Since their formation in their native Holland, Clan Of Xymox's music has been constantly changing, always challenging and often quite breathtaking. Formed in the 1980's, CoX has always been a uniquely evolving band. The act earned a huge fan base with their early releases on the legendary 4-AD label, and later under the moniker Xymox for a Polydor subsidiary. With the album Hidden Faces, Clan Of Xymox released what many believe to be their finest work of that era. Lush layered guitars, pounding rhythms, shimmering keyboards and dark, melancholy vocals blend seamlessly. The singles "Out of the Rain" and "This World" are now considered club classics and were in the top 10 of the German Independent charts and numerous Indie charts all over the world.

Pianist Giovanni Guidi and trombonist Gianluca Petrella, key figures in what some are hailing as a “golden age” of Italian jazz, found their strong improvisational rapport inside Enrico Rava’s band (see for instance the 2010 ECM album Tribe) and, keen to play more, formed a duo, giving many concerts in which they are intermittently joined by guests. For this studio recording, producer Manfred Eicher brought the duo together with US drummer Gerald Cleaver and French clarinetist Louis Sclavis, for an outgoing set of music which includes lyrical free improvising and tunes composed by Giovanni and Gianluca.

The last of Ace's three compilations devoted to Fulson's Kent product basically combines his late-'60s Now! album with his 1978 Lovemaker album, adding three unissued cuts and a 1972 single. Now! was actually comprised largely of 1967-1968 singles, and it's this material, which takes up the first half of the CD, that holds up best. It's loosey goosey late-'60s blues/soul crossover with a sassy attitude and adroit combinations of stinging blues guitar, strutting vocals, soulful horns, and organ, never heard better than on the opening "I'm a Drifter." Actually the Now! cuts sound better in this grouping than much of his slightly earlier '60s Kent stuff, because they're not as unduly repetitious, though they're filled out with cover versions of familiar tunes like "Funky Broadway," "Let's Go Get Stoned," and "Everyday I Have the Blues"…

Harpist Giovanna Pessi has previously been heard on ECM recordings with Christian Wallumrod and with Rolf Lislevand. On her first leader date for ECM she introduces a unique project of old and new songs in which 17th century pieces by Henry Purcell are interspersed with 20th century ballads of Leonard Cohen and Nick Drake and 21st century songs of Susanna Wallumrod, all rendered timeless by the ‘early music’ instrumentation and Susanna’s pure, understated vocal style.

At The Beeb consists of two BBC sessions Queen recorded for producer Bernie Andrews to be broadcast on the Sounds of the 70's TV show. The eight songs, recorded Feb. 5th and Dec. 3rd, 1973, are nearly identical to the versions found on Queen and Queen II. The exception is "Son and Daughter." Here, the composition is expanded to over twice the length of the album version, extended by instrumental flourishes from Brian May and Roger Taylor which hint at what would later become "Brighton Rock" and "Now I'm Here." This alone makes the CD worthwhile. The recordings are of exceptional sound quality, and the performances are fresh and crisp.

Pianist Giovanni Guidi (born 1985), is one of the most outstanding musicians to have emerged from the ranks of Italian jazz in the last decade and has already made his presence felt on Enrico Rava’s “Tribe” and “On The Dancefloor” albums. Rava praises both Guidi’s “limitless curiosity” as an improviser and his “relentless refinement” of touch and musical taste, and the pianist continually proves that those qualities are not opposites. His first leader date for ECM is a glowing collection of self-penned tunes, simultaneously inner-directed and creatively daring, with many adroit exchanges between the musicians and plenty of space given also to bassist Thomas Morgan, whose role in the Guidi Trio is perhaps analogous to Scott LaFaro’s in the Evans Trio.

