Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill

Ruffhouse Records: 1991

The only Cypress Hill album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a Cypress Hill fan. That's not my opinion, mind you, as I feel they have other records in their discography that surpass this one. And, as someone who has literally listened to every single LP they released, I feel somewhat qualified in making that assessment. What their self-titled debut has, however, is the gritty, street-level aesthetic that can't be recaptured after a group starts going platinum on the sales charts. The hungry spit-n-fire of young talent out to prove themselves worthy of standing in the same arena of all the established names. It's why so many debut hip-hop albums of this era are held in the highest regard - you either fire your best shot first, or get dumped to the dustbin of time.

As I said though, I think what Cypress Hill artistically accomplished on some future albums was even better than what we get here. Still, it's undeniable the group came out damn hot, and if you're strictly all about gangsta' rap sounding as raw and unpolished as can be, then I've no problem with folks proclaiming this is the one true Cypress Hill record above all.

And boy, does this record ever come in hot out the gate. Rappers had been making screeds against cops for a few years already, but none dared to open a debut on the topic, much less show no respect in titling it Pigs. Have I mentioned the Rodney King beating had happened shortly before Cypress Hill dropped?

But yes, the big tune off here is second track How I Could Just Kill A Man, where B-Real and Sen Dog go off on how life on the streets sometimes leads to committing acts you never thought capable of. More than that though, it established the vintage Cypress Hill parlay of Mr. Real chanting the chorus with Mr. Dog offering an earwormy call-and-response. Not to mention proving DJ Muggs had bigger things in mind than just producing basic hip-hop loops, throwing in squealing sirens and an organ breakdown for no other reason than he could. The original single for it though, featured The Phuncky Feel One, one of the tracks that kinda' holds this album back for me, more of a throwback '80s rap tune than featuring anything distinctly Cypress Hill. There's a couple tracks like it on here, such as The Funky Cypress Hill Shit, Real Estate, and Born To Get Busy. Production's still solid, just way more 'vintage' than what Muggs would go on to make.

Same can be said of their nods to weed smoking (Light Another, Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk) and the Latin side of street life (Hole In The Head, Latin Lingo, Tres Equis). They're gritty and unvarnished, but I've heard them make better. I guess it really does boil down to personal preference, which has enabled Cypress Hill to maintain a career for over three decades now. Something for everyone!

Tune - Change The Beat

R & S Records: 1991/2021

This has to be Jochem's most obscure project. Yeah, those in the know know who it is, while R & S Records is hardly some dingy underground techno label lost to the mists of time. If I hadn't told you this was from Speedy J though, would you even be able to tell? Okay, maybe if you sat down and listened to the darn thing, you could, though you'd have to have a near perfect memory of all his early '90s works to work that out.

More what I'm getting at though, is the alias he chose for this is the most nondescript thing you could imagine. Obviously he couldn't just use Speedy J again, as that was a Plus 8 exclusive. No, wait, Jochem used that name for Pull Over as well, and that came out on Music Man Records the same year. Maybe he wanted to completely distance himself from it, as R & S wasn't seen as quite the serious techno label yet, with their own pile of rave producers – C.J. Bolland, Joey Beltram, Human Resource, and the like. Don't worry though, you'll be called 'The Belgian Warp' soon enough. Just wait until their Apollo sub-label launches, then you're in for some real serious shit!

Where was I? Oh, right, Tune. What's up with such a plain-jane name like that? Was Jochem just hard pressed to come up with something when submitting these tracks for pressing? Did he figure they wouldn't have much hope of standing out among R & S' heavy hitters, so here's an utterly forgettable one before receding back to the comforting embrace of the Detroit upstart? He certainly never felt compelled to return to this alias or R & S, Change The Beat his lone contribution to either. Hell, even Public Energy got two singles out of Jochem.

I can't deny, I almost had Pull Over worry in the way the titular cut starts, a stupidly simple note played over a thudding beat and off-beat bassline. Things actually get a little more clever along the way though, a lone backing string added, some sparkly synths bringing flair, and a couple decent little bass drop fills. When everything finally gets going in full motion, including a pleasant little pad melody, I'm ready for things to properly take off for- oh, the track's already done. Dang, wish he'd gotten to the good stuff sooner.

Tonight is the 'funner' track though, what with vibrant rhythms, orchestral stings, and gnarly synths winding about. Yeah, this definitely fits better on the Belgian rave label. Just to remind folks he's actually a Dutch-Detroit techno producer though, b-side Extrasensory gets on that Motor City retro-future jam session. And unlike the other two, this track gets an extra couple minutes to strut its stuff. Not sure what folks coming into this expecting Dominators would think, but surely European ravers were aware of music such as this, right? Or were they only hankering for hoovers and pianos?

Nightmares On Wax - A Word Of Science (The 1st And Final Chapter)

Warp Records: 1991

Probably not the only Nightmares On Wax album you're supposed to have, much less start with if you're beginning a Nightmares On Wax collection. Indeed, many point to Smoker's Delight as the true beginning of the NoW legacy, what with its clear demarcation within the trip-hop pantheon. Hell, the genre technically didn't even exist yet when A Word Of Science came out, though a few tracks here definitely helped create the DNA that would form the basis of all those depressive downtempo vibes. Nay, the Nightmares debut is still very much a product of its era, and that era includes the bleep techno of the UK rave scene, of which early Warp Records were prominent champions of. Who's got time to chill the fuck out when there's illegal parties to hop about?

Still, it's that Warp lineage that's retained A Word Of Science's cultural cache to this day. It sits at a significant crossroad, lodged between the LFO debut Frequencies and the seminal series debut of Artificial Intelligence. Where even though the ravey roots of the label are still present, time is spent on tunes feeling the downswing of a night, preferably enjoyed while loungin' about with a spliff in hand. A big part of this is due to the brains behind NoW, George Evelyn, leaving no personal influence off the table. He may have felt this was his one shot at getting his vision of music out there – a 'first and final' one, if you will. So even though the Nightmares On Wax story kicked off with some techno records, here come the funk, soul, and hip-hop samplings sharing album space with the warehouse tools.

Of course, if you're coming into A Word Of Science from the future, with little historical context, you could very well assume this being more of the trip-hop groove that defined Smoker's Delight. Right from the jump, we're greeted by Nights Interlude, their classic easy-going, laidback downtempo jam of jazzy solos and soulful strings. A tune so timeless, it continues to appear on 'chill out' compilations. A vibe so sweet, George basically opened Smoker's Delight with a remix of it. That's about it for such tracks on this album though. Playtime gets a little more sultry, Back Into Time a little more Steve Miller Band-y, and E.A.S.E more playful (you can hear Gorillaz in this one), but the rest of A Word Of Science...? Yeah, not so much.

