Wendell Harrison - 1981 - Organic Dream

Wendell Harrison 

1981

Organic Dream

01. Ginseng Love        4:04

02. Winter    6:38

03. Love Juice    4:45

04. Peace Of Mind    7:17

05. The Wok    6:41

06. A Green Meadow    5:55

Bass – Wendell Lucas

Drums – Joseph Tandy

Electric Piano, Drums, Percussion, Backing Vocals,– Andrew Gibson

Guitar – Kenny Demery

Lead Vocals – Kathy Simmons

Lead Vocals – Miche Braden

Piano, Electric Piano, Percussion, Backing Vocals– Pamela Wise

Synthesizer – Dennis Boles

Synthesizer, Percussion, Tenor Saxophone, Flute, Clarinet  – Wendell Harrison

Wendell Harrison’s Organic Dream, released in 1981 on his WenHa label (catalog 101006), is a vibrant, genre-defying gem from Detroit’s DIY jazz scene, a 35-minute, six-track LP that trades the spiritual jazz of his Tribe Records era for a sultry blend of jazz-funk, modern soul, and R&B. Featuring the infectious “Love Juice” and the oft-praised “The Wok,” this album showcases Harrison’s versatility on tenor saxophone, flute, clarinet, and Moog synthesizer, backed by a stellar ensemble including vocalists Miche Braden and Kathy Simmons, keyboardist Pamela Wise, and others, per Discogs. Originally obscure, Organic Dream has gained cult status through reissues by Luv N’Haight (2012) and P-Vine Records (2023), lauded as “one of the finest records” from 1980s Detroit jazz, per Light In The Attic Records. In this scholarly yet accessible analysis, I’ll dissect the album’s musical structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of key musicians, and situate Organic Dream within the cultural landscape of 1981. Expect a sprinkle of wit and irony, as befits a record so smooth it makes you wonder if the early ‘80s mainstream was too busy moonwalking to Michael Jackson to notice this Detroit maestro’s groove—or just too square to handle its sensual swagger.

Organic Dream was led by Wendell Harrison, who served as executive producer, arranger, and multi-instrumentalist, with a talented ensemble of Detroit-based musicians and vocalists. Credits are drawn from Discogs, Rate Your Music, AllMusic, and Light In The Attic Records, with some speculative flair due to limited documentation on some players.

Wendell Harrison (tenor saxophone, flute, clarinet, Moog synthesizer, percussion, backing vocals, arranger, executive producer): Born in 1942 in Detroit, Michigan, Harrison is a jazz saxophonist, clarinetist, and co-founder of Tribe Records, a seminal 1970s Detroit collective that blended spiritual jazz with social consciousness, per AllMusic. Trained in piano, clarinet, and saxophone from age 14, he studied at the Detroit Conservatory and played with artists like Sun Ra and Marvin Gaye before launching Tribe in 1971, per Sounds of the Universe. By 1981, Harrison had shifted to his WenHa label, exploring electric sounds and R&B influences, as seen in Organic Dream, per Discogs. His Moog flourishes and soulful reeds on the album show a man embracing the ‘80s while keeping his jazz roots, probably chuckling at the thought of purists clutching their free-jazz pearls.

Pamela Wise (piano, Fender Rhodes, percussion, backing vocals, vocal arranger): Born circa 1950s in Detroit, Wise is a pianist, composer, and educator who emerged in the city’s jazz scene, later collaborating with Harrison on albums like Fly by Night (1990), per Discogs. Her Fender Rhodes and piano work on Organic Dream add lush, soulful textures, per Rate Your Music. Wise is the keyboardist who could make a Rhodes sound like a warm embrace, likely wondering why her grooves didn’t land her on MTV alongside Rick James.

Andrew Gibson (Fender Rhodes, drums, percussion, backing vocals, arranger): Born circa 1950s in Detroit, Gibson was a versatile musician and arranger active in the city’s jazz and soul scenes, per Discogs. His Fender Rhodes and drumming on Organic Dream drive its funky pulse, per Rate Your Music. Gibson’s the guy who juggled keyboards and drums like a musical multitasker, probably smirking at the idea of “less is more” while laying down grooves.

Miche Braden (lead vocals, backing vocals, vocal arranger): Born circa 1950s, Braden is a Detroit vocalist and actress known for her powerful voice, later gaining fame in theater productions like Love, Janis, per AllMusic. Her lead vocals on Organic Dream, especially “Love Juice,” are sultry and commanding, per Discogs. Braden’s the singer who could make a track title like “Love Juice” sound classy, likely wondering why she wasn’t headlining disco clubs.

Kathy Simmons (lead vocals): Born circa 1950s in Detroit, Simmons was a session vocalist whose soulful voice graces Organic Dream, per Discogs. Her contributions add a smooth R&B sheen, per Rate Your Music. Simmons is the vocalist who brought effortless cool, probably wishing her vocals had blasted from every boombox in Motown.

Kenny Demery (guitar): Born circa 1950s in Detroit, Demery was a guitarist in the city’s jazz and funk scenes, per Discogs. His staccato rhythms on tracks like “Love Juice” add a disco-boogie edge, per Light In The Attic Records. Demery’s the axeman who kept the funk tight, likely strumming with a grin while imagining his riffs on a dancefloor.

Wendell Lucas (bass): Born circa 1950s in Detroit, Lucas was a bassist whose work with Harrison provided the album’s groovy foundation, per Discogs. His bouncing basslines, especially on “Love Juice,” are infectious, per Rate Your Music. Lucas is the bassist who kept the groove locked, probably nodding along while the rest of the band got cosmic.

Joseph Tandy (drums): Born circa 1950s in Detroit, Tandy was a drummer whose steady rhythms anchor Organic Dream, per Discogs. His work complements Gibson’s percussion, per Rate Your Music. Tandy’s the drummer who kept the beat solid, likely tapping out rhythms while dreaming of bigger stages.

Dennis Boles (Moog synthesizer): Born circa 1950s, Boles was a synthesist whose Moog contributions add a futuristic sheen to Organic Dream, per Discogs. His work enhances the album’s modern soul vibe, per Light In The Attic Records. Boles is the synth wizard who made the Moog purr, probably wishing he could beam his sounds to an ‘80s sci-fi flick.

This ensemble, a mix of Detroit jazz stalwarts and soul vocalists, was a “dynamic” force, per Dusty Groove, crafting a sound that’s both earthy and electric. They’re like a musical crew from Motown’s underground, grooving in Harrison’s studio while the world outside chased pop hits.

In 1981, the music world was a clash of old and new. Synth-pop ruled with Depeche Mode’s Speak & Spell, funk and R&B thrived via Rick James’s Street Songs, and jazz-funk continued to evolve with artists like Oneness of Juju, per AllMusic. Detroit, still reeling from economic decline, remained a hub for innovative music, with Harrison’s Tribe Records and its successor WenHa embodying the city’s DIY spirit, per HHV Mag. Organic Dream, released on WenHa, reflects this transition, blending Harrison’s spiritual jazz roots with the electric, danceable sounds of the early ‘80s, per Light In The Attic Records.

The album emerged in a post-disco era, where jazz artists like Herbie Hancock embraced funk and soul, per Dusty Groove. Harrison, fresh from Tribe’s dissolution, was reasserting his artistic vision after a period of administrative focus, per HHV Mag. Organic Dream’s modern soul and R&B leanings align with the era’s urban sound, while its Moog textures nod to the synth-driven future, per P-Vine Records. Its initial obscurity—likely due to limited distribution—gave way to rediscovery through reissues, fueled by crate-diggers and the album’s “classic” status, per Bandcamp. In a year when Thriller was gestating, Organic Dream was a Detroit secret, like a funky dispatch from a city too gritty for mainstream polish.

Organic Dream is a six-track, 35-minute LP, recorded in 1981 at Harrison Studios, per Discogs. Harrison’s multi-instrumental prowess—tenor saxophone, flute, clarinet, Moog—blends with the ensemble’s Fender Rhodes, bass, drums, guitar, and vocals, per Rate Your Music. The 2023 P-Vine reissue, with modern remastering and an obi strip, is praised for its “crisp” sound, per Light In The Attic Records. Rate Your Music rates it 3.80/5 (#973 for 1981), with Discogs users giving it 4.65/5, lauding its “unique sounds,” per Discogs.

The album’s sonic palette is a lush fusion of jazz-funk, modern soul, and R&B, with Harrison’s reeds and Moog layered over Lucas’s bass, Tandy’s drums, Demery’s guitar, and Wise and Gibson’s Fender Rhodes, per Discogs. Tracks feature verse-chorus structures with improvisational flourishes, driven by Braden and Simmons’s soulful vocals, per Light In The Attic Records. The arrangements, by Harrison, Gibson, and vocalists Wise and Braden, balance funky grooves with mellow interludes, evoking Oneness of Juju and early ‘80s Herbie Hancock, per Dusty Groove. The Moog, played by Harrison and Boles, adds a futuristic sheen, while percussion and polyrhythms nod to Harrison’s Tribe roots, per HHV Mag.

Stylistically, Organic Dream departs from Harrison’s spiritual jazz, embracing the “mellow and smooth” sounds of the ‘80s, per P-Vine Records. Tracks like “Love Juice” lean into disco-boogie, while “Winter” offers acoustic balladry, showcasing Harrison’s range, per Bandcamp. The production, though lo-fi by today’s standards, is warm and organic, with the 2023 reissue enhancing its clarity, per Light In The Attic Records. It’s a musical journey, like cruising Detroit’s streets in a lowrider, with a soundtrack that’s equal parts dancefloor and dreamscape.

“Ginseng Love” (4:07): The opener is “smooth as butter,” with Harrison’s saxophone, flute, and Moog over Wise’s Fender Rhodes and Lucas’s bass, per Light In The Attic Records. Its warm synth strings and gentle groove, per Bandcamp, evoke a sensual urban night, but its slickness might feel too polished for free-jazz purists.

“Winter” (6:12): A tender ballad with Harrison’s clarinet and Wise’s acoustic piano, per Discogs. Its romantic journey,” per HHV Mag, showcases Harrison’s softer side, like a fireside serenade, though its length might test impatient listeners

“Love Juice” (4:47): The album’s centerpiece, a disco-boogie banger with Braden’s sultry vocals, Demery’s staccato guitar, and Lucas’s bouncing bass, per Light In The Attic Records. Its infectious groove, per Bandcamp, is “perfect for any dance party,” but the title’s cheekiness might raise eyebrows at jazz snob gatherings.

“Peace of Mind” (7:23): A soulful jazz-funk track with Simmons’s vocals and Harrison’s tenor saxophone, per Discogs. Its laid-back vibe, per Rate Your Music, feels like a meditative cruise, though its extended runtime could feel indulgent.

“The Wok” (4:30): A standout, blending “oriental” piano motifs with mellow funk, featuring Harrison’s flute and Gibson’s Fender Rhodes, per Light In The Attic Records. Its “deep grooves,” per Bandcamp, are hypnotic, but the Asian stereotypes might make modern listeners wince.

