EDM Weekly World News, January 2014

Back issues! Look, with the recent derth in Original TranceCritic Reviews and Ace Tracks all backtrack'd and caught up, I need something else to fill the Lazy Writing Day quotient. Might as well be these older editions of EDM Weekly World News, especially since their original home remains in cryostatis. In this issue, we celebrate Four Tet's astounding, unprecedented, immaculate haul of that year's Grammys. I bet he do it again!

Dronny Darko - Neuroplasticity

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Dronny Darko’s the sort of alias I really want to make snickering remarks over, but damn if the man behind it doesn’t deny me that chance. His works are just so interesting, at least on a conceptual level. Obviously his pairing with protoU on Earth Songs was pure catnip to my cosmic triggers, and it seems his points of inspiration show no bounds. His first album on Cryo Chamber, Outer Tehom, dealt with the occult side of dark ambient’s oeuvre, and he’s explored various other themes on netlabel releases for Petroglyph Music and DNA Production. A misconceived origin here, a polar night on Titan there, to say nothing of spending one-thousand years in cryosleep. Dark ambient sorts sure love their cryosleep. Are many of them insomniacs, the scientifically induced slumber their only hope of a restful respite from the harrowing conscious state defined by neurosis? Or maybe it’s just a real cool sounding collection of syllables.

Still, a wandering muse doesn’t always lead to the most promising of pastures, especially for one seemingly intent on challenging himself as Dronny Darko does. His second LP for Cryo Chamber, Neuroplasticity, foregoes almost all of dark ambient’s conventional spaces in favor of something you might find on Mille Plateaux or Raster-Noton: experimental, minimalist abstraction, muted atmosphere, and empty drone. Right, some of this label’s producers indulges in that last one too, but Mr. Darko takes his material closer to the realms of musique concrete than anything remotely typical for Cryo Chamber. The opening track, Mirror Neurons, has echoing woodblocks plonking about as though we’re watching an avante-garde film detailing the finer processes of bio-chemical reactions, soon followed by flittering electrical pulses flashing across colorless spaces. In fact, that’s exactly what this is, if the little promo video for this track at the Bandcamp site is anything to go by. Oh yeah, have I mentioned each Cryo Chamber release has a nifty promo video? Worth checking out, if you need some context for this music.

No, wait, ‘music’ is not what this is in the slightest. While drone ambient is often atonal regardless, ol’ Dronny doesn’t give us any wisp of a note in these five tracks. Plazma Lake is fifteen minutes of being submerged in thick viscous substance, occasional crackles of brain pulses and a muted heartthrob your only markers of sound. Electrical Membrane spends six minutes shooting garbled frequencies at your senses before fading out in mechanical drone. Circuits sounds like you’re gestating in a test-tube, being nurtured and cared for by scientists twisting and abusing the laws of nature. Ion Voltage frees you from whatever cybernetic madness has thus far assaulted your senses, with a hard cut ending the album abrupt and complete.

Neuroplasticity isn’t just abstract experimentation for its own sake – the album does have a journey of sorts going for it. Damn though, it’s unlike anything I’ve heard on Cryo Chamber yet. Cheers for taking a chance in exploring the desolate mindscape of a Borg drone.

System 7 / Mirror System - N + X

A-Wave: 2015

Its remarkable System 7 remained as relevant as they did throughout the ‘00s. They were of an old-guard, see, a product of the hippie idealism that nurtured a nascent rave culture, and the new millennium had little use for that, growing mature and engaging with ‘post’-clubbing notions. The DJs were still making bank, but only with the most minimalist music offered, drug-fueled enthusiasm be damned. Right, things weren’t that dire, but as minimal-tech was about the only genre earning prestige points anymore, producers were forced to adapt or be ghettoized to the undying outlier scenes. Gotta’ give massive props to Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy then, for finding a niche within tech-haus’ stodgy domain, playlisted by the sorts who’d just the same snicker at their psy trance offerings.

