Lala Belu (LP)

The "obscure outsider artist from beyond the west" has become a familiar trope for old music excavated in far-flung places, thanks in part to the eagle-eyed tape rummaging of intrepid label owners such as Brian Shimkovitz.

Under his Awesome Tapes from Africa banner, Shimkovitz has released countless "lost" records by musicians who probably never thought they'd find recognition again, including Ghanaian synthpop dude Ata Kak, who Shimkovitz spent years tracking down after he discovered one of his dusty cassettes in a street market (and who has toured extensively since it was reissued).

Another artist he found this way is Hailu Mergia. He was active during the "swinging period" of the 1960s and 70s in Addis Ababa, when western soul, jazz and funk was hot-wired to the pentatonic modes of centuries-old folk and called "ethio-jazz". Often those scales sound as if they've been scooped up from a Middle Eastern souk, full of harmonic twists that require lighting a joss stick and lying down on a bed of cushions. Indeed, Mergia's wiggy organ and accordion, as on new track Gum Gum, feels like it could noodle open the door to your third eye.

Off the back of three successful reissues under Shimkovitz and touring with indie-folk band Beirut, Lala Belu is Mergia's first record in 15 years.

Perhaps it was unsurprising that he would eventually lay down new music: he keeps his battery-powered keyboard in the boot of the taxi he drives around Washington DC, his hometown since the 80s. This combination of ethio-jazz and rudimentary synthesiser creates the kind of kookiness that will enthral his new audience, and sounds like little else. Anchihoye Lene feels delightfully cartoonish and unhinged, like a Bedouin farce in the desert.

The title track does lo-fi funk with a shoutable "hey" refrain for festivals; Addis Nat has an almost post-punk edge to its bass-and-drums; and the delicate piano instrumental suggests sophistication comes just as easily. It's not a life-changing body of work, but the biggest achievement of all is that, all these years later, Mergia is still a true original. - The Guardian