The Grid - Electric Head

EastWest: 1990

Tale as old as time: two guys meet while working with a legend of their scene (in this case, Psychic TV), decide they have enough creative synergy to do something on their own, and proceed to craft a bunch of tunes influenced by their contemporary clime'. That it would eventually lead to kicking off the 'country twang house' movement of the '90s is something I'm sure no one could have conceived, but I've already covered that bit of history in my review of Evolver.

And to be fair, it's not like Dave Ball was some unknown entity when he lent his talents to the Genesis P-Orridge project, having come off a successful run as the music-man behind Soft Cell. Getting in on that UK acid house scene was inevitable, but finding a kindred spirit in Richard Norris likely helped get things rolling much smoother than most post new-wave efforts often yielded.

However, sometimes you hit the studio with too many ideas sloshing about your brainpan, anxious to get them all out without any clear focus in how to make them all connect. Electric Head certainly doesn't hold back in offering a little something of everything you might hear wandering in a daze through the second Summer Of Love, but I'm not surprised this album doesn't get name-dropped that often when talk of that era comes up. Floatation, yes, absolutely, a definitive staple in the burgeoning afterhours chill-out scene. The plunderphonic-hop of Are You Receiving though? Or the woozy house of Driving Instructor? Or the hi-NRG antics of A Beat Called Love? Or the dopey EBM of Doctor Celine? The Pet Shop Boys aping This Must Be Heaven? Not so much, I wager. That Intergalactica though, I can't see anyone having much trouble working that into a Moroder inspired set. You might even throw folks for a loop after revealing it was made by the same chaps as Texas Cowboy.

That about sums it up though, doesn't it? The classic albums of electronic music from the early '90s are typically deemed as such because they were trend setters, defining genres in their infancy. While The Grid were certainly capable song writers and clever studio producers right out the gate, there really isn't much on Electric Head that you couldn't hear elsewhere. I guess that's why they made this more of an album experience, linking everything with interstitial sonic doodles and field recordings, which does help. Makes it feel like you're taking a sampling of what you might hear surfing the radio waves of the UK at the time. The spaced-out acid house of opener One Giant Step not doing it for you, so you switch the station, and oh, here's some sampledelic electro in Islamotron. But I want to hear something reminding me of that trip to Ibiza. Like all the clubby tunes? No, no, I've heard plenty of that already. I mean the comedown part.

Yeah, small wonder lead single Floatation got placed at the end of the album.

Speedy J - Intercontinental

Plus 8 Records: 1990/2021

The first ever Speedy J release, and boy does it show. Actually, that's unfair, some of the tunes on this four track EP already offering glimmers and hints of where Mr. Paap's career would lead. This being a 1990 record though, there are certain, inescapable sonic markers that have a young producer still playing by the rules as laid out by his contemporaries, whether they be British or Detroitish.

What's weird for me is to even think there being a 'ground zero' for Speedy J records in the first place. Like, obviously he had to start somewhere, but as I only became aware of him during his G-Spot era, his earlier stuff seemed but a mystery. Even when I finally 'caught up' to his debut album Ginger, it didn't feel like I was getting the whole Phase 1 Speedy J story. And sure enough, there were even older records than his Artificial Intelligence era, breaking out with the techno freshmen making their mark on a fledgling Plus 8 Records. Yet still, my brain is convinced there must be something even older than Intercontinental. Some unreleased demo tapes, maybe, or a secret, shameful alias of generic freestyle funk Jochem refuses to acknowledge. There has to be something out there!

The Intercontinental EP – indeed, Speedy J's entire career! - kicks off with Wicked Saw. And yep, that synth line sure sounds like a saw, about as jagged as those sound waves could get in ye' olde year nineteen ninety-aught. Despite some more ominous segments, I can't help but draw comparisons to Adamski's N-R-G, released late the previous year. Yeah, that track is a bit silly and free-flowing, about as you'd expect of UK acid house, whereas Speedy J's Wicked Saw plays things mostly straight and ravey. Just something about those rhythms and funky fills tethers it to Adamski in my mind. Like I said, sonic markers and such. Minimal is minimal techno before minimal techno was really a thing, so here it just sounds like monotonous techno. Or tool techno, if you're being generous. Pass.

