World Music

Afrique “Soul Makossa” (Mainstream, 1973)

Afrique were a one-and-done instrumental super group of session cats whose sole album is a mildly eclectic funk classic that’s become a sample gold mine. The band’s best-known names are Chuck Rainey (bass), King Errisson (percussion), Paul Humphrey (percussion), and David T. Walker (guitar). For Soul Makossa, they divided the album sides into covers and originals; the latter were written by Richard Fritz, a composer who had strong associations with Afrique organist Charles Kynard and Blue Mitchell.

Side 1’s full of excellent interpretations of R&B, pop, funk, and African tunes of varying notoriety. You really can’t go wrong by opening your album with one of the ultimate party jams, Cameroonian saxophonist Manu Dibango‘s Afro-funk flame-thrower “Soul Makossa.” Maybe you’ve heard it interpolated into Michael Jackson‘s “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” and/or Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It,” but it’s best when actual superior musicians take a crack at it, as Afrique do here. Manu had to be happy about this rendition, and not just because of the royalties. Afrique’s “Kissing My Love” might be funkier than Bill Withers‘ original, which was one of the late, great musician’s funkiest cuts. The wah-wah guitar calligraphy here is outrageously expressive and Kynard’s organ tone flows somewhere between Billy Preston and Tonto’s Expanding Head Band‘s Robert Margouleff’s. And that’s a great place to flow, y’all.

Santo & Johnny’s “Sleepwalk” is a paragon of woozy, dreamy balladry, and Afrique give it a sweet, subdued treatment, highlighted by Walker or Arthur Wright’s chikka-wakka guitar and Steve Kravitiz’s purring baritone sax. Written by Frank Brunson of the People’s Choice, “Let Me Do My Thing” is a high-steppin’ R&B number with yet more wah-wah guitar embroidery, which kind of sounds like walk-on music for contestants of the ’60s TV show The Dating Game (yes, I’m old). The title “Slow Motion” is a misnomer, because this Kenny Gamble/Leon Huff joint twitches with alacrity, similar to Lightnin’ Rod’s “Sport.” It’s hip, lean blaxploitation-flick funk with uplifting horn flourishes.

Side 2 begins auspiciously with “Hot Mud,” as Kynard gets off some sick, warped organ riffs and solos in this low-key funk bubbler, which also boasts a phenomenally serpentine guitar solo by Walker (or is it Wright?). The methodical and funky as hell “House Of Rising Funk” has unsurprisingly become a big sample source. Whosampled lists 54 examples of such borrowing, with artists as disparate as Meat Beat Manifesto, Neneh Cherry, N.W.A., Four Tet, and DJ Q-Bert doing the deed. As for “Dueling Guitars,” gosh almighty, this is nasty, hot-roddin’ funk with the 12-string fireworks promised in the title. The LP’s last two songs, “Hot Doggin’” and “Get It” are middling rhythm & blues jaunts, but the playing is uniformly spectacular.

There are some recent vinyl reissues of this crate-diggers classic floating around, but they’re not very common in the wild. Seems like most people who own Soul Makossa have the good sense not to let go of it. Get to hunting. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Ginger Baker “Horses And Trees” (Celluloid, 1986)

If you think you really know master drummer Ginger Baker, listening to Horses And Trees may change your impression of his music. Produced by Bill Laswell, Horses And Trees sounds more like a 1980s Laswell joint than it does anything by Cream, Blind Faith, Ginger Baker’s Air Force, or his collabs with Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti. And that’s more than okay, because the NYC bassist and producer extraordinaire had one of the coolest Rolodexes in the biz in that decade and an ability to conceptualize albums that enabled veteran stars to escape their comfort zones and create fresh work.

Baker was on of a mini creative roll in the ’80s; on top of the excellent Horses And Trees, he played on four tracks on PiL’s Album and cut a rugged, noisy freakout with guitarist Sonny Sharrock and saxophonist Peter Brötzmann on 1987’s No Material, and 1989’s global beatfest Middle Passage. The band Laswell enlisted for Horses And Trees included Bernie Worrell (organ), Naná Vasconcelos (berimbau, cuica, voice, shaker), L. Shankar (violin), Aïyb Dieng (chatan, talking drum, bells), and Nicky Skopelitis (6- and 12-string guitar). You can’t lose with these cats.