Second, but unreleased at the time, album of the Indiana-Illinois quintet combo Yezda Urfa. Recorded in 1976 (one year after the release of their debut album), Sacred Baboon didn't see the light of the day, until Greg Walker's label Syn-Phonic (now long-defunct) made it one of their first publications in 89 on vinyl and under a different artwork a bit later on CD. The music on the album is technically well played and very eclectic progressive rock. We´re talking fast played runs, loads of tempo- and time signature changes and complex song structures. Lead vocalist Rick Rodenbaugh has a voice and vocal style that often reminds of Jon Anderson (Yes) and Yes is definitely a reference here, but it´s Gentle Giant that comes to mind most often while listening to "Sacred Baboon". While the tracks are generally very complex, they feature enough hooks and memorable moments to stand out from each other and melody is not a stranger to these guys.

Grant Geissman really stepped up his game with the release of his previous CD Say That, and this excellent recording where his finely honed jazz sensibilities come fully to the forefront. There's nary a speck of commercial filler, as every track sports an authenticity and originality that belie the derivative music he had made a living on for years. This is a fine effort with little reason to spoil with wasted critique, as Geissman himself is on top of his game, and whether he's playing with his peer group or select all-stars, the music is at a high level from start to finish. While bop does prevail, contemporary and progressive neo-bop are heard without the predictable trappings, and Geissman changes up the band per track to keep things ever interesting in the best sense of the term.

The Tundra EP finds Erik Wøllo creating fascinating atmospheric and rhythmic instrumental electronic music. This 30-minute 5-song ep features all new, previously unreleased tracks that showcase Erik’s ability to incorporate new and fresh elements into his music while remaining true to his unique style. A strong emphasis on sequenced rhythmic passages and grooves mixes with spacious deep ambient soundscapes and melodic themes provided by electric guitars and various synthesizers.

Some of the Baroque releases on Canada's ATMA label have stuck close to established molds, but this one by the young Québécoise harpsichordist Catherine Perrin breaks them all. Perrin's career is unusual in itself; while many performers of early music stick to the specialized circles of players who do the same, Perrin has parallel careers as a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation radio host, contemporary music performer, and musical theater enthusiast. Perrin subtitles her disc "Five Centuries of Preludes on the Harpsichord," but she intends something slightly different: an examination of the prelude as a musical idea. In her booklet notes she quotes writer Michel Chion, who situates the prelude in a space of unique freedom, "a privileged position in the vanguard," unleashed by "the fact that it occurs before the time has come to be serious or definitive.

Catherine Perrin's Ah! Vous dirai-je maman is a recital to show off the sound of a 1772 Jakob and Abraham Kirckman harpsichord, a dual-manual instrument with a pedal mechanism that allows the performer to switch from loud to soft stops quickly. She chose pieces that are contemporaneous with the instrument, which are almost always performed either on a fortepiano or modern piano, but they don't sound out of place on this harpsichord, just different. It has a light, elegant sound, not thickly metallic, and gives a lighter character to the music. Being a harpsichordist and not someone who has first learned these works on the piano, Perrin doesn't try to force anything out of the instrument that it can't produce.

In the liner notes of YOU CALL THIS A LIVING? Arturo Sandoval recalls the first time he heard Wayne Bergeron play. "What a hell of a lead player," Sandoval remembers thinking, and then goes on to attest to the trumpeter's continued high standard of performance, recommending the album wholeheartedly. With kudos like these from the one and only Sandoval, it's hard not to give Bergeron the benefit of the doubt. As a musician, Bergeron does not disappoint. His high, bright tone recalls Dizzy Gillespie, and his flawless articulation and phrasing serve him equally well during quick, chromatic runs or sweeping lyrical passages.

This 1994 disc is something of a classic of the new strain of the historical-performance movement, which is characterized by a certain amount of license to speculate in the reconstruction of lost works. The Miserere mei Deus of Gregorio Allegri is, of course, not a lost work, but one with an unbroken performance tradition stretching back to its composition in the early seventeenth century (before 1638). It was sung for centuries at the Sistine Chapel, where the singers were enjoined from circulating the music beyond Vatican walls. That prohibition wasn't enough to stop the 12-year-old Mozart, who wrote most of it down by ear as a tourist in Rome and filled in the gaps on a quick return visit; soon after that, British music writer Charles Burney got hold of either Mozart's copy (which hasn't survived) or another one and published the work.