Now Journey, that's a Detroit space jam if I ever heard one. Those stuttery synths though, there's something almost... trancey about them. Never mind, here comes some classsy organ licks, breakbeat fills, and bleepy goodness. Why, this tune could even have appeared on early Warp Records, if it wasn't already on a Detroit label. Final track Spectrum gets deeper into bleep territory, and almost, dare I say, “intelligent” take on techno.

So a promising start to a youngling J. He definitely had an early ear for dancefloor effectiveness but some care and thought put into arrangements too. Considering this was still an era when few had many sounds at their disposal, the Speedy one shows how much could be done even with the standard tools of the techno trade. It'd still be a couple years before Jochem would truly stretch though, instead a brief flirtation into ravey anthems just around the corner.

Various - Sounds Of The Seventies: 1977

Time Life Music: 1990

Anyone remember those mail order music collections? They'd advertise on TV with a huge, scrolling playlist, and you'd hear some familiar tunes that they just don't play on the radio anymore, plus your original record or tape of the album has kinda' deteriorated over the years, but you never bothered to buy that new-fangled CD replacement because you just weren't sure of the format yet? Yeah, those ads. At least, I assume that was the pitch with them, letting Boomers regain all their favourite music for a low-low price of $6.99 per CD (or tape), with a new one being shipped every month, like music Christmas every thirty days. I'm not saying Time Life Music's series of The Sounds Of The Sixties/Seventies/Eighties was an example of this – I honestly don't recall any ads of the sort back then – but it sure comes off that way. Lack of barcode on these discs suggests so.

And no, I haven't come into possession an entire collection of these, but a former owner was offloading some, so being the CD hoarding-whore that I am, nabbed a couple because why not. Logically, Sounds Of The Seventies started off with a rundown of music per year. It then went on to a Take Two round of yearly options, giving twenty volumes of '70s music. The initial run lasted up to thirty-seven releases, and the excuses to keep feeding you music from this decade ran lame towards the end, believe you me. According to Lord Discogs, they stretched things even further past the original thirty-seven, because why end a steady revenue stream, eh? Since most of these tunes were coming from the Warner Music Group, they could keep milking it into the new millennium. They didn't, thankfully, but they could have!

So let's dig into the year 1977. Of the twenty songs in this track list, there's no Kraftwerk, no Vangelis, no Tangerine Dream, and no Can. Well, so much for keeping my interest. Fail.

Haha, just kidding. Of course weird, experimental synth music from Europe has no place in a compilation such as this. We're only after the tunes Americans were digging in the year 1977, which includes rock, funk, country, and soul. Maybe a dash of disco too.

There aren't many surprises then, most of the songs the light-weight, easy-going stuff that's impossible to offend on the radio. Fleetwood Mac's Dreams, Steve Miller Band's Fly Like An Eagle, Foreigner's Cold As Ice and Feels Like The First Time, Linda Ronstadt's It's So Easy and Blue Bayou, and Manfred Mann's Earth Band's Blinded By The Light (“revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night”). The filler stuff features artists like Glen Campbell, 10cc, James Taylor, Al Stewart... a lot of songs I've probably heard before, but don't get my blood pumpin', y'know?

Frankly, 1977 is rather milquetoast, save the glorious opening beat of Bee Gee's Stayin' Alive towards the end. Astounding how that rhythm can carry such a punch forty years on.

Snap! - World Power

Arista: 1990

They hadn't planned on it. Sure, they were having some fun dabbling in productions and all, but Michael Münzing already had a tidy career running clubs out of Frankfurt, all the while doing a little DJing on the side. And while he had some synth-pop success with Papa Sven and Luca Anzilotti as OFF, most of Münzing's productions were in service for the clubs he played at, even using sampling gear in his shows.

Still, any European DJ worth their salt at the turn of the decade couldn't help but notice the sounds coming out of clubs from Italy and Belgium (not to mention how sample-happy everything had gotten), American styled hip-hop and house music the new hotness. Never mind that such genres had never charted in Germany. Misters Münzing and Anzilotti figured they'd adopt an American-sounding alias, make a record or two for their own clubs and leave it at that. Only trouble is the resulting record became an international smash, a tune rinsed out at clubs, on radio, at sporting events, during high-school dances... and still does to this day. To imagine a world without The Power is to imagine a darkest timeline indeed.