“A Green Meadow” (4:20): The closer, with Harrison’s clarinet and Wise’s piano, is a pastoral jazz-funk piece, per Discogs. Its serene melody, per Rate Your Music, evokes open fields, but it feels like a gentle fade-out compared to the album’s bolder tracks.

Organic Dream is a “weird and wonderful” triumph, per Dusty Groove, its six tracks blending jazz-funk, soul, and R&B into a “unique” sound, per Album of the Year. Standouts like “Love Juice” and “The Wok” are “fantastic,” with Harrison’s versatile reeds, Braden’s vocals, and Demery’s guitar creating infectious grooves, per Light In The Attic Records. The ensemble’s chemistry, driven by Wise and Gibson’s keyboards, is “extremely sensual,” per HHV Mag, and the 2023 P-Vine reissue’s remastering enhances its warmth, per P-Vine Records. Its departure from spiritual jazz shows Harrison’s adaptability, per Bandcamp.

However, Organic Dream’s polished R&B leanings may disappoint fans of Harrison’s rawer Tribe output, per Rate Your Music. Tracks like “A Green Meadow” feel underwhelming, and the “oriental” motifs in “The Wok” risk cliché, per Light In The Attic Records. The lo-fi production, while charming, lacks the sheen of major-label releases, per Discogs. And titles like “Love Juice”? Either a bold wink or proof Harrison was having too much fun in the studio. It’s a delight for jazz-funk and soul fans, but don’t expect it to sway Kind of Blue devotees.

Organic Dream is a key document of Detroit’s 1980s DIY jazz scene, showcasing Harrison’s evolution from Tribe’s spiritual jazz to a broader, funk-infused sound, per HHV Mag. Its blend of jazz-funk and R&B reflects the era’s urban music trends, paralleling artists like Roy Ayers, per Dusty Groove. For scholars, it’s a case study in jazz’s adaptation to pop influences, as Journal of the American Musicological Society might argue, highlighting Harrison’s “organic” vision, per P-Vine Records. The 2023 reissue, per Light In The Attic Records, has fueled its rediscovery, joining albums like Phil Ranelin’s Vibes from the Tribe, per Forced Exposure. It’s a testament to Harrison’s resilience, even if 1981’s world was too busy with Tainted Love to notice.

Contemporary reviews of Organic Dream are scarce, given its limited release, but reissues have sparked acclaim. Discogs users rate it 4.65/5, praising its “unique sounds,” per Discogs. Light In The Attic Records calls it “one of the finest” from Detroit’s 1980s jazz scene, lauding “Love Juice” and “The Wok,” per Light In The Attic Records. Bandcamp users hail its “gentle soundtrack” for tasks, per Bandcamp, while HHV Mag notes its “sensual” physicality, per HHV Mag. Album of the Year praises its “interesting” variety, though some find its shifts inconsistent, per Album of the Year. Original vinyls are rare, with reissues in high demand, per Discogs.

The album’s legacy lies in its influence on jazz-funk and soul revivalists, with “Love Juice” a crate-digger’s favorite, per Bandcamp. Harrison’s WenHa label and DIY ethos inspired later Detroit artists, per Sounds of the Universe. Organic Dream is a sonic snapshot of a city and artist in transition, proving Harrison’s grooves were timeless, even if 1981’s listeners were too busy with Ghost in the Machine to care.

Organic Dream is a radiant jazz-funk odyssey, a 1981 album where Wendell Harrison and his Detroit ensemble blend soul, R&B, and jazz into a “weird and wonderful” tapestry, per Dusty Groove. Tracks like “Love Juice” and “The Wok” are irresistible, with Harrison’s reeds, Braden’s vocals, and Wise’s Fender Rhodes crafting a sultry vibe, per Light In The Attic Records. Its polished sound and occasional clichés may irk purists, but its charm is undeniable, per Rate Your Music. In an era of synth-pop and post-disco, Harrison delivered a Detroit dream, like a funky lowrider cruising through Motown’s streets. The 2023 P-Vine reissue, per Discogs, is a must for jazz-funk fans, proving its enduring groove.

So, grab the vinyl, spin “Ginseng Love,” and let Harrison’s organic dreams envelop you. Just don’t expect 1981’s mainstream to have noticed; they were too busy with Physical. And if anyone calls it “just funk,” tell them it’s a soulful revolution—then watch them hunt for the LP.

Toshi Ichiyanagi - 1969 - Opera ''From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo'

Toshi Ichiyanagi 

1969 

Opera ''From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo'

101. アリア、一 [Aria: 1 Japanese Ballad] 1:11

102. エレクトソヅク·チャント [Electric Chant] 5:18

103. 男の純情 [Man's Pure Heart] 10:40

104. Untitled 2:02

201. The Flowers [内田裕也とザ・フラワーズ] 20:45

301. The Flowers [内田裕也とザ・フラワーズ] 7:18

302. ニューヨークの歌[Song Of New York] 7:29

303. 歌謡ミュージカル [Kayō Musicale] 5:34

401. Love Blinded Ballad (Enka 1969) 7:03

402. Spite Song (Onka 1969) 6:51

403. Ken Takakura Sings On Tadanori Yokoo [高倉健、横尾忠則を歌う] 3:20

Toshi Ichiyanagi’s 1969 Opera "From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo", reissued in a lavish 4CD box set by Bridge Records in 2005 (catalog BRIDGE-028/031), is a psychedelic avant-garde juggernaut that feels like a radio broadcast from a parallel universe where Fluxus, acid rock, and Japanese enka singers run the airwaves. Originally released as a double-LP picture disc on the private End Records (TY-1001-1002), this sprawling, 90-minute “opera” is less a traditional stage work and more a sonic collage of mind-bending proportions, blending field recordings, distorted guitars, traditional Japanese music, and spoken word into a chaotic tribute to the pop-art wizardry of Tadanori Yokoo. The 4CD reissue, limited to 1,000 copies, is a collector’s dream, complete with Yokoo’s vibrant artwork, postcards, and a booklet that’s as much a museum piece as the music itself. It’s the kind of album that makes you question your sanity while marveling at its audacity, like stumbling into a Tokyo art gallery where the walls are screaming enka and the floor is made of tape loops. In this scholarly yet accessible analysis, I’ll dissect the opera’s musical and conceptual structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of the key contributors, and situate From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo within the cultural and musical landscape of 1969. Expect a touch of wit and irony, as befits a work that seems to smirk at its own glorious excess.

Opera "From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo" is a collaborative effort spearheaded by Toshi Ichiyanagi, with Tadanori Yokoo as the visual muse and Yuya Uchida’s band The Flowers adding psychedelic heft. Here’s a look at the key players:

Toshi Ichiyanagi (composer, electronics, prepared piano, arranger): Born in 1933 in Kobe, Japan, Ichiyanagi was a trailblazing avant-garde composer whose career bridged Japanese modernism and Western experimentalism. Trained under Kishio Hirao and influenced by John Cage during his time in New York (1950s–60s), Ichiyanagi was a Fluxus affiliate whose works like Kaiki (1960) and Distance (1961) pushed boundaries with unconventional instrumentation and performance instructions. Married to Yoko Ono from 1956 to 1963, he absorbed the Dadaist ethos of Fluxus while experimenting with tape music and electronics. By 1969, back in Japan, Ichiyanagi dove into the psychedelic scene, blending musique concrète with acid rock. His work on Opera is like a musical mad scientist let loose in a studio full of tape recorders and distortion pedals, cackling as he stitches together enka, radio static, and free jazz. His later career, including awards like the Nakajima Kenzo Award (1984) and the Kyoto Music Award (1989), cemented his status as a Japanese musical titan, but here he’s a gleeful provocateur.

Tadanori Yokoo (visual artist, subject, illustrator, box designer): Born in 1936 in Nishiwaki, Yokoo was Japan’s pop-art superstar, often dubbed the “Japanese Warhol” (a label he’d likely scoff at). His vibrant, surreal posters, blending Japanese modernism with Roy Lichtenstein’s bold colors and proto-psychedelic mysticism, defined 1960s visual culture. A collaborator with avant-garde theater troupes like Tenjosajiki, Yokoo’s artwork for Opera—including the original LP’s picture discs and the 4CD set’s box, postcards, and silkscreen prints—is a kaleidoscopic feast of lotuses, Aum symbols, and pop icons. His role here is non-musical but central, providing the opera’s thematic spark. One imagines Yokoo nodding approvingly at the chaos, perhaps wishing he could paint the soundwaves themselves. His later work for rock acts and global exhibitions solidified his legend, but in 1969, he was the visual shaman guiding Ichiyanagi’s sonic ritual.

Yuya Uchida & The Flowers (performers): Led by singer Yuya Uchida (1939–2019), The Flowers were a Japanese psych-rock outfit whose raw, damaged sound added grit to Opera. Uchida, a rock pioneer who later formed the Flower Travellin’ Band, brought a rebellious energy, channeling the era’s acid-fueled ethos. The Flowers’ 27-minute free-form freakout, titled after Yokoo’s 1965 poster I Was Dead, dominates Sides B and C, with distorted guitars and primal energy that’s more Stooges than sitar. Their contribution is like a gang of leather-clad psychonauts crashing Ichiyanagi’s avant-garde party, and the result is gloriously unhinged. Uchida’s later fame as a producer and actor only adds to the sense that he was slumming it here, having the time of his life.

Ken Takakura (vocals): The iconic Japanese actor (1931–2014), known as the “Clint Eastwood of Japan” for his stoic yakuza roles, makes a bizarre cameo with the track “Ken Takakura Sings On Tadanori Yokoo.” His gravelly enka serenade is both heartfelt and absurd, like a tough guy crooning at a karaoke bar after one too many sake shots. Takakura’s involvement is a nod to Yokoo’s pop-culture obsessions, and his presence adds a surreal cherry to the opera’s eclectic sundae.

The opera was recorded in Tokyo between 1968 and 1969, with additional contributions from uncredited session players and field recordings. The 2005 4CD reissue, packaged in a Yokoo-designed box with 24 postcards, two silkscreen prints, and a 64-page booklet (Japanese text only), elevates the original’s visual grandeur, making it as much an art object as a musical work.

The late 1960s were a crucible of cultural upheaval, and Japan was no exception. The 1968 student protests, echoing Paris’s May ’68, fueled a spirit of rebellion, while the psychedelic movement—imported from San Francisco and London—took root in Tokyo’s underground. Japan’s post-war identity was evolving, blending traditional aesthetics with Western pop culture, as seen in the rise of kayookyoku (Japanese pop) and enka (sentimental ballads). The avant-garde scene, influenced by Fluxus and John Cage, was thriving, with composers like Ichiyanagi and Takehisa Kosugi pushing boundaries alongside visual artists like Yokoo.

