Week-End Germany Vinyl & CDs

Review: Making your debut release at 100 years old must be a feat that no-one's ever achieved before. This isn't just a novelty act. Marshall Allen remains a force of nature, and 'New Dawn' proves it. The lead single and title of his debut solo album is a subdued yet powerful statement, showing a different side to the legendary saxophonist who has shaped the Sun Ra Arkestra for over 70 years. Featuring Neneh Cherry, 'New Dawn' unfolds as a contemporary jazz odyssey, balancing Allen's signature cosmic energy with a deep, introspective warmth. His alto sax glides gently over the composition, offering space for Cherry's ethereal presence and the bright young talents surrounding him. On the flip, the instrumental edit allows Allen's playing to shine even more, revealing his intricate phrasing and the emotional depth behind every note. It's not the explosive free-jazz chaos of Sun Ra's wildest moments but a thoughtful meditation on time, legacy and reinvention. For a musician who has always looked to the future, Allen's 'New Dawn' is both a bold continuation and a fresh beginning. A special release for a special artist.

Review: 70s and early 80s Jamaican producer Keith Hudson's approach to dub was never about smooth edges or easy rhythms. His productions are dense, disorienting, heavy with delay, bass and drums that sound like they're ricocheting down a well. The Soul Syndicate, his long-time studio band, provide the backbone hereideeply locked-in grooves that Hudson warps into something ghostly. 'No Commitment' staggers forward with stabbing guitar chops that seem to dissolve mid-strike, while 'Ire Ire' loops through warped vocal fragments and echo chambers that stretch into infinity. 'Bad Things' and its dub counterpart pull apart the rhythm until it feels skeletal, each hit landing in the empty space between delay trails. Hudson's use of reverb and tape manipulation isn't just about atmosphere, but about control as well. He shifts and reshapes the mix to turn steady rhythms into something unsteady, always shifting just out of reach. 'Desiree' drifts through flickering hi-hats and cavernous low-end, while 'Keeping Us Together' seems to slow down and speed up in the same breath. There's something darker, more claustrophobic in the way he structures space and silence. Even the brighter moments, like 'Mercy' with its open, rolling groove, carry an unease, as if the music itself is bracing for collapse. Hudson was an architect of mood, twisting familiar elements into something deeply immersive and strangely hypnotic.