Instead, you get bass-rattling, minimalist UK techno (A Case Of Funk, Biofeedback, Aftermath, Dextrous, Sal), stabs at vintage house (Coming Down, Fun), and a little Brit-hop for good measure (Mega Donutz, How Ya Doin', the beatbox outing of B.W.T.M.). Very little of this excels beyond the year from whence it came, their dated attributes front and centre. And hey, if you're down for such 1991 sounds, then A Word Of Science will serve you fine. For many though, an adjustment of expectations is a must. Maybe borrow your older uncle's nostalgia headphones for a session.

Speedy J - Rise

Plus 8 Records: 1991/2021

“The Rise Of Speedy J”? “Speedy J Rises”? “Speedy J ...Arise!”? Hmm? Oh, don't mind me, just mulling over some silly thoughts. Like, you know how “rise” is a total cliche in movie marketing, right? So naturally I can't help but think of this EP in those terms. “Jochem Paap is... The Speedy J, Risen!”, and such nonsense. Look, when one has exhausted nearly all the Very Important talking points regarding an artist's catalogue, the temptation to succumb to the cockamamie grows ever more prominent. It happens to the best of us, and I'm far from the best of us. Maybe the best of us of what's left of us.

Anyhow, after Jochem had made his mark on the Detroit techno scene with International, he followed it up with this EP, four tracks that, for better or worse, showed just how diverse his early career would go. The titular cut kicks things off right where International left off, a near ten-minute rinse out of Detroit future funk with bright synth stabs and soaring strings. As per the title, all the elements in play keeps building upon itself, such that Rise has all the momentum going for it by track's climax, needing a good two minutes worth of cool down. Still, a strong opener, letting folks know the Dutchman is keeping the 'proper techno' spirit alive and well in Europe.

Then second track Something For Your Mind hits. Okay, it's not as inane as Pull Over, but this is still a fairly dumb track, just barely on this side of the 'Good Dumb – Bad Dumb' divide. I guess because this is a live recording (lacking any crowd noise), there's a bit more free-wheelin' flow with the thumping percussion and playful effects on the vocal. I don't have much else to say about Something For Your Mind at this point because, hoo, I'll have a better opportunity down the line.

Tresor's an odd one, in that on its surface, it's a more straight-forward bumpin' techno tune. For some reason though, I can't help but think I'm playing an old arcade racing game while it plays. Or maybe a subway station level in a beat-'em-up. Some of the synths used sound so... arcadey, y'see. There isn't anything as immediately ear-wormy as the first two tracks either, so maybe that's why Tresor has a feeling of a background tune, or a transitional one in a late set towards the end of a night.

And speaking of 'end of night', here's De-Orbit, the track that put Speedy J in the headlights of those 'intelligent' followers of techno. In the context of Rise, it's a wonderful little chill tune, Jochem showing off his downtempo side for the first time (no, I don't subscribe to the theory the speed was a mispress). Really, this whole EP plays out like a condensed night out: the 'get pumped' start, the big anthem, the 'deep' cut, and the afterhours tune. “The Rise And, um, Come-Down, Of Speedy J.”

Speedy J - Pull Over

Music Man Records: 1991/2021

This has to be the dumbest thing Speedy J has ever made. Yes, even dumber than its spiritual twin sister, Something For Your Mind - at least that one has a slightly redeemable vocal? And I'm not talking about my 'good' kind of dumb, which one could argue a lot of his post-Loudboxer techno is. Y'know, that blunt, no-holds-barred kind of pummelling rhythmic action that doesn't require much in the way of insightful dissection or thought to get into. No, this is just straight up dumb, spelled with a capital 'D', 'U', and 'M'. Just how dumb is this track? When Armin van Buuren was doing his little 'updating tunes that inspired me' series, of all the Speedy J tracks he could have chosen, he chose this one. That's how dumb this track is!

Don't worry about me calling Pull Over the dumbest thing to Speedy J's name, tho'. I'm sure Jochem would agree. Despite its massive success as a cross-over hit and an early Dutch rave 'classic', he never, ever wanted to go down this route again. Heck, I wonder what compelled him to do such a tune in the first place? Peer pressure from his fellow Dutchmen, to unleash the inherited Dutchiness lurking in his lineage?

It's certainly unlike anything he'd been releasing on Plus 8 Records to that point, which admittedly hadn't been much yet. Maybe that Minimal track, if it had only focused on the rhythm. But Pull Over doesn't. Almost immediately, that utterly inane looping 'hook' makes its presence felt, just mindlessly going on its single note, with its single pitch bend. And it never, ever stops, just sucking the whole way through. No matter how many fancy little drum fills Speedy J tries to get you hype around it, the hook carries on, sucking. You might say it helped inspire hard house, but that's like saying Family Guy helped inspire The Cleveland Show.

The First Remix is almost a tad less sucky, in that the beats have a bit more momentum going for them. The Speedy One also gets a little more playful with that hook, occasionally stretching the pitch bend out so the hook almost ends up sounding like a siren, and even adding a little reverb effect. Actually, no, that makes it even worse. I don't want to hear this stupid-ass hook any more than I need to, and no amount of knob twiddling will help it.

Second Remix, then, that's where it's at. Yeah, the noise that makes up Pull Over's hook is still present, but it's reduced to nothing more than a single stab no more prominent than an off-beat bassline. This version is all about d'em beats, man, and here's the Speedy J that would go on to such bangin' classics like Kreck. Well, in a primordial form at least.

The Bandcamp re-issue also includes an Original Cassette Tape version, and it's... just Pull Over again, but slower. Hard... Pass... Over...

The KLF - Last Train To Trancentral (Live From The Lost Continent)

Indisc: 1991

No doubt one of the more redundant singles I've picked up. There's only three tracks on here, and I already have two of them. Yeah, the Live From The Lost Continent version would have been a welcome addition to any UK punter's collection, a wholly different version compared to the album cut in that region (itself a remodelling of an unreleased song called Go To Sleep). Capping off The KLF's 'Stadium House' trilogy, wherein Jimmy and Billy took their Pure Trance singles and turned them into rollicking rave anthems filled with adoring crowds, Last Train was probably the most vain-glorious of the bunch. Well, certainly my personal favourite, even if The Charts say 3 a.m. Eternal was most popular of the trio (to say nothing of the Tammy Wynette featuring version of Justified And Ancient).

Anyhow, that's all a moot point for yours truly, as the American version of The White Room used the Lost Continent version of Last Train instead. Guess Arista figured their audience wouldn't have time for the 'subtler', calmer UK variant – don't bore us, get to the mutha'-fuggin' anthem chorus! Either that, or there was even more sample-clearance issues. Neither would surprise me.

Also included on this single is the 1989 Pure Trance Original. You know this as the version as heard on Chill Out, which I also have, kind of. I guess it's nice having it on its own, separate from the the full album mix, but again, redundant to my own music collection.

