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Niagara return to Discrepant with Buxtehude, a new work bending the legacy of Dietrich Buxtehude into their own fractured, electro-organic language.

Rather than a tribute, Buxtehude feels like an abstract dialogue with the Baroque composer’s sense of structure and flow—reimagined through Niagara’s raw synth work, off-grid rhythms and subtly warped melodic cycles. The trio let the music grow from the inside out: patterns expand and contract, harmonies tilt slightly off their axis, and small details accumulate until each piece reveals its own internal gravity.

There’s a clarity to Buxtehude that feels carved rather than composed. Tracks move with a quiet insistence, like mechanical organisms finding coherence through repetition and drift. Melodic fragments surface briefly, disappear, then return transformed, lending the album a strange balance between austerity and warmth.

With Buxtehude, Niagara continue to refine their unmistakable approach—playful yet rigorous, minimal yet full of life— remaining entirely their own.

Joe Bataan's Ghetto Records released Joe Acosta's "The Power of Love" LP in 1971. It is now beloved among both salsa dura fans for the tough uptempo numbers and with the lowrider "souldies" crowd for its sweet and slow Latin soul track 'I Need Her.' There are a number of funky mid-tempo son montunos, as well as three super hard guaguancos enough variety to make for a solid dancing-and listening experience. Reissued once again thanks to our collaboration with Now-Again Records. Our release includes an insert with liner notes.

BLUE & WHITE COLOUR IN COLOUR VINYL

In the culinary arts, it’s easy to overcomplicate the final product. Theme, presentation, texture…they’re important but should work to complement the raison d'etre of any food. At the end of cooking a dish, it should taste good and feed people. Some dishes, like barbeque or provoleta, resist the tendency towards hollow showmanship. One of their expressions can be more or less aesthetic, but the first purpose is to be simple and tasteful. Argentinian provoleta goes so far as to blur the line between ingredient and dish. It relies on the inherent flavor of provolone being heated at the right speed for the perfect amount of time. You can add garlic or chives or red pepper to the slice, but ultimately they serve to bring out an essence that’s already there.

Los Angeles’ Cousin Feo has developed his rapping acumen in the five years since releasing Provoleta, but returning to the project today shows that he always had the penmanship, grit and delivery that christens an emcee worthy of remembrance. Like the bubbles rising up in the appetizer that is the album’s namesake, Feo showed that true profundity is found in the simple gestures.

Since dropping the project in 2019, Cousin Feo has expanded his vision of a world where hip-hop and football, two proletarian art forms, mingle in creative and compelling ways. He has collaborated across multiple continents, chronicled football histories, aided in canonizing legends, kept the flames high in age-old rivalries and constantly forced his audience to search for the last time they heard bars this hard. In anyone else’s hands it would be too great a task.

The maturity he showed on Provoleta wasn’t nascent, it was an inherent quality forcing itself to the surface. The songs refract his experience as a working class Angeleno through the archetypes of Argentinian football legends. The kernel that unites the two worlds is hustle. When Feo was coming up, missteps had greater consequences than crashing out in the group stage and street deals had the weight of a Boca-River Plate match.

Each track uses slightly different ingredients to let Feo’s underlying talent shine. “Maradona” feels salvific, fitting for a football legend canonized from the Andes to the Alps and a Los Angeles rapper looking to inspire similar hope in the neighborhoods that raised him. On “Di Stefano” Feo massages the instrumental with the same composure of the late forward, until he pierces through the headphones like one of Di Stefano’s arrows. It’s also refreshing to hear a song celebrating Messi before his meme-ification, focusing on the universal truths contained in his footballing talent instead of using number 10 as a stand-in to make a point in a fruitless argument. And he still finds space to show deference to Batistuta, Kempes and other members of the Argentinian pantheon who’ve been erased from the popular imagination by the national team's contemporary success.

