Isaiah Collier: Parallel Universe

The direct-to-disc recording equipment in Haarlem's Artone studio resembles a vintage control room for time travel, or maybe the record deck in a cyberpunk loft. And yes, that's Haarlem, not Harlem, though one could be excused for mixing them up here. This is where Isaiah Collier came to record Parallel Universe, a valiant and affirmative album full of joyful noises. Musicians who trek to Artone cut their work onto acetate from single-take live performances. But anyone expecting a simplified version of Collier for this intricate procedure is in for a funkadelic surprise.

Collier's previous albums with his band The Chosen Few revealed a saxophonist breathing spiritual fire in the fine tradition of Albert Ayler or Archie Shepp, often combustible and playing with controlled abandon. For this outing his inspiration is more song-based, harking to Gil Scott-Heron, Damon Locks, Chief Adjuah, Weldon Irvine and Roy Ayers. It sounds like Collier was itching to get something lyrical and hymnal out there; his pop music nous allied to streams of soul care. Ancestry is a vital theme throughout too, whether in musical or genealogical terms.

The band for this ambitious project includes vocalist Jimetta Rose, whose presence adds a blend of trance and rave-up. Of herself, Rose says, "I'm a peacemaker and sometimes a shit talker in the name of all things holy." Just perfect, then, for Collier's music. On this album's opening cut "Eggun," Rose's cooing gospels flow under Collier's electric piano, as he namechecks a starry list of soul-jazz greats and their hook lines. "Village Song" seeks to evoke the entire African diaspora, using the Yoruba language spoken in Southwestern and Central Nigeria. A kalimba-plucked folk song becomes a triumphant pleasure dance, with ecstatic flutes and vocals giving unshackled contagious pleasure.

"Retreat" could be some movie's hip-swinging title theme in waiting, as a thudding bass backbeat meets Collier's charming and very catchy sax. The title track then hops a ride on Sun Ra's spacecraft, or maybe it was forged inside George Clinton 's mothership. Think fizzing electronica, crashing piano boogie and Rose's vocal like a wailing asteroid. Afro-futurism at its finest. Rose has some previous experience with the cosmic, via the track "Black Light" from her album The Gift: Around The Way Queen (Street Corner Music, 2022).

Back on Earth, "The Lean" is a throbbing Harlem shuffle, while the funk-laden "Never Back Down" adds wah-wah guitar to Rose's defiant vocal. "Open The Door" then has Collier and Rose in a robust yet romantic duet, yearning for connection. "The Last Song" meanwhile could be a precis of the whole recording, a prayer of gratitude with both lead singers basking in their soulful selves to a sultry three-chord piano vamp.

"You can't be great without risk." Collier says. "This record is about the beautiful engineering device called our mind." A groovy and devotional songbook the album is too, recorded from microphone to lathe, then simply walked downstairs to the pressing plant.