There's more to the story surrounding that single of course (oh is there ever more!), but I've an album to get through here. Point is Münzing and Anzilotti had to follow that sudden anthem up with an LP, the duo and their newly minted 'Snap!' moniker going from strength to strength in the singles department. Ooops Up turned into another winner (though not quite as big in The US), and Cult Of Snap! showed they weren't afraid of injecting a little Afro-funk into their jams. And while “Benito Benites” and “John 'Virgo' Garrett III” had undoubtedly tapped into a nascent european-fusion of hip-house few others could replicate, it was rapper Turbo B who gave them their unmistakable charisma, Darren Butler's deep, aggressive American inflection often coming off like a Chuck D clone. Yeah yeah, he'd never be as politically charged as the Public Enemy frontman, but between his tone and Snap!'s wilful incorporation of Afrocentric music (in Germany!), it was enough to get Mr. Butler inducted into Afrika Bambaataa's Zulu Nation. Yes, really.

We all know the big hits off here, not to mention the charming house hit Mary Had A Little Boy (oh God, the high-school memories with this one!). The rest of World Power amounts to a little better than filler, and is probably quite wonderful if you dig those early '90s hip-house jams. Most of the tracks are just excuses for to Turbo B drop a bunch of brag raps (Believe The Hype, Witness The Strength), with Blasé Blasé the most charming with its strict Funky-Drummer throwback vibe and off-ball asides from a faux Flavor Flav (plus, that bassline!). The mid-album ballad I'm Gonna Get You probably sounds all kinds of corny on the surface, but I've no doubt 'friend-zoned' dudes everywhere play this as their anthem.

Madonna - The Immaculate Collection

Sire Records: 1990

The only Madonna album you need, if you want a bluffer’s collection of Ms. Ciccone’s early discography. Not that her records didn’t sell well enough on their own, but for as much of a phenomenon she became throughout the ‘80s, her LP efforts were often spotty. Killer singles, no doubt, but a fair number of filler tracks too, mostly ballads, covers, and the like. Most folks just wanted to hear the peppy pop of Holiday, Material Girl, or Papa Don’t Preach, then move on with their lives before those awesome earworms started tickling the memory membranes again. Praise be, then, to the greatest hits packages, and what better way to put a capper on Madge’s dominance of ‘80s airwaves than one such collection. Naturally, such an effort could only be considered immaculate by her standards, but as Madonna’s entire m.o. is “if you got it, flaunt it”, what harm is there indulging her? Right, these past ten years of her career, good point.

The Immaculate Collection has everything you need for your Madonna: Phase One needs. The early “Jellybean” Benitez produced hits like Holiday and Crazy For You. The Nile Rodgers produced superhits such as Like A Virgin and Material Girl. The Patrick Leonard produced über-‘80s power pop pieces Love To Tell, La Isla Bonita, and Like A Prayer. The Stephen Bray produced club anthems like Into The Groove, Papa Don’t Preach, and Express Yourself. The Lenny Kravitz produced sultry… S&M… house coo of Justify My Love? Wait, what? Oh, and through much of this period is Shep Pettibone, often serving as an additional producer to give all these songs that extra punch of dancefloor sensibility. Guy was a God throughout the ‘80s.

Even if you were a Madonna fanatic and had bought all the albums, The Immaculate Collection was still a handy pick-up. Bringing all her best songs into one spot helped (don’t laugh, this was an extremely difficult thing for folks to do back in the day!), but it also gathered her wayward hits too, mostly found on soundtracks. Because good Lord, no one should have to buy I’m Breathless just for Vogue - so much better having it here, plus the additional new tracks Justify My Love and Rescue Me, leading us into her Erotica era.

That’s probably the most interesting takeaway from The Immaculate Collection, hearing her development as an artist. This is now all common knowledge of course, but going from the chipper post-disco chirps of her early material to the full-throated husky moans at the end is quite the evolution. It’s a remarkable showcase in proving just how adaptable a presence she’d already become, and fools they be had they thought she couldn’t pull it off throughout the ‘90s as well. Some of the ‘00s too, I guess.