Real ones know that true players, true rappers, and true artists will always stand the attacks of time and consensus. In Provoleta’s first verse, Cousin Feo says he moves with the hand of God. Maybe one day he’ll tell the whole truth and let us know how he was able to wrestle the pen away too. Limited edition of 300 hand-numbered copies.

Mit "Ach, die Menschen" legt Keimzeit ihr mittlerweile 14. Studioalbum vor - ein Werk, das die Band erneut als souveräne, eigenständige Größe innerhalb der deutschen Musiklandschaft bestätigt. Unbeeindruckt von Trends setzt Keimzeit auf Kontinuität, poetische Beobachtungen und musikalische Gelassenheit. Im Zentrum stehen die charakteristischen Texte von Norbert Leisegang, die Alltagsmomente, Menschlichkeit und feine Zwischentöne mit liebevoller Präzision einfangen. Zwischen Reggae-Anklängen ("Bummelzug"), chansonhaftem Erzählen ("Fasching im Februar"), folkrockigen Elementen ("Gute Fee") und rockig-psychedelischen Momenten ("Stern") zeigt das Album die stilistische Bandbreite der Band. Auch persönliche Themen wie in "Therapie" und humorvolle Miniaturen wie "Sultan tanzt Samba" fügen sich zu einem warmen, lebensnahen Gesamtbild. "Ach, die Menschen" ist ein durch und durch typisches Keimzeit-Album - poetisch, geerdet, musikalisch frei atmend und voller liebevoller Alltagsparabeln.

ORDH's debut, "Blind In Abyssal Realms", sets out to redefine what the term 'progressive death metal' truly means. But before ORDH, there was BARISHI. When their bass player threw in the towel to pursue other interests in life, guitarist and vocalist Graham Brooks, "looking for a fresh start", decided the time had come to finally dwell in his favorite genre: death metal. But not just any kind of death metal_ Having drafted BARISHI drummer Dylan Blake, with whom Graham has been playing since he was twelve years old, and Josh Smith from KIEFCATCHER on bass, the trio then spent a few gruelling years working on their debut, with Graham writing most of the music and ironing the songs out with Dylan and Josh. Having toured with COME TO GRIEF when BARISHI was still around, Graham and the latter's singer Jonathan Hébert had hit it off really well, so when the time came to find a vocalist, Jonathan was called upon, "right on time to jump straight into the recording and writing process, as most of the music was ready to go".

The Definitive Origins of the Chicago Electric Blues. Witness the birth of a legend. This essential collection captures Muddy Waters at the most pivotal moment of his career: the transition from a Mississippi Delta traveler to the "King of Chicago Blues." Muddy Waters was an ambitious young man who saw little future in Mississippi. In 1943, he headed for the bright lights, big city of Chicago, where he soon connected with blues giant Big Bill Broonzy, who began featuring Muddy as an opening act at his club dates. Within a year, Muddy had switched to electric guitar and formed his first blues combo, quickly becoming an established figure on Chicago's club scene. In 1947, Muddy came to the attention of the fledgling Aristocrat Records, just as Leonard Chess-then running a nightclub called the Macomba Lounge-invested in the company. Working frequently with pianist Sunnyland Slim, Muddy recorded a split session with him for Aristocrat in December 1947. This collection begins there: eight Aristocrat 78 rpm releases (sixteen sides), recorded between 1948 and 1950 and presented here in chronological order of release. Just three years later, Leonard and his brother Phil Chess would buy out Aristocrat's remaining partners and rename the label Chess Records-ushering in a new era of Chicago blues that would reverberate around the world. Includes extensive liner notes by Muddy Waters expert Fred Rothwell.

Concert at Prades-le-Lez marks the origins of the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. In 1974, François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre, Jo Maka, Adolf Winkler and Guem), in the spirit of Don Cherry or Chris McGregor, playfully dismantle all borders and all styles of creative music.

On this second volume, the Intercommunal builds unprecedented soundscapes around a song of revolt, a dance tune, or a burst of dissonance. The journey is unforgettable, no question about it. On repeat listening, it even becomes… lunar!

