Reissues, unreleased work resonates

It’s tough enough keeping up with all the new sounds coming out of Southern California in any given year.

Add in the volume of old music that’s being resurrected and repurposed for contemporary appreciation and, well, who has time to absorb it all?

Below, a survey of five old recordings that in 2016 jumped back into the present to remind us that music can continue to echo decades later.

The Bangles, “Ladies and Gentlemen … the Bangles!” (Omnivore Recordings). Before “Walk Like an Egyptian” made them pop stars, the Bangles were an L.A. jangle rock band harnessing the new wave and punk energy of the era to create their own sound.

The fantastic reissue label Omnivore delivers undeniable proof on “Ladies and Gentlemen … the Bangles!.” The collection gathers their unheralded first EP, early demos and live recordings, and the sum reveals a band with a penchant for Byrdsinspired harmonies, surfrock guitar melodies and the insistent energy of early Blondie.

Most revealing is the Bangles’ live take on L.A. psychedelic rock band Love’s “7 and 7 Is.” It showcases an aggression that vanished as singer Susanna Hoffs and company moved toward the center. “Ladies and Gentlemen … ” confirms their role as post-punk renegades.

The D.O.C., “No One Can Do It Better” (Real Gone Music). In a just world, “No One Can Do It Better” and its creator, the D.O.C., born Tracy Lynn Curry, would be known to millions and be the subject of his own biopic.

After all, the gifted rapper and lyricist’s 1989 debut was produced by N.W.A’s Dr. Dre, ascended to No.1 on the R&B charts and helped deliver the West Coast one of its first hit rap albums.

Plus, the D.O.C. was a better rapper than any single member of N.W.A — and the proof permeates this reissue. Opener “It’s Funky Enough” sets a template: bolt-rattling bass, prime scratching, jarring hooks and hardened beats that hit with a heaviness. Nearly 30 years later, this stuff remains fresh and menacing from start to finish.

Anna Homler and Steve Moshier, “Breadwoman & Other Tales” (RVNG Intl.). This breathtaking document of the early ’80s Los Angeles electronic avant-garde captures the work of L.A.based vocal, visual and performance artist Anna Homler in collaboration with sound artist and recording engineer Steve Moshier. At the time, Homler performed as Breadwoman, chanting in an imaginary language while performing in a bread-loaf mask.

The images of those events are striking, but the music is even more so. Like such kindred spirits as vocalist Meredith Monk and poet Gertrude Stein, Breadwoman’s voice-driven emotional expression renders literal meaning inconsequential. Here, the human and electronic tones create work that hums with beauty.

Egyptian Lover, 19831988 (Stones Throw). The dance-rap subgenre called electro was primarily an East Coast movement to start, but few made tracks with as much chromatic luster as Los Angeles D J, producer and vocalist the Egyptian Lover.

Harnessing the synthetic tones of the Roland TR-808 programmable drum machine, the artist born Greg Broussard played a formative role in the birth of the city’s rap scene as aD J with Uncle Jamm’s Army.

Los Angeles label Stones Throw gathered the Lover’s essential 12-inch records for this collection. In addition to dance floor banger “Egypt, Egypt,” it features one of the great early celebrations of scratching. “What Is a DJifHeCan’t Scratch” makes its argument through a series of sonic maneuvers that helped inspire a movement.

Cannonball Adderley Quintet, “Music, You All” (Real Gone Music). In 1970, jazz saxophonist Cannonball Adderley and his quintet took over the Troubadour for six nights.

The music was undergoing a revolution as Miles Davis was freeing up structures, fusing free jazz and funk riffs and mixing in improvisations and extended grooves.

In addition to reminding youngsters of the ways in which the Troubadour showcased visionary jazz alongside the ascendant Laurel Canyon folk rock scene, “Music, You All,” quite simply, burns. (Other recordings from the Troubadour are collected on Adderley’s “The Black Messiah.”)

“We figure we can make music just by doing it,” Adderley says at one point, in arguing that the musicians onstage — Adderley, his brother Nat, keyboardist George Duke, bassist Walter Booker, saxophonist Ernie Watts and others — were up to the task of pure improvisation. One listen to “Capricorn,” with a stunning Duke keyboard solo, or the title track, confirms his boast.