South London's Pure Pleasure label has, for years now, been doing jazz lovers a massive service with its (often) all-analogue vinyl reissues of the catalogues of labels such as Strata-East, Theresa and Nimbus West. The Pure Pleasure crew have also established a niche reissuing lesser-known gems from the Atlantic vaults – as is the case here.

Besides helping to ‘invent’ rock ‘n roll with his hit ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll’, Big Joe Turner was one of the most soulful blues shouters of all time. His best albums married the boogie-woogie piano stylings of the great Pete Johnson with a jazzy horn section. Boss Of The Blues is one of his finest recordings, as Joe revisits the jump-blues style he helped pioneer in the 1940s, this time in the company of Johnson and some of Kansas City's finest jazzmen (including members of Count Basie's band). The result is bawdy and delicious fun; and Johnson is outstanding on ‘Cherry Red’ and the rollicking ‘Roll ‘Em Pete’.

Giuffre's album is another fascinating, but very different, project: in 1957, the innovative reedsman broke up the original Jimmy Giuffre 3 and formed a new and unusual trio with Hall and Brookmeyer. For a year, they gigged together across the US, but sensing the group's life was coming to an end, Giuffre composed the four-movement ‘Western Suite’ with the trio's strengths in mind, and as a way of documenting its achievements. The lack of a rhythm section meant that the three musicians were pushed to the limits of their (considerable) abilities, with hugely positive results for the adventurous listener. The side-long title track – an unusual mix of jazz, Aaron Copland's Americana and country music – gets most of the attention, but the other two tracks do not in any way constitute filler. Edgar Battle and Eddie Durham's ‘Topsy’ was a huge chart hit in 1958 for drummer Cozy Cole, and the 11-minute version here tootles along beautifully, as rhythmically pulsating as Cole's thunderous 45, and full of intriguing solos. The LP concludes with a marvellous, filigreed reading of Monk's ‘Blue Monk’.

At first glance, Western Suite's intricate miniaturism may seem as far removed from Turner's majestic bluesy chug as it's possible to get – but they do have one thing in common, and that's that they both, in their different ways, swing like bastards. And in these back-in-print analogue masters (done, I’m presuming, at Air Studios by either Ray Staff or Cicely Baston) they sound just as splendid as they deserve to do.