“The music that we make is primarily meant to be listened to live,” warned a leaflet from the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. This is precisely why the (restored!) reissue of the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez, recorded on January 25 and 26, 1974 by François Tusques and his comrades, is such an important event.

In 1971, after recording a series of albums that would leave a lasting mark on French jazz (Free Jazz, of course, with Michel Portal, François Jeanneau, Bernard Vitet, Beb Guérin and Charles Saudrais, but also Le Nouveau Jazz with Barney Wilen, or the solo Piano Dazibao), François Tusques founded the Intercommunal—a grouping whose very name called for the fraternization of the various communities making up the country: Our music will help, we hope, to resolve the contradictions that exist between workers be longing to different communities, by breaking down various forms of national chauvinism, and more particularly the chauvinism of certain French people toward the cultures of Third World countries… Long live the friendship between the peoples of the whole world!

Among the great records made by the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra, the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez come first, before L’Inter Communal, Vol. 4, Le Musichien, and Après la marée noire (four titles already reissued by Souffle Continu). François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre and Jo Maka on saxophones, Adolf Winkler on trombone, and Guem on percussion) performed on January 25 and 26, 1974 at the Moulin de Prades-le-Lez, a few kilometers from Montpellier. It was thus in the southern region of Occitanie that the first echoes of this musical vision of a borderless brotherhood were recorded.

“We’re not among the Colonels,” the Intercommunal reassures us right away, performing a stride piano tune carried by African winds that the audience cannot resist for long. The energy is already striking and it never lets up throughout these two recordings, from start to finish: jazz, blues, traditional music, minimalism, even funk… The musicians of the Intercommunal have heard a lot of great music and now delight in reinventing it by mixing it all together.

“We want the song form to take its place as a weapon in the struggle against capitalist exploitation and all those who oppress us morally and materially,” declared an Intercommunal leaflet, quoting Jean-Baptiste Clément, author of the lyrics to “Le Temps des cerises.” The struggle was therefore serious—but it did not prevent François Tusques and his group from waging it in a festive spirit: each piece on Concert at Prades-le- Lez sends out a call for love and fraternity. Fifty years later, the message remains as relevant as ever—and once again, it is François Tusques who makes it heard.

Concert at Prades-le-Lez marks the origins of the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. In 1974, François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre, Jo Maka, Adolf Winkler and Guem), in the spirit of Don Cherry or Chris McGregor, playfully dismantle all borders and all styles of creative music.

On this first volume, the Intercommunal takes its audience from New Orleans to Brittany and on to North Africa. The journey was bold, without a doubt—and its memory remains unforgettable.

“The music that we make is primarily meant to be listened to live,” warned a leaflet from the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. This is precisely why the (restored!) reissue of the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez, recorded on January 25 and 26, 1974 by François Tusques and his comrades, is such an important event.

In 1971, after recording a series of albums that would leave a lasting mark on French jazz (Free Jazz, of course, with Michel Portal, François Jeanneau, Bernard Vitet, Beb Guérin and Charles Saudrais, but also Le Nouveau Jazz with Barney Wilen, or the solo Piano Dazibao), François Tusques founded the Intercommunal—a grouping whose very name called for the fraternization of the various communities making up the country: Our music will help, we hope, to resolve the contradictions that exist between workers be longing to different communities, by breaking down various forms of national chauvinism, and more particularly the chauvinism of certain French people toward the cultures of Third World countries… Long live the friendship between the peoples of the whole world!

Among the great records made by the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra, the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez come first, before L’Inter Communal, Vol. 4, Le Musichien, and Après la marée noire (four titles already reissued by Souffle Continu). François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre and Jo Maka on saxophones, Adolf Winkler on trombone, and Guem on percussion) performed on January 25 and 26, 1974 at the Moulin de Prades-le-Lez, a few kilometers from Montpellier. It was thus in the southern region of Occitanie that the first echoes of this musical vision of a borderless brotherhood were recorded.

