with Roberts’ distinctive Theorbo-flop guitar tunings. The songs themselves largely deal with darker matters, from the gore of Long Lankin to the tragedy of Barbara Allen. It's with great subtlety that Mr. Roberts expresses the depth of this music, and perhaps that’s why, rather than inviting us to “Sing Out!”, he suggests we “Stravaig With Gravitas!”.

FOREST CITY LOVERS - Carriage

It's almost hard to believe how much Forest City Lovers have evolved in sound since their debut full-length, 2006's The Sun and the Wind. That album (which followed a self-released EP by FCL frontwoman Kat Burns) sounded a lot like other reflective singer-songwriter types: bedroom-quiet, with light flourishes of drums or trumpet on the odd track. However, with stronger melodies and smarter lyrics, it quickly placed Forest City Lovers as a band to watch. Their next album, 2008's Haunting Moon Sinking, previewed many of the new musical ideas explored on Carriage, mainly the addition of a full band, with the violin becoming a prominent part of their sound.

Well, as much as we enjoyed their first two albums, Carriage is an entirely different creature. The quiet singer-songwriter moments are almost non-existent this time around, with every song feeling all-around bigger. You can tell this is the work of a band that is comfortable playing together, with the different sounds and influences of each band member (including bassist Kyle Donnelly, violinist Mika Posen, drummer Christian Ingelevics and guitarist Tim Bruton) blending like never before. For example, the effervescent "Tell Me, Cancer," with it's summery vibes and downwright salty lyrics would have been shocking to hear on their older discs, but when placed between the grand "Phodilus & Tyto" and the electrifying "Minneapolis", it fits right in.

Another successful experiment is the swinging duet "Pocketful of Rocks" (with Born Ruffians' Luke LaLonde lending his pipes), a song we predict will become the soundtrack for many summer romances for years to come. Furthermore, the powerful chorus of "Constellation", which has Ms. Burns singing "Stitch a map of our new home/and then we'll run in that direction", could be the best indication of just how far they've come and stands amongst the album's top moments. If Carriage marks a new direction for Forest City Lovers, then we'll be running right after them.

VICKI ANDERSON - Wide Awake In A Dream: James Brown Productions From The Pre-Funk Years

This one might surprise those who are more familiar with Vicki Anderson’s '70s funk period. Anderson got her start in the James Brown Soul Revue in 1965, replacing Anna King before vacating her position with the entry of Marva Whitney in 1968. While she did rejoin in 1969 for another three years before being replaced by the equally tough Lyn Collins, it’s her original stint as one of Brown’s Soul Sisters that provides the focus here. Her earliest work fits neatly into the early female soul genre, but that doesn’t make it any less worthy. An early highlight is “My Man”, which I’m willing to bet money was a key influence on the Zombies’ “Time of the Season” with same syncopation and background sighing ahhh’s, and a near-identical key. 

Aside from Motown, New Orleans (in particular Irma Thomas’ waltz-time classics) provides the strongest shading to her stylings. It’s all prime '60s soul, made all the more exciting by a couple of great duets with Brown on “Think” and an incendiary reworking of the Everlys' “Let It Be Me” that will knock the top of your head off. Of course, she also duets with Bobby Byrd, Brown’s right-hand man and Anderson’s husband by this point, on “Loving You”. There’s a reason why James Brown called Anderson the best singer he ever had in the Revue—now it’s up to you to find out why.    

VA - Bo Diddley Is A Songwriter

A reference to the album Bo Diddley Is A Gunslinger, this collection is a cracking tribute to the man who brought a cooler style and exoticism to black rock’n’roll as compared to the volcanic Little Richard and the country-influenced riffage of Chuck Berry. Bo Diddley’s patented clave-derived groove (he actually tried to copyright that beat!), augmented by the ever-faithful Jerome on shakers, became one of the primordial ingredients of rock and continues to influence new generations of musicians. Since the Originator, as he is also known, was not a songwriter in the traditional sense of selling songs for a living, this is more of a covers collection, which is just fine considering the talent that’s been assembled by the always-reliable folks at Ace as part of their ongoing series spotlighting the great songwriters of the rock era. 

Buddy Holly was the first key figure to pay homage to the man born Ellas Otha Bates, and sings “Bo Diddley” here, but check his famous “Not Fade Away” (not included), which also showed such a strong influence that the song became a rare cover of another white artist by the Rolling Stones. Casual fans of the sophisticated Zombies may not know they did a raucous take on “Roadrunner”. Similarly, others will swoon over The Everly Brothers' Byrds-y cover of the soda-fountain classic “Love is Strange”. Let us not forget that The Pretty Things named themselves after one of the late master’s songs, and that tune turns up here. You might have already heard Captain Beefheart’s “Diddy Wah Diddy” and the New York Dolls' lascivious ode to a rock’n’roll nurse in “Pills”, but add in The Downliners Sect, Ian & Sylvia, Los Lobos, and The Animals and you’re beginning to get an idea of the sheer magnitude of Bo Diddley’s influence. This is a virtual history of rock music all in one snappy package. Doot doola doot-doo, doot-doo!