Adapting to one scene can consequently leave your former one cold. Such was the case with long time System 7 followers, none too pleased with the duo catering to the Dubfire crowds. They needn’t have worried so, for it seems System 7 have gradually weaned off minimalism, their latest offerings getting back to their techno-trance strengths with space-age guitar action to spare. Such is the case with their latest album, X-Port, though that’s not what I’m reviewing here. Nay, in my search for the freshest music from Hillage and Giraudy, I instead stumbled upon a mini-album, N + X, which includes a few tracks from Mirror System. Ah, whoops?

Nah, it’s cool; get to talk about that side project I guess. At some point in the ‘00s, Hillage and Giraudy felt their System 7 material was no longer compatible with their chill-out muse, so they created Mirror System to explore it. After launching with a debut album of Mirrorsystem in 2005, the project sat fallow for a full decade. Another flurry of downtempo inspiration must have struck though, Mirror System resurrected for a second album titled N-Port, just in time to co-release it with X-Port. Thus this teaser of N + X, and a Venn Diagram of the two projects as the cover art. So, wait, is this like the ‘Fire + Water’ concept of the Point 3 duo release? Why not release it that way? Pretty sure there are two more elements available that could make it work as a two-decade sequel.

Yeah, a teaser is the easiest sum-up of N + X, two tracks each from the System 7 and Mirror System albums available. Included is Chic Psychedelic, both X-Port Version and N-Port Version, though the X-Port Version surprisingly features less beats than the N-Port Version. 5 Beat as System 7 has a spacey techno-thump going for it, while Blue Ocean as Mirror System is a total ambient dub outing. N + X also features an exclusive track from each alias. On The Seventh Night from their lo-o-o-ong ago album 777 gets a beefy 2010 goa remix, and Thundernight harkens back to Hillage’s earliest ambient works. Proceed with shredding of thy follicles, all ye’ System 7 completionists.

The Orb - Moonbuilding 2703 AD

Kompakt: 2015

Seems with every new album from The Orb, the narrative claims it’s the group’s long awaited return to form. No, more so than the last one, we insist! Does anyone even know what the ‘proper Orb form’ is anymore? After twenty-five years in the business of music making, they’ve gone down so many different paths, avenues, cul-de-sacs, stairways to heaven, and time-warping singularities that the only predictive aspect of The Orb is their next album most definitely won’t be like their last. Whether you actually dig their latest session is practically listener dependent now. Some keep hankering for sounds akin to their early ‘90s ambient output, others crave the wild experimentation of the Kris Weston years, while a few get down to the reggae dub vibes Youth sometimes brings. Not sure how many would rep Cydonia above all else, but you know there’s a couple contrarians out there.

That folks would find Moonbuilding 2703 AD one of The Orb’s better offerings in recent years isn’t surprising though, the album remarkably consistent and groovy for its modest fifty-minute run time. With only four tracks on hand, each sees Alex Paterson and Thomas Felhmann giving themselves plenty of room to explore… um, their sound? Can’t really say that, if I’m honest, Moonbuilding one of the least ‘Orb go on big trip of sound explorations’ LPs around. Whatever you hear in the opening few minutes of a given track is generally the same tone and mood maintained for their durations (often a shade under fifteen minutes each). On the plus side, we don’t have any ‘wacky-randomness for its own sake’ tangents that left many a former Orb fan cold, but that does leave these tracks rather safe and conventional as they work themselves out. It ultimately all comes off like a jam session with shuffly dub techno and house as the backbone, the likes you might find on typical Kompakt releases rather one with Dr. Paterson lurking in the studio. Wouldn’t surprise me if Moonbuilding was primarily a Fehlmann work, ol’ Alex kept on a tight leash from worming in his requisite goofy audio clips.

The four tracks, then. God’s Mirrorball goes heavy with the dub techno tones. Moon Scapes-2703BC has a steady groovin’ thump going on. Lunar Caves is the most ambient of the four, though also finds time for some soft dub techno pulse in the back-half of its nine-minute run time. Moon Scapes-2703AD has some fun in trip-hop’s domain before getting on a light funky shuffle. Each track is a rather loopy affair, but with consistently shifting elements about so nothing comes off too repetitive or monotonous. It also isn’t the most adventurous Orb album you’ll hear, nor does it have much in the way of memorable earworms or clever sampling. Moonbuilding essentially plays as it means to go on, and it’s perfectly fine in that regard. How some folks are calling this the best Orb album since U.F. Orb is beyond me though. Orblivion was so much more fun!