In this day of streaming, The Immaculate Collection probably isn’t all that essential anymore, but at least it provides a handy ‘ultimate ‘80s Madonna’ playlist without you having to fuss for it yourself.

Pantera - Cowboys From Hell

ATCO Records: 1990

Many musicians reinvent themselves to keep pace with changing trends. Some even succeed in doing so, avoiding the ‘bandwagon jumper’ label while contributing something worthwhile to the new sound in the process. Incredibly rare, however, is the act that not only adapts, but forages a new path unheard of before, and thrives as a result, spurring their own legion of bandwagon jumpers. How many are there even? Radiohead’s Kid A was a fascinating exploration outside the band’s comfort zone, but it wasn’t a reinvention of the group. The Beatles were constantly evolving in their songwriting, but one can still trace it as a natural progression, not an abrupt change. Gary Grice, formerly The Genius, now more commonly known as GZA, made a remarkable turnaround from debut to sophomore album, but would it have happened had his cousin The RZA not created the Wu-Tang Clan for him to feed off?

I really can’t stress enough just how astounding it is that Pantera came from a cliché, unremarkable glam metal band in the ‘80s, and instantly wiped all that history away with Cowboys From Hell. It didn’t hurt that this was their first major label record, thus pretty much their first real exposure outside their local metal scene. And that’s how the boys from Texas wanted it too, completely abandoning everything about their look and sound of old in favor of getting down and dirty as all the biggest thrash bands were doing. The transformation was so radical, so thorough, so complete that many figured Cowbows From Hell was Pantera’s debut. Maybe a few super hardcore fans from the area knew otherwise, but even they had to be astounded by how effortlessly the band pulled this off. Makes me wonder if any of the authoritative metal rags of the time knew it. Like, is there a write-up in a classic Kerrang or Guitar World issue musing on the same thoughts as above?

Whether approached as a debut or reintroduction for the band, bottom line is Cowbows From Hell is one kick-ass album, with plenty to enjoy whatever your metal preference is. There’s heavy shredding action throughout (Primal Concrete Sledge, Heresy, Shattered, Medicine Man, The Art Of Shredding), complemented by Pantera’s new-fangled ‘groove metal’ approach (Psycho Holiday, titular cut, Clash With Reality, Message In Blood). This is essentially halving the speed of trash’s brisk pace, giving more prominence to the rhythmic potential of their guitar attack.

The best songs though, are where they combine both techniques, plus throw in some gloriously melodic falsetto and dark imagery. Cemetery Gates is probably the most famous of the bunch, and maybe the most famous Pantera song period. Hell, I’ve had those Dimebag Darrell’s riffs stuck in my head for a solid week now! Another winner in this mold is chugging The Sleep. While not as structurally ambitious as Cemetery Gates’ segments, it still features a fucking epic solo from Dimebag. Holy shit, how you can not be a fan of this band after hearing it!?

Kon Kan - Syntonic

Atlantic: 1990

I’ve been severely neglecting my Canadian content this past month. Better get to it before our new Liberal overlords send me a fair-weather warning of forced patriotism. Wait, do they even care about backwater bloggers? How could they even enforce such a thing? Would they suddenly turn my review of Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks into something by Arcade Fire? No, they could never be so nefarious. The blues, maybe, but not our boys in red (note: I voted orange). As luck would have it though, I get to meet my monthly Canadian content quota by reviewing an album by a synth-pop act whose name is a play on that quirky bit of legislation, Kon Kan. See, it’s Canadian content, backwards! Eh? Eh? Pah, witty Canuckian humor is lost on all y’alls.

I always remember seeing the name Kon Kan around, though not in any significant way. I mean, they were a Canadian synth-pop act, making dance music at a time when dance music was gaining a fair bit of popularity in the early ‘90s. They’d almost be obligated the occasional guest spot on whatever hip club music show was airing on MuchMusic at the time (X-Tendamix? Might Master T have interviewed Kon Kan at one point? Ooh, you know that’d be some retro YouTubing there). By the time I’d finally immersed myself in ‘techno’ though, they’d already folded as a group. Well, ‘group’ is a stretch of a word, Kon Kan primarily the creation of one Barry Harris. He’d update his sound for the euro dance crowds in the group Outta Control, all the while making underground house records solo and harder stuff with career remixer Chris Cox as Thunderpuss. Mr. Harris has stayed active to this day, and even suggested dusting off the old Kon Kan name with original vocalist Kevin Wynne. Because nothing old stays old, right?