On opener “Interlock,” Baker’s drums pack the same massive if somewhat stilted punch that they did on PiL‘s Album. Skopelitis slashes triumphant power chords while Worrell generates thrilling whirs and drones in this oblong, pantheistic funk juggernaut. Foday Musa Suso’s beautiful, wistful dousongonni motif twangs over Baker’s lumbering beats on “Dust To Dust” on a piece that evokes the sundown, melancholy air of Daniel Lanois or Ry Cooder ca. Paris, Texas. The only track here to feature turntablist D.ST. (who famously performed on Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit”), “Satou” is a weird shuffler featuring Vasconcelos scatting on the mic like Urszula Dudziak‘s in restrained scat mode while Sosa’s kalimba and nyanyer (a West African one-stringed fiddle) add tantalizing textures.

“Mountain Time” is a deeply funky percussion orgy boasting the album’s heaviest, most thuggish beats. Here, it’s just Baker wailing on drums, Dieng going to town on talking drum and chatan, and Daniel Ponce tapping the bells. “Makuta”’s a humid, bubbling tune with a strange aura, thanks to Sosa’s kora and nyanyer playing and Vasconcelos’ cuica. The LP peaks on “Uncut,” an uptempo ethno-funk banger that could almost work in a house-music set. Sosa’s dousongonni, Dieng’s talking drum, Ponce’s bata, and L. Shankar’s violin lend exotic timbres. Worrell and Shankar go hard and florid on organ and violin, respectively, elevating the track to an exalted level. Best is “Uncut,” an uptempo ethno-funk banger that could almost work in a house-music set. Sosa’s dousongonni, Dieng’s talking drum, and Ponce’s batá lend exotic timbres while Worrell and Shankar go hard and florid on organ and violin, respectively, elevating the track to an exalted level.

As with most Laswell-produced records, Horses And Trees bears his personality and quirks more than it does Ginger Baker’s. But in this case, that’s a good thing, and Horses And Trees stands as a brilliant anomaly in the master drummer’s catalog. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Niagara “Niagara” (United Artists, 1970)

Led by the prolific German drummer/library-music composer Klaus Weiss, Niagara were a showcase for him and his fellow drummer/percussionist mates to go beat crazy in the studio. On their debut LP, Niagara erected two sidelong jams that undulate and mutate with spontaneous-seeming invention, but knowing Weiss, they were likely precisely composed. This record may change haters’ bias against drum solos, as there are many phenomenal ones transpiring throughout Niagara‘s 40 minutes.

“Sangandongo” is a 19-minute percussion seminar presented by some of the most fluent players in the world. An international cast of musicians accompanied Weiss: England’s Keith Forsey (drums, cymbals, percussion; Amon Düül II, Klaus Doldinger‘s Motherhood, Giorgio Moroder’s Munich Machine), America’s Cotch Blackmon (conga, percussion), Venezuela’s Juan Romero (cowbell, maracas), and Germany’s Udo Lindenberg (drums, timbales, percussion; Klaus Doldinger’s Motherhood). There’s enough time on “Sangandongo” for Niagara to lean on repetition and variation and phasing to drive home the track’s many pleasures. Think the Incredible Bongo Band, but blown out to epic proportions. At 8:30, things get unbelievably funky; it’s amazing what tambourines and cowbell in the right hands can do to enhance a track. “Sangandongo” is a mind-boggling odyssey of delectable rhythms, unusual timbres, and shifting dynamics—telepathic genius on the level of Can.

The nearly 21-minute “Malanga” starts in a more understated manner than “Sangandongo,” with much intense cymbal work building tension. But gradually the snares begin to punch harder, the rhythms become more emphatic, the bass-drum booms magnify. Later, manic cowbell, panning cymbals, and weirdly FXed congas create a disorienting soundfloor. As it progresses, “Malanga” morphs into a stunning force of nature, a stormy weather system to which you can dance… albeit oddly.

