t would seem that a certain San Francisco imprint is beginning to retrace its roots. For the most part, that label's first 100 or so catalog entries were downbeat homages to crate-worthy jazz, soul, Latin, and funk rarities of ages past. Over the past few years, the Ubiquity catalog has become more and more oriented towards less funky, more digitally driven endeavors. However, new and upcoming releases by Platinum Pied Pipers, SA-RA Creative Partners, and Quantic Soul Orchestra are far removed from the slew of up-tempo broken beat and house records peddled by the label as of late. Ben Lamdin (aka Nostalgia 77) continues this rehashing with The Garden. And with this return to form, he sets forth a jazz/funk/soul hybrid rich in character and variety.

Upon first hearing The Garden, one may not feel inclined to acknowledge it as a "producer's" record. It feels quite different from Lamdin's 2004 scratch-inflicted debut Songs for My Funeral. The presence of metronome-perfect sequencing techniques (if they're even there at all) is incredibly subtle and often entirely unnoticeable. Clearly, Lamdin was not the lone creative force behind this effort. Rather than overwhelming production techniques, the buffet of musicianship present on The Garden makes the record. Horns, upright bass, live[?] drum set, keys, and electric guitar supply an ideal stripped down yet incredibly full sound.

The vacillation of The Garden can be somewhat disorienting, as one minute you'd swear you were hearing something off the latest off Ninja Tune, and a moment later, you'd be better off assuming it was vintage Blue Note. Its overall theme seems to shift slightly from piece to piece. Some songs are anchored in jazz-funk and fusion, some in Afrobeat, some in sample-derived hip-hop, and even a few in avant free jazz (minus the frenzied percussion). And though the musicianship throughout the album remains constant, no two songs sound particularly alike in style.

The Garden is 100% instrumental (vocal-free) with one exception: The White Stripes cover "Seven Nation Army" featuring vocals from blue-eyed UK soulstress Alice Russell. Ha! And you thought Joss Stone's "Fell in Love With a Boy" was the last of it! 'Fraid not. In any case, Lamdin's take on Jack and Meg is perhaps more tolerable than the latter mentioned. However, it does seem a tad out of place here since, after all, it's the only vocal track on the record and just so happens to be decidedly gimmicky.

Even so, the presumed authenticity of these pieces will have you rechecking the liner notes again and again to make sure The Garden is not a 1971 reissue. Although it's not particularly inventive, it harnesses its chosen sounds remarkably well.