Point being, there’s a lot of history to this name, and is hardly a one-and-done deal despite Kon Kan never getting bigger than their debut, Juno Award winning single I Beg Your Pardon. I sure didn’t know all this when I picked Syntonic out of a used shop. I just recognized the name from a house compilation, and took a chance after a quick listen of the first few tracks. Honestly though, I’m still wondering how that initial impression convinced me to buy this sophomore effort. Yeah, Victorious is undeniably catchy in that New Jack Swing sort of way, but dear Lord so much else on here sounds way dated.

Obviously I can’t expect blinding sonics from a 1990 Canaidan synth-pop album, even one backed by Atlantic Records, but a few tracks do work on those terms. Lead single Liberty! is just as peppy as anything from the Pet Shop Boys, Can’t Stop The Fire gets more to Harris’ house side, andTime is good cheesy italo fun, even if the chorus apes Trooper’s We’re Here For A Good Time. Overall though, Syntonic is just another long forgotten collection of dated dance pop.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Ragged Glory

Reprise Records: 1990

This album took me from “Yeah, Neil Young's got some nice music, I guess.” to “Neil is God!” That might not be as impressive as it seems, despite Ragged Glory being the second record I picked up from Mr. Shakey (and first with the Crazy Horses). Had I nabbed one of his early efforts like Rust Never Sleeps or After The Goldrush before this, it’s probable I'd fall sway to his musical allure just the same. I can't even remember why I took the plunge on this one in particular, since all I really knew of his output was the Harvest Moon folksy material (Rockin' In The Free World notwithstanding). I'd heard good things about Ragged Glory, sure, but nothing that suggested it was a life-changing album or the like. Took that plunge I did though, after which I was compelled to consume all that Mr. Young had released. Fortunately for my bank account, the country hoe-down Old Ways was my follow-up, quickly instilling some caution in any further explorations of Neil's discography.

For all intents, there isn't anything about Ragged Glory that should have had the impact on me that it did. It’s a great rock album, no doubt, but it’s not reinventing the wheel or leading the charge of a new, unique scene. The music is catchy and unchallenging, with guitar riffs going down easy and sweet vocal harmonies that’ll lodge themselves in your brain without ever overstaying their welcome. The lyrics have little nuggets of aging wisdom about them (or, in the case of Farmer John, are just sloppy good fun), though seem written as mere service to the music performed. At most, Ragged Glory serves as a definitive statement for aging rockers that one not need fade away like so much bad ‘80s hair. Unlike many of his fellow ‘60s and ‘70s alum, he found kinship with the new generation of alt-rock and grunge bands emerging from the underground, and was fearless in joining their ranks. If his prior album Freedom was a rebirth of sorts, then Ragged Glory finds Neil full of fire and flying high above his contemporaries.

I can’t say any of you will have the same notions about this album should you hear it, especially as you’re reading this on an electronic music blog (mang, crunchy guitar solos are totally electronic!). I guess in my case, Ragged Glory represented the sort of rock that I always imagined rock music should sound like, but seldom heard performed. Believe me, with all the garage bands I’ve been exposed to over the years, none had such a rugged edge while retaining bar-blues affability and dismissing arrogant posturing. Young’s solos here are wild and messy, yet I hang on each chord, eagerly anticipating which unpredictable direction he’ll go in next, always reassured he’ll find his way back to Crazy Horse’s steadying rhythm. I imagine, had I heard Ragged Glory before ‘techno’ seduced me, I’d have picked up that damn guitar like my old man always hoped I would.

Ole Højer Hansen - The Dome

Olga Musik: 1990

It seems no matter your musical background (electronic, jazz, folk, Mongolian throat singing, hillbilly jug band), you can always find a welcome stay in ambient’s world. From classically-trained maestros to noise-experiment art-freaks to bedroom-amateur laptop wibblers, the entry point remains simple enough: have synths, so stack and pad them forever as the calming/terrifying drone weaves and ebbs to heart’s content. It’s no surprise, then, so much ambient is released on micro-labels and practically forgotten about overnight. Those that do create enduring pieces often have enough musical craft and clout to stick out from the pack, but even then they can go unnoticed without a little dedicated digging.

