Throughout the mid-to-late 1970s, legendary jazz pianist and composer Herbie Hancock engaged in a prolonged period of experimentation across sounds and recording formats, over the course of several CBS/Sony albums, made only available in Japan. 1979's ‘Directstep’ was one such album, one that made use of a new form of recording technology called ‘Direct-To-Disc.’ This method recorded masters in real-time to acetate discs, rendering incredibly high-fidelity LP pressings but sacrificing the ability to edit or overdub. A distinct challenge but one that Hancock accepted, entering Tokyo's CBS/Sony Studios in mid-October of 1978 with a stacked backing band including session veterans Bennie Maupin on saxophone, Ray Obiedo on guitar, Webster Lewis on keys and synths, Paul Jackson on bass, Alphonse Mouzon on drums, and Bill Summers on percussion. This group of seasoned pros were intent on having a record in one take.

‘Directstep’ marked a lot of firsts for Hancock, chief among them was that it was one of his earliest recordings to feature a second synthesizer player (Webster Lewis) which was necessary to produce the electronic textures he'd been previously experimenting with on albums like 1974's ‘Dedication.’ It was also the first one in Hancock's catalogue to make extensive use of the Sennheiser Vocoder, which would become a key part of his arsenal during his electro-funk period during the 1980s. The album also stands out as one of the earliest analog recordings to be converted into digital format and released on compact disc.

Beyond all the technological achievements on ‘Directstep’ though, it is simply an incredibly solid collection of Herbie Hancock material, mid-transition between his success with jazz-funk fusion into his electronic-focused period. It features stirring remakes of Hancock staples ‘Butterfly’ and ‘I Thought It Was You,’ as well as brand new track ‘Shiftless Shuffle,’ incorporating brand new electronic instrument technology such as the electronic wind instrument the Lyricon, the freshly released Propet-5 synthesizer, and of course the aforementioned Sennheiser Vocoder.

After years of Wrecking Crew-grade session musicianship around Los Angeles, Malcolm John Rebbenack carved his own niche by the late 1960s with a distinct blend of psychedelic rock, boogie-woogie, and rhythm & blues. Taking the stage name Dr. John, the Night Tripper (later shortened to Dr. John), he developed a cult following with his music, heavily influenced by his home of New Orleans, and fascination with the voodoo religion which was reflected in his elaborate stage shows. In 1968 he released his debut record Gris-Gris, which was not a commercial hit, but fascinated critics, and set him on an artistic path that would eventually lead to major mainstream success in the 1970s and cement his reputation as a prominent curator and performer of the New Orleans sound.

After Gris-Gris’ release, Dr. John found himself in a strange and awkward position. The US was deep into the Vietnam War and the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy were fresh in the public memory. On top of that, Dr. John was being pursued by various Los Angeles authorities for a handful of criminal offenses. It was, in his own words: "a heavy time for me."

Much like Sly & The Family Stone's ‘There's A Riot Goin' On,’ Dr. John's sophomore album ‘Babylon’ would be a reflection of the chaotic and tumultuous time that he was living in. He and the band dove deeper into the voodoo-inflected psychedelic rock and R&B of Gris-Gris, while touching upon elements of free jazz and Captain Beefheart-style avant garde. As with his debut record, production was handled by the legendary Harold Battiste, and much of the same session personnel who performed on it returned for ‘Babylon,’ including Plas Johnson on saxophone, Alvin Robinson on guitar, and backing vocals from Jessie Hill, Shirley Goodman, and Tami Lynn.

‘Babylon’ stands out as one of Dr. John's most overtly political albums and is a singularly murky and darkly entrancing record in his discography. A psychedelic swamp of apocalyptic lyrical content, drunk, disorienting experimentation, and fascinating entry into Dr. John's catalogue, well-worthy of his expansive legacy.