“We’re not among the Colonels,” the Intercommunal reassures us right away, performing a stride piano tune carried by African winds that the audience cannot resist for long. The energy is already striking and it never lets up throughout these two recordings, from start to finish: jazz, blues, traditional music, minimalism, even funk… The musicians of the Intercommunal have heard a lot of great music and now delight in reinventing it by mixing it all together.

“We want the song form to take its place as a weapon in the struggle against capitalist exploitation and all those who oppress us morally and materially,” declared an Intercommunal leaflet, quoting Jean-Baptiste Clément, author of the lyrics to “Le Temps des cerises.” The struggle was therefore serious—but it did not prevent François Tusques and his group from waging it in a festive spirit: each piece on Concert at Prades-le- Lez sends out a call for love and fraternity. Fifty years later, the message remains as relevant as ever—and once again, it is François Tusques who makes it heard.

Metaphon is pleased to present this première edition, which brings together a near-complete collection of the acousmatic works of Liliane Donskoy, recorded in the 1970s and 1980s.

Liliane Donskoy (*1933) is a French, classically trained pianist, music teacher, and composer of both instrumental and acousmatic music. She began her musical training at an early age, undertaking private piano studies with Yves Nat at the age of thirteen, shortly after the Second World War. During the 1960s and 1970s, she pursued advanced studies with prominent figures of twentieth-century music, including Darius Milhaud, Olivier Messiaen, Pierre Schaeffer, and Guy Reibel, and participated in courses led by Karlheinz Stockhausen, Luciano Berio, György Ligeti, and Iannis Xenakis.

Despite this extensive and diverse training, Donskoy encountered limited institutional and professional opportunities to fully realize her artistic vision. A decisive turning point occurred in 1977, when she gained access to the facilities of the Institute of Psychoacoustics and Electronic Music (IPEM) in Ghent. There, she realized and completed the majority of her acousmatic compositions.

Donskoy’s oeuvre is characterized by a high degree of structural complexity, precision, and expressive intensity. Her work reflects a pronounced and distinctive artistic temperament, manifested through a rigorous exploration of sound material and form. Notwithstanding its artistic significance, her music has remained largely unknown, as her compositions were neither widely circulated nor formally released, leading to their relative obscurity until the present publication.

Metaphon is pleased to present this première edition, which brings together a near-complete collection of the acousmatic works of Liliane Donskoy, recorded in the 1970s and 1980s.

Liliane Donskoy (*1933) is a French, classically trained pianist, music teacher, and composer of both instrumental and acousmatic music. She began her musical training at an early age, undertaking private piano studies with Yves Nat at the age of thirteen, shortly after the Second World War. During the 1960s and 1970s, she pursued advanced studies with prominent figures of twentieth-century music, including Darius Milhaud, Olivier Messiaen, Pierre Schaeffer, and Guy Reibel, and participated in courses led by Karlheinz Stockhausen, Luciano Berio, György Ligeti, and Iannis Xenakis.

Despite this extensive and diverse training, Donskoy encountered limited institutional and professional opportunities to fully realize her artistic vision. A decisive turning point occurred in 1977, when she gained access to the facilities of the Institute of Psychoacoustics and Electronic Music (IPEM) in Ghent. There, she realized and completed the majority of her acousmatic compositions.

Donskoy’s oeuvre is characterized by a high degree of structural complexity, precision, and expressive intensity. Her work reflects a pronounced and distinctive artistic temperament, manifested through a rigorous exploration of sound material and form. Notwithstanding its artistic significance, her music has remained largely unknown, as her compositions were neither widely circulated nor formally released, leading to their relative obscurity until the present publication.

Originally released in 1993 on Big Beat/Atlantic, MC Thick’s The Show Ain’t Over Till the Fatman Swings followed his 1991 underground single “Marrero (What the Fellas Be Yellin)” and marked a defining moment for the Marrero, Louisiana rapper. While early ’90s New Orleans was dominated by bounce, MC Thick stood apart with gritty, street-level storytelling and a raw, unapologetic voice.