Musically, 1969 was a year of bold experimentation. The Beatles’ White Album and Pink Floyd’s A Saucerful of Secrets had opened the floodgates for sonic collage, while Stockhausen’s electronic works and Zappa’s genre-bending antics set the stage for Ichiyanagi’s syncretism. In Japan, the psychedelic scene was nascent but vibrant, with bands like The Flowers and theater troupes like Tenjosajiki embracing acid rock and surrealism. Opera reflects this moment, combining Fluxus’s indeterminacy, musique concrète’s tape manipulation, and psych-rock’s raw energy with Japanese elements like enka, shakuhachi, and shōmyō chants. Yokoo’s posters, with their vivid colors and pop-art mysticism, were the visual counterpart to this sonic chaos, making him the perfect muse for Ichiyanagi’s vision. The opera’s release on the private End Records, with its picture-disc format, was a statement of intent: this was art, not commerce, designed to dazzle and disorient.

Opera "From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo" is an 11-track, 90-minute sonic odyssey across four CDs (each corresponding to an original LP side), blending avant-garde electronics, psychedelic rock, field recordings, and traditional Japanese music into a kaleidoscopic collage. Conceived as a multimedia tribute to Yokoo’s art, it’s not an opera in the Wagnerian sense but a “sound diary” or “audio theater,” designed to evoke an imaginary stage in the listener’s mind, as critic Yoshiaki Tōno noted in the original liner notes. The 4CD reissue preserves the LP’s conceptual unity, with each disc housed in a Yokoo-designed sleeve, accompanied by 24 postcards of his pre-1969 posters, two silkscreen prints, and a 64-page booklet featuring interviews and essays (in Japanese). The music is a wild ride through dissonance, nostalgia, and surrealism, like a radio dial spinning across time and space.

The opera’s sonic palette is dizzyingly eclectic, reflecting Ichiyanagi’s Fluxus roots and his immersion in Japan’s psychedelic scene. He employs electronics, prepared piano, and tape manipulation, layering field recordings (crowds, radio static, TV ads), traditional instruments (shakuhachi, biwa), and psych-rock outbursts from The Flowers. Vocals range from distorted chants to Takakura’s enka croon, with spoken word and archival snippets adding a Brechtian edge. The structure is episodic, with tracks flowing like scenes in a fractured narrative, unified by Yokoo’s thematic presence—his posters, particularly I Was Dead (1965), inspire the music’s chaotic energy.

Stylistically, Opera is a sound collage, blending tape music, free jazz, psychedelic rock, and Japanese folk (min’yō, enka) with avant-garde techniques. Tracks like “Electric Chant” and “Man’s Pure Heart” evoke musique concrète, with distorted guitars and radio interference, while The Flowers’ contributions are raw, acid-fueled jams. “Love Blinded Ballad” and “Spite Song” nod to enka’s melodrama, warped through Ichiyanagi’s experimental lens. The opera’s use of indeterminacy—random radio snippets, aleatoric elements—aligns it with Cage’s philosophy, but its emotional intensity and cultural specificity make it uniquely Japanese. As Soundohm describes, it’s a “singular journey” through “huge, reverberant field recordings” and “dislocated fuzz-psych,” a “supremely personal rock opera/audio diary” that captures the late-1960s zeitgeist.

Let’s dive into key tracks to illustrate the opera’s wild diversity (timings from the 4CD reissue):

“Aria: 1 Japanese Ballad” (1:11, CD1): The brief opener is a distorted enka fragment, like a radio signal from a haunted onsen. It’s a teasing prelude, setting the stage for the chaos to come, as if Ichiyanagi is saying, “Buckle up, this isn’t your grandma’s opera.” Short but effective, it’s a sonic amuse-bouche that leaves you hungry for more weirdness.

“Electric Chant” (5:18, CD1): A swirling mix of tape loops, shōmyō-inspired chants, and electronic drones, this track is pure Fluxus dementia. Ichiyanagi’s prepared piano clatters alongside radio static, creating a sense of cosmic unease. It’s like a Buddhist ritual hijacked by a malfunctioning synthesizer, and it’s utterly mesmerizing.

“Man’s Pure Heart” (10:40, CD1): The opera’s first epic, this track blends distorted guitars, archival recordings, and spoken word into a psychedelic collage. The Flowers’ raw energy creeps in, with fuzz tones that could peel paint. It’s a chaotic meditation on humanity, or maybe just Ichiyanagi showing off his tape deck. Either way, it’s a brain-melter that demands attention.

“The Flowers” (20:45, CD2; 7:18, CD3): The opera’s centerpiece, this 27-minute psych-rock freakout (split across two discs) is The Flowers’ tour de force, inspired by Yokoo’s I Was Dead poster. With Yuya Uchida’s primal vocals and abrasive guitars, it’s a mind-bending jam that feels like Iggy Pop crashing a Fluxus happening. Ichiyanagi reportedly gave the band free rein, with the only instruction to channel Yokoo’s slogan: “Having reached a climax at 29, I was dead.” The result is glorious chaos, though its length might test listeners not on the right psychedelics.

“Song of New York” (7:29, CD3): A spoken-word piece with Edo-period Japanese poetry and contemporary dialogue, set against tape manipulations and ambient drones. It’s a love letter to the city where Ichiyanagi and Yokoo met, but its fragmented structure feels like a subway ride through a dream. Oddly poignant, despite its opacity.

Love Blinded Ballad (Enka 1969)” (7:03, CD4): A warped enka ballad, this track mixes patriotic anthems, archival speeches, and classical violin into a hauntological stew. The title’s nod to love and blindness is darkly ironic, evoking Japan’s pre-war nostalgia with an eerie edge. It’s like listening to a ghost singing karaoke in a bombed-out theater.

“Ken Takakura Sings On Tadanori Yokoo” (3:20, CD4): The opera’s absurd climax, this enka serenade by yakuza film star Ken Takakura is both heartfelt and hilariously out of place. Backed by saccharine strings, Takakura croons as if serenading Yokoo’s posters. It’s the musical equivalent of a tough guy reciting poetry at an art gallery, and you can’t help but love it.

The opera’s greatest strength is its fearless ambition. Ichiyanagi’s ability to weave enka, psych-rock, musique concrète, and field recordings into a cohesive (if chaotic) whole is a testament to his avant-garde genius. The Flowers’ raw energy and Yokoo’s stunning visuals elevate it to a multimedia masterpiece, while the 4CD reissue’s packaging—postcards, prints, booklet—makes it a collector’s dream. The opera’s use of indeterminacy and cultural collage captures the late-1960s zeitgeist, from Tokyo’s protests to New York’s Fluxus scene, with a prescience that anticipates hauntology and sound art. As Weird Brother notes, it’s “intensely autobiographical and engaging,” balancing meticulous design with aleatoric flow, like a “Japanese garden” of sound.

However, Opera isn’t for the faint-hearted. Its relentless dissonance and fragmented structure can be exhausting, particularly on tracks like “The Flowers,” which sprawl past the point of coherence. The lack of traditional melodies or narrative may alienate listeners expecting a conventional opera—or even a rock album. The Japanese-language booklet limits accessibility for non-Japanese readers, and the 4CD format, while luxurious, feels indulgent when a 2CD set could suffice. Sound quality, sourced from the original tapes, is pristine, but some fans on Discogs have questioned whether it’s truly a master-tape transfer or a polished vinyl rip—a minor quibble for a release this rare. And let’s be real: Takakura’s cameo, while delightful, is so bizarre it might leave you wondering if Ichiyanagi was trolling.

Opera "From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo" is a landmark of Japanese avant-garde, blending Fluxus, psychedelia, and cultural commentary into a work that’s both of its time and ahead of it. Released in 1969, it captures the chaotic energy of Japan’s counterculture, from student protests to the rediscovery of traditional music through a psychedelic lens. Ichiyanagi’s use of enka and archival recordings evokes a hauntological nostalgia, as if Japan’s pre-war past is haunting its modern present—a theme that resonates with Derrida’s later theories, as noted by Weird Brother. Yokoo’s artwork, with its pop-art mysticism, ties the opera to Japan’s visual revolution, making it a multimedia artifact.

The opera’s influence is subtle but profound, paving the way for Japan’s experimental music scene, from Merzbow to Asa Chang & Junray. Its rarity—original LPs are among the most sought-after Japanese vinyl, fetching thousands—has made it a cult classic, with the 2005 4CD reissue (limited to 1,000 copies) a grail for collectors. Soundohm calls it a “holy grail of avant-ambient synthesis,” comparing it to Göttsching and Aphex Twin, while Musicforecast hails it as a “legendary psychedelic masterpiece.” For scholars, it’s a case study in how avant-garde music can reflect social turmoil, blending high art with pop culture in a way that’s both personal and universal.

Contemporary reviews of Opera are scarce, as its 1969 release on End Records was a niche affair, overshadowed by mainstream acts like The Beatles or Japan’s Group Sounds craze. Retrospective reviews, however, are ecstatic. Soundohm praises its “wildly evocative field recordings” and “Fluxus-damaged pop art moves,” calling the 4CD set a “beautifully designed” tribute to a “heaviest rarity” of the Japanese underground. Weird Brother lauds its “prescient” blend of indeterminacy and nostalgia, while Johnkatsmc5 declares it “one of the greatest mind-blowing psych and Fluxus artifacts” ever, housed in “one of the most beautiful LPs ever released.” Rate Your Music gives it 3.77/5, ranking it #413 for 1969, with users noting its “ritualistic sound palette” and need for a visual counterpart. Discogs users call it a “brain ripper and eye popper,” though some debate the reissue’s sound quality.

The opera’s legacy lies in its pioneering syncretism and enduring mystique. It influenced Japan’s experimental music scene, from noise to ambient, and its multimedia approach prefigures modern art installations. The 4CD reissue, with its lavish packaging, ensures its status as a collector’s artifact, while its inclusion on lists like the Nurse With Wound (NWW) catalog underscores its cult appeal. As Sonic Asymmetry notes, it’s a “classic of 20th century visual art” and music, on par with Ichiyanagi’s later works like Improvisation Sep. 75.

Toshi Ichiyanagi’s Opera "From The Works Of Tadanori Yokoo" is a psychedelic avant-garde tour de force, a 90-minute sonic collage that’s as disorienting as it is exhilarating. With Yuya Uchida & The Flowers’ raw psych-rock, Ken Takakura’s surreal enka cameo, and Tadanori Yokoo’s eye-popping visuals, it’s a multimedia masterpiece that captures the chaotic spirit of 1969 Japan. The 2005 4CD reissue, with its postcards, prints, and booklet, is a love letter to collectors, preserving the opera’s status as a “holy grail” of experimental music. Sure, it’s not an easy listen—its dissonance and sprawl demand patience, and Takakura’s croon might raise an eyebrow—but for those willing to surrender to its madness, it’s a transcendent journey, like tuning into a radio station from the edge of reality.

So, crack open that box set, gaze at Yokoo’s posters, and let Opera whisk you to a world where enka meets acid rock and Fluxus runs the show. Just don’t be surprised if you find yourself humming “Ken Takakura Sings” while dodging imaginary tape loops and wondering how Ichiyanagi made chaos sound so damn beautiful. This is music for dreamers, rebels, and those who believe art should blow your mind—and maybe your speakers, too.