Ole Højer Hansen is one such talent I stumbled upon during an ambient excavation. He only has three albums to his name, this here The Dome being his final one. He then apparently disappeared into studios as a sound engineer and incidental music writer for TV and film – not a bad career trajectory, but still a shame when he could have done so much more.

Though his music was decidedly ambient, he also had some prog-rock background going in. Unfortunately, the ‘80s were a dire time to be a prog-rock musician, hence why many tried their hands at ambient compositions too. It gained a little interest for the first half of that decade, but by the second half, folks had generally grown disinterested in Eno’s musical creation (New Age, on the other hand…). That a guy like ol’ Ole would slip through the cracks is understandable in this context.

As Mr. Hansen is of the ‘old ambient school’, The Dome does have more musicianship than synth drone going for him. Subtitled into three parts of about 20-25 minutes each, you get jazzy keyboard improvisation and even mild rhythms throughout. Part 1 grows into a groovy little number, Part 2 is the purely meditative ethereal piece, and Part 3 evokes mystery and contemplation for the mind. It’s all very well produced, seldom (if at all) crosses the New Age divide, and all that said, I’m sure your eyes have glazed over reading this review.

I don’t know what else to say, The Dome hardly coming across as essential listening anytime soon. The only reason I did check it out was because of that cover (always with the cover art). Hansen strikes me as the sort of musician who’s incredibly competent at what he does, but is missing just that extra bit of creative spark that elevates others in this field of music. Perhaps that’s why he settled into a studio engineer career, but it’s not like he lacked potential for more. The Dome does provide moments of lovely synth work and captivating atmosphere – I’d wager Part 3 is worth the price of admission alone (whatever ‘price’ you may end paying). Unfortunately, one can say that for tons of lengthy ambient pieces, and when stacked against the genre’s long history, Hansen’s mired somewhere in the middle.

Various - Dance Mix 90

Quality Special Products: 1990

This… actually exists? I had no idea Dance Mix went back so far. My first exposure to the series was with Dance Mix ‘92 (a CD that changed everything for yours truly), but I’d seen a Dance Mix ‘91 on shelves too. It doesn’t even look like it belongs with the subsequent volumes, font and airbrushed cover art seemingly time-warped from the ‘50s – small surprise the inlay shows advertisements for a pile of ‘jukebox classics’ compilations. It’s doubly bizarre seeing it in a collection of CDs filled with grunge and hard rock. Hey, Teenage Ishkur, how did you come about having this?

Teenage Ishkur: This isn’t mine. I don’t listen to dance music. This looks lame and stupid.

Oh. I guess he got this later, after electronic music culture lured him away from ‘angst rawk’. Still, young Ish’ isn’t too far off in his appraisal of Dance Mix 90, even if it’s for the wrong reasons. This is an incredibly sloppy CD, with a bizarre track selection for the time and mixing that would embarrass even a rank amateur. MuchMusic's oversight for later volumes vastly improved upon the formula of DJ mixed dance-pop, such that it became a Canadian fixture larger than any Chris Sheppard compilation.

Between licensing issues and probable lack of knowledge about the scene at large, Dance Mix 90 is hardly a comprehensive collection of electronic music of that year, even at a commercial level. For sure there are big hits – Roxette’s The Look, Yaz’ Situation, and Milli Vanilli’s Girl You Know It’s True - but they don’t make a lick of sense when paired alongside Depeche Mode’s Strange Love, Inner City’s Big Fun, and Soul II Soul’s Keep On Movin’ - to say nothing of the copious amounts of Stock, Aitken & Waterman productions throughout. While Dance Mix would turn the genre hopping into strength once they narrowed their scope, this first attempt comes off a mish-mash of instantly dated synth-pop and club beats.