Featuring “T.H.I.C.K.” and production work involving T-Ray (Todd Ray), known for his work with Cypress Hill, the album remains an important piece of Southern rap history.

Fully remastered and pressed on black vinyl, this is the first vinyl availability in decades. Housed in a full-color jacket with a printed insert and is limited to 500 copies worldwide.

Highlights include more terrific songs from the Plague and Lexington Avenue, bands whose members would be better known when they created the Jarvis Street Revue. Twelve tough tracks by the Checkerlads, White Knights, Tomorrow's Keepsake, NRG, and Solid Reputation . The Gaiety roster was rich in talent (the 49th Parallel, Jarvis Street Review, and Souls of Inspyration, not to mention the Checkerlads, White Knights, Dewline, Tomorrow's Keepsake, NRG, Merriday Park, and Portland Street South) -- but it was not rich in resources, which is why these singles are as relatively unknown as they are even today

Responsible Friend is an album about the ways in which we show up for one another. What does it mean to be a responsible friend - to be there for someone you love without trying to save them - in a society steeped in conflict and injustice? Some of the songs on Responsible Friend are joyful dedications while others feel more like letters Elizabeth wasn't sure she wanted to send. Taken together, it's a record about slowing down in a world that keeps accelerating. It's a commitment to friends, family, and self, at a time when everyone seems to be carrying more than they can reasonably hold.

In a most original impetus this album traverses forty years of Italian new wave and singer-songwriter tradition. As in the desert where Infesta’s urge is to walk, we are ambushed by the most intense thermal and sonic difference.

It is from here that this important journey we mustn’t miss begins. It leads us eight thousand meters deep in the blue abyss. Not quite enough to come out the other side and, as a kite, bestow all the heights that I will reach. These depths are nevertheless necessary to adjust our eyes to the darkness that lives within us, as a machine to burst our hearts to which we can’t and won't be accomplices.

Machine against machine. The increasing pressure of the lashes of an incessant current, at times sweet and at times sour, on which all the courage is sung and yet is everywhere dispersed like thoughts on water and melodies to be lost at sea. Darkness persists: you said the world can be lived where all was taken. And it’s a crazy and estranging babbling that, stripped by a current, answers: never never never never, in no direction.

My companions, come back, the breaking point has been found, we sing together. Leaf after leaf the time has come: it is possible to destroy the Machine in a mad blinding light.

Shrunken Elvis ist ein Trio aus Nashville, bestehend aus Spencer Cullum, Sean Thompson und Rich Ruth - drei erfahrenen Musikern, die ihre Liebe zu genreübergreifender Instrumentalmusik verbindet. Die Gruppe entstand aus langen Autofahrten durch Europa, Winter-Jam-Sessions und dem gemeinsamen Bestreben, Musik eher aus dem Bauch heraus als aus Ambitionen heraus zu machen. Cullum, ein in East London geborener Pedal-Steel-Gitarrist, spielte bereits mit Angel Olsen, Lambchop, Miranda Lambert und Billy Strings gespielt und zwei Solo-Folk-Psych-LPs bei Full Time Hobby veröffentlicht. Thompson kam mit Gnarwhal und Promised Land Sound in der DIY-Szene von Nashville groß heraus und tourte später mit Margo Price und Skyway Man. Ruth schafft unter dem Namen Rich Ruth (Third Man Records) immersive Soloarbeiten, die spirituellen Jazz, Ambient und Post-Rock miteinander verbinden. Ihre Anfänge gehen auf eine Europatournee im Jahr 2022 zurück, die sie im Rahmen von Cullums Soloalbum unternahmen. Mit einem kompakten Setup aus Gitarren, Pedal Steel und Synthesizern in einem VW Passat zusammengepfercht, begannen sie unterwegs zu komponieren - und entwickelten eine gemeinsame musikalische Sprache, die sie in ihre Wintersessions in Nashville mitnahmen. Sie nahmen in einem Studio in einem Schuppen um einen Heizstrahler herum auf und fingen den Geist dieser Reisen mit Spontaneität und Vertrauen ein. Ihr Debütalbum zielt nicht darauf ab, individuelle Fähigkeiten in den Vordergrund zu stellen, sondern die Instrumente zu etwas völlig Neuem verschmelzen zu lassen. Mit der Einstellung ,keine Ziele, nur Ideen" schufen sie Musik, die sich ungezwungen, explorativ und lebendig anfühlt. Verwurzelt in den Traditionen von Kosmischer Musik, Jazz-Fusion, Elektronik und Ambient, lässt sich Shrunken Elvis von Alice Coltrane, Michael Rother, Pat Metheny, Ashra und KLF inspirieren lassen - zusammen mit visuellen Einflüssen wie ECM-Albumcovern und den Filmen von Kurosawa und Bergman. Gemischt von Jake Davis (William Tyler) und mit Artwork von Max Kinghorn-Mills (Hollow Hand) ist ihr Debüt ein leise drängendes, zutiefst kollaboratives Album - Musik, die ohne Erwartungen entstanden ist, aber voller Absicht.