That leaves just The Iron Horse rub, and you know what? This actually makes getting the single for exactly one track out of three almost worth it. It's basically a primitive 'prog house' version of Last Train, back when the genre had just started its tentative first walk out onto the shores of UK clubland. The Lost Continent version is essentially stripped down to its most functional rhythmic components, chugging along at a deep, unrelenting pace. Shame its barely four minutes long, but I'm sure enterprising DJs could loop this for a propah' prog journey, if so inclined.

“But, Sykonee, you sexy beast of scintillating sound analysis,” I hear the cries, “why not cover that other remix package for this single?” What, The Moody Boys one? Yeah, that exists, but wasn't among the CD options from where I picked this up. It's not that hard to find, but certainly far from as common as this single is.

And frankly, I'm not sure if there's much to say about them, both essentially rubs on the UK album variant of Last Train. The 808Bass Version adds more rolling deep ends while the 120 Rock Steady version gets ravier with punchier riffs and broken beats, but that's about the extent of differences. Meanwhile, the Mu D. Vari-Speed Version is just Last Train To Trancentral (Remix 1) from the Pure Trance single, only played through a tape reel or turntable pitch shift at various speeds (I'm not sure which – maybe both?). I'll pass.

Speedy J - Evolution

Plus 8 Records: 1991/2021

Alright, the first propah' Speedy J record from my massive Bandcamp bundle, and one of his earliest ones at that. In fact, ask some discerning Speedy J fans, and they'll tell you this is the first propah' Speedy J record period. Yeah, he had a couple items out prior, but that was old techno, still playing by old standards and following old tropes from two or three months in the past. And would still be heard in Euro techno for many years after, come to think of it. Not 'propah' techno, as disciples of Detroit would have it, in any event.

While I'm sure there were many factors influencing Jochem Paap's musical development, signing to Plus 8 Records had to be high among them. Rubbing shoulders with the likes of Richie Hawtin, John Acquaviva, Kenny Larkin, and Daniel Bell undoubtedly showed the Dutchman there was a fresher way of doing techno than what his countrymen were churning out. A better way. A Detroit way. Maybe even a 'warped' way, down the line. No, his sound had to evolve from obvious bangers like Something For Your Mind, so here's the Evolution E.P., with a lead track of Evolution.

And right from the jump, you can hear that Hawtin influence, the track's rhythm steady and deliberate. Slower too, compared to earlier Speedy J tracks, which were generally quite, um, speedy. A piercing little synth lead carries through the track, while various rave riffs and tension-building pads come and go. And through it all, that rhythm keeps marching along, snares crashing out as we get to the climax of the track. Yet that peak doesn't overstay its welcome either, giving us just enough of a tease to want more, which would likely be whatever weapon the DJ has lined up to follow.

If the Detroit overtures weren't already apparent enough, here's Destroit, a more straight-forward banger of a track with a janky lead that occasionally squelches and squeals. Apparently Hawtin did some additional tinkering to the track, though it's not clear what. Those sporadic rewinds? The choppy interruptions? There's a little synth-pad action towards the end, fairly standard stuff where Motor City vibes are concerned. Analogical Dub gets groovier. Dare I say, housier? Detroit house! No, wait, there's acid burbling about, so that officially makes it acid house. Scratch that, this sounds nothing like Chicago, what with the backing pads and all. Way too spaced-out for anything terra firma based, so space house it is. Or it's still techno, but of a more 'intelligent' sort. No, we can't call it trance, it's too early for that.

Anything else? Uh, not really. Despite the significant jump in songcraft compared to the Intercontinental EP, this is still Speedy J in development. Give a Dutchman a break though, it was only 1991. Why, the Artificial Intelligence series hadn't even debuted yet, so who knew just how creative this techno thing could potentially get. Gotta' let the technology catch up to our modern expectations, yo'.

Harold Budd - By The Dawn's Early Light

Opal Records/All Saints: 1991/2018

Harold Budd was responsible for some of ambient music's seminal albums of the '80s, but as that decade drew to a close, one could sense creative stagnation creeping in. The White Arcades was a lovely record of minimalist piano and synth tones, but territory well covered by that point. Budd felt it too, so when the '90s took form, he started embarking on roads distancing himself from the sounds folks were pigeon-holing him into.

The first of these 'experiments' was By The Dawn's Early Light, wherein he assembled four other musicians to Daniel Lanois' New Orleans studio-house. These included viola player Mabel Wong, harpist Susan Allen, guitarist Bill Nelson, and steel guitarist BJ Cole. Ah, sweet, the ol' slide guitar making a comeback into Harold's music, bringing back shades of Afar from The Serpent (In Quicksilver). Oh, more than you know.

The concept for this album was something of a challenge for Budd, in that he was inspired by the assorted half-finished poetry lines he'd written over the years. He wanted to build music around these, invoking feelings the imagery the words conjured, mostly of youthful Americana dreams in dusty California outbacks. Would he use these to create lyrical songs though? And would he have his assorted musicians clinically recreate music he'd write for them, or let the improvisational nature of his jazz background be a guiding force? Well, this is a Budd joint, so obviously the latter. Besides, he'd chosen these particular musicians for their ability to improvise. Simply give them an outline of what he wanted from each instrument with each piece, and let the creativity go from there, their simpatico vibes and chamber music ambience of Lanois' studio-house leading the way.

The poetry portions bookend the album, with an 'interlude' midway, which work wonders in selling the idea of this being more a narrative art piece than just simple music. Boy About 10 starts, with those distinct Budd piano strokes and soft acoustic guitar, then the viola solo starts and... and... oh. Oh my...

So... Harold Budd passed away from COVID complications this past winter, which I honestly didn't know until coming to this album for review. He was 84, so not that much of a surprise he might pass from any variety of ailments. Still, with that knowledge, then hearing this melancholy viola solo, meant to invoke remembrances of Harold as a boy dreaming about a wide world before him... I cannot deny my throat chokes up with such sadness, yet a love for a man's work I've only had a general fondness for.

I really don't know what else to say here. The rest of By Dawn's Early Light gives each musician a chance to perform in a subdued manner, pieces never lasting longer than they need to. There are nice moments about, others more like half-formed sonic sketches. Nothing quite hits me with the same emotional wallop Boy About 10 does though. I don't know if any of Budd's music ever will.

The Future Sound Of London - Accelerator

Jumpin' & Pumpin'/Hypnotic: 1991/2002

The only Future Sound Of London album you need, if you listen to certain sorts of people. Let's call them 'stuck in The Haçienda' kind of people, UK ravers who never grew beyond that era's acid house scene, will only accept electronic music as it sounded then, and not a month later. Never mind that Brian Dougans and Garry Cobain ventured forth into new, fascinating realms of pure headtrip, mind-fuck album works – it's just not danceable, mate. I sense, though, such folks are forlorn at the coulda'-been, the shoulda'-been of FSOL's potential as studio hounds producing clubbing fodder. They made so many classic, genre-defining tunes at the time, the possibilities of what they might have done after had they scaled back the arty, pretentious aspirations boggles the mind. But nay, the lads from Manchester had grander visions in mind.