Massive Attack - Mezzanine

Virgin: 1998

The only Massive Attack album you probably have, despite many critics pointing to their other albums as the ones you’re supposed to have. Not sure what the consensus between Blue Lines and Protection is, though I’m almost certain the group’s (duo’s?) post-millennium material is generally held in lesser regard than Mezzanine. This one smacks right in the middle of the transition, but due to the super aggressive marketing the mighty Virgin machine did for the album, critics can’t help themselves in being contrarian, pointing to an earlier effort as the definitive Massive Attack experience. Back when they were still a tightly-knit band that included burgeoning vocalist wunderkind Tricky as part of their roster. Back when they were laying the groundwork for an entire genre, and not simply cashing in when trip-hop was at its peak of prominence.

Hah, no, Mezzanine isn’t a cash-in, though Massive Attack definitely got mad paid here. Angel and Teardrop are among the most heavily licensed tracks in their discography, only losing out to Unfinished Sympathy for top honors; and that one had a seven year start on these two. On the other hand, additional singles Risingson and Inertia Creeps weren’t anywhere near as successful, the latter failing to chart even in the UK. Considering how trendy trip-hop was in the late ‘90s, with Teardrop hitting Top 10 in Massive Attack’s homeland that same year, it’s surprising such popularity didn’t translate into further success for their singles. D’at album sales number, tho’! Were Teardrop and Angel enough to propel Mezzanine into the stratosphere of platinum accolades? Yeah, but all those critical awards the album earned after needed strong songs to prop it up, and we have those in spades too.

Right, I quipped Mezzanine not being as critically hailed as their earlier records, but Massive Attack didn’t earn those ‘one of the greatest bands of all time’ plaudits in a vacuum. When tasked against their contemporaries, the original Bristol posse was nigh untouchable, always uttered with just that extra bit of reverence when compared to the likes of Portisehead and Morcheeba. The fact Massive Attack could come in at trip-hop’s apogee and release such a smooth flowing, densely dark album like Mezzanine is nothing less than brilliance. In lieu of the multitude of copycats, Robert del Naja (Mr. 3D) desired taking the group closer to the realms of post-rock - out of the domain of dubby-thick hip-hop that defined the genre they’d built. The move paid off, broadening the band’s appeal into the world of indie music and movie scores. It also gave them room to further explore their sound, fusing gritty guitar tones and cinematic flourishes with their vintage big beats, dense reverb, and somber urban soul, generally keeping each track fresh and unique throughout for a required playthrough.

Not everyone was on board with this development, original member Andrew “Mushroom” Vowles leaving Massive Attack after this. The enduring popularity and lasting legacy of Mezzanine suggests ol’ 3D was onto something special though. Dream on.

Atrium Carceri - Metropolis

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Of course I’d give Atrium Carceri a go in my Cryo Chamber splurge. This label may not even exist without Simon Heath’s early success with the project. In short order he carved a deep incision within the dark ambient scene, injecting it with many albums under the guise. Ew, sorry for the metaphor, but when one looks at that early material on Cold Meat Industry - with albums like Cellblock or Seishinbyouin (translation: mental hospital), and Eldritch horror cover art as found on Kapnabatai - Lord knows it gives you all the fidgety creeps right out of Silent Hill. Though I’ve much fondness for Mr. Heath’s Sabled Sun material, I’d need a sturdy frame of mind to take on those Atrium Carceri LPs. Or, y’know, bulk buy them and see what happens.