WHITE FENCE - S/T

When I first got my hands on this disc, I couldn't help but think that these White Fence folks were a pretty mysterious bunch. From seemingly out of nowhere, without any psychedelic accoutrements whatsoever, White Fence had recorded one of the most intriguing and listenable lo-fi soundtracks to an acid-fried state of mind in quite some time. After doing a bit of research, I discovered that this record is actually the brainchild of one Tim Presley of the groups Darker My Love and The Strange Boys. A-ha! White Fence is NOT a group, but a one-man lysergic freakout: now I'm even more impressed.

Without a doubt, Presley has absorbed the sounds of '60s psych merchants like Syd Barrett and The Electric Prunes, while throwing in a dollop or two of garage-punk aggression. But while many a musician has trod this nouveau-psychedelic path before, there aren't too many people these days delivering the goods with this much conviction and with so many melodic hooks. It's one thing to write and record trippy soundscapes, but it takes a special talent to create memorable songs which stand up to repeated listening. And even if the template for White Fence's approach was established years ago, in the hands of someone like Tim Presley, it still sounds as fresh as ever. Definitely one of this reviewer's fave discs of the year thus far.

JOHNNY HALLYDAY - Le Roi de France 1966-1969

Let's play a little game of "what if": what if instead of staging a soul/gospel-infused comeback in 1968, Elvis Presley attempted suicide, dropped acid, and then recorded psychedelic rock? Obviously that scenario never transpired, but something awfully similar happened to France's version of Elvis, Johnny Hallyday, when the former teen idol began to convincingly adopt all the trademarks of LSD-fueled pop/rock.

The RPM reissue label has now handily put onto one disc the cream of Hallyday's attempts at total heavyosity; backed by Jimmy Page, Brian Auger, The Small Faces and other hard-hitting British musicians, the French vocalist belts out song after song, and sounds not unlike Tom Jones fronting the early Deep Purple (and that's a compliment, by the way!). With some gorgeous orchestral pop tunes thrown in for good measure, this compilation should appeal to those of you who gleefully discovered last year's excellent RPM collection of Jacques Dutronc. Vive la France, indeed!

SARAH HARMER - Oh Little Fire

Songbird Sarah has spent her solo career oscillating between exquisite adult pop and Canuck Appalachia. 2005's I'm A Mountain was a collection of the latter, so a more radio-ready vibe is in order for her first LP in five years, Oh Little Fire. If that sounds like a less-than-enthusiastic appraisal of the Harm's latest, allow me to clarify: a radio station whose airwaves were permanently adorned by her dulcet tones would be a lovely one. Indeed, it's a rookie mistake to see this lady's significant gifts as being anything like pedestrian simply because they have mass appeal. She doesn't pander. Instead, she presents herself unadorned and direct, allowing that voice to ring out like the aural Pavlovian bell it is.

Oh Little Fire bears the same casual clarity that made If You Were Here and All of Our Names such treats. This relaxed feel and the album's short running time does mean that the first listen breezes by. But the melancholic undertones of songs like "Captive" and "New Loneliness" really begin to smoulder after that, giving the record the deep touchstones it needs to fully take root. Late-album duet with Neko Case "Silverado" is a real highlight, with Harmer's timbre rubbing off on the often blustery-voiced Case. Here, the two are kicking back like friends tending to the dying embers of campfire singalong. It is a little fire, but it burns brightly nonetheless.

WOLF PARADE - Expo 86

Wolf Parade have led a funny existence—charmed for sure, but in small ways, cursed as well. When the quartet was first brought to national attention, they had little more than a self-released EP and an rather helpful opening slot for the Arcade Fire under their belts. But the world was stoked on Montreal and a rapturous reception for their debut full-length, Apologies To The Queen Mary, seemed an inevitability. 

And so it was. And although time has proven that Mary was indeed a strong album, it was funny what happened next. Their follow-up, At Mount Zoomer, wasn't a bomb, but it kind of died on the vine a bit. (Hey, sophomore slumps are nothing new.) In the interim, the band's two main songwriters each formed very successful side projects (or in one man's case, many side projects). In the wake of the sexually-charged, minimalist greaser-punked rock of Dan Boeckner's Handsome Furs and Spencer Krug's acid-carnival progfest, Sunset Rubdown, the pupils have now become the teacher. Wolf Parade is back to being a young cub of a band: a side-project these guys get to when their other gigs have some downtime.

Maybe they don't view it that way, but it sure as hell feels like that from the outside. So their third LP, Expo 86, has arrived quietly and quickly—a sneak attack of an album to attempt to charm back the crowd and remind them who won the love for these guys in the first place.

