Last Last Tourist

In the same way that the genre "techno" is applied to both the tasteful Derrick May and the garish Scooter, the term "dubstep" had been divided into two camps once the "mall kids" and "punters" got hip. Love it or loathe it, that glitzy "wub wub wub" sound championed by Skrillex and such is a far cry from the texture-rich music of Burial, Benga, and Digital Mystikz, that last name being the South London duo with whom producer Mala broke through. Purists will argue that the Skrillex crowd is so far from the spirit of the original dub reggae that they should abandon that part of the term, and as such, Mala in Cuba was announced as "an intention of realigning dubstep with soundsystem culture,” which it does, splendidly. This glorious album was also constructed from a set of raw tracks recorded in Cuba while on a beat-finding trip with DJ Gilles Peterson…

In this instance, "deluxe collection" denotes six songs that blues guitarist Peter Malick recorded with vocalist Norah Jones before she hit it big, a (previously released) EP's worth of material padded here into a two-disc, 31-cut set of radio edits, club mixes, dub mixes, and DJ remixes, with only eight of them previously unreleased. (There are nine versions of the set-opening "New York City" alone.) The material stretches itself pretty thin, as the equal billing given Jones with Malick (the only two members of the "Peter Malick Group" who appear throughout) aims to attract Norah Jones completists or tempt those who might confuse this with one of her own releases.

After proving they could keep 10cc alive as a duo act with 1977's successful Deceptive Bends, Eric Stewart and Graham Gouldman pressed on in 1978 with Bloody Tourists. Although it scored some notable hits, it was a less consistent and less memorable affair than its predecessor. The problem with Bloody Tourists is that it feels like a group of session musicians trying to come up with songs in the 10cc style instead of a proper 10cc album. The eccentric humor that once flowed freely feels forced on this album: "Reds In My Bed" is a lame stab at Cold War satire that never really succeeds in saying anything while "Shock On The Tube (Don't Want Love)" tries to be daring with its tale of a subway sex fantasy and instead comes off as smutty and dull…

Manifold Records presents Fifty Shades of Lounge Vol. 2: 50 Smooth & Sexy Chill Tunes 4 Erotic Moments. 50 excellent Chillout tracks from DJ Maretimo, Jazzy James Jr., Cafe Americaine, Noise Boyz, Orange Music, Kid Coconutz, Cinematic and others.

The blues scene in Chicago has sadly deteriorated over the last 10 years or so. Most of the old, legendary musicians have died. Only a very few places still feature live music in the black neighbourhoods (the South- and Westside, where Muddy Waters, Howling Wolf, and all the other greats had their home base). Many new blues clubs opened on the (white) Northside, but the music there is mostly aimed at the white tourist market. The same old songs played over and over again, no steady bands, personnel in the. bands always changing, definitely never any rehearsal. One of the few bands that have maintained a high musical standard, is The Big Four Blues Band. They were formed more than ten years ago, have not changed the personnel, became better and better over the years, and without trying to become rock stars they are still playing that old Chicago Blues…

Les Big Byrd, at this point, one probably has to call them veterans on the Swedish psych- and kraut scene, is back with a new album which sees them delving even deeper into the experimental side of themselves. Long, improvisatory excursions and suggestive soundscapes unfold during some of the album's 6 tracks. Although they never lose touch with their melodic sensibility, offering up a look into a more suggestive and psychedelic side to the band.

Delving into the deepest recesses of raï, this compilation serves as a tribute to its roaring years, but also as a rejuvenation of the genre in its sulphurous, subterranean version. It seemed like a good idea to dig into nearly untraceable cassettes, thus confirming it’s in the oldest of Oranese pots that the very best of raï is to be found. Just 50 years ago, no one would have believed even a bit in a genre seemingly bound to forever turn round and round in its native Oran, laying low in one of its many coastal road clubs.