His early albums were considered instant classics, no small feat considering the pedigree Cold Meat Industry carries for connoisseurs of dark ambient. Most of those focused on singular spaces though, derelict buildings and decayed populaces, creating a loose mythology in the process. When he resurrected Atrium Carceri for Cyro Chamber, Simon saw more potential in the project, expanding the early lore to encompass an entire civilization. What could have caused such rot among these people? Who were those in power that allowed it to happen? Where did all these strange obelisks come from? Were there any survivors able or willing to unearth these secrets, to perhaps rebuild? Yeah, the ‘exploration of dying/extinct societies’ is pretty consistent with Mr. Heath’s dark ambient work. Heck, he even scored a game called… The Old City: Leviathan. Play to your strengths, yo’.

Metropolis sets out to unearth some of the Atrium Carceri secrets, a mini-quest of discovery from The Gargantuan Tower, Across The Seas Of The Dead to a Decrepit City, through an Industrial District into the Heart Of The Metropolis, where you’ll encounter The Cowled Seers, and perhaps unlock The Machine that governs everything. Though capable standalones, each of the eleven tracks plays best like a chapter in this album’s narrative. While specifics are seldom detailed about what transpires, Heath coaxes your imagination wonderfully with his cinematic songcraft.

The Dark Mother provides a gloomy dirge with a thudding rhythm, music for your trek in this inhospitable world. Across The Sea Of The Dead captures an endlessly bleak expanse, charred clouds suffocating the few flashes of distant lightening. Black Needle drones with atonal pads and distorted bells, as though revealing piercing, deformed towers against a blackened sky. Sacred Slab crushes you with drone while offering a tantalizing, tangible mystery within. 200 Days has a bit of narration offered, a storied recap as told by a messenger long since deceased. Industrial drone grinds and clatters about the metropolis, even as those cowled seers dutifully task themselves with maintaining whatever it is this ancient machine does. We may have uncovered the Metropolis secrets, but there sure isn’t much we can do about it. Well, maybe in a sequel, there’ll be hope.

Incubus - Make Yourself

Epic: 1999

I first thought Incubus was a ‘rocktronica’ sort of act, perhaps a bit on that Republica tip. Cover notwithstanding, it’s the name, derived from folklore of male spirits and demons seducing their way into sleeping women; essentially the dude-bro version of the succubus. While such tales are scientifically attributed to sleep paralysis, it still makes for nifty gothic iconography, and I only assumed the band Incubus was something along those lines as well. Maybe a little industrial like Marilyn Manson or Nine Inch Nails, but skewing closer to the ‘electronica’ side of things, what with a guest spot on the Spawn soundtrack. Didn’t once think they might have been the ‘rock’ pairing rather than the ‘electronica’ contribution, though the fact it was DJ Greyboy on the tag should have clued me in.

Still, Make Yourself sat there in shops, and though filed under ‘rock’ or ‘alternative’ or ‘metal’, I threw it on just to be sure. And yeah, it was definitely rock, though offering far more fusion than I could have anticipated. There was some Red Hot Chili Peppers funk stylee in there, but heavier than the fellow Cali band. I detected plenty of ‘90s alt-metal angst, but nothing that made me embarrassed to hear. There’s a little hip-hop turntablism thrown about, though always in service of each song’s whole rather than delivered as a trendy gimmick. Okay, except for Battlestar Scralatchtica, an exclusive scratching showcase for Incubus DJ Chris Killmore and guests Cut Chemist and DJ Nu-Mark. Now that’s some dope action no matter the context! The rest of Make Yourself was pretty good too, though nothing I’d buy for myself at the time (or ever).

Incubus had been around for much of the ‘90s, but didn’t break through until this third album of theirs. Even then Make Yourself was a slow burn, generally reaching no higher than the middle of the charts (where they charted at all). The band’s ability to flit through genres definitely gave them an edge though, singles and licensed songs spreading their sound to various forms of media for maximum market penetration. Pardon Me had considerable radio play, especially so an acoustic version found on the single. Stellar was even more successful, doing the post-grunge thing of quiet-loud passages that still had some life in it yet. Then Drive came along, going for the super laidback Cali-funk vibes of all your favorite chill-out Chili Peppers jams. This finally scored them a number one alt-rock hit (and Top 10 overall), and gave them even more success in follow-up albums.