Everland reissued Niagara in 2022, and that same year they collected all three Niagara albums in a lavish boxed set. S.U.B. (1972) is essentially the funkiest library-music album you’ve never heard, just absurdly danceable and soul-jazzy stuff to trigger ultimate hedonism in those receptive to it. You can tell simply by their drum tones that these dudes knew how to party. Afire (1973) is another massive, drum orgy with a surfeit of lubricious percussion. Nobel Prize for the eminence at Everland who made that decision. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Harumi “Harumi” (Verve Forecast, 1968)

Harumi Ando is part of that rarefied club of one-and-done artists: musicians who released one great LP and then peaced out for various reasons. My own pantheon would include Skip Spence, the United States Of America, McDonald & Giles, Friendsound, Spoils Of War, and Hermann Szobel. There are more, but we don’t have all day here.

What makes Harumi’s case even more interesting is that he seems to have vanished from everyone’s radar in the decades following the release of his 1968 self-titled debut album. Mystery pervades Harumi. How did an unproven Japanese solo musician hook up with accomplished—and uncredited—New York players in a studio helmed by Tom Wilson, producer of classics by the Velvet Underground, Mothers Of Invention, Nico, Simon & Garfunkel, and Bob Dylan? Why did Verve allow him to cut a double LP whose second disc consists of sidelong excursions with zero commercial potential? I mean, it was a risky move even when they did it with Frank Zappa & co. Could the reason really be down to Verve’s execs being high on hallucinogens and the notion that “this is what the kids want”? I would like to think so.

Harumi begins brilliantly with “Talk About It,” phased drums leading the way on a glorious sunshine-pop tune. There’s a warped guitar or keyboard sound surging in the background that pushes this into mindfucksville. And right away, Harumi establishes his solid grasp of English and dramatically vulnerable voice, which is not technically “good,” but is effective in the context of his beautifully ramshackle psych-pop songs. “First Impressions” bursts into life with a horn-heavy fanfare, powering bubbly, Age Of Aquarius pop à la 5th Dimension. “Hello” is a tough little gem with a killer cyclical bass line and enigmatic organ swell. The slyly groovy “Sugar In Your Tea” is an introverted, naïve psych nugget in the Paul Parrish vein.

The soaring “Caravan” should’ve been a hit; I can imagine it seguing well into Tommy James & The Shondells’ “Crimson & Clover.” No wonder it was covered with astonishing panache by Rotary Connection. The towering, wide-screen orch pop of “Hunters Of Heaven” will sweep you off your goddamn feet. Again, the bass line snakes its way into your consciousness, leaving you dying to know who’s playing it. (I wouldn’t be surprised if it were Carol Kaye or Chuck Berghofer.) Oddly, “Hurry Up Now” sounds as if it could be a B-side of a single by an obscure Motown artist (compliment!). “Fire By The River” is the closest thing Harumi has to a dance-floor banger; it features the album’s most robust drums, chill vibes, incandescent organ, and biting guitar stabs. Harumi really belts it out on “Don’t Know What I’m Gonna Do,” but the square, melodramatic pop with strings and vibes is the LP’s nadir.

Harumi could’ve ended the album there and we’d have a nice little cult classic. But he went and added another slab of wax with the 24-minute “ Twice Told Tales Of The Pomegranate Forest” and the 18-minute “Samurai Memories.” This is how legends manifest. In the former, a deep-voiced thespian and Harumi trade observations, which most contemporary listeners will dismiss as faux-profound philosophizing or hippie hoo-ha. A procession of passages on glowing vibes, piquant shamisen strums, tabla, shakuhachi, congas, etc. serves as a bed for our narrators’ chatter. They discuss life, love, freedom, “the miracle of reality,” “the lost chord,” and “a mountain of ice cream.” Heavy, bros. “Samurai Memories” starts like a soundtrack for a swinging ’60s LSD party and gets progressively more complex and chaotic, then waxes and wanes in its own peculiar drug logic while Harumi or somebody else speaks in Japanese. These epics compound the WTF? factor of this enigmatic oddity. Harumi, if you see this review, please shed some light on your flawed masterpiece.

(The Austrian label Ebalunga!!! is reissuing Harumi on black and color vinyl on June 23. It ain’t cheap, but it’ll be less expensive than most copies on Discogs.) -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Blo “Chapter One” (EMI Nigeria, 1973)

Nigeria’s famous for being the birthplace of the Afrobeat genre, pioneered by Fela Kuti and Tony Allen. But in the ’70s, that African nation also incubated some fantastic psychedelic-rock bands, including Blo. Guitarist Berkley Jones, drummer Laolu Akintobi, and bassist Mike Odumasu released five strong albums in the 1970s, of which their debut, Chapter One, is the best known in the US. It’s a great introduction to the trio’s sly psych-rock and funky Afrobeat fusions.