Very Limited 7” EP with printed lyric inner sleeve

Purely Physical Teeny Tapes continue to sink their teeth into the fleshy nethers of the contemporary oz
underground, plucking the self-titled ep of vivisected bedroom folk by naarm/melbourne trio Who Cares?
from the recesses of net anonymity for the greatest of good.

Upon appearing out of nowhere back in ‘24, the quartet’s debut registered (feverishly) somewhere
between immediacy & beguilement, the intervening year & change doing little to dull its aura, the
mystique only heightened by their suitably gorgeous appearance in wonderful company on a colourful
storm’s recent ‘going back to sleep…’ compilation-extravaganza. The conceit of these four tracks here is
disarmingly minimal - repetitious loner guitar strummage, oblique vox poetics as lullaby, intermittent
sunken percussion, bass the subtle melodic lugger - all recurring/revolving in delicious pirouette freefall,
un-rinseable within the mind, wayward melodies stuck like heat-warped treacle.

As with the firmest of its diy domestica ilk, there’s something ever so slightly off here, the carnivalesque
nature of this thing being the ‘what?’ that keeps pulling you in. parched ennui drip, fully zonked bacchanal
(anti-)energetics, listlessness rendered bedsit anthem, cooees in the hallway. depending on how your
head is screwed, ‘correct’ or otherwise, one might hear a charmed take on a vein of folk song fallen well
by the wayside/behind the mantle, others a seance for the spirits in the kettle, others more attuned to the
myriad wraiths swirling within the outer reaches of these songs, flights of whimsy foiled by a sticky, gluey
something or other. choose, or rather submit to your own adventure. Miaow miaow miaow.

»Music for Shared Rooms« is B. Fleischmann’s eleventh solo album and his first since 2018. It is also not an album, or at least not in the conventional sense of the word. These 16 instrumental pieces provide a kaleidoscopic glimpse of a forward-thinking musician at home in many different musical worlds, including experimental and abstract music, pop and more classically-minded compositional forms. These pieces were culled from an archive of roughly 600 compositions for theatre pieces and films written throughout the past twelve years. The Österreichischer Filmpreis-awarded composer, however, aimed for more than simply documenting his extensive work in and with different media. To do so, he edited and re-mixed the individual recordings for this release, taking them out of their contexts and reworking them for an audience who can experience them in a different setting. »Music for Shared Rooms« makes it possible for its listeners to engage with the sounds and to fill the spaces they open up with their own imagination.

Roughly speaking, music for theatre or film can serve two functions: it either takes the lead, or underscores what is happening on stage or screen. The marvelous thing about these pieces is that they manage to do both. Fleischmann’s work as a prolific producer has always drawn on contrasts, at times combining pop sentiment with rigid experimentation, the seemingly naive with the intricate and complex. This approach also marks the tracks collected here: bringing together acoustic elements and electronic sounds, at times working with conventional structures but always de- and re-contextualising them, Fleischmann constructs a vivid dramaturgy out of discrete singular compositions, letting them interact across the record.