Oh yeah, for as intensely ‘90s as Make Yourself comes across, Incubus sustained a solid career throughout the ‘00s, which boggles my mind considering how fickle the rock landscape was during that decade. Though their subsequent records never shifted as many units as Make Yourself, they always charted high upon release. Guess with so many of their peers falling by the wayside, at least this band gave fans of ‘90s rock something to cling to.

The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour

Capitol Records/Parlaphone: 1967/1987

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Beatles fan. Um… oh geez, how to justify this one? True, it’s got some of the Liverpool Four’s all-time classics in Strawberry Fields Forever, All You Need Is Love, and I Am The Walrus, but that’s never been an essential selling point for all their other albums. If you just wanted the classics, you get the greatest hits packages, or the anthology box sets, or the anniversary collections, or the-

What I mean to say is, buying a Beatles album just for the chart topping singles isn’t necessary when gathered options already exist. One buys Beatles LPs for the full experience, a playback from start to finish as the lads intended. They’d proved an album need not be big tunes with cover filler, where Rubber Soul, Revolver, and especially Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band kept improving upon the LP format. In fact, the Beatles had perfected the idea of a concept album so brilliantly with Sgt. Pepper’s that odds were they could only have gone down from there. Maybe it was best, then, to offer the inevitable slip with the soundtrack of Magical Mystery Tour, a film project that was practically doomed from the start.

A whimsical bus tour across the English countryside might have succeeded with an actual script on hand, but McCartney, inspired by super-hippie Ken Kesey’s similar bus tour across America, hoped to capture the spontaneity of such gleeful weirdness. Compounding the problems was how their wacky shenanigans were filmed in colour, but broadcast on BBC1, which primarily featured shows in black and white. Thus Magical Mystery Tour premiered as a muddy mess in British homes, on Boxing Day no less, when folks probably weren’t interested in drug-fueled Beatles zaniness. The film was such a flop that it never featured in American cinemas (too short), and was basically jettisoned from archives, none of the original negatives saved. It was the first sign that the mighty Beatlesmania machine could have some chinks in its sturdy armor.

The music though. No matter the faults of the film, surely the tunes provided would be of equal measure to their impeccable discography. Can’t deny that bombastic titular opener, a tune carrying on the Sgt. Pepper’s tradition of throwing any and all ideas into a single three-minute explosion of psychedelic rock. The Fool On The Hill goes more folk, Flying is a pure instrumental, Blue Jay Way goes suuuper-deep in the psychedelia (Flange! Reverse tape loops! Eastern bollocks!), Your Mother Should Know is a bouncy bit of ragtime, and I Am The Walrus is Lennon at his experimental nuttiest; but hey, what a catchy chorus!

All this, plus the included great singles that didn’t make it to Sgt. Pepper’s (aforementioned, plus Hello Goodbye, Penny Lane, and Baby You’re A Rich Man) makes Magical Mystery Tour a fascinating listen regardless. The songcraft remains, but boy were they pushing the limits of what a Beatles song could still be.

The Clash - London Calling

Epic: 1979/1999

The only Clash album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of The Clash. Am I ever saying that a lot lately, eh? Sure is good thing I’m filling in all these essential blanks in my music collection, lest folks think mine’s not worthy for consideration. Pft, my four-digit numbers is plenty ‘nuff for wide-eye glances, especially following the common question of “Is it all ‘techno’?” Why no, it actually isn’t! Like, there’s some orchestral soundtracks floating about, plus a jazz box-set somewhere in there too. And ooh, look at that shelf dedicated to rock music. Ain’t much ‘techno’ about that stuff, amirite? But yes, I know there are tons of essential classics in the rock pantheon that I’m supposed to have, despite the genre far from my highest digging priority. Why should I need too though, when I have friends consistently offloading their old CDs these days?