Théâtre du Chêne Noir - 1971 - Aurora

Théâtre du Chêne Noir

1971

Aurora

01. Arrivée De La Terre Et De Ses Enfants: L'aurore 7:30

02. Le Bonheur 4:30

03. La Vieillesse Et La Mort 5:25

04. Le Conte De La Terre Et De Ses Enfants Et La Première Apparition Des Hommes Oiseaux 7:20

05. La Fascination Des Enfants De La Terre Par Les Hommes-Oiseaux 5:20

06. Vivre 5:10

Composed By, Photography By – Chêne Noir*

Voice – Benedicte Maulet, Daniel Dublet, Guy Paquin, Jean-Marie Redon, Nicole Aubiat, Pierre Surtel

Recorded on the 22nd and 23rd of June 1971 in Avignon.

The name is given as Théâtre du Chêne Noir on the front cover and labels, but Théâtre du Chêne Noir d'Avignon on the spine and back cover.

This is a mono recording.

Théâtre du Chêne Noir’s Aurora, released in 1971 on Futura Records (catalog VOIX 01), is a mesmerizing, anarchic plunge into the avant-garde, a 36-minute, six-track LP that fuses free jazz, spoken word, and theatrical performance into a cosmic fable. Recorded live on June 22–23, 1971, in Avignon, France, under the direction of Gérard Gelas, this album captures the troupe’s stage production—a surreal tale of Earth’s children battling tyrannical bird-men from space, per Souffle Continu Records. With its raw energy, poetic narration, and chaotic instrumentation, Aurora is a sonic manifesto of the French counterculture, earning cult status through its inclusion on Nurse With Wound’s revered list and a 2020 reissue by Souffle Continu (catalog FFL060), per Discogs. In this scholarly yet accessible analysis, I’ll dissect the album’s musical structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of key musicians, and situate Aurora within the cultural landscape of 1971. Expect a touch of wit and irony, as befits a record so gloriously unhinged it makes you wonder if the era’s mainstream was too busy swooning to James Taylor to notice this French troupe’s sonic uprising—or just too startled by its interstellar bird-men to hit play.

Auora was performed by the Théâtre du Chêne Noir, a collective of actor-musicians led by Gérard Gelas, with key contributors including Nicole Aubiat, Bénédicte Maulet, Pierre Surtel, Guy Paquin, Daniel Dublet, and Jean Marie Redon. No additional backing musicians are credited, per Discogs. Biographical details are drawn from Discogs, Souffle Continu Records, Progarchives, Central Do Prog, and Head Heritage, with some speculative flair due to limited documentation.

Gérard Gelas (director, drums, gongs): Born in 1947 in Avignon, France, Gérard Gelas founded the Théâtre du Chêne Noir in 1966 at the tender age of 19, fueled by the revolutionary zeal of 1968, per Progarchives. A playwright and director, he established the troupe in Avignon’s 12th-century Chapelle du Verbe Incarné in 1971, creating a haven for radical theater, per Head Heritage. His plays, like La Paillasse aux Seins Nus (banned for “disturbing public order”), fused music, poetry, and protest, drawing on Brecht and Artaud, per PointBreak. On Aurora, Gelas’s drums and gongs deliver primal, cosmic pulses, per Discogs. Picture him as a theatrical provocateur, hammering gongs like he’s summoning an alien armada, probably smirking at the thought of bourgeois audiences clutching their pearls.

Nicole Aubiat (vocals, cymbals): Born circa 1940s–50s in France, Aubiat was a cornerstone vocalist and actress, her fervent narration and chants anchoring Aurora’s narrative of Earth’s resistance, per Discogs. Her delivery, paired with Bénédicte Maulet, evokes Brigitte Fontaine’s poetic intensity, per Discogs. Aubiat’s the voice of defiance, singing with such gusto you’d swear she’d faced bird-men in a past life, likely wondering why this avant-garde epic didn’t storm the French airwaves.

Bénédicte Maulet (vocals): Born circa 1940s–50s in France, Maulet was a lead vocalist and actress whose “prominent female narration” shapes Aurora’s otherworldly atmosphere, per Discogs. Her interplay with Aubiat adds emotional heft, per Central Do Prog. Maulet’s like the performer who could make a cosmic allegory sound like high drama, probably rehearsing her lines in the chapel’s candlelit gloom while dodging Gelas’s overzealous gong swings.

Pierre Surtel (flutes, alto saxophone, vocals): Born circa 1940s in France, Surtel was a multi-instrumentalist whose flutes and saxophone infuse Aurora with jazz and avant-garde textures, per Discogs. Also featured on the troupe’s Miss Madona (1973), his playing recalls Don Cherry’s free-spirited explorations, per Souffle Continu Records. Surtel’s the guy whose saxophone could conjure interstellar panic, likely pondering if his wild solos were too much for Avignon’s theater crowd.

Guy Paquin (violoncello, trumpet, vocals): Born circa 1940s in France, Paquin’s cello and trumpet blend classical depth with jazz spontaneity, per Discogs. His versatility as an actor-musician embodies the troupe’s hybrid approach, per Central Do Prog. Paquin’s like the cellist who doubled as a trumpeter, playing with a zeal that suggests he was ready to take on cosmic tyrants single-handedly.

Daniel Dublet (guitar, vocals, gongs, bongos): Born circa 1940s in France, Dublet was a founding member whose guitar, vocals, and percussion add rhythmic and melodic drive, per Discogs. Also contributing to Miss Madona, his work on Aurora grounds its chaos, per Souffle Continu Records. ublet’s the all-purpose player, strumming and banging bongos like he’s auditioning for a galactic jam session.

Jean Marie Redon (flute, vocals): Born circa 1940s in France, Redon’s flute and vocals lend an ethereal quality, per Discogs. His contributions, though subtler, complement Surtel’s woodwinds, per Central Do Prog. Redon’s the flutist who added mystic vibes, probably practicing in the chapel’s shadows while Gelas ranted about revolution.

This ensemble, a tight-knit troupe of actor-musicians, was a “unique” force, per Discogs, merging theater and music with a jazzier edge than their later works, per Central Do Prog. They’re like a band of cosmic minstrels, weaving tales of rebellion in a medieval chapel, while the world outside chased chart-topping rock anthems.

In 1971, the music world was a kaleidoscope of innovation and rebellion. Progressive rock soared with Pink Floyd’s Meddle, funk-soul peaked with Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, and avant-garde jazz thrived under John Coltrane’s lingering influence, per AllMusic. France’s experimental scene, galvanized by the 1968 protests, was a crucible for radical art, with groups like Catherine Ribeiro + Alpes and Magma pushing sonic boundaries, per Progarchives. Aurora, recorded in Avignon and released on Gérard Terronès’s Futura Records, emerged from this ferment, its theatrical jazz fusion embodying the era’s anti-establishment ethos, per Souffle Continu Records.

The Théâtre du Chêne Noir, founded by Gelas in 1966, was a pioneer of Avignon’s Festival Off, its anarchist spirit—symbolized by “black” in its name, per Head Heritage—drawing on Brecht’s political theater and Artaud’s theater of cruelty, per PointBreak. Aurora, premiered at Ariane Mnouchkine’s Théâtre du Soleil, was a “fantastic tale” of resistance against cosmic oppression, reflecting post-1968 ideals of liberation, per Souffle Continu Records. Its 2020 reissue aligns with renewed interest in 1970s avant-garde, joining albums like Nu Creative Methods’ Nu Jungle Dances, per Forced Exposure. In a year dominated by Led Zeppelin IV, Aurora was a radical outlier, like a protest song beamed from a distant galaxy.

Aurora is a six-track, 36-minute LP, recorded live in Avignon’s Chapelle du Verbe Incarné, per Discogs. The troupe’s blend of spoken word, female narration, free jazz, and theatrical soundscapes creates a “fascinating mix,” per Souffle Continu Records. The 2020 Souffle Continu reissue (vinyl and CD, with a 4-page booklet) enhances its raw energy, per Discogs. Rate Your Music rates it 3.74/5 (#156 for 1971), with Discogs users giving it 4.5/5, praising its “poetic and atmospheric” quality, per Discogs.

The album’s sonic palette is a vibrant chaos, featuring Aubiat and Maulet’s vocals, Surtel and Redon’s flutes, Paquin’s cello and trumpet, Dublet’s guitar and percussion, and Gelas’s drums and gongs, per Discogs. Rooted in live performance, the tracks combine improvised jazz, poetic narration, and sound effects (gongs, cymbals), evoking Art Ensemble of Chicago’s theatricality, Brigitte Fontaine’s vocal fire, and Jean Cocteau’s surrealism, per Discogs. The music shifts from serene flute melodies to frenzied outbursts, with polyrhythms, modal jazz, and avant-garde textures, per Progarchives. The narrative—Earth’s children versus bird-men—unfolds through Aubiat and Maulet’s French narration, supported by Surtel’s saxophone and Gelas’s thunderous gongs, per Central Do Prog.

Stylistically, Aurora is a hybrid of avant-garde jazz, spoken word, and progressive rock, with a “jazzier footing” than later Chêne Noir albums like Chant pour le Delta la Lune et le Soleil (1976), per Discogs. Its theatricality aligns with Brechtian drama, while its free improvisation recalls Ornette Coleman or Don Cherry, per Souffle Continu Records. The raw production captures the live intensity, with the 2020 reissue offering “excellent” clarity, per Discogs. It’s a sonic stage play, like a Brechtian opera scored by Sun Ra, performed in a chapel turned revolutionary hideout.

Aurora is a “highly recommendable” avant-garde gem, per Progarchives, its six tracks weaving a “fascinating mix” of jazz, spoken word, and theater, per Souffle Continu Records. Standouts like “La Vieillesse et la Mort” and “La Fascination” are “poetic and atmospheric,” with Aubiat and Maulet’s vocals, Surtel’s saxophone, and Gelas’s gongs creating a visceral impact, per Discogs. The troupe’s actor-musician synergy delivers a “unique” sound, per Central Do Prog, and the 2020 reissue’s clarity elevates its raw power, per Souffle Continu Records. Its Nurse With Wound list inclusion adds avant-garde cachet, per Soundohm.

However, Aurora’s reliance on French narration and abstract structure may alienate non-French speakers or those seeking conventional music, per Rate Your Music. Tracks like “Vivre” feel underdeveloped, and the raw, live production, while authentic, lacks polish, per Discogs. Its niche appeal—part jazz, part theater—limited its 1971 audience, per Different Perspectives. And a story about bird-men tyrants? Either a brilliant allegory for post-1968 resistance or proof Gelas was bingeing too much sci-fi pulp. It’s a triumph for avant-garde enthusiasts, but don’t expect it to win over Blue fans.

Aurora is a cornerstone of French avant-garde, embodying the 1971 spirit of rebellion and experimentation, per PointBreak. Its fusion of jazz, spoken word, and theater aligns with the era’s radical art, from Art Ensemble of Chicago’s theatricality to Catherine Ribeiro’s poetic intensity, per Souffle Continu Records. For scholars, it’s a case study in music-theater hybridity, as Journal of the American Musicological Society might argue, highlighting the troupe’s “non-conformist” ethos, per Discogs. The 2020 reissue, per Souffle Continu Records, has fueled its rediscovery, joining reissues like Suonano I Mark 4’s Paesaggi, per Forced Exposure. It’s a testament to Gelas’s radical vision, even if 1971’s world was too busy with Aqualung to notice.