There’s a humid, low-end undertow to their generally celebratory, jammy songs that’s hugely appealing. Not to slight the other players, but Odumasu reigns as the group’s MVP with his atypical and athletic bass lines. That being said, Jones works his wah-wah and fuzz-tone effects pedals with wonderful subtlety and Akintobi is a font of lithe, unpredictable rhythms. You can hear these delights on opener “Preacherman.” It’s tensile, cyclical rock with a joyous melody and an inspirational bass line, while the guitar somehow sounds like a flute in places. The song gets freakier as it goes, a common pattern on Chapter One. While these songs have vocals and relatively conventional rock structures, at a certain point the voice drops out and the instrumentalists go off on controlled freakouts.

“We Gonna Have A Party” is a fragrant, chugging jam that stays true to its title while “Don’t” follows in the same vein, but with more funk in its trunk. The album’s most anomalous track, “Chant To Mother Earth,” sprawls into a dank, ritualistic trance-out, until Jones’ long, circuitous guitar solo torches the subterranean vibe. Finally, “Miss ‘Sagitt’” ranks as one of the most transcendental tracks to come out of Africa; it’s a world-class psychedelic pinnacle on the level of the most sublime krautrock (Agitation Free, Et Cetera, Popol Vuh). What a fantastic finale!

Overshadowed by Lagos’ booming Afrobeat movement, Blo proved that the city could produce psych-rockers of distinction, too, as exemplified by Chapter One. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Diga Rhythm Band “Diga” (Round/United Artists, 1976)

Featuring Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart and tabla master Zakir Hussein (Shakti, Shanti, etc.), Diga Rhythm Band recorded only one album, but it’s a doozy. Among Dead diaspora records, Diga ranks near the top, along with Garcia, Hooteroll? (by Howard Wales and Jerry Garcia), and Ned Lagin’s Seastones.

With members in the double figures, Diga Rhythm Band have the tools for a percussion orgy, with Ray Spiegel’s vibes and Jim Loveless’ marimba providing melodies. Other instruments struck and plucked include congas, bongos, gong, timbales, duggi tarang, and tar. Diga is a true East-meets-West hoedown, and the beats often come at you fast, complexly, and in a multitude of timbres. Incredible Bongo Band had nothing on these quick-wristed badasses.

Discogs has appended genres such as “jazz,” “folk,” “world,” and “free improv” to Diga, but the album transcends categorization. It sounds more like a pure expression of creativity that comes from hitting various percussion instruments for the sheer transportive hell of it. For example, “Sweet Sixteen,” which starts with a luscious melody on vibes and bulbous and swift tabla slaps; when Hart’s drums kick in, the track takes flight. Later, we get a big percussion breakdown and then a flamboyant finale. Talk about a mood-elevator…

At nearly 13 minutes, “Magnificent Sevens” exemplifies the record’s brilliant dynamics, its surging power rushes and dramatic rests. Moving from eerie ambient mode—with distant gong hits and murmuring vibes—to mind-bogglingly mercurial slaps, DRB produce a veritable hail-storm-on-a-tin-roof scenario. Additionally, they definitively prove that vibes coupled with tablas is a divine confluence of tonalities. The LP’s other epic, “Tal Mala” also showcases DRB’s inexhaustible rhythmic inventiveness.

The two tracks on which Jerry Garcia guests are the shortest and most accessible to Western ears. “Happiness Is Drumming,” stands as the most conventionally “rock” song here; it presaged “Fire On The Mountain” from the Dead’s 1978 album, Shakedown Street. Garcia’s languid, fluid guitar stars on this laid-back beauty, with Hart doling out heavy-handed snare hits. Jerry alternates between stun-gun guitar and jazzy, pointillistic mode on the Spiegel composition “Razooli,” which also features a loopy, undulating marimba motif over swiftly pattering congas.