After seeing what Boeckner and Krug could do individually, Zoomer was often beset by accusations of the two songwriters not working harmoniously together, but Expo 86 suggests that these two still have much to bring to each other's party. Boeckner runs security at Krug's screwy midway, scaring the rowdy teens straight and winking at the girls, while Krug injects Boeckner's world-weary Springsteen stomps with a quirky levity and an oddly-welcome beach ball to toss into the crowd: yin/yang perfection.

There's no anthem quite on par with Mary's "Shine A Light", "Modern World" or "Heart's On Fire" (although the "Don't how to stop it at all" refrain of "Pobody's Nerfect" comes awfully close), but these are terrific tunes that make the most of a distracted indie spotlight. The band (plus guitarist Dante DeCaro and drummer Arlen Thompson) are stellar throughout, muscular and at ease. The world may be more interested in the follow-up to the Furs' Face Control, but it's nice to see Wolf Parade make such a strong case for its own existence.

TIMOTHY ANDRES - Shy and Mighty

loudQUIETloud is the name of a Pixies documentary, referring to that band's signature dynamics that influenced everyone from Nirvana to Mogwai as a dramatic device. But it could just as easily be the title of pianist/composer Timothy Andres' debut (an album that instead opts for the more poetic Shy and Mighty). Sudden dynamic shifts have been an key to much Western classical music for centuries, whether it's the jarring penultimate choral blast that explodes from a gentle drift in the 5th movement of Beethoven's Ninth, or the heart-pulsing ebbs and flows of Chopin's Ballade No. 2 in F Major.

The 25-year old Andres—already a quite experienced composer—is keen to carry on the tradition, but his approach is hardly Romantic. Where Chopin allowed his musical phrases to harmoniously wind their way through the scales, Andres pulls from the more recent traditions established by composers such as Steve Reich. In other words, repetition, subtle shifts of accent and the occasional fits of dissonance. The result is an album of tightly interlocked piano duets (performed throughout with pianist David Kaplan) that is beautifully placed between two modes—the cool calculation of the modern masters with a dash of Romantic emotional, fiery temperament.

In this context, the title Shy and Mighty is almost a little too on the nose, too eager a description. But it is one that Andres sells fully, if for no other reason than that it is truly exciting to hear a young pianist/composer who so convincingly blends daring originality, a reverence for the past, and respect for the listener. Because even when Andres' competing desires threaten to swallow each other, he manages to keep an eye on the piece as a whole long enough to always see it through. The result is both an accessible and unpredictable debut, not to mention a total score for the label Nonesuch. With Mehldau's Highway Rider already a great success, these pianists are giving their employers a vibrant 2010. Expect many big things from this guy in the future.

VA - You Baby: Words & Music by P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri

Of all the brilliantly gifted songwriters who created Top 40-bound confections for '60s hitmakers, Philip "Flip" Sloan remains the most enigmatic. Originally from New York City, Sloan moved to Los Angeles with his parents and by his late teens had already become a prolific tunesmith. Teaming up with the equally young and talented Steve Barri, Sloan came up with demos given to r'n'b and surf combos as well as female pop vocalists—compositions which would often get released by acts on the Dunhill label (home of The Mamas and the Papas and The Grass Roots).

This long-overdue comp features several of the hits penned by Sloan and Barri, along with many more obscure gems. It makes no difference if we're talking Beach Boys-like harmony surf-pop by Jan and Dean, jingle-jangling folk-rock by The Turtles and The Searchers, irresistably infectious Merseybeat-style melodicism by Herman's Hermits, or the most infamous doomsday protest song of 'em all by Barry McGuire, this dynamic duo excelled at crafting instantly and eternally memorable material. After having listened a couple of times to the twenty-five tracks here, the odds are good that you'll be eager to hear more.

The aforementioned enigma of P.F. Sloan basically involves his failure to establish himself as a singer-songwriter in his own right despite having proven himself so successful a hitmaker for others. After releasing two albums that flopped in the marketplace, his label, Dunhill, apparently forced him out of the music biz when he refused to curtail his attempts to forge a solo career and instead stick to churning out radio-friendlier tunes for hire. Sloan, for all intents and purposes, eventually disappeared, even if his knack for folk-rock introspection peppered with his unique pop smarts was compelling. It's quite a sad story, one that nevertheless finally ends on a redemptive note, with the 2008 reissue of Sloan's solo recordings, not to mention this new anthology of the hook-filled singles he co-wrote with Steve Barri.

ARIEL PINK'S HAUNTED GRAFFITI - Before Today

Ah, the cassette warped from the sun. A perfect relic of 1980s summers, when absent-minded teenagers would leave prized tapes on the dashboard of their cars only to come back and find that David Lee Roth was a more than a little crazy from the heat—he was half-liquid thanks to it. Welcome to Before Today, an album that plays just like one such distorted cassette, even down to the hissy, mid-range fidelity that screams TDK Dolby NR.