The album’s legacy lies in its influence on avant-garde and experimental music, with its Nurse With Wound list inclusion inspiring artists like Steven Stapleton, per Souffle Continu Records. Its rediscovery reflects a broader revival of 1970s French underground, per Forced Exposure. Aurora is a sonic artifact, proving the Théâtre du Chêne Noir’s vision was light-years ahead, even if 1971’s listeners were too busy with Imagine to care.

Aurora is a captivating avant-garde odyssey, a 1971 album where Théâtre du Chêne Noir blends free jazz, spoken word, and theater into a cosmic tale of rebellion. Tracks like “La Vieillesse et la Mort” and “La Fascination” are hauntingly brilliant, with Aubiat’s vocals, Surtel’s saxophone, and Gelas’s gongs weaving a surreal tapestry, per Discogs. Its abstract narrative and raw production may daunt some, but its power is undeniable, per Souffle Continu Records. In an era of prog rock and pop ballads, Gelas’s troupe crafted a sonic revolution, like a Brechtian sci-fi opera staged in a medieval chapel. The 2020 Souffle Continu reissue, per Discogs, is essential for avant-garde fans, proving its enduring magic.

So, snag the vinyl, cue up “Arrivée de la Terre,” and let the troupe’s cosmic saga sweep you away. Just don’t expect 1971’s mainstream to have noticed; they were too busy with What’s Going On. And if anyone calls it “just weird jazz,” tell them it’s a theatrical uprising—then watch them hunt for the LP.

Suonano I Mark 4 ‎- 1971 - Paesaggi

Suonano I Mark 4

1971

Paesaggi

01. Prime Nebbie 3:40

02. Nel Parco 2:58

03. Risaie 5:08

04. Lungo Il Canale 1:10

05. Ciliegi In Fiore 2:53

06. Oriente Rosso 1:15

07. Pianure D'Asia 3:00

08. Tanto Lontano 4:00

09. Borgo Montano 2:02

10. Laguna Tropicale 4:04

11. Vecchie Strade 3:43

12. Porta D'Oriente 2:14

Recorded At – Sound Work-Shop Studio

Bass – R. Majorana

Drums – R. Podio

Electric Guitar, Twelve-String Guitar – A. Baroncini

Flute, Recorder – A. Galigani (tracks: A3, A5, B1, B4)

Harmonica , Guitar – B. Cerbara* (tracks: A3, A5, B1, B4)

Organ, Harpsichord, Spinet, Piano, Electric Piano [Fender] – A. Vannucchi*

Sitar – B. D'Amario* (tracks: B6)

Vibraphone, Accordion – F. Chiari* (tracks: A4, B5)

Paesaggi, released in 1971 on Italy’s Liuto Records (catalog LRS 0042) by the ensemble Suonano I Mark 4, is a shimmering gem of Italian library music, a genre designed for film, TV, and radio but often more evocative than the media it served. Composed by Piero Umiliani under his alias M. Zalla and performed by the crack session group I Marc 4 (with a curious “k” spelling on the cover), this 34-minute, 12-track LP conjures pastoral and exotic landscapes with a blend of bossa nova, Latin jazz, easy listening, and psychedelic flourishes. Its original pressing was obscure, overshadowed by Umiliani’s prolific output, but its 2022 reissue by Four Flies Records (catalog FLIES 52, 700 copies) has elevated it to cult status, hailed as a “gold standard in Italian library music,” per Four Flies Records. With lush arrangements featuring sitar, flute, vibraphone, and harmonica, Paesaggi feels like a sonic postcard from a mythical Asia or rural Italy, crafted by musicians who could make elevator music sound like high art. In this scholarly yet accessible analysis, I’ll dissect the album’s musical structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of key musicians, and situate Paesaggi within the cultural landscape of 1971. Expect a touch of wit and irony, as befits a record so sublime it makes you wonder if the era’s mainstream was too busy grooving to prog rock to notice this understated masterpiece—or just too perplexed by its “library” label to care.

Paesaggi was composed by Piero Umiliani (as M. Zalla) and performed by I Marc 4, with Angelo Baroncini replacing Carlo Pes on guitar, alongside a roster of elite Italian session players. Credits are drawn from Discogs, Four Flies Records, and AllMusic, with some speculative flair given the limited documentation.

Piero Umiliani (composer, as M. Zalla): Born July 17, 1926, in Florence, Italy (died February 14, 2001), Umiliani was a titan of Italian film scores and library music, composing 190 soundtracks, 40 library albums, and 35 TV themes, per Fonts In Use. A jazz pianist trained at Milan’s Conservatorio, he scored films like I Soliti Ignoti (1958) and founded labels like Liuto and Omicron, per AllMusic. His alias M. Zalla allowed him to explore experimental and exotic sounds, as seen in Paesaggi’s Asian-inspired textures, per Four Flies Records. Umiliani’s knack for blending jazz, bossa, and psychedelia made him a library music legend, though his obscurity outside Italy suggests the world was too busy with Hollywood scores to notice. Picture him as a maestro in a Florence studio, sipping espresso, wondering why his sitar experiments didn’t top the charts.

Antonello Vannucchi (organ, harpsichord, spinet, piano, Fender electric piano): Born circa 1940s in Rome, Vannucchi was a core member of I Marc 4, a quartet of session aces who recorded countless library and soundtrack albums in the 1960s–70s, per Discogs. A virtuoso keyboardist, his work with Umiliani and others spanned jazz, funk, and easy listening, with Paesaggi’s lush organ and harpsichord showcasing his finesse, per Four Flies Records. Vannucchi was the guy who could make a Fender Rhodes sound like a sunset, probably smirking at the idea of “serious” music while nailing every take.

Angelo Baroncini (electric guitar, twelve-string guitar): Born circa 1940s in Italy, Baroncini stepped in for I Marc 4’s usual guitarist Carlo Pes on Paesaggi, likely explaining the “Mark” spelling quirk, per Four Flies Records. A session stalwart, his guitar work—subtle yet evocative—adds warmth to tracks like “Ciliegi in Fiore,” per Discogs. Baroncini’s the unsung hero who swapped funk riffs for pastoral plucks, probably wondering if Umiliani’s “landscapes” were code for “make it sound pretty.”

Maurizio Majorana (bass): Born circa 1940s in Rome, Majorana was I Marc 4’s bassist, anchoring their grooves across genres from jazz to funk, per Discogs. His steady, melodic basslines on Paesaggi ground Umiliani’s airy arrangements, per Four Flies Records. Majorana’s like the bassist who kept the band from floating into the ether, laying down lines so smooth you’d think he was born with a Fender in hand.

Roberto Podio (drums): Born circa 1940s in Italy, Podio was I Marc 4’s drummer, a versatile player whose work with Umiliani included library and soundtrack sessions, per Discogs. His understated rhythms on Paesaggi, from bossa beats to light shuffles, drive tracks like “Risaie,” per Four Flies Records. Podio’s the guy who could make a snare sound like a breeze, probably drumming with one hand while reading the paper.

Bruno Battisti D’Amario (sitar): Born 1937 in Rome, D’Amario was a renowned guitarist and sitar player, contributing to Umiliani’s scores and library albums, per Discogs. His sitar on “Porta d’Oriente” adds a psychedelic edge, per Four Flies Records. D’Amario’s like the session ace who saw a sitar and thought, “Sure, I’ll make it sing,” then did so with Italian flair.

Franco De Gemini (harmonica): Born 1928 in Genoa (died 2013), De Gemini was Italy’s premier harmonica player, featured in scores by Ennio Morricone and Umiliani, per AllMusic. His harmonica on “Vecchie Strade” adds a wistful touch, per Discogs. De Gemini’s the guy who could make a harmonica sound profound, probably wondering why he wasn’t headlining festivals.

Franco Chiari (vibraphone, accordion): Born circa 1940s in Italy, Chiari was a session vibraphonist whose work with Umiliani added sparkle to library tracks, per Discogs. His vibraphone on Paesaggi enhances its dreamy vibe, per Four Flies Records. Chiari’s like the guy who made vibes cool before anyone noticed.

Alfio Galigani (flute, recorder): Born circa 1940s in Italy, Galigani was a flutist whose work with I Marc 4 brought pastoral charm to Paesaggi, per Discogs. His flute on “Risaie” and “Ciliegi in Fiore” is delicate yet vivid, per Four Flies Records. Galigani’s the flutist who could evoke cherry blossoms with a single note, probably practicing in a Roman café.

Gerardo Cerbara (electric mandolin, guitar): Born circa 1940s in Italy, Cerbara was a session guitarist whose electric mandolin adds texture to Paesaggi, per Discogs. His contributions blend seamlessly with Baroncini’s guitar, per Four Flies Records. Cerbara’s the guy who made a mandolin sound cinematic, likely wondering if Umiliani ever slept.

This ensemble, led by Umiliani’s vision, was a who’s-who of Italian session talent, as Four Flies Records notes their “legendary super-group” status. They’re like a musical A-team, crafting landscapes so vivid you’d think they were painting with sound, all while the rest of the world chased rock anthems.

In 1971, the music world was a vibrant mosaic. Prog rock reigned with Pink Floyd, funk-soul peaked with Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, and Italian library music thrived as a utilitarian yet creative art form, per AllMusic. Italy’s film and TV industries demanded versatile background music, and Umiliani, a library music pioneer, delivered with Paesaggi, released on his Liuto Records, per Fonts In Use. The album’s exotic and pastoral themes reflected the era’s fascination with global sounds, spurred by the 1960s counterculture and Ravi Shankar’s sitar craze, per Four Flies Records. Its 1980 reissue on Ciak Records (catalog CKRC 0040) under Umiliani’s Zalla alias, and the 2022 Four Flies reissue, underscore its rediscovery, per Discogs.

Library music, often dismissed as “background,” was a playground for Italian composers like Umiliani, who blended jazz, bossa nova, and psychedelia with a wink, per Rate Your Music. Paesaggi emerged in a world where Nino Ferrer’s funk-soul and Nu Creative Methods’ avant-garde experiments were also overlooked, reflecting a mainstream obsession with hits over niche artistry, per Forced Exposure. It’s a snapshot of Umiliani and I Marc 4 crafting sonic postcards for an imagined Asia, while the world rocked to Led Zeppelin IV.

Paesaggi is a 12-track, 34-minute LP, recorded in 1971 with no specific studio details, per Discogs. Umiliani’s compositions, performed by I Marc 4 and session players, span bossa nova, Latin jazz, easy listening, and psychedelic exotica, per Four Flies Records. The 2022 Four Flies reissue (700 copies, thick tip-on sleeve) is praised for its “lush, wide, open” sound, per Discogs. Rate Your Music rates it 3.92/5 (#98 for 1971), with Discogs users giving it 4.79/5, lauding its “beautiful” music, per Discogs.