Diga isn’t exactly rare, but it ain’t too common, either. I scored my copy at Jive Time for $15 about a decade ago. The price may have crept up since then. Whatever the case, it’s pretty much a bargain at whatever sum you find it. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Assagai “Assagai” (Vertigo, 1971)

If my research is accurate, Assagai were the lone majority Black group on the storied Vertigo label. (The great Marsha Hunt also released a single on the imprint.) Composed of South African and Nigerian musicians, with some backing help from British prog-folk greats Jade Warrior (apparently arranged by Vertigo, unbeknownst to the latter), Assagai only released two albums, but they’re very good specimens of the early-’70s Afro-rock movement.

Assagai’s self-titled debut album features Dudu Pukwana (alto sax), Charles Ononogbo (bass), Louis Moholo (drums), Fred Coker (guitar), Mongezi Feza (cornet), and Bizo Mnnggikana (tenor sax). Some of these cats went on to have long, distinguished careers in the jazz world. Jade Warrior went on to cut some fantastic prog opuses, which I hope to get around to reviewing here eventually.

Written by Jade Warrior, “Telephone Girl” first appeared on their own 1971 self-titled album. Assagai’s version starts with Moholo’s incredibly orotund funky break and then bursts to a higher level of vibrancy with lascivious sax riffs, Coker’s flamboyant wah-wah guitar, Ononogbo’s suave bass line, and warm, African-dude vocals about how well he’s going to treat the titular sex worker. Unbelievably, Assagai earned a slot on Top Of The Pops with this fantastic, raunchy song. This fistful of DJ dynamite is Assagai‘s peak, but other treasures appear. “Akasa” is simmering Afrobeat with mellifluously triumphant sax charts and an extended drum break that would make the late Tony Allen smile. Coker gets off a crispy, complex guitar solo that has a similar timbre to Howard Roberts’ on the Electric Prunes‘ “General Confessional”—a very good thing.

The stealthy “Cocoa” is a slinky psych-rock chiller while the rolling, humid, and chant-heavy Afrobeat cut “Irin Ajolawa” thrills with another elongated drum break. “Ayieo” provides breezy, swaying funk with South African jazz brass enhancements and the bustling, joyous jazz of “Beka” will make you want to jump like NBA Slam Dunk champ Mac McClung. The album’s low point comes on “Hey Jude,” which all groups were legally obligated to cover during the Nixon administration. (Go look it up.) It pains me to say that this is one of the worst Beatles interpretations I’ve heard—and I’ve heard a lot. Assagai turn the beloved power ballad into a saccharine highlife cringefest. That being said, they do a nice, albeit truncated, job with the transcendent, arm-waving coda.

In 2016, Prog Temple did the last legit reissue of Assagai, though a label called Cosmic Rock issued an unofficial one in 2022. Overall, it shouldn’t be too hard to track down a vinyl copy. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Okay Temiz “Drummer Of Two Worlds” (WEA, 1980)

Besides having one of the coolest names in music, Okay Temiz has been a key rhythmic force in the zone where jazz meets “world” music. The Turkish drummer/percussionist has worked with deep musicians such as Don Cherry, Björn J:son Lindh, Johnny Dyani and Mongezi Feza (in the group Xaba), Tony Scott, and others while maintaining a long, fruitful solo career. Unlike many jazz musicians of a certain vintage (Okay was born in 1939 and is still living), Temiz has released excellent LPs well into the 1990s. But for my money, the standout in his catalog is 1980’s Drummer Of Two Worlds.

On this nine-track stunner, Temiz composed, arranged, and played a long list of percussion instruments, including sheep bells, thavil, cuíca, berimbau, Jew’s harp, Indian tuned sticks, and goblet drum (aka darbuka)—some of which he constructed himself. On Two Worlds, he received crucial help from Arif Sag (saz), Ziya Aytekin (woodwinds), and Attila Özdemiroğlu (synth). It turns out, when you make your own instruments as well as possess otherworldly skills and unique ideas, amazing, hard-to-categorize music ensues.

Temiz may be Turkish, but his sound diverges even from that Middle Eastern country’s distinctive output. It’s hard to imagine a more arresting start to an album than “East Breeze.” An utterly gripping berimbau intro leads into a dance-floor banger full of weird tones (what is producing that wild low frequency?!), a sinuous earworm whistle, rococo berimbau motif, an oddly metered groove (9/8?), and amphetamine bongos. “Galaxy Nine” defies all logic and classification, its tensile Jew’s harp wowows, rapid-fire drum triplets, metallic and wooden percussive accents building to a hectic cacophony.