And I get it – oh man, do I ever get it. For as much as I've continued enjoying FSOL's work, there's an undeniable addictive simplicity about the tunes on Accelerator that remain effective to this day. Papua New Guinea, obviously, but I've no doubt tracks like the future-shock breaks of Expander, acid-bleep dopeness of Calcium, and blissed-out trancey acid house of Pulse State would be just as effective in any contemporary setting. Hell, I heard 1 In 8 at a music festival this past summer. 1 In 8, one of the 'filler' tracks on this album! Who plays 1 In 8 in this age? A DJ at Basscoast, apparently.

Still, one cannot deny there's some rather dated material on Accelerator too. Despite the smashing opening of Expander (oh, you just know Sasha cribbed that title), Stolen Documents is little more than a peppy transitional track of bleepy sounds and chirpy acid funk. While Others Cry has a little more personality going for it with its Balearic-Jamaican vibe (yes, really), nice for a sway in a hammock or beach lounge. On the other hand though, It's Not My Problem and Moscow have the unenviable task of bookmarking the album centrepiece of Papua New Guinea, and in being such abrasive, boshing tunes, neither are capable of it – you're just waiting for Papua while Problem is playing, and Moscow always feels like a comedown from New Guinea. As for hints at where FSOL would take their music, Central Industrial slows things down and plays up the future-shock scenery full-tilt. Psygnosis Studios were definitely paying attention.

When Accelerator was rolled out for a tenth anniversary re-issue, it included a bonus disc of Papua New Guinea remixes. Most of them take the tune's basic structure and re-purposes them into a particular genre (Satoshi Tomiie does the prog thing, Hybrid do the prog-breaks thing, Oil do the funk-dub thing). The most interesting of the lot are the Simian Mix, where the rock band turns Papua into a bizarre, stoned, jazz-stomp indie hoe-down (I'm sure Gary loved it), and Andrew Weatherall's eleven-minute rub – progressive house of epic proportions, that one!

WestBam - The Roof Is On Fire

TRS Records: 1991

Every nation has that one DJ that breaks 'rave culture' to the masses, promoting popular parties, club nights, and artists to such a degree they become legends within their respective countries. Britain had Paul Oakenfold. America had Frankie Bones. Even Canada had Chris Shepperd. In Germany, though, one Maximilian Lenz was undoubtedly The Man who became synonymous with 'techno'. Already a disc jockey of some note in Berlin, he performed at the first Love Parade (and most others after), organized the massive Mayday rave which drew over an unprecedented five-thousand souls, and continued to be a prominent personality throughout the ensuing decades. Oh, and some consider him a shameless, commercial sell-out milking that initial goodwill for all it's worth, a template emulated by future media whores like Tiesto and David Guetta. A divisive figure then, this WestBam chap.

One thing he isn't known for, however, is producing major hits. Some popular tunes, sure (especially Love Parade anthems), and Finland loved his stuff for a brief time. At no point has WestBam ever cracked the lucrative American market though, despite knowing enough famous folks on this side of the Atlantic that he should have. Hell, his last album, released in 2013, had features from Iggy Pop, Kanye West and Lil Wayne! If that don't get you attention here, I don't know what will.

Really, his career often shows love for American dance music, his earliest works mostly electro and house jams he'd use as tools for DJ sets. He released quite a few singles in the late '80s, consolidating them into an album called The Cabinet. This was repurposed a couple years later into The Roof Is On Fire for American distribution, and *whoof*, did it not age well even in that short amount of time.

Electronic music can sound dated but still be interesting in the songcraft holds up, but WestBam was far from honing whatever production talent he had at that point. This sounds like he's still in DJ-mode, tracks made of existing drum breaks and overused sample kits to be spliced and looped on the fly, some turntable scratching thrown in for good measure, but no care given to making them memorable tunes. This may work fine when you're DJing and all, but in an album format, this is some drab, dry, dull stuff. Seriously, did he not have any other samples than monkey “whooping”?

The Roof Is On Fire isn't a complete write-off, the house tunes faring better than the rest. Hold Me Back is a surprisingly solid slice of hip-house action, the titular cut is fun enough with 'speak'n'spell' vocals and crowd noises, and WestBam's nods towards New Beat's domain (The Wall, Cold Stomper) are welcome enough diversions in this album. The rest, however, is total pants, annoying novelty tracks that could barely hold muster even when new, much less now. You might enjoy it if you've a fondness for chintzy '80s sample-musik, but for most folks, WestBam's production career starts after this.

The KLF - The White Room

Arista: 1991

The White Room is a great album from a great band. Just kidding, The KLF were rather mediocre for most of their career. Their first release as The JAMMs sounded like a shit Scottish Beastie Boys. Really, they only had two things going for them: sticking it to the highfalutin record business, and knowing how to game the system to sell some fun pop tunes. Okay, they also may have been responsible for inventing a bunch of genres too, but anyone can do that. They simply made theirs super-popular with raving punters, inspiring legions of imitators and jock-riders.

Ha ha, kidding again; just busting some KLF Loving Fanboyz balls. Of course The White Room is a Very Important Album from a Very Important Band. It's the culmination of endless struggle from Jimmy Cauty and Bill Drummond, a crowning achievement in pop chart success, proving their novelty hit Doctorin' The Tardis as The Timelords wasn't some fluke. Hell, they literally wrote the book on how to achieve such success, and then done did it again, proving The System is so very easily subverted if you make enough tea in the end. Tea is important, after all, in supplying you caffeinated confidence that your work is not for ought. I assume they drank generic black tea or Earl Grey or maybe even English Breakfast in the late evening. Personally, Green Tea does the trick for me, but that's due to my proximity with various Far East eateries: Japanese sushi bars, Chinese restaurants, Korean BBQ houses, and all the pho a fool can force down his pho-hole in an afternoon.

But The White Room as we got isn't what The KLF had in mind, initially intended to soundtrack an epic road trip movie. When early recordings and test footage proved unfavourable, however, those plans were scrapped, and the various sessions dumped onto the B-side of a regular record release. The A-side then cobbled together their recent singles (What Time Is Love?, 3am Eternal, Last Train To Trancentral) with a couple additional cuts from the initial White Room sessions, added a bunch of crowd noises, and created a mock mini-concert as the result (and thus 'Stadium House' was birthed).