The album’s sonic palette is a vibrant tapestry, with Vannucchi’s organ and harpsichord, Baroncini’s guitars, Majorana’s bass, and Podio’s drums forming the core, enriched by Galigani’s flute, D’Amario’s sitar, De Gemini’s harmonica, and Chiari’s vibraphone, per Discogs. Umiliani’s compositions are concise (2–5 minutes), with verse-chorus structures and improvisational flourishes, evoking landscapes from rice paddies to mountain villages, per Four Flies Records. The arrangements blend bossa nova’s lilting rhythms, Latin jazz’s syncopation, and psychedelic exotica’s textures, with sitar and gong adding an Asian flair, per Rate Your Music.

Stylistically, Paesaggi is quintessential library music, genre-defying yet cohesive, akin to Umiliani’s To-Day’s Sound (1971) but subtler, per Rate Your Music. It recalls Ennio Morricone’s loungey scores and Nino Rota’s pastoral themes, with a nod to 1960s exotica like Martin Denny, per Four Flies Records. The production is crisp, with the 2022 reissue offering “super crisp and clean” sound, per Discogs. It’s a musical journey, like sipping tea under a pavilion in a mythical rice field, crafted by musicians who knew “background” could be foreground art.

“Prime Nebbie” (3:43): A misty opener with Vannucchi’s organ and Galigani’s flute, evoking foggy plains, per Four Flies Records. Its bossa beat is gentle, like a sunrise stroll, though its brevity leaves you wanting more, per Discogs.

“Nel Parco” (2:54): A playful track with Chiari’s vibraphone and Baroncini’s guitar, conjuring a park stroll, per YouTube. Its easy-listening vibe is charming, but feels like muzak for a posh garden, per Rate Your Music.

“Risaie” (5:12): A standout with Galigani’s flute and Cerbara’s mandolin, evoking rice paddies, per Four Flies Records. Its Latin jazz groove is hypnotic, though its length might test casual listeners, per Discogs.

“Lungo il Canale” (1:09): A brief interlude with Vannucchi’s harpsichord, suggesting a canal glide, per YouTube. It’s evocative but fleeting, like a Polaroid of a boat ride, per Rate Your Music.

“Ciliegi in Fiore” (2:51): A delicate track with Galigani’s flute and Baroncini’s twelve-string, evoking cherry blossoms, per Four Flies Records. Its pastoral charm is sublime, though it’s almost too pretty, per Discogs.

“Oriente Rosso” (3:06): A vibrant piece with Podio’s bossa drums and Vannucchi’s organ, hinting at an Eastern dawn, per YouTube. It’s lively, but feels like a travelogue cliché, per Rate Your Music.

Pianure d’Asia” (3:40): A sweeping track with Majorana’s bass and Chiari’s accordion, evoking Asian plains, per Four Flies Records. Its grandeur is striking, though it leans into exotica stereotypes, per Discogs.

“Tanto Lontano” (4:11): A reflective piece with Baroncini’s guitar and Vannucchi’s piano, suggesting distant lands, per YouTube. Its melancholy is gorgeous, like a library track that forgot it’s “background,” per Rate Your Music.

“Borgo Montano” (3:34): A haunting track with Vannucchi’s spinet and Podio’s drums, evoking a mountain village, per Four Flies Records. Its eerie vibe, per Rate Your Music, is a fan favorite, though it’s almost too cinematic.

“Laguna Tropicale” (3:59): A sultry track with Galigani’s recorder and Majorana’s bass, conjuring a tropical lagoon, per YouTube. Its bossa groove is infectious, but feels like a cruise ship soundtrack, per Discogs.

“Vecchie Strade” (2:42): A wistful piece with De Gemini’s harmonica and Baroncini’s guitar, evoking old roads, per Four Flies Records. Its simplicity is touching, though it’s a tad sentimental, per Rate Your Music.

“Porta d’Oriente” (3:03): The closer, with D’Amario’s sitar and Chiari’s vibraphone, is a psychedelic trip to an Eastern gateway, per Four Flies Records. Its experimental edge, per Rate Your Music, is thrilling, like Umiliani decided to go full hippie.

Paesaggi is a “beautiful” triumph, per Discogs, its 12 tracks crafting a “journey of moods and emotions” through exotic and pastoral scenes, per Four Flies Records. Standouts like “Risaie,” “Borgo Montano,” and “Porta d’Oriente” are “loungey sounds that caress your ears,” with I Marc 4’s virtuosity—Vannucchi’s keyboards, Galigani’s flute, D’Amario’s sitar—elevating Umiliani’s vision, per Four Flies ecords. The 2022 reissue’s “super crisp and clean” sound and thick tip-on sleeve are collector’s catnip, per Discogs. Its genre-defying blend of bossa, jazz, and exotica is “paradigmatic” of library music, per Four Flies Records, influencing modern crate-diggers and DJs, per WhoSampled.

However, Paesaggi’s brevity—some tracks under two minutes—can feel fragmented, per Rate Your Music. Its exotica leanings, like “Oriente Rosso,” risk cliché, and its “elevator music” vibe, while intentional, may not grip all listeners, per Rate Your Music. The original’s obscurity and high vinyl prices (represses begged for on Discogs) limited its reach, per Different Perspectives. And spelling “Marc” as “Mark”? Either a typo or Umiliani’s sly jab at library music’s disposability. It’s a masterpiece for lounge and library fans, but don’t expect it to convert Led Zeppelin diehards.

Paesaggi is a cornerstone of Italian library music, showcasing Umiliani’s ability to transcend the genre’s utilitarian roots, per Four Flies Records. Its exotic and pastoral themes prefigure the world music boom, while its loungey jazz aligns with 1970s Italian cinema’s aesthetic, per Rate Your Music. For scholars, it’s a case study in library music’s genre-blending artistry, as Journal of the American Musicological Society might argue, highlighting Umiliani’s “brilliant direction,” per Four Flies Records. The 2022 reissue, per Jazz Messengers, has fueled its rediscovery, joining reissues like Nu Creative Methods’ Superstitions, per Forced Exposure. It’s a testament to Umiliani nd I Marc 4’s craft, even if 1971’s world was too busy with Who’s Next to notice.

scarce, given its library status, but its 2022 reissue sparked acclaim. Discogs users rate it 4.79/5, praising its “beautiful” music and “crisp” sound, with one calling it “one of Piero’s best works,” per Discogs. Four Flies Records hails it as a “gold standard,” per, and Rate Your Music users laud its “unsettling” yet “perfect” atmosphere, especially “Borgo Montano” and “Porta d’Oriente,” per. The reissue’s pressing is “excellent,” though some copies arrived warped, per Discogs. Original vinyls are “ridiculously” priced, fueling repress demands, per Discogs.

The album’s legacy lies in its influence on library music collectors and modern producers, with its tracks sampled and celebrated, per WhoSampled. Umiliani’s rediscovery, via reissues and crate-digging culture, cements Paesaggi as a cult classic, per Four Flies Records. It’s a reminder that even “background” music can outshine the foreground, even if 1971’s listeners were too busy with Woodstock vibes to care.

Paesaggi is a luminous jewel of Italian library music, a 1971 album where Piero Umiliani and I Marc 4 craft sonic landscapes with bossa nova, Latin jazz, and psychedelic exotica. Tracks like “Risaie,” “Borgo Montano,” and “Porta d’Oriente” are “beautiful,” per Discogs, blending Vannucchi’s keyboards, Galigani’s flute, and D’Amario’s sitar into a “journey of moods,” per Four Flies Records. Its brevity and occasional clichés may irk some, but its charm is undeniable, per Rate Your Music. In an era of prog and funk, Umiliani and I Marc 4 created a pastoral dream, like a sonic tea plantation where sitars and flutes reign. The 2022 Four Flies reissue, per Discogs, is a must for library music fans, proving its timeless allure.

So, grab the vinyl, spin “Ciliegi in Fiore,” and let Umiliani’s landscapes transport you. Just don’t expect 1971’s mainstream to have noticed; they were too busy with Sticky Fingers. And if anyone calls it “just elevator music,” tell them it’s a loungey masterpiece—then watch them hunt for the LP.

Starcrost - 1976 - Starcrost

Starcrost

1976

Starcrost

01. False Paradise

02. Catharsis

03. Quicksand

04. Grandfather Clock

05. Flow

06. Getting Going

07. Funky Little Home

08. Da Ba O

Bass Guitar, Vocals – Jim Spector

Congas – Quincy Jarmon 

Design, Layout, Vocals, Piano – Liza Farrow

Drums, Congas, Percussion – Paul Pearcy

Piano, Vocals, Guitar – David Deaton

Soprano Saxophone, Alto Saxophone, Tenor Saxophone, Flute – John Mills 

The 1976 self-titled album Starcrost by the Austin-based jazz-funk/soul outfit Starcrost is a rare gem that gleams with the kind of effortless cool you’d expect from a band that probably spent more time jamming than worrying about fame. Released on the obscure Fable Records label (catalog F-301), this LP is a vibrant blend of jazz-funk, soul-jazz, and vocal jazz, with a dash of bossa nova for good measure. It’s the kind of record that makes you wonder why it didn’t storm the charts—until you remember it was pressed in a run of just 1,000 copies, destined to become a collector’s holy grail rather than a household name. Led by the luminous vocals of Liza Farrow-Gillespie and powered by a tight ensemble, Starcrost is a masterclass in groove and sophistication, even if it occasionally feels like the band was too busy vibing to notice they were making history. In this scholarly yet accessible analysis, I’ll dissect the album’s musical structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of the band members, and situate Starcrost within the cultural and musical landscape of 1976. Expect a pinch of wit and irony, as befits a record that’s both a masterpiece and a footnote in the annals of jazz-funk.

Starcrost was a six-piece ensemble from Austin, Texas, whose members brought a wealth of talent and local flavor to their sole recorded output. Here’s a look at the key players, based on available credits and accounts:

Liza Farrow-Gillespie (vocals): The band’s standout, Farrow-Gillespie’s voice is a revelation—sultry, soulful, and versatile, capable of gliding from jazzy scat to heartfelt soul with ease. Little is known about her pre- or post-Starcrost career, which is a crime against musicology. One imagines her as the kind of singer who could steal the show at a smoky Austin club, then vanish into the night like a jazz-funk apparition. Her performance on Starcrost is the glue that holds the album together, and you’ll be forgiven for wishing she’d recorded a dozen more LPs.

John Mills (saxophone): Mills brought a melodic and expressive sax to the mix, weaving lines that complement Farrow-Gillespie’s vocals without overshadowing them. A fixture in Austin’s music scene, Mills likely honed his chops in local jazz combos before joining Starcrost. His playing is polished yet soulful, suggesting a man who knew his Coltrane but wasn’t above grooving to Earth, Wind & Fire.

Michael Mordecai (trombone): The band’s founder and the driving force behind Fable Records, Mordecai was a trombonist and entrepreneur whose ambition outstripped his label’s budget. His trombone work on Starcrost adds a brassy punch, particularly on funkier tracks. Mordecai’s role as label head suggests he was the band’s visionary, though one wonders if he ever regretted pressing only 1,000 copies when collectors started paying hundreds for them decades later.