With its insane monkey chatter and laughter, vibrant birdsong, and mercurial metallic percussion, “Ocean Roller” would stop you dead in your tracks if you heard it in public. Lest you think Temiz couldn’t get funky, “Penguin” offers solid, in-the-pocket funk with a woodwind that sounds like frog hiccups and harp-like strings (gopijantra, I think) adding distinctive texture. It may surprise some that Geto Boys’ Scarface sampled this track. “Drummer Of Two Worlds” brings god-like fusion motion—a magnum opus of funky disorientation. Let’s call it “whirled music for twirling dervishes.” The album closes with “Fantasia Drive,” a percussion orgy with crazy berimbau fibrillations rippling through it. An imaginary soundtrack for the most exciting car-chase scene ever, the song boasts timbres seldom heard anywhere. “Fantasia Drive” seems to be mutating and dispersing with each passing minute, as if in a science-lab experiment. Temiz’s peak record exists in its own unprecedented, psychedelic world.

CAZ PLAK reissued Drummer Of Two Worlds in 2024, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. DO NOT SLEEP. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Sly & Robbie “Language Barrier” (Island, 1985)

Formerly ubiquitous drummer Sly Dunbar and bassist Robbie Shakespeare are better known for their session work than for their own releases, and it’s easy to understand why. Jamaica’s best-known rhythm section has forged deep grooves for a panoply of stars both in their native reggae and dub styles as well as in funk, R&B, rock, pop, trip-hop, and jazz modes. A partial litany of collaborators includes Grace Jones, Bob Dylan, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Sinéad O’Connor, Gilberto Gil, and Tricky, as well as with fellow countrymen Black Uhuru, Sugar Minott, and Peter Tosh, among many others. The Sly & Robbie imprimatur bestowed quality on records and in concerts for decades in multifarious contexts, until the latter’s 2021 death.

Among the duo’s own albums, 1985’s Language Barrier stands as one of the most interesting. Produced by Material bassist Bill Laswell, Language Barrier boasts a large, varied cast of musicians: Wally Badarou, Bernie Worrell, Herbie Hancock, Dylan, Manu Dibango, and Afrika Bambaataa, among others. Distinguished company! Laswell had the best Rolodex in the biz in the ’80s and ’90s.

Anyone expecting trad reggae or dub on Language Barrier will be disappointed. That’s not how Sly & Robbie—and Laswell—rolled in those days. Opener “Make ‘Em Move” telegraphs the dominant approach with prowling electro-funk in the realm of Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit” and Art Of Noise’s “Close (To The Edit),” but with militant alpha-male vocals by either Bernard Fowler or Bambaataa. Featuring Dylan on harmonica, “No Name On The Bullet” is bulky electro-funk that veers into Mark Stewart & The Maffia territory. It’s very much a product of ’80s studio aesthetics, with its clunky drum effects and blaring digital synth smears.

“Bass And Trouble” would segue well into Bambaataa & Soulsonic Force’s “Looking For The Perfect Beat” or, indeed, Hancock’s “Rockit” (that again). Explosive and dynamic as hell, with highlight-reel sax by Dibango and a searing guitar solo by one of the five axemen on the record, “Bass And Trouble” is a definite standout. The album’s most uptempo number, “Get To This, Get To That,” percolates like a quasi-techno jam, with soulful singing by Fowler.

The main attraction, though, is the radical interpretation of Miles Davis’ five-dimensional brain-fryer, “Black Satin,” from his greatest album, On The Corner. Sly & Robbie delete the electric sitar- and tabla-laced intro and the main motif seems to be created here with a strange synth setting that almost sounds like a kazoo—a bold choice. But, unsurprisingly, Dunbar can’t match Jack DeJohnette’s nimble athleticism and mind-boggling complexity on the drums, so instead Sly keeps a neck-snapping 4/4 while Shakespeare repeats Michael Henderson’s probing bass line like an automaton—not a complaint! Laswell crams the stereo field with odd activity, but it’s a more ’80s-style array of disorienting tics and gestures. Whatever the case, it took guts to cover such an innovative track by a genius, and I’m here for it.