Take, for example, the opener »Träumerei« and the following »Brenne«: after the soothing acoustic sounds of the former, the latter quickly picks up speed with hard-hitting drum machine rhythms. It’s a stark contrast sonically and stylistically, however both tracks are tied together by a certain harmonic sensibility. This sort of dramaturgical interconnectedness of varied musical materials is the thread that runs through »Music for Shared Rooms«. A droney piece for string instruments like »Sehnsucht« is followed by a trip-hop beat, before »Schock« lives up to its title with skittering beats and piercing high frequencies. The differences between the pieces may be striking, but the progression from one to the other is subtle. It goes on like this through different moods and tempos. There’s soothing-yet-eerie piano pieces like the »Für Elise«-inspired »Der Lärmkrieg«, gentle house grooves, joyful synthesizer excursions and, finally, »Die Erde ist mir fremd geworden«, a collage of abstract textures and concrete sounds.

All these pieces create distinct situations through the juxtaposition of diverse musical elements, but are also bound together by a single vision. Writing music for theatre pieces or film requires a composer and his pieces to engage with people and their movements in space, which is exactly what Fleischmann offers on this record. He breaks down the fourth wall and invites his listeners into his world, a wide-ranging musical panorama. »Music for Shared Rooms« is indeed not an album in the conventional sense of the word, but more like a photo album in which each page opens up a new space to get lost in; recreates different scenes in which you can immerse yourself. These are shared rooms indeed.

First time reissue of JP free jazz rarity, pre-Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai group.

The single album self-released by the quartet Shūdan Sokai in 1977 is one of the most vital documents of mid-seventies Japanese free jazz, documenting Tokyo’s free scene at the precise moment when it began to shift to a handful of tiny venues on the western fringes of the city. In Free Jazz in Japan, Teruto Soejima identifies the extant venue Aketa no Mise in Nishi-Ogikubo as the pioneer of this decamping from the centre: a cramped basement beneath a rice shop, seating just 20 people. Musician-run, operated on a shoestring, these spaces offered a vital site for community, creativity, and a small measure of financial independence — “even though it was in a basement, in spirit it was a loft.”

Among the most active of the new venues was Alone in Hachiōji, nearly an hour from Shinjuku, in a district shaped by universities, lower rents, and a thriving counterculture. Originally opened in 1973 as a jazu kissa, Alone was unusually spacious and equipped with a stage, grand piano, and drum kit. Around 1974, Junji Mori and Yasuhiro Sakakibara began working there, booking free jazz players on weekends and establishing the venue as a crucial hub. Mori recalls early appearances by figures including Kazutoki Umezu, Toshinori Kondo, and others who would define the scene.

In early 1976, Umezu and pianist Yoriyuki Harada — recently returned from New York’s loft jazz environment, where they had played with musicians such as David Murray and William Parker — formed Shūdan Sokai with Mori and drummer Takashi Kikuchi. The name, meaning “mass evacuation,” pointed to their self-chosen exile in Hachiōji. With Alone as their home base, the quartet developed a music characterized by an infectious sense of enjoyment and a willingness to integrate free jazz with elements of song structure. Harada switched between piano and bass; the group experimented with rap-like vocal pieces, jabbering nursery rhymes over bass rhythms.

They returned to Alone on December 24 to record Sono zen’ya (Eve), releasing it on their own Des Chonboo Records, partially funded by advertisements from local businesses printed on the rear cover. The closing “Ballad for Seshiru,” dedicated to Harada’s newborn son, unfolds over a delicate piano melody that moves into emphatic chords as intertwining alto lines rise and spiral.

Alone closed in September 1977, and Shūdan Sokai soon dissolved, later morphing into the expanded Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai Orchestra. What remains is a recording rooted in a specific place and moment: a fiercely independent scene sustained by small rooms, close listening, and collective commitment.