Only Teenage Sykonee didn't get that either, American copies of The White Room further gutting the album due to copyright claims on said crowd samples. Apparently some of it came from a U2 album (!!), and that's a big no-no in the sampling department. On the other hand, my version of The White Room has the kick-ass Live From The Lost Continent version of Last Train To Trancentral, a tune in my youthful naivety eagerly showed to my father in hopes of proving to him that 'techno iz kewl!' “Sounds like disco,” he remarked with a smirk.

Oooh, that just wouldn't stand! 'Techno' is cowabunga-awesome, and disco is square-lame. I thus travelled in search of the mythical White Room on The Lost Continent to prove so. Let me tell you the tale of my exploits.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Weld

Reprise Records: 1991

Considering the plethora of live albums Neil Young's Archives series has churned out this past decade, its difficult remembering such things were once rarities. For sure many of his albums would contain live recordings of new material, but a full live set of concert material? It wasn't until Live Rust, a companion piece to the Rust Never Sleeps tour extravaganza, that a true concert recording in conceptual full was made available for sale. Fast forward through most of the '80s that many Rusties demote as a 'lost decade', and we're right back in full rock 'n' roll glory with his Craziest of Horse pals in Ragged Glory, a raucous tour to back it up, and finally his second official live album unleashed from it.

Ol' Shakey didn't set out to prove he could stand toe-to-toe with those new, noisy 'grunge' kids, but Weld sure done does that. Unlike Live Rust, there's not a lick of acoustic music throughout the double-disc feature. Only downtime comes care of a cover of Bob Dylan's folksy ditty Blowin' In The Wind, stretched out here to nearly seven minutes, with huge walls of guitar feedback, wartime sound effects, and lovely Crazy Horse harmonies. I suppose some of Young's slower tunes might count for 'chill' music, like the bluesy Tonight's The Night, and the guitar epic Cortez The Killer, but ain't nothing calm or soothing about Neil's pained howls and cutting lyrics, much less those extended solos.

Oh yeah, you better love yourself some lengthy guitar jamming if you're interested in this live album. Absolutely you get the classics like Like A Hurricane and Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black), but as this tour was in support of Ragged Glory, most of that album's extended songs show up here too. Sweet deal for me, as they're my favourite tunes from that record! The steady burner Love To Burn, the cock-rockin' F*!#in' Up, the unabashed solo-excusing Love And Only Love, the hilariously sloppy Farmer Jon, and my guilty pleasure Mansion On A Hill. Whenever I hear this song, it instantly takes me back to early Shambhala sentiments, the lyrics eerily on point in reflecting my mind-space at the time (probably didn't hurt I was also succumbing to the Rustie Bug too).

Anything else? How about some good ol' rockin' out with over nine minutes of Rockin' In The Free World? Or solid common-clay story-telling with Powerderfinger and Crime In The City? A couple throwback jams with Cinnamon Girl and Roll Another Number (For The Road)? Okay, maybe not that one, but it's a charming tune to end a concert on. Drive safe, y'all.

Weld is pretty much wall-to-wall guitar glory, performed by a bunch of middle-aged men who were inspiring all the youngin's of rock's new '90s world (Sonic Youth opened for them on this tour). And hey, if we didn't get Weld, then Young wouldn't have wrecked his hearing so bad that he was forced to follow it with another classic in Harvest Moon.

Genesis - We Can't Dance

Atlantic: 1991

The first Genesis album I ever got, since I didn't know any better. It didn't help this came out when I was at that very impressionable age of Twelve, with big hits of the day having much more influence on my interests than whatever the 'underground' was kicking. The first mixtape I made had stuff like Roxette, Michael Jackson's latest off Dangerous, and The Northern Pikes (it's a Canadian thing) – really, just whatever caught my eyes from MuchMusic, and happened to be in my old man's collection of CDs. Technically, the goof-ball blues of I Can't Dance falls into this category, as the tongue-in-cheek video (that walk!) had plenty of rotation on the music channel, and Daddy-O' had the album too. I'm not sure why he did though, as he lacked anything else from the band, new or old. I suspect I Can't Dance was such a hit, he needed it for all those mobile DJ gigs at weddings and office parties.

ANY-hootaney, I didn't get We Can't Dance for that particular song, but for a different one that struck quite a nerve when I first heard it: No Son Of Mine. As far as I can recall, hearing Phil Collins belt out that chorus was the first time I'd been mentally shook by lyrics, a cold chill running down the back of my neck as my pre-teen mind processed the implication such words coming from a father could have. What might a young man, boy, or teen do that was so abhorrent as to cause his father to reject him so emphatically? For that matter, could my father ever find some action of mine utterly contemptible as to turn his back on me? Might I even be capable of such action? It's a query that's stuck with me ever since I heard No Son Of Mine so many moons ago, long after such musings should have passed me by.

I know it's poor form spending a huge chunk of a review on an anecdote (or admission, or... whatever that above paragraph is), but let's be frank here: does anyone remember anything else off this album? There's twelve songs on We Can't Dance, but beyond No Son Of Mine (a kick-ass tune even if you don't have emotional scars from it), I Can't Dance, and maybe the peppy Jesus He Knows Me, nothing else had much impact on the airwaves. Oh, the album sold gang-busters, as most Genesis albums did back then, but I highly doubt most folks could hum songs like Tell Me Why or Since I Lost You or Hold On My Heart. The music's all slick, well-crafted, and nicely performed, everyone involved clearly experts in their trade. Yet aside from a couple extended jams in Dreaming While You Sleep and Driving The Last Spike, it all passes by with little vigour. As chided for its pure pop leanings as Invisible Touch gets, at least it had impressive compositions like The Brazilian in there too.

LFO - Frequencies

Warp Records: 1991/2011

There were other records floating about of similar ilk, but few at the time made such a definitive stamp on UK techno as LFO's debut LP did. Not only did it help establish the Brits' take on Detroit's sound as something distinct, unique, and 'bleepy', all the while providing a subtle link to the raving antics of Belgians, but it also put the fledgling Warp Records on the map. Between this, Nightmares On Wax, and Tricky Disco, Warp was quickly established as a print worth reckoning with, a wholly independent label that clearly had its ear to the pulse of techno that wasn't just mindless boshing bollocks. An almost 'intelligent' take on dance music, you might say, though not too pretentious about it – LFO will still demolish your bassbins if you're not careful with the gain levels.

What helped Frequencies stand out from the pack is just how much of a melting pot of influences it is. True, there wasn't much to draw from at this point of electronic music's history, but Mark Bell and Gez Varley don't mince words in the opening Intro, first asking what is house music (“Technotronic? KLF? Or something you live in?”) before name-dropping a who's who of Chicago pioneers. Then they rattle off “pioneers of the hypnotic groove”, listing off Eno, Kraftwerk, and... Depeche Mode? Yellow Magic Orchestra?? Tangerine Dream??? Well, I can't say I've ever heard those chaps name-dropped in the vintage deep house/techno, pitched-down voice before. And wait, what's LFO going on about house music? Aren't they 'bleep techno' pioneers or something?