Language Barrier definitely has a dated quality, but with Sly & Robbie near their peak and backed by such a high-powered crew, it belongs in your collection. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Poco “Poco” (Epic, 1970)

For decades I avoided Poco records because I thought they were the epitome of bland, soft country rock. I’m not even sure how I came to that conclusion, as two members—Richie Furay and Jim Messina—played with Buffalo Springfield, whom I dig. Sometimes you just formulate rigid dogmas based on no or little evidence. It’s a bad habit. Then I remembered being plagued by Poco’s gooey 1978 radio hit “Crazy Love,” and likely had scorned them based one that one song. We didn’t have YouTube or streaming services in the 20th century, so one could, if so inclined, hold ignorant grudges against musicians for years on end.

But in the late 2010s, after hearing someone I respect praise their early albums, I decided to take a chance on Poco’s self-titled LP because, what the fuck, it was a buck. And, man, am I glad I did. Sure, it gets a bit maudlin here and there—especially on the cover of Dallas Frazier/George Jones’ “Honky Tonk Downstairs.” But there’s also some residual Springfield melodiousness here, some Sweetheart Of The Rodeo and Michael Nesmith’s First National Band mojo, and some Neil Young-like guitar shredding by Messina and Furay.

The Furay composition “Hurry Up (Now Tell Me)” opens Poco with the sort of deceptively funky country rock that you sometimes hear on Steven Stills’ solo records. Replete with imaginatively arranged vocal harmonies, this song grooves harder than you’d expect from a bunch of honkies with a pedal steel (wielded by Rusty Young). And Messina’s surprisingly tough guitar solo would make Neil’s sideburns roll up and down. Jim comes in hot with “You Better Think Twice,” an uptempo country-rock breezer with punchy rhythms that should’ve been a hit. Sad to say, Poco garnered zero chart action. “Keep On Believin'”—which Furay and bassist Timothy Schmit wrote—is a rousing rocker overflowing with feel-good energy, bespangled with Young’s radiant dobro solo.

I was ready to write off the sentimental ballad “Anyway Bye Bye,” but it unexpectedly goes bombastic, so respect is due for subverting tropes. The baroque country rocker “Don’t Let It Pass By” flirts with prog complexity, proving again that Poco couldn’t be too easily pigeonholed.

That realization bursts into vivid truth on “Nobody’s Fool/El Tonto De Nadie, Regresa.” Written by the entire band, it starts in funky, blues-rock/slow-burner mode, as Poco ease out of their comfort zone. What sounds like a flamboyant organ solo but is actually Young’s pedal steel run through a Leslie speaker enlivens things. About four minutes in, though, Grantham gets methodically funky on the drums and someone (fab guest percussionist Milt Holland, probably) goes off on cowbell and shaker, as Poco begin to sound like Medeski Martin & Wood, 21 years before the fact. A few minutes later, a serious percussion jam commences that would impress early-’70s Santana. The piece eventually heads into a heady conflagration that sounds like Traffic jamming with Traffic Sound, climaxing with a wild, squealing guitar solo. With that, we’re miles beyond any quaint, cozy notions of trad country-rock conformity, thankfully. Poco earn every second of this 18:25 magnum opus.

For “Nobody’s Fool/El Tonto De Nadie, Regresa” alone, the bargain-bin staple Poco is worth your undivided attention. I’m sorry I waited so long to get familiar with this transportive epic. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Akido “Akido” (Mercury, 1972)

Like Jive Time faves Cymande and Osibisa, Akido were a multinational group of Black musicians who were based in England in the 1970s and who made fantastic music. But Akido are much more obscure than those non-mainstream bands, mainly because they only cut one album, Akido, and on top of that, it has remained oop on vinyl since its original release year, 1972. Maybe this review will spur some enterprising label to reissue this wonderful record, he said quixotically…

The strangest fact about Akido is that Small Faces/Faces bassist Ronnie Lane produced it. That likely came about because Akido’s Ghanaian percussionist Speedy Acquaye had played with Lane on Small Faces and Faces sessions. (Acquaye also contributed to records by Rod Stewart, Ginger Baker’s Air Force, Rolling Stones, Third World War, and John Martyn, among others.) Though Speedy had connections to rock royalty, Akido themselves did not rock like those cats. Rather, they—including Nigerian Biddy Wright (bass, vocals), Jamaican Jeff Whitaker (congas), and British Peter Andrews (guitar)—flitted among psychedelia, funk, jazz, Afrobeat, and other African musics. And they did so spectacularly.