Then there’s the ‘mixing’. Oh my God, is there ever ‘mixing’. Key clashes, shoes in the dryer phrasing, nonsensical genre blends… Dance Mix 90 is so inept at creating a flowing DJ set, it’s entertaining in spite of itself. I’ll grant the DJ mix CD was still a young concept in 1990, but this has all the production chops of utter bargain-bin toss-off. Every beatmatching attempt is hilariously forced, other times we’re treated to clashing fade-slams that aren’t even timed properly, and there’s a complete second of silence between tracks midway! I understand this was intended for the tape copy of Dance Mix 90, but you don’t allow that shit on a CD designed to be a continuous mix.

This disc’s total pants, yet I can’t help being slightly intrigued by it as well, considering the legacy Dance Mix earned during the ‘90s. Like that Beatles’ Anthology, it sheds light on the inglorious beginnings of an institution many assume was great from the start.

Enigma - MCMXC a.D.

Virgin: 1990/1999

While purists may balk at the idea of Enigma's debut being one of the most important electronic albums ever, it's hard to deny its lasting influence on various scenes. An immediate hit with both mainstream New Age types and underground S&M sorts, it kicked off an insane amount of copycats, figuring lumping any ol' chant with a bare-bone electronic rhythm would produce similar chart success. A few did in the ensuing years, but none to the degree that Michael Cretu accomplished with MCMXC a.D.

The album’s appeal truly was a case of everything falling into the right place at the right time. For one, New Age was sweeping middle-America, so anything with soothing, meditative pads had a good chance of gaining some crossover interest. Second, with eroticism sweeping middle-America thanks to movies like 9½ Weeks, folks were far more accepting of risqué concepts like Sadeness, Mea Cupla, and Principles Of Lust. Hell, a title like Sadeness should have turned heads alone, and here it was tearing up the charts while couples tore off their clothes as seductive French voices and ethnic woodwinds played out (mind, confusion over the title likely helped divert controversy). Key to its timelessness, however, are the Gregorian chants, as few things suggest chaste traditions as readily as Catholicism. The incredibly taboo combination of seduction and piety made these tunes hits with fetishists, soundtracking many a sex club ...if Single White Female is accurate, anyway. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before every Skinemax flick starring Shannon Tweed was style-biting Enigma’s sound, rendering it cliche; thus its small surprise Mr. Cretu mostly abandoned the eroticism by his second album.

As for the rest of MCMXC a.D., the other single off here was The Rivers Of Belief, which retains most of the elements of Sadeness, though opts for New Age platitudes instead. As a closer that bookends the album, it works, but likely due to Cretu’s singing, it’s not as fondly remembered as the other hits off here. Knocking On Forbidden Doors is a surprising little gem of an instrumental though, kind of a b-side to Mea Culpa and getting downright trance at times. Not sure what The Voice & The Snake was about, besides being the oddest interlude in Enigma’s discography. The sun turned cold? What is this, the apocalypse?

When the album was re-issued in 1999, it came bundled with a bonus EP containing the original remixes of Sadeness and Mea Culpa, none of which are terribly interesting. Fading Shades Mix of Mea Culpa mashes the latter’s vocals onto Rivers Of Belief, and that’s about as all worth checking out if you’re curious.

Whatever preconceived notions you might have regarding Enigma’s general career (*cough*cheesyworldbeatNewAgebollocks*cough*), it shouldn’t deter you from checking out MCMXC a.D.. You’ve likely heard the music over the years, and will likely hear it again. Despite often being imitated, Enigma’s debut remains as unique and timeless as the day it came out. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if Sadeness still plays in S&M dungeons. Can anyone confirm this?

Public Enemy - Fear Of A Black Planet

Def Jam Recordings: 1990

This should have been the first Public Enemy album I reviewed when all their CDs I ordered showed up, but alphabetical stipulation forbade. Its significance couldn’t be overlooked though, even when focusing on Apocalypse 91 - how many times did I namedrop Fear Of A Black Planet on that one? And it must be a damn important album if the National Recording Registry added it to the Library Of Congress. Woo, government approval from a group that rallied against the government all the time. How the world can change in fifteen years (wait, there’s still a Bush as President...?).

The reason for all this heaped praise is Public Enemy set out to do nothing less than make the definitive concept album with Fear Of A Black Planet. Mighty bold of them to do so within a genre of music that was still relatively new to the populace, almost exclusively focused on party jams and clever world play. Who did Public Enemy think they were in going where no one in hip-hop had gone before? Oh yeah, the same guys that had made the critical and commercial success of It Takes A Nation Of Millions, etc.. Well, that settles that. Go for it, boyeee! (dammit, Flav...)