True d'at, with plenty of examples littered throughout Frequencies. The eponymous lead single is the classic cut of course, and still carries a potent punch when those low-ends drop, all the while bleepy noises and sinister Detroit strings ooze warehouse menace. The follow-up single We Are Back takes things a step further, coming off like a grimy, future-shock reboot of the Belgian hit Quadrophonia, to say nothing of the bass-crushing minimalism of Mentok 1. Groovy Distortion and Tan Ta Ra eases up on the sub-whoofer assault some, edging closer to the Model 500 mould so much 'bleep techno' was emulating in the first place. Elsewhere, LFO get their electro vibe on, tracks like Simon From Syndey, El Ef Oh!, and Think A Moment showing where that Kraftwerk nod comes into play (sure, a little YMO too).

And yes, there's house music on here. Only... it's not house. Nurture, Freeze, Mentok, You Have To Understand, and Love Is The Message have that undeniable house groove going, but buried behind so much bleepy, bare-bones production, they come off strangely techno too. Not that genre-mashing was uncommon in the early '90s – much scene splintering occurred shortly after from such wilful warping of established conventions, young though they were. Few attempted emulating LFO's take on house-techno hybrids though, if anything because it was just so raw and unpolished, difficult to replicate without going full-retro. No wonder Frequencies remains a timeless album.

808 State - ex:el

ZTT: 1991/2010

The beginning of the end, where a lot of old-school 808 State fans are concerned. Which is funny because the Manchester band hadn't been around for that long, so it's not like they had much time to develop ardent purist followers of their acid house sound. They done did though, their debut album Newbuild commonly hailed as a Very Important Album in the world of UK acid, frequently name-dropped by numerous Very Important Artists of early UK techno. They carried that momentum into Ninety, even scoring a radio hit with Pacific State in the process. So you bet when third album ex:el was announced, anticipation ran white hot within UK clubland for what the lads from up 'nooth' would bring.

A bandwagon jump, it would seem. Or leading the charge in England's brave new rave world, depending on who you ask. You were almost obligated to get ravey with it in the years 1990-92 – even traditionally rock bands were having their stabs at the 'Madchester' sound. Where opinions get split, however, is whether 808 State's cleaner, crisper approach to songcraft ruined what made the 'real heads' of UK acid house fall in love with them to begin with. How dare they abandon the raw, unpolished, don't-give-a-care production that enamoured so many to Newbuild! Instead, ex:el is filled with ear-wormy hooks, thumping rave beats, and guest vocalists from stars past (Bernard Sumner of New Order) and future (Björk).

The trick worked, ex:el going on to be the band's highest charting album (methinks some residual Pacific momentum helped). No less than five tracks out of thirteen found their way into the 808 State ten-year retrospective 808:88:98, including the big rave anthems Cübik and In Yer Face, the mellower jams of Lift and Olympic, and the Björk featuring Ooops. And some contend that still wasn't enough music off here, tracks like the other Björk tune, Qmart, bouncy reggae-influenced Leo Leo, or percussion-heavy Techno Bell just as worthy contenders for any 808 State 'best of' collection. Not the Newbuild hold-outs though – they think nearly everything off ex:el is rubbish, total crossover bollocks or some-such. It's definitely a slicker-sounding album, and no amount of gritty guitar or blaring synth riffs can hide that fact. After four years making UK techno though, you can't blame the band for getting better at production.

The thing that strikes me so odd about ex:el is how the singles are all back-loaded. What, did 808 State not figure folks would be down for tunes like acid cut Nepharti and pseudo-ballad Spanish Heart unless they were on the LP's A-side? Considering the notion of the 'rave album' was still in the process of gelling, it's rather ballsy on their part not hitting you with all the familiar anthems right out the gate.

And in the end, ex:el is one of the finer pure rave albums that era generated. It may not be 808 State's most definitive work, but it's a whole lotta' fun front to back.

Massive Attack - Blue Lines

Virgin: 1991/2012

So Blue Lines, the album that kicked off Tricky’s career. Yeah, sorry for the lame intro, but all the good ones were used in the past two decades. The “Few Records Deserve The ‘Seminal’ Tag, But This One Truly Does” angle; the “Once In A Blue Moon, A New Genre Is Born” take; the “Would Bristol Be Such A Prominent ‘90s Music Hub Without Blue Lines?” thinkpiece; a “If You Listen To Five Man Army Carefully, You Can Hear Subliminal Banksy Messages!” waffle. But man, that Tricky guy, where would he be without Massive Attack? Like, I’m sure he’d have gotten an album or two under his belt regardless, but his work with this group certainly gave him a boost.

Okay, enough malarkey on my part. Let’s talk about this most important record in trip-hop history, despite it barely having any trip-hop in it at all. There’s definitely early aspects of the genre lurking throughout – tracks like Five Man Army, Daydreaming, and One Love feature that slow, hazy mood the genre built its reputation on. This is more a product of Massive Attack incorporating several urban influences into their sound though, which included reggae dub popularized by many a Jamaican expat residing in London. And while Bristol’s music scene was generally their own thing, the dudes behind Massive Attack were more than familiar with what was what in the elsewheres of their country. All that time as part of The Wild Bunch sound system crew provided plenty exposure to various musical movements, leading to the varied genre blending heard throughout Blue Lines. Not just the spliff-heavy hip-hop, but R&B, reggae, funk, and soul find their way inside this tidy nine-tracker of a record, often within the same song. It’s easy to hear why music journalists were creaming their pants over this album, thrilled at hearing so many classy forms of music expertly fused into a groovy whole.

And yet I wonder, was this really that big a deal back in the early ‘90s? Seems every second British album from across the spectrum was doing something radically different in genre fusion. I’ll grant adding dub production to hip-hop beats was unique compared to what America was doing, but this wasn’t exclusive to trip-hop in the slightest: ambient, house, techno, R&B (rock?), all got in on that action too. More often than not, Massive Attack stick to conventional music, sparingly pushing the boundaries into uncharted territory. Be Thankful For What You’ve Got is the sort of UK soul peddled for a few years then. Unfinished Sympathy, the breakout single of the album, has New Jack Swing going for it, though obviously drenched in gospel charm.

Still, if those are about the only nitpicks I can fault Blue Lines for, then this album’s reputation is more than deserved. Considering many ‘dance’ albums from this era are way dated, this one easily stands the test of time, its multitude of influences making it a timeless piece of music.

