We know D.C. Get our free newsletter to stay in the know.

Young pounds his Hammond with startling intensity, augmented by James “Blood” Ulmer’s acid guitar licks, Sonny Fortune’s sax shrieking, and about a dozen percussionists they perhaps found in the park. As dense as Bitches Brew and as explosive as Tony Williams’ Emergency!, this is jazz-funk to welcome extraterrestrials by. —Todd Hitchcock