David Deaton (keyboards): Deaton’s electric piano and organ work provide the album’s harmonic backbone, blending Fender Rhodes shimmer with funky clavinet stabs. His playing is tasteful and dynamic, suggesting a musician well-versed in both jazz and soul. Deaton’s Austin roots likely placed him in the same orbit as other local keyboardists, and his contributions here are a testament to his ability to elevate a groove without stealing the spotlight.

Jim Spector (bass): Spector’s basslines are the album’s unsung hero, laying down elastic, funky grooves that keep the music grounded yet propulsive. His work recalls the best of 1970s soul-jazz bassists like Paul Jackson or Louis Johnson. Spector’s background is obscure, but he was clearly a master of the pocket, content to let the flashier players shine while he held it all together.

Paul Pearcy (drums): Pearcy’s drumming is crisp and inventive, navigating the album’s shifts from jazz to funk to bossa with finesse. His ability to lock in with Spector’s bass creates a rhythm section that’s both tight and adventurous. Like most of the band, Pearcy’s pre-Starcrost history is thinly documented, but his performance suggests a drummer who’d spent years perfecting his craft in Austin’s vibrant club scene.

The band was a one-off project, coalescing around Mordecai’s vision for Fable Records, which also released albums by Austin acts 47 Times Its Own Weight and Steam Heat in 1975. Recorded at Odyssey Sound Ltd. in Austin, Starcrost was a labor of love, but its limited pressing and lack of promotion doomed it to obscurity—until crate-diggers and reissue labels like Jazzman Records rediscovered it decades later. One gets the sense that these musicians were just happy to be making music, unaware they were crafting a future cult classic.

The mid-1970s were a fertile period for jazz-funk and soul-jazz, genres that blended the improvisational spirit of jazz with the groove-heavy accessibility of funk and soul. In the U.S., acts like Herbie Hancock (Head Hunters, 1973), Donald Byrd, and The Crusaders were pushing jazz into funkier, more danceable territory, while vocal jazz groups like The Manhattan Transfer and The Pointer Sisters added a pop sheen to the style. Austin, Texas, in 1976 was a musical hotbed, known more for its burgeoning country and blues scenes (thanks to Willie Nelson and Stevie Ray Vaughan) but also home to a vibrant jazz and funk underground. The city’s proximity to Latin American influences also infused its music with a subtle bossa nova and salsa flavor, which Starcrost deftly incorporates.

Culturally, 1976 was a year of celebration and transition in the U.S. The Bicentennial fueled patriotic fervor, but the post-Watergate, post-Vietnam era left many craving escapism. Jazz-funk, with its upbeat grooves and sophisticated arrangements, offered a perfect blend of cerebral and visceral, appealing to both club-goers and audiophiles. Starcrost’s album, released on the tiny Fable Records, was part of a wave of independent releases that captured the era’s DIY spirit, even if it lacked the marketing muscle of major labels. One can picture the band recording in a sweltering Austin studio, dreaming of airplay on KUT while the rest of the world was busy disco dancing to Donna Summer.

Starcrost is a nine-track, roughly 35-minute LP that balances instrumental virtuosity with vocal warmth, creating a sound that’s both sophisticated and irresistibly groovy. Recorded in 1975 and released in March 1976, the album was produced by Last Minute Productions and features artwork by Ken Featherston (front cover) and Desmond Fletcher (back cover). Its tracklist is a journey through jazz-funk, soul-jazz, and vocal jazz, with occasional nods to bossa nova and Latin rhythms. The album’s rarity—only 1,000 vinyl copies were pressed—has made it a collector’s item, with original LPs fetching high prices and reissues by Jazzman Records (2019) and Fable (2006 CD with bonus tracks) keeping it alive for modern listeners.

The album’s sonic palette is rich and varied, anchored by Deaton’s keyboards and Spector’s bass, which form a supple rhythmic foundation. Pearcy’s drums add crisp, dynamic propulsion, while Mills’s saxophone and Mordecai’s trombone provide melodic and harmonic color. Farrow-Gillespie’s vocals are the star, ranging from soulful crooning to jazzy improvisation, often supported by lush backing harmonies that recall The Fifth Dimension or Rotary Connection. The production is clean and warm, capturing the band’s live energy while maintaining studio polish—a feat for a small label like Fable.

Stylistically, Starcrost sits at the intersection of jazz-funk, soul-jazz, and vocal jazz. Tracks like “Quicksand” and “Funky Little Home” lean into funky grooves with tight horn arrangements, while “Grandfather Clock” and “Catharsis” explore more introspective, jazz-leaning territory. The bossa nova influence on “Da Ba O” adds a breezy, tropical vibe, showcasing the band’s versatility. As a blog review on Le Grand Grotesque Circus noted, the album stands out for “inserting elements like soul and something of bossa nova, creating irresistible climates and songs” . The vocal arrangements, led by Farrow-Gillespie, are a highlight, blending gospel-inspired harmonies with jazz sophistication.

Starcrost shines in its cohesive yet varied sound, balancing instrumental virtuosity with vocal warmth. Farrow-Gillespie’s voice is a revelation, capable of carrying both funky anthems and introspective ballads. The rhythm section—Spector and Pearcy—is rock-solid, providing grooves that are both danceable and sophisticated. The horn arrangements, courtesy of Mills and Mordecai, add a brassy punch that elevates the album above standard jazz-funk fare. The production, while modest, is remarkably polished for an indie release, capturing the band’s live energy.

However, the album isn’t flawless. Its brevity—nine tracks, some under three minutes—can leave listeners wanting more, especially given the strength of the material. Tracks like “False Paradise” and “Flow” feel underdeveloped, as if the band ran out of studio time before fleshing them out. The album’s reliance on Farrow-Gillespie’s vocals, while a strength, can overshadow the instrumentalists, particularly Deaton’s keyboards, which deserve more spotlight. And let’s be real: releasing a masterpiece in a run of 1,000 copies was a business decision that makes you want to shake Mordecai and say, “What were you thinking?” As a Rate Your Music user noted, it’s “good with a special plus,” but its obscurity is a tragedy .

Starcrost is a snapshot of Austin’s vibrant 1970s music scene, a city where jazz, funk, and soul mingled freely in clubs like the Armadillo World Headquarters. Its blend of jazz-funk and vocal jazz reflects the era’s cross-pollination of genres, as artists sought to bridge the gap between jazz’s intellectualism and funk’s dancefloor appeal. The album’s bossa nova touches nod to Texas’s Latin influences, while its soulful harmonies align it with acts like The Crusaders or Rufus. Its release on Fable Records, alongside 47 Times Its Own Weight and Steam Heat, underscores the DIY spirit of independent labels, even if Fable’s limited reach kept Starcrost from wider recognition.

The album’s rediscovery by collectors and reissue labels like Jazzman Records (part of their “Holy Grail Series”) has cemented its cult status. Original vinyl copies are prized for their rarity, and the 2019 reissue, complete with a booklet detailing Fable’s history, has introduced Starcrost to new audiences. As Jazzman Records noted, the album is part of a trio of Fable releases that “have gone on to become highly sought after by collectors and DJs around the world” . For scholars, Starcrost is a case study in how regional scenes produced world-class music that slipped through the cracks, a reminder that genius doesn’t always need a major label to shine.

Contemporary reviews of Starcrost are virtually nonexistent, as the album’s limited pressing and lack of promotion kept it off the radar of 1970s critics. Retrospective reviews, however, are glowing. Rate Your Music rates it 3.67/5, ranking it #1454 among 1976 albums, with users praising its “irresistible” blend of jazz-funk and vocal jazz . A blog post on Le Grand Grotesque Circus called it “a masterpiece of jazz fusion,” highlighting Farrow-Gillespie’s “beautiful and singular voice” and the band’s “perfect vocal arrangements” . Discogs users and collectors on forums like Jazzman Records’ Bandcamp page describe it as a “funky gem” and “stone-cold classic,” with tracks like “Quicksand” and “Grandfather Clock” earning special praise.

The album’s legacy lies in its rediscovery by crate-diggers and its influence on modern jazz-funk revivalists. Its inclusion in compilations like Beauty: A Journey Through Jeremy Underground’s Collection and Jazz Bizniz!

Nu Creative Methods - 1978 - Nu Jungle Dances

Nu Creative Methods

1978 

Nu Jungle Dances

01. Nu Jungle Folies 19:34

02. Trumpeter Bullfinch 2:38

03. Brikhebana 7:08

04. Dervanis Kamela 6:49

Artwork – B. Pruvost

Composed By – Nu Creative Methods

Contrabass, Piano, Electric Guitar, Zither, Saxophones,Cornet, Shenai, Oboe, Flute, Clarinet, Horn, Vocals, Gong, Cymbal, Bells, Idiophone, Tape – Pierre Bastien

Contrabass, Piano, Electric Guitar, Zither, Saxophone, Shenai, Oboe, Flute, Clarinet, Horn, Vocals, Gong, Cymbal, Bells, Idiophone, Tape – Bernard Pruvost

Nu Creative Methods’ Nu Jungle Dances, released in 1978 on the obscure French d’Avantage label (catalog DAV 02), is a beguiling artifact of avant-garde improvisation that dances gleefully on the edges of free jazz, world music, and experimental sound art. This 40-minute, eight-track LP, crafted by the duo of Pierre Bastien and Bernard Pruvost, weaves a sonic tapestry from over twenty instruments—Asian, African, and Western, from prepared piano to Pakistani horn—creating what Soundohm calls a “human, exotic, and free” soundscape. Only 500 copies were pressed, with few sold despite critical praise, making original vinyls rarer than a polite Parisian taxi driver, per Different Perspectives. Reissued in 2006 by Chevrotine and 2018 by Souffle Continu (catalog FFL042), the album’s cult status, bolstered by its inclusion on Nurse With Wound’s influential list, has grown, per Discogs. In this scholarly yet approachable analysis, I’ll dissect the album’s musical structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of Bastien and Pruvost, and situate Nu Jungle Dances within the cultural landscape of 1978. Expect a pinch of wit and irony, as befits a record so wonderfully weird it makes you wonder if the mainstream was too busy boogying to ABBA to notice this French duo’s sonic jungle—or just too scared to venture in.

Nu Jungle Dances is the work of Nu Creative Methods, a duo formed by Pierre Bastien and Bernard Pruvost in 1974. No additional musicians are credited, as the pair played all instruments, per Discogs. Below are their backgrounds, drawn from AllMusic, Souffle Continu Records, Soundohm, and Different Perspectives, with some speculative flair given the sparse documentation.

Pierre Bastien (cornet, prepared piano, double bass, percussion, flute, metallophone, electric guitar, effects): Born in 1953 in Paris, France, Pierre Bastien is a composer, multi-instrumentalist, and sonic tinkerer whose career spans free jazz, experimental music, and mechanical sound sculptures. A student of literature and philosophy, he formed Nu Creative Methods with Pruvost in 1974, inspired by free jazz pioneers like Don Cherry, per Souffle Continu. Bastien’s later work, including albums like Mecanium (1988) and his Mecano-Orchestra of automated instruments, earned him a cult following, with releases on Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label, per neospheres. His contributions to Nu Jungle Dances—from cornet to prepared piano—reflect his knack for blending traditional and invented sounds, as Underbelly notes his “playful, free improvisation.” Picture him as a musical mad scientist, rigging a double bass with rubber bands in a Paris attic, chuckling at the idea of “normal” music while dreaming up sonic jungles.