Various - This Beat Is Hot... The Compilation

Sony Music Entertainment: 1991

Not the first and most definitely not the last time a hit single was used for the launch of a compilation. Did Dance Pool have any long-term plan with this? Like, could This Beat Is Hot go on to become a running series? Would every subsequent B.G. hit earn its own compilation? Damn, we could have had a Colour Of My Dreams series, a Can We Get Enough? series, and a Stomp series! That didn’t happened, but it still boggles my mind that The Prince Of Rap’s This Beat Is Hot was hot enough to earn a compilation based on it. I don’t recall the track having any presence here in Canada, and believe me we weren’t oblivious to charting dance hits from Europe in the early ‘90s (C&C Music Factory, Black Box, Snap!, 2 Unlimited).

But a compilation named after his breakout single B.G. The Prince Of Rap done did get, marketed across both continents for maximum profit margins. This entailed giving both America and Canada different track lists compared to the European version. Like, radically different, to the point they’re almost completely seperate CDs. Hell, even the title track, This Beat Is Hot, has different mixes between the two, us folks in the Western Hemisphere treated to an extended Get Into The Rhythm Club Mix over the radio friendly 7” Remix on the east side of the Atlantic. Oh, and the track actually properly kicks our compilation off, whereas poor B.G. is relegated to third-track status in Europe. On the compilation named after his hit single!

C&C Music Factory’s Here We Go got the pole position in Europe, but we didn’t get that track at all over here, nor second track Let’s Go Back from Sake Stars, middle track Fue Amor from Jazzy Mel & Marcello Figueras, and final four tracks Shine On from Sold Out, What Is This Thing Called Love? from Alexander O’Neal, Bright Lights from Victoria Wilson-James, and Daddy’s Little Girl from Nikki D. Both versions do get a Culture Beat tune, but us folks are treated to I Like You versus them folks enjoying No Deeper Meaning.

I won’t get into the additional differences between the American and Canadian versions, though we do share Lil’ Louis’ French Kiss, Secchi’s I Say Yeah, and Double Dee’s Found Love. Exclusives to Canuckistan residents include world beaty Shamen’s Call from Dance 2 Trance side-project Peyote, Dana Dawson’s Tell Me Bonita, and Céline Dion’s Unison, a horrendous stab at penetrating the lucrative gay house scene any vocal diva worth her salt was shooting for. Seriously, those… snares, utter rubbish, and hearing a rap alongside Ms. Dion clashes in all the cringiest ways.

Oh yeah, the music! Lots of hip-house in its last throes before morphing into euro-house, some italo-house, and ample soul singin’ with funky grooves. This Beat Is Hot is a fun little CD for some throwback music, but if few of the tunes I named above ring a bell, it’s for good reason, that.

System 7 - System 7 (Original TC Review)

10 Records: 1991

(2015 Update:
I've still yet to take the plunge into System 7's full discography. Shame on me. There's no reason I shouldn't have by now, especially with so much online streaming available at my whim. Maybe that should be a New Year's resolution, to finally take in the entirety of Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy, and all their quarter-century of System 7ing. It's not like I expect some wild, unfortunate genre experiments along the way, the duo essentially sticking to their psychedelic trance, prog- rock jamborees through the years (decades!). If anything, their debut remains the least System 7y thing they ever System 7'd.

This review isn't as cynical as I remember, though why I had to get my hate on with the accordion, I don't recall. No wait, I was still feeding off the backlash of Samin's Heater, that's why. I suppose I couldn't help but let my Gen-X jadedness get the better of me too, snickering at such earnest lyrics. Funny how a few extra years of added wisdom has mellowed my stance on them now. That is wisdom I feel now, right? Maybe just gas.)


IN BRIEF: A prog rocker gets chummy with dance culture.

Probably the last name you’d expect to have a trendy club hit in this year of 2008 would be Steve Hillage’s System 7 project. Although he and Miquette Giraudy have long been respected figures within dance music, their tendency to skew towards the psychedelic side of the electronic spectrum hasn’t earned them the spotlight since that style’s mid-90s heyday. Yet along comes Mr. Minimal-Marmite-Man Dubfire with one of his remixes, and propels the latest System 7 single Song Bird high into some of the more hip dance charts out there.

Such seems to be the story of Hillage’s career. It isn’t so much you’d expect him to fade into obscurity, but for all intents and purposes one would assume his contemporary relevance should. After nearly two decades as a prog rock guitarist, Hillage discovered acid house when Alex Paterson of The Orb fame discovered him. System 7 is born soon afterwards, gained a plethora of fans amongst the early goa-trance scene, became a fixture at Glastonbury’s dance tent, and just when you’d think this project has slipped away into irrelevancy, it’s thrust once again into the presence of another generation of party-goers. Perhaps that hippie attitude has provided Hillage with plenty of good karma after-all. Where he goes from here is anyone’s guess, but even if this recent mini-thrust back into the spotlight is to be his last, Hillage has done plenty in his career to deserve such good will.

Really, I don’t think anyone would have expected Hillage to be a fixture within dance music culture for so long given the rather unique plunge System 7 first took. This self-titled 1991 debut is a strange relic of its time, where scene networking could yield powerhouse collaborations of the sort found on here. Along with Dr. Paterson, you have Hillage working with techno-don Derrick May, at-the-time ace-producer Paul Oakenfold, Steve Waddington of The Beloved fame (remember them?), and Martin Glover (Youth) just on this album alone (the System 7 moniker would go on to include work with Laurent Garnier, Juno Reactor, Carl Craig, Greg Hunter, Drum Club, and recently Jam el Mar and Eat Static - whew, but is this ever a namedrop session). Yet, because System 7's concept was more about Hillage’s forays into dance music, the idea of this being some kind of electronic music supergroup was never really considered.

Nowadays, this album has mostly faded from the collective clubbing consciousness for various reasons. For one thing, it remains the only album that hasn’t been re-issued on Hillage’s new A-Wave label, although legal complications with the distributors - UK-based Ten and American-based Caroline (whom had to change the group’s name to 777 over other legal complications) - may have something to do with that. Primarily, though, it tends to be neglected since it bears little resemblance to the sort of music the project would go on to be known for.

And just what kind of music is on here? If you’re familiar with Stereo MC’s, that’ll give you a starting point, because another thing that easily dates System 7 to the early 90s is the incredibly liberal melting pot of genres on offer. There’s house, techno, ambient, soul, breaks, prog, pop, and even hints of psychedelia. With so many different influences contributing, there was no possible way a cohesive style would dominate throughout. Heck, where does one even start when describing what these songs sound like? How about the material that isn’t dated?

The Derrick May pairings easily sound fresh even today. Thumping techno cut Altitude remains superb, with Listen and ambient-intermission Fractal Liason finding the Detroit native’s futuristic touch working wonders with Hillage’s spacey guitar work; any of these offerings could hold their own in a modern-day set. Meanwhile, Alex Paterson’s ambient house specialty can be felt on Sunburst, along with his studio wizardry in Dog, coda-like follow-up Thunderdog, and the straight-forward club-cut Miracle (where Oakenfold lends his talents as well). The production on these is quite remarkable too, where it seldom feels like you’re being fed simple dance loops. There be practiced musicians in them studios, my friends, with arrangements that make ample use of their experienced song-writing skills.