As for London Calling, yeah, this is one of the big ones, a game changer in the world of punk rock. The Clash were already critical darlings of the UK scene, but they had quite a bit of competition too, the market quickly flooded with copycats and would-be rebellious ‘yoof’ starting up their own rickety band railing against the powers that be. Hell, even seasoned musicians were getting in on that action, punk soon showcasing a remarkable swath of skill. From the deliberately sloppy Sex Pistols to the crafty song writing of The Police, there was seemingly almost no limit to what you could with the genre. No wonder ‘post-punk’ quickly morphed from this influx of creativity.

The Clash fit comfortably smack in the middle of it all, capably kicking out punk’s lineage of throwback rockabilly and hard rock while pushing the boundaries of genre fusion with ska, reggae, and R&B. They had no problem performing stupid simple tunes like Brand New Cadillac, but were fearless in getting politically charged and topical, showing a sense of maturity in their music mostly devoid in the ramshackle reactionary tropes of most punk. And boy, talk of hubris, showing no fear in delivering the world’s first double-LP punk album. Because ain’t no way they’re leaving those Jamaican nods Rudie Can’t Fail and the Guns Of Brixton out.

Considering punk was a reaction against the double-LP concept prog rock adored, that The Clash went this route for their third album is deliciously cheeky. The fact there’s not a duff cut for the duration of London Calling is amazing, nary a track coming off as pointless or over-indulgent filler. Also consider but two singles were released from these nineteen songs, the titular tune and closer Train In Vain (the second most famous Clash song), the sort of situation that dooms most albums from replay value. Yet I dare you to skip anything from London Calling, just to get to that final track. Doubt you do it, not with so many choice tunes in between. Top ten all time rock albums? Yeah, I buy that.

Alphaxone - Living In The Grayland

Cryo Chamber: 2014

Wow, it’s been a shade over a month since I last dealt with Alphaxone. Remember way back then, when I first started this epic alphabetical backlog? Y’all probably didn’t think we’d be only at the ‘L’s now, did ya’? Heck, even if you knew there were more Alphaxone CDs to come (I’m fairly certain I alluded to it), I doubt folks figured I’d have gone through four additional Cryo Chamber releases along the way. Hey, when I label-splurge, it’s with gusto. Still, d’is backlog tho’. I thought I’d have made it a little further along, yet here we are, only halfway through. It’ll be nearly another month before I can resume my regular course.

ANYHOW, this here Living In The Grayland is the first album Mr. Saleh released with Cryo Chamber, erroneously tagged as ‘New Age’ in Windows Media Player. Maybe the algorithm somehow thought this was a Monolith Cycle album instead? I don’t know if I should be more amazed that the app even assigned a genre to this album, or the fact it somehow confused a dark ambient CD for something more relaxing and meditative. I know release information is often user submitted, but how anyone could mistake Living In The Grayland for something one might hear at a yoga session or message parlor boggles my mind. Maybe if the masseuse is a succubus. No, wait; wrong sort of dark ambient. This is Alphaxone we’re dealing with here, not Council Of Nine.

In case you don’t remember, Mr. Seleh’s brand of drone tends to go for abstraction rather than portraying bleak pictures. The evolution of his Cryo Chamber albums saw him gradually shift towards LPs with some semblance of progression and narrative as they played. We’re dealing with his first for the label though, thus Living In The Grayland has about as intangible a plot as a David Lynch movie at his Lynchiest. Whereas Altered Dimensions and Absence Of Motion felt like you had to take a journey to reach their outworld realms, we’ve already arrived in the Grayland with this album. What will you see, what will you feel? What warping of your being shall unfold as you wander aimlessly through vistas devoid of hue?

A fair bit of drone, naturally, with plenty of layered texture and timbre in these ten tracks. Some pieces definitely make you small and insignificant, like the enveloping Overwhelm or spacious Darkscore. Others may give you a sense of dread as you traverse these unfamiliar regions, like foreboding Cold Spring or creepy Into The Silence. Yet the mood and tone is never concrete in how you should feel, whether you want to explore further or flee elsewhere. Where would you go, though? You’ve no choice but to remain here, for all eternity and longer. Why else would final track Grayland offer the only form of ‘music’, a minimalist dirge penetrating murky drone as it fades to nothingness. Your last clutches of earthly sanity ever slowly ebbing away from your grasp.