OK, so you weren't around in the '80s? That's cool, Ariel Pink can let you in on it, but take note: this is more than some trip down a geometric memory lane. Pink's a cunning and admirably unhinged songwriter. Whether his references points are Seventeen Seconds-era Cure ("Fright Night (Nevermore)"), weirdo soundtrack outtakes from an episode of Miami Vice ("Beverly Kills"), or a pop tune complete with moaning porno sounds snatched from the cutting room of Guns N' Roses' "Rocket Queen" ("Butt-House Blondies"), there's always some sweet hook cutting through the retro fetish. Lucky for him, because even the most eager hipster has to admit that this is often one hell of a cheesy sounding record. But in the end, even this feature kind of works in his favour. It's almost like Pink's daring you to love this record in spite of yourself. And since he's smart enough to never pilfer from one particular style for too long, that's exactly what you'll do. Superbly demented stuff. 

MAYLEE TODD - Choose Your Own Adventure

A tough one to nail down, Maylee Todd is a harpist who loves bossa, a musician who is connected to the local indie scene (The Bicycles, Henri Faberge & The Adorables, Laura Barrett, Woodhands) but certainly does not make indie music, and a (I’m assuming from her musical vocabulary) classically-trained player who dresses up like a Timbaland in Furs on the cover of this, her debut album.

Anyone who has seen the mind-blowing video for “Summer Sounds (Tunog Ng Taginit)”, which starts with her in the park (Bellwoods?) during the Wanda Sa-inspired first section and ends up with a blue-screen dance routine in space for the Stereolab-meets-Herbie Mann extended coda, has a bit of an idea what to expect here. It’s the kind of baffling combination of serious/wacky that characterized June Carter Cash as a performer, or even Frank Zappa.

But don’t be misled. This is an album full of pretty songs that spotlights Todd’s whispery voice (unless she’s yelling, of course), harp that doesn’t scream “HARP!!!” like other singing harpists, and folk-jazz backing.  A charming, whimsical and groovin’ summer record.

VA - Palenque Palenque: Champeta Criolla & Afro Roots In Colombia 1975-91

Another genius set from Soundway, purveyors of no-nonsense global Afro-diasporic music, this time opening the book on champeta, a popular form for blacks in Cartagena and Barranquilla, cities that lie on the Carribean coast of Colombia. While most know Colombia for cumbia and its many permutations, head compiler Lucas Da Silva, boss of his own Palenque imprint, follows the development of champeta’s beginnings in the '70s, when local musicians took to Fela Kuti’s Afrobeat and began to integrate the Black President’s rhythmic sensibility and interlocking guitar parts into their local styles, which already took in soukous, calypso, zouk, and compas.

If you have a copy of the Fela tribute album Black Man’s Cry from earlier this year, you’ll be familiar with Lisandro Mesa’s “Shacalao,” one of a handful of covers of Kuti’s “Shakara” and an early example of champeta. Then, as it is now, it was the soundtrack blasted by sound systems in the rougher parts of town, but what you get here are the raw goods before modern production techniques slicked things up. 

Volume 2, please? Or how about a trawl through other untapped Colombian forms like fandango and puya next? There have been a few Colombian comps put out lately, but we’ve barely scratched the surface, folks. Soundway, bring it on!

MIRIAM MAKEBA - South Africa's Skylark

This being the summer of South Africa’s World Cup, it was only natural that the reissue gods would grace us with a bounty of musical gifts to provide the soundtrack to half-time breaks and post-game parties. Nascente, the label that has also recently put out the excellent Beginner’s Guide to South Africa (3 discs for $18.99!), brings us a generous survey of one of the legends of South African music, the late Mariam Makeba. There have been many collections of her work in the past, but this one covers the broadest span of her career (including her early years with the Skylarks, my personal favourite Makeba period). Exiled to America, where she recorded some of her most famous recordings (“Pata Pata” and “The Click Song” are here, of course), Makeba became deeply involved in the Civil Rights movement and caused a stir when she married Black Panther Stokely Carmichael. In fact, the marriage left her a hot potato for bookers and label bosses, as tours and record deals were cancelled. What followed was a spell in Zaire (she performed at the Rumble In The Jungle match between Ali and Foreman), where she recorded for the fantastic Syliphone label, tracks from which are also included here.

You couldn’t overstate Makeba’s position as one of the great female vocalists of the last 50 years. Off the top of my head, she’s right up there with Elis Regina, Aretha Franklin and Dusty Springfield, but upped the ante by singing in multiple languages and countries, bridging the gap between South African jazz and American folk, soul and funk, and never compromising her political views. Over two discs and forty-five selections, there’s just too much great music to resist here. Get on this now!