On the other hand, the vocal songs are way early 90s. Whether it be Aniff Cousins’ contemplative raps (think a proto-Maxi Jazz) or Olu Rowe’s soulful singing, their themes remain constant. Freedom Fighters, Habibi, Bon Humeur, Dog, and Strange Quotations all feature lyrics that feed off the “good times are coming” attitude that was prevalent in much of the Western world following the collapse of the Soviet Union. All fine and well, I suppose; you certainly have to admire the optimism. However - and this may just be a generational gap thing - some of the messages delivered in these songs strike me as New-Agey Boomer platitudes, something that was quite common in adult pop music of the time. Looking back on it now with the benefit (detriment?) of cynical Gen-X hindsight, one can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that all the hope of social and political change of that time never gained much traction. Musically these songs are fine (well, aside from that accordion in Strange Quotations), but whether you enjoy the lyrics or not will probably boil down to personal preference. Interestingly, vocals were seldom utilized by System 7 after this release.

Anyhow, fast-forwarding back to 2008, System 7 is certainly a product of its time, and frankly has a difficult time holding up. It’s seldom mentioned when talk of early 90s releases is taking place, and despite the strong musicianship on display, remains lacking in anything one could identify as ‘classic.’ If you’re in the market for electronic music from that era, you’ll find definite worth in this album. However, for those instead just looking to get acquainted with System 7's discography, the Point 3 releases are a better starting point.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved

Biosphere - Microgravity

Origo/Apollo: 1991/1992

Such an important album, this. Biosphere practically came out of nowhere, making his mark on a fledgling ambient techno scene before it had established itself as a distinct genre – most still referred to 'ambient with a kick' as ambient house, since The Orb was about the only act with enough clout to set trends. Microgravity didn't even get much notice at first, initially being released in Geir Jenssen's native Norway on Origo Records. Within the following year though, he was signed to seminal ambient techno label Apollo, bringing him greater exposure as he rubbed shoulders with other future stars of the genre like Aphex Twin and David Morley. And because this is such a quirky fun-fact, yes, Microgravity technically beat Selected Ambient Works 86-92 to the shops. Why isn't Biosphere more commonly name-dropped, then? UK press bias?

Whatever the case, this album remains one of the lasting curiosities of the early rave scene. Mixing space ambient and astro-chatter with house and techno wasn’t new, but Jenssen brought a fresh perspective to the formula. For one thing, he played things entirely straight, in that our ventures into the cosmos should be treated with gravitas – that the vast outer reaches of the endless black beyond can be a cold, desolate place we should respect and even fear. That icy tone went on to become something of a Biosphere trademark, but at this primordial stage in ambient techno development it was a stark contrast to the cheary, optimistic outlook most of his peers approached the subject with. Guess living in a region with long, cold winter nights will do that to a chap. Adding to that sense of emptiness are dub effects, sometimes cribbed from The Orb’s approach but also applied to Jenssen’s choice of sci-fi synths. The bell tones of Cloudwalker sound impossibly vast, and all the more alien with eerie melodies worming their way about.

Still, this is an early ‘90s album, and Microgravity does share some common traits with rave music of the time. For one thing, the UK ‘bleep techno’ sound is all over this, which makes sense since it was the hot new trend for producers aiming for a little ‘intelligence’ in their tracks (FSOL, LFO, Bobby BLO). Jenssen also can’t help adding in a few rave riffs (The Fairy Tale), standard dance beats (Chromosphere) and ethnic samples (Cygnus-A) here and there, instantly dating Microgravity to the era it sprung from. Meanwhile, the crisp looping samples, while giving these tunes a distinct flavour, shows Jenssen had yet to refine his production into something more musically flowing.

Of course, these attributes are all plusses for folks who can’t get enough of early ambient techno, roughness, warts and all. I’ve even seen a few bemoan the fact Jenssen took his Biosphere work away from the realms of techno groove so soon after Microgravity, but even here one can tell he was looking beyond what that scene offered. Remarkable aspirations for a guy who helped define a genre.

The Orb - The Orb's Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld

Island Red Label: 1991

The only Orb album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of an Orb fan. So the 'best of' collection U.F. Off doesn't count? And a double album is what you have to spring for a credible electronic music collection - such difficulties for those 'electronica bluffer' hipsters out there. The Orb's Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld cannot be overlooked though, oodles of sub-genres and scenes springing from the fruitful minds of Alex Paterson's musical conglomerate. It was inevitable that someone would bring ambient together with dub and house – the sampledelic nature of early ‘90s rave demanded it to happen – but The Orb got there first, therefore this album’s given all the plaudits for its influential wake.

And before you point to some other unheralded act that technically beat them to it, I’m talking about making the sound a chartable success, and thus trendy and marketable. Tunes like Little Fluffy Clouds and Perpetual Dawn, sure, those were perfectly executed pieces of ear-wormy dance music, but what of that Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules From The Centre Of The Ultraworld track? How did an eighteen-plus minute, sample heavy, ambient noodle-thon squeak into the charts? Such different times, those early rave days.

Probably the most remarkable thing about The Orb’s Fun-Times Over There In Superland is that it was released in its double-album form at all. LPs from ‘rave bands’ that weren’t singles collections remained a rarity, yet Island Music had enough faith in- it was the drugs, wasn’t it. Whatever the case, we got an overstuffed 2-CD collection of spacey ambient and groovy rhythms. Just, sshh, don’t let the kids know a lot of it is repurposed New Age mediation music, now with a Roland 909 drum machine. It’s funnier this way!

I’ll level with ya’: for all the claims of musical revolution and dynamic song craft, there are long stretches of floaty dithering and rudimentary beats too. Granted, Paterson and his new pals (Weston, Fehlmann, Glover, Hillage and assorted others) were all figuring things out as they went along, and it’s remarkable some tracks come off as coherent as they do – fifteen minutes of meandering bass guitar, plinky pianos, and country-side field recordings in Spanish Castles In Space shouldn’t work like it does. At times though, it sounds like they’re trying to one-up Jimmy Cauty’s improvisational work from that huge pulsating brain track, and never quite reach that mark. Man, the lost ‘proper’ Cauty/Paterson album remains a tantalizing ‘what-if’.

Okay, I’m probably being more of negative-nancy pants on Adventures In UltramanWorld than needed. I do enjoy this album, but like any ‘ground-zero’ LPs, it does come off dated compared to where the genre would grow, including The Orb’s follow-up U.F. Orb. It’s worth having to hear the roots of ‘hippie ambient meets counter-culture rave’ music, and there’s plenty of lovely moments throughout. Just remember to take it all in with a sense of humour, as the whole concept was apparently a pisstake of progressive rock over-indulgence anyway.