Album opener “Awade (We Have Come)” will sound familiar to anyone who’s heard Kruder & Dorfmeister’s “Deep Shit,” as those German producers sampled the song’s female/male African chants. “Awade” uses urgent hand drums, nimbly bobbing bass, and a brain-twisting guitar solo to forge a hard-charging spiritual jazz burner that’ll make you sweat out all of your impurities—yes, even yours. “Midnight Lady” is a lean, slashing, psychedelic groover that would segue well into Shocking Blue‘s “Love Machine.”

The bustling Afrobeat cut “Jo Jo Lo (Delicate Beauty)” would leave Fela Kuti’s Africa 70 breathless with its highly percussive shuffle; Speedy definitely earns his name here. Similarly, “Wajo (Come And Dance)” deploys heavy double-time slaps on the tom-toms, soulful vocals by uncredited women singers, and scalding, Peter Green-like guitar slashes in order to get hips shaking, butts wiggling, arms pumping, heads bobbing, etc. The intensely chugging funk heater “Blow” packs the rhythmic wallop of Babatunde Olatunji with the guitar attack of Phil Upchurch at his most aggressive. No need for singing here; just let the instrumentalists cook. “Confusion,” the album’s most rugged rocker, sounds like Santana on dexies.

Akido peaks on “Psychedelic Baby,” an insanely catchy psych-pop dancer that I plan to spin in as many DJ gigs as possible for the rest of my life. This obviously should’ve been the LP’s hit single, but because the music biz’s gatekeepers are, as the British like to say, “thick as a brick,” that didn’t transpire. Gotta say, there’s something utterly enchanting about Africans singing in English, and that element just adds luster to this classic. “Happy Song” is basically a funkier variation on the “Psychedelic Baby” theme, and therefore a winsome gem that’ll make you forget most of your worries—a major feat in 2025. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Shriekback “Care” (Y, 1983)

Shriekback’s creative core of keyboardist/vocalist Barry Andrews (ex-XTC, Fripp’s League Of Gentlemen), bassist Dave Allen (ex-Gang Of Four), and guitarist Carl Marsh (Out On Blue Six) could almost qualify as a post-punk supergroup. Their early releases such as 1982’s Tench EP and the “My Spine (Is The Bassline)” single put very interesting spins on funk and atmospheric rock. So expectations were high for the British group’s 1983 debut LP, Care, and they were resoundingly met. (The US version differs from the UK edition, adding “My Spine” and “Accretions.” Get ’em both!)

Care gets on the good foot right away with “Lined Up,” a paragon of subliminal funk, powered by Allen’s steely bass line and stoic disco beats from a disciplined drum machine. Andrews’ stern, confidential lead vocals and the female gospel choir backing add a serious air of impending doom to proceedings. I’d often hear this joint in Detroit clubs during the ’80s, and it was a goddamn mood. With its with lusciously layered synths, chilling, Eno-esque textures, and rock-ribbed clapper beats, “Clear Trails” proves again that understatement is Shriekback’s forte—even with their drum-machine programming. In a decade lousy with clunky, canned percussion, they managed to avoid the robotic awkwardness that marred so many Reagan-era albums. One of Shriekback’s best songs, “Into Method” is a methodical, militant funk jam on a stealth mission. Similarly, “Sway” stands as a minimalist-funk masterpiece.

But Care proves that Shriekback have a weirder side, too. The skeletal, Cubist dub cut “Hapax Legomena” is as strange as its title and pregnant with tension. Unfortunately, the grave mood’s shattered near the end by a guffaw. The cantankerous “Lines From The Library” comes off like a more lightweight ’80s Swans. “Evaporation” is an aptly vaporous tone poem with barely-there vocals. (Andrews never broke a sweat while singing this record’s songs, guaranteed.) On “Brink Of Collapse,” Jon Hassell’s Fourth World Music goes to English art school. It’s an eerie, ritualistic piece within an abstract funk framework—everything in its place, precise and crisp. And what the hell is “In: Amongst”? A field recording of birds panicking as they flail in a whirlwind? Lassos twirling in a hurricane? Whatever the case, it’s one of the strangest endings to an album ever. That Care came out on Warner Bros. in the States shows that the early ’80s were different times, indeed. (Dave Allen passed away on April 5 at age 69. May he rest in peace.) -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.