Since Fear Of A Black Planet is now talked about in reverential terms, Public Enemy obviously succeeded in their goals. It certainly helped that the group's production crew, The Bomb Squad, had all the swagger in the world, confident their 'wall of noise' sample collages could see no bounds. And holy shit, are these tracks ever dense with samples. Good luck IDing even a fraction of them without a cheat sheet (apparently the opening minute-long 'skit' holds some fifty samples alone). Getting a ton of (uncleared!) samples ain't nothing if you can't make awesome music out of it though, but The Bomb Squad were masters of their trade by this point, each track or interlude never losing the plot with overindulgent wankery. Fear Of A Black Planet's beats may not be as immediate as other Public Enemy LPs, but they hold your attention nonetheless, your brain picking everything apart to hear all the little details. This is definitely an album you'll come back to time after time to discover some new morsel missed on a prior playthough.

Now for the nitpick: not enough Chuck D. Ridiculously, it’s almost five tracks before we get some serious verbal attacks from the PE frontman (second track Brothers Gonna Work It Out does have some spit’n’fire for the Black community, but barely to the level of his best work), and it feels like he only shows up here and there. I get that this album’s practically The Bomb Squad’s show, and that a musical concept album such as this requires some sacrifices on the lyrical front (not much, mind, but it is noticeable), yet the lack of Mr. Ridenhour (!!) firing lyrical shots all throughout does leave me wanting. Then again, what does a Canadian cracker like I know?

Ice Cube - AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted

Priority Records: 1990/2003

The only Ice Cube album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of an Ice Cube fan. Oh, he's released tons more since his debut, not to mention plenty of collaborative work alongside groups like Da Lench Mob and Westside Connection. Some of it's been good, some not so good, but aside from maybe his work with N.W.A., O'Shea Jackson was never as virulent as he was on AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted. No, check that, he's even more vicious here than on Straight Outta Compton, the bad blood between him and his former posse firing him like no other motivation could. Not only was he gonna make a bigger mark than them solo, but he was going to do so with ‘the other coast’, Public Enemy’s own production group The Bomb Squad.

Hanging around the politically charged Chuck D undoubtedly played a role in Cube’s new-found lyrical focus. He still brought tales of gangster shenanigans, but they were far less glorifying and misogynistic compared to what his contemporaries offered. Rather, they spotlighted the decay of American inner city life, how it was destroying black communities, and how everyone – from the white upper-crust of society to the lowest scuzzed beggar – was all accountable. Cube offers no solutions, and indeed that can make AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted a tiring listen as you bear the brunt of his anger, but damn if it isn’t a visceral experience.

And the music! If Cube’s just discovering how potent his lyricism could be, we’re also capturing The Bomb Squad at the height of their powers too. As this was made in the golden age of sampling, tracks are incredibly dense with (likely) un-cleared content. Unlike, say, The Dust Brothers’ production for Paul’s Boutique, who just tossed in whatever they could for the sake of it, The Bomb Squad keep grooves tight and propulsive. Just take a gander at the titular cut, with those funky breaks, bass drops, scratches, gun shots, etc. Even if Cube’s words aren’t for you, try denying bobbin’ your head to these beats. Not to be outdone, Da Lench Mob prove they're up to the sample-raiding with Jackin’ For Beats, first appeared on the Kill At Will EP, but included here on the 2003 reissue of AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted (the whole single, actually).

So if Ice Cube’s debut’s as good as I say (any hip-hop head would), why’s it taken me this bloody long to pick up a proper copy? Oversight mainly, but going through all that Del Tha Funkee Homosapien material recently reminded me to correct it. Yeah, ol’ Del’s cousins with Cube, which most folks know, but perhaps less known is how, as still part of Cube’s crew, he helped pen some of Mr. Jackson’s rhymes here. I dunno how many specifically, though a track like A Gangsta’s Fairytale sure sounds like something Del might write (there’s even a ‘Dr. Bombay’ reference). I wouldn’t recommend AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted if you’re only a fan of Deltron 3030 though, as they’re literally worlds apart.