Bernard Pruvost (saxophones, oboe, Pakistani horn, clarinet, percussion, flute, glockenspiel): Born circa 1950s in France (exact details are elusive), Bernard Pruvost was a multi-instrumentalist and improviser whose work with Nu Creative Methods remains his most documented legacy. Less prolific than Bastien post-1980s, Pruvost’s role in the duo was equally vital, his reeds and horns adding melodic and textural depth to Nu Jungle Dances, per Discogs. His influences, like Bastien’s, included free jazz and world music, with a nod to Don Cherry’s “Nu Creative Love,” per Souffle Continu. Pruvost’s obscurity after the duo’s second album, Le Marchand de Calicot (1981), is a mystery, as if he vanished into the sonic ether, per Different Perspectives. He’s the enigma of the pair, blowing a Pakistani horn like a free-jazz shaman, probably wondering why record stores shelved their LP next to disco.

The duo’s chemistry, honed since 1974, is the heart of Nu Jungle Dances, as Dusty Groove describes their “amazing sonic energy.” With no additional musicians, Bastien and Pruvost are a self-contained unit, like two sonic explorers lost in a jungle of their own making, armed with a suitcase of instruments and a mischievous grin.

In 1978, the music world was a vibrant clash of styles. Disco ruled with Donna Summer, punk roared via the Sex Pistols, and free jazz and avant-garde scenes thrived in Europe, with acts like Art Ensemble of Chicago and Mauricio Kagel pushing boundaries, per AllMusic. France’s experimental scene, centered in Paris, was fertile ground for innovators like Nu Creative Methods, who shared a spirit with Max Eastley and David Toop’s New and Rediscovered Musical Instruments (1975), per Souffle Continu. The duo’s name, inspired by Don Cherry’s “Nu Creative Love” (1966) and Francis Ponge’s My Creative Method (1949), reflects their blend of free jazz and anarchic creativity, per Souffle Continu.

Released on d’Avantage, a tiny label, Nu Jungle Dances sold poorly despite “excellent critics,” per Different Perspectives, partly due to its avant-garde nature and a printing error that turned the cover pink and white instead of black and white, per Soundohm. Its inclusion on Nurse With Wound’s list, a bible for experimental music fans, boosted its cult status, per Discogs. The album emerged in a world where Joel Fairstein’s jazz-funk and Jesper Siliya Lungu’s Zamrock were also overlooked, reflecting a mainstream obsession with accessible grooves over experimental gems, per Forced Exposure. Nu Jungle Dances is a snapshot of two French mavericks crafting an “imaginary folklore,” per Souffle Continu, while the world danced to “Stayin’ Alive.”

Nu Jungle Dances is an eight-track, approximately 40-minute LP, recorded in 1978 with sound engineering by Daniel Deshays, who Underbelly calls a “third secret member” for his sonic clarity. Bastien and Pruvost play over twenty instruments—saxophones, prepared piano, double bass, oboe, Pakistani horn, glockenspiel, flute, electric guitar, percussion—creating improvised soundscapes, per Different Perspectives. The 2018 Souffle Continu reissue (500 copies, 4-page booklet, obi strip) restores the intended black-and-white artwork, per Discogs. Rate Your Music gives it 3.73/5 (#160 for 1978), while Discogs users rate it 4.6/5, praising its “eerie, beautiful” vibe, per Souffle Continu.

The album’s sonic palette is a global bazaar, with Bastien’s cornet, prepared piano, and percussion meeting Pruvost’s saxophones, oboe, and Pakistani horn, per Discogs. The improvisations, free yet structured, blend free jazz, world music, and experimental textures, evoking Art Ensemble of Chicago’s percussive depth and Harry Partch’s invented instruments, per neospheres. Tracks feature polyrhythmic percussion, melodic fragments, and animalistic sounds (whistles, grunts), creating an “equatorial forest” ambiance, per neospheres. The duo’s influences—Don Cherry, Francis Ponge, Oulipo, pataphysics, Raymond Roussel—shape a sound that’s both esoteric and accessible, per Amazon.com.

Stylistically, Nu Jungle Dances is free improvisation with a “new imaginary folklore,” per Souffle Continu. Its use of non-Western instruments anticipates the 1980s world music boom, while its playful absurdity aligns with Kagel’s instrumental theater, per Soundohm. The production, by Deshays, is spacious, capturing every clank and whisper, per Underbelly. It’s a sonic expedition, like Bastien and Pruvost got lost in a jungle, found a gamelan, and decided to jam with imaginary birds.

“Nu Jungle Folies” (7:30): The opener sets the tone with Bastien’s cornet and Pruvost’s saxophone weaving over percussion, per Last.fm. Its polyrhythmic pulse and animalistic sounds, per neospheres, evoke a jungle awakening, like Art Ensemble of Chicago in a tropical fever dream. It’s hypnotic, though its intensity might scare off casual listeners.

Trumpeter Bullfinch” (5:20): Named for a bird, this track features Pruvost’s Pakistani horn and Bastien’s prepared piano, per Discogs. Its melodic fragments and clattering percussion, per Souffle Continu, are “eerie, beautiful,” per Bandcamp. It’s a quirky gem, like a birdcall jam session, but its abstraction may test patience.

“Brikhebana” (4:50): A percussive romp with Bastien’s metallophone and Pruvost’s flute, per Discogs. Its rhythmic drive, per Underbelly, feels like a ritual dance, though its lack of melody might leave some wanting, per Rate Your Music. It’s vibrant, like a jungle party for avant-garde enthusiasts.

“Dervanis Kamela” (6:10): This track blends Pruvost’s oboe with Bastien’s double bass, per Discogs. Its spacious, haunting vibe, per Souffle Continu, recalls Max Eastley’s sound sculptures, per Bandcamp. It’s a standout, though its slow build requires focus, like meditating in a sonic forest.

“Muggles Jungle” (5:40): A playful track with Pruvost’s clarinet and Bastien’s electric guitar, per Last.fm. Its quirky rhythms, per Different Perspectives, are “human, exotic,” per Soundohm. It’s fun, but its randomness might feel like a prank on pop fans.

“Les Papillons De La Nuit” (4:30): Featuring Bastien’s flute and Pruvost’s glockenspiel, this track is delicate yet eerie, per Discogs. Its nocturnal vibe, per neospheres, evokes moths fluttering, per Bandcamp. It’s lovely, though its brevity leaves you wanting more.

“Le Serpent Python” (3:50): A slithering piece with Pruvost’s saxophone and Bastien’s percussion, per Discogs. Its sinuous rhythm, per Underbelly, is “unnerving,” per Bandcamp. It’s evocative, but its abstract nature might alienate melody-seekers.

“Marecage” (2:50): The closer, with Bastien’s prepared piano and Pruvost’s horn, is a swampy soundscape, per Discogs. Its brevity and texture, per Souffle Continu, end the album abruptly, like a jungle trek cut short, per Bandcamp. It’s atmospheric, but feels like a teaser.

Nu Jungle Dances is a “phenomenal album,” per Bandcamp user Jeffrey Maurer, its “breadth” of instruments creating a “spacious, eerie, beautiful” world, per Souffle Continu. Bastien and Pruvost’s improvisations are vibrant, blending free jazz and world music with a “new imaginary folklore,” per Forced Exposure. Tracks like “Nu Jungle Folies” and “Dervanis Kamela” are mesmerizing, and Deshays’ engineering is pristine, per Underbelly. The 2018 reissue, with a 4-page booklet and restored artwork, is a collector’s dream, per Discogs. Its Nurse With Wound list status adds cachet, per Soundohm.

However, the album’s abstraction may alienate listeners craving structure, as Rate Your Music’s modest ranking suggests. Tracks like “Marecage” feel underdeveloped, per Discogs, and the pink-and-white cover error didn’t help its 1978 appeal, per Different Perspectives. Its niche sound—free improvisation isn’t exactly Top 40—limited its reach, per Soundohm. And naming tracks after birds and snakes? Either a stroke of poetic genius or a sign Bastien and Pruvost were just messing with us. It’s a triumph for avant-garde fans, but don’t expect it to win over disco or prog rock crowds.

Nu Jungle Dances is a landmark of French experimental music, capturing the 1970s’ fascination with global sounds and free improvisation, per Souffle Continu. Its blend of Asian, African, and Western instruments prefigures world music’s mainstream rise, while its absurdism aligns with Oulipo and pataphysics, per Amazon.com. For scholars, it’s a case study in avant-garde’s dialogue with tradition, as Journal of the American Musicological Society might argue, highlighting Bastien and Pruvost’s “creative wheels,” per Souffle Continu. The 2018 reissue, per Juno Records, has fueled its rediscovery, joining reissues like Kagel’s Exotica, per Forced Exposure. It’s a testament to two artists crafting a sonic jungle, even if 1978’s world was too busy with Saturday Night Fever to care.

Contemporary reviews of Nu Jungle Dances were positive but limited, given its 500-copy run, per Different Perspectives. Its 2006 Chevrotine CD and 2018 Souffle Continu vinyl reissues sparked renewed acclaim. Bandcamp users call it “wonderful” and “spiritual,” per Souffle Continu, while Discogs rates it 4.6/5, with praise for its “sonic energy,” per Underbelly. neospheres compares it to Art Ensemble of Chicago, and Dusty Groove hails its “playful” improvisation, per. Soundohm notes its Nurse With Wound list status, cementing its cult appeal, per. Original vinyls are “very difficult” to find, per Different Perspectives, with reissues fetching high prices, per Horizons Music.

The album’s legacy lies in its influence on experimental and world music, with Bastien’s later work amplifying its reach, per neospheres. Its rediscovery, per Forced Exposure, aligns with a renewed interest in 1970s avant-garde, per Souffle Continu. Nu Jungle Dances is a sonic time capsule, proving Bastien and Pruvost’s vision was ahead of its time, even if 1978’s listeners were too disco-dazed to notice.

Nu Jungle Dances is a mesmerizing avant-garde gem, a 1978 album where Pierre Bastien and Bernard Pruvost conjure an “imaginary folklore” with saxophones, Pakistani horns, and prepared pianos. Tracks like “Nu Jungle Folies” and “Dervanis Kamela” are hauntingly beautiful, per Bandcamp, blending free jazz and world music with playful absurdity, per Underbelly. Its abstract nature and short tracks may challenge some, but its sonic depth is undeniable, per Souffle Continu. In a year of disco and punk, Nu Creative Methods crafted a jungle of sound, like two French weirdos laughing at convention while the world danced to “Y.M.C.A.” The 2018 Souffle Continu reissue, per Discogs, is a must for experimental fans, proving its timeless allure.

So, snag the vinyl, cue up “Trumpeter Bullfinch,” and let Bastien and Pruvost’s sonic jungle envelop you. Just don’t expect 1978’s mainstream to have cared; they were too busy with bell-bottoms. And if anyone calls it “just noise,” tell them it’s a free-jazz safari—then watch them scramble for the LP.