Back catalogue: Funk Soul & Jazz

Review: The mysterious Sault troupe is back with a call to action and revolutionary soul soundtrack that really bangs the box. "Ain't nothing gunna keep us silent" the lead singer yelps on 'Stop Der', which is an immediate banger after the soothing ambience and closely mic-ed whispers of the opener, which muse on what it means to be black. The rest of the record is a hard hitting mix of crisp drums and empowering vocals, with elements of classic soul as well as contemporary jazz colouring the grooves. This is powerful music with an even more powerful message.

Review: Along with the likes of Today & Tomorrow and Untitled (God), Sault are giving their five-deep album drops from late 2022 a more ceremonious release now. The music is too deep and rich to vanish into the melee of digital data streams, and each album's distinct qualities benefits from its own space to inhabit. On a mission from God and steeped in a raw, 70s kind of sound which shirks studio slickness in favour of absolute reality, on Earth this British outfit take themselves into realms of spiritual jazz atop their keen instinct for funk. The drums tumble, the chants murmur, and there's just no arguing with the power of the ensemble and their in-the-room vibe.

Review: The mysterious London-based music collective Sault are in the process of reissuing their first five albums on vinyl, in full, after they were released as a free digital download in late 2022. AIIR is among the lesser-cited of the quintuplet bunch, being a five track EP and sequel to their sixth album AIR. Providing a rapturous counterpoint to that album while building on its choral themes, this LP could consist of anything from outtakes from the making of AIR to true reprises; it's hard to tell. What we do know is that the music here would have been as equally suited to the high-flung parabolae of grandiose mid-century American filmmaking as it now is for the modern music lover. Pieces like 'Still Waters' and 'God's Will' - with their divine harp flourishes, choirs of angels, and complex string and timpani movements - are evocative enough to recall sublime pastoral classics like Watership Down or A Matter Of Life And Death - not just UK music royalty.

Review: They may only have emerged in 2019, but Inflo's socially conscious, politically charged, impossible-to-pigeonhole Sault collective has already delivered a string of vital albums. Nine, the crew's latest set (and first of 2021) is every bit as incendiary, versatile and impactful as its predecessors, with the 10 collected tracks touching on everything from drowsy R&B, spoken word, classic soul and post-punk rock, to UK bass mutations, gospel, jazz-funk, Charles Stepney style excursions and hazy downtempo beats. Mixing live instrumentation, electronics and a wealth of guest vocals, Nine is a genuinely stunning, thought-provoking album full of razor-sharp lyrics and brilliantly executed musical movements.

Review: You might not have a fixed image of who or what Sault are, given their skill in maintaining a degree of anonymity, but as they notch up their sixth album it's hard to ignore the imposing presence they cut on the experimental fringe of modern UK soul. They started out in 2019 with raw funk and Afrobeat inspired excursions, reflecting on varying perspectives of the Black experience. On Air, the group shake off their previous groove orientation to offer something more orchestrally-inclined, and to their credit they pull it off in remarkable fashion. Lyrically they're focusing on self care and individuality within the Black community, injecting a sense of uplift into their message where they previously reflected on inherited pain and tribulations. Their rapid output doesn't come at the expense of the quality and depth of their expression, making this another essential step forward for one of the most intriguing crews out there right now.

Review: SAULT's body of work is almost untouchable. The mysterious collective has turned out plenty of it in the last couple of years with no fewer than four fantastic albums. This one is a complete left turn, though, which ditches the edgy alt-rock, sou land jazz for an altogether more subbed and symphonic sound. It is a soaring astral soundtrack with plenty of wide open spaces, grand arrangements and plenty of uplifting and celebratory sounds drawn from hugely spiritual choral music and contemporary classical.

Review: Dean Josiah Cover AKA Info's Sault collective has been one of the success stories of the last few years - a hard-to-pigeonhole outfit that manages to knock out inspired albums at a rate of knots. Their latest full-length, '11', is another brilliant and must-check excursion. Largely lo-fi, languid and laidback, it delivers a particularly loose and lo-fi take on soul - blessed with their usual nods to Afrobeat and soundsystem culture - whose instrumentation is deliberately sparse and laidback (think bass guitar, drums and guitar). The results are rarely less than impeccable, with the collective's vocals (both female and male singers feature) rising above vintage-sounding grooves and arrangements that variously doff a cap to Sly Stone, Cymande and - on the drowsy, warming and synth-sporting 'Higher' - the more tactile end of British 80s soul.

Review: The Sault re-issuses keep on coming and among them comes 'Untitled (God)', intended as the dourest part of this quintuplet offering to God. This 11-track arm draws on gospel and film music more than anything else. In our view, this is the most suspenseful LP of the lot, with synthetic string sections standing in for parts that, were it not the 21st Century, we'd expect to be performed by full orchestras. No affect is lost, though: spiritual spoken-word prayers like 'Guide My Steps' recall the post-ironic vision of Dean Blunt, while everything from acapella meanderings to funk detours to improvisatory 6/4 choruses continue to pepper this long-form wonder of an album.

Review: Very little is known about the collective of musicians behind the SAULT project, but their music in many ways speaks for itself. Earlier in the year they delivered Untitled (Black Is), a heartfelt, angry and righteous set of soul, funk, drill and spoken word tracks that provided a brilliant commentary on what it means to be black in 2020. It's a contender for album of the year, for sure, and the good news is that this speedy follow-up is every bit as essential. It's undoubtedly more celebratory than its predecessor, but every bit as musically detailed, combining cutting-edge electronics and all manner of infectious rhythms with enlightening vocals and all manner of live jazz, soul, punk-funk and jazz-funk instrumentation (as well as some seriously evocative orchestration).