ブライアン・ジャクソン — EP Two (2026)
Where spiritual jazz meets the deep house floor
ラフィ・マーサー
There is a certain sound that sits somewhere between memory and movement.
The first time you hear it, you recognise it instantly. A Fender Rhodes chord hangs in the air a little longer than expected. The rhythm section moves with patience rather than urgency. The groove doesn’t rush forward. It breathes.
Brian Jackson has always understood this space.
In the 1970s he helped create some of the most important music of that era alongside Gil Scott-Heron — records that carried poetry, politics and spiritual depth in equal measure. But what made those recordings endure wasn’t simply the message. It was the architecture of the sound. The Rhodes chords. The jazz-soul arrangements. The sense that musicians were listening to one another in real time.
Nearly fifty years later, EP Two finds Jackson returning to that language — but with a new generation of collaborators who understand its weight.
What emerges is something quietly remarkable: a record that bridges spiritual jazz, soul, and the deep house dancefloor without losing the dignity of its origins.
The opening moments settle into a groove that feels immediately familiar to anyone who has spent time with New York’s soulful house lineage. The rhythm section moves with that unmistakable Masters At Work elasticity — bass lines rolling forward, percussion flickering at the edges, keys gliding over the top with warmth rather than flash.
There is bounce here, but it is not the aggressive bounce of modern club production. This is the kind that lives inside the rhythm. The kind that feels as comfortable on a late-night dancefloor as it does through a pair of serious loudspeakers in a quiet room.
“Racetrack in France” is the track that will likely travel the furthest. Originally recorded in 1977, it arrives here transformed — stretched into a full 12-inch groove with deep house momentum and a soulful vocal that sits effortlessly above the arrangement. Moodymann’s presence can be felt in the looseness of the rhythm, while Josh Milan brings the kind of vocal authority that has long defined the Blaze and MAW orbit.
What is striking is how naturally the track moves between eras. Nothing about it feels forced or nostalgic. Instead it sounds like the music has simply continued its journey.
Elsewhere, the reimagining of “Home Is Where the Hatred Is” carries the emotional gravity of the original while allowing the rhythm section to open out into something more expansive. The groove unfolds patiently, giving the lyrics space to land with the same quiet intensity that made the original so powerful.
And then there is “Lady Day & John Coltrane,” one of the most tender pieces in the Gil Scott-Heron catalogue. Here it floats in a haze of Rhodes chords and warm bass, Rahsaan Patterson’s voice carrying the melody with elegance rather than imitation. It is not trying to replace the original. It simply inhabits the song differently.
Throughout the EP there is a generosity to the arrangements that feels increasingly rare in contemporary production. The mixes are spacious. The musicians leave room for one another. Nothing is pushed forward simply to command attention.
This restraint is precisely what makes the record work.
The best house records — the ones that last decades rather than seasons — are built on listening. Musicians listening to one another. Producers listening to the space inside the groove. DJs listening to the room before deciding when to let the next track begin.
EP Two understands that tradition deeply.
For listeners discovering Brian Jackson for the first time, the record may feel like a fresh meeting between jazz and house. For those who know the earlier catalogue, it feels more like a continuation of a conversation that never really stopped.
The same warmth. The same patience. The same sense that music can carry both thought and movement at once.
In the right setting — a listening bar late in the evening, a well-tuned hi-fi system, or a dancefloor that understands the value of restraint — these tracks reveal their real depth.
The groove doesn’t demand attention.
It earns it slowly.
And once you fall into it, the rhythm feels like it has always been there.
よくある質問
What makes EP Two stand out?
It bridges spiritual jazz, soul and deep house with genuine musical lineage rather than nostalgia.
Which track will DJs gravitate toward?
“Racetrack in France (12” Version)” — a soulful house groove with classic Masters At Work bounce.
Is this a club record or a listening record?
Both. It works on the dancefloor, but the arrangements reward careful listening on a proper system.
ラフィ・マーサーは、音楽が重要な役割を果たす場所について執筆しています。
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